Realization.

I'm the only person in this town who knows how to drive. And I'm pretty terrible, actually.

What I'm doin'.

Looking for a place to live. Like an apartment, or a warm box, or a van down by the river.

In the inimitable words of Jon Stewart.

To the guy who left 5 books sitting out for me to shelve at midnight, the raincloud that froze me half to death, the girl in my class who talks about her stupid fucking life all the time, and the douchebag who wanted to know why I don't like Sarah Palin, but got too wasted to hear my answer:

Fuck all y'all.

I don't need a weatherman.

Why I hate fall: Dry, cold weather means I actually have to moisturize.
Why I love fall: It's fall.

Apparently there aren't enough real things to annoy me.

Listen, myspace. When I log onto your terribly-addictive website, I do not want to google something. If I wanted to google something, I would probably fucking google it. But you have deemed it necessary to initially insert my cursor into the search field at the top of the page. Meaning that I have to click elsewhere on the webpage in order to scroll down with my keyboard arrows. This may seem like a minor thing, and trust me, in the grand scheme of things, it is more minor than minor. However, it's annoying to go to a website that has millions of users and have this stupid thing happen as soon as the goddamn page loads. Unfortunately, it's not enough of an annoyance to keep me away.

What I'm doin'.

Trying to figure out who did whippits off my can of hair mousse.

Realization.

I have at least 4 pickled items in my fridge: kimchee, kosher dill pickles, umeboshi, and pickled sushi ginger. Yeah, and in the past hour I've eaten some of each. As for anything else in the fridge that's pickled, it was not that way when I purchased it. . .

What I'm doin'.

Laughing every time I recall my face-wasted face-plant on Sunday night. This should not surprise or shock anyone.

What I'm doin'.

Eating ketchup-flavored potato chips dipped in ketchup. What?

Absolutely nothin'.

Sarah Plain and Tall may be right when she says that Barack's plan in Iraq is a "white flag of surrender". But I prefer it to John McCain's plan of "SOMEONE MAKE VIKKTURYS HAPPEN". I'm just sayin'. Besides, what is it good for, really?

The caring meter dropped two whole points!

I know that it's totally uncool to care about people, and not to be looking out for NUMBER ONE!!!!!!1! I'm sure I would be way more awesome if I could just make snide remarks about people who care. I wish I could chant "Drill, baby, drill," without any worries floating in my head. But I can't do that anymore than I can restrain myself from fleeing to Canada if there is even a somewhat likely shot that Sarah Palin will be my president. Now, Barack may not be our great white hope or our silver bullet or our force of change. He's not Yoda, for shit's sake. It seems like everyone on tv thinks that I, and other Democrats, believe that Barack Obama is perfect and infallible. I don't believe that he poos flowers, or that his morning breath smells like sunshine. But I do believe that he brings people together, because he does. People are excited about this election because it is really amazing when people connect with each other. We realize that maybe we actually do care about each other and want to make the world a more beautiful place to live. I'm voting for Barack Obama because people can be forces of change, and people can make this country better, not because I'm putting all my faith in one guy. And I should reiterate that I'm also voting for Barack Obama because Sarah Palin scares the crap out of me. Word.

their sad story of harmony and divergence

"I have not broken your heart-- you have broken it"
Heathcliff to Cathy, Wuthering Heights

You don't want to be the type of girl who uses tricks and schemes to trap a boy. So, you don't. Besides, games aren't any fun unless you really know how to play. You love yourself unconditionally, and hope that it's enough. You like being alone, or at least, you're used to it. To be honest, it's the only way you know how to be. And there's the thought in the back of your head, that old rhyme that if you learn to love yourself, then love will find you. But it doesn't find you, because the Disney movies lied, and there is no perfect person anyway, because there are no perfect people. Then you try to think logically, and you consider that maybe this takes work. What kind of work? You don't even know how to date, for heaven's sake. You're not afraid of getting hurt, in fact, you want to get hurt, because at least then you'll have felt something stronger than apathy. So, you try something with the boy you think might finally be worth the bother. And it works, it's almost scary how easy it is. But it's just a game, it's a trick, it's a scheme, and you knew from the start that it wasn't the way to go. Predictably, it falls apart, not because of him, but because the whole thing was fucked from the start. You sit there, feeling empty, and you are completely, maddeningly aware that it's all your fault. You have broken your own heart, and it hurts. So what do you do now? Do you put your own picture on the bullseye?

Sway

Since I find you will no longer love,
from bar to bar in terror I shall move
past Forty-third and Halsted, Twenty-fourth
and Roosevelt where fire-gutted cars,
their bones the bones of coyote and hyena,
suffer the light from the wrestling arena
to fall all over them. And what they say
blends in the tarantellasmic sway
of all of us between the two of these:
harmony and divergence,
their sad story of harmony and divergence,
the story that begins
I did not know who she was
and ends I did not know who she was.

-Denis Johnson

You may not wanna read this

because I plan on bitching about being a woman. So if you don't want to read about my uterus, leave now.

Having a period sucks. There's no way around it. It's painful, it's gross, nothing good comes from it. Here's what it's like: About a week before, I start crying for no good reason. More than once a day. I think I must just be going nuts, and then I realize what time of the month it is. It's not as though this is actually useful information, it doesn't make me want to stop crying any less, rather, it makes me feel stupid to know that the only reason I'm weeping all the time is because of my hormone levels. Then my boobs get bigger and they start hurting. And not just a little bit, like oh, I shouldn't have moved in that direction, like OH MY GOD, I JUST WANT TO GET THE GODDAMN THINGS REMOVED BECAUSE I'M JUST SITTING HERE AND MY STUPID FUCKING MAMMARY TISSUE HURTS LIKE HELL. Then I get bloated, and none of my jeans fit me anymore. Then I get hungry, and no matter how much I eat, I'm still hungry, and of course I want food like entire bags of cheese puffs and pizza and french fries and candy. Basically anything that's not actually food is what I want to eat. And I want 4 servings of it.

Now, it's not until now that the bloating appears to subside. But it's all a sham, because as soon as I think that I'm not bloated anymore, I put on my jeans and they fit fine for half the day, but then I have to unbutton them for the drive home, because I literally can't breathe. Then the cramps start, and that's when I know I'm almost at the starting line. I'm nauseated for the first half of the day. I'm not hungry at all now, because of the upset stomach. But the upset stomach gets worse, and indigestion rears it's ugly head, and then my entire abdomen starts to hurt. Then I worry that I'm hungry because I haven't eaten all day, and that's why my belly hurts. And then when I'm doubled over in pain, I realize that these are not hunger pangs, but cramps, and I have to take 3 ibuprofen and wait 30 minutes for them to kick in.

What do menstrual cramps feel like? Imagine that someone with very sharp fingernails shoved their hands into your belly. Then they picked up anything they could find, this includes your uterus and your fallopian tubes and your digestive system, and they are twisting your guts. Oh, and before they started all that, they punched you in the stomach for half an hour. So you have the lingering pain of being punched, the stabbing pain of their fingernails, and the constant twisting of your internal organs which makes you want to curl up into a ball and die. Seriously. This is not funny, this is the hell I go through once a god-forsaken month. Even though I take advil, the pain never really goes away. There's always a dull pain even when I've taken way more than I should. I don't swing into an angry mood. If I'm angry towards anyone it's because I want to take sleeping pills and sleep until the pain goes away.

And the worst part of it is, I haven't actually started my period yet. That part, I won't even get into because it's disgusting. I mean, really, how gross is that? It's not fair either. I mean, guys just have a penis, something that is external, and they can piss and ejaculate out of the same hole. Worst that can happen is they get genital warts which I have a feeling are pretty gross or the clap which will just make gross stuff come out of their dick and it'll hurt when they pee for a while. But, all of those things are if they have sex with the wrong person and contract a disease. They don't automatically happen just because they're dudes. And that's not fucking fair at all. But whatever, I'm done complaining. I guess I just want a red tent chock-full of pain pills and muscle relaxants. And I'm never giving birth. And you can tell Eve I said to fuck off.

I'm more excited about the good hair day I'm having.

Today, I am 25 years old. I spent the first half of my birthday doing some grown-up things. I went to the doctor to get a possible melanoma checked out. I shaved my legs. I went to the grocery and bought only the things on my list. After these things, I collected my dirty laundry. I have been putting off doing my laundry for quite awhile now. So long, in fact, that I discovered this morning that I am completely out of clean underwear. After an exhaustive search, I could only come up with one possible contender. That's right, blogosphere/ interwebs/ dear reader(s), right now I am wearing the bikini bottoms from an old bathing suit. This does not bode well for my twenty-fifth year.

Or just call me to talk.

Found in Charlotte. I'm glad I don't live in Charlotte.

Agreed.

Source

Hay-soos Christ-O.

From CNN.com:

If the battle for the Democratic presidential nomination is almost over, Clinton isn't acting like it.

"I'm going to make [my case] until we have a nominee, but we're not going to have one today, and we're not going to have one tomorrow and we're not going to have one the next day," Clinton said Monday in Kentucky.

She argues that she leads in the popular vote. "Right now, more people have voted for me than have voted for my opponent," she said. "More people have voted for me than for anybody ever running for president before. So we have a very close contest."

But her argument is debatable. For Clinton to claim such a lead, primary states but not caucus states -- which Obama mostly won -- would only be counted, plus the popular vote totals in Florida and Michigan.

Florida and Michigan were stripped of their delegates for scheduling their primaries too early, in violation of Democratic Party rules. Obama's name wasn't on the Michigan ballot, and he received no votes in that state's contest.

Clinton also argues that she's won the states that she contends would stack up stronger against McCain in the general election.

"The states I've won total 300 electoral votes. If we had the same rules as the Republicans, I would be nominee right now," she said. "We have different rules, so what we've got to figure out is who can win 270 electoral votes. My opponent has won states totaling 217 electoral votes."

Is Hillary fucking retarded? It would make more sense for her to flush the money down an actual toilet. Does she understand that Republicans/Racists are the only ones voting for her? Does she care?

This is probably the greatest 6 minutes of television ever made:



And the Douche-Off at the end isn't too bad either.

From freerice.com today.

fop means:
dandy

magnum means:
large wine bottle

flense means:
strip blubber from

All in all, a very fun vocabulary day.

This is the hundredth post.

"Is this the ear you can't hear on? George Bailey, I'll love you 'til the day I die."

There are too many pictures.

And not enough words on my blog. But this is probably the greatest lolcat I've ever seen.



I didn't think it was possible to make lolcats any geekier. I was wrong. As it's usually the case, a Star Wars reference will exponentially increase your nerdiness.

Because you're sent from heaven.

Got to thinking about what I think heaven would be like. And if you're uncomfortable with the idea of heaven, we can call this my own personal utopia. Here, I have the body and face I've always wanted, but I'm obviously still me. I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. Skinny-dipping is a weekly activity. It feels like summer all the time, except it snows occasionally for a little variety, and the foliage changes with the seasons the way it does here. People I know are there, at least, the dead ones. I can perform magic like Harry Potter. There's no money. I don't have any allergies and I never get sick. I can check up on the living, but I can't interfere with life, and I'm prevented from seeing loved ones on the toilet or similar. Maybe there's a facebook or myspace-type thing, where I can scroll through and see what's going on with people I don't think about every day. There's a book (or a flyer, shuddup) of the nice things I did while I was alive, so I can remember that I wasn't a completely terrible person. I can talk to anyone who's dead about anything I want. Not for a long time, I'm sure famous people have a lot of folks to see in eternity. I suddenly know a bunch of languages. There's lots of books, so I don't get bored. Okay, let's say I want to watch a certain movie. Something pops up and asks me if I want to watch it now or later. And it remembers that I thought about that particular movie that particular day. I can wikipedia anything, including events that happened in my own personal history, and every useless fact I've ever learned is easily retrieved. Everyone still has free will, so I can't make someone fall for me or whatever, but here, when someone says, "No hard feelings," it really works out that way. I can have virtual sex with anyone I want. So even though everyone in my utopia has free will, that's the loophole. All my former pets are there, and I can have new ones. My favorite dead musicians produce really good new music in the afterlife. Everyone is completely honest. If anyone's feelings are hurt, they can discuss it openly until the situation is ameliorated.

So, that's about it. If I think of anything else I'll add it later. Oh and finally, since all of that probably won't work out the way I want, I'll take magic any damn day of the week. I seriously want to be a witch. . . Harry Potter has spoiled everything for me. (I say aguamenti on a semi-regular basis, and I get really mad when nothing happens. I also say avada kedavra, but in that case it's a good thing I'm not a witch.)

Sadly this is how I spend my time.

Yesterday at work, I made these lolcats instead of doing anything that could be considered productive.

Go me.

Baghdad ass up.

To all the people who have arrived here by googling the phrase "what does baghdad ass up mean" or some iteration of that:

"Baghdad ass up" is a pun. It substitutes the name of the city, "Baghdad", for the words, "back that", because they are homophones (they sound alike, but do not mean the same thing). Back That Azz Up was a popular hip-hop song released in 1999 by the rapper, Juvenile, and the phrase has been referenced many times since in pop culture. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Back_That_Thang_Up

If you don't know what a pun is or anything about popular American music, I really can't explain it to you any better than I already have.

_______________________________________________________

I've been working out lately. Which sucks for obvious reasons, but is also pretty sweet. I don't really know what my goal is. I've never been too goal-oriented, let's be real. I guess I'm like all the other women on Oprah, I want to look better naked. And in clothes. And I want to be able to pick up heavy stuff with relative ease. Okay, so I actually just want to be intimidating. I mean, for some strange reason, I'm already intimidating personality-wise. (One of my co-workers told another co-worker that she was afraid of me.) But I'd like to be intimidating in the way that I can hang with the boys. And in the way that the boys think I'm really smokin' hot. That's kind of the dichotomy that has defined my life thus far. Even though I have mostly girl friends, I've always wanted to be one of the guys. And even though I want to be one of the guys, I want to be a super-fine ice queen, too. I think I'm confused. But I'm pretty sure I can give up trying to solve this quandary and settle for being stacked. That works. But of course, this story can't be complete without a setback, albeit a miniature one. The day after I start my new regime I also start my womanly curse, and now I'm too bloated to fit in my jeans. C'est la vie or whatever.

Connect the dots.

I wonder if this is really the way it is supposed to be. Am I supposed to be here, now, doing what I'm doing, feeling how I'm feeling? What if at some point in the past I had spoken up or kept my mouth shut or done the opposite of what I did? Would my life be completely different? Or would all the pieces fall into an identical path? I'm going to be 25 this year. It feels older than it sounds. Or does it sound older than it feels? Whatever, I suddenly feel like I should be somewhere else doing something else. Again. But is anyone else any better off? Should I even compare myself to other people, isn't that kind of futile and stupid? I don't have a lot of regrets, but I think I'd be egomaniacal if I didn't have a few. I wish I'd spoken up in the past about a few things. Damage done by saying too much can be controlled. But remembering what was left unsaid is terribly depressing.

"How am I not myself?"

Oh craigslist, you crack me up so much.

Free Ramen

Reply to: sale-560997606@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-02-02, 7:23PM EST

I just bought a 12 pack of ramen noodles, chicken flavored and I do not like this brand. The brand is Top Ramen and it just doesn't taste like the brand I like. I don't want to just throw food away, so I am willing to give away the 10 sealed packages that are left in the box. Let me know if you are interested, first come first serve. If you don't want all 10 thats fine as well.

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 560997606

I believe the children are our future.

Today I went to visit a friend at work. She teaches elementary school. We were standing in the hallway as a little girl walked toward us, staring at me thoughtfully. Then she looked me square in the eyes and said, "You're pretty." After a moment of surprise, I said, "Thank you." She skipped away down the hall. My friend said, "Don't you just love coming here?"

Basically a grandma, just not in the technical sense.

It's Saturday night and I'm at the library studying / not studying. I cut my hair last week. I had it cut by someone else, but since I spent 10K to learn how to be a hairdresser, I just had to cut it some more myself. I think it looks good, and I think it might make me look older. I bought some wine the other night and wasn't carded. Tonight though, I bought beer (okay, malt liquor. . . (for someone else)) and was carded. So who knows? Now I'm off to get groceries and have a glass of wine at home. I suppose that my life has slowed down considerably. I wasn't really aware of it until now. It's okay, though. I always thought I had the mind of an old woman. Now I have the activity level and bedtime of one.

I have no idea why anyone reads this.

This is probably going to be a boring post, but considering I haven't posted anything in almost 2 weeks, I don't really care. I haven't been depressed or whoring myself around or anything that my last post might have indicated. I've honestly been the busiest I've been in a long while. School has started and I'm taking 15 hours instead of my usual 12. (Yeah, I'm kind of a slacker as a general rule. . . What, are you new here?) I'm working 24 hours a week, which doesn't seem like a lot to me or you, probably, but I have the second highest number of hours of all the student employees, so comparatively, it is a lot.

Anyway, I have 2 teachers that I absolutely love and that almost makes up for the 3 I can't really stand. And all of my classes have material that is definitely going to challenge me. And I'm being serious when I say that I am completely excited about that. I broke my car engine the other day, but everything else is going so well, that really hasn't been too much of a big deal. It's really weird, but I think I'm a lot calmer than I used to be. I'm not sure why that is, but I'll take it. Also, I've been cooking, and in case you forgot (or never knew), I'm obsessed with red lentils. I think I've almost perfected my masoor dal (or daal or dahl or dhal) recipe, and I'll post that when I'm satisfied. Hopefully I can get to typing before the end of the month.

I think I might be through with you.

My holiday was filled with a hacking cough, a fever, and a congested nose. I've had bronchitis for almost two weeks now. But when I did decide to get out of the house, some good things happened. Some bad things happened, too, though. And I've decided that I'm finished. I'm finished going after boys that don't care about me and won't. I don't know why the only guys that are interested in me are the ones I'm not interested in. I don't know why that happens. And I don't know why I constantly put myself out there for people that don't reciprocate my feelings. But I am le tired. Tired of being let down over and over again. I know that I am good enough, and I know that I deserve to get what I want. That's why I usually don't let myself get too upset about the bullshit, and I pick myself up, and I try again with someone new. I'm just so frustrated. Not sexually, mind you, just frustrated with things that can only be blamed on my bad luck. And with my latest attempt, I was complaining about how nothing I was doing was working, and my friend asked me if I could afford to keep making the effort. I thought, yeah, of course, I have a lot of free time, and not any other prospects I want to pursue right now. But that's not what I have to worry about affording. It's not a matter of time, it's a matter of the emotional toll that this crap is taking on me. And I decided that I can't afford the emotional costs, I really can't. And so I'm done. I'm finished. And if you're reading this (which you're not because you're not interested enough to read my damn blog), fuck off.

And to my actual readers (both of you. . . ), sorry for this post, really. I feel like a teenager because I'm bitching about this shit. Either that or a divorcee. Anyway, I don't post whiny shit normally, I just needed to get this off my chest, you know? This is one of those times when I'm kind of glad I have a blog.