These are the short and curlies:
I just realized that I haven't updated in FOREVER. My apologies, this housewife thing is taking WAY more of my time up than I originally planned. My husband actually was the one who pointed out that I haven't checked in in a while, and THAT is sad. So here's my new schedule, kids: I'll check in when I damn well please. No one reads this site anyway, and only one person ever calls me to answer my trivvie questions. I get more feedback, maybe I'll come back to an everyday format. That means KISSIES, people! Tell me you love me and then I'll consider coming back daily. So there.
On to today's snark on pop culture.
Come nighttime, I am constantly surfing the myriad of channels provided to me by Comcast in search of mindless entertainment. The other night, with nothing left to numb my brain, I switched on TNT, my trusty standby for HOURS of Law and Order, and was treated to a JLo movie. 'Angel Eyes', with the slick-haired Bennifer and Jim Cavieziel, is truly one of the best flops I have ever seen. Purported to be a Supernatural Suspense Thriller, it is SO not. I won't spoil it... Ah, fuck it. The whole mystery of Cavieziel's Catch is that he's an accident victim whose wife and son were killed, and he refuses to remember any moment of the event. Lopez recognizes him because she was present at the crash, and tries to help him come to grips. That's it. That's IT. No ghostly cool shit, no "SUPERNATURAL" for SHIT. It's nothing more that a plodding love story in the end. And it most definitely plods. Too many loose ends. Ridiculous. Anyone that doubts the non-ability of JLo's acting performance should just go back and watch 'The Cell' and laugh. And if you DO go back, pay close attention to Vincent D'Onofrio's performance. He was great in that flick and gets even better in Law & Order: CI. (SIGH) And now that I've backtracked to a decent viewing experience, I'm done. Stay tuned for an addendum tonight on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Trivvie for the day: Who says THIS classic line?
"It's always MONKEYS! Why can't I ever be attacked by SUPERMODELS?!?"
Happy Halloween! I can't believe that this is the first All Hallow's that I have stayed inside and not done anything. However, I did get the hair up my ass to change my appearance, which I did. My long flowing locks are gone now, and what remains has become an Iced Mocha. It does compliment my chubby face, and my self-esteem has bumped up a notch. Slightly. Whatever.
Answer to the trivia question: Mike Muir. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS STUFF!!!
Oh, how my children have retarded. I don't want to rule a dopey kingdom, kids. Wake up and show me those shiny brains!
Okay, is ANYBODY else addicted to VH1's "I love the 80's"? I swear, I'll be sitting there for just a second, and as soon as that show comes on I am zombified for at LEAST three hours. I can get nothing accomplished with that channel on.
The race is on to see what happens first, my brain shitting out my asshole or all the stuff I've ordered online showing up. So far the stuff is winning out, but I can slowly feel my brain draining towards my sphincter...
A resounding farewell to the Great Randini and family as they begin the perilous trek to southern California. I know what it's like driving with a child, so it's going to be rough. Slightly LESS rougher than say, traveling 3000 miles with a nine month-old, but still, I imagine there will be chafing. Keep in touch, Randini, SOMEONE has to answer the trivvie questions.
And speaking of trivia, I got a new one for yas, and it's relatively simple: What's the name of the lead singer of Suicidal Tendencies?
And we have a winner for yesterday's trivia question! However, since I KNEW this particular person would get it, it's null and void. I'm still waiting for an intelligent answer...
Have any of you seen the new Limp Bizkit video? 'Behind Blue Eyes' once again proves to the non-believer just how sexy Fred Durst can be. Man, does that boy have a voice.
Nothing much to bitch about today, the world has been slow to me. I guess I should start watching the news or something.
Ten weeks to go....
Let me tell you how much I hate interior decorating. I undertook the responsibility of redecorating my husband's apartment while he's away in Japan, and I honestly thought it would take me a month. A MONTH. And then I walked in.
So far I've spent just a little under nine hundred dollars on this place, and I still have far to go. The bathroom was done, and pretty nice looking may I add, but now it just doesn't pop for me anymore. So the bathroom's getting redone this week. The master bedroom is almost done, I'm just waiting on some artwork I ordered. HOWEVER, I still have yet to install the new entertainment center that I've put together, so that's just sitting in the living room and clutering up my life. The spare bedroom? I'm cleaning it up enough for my mother to stay in it, and that's it. I have to wait for everything that I've ordered to show up, so everything is at a standstill right now. It's driving me NUTS, kids, the condition the house is in now. Who thought that this would be such a massive job? I mean for GAWD'S SAKES, I have to get ALL NEW living room furniture! Money have never been an issue for me, my children (because I've always been poor or without cash entirely), but now suddenly it is. There is just not enough time in the fucking day for me to get everything done. I'll be lucky if everything's set up by christmas.
Trivia Question of the Day:
(Try and figure THIS one out, you bastards!)
What song is playing during EVERY death scene, in one way or another, in Final Destination? A month's supply of winner's pick soda to the shmuck who can answer it!
Okay, so I'm trawling through the internet, looking for SOMETHING to comment on, and I catch the new Britney Spears video 'Me Against the Music' featuring Madonna. You want laughs? Check this video out. Britney Spears is whoring her 'grown up' image so hard core that it's turning into soft core, if ya know what I mean. Madonna, SWEETIE, I understand that you like this girl and consider her a music sensation, and that's fine. But after that RIDICULOUS kiss on MTV don't you think that writhing against a wall with her is somewhat redundant? Christ jesus, I am absolutely mortified by the amount of eye makeup that girl wears. And NO, before you say it, I am not jealous. I just think that sometimes it's just a little much to make a video that looks like something you would catch on HBO at three AM. But that's just me. Oh lord almaighty, how I HATE Britney Spears. You want a catchy tune with a spiffaboo video? Try The Androids' "Do it with madonna" tune. You can catch it on Yahoo! Launch, or download it. Now, THAT'S entertainment.
You know, with my oh-so-significant other gone on detachment, you'd think that I would be able to update more often, and on time. Fuck it. I've been so depressed lately that, fuck the schedule, I will update when absolutely necessary. Today is one of those days.
I got a lizard today, a bearded dragon named Norbert. Hubby and I decided that since our cat is named Pigwidgeon, we might as well continue along the Harry Potter vein. Why not, there are some spiffo names.
There was a Punk'd marathon on MTV. That show is WRONG, by the by, but I suggest it if you're looking for a way to waste a half an hour. Ashton Kutcher, one fo these days, will marry Demi Moore and settle downto start looking for 'serious' movie roles, and I guarantee that he won't be able to find one for a while. Cute as a fucking button, but he constantly looks confused. But then, look at Stifler. The boy went from 'Dude Where's My Car?' and getting pissed on in the American Pie movies to action hero. Who knew, right? I swear, it makes my head spin to know that someone is getting that much money to do shit that stupid. Fuck me, I'LL crash a shopping cart if you'll give me 150,000 dollars. JEEZUS.
Go see Kill Bill Vol. 1. Tarantino has been out of the scene for six years, and now the king of all that is pop media has returned, literally, with a bang. I haven't myself decided if I like it or not, as it was a far cry from what I normally watch on at least the big screen. I reccommend sitting through it at least once and forming your own idea. As this is truly vintage Tarantino, everyone had their own ideas.
By the way, Hooray For Penis!
Today I have named, at least here in Rantsville, Yippee for Cack Day. There will be yet another day so named probably sometime in January, but until then today is it. Deal.
Midnight. My husband of less than three weeks has packed his bags and left for Japan for THREE MONTHS. This, oh my god, has been the worst day ever. I thought I could handle it, because I'd been in the navy and I have left before, but somehow this is different. I'm sitting here in the apartment, alone but for the cat, and I'm crying my eyes out because he's gone. This must be love or something like it. And so tonight begins my self-sufficiency exam in the real world, because I have to pay the bills and make sure the rent is taken care of and take out the garbage and check the mail and so on and so forth. I HATE being a grown-up. Arr, errr....
Okay, I'll make this as painless as possible: If there's anyone out there that can tell me why guys in porn always pull the panties aside instead of pulling them of, I'd be grateful. The shit looks PAINFUL when they just yank it off to the side like that. Seems like a sideways chafin' wedgie to me, but it could feel good, I don't know. One more porn bitch and I'll move on...
There's this guy on one of these nasty nitches that has a cack eight inches around. Now, to put this into perspective, take a soda or beer can and try to fit to bottom of it in your mouth. I tried, much to my husband's amusement, for about ten minutes before giving up in disgust. I mean, this thing was a monstrosity. It looked like a tumor with a penis head on top. Bleah. You'd have to see it to believe it, and you would believe it once that tiny ittle asian girl took it UP THE ASS. Children, it is WRONG to fuck in the butt, and this just proves why.
Okay, I'm done.
By the way, things will be somewhat hectic around here for the next couple of days, so don't count on an every day thing. Sorry, but those of you who have lives will understand...
Still recovering from our 'day at home', however, I cannot neglect my babies for long...
So I'm sitting here watching some DVD porn that the Great Randini dropped off in a swap for BTVS Season Three (good swap), and so far I've puked once, made several faces, and tilted my head about EIGHT MILLION TIMES. I don't understand why men like this shit so much (however, the fact that I got this porn from lesbians baffles me all the more). It's called "Suck and Fuck O Rama" by the by, from Ball Busters films. I am SO buying some Candida Royalle porn for my husband. It's porn made for straight women, with sets, plots, and full body fucking as opposed to SEVERE close-ups that make you wonder how they fit the camera there without burning something. It's gay. This porn is GAY. I hate cumshots, they literally make me throw up (chocolate milk, anyone?), and I don't understand why porn star semen has the consistency of cornstarch and glue. BLEAH. Do yourselves a favor and watch the FAHKING Discovery Channel if you want decent nookie with at least some cuddling afterwards. I can't wait to sit down to "Humping and Bumping". I'm gonna be ill...
You know, this is turning more and more into a Blog. BAH....
The G-spot exists....
Okay kids, here's my new take on pets. Forget what anybody says about how the pets resemble their owners, its the OWNERS that bend to the whim of their animals.
Take for instance my kitten, Pigwidgeon. Unfortunately, Sam ran away when we were forced to board him in Spokane before we left for Florida, but before he did, he picked Pig out of a litter that Nemesis (see crazy Siamese owned by last roommates) dropped back in May. Pig was picked up in August as we left, and the people that were watching her informed me that she was anti-social and bitchy. Fucking figures with me, right? However, they were wrong. Pig is officaially the sweetest cat I have ever known. She let baby Hayleigh tug and pinch and pull to no end, and the two of them got along famously at playtime. She's overly affectionate and loves having her belly rubbed, and her high-pitched squeaks at three in the morning don't bother us at all. She has this habit of crawling up on my head and kneading my scalp while chewing on my hair, purring all the way, but she's got me trained enough to take it. She whines like she's on fire if we close the bedroom door on her and jams a paw under until we let her in. She likes to watch the toilet water swirl when we flush and waits patiently at our feet while we do our thing, and so now we leave the lid up and just let her because she'll whine if we don't. She sleeps under the bed when we 'honeymoon', and then hops up to join in the after-coitus cuddle. It's wrong and weird, but we've come to grips with the fact that she's going to do it whether we like it or not. My husband spoils her rotten. He bought a fucking five dollar electronic mouse that's touch-sensitive for her to play with, for Gawd's sake. She drops at his feet and he's now conditioned to bend over and give her a rub at any given time. So much for anti-social, huh?
Cats are angels with fur. Pig is wonderful, and every day my husband and I make sure that we let her know how special she is. She's got us trained. Who needs kids at this point when we've got a seven month-old pain in the ass already?
Album of the day: The Thirteenth Step from A Perfect Circle. OMIGOD did I mention Maynard? Bomb ass shite once again from Billy Howerdel and Maynard Jame Keenan. Oh how I adore TOOL simply for Maynard. Maynard, I adore you... Remember James Iha from the thank-god-they're-defunct Smashing Pumpkins? He's on this album too. Superb effort once again from that angelic voice. Oh, Maynard, Maynard, if only Maynard were hot, too....
TOGA TOGA TOGA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last night's party was INSANE. I would post pictures, however, the whole fact that they managed to get me and my husband in a toga is embarrassing enough just showing off the hard copy pictures when asked. I won't subject myself to ridicule online, even from you, my darlings. Sorry. A friend of mine from my old Navy days showed up, and his wife and I hit it off like queers at the Pink Pony Newbie Night. I also saw a Ghost at the bar we were at, but I won't get into it. Those of you that were there know who he is, an you'e probably going "eeeew, no fahking WAY!" Yeah, well, shutthefuckup. I've seen ya'll with worse. Anyway, I'm too tired to argue.
Special thanks to Jen and Justin for throwing the party and including our special celebration with theirs. I got to eat some wedding cake...woo!
Well, today is the day of my fabulous wedding reception/toga party. I can't wait, really.
But that's not what I'm talking about today. Today I want to speak aobut something that has bothered me for the last three weeks: my husband's complete and utter lack of pop culture knowledge. I mean, he is truly a bastardized heathen. He's seen Trainspotting, but he hasn't seen Vampire Hunter D. What is THAT, may I ask you? He has absolutely no taste of that which is cheeze and that which is tasteful. I'm gonna have to intriduce him to Troma movies. (SIGH) What is the Queen to do, bizzles and grizzles, what am I to do? I will take any suggestions for movies and/or cd's to subject him to gratefully, as I can only do this one step at a time....
And it seems I have my work cut out for me. Love is strange, isn't it?
I don't have much to write about at this point. It seems my brain has been slowly leaking out my ass for some time now. I didn't even post yesterday. That's okay, you all forgive me, don't you?
Well, the conversation with the In-Laws went worse than I expected. Not once did they raise their voices, but the inferences were still there. You know, children, I am 24 fucking years old. I do NOT need to be spoken to like a fucking 10 year old. I would rather not get into it simply for the fact that I was so upset tht I went and cried, and because it's simply not worth it. We were both so pissed about what happened last night that I was yelling at him, and he was just yelling in general. I actually called MY mom to get some perspective. I think that mommy dearest is ecstatic that she's finally the cool parent for once. Her prescription for dealing with poopy in-laws? Banana splits from Baskin-Robbins. We couldn't have agreed more. So here, you're all witnesses: those folks in Arizona, heretofore referred to as "You-Know-Who", will get one more phone call from me, and no more. I bow down to no one. NO ONE. My own parents never even treated me like that, and my parents were assholes when I was growing up.
(INHALE) Okay, I feel a little better now. You know, it really cheezes me off that there's always fucking SOMETHING to ruin my day. I was having so much fun yesterday, and then THAT. Talk about pissing on my ice cream.
I swear, things get better and better on this island. I can't fucking WAIT until my husband leaves. Really. Shite....
Greetings to October! This is one of my favorite months, because even if the whole thing sucks freekmonkey balls, there's always Halloween at the end so you can get Phucked up and pass out candy to kids. I will be ALONE this Halloween, seeing as my husband (we'll call him Bruce, just to protect the innocent) will be gone for THREE MONTHS. I hate the military. Just a quick rundown of what holidays he'll miss: Halloween, Thanksgiving, His own 35th birthday (yes, I know he's OLD, I'll hit that up later), Christmas, and New Year's. Yup, all the major days at the end of the year, and I'll be ALONE. Fucking crazy, isn't it? But that's not what I wanted to rant about today, dammit....
Unfortunately, with the Queen now having a legally bound royal consort, some of this shit I bitch about will be domestic stuff. Some of this married people crap is just TOO much....
So today I have to call my Mother-in-Law. This, for a new bride in my position, is something so gut-liquefying it's up there with getting my hair cut (AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIGH!!!!). In case you're wondering, my certain position is this: when Bruce called to let them know that he was getting married after only three weeks, they wigged. SERIOUSLY wigged. Like major wiggage. I can understand, but I thought that it was the BRIDE'S parents who were to supposed to freak out. They were so upset and shocked that he thought it wasn't a good idea for me to call and talk to them, despite my offer to assuage their misgivings about such a quick courtship. And because he asked me NOT to call them, I didn't, further exacerbating the the situation. The last time they called, Bruce couldn't even hand the phone over to me because his mother was crying. Now, the man is 34, which means he should be able to make his own decisions, but he IS the baby of the family, and you all know how THAT goes... Anyway. So the Mom-in-Law calls two days ago and leaves a message, asking why I haven't called and she doesn't understand why I haven't and so on and so forth, so today I must call. I am nervous as SHITE because I am NOT good with parents. I don't know how to act around them other than how I normally act. Keep in mind, this woman knows my name, she knows that I have tattoos, and that's it. She literally knows nothing else. I am, kiddies, petrified. PETRIFIED.
So here I am, ranting on the computer and smoking my husband's menthols because I'm too lazy to get up and reach for my own Marlboro Lights (yes, I changed brands because Florida doesn't believe in selling Camels by the carton, the bastards), and twitching like a spastic because I have to talk to an over-emotionally charged older woman who knows jack shite about me.
At least his older sister is a biker chick....
Movie Collection of the Day: The Storyteller. Originally launched in 1987 (GUH), this show was a retelling of classics fables and fairytales enhanced with the magic of the gone-but-never-forgotten Jim Henson. I had to have it, and you should too. It's dark and mysterious, and I know you all love dark and mysterious, so I know you want it. The DVD has all nine episodes, and is truly a don't-miss type of thing. It's vintage Henson, people! Buy it!
Thanks to Randini once again for the terd-monster story. Yet another reason to NOT have children.
HOLY SHIT. For those of you that have not read yesterday's quickie announcing my return and other such news, you missed the last sentence where I mentioned my obsessions with David Boreanaz of 'Angel' and 'BTVS' fame, and with Chad Kroeger of Nickelback. Today, I would like to comment on that because I just saw the BEST MUSIC VIDEO IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD! 'White Flag' is not only by my baby Dido, but it features the oh-so-yumma-yummalicious Mr. Boreanaz, sporting a lot more hair than us droolers are accustomed to on the DubyaBee. No matter, he's still enough to make me stick to the seat. Speaking of which, 'Angel' season Two is out on DVD, and a belated wedding gift of that and season one is expected. No, my husband would probably kill you, then at least give me a wedgie.....
Did I mention I love him? Angel provided so much inspiration for the Candra Chronicles (now in it's second cycle with an alternate history, shoot me now), and David is SO HOT. I will, sooner or later, get over this fixation. Probably later. Meow.
As for Chad, SWEET JESUS. I realize that I sound like a gushing tweener fangirl, but I can't help it. The new video DVD out (WalMart, kids, seven bucks), featuring the awesome single 'Someday', was enough for me to get hot and bothered. I love his hair. I love his goatee. I love his fucking skinny yet toned torso. Need I go on? I'm thinking about adding some new links to my boys' sites, what do YOU think?
Movie for the Day: Identity. Check it out. You must. It's imperative. If you love John Cusack, or Ray Liotta (I know you do, Kassy), you must see this move. It's definitely one of my Top Twenty. Hmmm, maybe I'll do a Top Twenty List...
And I have RETURNED!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my children, how I have missed you so!
A lot has happened since my last daily rant, so much that in fact I would be hard-pressed to remember it all. As a matter of fact, I can't remember it all, but that's okay. I'll pretend that most of it didn't happen, and continue to rant like I was here all the time. Go to the home page and check out my new short bio, it'll explain a bit, but just enough for you to email me with a "wha' happened?" Here's the basic biggies since March:
I got a job that lasted for six days working as a housekeeper at the Acorn Motor Inn in Oak Harbor. I lasted SIX DAYS. The chick that ended up firing me was a good friend (more on her tomorrow), and we ended up hanging out a lot.
I was offered the opportunity to move to Florida with Michelle (married roommate, for those of you that forgot) when she transferred. I agreed, and the ensuing road trip was the stuff they wrote Thelma and Louise about, except we had a six month-old kitten and a nine month-old infant with us. We traveled in the Neon while her dad drove the moving truck with the oh-so-fabulous Mr. Peanut-san. I got to Florida and, well, here's where it gets complicated, kids, so I'll just come out and say it:
I GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
While I give you a moment to rehang your jaws, I will briefly summarize. Met him two weeks before I left, he visited me once in Spokane before the trip kicked off, I talked to him for three hours every night on the trip and every night thereafter, and three weeks into my new start in Florida I was picked up in a flashy red truck and driven back to this godforsaken rock with a quick pit stop in Las Vegas to become Mrs. Bruce Lapalm. Yes indeedy children, after an ALMOST month-long courtship, I have become "so-and-so's wife". Believe it, people. I have become a wife. Until Tomorrow....
By the way, I love my husband, but my obsessions still rest with David Boreanaz and Chad Kroeger of Nickelback. RRReowr.
Oh children, I have an addendum to today's bitch and moan. In honor of the great child-molester Roman Polanski, oral sex on a femal shall be henceforth known in pop culture as "Cuddliness". Check out the grand jury testimony of his at-the-time 13 year old victim at The Shmoking Gun.
Taxes are a bitch. I filed mine electronically, and I was totally aghast at the amount of wacky shite that H&R Block had me fill out. I didn't think that I had to file a state tax return, so I didn't, so I'm looking forward to an audit. I can't wait...
I can't fucking believe that someone got the goddamned quote for the day. I pulled that shit out of my ass, out of fucking NOWHERE, and one of you got it. Shoot me, stuff me, mount me, because I'm DONE. I can't believe it. I am in shock. This is me in shock. I am shocked. For those of you that wrote me and guessed some sort of philosopher, you were WRONG. It's actually Brak from Space Ghost, from a little mp3 called 'I like Pork'. Go fucking figure. Your cookies are coming, you fucking smart-ass...
I also had the interesting experience today of receiving a phone call from one of the ex-roommates, inquiring about some pills I had given her like a YEAR ago. It was a couple of anaprox that I had acquired while injured on the USS Constellation, and they are a pretty good painkiller. So anyway, she calls and asks what they are, I tell her, and about an hour later she calls screaming that her nose is on fire. Apparently my tales of nose candy from over the counter had inspired my ex's to start snorting various painkillers and such, and she tried out the anaprox. Word to the wary: DON'T SNORT ANAPROX. IT BURNS!!!!! Try lithium instead, children. It's easier on the passages. Fucking gits. I swear.
Quote for the Day: "I appreciate who Christ was and what Christ did, but I'm not really into the dogma... i.e., I want to fuck before I get married."
You'll never get this one, you pretentious bastards. Ha.
BTW, check out Longer Rants and Tangents for the conversation I had with wacky loser guy on 3/8/03. It's a hoot.
To my consummate critic: HA! You can't heckle me if I post at 4:20 in the morning, CAN YOU????
Anyway, so it's early, and I have been sitting here writing and thinking. I have come to the realization of TWO things: One, that if I continue to have roommates, I will always be cursed with listening to them having sex. It was like that when I was in the navy barracks and my roomie was just across the room, it was like that at my old apartment (lesbians=two women, both moaners, you make the connection...), and now, it's like that with my favorite married couple. BLEAH, man. Oh well. And second, if I continue to live with my current roommates I will have to get a boyfriend so that I can do weird and obscenely perverse things in front of them like they do with me. Disgusting as they are, I forgive them because they are in love and married and blah blah blah... I still feel the need to give them a dose of their own medicine. It's the self-righteous indignation in me screaming to the surface.
Quote of the day: (By the way, if you can guess who said this I'll give out a box of girl scout cookies) "It's merely symptomatic of our post-modern ennui. There are no absolutes, unless you perceive our world as meaningless, when it's really your OWN freedom you detest!" Good luck, you bastardized heathens.
I didn't post yesterday, I'm sorry. I was sick, and I was hard pressed to do anything but roll over. I really don't have a rant for today, or even a gush to give... Wait, yes I do.
Musical of the effing decade: Into The Woods. Check this baby out, I was rolling on the floor with laughter and crying the whole time. Bernadette Peters is lovely as the wicked witch. Make sure you get the original cast with Chuck Wagner and Joanna Gleason.
So I've finally made financial arrangements to purchase a vehicle. Yeah, okay, it's a crappy Ranger that will need a new clutch in six months, but it will get me where I need to go for 300 bucks. And it's MY three hundred, not cash I earned in some sneaky and devious way (see 3/8/03). That, and next month's rent, and I'm tapped out. Time to get on unemployment with my newly-printed DD214. Yippee.
I love the freedom people get from the internet. Case in point, I was talking to a friend via IM the other night, and this guy pops up wanting to chat. I am not above talking toa complete stranger, you never know when you might make a friend, so I started talking. At one point in the conversation, I started bitching about my lack of funds for a car, and this gentleman offers me cash. For no reason, he says, even though he doesn't know me. I was aghast, and for the first time EVER I began an amazingly well-spoken IM. I will be posting the entire conversation later, it's just too fucking funny. Turns out, he was offering me five hundred cash for sex. FOR SEX. WITH A TOTAL STRANGER. I must have lost my mind, because instead of blocking sender I proceeded to tell him what a loser he was and how he should get out more often, and his offer increased. I think that maybe the whole IM chatting idea was a bad one for me, because instead of meeting normal people I get bombarded by FREAKS. I swear, I will NEVER talk to another person online without doing a background search. You're all witnesses.
New great place to talk shop on the Island of Whidbey: Gary's Coupeville Video. I can spend hours in there talking about movies and not once get bored. It irritates my friends, but fuck 'em. I never get to talk pop culture with anyone but those heathens I live with. Bleah.
Shit, tha's all I've got. It's late, and my brain is addled from a late-night viewing of The Frighteners. I'm going to sleep face down tonight...
Okay, today has officially won the "Weirdest Day of the Year" award for so far. Check THIS shit out, children: so I'm checking my email, minding my own business, when I get a message from yahoo saying that I have a personals message. Riiiight, like I've checked out that mailbox or changed that picture in FOREVER, but I went and looked nonetheless. It was from some wacko that said he knew me, and that I had to guess who he was. And that's IT. No description, no hint, no fucking nothing. I don't know that many fucking people, so I assumed it was a cheap joke from the shippers and went on with my day, replying with a "whatever", end quote. And then it turns out, it's my ex Bill from like TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO! I have no idea where he is or what he's doing, but he stumbled upon my ad and wrote me. Used my real name and everything, a rare occurrence if you're in my circle of friends. So Bill's all about finding out what's going on with me, GOD knows why, and I'm at a loss for words. I mean, what does he WANT? Last time we talked it ended badly (well, badly for HIM, I was cool with the end product), and I have NO idea where he is. If he's back on the island, I know I'm in trouble. I'll run into him at a bar or something, and I'll end up making him cry or something. Fucking MEN.
And since I'm bitching about men, there's this other guy, whose name I will not mention let's call him Scooby, who just all of a sudden pops back up in the radar with nary a ripple. I mean, it's been two years since I've spoken to him, and now he's online every night and he just feels the need to talk to me. We've hung out twice the whole time we've known each other, and the last time ended badly (slaughtered pig sex with a side of Pooh Bear Sande, anyone?), so once again I'm at a loss as what to say to the little hippie. I mean, what's the sudden interest? He's been online the whole time, I've been online the whole time, what's with the sudden need to talk to ME? I'm not nearly this eloquent in my Instant Messages, trust me. A lot of them kinda look like this:
THEM: Don't be gay
ME: Then gimme my html, fucko. I'm fucking lost
THEM: o-kay, you need off the drugs BAAAD lol
See my point? It's odd talking to someone from so long ago without busting out with the prerequisite AssRag that I normally throw out as my greeting. I'm going to hole up behind this computer till I DIE. Or at least until the men quit noticing I'm still alive. Jesus.
For all of you men out there that I have at one point or another called fat and stupid, well, you're screwed. BECAUSE I WAS RIGHT! A new study came out today
from Boston University that proves that obesity has a direct link to loss of memory and intelligence in men. ONLY IN MEN. It's somethng to do with high blood pressure and the way the fat settles.
Read this if you're a fat bastard to get some information on your new brain loss. And if it makes you feel any better, woman are the number 1 sufferers of earworms. And before you do the happy dance about icky worms setting up shop in your skinny girlfriend's canals, earworms are those songs or jingles that you just can't seem to get out of your head. Men can get over them relatively easy, but woman will walk around with that shit stuck in their brains for DAYS. I'm telling you, there's one person I know whose name I will not mention that still to this day walks around singing an old Eddie Murphy tune about brown sharks in the water. No names, of course.
Favorite book series for today: A Series Of Unfortunate Events, by Lemony Snicket. It follows the truly terrible happenings that ruin the life of the three Baudelaire orphans, and while written for children, still gives me the creeps. I have all of the series, and the new one, "The Carnivorous Carnival", is due out any time. Check out the site and see what I mean.Lemony Snicket is cool. Trust me on this, I'm never wrong.
First of all, NOTE TO SELF: spell check! Oh my god on a pony with spots, did you guys check out how many fucking TYPOS there were in yesterday's blurb? Sweet Green Christ, it's looks like a well-read sixth-grader posted that bitch! TELL ME WHEN I FUCK IT UP THAT BAD, WOULD YOU?
Anyhoo, with that out of the way, I would like to ask if anyone's read the pamphlets that we're dropping over in Iraq for the people to read. They are SCARY, children. Swear to jesus, I would be hiding in a bomb shelter if those things landed on my front sandbox. I'm putting up this link, god knows how long it will work: PSYOPS LIKE A MOFO!!
This is a quick article on what these mind-screwers are doing to shake up the Iraqis. It's a trifle upsetting, even for my twisted self.
And now that that's out of the way, a message to all my shippers out there: I am almost done! The Candra Chronicles, the very bane of my existence AND the light of my life, are coming to a close as we speak! I am totally blown away by the amount of crappy writing that I have thrown out in the last few months, but for those of you who absolutely MUST have your Candra, her cycle of trite and weepy-with-romance stories is almost finished! GOD, that bitch fucked up my LIFE! I swear to god, I'd be sleeping , minding my own fucking business, when all of a sudden I'd get this great idea for something for Candra and her erstwhile cuddlemonkey to do, and I'd have to DRAG my ass out of bed, turn on my computer, and get it all down before passing out on my keyboard. And to make matters worse, half of the shit I write I have to add MORE to the story to make it perfect. Background information, explanations, and continuity are NOT favorites of mine, and now I've got a whole fucking BINDER of things to remember. Bah.
For those of you that have NO fucking clue what I'm blathering about, check out this Saturday's weekly, where I will go on and on about my writing ability (none), my characters (flimsy), and how I forced myself to write love scenes (stilted like a mothafucka, yo!). You'll see. I still love all of you equally.
My phone is still on, 11:41 pacific standard time. Rejoice with me children, you have at least one more day with ME!
The Evanescence cd comes out TODAY! Why are you still sitting there? Fucking go get it, then come back. I'l wait. Go ahead...
Now that you're back, I would like, for the moment, to take you back to a time in my life that I try not to talk about. Someone actually wrote me to ask who is Satan. Now, those of you that are in the know, this was a silly question. For those of you that aren't in the loop, Satan is a man I met through one of my friends. He was sweet, understanding, relatively mature, and he played bass. He was also pretty cute, which led me in my infinte low self-esteem to think I hadn't a chance. And besides, he wasn't interested in ME, he was with my friend. Turns out, he wasn't interested in her, he wanted me, and it took all of one night to seduce my lame ass. I was smitten for exactly ONE day, because it turned out that not only was he best friends with The Guy Who Would One Day Ruin My Life, but he also had a girlfriend that he was inlove with. There are many other pints that I should have thought about before sleeping with him that I will not go into because they are just too horrible to mention, but I will say this: he turned out to be the BIGGEST jerk I have ever met. The BIGGEST. And I have met a lot of jerks. Anyway, Satan was unfortunately embedded in my life like a festering splinter for MONTHS, being the best friend of The Guy Who Would One Day Ruin My Life, who was also my best friend at the time, he was around ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I still hear about him ocassionally, and it makes me ill to think that he preys upon unsuspecting women on this godforsaken island. However, I get the word every now and then that he IS a good boyfriend, when not tempted (by fat girls with attitudes like myself, I suspect), so, maybe he has a chance for redemption. Riiiiiiiight.
But there you have it. "Satan will never be named other than Satan, unless his last name be used in a joke, lest he appear to spread his unholy gospel over the land of I, who is known as Queen Oriana."- Boneheads 2:36
Cross your fingers for one more phone day.
Okay, so I forgot to write a weekly rant. Fucking sue me, I suddenly got tired. Today's not so much a bitch as an informational bit.
My phone is getting turned off tomorrow, so god knows, my darlings, when I will be back. Hopefully not too far away a day will see me writing more kibbles and bits for you, but for now I am merely putting it out that I won't be seeing you for a while. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, FORGIVE ME....
But anyway, I just thought I'd let you know, in case someone here is thinking of sending a letter or actually READING the page. Snootch.
Fucking GREAT. This day could not have gotten much weirder unless... Well, no, that's not right. It couldn't have gotten any weirder. First my dad, who I haven't spoken to since before Christmas, calls me at the ass-crack of dawn to just say hi. We don't usually talk much (he's not one for emotionally-engaging conversation), so today was a treat. We shot the shit for about an hour, once I had finally woken up, and her told me the same thing that I've heard from my mom: your sister's fucking disappeared again. Except in dad's version mom threw her out. Go figure. I don't care which one is telling the truth, I figured if I ever found the little git I'd ask her myself. I don't really talk to my family, not because I hate them or anything, mind you, I just have distanced myself to the point where I am my own person. Sometimes I'm so wrapped up in myself I have delusions that I hatched from an egg, no parents needed. That would be SUPER.
SO I called my aunt (dad's sister), and spent the next two hours chain smoking and discussing how to better deal with what life throws at me. She hates to hear it, but my aunt Marcie is truly the last bastion of sanity on my dad's side. Not the weight of the world, but a fine title indeed. And while I'm on the phone with my aunt, my SISTER calls. About fucking time, so I spent an hour chain smoking and telling her she needs to get some fucking motivation and quit being such a ridiculously poor nomad. She's always on the fucking road, place to place, no money, invisible. Jack Kerouac, she is SO not. I tried to be an adult, tried to tell her that life sucks but you need to move on, and I got blasted by her amazingly LARGE amount of anger. And I thought I had issues with my parents. I take that back, infinity times infinity. I hate being the fucking black sheep scapegoat of my immediate family, really I do. I think it's time to get married and settled down with my own family, one that will be OH SO DIFFERENT from the one I am a part of.
Worst movie on the planet for today: Swept Away, the film Guy Ritchie should never have made. I could go on and on about scripting, acting, choice of fucking ACTORS, but I will zero in on camera movements, just because to go on would take up a whole rant. Madonna's running from the scary italian man on the deserted island, he's catching up to her. The camera guy runs backward IN FRONT of Madonna, so the lens is going updownupdownupdown. It's quick, and nauseating. Then to add insult to my already queasy stomach and burning eyes, the camera guy lets them run past, then jumps BEHIND the italian guy and chases after him so that we can watch the chase. HOWEVER, we see mostly their legs, and the lens goes updownupdownupdown. I swear to Christ Jesus I almost threw up. Of course then, that could've been the dialogue. Madonna needs to quit trying to act, and Guy Ritchie needs to crank out another 'Snatch' if he wants his faithful followers back. JESUS, that was a bad movie. And I BOUGHT it. I gotta start renting again.
If you're going to rent, btw, check out 'Rules of Attraction'. If you liked 'American Psycho' at ALL, you'll like this movie. I watched it twice, but that's because I didn't quite grasp the long monologues in the beginning. It made sense once I caught all the talking. It's based on the book by Bret Easton Ellis, who wrote not only the titular book made into said flick but 'American Psycho' and 'Less Than Zero' also. Read and weep, watch and BELIEVE, my kids.
Happy March! I'm only sixteen days away from severe inebriation, so if I forget that day's posting I apologize ahead of time.
Today the Iraq peoples are destroying their bombs, which did not configure to the proper flight range of the UN's specifications. Give me a fucking break. All this talk about war, and at the zero hour they renege their threats. I personally think that war is wrong in the first place, but doesn't it sound like a publicity stunt to you? I mean, the US govermament gets it's fifteen minutes coverage (more if you're a CNN junkie), and Sadaam gets worldwide attention. I think it's a plot. Or it could be the drugs, I'm not sure, but mostly I think it's a plot. Every now and then I see threats to the peace and blah blah blah of the USA, everyone comes out of the woodwork to state their opinion, then we take a five- or ten-year break. Sounds fishy to me, but then, I really can't say anything more because they have a file on me for the next four years. Bastards. Top Secret, my ass.
For those of you that haven't heard the song 'Bring Me To Life' from the Daredevil soundtrack, check it out. They're by a band called Evanescence, they're from Arkansas, and they're fucking fabolous. And I mean fabolous. Pianos, warbling chanteuses, and meaningful lyrics that just sweep me away. I use a lot of their music for the soundtrack to my Candra Chronicles (more on that later). You can download any song from their first album 'Origin' from any grokster-type site without the beeps creeps and sweeps, or you can buy their new album 'Fallen' out on March fourth. I've already pre-ordered mine from Amazon, why haven't you? My fave song, other than the two already out, is a tie between 'Anywhere' and 'Forgive Me', but they all rock. God forgive me, but I'm finally glad that Arkansas is a state. If you dig Bjork at her peak or the middle stylings of Tori Amos, you'll dig down on these guys. And the singer's only 20! I wish I were so cool at 20! Amy Lee, I ADORE you!
Today's Saturday, which means I'm putting out my first super-rant. I'll see you on the Weekly page.
Okay, so I forgot to publish yesterday. I'm not fucking perfect.
So I spent this morning being thrown up on by a smiling baby. How do you get mad at a child that's covered you in curdy baby mess when they're smiling? It's not that they've accomplished anything, they're just happy to get it up and out. I would be too, if I had that crap boiling around in my stomach. Then I picked up the mail, (nothing for me, thanks) and then I picked up the eight piles of shite that the Satan Dog left for me. One of these days I'm going to leave for her owners to scoop. Really, I can lock myself in this room and pretend I know the Internet for HOURS and just leave the Isle of Dog Poo for her when she gets home. I didn't sign on to be a janitor. It's hard enough for my lazy ass to get up and do the dishes. I can be SUCH an ass rag, sometimes.
The job search is starting to fail, and I'm getting scared. I'm going to run out of money soon, and that's not good. I have a credit card bill for AMAZON.com that is INSANE. But honestly, how do you find a job that requires little to no personal contact? So much for customer service skills, I HATE people most of the time. Looks like the public library is calling my name....
Random song for the day: 'Don't worry, be happy' by Bobby McFerrin. You remember it, it was a slammin' tune. Download it and blast it, it will make you dance around like an arse and you'll feel better. Unless, of course, your roommates catch you. Then they'll either join in with the arse-dancing or tell all your friends that you're a total git.
Second Random song for the day: 'Life 101' by Call Me Alice. You should check them out. They're a San Diego band that's got some SERIOUS issues with the Institution. They've got GREAT makeup, however.
Mr. Rogers died today. I would recommend a moment of silence, but instead I want everyone to do an impression of their favorite Make Believe character. Mine was Prince Tuesday, the virtual epitome of the perfect man: quiet, helpful, sensitive, and of decent hair-length. Too bad he's only like seven or so, but any boy that says 'thanks for coming to play with me' is okay in my book. Fred Rogers was 74, and I aspire to make such an impact on society by that age. Or younger, if I weren't such a dowsy twat.
And then, late last night, while I was taking a much-deserved long shower, I emerged from the steam to find that my after-shower oreos had been munched by the Satan Dog (also known as Princess by my roommates). WHAT KIND OF DOG ENJOYS OREOS??? This is just one thing that she's taken to eating when my back is turned. The rest includes soy sauce packets, baby shampoo, two whole bags of Alpine Mints including the wrappers (she was shitting christmas presents for a WEEK after that), and tube of bacitracin ointment I keep for my tattoos. This week has been fun, kiddies, I wish you could live my life for me. All of you. I live in a bloody ZOO.
Random quote for today that catches my fancy:
"We're ruled by effete assholes, and it's a shite state of affairs to be in!" Mwah.
And so begins my second day on this page. You know, it totally fucking cheeses me off that they'll let ANYONE put up a web page, but they don't answer the easy questions. How am I honestly supposed to do this without knowledge of html? Why won't they show me the HTML, for god's sake? I will admit that I am an amateur, as anyone can see, but this shite's supposed to be EASY, dammit! I swear that my next website will be less because of this mind-wracking experience, and I still have to post my short stories! I mean, consider just for one moment my situation: I have been up all night writing about the further adventures of Candra Riley (for those that don't know, I'll go on later), and then I realize I have to go on HERE and entertain the masses. Simple, right? WRONG! For I, queen of Rantsville, in my infintite-fucking-wisdom, have NO IDEA HOW TO UPDATE! (Sigh) So here I am, making do with what I have, until the weekend. And it's all for YOU, avid reader, all for you.
I have realized, just recently, that 4 AM is the lonliest time of night. Everyone has made it home from the bars, no one has yet awakened to get ready for work, even the pets are blissfully out of commission. When you're up at 4 AM, you realize just how quiet the world can be, and just how quickly you can spill your secrets to the gloom. It's weird, talking to the dark, at least for me, because I have visions of squirrels clapping tiny paws to their mouths up in a tree somewhere in shock. But that's just me. Quick note before I disappear: This weeks rant will probably be something my normal have seen before, a commentary on the hippies that deem it necessary to block the interstate to protest war. Should be interesting.
Okay, so my parents are getting a divorce after twenty-some-odd years of marriage. I'm crushed. Really. However, it's the changes that my mother is going through that bothers me the most. My dad seems to be rather complacent with his new situation, seeing as how he's the one that instigated the divorce, but my MOM has lost her mind. New hairstyle, fake nails, a sudden urge to go to bars called 'The Saddle Rack' with her girlfriends. All that I can deal with, but it's the men that bother me. She's forty-fucking-seven, people! That qualifies as one foot in the grave and one in the convent, as far as I'm concerned, but she refuses to listen to me. So far she's done some crazy shit as far as the opposite sex goes, and I swear to God that I am ECSTATIC that she doesn't tell me anymore. Not that my mother was that interested in hearing about my sex life, but really. I'm allowed to do crazy, adventurous things, I'm almost twenty-four. I have carte blanche when it comes to idiots, morons, and jerks. She, on the other hand, does not. It makes me ill to think that she's that desperate for male companionship. Men are retards most of the time, and being with one of them for too long can erase your identity. Single is GOOD, folks, trust me. I've been doing it for some time now, and I like being me instead of 'so-and-so's girl'. It would drive me NUTS to be 'So-and-so's wife". Maybe it's just me.
So I just finished a movie in my infamously crazy DVD collection, and I must say, I'm amused. VERY amused. 'Galaxina', put out by Rhino Home Video, is one of those hokey gems that you just stumble on in the back discount racks of Suncoast. Starring the always-lamented Playboy Playmate of the Year Dorothy Stratten, this 'android in love' flick is by far the cheesiest flick I have encountered. Released in 1980, the very same year Stratten was killed by her husband/manager Paul Snyder, it is the only film accomplishment that Stratten mad that got tot he big screen. Thank you, jesus. Enjoy the exploits of bad lighting, no lighting, bad music, and tits along with Captain Cornelius Butt, babe-magnet Thor, the rock-eater, and the ultra-babealicious android Galaxina as they travel to Altar 1 to retrieve the most-powerful Blue star (cue music). I was laughing so damn hard I almost puked. I might have, as I was screamingly drunk the last time I sat down to it. Worth renting, but don't buy it unless you're into super-cheese.
Random thought: So I'm watching Jerry Springer today and they have all these women on with one problem: their man is sleeping with someone else. Isn't that just like Jerry? Anyway, I'm watching all these wives and girlfriends giving the guys ultimatums and threats, but not once did I see them blame them. I mean, it's the GUYS who left for the other woman, right? Just once I want to see some chick wait until her man comes and just snatch his ass bald-headed and knock his teeth out. "See how your whore likes you NOW, jerk!" Hehe.
Special thanks to Sabrina Randini for helping me set this bad boy up, btw. I don't know the first thing about websites, as you can tell.
Unknown Gem Type: tlx.tlx.tellyourfriends
|Feelin' Good! Feelin' Fine!
Thanks to the Great Randini for the photo op. Naked pictures of her kid coming up next! (Just kidding, but I DO seem to have lots of pictures of people's kids....)
You got some fucking pictures! Now get off my ass!
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