Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder

2007-03-11T10:25:00.000-05:00

May 19, 2007

Farewell to thee, little Blogger. Thou hast -- until recently, that is -- served me well.

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April 19, 2007

Again, Blooger will not let me start a new entry. Since I can't seem to operate this blog properly anymore, and in light of the fact that I seldom make entries anymore, I'll most likely abandon it. I mean, I could try contacting Blooger and emailing back and forth in an effort to resolve the problem, but what the fuck for?

If I make a new one, I'll let you know.

Anyway, just had to vent or whatever about that asshole shooter at VT. I refuse to watch the videotape that he sent to NBC since I've read quite enough about him online. He created his own dilemma, as far as I can see, by behaving in an antisocial manner and preventing himself from making any friends; then he blames everyone else for all his problems. He angers me quite a bit. Kill yourself? Go right ahead. But to take others down like this is just evil.

Of course I can't say anything that hasn't already been said, but I had to get that off my chest.

April 16, 2007

Your Dominant Thinking Style: Visioning

You are very insightful and tend to make decisions based on your insights.
You focus on how things should be - even if you haven't worked out the details.

An idealist, thinking of the future helps you guide your path.
You tend to give others long-term direction and momentum.

What's Your Thinking Style?

Well, Blooger made me upgrade but won't let me start a new entry, so I'm editing an old one. Noticed right away the "flag" feature to complain about "objectionable" content. Fucking great. What's "objectionable," anyway, and who gets to decide? Just like on YouTube. What's happened to free speech? What's happened to, "if you don't like what you're seeing, then get the hell out"?

Anyway, a couple of times recently I've had dreams about the ex. I don't know what's brought this about, but I would greatly appreciate if that particular individual wouldn't pollute my subconscious. In both dreams, he's come back to try to reinitiate our relationship. To my credit, in both dreams I tell him, repeatedly and insistently, to get lost, that I want nothing to do with someone of his lack of quality. I wouldn't let him touch me, either. Good. Not that that's different from real life; I was SO not attracted to him.

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John, you da man!

I've followed this tenet for the past few years and it's so much easier now, living inside my head.

Don't Take Anything Personally

Nothing others do is because of you.

What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.

When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

From The Four Agreements, by Miguel Ruiz

It all started years ago when a wise woman friend emailed me not to take my husband's betrayal personally. Truer words were never spoken, and I realized as a result that pretty much nothing is personal.

2007-03-11T10:13:00.000-05:00

Hah! I've had countless nights of sleep ruined by my ex-fuckwad and the fucktard before that, and I've vowed that if I'm ever in a relationship again, I'll insist on separate bedrooms. This doesn't have to do with sex, at least, not only. I think that it would make sex more fun. Like, go to his room for sex and a bit of cuddling, then get up and go to your own room, leaving him with the wet spot.

March 11, 2007

To Have, Hold and Cherish, Until Bedtime

By TRACIE ROZHON

Not since the Victorian age of starched sheets and starchy manners, builders and architects say, have there been so many orders for separate bedrooms. Or separate sleeping nooks. Or his-and-her wings.

In interviews, couples and sociologists say that often it has nothing to do with sex. More likely, it has to do with snoring. Or with children crying. Or with getting up and heading for the gym at 5:30 in the morning. Or with sending e-mail messages until well after midnight.

In a survey in February by the National Association of Home Builders, builders and architects predicted that more than 60 percent of custom houses would have dual master bedrooms by 2015, according to Gopal Ahluwalia, staff vice president of research at the builders association. Some builders say more than a quarter of their new projects already do.

What could be called the home-sleeping-alone syndrome is not limited to the wealthy. For middle-income homeowners, it may be a matter of moving into a spare bedroom, the recreation room or the den. In St. Louis, Lana Pepper, a light sleeper who battled for years with her husband’s nocturnal restlessness, reconfigured the condominium they bought recently, adding walls to create separate bedrooms. Mrs. Pepper said the advantage to separate rooms was obvious: “My husband is still alive. I would have killed him.”

“It was more than snoring,” she said, recounting the bad old days of a shared bed. “He cannot have his feet tucked into any of the covers; I have to have them tucked in. So I took all the linens and split them with scissors. Then I finished the edge so that half of the sheet would tuck under and the other half he could kick out.”

That did not help his snoring, so she bought a white noise machine; she even went to a shooting range to buy “a pair of those big ear guards they wear.” They did not suit her.

According to the National Sleep Foundation in Washington, 75 percent of adults frequently either wake in the night or snore — and many have taken to separate beds just for those reasons. In a report issued Tuesday, the foundation found that more than half the women surveyed, ages 18 to 64, said they slept well only a few nights a week; 43 percent believed their lack of sleep interfered with the next day’s activities.

Stephanie Coontz, director of public education for the Council of Contemporary Families in Chicago, said many couples she interviewed were “confident enough that they have a nice marriage, but they don’t particularly like sleeping in the same room.”

“I don’t think it says anything about their sex lives,” Ms. Coontz said.

Mrs. Pepper, 60, who co-founded St. Louis’s annual Shakespeare festival, takes her sleeping seriously. On her nightstand is an arsenal of remote controls: for the adjustable bed, the television, the lights, the humidifier and the DVD player. Her mattress is made from a foam developed by NASA that rests in a four-poster frame under a skylight.

At Escala, a condominium project in Seattle, a quarter of the 270 units have double master bedrooms, said John Midby, a partner in the development. In St. Louis County, Dennis Hayden, president of Hayden Homes, said that each of the 30 detached homes in his latest planned community would have two separate-but-equal bedroom suites.

Kristen Scott, an architect in Seattle, said about one-third of her empty nester clients asked for separate bedrooms, which can cost a few thousand dollars to more than $100,000. In Honolulu, Nancy Peacock, an architect, said her clients increasingly requested “punees,” as daybeds are known in Hawaii — sometimes on the lanai, the covered porch of the house.

In St. Louis, Carol Wall, president of Mitchell Wall Architects, said that three or four years ago her company began “doing a lot of these little rooms off the master bedroom where the snorer would go.” More recently, couples, including some in their 30s, have started asking for two master suites, “and we don’t ask any questions,” Ms. Wall said.

Not everyone wants to talk about it. Many architects and designers say their clients believe there is still a stigma to sleeping separately. Some developers say it is a delicate issue and call the other bedroom a “flex suite” for when the in-laws visit or the children come home from college. Charles Brandt, an interior designer in St. Louis, said, “The builder knows, the architect knows, the cabinet maker knows, but it’s not something they like to advertise because right away people will think something is wrong” with the marriage.

An interior designer in Chicago moved into her son’s bedroom when he went off to college. “Separate bedrooms are de rigueur for us,” she said, adding that she and her husband sleep together on the weekends. The couple asked that their names not be published.

Fred Tobin, a builder in North Canton, Ohio, is friends of a prominent couple in Columbus whose house was remodeled with two master bedrooms. The wife sleeps on one side of the house, the husband on the other. “It’s a hush-hush thing,” Mr. Tobin said. “The husband travels a lot, all the time, and he comes home late, and he wants to be able to check his e-mail and go to bed without waking her up.”

The move to separate sleeping spaces is yet another manifestation of changing marital patterns.

“Couples today are writing their own script, rewriting how to have a marriage,” said Pamela J. Smock, a University of Michigan sociologist. “The growing need for separate bedrooms also represents the speed-up of family life — women’s roles have changed — and the need for extra space eases the strain on the relationship. If one of them snores, the other one won’t be able to perform the next day. It’s nothing to do with social class, and it’s not necessarily indicative of marital discord.”

Nevertheless, Professor Smock said husbands were less willing to change familiar patterns.

“Men are supposed to be one, dominant, and two, sexual,” she said. “Their wives might be thrilled to have their own bedroom, and see it as a romantic thing — going back to their romance, going back to dating, to intimacy, but the husband might not see it that way.

“As a social pattern, this could increase,” she continued. “A lot of people I know fantasize about living in the same apartment building as their husband — but in a separate apartment. That could be next.”

Paul C. Rosenblatt, a professor in the department of family and social science at the University of Minnesota, has studied couples who sleep separately, and wrote a book last year on the challenges and benefits, “Two in a Bed: The Social System of Couple Bed Sharing.” To him, a large part of the phenomenon has to do with aging. Many of those Professor Rosenblatt surveyed, like the Chicago couple, split into separate bedrooms when their children grew up.

“It’s suddenly available,” he said, “and if you have trouble sleeping you go into the kid’s room and find you slept better than with your partner.”

But some of the people he studies still want a place to cuddle. “In my research, couples had separate places for their sleeping arrangements but also had a together place,” he said. “Some do their cuddling before going their separate ways.”

Occasionally, the need to separate does have to do with sex. Professor Rosenblatt said one older woman he interviewed said she had her own bedroom because, “I’ve paid my dues. I’m old enough that I don’t want to have sex at 1 a.m.” [Damn straight!]

No matter what the reasons, architects and builders say they know enough not to call them “master” bedrooms anymore.

“Women are buying more homes, and women are sensitive to that terminology of the ‘master suite,’ and they’re opting for the term ‘owners’ suite,’ ” said Barbara Slavkin, an interior designer in St. Louis.

Dale Mulfinger, an architect in Minneapolis, said, “How about ‘couples’ realms’?”

Whatever you call them, they certainly seem to suit the Peppers, the St. Louis couple who reconfigured their new condominium to give them each a sleeping sanctuary.

Ted Pepper’s room, lined with a bank of windows that open onto a rooftop terrace, has none of the sleeping paraphernalia — the sound machine, the sleeping mask — found in his wife’s room. The only evidence of his sleep habits is the twisted knot of sheets and blankets on his bed.

“Now, there’s a demonstration,” said Mr. Pepper, 67, gesturing toward the swirl of bedding and chuckling. “She’d wake up if I moved even a little.”

The Peppers agree: separate bedrooms have added spice to their relationship. “It’s more exciting,” Mrs. Pepper said, “when you can say: ‘Your room or mine?’ ”

Reporting was contributed by Malcolm Gay in St. Louis, Christopher Maag in Cleveland, Claudia Rowe in Seattle and Katie Zezima in Boston.

2007-03-04T14:32:00.000-06:00

I'm so sick of eBay! I just got a negative feedback for nonpayment -- they didn't even give me two weeks. I'd neglected to read in the description that they don't take PayPal and I never made it to the store to get a money order. I was all willing to settle the dispute and pay for the shit, but since they left me negs, there's no point. Fuck those stupid, hoity-toity online communities anyway. :-E

2007-02-23T15:19:00.000-06:00

Aw, don't shave it off!

I like Grissom with a beard. Then again, he's got such a nice chin, he looks good either way.

And I also watched Grey's Anatomy and bawled my eyes out. It was like Meredith's mom gave up her life to rectify past wrongs. Boo hoo.

2007-02-22T02:39:00.000-06:00

Just read a story about Jennifer Aniston being upset over topless photos leaked on the 'net, so naturally I had to Google "Jennifer Aniston topless." Most of the pics had already been taken down in response to the threat of a lawsuit; however, I found one that shows her walking topless on a beach. Assuming that footage is real (and it looks authentic), she's got big hooters for someone so thin. And they're really nice.

2007-02-20T16:23:00.000-06:00

Huh. It seems that I have my very own obsessive fan over on YouTube. He made reference to a passage from the bible in one of his comments, and I replied that I'm not a Christian, nor am I familiar with the bible. That oughta get rid of him.

2007-02-11T23:38:00.000-06:00

Okay, I've been taking online Myers-Briggs personality tests. Came up with three different results. Thing is, I don't know how to answer many of the questions.

Writers should —

say what they mean and mean what they say
express things more by use of analogy

Well, it depends on the situation, right? For a novel, you'd want more description; for an article, they need to cut the crap.

Which is more admirable —

the ability to organize and be methodical
the ability to adapt and make do

I don't know!

Do you put more value on the —

definite
open-ended

I don't know!

Do you value in yourself more that you are —

unwavering
devoted

I'm neither unwavering, nor devoted.

Do you more often prefer the —

final and unalterable statement
tentative and preliminary statement

I don't know!

In relationships should most things be —

renegotiable
random and circumstantial

I don't know!

A third of the time, I don't know what they're talking about; the second third, it depends upon the situation; the rest I can answer fairly simply.

So I came up with INFP (the idealist), ISFP (the artist), and INTP (the thinker). Going backwards, I found profiles for all three and read to see which fit the best. Aspects of all fit me. I think the ISFP description personality fits best overall, but fails to cover everything.

Eh, fuckit.

My on-going dillema: trying to figure out what to do with my life.

2007-02-11T18:15:00.000-06:00

Anna of Cleves got the royal shaft. She came all the way to England to become the fourth wife of Henry VIII. Once married to Anna, he refused to consummate the marriage, and called her the "Flanders Mare". Talk about a burn, considering that by this time, Henry was the fattest man in England and had a rotting syphilis sore on his leg.

Anna was miffed, but she was too sensible to let it ruin her fun. She was given an annulment and a fat yearly allowance, and she threw extravagant parties and dined on delicacies for the rest of her life.

Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?
this quiz was made by Lori Fury

Heheheheh, "not afraid to wear ugly shoes on a date." That's me, alright.

2007-02-10T01:52:00.000-06:00

Those BASTARDS!! I watched Grey's Anatomy online tonight and Meredith fell into the water and the episode ended! I have to wait a week to see what happens?! This SUCKS!

Also watched CSI. Too bad they killed off Keppler, I liked him. But I guess Liev Schrieber didn't want to join the show permanently.

2007-01-31T20:50:00.000-06:00

You think that you are strong, but you are weak
You'll see,
It takes more strength to cry, admit defeat.
I have truth on my side,
You only have deceit
You'll see, somehow, someday

--Madonna, "You'll See"

2007-01-22T23:46:00.000-06:00

I'm watching "Jericho" on the computer. Interesting premise, but pretty badly written. Some of the acting blows too.

2007-01-11T01:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, I went over to see who my celebrity look-alikes might be:

http://www.myheritage.com/FP/Company/tryFaceRecognition.php

I tried three different photos (all shitty) and got different results each time. Jacques Chirac, anyone? How about Tara-fucking-Reid?

Shoot me now.

2007-01-10T23:57:00.000-06:00

Bush is such a fucking cunt. I swear.

2007-01-08T04:36:00.000-06:00

Ugh, I'm so depressed. Will this ever end.

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January 7, 2007

Op-Ed Columnist

The Timely Death of Gerald Ford

By FRANK RICH

THE very strange and very long Gerald Ford funeral marathon was about many things, but Gerald Ford wasn’t always paramount among them.

Forty percent of today’s American population was not alive during the Ford presidency. The remaining 60 percent probably spent less time recollecting his unelected 29-month term than they did James Brown’s “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.” Despite the lachrymose logorrhea of television anchors and the somber musical fanfares, the country was less likely to be found in deep mourning than in deep football. It’s a safe bet that the Ford funeral attracted far fewer viewers than the most consequential death video of the New Year’s weekend, the lynching of Saddam Hussein. But those two deaths were inextricably related: it was in tandem that they created a funereal mood that left us mourning for our own historical moment more than for Mr. Ford.

What the Ford obsequies were most about was the Beltway establishment’s grim verdict on George W. Bush and his war in Iraq. Every Ford attribute, big and small, was trotted out by Washington eulogists with a wink, as an implicit rebuke of the White House’s current occupant. Mr. Ford was a healer, not a partisan divider. He was an all-American football star, not a cheerleader. He didn’t fritter away time on pranks at his college fraternity, Delta Kappa Epsilon, because he had to work his way through school as a dishwasher. He was in the top third of his class at Yale Law. He fought his way into dangerous combat service during World War II rather than accept his cushy original posting. He was pals with reporters and Democrats. He encouraged dissent in his inner circle. He had no enemies, no ego, no agenda, no ideology, no concern for his image. He described himself as “a Ford, not a Lincoln,” rather than likening himself to, say, Truman.

Under the guise of not speaking ill of a dead president, the bevy of bloviators so relentlessly trashed the living incumbent that it bordered on farce. No wonder President Bush, who once hustled from Crawford to Washington to sign a bill interfering in Terri Schiavo’s medical treatment, remained at his ranch last weekend rather than join Betty Ford and Dick Cheney for the state ceremony in the Capitol rotunda.

Yet for all the media acreage bestowed on the funeral, the day in Mr. Ford’s presidency that most stalks Mr. Bush was given surprisingly short shrift — perhaps because it was the most painful. That day was not Sept. 8, 1974, when Mr. Ford pardoned his predecessor, but April 30, 1975, when the last American helicopters hightailed it out of Saigon, ending our involvement in a catastrophic war. Mr. Ford had been a consistent Vietnam hawk, but upon inheriting the final throes of the fiasco, he recognized reality when he saw it.

Just how much so can be found in a prescient speech that Mr. Ford gave a week before our clamorous Saigon exit. (And a speech prescient on other fronts, too: he called making “America independent of foreign energy sources by 1985” an urgent priority.) Speaking at Tulane University, Mr. Ford said, “America can regain the sense of pride that existed before Vietnam” but not “by refighting a war that is finished as far as America is concerned.” He added: “We, of course, are saddened indeed by the events in Indochina. But these events, tragic as they are, portend neither the end of the world nor of America’s leadership in the world.”

All of this proved correct, and though Mr. Ford made a doomed last-ditch effort to secure more financial aid for Saigon, he could and did do nothing to stop the inevitable. He knew it was way too late to make the symbolic gesture of trying to toss fresh American troops on the pyre. “We can and we should help others to help themselves,” he said in New Orleans. “But the fate of responsible men and women everywhere, in the final decision, rests in their own hands, not in ours.”

Though Mr. Ford was hardly the unalloyed saint of last week’s pageantry, his words and actions in 1975 should weigh heavily upon us even as our current president remains oblivious. As Mr. Ford’s presidential history is hard to separate from the Bush inversion of it, so it is difficult to separate that indelible melee in Saigon from the Hussein video. Both are terrifying, and for the same reason.

The awful power of the Hussein snuff film derives not just from its illustration of the barbarity of capital punishment, even in a case where the condemned is a mass murderer undeserving of pity. What really makes the video terrifying is its glimpse into the abyss of an irreversible and lethal breakdown in civic order. It sends the same message as those images of helicopters fleeing our embassy in April 1975: Iraq, like Vietnam before it, is in chaos, beyond the control of our government or the regime we’re desperately trying to prop up. The security apparatus of Iraq’s “unity government” was powerless to prevent the video, let alone the chaos, and can’t even get its story straight about what happened and why.

Actually, it’s even worse than that. Perhaps the video’s most chilling notes are the chants of “Moktada! Moktada! Moktada!” They are further confirmation, as if any were needed, that our principal achievement in Iraq over four years has been to empower a jihadist mini-Saddam in place of the secular original. The radical cleric Moktada al-Sadr, an ally of Hezbollah and Hamas, is a thug responsible for the deaths of untold Iraqis and Americans alike. It was his forces, to take just one representative example, that killed Cindy Sheehan’s son, among many others, in one of two Shiite uprisings in 2004.

The day after Casey Sheehan’s slaughter, Dan Senor, the spokesman for the American occupation, presided over a Green Zone news conference promising Mr. Sadr’s woefully belated arrest on a months-old warrant for his likely role in the earlier assassination of Abdel Majid al-Khoei, a rival Shiite who had fiercely opposed Saddam. Today Mr. Sadr and his forces control 30 seats in the Iraqi Parliament, four government ministries, and death squads (a k a militias) more powerful than the nominal Iraqi army. He is the puppetmaster who really controls Nuri al-Maliki — the Iraqi prime minister embraced by Mr. Bush — even to the point of inducing Mr. Maliki to shut down a search for an American soldier kidnapped at gunpoint in Sadr City in the fall. (And, you might ask, whatever happened to Mr. Senor? He’s a Fox News talking head calling for a “surge” of American troops to clean up the botch he and his cohort left behind.) Only Joseph Heller could find the gallows humor in a moral disaster of these proportions.

It’s against the backdrop of both the Hussein video and the Ford presidency that we must examine the prospect of that much-previewed “surge” in Iraq — a surge, by the way, that the press should start calling by its rightful name, escalation. As Mr. Ford had it, America cannot regain its pride by refighting a war that is finished as far as America is concerned and, for that matter, as far as Iraq is concerned. By large margins, the citizens of both countries want us not to escalate but to start disengaging. So do America’s top military commanders, who are now being cast aside just as Gen. Eric Shinseki was when he dared assert before the invasion that securing Iraq would require several hundred thousand troops.

It would still take that many troops, not the 20,000 we might scrape together now. Last month the Army and Marines issued an updated field manual on counterinsurgency (PDF) supervised by none other than Lt. Gen. David Petraeus, the next top American military commander in Iraq. It endorsed the formula that “20 counterinsurgents per 1,000 residents” is “the minimum troop density required.” By that yardstick, it would take the addition of 100,000-plus troops to secure Baghdad alone.

The “surge,” then, is a sham. It is not meant to achieve that undefined “victory” Mr. Bush keeps talking about but to serve his own political spin. His real mission is to float the “we’re not winning, we’re not losing” status quo until Jan. 20, 2009. After that, as Joseph Biden put it last week, a new president will “be the guy landing helicopters inside the Green Zone, taking people off the roof.” This is nothing but a replay of the cynical Nixon-Kissinger “decent interval” exit strategy concocted to pass the political buck (to Mr. Ford, as it happened) on Vietnam.

As the White House tries to sell this flimflam, picture fresh American troops being tossed into Baghdad’s caldron to work alongside the Maliki-Sadr Shiite lynch mob that presided over the Saddam hanging. Contemplate as well Gerald Ford’s most famous words, spoken as he assumed the presidency after the Nixon resignation: “Our Constitution works; our great republic is a government of laws and not of men. Here the people rule.”

This time the people do not rule. Two months after Americans spoke decisively on Election Day, the president is determined to overrule them. Our long national nightmare in Iraq, far from being over, is about to get a second wind.

The New York Times Company

2007-01-07T20:52:00.000-06:00

First lines of the first entry of each month last year:

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Jan: Well, hell, Happy New Year, everybody!

Feb: Holy crap, I did it. I ordered a notebook from Apple. [Two sentences, sorry. But it reminds me, I have to get the extended warranty.]

Mar: Romance, schmo-mance.

Apr: Feeling cranky today, not sure why.

May: Last day of creative writing.

Jun: I’m reading The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler and enjoying the hell out of it.

Jul: I've had a curiosity about the more sordid aspects of Lewis Carroll's life, and I researched the subject on the 'net.

Aug: Ugh, I accidentally dropped one of my Wellbutrin tablets into my coffee, and by the time I got to the bottom of the mug the outer coating had dissolved of course.

Sep: I'm baaaaa-aaaaack!

Oct: OMG, is this the effin' funniest thing you've ever seen or WHAT?

Nov: Sadie, my friend from grade school who moved away after 6th grade, said this in her last email:

Dec: I just finished The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.

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I haven't had much to say, apparently.

2007-01-07T20:23:00.000-06:00

I fucking hate it when someone you thought was a friend turns out to be a real tool. Judgmental, control freak, pedantic. Is it so difficult to accept that sometimes things don't work out? That sometimes people change their minds? Fuck this shit. But I'll be glad to be done with it.

2006-12-23T17:47:00.000-06:00

Never Date an Aries

Impatient, restless, and selfish - it's a lot of work to make an Aries happy.
And if you drop the ball, your Aries will be gone faster than you can say "I'm sorry"!

Instead try dating: Taurus, Virgo, Scorpio, or Pisces

What Sign Shouldn't You Date?

2006-12-23T16:59:00.000-06:00

2006-12-11T01:56:00.000-06:00

Huh.

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

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Okay, that eXTReMe Tracking thing is a mixed blessing to be sure. Here are a couple of ways that people found me:

http://www.ask.com/web?q=i+want+to+see+free+flicks+where+women+are+fucking+animals

http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=husband+wets+himself+diapers

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=dating+someone+with+a+mental+disorder+AND+schizoid

2006-12-07T16:49:00.000-06:00

"Pain of Afghan Suicide Women." Article says that many of these women, often arranged in marriage to 40-year-old-men while still in their teens, feel that suicide is the only way out of a trap from which they can't escape. I don't fucking blame them, I mean, Jesus! Forced into marriage to some old chump who, if you're lucky *doesn't* beat you? If it were me, I'd have done it long ago!

But think, people, if you want to exit this realm, setting yourself afire is not the way to do it! Holy shit, do I have to tell you everything? Get ahold of a firearm or throw yourself off a bridge (don't bother with pills, they often don't work). Even hanging is less painful and more sure than fire. Gawd, imagine waking up covered with severe burns, thus making your life maybe 1,000% more miserable than it already was. Christ.

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[Prompted by V., I'm watching Plan 9 From Outer Space again. Love how that "inspector" keeps scratching his head with the barrel of his pistol.]

Hey, check it out! A vacuum coffee brewer!

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Fourteen days -- count 'em -- FOURTEEN days after I requested my refill, my Effexor arrived today. By this time, I'm suffering severe withdrawal symptoms and am in pretty sad shape overall. When I called the VA yesterday, I was told that I need to plan ahead better when phoning in refills. Thanks, VA. Thanks for fucking up my refill, and thus, my head. And thanks for making it my fault.

2006-12-07T02:34:00.000-06:00

You really should watch The Kid (1921) when you get a chance. Good flick.

2006-12-05T16:11:00.000-06:00

"US Not Winning Conflict in Iraq"? What? *lower lip trembling* How can this be possible? I thought the US government was infallible!

I don't know where I'll find the strength to carry on, with my convictions shattered thus.

2006-12-04T14:32:00.000-06:00

Pet peeve: when someone uses a Priority box from the post office to send you a parcel, but they've taped over the easy-access pull-strip.

I finally got my hands on some MSC (Mister Super Clear), a spray resin used to coat BJD's after you paint them. Apparently there is no substitute, though believe me, I looked. This shit's from Japan and can be hard to find. Once I found some, I bought three cans. But here's the thing: I requested that they add two Kolinski sable paintbrushes to the order: one 20/0 and one 30/0. I've *never* seen a 30/0 before. Anyway, they added the brushes and didn't charge me. So, I guess that leaves it up to me, being the honest soul that I yam. If the seller were a big corporation I'd say screw it, but they're a mom-and-pop, so I'll take the high road.

2006-12-04T01:46:00.000-06:00

US marine given 40 years for rape

A US marine has been sentenced to 40 years in prison for raping a local woman in the Philippines last year.

The sentence was handed down to Lance Corporal Daniel Smith in a Manila courtroom for the rape of the woman in a van at a former US navy base.

Three other defendants, Lance Corporals Keith Silkwood and Dominic Duplantis and Staff Sergeant Chad Carpentier, were all cleared of rape.

The case had sparked strong protests from women's and left-wing groups.

About 100 protesters were outside the courthouse for the verdict.

They sang the nationalist song My Country and called for the end of the Visiting Forces Agreement that covers the use of overseas troops in training exercises.

Damages

The attack took place at the former US naval base of Subic Bay, west of Manila, in November last year.

Smith, 21, from St Louis, Missouri, had said the sex was consensual.

But Judge Benjamin Pozon said the woman was so drunk she could not have consented to sex.

He said the length of the sentence was aimed at "protecting women against the unbridled bestiality of persons who cannot control their libidinous proclivity".

Smith was also ordered to pay the defendant 100,000 pesos ($2,000) in damages.

The marines had been held in custody at the US embassy, after the US refused to hand them over until the end of the trial.

The defendants were stationed in Okinawa, Japan, but had just finished manoeuvres in the Philippines when the attack occurred.

The case created strong emotions in the Philippines, with protesters often appearing at the courtroom.

They had held placards including the phrases "Justice for Nicole," "Jail the Yankees," and "Rage Against Rape".

Nicole was the pseudonym given to the victim, now 23, in the case.

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/asia-pacific/6205324.stm

Published: 2006/12/04 07:39:13 GMT

© BBC MMVI

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I post this article because when I was in the marine corps, I remember "having sex" -- on more than one occasion -- when I was way too drunk to have any say in the matter. And without a doubt, the party(ies) in question would have said it was consensual.

Speaking for myself, I can't help but take responsibility. If I was the one being drunk, trusting and gullible, I'm the one who put myself in situations where unscrupulous persons would take advantage. I just wish I'd had more common sense in those days, realized sooner that I wasn't special or even particularly desirable, and that none of those guys gave a hairy rat's ass about me. It makes me sad thinking about it, so I won't.

I like my life so much better now.

----------

On a completely different note, I keep having dreams about a certain someone who was in my high school class and is now an actor. Jeezus. I think he's the figure in my subconscious who'll sweep in, accept me, love me, and make everything all right, when in truth I'm sure he doesn't know -- or, more importantly, care -- that I exist [and I'm cool with that; I wouldn't expect him to]. All I know is, those dreams irritate the shit out of me. My waking self revels in the fact that I'm by myself and don't answer to anyone, while my sleeping self yearns for a "soulmate." Gimme a fucking break.

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On another completely different note, here's an entry from V in its entirety:

Friday, November 03, 2006

This could be the best place yet - but you must overcome your fears.. - George O'Dowd

Time Clock of The Heart

I was going to say how how fast 2005 went by, and then realized that its 2006.

It's really the same as any other years with not much gained and a loss of a lot of things. Hair is one thing.

Friends are scarce and I'm trying to accept this as the norm for my life. I just happen to be one of those people. Judge me only by my Un-popularity.

Tammy said to the new girl "Oh, and that's V. Everyone hates him"

This was 6Th grade.

Stop laughing. It wasn't that funny. It's true. I wish I could say that it WAS true. But I can't because it still IS true. Tammy is still around in many other forms telling, whispering to people in their ears - "everyone hates him."

Tammy could be god. Or energy. Or just something in the air. A force of some sort or the source itself. Though I'm told that the source only knows how to give love. So it may be some other thing. It is a code you are born with. It's in your DNA. It's an instruction. Information.

But this morning, someone whom I was sure that hated me, actually held the elevator door for me.

And I wondered if this was to be my last day here.

Even to those that live a 100 years. It's really a very short trip. This stopover. This brief intermission is but a spark. In the cosmic scheme of things our lives are just flashing on and off. This is true in both science and the spiritual.

I just don't know what is what, but what I know is that it plain sucks that this is the way I have to spend my human existence here on earth.

Just want to get off the train and continue on. Let me become the vibrations that I am and let me not have any earthbound feelings anymore.

------------

I cannot tell you how much I relate to this post. Only difference is, yesterday during a meltdown (ran out of meds and the refills haven't arrived yet) I started questioning the existence of god. Usually I'm of the opinion that there's a higher power of some kind, even if it exists beyond our comprehension. It's necessary for me to believe that there's a reason of some kind for all this shit. But during my meltdown yesterday I was convinced that everything is for nothing, that it means nothing. Check me out, I'm getting all nihilist and shit.

It's been years since I've had a crisis in spirituality. I'm going to take some philosophy classes, regardless of whether they apply to my degree or not. I think I need a break from the usual anyway; I've had the doldrums for quite some time.

2006-12-02T04:00:00.000-06:00

I just finished The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. It was wonderful, and maybe even genius. So moving, sweet, imaginative, different. Wow. I know I'll be thinking about about this book for a long time.

Yesterday I watched Airplane! for the first time uncensored (always saw it on network t.v. when I was a kid), and got a few hearty laughs out of it. The sanitizing makes quite a difference. For the worse. But you knew that.

2006-11-30T14:11:00.000-06:00

My battery is about to die and I'm too lazy to get the cord. But you gotta check this out:

http://www.jonhs.net/freemovies/movies.htm

It's trippy as hell. You can see movies for free! I watched Freaks yesterday, and, geez, words fail me. But I couldn't stop watching. And then I found a site about sideshow freaks to read more. Oy.

2006-11-22T17:34:00.000-06:00

From the New York Times:

November 21, 2006

Cases

Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle: For Some People, Intimacy Is Toxic

By RICHARD A. FRIEDMAN, M.D.

It is practically an article of faith among psychotherapists that an intimate human relationship is good for you. None other than Freud himself once famously said that health requires success in work and in love.

I’m not so sure. It seems that for some people, love and intimacy might not just be undesirable but downright toxic.

Not long ago, a man consulted me about his 35-year-old son, who had made a suicide attempt.

“I was shocked, because he never seemed depressed or unhappy in his life,” the man said of his son. “He always preferred his own company, so we were relieved when he started to date.”

He went on to tell me that he and his wife had strongly encouraged their son to become engaged to a woman he was dating. “She was perfect for him,” he recalled. “Warm, intelligent and affectionate.”

Everything seemed to be going well until, one day, the father got a call from his son’s girlfriend. She had not heard from the son for several days, so she went to his apartment and found him semiconscious in a pool of blood. He had taken an overdose of sleeping pills and slit his wrists.

After a brief hospitalization, where he was treated for depression with medication, he returned home and broke off the relationship. Soon after, he moved to Europe to work but remained in frequent e-mail contact with his family. His messages were always pleasant, though businesslike, full of the day-to-day details of his life. The only thing missing, his father recalled, was any sense of feeling.

I got a taste of this void firsthand when his son came home for a family visit during the holidays. Sitting in my office, he made little direct eye contact but was pleasant and clearly very intelligent. He had lots of interests: computers, politics and biking. But after an hour of speaking with him, I suddenly realized that he had not mentioned a single personal relationship in his life.

“Who is important to you in your life?” I asked.

“Well, I have my family here in the States and some friends from work,” he said.

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

“Why would I?” he replied.

And then I suddenly understood. He wasn’t depressed or unhappy at all. He enjoyed his work as a software engineer immensely, and he was obviously successful at it. It was just that human relationships were not that important to him; in fact, he found them stressful.

Just before he made his suicide attempt, he remembered, he had been feeling very uncomfortable with his girlfriend and the pressure from his parents. “I wanted everyone to go away,” he recalled.

Typical of schizoid patients, this man had a lifelong pattern of detachment from people, few friends and limited emotional expressiveness. His well-meaning parents always encouraged him to make friends and, later on, to date, even though he was basically uninterested in social activities.

“We thought he was just shy but had lots of feeling inside,” his father told me.

That’s what his son’s therapist believed too. When I telephoned her, she explained that she had been pushing him over the four years of treatment to be more social, make friends and finally date. She attributed his failure to do this in any significant way to his underlying anxiety and low self-esteem. “With time,” she said confidently, “I expect he’ll make progress.”

When I got off the phone, I wondered if we had been talking about the same patient. I found him calm, detached and self-confident about his abilities and work.

His therapist apparently believed that no one could genuinely prefer solitude and that there must be a psychological block preventing this patient from seeking intimacy.

But after four years of weekly therapy the patient had basically failed to reach any of these goals. You would think that for this reason a therapist would question whether the treatment was really the right type for the patient. After all, if your doctor gives you an antibiotic that doesn’t kill an infection, he or she should question the diagnosis, the treatment or both.

Granted, psychiatric illnesses are generally more difficult to treat than simple bacterial infections, but why should psychotherapy be any less self-critical and self-correcting than the rest of medicine?

I had a hard time explaining all this to the patient’s father. Finally, I came up with an analogy that I had some hesitation about, but since I discovered that both of us were dog lovers, I gave it a try. I explained that some breeds, like Labradors, are extremely affiliative; other breeds are more aloof and will squirm if you try to hold them.

“You mean my son is detached by nature,” he said. “I guess we all pushed him too hard to do something he couldn’t do and didn’t want.”

Emotional intimacy, it seems, is not for everyone.

2006-11-17T08:21:00.000-06:00

Hey, what happened to Sandy? Sand-eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2006-11-14T21:07:00.000-06:00

Found out this evening while I was checking the mail that our water is going to be out tomorrow, all day, for the second time in as many weeks. Went home and found that the pressure is already down to a mere trickle. Goes to show how much civilized society depends upon reliable water.

So I changed the water in the fish bowls and filled up the water containers for the cats. I have some water set aside for tomorrow's coffee, and I've brewed a big jug of iced tea. Tried to do a load of wash but I don't think that worked very well. And tonight before I turn in, I'll need to have a bath as best as I can manage, but there's not enough pressure to wash my hair. None of my sinks or the tub hold water so there's no point in filling them up.

I'm already thirsty.

2006-11-14T16:41:00.001-06:00

Hey, I've totally got to see Casino Royale! I'm not ordinarily much of a Bond fan, but Daniel Craig intrigues me. Hmmm, new droool material. Oh yeah. I'm going to have to rent every single movie he's ever been in.

2006-11-13T15:31:00.000-06:00

What? New version of Blogger? What the hell is this? I'm resistant to change, so no thanks, not until I'm forced, thank you very much.

Now what the fuck was I going to write about?

Oh, right! I had a weird dream last night or this morning during my 12-hour beauty sleep. I dreamed that I went to the Reform Jewish Temple that I'd written about a few months back. The rabbi was not the same guy as was there when I visited for the school project, but instead there was this really really tall older guy, not the welcoming sort at all. I was trying to explain myself, my needs, and my interest in learning about Judaism, and I don't remember exactly but he was derogatory, saying I wasn't suitable or something like that. Rejected. Once again.

As much progress as I've made in regards to my years of therapy and introspection, there are still some nagging things I can't shake, such as my fear/expectation of rejection. But anyway.

Speaking of years, yeah, forty of them. Forty. Not sure how I feel about that, or if I feel anything. I'm in a bit of malaise. I dropped two out of three classes in school and am so far behind in the third that I might speak to the instructor about being dropped from that, but good luck because the deadline's passed.

Lately I've been confusing past and passed. So much for my excellent English skills.

Newman's on my lap and licking the back of my hand gently with his rough pink tongue.

2006-11-04T23:04:00.000-06:00

Reason number 4,587,334,232 that I'm glad to be away from the ex: I can listen to any music I want, no matter how geeky, without fearing his ridicule. I swear, he really ruined my enjoyment of things.

2006-11-02T02:06:00.000-06:00

Sadie, my friend from grade school who moved away after 6th grade, said this in her last email:

I still wish [my family] hadn't left BFE. You and I most likely would have had a much easier time going through school together.

I contemplated saying this in my reply, but I didn't: uh, Sadie, honey, hate to burst your bubble, but you wouldn't have touched me with a ten-foot-pole either; you were so pretty that you'd surely have run with the "in" crowd. Should have said it, maybe, but I didn't.

I told my voc rehab rep to forget about it, not in so many words. Having a shit semester and dropped two of my three classes. I'd never get approved anyway.

2006-10-29T20:09:00.000-06:00

Was out of commission for a couple of days because my power cord bit the big one and the battery was dead because I didn't realize it was operating without the power cord (I was watching a DVD). So, I went to the Apple Store today to get a replacement cord. Had to wait two hours for an appointment and had no money, that really sucks when you're in the biggest mall in the city. But I'd brought my knitting, so it's all good.

Check out what my Voc Rehab rep sent me:

Newpeep,

Sculpture is not an employment goal. That would be considered an infeasible goal and VR&E will not support that program.

You need to make your monthly contacts by e-mail Newpeep. This is something else I am measuring. I need you to send an e-mail stating how school is going, how your medical issues are going, and what jobs you have been on the look out for recently. How you are feeling also. There is no wrong answers but I need that info.

We have an appointment on 11/2/06 at 10:30. Please review what you are supposed to bring to that meeting. You need to come prepared. Everything you bring will be used in determining your feasibility. I would suggest not coming empty handed.

Thanks

From: Newpeep
Sent: Friday, October 20, 2006 11:43 AM
Subject: Change college major

I've decided to change my college major to sculpture instead of English (English will be my minor). How does this affect my application for vocational rehabilitation?

Thank you,

Newpeep

Aiight ... fuck her and the high horse she rode in on. I got this last week and I'm still pissed about it. I need to call her and tell her to stuff it (not in so many words) but try finding the phone number to any specific government entity. Good luck. But I'm not going to that stupid ass appointment -- fuck her. I've been in college fucking three years now without her fucking help and i certainly don't need her shit.

2006-10-20T03:44:00.000-05:00

Dammit! There's so many movies I want to see, and no time in which to see them! Marie Antoinette, Flags of our Fathers, Running with Scissors, The Departed, The Prestige, The Marine, Jackass No. 2, The Grudge II, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the Beginning.

Gotcha! I was just kidding about the last four. As if! You couldn't pay me to attend those movies. But yeah, there's a lot of movies out right now. I already missed some that I meant to go see but have left town already, like Hollywoodland, The Black Dahlia, Factotum, , and Half Nelson.

I did see Infamous the other night, and I enjoyed it, although I have to say that it didn't resonate with me like Capote did. Daniel Craig is an intriguing actor, but I wonder if he wasn't dubbed in this flick.

2006-10-16T17:03:00.000-05:00

I don't know why people cast me as an "intellectual." It's happened all my life. I'll bet it's because of my glasses. Because I'll tell you right now, I'm no intellectual. I'm not even especially sharp. I lack critical thinking skills; I struggle to say more than "it was good," or "I didn't like it." Taking these English classes is like trying to squeeze myself into someone else's mold -- which is exactly what I spent all my adult years doing: first, the marine corps and then all those fucking secretarial jobs in korporate Amerika.

I've come to learn that I'm happiest when I'm covered in clay slip and up to my elbows in it, when something begins to appear beneath my hands as if I have nothing to do with it. I go to a special place in hands-on activity that eludes me when I'm trying to employ language.

2006-10-11T16:50:00.000-05:00

I'm seriously considering dropping my English major to a minor and then majoring in sculpture. I've come to despise English and it would be great to be done with it (which I would be, for a minor). *sigh*

2006-10-10T14:59:00.000-05:00

What's your Russian name?

Overheard in New York:

Biker: I heard George Bush was supposed to be here. Where the hell's that bitch nigga at?

--World Trade Center

2006-10-10T02:33:00.000-05:00

I have to get some Christmas presents for a person who has chow chows. You know, I am so prejudiced against that breed. No problem with pits or rotts. It was a chow who nearly took a bite out of my ass a couple of years ago. Dog lover that I am, that's not something I'll soon forget. It's why I don't care to visit that one friend of mine who has chows (it was one of hers that bit me, for one thing).

2006-10-07T19:11:00.000-05:00

Here's something to see for its slurp factor, if nothing else.

2006-10-02T22:43:00.000-05:00

Well, a while back I attended services at a Reform Jewish Temple as an assignment in sociology class, and I found the people to be very welcoming. I thumbed through their prayer book or whatever it's called, and read some things I thought were positive, common sense, and not what I'd expect from religious text. I mean, I grew up in BFE, where Jesus is crammed down your throat whether you like it or not and most people are big, fat, fucking hypocrites.

I dunno, sometimes I play with the idea of going back. I'm not sure what I seek, if anything, but I don't really have an anchor in life. But here's the thing: I'm not a joiner. I can join something, attend regularly for quite a long time, and then drop it one day without warning and never go back, and not out of any conscious decision either. I fear commitment -- to anything -- and I also fear anyone getting to know me too well. I usually let people only just so close before I back off.

I don't want to be Jewish, necessarily, but a lot of their teachings make sense to me.

At any rate, now they're celebrating this big annual thing and this Friday is a potluck, so not a good day to start.

If I join a Temple, does that mean I can't curse anymore? Shit.

2006-10-01T16:46:00.000-05:00

OMG, is this the effin' funniest thing you've ever seen or WHAT?

And the winning caption is: “And when the clock strikes midnight he shall rise. For he is Count Pupula! [thunder clap]”

2006-09-28T11:15:00.000-05:00

Last week I gave a presentation to class, reading off my notes on my MacBook. About two minutes in, *fffftt*! It spontaneously shut down. Man, that was crappy. The class had to wait while I found an outlet for the power cord, move the desk closer to the wall because my cord wasn't long enough, plugged my computer in, booted it back up, and then started up Word for my notes. The teacher handled it well and had the class talking throughout.

Well, I just did some searching around the Apple web site and it turns out I'm eligible for a battery exchange, so that's what I did. I hope that takes care of it.

2006-09-28T07:17:00.000-05:00

Last week, I went to one of the few movie theaters in town that show foreign/indie flicks so I could see Quinceanera. It's that theater located in the bottom of an office complex with a myriad of parking structures and things, and I always get lost there, and this time was no exception. The only person around to ask directions was a Mexican guy emptying the trash, who, as it turned out, couldn't speak English. Through pantomime, I conveyed what I was looking for and he pointed in the general direction.

Then you know what I said? I said, "Danke schoen."

"Danke Schoen"?!

Maybe my brain capacity, at one-and-a-half languages, is full.

Oh, the movie was terrific.

2006-09-24T02:20:00.000-05:00

OMG. Oh. My. GAWD. This describes my ex to a T. And Eduard too, that sot.

I stole it from P'Nut, hope you don't mind. I want to copy the article in its entirety in case the link dies a death one day.

How to Avoid Dating a Jerk

14/09/2006 4:10:00 PM

It's the question I am most often asked by readers. How do you spot a jerk before you start dating him (or her?) There are ways to detect jerks. Here's how.

It's the question I am most often asked by readers. How do you spot a jerk before you start dating him (or her?)

He always "forgets his wallet" and sticks your friends with the dinner tab. She screeches at the shampoo boy for using the ylang ylang essence instead of lavender, and it's obvious only to them that there's not another competent driver within a 50-mile radius.

You're offended, you're humiliated, you're walking on eggshells: somehow you've ended up dating a jerk.

There are the classic signs, of course. Conventional wisdom suggests you look at the way someone treats people they perceive as "don't matter" people -- a waitress, the ice cream store guy, the woman who cleans his apartment. If he's snotty to wait staff, condescending to strangers, mean to people he's not trying to impress, it's only a matter of time before you're on the receiving end of all that irritation and condescension. That's right: today his steak is overcooked and the only acceptable solution is the waitress's public humiliation and immediate dismissal. Tomorrow, you're the incompetent, disappointing moron.

John Van Epp, author of a new book called How to Avoid Marrying A Jerk

says, "Jerks have no gender, the only difference is the package they come in."

How Do You Spot a Jerk?

Other than a wake of tearful customer service managers and shaky restaurant staff, how can you spot a jerk? According to Van Epp, there are three tell-tale signs:

1. A Habit of Breaking Boundaries

Van Epp says, "These include players and [personal] space-invaders (What is mine is mine, and what is yours is mine.)" This immediately struck me, since I spent a good part of last Saturday night watching a big drunk guy in an orange shirt pawing a succession of strange women on the dance floor like a grizzly in heat. Jerk? I think so.

2. The Utter Inability to See Anything from Anyone Else's Perspective

The other guy was rude, the donut guy was an incompetent, the Democrats or Republicans (or Liberals or Conservatives, take your pick) are ruining the world. It's often hard to see from someone else's perspective, but a non-jerk will try. Van Epp says, "In time, you will realize that you are invisible to your partner."

3. Dangerous Lack of Emotional Controls and Balance

According to Van Epp, "Emotionally unstable people live on the extreme right or the extreme left of center. The people on the left are flat-liners, with no emotional pulse. At first they appear easygoing, but later you realize that they are cold and detached. On the other side are the overreacting types who are the life of the party, known for their enthusiastic and entertaining personalities, addicted to captivating and fast-paced romances that mask their deeper problems under a shroud of attentiveness and passion. With time and exposure, their dark side emerges."

Are You A Jerk-Magnet?

You might be. Van Epp says, "Good hearted people have the greatest risk for staying in a relationship with a jerk because good-hearted people so quickly forgive, overlook problems, minimize shortcomings and give second chances."

Of course, some of these traits are necessary to keep a relationship on track. But if you find that you're on the giving end of forgiveness more often that the receiving end, you might be setting yourself up for jerk after jerk after jerk.

Another common mistake is love (and relationship) at first sight. "One of the most common ways you become set up to get involved with a jerk is by accelerating the pace of your relationship." Oprah recently had several women on her show who had all married or been engaged to the same guy, frequently at the same time. With nearly all of them, Mr. Romantic had proposed within just a few short weeks or months of dating them, and would end a blowout with one by proposing to another.

Van Epp says, "Only after some time do narcissists reveal their extreme demands -- a kind of 'buy now, pay later arrangement.'

"Once one disappointment blemishes the relationship, the narcissist can never retrieve the fantasy feeling of true love."

Lisa Earle McLeod, author of Forget Perfect says, "Jerkiness is related to narcissism. A jerk usually has a long history of failed relationships, and they'll always tell you why it was the other person's fault. The relationship gets really serious really fast, they get infatuated, but the second the jerk finds out that you're not perfect and you no longer see them as perfect, they become demanding and critical."

The Road to Jerkville

Obviously, none of us would go for a second date if a jerk showed his (or her) true colors before the appetizers arrived. But some jerks can be quite charming in the beginning.

And sure, we all act like jerks once in a while. We scream in traffic, we lose it when the carpet cleaners ruin our drapes by tying them in a knot with their grimy hands, we freak out when our partner says something that strikes a nerve. But, according to Van Epp, "The most fundamental, identifying feature of true jerks is their persistent resistance to ever changing their core jerk qualities."

Jerks aren't usually jerky in the beginning of a relationship. But a fast-paced, head-over-heels romance can be enough to cloud anyone's judgment.

Van Epp says, "Resolving your emotional necessities is the first step to avoid a marriage to a jerk. It is also an indispensable step to avoid becoming the jerk."

According to Van Epp, people who always end up with jerks, "consistently lack a 'head' knowledge of what to look for in a perspective partner"

In this day and age, we choose our partners on your own whereas in the past, your family and friends were all involved in the process. So even if you were all gaga and starry-eyed, Great Aunt Leona was still keeping a clear head and an eye on your future.

And McLeod says, "The old saying goes, 'Think with your heart, not your head,' but before you go moving in together or blowing two months salary on a ring or worse, wasting seven years of your life with a loser, try ignoring your heart and taking your brain out for a spin."

Dr. Molly Barrow, author of Matchlines: A Revolutionary New Way of Looking at Relationships and Making the Right Choices in Love says, "Listen to your girlfriends! Better yet, listen your mom! Another source to turn to are your kids. Your children are very sensitive, and although they will not always like all the new men (or women) in your life, they will really hate someone who is a jerk."

According to Van Epp, there are five universal human bonding dynamics: Know, trust, rely, commit and sex. He suggests that "you should never go farther in one bonding dynamic than you have gone in the previous."

In other words, don't go swinging naked from a trapeze on the third date if the rest of the categories are still stuck in "Hi, nice to meet you." And don't fall in love with someone you barely know. Balance in all five categories is key.

Welcome to Jerks Anonymous. Can a Jerk be Reformed?

According to Van Epp, usually not. He says, "No matter how many times they have been confronted by you or others, they still persist in their hurtful pattern. If it is possible to reform a jerk, it will almost always require a major life crisis or life-transforming event, but the longer the track record, the lower the likelihood for improvement."

So, unless he gets struck by lightning or abducted by aliens, the jerk is probably here to stay.

Dating Expert Lisa Daily is the author of Stop Getting Dumped!

2006-09-22T14:58:00.000-05:00

Man, this would be so cool! It would be perfect for me, someone who has no horizontal space and needs to keep fish in an environment safe from the cats.

But $450?!?! That's criminal! Bite me!

2006-09-16T23:35:00.000-05:00

I'm somewhat dismayed to see the return of skin-tight jeans. I remember wearing them in high school, jeans so tight that they pressed on your stomach all day and gave you gas. Dude. There's no way I'll ever wear those again. I'm afraid Levi's 501's are it for me, or else cargo pants.

2006-09-15T14:55:00.000-05:00

Ah. Sadie did write back. Turns out she was out of town on business. Well, that's cool. Now I feel silly for fussing. I admit, I have an abandonment complex. I had a shrink say as much (not to my face, but written in my file).

2006-09-13T01:26:00.000-05:00

Alright, here's the thing. In fifth and sixth grades, I used to hang around with a girl named Sadie, who was my age and lived on my street. We got along well overall, although we got into a couple of spats like kids will do. After sixth grade she moved and we wrote faithfully for a couple of years until it kinda died off. Even so, I've wondered about her often over the years.

Well, surprise of surprises, a few weeks ago she writes me! She tells me a brief history of her life and seems very happy to be in contact with me, and says she can't wait to hear from me again. So, I write her an email, and then I don't hear from her. What gives? I sent her a brief how's-it-going email today and still no reply. Have I offended her somehow?

Why does this always happen to me? I mean, Liz contacted me and then, after I replied I never heard back. Do I smell bad? What?

2006-09-10T12:11:00.000-05:00

Stolen from Wil Wheaten's blog:

A guy walks into a bar, and orders six shots. The bartender pours them, and he slams them back as fast as he can.

"Woah, buddy!" The bartender says, "why are you drinking so fast?"

"You'd be drinking fast too, if you had what I have," the guy says, gravely.

"Oh," the bartender says, "what do you have?"

"Seventy-five cents."

Hehehehehehe.

I loved Stand by Me. However, I wasn't a huge fan of Wesley Crusher. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying reading Wheaton's blog; I think he's a talented writer.

I'm going over to Bro's house today to visit with him and Niecey. SIL is at a ball game. I'm going to have to ask Bro, what gives? Why am I only invited when SIL is away? And I don't care if I'm stepping in it, either.

Oh, let me show you a Blythe pic:

The poor girl no longer looks like that--I've scalped her. She'll be my first customization project. Matte face, new eye chips, new lashes, new makeup, and new hair. She's going to be a platinum. I plan to do another Blythe in emulation of Hollywood, who's too expensive to buy.

Oh, oh, and guess what? I saw Shay at school the other day. I was somewhat surprised, as it was in the English building and she's not an English major. Additionally, I thought she might have graduated by now. Anyway. She looked about the same, although there wasn't time for an inspection. We just passed each other in the crowded hallway. I said, "how's it going," and she said, "hey, Newpeep," and that was it. I don't guess I hold her in ill will, but I don't miss her.

2006-09-08T21:52:00.000-05:00

I'm baaaaa-aaaaack! My DSL modem crapped out and I got the replacement today. Thank gawd. Going to catch a movie since I took a shower today and I don't want it to go to waste. Later.

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The Illusionist. Liked it.

2006-08-28T08:54:00.000-05:00

Last week Aunt Flo paid me a visit, and I was searching frantically through the pile of unfolded clean laundry for a pair of skivvies while getting ready for school. Could I find any? No. Now, I've got no compunction with going commando, but under the circumstances I didn't feel it was wise. Then, I espied a pair of my ex's boxer shorts (no, I did not keep them as a souvenir -- he found that he had to wear tighty whities in order to support his package and so I took his boxers). I'd worn them around the house before but never as underwear, but I was desperate and my pants were baggy, so what the hell.

I tell ya what, that was damn comfortable! Felt so breezy! Maybe I should get some more.

--What? I had to tell somebody!

In other news, I'm still interested in Blythe dolls and have a couple on their way. In response to Balwearie (hey there! good to see ya!), I have no interest in getting the Kenners. Spending up to a grand on a thirty-year-old piece of plastic is not my idea of a fun hobby. Nope, Takara Blythes only for me. Although, I bought one of the unpopular Ashton Drake Blythes (different facial sculpt and not as cute) to customize into a black doll. Wish me luck! Oh, if anyone knows anything about airbrushing plastic and vinyl, please let me know! Do I have to put gesso on the surface first? And if so, won't that create a grainy appearance?

I got a BJD and customized it over the weekend. It's a Cerberus Project Ttori, which is supposed to be a boy doll, but I put the head on a girl body. I did that with my Woori and she came out so sweet. But Ttori, well, I can't warm up to her. Next to Woori, she just looks like a boy in drag. I think I might have to sell her.

However, I think my paintjob on her is one of my best! I've finally figured out an important trick that no one's told me before: don't thin the acrylics with water, use a polymer medium. Hello. And since I didn't have a "regular" medium on hand, I used airbrush medium and shoot, it worked like a charm. *sigh*

2006-08-23T12:31:00.000-05:00

At school. I actually made my eleven o'clock class. Gotta keep it up for the rest of the semester.

The next class isn't until four. I'm SO tired! I wish there was a place where I could take a nap. It was easy during the summer since no one was around. Can't sleep in the car because it's too hot. Poop.

I've been bitten by the Blythe bug. Not sure why! However, I won't get more than two or three. We'll keep it in hand this time. Maybe I can customize some for sale; they seem to do better than 16" fashion doll repaints, and they look like more fun, besides.

2006-08-18T13:32:00.000-05:00

To explain about my meltdown ... damn, what a meltdown. It came on really fast. Well, I'd forgotten to take my meds that day. It's as simple as that! And then when I mentioned it in group the other day, the therapist/counselor, whatever, said that it was probably also due to the fact that my meds hadn't been absorbed by my system with my persistent case of the trots. Makes sense. But thank you for your supportive comments!

In other news,

2006-08-15T16:29:00.000-05:00

I hate my stupid life. Nothing fucking goes right, ever.

2006-08-12T14:32:00.000-05:00

"Animals Matter to Me"

I just signed a petition concerning the welfare of animals worldwide that will be sent to the UN. The link is also in my sidebar. Animal welfare is important to everyone; please sign. Thank you.

When I say I don't care about anything and that nothing matters, this is the exception. Animals are the one thing I care passionately about.

2006-08-10T16:23:00.000-05:00

Oh my gawd, I'm so frustrated I could cry. Customer service has died. D.I.E.D. died. I know this will come as a complete shock to anyone reading this, and I apologize for any irregular heartbeats that result.

1. I signed up for "Freedomlink," an AT&T wireless internet available at Barnes & Noble, etc. That was before I knew I'd sign up for SBC wireless at home, which, of course, has merged with AT&T. This Freedomlink stuff is $20 a month, but for home WiFi subscribers it's $1.99. Additionally, there's a one-year contract. So, I phone to try to get those folks to let me have the 1.99 fee instead of the $19.99, and they say that they can't do it; that I have to use the website. Yet on their site I see no links to get where I want.

2. Remember that stupid fucking aircard I bought from Cingular (who, incidentally belongs to the same "family" as AT&T and SBC)? The one I bought in APRIL? The one I returned IN APRIL because it didn't fit my notebook? I still haven't received my refund ($265), despite making no fewer than five phone calls regarding the matter. I have my web order number, but I lost my confirmation slip from the post office, although I remember that the parcel was received by them on April 13. Because I no longer have the confirmation number, they refuse to fund my money. Why? Because those aircards don't have any products numbers on them. Additionally, it's obvious that there's no receivables logs, i.e., "Parcel received from Newpeep in Big City on April 13." Fucking assholes. Just because I don't have my fucking confirmation number, I'm being crucified, and this is pissing me off to no end. Why why why why why.

I know I'm incoherant. I just love how they make it all my fault. We can't give you your money back and it's all your fault. Fuck them, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck them!!!

_____________

Update: The folks at Cingular "Customer Care" have agreed to credit my Cingular account (not give me a refund), but only for half the amount that is due me. Reason: they have no way to confirm that this item was ever received in their returns department. Ain't that the shit.

2006-08-09T00:32:00.000-05:00

Oh, great. This is just great. I didn't know that child abuse actually causes brain damage.

2006-08-08T12:28:00.000-05:00

The Fountain looks cool as hell. I can't wait 'till it comes out! I really dig that time travel shit, or living forever, as the case here.

2006-08-08T01:20:00.000-05:00

Awright, check this out. I've had a stomach upset for the last few days, right? Well, I was telling Anne, via email, that I'd applied some neem oil to my scalp because it's been a bit itchy lately. (Neem has antimicrobial properties and should get rid of any bacterial or fungal infections.) Then I found evidence on the 'net that neem oil can cause diarrhea, which was the reason I mentioned it at all.

Anyway, she goes and jumps to the conclusion that I've got lice! And that likely my kitties have the creepy-crawlies too, and that I should see a doctor. Well, I. Do. Not. Have. Lice. For chrissake.

2006-08-07T20:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, get this latest thing that irks me. I've got a couple of product reviews on Amazon--not a lot, just a couple. I went to offer my hard-earned wisdom on a product the other day and when it was published, what did I see but my real, honest-to-gawd name next to my "handle," AND my location, with little text beneath that said, "Real Name, tm."

This little text thing beneath my name is called a "badge." I investigated what the fuck was going on and I read that these badges are "earned." No they're not! I didn't ask for my "Real Name" to be used, or for their fucking badge! Amazon just took the liberty of putting my name, harvested from my credit card information, on all my reviews.

I like to protect my privacy if at all possible, so I emailed Amazon and said I'd like for my Real Name to be removed. Here's their supercilious reply (retrieved from the virtual trash):

I'm sorry to hear you're having trouble with Your Real Name.

To edit the name associated with Your Profile: [instructions follow]

So I follow the directions and this is what I see:

Note: If you use a Pen Name, you will not receive a Real Name™ badge.

Oh my gawd, I won't receive a badge? Heavens to fucking Betsy! How will I ever recover from the blow?

Hey, I used to think that Amazon was okay, a fairly cool organization. But I guess they've succumbed to suckage same as all the rest.

2006-08-07T06:55:00.000-05:00

I just sent my lit prof an email, saying that I can't come to class and take the test today. My stomach isn't any better and surely it's not acceptible for one to act like a jack-in-the-box during a test, or for any class day. I hope he gives me an incomplete.

It kinda pisses me off; I wish I'd stayed home all summer long instead of bothering.

-----
UPDATE: he wants me to come in on Wednesday and take the test instead of just dropping the course altogether. He's really nice. More to follow.

2006-08-06T13:39:00.000-05:00

Aw fuck, those dickweeds next door to me, where Wilda used to live, had a big, physical fight and I can hear someone crying. And I'm pretty sure that they abuse they dog. They also play their stereo loud sometimes. Carrie in the office asked me once if I hear anything from them and I said no, because at the time I hadn't. The floorplan of these apartments has the living room and bedroom toward the outside of the building on either side, with the walk-in closet, bathroom, and kitchen against the wall, and the floorplan is mirrored. So, the living spaces have a substantial buffer, see what I mean? The unfortunates who live downstairs from the dickweeds have no such buffer, and they've been complaining for a while. Anyway, I'll go to the office and speak to Carrie, to say, yes, I do hear them, in case they need ammunition. I'm more concerned for the dog than for anybody else, but I'm not sure what can be done about that. Based on my past experiences, any intervention of mine, however well-meant, is pathetic and ineffective.

I've still got the trots, which is how I heard the dickweeds, 'cause I was camped out on the loo. This is getting old, five days now, and tomorrow I have a test at school. I think I see Immodium in my near future. If I can make it to the store and back long enough to buy it.

-----------

Peep didn't hold a grudge yesterday and came up to me for brushing and loving. :-)

2006-08-05T14:14:00.000-05:00

Peep demands to be brushed every day. I can't pin Missy down long enough to run the brush through her fur, but if Peep sees me with the brush in my hand, she leaps up and demands it for herself. Well, I've been noticing that Peep's fur has been a bit oily and there's some dandruff, so I gave her a bath. To my shame, I haven't bathed the cats regularly, which is too bad because if I did they'd be used to it. As it was, Peep was a very good girl. She wailed a couple of times and tried to get away, but she didn't bite or scratch. Now she's hidden somewhere drying herself. I towel-dried her, but Christ, cat fur holds so much water!! When I bathed my dawgs, most of the water rolled right off. Not so with cats. So even though I towel-dried her as best as I could, she's still pretty sopping wet. Poor thing. I'd better give her some salmon-flavored vaseline so she doesn't chuck a hairball. But she probably won't let me near her for a while.

2006-08-04T13:33:00.000-05:00

John, thank you once again, my well-informed friend.

Fascinating interview with Gore Vidal.

I don't like being an American. I want to move.

2006-08-04T12:41:00.000-05:00

Ugh, I accidentally dropped one of my Wellbutrin tablets into my coffee, and by the time I got to the bottom of the mug the outer coating had dissolved of course. OMG, that shit tastes NASTAY!!!

I yam pleased to announce that ... drumroll, please ... I now have my own wireless connection at home. Finally, eh? It's pretty sweet. I videoconferenced with my friend Peggy the other night and it was a fucking blast! It's kinda funny, though; now when I talk to my friend on the "phone," I have to make sure that I'm looking presentable and that there's nothing too disgusting in the background. The cats hate the videoconference thing. I wanted to show them to Peggy but I had to catch them and hold them captive in front of the camera. As I told Peg, usually they're all over me like a cheap suit.

2006-08-04T07:39:00.000-05:00

Peep keeps getting hairballs, so I bought this stuff recommended by Anne, Hartz Hairball Remedy, which is basically salmon-flavored Vaseline. Peep no likey! I smear it onto a forepaw and she gets all bent out of shape. Well, what makes it even worse is that Missy loves the stuff and so she starts chasing Peep to get a taste! Honestly.

Something's wrong with my stomach and I slept for nearly 24 hours yesterday. I'm so weak.

2006-07-30T22:51:00.000-05:00

You Are: 30% Dog, 70% Cat

You and cats have a lot in common.
You're both smart and in charge - with a good amount of attitude.
However, you do have a very playful side that occasionally comes out!

Are You More Cat or Dog?

2006-07-30T21:39:00.000-05:00

I haven't checked into blogland for such a long time. There's just nothing new to report. I haven't felt sharp or clever for a while now, and I'm not sure why that is. It occurs to me that ever since I started on the Wellbutrin, I've been having problems with, I dunno, getting it together. I've always been messy, don't get me wrong, but I would periodically clean up. I probably would have been categorized as untidy. But now, but now...

2006-07-17T03:58:00.000-05:00

If you bought The Matrix on DVD, don't bother watching with the audio commentary activated. Just sayin'.

2006-07-16T19:10:00.000-05:00

Whoa! There it is! My blog was down for the count for a while. Not that you've missed much.

I wasted my whole weekend playing Sims2. I downloaded a patch so it works now. I cheat though. No way am I going to start a household on peanuts, that's too much like life.

Saturday, July 15, 2006, 6:04 AM

Goddamn, sometimes these fucking cats drive me nutsl. They don’t let me sleep. As soon as I turn the light off, they start tear-assing around the place. Then at dawn they start up again. Meanwhile they snooze all day. Missy in particular is a nuisance with her constant crying to get somewhere high or after the birds, or she starts messing around with something crackly. Normally I have infinite patience with my cats but sometimes I JUST CRACK.

So something’s wrong with my blog. I’d been neglecting it anyway, probably for lack of something to say, and the last few times I tried to access it and it didn’t come up, I shrugged, moved on and forgot about it. My dashboard is intact and the blog shows there; I tried republishing, which showed as successful, but still no blog. Well, it’s not fixing itself so I’ve got a report in to the help staff at Blogspot and we’ll see what happens.

2006-07-03T14:38:00.000-05:00

Dude, I am so glad that I am not, nor have I ever been, with AOL. Oh. My. Gawd.

2006-07-01T15:51:00.000-05:00

I've had a curiosity about the more sordid aspects of Lewis Carroll's life, and I researched the subject on the 'net. Found a very interesting article in Wikepedia, which says that Dodgeson (Carroll's real name) was misunderstood and that his fondness for little girls was blown out of proportion, that Victorian mores were different from present times. There's an article from 1998 in the NY Times that I wanted to read but I was unwilling to pay four bucks for it.

I'm not one to exonerate child molesters. I mean, c'mon, they're fucking freaks and should be exterminated, okay? (My therapist said that even castration doesn't diminish their compulsions.) But from reading the article, I can easily see how a theory becomes so entrenched over time that it becomes the "truth."

One of those things I suppose we shall never know.

In other news, I bought the Sims2 game for my Mac and the fucking thing doesn't work. When I went to the Apple Store last Wednesday to inquire about why Stubbs the Zombie doesn't work, the "Genius" explained that the game was incompatible with the Intel chip or some such shit and that a patch needs to be developed. Must be the same with the Sims2. Looks like Apple has taken a page out of Microsoft's book, releasing products before they're finished.

2006-06-28T23:10:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, June 28, 2006, 2:47 PM

Awright, went to the California Pizza Kitchen after my shrink appointment at the VA Hospital, which is not the same as the Vet Center, by the way. So hungry. CPK’s white pizza is very good. There’s no internet here but I’ve got Werrrd up so that (word up) I don’t have to look at the two lovebirds in the next booth who are sitting side-by-side instead of opposite each other. I don’t know about you, but I find it easier to converse with someone across the table from me. But whatever. Right now I’m conversing with my Notebook, so there you go.

I’ve had a zit on my left cheek for going on two weeks now. One of those especially nasty and tenacious buggers that won’t go away, and by now it’s turned an attractive shade of aubergine, right there smack dab on the center of my cheek. It may as well have arrows and flashing neon signs pointing to it saying BIG ZIT. So, today I wore some makeup, which I seldom do anymore. The makeup wasn’t terribly effective in hiding the zit, but as an experiment I applied dark eyeshadow around my eyes instead of eye liner, the result of which makes me look fairly ghoulish and thereby detracts from said zit. Oh well, I can always let my hair hang in my face and hide it that way. Ghouls’ hair hangs in their faces, right?

Pizza’s here, schnum num num!

It’s too hot to eat right now. I want to leave my Notebook open to act as a shield, but I don’t want to wear down my battery. Would I look too much like a dick if I put the computer to sleep and kept the black screen up?

3:29 PM

Pizza’s gone and the lovebirds have left. Gawd, looking at them, I’m SO glad I’m not in my 20’s anymore! How small your universe is when you’re the center of it.

The soundtrack in here is pretty good. “Only Cab on the Road” by Train (don’t like anything else of theirs), and now the Gin Blossoms, “Until I’m Far Away,” which is one I don’t have a copy of. The Gin Blossoms bring to mind a really good period in music, up to the mid-90’s. After about '95 or '96, everything went to hell in a handbasket. Isn’t it weird how that happens? A similar slump took place in the late '70’s to the early '80’s.

I could have sworn the waiter was laughing at my zit, but surely I’m being paranoid.

2006-06-28T09:20:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, June 28, 2006, 2:02 AM

I’ve got nice welts on my back from Missy springing onto me and digging her claws in. I swear. Newman and Peep figured it out already, no claws on humans. That hurt, and imagine if I didn’t trim Missy’s nails! Missy wants love so much, she tries too hard sometimes.

Tonight I saw Superman Returns on, what’s that called? Special engagement or something. Enjoyed it very much! The lead actor was a very fine choice and did great. And gawd he’s handsome. Christopher Reeve will always be Superman in my mind since that movie emerged in my formative years, but this guy, Routh? --is good too. Only complaint would probably be that they could have cut a good ten or fifteen minutes out of the denouement, as it dragged a bit. Also, they laid it on somewhat thick with the Jesus allegories. Still, though, a worthwhile film. I liked James Marsden’s character, Lois Lane’s fiancee and therefore Superman’s “rival.” He was written as a decent, caring guy and not some stereotypical jerkoff as one might expect in a movie.

Also liked the "bring it on!" line given to Lex Luthor.

Some little punk-ass high school brats were sitting behind me, proving to each other how cool and clever they were by making commentaries during all the quiet scenes. I turned around in my seat and said, and I quote, “Shut the hell up.” And they did, mostly. I’m such a bad ass. Not. If they were Hispanic or black I most likely wouldn’t have said anything, but as it happened they were runty peckerwoods. I could take ‘em. Yeah.

But why did I have to say something? Huh? Why didn’t anyone else pipe up?!

I really hate motherfuckers who ruin my moviegoing experience.

Next on the list: The Devil Wears Prada. I can’t imagine teenage boys wanting to see that.

Over the Fourth I’m visiting my folks. Don’t really want to. :-
9:20 a.m.

Phoned the mom-unit and begged off.

2006-06-27T17:18:00.000-05:00

Audio books are da bomb. I love listening to a book while I'm knitting; that way, I can do two of my favorite pastimes at once. But the cost of audiobooks, oy vey. I can't really justify the purchase. I mean, it's kind of disposable, don't you think? It's not like I'm going to listen to it over and over.

Here's something that I find kind of amusing. The doll stands for Tyler Wentworth et al. They blow. The metal rod is never the right height so the saddle part never reaches up far enough to support the doll's body. Or in other cases, the rod's too long so the doll's toes dangle a few millimeters up from the stand's base. No one can figure out why, WHY, the Tonner Company can't make a decent doll stand. Fashion Royalty stands are wonderful! No toppling dollies there. Well, not long ago Tonner came up with stands that actually worked. The metal rod was telescoping and there was a new rubber gasket where the rod met the stand for stability. But get this: there was a hole drilled in the crotch of the dolls and the "user" had to jam the rod up in there. There was an outcry in the dolly community! The new devices were dubbed "hoo-hoo stands." [Oh, and Regina Wentworth was nicknamed "Vagina" Wentworth.] Me, I admit that those new stands were aesthetically awkward (felt somewhat gynecological), but at least they worked. Now, in response to the collectors, Tonner went back to the stands that suck. *sigh*

2006-06-23T20:19:00.000-05:00

I'll have an order of this to go:

Thanks, V., for directing me to this nice bit of eye candy, originally posted at The Sartorialist. This is the kind of physique I like best, fit and ropey but not overbuilt. No thick neck here!

2006-06-18T19:45:00.000-05:00

And in other news, what do you think of the upcoming Superman movie? I was impressed by Kate Bosworth's acting in that show "Young Americans" in 2000. I was totally addicted to that show was was disappointed that it wasn't picked up, even though I wasn't included in its target demographic. It was far more compelling than the usual dreck (like Dawson's Shit Creek). So, I can see Bosworth doing Lois Lane well. And Keven Spacey's going to be a terrific Lex Luthor.

But the lead. Hm. I've only seen the trailers, mind, but he doesn't strike me as much. Too bland and of limited range. I hope I'm wrong. But why didn't they cast Bosworth's old costar Ian Somerhalder? Now *he* would have made a good Superman! *drooool* I know I have an indecent penchant for younger men, but permit me to say, I want him.

2006-06-18T18:39:00.000-05:00

I'm sickened to read today that the International Whaling Commmission had a vote to lift its ban on commercial whaling. Is this another sign of the approaching apocalypse? I hate what's happening to the planet and to animals--maybe the apocalypse will come soon enough to save them.

2006-06-18T00:44:00.000-05:00

Friday, June 16, 2006, 11:27 AM

I have to get ready to head for Anne’s. Was late getting up, despite my alarm clock. Ran outta coffee today, ugh.

Ironically, I received an email from that reprehensible doll dealer, “look what’s newly arrived!” NOT. I replied, telling them to take me off their mailing list. I don’t care if they get a gold-plated exclusive doll, I’m never dealing with them again. Fuckheads.

Saturday, June 17, 2006, 1:36 PM

Man, I’m so droopy today. Anne says it might be the low pressure system we’ve got right now. Maybe I’ll sleep all day. Cool.

Sunday, June 18, 2006, 12:35 AM

Finished listening to the audiobook of Robinson Crusoe. If I’d had to read it, I doubt I would have gotten through. He sure went on and on, in laborious detail, then at the end, he didn’t even say what happened to Friday. And speaking of Friday, how Crusoe obtained him to be a servant and had him address Crusoe as “Master.” Christ. Distasteful in a lot of ways by our standards. Showed the lack of regard for the environment and its resources and the inherent English belief that they reigned supreme. And all the Christian bits too. Fortunately I can tune a lot of that out.

2006-06-15T15:44:00.000-05:00

I've got the rare connection, and it's a strong signal too. I'm speaking literally, not metaphorically. So now I'm afraid to get off the computer for fear of losing that connection. Compulsive? Obsessive? Insane? Hmm.

Oh, as further evidence that I'm in a state of arrested development, I've been brushing my teeth with Spongebob Squarepants toothpaste. What. It tastes good, like fruity bubblegum. Man, they didn't have that fun stuff when I was a kid! All we had in my house was plain ol' Colgate (in a metal tube and my dad would get mad when I squeezed it in the middle). As a teen I used Gleem. Do they even make that anymore? I'll bet it was as abrasive as hell.

V., I finally downloaded Firefox and I love it! Thanks for the recommendation.

Alexa has a post about stealing toilet paper. I've done it. I always put off buying toilet paper and put it off. I used to steal t.p. from work. Not taking the roll off the dispenser (which is locked and I don't know how to work it), but swiping leftover standing rolls which usually still had 1/2 to 1/4-inch on them. Yep yep yep.

2006-06-15T13:48:00.000-05:00

Thursday, June 15, 2006, 12:20 PM

Okay, can somebody answer me this question: how, on a notebook keyboard, can someone get to the very top or the very bottom of a document? I know on a regular keyboard it’s shift page up, or shift page down. *sigh* That’s my only complaint about this lil’ computer, and admittedly it’s a small one, a matter of re-learning the keys.

Last night I saw Water at one of the few theaters that show indie/foreign flicks. I hadn’t been to this particular theater in probably five years and I’d always been driven there by my former friend (she was the one who was so dominating and derisive that I had to cut her loose). Anyway, it’s located in a tricky place, hard to get to from the freeway, so yeah, I got lost. I imposed upon some security people who very kindly helped me out. Back to the movie, at the end I wasn’t so sure I was glad to have seen it. The print was crappy quality, which is irritating. I guess it was a bit depressing. I don’t know. I was the only one in the theater, which was very creepy.

Received Midas Touch Jac from a wonderful doll dealer, not the aforementioned one, whose issue is still unresolved, by the way. I always get that song in my head, the one from the 80’s, “Midas Touch” by Midnight Star. I’ve got it on MP3. Okay, I’m playing it now. Corny be-bop song, I know, but I used to dance like crazy back then. When I dance I’m truly happy, but I don’t do it now because I’m so out of shape that I can’t keep it up for long. Anyway, I wanted that Midas Touch Jac so I could keep her outfit and repaint and sell the doll. *Need money, need money, need money.* What else is new.

Know what I hate? Those character strings you have to type in order to send an email. I have no problem doing it and am pleased at any attempt to prevent spam, but make the characters legible, please! What’s the point if I can’t read them?

Something else that irritates me is when legitimate email gets shuffled to the bulk folder. I have to check it prior to emptying it, and thank gawd I did today, because I got an important reply from the doll company regarding the aforementioned issue. Jeez. The company seems to have come through, but I remain deeply dissatisfied with the lack of customer service from the retailer and will post my story publicly for everyone to read.

The adult son of a friend of mine is getting married to a woman who is really beneath him. Ugh. I feel sorry for my friend, because there’s nothing you can do in that case; any words to the negative will only spur conflict. It’s my impression that the son, who’s a bit shy and nerdy, was ensnared. The woman is considerably older, has three young kids, and a psychotic ex who stalks her. I’ve encountered her once and she didn’t leave much of an impression: her personality is nil, she’s skinny and attractive in an overplucked kind of way. Probably that guy’s first piece of ass. I hope I’m wrong. But I don’t think so. You just have to shake your head, y’know?

2006-06-14T20:54:00.000-05:00

Had group today. The lady said she tried to phone me last week but it said the number was disconnected. Now I've got two reasons to ream Cingular -- they *still* haven't returned that money from the gottdamn aircard that didn't fit my notebook.

And as if that weren't enough, the fuckhead at the dollstore stubbornly refuses to exchange my doll for a new one. We've exchanged emails back and forth. It pisses me off so, that I feel like getting rid of all my fucking dolls.

On a positive note, I have 84 college hours. After the upcoming fall semester I will be a senior! Wooo! But okay, lemme figure this out ...

A maximum of 66 hours may be transferred from a community college, and
Last 30 semester hours must be completed in residence at the university.

Okay. I've got 32 transfer hours, and 52 university hours. So, I'm still within the timeframe, but it's got to be sooner, not later.

Oh, and check this out: my freakin' freaky-ass creative writing teacher gave me an A-. Huh.

2006-06-13T16:54:00.000-05:00

Huh. Guess what, apparently my ascendant sign is Capricorn. Scorpio with Capricorn rising. Okay.

I *lost* a doll that I sold and was supposed to have mailed by now. I can't find it! What am I going to do? If I don't find it pronto, I'll have to refund that person's money and apologize profusely. How the hell can I lose a doll?! It's in its box and shipper with the address already written on it. Christ.

2006-06-13T14:51:00.000-05:00

Piggybacking while the piggybacking's good.

I'm getting pissed off here. I bought a doll online, right, because there are no doll stores in the area. So I get the doll and at first I'm pleased, until I take a closer look. There were a plethora of problems. And believe me, I'm not one of those uber fussy collectors. So I write the doll company, who says, not my problem, contact the retailer. So I write the retailer who replies, not my problem, contact the doll company. Why do I have to go through so much gottdamn trouble for a stupid doll?!

On the positive side, I'm selling a different doll and it looks like I'll get a little more than I paid for it, which is nice.

2006-06-11T00:36:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about where I want to go after I'm done with school. I think I might head back to the west coast. Not sure that the east coast is what I want. Hell, I have no idea what I want. But the west coast holds some familiarity at least. I've never lived in L.A., maybe I could give that a try. Get an apartment in the city and fuck trying to commute. L.A. is a city I could get lost in, and apparently the crime rate is less than where I live now. Or maybe Portland, Oregon. I like rain, I like winter, and I like trees and mountains.

2006-06-10T21:41:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, May 24, 2006, 11:34 PM

Finished The Grapes of Wrath as well as a doll skirt I was knitting on. Nice, quasi-positive ending to the story. Doesn’t tell you what ultimately happens to the Joads, but you get the feeling that with a strong woman like Ma to look out for them, they’ll be alright. I got the feeling that first Casey, and then Tom, were Jesus figures. As for Casey’s theology, what he describes is about what my feelings are on the subject. And I thought I thunk it up all by myself.

When Tom killed that sonofabitch who clouted Casey in the head, I was glad! Dylan Baker was the narrator and I thought he did an excellent job throughout.

I’m gonna have to do research on John Steinbeck and find out what kind of research he did for the book. He had to have traveled with some migrant families; everything sounds so real and immediate. A shameful part of American history, one of many. I guess things got better after Roosevelt took office and implemented all those public works programs, and then of course WWII provided plenty of jobs.

Roosevelt invested a lot of borrowed money into the country by putting all those men to work. Now our government’s got a deficit and the only citizens who benefit are the ones who are already rich. Muth – er – fucker.

On a completely different subject, L.L. Bean’s got what they call “boyfriend jeans,” which “are enzyme-washed, sandblasted, then deliberately nicked and frayed for a worn-in, weathered look.” They’re fifty bucks. I’d rather wear my jeans out by myself, thank you very much. I noticed that if you buy jeans that are pre-faded, they fall to pieces in a relatively short time, while jeans bought new last almost forever. I’m boring, I don’t wear trendy jeans. I think now the skinny, drain-pipe jeans are in vogue. Oh gawd. A coupla years ago it was the crotch-dusting bell-bottoms, now it’s the opposite extreme. I’m gonna order me another pair of those men’s cargo pants in a different color, the shorts version of same, and a sunwashed tee. I love buying stuff, it gives me a rush. I’m truly an addict.

Ugh. I’ve got an excess amount of stuff and people like the Joads had nothing. Makes me take a second look around me. If Mrs. Joad were here, she’d have this place ship-shape in no time, and she’d give me a good scolding besides.

Sunday, May 28, 2006, 8:06 PM

At the folks’ house for the weekend. I don’t know what the hell crawled up my mom’s ass. She hates herself and thus spreads her poison throughout the household. She’s been getting on my nerves all day; I spent as much time as possible napping. She complains and complains but doesn’t do anything about her problems. She’s fat, her husband’s a dick. Big news. DO something about it, don’t bitch to me!

Wednesday, May 31, 2006, 3:07 PM

Have to get to the post office today to mail off a doll I sold and get the buyer off my ass. Also have to go to the campus and drop my 8:00 a.m. German class; I don’t know what I was thinking. Hopefully it’s not too late to enroll in another class, but not having school for another six weeks doesn’t sound like a bad deal either. I have a lit class for the second summer session starting in July. I really can’t imagine what else I’d want to take, especially given the slim pickin’s this summer.

Raining here, which is nice.

Tuesday, June 6, 2006, 12:39 AM

Watched Aliens, one of my all-time favorite movies. Had to view over a stretch of two nights because that intensity is just too much! I was so deeply disappointed in Aliens 3 because right at the start they killed off Newt and Hicks. Kinda makes the second movie moot, almost. Also, I didn’t buy that an alien stowed away on their getaway vessel. By itself, I think the third movie is alright, but I never really got over those points. Yes, I’m an Aliens geek—nothing else compares. Never saw the fourth one, don’t know if I will.

One of my favorite moviegoing memories is seeing Aliens for the first time in 1986 – on a Marine Corps base in Okinawa! The Colonial Marines in the movie were spot on, and really brought out a response from us, the audience. Top Apon was played by an actor who had been a marine in real life, which I only learned yesterday. So THAT’s why he was so realistic! “You secure that shit, Hudson!” I love love love Michael Biehn, or at least the characters he played in Terminator and Aliens. Hunky, tough, and yet sweet-alicious. Wish he’d come rescue me.

I like Alien too, but as it happened, I saw Aliens first. Alien came out in 1979 or so, and I wasn’t old enough to see R-rated movies. This was back in the day when R really meant something, not just some vacuous, obligatory muck. The swearing felt real, felt just like what I might say in such circumstances. Gawd forbid. Ugh. Anyway, the first time I saw Alien was in New Zealand with my ex and the video copy we rented was so bad that the whole thing was black most of the way through, so I couldn’t say that I enjoyed the movie until some time later when I finally saw a decent copy.

Suffering from yet another bladder infection, my last. I say that because I know what causes them and I’m staying away. It ain’t worth it. It’s just the mechanics, whether organic or not, and I threw away my expensive inorganic sources. Fuckit, guess I’ll just have to live without. It’s just biology, after all. I can overcome a few primitive impulses.

Friday, June 9, 2006, 1:50 AM

Thank gawd for antibiotics. And thank gawd that I don’t have to fend off the constant, insistent, whiney, and “entitled” overtures of some asshole, such as the one I married and the one I dated prior to that. It’s so nice to be free.

Tonight I saw the latest X-Men movie. Was never a follower of the comic book or anything, and I didn’t even see the first movie. Well anyway, I think I recall this installment getting some negative reviews, but shit, I thought it was great. Never once wondered what time it was, my criteria for an enjoyable movie. Note if you haven’t seen it yet: there’s a scene after the end credits, so don’t leave the theater. [Spoiler] Sorry to see Patrick Stewart go, as I’m a big fan of his. Nevertheless, there’s that hint that the series will continue. So, if anyone’s seen it, at the end when Magneto was a regular old man and he was at the park in front of the chess set, and he was trying to get one of the chess pieces to move telekinetically, was it my eyes or did it wobble? Someone tell me!

Read Stephen King’s Hearts of Atlantis. Good read, and a surprising source of insight as to what it must have been like in Vietnam. I don’t recall that he went himself, so he must have interviewed a lot of vets. He’s right about the Zippo lighters; at least my dad has one. I didn’t go to Vietnam, obviously, but my dad went twice. The first time I was almost too young to remember, but I have some fuzzy memories of living in California with his parents, and also spending time in Germany with Oma. Second time we were living in Amarillo, Texas, and I hardly remember that either. Just some subsurface sense of unease when he returned, because everything was better when he wasn’t there—there were no ugly nighttime secrets, Mom wasn’t such a fucking bitch. He was a chopper pilot and rescued bush-whacked soldiers, which was especially dangerous from what I gather. How many times I’ve wondered what my life might have been like if he didn’t come back.

He maniuplated me when I was a kid, telling me that if I didn’t do what he wanted when he came into my room at night that he would die, which struck terror in my heart. However, not many years later during another nighttime visit, I told him viciously that I didn’t care if he died, that I hoped he would. He acted so incredibly hurt and betrayed by this – can you see that this person completely lacks empathy for anyone else? He’s a fucking psycho.

But I digress. Apparently he went the second time because his half-brother got drafted and his step-mom called hysterically to see if my dad could do something. So, citing that rule about only one son in the family going to war, my dad went in his half-brother’s stead. Lot of good it did, the guy blew his brains out when he was in his 30’s or so. I don’t have any fond memories of this uncle of mine. Last time I saw him, I was very little and he was a teenager, and he used to tease me mercilessly, until I was in tears. Nobody intervened because they thought it was funny. There’s even pictures. Goddamn I hate my family, the American side at least. That’s why when I divorced, I kept the name of the shithead I married, who was a lesser shithead than the one who spawned me.

Well I’m wandering all over the place, aren’t I. I’ve got cramps and am using the laptop as a hot-water bottle.

I’ve been sent to the vet center, someplace for vets to go for psychiatric help or whatever, on account of sexual trauma I experienced while serving (just some procedural bullshit for the voc rehab office). The lady who’s been interviewing me is a sociologist and not a psychologist, which I find refreshing, since I think psychology only goes so far, at least for me. Other people and the environment do have an effect on me, I don’t live in a bubble. I was told that I’m suffering from arrested development, whatever that is. I like to play with dolls? I don’t want to pay my bills? So what. I was put in a women’s group with other vets, but they’re younger than me and have been to Iraq, whereas I’ve never been in combat. Last Wednesday was supposed to be my first meeting and I rushed to get there on time, only to find a sign on the door reading that the meeting had been cancelled, which pissed me off. I would have appreciated a phone call, it’s not like I live right down the street from the place. Not to mention the price of gas.

Why did I bring up all that Vietnam shit in the first place? Oh yeah, because at the vet center we were talking about how Vietnam’s after-effects rippled, extending beyond those who actually went. I know it had a profound effect on my own life.

Saturday, June 10, 2006, 2:29 PM

I’m reading The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler and enjoying the hell out of it. I saw the movie in Carlsbad, California when it was released and found it to be dreary, which is all I remember about it. The character Susan says:

“You really think that you and me have any power? It’s just free speech, that’s all we’ve got. We can say whatever we like, then the government goes on and does exactly what it pleases. You call that democracy? It’s like we’re on a ship, headed someplace terrible, and somebody else is steering and the passengers can’t jump off.”

The character of Susan is fifteen. I don’t recally knowing anything about politics or the world until maybe my late twenties.

At another place in the book, “Macon didn’t want to sound prejudiced, but he couldn’t help feeling that people who had no children had never truly grown up.” I agree with him, if I’m any example. I know that children age the shit out of you.

2006-05-23T21:49:00.000-05:00

I think I might go see Art School Confidential, on the recommendation of V (thanks, V!). I did a stint in art school and can say with some confidence that it's full of bullshit. It's like a place for parents to cart their ne-er-do-well kids. Or something.

In the campus computer lab there are big signs saying, "Don't touch the printer." I have this insane, childish desire to stand there with my pointing finger an inch away from the printer, saying, "I'm not touching it. I'm not touching it."

2006-05-23T21:46:00.000-05:00

Friday, May 19, 2006, 2:48 PM

Wow, slept until two again. What the hell?

That doll I ordered three weeks ago that still hasn’t arrived, well, turns out it’s not in stock. Kinda pisses me off but again, it’s just a fucking doll.

Got some repaints up on eBay; they’re not selling for much. I guess I have to make the dolls look like total ho’s in order for people to like them. I might just take one of them off auction and keep her for myself rather than letting her go for $90 after all my hard work.

I did all that painting because I’m behind on my rent and was hoping to make up for it with the doll sales, but since I didn’t get much I’ll have to repaint and sell that “exclusive” BJD of mine. I was kinda hoping not to resort to that, but it’s no big deal because I don’t really like her anyway.

I happen to know that a repaint that I sold a couple of years ago, a fully-rerooted Daphne, was bought by a prominent artist, repainted and resold for a lot more money. I guess once someone purchases something, it’s theirs to do with as they please; even so, I think it’s shitty to pass off someone else’s work as your own. Those full reroots are a LOT of work.

I find myself sexually attracted to someone’s husband. He’s in his mid-40’s, shy, nice, cute, smart and has a subversive streak. Full head of thick hair with sexy gray on the sides. I also happen to know that he doesn’t get much sex and I would love for him to sink onto me. Don’t worry, I’m not going to act on it; I don’t mess around with other people’s husbands. Guess I’m just horny; I must be ovulating.

Saturday, May 20, 2006, 3:04 PM

Just finished listening to the audiobook Son of a Witch and enjoyed it immensely. Got some knitting done, too. What a great way to multi-task!

7:20 PM

Forgot to mention that I watched You’ve Got Mail. Holy shit, what a gawd-awful movie. So trite and transparent. Hey, I like a light, feel-good movie sometimes, but it’s got to have some brains (I liked Sleepless in Seattle). This was so heavy-handedly scripted and directed that there was no spontaneity. And Meg Ryan was already getting her lips injected by that time. To be certain, I stopped the movie halfway and put in When Harry Met Sally to compare, and sure enough. And she was so self-consciously perky that it was rather sickening. I thought Tom Hanks did a nice job within the confines of the film; but hell, Hanks is rather spill-proof, don’t you think? I remember him from the times of “Bosom Buddies.” I wonder how this DaVinci Code thing is going to turn out. Have no great drive to see the film since I thought the book was only so-so, but I might catch a bargain matinee if I have nothing better to do.

I liked Parker Posey of course.

Sunday, May 21, 2006, 9:39 PM

Listening to The Grapes of Wrath. Read it in 10th grade and didn’t get much out of it. I found it tedious then, and a bit now, too. Steinbeck tends to go on a bit, in the intervals between the story of the Joads.. Still, it’s more interesting and meaningful to me now. Depressing though. Got kicked off the land, dog got run over and then Grandpa died.

Monday, May 22, 2006, 9:30 PM

The Grapes of Wrath is getting more and more depressing, and I think I’m only halfway through. Not sure I can get through this. Shoulda played The Hobbit instead.

2006-05-12T21:48:00.000-05:00

Thursday, May 11, 2006, 1:17 PM

Saw Friends with Money last night and enjoyed it very much. I seem to recall some negative comments from critics, but I guess I’m not a fussy movie-goer; I’m not all that high-brow. It was a bit painful to watch sometimes, like when Frances McDormand got kicked out of Old Navy. I thought it was entertaining and I was interested in the lives of the characters.

Well, I need to do some laundry because I’ve got nothing to wear, then I need to get to a computer and look up some contact information because a doll I ordered a while back still hasn’t arrived. :-E And plus I need to look into getting my own WiFi, hello. I wish I lived in Rhode Island. Free television, free radio, why the fuck not free WiFi?

I keep trying to knit some doll clothes but so far nothing has worked out! Either it’s the wrong size or the stitches fall off the needle while I wasn’t looking and I lose all my lace yarn-overs. Poop.

I need to clean my apartment, it’s gotten to the point where I hate it and I hate myself. But every time I contemplate cleaning, I’m so overwhelmed that I lay down and take a nap, which is what I’m about to do right now.

3:36 PM

I want to see that movie Water.

If I can get this place to a quasi-passable state, I think I’ll get me a maid service. I’m serious. I need help. But of course, I can’t get anyone to help me with the place the way it is.

9:03 PM

I painted and sold one of my BJD’s and the customer received it today. Overnight shipping – whoa. Anyway, she really likes the job I did, so I’m glad. She pointed out to me that a lot of people into BJD collecting are kids, like junior high and high school. That would explain the crap I encountered at that one board, which shall remain nameless but which I’ll never visit again.

I got the game Stubbs the Zombie, and I’m already bored with it. Just putzing through levels, always doing the same thing. There’s no puzzle to solve and no objects to find. I used to really dig Duke Nukem and I enjoyed Hexen very much too. This one is dumb.

10:21 PM

Huh. A fire truck and police car are visiting my complex. I wonder what that’s about.

2006-05-10T18:12:00.000-05:00

Saturday, May 6, 2006, 12:02 AM

Saw Mission Impossible II tonight. Hey, what can I say, I like the series, and this was no exception. Just a turn-your-brain-off kind of thing. There was some intrigue and what have you, and plot twists and stuff which I didn’t understand, but I didn’t bother to try to figure it out; I just went with it. I’m good at suspension of disbelief. I’m no fan of Dr. Cruise, but he does a fine job with this kind of movie. Well, okay, I don’t think he’s a bad actor, as much as I detest his self-importance in real life. But so what, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers was there! I could totally suck on those lucious lips of his. Billy Cruddup was there too, and as much as I loved him in Almost Famous, he didn’t seem to find his stride here, or maybe it’s just me. Cruise’s fiancee was played by that brunette who got tipped over in the porta-potty in North County, and she’s very appealing.

12:58 PM

Wahhh, no internet. I don’t have much time, I need to get over to Bro’s so I can babysit Niecey. I thought I’d take my beading kit over and we could make bracelets together. As luck would have it, today is the worst day of my period, but I took my pills so they should work soon. I think I’ll take my laptop so that I can hook up to Bro’s wi-fi, I’m sure he won’t mind.

I bought a doll; well, I’d ordered her last December and she’s only now arrived. She was the first BJD I ever wanted and the last to arrive, how’s that for irony? Anywho, she’s “exclusive.” There’s pre-orders only once a year, they take five to six months to arrive, the numbers are limited and there’s nowhere else to buy them. Thus, the demand is outrageous and the cost on the secondary market is easily doubled. Oh, oh, and get this, the doll isn’t even assembled; in fact, they just emptied the pieces from the molds and stuck them in a box, the tabs and seams still intact. It kind of pisses me off, what you get as opposed to what you pay. ANYWAY, I sanded down the pieces and assembled them last night (which was kind of fun -- I like putting together Ikea furniture too) and now I have to do her faceup. If, after that, I haven’t bonded with her, I’m selling her ass. It’s funny, after wanting her for so long. Maybe it’s the anticlimax.

Sunday, May 7, 2006, 12:00 AM

I shoulda blogged from Bro’s house while I was there; don’t know why I didn’t. Anyway, Niecey was good. A little headstrong sometimes, but considering she’s in her terrible twos, she’s pretty good. To my relief (and hers of course), she uses the potty now, so I didn’t have to mess around with any diapers. Thank gawd.

7:32 PM

Tried to paint my new arrival but it didn’t come together; instead I used the big puddle of paint that I’d mixed on a Tonner doll repaint that I hope to sell. At least I was able to use the color. I hate when I mix a color and it goes to waste. I have a lot of trouble mixing colors for the BJD’s because their resin is so light.

Tuesday, May 9, 2006, 10:32 PM

Man, I need to get me some internet at home, this sucks.

Missy’s on my lap. Poor thing, I ran out of kibble yesterday and she doesn’t eat anything else, not even the wet food that I put down. I ran to PetCo today, not that I really like that place, but they carry Natural Balance. So now she’s happy.

Watched Lost in Translation tonight, which I borrowed from Bro. Love that movie. I saw it in the theater. I forget that it’s a movie, it feels so real.

On a dolly board, some ho-bitch posted a nasty message about me in the good/bad traders section, because I offered her my Sooah for sale and then changed my mind and refunded her money. I apologized and gave her her money back – what else was I supposed to do, send her a dozen roses? Cunt. Jeezus fucking Christ. Shit like this really bothers me, even though I suppose I shouldn’t let it. Anyway, I posted my own bad traders message about her. I’m not going to just roll over and let her have her say. Fuck her. I’ll probably stop going to that group. What ugly people.

Thanks. I really had to let that out. That ruined my afternoon.

Oh, saw Joe at PetCo, the UPS guy who used to be in my area. He requested a transfer after learning that Wallyworld was coming. Smart guy. I used to think he was so hot. I think he thinks I’m a freak, but it’s alright.

2006-05-01T14:51:00.000-05:00

Last day of creative writing. The teacher is such a dick. Can't stand him. He's tearing apart a story that I thought was quite good. Argh. A coupla more hours and that's it.

He's running at the suck right now; going on and on. He starts off saying, "We'll only talk about this for five minutes." An hour later, he's still at it. Loves the sound of his own voice.

I'm full of bile, probably because I haven't eaten yet. The kids in here are SO blow-ass! One such kid showed up two hours late last week, the next-to-last class, and plopped down a single-spaced, eight-page story for the class to crit on the last day. The fucking nerve. If I were the teach, I'd say, "We're not reading that." But though he emits such proclamations, he never follows through. This guy wants to be charming, everyone's friend. I'd better quit, I've got nothing nice to say. Oh by the way, I didn't read that story. Fuck her.

---------

The teacher had that blow-ass chick stay after he dismissed the class so that he could go over her story solo. Good. When he dismissed us, he thanked us for a wonderful class and said he hopes to see us again. Not if I see him first.

I mean, honestly. He said today during a critique, "If I have to read another one of these stories I'm going to put a bullet through my brain." You think that's constructive? I left as I usually do, without looking back.

2006-04-30T20:06:00.000-05:00

I've been down and blah all weekend, just doing nothing at all, being absolutely useless. I haven't even gotten something to eat, even though I'm starving. Waiting for it to get dark and then I'll go to the KFC drive-thru. Have an unreasonable hankering for chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits. Serious loss of momentum today.

Yes, I know about Pamela Anderson and her chicken crusade. I'm amoral, alright?

I'd get some Indian food if I didn't have to get cleaned up first. I think spicy foods lift my spirits.

Oh, forgot to tell you that they upped my Effexor does this past Friday.

2006-04-30T14:37:00.000-05:00

Bondage cuffs for the doll, and calling them "jewelry." Alllllrighty then!

If I ever got any bondage cuffs, they would be for me, and they wouldn't be posted in a public forum.

2006-04-29T11:39:00.000-05:00

Would you ever see a movie whose synopsis states that it's a "kooky wedding comedy"?

Me neither.

Kooky?

2006-04-28T11:55:00.000-05:00

Fucking Cingular pisses me off. You know that aircard that didn't fit, that I had to return? They received it on the 14th, the day after I mailed it, and I haven't received my refund yet. Fuckers. But they're quick to cut off my shit if they don't get my money fast enough to suit them. >:-E

2006-04-27T01:59:00.000-05:00

Have you ever said something you thought was funny at the time but you were the only one to think so? I made a flippant remark to someone who was interested in buying that stupid doll dress, and I think I scared her off. :-( Hopefully another buyer will make an appearance. Note to self: resist "funny" quips when engaging in a business transaction. Erg.

2006-04-26T19:09:00.000-05:00

Vegged out today. No point in going to the ceramics lab since everything's trapped in kilns. Plus I need to conserve my gas. AND I didn't want to shower because I only have one more washing out of the cleansing bar I use on my hair, and have no money to get more. :-( The only other shampoo I have in the house is $1 a bottle from the dollar store, which I refuse to use. I'm not a snob or vain about most things, with the exception of my hair. Mother Nature was kind enough to bestow upon me some very nice hair (to make up for my crappy complexion?) and I don't use just any cheapo shampoo on it, harrumph.

However, I do have some Allergroom shampoo...

Oh, somebody found my blog by using the search word "labia." Cool. Thanks Sandy!

2006-04-26T02:22:00.000-05:00

Got a BJD dress in the mail today from an eBay seller, and I hate it. Looks like a nightgown. :-\ Oh well, maybe I can sell it for what I paid.

Got heartburn. I'm tired. Nothing else going on.

Oh, and what the hell is My Space, why is everyone talking about it, and why have I only learned of it recently? I doubt I'll get into it; seems like something for the "youngsters," and I just don't have energy to spare.

2006-04-24T17:53:00.000-05:00

Bridget Jones was so right when describing what it's like to speak to parents of young children over the phone. "Have you gone poo-poo? Did you try to go poo-poo? Want mommy to help you? I'll call you right back."