My friend emailed this to me - there are few things as cute as otters anyway. :P
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
gasp - ack.
My family has a website on myfamily.com, and recently I've been adding some posts and even pictures. I decided to stir the pot a bit by adding a picture named "Testing my New Scanner." I put up a picture of my ACLU membership card. Ok, I thought it was funny and I like poking my weird conservatard family members with a stick now and then to see the craziness come out. So here's what I got:
I thought I was overstating things but I re-read that post of my stupid asshole brother and I thought: no. I'm really not. That thing speaks for itself. Damn. Paranoid much? Ack. I am ashamed to share blood with that person.
I didn't edit that or change it. That's my stupid asshole brother. Yes, I'm related to paranoid fucks, apparently. I want to state here that I'm not like him. He's always popping off about Libertarian issues until I want to kneecap him. Yes, he's contributed to the gene pool with a son, but he's not raising little whatever his name is so maybe the kids got a chance.
islam as a religion isn't the problem, there is an islamic movement happening world wide, you could call it a revolution. The majority of muslims in our country are here because they didn't want to live under that kind of tyranny. Unfortunately, it is here now. You can lump them all together because the majority refuse to condemn the minority. They may say "that terrorist attack was terrible" but they always follow it with a "but". I am not slamming the ACLU, there are legitimate cases where they do some good. The problem is some of the people and groups they want to help. We have a good opportunity to see our own future, Europe is falling to Islam. The Imams living there have openly stated thier contempt for the west. Western birthrates are crashing, while thiers is on the rise. Once they get the majority (10 years in some countries) you will see a muslim take-over of a western nation. (followed by the suspension of their constitution and the installation of sharia law) These are the people our own country is kissing ass to. They make demands, we cave in. Organizations like the ACLU only help along thier cause
I thought I was overstating things but I re-read that post of my stupid asshole brother and I thought: no. I'm really not. That thing speaks for itself. Damn. Paranoid much? Ack. I am ashamed to share blood with that person.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
for awaiting
The little striped butt,
climbing up to see who's in her window spot:
climbing up to see who's in her window spot:
oh fuck.
She'd meow but for the effort it would take.
He's there! He's there! She says...
oh fuck.
Run away! Faster in case he was looking!
But you know, casually - to save her feline dignity.
Tripped over the floor.
oh fuck.
But maybe, she thinks...
maybe if she mounts the cat tree from the left side or right...?
Cause he was only in the middle the last time.
oh fuck.
What oh what is a cat with a little striped butt supposed to do?
Where is she to turn for her window comfort?
She'll run back! He left, she knows it!
Up, up up to the tree and her window!
oh fuck.
She'd meow but for the effort it would take.
He's there! He's there! She says...
oh fuck.
Run away! Faster in case he was looking!
But you know, casually - to save her feline dignity.
Tripped over the floor.
oh fuck.
But maybe, she thinks...
maybe if she mounts the cat tree from the left side or right...?
Cause he was only in the middle the last time.
oh fuck.
What oh what is a cat with a little striped butt supposed to do?
Where is she to turn for her window comfort?
She'll run back! He left, she knows it!
Up, up up to the tree and her window!
oh fuck.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
grateful
I'm not sure of what or who
but I'm grateful.
I'm sippin my drink and thinking of days before
when I just didn't have a sense of me
and I wonder what would have happened
if I didn't have that sense of me.
Too many times I struggled to see the future
when I should have been looking back
and too many times I searched the past
when all along it was in front of me.
It was me.
If I forget to notice how far I've come
I hope I get a reminder -
because it's far too easy to wander in the present
and think this is all there is.
Any little thing should do it, dear ones.
Any nudge in my direction that gets me back will suffice.
And when I think on it,
when I think of how good things are,
then I'll be grateful to you.
but I'm grateful.
I'm sippin my drink and thinking of days before
when I just didn't have a sense of me
and I wonder what would have happened
if I didn't have that sense of me.
Too many times I struggled to see the future
when I should have been looking back
and too many times I searched the past
when all along it was in front of me.
It was me.
If I forget to notice how far I've come
I hope I get a reminder -
because it's far too easy to wander in the present
and think this is all there is.
Any little thing should do it, dear ones.
Any nudge in my direction that gets me back will suffice.
And when I think on it,
when I think of how good things are,
then I'll be grateful to you.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I remember.
I recall a flight that I took in January of 2000. It had been a rough 1999. My mother had passed away that June, and a few months after that I was diagnosed with the same heart condition that killed her. I was given a large, very visible, ugly red scar on my chest and a pacemaker.
1999 ended, finally, and in January of 2000 I decided I had had enough already, dammit. I was going to join my friends out in Lake Tahoe and learn to ski. I was through being a patient and it was time to get on with being the hot chick who had fun times with good friends.
I went to the airport in Minneapolis to catch my 6am flight. There had been a terrible ice storm the day before, and it was now 25 below zero and the airport was filled with people who'd been delayed. I was in line behind a woman who was loaded down with sweaters, and she looked terribly uncomfortable. She had short, wavy black hair, big silver earrings, lots of lipstick, tons of rings, heavy rimmed eyeglasses, and motorcycle boots. Yeah, I really didn't know what to think, but at least she was interesting!
After a long wait in line, she took off a sweater. As she pulled it over her head she let out an exasperated sigh and said to me: "Pardon me while I strip." I looked at her and replied, "Wait, I think I have some dollar bills." We laughed, and started talking. She was about as unhappy as a person could be. She was attending Hamline Law in St. Paul, and it was so conservative that she was going nuts. We were sitting together in the waiting area for the flight, and she looked at me at one point and said: "I just have to make sure that you know I'm gay." I laughed and said I didn't know if it was the biker boots or giant rainbow gay pride earrings and rainbow gay pride necklace, but I was pretty sure she was gay as soon as I saw her. She laughed and said that yes, that might have been a clue. Pretty good for a lawyer.
This woman was unhappy because she didn't have any gay friends in town. I told her that I wasn't going to be an improvement there because I'm straight. However, I worked in social services so that meant I probably could help her out. It's well known that social services has more than its share of gay folk. I told her that I knew all "teh gay" hotspots in town and would hook her up.
I was worried about becoming friends with her because she seemed really fucking negative. She wanted my email address and I almost hesitated because I just wasn't sure if she was a downer or just having a rough patch.
We got up to board the plane and it ended up that we were headed to Denver instead of San Francisco. We were just too talkative to pay attention to the announcements. Woops! We hurt ourselves laughing over that one, and went back to wait for our real flight.
The flight to San Francisco was pretty empty, and we were able to sit together. She handed out the Darvon and I ordered the screwdrivers. We were sky high before the plane took off, and we partied all the way to California. When we left the plane together we were already best friends.
After our respective trips to California we returned to Minnesota and started hanging out. She did indeed go to "teh gay" bars with me all over town, and dated a couple of my friends. It turns out that she wore glasses because she had been recently diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and her vision was blurry. About a month after that she started using a cane, because she lost her sense of balance. She had a piano in her snazzed-out downtown apartment that she never played, because she lost the feeling her fingers.
So let me tell you about Trish. She'd been classically trained as a concert pianist. She hated losing the ability to play, and on top of being talented she was a perfectionist. I can't imagine the agony of losing that, and having the piano as a constant reminder of what you can't do.
Trish was a professional student. She'd gone to school forever and had a few different master's degrees as well as the juris doctorate she was working on at Hamline. Smart really doesn't cover Trish. Amazingly brilliant, perhaps. I helped her study for her law degree, and learned more about tortes than I ever wanted to, but it was still a blast doing it.
Trish would sit and smoke these really awful multicolored cigarettes, one after another, while she drank coffee or tea by the gallon, then she'd cook up some fantastic Cuban meal that her Sicilian grandmother Paola, who'd emigrated to Florida, used to make. Trish's paella with yellow saffron rice, filled with big chunks of pork, shrimp and chicken would bring anyone to her knees. The ropa vieja was just as good, and the smells coming from that apartment were out of this world.
We were inseparable until I had the bad grace to move away to Madison. One day I got a call that she had collapsed. I didn't think, but made the arrangements get to Minnesota as quickly as I could. She died before I could leave the house. She was only 34, and my best friend in the world. A few years ago she died this week, and I remember. I remember her.
1999 ended, finally, and in January of 2000 I decided I had had enough already, dammit. I was going to join my friends out in Lake Tahoe and learn to ski. I was through being a patient and it was time to get on with being the hot chick who had fun times with good friends.
I went to the airport in Minneapolis to catch my 6am flight. There had been a terrible ice storm the day before, and it was now 25 below zero and the airport was filled with people who'd been delayed. I was in line behind a woman who was loaded down with sweaters, and she looked terribly uncomfortable. She had short, wavy black hair, big silver earrings, lots of lipstick, tons of rings, heavy rimmed eyeglasses, and motorcycle boots. Yeah, I really didn't know what to think, but at least she was interesting!
After a long wait in line, she took off a sweater. As she pulled it over her head she let out an exasperated sigh and said to me: "Pardon me while I strip." I looked at her and replied, "Wait, I think I have some dollar bills." We laughed, and started talking. She was about as unhappy as a person could be. She was attending Hamline Law in St. Paul, and it was so conservative that she was going nuts. We were sitting together in the waiting area for the flight, and she looked at me at one point and said: "I just have to make sure that you know I'm gay." I laughed and said I didn't know if it was the biker boots or giant rainbow gay pride earrings and rainbow gay pride necklace, but I was pretty sure she was gay as soon as I saw her. She laughed and said that yes, that might have been a clue. Pretty good for a lawyer.
This woman was unhappy because she didn't have any gay friends in town. I told her that I wasn't going to be an improvement there because I'm straight. However, I worked in social services so that meant I probably could help her out. It's well known that social services has more than its share of gay folk. I told her that I knew all "teh gay" hotspots in town and would hook her up.
I was worried about becoming friends with her because she seemed really fucking negative. She wanted my email address and I almost hesitated because I just wasn't sure if she was a downer or just having a rough patch.
We got up to board the plane and it ended up that we were headed to Denver instead of San Francisco. We were just too talkative to pay attention to the announcements. Woops! We hurt ourselves laughing over that one, and went back to wait for our real flight.
The flight to San Francisco was pretty empty, and we were able to sit together. She handed out the Darvon and I ordered the screwdrivers. We were sky high before the plane took off, and we partied all the way to California. When we left the plane together we were already best friends.
After our respective trips to California we returned to Minnesota and started hanging out. She did indeed go to "teh gay" bars with me all over town, and dated a couple of my friends. It turns out that she wore glasses because she had been recently diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and her vision was blurry. About a month after that she started using a cane, because she lost her sense of balance. She had a piano in her snazzed-out downtown apartment that she never played, because she lost the feeling her fingers.
So let me tell you about Trish. She'd been classically trained as a concert pianist. She hated losing the ability to play, and on top of being talented she was a perfectionist. I can't imagine the agony of losing that, and having the piano as a constant reminder of what you can't do.
Trish was a professional student. She'd gone to school forever and had a few different master's degrees as well as the juris doctorate she was working on at Hamline. Smart really doesn't cover Trish. Amazingly brilliant, perhaps. I helped her study for her law degree, and learned more about tortes than I ever wanted to, but it was still a blast doing it.
Trish would sit and smoke these really awful multicolored cigarettes, one after another, while she drank coffee or tea by the gallon, then she'd cook up some fantastic Cuban meal that her Sicilian grandmother Paola, who'd emigrated to Florida, used to make. Trish's paella with yellow saffron rice, filled with big chunks of pork, shrimp and chicken would bring anyone to her knees. The ropa vieja was just as good, and the smells coming from that apartment were out of this world.
We were inseparable until I had the bad grace to move away to Madison. One day I got a call that she had collapsed. I didn't think, but made the arrangements get to Minnesota as quickly as I could. She died before I could leave the house. She was only 34, and my best friend in the world. A few years ago she died this week, and I remember. I remember her.
beware the ideas!
Yes, today is the 15th of March, immortalized forever by Shakespeare in Julius Caesar as the day they decided to stab the dear emperor in the back. What an idea to be wary of!
Other ideas I'm not too fond of include banning wire hangers. I use those! I was on vacation in Denmark years ago and my friend needed to hang a mirror. I said that he ought to just use a wire hanger and that would lower it enough and later he could grab a kit and do it properly. Well, he had never heard of a wire hanger! Apparently they only have plastic or wooden ones. I happened to have one in my luggage and dammit, Jim, I got the job done! So, no wire hangers? Bad Idea!
Also, cat food cans without tabs. My cat would starve if I didn't have an opener. Who thought of that? Bad idea!
What are some ideas you are wary of? Don't be shy!
...what? the ides? beware the ides??? It's not ideas? Shit. Nevermind.
Other ideas I'm not too fond of include banning wire hangers. I use those! I was on vacation in Denmark years ago and my friend needed to hang a mirror. I said that he ought to just use a wire hanger and that would lower it enough and later he could grab a kit and do it properly. Well, he had never heard of a wire hanger! Apparently they only have plastic or wooden ones. I happened to have one in my luggage and dammit, Jim, I got the job done! So, no wire hangers? Bad Idea!
Also, cat food cans without tabs. My cat would starve if I didn't have an opener. Who thought of that? Bad idea!
What are some ideas you are wary of? Don't be shy!
...what? the ides? beware the ides??? It's not ideas? Shit. Nevermind.
I was inspired by another.
Homey wrote a great post and I blathered on so much in his comment section that I had to re-post here.
My first car was a '79 AMC AMX. For the uninformed that was a Gremlin the year they changed the model. It was black with orange racing stripes, a broken sunroof (I'll get back to that), and etched roses on the windows.
It got approximately ONE mile per gallon of gas, and when I'd drive the 45 minutes to Los Angeles I'd have to fill up each way. =P
Ok. So the day my mother bought me the car (she was feeling guilty about something, don't remember what) it ran out of gas and I had to call a friend to bring me some in a can. It turns out the gauge was stuck on 1/4 tank.
So I was totally excited to have gas again and drove down the block, only to have the two tires on the right side blow out and I lost control of the wheel. The car flew up and over a high curb across the street and I ended up in a field after knocking the sunroof out with my head.
Tires replaced, gauge fixed, and sunroof permanently glued shut, I had that car (name: Beau) about six months until its untimely death at the hands of an illegal unlicensed immigrant without the ability to drive who made a wrong turn in front of me and (SMACK!) Beau was dead.
My first car was a '79 AMC AMX. For the uninformed that was a Gremlin the year they changed the model. It was black with orange racing stripes, a broken sunroof (I'll get back to that), and etched roses on the windows.
Ok. So the day my mother bought me the car (she was feeling guilty about something, don't remember what) it ran out of gas and I had to call a friend to bring me some in a can. It turns out the gauge was stuck on 1/4 tank.
So I was totally excited to have gas again and drove down the block, only to have the two tires on the right side blow out and I lost control of the wheel. The car flew up and over a high curb across the street and I ended up in a field after knocking the sunroof out with my head.
Tires replaced, gauge fixed, and sunroof permanently glued shut, I had that car (name: Beau) about six months until its untimely death at the hands of an illegal unlicensed immigrant without the ability to drive who made a wrong turn in front of me and (SMACK!) Beau was dead.
Friday, March 09, 2007
paranoid much?
This article is decently written, and has some really good points about how as a species we are disconnecting from people the more technology gets introduced. However, the paranoia the author tries to induce by talking about the glow of television sets is just a bit over the top:
"Travel down any average suburban American street and no longer will you see people outside talking to their neighbors or children playing, these activities having been replaced by the blue glow of the television that can be seen emanating from every window."
Ya. I believe that tv is a time-sucker and a bad one at that, and don't think I've watched any tv for months. Netflix rocks, because I can see any series without being subjected to the commercials or the high cable bill. I know that it's a method for marketers to sell shit to people who want meaning and fill their lives with "stuff" instead of making a better effort. I do the same thing when I'm depressed. I go to the yarn store and feeeeeeel the yarn for an hour, and then I feel better. I don't usually buy much, but the compulsion is there. I do not, however, believe that we're headed to a Matrix-like society and our bodies will waste away as we live an Utopian existence on the screens of our computers. The people who wig out on these theories need to go outside their parents' basement once a year and take a goddamn walk.
"Travel down any average suburban American street and no longer will you see people outside talking to their neighbors or children playing, these activities having been replaced by the blue glow of the television that can be seen emanating from every window."
Ya. I believe that tv is a time-sucker and a bad one at that, and don't think I've watched any tv for months. Netflix rocks, because I can see any series without being subjected to the commercials or the high cable bill. I know that it's a method for marketers to sell shit to people who want meaning and fill their lives with "stuff" instead of making a better effort. I do the same thing when I'm depressed. I go to the yarn store and feeeeeeel the yarn for an hour, and then I feel better. I don't usually buy much, but the compulsion is there. I do not, however, believe that we're headed to a Matrix-like society and our bodies will waste away as we live an Utopian existence on the screens of our computers. The people who wig out on these theories need to go outside their parents' basement once a year and take a goddamn walk.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
how smart? that smart? thought so.
Take the Idiot Test HERE. I of course, am BRILLIANT. I mean, duh!
Courtesy of Angela's Blog, Bold Contemplations.
Courtesy of Angela's Blog, Bold Contemplations.
Monday, March 05, 2007
...aaaand the hits just keep on coming!
Hi Shelley,
I want to thank you for your interest in the Health Care Coordinator position. I received several resumes from qualified candidates and interviewed the well qualified candidates, including you. I appreciate you coming in for the interview.
We have filled the position at our office. I will keep your resume on file for future consideration. The best of luck to you in your search for employment.
Sincerely,
Kim Z.
Office Manager
Yeah it's not like I need a new job or anything. I've only been to numerous interviews and have applied to probably 30 places over the last year.
Monday Rant
***Warning - Whining Ahead, Read at your own Risk***
(don't be a fucking wuss and say I didn't warn you.)
(don't be a fucking wuss and say I didn't warn you.)
I was realizing this morning that I'm becoming a sour old person. I'm so sick of people. I'm so sick of my job. I'm so sick of being sick. I'm so sick of life. I was up late last night because I had enough Sudafed to choke a horse (yet I'm still stuffy), and today work is stressful.
I guess I made a mistake by attempting to simplify a consumer issue without realizing that the consumer was going to blow a fuse over the weekend. I just did what I always do and fixed what I always fix. The consumer didn't like it and ended up calling the pager person and the management staff multiple times over the weekend to flip out.
So today I had to deal with fallout from that, and on top of that I have to unfix what I fixed, and that is a huge inconvenience to me and a waste of time, because it simply was the right path in the first place.
I hate Mondays.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
how hard!
For the love of Christ, how fucking hard can one pair of socks be to make? I have been slowly knitting up the cuff of a sock and tonight during gaming I decided to make the heel flap, turn the heel, make the gusset, and work down the foot. I used pretty simple directions since I haven't really made socks before. Ok, let's back that shit up. I used what SEEMED to be simple directions until I realized that it never really explained how to turn the heel. I was hopped up on Sudafed, Tylenol, and Diet Coke and trying to figure that fucker out. Arrrrrgghhhh!
I ripped it out I don't know how many times. I'm really good at knitting in the round, even on lots of sticks, but hell! It helps to have directions. I'm trying again after I ripped it ALL out, switched to smaller sticks, re-wound the yarn (using my new ball winder, yay!) and different instructions. I'm glad I have some time to work it out because the leg of the sock is in double rib (2 knit, 2 purl for those who don't already know, and a purl is just a backwards knit stitch) and will take a while to finish. I'm still using yarn I bought last year in the Netherlands, even though I bought a TON since. I think this was like 1 euro for 100 grams of wool. Cheapass yarn - I'm all over that.
I think I need pointier needles. These are nice (and PURPLE how cool is that) but they aren't very pointy and I have trouble picking up the stitches. I also keep switching the yarn from left hand to right hand because I can't decide whether I prefer English or Continental style.
I'm never going to finish a fucking sock, let alone TWO matching socks. I should just stick to hats. The one I made for Bill was fundamentally KICK ASS. I can tell this because he wears it daily. Yeah I KNOW it's cold in Wisconsin in the winter. Give a girl some slack, motherfucker!
I ripped it out I don't know how many times. I'm really good at knitting in the round, even on lots of sticks, but hell! It helps to have directions. I'm trying again after I ripped it ALL out, switched to smaller sticks, re-wound the yarn (using my new ball winder, yay!) and different instructions. I'm glad I have some time to work it out because the leg of the sock is in double rib (2 knit, 2 purl for those who don't already know, and a purl is just a backwards knit stitch) and will take a while to finish. I'm still using yarn I bought last year in the Netherlands, even though I bought a TON since. I think this was like 1 euro for 100 grams of wool. Cheapass yarn - I'm all over that.
I think I need pointier needles. These are nice (and PURPLE how cool is that) but they aren't very pointy and I have trouble picking up the stitches. I also keep switching the yarn from left hand to right hand because I can't decide whether I prefer English or Continental style.
I'm never going to finish a fucking sock, let alone TWO matching socks. I should just stick to hats. The one I made for Bill was fundamentally KICK ASS. I can tell this because he wears it daily. Yeah I KNOW it's cold in Wisconsin in the winter. Give a girl some slack, motherfucker!
The Holy Grail
Saturday, March 03, 2007
I took the test!
Got this from Anna's blog.
I'm not sure how true it is, or what I'd like to admit to!!! The interesting part for me was that I scored higher than 99% of other people my age/gender. Hmmm...
I'm not sure how true it is, or what I'd like to admit to!!! The interesting part for me was that I scored higher than 99% of other people my age/gender. Hmmm...
Sexual Adventurer You are 73% adventurous! |
Being kinky to you involves playing with different roles and scenarios. You would like to try some secret fantasies, but may be too shy to initiate them. You like for your partner to take control. You like to be the center of attention and enjoy to be pampered. You are interested in trying new sensations to bring you pleasure. You like sex that is a little bit dangerous, although, more often than not, you prefer to be on the receiving end of things. You revel in your own sexuality, and are a little bit naughty and a little bit nice. You are looking for a lover who you can trust and who will guide you on your sexual journey. |
My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The How Vanilla/Kinky Are You Test written by cellobiscuit on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Thursday, March 01, 2007
GOT to get me one of these.
This is so great. I can imagine all sorts of times that it would come in handy.
Why I love Dan Savage
I read your column faithfully every week in the Orlando Weekly. But I need to ask two things. What does the abbreviation GGG stand for? And what was the website that you mentioned a while ago for men to meet transsexuals?
A Faithful Reader
GGG stands for "good, giving, and game," which is what we should all strive to be for our sex partners. Think "good in bed," "giving equal time and equal pleasure," and "game for anything—within reason." And that tranny website I mentioned was, I believe, freerepublic.com.
HAHAHAHA! Some things need to be said, and Dan is the best at saying them. I'm still waiting patiently for the new "Santorum" replacement.
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