Well, I haven't forgotten, I have been avoiding. Here is the latest bit, but now I have to remember what the hell the plot was supposed to be. I hate how you forget the brilliant ideas you come across while intoxicated. Just in case you missed the previous installments, click HERE As soon as he placed foot into the cell, he vomited. She must have hypnotized him. He had been completely Hers once She locked eyes with his. The man dry-heaved again at the thought. How could he have given up himself to a woman (if She could be called that) as completely vile and corrupt as She? But, in the moment he had called Her Mistress he would have done anything for Her - given up his soul for Her. The man was disgusted with himself. The door to his cell squeaked on its rusty hinges as the guardsman opened it. The man rose, no words were said. None were needed. The only person to whom he had spoken to in weeks had been - Her. He would never call - Her - what She had made him call Her, ever again. Never look into those all-encompassing liquid-green pools of raw animal energy. The man was abruptly shaken out of his reverie as the guardsman untied his hands from behind his back. The man rubbed at his wrists in an attempt to get his blood circulating. Just as he was gaining some comfort, however minimal, another man, dressed completely in black entered the room. The only things clearly visible in the darkness were his face and hands. "Tie his hands to that ring," the new arrival spoke. He pointed to the one he was referring to and the man looked in that direction, eyes widening in shock as the realization hit him. "You may call me, Jehi’azarad," he said as he placed shiny black gloves onto his thin pale hands. He did this slowly, as if he was relishing the sensation. As the guardsman forced the man to stand on a crate placed directly under the metal ring, he continued, "I am here to train you. It seems our Mistress has taken a liking to you," he sniffed disdainfully, looking the man over from head to toe. "I can hardly see why, you seem to have few redeeming qualities." As soon as he finished speaking, the guardsman kicked the crate out from under the man's feet. The man was left swaying from the end of the taut rope from painfully wrenched wrists and shoulders. The man in black cracked a smile, which resembled a grimace. The man thought, through his glaze of shock that this was probably as close as this beast could get to a smile. "Let the training begin." The man in black strode over to the man, standing directly in front of him he waved the guardsman away with one hand. With the other he grabbed the man's left nipple and twisted it hard. Bringing his mouth to the man's ear, he tenderly whispered, "You are mine now," as he stroked the man's chest, almost gently. Rubbing himself against the man, he wrenched his head sideways and gently kissed him upon the cheek. The man began to struggle violently, though he knew there was no escape. "That's right, you helpless bastard, struggle. Resist the breaking as much as you please because I like a challenge." He drew away and began laughing almost maniacally. Pausing to take a breath, he licked his lips and absently murmured, "Now I want to hear you scream." ... After the guardsman let the man down, he collapsed into a dead faint. The pain and humiliation were too much for him. Right before drifting into his world of dark bliss he heard the man in black say, "Same time tomorrow, Brent. Bring him bound and gagged and make sure my toys are set out properly." Brent nodded and slung the man over his shoulder, easily, as if he weighed less than nothing, and carried him to his cell.
My grandmother basically informed me that she actually does not care. She thinks I am a selfish person who only cares about herself and has for years, and that she gave up long ago. I told her a few things about what happened in my past because she claims to "not know me" (I don't recall her ever asking me anything personal or direct, only criticism for years) and I tried to reinforced the fact I am not psychic: if she wants/needs something done she has to tell me, and if she notices something needs to be done she has to tell me because half the time I don't notice it if I'm distracted..and I'm almost always distracted. I have ADHD so I can notice the bathroom has to be cleaned 5 times in one day, but if I get distracted...it isn't going to happen. I also have memory problems from the 23 operations I had as a kid which apparently screwed up both short and long-term memory to a certain extent, and most of the time I can't remember what I had for breakfast 5 minutes after the fact. (Try asking me what the topic of a conversation was about that lasted for more than 5 minutes.) I try to mask it, but people usually think I'm just a complete ditz. My friends think it's funny when I forget their names...It scares the shit out of me. I do weird things to try to remember..like "laundry day" comes up because I've run out of clean underwear. There is no more rhyme or reason than that. It's a surefire indicator that I need clean clothes. I've also been diagnosed with clinical depression. I've had it since I was a kid. I've been trying to kill myself off and on since 9 years old (nothing in the last year thank goodness). So, it makes it a bit hard to not see past yourself when you hate yourself and your life. Perhaps to a certain extent she is right. But, how much of this is due to external circumstances and how much to excuses? And does it even matter? Either way is no justification. The fact of the matter is, I don't care either. I've tried being nice and the things I have done to attempt to show appreciation were never acknowledged or recognized. I understand that people show appreciation in different ways and sometimes the other person doesn't understand it for what it is because it is not their way. But, when you have to point out you were the one that drove someone to the ER and waited with them despite the fact you damned near have a hospital phobia; or that the time they slammed their ear in a car door you were the one to help stop the bleeding and pack it so they could go to the ER (I couldn't drive I was on muscle relaxants)...who fucking needs em. The main difference between her and I is that I can't fake liking someone. I had always given her the benefit of the doubt that she was just a crotchety old woman who must love me somewhere deep down inside...and if she wants to talk about selfish she should think of some of the things she did to me when I first came here. I already think I'm a horrible person, and maybe my friends do too. But, there have to be some redeeming qualities, otherwise they wouldn't let me invite myself over for dinner or accept and help me out at the rendezvous when I offer nothing but an inconvenience due to my inability to do a lot of basic things. So...as far as I am concerned...Grandma can fuck off...and the next time she needs to go to the hospital for a heart attack she had better remember why I am being the selfish little bitch that's handing her the cordless phone and going back to watch tv.
Ok, personal bitchfest. Can someone please explain this to me because I am a complete loss besides "this person does not give a damn about your personal wellfare". As almost all of you know I had some minor back issue that has been ongoing for the past 2 months...ok..maybe more now that I think about it. I have been going in for physical therapy twice a week and fairly regular doctor's appointments. The doctor is concerned that my back has not gotten back to 100% yet and has basically put me on a bunch of various restrictions - no lifting, no reaching, no kneeling, no squatting, and no standing for long periods of time. (Generally no aggravating your back or knee..if you feel pain STOP!) I am 4'7", and trying to do mundane daily tasks sort of puts me into painful situations. I think this is part of the reason it's taking so long for my back to heal. Example being - if I want to do laundry I have to damned near climb into the washing machine (top loader), the top of the washing machine is about 4" below my neck. So with all of the reaching and stretching I have to do I wind up hurting - it generally takes me 2 days to do 2 loads of laundry. The main issue here is washing the dishes. I don't like to do it, neither does my grandmother. So, for the past month or so I have been washing only my dishes, because technically I shouldn't be doing them because it causes both my knee and my back to start hurting (the twisting and lifting and reaching). I have informed my grandmother that it causes me great pain and that I am technically not supposed to do them. Yesterday was laundry day. They were out of town (of course there was a sink full of dishes when they left) . So after doing a load of laundry I was NOT about to wash those dishes. Coincidentally, my back was hurting the entire day and I STILL had to eat (did I mention cooking hurts?). I get up this morning and all of the dishes are washed except for the ones I had used yesterday (2 pans, both nonstick, a rack for one of the pans, and a collapsible steamer), Am I completely missing something here? Despite the fact I am not supposed to be doing this, I try to do it to keep the peace, despite the pain. But when I don't because I AM in pain - she KNEW I was in pain yesterday - (and she leaves a crapload of dishes that I guess she expects me to do when they went out of town) there they are, waiting for me..the thing I am not supposed to do. Arrrggggggh...Am I being petty?
Someone had responded to a previous post I had where I put the word "puss" in the title - puss is swedish for kiss - and it reminded me of a funny thing that happened with mispronounced words in foreign languages. I was reading a children's book in Swedish and my pronunciation was SO bad everyone was laughing at me, quite hysterically might I add. I finally got frustrated and started making up words because I found the language to be so damned ridiculous. I had no idea up until about a week or two ago why it was so funny (and to be honest, I have no idea how I remembered this).
"I satta on the catta and then I made him flatta"Well, "flata" in swedish is a lesbian. Ok, it's sort of stupid, but it's funny in that "I made up a word and it turned out to be real and funny in context" kinda way. No interesting posts today. I spent 5 hours trying to get Movable Text on a server today only to get pissed and find out that this particular webhost who supposedly supports perl scripts is NOT in fact able to support that program.
Found this and thought it was interesting in light of my previous post:
Conservative TV Group to Air Anti-Kerry Film "The conservative-leaning Sinclair Broadcast Group, whose television outlets reach nearly a quarter of the nation's homes with TV, is ordering its stations to preempt regular programming just days before the Nov. 2 election to air a film that attacks Sen. John F. Kerry's activism against the Vietnam War, network and station executives familiar with the plan said Friday."Don't worry, I'm not turning political.
Yes, my language has degraded to petty slang. I am livid at this point in time because of something I saw on tv earlier today. At first I giggled when I found out Michael Moore's attempts at getting Fahrenheit 9/11 to play on cable were rejected. But, tonight I found out that it is going to be playing on November 1 - the night before elections - on Pay-Per-View. (Another annoying thing is that the only remotely reliable site I found without having to do too much research was in the friggin UK).
Guardian Unlimited "According to reports, Moore is preparing a three-hour special for pay-per-view operator In Demand that features the bestselling documentary sandwiched between fresh interviews with politically-motivated celebrities."Ok, I am going to make my argument short and sweet.
- If you don't know who you are going to vote for the day, nay the NIGHT, before the elections are to take place - you need a d*mned bib and a helmet.
- If he actually THINKS that 1)Pro-Bush people are going to turn pro-(hiss) by watching his puling vomitous fountain of lies then HE needs a d*mned bib and a helmet and; 2)Why the h*ll would someone who wasn't already a (hiss) supporter pay $9.95 to watch this drivel when you could easily rent it for half that much at your local Blockbuster. Are the celebrities opinions REALLY worth $5?
- Ohhh, and I cannot forget to b&tch about the celebrity interviews: We all definately need to listen to the brainless hollywood liberal crowd giving their righteous opinions about things because we all listen to plastic surgery whores and rich people when it comes to a decision of great magnitude. I don't even buy makeup just because of a celebrity endorsement. Why the f*ck would I elect a president based on their "opinion"??!?!?
These are the earrings I have made so far to try to use for blanket trading during the rendezvous this coming weekend. They are pretty simple, and somewhat tacky I think. But, unless/until I get some more money to make more interesting pieces (purchasing silver feathers and trade beads) they will have to do. I'm thinking about making a trip out to Michael's tomorrow (bonus 50% off coupon along with the regular 40% off) and see if I can find some turquoise or rock chips. Depending on if I can sell a single one of these simple little creations will depend on if I bother making any more. I am going to try to do some stitching so I can do something like this. Seriously folks, I would like your honest opinions about the earrings. I know they aren't particularly fashionable, but this is a re-enactment group and has to be period appropriate (so don't go judging them against modern jewelry, please). I am new to making jewelry and tried to make these look as nice as I could with the free and cheap supplies I have at my disposal; but, if they look like crap I would very much like to know so I don't look like more of a fool than normal and/or think I will be able to eat this weekend.
Earrings made with Porcupine Quills and Glass Beads (Click on image to enlarge) Take a poll for your thoughts on the earrings
Ran across this quiz the other day when doing one from Graumagus's site. I think I'm pretty and I even match my car! Now, if only I could afford me and vent my frustrations on the world. Ahhhhh, but to dream. Alas, I am merely a "hamster stuck up some fat guy's butt".
Sig Sauer P226. Greatest gun ever! Feel special.
Beautiful and reliable but can still scare the
living bejesus outta anyone.
What handgun are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Sig Sauer P226. Greatest gun ever! Feel special.
Beautiful and reliable but can still scare the
living bejesus outta anyone.
What handgun are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I like to slip into something fairly comfortable for blogging. ;)
I hope Harvey approves of my "professional model"...The thing is she is not very well known because she is a furry who does private modeling of lingerie for submissive men. (Is that a good enough lie? errrr..background to get into the illustrious Carnival of Pajamas?)
*Puss is swedish for "kiss"
Well, I FINALLY got to watch the movie. It was rather good, I was highly impressed. I went back to the main menu after the credits and found a lil something interesting where you can make your language selection preference. It offered a choice for having a the movie narrated for the visually impaired. Soooo, I went back to the Jesus beat down scene with the Romans and had to turn it off after about 3 minutes because I was laughing so hard. Whenever the narrator mentioned the "flaggalents" it sounded like he was saying "flatulence". I was able to hold in the laughter (barely) until he said..and I quote: "The grinning, thick-jawed flaggalent". Hmmmmm, am I gonna go to hell for that one?
Well, a Presidential Debate has never been so fun as it was last night. After an impromptu stop by a friend's house on the way back from the bank we wound up chatting and insulting each other until almost 8pm. Then the convo turned into:
Him: Hey, let's turn the debate into a drinking game. Me: Ok Him: How about whenever Bush says "terra" (or terrarism) and "nucular" instead of nuclear, and when Kerry says "I have a plan" or makes any mention of his personal history with the military we take a drink. I have some rum. Me: OkWell, within 5 minutes we were set up to drink. Here is the play by play of the evening:
Too bad the next one is on a Wednesday. I can't wait for the next election!
- 8:15 - he was drunk.
- 8:40 - we couldn't hear a thing that was going on because we kept arguing and calling Kerry a fucker.
- 9:10 - he was puking.
- 9:20 - his wife started getting belligerant about "being fine". After collapsing onto the couch - and seeming to slip into a waking coma - we had to help her to the bathroom.
I've decided to be a good girl and not wait until the last minute to get ready for trail - except for the pies. I am a complete idiot on two respects - as far as forgetting about some things I had which would have made Belvidere's rendezvous a bit nicer.
- I have a food dehydrator and;
- I have a box to store my little items in.
Well, The Passion of the Christ SEEMED like a good movie - the whole 38 minutes of it I sort of got to see. Unfortunately, my grandfather came in to read mail and proceeded to ask me questions. Then, my grandmother realized what I was watching and sat her happy ass down. The next 18 minutes consisted of papers rattling, asinine conversations, and complaining that the movie wasn't in english. The movie is still playing, but I'm sitting here, bitching about it. I guess I'll have to wait until 3am - which sort of sucks because I have to turn my home theater system speakers down low and I think that ruins the experience. Hmmmmm...better plan: Watch the damned thing this weekend when they go out of town. WOOHOO, they are going out of town!!!! I'm going to have a celebratory drink right now...*in the voice of Quagmire from Family Guy* quaffin' chambord...ohhh yeaaaaah.
Dear Ashton, I apologize for all of the typecasting and stereotyping I did of you. I mentally placed you under the heading of "idiot...fucking non-acting retard bastard" and it was wrongful and hateful of me to form this opinion. Especially, due to recent enlightenments, I have been fortunate enough to come across The Butterfly Effect. In my humble opinion you gave a stunning performance in an original movie which I, for one, found to be enough to cause a public apology for the things I have said and thought about you. Of course, you are likely not to give a rat's ass about it, but it still makes me feel better to publicly state that: You are not a fucktard; and your dramatic debut was, quite honestly, very refreshing. Sincerely, Me
What attracted you to the script? Ashton: I thought that it was kind of a fantastic metaphor for life, and pretty enlightening. I also spoke with the directors before I decided to sign on. And they had a really clear, concise vision of what they wanted to do stylistically, and what they wanted from the story. And the opportunity to play a character that’s blind to the trauma that takes place in his life. The violence in the movie I thought was a fantastic metaphor for how blind we are as a society, and as a people, to the things that actually do happen on a day to day basis, and how we kind of just block them out. And whether it be through our media or whatever, we go “Oh, it’s not happening in my world, so it’s not happening.” In the movie there’s a great representation of the violence with the kids, and the pedophilia, and these kind of things that the guys could have taken the easy road, and you know, kind of squeamishly cut around, but they weren’t afraid of it.Read More of this interview.
This one is HOT off of the presses. Just received mere moments ago.
airborne909: hello, i am male, 25 from germany. i am playing truth or dare online and now, it´s my dare to get my dick judged by 10 ladies on a scale from 1 to 10. don´t want to offend u. so if u would like to help me with this dare, pls PM me. that would be really nice. thanks, bye and have fun. take care.
Got this from Graumagus's blog: "If you had to pick 15 songs (and only fifteen) to be on the soundtrack of your life, what would they be, and why?" Well, here is my soundtrack.
1. Iris - Googoo Dolls - Because it both sums up how I want someone to feel for me someday and how I generally feel while in relationships (respectively) All I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life and sooner or later it's over I just don't want to miss you tonight And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am 2. Opiate - Tool - because it sort of symbolizes what I feel like after I've found out my decisions were not good ones. Choices always were a problem for you. What you need is someone strong to guide you. Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow, what you need is someone strong to use you.. like me, like me. 3. Porcelain - Red Hot Chili Peppers - because it quite aptly describes how I am generally feeling of late. Are you wasting away in your skin Are you missing the love of your kin Drifting and floating and fading away 4. Inertia Creeps - Massive Attack - It's a crazy song that makes no sense and is a complete maelstrom of chaos which is in direct conflict with the song title...If you don't get it I can't explain it. It's all about dichotomies. Recollect me darling raise me to your lips Two undernourished egos four rotating hips Hold on to me tightly I'm a sliding scale Can't endure then you can't inhale Clearly Out of body experience interferes And dreams of flying I fit nearly Surrounds me though I get lonely Slowly 5. Cold Cold Heart - Norah Jones - basically sums up a majority of my past relationships, and how I am afraid to be. The more I learn to care for you The more we drift apart Why can't I free your doubtful mind And melt your cold cold heart 6. Always Look on the Bright Side of Life - Monty Python - because I have been singing it all day. It makes me laugh and is very true. Life's a piece of shit, When you look at it. Life's a laugh and death's a joke it's true. You'll see it's all a show. Keep 'em laughing as you go. Just remember that the last laugh is on you. And... Always look on the bright side of life. 7. Love is Blindness - U2 - I am a commitment-phobe...Enough said. Love is clockworks and cold steel Fingers too numb to feel. Squeeze the handle, blow out the candle Love is blindness. 8. The Sweater Song - Weezer - I can't give any explanations for this one. It just makes sense...Like a plea to be understood, acknowledge, allowed to just...BE. I'm me Me be Goddamn I am I can Sing and Here me Know me 9. Everything is Wonderful Now - Everclear - I did this as a kid, and I still do this when things aren't going right. Which might explain why I get so pissed off when people say everything is going to be ok...if you were a prognosticator you'd be rich. So bugger your generic happy, happy crap. Go to my room and I close my eyes I make believe that I have a new life I don't believe you when you say Everything will be wonderful someday 10. California King - Everclear - This is my rage song for when people blatantly think I am inferior because of whatever reason - height, weight, skin color. When people steal my ideas, don't listen to them, or treat me like a complete idiot for no apparent reason other than the fact they can. I know you think you look so special What makes you think you are so special? What makes you think you are unique? I see you smile and I get angry As i watch you go colossal Like a California king ... I will find you in the crowded room I will knock you off your feet I will burn you just like teenage love I will eat you just like meat I will break you into pieces Hold you up for all the world to see What makes you think you're better than me? What makes you think you're better? What makes you think you are complete? What makes you think you are the only one immune to falling down Why can't you see I see you fall and I get happy I will watch you burn like fire I will watch you burn like a California king 11. Friend is a Four Letter Word - Cake - This one is more dealing with my self-esteem issues and the "friend hating" phase I go through at least twice a year. I have great friends, but sometimes feel unappreciated and pretty much think they are fucking bastards. To me, coming from you, Friend is a four letter word. End is the only part of the word That I heard. Call me morbid or absurd. But to me, coming from you, Friend is a four letter word. 12. Fell on Black Days - Soundgarden - I am starting to realize my soundtrack is rather depressing....hmmmm. Whomsoever I've cured I've sickened now Whomsoever I've cradled I've put you down I'm a search light soul They say but I can't See it in the night I'm only faking When I get it right 13. Bitch - By Meridith Brooks - Enough said. So take me as I am this may mean you'll have to be a stronger man rest assured that when I start to get you nervous And I'm going to extremes Tomorrow I will change and today won't mean a thing I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother*, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed, *I am NOT a mother...unless the voices in my head count. 14. La Vie en Rose - Edith Piaf - Ahhh, but to have nights of love and my troubles and sorrows erased. I fucking love this song. It aroused the passion of bittersweet hope in me even before I spoke a lick of french. Des Nuits D'amour A Plus Finir Un Grand Bonheur Qui Prend Sa Place Les Ennuis, Des Chagrins S'effacent Heureux, Heureux A En Mourir 15. Golden - Jill Scott - Ok, I just heard this song for the first time today, and changed the channel towards the end cause it's not my style, but the lyrics in the beginning are how I want my life to be. And I figure it's a good ending point for my soundtrack. Completely off-base from the other music, and definately upbeat. I'm taking my freedom, Pulling it off the shelf, Putting it on my chain, Wear it around my neck, I'm taking my freedom, Putting it in my car, Wherever I choose to go, It will take me far,Good lord, this was a long post. My musical selections are weird..and I probably should have thrown in Sir Mixalot's "Baby Got Back" for good measure....shake dat assssss!
A few dutch phrases to use and abuse:
Zoon van een hoerige kameel - Son of a horny camel Kippeneuker - Chicken Fucker Tering mongool! - Tuberculosis Mongoloid Bloedpoepende maaghond - Blood shitting stomach dog Mierenneuker - Ant fucker Opneuken, stomme kutmongool - Fuck off, you stupid retard Sufkut - Dumbass (lit. slow cunt) Flikker op - Fuck off Ik sloop je - I will kill you Vieze verrotte aambeiebeffer - Dirty rotten hemorrhoid licker/sucker Ik laat je vader bukken - I will fuck your father in his ass Jij eet smegmakaas - You eat cheese made out of smegma Grote slappe ezelpik - Big floppy donkey-dick Uitgewoonde heroinehoer - Worn out heroin whore Je bent een evolutie fout - You're a mistake of evolution Ik hoop dat je dood gaat - I hope you die Ik trek je arm eraf en sla je ermee - I'll rip your arm off and beat you with it Volgescheten palingvel - Shitstuffed eelskin Hoerenloper - Frequent visitor of whores Je bent de reden dat mensen zelfmoord plegen. - You are the reason why people commit suicide. Uit de baarmoeder gerukte boskabouter - Forest gnome ripped out of the womb Je hebt een goed hart het had alleen gekookt op je rug moeten hangen zodat de honden er bij kunnen - You have a good heart but it should be cooked and hanging down your back so that the dogs could reach itBrought to you by Insultmonger.com
I had set up another blog on blogspot to put a bit of my writings. Initially, I began this venture in July but have since long forgotten about it. I have part of another story on there and figure that should suffice for my postings this week. That one is part of 3 separate stories which are to be woven together - if I can find the other two and complete them all. I think I will keep the two sites separate and put the creative writing entirely on that site. That basically means that I will turn the vampire type story into a short story, except I completely forgot the concept behind the ending so I will have to make something else up. If you feel so inclined, please feel free to check out my other site: Natural Progression
Why the hell didn't they have these when I was a kid? I would have been much more likely to play with dolls. Instead, I hung boys from trees and jumped off the balcony into snowdrifts.
N.C. Woman Sells Naughty Barbie Dolls Plastic dolls line four long shelves in Baker's store, called Annie B and the Black and White Guy. There's a cross-dressing male doll with long hot pink hair and a tight miniskirt. A "Jailbait Barbie" stands behind bars, wearing a pink and white striped uniform and an identification number. An eight-legged black widow doll crawls up a spider web, with Ken wrapped in her webbing. "She's a man-eater," the sign says. In a scenario that has its parallel in real life, Baker finds down-on-their-luck Barbies -- at thrift stores and from friends -- then introduces them to a world of sex, drugs and violence.Talk about hours of endless entertainment!
I haven't checked my mail for today. Wonder if my rejection letter from the company I interviewed with last week has come in yet...Hmmmmm...I figured Today or Tuesday. They were supposed to make a decision at the end of last week.*sigh*
My hair is a fuzzy mass that is a combination between a rat's nest and ringlet curls. My friends seem amazed when I pull the kinky curls out to their full length - thereby almost tripling the length that they THINK my hair is (or at least doubling it). Seems it's gotten to be mid-back, so I might give it a straightening. I'm starting to think people assume that because I don't straighten my hair I am trying to follow some fashion trend. That is not necessarily the case. My issue is more that I don't want to go the chemical route and have the issues that my biological mother has where hers won't grow more than a few inches, and she gets bald patches. I am TIRED of paying $65-70 a month to get my hair chemically straightened. It leaves scabs on my scalp, and takes about the same amount of time for me to straighten the chemically straightened hair after I wash it as it does when "natural". Between the length of time it takes for styling it ALSO means I get to pay for the priveledge of having pretty damned unruly, burnt, damaged hair. Even when I just use the flat iron (which gives me darned similar results as far as a perm goes) there is some damage caused to my hair. have never since been able to attain because of the chemical torment placed upon it: down to my ass. About 3 years ago, I cut my hair and almost got disowned...well...here we go with what is becoming my catch-phrase "a little backstory":
After basically ignoring my hair for a few months I had to give a presentation for one of my college computer courses. We were supposed to be professional, and I figured it was time to straighten my hair. My grandmother saw my hair and was amazed "I didn't know your hair was so long..It's so beautiful". (My hair was about 3-4 inches past my bra strap at that point.) I said "Oh...cool". Took a shower, and promptly hacked my hair down to about 2 inches. I was sporting a TWA (Tiny Weeny Afro). I LOVED it for a time. It was too short to pull back, so I found the joys of wetting my hair in the shower, shaking like a dog and dabbing leave-in-conditioner on it. I had a mass of ringlet curls and it no longer took me 3-4 hours to do my hair. When it got longer, I could put little twists in my hair, and get cool textures with little effort. There was a HELL of a payoff for taking the switch...my hair wasn't brittle and never seeming to grow. The thickness of my hair was an asset, not a hindrance to hairstyles. (I got charged extra because of length and thickness when I went to the hairstylist; and more than one had gotten 1st degree burns handling my hair due to retained heat.) Anyway, I digress. My grandmother had a birthday two days later and she would hardly talk to me. About all she mentioned where I was remotely involved as a person was "You should have seen her hair, it was so long and pretty, then she CUT it all off." Every time I wore my hair natural in the house without some kind of covering for the next year, my grandfather would comment "what's wrong with your hair?" Where everyone else was commenting that it was kind of cool (mostly caucasian), my own black relatives were acting like I was a pariah...WTF? It wasn't until this time that I came to realize the importance of hair in the black community. Previously, I had been getting those braided extensions (mostly for fullness because my hair was pretty darned long) and I would get compliments "Ohhh, ahhh, pretty" kind of crap. It always seemed sort of creepy to me...Having synthetic hair on your head...*shudders*. But, having long, shiny, STRAIGHT locks are/were of great import to the earlier generations. Some called if "whitification"...I called it stupid. It's hair, and this was well before "The Swan" and "Extreme Makeover". I didn't consider my going natural to be an embracing of my roots or of acceptance. I just figured it was a moneysaver and a HUGE convenience. (It was also nice that most of my relatives were jealous of my hair texture...I guess the ringlet curl affect my hair naturally has isn't that normal on my maternal side.)OK...I'm sure you've heard enough about my hair. It was just something I was sort of ruminating over for a brief period of time because I came to the realization today that my grandparents at least have accepted my hair...and the fact that I think I am going to straighten it today (or at least get a new hairstyle). My hair has been the topic of at least 3 separate conversations in the past two weeks....better than my bumpies, eh?
I hate my dreams. They are weird. I much prefer when I go to bed, wake up, and there is a complete blankness in between. Whenever I tell people about my dreams they look at me like I'm nuts...well I'm going to give you the opportunity to tell me if this is normal. I actually remember parts of a dream I had last night. I was sort of pissed because my alarm clock went off in the middle of a sex dream...Those are few and far between - I don't tend to turn into a nympho and think of sex 24/7 unless I'm PMS'ing or in a relationship. Anyway, I turned the alarm clock off and went back to sleep. I can't remember the very beginning of the dream, but I was cuddling with Ron Jeremy on a big black leather coach watching his digital cable (he had the remote). We were trying to decide what to tape with his TIVO when someone came to the door bearing a letter for me. It seemed my sister had been murdered. Well, Ron Jeremy was nice enough to accompany me to try to find her murderer so we loaded up into his baby blue Volvo (the most inconspicuous car in his collection) and went off to find the address - despite the fact we all lived in the same town, there must have been some falling out between my sister and I because I had NO idea where the hell she lived, or what the house looked like. Well, we went down the road looking for the address. Where the house was supposed to be there was a cemetary, and Ron and I got out of the car and walked into it. This is where things get a bit fuzzy for me and a bit weird. We kept walking and made it to this large clearing with a tree stump, a pool of water and a statue, along with 3 other people just sort of standing there. At first I thought they were zombies until one screamed "Look out" and this HUUUUGE oak tree dissected itself horizontally and a wooden round popped out and started attacking us. The three other people used guns to try to shoot it, but it wasn't working. Ron screamed at me to use my hands...I looked at him blankly and he showed me that if I raised my hands, palms displayed toward the object attacking me, green lasers would come out and destroy it....Well..my aim sucked ASS....the guys with the guns wound up shooting it. Well, then more of the rounds of wood came out and some other things started attacking us too...it was a little thing that was from some video game or other and was easily dispatched of. After we killed the tree, a bird flew towards us and everyone gasped. Someone said "It's the blue bird of ...."(can't remember..it was very specific) and we all watched it as it landed on the stump (not the stump from the tree we just killed...for some reason there seemed to be of great significance at the time). I remembered that I had my digital camera, so I tried taking a picture of the bird. For some reason there was no color and a man's head came up. I realized that if I spun the dial where you choose your camera settings that it would play a movie. So, I watched some brown and grey bum pull the weirdest gun I have ever seen in my life and point it at me. For some reason I figured out that if I spun the dial any longer my head would get blown off. The bird disappeared and the man appeared and told me that my sister was not killed but was the keeper of the dead and I could have all of her possessions because I defeated the killer tree. I then asked him if my head would have actually been blown off if I had kept turning the dial. He said yes...and the dream ended. Well, this one wasn't all that WEIRD..not like the one were we had to put the babies on top of the fabric we used to sew footballs for the school..There were these HUUUUGe ladders, and it was really hard to carry the babies up and stick them in the lockers...and all of the fabric was paisley...There was a lot more than that, but the guy I was dating at the time told me my dreams were sort of fucked up.
I was just thinking about how little time I have to make another corset and bodice for Trail (our Rendezvous at the end of this month), and it reminded me of the fact that my breasts have been the topic of conversation WAY more than I feel comfortable in the past week or two. Backstory:
Last weekend at the Belvidere rendezvous I took off my jacket because it was riding up and doing odd things, and just wore my corset and chemise (with a red velvet cloak on top). That was the turning point from being innocuous, to being the topic of concern and conversation for quite awhile. The public were walking down the pathways, men were turning their heads to look while they walked, I noticed one lady look at them - her eyes widened and she yanked her husband/boyfriend and altered course. That wasn't the worst part. The absolutely humiliating bit was the fact everyone in my group was giving me helpful pointers "Ummmm, you might need to tuck those in"....Well, I couldn't tuck them in. They were less than halfway out. APPARENTLY, what happened was that my breasts are sooooo ginormous *snicker* that the mounded globes of flesh spilling forth from the tightly bound corset resembled what most people considered as "bumpies about to show nipple...or break for freedom"....Well, MY bumpies were quite secure and weren't going much of anywhere. The only problem I had was that I couldn't bend over or bend my neck without nestling my chin in my downy soft cleavage.Maybe I am retarded, or just don't stare at them enough...But, I never thought that they were that big. Seriously! And I have never quite been so embarrassed before. Hell, the reason I GAINED weight was so that no one would stare at me or objectify me as a wet hole with a nice rack. It got REALLY creepy when one particular guy stopped by to visit with a friend...I'm not really friends with this person, it's more a mutual congeniality because we have the same set of friends and have known them for awhile (I've known his friends for at least 10 years). Anyway, he kept LOOKING at them...I felt really dirty and creeped out. I couldn't even look at him for awhile yesterday because of that...*shudder* I pretty much ignored him unless someone else was out there with us. Well, the other day, I have no idea how the topic came into play (I don't THINK it was me that brought it up), but..my boobs were mentioned again. Whenever this occurs I try to laugh it off..and thank GOD I am black so I don't turn all kinds of shades of red from the infernal blushing I know is going on undetected. I have approximately 1 week to figure out what I am going to do...Find some way to cover them up, or go with the booby-sporting bodice look. It may seem pathetic to be so weirded out by this (large deposits of adipose tissue doesn't sound nearly as sexy as voluptuous breasts), but for the most part I keep everything covered except for my collarbones and up, and elbows to fingertips at ALL times. So, to have people commenting on my bumpies is reaaaaaaally making me horribly self-conscious. Maybe I can force myself to believe some lie about the men admiring the fabric and fine seaming of the corset, or psych myself back into my prior state of ignorance about my breast-size. Or maybe, I will wear that damned corset, and have someone take pics of me in sexy poses, and start my own website....I DO need money. Or I could just do this.
Ok, well this post has nothing to do with cookies at all. I just had a picture of the Cookie Monster in my head and figured that would be as good a title as any. Actually, this post has to deal with me becoming a collosal beast of a woman if I continue to cook things and be the predominate eater of crap - oh yeah, and maybe considering a profession change. (Do the unemployed HAVE profession changes when they've just graduated from college and don't even have a profession???) Last Thursday, as I lay on the thinly matted table being massaged by the gentle electricity of a T.E.N's unit that is plugged into the wall (aka physical therapy), I had an idea: Apple bread with caramel chunks in it. Hmmm, that should be interesting. I even decided how I would roll it up. Every detail was run over in my head except for a few items. I am not the best baker from scratch because I cannot figure out the baking powder/baking soda ratio to flour for proper rise with or without acidity. Well, what I tend to do is find a recipe fairly similar to what I want, and adapt it. It works well and I retain the originality and interactivity in the creative process of my food product. I am OBSESSED with food. I love to cook it, to create, to feed it to other people and enjoy their expressions of delight. I've been through all of this before. I could probably just go through my archives and post a link...but I am much too lazy for that. At any rate...the bread. I went to visit LittleJoe - I got a tour of the new house and got to cuddle with their adorable little kitten whose name I cannot remember to save my life. When I got home I remembered that the next day was Nerd Day and that I was going to make Cream Puffs. But, since I am broke I couldn't manage to purchase the ingredients. So, I decided to try the bread. I altered a bread recipe that I had for these KILLER cinnamon rolls and proceeded to make the caramel, and dice the apples. After the dough was done, I set about the rather involving process of getting the three ingredients together. Well, There were a few minor mishaps (don't worry guys, nothing fell on the floor or got sneezed into or anything), but after 5 hours...all in all, it was a proud accomplishment - and DAMNED tasty to boot. LittleJoe actually mentioned it being an item I should consider selling. Considering the strict guidelines for selling foodstuffs, and my not knowing HOW to sell it, I am not sure if that will ever happen. But, it made me rethink my desire to go to a culinary school and become a chef. I am mostly afraid of the fact that I ENJOY cooking, and turning something I enjoy immensely into work might dampen the joy slightly. I doubt I would be like those people on FoodTV who are constantly gallavanting about joyously creating or sampling other people's foods. There is a hell of a lot of work that goes into the craft...and I am inherently lazy and have issues with follow-through once I get bored. But, I guess the main reason I am considering it is the fact I am so damned broke; and that is something I do fairly well- cook. Unless my friends are continually lying to me about my creations (except for cooking at Grau's house..nothing I ever try there turns out right.) Well, I guess that this long post amounts to this..I would love to be the "Caramel Apple Bread" lady, but I don't think it's particularly feasible. If it ever BECAME feasible, I would definately try it out for a bit. But, in the meantime, I will just cook for my friends (not family), because I enjoy the appreciative moans of ecstasy, the offers to pay for ingredients when I cannot afford them, friends who are more than happy to let me come over and show them how to make gnocche, or roast a chicken, and the hysterical "get this the hell away from me" from a friend who is on Atkins and feared he would eat the entire serving after his initial taste.
Thanks to Harvey I have changed the feedback section on my site. Unfortunately, the result is that all items not currently being archived have lost all comments. Sorry boys and girls, but, quite frankly the Blogger posting feature was driving me insane and I figure this is a small price to pay for a more reliable way to post. I also have to figure out why my blog shows up fine in 3 different browsers but looks like complete shit in Netscape. That might be a long time coming considering the lack of free time I have on my hands being currently unemployed... Speaking of hands, I can't feel mine. It's freezing outside and I think the friggin' air conditioner is on.
There wasn't even any convo. I got a message from him when I was asleep:
arizonaexecutive (9/30/2004 10:09:50 AM): helloWent to check his profile and almost threw up my banana. http://profiles.yahoo.com/arizonaexecutive For those of you without yahoo...well...I can't post the pic cause it's a BIT x-rated. Ok, I have 8 minutes to shower and get out of here for my physical therapy.
She kept mentioning some thing about dancing lions and Kenya pissing on Norway...NO clue what was going on (I honestly thought it was either drugs or a mass hallucination since her husband was in on it - they both danced around and sang). Well, it was drugs...Please check out this little bit of internet crack. * http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/29/ *Check at your own risk, if you wind up losing your job or you family don't come after my fat black ass.
Job interview was a complete bust. I had specifically asked what I would be tested on, and they said pseudocode. Ok, fine...that was bad enough. But, I get in there and they wanted me to test on SQL too. Not NECESSARILY a big deal except I was completely unprepared and froze up in fear. It didn't help that they wanted me to do it in some program I had never seen/heard of before. In the first interview I had SPECIFICALLY stated I had worked predominantly in Access, and the work I had done in Oracle mostly consisted of doing queries, updates, deletes...you know..minor stuff. I had no idea how to open the table with a typed command (which was the very first step after OPENING the program). I don't think the pseudocode went too well either. The scenario was setting up a toll booth to collect coins. If the amount was 75 cents or more the red light turned green and the gate went up. I'm not sure if I was supposed to initialize the values to preset coin denominations. It wasn't shown in any of the samples, but after I left I felt like a fool for not even asking. The rest of it was fine. I set the coin counter to 0 and set the gate and light to booleans. But, it also occured to me a few minutes ago that I should have set it up with a time delay and a loop. Damnit...I'm worthless. I give up...I'm going to be an office peon. I screw up all of my tech interviews by being unprepared or over-eager.
If you haven't read the previous click here. Days later, emeciated and weak, the man was led again to the darkly mysterious woman's lair. A long journey it seemed. "I hear you are not…cooperating," She said casually over a blindingly white porcelain cup. As She placed the cup upon the table, Her long black nails clicked against it with a sound of finality. The man looked at nothing but the floor, not speaking. The woman rolled Her eyes. Rising, in one fluid motion She strode across the room and cupped the man's chin in the palm of one hand digging Her nails into his sallow, filthy flesh. As their eyes locked, the woman said, "Do you know my name?" "No," the man croaked through a suddenly dry throat. He was absorbed by Her. She was all that he was aware of - pink tongue flashing across ruby red lips. Her face took on a predatory glow, "You may call me 'Mistress'." The man cleared his throat, eyes till locked to Hers, "Yes," he paused, swallowing hard. Moments later he whispered, "Mistress". "Good, very good," She chuckled. Letting Her hand fall to Her side, She turned and slowly walked to the couch. Languidly lounging on the rich, plush cushions She merely stared at the man in complete silence for what seemed like an eternity. "You know," She finally said in a rather pleasant, conversational manner, "I think I rather like you. Yes, I want you to be one of my personal servants. Of course you'll have to be broken". Raising one slender finger to Her cheek and tapping it rhythmically, She added, "But that probably won't take very long" and smiled in a most repugnantly evil fashion. Turning Her head so that She could look through the window, She gave a signal and the man was taken back to his cell.
This weekend was great. Had fun and all that, except for people in our group crapping out by 10:00 - 10:30 on Saturday...I swear, everyone was sick or sleepy by then. While at the event this weekend I was most kindly reminded of the fact that the packets for Trail of History had to be in by 10/01. Well, being the procrastinator that I am, I obviously have not sent mine in yet and was scrambling around the house looking for it. At 11:00pm I go and check over by my old computer - a place I only go to to dig through my pile of old mail maybe once a week - and I saw a note by my monitor. I figured it was just a scrap someone had left there, but no, apparently, I got called back for a second interview at the place I went to last week (programming in SQL and...visual basic I believe). Anyway, I went to confirm that this was indeed for me, because I couldn't remember if the name on the sheet was similar to one of the two places I had been last week. It was. Ok, here are my main questions:
- If someone gets a call about a job interview call-back and you took the message, would you put it in some obscure place that they never go to if you REALLY WANT THEM OUT OF YOUR F'ING HOUSE???? and
- Are you allowed to yell at people who do dumbass things like that?
You know, I was thinking about that job I am supposed to go interview for again. I am completely mortified. I know it's a fairly entry-level position and they aren't expecting some professional programmer with 10+ years of experience in there, but I am definately NOT secure in my abilities because of the length of time it has been since my last position. This would be a great job for me by way of not having to deal with people; but all in all, I would prefer the other job I interviewed for. It definately has a more creative outlet and isn't straight programming all day long. I guess the fact that one of the men I interviewed with was like "a lot of people don't last a week here." I understood why, and I don't have the same attitude as those people...but you also have to wonder about the work environment. You had to have a helluva lot of people quit to make a statement like that to a potential candidate for an open position! And that seems like a big red flag for me. Maybe I'm just being pessimistic again, I don't know. Oh, sidenote: I was reminded that some questions are better left unanswered...or at the very least, the answers should be remembered for safety reasons - "Hey, why do I have an almost completely full container of sugar-free jelly in here? That stuff was tasty the last time I had it...PB&J here I come." Now it's 7 hours later, my ass sounds like a tuba performing "Flight of the Bumblebee"*, and I keep taking 15 minute detours to catch up on my "light reading". *mumbles to self 'If I don't take another part of the paper in there next time, I'm going to have the real estate section memorized'* And on that note....I have to return...maybe if I go to sleep I won't notice it so much? *5th up from the bottom. (Direct links sending me to some weird page with nothing on it.)
Wow, I was getting a bit concerned I wouldn't get one for you. This one JUST came in. Hot off the presses! What the hell is it with french-speaking dumbasses lately?
jmneo_jm: hi Me: bonjour, je ne parles français bien Me: ne parles pas jmneo_jm: no is good jmneo_jm: you is very beautiful jmneo_jm: and exciting Me: ummm, thanks jmneo_jm: you wants my sexy pics or my cam? Me: uhhh, no jmneo_jm: lesbian? (ROFL emoticon) Me: why would I want naked pics of some strange guy? Me: I don't know you jmneo_jm: bye lesbian jmneo_jm: you is not funny Me: neither are you....pervert jmneo_jm: (ROFL emoticon) jmneo_jm: fuck you biatch jmneo_jm: you and you mother Me: vous êtes un imbecile Me: *yawn*'Twas a bit lame on my end because I was also in the midst of trying to beg, borrow, or steal some cooking equipment from Contagion for this weekend....shit..almost said he was a nice guy...but he'd kill me because I let his secret out. Wheh! That was a close one... Ok, I REALLY have to go, I ate half of the scottish shortbread dough and am feeling a bit queasy. *hork*
I was informed that Guinness had a new beer out, and was unable to find any information under the name I had been given. So I decided to just check around at various sites and came across the one below. It reminds me of my friends, and I figured they would get a huge kick out of it, being the beer guzzling drunkards that they are. http://www.briansbelly.com Enjoy!
Went on a "date" with a guy yesterday. It was amazingly refreshing to hang out with someone who wasn't a perverted little skeez trying to ply you full of liquor for kinky midget sex. He was cute and the convo was decent....pretty eyes, mmmmm...Oh...yeah the next installment of the story. In case you missed the first, click HERE. Enjoy: "They call Her “Mistress”, like they're saying 'Queen' or somethin’." "She is their ruler. But, I sure as hell don't get why She should traipse over here to our country and imprison US." "Because She can," spoke a third voice from the dark. "Some people need no more reason that that." The voices paused. After a few minutes the first speaker resumed, "I wonder where She's from?" "Across the ocean I figure. Don't know of anyone on this continent with an accent like that." You could almost hear him thinking before he continued in a pondering voice, "Funny though, the people She's brought over, none of them talk the same way." He paused again briefly, "It's almost as if She managed to pick them up along the way one-by-one." The man sat in his cell and shuddered. If they only knew, he thought. Drawing his knees to his chest, the man gazed into a pitch-black corner and began to wait. The man awoke to a foul smell. It was his breakfast - or was it his dinner, perhaps? It did not matter, time was irrelevant here, and he was definitely not going to eat that slop anyway. He knew there was nothing for him to do but wait. He had to think of something to occupy himself in the meantime. Anything at all, because he just needed something to draw his mind away from this dank, dark place. Perhaps, if he thought of his wife - That always seemed to make him happy. Abbey was a beautiful woman. From the first moment he saw her until the last, his heart fluttered in remembrance of the fact. Tall, red-haired, green-eyed, impish grin, and a wit so sharp it could slice cleanly through a diamond. She was smart and beautiful, intriguing and enlightened. Abbey broadened his mind and elevated his spirits. A happy sigh escaped him, the only sound in the cell besides that of the rats scurrying to devour his meal. The man's right hand involuntarily went to his left, attempting to rub the ring that should have been there, instead he rubbed only flesh - dirty flesh that would never again be able to hold or caress his beloved. His happy sigh turned into a sad one; with that hiss of air came the disappearance of hope. The man knew he had nothing to live for, not even memories.
Today has completely sucked ass, and it's only 4:40. I still have a few hours left...wonder what's going to go wrong in the meantime, lol. Had a job interview this morning that was SUPPOSED to be at 9am...well, around 8:45, after sitting in damned near stand-still traffic and not being anywhere NEAR the place I was to be interviewing at, I had to give the guy a call and say I was going to be a bit late. He was ok with it....then I got lost. After driving on the highway that leads to INDIANA I finally found a road to turn off onto and stopped at a gas station. The gentleman informed me that I was about 2 towns away from where I needed to be, and it would take me at least half an hour to get there (it was now 9:30). So I called up the nice gentleman at the company and said that I would not be able to make it until around 10am, that I understood if this was not acceptible, and that I was embarrased by my obvious inability to read. He told me that he had someone coming in at 10:00, but that if I could hold out he could schedule me in for 11. Sooooo, I got lost several times on my way to the facility in the meantime, and stopped off at the Starbucks he suggested I wait at. At 10:45 I went and had the interview. He was VERY nice and AMAZINGLY understanding. Even going so far as to tell me that he can't remember how many times he has gotten lost and been late to meetings with clients, and that it happens to the best of us. Got back into town and everything is great, EXCEPT..."shit...I have physical therapy in 15 minutes". Soooo, I schlep off to my physical therapy appointment, sans my pool attire and big fluffy towel. Had to explain the situation which left me feeling stupid because I forgot my stuff last week (though it worked out because I cancelled on Tuesday and Thursday the water in the pool was murky so I couldn't get in anyway). I'm done with physical therapy around 1:45 - YAY, she didn't make me do the treadmill or anything (all this driving made my back and knee into great barrels of happy-fun-time pain) - and remember that I have to see the doctor today, and can't do that until after 3. SOOOooo, I come home, sit for 45 minutes, and have to go back out to that infernal place. So all of the wonderful sunshiny mellow non-hurting feelings I had from the physical therapy (which consisted of being hooked up to the T.E.N's unit thing,and getting a massage from the physical therapist - remind me to get her a Thank You card and a dozen roses at the end of this) were completely undone by changing clothes, driving back out there and sitting in those gawdawful chairs for 35-45 minutes...all for a 5 minute one-on-one with the doctor. Sidenote: I have recently come to realize I am a horrible flirt. I flirted with the male nurse, and with the doctor...I'm pretty sure I was flirting with the two women in physical therapy. How the hell have I been blind to this for so many years? I still can't figure out when someone is flirting with me unless it's accompanied with a blinking neon sign that reads "He's flirting with you, dumbass". Anywho....NOW I am about to venture off to get corseted by a friend, and then I have to do a shitload of sewing for this weekend. All on 3 hours of broken sleep. I don't think I'd care so much if I had adequate sleep and didn't feel like someone had shoved a red-hot metal rod down the right side of my spine....All I can say is nobody better fuck with me. Cause they are goin' DOWN.
Damn you people and your infernal food comments. Sally's got me craving Irish soda bread with a PASSION. Due to That1Guy I would kill a man for a good german brew. Graumagus has me hankering for apple cider donuts. FoodTV has be craving pies (stupid pie weekend). And for reasons completely unbeknownst to me I feel the neeeeed for scottish shortbread and cornish pasties. I've been trying to cut down on what I eat...today was a complete failure. I had fruit and toast for breakfast - ok, off to a good start. A few hours later I went to a friends house and promptly ate a crapload of parmesian/garlic(??) Cheezits, a pizza puff, some french fries, and a hunk of feta from my salad (leaving my gyro and the remaining salad for two more meals). Got home and gorged on a banana 2 hours later. My goodness, I'm a little piggie. To top this off, I feel that I am going on a baking spree over the next few days so that I can take the goodies with me to Belvidere. Because Lord knows that if I am going to bake a bunch of crap, I do NOT need it sitting around my house tempting me. Better to bring it out to hungry people who will eat dirt if presented to them on a wooden plate. Hmmm, on second thought, I might have to hide a loaf of the soda bread and some pasties and some shortbread...and...and....*stomach grumbling*....OK, I better go to bed before I raid the fridge again. Tomorrow will be busy. I have to start making a new bodice (for our rendezvous in Belvidere this weekend), fix my old chemise, bake some crap, and get started on knitting a shawl. The shawl will be the easiest thing. It will probably take me 2 hours (YAY KNITTING MACHINE). Ok, none of you care...Well, fuck off! Can you tell I ran out of smokey treats today? Getting belligerent and acerbic. (A friend called me that today. I have NO idea where she got that from. I'm sweet as pie. *drips...and you hear a sizzle*)
Well, a few minutes ago I was going through a bag filled with old paperwork. It was mostly crap from 2002 that I had decided was long in need of being trashed. Well, in the midst of going through my cleanup, I thought I heard something weird coming from the bag. Well...I took a peak inside, and came across my little friend. I was a bit taken aback for a second and had to close the bag and look back inside to make sure I wasn't on the paranoid side. Nope, little sucker was still there....damnit. Sooooo, after looking around for an implement of torture...errr...something to pick the snake up with - garter snake or not I'm not picking it up bare-handed - I realized I had nothing at all besides some clothes I was going to donate to Goodwill this week. Fuck...only thing I could think of doing was removing all of the papers and keeping the snake in the bag, which I would then dump outside. Unfortunately, I think he was a smart lil fucker and realized he had been caught, so he tried slithering his way up the bag. I looked down and there was his little head about 3/4" from my hand. I'm not a huge pussy but...errr....I dropped the bag. After about 5 minutes of handy Swiffer action (those things are good for clearing snakes from your house too, let me tell you) I got him the hell out of my house. I think I squished him a bit though. Garter snakes stink and I'm not altogether sure if that pungent aroma comes from them as a deterrant to predators, or after you squish em a bit too hard....But you try getting a snake out of you damned house armed with a Swiffer and tell me how you pinned the little bastard down oh so gently so as not to crush it in about 15 different places. I'm not one for killing creatures (besides bugs and people), but I'm starting to think I should just kill the snakes. I feel so bad for inflicting the big cruel world upon their broken bodies. The breaking is something I seem to be particularly good at no matter how gentle I try to be. All they want to do is hide away in a nice warm, dark spot. But, I squish them and make them fly...Hmmmm, maybe I'm doing them a favor. Yeah, I'll keep telling myself that the next time I crush and toss a snake outside. I'm sure I'll get plenty of opportunities. Yet another I look forward to moving into my own place: apartment in the suburbs of large cities rarely have snakes.
Well, here is the first installment. This is not one of the stories to be completed in a month. It sort of gets completed whenever the hell I bother completing it. I will try to do updates once a week at the very least. But, in the meantime I will post tidbits of what I already have written every day or every other day (Mon-Fri) of this week. Then I will start posting by chapter. Hopefully, things won't get horribly muddled. I never finish anything, so I might get confused. Besides, I'm sort of anal about things and go over them again and again so I hope that I don't produce a less than quality product by not going about my usual process. If you like the tidbits/installment segments, tell me. Likewise if you don't like them. Just let me know, and if I get a majority vote saying they suck I will stop posting them. I'm cool either way, my dreams of being published are long gone, LOL. "I am not immortal, merely long-lived." "An issue of semantics - what is the true difference?" the man asked with exasperation. "Very little; but there is no way your kind can harm me." She smiled at the man as if he were a child, condescendingly. "So there is no hope for mankind." He said this not as a question, more as a statement of fact. "None…" Her eyes shifted to the window, "None but to serve," She said under Her breath in a near hiss. Never removing Her gaze from the snow-laden field, She raised a slender hand and signaled the guardsman that stood stiffly at the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. He silently strode over and grasped the man roughly, withdrawing him from Her quarters. The man went without a single thought of disobedience. There was no point to rebellion. Thus was the way things were; thus was the way things were to be. Upon leaving the room, the guardsman handed the man a piece of black cloth. The man knew the routine. Mechanically, he placed it; methodically, he tied it and positioned his hands, wrists crossed, behind his back. The guardsman bound them with rope and checked the blindfold. Once satisfied, he snapped a leash to the man's collar and they set out down the hallway.
I used to do a lot of creative writing. I have tons of short stories and novels that I had begun but never quite got around to finishing - even recently started a screenplay with a friend of mine...Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have the time to work on it with me, so it's been tossed to the wayside. I am considering doing an installment series on Rivers of Blood, but wanted to get the feedback of my faithful readers first. No point in forcing my stories down your throats if you are a) not going to read it b) not going to appreciate it and c) leave. If you are remotely interested, give me a shout. I will post some general info about some of the things I am going to try to finish up. That way I can get feedback on them if they completely suck ass; or if you think it's going in a completely horrid direction...Well, you can also tell me if the writing itself is completely horrible and I should give up on even attempting to bother with finishing these previous works. Another idea I was considering is to have you post topics for a short story and having a vote on the theme you would most like to see. Then having it completed in 4 weeks or less. So there would be a new story each month. My problem right now is that I want to write - I find it to be a great creative outlet, but I just can't really come up with anything. Another sad thing is that a lot of the novels/short stories I had started back in high school seem sort of like rip-offs of other authors I came across long after they were even begun. That makes it hard to bother with completing your original idea...when you figure most people will consider it you trying to "be like Mike", even when you started before "Mike" became a household word; or before you were introduced to "Mike". One of them, which I seem to have lost, I had an offer for publication on. But, at the time I was pissed at how it was submitted to the publisher (without my consent) so I never worked on it again. Well, let me know either way. If I get no responses, I will figure that I shan't bother. If I do, I'll actually have to attempt to do more frequent updates and find the time to write. (That last bit was a joke...I wake up at 2pm, and alternate my time between playing online, playing my keyboard, physical therapy, and watching tv....OHhhhhh..I'm a busy lil beaver, aren't I?)
We have snakes again. I don't MIND snakes, I just prefer not to find them slithering around in our living room or basement. It's especially annoying because they are wily little fuckers. I'm trying to tell myself that it was just in my head, otherwise I'm going to start seeing snakes everywhere. That's one of the bad things about living fairly near the "country" (which is becoming less and less "country" with each passing year due to industrialization and the expansion of our fair city). In the winter we get mice who decide camping out in our nice warm basement is preferable to hiding out in lil mouse hidy holes in the frigid outdoors. In the spring we get a maelstrom of bugs swooping in like a typhoon, in summer/early fall...we get snakes. For joy....I'm going to be wandering around the house with a pair of tongs in case I come across our newest visitor/uninvited guest. Hopefully, I won't get as rambunctious with this one as I did with the other earlier this year...He sorta got squished a bit before I tossed him outside. I remember when I was a kid and found a snake outside whose tail was crushed. I took him into our house and kept him in the bed with me figuring the waterbed would give him some warmth. The next morning I stuck him in my underwear drawer before I went to take a shower. After the shower, I came back and my little friend had "run" off....About 5 hours later I saw the dog munching on the remains of my little buddy. Well...at least he was likely very comfortable and snuggly warm before his ultimate demise brought about by a golden retriever with a penchant for hunting little creatures that ran in terror. Damn...I miss that dog. She was the sweetest thing. Died of cancer a few years back. Well, I suppose the great snake hunt off is to begin anew. Unfortunately, the basement has a plethora of places that thing could be hiding at...one of which is my second room..Most of which is storage, but I go down there several times a day. Maybe..just MAYBE, if I ignore it, it will go away...or at the very least, never be seen by me again.
Errrr....this one is from metacrawler: workman's comp joke blowjob Ok, this is getting bad...Another one from google for...you guessed it: gimps gone wild free That's just WRONG....lol And "hello" to my reader from the UK who comes for frequent visits, despite my lack of updates. Can you PLEASE send me crumpets??? I can't find my crumpet ring. Though I could use a tuna fish can..that's just so gauche.
Well, here is a pic of me that was taken about 2-4 months ago. It's not all that great because I had just gotten out of the shower, I'm not wearing any makeup, and my hair had that crazy "freshly washed and still dripping" look. Argh, I am not particularly photogenic or attractive, so I apologize for any heavily induced vomiting, but trust me in this: I spared you by not giving the full-body shot. Though, if I just put a pic of my rather voluminous breasts up, I'm sure the guys (that are not my friends) would be happy....for hours upon end. *chortle*
Me, looking like a slightly impish, psychopathic, crackhead.
I was watching Oprah last week or two weeks ago....ok...IN MY DEFENSE: I sat down and it was the channel the tv was on. My back was hurting and I wasn't about to get up and look for the remote; and since I haven't quite mastered using the force, I was basically stuck watching it for 15 minutes until I was "recovered" enough to get up and find the remote - talk about a run-on sentence. It was some show about things women/people can do to add years to their lives or some crap. Well, a few of the things I gleaned were:
- Take an aspirin a day
- Eat an ounce of chocolate a day
- Eat a handful of nuts a day
Well, I have the newest fucktard of the week. Ok, I am taking a risk that by posting this, you will all realize how I have basically forgotten the ENTIRE french language (I used to be near fluent when I lived in Holland - especially after drinking my (considerable) weight in french wine, german beer, and finnish liquorice/vodka goo cooked up in a flat when I lived in the Nederlands), and that I have WAAAAAAY too much time on my hands.
ME (8:32:33 PM): bonjour....I was not available at the time you im'd me mehidou3 (8:32:56 PM): bonsoir ça va ME (8:33:27 PM): comme çi comme ça ME (8:33:30 PM): et vous? mehidou3 (8:33:50 PM): ça va merci mehidou3 (8:34:01 PM): tues d'ou ME (8:34:15 PM): je suis americaine....est mon français est tres mal....parlez-vous anglais? mehidou3 (8:34:44 PM): non je parle espagnol mehidou3 (8:35:02 PM): et le francais mehidou3 (8:35:20 PM): et toi ME (8:35:45 PM): mais, votre premiere...message au moi en messenger....errr...was in...anglais? ME (8:36:08 PM): mehidou3: hello! this is the beauty which i am looking for? mehidou3 (8:36:14 PM): ce n'ete pas moi ME (8:36:32 PM): well, I don't speak spanish and can't speak french well enough to type it ME (8:36:40 PM): so I have to say bonsoir mehidou3 (8:36:48 PM): bay ME (8:36:53 PM): au revoir, mon ami mehidou3 (8:37:59 PM): hola ME (8:38:12 PM): no hable espagnol mehidou3 (8:38:43 PM): si la hablo ME (8:38:51 PM): adios mehidou3 (8:39:00 PM): porque ME (8:39:08 PM): because I don't speak french or spanish ME (8:39:11 PM): and you don't speak english mehidou3 (8:39:19 PM): no ME (8:39:19 PM): so there is no point in our talking....Well, he kept trying to talk to me for another 10 minutes. I finally wound up telling him goodbye in 4-5 different languages, figuring he would get the hint. Just because I understood PART of what he was saying in french and he understood PART of what I was saying in English....didn't mean we were going to have a convo. Oh...almost forgot the good part - the part where I came to realize this likely wasn't a communication issue on his end: He kept trying to get me to view his webcam about 8:40pm, and I THINK he called me crazy when I told him no... On a completely unrelated topic: I'm thinking about learning Japanese. I loved cyrillic - well only tried Russian, and the guy I was dating at the time said I pronounced everything correctly; but that chinese symbol stuff sux ASS... I remember dealing with those when I took Mandarin. So that's the main drawback for me. Romance languages are a LOT easier.. mean...we're all latin based. Cyrillic and Asian languages are definately not easy to pick up intuitively. OK, this post is boring me, as I am sure it has likely bored you if you bothered getting this far. Go do something productive...I'm gonna DANCE...and eat more of the chocolate covered macadamia nuts I made on a whim...Hmmm...
Since I haven't posted in awhile I haven't bothered with any updates on my job situation. I had a job interview last week, it was through a direct placement company who also wants me to come in and interview with them about a receptionist/administrative assistant position. I told them that I could not expect them to pay the salary that I would require due to the gas mileage and distance. They still want me to stop by, so I will do so on monday in between interviews for a mini-interview and a little chat with my placement rep/recruiter. Earlier this week, I realized on Careerbuilder, like a DUMBASS, I had my tech resume searchable instead of my clerical resume. Once I changed that I managed to set up 3 job interviews on Monday and 2 on Wednesday in the Chicago area. Two of them I am remotely interested in. One is actually a sort of temp thing with a tech placement company called TekSystems. It's more administrative but they need someone with a technical background and the lady said that I would likely promote out of that department into a technical role within 6 months. Two are for office type work (fairly good pay though), the other one I am interested in is for a Network Administrator position. I actually have to study for that because I haven't done it in so long. I don't think telling them about the network I had at home that I FINALLY got working two days before my computer crashed is going to count as recent experience LOL. But, I will be in the area for another interview so it's not like it's a complete waste of my time. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I can't wait around for the answer from that company from last month anymore. I mean, come on..do they REALLY think most people sit around for 2-3 months waiting for an acceptance letter? I'd figure if they were as interested as she last mentioned, they would have made the decision already. And the one I interviewed for last week, I don't really want. The only real plus are the benefits. It sounds like there isn't much to do, and I really don't like creating work for myself and I'd really have to start looking hardcore for an apartment that didn't cost $800+/month for a one bedroom. But also, at this point..it's a job, right? Even if I have to commute 2 hours a day one way and spend $250 a month on gas and put 3-4,000 miles a month on my car.
After that last post, I reminded myself of a gentleman who I started conversing with at the beginning of this month. He's British, in his 50's, employed as a forensic doctor, loaded, and submissive (servile domestic). Excepts from his emails:
(9/02/2004) I am ... 6' 3' 220. Born in London, I have lived in the States for 12 years, originally in Boston and here since 1993.... I also wash, cook and clean and nothing pleases me more than spoiling and pampering my lady, I can also be controlled sexually, domestically and financially.... (9/11/2004)You are an amazingly attractive woman and I would hope that you would allow me to stay in touch until such time as my work here is completed.... I hope we can meet real soon as I have not met anyone ... either as attractive or as personable as you.Hmmmmm, I think I might have to keep talking to this one. Ok, let me put it to you in terms you might understand before you get grossed out by the guy being approximately a quarter of a century older than me: The above guy would be a better prospect than the 22-year old Puerto Rican kid that is on probation and didn't graduate from high school (and currently has no permanent residence)...riiiiight? *smirk* Hell, maybe if I put out he'd buy me that custom made canvas tent I want for rendezvous LOL.
Was chatting with an individual today who mentioned that I had issues because I did not enjoy being objectified as a sexual object because of my height -there are a shitload of men online who figure because I am short I can fulfill some fucked up midget fantasy they have - and I came to realize that I think a lot of men are really scummy. Then I thought about the occupations of a lot of the assholes that msg me and act like friggin perverts. Not all of them are the uneducated masses like my friend big_mike548. A lot of them are managers, techies, owners of companies. Then I considered the fact that statistically speaking with just the tiny crossection of society that hits upon women and seem to have odd fetishes like midgets and severed limbs (thanks Ktreva), what a hell of a lot of perverted weirdos there are in this small, small world. I think I am beginning to hate and fear men. I've always had issues with men ranging from abandonment issues from my biological father, physical and emotional abuse from my step-father (with the occasional death threat), rapes, attempts at Arkansas' version of "keepin' it in the family", an issue with a very close person that emotionally scarred me to the point that the mere thought of being touched by another male literally made me vomit for about 3 years, and a myriad of other events that I am not going to mention. I have basically made my peace with my past, but I figure I've reached overstepped the boundary for TMI already. Anyway, I mention that crap so that there is the understanding that I DO have issues, and well-founded issues at that. DESPITE my issues I still have the ability to love wholeheartedly and unfailingly. It takes a HELL of a long time to get me to trust you as far as I can throw you, but once I do it takes a lot to get me to deviate from that. Ok, now my concern is that the issues I have, based upon past experiences and traumatic events, coupled with the fact most of the guys I run into online are perverts is making me a man-hating shrew. I am afraid that whenever I see some guy, that he's going to be thinking particularly creepy thoughts that he only keeps at bay in one-on-one situations because of things like getting kneed in the testicles or sexual harassment suits. Which consequently means most men are lying, assholic freaks only showing their true personality, wants, and desires on the fairly anonymous internet because of the nature of the medium and the fact they cannot get maced, kicked in the nuts, or sued. Obviously the things they state online are things they are thinking. They just do not feel as free to make those statements in person. I cannot imagine some guy coming up to me at the grocery store stating "Damn...you're short...fucking you would be kind of kinky. [BTW} [H]ow big are your breasts?" And yet, I get that all of the time online. It has gotten to the point that I had my yahoo messenger on invisible status for approximately one year because I was getting sick of guys messaging me "got cam?" "want to play?" or some weird line that translates to "wanna see me play with myself?" I have male friends, they are all normal and consider me to be repulsive - an item of which I am reminded of a BIT more frequently than I care for, LOL. And the thing is that I know they don't run around doing this crap. And these friends are sick, twisted motherfuckers who probably need to be heavily medicated and put into anger management programs and psychiatric wards. It's the others that scare me. Doctors, lawyers, CEO's, presidents of companies, managers. Trust me, I'm not an attractive girl, so men don't even look at me twice as a general rule unless it's in shock at my height or something. So it's not as if it's some egomaniacal thing - they all want meeeeee...NOT. It's just seriously starting to freak me out what men are turning into. If that much of the population is SO obsessed with getting off what the hell is going to happen with the next generation? They surely aren't going to be held by the confines of the internet. Next thing you know there will be some girl walking down the street surrounded by men heavily involved in a circle jerk.
Ok, I have been reminded that I have been slightly remiss in my weekly fucktard segment. This is one of the first convos I ran into in my log from last week...btw, sorry about the TMI and nonsensical bits..I was a little high on muscle relaxants.
chrism_stc: (asked what a HNG is) ME (11:53:36 AM): horny net geek chrism_stc (11:54:11 AM): lol -okay, i'm horny -but i dont think i'm a net geek -how would i know? ME (11:54:52 AM): I don't much care...you mentioned you're horny, and thereby lost my interest in bothering to converse with you chrism_stc (11:55:34 AM): lol -oh, you are one of those- chrism_stc (11:55:45 AM): you are horny too -you just dont know it... ME: (I happily went to play Yahoo Pyramids and completely forgot I was talking to him...after reading the above, I sorta got pissed and ranted) ME (12:11:10 PM): Yes, it's fun being horny and blind to it when blood is flowing out of you vagina like niagara falls ME (12:11:12 PM): and the blood clots ME (12:11:32 PM): oh yeah...can't forget the diarrhea..cause nothing is more arousing than the mixture of blood, diarrhea, and toilet paper in the toilet bowl.... ME (12:11:33 PM): fuck offHmmmm, maybe I should have taken the time to find one of the good ones...But, it's 4:30 in the morning and I don't much care to be bothered with putting forth the effort. Anyway, how the HELL does someone that didn't grow up under a rock or in a monastary NOT know they are horny? Gotta wonder if this ploy works a lot:
'lol -oh, you are one of those- you are giving me a briefcase full of $1,000 bills - you just don't know it...'Use the force, Luke!
Can you say MORON boys and girls:
Authorities halt man's eBay offer to sell vote ELYRIA, Ohio (AP) — It took authorities just 12 hours to hear about and stop a man's eBay offer to sell his vote. James Pengov, 36, of Elyria, said he was hoping to land enough money from selling his vote to pay medical bills. "Up for auction is MY VOTE!," said Pengov's Aug. 19 posting on the online marketplace. The item, advertised as "Presidential Vote for Sale," with a starting bid of $50, was yanked 12 hours after it was posted.Some people really shouldn't breed.
Was reading an article on MSN Careers - biding time before I head off to my physical therapy appointment - and came across this little tidbit that damned near made my jaw hit the floor: Ashton Kutcher, actor, majored in biochemical engineering at the University of Iowa. Gawd, I always figured he was a collosal tard...Not necessarily due to typecasting, but...when I've seen him in interviews he doesn't appear to be very cerebral. Well, will wonders never cease?
After reading about crapping puffins on Boudicca's blog and my subsequent comment to it, I recalled something I had heard about a couple of weeks ago but forgot to post on. If you've already heard about it I apologize, a day late and a dollar short I guess.
Complaint links rock band to dumped sewage The Dave Matthews Band's concerns for the environment stretch from marine life in Biscayne National Park to transit riders in the San Francisco Bay Area. But on Tuesday the band was accused of making a not-so-ecofriendly contribution to the Chicago River: dumping raw sewage from a tour bus onto the heads of people aboard an architectural tour boat.I dunno if I like them more or less after this. Oh, ran across another link while searching for the article. Didn't check it out very much though. (Bou - You are forewarned...ya might not want to click this link....ohhh..yeaaah..let the morbid curiosity take control. You are all ID, baby!!) A lil something for the kiddies.
I got a call today for an interview. I accepted, but thought it seemed a bit fishy. I had received an email earlier today and checked out the webpage and thought NAH, seems sorta like telemarketing positions. After I got home from physical therapy (man did that ever SUCK), I had a message to call someone back for an interview. So I did, and she asked if I had received their email earlier. So I checked things out and asked her a few questions. Based upon the answers I received for those questions and the information I viewed on the website earlier today, I was more than a bit leery. I decided to check and see if there was any bad press about this company. Trying to keep a fairly objective view because ANYONE/THING is going to have bad press from somewhere. Hmmmm, I didn't think it was going to be THIS bad...Now..I am pretty damned sure I am not going to go. If even half of what these people say is true, I am not driving my happy black ass 2 hours one-way if there is even an INKLING of a scam. This is what I found after 30 seconds of searching. Not a good sign, eh? Arbordahl & Associates Though, I think it would have been cool if I had my mutual friend's, friend's (that CANNOT be grammatically correct) tape recorder and I could upload the more interesting lies on here. But, that sort of sounds like work so we'll keep it as a hypothetical for now.