This just in:
In the world of not Earth shaking or Earth shattering news, the bar scene is, stupid. The single scene is, stupid. Add the bar scene with the single scene, mix in some alcohol, and the stupidity ensues. Shake in a skinny, skinny, skinny, blonde girl who was desperate for any kind of attention combined with men of various ages and well, stupidity and annoyance was overflowing faster than cheap beer with a big head. Add in one single gal with big boobs and long dark hair who was fine and then all of a sudden really drunk and well, the annoyance threshold reached an all time high.
Find skinny girl going home with one gay man, but no one would listen to the wisdom of the big boob girl on this one, still waiting to hear about the outcome.
Big boob girl had beer spilt on her ass, and annoyance level reached an all time high. Realized she was drunk as a result of annoyance level.
Big boob girl somehow started giving out back rubs to friends. Became a focal point, but she wasn't paying attention to the onlookers. Zoned out at one point in the middle of giving a back rub to one of the males in the group of friends and went to happy, happy place. Perhaps this is why the onlookers were looking on.
Big boob girl maded it home around 3 a.m.
Slept until almost noon.
Calls it all good.
Starts to rethink bar scene.
No, epiphanies were found here.
Big boob girl promises to stop talking in the third person.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
 | You scored as IV - The Emperor. The Emperor represents power. There is nothing subtle about this Tarot card. The Empress has power through love.The Emperor has power through power. He is in control, he is forceful and ambitious. Nothing will stop him. He is a natural leader, having either been born to the role or having disposed of all those who stood in his way. If well aspected in a Tarot spread this card can indicate success. It represents obstacles overcome, goals reached and ambition fulfilled. If badly aspected it can indicate either weakness or an abuse of power.
Which Major Arcana Tarot Card Are You? created with QuizFarm.com |
Friday, July 28, 2006
oh, the nerve
I called the local video store (which, shouldn't they be called the DVD store nowadays?) to see if they have either a VHS or DVD of a Pearl Jam concert as I am doing a presentaion on PJ on Tuesday.
A girl answered the phone sounding winded and irritated.
In my best phone voice I ask her if they have the DVD.
She types away on her little computer.
Yes, they do.
Great! Can you hold that for me and I'll pick it up tonight?
With a HUGE sigh, she asks me when I will pick it up tonight.
Um, I don't know. I do a little math in my head silently figuring out when I will be there as I am leaving work early to go out with friends. (Long week and I needs drinks. Who am I kidding? Even if it was a short week I'd need drinks.)
I tell her a time that will still give me extra time encase I am late.
Another HUGE sign emits from her end of the phone.
"Hold on a second while I see if it's on the shelf."
Um, okay.
She tells me they have it in.
Thanks.
Here's the thing. I am SO tired of calling or being at a place and asking the person for something. You know, asking them to do their job, only to get an attitude or a complete lack of any kind of enthusiasm. Like I am bothering them, I mean, I have some nerve asking the person to, you know, work.
Or what about the people who don't realize the question, "So, how are you doing today?" Is a rhetorical question! I mean, I don't actually care, I'm just being polite. Sheesh.
But what cracked me up about this call was the fact that the computer told her they had the DVD, but she had no idea if they actually-had-the-DVD.
Which, by the way, that happened to me once already with this very video store.
Small little vent, over. Thanks.
A girl answered the phone sounding winded and irritated.
In my best phone voice I ask her if they have the DVD.
She types away on her little computer.
Yes, they do.
Great! Can you hold that for me and I'll pick it up tonight?
With a HUGE sigh, she asks me when I will pick it up tonight.
Um, I don't know. I do a little math in my head silently figuring out when I will be there as I am leaving work early to go out with friends. (Long week and I needs drinks. Who am I kidding? Even if it was a short week I'd need drinks.)
I tell her a time that will still give me extra time encase I am late.
Another HUGE sign emits from her end of the phone.
"Hold on a second while I see if it's on the shelf."
Um, okay.
She tells me they have it in.
Thanks.
Here's the thing. I am SO tired of calling or being at a place and asking the person for something. You know, asking them to do their job, only to get an attitude or a complete lack of any kind of enthusiasm. Like I am bothering them, I mean, I have some nerve asking the person to, you know, work.
Or what about the people who don't realize the question, "So, how are you doing today?" Is a rhetorical question! I mean, I don't actually care, I'm just being polite. Sheesh.
But what cracked me up about this call was the fact that the computer told her they had the DVD, but she had no idea if they actually-had-the-DVD.
Which, by the way, that happened to me once already with this very video store.
Small little vent, over. Thanks.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
word origin: masturbation
Okay, this is just one word origin, something tells me there are many, many others.
The word "frigging" is deprived from the Middle English word fryggen, "to wriggle," which described masturbation.
Yeah, and there is another definition for 'frigging' nowadays, but I'll leave that for another day.
Or Jay can tell you.
The word "frigging" is deprived from the Middle English word fryggen, "to wriggle," which described masturbation.
Yeah, and there is another definition for 'frigging' nowadays, but I'll leave that for another day.
Or Jay can tell you.
inner dork: proof of virginity
Did you know....
In earlier times proof of virginity on the wedding night was very important. To show proof that the woman was pure (but not the man) the bloodstained bedsheet would be hung out for relatives and neighbors to witness.
In earlier times proof of virginity on the wedding night was very important. To show proof that the woman was pure (but not the man) the bloodstained bedsheet would be hung out for relatives and neighbors to witness.
sigh here, please
If I had a million dollars....
No, I'd have $114 million, thanks!
What would I do? What would I do?
First: I'd invest it to make more money. Not that I don't think I have enough, but to ensure that what I want to do can continue long after I am gone.
All debt; mine, my families, friends, probably even all of yours, as of right now those on my blogroll and those who answered the question, debt gone! (Who loves you? Uh, who?) However, this is a one time payment, get out of jail free card. Any and all debt aquired after payment is made, is yours to keep. I love ya, but I ain't gonna be an ATM. Here's my theory, learn to manage your own money and your own debt. I have some family members (step-sister) who is very slow on the uptake on this one. (Didn't make her house payment for a year because she just didn't want to. Yeah, she's living in an apartment now.)
College funds for niece and nephew. However, they must maintain at least a 2.5 GPA. Trust funds for them also, but they can't touch them until they are 25 and it won't be in one lump sum. They also won't know about it until they are 25.
I will travel the globe. Anywhere and everywhere I have always wanted to go. Friends and family please, join me.
Build a house, or restore an old two-story farm house, in the country on an acreage. Huge garden of vegetables. Backyard is nothing but flowers. I have a least two, maybe three, dogs. A barn on the property. An old Ford pickup, circa, 1930's, fully restored, but the door still squeaks when I open the driver's door. New model Mustang in the garage.
Build a second house by the ocean. As close as I possibly can make it to the shore. Nothing fancy. Just a nice little cottage.
Paint, write, photograph, design.
Now for my life's mission:
I will start an organization that promotes women's issues. In all countries, not just in the Third World. Something has happened to women's self-esteem and self-worth. The stories I hear everyday of a young women not valuing herself breaks my heart and makes me mad.
Education in terms of teaching young girls, starting in pre-adolescence, to value themselves.
Market ads that show real women, who have real bodies. Not bodies that are a size 2 or 0 with fake boobs. That isn't what we look like. Show bodies with natural curves, all shapes, all sizes.
Go to Third World countries and teach/educate that women do have self-worth, value. Female infantgenocide is still very much happening. Women are not valued. However, I think that the same thing can be said in this country as well. I'm not saying we are killing our baby girls as soon as they are born, but we are teaching them not to value themselves. The images that are shown everyday of what a 'real' women is aren't accurate. We are told what we are supposed to look like, how stupid and sexual we are to act, and how smart we aren't supposed to be. These are all thrown at us constantly and we wonder why we aren't happy and why we can't achieve it.
I would promote and educate in terms of: birth control, education, safe sex practices, values, health care. This includes all things big and small all things that can be thought of.
Promote education.
Start schools in other countries and improve the schools in the U.S. Education is freedom, however our education system needs to improve greatly so that freedom can be achieved.
Promote literacy.
The number one thing a parent can do to help their child in terms of development is to read to their child. Ta dah!
Yep, reading. The easiest and simpliest thing a person can do to help ensure a child's future. I would scream that loud all over the world. (Wait, did I just do that? Okay, not all over the world, but within a twelve-state area?)
I would have book drives, book sales, reading programs, ad campaigns all over the country.
I would open a:
Book store.
A coffee shop.
A gay disco.
A great little neighborhood bar.
A cafe'.
An independent film movie theater.
A sex club.
I would travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel,travel, travel, travel!!!!!!
Last, but damn sure not least, I would throw one hell of a party, the likes of which none of us have ever been witness to. Yes, all of you are invited. Pack a bag. Because who knows where we will all end up.
No, I'd have $114 million, thanks!
What would I do? What would I do?
First: I'd invest it to make more money. Not that I don't think I have enough, but to ensure that what I want to do can continue long after I am gone.
All debt; mine, my families, friends, probably even all of yours, as of right now those on my blogroll and those who answered the question, debt gone! (Who loves you? Uh, who?) However, this is a one time payment, get out of jail free card. Any and all debt aquired after payment is made, is yours to keep. I love ya, but I ain't gonna be an ATM. Here's my theory, learn to manage your own money and your own debt. I have some family members (step-sister) who is very slow on the uptake on this one. (Didn't make her house payment for a year because she just didn't want to. Yeah, she's living in an apartment now.)
College funds for niece and nephew. However, they must maintain at least a 2.5 GPA. Trust funds for them also, but they can't touch them until they are 25 and it won't be in one lump sum. They also won't know about it until they are 25.
I will travel the globe. Anywhere and everywhere I have always wanted to go. Friends and family please, join me.
Build a house, or restore an old two-story farm house, in the country on an acreage. Huge garden of vegetables. Backyard is nothing but flowers. I have a least two, maybe three, dogs. A barn on the property. An old Ford pickup, circa, 1930's, fully restored, but the door still squeaks when I open the driver's door. New model Mustang in the garage.
Build a second house by the ocean. As close as I possibly can make it to the shore. Nothing fancy. Just a nice little cottage.
Paint, write, photograph, design.
Now for my life's mission:
I will start an organization that promotes women's issues. In all countries, not just in the Third World. Something has happened to women's self-esteem and self-worth. The stories I hear everyday of a young women not valuing herself breaks my heart and makes me mad.
Education in terms of teaching young girls, starting in pre-adolescence, to value themselves.
Market ads that show real women, who have real bodies. Not bodies that are a size 2 or 0 with fake boobs. That isn't what we look like. Show bodies with natural curves, all shapes, all sizes.
Go to Third World countries and teach/educate that women do have self-worth, value. Female infantgenocide is still very much happening. Women are not valued. However, I think that the same thing can be said in this country as well. I'm not saying we are killing our baby girls as soon as they are born, but we are teaching them not to value themselves. The images that are shown everyday of what a 'real' women is aren't accurate. We are told what we are supposed to look like, how stupid and sexual we are to act, and how smart we aren't supposed to be. These are all thrown at us constantly and we wonder why we aren't happy and why we can't achieve it.
I would promote and educate in terms of: birth control, education, safe sex practices, values, health care. This includes all things big and small all things that can be thought of.
Promote education.
Start schools in other countries and improve the schools in the U.S. Education is freedom, however our education system needs to improve greatly so that freedom can be achieved.
Promote literacy.
The number one thing a parent can do to help their child in terms of development is to read to their child. Ta dah!
Yep, reading. The easiest and simpliest thing a person can do to help ensure a child's future. I would scream that loud all over the world. (Wait, did I just do that? Okay, not all over the world, but within a twelve-state area?)
I would have book drives, book sales, reading programs, ad campaigns all over the country.
I would open a:
Book store.
A coffee shop.
A gay disco.
A great little neighborhood bar.
A cafe'.
An independent film movie theater.
A sex club.
I would travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel, travel,travel, travel, travel!!!!!!
Last, but damn sure not least, I would throw one hell of a party, the likes of which none of us have ever been witness to. Yes, all of you are invited. Pack a bag. Because who knows where we will all end up.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The Power of One: You have $114 million
I've read how many of you hate your job, your living situation, those around you, those beneath you, your lack of money, where you live and what you live in. You want your life to change. You want power you want money and influence.
For this week's power of one, I give you $114 million to do what ever you want with.
This amount is after taxes; it's free and completely clear, you have $114 million. You have the power and influence. Tell me what you're going to do with it.
I'll tell you what I will be doing with mine, tomorrow.
For this week's power of one, I give you $114 million to do what ever you want with.
This amount is after taxes; it's free and completely clear, you have $114 million. You have the power and influence. Tell me what you're going to do with it.
I'll tell you what I will be doing with mine, tomorrow.
Monday, July 24, 2006
sick and twisted, twisted and sick
So, I'm on my 80 mile cross country stint last night, also known as my twice a week pilgrimage to school, when my mind has naturally drifted off to its happy place, sex.
I come upon a minivan with a very dirty back window. What should be written in the loveliest Catholic schoolgirl handwriting in the dirt on the back window of the minivan?
"I love baby goats."
I, of course, immediately start to giggle.
I'm wondering why this is written on the back of the minivan's dirty window.
I pass the minivan to see what the driver of the baby goat love looks like.
The driver is a middle-aged man looking very pensive as he drives down the highway of baby goat love.
I then spend the next 30 seconds coming up with a back-story for the pensive baby goat lover.
He is a high school math teacher who has made an unwelcome and very inappropriate advance on one of his students. She, in return, wrote the, baby goat love, on the back of his window.
I feel it was well justified.
I come upon a minivan with a very dirty back window. What should be written in the loveliest Catholic schoolgirl handwriting in the dirt on the back window of the minivan?
"I love baby goats."
I, of course, immediately start to giggle.
I'm wondering why this is written on the back of the minivan's dirty window.
I pass the minivan to see what the driver of the baby goat love looks like.
The driver is a middle-aged man looking very pensive as he drives down the highway of baby goat love.
I then spend the next 30 seconds coming up with a back-story for the pensive baby goat lover.
He is a high school math teacher who has made an unwelcome and very inappropriate advance on one of his students. She, in return, wrote the, baby goat love, on the back of his window.
I feel it was well justified.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
word origin: trivia
Medieval colleges were broken into two sections of study.
Quadrivium consisted of: Math, Geometry, Astronomy, and Music.
Trivium consisted of: Logic, Rhetoric, and Grammar.
Trivium= trivia. Yep, that's me. I'm getting a degree in trivia.
Quadrivium consisted of: Math, Geometry, Astronomy, and Music.
Trivium consisted of: Logic, Rhetoric, and Grammar.
Trivium= trivia. Yep, that's me. I'm getting a degree in trivia.
inner dork: vinegar
Did you know...and well, if you did where were you five years ago when I was working in a kitchen and no one could answer me when I asked, what is vinegar? Everyone looked at me like I was an idiot, but no one could give me an answer.
So that you don't look like an idiot, I give you: What is vinegar?
The word derives from the French, vin aigre, which means "sour wine."
Vinegars are made from a weak alcohol that is produced from fruit, cereals, rice, molasses, sugar, or honey. The most common are made from wine, cider, and white vinegar.
Vinegar has been around since ancient times, as early as 3000 B.C.
The Spartans were famous for existing largely on a vile "black broth" consisting of pork stock, vinegar, and salt.
Vinegar was mostly used for pickleing, however sometimes it was used for medicinal purposes. Vinegar was mixed with pepper and honey to treat feminine disorders. (What kinds of disorders, I don't know.) (Ew, stinky.) Vinegar mixed with pepper was also used to revive suffocation victims.
So that you don't look like an idiot, I give you: What is vinegar?
The word derives from the French, vin aigre, which means "sour wine."
Vinegars are made from a weak alcohol that is produced from fruit, cereals, rice, molasses, sugar, or honey. The most common are made from wine, cider, and white vinegar.
Vinegar has been around since ancient times, as early as 3000 B.C.
The Spartans were famous for existing largely on a vile "black broth" consisting of pork stock, vinegar, and salt.
Vinegar was mostly used for pickleing, however sometimes it was used for medicinal purposes. Vinegar was mixed with pepper and honey to treat feminine disorders. (What kinds of disorders, I don't know.) (Ew, stinky.) Vinegar mixed with pepper was also used to revive suffocation victims.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
a study in procrastination
Currently, as some of you know, I am taking five classes. I am also working full-time; therefore my classes are at night and on Saturday morning. (8 a.m.) (Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?)
(Have I mentioned that I like to stay out until 4 a.m.?)
I will graduate in December, so yeah, yeah light, tunnel, almost there, all been worth it, sacrifices, we all make choices, blah, blah, blah. Bite me.
In the fall I have three more requirements and I will be in five more classes, full-time working and ta dah! Shiny piece of paper in my hand, job, money, blah, blah, blah.
As of this moment I have:
A 15 page rough draft that is due Saturday.
The final 15 pages are due in two weeks. Research is finished, (I think) but I'm not really sure what my thesis is. Yes, I know how that sounds.
A 4-6 page paper due in two weeks.
A 5 page paper due in two weeks.
A 15-20 minute presentation due in two weeks.
A 15-20 minute presentation due in two weeks. (No, I didn't make a mistake. I have two separate presentations due in two weeks.)
A 2-3 page paper due tomorrow.
Over 100+ pages of poems and short stories to be read for tomorrow night. No, I didn't put this off. It was all assigned on Monday. Yes, I have actually read some of the assigned pieces. This is what I have left to read. Also, this is what the 2-3-page paper is due on.
Mmmmm, I think that's it.
I should be doing the 100+ pages of reading right now. But you know how when you have SO much that needs to be done that your kinda over-whelmed by it all, not to mention tired, that you just can't focus?
It's just too much?
Yeah.
So, instead of coming home to do laundry and homework on the one night off through the week that I don't have class, I went out for the two d's with a girlfriend. (Dinner and drinks. I knew you were wondering. It's not a boob reference. Although with me it's always best to ask.)
So, anywho.
Yeah.
We talked for about 4.5 hours. (The girlfriend and I.)
I feel better.
Laundry? Yeah, not gonna happen.
Homework? Well, um, yeah. I'm writing this post instead.
So, if my posts aren't very creative or if my emails, IM's, go here there and everywhere and don't make much sense and if spelling is all over the place (Hold it. Bite the tongue. Truly, no need to go there.) Well, yeah. See the above for an explanation.
Train. Tunnel. Light. Shiny piece of paper. Job. Money. Future.
Whatev.
Blah, blah, blah.
Senioritis has SO set in.
(Have I mentioned that I like to stay out until 4 a.m.?)
I will graduate in December, so yeah, yeah light, tunnel, almost there, all been worth it, sacrifices, we all make choices, blah, blah, blah. Bite me.
In the fall I have three more requirements and I will be in five more classes, full-time working and ta dah! Shiny piece of paper in my hand, job, money, blah, blah, blah.
As of this moment I have:
A 15 page rough draft that is due Saturday.
The final 15 pages are due in two weeks. Research is finished, (I think) but I'm not really sure what my thesis is. Yes, I know how that sounds.
A 4-6 page paper due in two weeks.
A 5 page paper due in two weeks.
A 15-20 minute presentation due in two weeks.
A 15-20 minute presentation due in two weeks. (No, I didn't make a mistake. I have two separate presentations due in two weeks.)
A 2-3 page paper due tomorrow.
Over 100+ pages of poems and short stories to be read for tomorrow night. No, I didn't put this off. It was all assigned on Monday. Yes, I have actually read some of the assigned pieces. This is what I have left to read. Also, this is what the 2-3-page paper is due on.
Mmmmm, I think that's it.
I should be doing the 100+ pages of reading right now. But you know how when you have SO much that needs to be done that your kinda over-whelmed by it all, not to mention tired, that you just can't focus?
It's just too much?
Yeah.
So, instead of coming home to do laundry and homework on the one night off through the week that I don't have class, I went out for the two d's with a girlfriend. (Dinner and drinks. I knew you were wondering. It's not a boob reference. Although with me it's always best to ask.)
So, anywho.
Yeah.
We talked for about 4.5 hours. (The girlfriend and I.)
I feel better.
Laundry? Yeah, not gonna happen.
Homework? Well, um, yeah. I'm writing this post instead.
So, if my posts aren't very creative or if my emails, IM's, go here there and everywhere and don't make much sense and if spelling is all over the place (Hold it. Bite the tongue. Truly, no need to go there.) Well, yeah. See the above for an explanation.
Train. Tunnel. Light. Shiny piece of paper. Job. Money. Future.
Whatev.
Blah, blah, blah.
Senioritis has SO set in.
Power of One: Rosa Parks
She said, 'No,' and started a revolution.
All because she refused to stand up.
All because she refused to stand up.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
just askin'
Do you think weird people know they're weird?
I mean, take the 1989 Metal Mullet Guy, the Unedumacated Lady, the girl who woddles when she walks, the people who don't understand personal space. (Hello, there needs to be a hola-hoop of space between us. Back it up.) The person who tells you all those witty little things that you don't really care about. The guy who has the comb-over that begins at one ear and goes to the other and on a windy day it stands straight up in the air and I'm supposed to carry on a conversation with Comb-over Cal and pretend that it's all normal.
The person who talks and slobers with a mouth full of food falling out all over the place and I am silently verping and gagging at my desk.
Yeah.
Those people.
...Do you think they know they're weird?
....and what does that make me? You know. Seeing as how I work and have class around them.
I mean, take the 1989 Metal Mullet Guy, the Unedumacated Lady, the girl who woddles when she walks, the people who don't understand personal space. (Hello, there needs to be a hola-hoop of space between us. Back it up.) The person who tells you all those witty little things that you don't really care about. The guy who has the comb-over that begins at one ear and goes to the other and on a windy day it stands straight up in the air and I'm supposed to carry on a conversation with Comb-over Cal and pretend that it's all normal.
The person who talks and slobers with a mouth full of food falling out all over the place and I am silently verping and gagging at my desk.
Yeah.
Those people.
...Do you think they know they're weird?
....and what does that make me? You know. Seeing as how I work and have class around them.
like a $.99 sponge, we are all so self-absorbed
Last night was the first night that my actual professor was in class. Third class and she shows up. 'Bout time. I mean, $900.00 damn it! I want my freakin' professor!
I mean, I drive 80 miles, two hours, I've managed to go the wrong way down two different one-way streets. I've driven in sheets 'o rain, hail, thunder, and lightning, but nothing could stop me from getting to my class. So, where the hell was she?!?!?!?
Everyone (all three people) who I had told my gripes and complaints to, backed me up on this. I was irritated and irritable. She had better be in class. That's all I'm sayin'. She had better be there when I get to class.
Seeing as how I managed to be late the last two times to class due to construction, the weather, driving the wrong way down the one-ways (twice) (two different streets) I left my house extra special early. Mumbling a few times silently to myself in-between song lyrics that I was singing, oh, so prettily along with, 'she had better be there.'
I get to class. I get a better seat than last time. I'm between the Token White Guy and the 1989 Metal Mullet Guy.
Oh, we're talkin' full on metal mullet. All business in the front and party in back, I'm a heavy metal rock god, mullet. Complete with 1989 Bill Gates glasses. I leave a few chairs between he and I. Last time I sat across the room from him and he made weird eye movements the whole time. Not in a, 'I think you're so hot and I want to make sweet, sweet love to you,' kind of way. No, it was in a, 'Please, join me and my three close friends back in my dorm room so we can talk about UFO's and government conspiracy,' kind of way. So, two seats between us I sat.
Then there is this incredibly self-absorbed lady. I sat next to her last time. Not by choice. She went on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on...(are you getting the idea?) about moving and her kids and her job and her life and her lost paper and making copies of the paper and she couldn't find the damn paper and well, she could just pull the paper up on her laptop and oh, have I mentioned about moving and how hectic my life is?!?!?!?!? Oh, yeah. By the way I already have a B.A. and a Master's..blah, blah, blah.
Wow, can you see my eyes glaze over in the fact that I don't care? My thought? Rip off my skin and roll me in rock salt because it would be less painful.
Unedgumacated Lady. I'm not sure if she's just dumb or racist or both.
Oh, but wait, this was about being self-absorbed. Back to the title at hand. Something about a .$99 sponge. As in a dishwashing sponge, not a birth control one. Ha, stopped the jokes in their tracks.
So, professor was there last night. I have the attitude of, 'okay, so where ya been?'
Then she tells us she has had major surgery. She doesn't say what kind of surgery and well, the 'major' part of the sentence is good enough for me.
Fine.
I'll accept it.
See, this is why I don't go off on people. Why I don't yell and scream and holler or rant and rave. Why? Because on the very few exceptions when I have done this it always, without fail, comes back to bite me in the ass and make me look like an ass. So. I don't do it. Like that time when I finally lost my patience and cool with the landlady because my window was still broken after a year and half (no, shit) and after many cool calm and collected complaints, I finally went off? Only to have her tell me that on the way to the hospital because her dad had a stroke, her brother ran over the family dog. Then because he was so torn up about running over, Fido he then in turn had a heart attack, so the dad, brother and Fido were all in the hospital therefore, she couldn't be bothered with my window? (Okay, made that whole thing up) But the landlady did raise her voice at me and I somehow managed to feel like an ass for actually leaving an irate message, you know, after a year and half, therefore, I just don't complain. Always bites me in the ass.
Wait, there was a point to this post. What was it again? Oh, about being all self-absorbed or something. If I add an 'ed' to the end, is that a word? Well, it is today.
Okay, so the lady in class, the one who went on and on and on and on and on (much like I am in this post) about her moving, lost papers, computer not being set up, three kids, boxes, laptops, running here and there and on top of it all taking this class and getting her homework done, that lady? Yeah, so after the instructor told us about her major surgery (I'm guessing it had something to do with a cancer treatment. Just a guess, but I have a feeling I'm right) the self-absorbed lady went on and on and on again. I couldn't believe it. The nerve. I mean seriously. Stop thinking of yourself. Get out of your own life and house and boxes and look at our poor professor who came into class when she should still, clearly, be at home. So, yeah. That lady, she made me think of a crappy $.99 sponge. A sponge that talks about it's absorbing power, but really it just drips water when you pick it up and try to actually see what it's made of.
I mean, I drive 80 miles, two hours, I've managed to go the wrong way down two different one-way streets. I've driven in sheets 'o rain, hail, thunder, and lightning, but nothing could stop me from getting to my class. So, where the hell was she?!?!?!?
Everyone (all three people) who I had told my gripes and complaints to, backed me up on this. I was irritated and irritable. She had better be in class. That's all I'm sayin'. She had better be there when I get to class.
Seeing as how I managed to be late the last two times to class due to construction, the weather, driving the wrong way down the one-ways (twice) (two different streets) I left my house extra special early. Mumbling a few times silently to myself in-between song lyrics that I was singing, oh, so prettily along with, 'she had better be there.'
I get to class. I get a better seat than last time. I'm between the Token White Guy and the 1989 Metal Mullet Guy.
Oh, we're talkin' full on metal mullet. All business in the front and party in back, I'm a heavy metal rock god, mullet. Complete with 1989 Bill Gates glasses. I leave a few chairs between he and I. Last time I sat across the room from him and he made weird eye movements the whole time. Not in a, 'I think you're so hot and I want to make sweet, sweet love to you,' kind of way. No, it was in a, 'Please, join me and my three close friends back in my dorm room so we can talk about UFO's and government conspiracy,' kind of way. So, two seats between us I sat.
Then there is this incredibly self-absorbed lady. I sat next to her last time. Not by choice. She went on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on...(are you getting the idea?) about moving and her kids and her job and her life and her lost paper and making copies of the paper and she couldn't find the damn paper and well, she could just pull the paper up on her laptop and oh, have I mentioned about moving and how hectic my life is?!?!?!?!? Oh, yeah. By the way I already have a B.A. and a Master's..blah, blah, blah.
Wow, can you see my eyes glaze over in the fact that I don't care? My thought? Rip off my skin and roll me in rock salt because it would be less painful.
Unedgumacated Lady. I'm not sure if she's just dumb or racist or both.
Oh, but wait, this was about being self-absorbed. Back to the title at hand. Something about a .$99 sponge. As in a dishwashing sponge, not a birth control one. Ha, stopped the jokes in their tracks.
So, professor was there last night. I have the attitude of, 'okay, so where ya been?'
Then she tells us she has had major surgery. She doesn't say what kind of surgery and well, the 'major' part of the sentence is good enough for me.
Fine.
I'll accept it.
See, this is why I don't go off on people. Why I don't yell and scream and holler or rant and rave. Why? Because on the very few exceptions when I have done this it always, without fail, comes back to bite me in the ass and make me look like an ass. So. I don't do it. Like that time when I finally lost my patience and cool with the landlady because my window was still broken after a year and half (no, shit) and after many cool calm and collected complaints, I finally went off? Only to have her tell me that on the way to the hospital because her dad had a stroke, her brother ran over the family dog. Then because he was so torn up about running over, Fido he then in turn had a heart attack, so the dad, brother and Fido were all in the hospital therefore, she couldn't be bothered with my window? (Okay, made that whole thing up) But the landlady did raise her voice at me and I somehow managed to feel like an ass for actually leaving an irate message, you know, after a year and half, therefore, I just don't complain. Always bites me in the ass.
Wait, there was a point to this post. What was it again? Oh, about being all self-absorbed or something. If I add an 'ed' to the end, is that a word? Well, it is today.
Okay, so the lady in class, the one who went on and on and on and on and on (much like I am in this post) about her moving, lost papers, computer not being set up, three kids, boxes, laptops, running here and there and on top of it all taking this class and getting her homework done, that lady? Yeah, so after the instructor told us about her major surgery (I'm guessing it had something to do with a cancer treatment. Just a guess, but I have a feeling I'm right) the self-absorbed lady went on and on and on again. I couldn't believe it. The nerve. I mean seriously. Stop thinking of yourself. Get out of your own life and house and boxes and look at our poor professor who came into class when she should still, clearly, be at home. So, yeah. That lady, she made me think of a crappy $.99 sponge. A sponge that talks about it's absorbing power, but really it just drips water when you pick it up and try to actually see what it's made of.
hottie of the week: Sarah Jessica Parker
Because out of all the girls from, "Sex and the City," I identify with her the most. Carrie always picked herself up, dusted herself off and got herself back out there. Usually with a new pair of shoes.
Because she's stylish.
Because she's confident.
Because she's self-assured.
Because she married Ferris Bueller.
She's Sarah Jessica Parker.
Because she's stylish.
Because she's confident.
Because she's self-assured.
Because she married Ferris Bueller.
She's Sarah Jessica Parker.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I'm holding someone in judgment and well, it's throwing me off. So, help a gal out.
Okay, so I need to know if I’m off base on something. I’m judging someone and well, I don’t judge people. Well, I don’t judge people based on their sexual practices. Except if you’re into child porn. Sorry, I can’t condone child porn. Judgment and an onslaught of other things coming forth from my mouth is going to happen.
But, I mean, if you bought a dog just so you can eat its poo on a silver antique platter because it gets you off, well, then by all means, buy the dog.
If you have more toys than Santa Claus and all his elves put together and sit around thinking of new ways to pleasure yourself and your mate, well then, please, by all means do share the ideas and stories with me.
Really, if it gets you off, I don’t care. But, I heard a story over the weekend that I am holding the person in judgment over and it’s bothering me. So, I thought I would share it with you all to see if you agree with me or not.
One of my mom’s friends, she is a widow, has a small child and is only a few years older than me. (The friend, not my mom, cause that would be weird.)
So, the friend had sex with her boyfriend. Boyfriend fell asleep. Friend crept out of bed, got in her car and drove to her ex’s house. Had sex with him. Left his house drove back to her house got back into bed and acted like nothing happened. Apparently the boyfriend is a sound sleeper cause I guess he didn’t wake-up. Friend is very proud of her accomplishment with getting away with her little sneak and fuck.
When my mom told me this story I had a few questions.
One: Where was the son?
Away at the grandparent’s house.
Two, three, four and upward: What if the boyfriend woke up? Is she just into sabotaging her life and her relationships? Why is she with this guy again? I thought she didn’t even like him. What if she got into a car accident?
…..So, I was annoyed, but whatever, not my friend.
Then yesterday I heard part two of the story.
This isn’t the first time she’s done this and apparently she has a stalker.
She quit her job and is taking the summer off. (Living off the settlement from her dead husband. Wrongful death type thing) Manager said he could get her job. She slept with him. (I’m not sure why. Maybe as a thank you.) Now he won’t leave her alone.
So, she has a stalker while she has a boyfriend.
She has cheated on her boyfriend, (that last I knew she didn't even really care for, but at least it's better than being alone. Right?) (Sarcasm) twice in the last two weeks.
Judgment is fully in place and I don’t feel even an intsy bit sorry for her. (In regards to the stalker.)
So, to recap: Widow with a young son, slept with boyfriend, crept out of bed, got in her car drove to have sex with her ex, had sex, and got back into bed with her boyfriend.
Had sex with her ex-manager when he had a job offer for her, he is now stalking her.
So, am I wrong in my judgment? I mean, cause this just seems stupid. (Her, not my judgment, but I do feel odd about the judgment.) Low-self-esteem issues, sabotage, can’t be alone; she is terrified of being alone. People who are terrified of being alone make me wonder. What’s so scary about yourself that you can’t be alone with it? Just makes me wonder, ya know?
So, help me out.
But, I mean, if you bought a dog just so you can eat its poo on a silver antique platter because it gets you off, well, then by all means, buy the dog.
If you have more toys than Santa Claus and all his elves put together and sit around thinking of new ways to pleasure yourself and your mate, well then, please, by all means do share the ideas and stories with me.
Really, if it gets you off, I don’t care. But, I heard a story over the weekend that I am holding the person in judgment over and it’s bothering me. So, I thought I would share it with you all to see if you agree with me or not.
One of my mom’s friends, she is a widow, has a small child and is only a few years older than me. (The friend, not my mom, cause that would be weird.)
So, the friend had sex with her boyfriend. Boyfriend fell asleep. Friend crept out of bed, got in her car and drove to her ex’s house. Had sex with him. Left his house drove back to her house got back into bed and acted like nothing happened. Apparently the boyfriend is a sound sleeper cause I guess he didn’t wake-up. Friend is very proud of her accomplishment with getting away with her little sneak and fuck.
When my mom told me this story I had a few questions.
One: Where was the son?
Away at the grandparent’s house.
Two, three, four and upward: What if the boyfriend woke up? Is she just into sabotaging her life and her relationships? Why is she with this guy again? I thought she didn’t even like him. What if she got into a car accident?
…..So, I was annoyed, but whatever, not my friend.
Then yesterday I heard part two of the story.
This isn’t the first time she’s done this and apparently she has a stalker.
She quit her job and is taking the summer off. (Living off the settlement from her dead husband. Wrongful death type thing) Manager said he could get her job. She slept with him. (I’m not sure why. Maybe as a thank you.) Now he won’t leave her alone.
So, she has a stalker while she has a boyfriend.
She has cheated on her boyfriend, (that last I knew she didn't even really care for, but at least it's better than being alone. Right?) (Sarcasm) twice in the last two weeks.
Judgment is fully in place and I don’t feel even an intsy bit sorry for her. (In regards to the stalker.)
So, to recap: Widow with a young son, slept with boyfriend, crept out of bed, got in her car drove to have sex with her ex, had sex, and got back into bed with her boyfriend.
Had sex with her ex-manager when he had a job offer for her, he is now stalking her.
So, am I wrong in my judgment? I mean, cause this just seems stupid. (Her, not my judgment, but I do feel odd about the judgment.) Low-self-esteem issues, sabotage, can’t be alone; she is terrified of being alone. People who are terrified of being alone make me wonder. What’s so scary about yourself that you can’t be alone with it? Just makes me wonder, ya know?
So, help me out.
Friday, July 14, 2006
random act of kindess, for Mikey, or an early Power of One
Okay, I am on such a soap box-political-I-have-to-do-something-for-the-Everyman-get-out-of- my-way-or-who-knows-what-may-happen-stop-complaining-and-actually-do-something type of mood this week, I can't even tell ya.
Or maybe I just did.
Anywho.
Mikey, that wonderful lovely man who is over there on the sidebar, he needs our help.
Mikey needs a new computer as his has been broke and he doesn't have the money to buy a new one and he has asked for help.
I am doing my part and passing on the request for help.
You can read the whole, banging-his-head-against-the-broken-keyboard- can't- live-without-it-therefore-he-has-had-to-hijack-his-friends-computers, on his blog.
You can make a donation either through Pay Pal or if you don't have a Pay Pal account, you can contact his friend,Jules and she will send you an address to send a check or money order.
Remember, it's all about the power of one who makes a difference.
Political Soap Box Party Girl, out.
Thanks everyone!
Or maybe I just did.
Anywho.
Mikey, that wonderful lovely man who is over there on the sidebar, he needs our help.
Mikey needs a new computer as his has been broke and he doesn't have the money to buy a new one and he has asked for help.
I am doing my part and passing on the request for help.
You can read the whole, banging-his-head-against-the-broken-keyboard- can't- live-without-it-therefore-he-has-had-to-hijack-his-friends-computers, on his blog.
You can make a donation either through Pay Pal or if you don't have a Pay Pal account, you can contact his friend,Jules and she will send you an address to send a check or money order.
Remember, it's all about the power of one who makes a difference.
Political Soap Box Party Girl, out.
Thanks everyone!
Thursday, July 13, 2006
cheesy pick-up line: business cards
Scene: Bar last Friday night.
Me: Sitting up at the bar enjoying a nice dark pint.
He: Approaches from the back.
I: Turn to smile, then turn back to my beer.
He: Cozies up to my shoulder and asks why I rolled my eyes at him.
I: Tell him I didn't roll my eyes at him. I smiled at him.
He: Asks me my name.
I: Internally sigh.
I: Ignore this question, but I ask how he is doing.
He: Answers, "Blah."
He: Asks me same question.
I: Answer, "Blah."
He: Is fishing in his wallet for something.
I: Turn my left shoulder back into the bar yet, more importantly, back to my beer.
He: Slips a business card under my beer.
I: Turn to him, oozing sarcasm and say, "Subtle."
He: Answers in all seriousness, "Yes, and classy."
I: Flip the card with my fingernails to see his name.
"Well, Stupid Head, have a good time tonight."
"And what is your name?"
Not a Stupid Head who is going to buy into your game is what I was thinking. However, being the classy lady I am I said, 'PG.'
He gets his beer. He ordered a Miller Lite.
The bar serves over 100 kinds of beer, but he orders a Miller Lite.
He tells me to call him.
I slip his card upside down and put it under my coaster, the one with my pint on it.
Two things: Unless we have been talking for awhile, don't give me your business card. It speaks volumes, but it is screaming only negative things. Mainly that you have nothing to offer me, except your business card. Yawn. Or really, don't give me your business card at all. Please, not at all. Program it into your phone, write it on a napkin, something, but don't give me your damn business card.
Next thing: If a bar has a HUGE selection of beers to choose from, say over 100, don't be a clueless dumbass and order a Miller Lite. Or a Bud Light..or any kind of 'lite' or 'light' Look at the menu, look at the wall of taps...be risky, take a gamble, be adventureous..order from the wall god damn it.
Friday night was quite entertaining in a very lame and exhausting way.
South Sider was in a mood and I was sure he, NDG, and I were going to get our asses kicked, cause he was just being an ass. An ass with a loud mouth who was bad mouthing everyone and everything to the point that I finally had to ask him if he was being serious cause, shut-up.
NDG has certainly come out of his shell in the two weeks since I first met him. He said, 'hi' to me by sticking his face in my boobs. He then proceeded for the rest of the night to grope, fondle and lay on my boobs. He became very protective of my boobage. He wanted other men to stop staring at what he clearly thought belonged to him. To set him straight, I tweaked his nipples a little too hard and a little too often. He didn't get up from the table for awhile as a result. Something about it going all the way to his stem or something....
However, he is taking my advice to heart which is; to not take any of this (gestures wildly with arms around the bar) seriously. Take chances, take risks, don't be stupid, no more Miami Vice style drug buys, and it will be just fine. And no, I won't sleep with you.
Basically they cock blocked me all night. All night.
They left.
I sat up at the bar.
I made small talk with the bartender and he gave me permission to make fun of all the clueless dumbasses who ordered a Bud Light, only to be told they don't have it and then order a Miller Lite.
No, problem. Mission accomplished.
I did have one guy call me a vixen. That was nice.
Off to buy a few slices of pizza.
Met three decent men in line.
Realized the place to meet men and have a decent conversation is in line buying a slice at 2 a.m.
However, I digress. This is about cheesy pick-up lines.
Business cards: Don't do it.
Lesson over.
*Note to self: Make a list of the 10 stupid things men do in bars trying to meet women.
*Second note: Do a list on what women do to get noticed in bars only to shoot the men down, therefore rendering the men clueless.
Me: Sitting up at the bar enjoying a nice dark pint.
He: Approaches from the back.
I: Turn to smile, then turn back to my beer.
He: Cozies up to my shoulder and asks why I rolled my eyes at him.
I: Tell him I didn't roll my eyes at him. I smiled at him.
He: Asks me my name.
I: Internally sigh.
I: Ignore this question, but I ask how he is doing.
He: Answers, "Blah."
He: Asks me same question.
I: Answer, "Blah."
He: Is fishing in his wallet for something.
I: Turn my left shoulder back into the bar yet, more importantly, back to my beer.
He: Slips a business card under my beer.
I: Turn to him, oozing sarcasm and say, "Subtle."
He: Answers in all seriousness, "Yes, and classy."
I: Flip the card with my fingernails to see his name.
"Well, Stupid Head, have a good time tonight."
"And what is your name?"
Not a Stupid Head who is going to buy into your game is what I was thinking. However, being the classy lady I am I said, 'PG.'
He gets his beer. He ordered a Miller Lite.
The bar serves over 100 kinds of beer, but he orders a Miller Lite.
He tells me to call him.
I slip his card upside down and put it under my coaster, the one with my pint on it.
Two things: Unless we have been talking for awhile, don't give me your business card. It speaks volumes, but it is screaming only negative things. Mainly that you have nothing to offer me, except your business card. Yawn. Or really, don't give me your business card at all. Please, not at all. Program it into your phone, write it on a napkin, something, but don't give me your damn business card.
Next thing: If a bar has a HUGE selection of beers to choose from, say over 100, don't be a clueless dumbass and order a Miller Lite. Or a Bud Light..or any kind of 'lite' or 'light' Look at the menu, look at the wall of taps...be risky, take a gamble, be adventureous..order from the wall god damn it.
Friday night was quite entertaining in a very lame and exhausting way.
South Sider was in a mood and I was sure he, NDG, and I were going to get our asses kicked, cause he was just being an ass. An ass with a loud mouth who was bad mouthing everyone and everything to the point that I finally had to ask him if he was being serious cause, shut-up.
NDG has certainly come out of his shell in the two weeks since I first met him. He said, 'hi' to me by sticking his face in my boobs. He then proceeded for the rest of the night to grope, fondle and lay on my boobs. He became very protective of my boobage. He wanted other men to stop staring at what he clearly thought belonged to him. To set him straight, I tweaked his nipples a little too hard and a little too often. He didn't get up from the table for awhile as a result. Something about it going all the way to his stem or something....
However, he is taking my advice to heart which is; to not take any of this (gestures wildly with arms around the bar) seriously. Take chances, take risks, don't be stupid, no more Miami Vice style drug buys, and it will be just fine. And no, I won't sleep with you.
Basically they cock blocked me all night. All night.
They left.
I sat up at the bar.
I made small talk with the bartender and he gave me permission to make fun of all the clueless dumbasses who ordered a Bud Light, only to be told they don't have it and then order a Miller Lite.
No, problem. Mission accomplished.
I did have one guy call me a vixen. That was nice.
Off to buy a few slices of pizza.
Met three decent men in line.
Realized the place to meet men and have a decent conversation is in line buying a slice at 2 a.m.
However, I digress. This is about cheesy pick-up lines.
Business cards: Don't do it.
Lesson over.
*Note to self: Make a list of the 10 stupid things men do in bars trying to meet women.
*Second note: Do a list on what women do to get noticed in bars only to shoot the men down, therefore rendering the men clueless.
inner dork: the paper clip
Did you know the paper clip was invented by Norwegians? Me, neither. Then I watched this really great documentary over the weekend called,
paper clip It's about a small town learning about the Holocaust, one paper clip at a time.
Johan Vaaler, a Norwegian inventor with a degree in electronics, science and mathematics, invented the paperclip in 1899. He received a patent for his design from Germany in 1899, since Norway had no patent laws at that time. Johan Vaaler was an employee at a local invention office when he invented the paperclip. He received an American patent in 1901 -- patent abstract "It consists of forming same of a spring material, such as a piece of wire, that is bent to a rectangular, triangular, or otherwise shaped hoop, the end parts of which wire piece form members or tongues lying side by side in contrary directions." Johan Vaaler was the first person to patent a paperclip design, although other unpatented designs might have existed first.
During World War II, Norwegians were prohibited from wearing any buttons with the likeness or initials of their king on them. In protest they started wearing paperclips, because paperclips were a Norwegian invention whose original function was to bind together. This was a protest against the Nazi occupation and wearing a paperclip could have gotten you arrested.
paper clip It's about a small town learning about the Holocaust, one paper clip at a time.
Johan Vaaler, a Norwegian inventor with a degree in electronics, science and mathematics, invented the paperclip in 1899. He received a patent for his design from Germany in 1899, since Norway had no patent laws at that time. Johan Vaaler was an employee at a local invention office when he invented the paperclip. He received an American patent in 1901 -- patent abstract "It consists of forming same of a spring material, such as a piece of wire, that is bent to a rectangular, triangular, or otherwise shaped hoop, the end parts of which wire piece form members or tongues lying side by side in contrary directions." Johan Vaaler was the first person to patent a paperclip design, although other unpatented designs might have existed first.
During World War II, Norwegians were prohibited from wearing any buttons with the likeness or initials of their king on them. In protest they started wearing paperclips, because paperclips were a Norwegian invention whose original function was to bind together. This was a protest against the Nazi occupation and wearing a paperclip could have gotten you arrested.
word origin: swastika
The swastika is an ancient symbol meaning, good luck. It wasn't until WWII that it became associated with hatred and bigotry. One person taking something ancient and turning it into a symbol of fear and hatred.
Several countries, mainly Middle Eastern, still display the swastika. However, it is meant as a symbol of good luck. Slowly taking the power of the word back to its original meaning.
The word swastika is derived from the Sanskrit svastika (in Devanagari, meaning any lucky or auspicious object, and in particular a mark made on persons and things to denote good luck. It is composed of su- (cognate with Greek "eu-"), meaning "good, well" and asti a verbal abstract to the root as "to be"; svasti thus means "well-being".
The suffix -ka forms a diminutive, and svastika might thus be
translated literally as "little thing associated with well-being",
corresponding roughly to "lucky charm", or "thing that is
auspicious".
The suffix -tika also literally means mark; therefore, a
sometimes alternate name for swastika in India is shubhtika (literally good mark). The word first appears in the Classical Sanskrit (in the Ramayana and Mahabharata epics).
courtesy of: Wikpedia.com
Several countries, mainly Middle Eastern, still display the swastika. However, it is meant as a symbol of good luck. Slowly taking the power of the word back to its original meaning.
The word swastika is derived from the Sanskrit svastika (in Devanagari, meaning any lucky or auspicious object, and in particular a mark made on persons and things to denote good luck. It is composed of su- (cognate with Greek "eu-"), meaning "good, well" and asti a verbal abstract to the root as "to be"; svasti thus means "well-being".
The suffix -ka forms a diminutive, and svastika might thus be
translated literally as "little thing associated with well-being",
corresponding roughly to "lucky charm", or "thing that is
auspicious".
The suffix -tika also literally means mark; therefore, a
sometimes alternate name for swastika in India is shubhtika (literally good mark). The word first appears in the Classical Sanskrit (in the Ramayana and Mahabharata epics).
courtesy of: Wikpedia.com
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
power of one: Tiananmen Square
Okay, frankly, I think we've all been a little too pissy lately. I will be the first to raise my hand and say, "Good? What good in the world. It's all going to hell and there certainly ain't no handbasket involved."
I know this isn't true.
However, I think sometimes we forget that one little simple act can make all the difference in the world. In the world, literally and in the world of one person.
So, I give you, The Power of One, Wednesdays. I will show big stories, little stories, big pictures, and small pictures. Because sometimes we need to remember; we all do matter and we all do make a difference some how some way, we do.
The power of the man infront of the tank.
The power of the man who stopped the tank.
I know this isn't true.
However, I think sometimes we forget that one little simple act can make all the difference in the world. In the world, literally and in the world of one person.
So, I give you, The Power of One, Wednesdays. I will show big stories, little stories, big pictures, and small pictures. Because sometimes we need to remember; we all do matter and we all do make a difference some how some way, we do.
The power of the man infront of the tank.
The power of the man who stopped the tank.
Monday night in class, not priceless
$37.76 in gas to fill up the Mustang.
45 minute drive one-way.
15 extra minutes of driving due to construction. So, 1 hour one-way.
40 miles one-way.
1 one-way road that I drove the wrong way on- into oncoming traffic.
15 minutes late to class due to construction.
1 instructor not present.
1 movie watched.
1 hour and 45 minutes spent in a 4 hour class.
45 minute drive home.
40 miles driven back home.
First night of class on the main campus, not priceless.
45 minute drive one-way.
15 extra minutes of driving due to construction. So, 1 hour one-way.
40 miles one-way.
1 one-way road that I drove the wrong way on- into oncoming traffic.
15 minutes late to class due to construction.
1 instructor not present.
1 movie watched.
1 hour and 45 minutes spent in a 4 hour class.
45 minute drive home.
40 miles driven back home.
First night of class on the main campus, not priceless.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Headline: Daily Planet: The Gasp Heard Round the Globe
Billy: "I always had a thing for Superman."
PG: "Was it his tights? His cape? His chest? His amazing flying ability?"
Billy: "No. I just always liked him. He is faster than a speeding bullet, you know."
PG: "I thought it was faster than a locomotive."
Billy: "No! It's faster than a speeding bullet."
PG: "Are you sure? I think it's faster than a locomotive."
Billy: "Then what's the speeding bullet about?"
PG: "He's able to stop them. They bounce off him."
Billy: "No, it's: "Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and, and..."
Pause.
PG: "There's something about a locomotive in there. I know it."
Pause.
Pause.
Mumbling to ourselves: "Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap..."
Pause.
Pause.
Together with a sigh: "Yeah, I don't know."
PG: "You know there was just a HUGE gasp in the comic book world."
PG: "Was it his tights? His cape? His chest? His amazing flying ability?"
Billy: "No. I just always liked him. He is faster than a speeding bullet, you know."
PG: "I thought it was faster than a locomotive."
Billy: "No! It's faster than a speeding bullet."
PG: "Are you sure? I think it's faster than a locomotive."
Billy: "Then what's the speeding bullet about?"
PG: "He's able to stop them. They bounce off him."
Billy: "No, it's: "Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and, and..."
Pause.
PG: "There's something about a locomotive in there. I know it."
Pause.
Pause.
Mumbling to ourselves: "Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap..."
Pause.
Pause.
Together with a sigh: "Yeah, I don't know."
PG: "You know there was just a HUGE gasp in the comic book world."
hottie of the week: Henry Rollins
Because he would tell me exactly how it is, without any bullshit.
He is incredibly intelligent and not afraid to show it.
He is outspoken and not afraid to say any of it.
He is who he is and well, that's pretty fucking awesome.
He's hot.
He's handsome.
He's Henry Rollins.
“All you need is one guy or girl to stand up and say ‘fuck this!’…and all of a sudden, ‘fuck this’ has a backbeat.” Henry Rollins
He is incredibly intelligent and not afraid to show it.
He is outspoken and not afraid to say any of it.
He is who he is and well, that's pretty fucking awesome.
He's hot.
He's handsome.
He's Henry Rollins.
“All you need is one guy or girl to stand up and say ‘fuck this!’…and all of a sudden, ‘fuck this’ has a backbeat.” Henry Rollins
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
because I refuse to have anymore dreams deferred
"What happens to a dream deferred?" by, Langston Hughes
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The American Dream
Okay, it's a theme people, it's a theme.
What is the American Dream? What does it mean to you?
I think it use to be; married by 21 (at the very latest, because, gasp! that's old!) buy a house in the burbs and have a child by your second anniversary, because gasp! What's taking so long? Finish with a nice pair of 2.5 kids, get a good job, join a union and ta dah! Living the good life.
Now? I still think it's about the different shade of beige house in Wonder Bread white suburbia with a 2.5 pair, Playskol set in the backyard that is remarkably always vacant of the 2.5, SUV in the garage, two good jobs in the city, thanks to two college degrees, and ta dah! Living the good life.
But, marriage is later, 24--ish and kids are around late 20's-ish and a college degree is essential. Homes are two story models instead of a ranch and the station wagon is an SUV. Things are bought on credit and we overextend ourselves to the point of bankruptcy, literally.
If you don't have a college degree, good luck with that good job in the city.
Is the American Dream what it once was?
Do you think the American Dream is obtainable?
Is it harder or easier to obtain the American Dream than it was for our parent's or for the Baby Boomers?
What is the American Dream? What does it mean to you?
I think it use to be; married by 21 (at the very latest, because, gasp! that's old!) buy a house in the burbs and have a child by your second anniversary, because gasp! What's taking so long? Finish with a nice pair of 2.5 kids, get a good job, join a union and ta dah! Living the good life.
Now? I still think it's about the different shade of beige house in Wonder Bread white suburbia with a 2.5 pair, Playskol set in the backyard that is remarkably always vacant of the 2.5, SUV in the garage, two good jobs in the city, thanks to two college degrees, and ta dah! Living the good life.
But, marriage is later, 24--ish and kids are around late 20's-ish and a college degree is essential. Homes are two story models instead of a ranch and the station wagon is an SUV. Things are bought on credit and we overextend ourselves to the point of bankruptcy, literally.
If you don't have a college degree, good luck with that good job in the city.
Is the American Dream what it once was?
Do you think the American Dream is obtainable?
Is it harder or easier to obtain the American Dream than it was for our parent's or for the Baby Boomers?
inner dork: The U.S. Constitution
Since it's Fourth Of July, week, I give you: (to be said with a booming echo) facts of the U.S. Constitution:
The U.S. Constitution is the central instrument of government and the "supreme law of the land". It is the oldest written Constitution in the world that is in force. It was written in 1787 in Philadelphia by the Continental Congress of the new American republic and was officially adopted in 1789. The objective of the writers was to outline the structure of a new, strong central government after the years of weakness and chaos resulting from the preexisting "Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union" which loosely bound the colonies together since 1778.
The U S Constitution outlines the structure and powers of the 3 branches of government (executive, legislative, judicial) and the 3 levels of government (federal, state, local). The basic principles of the Constitution are the same today as when it was written:
1--the 3 branches of government (executive, legislative, judicial) are separate and each is checked and balanced off by the power of the other two,
2--the U S Constitution is supreme,
3-all persons are equal before the law, as are all states and each state must be democratic and respect the law of others,
4--the people can change the U S Constitution by the methods outlined within it.
Amendment of the U S Constitution may be initiated by a 2/3 vote in each chamber of congress, or 2/3 of the states calling for a national convention. In either case a vote of 3/4 of the states is required to actually make an amendment. The interpretation of the Constitution has changed over time without amendment by various pieces of legislation and judicial decisions.
The U S Constitution has had 27 amendments. The Bill of Rights, the first 10 amendments to the Constitution, were adopted in 1791 in order to meet demands for the signature of Massachusetts and other states to the Constitution:
1-freedom of worship, speech, press, right of peaceful assembly, right to petition the government
2-right of citizens to bear arms
3-troops may not be quartered in private homes without owner's consent
4-guards against unreasonable searches, arrests, seizures of property
5-requires indictment by a grand jury for major crimes before trial, prohibits repeated trials for the same offense, forbids punishment without process & that you don't have to testify against yourself
6-guarantees a speedy public trial for criminal offenses, trial by an unbiased jury, legal counsel for the accused, and that witnesses must attend the trial in the presence of the accused
7-guarantees trial by jury in civil cases in anything valued at more than 20 US dollars
8-forbids excessive bail or fines and cruel or unusual punishment
9-people have other rights than those mentioned in the Constitution
10-powers not delegated to the federal government belong to the states or the people
Courtesy of:
http://www.usconstitution.com/
The U.S. Constitution is the central instrument of government and the "supreme law of the land". It is the oldest written Constitution in the world that is in force. It was written in 1787 in Philadelphia by the Continental Congress of the new American republic and was officially adopted in 1789. The objective of the writers was to outline the structure of a new, strong central government after the years of weakness and chaos resulting from the preexisting "Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union" which loosely bound the colonies together since 1778.
The U S Constitution outlines the structure and powers of the 3 branches of government (executive, legislative, judicial) and the 3 levels of government (federal, state, local). The basic principles of the Constitution are the same today as when it was written:
1--the 3 branches of government (executive, legislative, judicial) are separate and each is checked and balanced off by the power of the other two,
2--the U S Constitution is supreme,
3-all persons are equal before the law, as are all states and each state must be democratic and respect the law of others,
4--the people can change the U S Constitution by the methods outlined within it.
Amendment of the U S Constitution may be initiated by a 2/3 vote in each chamber of congress, or 2/3 of the states calling for a national convention. In either case a vote of 3/4 of the states is required to actually make an amendment. The interpretation of the Constitution has changed over time without amendment by various pieces of legislation and judicial decisions.
The U S Constitution has had 27 amendments. The Bill of Rights, the first 10 amendments to the Constitution, were adopted in 1791 in order to meet demands for the signature of Massachusetts and other states to the Constitution:
1-freedom of worship, speech, press, right of peaceful assembly, right to petition the government
2-right of citizens to bear arms
3-troops may not be quartered in private homes without owner's consent
4-guards against unreasonable searches, arrests, seizures of property
5-requires indictment by a grand jury for major crimes before trial, prohibits repeated trials for the same offense, forbids punishment without process & that you don't have to testify against yourself
6-guarantees a speedy public trial for criminal offenses, trial by an unbiased jury, legal counsel for the accused, and that witnesses must attend the trial in the presence of the accused
7-guarantees trial by jury in civil cases in anything valued at more than 20 US dollars
8-forbids excessive bail or fines and cruel or unusual punishment
9-people have other rights than those mentioned in the Constitution
10-powers not delegated to the federal government belong to the states or the people
Courtesy of:
http://www.usconstitution.com/
citizenship test
Keeping with the theme. Instead of a word origin, I thought this was more apropos. No, cheating!
You Passed the US Citizenship Test |
 Congratulations - you got 10 out of 10 correct! |
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
I want there to be cocktails in heaven
Billy and I were talking about spirituality and what he and I think heaven, hell, angels, and spirits are and if they are possible.
His nephew, five-year-old, Joey says, what I find to be incredibly interesting things on a pretty regular basis.
Here are a few examples: “When I was in heaven, when I was your age, I chose you and Allen to be my parents.” Now he is speaking about his adoptive parents, and if he is speaking about his mother’s age, then he is referring to a time when he was 40 years old.
When he was asked the simple question of, ‘what are you doing?’ He answered, on another occasion “Playing with my dead friend.”
When he and his parents were on a drive one afternoon he pointed to a house and excitedly said, “Look! That’s the house I use to live in!”
You can chalk this up to an active five-year-old imagination, a kid who has maybe caught glimpses of, “The Sixth Sense,” and “Amityville Horror”, or you can choose to believe. Or, at the very least choose to have a conversation about life and the afterlife. Which is what we did.
Personally, I find this fascinating. I wanted to know where the house was. I want to research the history of the house. However, the statement that got me thinking and talking and asking the most questions was the first one. “…I chose you and Allen to be my parents….” To quantify something. Joey is adopted. I could maybe understand the universe sending down a soul to parents who had had two miscarriages in the last year and suddenly giving them the gift of a child, but an adopted child saying this? They took Joey into foster care when he was four months old. Then through a lot of really crazy things coming into place in a very quick and odd way that I won’t bore you with, he was adopted five months later. A child adopted within five months from foster care? Okay, sure it can happen. But, then to say something like that? I mean, maybe there is a; lost soul who is supposed to happen and come into their lives, type of universe.
So, the conversation went on from there.
We talked about angels.
I said, I think what Joey was referring to when he said he was talking to a dead person was, probably a dead person, an angel. I think children, up to a certain point, do see spirits. We, as jaded adults, no longer can, or we choose not to. However, I think spirits are around us all the time. It’s a matter of choosing to see them or not. I think those imaginary friends we had as kids, were probably angels, or spirits.
I also think we will people into our lives and this can be an ‘angel,’ if you will, or an actual person who has ‘angel’ like qualities.
Say, you need a friend who is a really great listener, doesn’t want or take anything from you. They simply want to listen to you all the time. You need this. You will it into your life in some way. Then the next thing you know you have a wonderful new friend who has an amazing ability to listen. Then when their time is ‘done’ so to speak, they move out of our lives. Either they literally move, or you, in some way, lose contact with them. But, ‘poof’, they’re gone.
I’ve had friends like this in many different forms. Are they actually angels? I don’t know. There are certainly some who I literally never heard from again. Sure, maybe something tragic happened to them, or maybe I just didn’t need them anymore. Therefore, they moved on to help someone else.
Then, the conversation moved to heaven, what we both think it is.
I think heaven, like hell, is different for everyone. What might be heaven to me might not be what would be heaven-like to you, so it’s different from you to me to the next person.
Billy’s heaven is cocktails and cute boys. In other words, a gay disco. He is definite about his desire to have cocktails and cute boys in heaven.
When I made fun of his, he made a smart remark about me running in a meadow. Funny enough, that’s what I was picturing. Me in a grassy field with flowers all around me. I was wearing a sundress, and the sky was a shade of blue only found in paintings. I was barefoot holding sandals in my left hand, the sun was on my face and I was breathing easy. So, apparently my heaven is very Summers Eve-like. Ah, fresh.
The thing is, I think the gay disco and the Summers Eve field can be right next to each other. Billy and I can be standing next to each other having a conversation while he has a cocktail in one hand, a cigarette in the other with a disco ball spinning over head and there is a loud bass in the background and I am shading my eyes from the sun where the only sound is, nothing. I mean what’s the point of two different heavens if they can’t co-exist right next to each other? I want Billy in my heaven, dammit! His gay disco had better be next to my Summers Eve field!
Hell is the same way. I told him my hell would be a loud smokey dark dank smelly pit filled with snakes. Not the fire and brimstone hell of the Bible, but a place that is smokey dark dank smelly, not to mention the snakes? Yeah, hell.
To which he responded, “Mmm, your hell is my heaven.”
“There’s no snakes at the gay disco.”
“Oh, there’s a lot of snake like men there.”
“You’ve got a point.”
Then he asked if I thought there is hatred, anger, bigotry in heaven?”
I said, “No, because then that’s now, that’s Earth. I don’t think there’s anything like that there, what would the point be?”
He then said, in heaven he, “Wants what he wants when he wants it.”
To which I responded, “So, you want your heaven to be like your Earth. You’re going to be just as selfish dead as you were alive.” To which he then called me a, fucker.
I’m not afraid of death in the least little bit. I’ve cheated it a few times, but that’s for another post. There are certain ways I don’t want to die, but ultimately, I guess it doesn’t really matter. I mean, I’m dead. I would like to have some notice about my death if I could. There are a few things I would like to get rid of before I go. But, again, I’d be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter who finds what when.
I also think I would come back and visit people if I could. I told Billy I wouldn’t come back and do that scary, stand-at-the-end-of-his-bed-while-he-was-sleeping-and-stare-at-him-until-he-looked-at-me type of visit. To which he replied, he was glad because he really wouldn’t like that. But, I would like to stop by and leave a note or something. A little post-it note saying, “PG was here, it’s wonderful, I love you.” type thing.
Sometimes I wish for a, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” moment. For my angel, Clarence to come down and show me the people I’ve touched, that I’ve mattered to. I mean, I know I’d be missed. I know I am loved. But, I would love to see and know before I am gone. I would love to see who I’ve mattered to. Who I’ve affected in some way. Good or bad, just an impact I’ve made on someone. It would be nice if we could all have our, George Bailey moment while we are still alive. Everyone wants validation. I think that's what we all strive for. To know we matter. To know what we do and say matters to someone. To know that someone took notice.
So, do you believe? I'm not asking if you believe in one God or what religious beliefs you have. This conversation wasn't about religion, not in any way was it about religion. God, (sure, take the pun) don't get me started on my thoughts about organized religion. (A bunch of white guys vying for power, money, land, and control. That's all I've got to say about that.) but just in something. Do you believe in something. If so, what do you believe?
His nephew, five-year-old, Joey says, what I find to be incredibly interesting things on a pretty regular basis.
Here are a few examples: “When I was in heaven, when I was your age, I chose you and Allen to be my parents.” Now he is speaking about his adoptive parents, and if he is speaking about his mother’s age, then he is referring to a time when he was 40 years old.
When he was asked the simple question of, ‘what are you doing?’ He answered, on another occasion “Playing with my dead friend.”
When he and his parents were on a drive one afternoon he pointed to a house and excitedly said, “Look! That’s the house I use to live in!”
You can chalk this up to an active five-year-old imagination, a kid who has maybe caught glimpses of, “The Sixth Sense,” and “Amityville Horror”, or you can choose to believe. Or, at the very least choose to have a conversation about life and the afterlife. Which is what we did.
Personally, I find this fascinating. I wanted to know where the house was. I want to research the history of the house. However, the statement that got me thinking and talking and asking the most questions was the first one. “…I chose you and Allen to be my parents….” To quantify something. Joey is adopted. I could maybe understand the universe sending down a soul to parents who had had two miscarriages in the last year and suddenly giving them the gift of a child, but an adopted child saying this? They took Joey into foster care when he was four months old. Then through a lot of really crazy things coming into place in a very quick and odd way that I won’t bore you with, he was adopted five months later. A child adopted within five months from foster care? Okay, sure it can happen. But, then to say something like that? I mean, maybe there is a; lost soul who is supposed to happen and come into their lives, type of universe.
So, the conversation went on from there.
We talked about angels.
I said, I think what Joey was referring to when he said he was talking to a dead person was, probably a dead person, an angel. I think children, up to a certain point, do see spirits. We, as jaded adults, no longer can, or we choose not to. However, I think spirits are around us all the time. It’s a matter of choosing to see them or not. I think those imaginary friends we had as kids, were probably angels, or spirits.
I also think we will people into our lives and this can be an ‘angel,’ if you will, or an actual person who has ‘angel’ like qualities.
Say, you need a friend who is a really great listener, doesn’t want or take anything from you. They simply want to listen to you all the time. You need this. You will it into your life in some way. Then the next thing you know you have a wonderful new friend who has an amazing ability to listen. Then when their time is ‘done’ so to speak, they move out of our lives. Either they literally move, or you, in some way, lose contact with them. But, ‘poof’, they’re gone.
I’ve had friends like this in many different forms. Are they actually angels? I don’t know. There are certainly some who I literally never heard from again. Sure, maybe something tragic happened to them, or maybe I just didn’t need them anymore. Therefore, they moved on to help someone else.
Then, the conversation moved to heaven, what we both think it is.
I think heaven, like hell, is different for everyone. What might be heaven to me might not be what would be heaven-like to you, so it’s different from you to me to the next person.
Billy’s heaven is cocktails and cute boys. In other words, a gay disco. He is definite about his desire to have cocktails and cute boys in heaven.
When I made fun of his, he made a smart remark about me running in a meadow. Funny enough, that’s what I was picturing. Me in a grassy field with flowers all around me. I was wearing a sundress, and the sky was a shade of blue only found in paintings. I was barefoot holding sandals in my left hand, the sun was on my face and I was breathing easy. So, apparently my heaven is very Summers Eve-like. Ah, fresh.
The thing is, I think the gay disco and the Summers Eve field can be right next to each other. Billy and I can be standing next to each other having a conversation while he has a cocktail in one hand, a cigarette in the other with a disco ball spinning over head and there is a loud bass in the background and I am shading my eyes from the sun where the only sound is, nothing. I mean what’s the point of two different heavens if they can’t co-exist right next to each other? I want Billy in my heaven, dammit! His gay disco had better be next to my Summers Eve field!
Hell is the same way. I told him my hell would be a loud smokey dark dank smelly pit filled with snakes. Not the fire and brimstone hell of the Bible, but a place that is smokey dark dank smelly, not to mention the snakes? Yeah, hell.
To which he responded, “Mmm, your hell is my heaven.”
“There’s no snakes at the gay disco.”
“Oh, there’s a lot of snake like men there.”
“You’ve got a point.”
Then he asked if I thought there is hatred, anger, bigotry in heaven?”
I said, “No, because then that’s now, that’s Earth. I don’t think there’s anything like that there, what would the point be?”
He then said, in heaven he, “Wants what he wants when he wants it.”
To which I responded, “So, you want your heaven to be like your Earth. You’re going to be just as selfish dead as you were alive.” To which he then called me a, fucker.
I’m not afraid of death in the least little bit. I’ve cheated it a few times, but that’s for another post. There are certain ways I don’t want to die, but ultimately, I guess it doesn’t really matter. I mean, I’m dead. I would like to have some notice about my death if I could. There are a few things I would like to get rid of before I go. But, again, I’d be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter who finds what when.
I also think I would come back and visit people if I could. I told Billy I wouldn’t come back and do that scary, stand-at-the-end-of-his-bed-while-he-was-sleeping-and-stare-at-him-until-he-looked-at-me type of visit. To which he replied, he was glad because he really wouldn’t like that. But, I would like to stop by and leave a note or something. A little post-it note saying, “PG was here, it’s wonderful, I love you.” type thing.
Sometimes I wish for a, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” moment. For my angel, Clarence to come down and show me the people I’ve touched, that I’ve mattered to. I mean, I know I’d be missed. I know I am loved. But, I would love to see and know before I am gone. I would love to see who I’ve mattered to. Who I’ve affected in some way. Good or bad, just an impact I’ve made on someone. It would be nice if we could all have our, George Bailey moment while we are still alive. Everyone wants validation. I think that's what we all strive for. To know we matter. To know what we do and say matters to someone. To know that someone took notice.
So, do you believe? I'm not asking if you believe in one God or what religious beliefs you have. This conversation wasn't about religion, not in any way was it about religion. God, (sure, take the pun) don't get me started on my thoughts about organized religion. (A bunch of white guys vying for power, money, land, and control. That's all I've got to say about that.) but just in something. Do you believe in something. If so, what do you believe?
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Because freedom isn't free, thank you to all who fought and served. God Bless America
WAR TITLE WAR YEARS CASUALTIES
Revolutionary War (1775-1783) 4,435
War of 1812 (1812-1815) 2,260
Mexican War (1846-1848) 13,283
Civil War (1861-1865) 623,026
Spanish-American War (1898) 2,446
World War I (1917-1918) 116,708
World War II (1941-1945) 407,316
Korean War (1950-1953) 36,914
Vietnam War (1964-1973) 58,169
Persian Gulf War (1991) 269
Afghanistan (2002-2006) 220+
Operation: Iraqi Freedom (2003-2006) 2,200+
TOTALS 49 years 1,267,246
Interesting Notes:
• The United States of America has been involved in a major conflict (be it foreign or domestic) 49 of its 229-year existence.
• 382,424 Americans have died preserving the Union.
• 619,376 Americans have died when answering the world's call to fight in its wars.
• 621,448 Americans have died on foriegn soil.
• 623,026 Americans died in their own civil war.
• 1,267,046 Americans have given their lives in service to the United States of America.
courtesy of: http://www.militaryfactory.com/american_war_deaths.asp
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