Revenge of the Ninja Kitty

Moving on up...

2010-06-17T18:15:00.003-04:00

Okay, so this blog is basically defunct, I know. Sorry, sorry. But if you want any information on where to find me now - you know, if anyone checks a year and a half later - let me know by commenting. I have several, but I think I outgrew this one's purpose. I'm not that funny or humorous at the moment. Life's too twisty. Maybe it'll come back eventually.

Meet Contessa!

2009-02-06T04:29:00.005-05:00

This is Contessa, Tess or Tessa for short. She's a Dachshund mix mom adopted on Wednesday. She was born Jan 9, 2008 according to the adoption papers. Which means they probably made that up since she's a little over a year old. She is leash and potty trained. We pulled up and a volunteer was walking "Lilly" (their name didn't fit). Mom looked at her and said "I want him." It's a her, of course, but she's not pregnant and very loving. Wednesday I got tired after bringing her home and we took a nap for 1.5 hours. She and I were cheek-to-cheek. Apparently she's been looking for me since I left. (Aww!) We adopted her from the Georgia SPCA, which was about 5 minutes from my mom's house.

She enjoys playing in the freshly-cut grass. Later today we're gonna take her to the vet and then PetSmart to get some cute clothes since it's getting chilly here. Don't want her getting sick! She's on Blue Buffalo food, since it's highly recommended on not being grain based. We don't want her getting heavy like Wrinkles was. She still doesn't know what to do with beds and toys. Treats are kind of a hit or miss, mostly miss. But she found the Kong with little treats fairly entertaining Wednesday night. Tessa jumps on the bed from the floor, which is no small feat. Mom has high box springs and a nice padded mattress. She's doing so well. Glad I dragged Mama there now. She needs companionship. And Tess is a complete lapdog and shadow. No one gets out of her sight.

I can't wait to see her tomorrow. The picture quality sucks since all I had was my camera, but I'm taking my Rebel over tomorrow to take better pics. Tessa is an absolute doll. And smart! She rode in the back, without use teaching, her leash attached. We didn't have a crate since we thought we'd have to wait a few days. Not so much apparently.

There was an adorable Cocker/Beagle mix that I would have snatched up if I had a fenced in yard. He was only 4 months, but so cute! Eli was simply precious.

Damn it all to pupperoni!

2009-02-02T14:51:00.002-05:00

Well, Gale is off.

You see, for some reason, in the time animal control had her...no one thought to, oh, I don't know, examine her, before placing her out for adoption. So it was quite a surprise that the dog had a pup last night. Right, you have the dog a week, that we know of, and you don't bother to examine it in that time? How the hell do you know they don't have rabies and stuff exactly, then?

If we want to wait on Gale, it'll be two months of my mom being in an even deeper funk. Gale was helping her get over Wrinkles, helping her feel better. Right. So, I wonder, do shelter workers even fucking EXAMINE the dogs? At all? Gale will be living in a foster home during that time and we'll have first choice. Yeah, dude. We've been this route. Mom lost another dog because of puppies through rescue. This is becoming a joke, I swear to god. I'm starting to think that the rescue system can go to hell with all the "unexpected babies." It's really easy - examine before placing. Seriously. Not difficult.

Now my mom feels like shit and I'm pissed off an angry. Fantastic.

Here She Comes....

2009-01-28T02:06:00.004-05:00

So! We all know Wrinkles was put to sleep last July, yes? If not, here's the post. For the longest time, Mom thought she had killed Wrinks instead of setting her free of pain. Recently, about 2 months ago, she started consider getting another dog. I am an aficionado of Petfinder by now; I was already proficient to begin with. She's been interested in some breeds: Havanese Silk Dog, Papillion, Yorkie, Shih Tzu, Lhasa Apso to name a few. She contacted a Havanese breeder, but apparently, you can love a dog too much. For 1400, um, I'd think that would be a good thing. But moving on.

She backed off for a bit then I showed her a pic of this adorable dog named Wilma. Wilma had unexpected puppies and that pushed her date back, what with Bam Bam and Pebbles being in the world and all. Cool. We had 2 months to wait, but we'd be able to. However, I think the receptionist of the rescue was bugnuts. She said a) they weren't taking names or applications - even though Mom had filled one out already, and b) Wilma magically no longer appeared on the website. Personally? I think Wilma went to a friend of a rescue worker. Call me crazy, but it was just too WTF.

Mom was kinda depressed for a couple days and went back to Petfinder. She kept printing out Paps, which is great, but I don't think she'd like to take that much care of the groomer. That's a lot for a 75-year-old woman, let's face it.

So Monday night, she spent the night with me because we were meeting her CPA for lunch out here. Yesterday after lunch we were going to look for animals at Fulton County Animal Shelter while out here, but dude, who the hell can find it? So I said fuck it and went to the one in her home county. Five minutes and she walked out, max. She wasn't into it. So I was pissed because a) that was a bitch to find and b) she wasn't understanding the fact finding another Wrinks was impossible. So I lambasted her. We got back to her house. I was fuming still. I explained why she needed to go meet the dogs and understand that there will be no other dog like her. Finally it sunk in.

Made her get the clothes back on and we went back (again, during the beginning of traffic on a very weird highway that also has two stoplights at busy intersections). I pointed out the one I thought she'd like....the same one I showed her the first time.

We got the dog out and the lady went to see if the dog had any holds on her. She didn't. Outside, we got to know the dog. Such a lover! Stayed in our arms the whole time, except for when she had to pee and poop. Apparently she's house- and leash trained. Such a doll! We put a hold on her and pick her up next Tuesday. Has to get spayed and checked out by the vet first. I can't wait! Mom fell in love instantly. She was a stray that was wandering about. At 2, the dog is a Chihuahua/Dachshund mix.

Afterwards we went and bought some basics (rain jacket (with duckies!) and sweater), water & food bowl, food mat, leash, harness, toys, shampoo & washing glove, and beds. Oh! And food and treats. She's gonna be so lovely to have around for my mom, and my instincts were right. I know her so well. I can't wait to meet her personality. Got a doxie body with a dox muzzle and one ear that goes up and one down. Oh my gosh. I can't wait to have pics to show you.

The name choices so far are: Charlie, Chloe, and Maya. More to be added as I look for soft, feminine names. I need to look them up this week on homework break.

My former BFF also found her German Shepherd mix puppy there, too. She goes home today.

Now! The interesting part. Our Animal Control moved in Sept 2007 to this great facility that has 33,000 sq feet. It has a bigger area for the K-9 unit, a barn for livestock, and a spay/neuter facility on hand. That means you can find an interesting mix. On the first visit, looking out the back of the dog's viewing area, I looked up and blinked. Really, really blinked. Why would that be, you ask? Glad you asked!

There.Was.A.Mid-sized.Bull.Calf.Out.Back. Talk about freak out! I was a little leery, what with the calf having the horns already. Apparently, it was theirs now to find a new home for and caged in for now until the pen was ready. I still gulped. A lot. And there were two men outside with him. Strange men. I was freaked out, still.

Asshole, star of the next Batman movie!

2009-01-18T00:10:00.004-05:00

Okay, so he's baaack. I haven't given him a bit of attention, been thinking but not acting on him, and what happens? He calls me. I never did answer my phone, or call back. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What the hell can I do? So I get curious, because he only wanders over to me when the A and B girls dry up.

Snooping, I go read his journal entry on LJ. What does he talk about? Babies and scary dreams. *sigh* Question answered. Dude, I'm not a human incubator. Go. Away. I haven't blocked the number, really no cause since I don't answer.

But here's what I've done since unceremoniously deleting him. Ready?
+ Deleted him from my private journal entries.
+ Blocked him from actually being able to comment on said journal.
+ Do not answer any communication. (Seriously, hello clue, much?)
+ Don't keep up with him at all.
+ Asked my mom if I can borrow a male relative to go kick his ass.

*sigh* I don't wanna be a Grade A, kick your ass and eat your balls bitch. I'm trying my best. But he's really not making it easy. I'm not a damn rabbit, so stop playing chase.

(Post title because I'm catching up on Gail Simone's awesomeness with Birds of Prey. Yes, yes I am a geek. For an explanation of breaking the fourth wall, I came up with: Ferris Bueller, Saved by the Bell, Deadpool, The Boy from Oz, and Doctor Who all on my own. Oh, yeah. Geek girl.)

I can't wait until my best friend T comes to town for Dragon*Con. God help him if he crosses her. *grins* Girl-o will bust his ass down...then call in the military for a little back up. *draws hearts all over T's internetness*

And the Asshole goes on...

2009-01-04T07:03:00.003-05:00

So, yesterday, Asshole called. I was asleep, purposely avoided the phone, and ignored the message until 13 hours later. Now, you have to admit, that's some serious restraint. But mostly 'cause I'm beating my head against the wall over the 11th Doctor choice. Anyway, so I listened.

"Hi this [Asshole] just calling to wish you a Happy New Year."

What the fuck? I blocked him from my other journal entirely. He's not on my list and I banned him. I just want him to go. away.

I'm gonna have to get shitkickery. I don't want to. I really don't. I don't like being the best bitch this side of Sunnydale for no good reason. I might be Queen Jessica, cousin to Queen Cordelia, but damn. Even I need a break.

Attack of the Cat

2009-01-02T23:33:00.006-05:00

I hope everyone had a good New Year's. Mine was fairly uneventful, which is the way I like them. No resolutions because I never make them past the first week. So, whatever. Tomorrow I need to hit the grocery and post office.

But that's not the point of this post. I realized the other day that I hadn't introduced my latest cat.

In October, after I moved here I decided Noelle needed a playmate. A single cat can be destructive after all. So I looked on Craigslist, selected a cat. I could have chosen a purebred Ragdoll (so close!) but decided to take a Ragdoll/Siamese mix. A mix I think is dead wrong, for the record. I think she's a purebred Snowshoe.

So, I got her a week after I moved in, after my mom went home from fracturing her nose. She has talent, that one. Anyway, so the cat arrived with the name Bindy. I promptly decided to change it. For the next five days I tried out over 30 names, and it wasn't until after the doctor visit she answered to Teyla. As in, the character from Stargate Atlantis, which is ironic since she's not nearly as calm as the Amazon queen. But the name stuck so there you have it.

Here's her story. Her original owner died and a cousin took Tey, locking her in a back room during the time before they move. They feed her nothing but wet food. No dry, which meant the week after I got her was...interesting. The smell was there, oh yeah. She moved again, a couple months later - making her second move - when they changed apartments. So just when she settled into the new place, in the daughter's bedroom, they left and a family member came in and rearranged everything. Meaning she was feeling less than secure. They let her run around a little at least, trying to give a little exercise.

Finally she arrived to my house, and dear lord. The cat is fat. She was fifteen pounds. Fifteen pounds! Eesh. After about two months she lost just under half a pound, and I'll consider this a good thing. She has teeny little legs. Think miniature dachshund. Occasionally she'll decide to lay with me for a couple hours, so long as I don't touch her too much. She's real big on hissing and trying to eat me for dinner. But it's okay, we're working on the whole trust thing. You move 3 times in about as many months, see how you reaction.

She came with a cat tree and she lives up on the perch up top. It's probably about 4-4.5 feet or so. She loves mini Pringle sour cream and onion chips. Doesn't get but one crushed. Doesn't care. She knows that I'll show those. She also likes Fruit Loops. Has her own pillow, next to mine, so she can look out the window during the day. Loves to curl around the boob area. It's the best place ever in the morning apparently. She and Noelle are not getting along, but whatever. They'll work it out. It's only been about 3 months. That sort of thing takes some time. I stop all the big fights and I'm trying to stop Noelle from attacking Tey when she's in the litter box.

Now, you've heard about it...so let's see her.

(Click on the pic to see bigger pics. If you look at the sets, she's under Teyla. Obvious, I know.)

The Adventures of Asshole

2008-12-28T00:15:00.003-05:00

So earlier today I was getting ready to shower to over to my godmom's when Asshole called.

Why? Glad you asked!

He has created a board game that's actually sold a fair amount for an independent. And he wanted me to test out with people. Right. Haven't heard hide nor hair for 2 weeks, since he called me anyway. His first statement? NOT "Hello." No, no. Not this asshole. It was "So I'm looking for people to test out [name not given because asswipe doesn't deserve the publicity.]." Right. I'll just take that time right now.

"No, I can't today. I have to go to my godmom's."
"What about Tuesday?"
"Can't. Doc appointment."
"At 7pm?"
"Then I have to go to my godmom's." Liiiiiar that I am.
"Oh, okay."

Then I, being the confused that I am, keep talking but stop mid-sentence after telling that my stepdad's coming over to fix my apartment a bit. I was tired of carrying the conversation and it was only 2 minutes in. Instead I decided to spend the next ten minutes starting a sentence, stopping, and letting it hang. He couldn't carry a conversation with me. Me. I'm like the easiest person to talk to because I have a wide variety of topics.

And the oddest thing he said? "Happy showering." Happy. Showering. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

Ho Ho Ho!

2008-12-25T01:03:00.001-05:00

May all your dreams be merry and bright.
(And may no one get snowed in again.)

Merry Christmas.

Well, shit. That hurts my heart.

2008-12-19T19:56:00.004-05:00

Yeah, see this is why Asshole is called Asshole.

He pursues me for almost 2 months. Meets me. Suddenly I'm not his cuppa. Because hey, I'm fat and don't look like an an anime character brought to life. Or that's what I'm assuming since he never said a damn thing about it. Look, asshole. If I can overlook the fact you play D&D like it's the end of your world, you can adjust. You had no problem telling me how every way you wanted to fuck me before you meet me now didcha?

Disappears for a fucking month. No note, no letting me know. Turns out, he was in Berkley/San Fran to see family. Okay, whatever. We weren't even dating, much less a relationship.

Calls me when he gets back. First time in like 6 weeks. Oookay. I talk to him. Stupid, stupid me. Since I haven't heard from him since.

Finally updates his blog about his vacation. Learn that he had another girl in his bed for 5 days recently. Didn't make a move. Supposedly. Which, I actually kinda believe because he's a chicken shit. And then he apparently went on a date with someone else. Please note that when I kept saying I'd go on a date with him, even point blank, he ignored it. Before he met me. And still tried to hook up with me. I'm not a piece of ass and I'm not for sale.

Fuck it. I'm tired of this shit.

I'm gonna be celibate forever. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as that kind of disregard.

Some days just hurt

2008-12-15T00:31:00.001-05:00

I've been reading a ton of urban fantasy/paranormal romance. Like, Amazon owes me some money or something for all the business I do. (Please, publishing houses, make more shifter books. I don't care about vampires half as much as I do the dual-natured. Primarily because I think every single person is dual-natured, with animal tendencies in us when the need arises. Otherwise, statements like "She's like a mama bear protecting her cubs with that kid" wouldn't exist.) However, it's made me realize a couple things about myself.

One: I can't settle.
The main things I've seen in all the shifter books is the alpha male. Occasionally an alpha female shows up, but mostly not so much. It's made me realize that I couldn't settle for some weak-willed guy. But I don't want that domineering man, either. Pretty sure I'll end up alone because there's no happy medium for me. I won't be submissive, in way shape or form. I grew up living under people's thumbs. I'm finally out on my own now. Living my life, and submitting to someone's demands or will? It would break me. I'm broken inside, in so many ways. I'm not the most emotionally stable person around. I'd drive a man insane, utterly. That combined with dominance is a bit of a problem. I'll follow, if it's something I have no interest in. Meaning if someone in a class group wants to give out orders, that's fine. I'll stake my claim on the topic I want and then just do whatever. But I don't follow when I feel like the person in charge sucks at it. I've been known to take control if that's the case. Or do all the work and gently tell my teachers what's going on later. No point in burning bridges unless you have to.

Two: Magnetism isn't everything
I'm pretty magnetic when it comes to attracting attention. Ironic, really, since I'm 5'1, so beyond past the ideal weight, and not your typical fantasy material. But I'm still magnetic. My godmom calls it this magnetic force. No matter where I am - be grocery, restaurant, or school - people always talk to me. I don't understand it, and I usually forget about it, but lately, I've noticed it happening more. It's not necessarily a bad thing. It keeps me from becoming insanely surly and rude. I'm naturally a light, happyish person, and my personality is coming out more since I moved out of my godmom's, but it's not that damned different from most people. The thing is, no matter how magnetic I apparently am, I still can't seem to keep anyone around for long. Or I'll have a guy (ahem, let's call him asshole, shall we?) that comes in and out of my life, whenever he feels like it. I won't hear from him for a month, and then I'll get two calls a week. It's very random. I had to pin down a location to meet the idiot. Whoever said Emory graduates were smart lied like a two century old rug. I'm socially awkward past the flirt stage (natural flirt, for the record, since I'm never aware of actually doing it on purpose). I don't know, maybe it's chase. Fuck if I know. But I can't keep anyone interested. Or. If they are, I'm a friend and nothing more.

Three: I don't trust
Pretty simple, really. I don't trust. Or rather, I superficially trust. I'm an open book, for the most part, but I keep a lot of inner self back. I have to. It's just...mandatory. Most people never look past the bright to see the dark, and I honestly like it that way. I don't want people to be able read my moods so easily. That only leads to disaster and pain. True me, I'm well acquainted with the concept. I stopped blindly giving trust by the time I was 16 and my mom carelessly told me that she had to convinced from everyone under the sun to not abort my ass. And made me understand why I'd been punished all my life for something I had no control over. For the record, I apparently made her not go out and get coked out and drunk. I want to trust people, but I doubt it'll happen, not fully. I'm more inclined to wait for the other shoe. Childhood habits never go fully away. They're ingrained, part of your behavior pattern. I learned a long time ago that eventually everyone will screw you over. But it doesn't mean I don't need people around me. Not like a party - I hate that kind of crush - but just someone that gives a damn about me, even if it'll end badly. I need that contact. It keeps me relatively balanced. I don't need to talk to people all the time, or much of anything else, just occasionally. Keeps the darkness at bay, for awhile. I don't mean depression or anything, but more...like, a darkness that seeps in from time to time, if I'm contemplating too much. I prefer to forget my childhood and teenage years when I can. (You try being 18 and facing a very probable mental breakdown, after stopping the first one around six months earlier. According to my mom, however, I had an absolutely spectacular childhood and only created the drama; I wasn't reacting and then surviving it, at all.) It hurts my heart less.

I had a longer list, seriously. Like, more than Heigl's character in 27 Dresses, but my head started hurting way too much. It's kind of like...self-preservation. Needless to say, I'm just one gigantic contradiction. Add that to the list, would you?

I live!

2008-09-26T21:36:00.004-04:00

Okay, I know it's been months and months. Sorry about that. But I've been mad busy with school (finished summer semester with a 3.0) and this semester I'm taking Astronomy with the lab. Which means physics. Which means I'm thoroughly fucked. But I haven't forgotten the place.

Other news, I'm now 27. Turned it on the 12th, and so far it's been a GOOD year. I've got my own apartment starting mid-October, which is awesome. It's 600 sq feet, shotgun style, and it's all mine until December 2009 (longer lease since I'll be in school). I've got to do some painting the first week, so I won't move in proper until the next weekend. It'll cost about 968, counting utilities. I'll have to pay for my phone and cable box (extended basic comes with the utilities, and wireless). It's a triplex of an old 1930s bungalow in the city.

Since I got my trust, I've gone a little crazy but I'm curbing it now. I got a better wardrobe, to get a job with. It's necessary to look nice. I refuse to discuss the buyout of Merrill Lynch by Fuck Me Over America. Refuse. And my main account for everyday is under threat, too. Fantastic. Really.

I went to Dragon*Con this year, but mostly used it as a vacation. I was so tired and sore I couldn't stand it. So I mostly slept. Saw a few famous people peeps. Went to a few interesting book panels.

Other than that, let's see. I'm working my ass off to get into Georgia State by spring. I hate our political choices this season and I'm not voting for either. I'm gunning for Mickey Mouse myself. I need to do absentee next week. Like I give fuck on who wins. We're fucked with the government spending either way.

Ooh, and before I forget, someone wants to date me. Hot damn. He's an IT guy - I think - at Emory and very nice. We'll see how that goes, but I hope it goes somewhere. He makes me smile a lot. And I get a giddy feeling when we talk or email. It's just...nice. He contacted me the same day I got the apartment. Hot damn.

I think that's all on the updates, well important ones anyway. Hopefully I'll be back fairly soon. I've been balls to the walls busy.

Over the rainbow

2008-07-27T21:19:00.004-04:00

Wrinkles
(9/16/1995 - 07/27/2008)

We made the decision to put Wrinkles down. She had diabetic ketoacidosis after throwing up for 2 days. She couldn't even take water without vomiting. Her sugar was off-the-charts. The doc thought she might have dementia along with all her other problems (blind, deaf, arthritis, diabetic, inability to stand for more than 5 minutes, had to use the wall as guides to go wherever, and had no sense of direction). At nearly 13, she had outlived most pugs. It was a hard decision and hurt like hell, but it was the right thing to do. I just wish I didn't feel so terrible.

Mom thinks she did a lethal injection, which she really didn't. She stopped a creature from being suffering. It feels so weird to be in the house without hearing her. I was petting her as the pink cocktail took hold. Petting her as she died. I just. Yeah.

I live like a living thing!

2008-06-13T12:57:00.004-04:00

I know, I know. You thought I had disappeared forever. But! I got my own Mac. Hell yeah. My money finally came and I got the Mac to take to school. On the bonus side, I got a iPod Nano and Printer for free. The only thing they forgot to tell me was to get an Airport Express. Oh, and the people can't follow the proper steps. My mom had to pay for it. Don't worry, I paid off that part of the bill that night, but it was very embarrassing. At least it wasn't my account, though. T'was them. I called my people the next day and after some major investigation they found it wasn't me.

By the way? Love My Mac. God, this thing is so much easier and quicker to boot up. I'm keeping my PC for things like Photoshop until my one for Mac comes. I need to get a USB mouse, too. *draws little hearts all over the new shiny*

Also, I really like Kate Voegle's album.

On a non-computer note, I'm going to Dragon*Con this year. I was going to go out of state but with prices rising and the dollar not being worth spit, I don't think so. I'm going to stay in a swank hotel and spend my money locally. And I'll still probably come out cheaper.

Failboat Supreme

2008-05-22T03:08:00.002-04:00

Okay, so let's discuss how STUPID my damn aunt is, shall we? Because she is dumber than dog shit. Actually, both of them. You see, I was expected to get my inheritance....oh, by now. But my aunt D (for Dummy) who wanted to buy one of the items is dragging her ass like whoa. She's flaky as hell, and a recovering alcoholic that analyzes everything to death. D, she's had thirteen months to decide. This is not a recent development. She still hasn't. So the rest of us are shit out of luck until she decides.

Now my other aunt who I'll call M (for Moron) is in charge of the trust. So what is she going to do? Wait until after this weekend to see how this latest sale went and then D will decide. Yeah. Because why not round that bitch up to fourteen months. It's not like some of us desperately need that money or anything. If D doesn't buy it, then they'll put it up for sale in November and distribute the money we have now. Yay? Look, y'all. I'm not a financial adviser or anything, but I'm pretty damn sure if someone hasn't bought the painting now, then it ain't gonna happen. It's gone up considerably in price, so let's sell and get the money. Stop letting D drag her feet.

This is why I don't talk to these people. I don't handle utter bullshit. And that's what this is. There's been trouble since this thing went into the family hands. I'm ready to roll up and go do some ass beating. Just saying. And passive-aggressive reactions is not cute, either. And I've received a couple of those in the emails.

I need a drink.

Schoool's Out...for Three Weeks!

2008-05-13T18:47:00.003-04:00

Final Grades for the Semester:

Intro to Soc - A
Intro to World Religions - A
History I - B
Math 98 - B (not counted)

Overall GPA: 3.66

I made the Dean's List, bitches. Dean's List. I've never been on that, in all my years at college. And I pulled that out the past two or three weeks of the semester. I worked my ass off. I studied so hard. And I pulled out that. My mom is crowing and gonna brag to my uncle, whose kid was always on the Dean's List at GA Tech. Hell yeah. I'm smart.

I think that calls for a shopping spree in a couple weeks. I damn well deserve it.

Kiss. My. Ass.

2008-05-01T21:53:00.003-04:00

You know it's bad when we make Detroit look well-organized. We have a mayor that's truly bad at math. She's horrible at it. Her proposed budget is so backwards it's pathetic.

Because jobs aren't important.
For once, I'm all for violence.
Short and sweet.
God, I hate this woman.

How the hell do you have a 140 million dollar shortfall? Look, I just passed my math retarded classes. If I can manage to see the major issues, then she damned well should. So to be a politician do you need to fail 3rd grade math?

We're in the top 10 for foreclosures. People can't afford a 300k condo, so what does people do? Keep the prices up when the cheaper homes are flooding the market. This is not NYC. It's not. We're a big town, but we're not that damn big. Lay off a ton of people, and those tax hikes will be even higher because of waves of barely making it people leaving the town. This is not difficult. People who are laid off can't afford the 40 million tax increase. Hello? God, the stupid is astounding. Someone needs to make her a Pie Chart of Doom, like the one that in the JKR vs RDR lawsuit. Christ on a battered and dipped cracker.

I'm seriously considering having my godmom not move into the city if prices are gonna skyrocket. It's not worth paying so much on a condo.

grumble grumble

2008-04-25T02:57:00.003-04:00

Fastest way to kill a crush?

Find out he's 20. And you're 26.

Damn it! I have a new rule. If under 25, everyone should be required to wear a damn age tag. He graduated high school...two years ago. I did eight years ago. *sigh* Age tags. I swear.

I don't date second graders.

Just Another Trying Thursday

2008-04-17T23:54:00.005-04:00

This post will be short and sweet. You see, I have to get up and go to a mosque tomorrow for a school project. If I don't go to a different place of worship? I fail. I don't want to fail.

Now, onto my day. So I ordered my medicine before going to bed, but I have to wait because of they have to get the prescription refills. Fantastic. I was down my thyroid meds. This did not bode well for the day at hand.

I wake up at 12:30, after a whooping six hours (damn insomnia), and then drag my ass in getting ready for school until 2. And of course I must look my best because I can't look bad for CB. (More on CB in a minute.) So I get to Arby's for lunch before school. Eat in the parking deck at school. Go to get out of my car, have issues because apparently people don't understand that sedans need more than five inches on either side to open a door. So I get out as the guy next to me is coming to his car. Only, I have to drop my bookbag back in the car.

Out and waiting for him to go, I figure it's about time for CB to show up, so trying to not look like I'm looking for him. Then I try and open my doors. Then the other three. Of course, the doors are locked. Why not? Between bargaining with God and kicking the crap out of my car, I'm crying in frustration. For the record, I don't cry so I must have been upset. In between, I notice that CB gets to class. That does it.

After asking someone in the building I was supposed be going to class in if I could use their phone and getting declined ("No, I'm sorry. Try the security office.") I make my way to the Student Account office. (I was not walking to the security office, since I have to cross two lanes of school traffic to get there. Hell no.) I call my godmom, freaked out. I have to get the second set of keys, and they're with her. The problem? I have the only car between us. And it's hers.

So she has to get my mom to come bring them to me. And mom lives 20-25 minutes away from our house. In total, I wasted 1.5 hours. That means I missed my entire class because I had to wait outside to see her. Fantastic. No CB for me. So finally get into my car, thanks to mom driving forever, and have to show her how to get out. I go to Starbucks, because damned if I haven't earned it, and what do I find out? My Discover card is somewhere in the great blue yonder. Fine, I use my Capital One. The one I had earmarked for my tuition bill.

Finally I get to back to school, and the classroom door is locked. But CB ends up arriving, so fuck it. The door is unlocked like 30 minutes after I get there, and my prof shows up. (Poor middle-aged guy has kidney stones. Ow much?) I get a chance to ask CB about what I missed in the first class, since we have both the same Tuesday and Thursday class schedule. I tell him about why I wasn't there, and such. I learn he's noticed I drive a sedan (surprising because I didn't think he was paying much attention). This pleases me greatly.

CB stands for Catholic Boy. Crush that keeps on crushing harder. [CB's a Roman Catholic which explains the name. I know, right? I have the weirdest taste since I don't believe in the whole Jesus Our Lord part of Christianity.] It wasn't until like two weeks ago that I noticed he kept talking to me for stupid stuff, like he makes a point, and I'm going "hmmmmm" after I was vaguely jealous he asked about another girl in History. So not my typical type.

However, y'all know that movie The Cutting Edge? Verbal foreplay. He likes arguing. Gee, who else do you know that likes that? But he's still adorable. On Tuesday he was stealing looks in the computer lab. We were katty-kornered from each other, and I was busy drafting out a paper for Religions and he was doing a paper on The Ten Commandments for the same class. I had already done mine on The Ark of Truth, an SG-1 movie, because I'm that cool. Self-admitted geek, I told him so in History. Then he and another guy get into an argument about Star Wars. Yes. Star Wars. He lost all credibility about agreeing with my geeky assessment. That'd be about the time I wanted to plant one on him, but I'm not gonna in class. And I don't date classmates. Too much drama involved.

Because I Rock, Damn It!

2008-04-03T04:51:00.005-04:00

This is why I kick all kinds of ass.

I don't have to take this bad boy. Basically, I had to go through some stupid, two semester wasting classes because of the placement exam. Woohoo? But it's one less test to deal with in a month. Go me, go me. It's the math portion I was in. How damn. I win.

Now to stop crying over Farscape's Peacekeeper Wars. Because dude. Bad-fucking-ass watching Aeryn Sun fire the weapons. What? Claudia Black is totally hot. As Aeyrn or Vala. And Ben Browder is fucking hot in leather. Yes, please.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

2008-03-27T03:55:00.004-04:00

After a lot of soul searching - isn't that what twentysomethings are known for? - I decided on my career path. I'll be 45 before I get it all done, but I will get it done. I've gone through a lot of choices in the past, latching onto something I think will help or give me a decent living...but nothing really made me go "Oh, THAT! Yes, THAT is what I want!" Well, except for being a vet, but seriously, me and math are enemies. Science is a bitch, too.

I was perusing college sites, trying to find something, and I stumbled across the best fit for me, ever. It's got all the elements I love, and it's something I've accidentally been internalizing forever without realizing it.

My choice? Classicist, focusing on Roman History, preferably the reign of Emperors. The crazy mothers like Caligulia and Nero. The ones that are so twisted (hey, that sounds vaguely familiar) that they are remembered for their atrocities. Now I don't like things like crazy people killing people for random fun, but how can you not find a man that makes his horse a Senator fascinating?

I've always excelled at history, at studying the past in order to understand the present and future. To know the roads that mankind's walked and how and why it died out. I love it, so much. I could read books on it for days. God knows the History Channel's in my top five, no doubt about it. Especially the ones on the looking into ancient times.

I plan on getting my PhD in the area. I'll have to find a good college for that. I'd go to Emory, but seriously, just emailing the head of the department, asking how I should begin, like what I'll need to know later on to succeed in that specific area, I got brushed off. Bitch, please. It costs an arm and a leg and ain't the only pony in the world. I'll figure the rest after I get my Masters. I figure I'll spend a couple years in Italy, so maybe I'll study past that. Either way, it's the perfect field for me. Until then, it might have to be something like Ga State University.

Either way, it'll be a long while until I get to that stage. But I'm finally focused. Everything just lined up. And god it feels good to finally start in a direction. Now, to work on my religious beliefs. That'll take just as long, I think. Because as hard to believe as it is, I'm quite opinionated and find fault with most of them. And combine different ones, too. Bit of a problem, that.

Zionks!

2008-03-14T18:29:00.002-04:00

Scooby Sue, where are you?

ETA: I'm fine. The Atlanta tornadoes hit downtown, not the suburbs. Good thing we don't live there now, isn't it? It's insane, though. MLK Jr Blvd, Omni, Peachtree, Dome, Congress center. That whole area is fucked up. The Arena has sheet metal peeling off it.

Articles: AJC's take, Fox 5, ABC affiliate. (Note: I say tornado, because that's the best guess. No one actually has a clue yet.) 19k without power right now. Including traffic lights. Trust me when I say that here that's the equivalent of NYC not having any. The way the city's set up, there's no specific grid. All service personal (officers, EMTs, firemen) were called in to help with the damage. One person here compared it to the Olympic Bombing.

Photos
Centennial Park
Billboard
Atlanta
Downtown
During Mississippi-Alabama game
Omni Hotel
Don't fall
CNN Center
Water main break in Congress Center
Stack Lofts at Blvd
Lofts again. 5th floor is gone (being renovated). 100 year old walls blown out.

Confused

2008-03-12T03:48:00.002-04:00

I don't just mean in a particular sense. More like a pretty much constant state of awareness. I don't know why, and I'm half afraid to find out. But the other half really, really wants to know what I'm so mixed up about. One of my LJ friends posted a meme about describing yourself in twelve words or less. I came up with some, but mostly, I tend to keep my better words close to the vest. I'm the most open secretive person ever. I've gotten to be quite good at it. Pretend you're a completely open book, and no one digs under the surface. Great plan for group domination if I do say so myself.

Still wish I knew more about what makes me a little turned left when the rest of the world is going right. Make one less thing on my to do list.

Damn that was sexy...

2008-03-01T01:31:00.003-05:00

I don't know how many people have been keeping up with JK Rowlings' lawsuit against Steve Vander Ark and RDR books, but it's pretty important. In the wide scope of things, and the smaller. The basic fan entitlement in HP fandom has inspired me on more than one occasion to request that some spy come swipe the more egotistical fans (hello, Cassie Claire, Heidi Tandy, and Scribbles) off the internet. Not death. Just...off the internet. Where they'll no longer be allowed to try and pretend being popular online does fuck all in your offline life. Yeah. And HP has got a shit ton because of the size and different divisions. Of course, all fandoms have those divisions, but most don't have the same scope and size. So that's going on, all the time. God the wank and drama could have kept the Titanic floating into harbor.

Okay, back on topic. So, the basic idea is that the Harry Potter Lexicon, a very well-known and supported website, was edited to be written up as a published book. Now, in fandoms, one law is this: don't try to make money off copyrighted material or you'll be eating out of a tube for a couple years after the massive smackdown that will accompany it. When Buffy was still on the air, Fox sent out a lot of cease and desist orders. Though the Fox case was very unfair, since the internet community is what draws in more interest, and Joss Whedon was all for it and even posted on the official forum, but it still holds that talking and exploring the canon is what keeps people interested. Just check out any fandom on LiveJournal. People migrate and take their friendslists with them. How the hell else do you explain Fall Out Boy otherwise?

SVA, because it's shorter than the moron's name, has decided that after JKR said no to his own, or working on one in conjuction, to print it out. And he went to this no name publisher in Michigan. Which all you Michigan people might wanna hide your face in embarrassment. No, seriously. SVA, a middle-aged fanboy in epic portions of Star Wars standards, has been compared to Elvis. Oh, yes. And as one community I'm on says, it only works if it's drugged out, fat Elvis. It sure as hell isn't the cool one. And that's the more tame versions. He's been asked about it in the past and has publicly stated that if he had/did not obtain JKR's permission, one would never arrive. Except that was a total lie apparently.

I'm not a fan on lawyers, just not. Sorry. But I want buy JKR/WB's lawyers enough drinks to float all of JKR's money on a barge around the world. Because they are just that damn awesome. See, I have issues when authors start to get nervous because their fans turn out to be horrible people and try and take away well-earned profits. Can we say hell-to-the-naw on that? Good. We just did. RDR needs to just shut up, let it go, and admit defeat. You can not print an encyclopedia of work without citations, or almost exclusively all JKR's words (be it verbatim or paraphrased) and expect to get away with it. You can't. Sorry. So I'm all for SVA getting 500 lbs of Get-The-Fuck-Out-Of-My-Fandom shoved up his ass and make him walk funny for a long time. It doesn't work in college, and it's not going to work in professional life.

Fandom is my downtime. It's where I can squeal and giggle or rant up a storm about something I happening on a show or in a book series. It's where I can write up what I was missing from the source, or what I think was missed in an effort to condense. There' s also friendships. I've made many a friend through fandom, and several I would consider my best friends that I've met offline as well. It's more a society unto itself. And there are some very basic laws. If you go against them, you're gonna hear about it quite loudly. Self-policing is working wonders for the most part.

JKR is not Anne Rice, meaning she does not belong in the sanitarium with the Riddler from the 3rd Batman movie. She does not beat down anyone that disagrees. Nor does she forget those awesome things called paragraphs. She's given Lexicon an award for the dedication and work. Just like she has six or more others. It has nothing to do with giving them permission to print her copyrighted, non-public domain work as their own and profit. That's actually the number one of fandom behavior, I believe. And the sad part is that SVA has fans. I didn't see it, but remember when Jar Jar Binks came out? Yeah, the frothing people who hated him have more intelligence than these yahoos. Seriously.

I am just amazed at the stupidity of people taking SVA's side, when he's clearly in the wrong. Just because she's extremely rich does not give them permission to profit off of it. Hello, if you want to make money, write your own damn stories. There's a difference from critical analysis and copy/paste. One is fostering discussion, and the other is a reference material.

In case you're interested, here's the Justia link where you can find out all the documents we're allowed to see. I truly can not wait for this royal smackdown. When you're playing in someone else's sandbox, you don't pee in it. And I will positively have this lady's offspring. Because damn that was hot. Almost as hot as JKR saying SVA wasn't a fan. God I love intelligent smackdowns. Especially declarations that basically call SVA a pompous windbag. One should note that he went for quite a while not updating anything, and part of that was through RDR's orders. I know before the 6th book came out, most of the larger sections had barely any information past the fourth. (Poor Ginny had no information for her awesomeness in Book 5.)

One Jessie Dead On The Floor

2008-02-29T01:52:00.003-05:00

I've had a pretty busy couple of days. Saturday until Sunday afternoon, my godmom was throwing up for 18 hours. Then we called 911, and they took her to the hospital 12 hours in the ER (4:30pm - 4:30am) and she was diagnosed with having gallstones. That means she has to be admitted. That means I can't leave the hospital until 6am. I have class at 3:30. Surgery was talked about, and they said they'd call to let me know when. I got a whopping 2 hours sleep that night (because that's SO good for the diabetic. Really.) I was getting ready to hit the road to see her when they call at 1. Surgery's at 3. That's right. Two hours notice. I send off emails to my profs, saying I'm sorry, but a family emergency came up and I need to be there since I'm the power of attorney.

Turns out she had rotten gallstones. Bladder's gone completely. So that's out. Her surgeon was the same one that worked on my diabetic abscess about four years ago. And oddly enough, he remembered me. Well, it's not every day you work on a 22 year old's ass in the child's section because you can't wait to hit the OR. Just saying. Anyway, so she wakes up, and my mom mom and I are waiting for her. Mom Mom's been there since I was. She stuck around and was more than a little awesome.

When the anathesia was wearing off, combined with the morphine, was a funny thing to witness. You'll be glad to know the nurses all wanted to kill her. So while I went to catch me some real food (I had eaten pretty much entirely cafeteria food the day before and it wasn't settling well) and do some errands around the hospital, she sat with her. Apparently they had a good time, which is good like you wouldn't believe. I hate it when they bitch each other out. Mom mom really stepped up and did what she was supposed to. I appreciated it.

Mama came home Tuesday, thank goodness. See, I had midterms Wednesday and Thursday. So I was glad. Only, I show up to both my classes Wednesday, and guess what...there's a test! In each one! Ones I hadn't even tried to study for. Wasn't that fabulous? I know, it was so thrilling to know. I'm just hoping I passed them. Okay, let's back up a bit. I didn't know I was going to have the tests, since my teachers had it on the list but as of last week, hadn't even made a peep about them. Fail, teachers, fail. Actually, double fail, since they never emailed me back. Thanks assholes. Because I clearly needed to worry about if I was going to be okay, or not, in class.

Let's hope I passed, but I doubt I did the math one. That's why I need reviews. Stupid fucking teachers. Stop being lazy damn it. Learn your courses, and know how to read the schedule you created. Ugh. Anyway, so I took the tests.

And today my history wasn't talking about it, but he was talking about early Christianity, since we were discussing Rome. You know, call me kooky, but I don't think it's good to put people on the spot like that. Just saying. And I took my Religions midterm. I'm hoping I passed it. I really, really do. I think I got all of the multiple choice right, and maybe partially on the essay, so that should be totally passing. Dunno the percentage of that one. Oh, that's right. 25% of my grade. Yeah, exactly.

Tomorrow I get to go do errands and next week? I totally get the opportunity to read like three books on American Muslim women, watch Little Buddha for Religion. I need to type up my history notes too. And all this while taking care of my godmom post-surgery and do some errands with her. I'm going to be very tired between doing everything. Not to mention figuring out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my history paper due on March 20th. Which is like the week after spring break is over. Again. Worst group. Ever. Though, my ass has an A in the class, so you know, I'll be charitable.

Someone wanna give me like a bottle of vodka and OJ, so I can pretend the week won't happen.

Now I go off to bed so I can do some homework this weekend. Reading a lot of books man. I have to write a note page on it for class. Well, one of them anyway, since it's a source notepage. This man is not normal. I'm just saying.

Politics and Gender: The Blown Up Recipe

2008-02-24T05:19:00.004-05:00

Ironic, really, that I've never noticed the misogynist slant of the media until a woman ran for President. Personally, as a woman, I don't believe anything that comes from EITHER candidates mouth. I did vote for Clinton, though. Because, silly me, at least I'm realistic enough to believe that Obama is too green, too fevered, too ambitious to actually do any good. Do I think Hillary would best? Absolutely not. Do I think she'd better than her opponent? Absolutely. This will be my third election to vote in, and I've missed *one* primary. I've made all the other ones. Even the crappy local ones. And I have to go across the county to do it since I'm registered at my father's house.

I'm not new to this idea of voting. I did not fall off the turnip truck. But for some reason, it seems like the media will pick up and slam a woman harder than a man, no matter if it's a presidency primary or a schoolteacher.

For once, outside speaking about Bush's rule, I'm ashamed to be American. Because if you're a female, you better prepared to be scrutinized down to the number of dogh airs on your suit, and if you're male, well you're lauded. At least in this race. More's the pity, too.

Instead of looking for things to attack because nothing else is available, how about you find something REAL to complain about? Something that's not over words, but actions?

Hey, America, here's an idea: grow the fuck up, get over your goddamn iPods, and figure out a way to repair what's messed up for everyone in the next four years. And, please, for the love of God, stop fanpoodling! This is not the cute boy next to you in chemistry, or the hottie from the latest string of movies. It is not that light-hearted. Look, assholes, I hate to say this, but it needs to be said: the next four years depends on more than "he looks good in a suit!" or "she's got that cool school marm thing going on." Seriously. Just shut the fuck up, and start paying attention.

Comments off this post because I try my damnest to avoid politics in this blog. Mostly because it's a hot button issue and I'm not going to argue, since compromises never arises from discussion of it. But I'm so damn tired of reading everything being against one candidate because she's female. And before you ask, just click on most articles and read them, and see that any action she takes is being held against some god-like standard, while he's gotten more people spouting off about him because he's young. Guess what, everyone was young once and youth rarely leads to extensive helpful experience.

I've never thought of myself as some disadvantaged. I've been raised not to. After all, I'm not in a racial minority. Except looking around, it's been depressing as hell to notice that for all the strives my foremothers have made, I'm still not quite equal. And sometimes I wonder if I ever will be. History sure as shit is showing it's unlikely. After all, how often has Aristotle been quoted about women, and how often has it been implemented? Too many to count. And that's a crying shame. Aristotle's the man that created some of the very foundations we still use today. So how far have we really come in giving the other 50% the rights they deserve in the same way the other 50% does by luck?

(The quote, for those that are unaware goes like this: "A woman is, at it were, an infertile male. She is female in fact on account of a kind of inadequacy." There is also one on marriage that again places the wife in a very low position. "The association between husband and wife is clearly an aristocracy. The man rules by virtue of merit, and in the sphere that is his by right; but he hands over to his wife such matters as are suitable for her.")

Hot damn

2008-02-18T01:44:00.001-05:00

CBT demo.

(I'll explain the rest of my weekend later.)

Random fact of the day

2008-02-12T04:24:00.000-05:00

Before I was diagnosed with diabetes, I was scared shitless of thunderstorms. I don't mean little rainy ones, but like the rolling thunder and lightning strikes half a mile way types. And I will curl under the covers in my bed, with a book, pretending it's not happening to this day. That's my version of what I did when little, and used to hide in the closet. In our old trailer, I had built a specific place in all my junk to protect me from the scary stuff, and I could give a sliver of light from the opening sliding closet door to read with. Every house had a safe place in the closet for me, no matter how cluttered or disorganized it was. This is the first place to my knowledge that doesn't have one.

I also slept in closets when scared or really upset until I was about 20-21. If I was panicking, or felt like I needed to be protected, I would sleep in them, no matter the size. Tubs, too. What's funny is usually don't like tight spaces, but sometimes they made me feel better.

I kind of which I still did that. I miss feeling safe.

And I'm still half-scared of the dark. I always have a low reading lamp type deal on at night. Even at 26.

This Ain't Mayberry

2008-02-09T05:58:00.000-05:00

Why is it that romance novels, the cheesy Harlequin kind that I adore for so many brain-light reasons, make me think about who and what I am?

I was reading one of them, that I have to take back to the library later in the afternoon, and I started to analyze myself. Which is not unusual, by the way. The only rule I truly have about myself is this: don't lie or sugarcoat about myself. I don't. I've seen that done all around me, because of the people around me, and it doesn't end pretty. That's probably why I'm harsher on myself than anyone I've ever known has been or could be.

Anyway, I'm babbling. So, I got to thinking about it and I realized that I'm another paradox, or whatever you call a person. Ya see, I'm a optimistic realist. Yeah, think about that for a minute. Here's the breakdown, though: I know I can't singlehandedly change the world. It's just not possible and never will be. Because the world is made up of far too many fractions, societies, geographical regions. You name it and it'll end up as a problem. But I can change the world around me. So I'm pretty damn cynical about those in charge of changing the world, mostly because they're only human like the rest of us, so they're looking out for them because no one else will. It is the law of the land. Forget that other crap. It's look out for your own ass, or no one else will. Hey, I had to learn something growing up, didn't I?

But the thing is, I think I can change and make my world better. It might take a couple decades, or most of my life, but it is possible. My world, the one that is cool enough to center around me, is changeable. That's the optimistic part. My life may royally suck 99% of the time, but that one percent exists and I can use it change some of the other, make it suck a little less. That's another thing I learned growing up.

I'm telling you, I was the wisest ten-year-old anyone had ever seen. Which is scary when you consider it. I didn't have much of a childhood. I had moments, but it wasn't exactly the Cleavers. Actually, scratch that. Those people scared me. It was more like Roseanne meets Jeff Foxworthy meets Grace Under Pressure meets Married with Children. Tell me that's not a weird group. So, I'm saying that I started out with the wisdom I've seen 40 something year olds lack because it becomes ingrained to absorb and internalize common occurrences, and the only people that survive learn from all experiences. Which explains my crazy ass weirdness. Also why I forget that I'm 26 and regress to somewhere around 16 at times. Sometimes I wish I could take back some of those experiences that I skipped over because I had to be the little adult that could.

I just thought it was funny to realize I'm the only optimistic realist I know. The world, the all encompassing one, is a grey block of junk, but I can at least put a little color and light into mine. And for me, it works out well.

Dun Dun Dun.

2008-02-06T00:50:00.001-05:00

I voted earlier. Of course I did. I may be cynical about the political system, but my family has the saying of "you don't vote, you can't bitch" and damn it, how can you not bitch about the political system. I got up extra early (read: before noon), went and voted, had an hour to kill so I enjoyed my lunch before heading to school extra early (read: 1.5 hours). I got a lot done.

So after history, my group is going to the library, right? And dude, just dude. I'm the only one that's done any research. Our presentation? Due on Thursday. I was so damn pissed. But! I was done so they got to research while I relished in watching them figure out how when I already had. Go me, go me. Of course, I think they're using Wiki, so you know, I worry about my grade. However, whatever dude. I did it. That's all I give a flying shit about. They have to put the presentation together anyway.

Now, I go to bed. Since mama's sick, she finally decided she's had enough of the plague and tomorrow I'm going to try and get her a doc appointment. She can't even sit up without dying of coughs. So you know. Then I go to class. Go me.

Before I head to bed, I need to finish out my chapter of Night Season. I should be reading my Sociology book, but damn that thing is boring. Tomorrow I finally figure out what I made on the test last Monday, too. Oh! And we watched the video about KoKo the other day. I already knew just about everything. I love getting the chance to be smug. ;)

Run By Posting

2008-02-02T23:06:00.001-05:00

Good:
I passed my math test with a 90. Not bad for me. Woohoo. Must find out Socio test grade. Skipped Wednesday. Vomiting snot will do that to a person. Also am on antibiotics so I'm not death warmed over. More like death slightly reheated.

Bad:
I'm on antibiotics. In case you're wondering why that's on twice, it's because they make me feel like my insides are trying to crawl out of my skin. It's a tad...different. My mom's sick, though. I'm playing her nursemaid now. Not too bad, really.

Ugly:
My stupid history team! Seriously, people, it cannot be that hard to clarify what you mean when you give me a freaking subtopic: "changes in Japanese-Chinese writing until 1500." Yes, because that's helpful! I have no info for them, even though they have mine. Grah. WTF, people? Contact information is essential when the presentation due Feb 7th is 20% of our grade. I want at least a B damn it. THREE hours looking for books in the Georgia university library system, and most of them aren't at my campus. I kinda hate these people now.

Also, I have to read at least 59 pages in Socio by Monday. Read 20 pages for Religion by Tuesday. Make up a stupid brief summary thing using the Chicago style - which, let's side bar and ask who the everloving crap uses that style exactly? And how do you make it function?! - about a book I haven't read yet because the library just got it. So you know, I'll be perusing Google and looking to see what the book is about. Yeah. Dude. I also have to read about 20-30 pages for History for our regular classes and make a freaking summary for extra credit, but I might skip it. Because fuck it, my plate is full.

All that by Tuesday for the most part. Good lord almighty.

I haven't read up on everyone's posts, but I hope Sue's mom is fine, and that everything turns out awesome for the family. Excuse me, I need to go read a ton of work now. I'll be back when the world starts spinning on it's southeastern axis that hasn't been discovered yet.

But! Before I go, I need to do a quick little woohoo for a writer. I've been really impressed with her work, and you'll see the name attached to my sidebar of websites. Eileen Wilks is on Kelley Armstrong level with me. Which, is like, I don't know walking up with the writer gods in my estimation. She's just that good. I could see the worlds meshing in some in-between alt world and working. Because the writing is that detailed and just. Grah. Awesome. Eileen writes werewolves, which, YAY, because I'm not a big vampire fan. I love werewolves more. And she's such a nice writer. She's not pretentious on the 'net, very down to earth and pays attention to what the readers say. That's a very good gift to give readers, because it makes them want to read and absorb everything said. I have Night Season sitting on my nightstand to read Thursday night. Even if it's gonna kill me to wait that long. Just. Yes.

I hate you Winter! Hateeeeee!

2008-01-29T03:29:00.000-05:00

I'm sick. I hate being sick. Why? Because I turn in a whiny bitch that would make Kanye cry in shame. Yeah. Exactly. And I had not one, but two tests today. I blew off studying for the math. But the sociology. Oh, the soc. Dude, if you're gonna write a review, you might wanna PUT IT ALL ON THERE. I'm just saying. Good lord. Half the test was on research methods and he took a grand total of 15 minutes to cover that in class.

Oh, class. Okay, we've been in school roughly 3 weeks. Since the 7th. And out of the six or so classes: we've had the first day where you don't learn anything, two days of a movie, and one day of review. Now, that would sound like a lot of class time. But that leaves a whooping two days of discussion of an entire chapter. And they're not done not back to back, but in between the other things. Yeah, exactly.

Dear teachers,

The electronic age is not your babysitter. Okay? Got it? Good. If I'm paying, or the Pell Grant's paying, an assload of money for me to attend, I would actually like to learn something.

No love,
Your irritated student.

My religions teacher is same damn way. I have major education rant coming up when I'm not hacking up a lung and kidney while discharging snot at an alarming rate.

Now I'm going off to bed. I'm tired, damn it. And my eyes hurt. And I can't take a damn thing over counter because I can't have antihistamines, and Mucinex DM puts me out for at least 12 hours. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be a fun battle. I also can't take cough medicine. Gag reflex. I took phenobarbital as a child, and I physically can't swallow liquid medicine anymore. The aftertaste would be something like mixing Robotussin and tequila. Yeah, imagine that for a kid 11 months to 6 years. It was fantastic, lemme tell you.

*whimpers*

I'm going to crawl in my hole and die now. Night everyone.

Not Agaaaaaain

2008-01-20T01:31:00.001-05:00

Here it is. Snow. Again. We had snow on Wednesday and now apparently on Saturday. I'm wondering if we'll get it on Monday. Though, I really don't wanna miss classes on Tuesday since I missed it on Thursday.

A little background. It started snowing sometime between 3:30 and 4:30 Wednesday afternoon. It was during my first class in any case. I thought "screw it, I'll go home." Got about two minutes from campus and decided to go back. See, I don't like missing class if possible. It tends to fuck up my learning momentum, and it's hard for me to get back into the swing of things. So I go back for math class, and we do one whole section. We got out like 45 minutes early. The little snowflakes I saw before math had covered the ground in massive amounts. The line getting out of campus was insane. Seriously, it was like traffic hour on 85. Which for those of you not Atlanta born, that means it's like trying to find a parking spot on Black Friday. Yeah, exactly. Except that's every weeknight.

Anyway, I managed to scoot around and use the back way I discovered by accident earlier last week. So I get in line, with a stoplight no less, and I'm like "screw taking Peachtree Industrial." The line was so massive to just turn, and no. I go to Buford Hwy instead. Now, going this route is not a favorite way for me. It's in a kinda seedy part, and hello, single girl rolling through. But I finally get to the highway, get in an lane, waiting to turn.

The light changes and everyone starts to turn, because hey, turn light. All of a sudden I see brake lights ahead. I slam on my brakes but still tap into the guy in front of me. By the way? I have this high pitch scream-squeal every time I get in an accident. It's so girly and sooo not me normally. Now, the problem with this is that those of us that were turning...were still turning! Oh, yes. Someone about four cars in front decided to just stop while trying to switch lanes. Because clearly you need to do that when no traffic is in the other lane since you're leading both turning lanes. I pull over to the other guy, completely freaked that I've fucked up his car, while driving my godmom's car, and on her insurance. We're at a closed car dealership, because you know, snow on the ground (another reason it was a fantastic idea to just stop in the middle of a turning area) so everyone's at the store stocking up on toilet paper, bread, and milk. Don't ask me, Southern thing.

I get out, check my car and his and am visible happy that I didn't even dent the car. Seriously, when you're going a whopping five miles, not going fast there. I knock on the window, make sure he's already (he is), and then he wants my insurance information and name. I hand it over and go back to my car to get out the cold weather. The guy gets out, checks his car, and I'm just babbling about why in the world someone would just stop in the middle of bad weather to merge in a lane when no one was going past them (a common affliction, I might add). He writes down his address and phone number saying that it doesn't look like there's any damage but he needs to see in the morning. I agree, get the info he's written down, and we take off. See, we didn't even need the cops. Go team me. I didn't want it on my license, what can I say?

I get home explain it all to my mom, and kind of live in shell-shocked land until I fall asleep about 2. What? I was worried. I decided then that fuck it, I wasn't going to class. I don't care what I missed. I took the day off, worrying if his car had any damage. My mom calls him up and asks about 6 (talk about a day of torture), and it turns out that other than a teeny tiny paint chip, you can't notice he'd been hit. So I'm off the hook! Damn right I'm a good driver. After that I felt so much better. Like loads.

That was Wednesday/Thursday. Today I looked out and saw the scene you see in the pic. Sorry about the crappy photo. I guess it was something with the lights that did the weirdness. But yes, photogenic proof that Atlanta can in fact get snow twice in one week without it being a blizzard.

Randomness was her name-o!

2008-01-15T21:50:00.000-05:00

6 RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME
1. I put alcohol in almost everything I cook, especially white wine.
2. I learned to swim when I was 1 and jumped into the deep end of a pool.
3. My first cat was a cowkitty named Jerry. Growing up, I thought Jerry was the name of cat instead of Tom.
4. I adore reading urban fantasy, which more often than not ends up shelved in romance because of publishers desire to sell even when it's the wrong genre . And no, that doesn't include the Anita Blake series. I like more plot, less porn please.
5. Growing up, I had a huge crush on JTT. JTT being Jonathon Taylor Thomas. Aka Randy from Home Improvement.
6. I collect anything with dragons, unicorns, bottle-nose dolphins and orcas on it. I always wear a dragon silver ring, in an effort to protect myself. Fire always facing out to the world.

Arrrrrrrrgh, real monsters!

2008-01-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

School started. Am exhausted. Am nuts. Have 4-5 classes. Might exempt one. Course includes "How to use Email." Can actually do that, and make it whistle a jaunty tune about pretty redhead.

Going to bed. Resting up. Looooooong semester. Group term paper in History due in March. Link anything important.

*tumbles into bed*

Jessie's Rules of Driving

2008-01-03T02:31:00.000-05:00

I have a slightly severe case of road rage. Hey, I admit it. I cuss a blue streak, all the time, even when I probably should clamp my mouth shut. I invent words for when I drive. I can't help it. I drive in Atlanta. Yeah. Atlanta. And all the outlaying areas, since that's where I live. And let me tell you, I've decided there should be rules in order to not tempt me to go run someone off the road.

Rule 1: Don't go 15 miles under the speed limit in the passing lane.
See, this confuses people, I think. I've decided about 90% of the drivers do not actually understand the passing lane is for passing. It is not in fact for making a second slow lane. Hell, when the granny driver next to you on Wednesday (Old People Day) is faster, you have problems. If you have to go slow, move over to the nice lane that's creeping along like a slug. Can't miss it. It's the one blowing past you. And if you're afraid of going too fast, there are these nifty inventions call speed signs that tell you what the minimum limit is.

Rule 2: If lost, don't cut across three lanes of traffic during rush hour.
Seriously, don't. No, really. Because your ass will end up like a feet up armadillo. This is why accidents happen, people. Well, that and Rule 1. You see, if you miss your turn, it is just as easy to go to the next street or exit and turn around that way. Yes, it's a bit of a pain. But hey, at least you won't be singing off-tune with an angelic choir, okay?

Rule 3: Don't attempt Spaghetti Junction if you're not from here.
Again, it's a really bad idea. You see, that place makes the natives crazy. And some of us are born and bred (okay, not a lot, but a few), and we get lost. If we get lost, there's a high chance that you'll be doomed. Read those signs that tell you how the traffic levels are. Because they will come in handy. And if you're like me, you can take back ways home, and can avoid people like you.

Rule 4: If you have to use a phone, pull the hell over.
See, I can be flexible with this rule. If you can drive with one hand, more power to you. But if you're doing Rule 1, then those us attempting to not get hit because we have to slam on the brakes every two minutes reserve the right to knock you into next week. With a metal bat. I'm sure it's fascinating discussing who's wearing what, where you're supposed to be for your job, why your grandmother puts ketchup in spaghetti, but I really could give a fuck less. I'm more concerned with not banging up a nice car because you think it's cute. I drive with my phone. And I talk for all of about a minute, and then I get off. Because hey, I like not being upside down from someone speeding up behind me and not being able to stop fast enough.

Rule 5: Don't think you can navigate Atlanta roads, especially the 75/85 exchange.
Look, it's like Rules 2 & 3. Seriously. Except it's ten times worse because of the location. Right at 14th street, the crazy shit happens. As soon as you see the Varsity sign, you know you're gonna be in trouble. So stay in the middle lane. It'll branch off and you can go either 75 or 85 North. It's a lot easier. Trust me. Crossing something like six lanes of traffic because you're on the wrong side isn't cute. And, again, you can easily turn around and follow the little green signs.

Rule 6: Don't cut people off.
Seriously, just be aware of the cars around you. It's not difficult. You're surrounded by a couple tons of car on all sides. Use your mirrors. Don't cut someone off unless you want to die. Especially if you're anywhere near what was Techwood. In fact, if you're not from Techwood and you're close by, just drive away. Seriously. Trust me. It's Techwood.

Rule 7: The roads are insane. Embrace it.
We have some whacked out streets. Just ask Peachtree, which changes names a couple times, within about a mile. Oh, and about that. Yeah, you know, it's best to ask a local about the road names. Because I can think of two major roads that do that, besides Peachtree. One being Roswell, which becomes something before it's Piedmont. And there's a ton of side Peachtree roads and streets. Make sure you know which one you're talking about. Because West Peachtree is not the main Peachtree. They are two different streets. For one thing, West Peachtree only goes one way.

Rule 8: Pay attention the road!
If you are in a SUV or minivan, have at least four loud kids in the back, on the phone and smoking a cigarette, you shouldn't allowed on the road at all. Because you need at least one hand on the wheel. Seriously, it's not a hard concept.

Rule 9: Rules can change at my whim.
I reserve the right to change and edit these rules, depending on the mind-numbing stupid I see daily. And I will, trust me.

It's Weirdest Time of the Yeeeeeear

2008-01-01T01:59:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year's, everyone!!!

Here's to 2008 being better than 2007.

P.S. My boobs are about to fall off it's so cold here. Welcome to Atlanta's temperamental weather. Not funny, Mother Nature. Not funny. We finally get some decent rain and it gets so cold that the 30s feels more like 10. Fabulous. Methinks I'll be staying in so my tatas don't end up on the sidewalk, looking all egg- and flat-like. On the plus side, at least it's not hot, so they wouldn't fry.

And A Cow Says Moo...

2007-12-30T02:36:00.001-05:00

I was reading Alyssa Day's blog, who incidentally enough has four pugs, and was struck with the idea of making this post. So, I wanted a happy one. I haven't had one of those for a while, and hey, we all need a little happy in our lives. And lord, that sounds like a soap opera come on, doesn't it? Oops.

Birds of a Feather
First up is a picture of my mom and Wrinkles. I love love this pic because they look so much alike. Which is pretty normal for them, actually. I see this look a good bit when I walk into the living room and they're sitting on the chaise. Like owner, like dog.

Who Lived In A Shoe
I love her little grey mask. It used to be completely black, but around eight it started to grey up. Now it's more grey than black, and it's just so cute on her. For some unknown reason, I love the little shit. She takes her shots without noticing, eats like a ~~pig~~pug now that she gets chicken mixed in, and as ornery as she is, I wouldn't trade her for the wide world.

I'll put up some of Noelle's Christmas as soon as I finish transferring the last of the pics onto the computer. You should see her little cubes and how much she loves to go through them, confused as hell as to why it's a nifty pass through and lookout point yet has absolutely no height to them. She's not the brightest bulb, but she's my little nimrod.

Fly Away

2007-12-28T04:59:00.000-05:00

Well, this won't come as a shock to anyone who has spoken more than two words to me before, but I'm a cynical romantic at heart. Ah, I know. They're kinda opposites. Actually, there's no kinda about it. But I am very much someone that wants others to be happy (unless you're stupid enough to land on my 'choke on shit and die' list). I don't mean happy in general. I mean bone-deep, beyond content, looking at the world and feeling like they can do anything...with someone by their side to help when the tumbles and scrapped knees appear. What can I say? Mush McMushy on the inside. But that's not to say everyone needs someone. Just that it's nice to have the chance to share and not bottle stuff up because no one else is around to hear it. After all, friends do have lives that don't revolve around you.

But there's the cynic part. Where I don't think personally I'll find it. I know I've probably discussed this before, but hell if I'll look through the posts to find it. But the thing is that I still cry when I see certain movies, like that Leprechaun one. I also cry at the episode where Will on Fresh Prince meets his father, who ends up tossing him aside for other reasons. I've subtitled the episode "To Hell With Him" after that ending scene. I'm a complete and utter sap. Seriously. Though, I laughed my ass off at Beaches, Terms of Endearment and Titantic (Dear Rose & Jack, you're both dumbasses).

So I get this great big gooey crying fest going on every time I happen to run across certain movies and scenes. I've stayed up the past two nights to see the Leprechaun movie. Which is odd, because I really need to be asleep before 6am, but I can't seem to stop myself. Sometimes you just need that crying fest. And the chance to just enjoy the sappy. And I could quote the scenes to you. It's one of the reasons I can't hate Sci Fi entirely. They give me good mini series to watch (seriously, did anyone else watch Tin Man?).

It's no wonder that I enjoy fandoms, because I can read and enjoy the stories (while ocassionaly scoff at the really bad fic). Kinda like planting myself. Hey, at least I don't write Sue inserts anymore. I consider this progress. But the really good writers can make you feel that you're in the scenes, watching them unfold. The same thing with movies. A really good mushy scene is more than really bad dialogue. It's the emotions. Which is probably why I cheer on Frank Sinatra's character in Young At Heart, even though he's an ass.

Hey I'm not totally shallow girl here. I mean, hot boys (and a few girls) are nice. Really nice. But it's not everything. It doesn't make me connect with the characters, and want them to have a happily ever after. Does make bad movies more enjoyable, I have to admit. If only Jessica Alba didn't look like a bad peroxide job half the time, I might finally put her in that category. Well, her acting isn't what's keeping me interested. Ahem, sorry. Tangent rant.

And now that I'm done babbling, I'll be going to bed. Vacation and Christmas posts coming up in the next couple days. We're finally catching up with everything after Wrinkles. All I'll have left is one load of clothes to dry. We had like six.

Classified under D for Dumbass

2007-12-26T14:35:00.000-05:00

Gee, it amazes me that people are upset when a zoo animal gets out. I kinda wanna choke a bitch, a lot of them, when that happens. Why? Because, dude, we're caging them like they're a fucking stuffed animal. Hey, dumbasses, any time you go near a wild exhibit, you're taking a chance. Just because they're nice one minute, doesn't mean that we can't upset them more the next. God, the stupid in the world is mind boggling. Especially since they shoot the animal. Hey, here's an idea. Let's shoot the stupid motherfuckers that taunt the wild animals behind the glass.

There are parts of Atlanta Zoo I don't feel comfortable in. Namely the gorilla exhibit. There's too much free roam space that the gorillas can hop from one place to another. Sorry, but I like having a sense of security and some self-awareness. I know that the gorillas could throw a fit and throw me eight ways to Sunday. It's a fascinating concept, self-awareness. I wish more people used it.

If a dog or cat can attack their human, and they're supposedly domesticated, then so will the creatures we plucked from the wild in order to "conserve" and mostly gawk at. Not complicated, folks. I'm sure something that would be pretty much isolated if people didn't have the urge to sprawl and claim land, fucking up the planet, isn't going to be too keen on humans. We killed the animals to damn near extinction. That doesn't mean we get to play gawk at the freaked out animals. Nothing likes to be put on display, poked and prodded at, dealing with strange people all the time, to be annoyed by sticky fingered people that insist on tapping on glass or screaming bloody murder when they spot the animal all the way at the other end of the enclosure because they've had enough.

Sorry, the dead and mauled get no sympathy from me. If you aren't aware that a wild animal, caged or not, is just that then you deserve to be bitch slapped by them. Locking them up does not domesticate any animal. It only stresses them out more.

I weep for humanity.

From The Bottom Of My Heart

2007-12-25T02:56:00.000-05:00

Don't you dare make this place domestic.

2007-12-22T02:31:00.000-05:00

So the vacation post will be coming when the world calms the fuck down for a minute. Until then, I have more Wrinkles news.

You see, because God has such a fabulous sense of humor, He's given Mama and the dog the same ailments. Until now. Oh, yes. There is a bigger joke out there now. You see, the senior pug is now a diabetic. That's right, for all you reading comprehension skilled people: she has the same disease I do. That also means we get to give her shots twice a day. She's on Vetsulin now.

Because, of course, the vacation from hell has outreaching tentacles of WTFery. Fantastic!

It's a snow time...

2007-12-20T22:41:00.000-05:00

I have so much bullshit to write about my vacation from Hell, live and in stereo. Kinda, sorta. Okay, maybe not. But the point is that in the next couple days it'll be posted. I'm trying to catch my breath, since we've gone from WTFland to GTFOville back to WTFland so often that I'm seeing internet terms in my sleep.

But! There was one awesomely bright spot. Ninja Kitty loves and adores me right now. Actually, more than that, really. After being gone a week, she's keeping a close eye on me. Making sure I'm not leaving her again. Which, of course, I won't. Not until Spring Break (more will be explained on that in the long post of doom). Speaking of which, Misty Dawn, could you post the cut tags for Blogger? I know Livejournal's (who are now owned by a Russian company...haha! We ran SixApart's dumbasses out), but this isn't the same one. Though, I think Brad works over on this company now.

I missed Noelle so much. And she actually gave kisses. You have to understand that she rarely honors humans with that. Because we clearly have cooties. And I got to snuggle with her. And that's the first time....ever, I think. This is only the third time I've been away from her, and the longest. Most of the time it's Labor Day weekend.

I love my little dork. So very much. It's been two years since I got her. Well, was on Dec. 8th. It doesn't seem that long, but then, I can't remember all the parts of my life before her, either. Sometimes it's just nice to have something that you can love unconditionally, and they return the favor. And that's why I will kill and bury a bitch for hurting an animal. I do mean that too. I have plans, people. Devious really should have been my middle name.

Road Trip To Hell...

2007-12-16T00:32:00.000-05:00

A picture of Marineland, Florida taken on 12/15/07.

Okay, so we left for Florida on Wednesday. All happy and ready to enjoy our vacation. We had about six hours sleep each the night before, so after I got us through the Atlanta traffic, I went to sleep in the backseat. I was just that tired. And my mom drove from about Jonesboro to Tifton. And then we had to stop. Why? Because our dog was having a heat stroke. Two hours in. I broke about 8 different traffic laws finding the local vet, on I-75 no less. I was aching for a ticket, but I didn't get one. Thank god.

I found the vet, and a good thing, too. Wrinkles's head was lolling to the side, and her tongue was turning purple. Let's put it this way. It resembled a chow's. The techs, who have never seen us before, rush in to save her. We're scared to death since she's 12, and that's old for a pug. She couldn't hold her stool, or walk. Literally, she could only crawl around. So, we're waiting for the vet to get there (it was lunch break), and in the meantime we're freaking out more. Thinking what kind of crackpot clinic did we land in. Mama's thinking the dog will die, and I'm holding out hope she'll live.

So they have to put her under anesthesia because she can't breathe, even with oxygen. We hope and pray, and leave when they suggest it since the dog had shitted a bit on the seat. And my jeans. Oh, right forgot to mention that. I look down and there's a big spot of shit on my jeans. And I didn't even care. I washed them off a bit, and then worried about the dog. When we had to get gas, I stopped and changed. Tossed the shit on jeans because if we ended up taking the rest of the vacation, who wants to put that in their car for seven days. Good thing they were my Wallyworld ones.

We find the recommended car wash and they wash off the seat and vacuum it for fifteen bucks which was good since the seat couldn't be used until it was cleaned. So we kill time with that (pre tossing of jeans), and then go get the gas, where the jeans came off. And after that, we were like "you hungry?"so I asked the attendant a good place to eat at. See, we hadn't eaten since about 10 and it was close to 4 by then. Yeah, I was brilliant for a diabetic, wasn't I? But we had been dealing with Wrinkles and the ER trip since 1:30. We park into Ruby Tuesday's three exits up and I notice that we missed the phone call from the vet. She's stable for now! And we can come see her if we want. We leave the restaurant (hadn't even made it in), and rush over. Puppy is awake, but groggy. They're in love with her, no surprise, and she's handling it okay. Which is awesome since she's never been in a kennel before. Oh, and they need to take some blood.

They're going to keep her overnight, so we need to find a place to stay. We go back to the restaurant and get some really good food. My dad calls and I'm filling him in on the events leading up to it. After awhile, the manager, who helped with mama's dairy issue choices, recommends the Holiday Inn next door.

Okay, it seems awesome. Except not so much. The curtains are like see through, and there is no heavier fabric to keep it dark. But okay, we can handle it. It wasn't that bad. Not really. Just, weird since we're on the bottom floor and everyone can see in. We had unpacked enough clothes and stuff to last the night and didn't cart everything in. We had said if the pup didn't make it, that we were turning around. No need to go on vacation while in mourning.

The doctor calls around 6. The bloodwork came back fine, very well in fact. They were surprised since the age of the dog. Go team us. And no, the pup doesn't have her vaccinations, because of severe allergic reactions. I mean, she shits and vomits for two weeks afterwards. And at that age, it's just not worth it. We're told to call in the morning and we'll see if she can go.

The next morning we're out the door by 10:30, ready to pick up the dog. There's a Starbucks in the parking lot (like literally it was about 20 feet from the motel), so we go get some pastries and coffee to go. Then we go pick up Wrinkles and while still groggy, she's okay. We're told to not use her harness unless absolutely necessary and to chuck the travel harness out since it was cutting off her air supply. Mama rides in the back with her, like she always does when it's her turn. And the total vet bill for oxygen, fluids, anathesia, eye drops, antibiotics, and general stuff? 236. Yes, that's like a fraction we were expecting. For all that, including Pill Pockets, and those are about 10 bucks. We wanted to take these people home with us.

If you're ever in Tifton and have an emergency, I fully endorse Quailwood Animal Clinic. The people are awesome. They even handfed Wrinkles chicken. We usually just feed her Purina Beneful (something the doc actually endorsed, too), but they spoiled the hell out of her. But Quailwood is like top notch.

We make it to St. Augustine, finally. In about three hours or less. I'm a speed demon and I can change lanes like no one's business. I mean, hey, I learned to drive in Atlanta. I can handle any traffic combat.

I'll continue the motel adventure tomorrow. This is already a book. But the moral of the story is that Wrinkles is fine.

Gub,gub, gub!

2007-12-09T05:00:00.000-05:00

I'm falling into the pit of addiction. Someone throw me a rope, would ya? My head's nearly sunk, and frankly the pit smells funky, since all those other people are in it, too. And I think someone stole my shoe and gave me a potato sack instead.

Oh, shit. I think someone just farted. Good lord. Halp! Halp!

Just Another Second Childhood, Thanks

2007-12-06T23:40:00.000-05:00

Okay, I know I've been MIA. Sorry, I've just been playing with my new crack. Well, it's an old one that I used for like two minutes before abandoning because I kinda wanted to hop in someone's pants, but anyway. Ahem. I have a confession to make:

I play Neopets.

That's right. The game made for ten-year-olds is now my obsession. I'm not quite all there, am I? Ah, well. At least I can play with my little stupid pet that has a petpet. *grins* So if I've missed, oh, say about four days reading the blogs? That's why. I'm catching up now.

In other news, I have a 91 in my math class, so I can pretty much bomb the final and still pass with the required C. Woohoo. And I got my Regents Test result, which is a Georgia educational requirement, and it was really, really good. You need a 61 in order to pass, and I got an 83. That's the reading comprehension anyway. Not bad, really. Almost 20 points higher. And I think the points go up to 99. It equals out to an 83% rounded up. Considering I wasn't even reading half of what was asked, I think I can comprehend what's going on.

On the writing test, the scale was 1-3. A 1 is failing, meaning you couldn't write if your life depended on it. A 2 is passing, the minimum, and is pretty average. A 3 is publishable. You have an hour to write about a topic that is given to you (there's a choice of four). There is three pages you have to fill, and you can skip lines (and is actively encouraged). I skipped lines until I got about to page three and realized I was going to run out of room so I stopped skipping lines, which is also allowed and encouraged. I received a 2, which means I passed both sections. That means I kinda kicked ass.

~~Now, to go to bed. I'm so tired.~~ Or not. I meant to add that Pug Mom, your tat looks really pretty.

Rome on the range

2007-12-01T21:34:00.000-05:00

I decided to buy Rome, instead of the mini series I wanted, because it was only 31.99 a season. (Never mind the woman behind the curtain waving away the fact she hasn't actually seen the show before, ever.) Now, that's way over my usual budget of 20 bucks, but it's normally a 100 a season and I like being thrifty. Anyway, I buy it, all excited because, hey, I could have like 30 new episodes or so to watch. Only, not so much. You see, season 1 has a whopping 12 and season 2 has 10. Why? Because HBO and the BBC's dumbasses don't know how to cut corners on budget and a 100 million a season is a bit much on budget.

And the networks explains so much, since both of the companies have really expensive priced DVDs. I mean, look at the Dr. Who. One season is around 80 bucks. Dude, if I had 240 dollars, I'd be buying a lot more inexpensive ones. Of course, I wouldn't buy anything without Rose, so what the hell do I care, but still. It's a major rip off. It makes a huge profit margin for the networks. Because it does not cost that much to make a DVD, or they would not be on sale regularly for like 15 bucks a season. Just saying.

That said...Amazon is having ONE HELL of a DVD sale. In the past week, I've bought 2 seasons of Charmed, two of Rome, and the movie Labyrinth for 97.95. That sounds like loads, right? But it's really not. Because normally, they would be 294.86. That's a massive difference. I'm telling you, I bargain shop so well. I will have loads to watch on vacation, if it all gets here in time. If not, I can take my Charmed ones, which I've seen but it's about a year, on vacation. Go me, go me.

Tap, tap, tap...squeal!

2007-11-30T02:22:00.000-05:00

*shows off shiny badge of honor*

My story is about 50,208 words at the moment, and it's terrible. Seriously, when LKH writes better porn, you have problems. But! I did it! For the first time ever. I won the shiny little badge of honor. Go team me. I worked my butt off. Heeh! And it makes little to no sense, but I at least I know I can do it now. And that's all I needed to know, I think. That it was possible.

And now I go to sleep because I have to get up in the morning to start our dinner in the crockpot at 10am. We're having pork tenderlion cooked in margarine and Riesling wine, with spices of course. And it has to cook for like eight hours, four on high and four on low.

Oh, and apparently some 46-year-old man in my class has decided that my niceness bout helping him pass a few of his classes means he wants me. Just, no. Dude, he's my dad's age. Just, no. *shudders* And he's kinda missing a few screws. Okay, more than a few. He's been calling the past two days like five times. Yeah, exactly, kids. What the hell? I don't need stalker, I really don't.

She's not a peer group, she's supper

2007-11-26T04:34:00.000-05:00

We all know I can't sleep for shit, so I'm still awake at 4:00am. I was flipping channels and came upon The Hallmark Channel, which is not actually that unusual. I love watching Walker at 1am every night since usually nothing else is on. Anyway, so I get there and I see Bridget Fonda looking hot in white, like entirely white. I went, "Is this some movie version of The Snow Queen?" I loved that story as a child, ironic since I hate the cold, but I looked around on IMDB.com and then tried to download it (sadly, no one seems to have it right now) until I can buy it. Because, dude, Bridget was hot. Ahem. But then I started watching it and I really, really liked it.

The fact I'm a fantasy geek is not news to anyone here, either. I love it to pieces. And the styling reminded me so much of The 10th Kingdom and Merlin, other awesome miniseries I adore. And of course, I always get giddy when I catch The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns on the television around St. Patrick's Day. And let's not discuss the newer versions of Dune and Children of Dune by Sci Fi that I'm practically engaged to, shall we? So this is not news that shiny, new fantasy things are like crack to a whore at the bus station for me. Then I found that was made in 2002.

How did I not know my crack existed?! People! Readers! You are falling down on the job! I must know these things. Because. It. Is. My. Crack. Even more than urban fantasy (as long as we can chuck LKH and her PWP Anita Blake series out the window, please) and the hot smexings of Anne Bishop's Black Jewels Trilogy and assorted stories in that universe.

Seriously, dude. My crack. I want my crack more! I missed the first hour and only saw the last bit. I just. I want it! I will have to wait until either Christmas (which is probably not happening since I need to replace the money on my financial aid card more) or Tax Return Season. I just. You have no idea. Maybe I'll buy more of those miniseries, if I can find them on sale. Visual crack does a body good, damn it.

Gobble, gobble!

2007-11-22T23:24:00.000-05:00

I hope everyone had a fabulous Turkey Day. Or maybe I should say Football Day, since I am in the South. We went out to our annual dining place (no need to cook for two people), and I went to my mom's for some time. It was nice to see my family, well some of them. Aunt Lisa has Marie Osmond's hyena laugh, except mixed with a twanged nails on chalkboard little extra. Fabulous. But it was nice to see them.

And now I need to get back to my word count. I plan on not moving too much tomorrow. I don't really fancy having a wreck during Black Friday. I live between two malls and an interstate. I'm too smart for that.

Reading LMQ's post on getting a new digi cam reminded me that I need to get a new one. See, mine is so cool that it randomly decided to not take the lens back into the damn thing, in the middle of the night. So I don't have have one, but I totally need one in like 3 weeks. Go Team Nikon!

So what's a girl to do? Go to Ebay! Except there are some seriously delusional people on that place. And some assholes, but we'll start with the delusional first. People are selling new ones for like 400 bucks...while they're like half that in the stores. Hello? Common sense would tell me to buy it from the store for that difference.

Now, the assholes. Those are the people that snipe shit. God forbid you be on a limited budget and that's why you're trying to use the site cause you have a limited budget. I mean, if I had the 300 for the camera, I could go to the store! Let me repeat that: if I could afford the camera, I'd buy it from a store I can return it to if it breaks. I'm just saying. So, I'm desperately hoping for a camera in the next couple days, so I can take pics when we go to Florida, for our reference points. And when we tour apartments.

This is why we can't have nice things...

2007-11-22T03:35:00.000-05:00

So, I ignore the news around Atlanta pretty often. Come on, y'all have seen the utter shit from the local news being picked up worldwide has produced. Imagine that every single day. Yeah.

So what did I find when I randomly tuned in earlier today? Oh, I found this. Apparently sex offenders? Have the total right to live around small children. Because clearly all the psychologists are wrong, and people aren't repeat offenders. That it's curable. Uh huh. Right. I wonder how many people clapping about this law overturn actually realize what really goes on in offenders' brains during that. I mean, it's not like there's research on it or anything. Oh, wait.

God, this is why my stupid state can't have jack. Because they're all a bunch of moronic idiots with the IQ of a decomposing fish. Good lord. The stupid is mind-boggling, I think.

Hell In A Handbasket, YAY!

2007-11-18T02:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, I know it's been forever since I updated. Like half a month. Sorry! I've been torn between school, writing, taking mom to the doctors, reading urban fantasy like crazy, and trying to stay awake. Oh, and laughing my everloving ass off at the stupid at the Lexicon people. In case you're unaware, the Lexicon is an online encyclopedia for Harry Potter. And the editor and owner, Steve Vander Ark decided to publish this. Yes, he did indeed decide to publish an encyclopedia of copyrighted material, and thought it could pass off as critical essays.

His publisher (and him) decided to ignore a lot of JKR and WB's requests to see the manuscript and if not, than to cease and desist. Let's just say they were slow enough to be left behind at the bus stop, kay? And the publisher, from Michigan (haha, Michigan peoples, you get the crazy this time), has compared someone protecting their intellectual property as a police state, the Japan bombings, David and Voldemort (yes, you read that right), and David and Goliath. You really can't make this stupid up, I promise.

The best part was SVA asked JKR to write an encyclopedia with him, but she refused, so he did it on his own. On her website, she gives out awards and stuff for awesome websites that are informative. Lexicon has been around for something like at least five years. I was in the fandom for awhile and used to occasionally look over if I forgot any info for a Potter story I was writing. Though, it was rarely about Harry himself, because I wanted to kill the little bastard with all his whining. Seriously, dude, your parents aren't bugfuck nuts and can't remember you exist because of them. Shut up already. I swear, I shipped Harry/Buffy (of Vampire Slayer fame) for a damn good reason. He could probably be slashed (same sex) with Peter from Heroes, too.

Anyway, the ironic part is that JKR didn't mind the online version because it was a good resource that even she had used once or twice. And it didn't try and profit off her work. Yeah, boyo missed the Common Sense Boat and fell straight into Entitlement River of Denial.

Ahem, there's a buttload more, but a) I don't think you care and b) it's more time consuming to know than MsScribes was. And that bitch got minor press coverage. All the RDR Books (publisher) vs JKR stuff has been happening since Halloween. I love it when celebrities give me presents on holidays. But he fucks up Fandom (as in all communities about any and every show) I will be forced to run up there and kick someone's ass...using a shovel.

I'll be going to Florida the second week of December to the third. I'll have the computer, but I don't know if the hotel will have wifi. We'll see. I have my final the night before we leave. Next semester I'm taking four classes. Woohoo. Intro to Anthropology (I'm hoping this teacher doesn't harp on evolution like my other attempt at my first college did), World History to 1500, Intermediate Algebra (read: the second semester of my stupid math), and an online Geography class.

I have a lot more, but I'll talk about it later. I need to get to bed. I still have to write about 3500 words tomorrow to catch up, and do some errands.

Thump, thump, thump...oh shit!

2007-11-01T00:13:00.000-04:00

So, I promised a Hell House story. Sorry it's late. It's been a bitch of a couple days, and to boot, I lost my blood meter and the insulin I'd been using at school today. Luckily, I have my Humalog extras here, but not Lantus, so I need to go deal with that later. Plus, I had that Regents writing test. Y'all, it's basically an effort to make us look smarter. The test is so easy it's pathetic.

Okay, on with the story. Now it's obvious that my godmom moved, yes? And without her mom, who died in the house. Hey, we weren't kidding when we said the house killed her. Because it killed or maimed just about everyone there. She found a buyer, a woman that had a couple million in the bank and a new younger husband. On top of the world. After my mom reduced the house a hundred grand, just to get rid of the damn thing. This would be the lady whose painters shot up the walls (after painting them a lovely shiny, hard as hell to get rid of enamel paint in primary colors) and her husband liquidated everything, leaving her penniless. Oh, and last time Mama heard about her, was in a state mental hospital.

That means...time to hire a mover. Simple process. Pick one that's from a major company out of the phone book, hope to hell they're reliable, and you're good to go. And that's exactly what my godmom did. So the guy in charge comes over to assess the house and how much it'd cost to move. Of course the ghosts aren't happy because they can scare someone they know here. Or make her angry. Or both.

They're moving along and dealing with the psycho ghosts; she's just saying the resident ghosts are kicking up a storm. The usual thing to hear in the area, actually. Except then the ghosts do something so terrifying (and I've never been clear in understanding, and she's never explained it thoroughly) that he has a heart attack on the 4th floor. Which is three flights of steps. Which means the EMTs have to climb up them and down, or take the elevator. Only the elevator's made for like two people and not a lot. So they have to use the stairs.

Mom's pretty much used to dialing 9-1-1 at this point, so no big deal. And, of course, she's assuming the movers are out. Only, they're not. Totally in for moving her, even if the house did give the dude the heart attack. Now the kicker is that he's reduced the price in half! That's right. To move from Myrtle Beach to Atlanta is now half the price. And she had a house full of furniture that hadn't sold so it had to come with her; along with her clothes, kitchen stuff, usual housewares. Doesn't matter. The guy made it clear that she "had to be out of that house as soon as the last document was signed." And she was. They were out of there that day. Four floors. That's some serious dedication.

So how many houses have you lived in that caused someone to have a massive heart attack that landed him/her in the hospital for quite awhile?

Happy Time!

2007-10-26T02:42:00.001-04:00

Time for a happy post!

Augs, I should be telling a Hell House story around Halloween. Not on Halloween since I'll be spending about six hours at my school, but around then. Probably the 30th, if I remember.

Hey, Marie! I meant to say, nice to meetcha earlier.

I joined NaNoWriMo again this year. Oh, yes, because I think I can write 50k words in 30 days. Clearly, I need to have my head examined. But I'm going to try my best. I have the story going in my head, and the leading lady is starting to shape up. I have until Nov. 1st to plan. Her name? Cooper. Her sisters? Harrison and Finley. Their dad sucks, but I find it hilarious that they were given men names, and have boy nick names. Coop, Harri, and Finn. Ah well, it is my twisted mind. But don't expect me to talk much about it. I'm keeping pretty quiet until I get it done. We'll see. So far, it's a paranormal romance. I'm thinking more like MaryJanice Davidson or Gerry Bartlett. Oh, and there's a hellhound descendant. But you know me, I ain't normal.

In December, my godmom and I are going to go to St. Augustine for vacation. Apparently, we're moving from Atlanta to down there, instead of up here. Um, yeah. But I don't mind, really. I think we both need a change. We'll be gone a week or so. I'll let ya know when time comes closer. We won't be moving until late May. Time for me to finish up the school year, and get some things straightened out first.

Okay, that's enough of an update. I need to go character build Cooper more. *grins* Hey, I might as well use the next couple days for not worrying over the Regents test on Halloween. It's a reading/writing comprehension thing.

Here lies...

2007-10-20T00:00:00.001-04:00

So, last Thursday night, my gerbil CC died. She was spazzatic, and old, but I liked her. She was older, though. Almost two, and for an inbreed gerbil, she lived a long time. I found her Friday morning and felt terrible. But I was expecting it.

Cherry Coke (C.C.)
2005-10/11/07
[No pic.]

However, I wasn't expecting Jack. Jack is - wait, was - my hamster. I'd had him for about 11 months, and the shit kicked ass. He was awesome. But he died. At 11 months. Which is really young, even for a pet store hammie. I have no idea what killed him. I didn't notice until about 11:30 tonight, when he wasn't spinning on his wheel. Going around and around. And we just got the wheel about six weeks ago, maybe two months. It was a Wodent Wheel. You know, one that didn't break in no time flat. I don't know what to do. Cause it's Jack. I got him about a week after my last male gerbil died last year. I just. Man.

Jack
11/18/06 - 10/19/07

[Taken first day I had Jackers.]

It was the terrific end to a sucky day.

Step right up and witnesss the invisible fat person

2007-10-13T17:10:00.000-04:00

Just in case I forgot, shopping is pain in my ass. You see, I'm short, fat, and have DDs. This means I must look like goddamn Granny Grunt-Grunt. And, frankly, I'm tired of looking like a 65-year-old grandmother at the ripe age of 26. Seriously. I get it. I'm an infuckingvisible ninja in the world. Never mind how many people are overweight in the fucking country, we're all invisible. Just ask the fashion industry since a size 8 is plus sized. And I can please just add that what looks good on Kate Moss will unequivocally not look good on my ass. And I'm so damn tired of seeing the same goddamn designs and trends in the big people section. Seriously, get the fuck over it designers. It. Doesn't. Look. Good. Ever.

All I wanted was a fucking winter jacket. I hate going top shopping at Lane Bryant's. See the last part of my rant. And I'm sorry that I don't fucking starve myself. SO glad I'm represented. This is why I hate shopping. Because there's nothing like making a customer like a goddamn waste of space to up confidence. It's just bad when the men's sections don't fit cause you've got DDs now.

So...Drano? Looks like a terrific option. Truly. Cause this was just the cake after being told I need to take meds cause I'm spilling protein in my urine and my kidneys need to be taken care of now. Fantastic. I'm 26 with a body of a fucking 65-year-old.

I'm sitting here trying to battle back tears, and my godmom coming in and shooting off places to try (that I've already TOLD her I marked off for good reasons) and not LISTENING to me when I say "No" doesn't help. Christ.

I'll take that Drano cocktail now.

Rain, rain, come again today!

2007-10-11T18:07:00.000-04:00

Holy cow. Okay, I don't know how many people are aware of the Atlanta drought going on. But Lake Lanier supplies the water for majority of the metro area, if not all, and we're 13 feet below. We're going down a foot a month. The boat ramps are pretty much on dry land now. In 3 months we could be without water for the most part. The lake is 38,000 acres, according to Wiki. Lanier spans four counties, at varying degrees, and until this summer was the place to go swimming. Not so much when you can see the rocks and pebbles on the bottom.

I've been worried for awhile now. Especially since it turns out that there are 700 spots in Atlanta that are overflowing thousands of gallons of water from the ground. That couple thousand is seriously needed. There's major bans going on, and no one's listening. I heard our apartment complex's sprinklers going at night. If they continue, I'm gonna have to tell someone. Because dude. Hello? 13 feet below average. We have enough water to serve 121 days in storage because we haven't been rained on for more than 30 minutes in a long ass time. We need a goddamn storm to come through and stay for a week. I'll drive in it. Fuck it. I'm more concerned with the water issues.

Watch the news report (if you have high speed) and see how bad it is. I haven't talked about it since Atlanta's pretty much always in a drought. The problem is they keep allowing developers to create these high rises. The city's water system is about 70 years out of date. Yes, you heard that right. 70 years. And adding 30 story highrises doesn't help. We don't need them first of all. Seriously, we don't. We're like the second city in foreclosures. We can't afford the 200k houses, what makes them think we can afford 500k?

When we lived downtown, we had a lot of water issues and it was running out then. That was in 2001. It's 2007 and nothing's really changed. Except the development. I'm really concerned cause the lake provides for something like 6 million people. And the corps are pulling the same amount of water to help endangered species. Look, I'm all for helping the fish species, really. But if it comes to me or the damn fish? Sorry, fishy. You'll make a fine meal instead.

Go team Georgia. Truly, your intelligence is inspiring. Just ask ole boy Sonny Perdue. You might know him as the Governor of Georgia. He's the same man that let his son use the official helicopter to get to games easy, back when we gas was so expensive.

Flunk It and Suck It

2007-10-11T01:37:00.000-04:00

So, I have news kids. I haven't been around much due to extreme laziness, ignoring the world around me in an effort to not kill internet peoples (or bitches that drive snail slow in traffic hour), and being busy. But! As I said, I come with news. You see, today was my midterm. Oh, yes. That age old tradition that no one likes. I finished it in an hour or so, and got to sit in 6:30 traffic. Which, it's fabulous when it takes you 50 minutes to get home in 30 minutes in an offtime.

Anyway, as I was saying, my teacher told us he'd let us know what we got on our tests by 10pm tonight. Me, being the bored little bitch I am, checked around 8pm. And I found my midterm and overall grade.

Wait for it.

Keep waiting.

Hey, you're not done. Eat those English peas, since I sure as shit ain't.

Wait....

98. I passed that test with a 98! In math! My doomable subject. I missed like one outta 40. Go team me. I was hoping for maaaaybe an 80. I got a 98 instead. I feel like stripping on a bar, except anyone with sense would turn away embarrassed and trying to control their gag reflex. But still! I'm so damn proud of myself, especially since I only studied for 3 hours last night. I've only gotten one bad grade in the entire class. The rest have been As and Bs. Making my overall grade, a 90.46. Hell yeah. I'm actually passing a math class. Damn shame I can't put it on my GPA.

I'm partying this weekend. Okay, that's a lie. But damn it, I'm gonna enjoy reading my books and pissing time away online.

One Stop, Panty Drop

2007-10-06T17:53:00.001-04:00

So, Pug Mom made a very fun meme. I'm calling it "One stop panty drop" (thank you, Christina).

The directions are as follows: "So what I propose is you all (me included) do a post on what men and/or women would force you to throw yourselves at their feet and go, "I'm available! Do me please! Please! Please!" Pictures are not a must, but would be very very welcome."

So, here's my list. Now it's not all of the people, but these are my panty droppers.

Justin Hartley

Oh my lord. Just...yes, please. I watched Passions for this man. Talk about some dedication.

Drew Fuller

Guh. Dark hair, light skin, and blue eyes? Hell yeah.

Eliza Dushku

Have y'all seen her in leather pants? Seriously? Her eyes are little off, but it makes her pretty in my eyes. She's got these strange features that just work for her.

Tom Welling

There's a reason why I watch Smallville, I think you all know why. He's ripped. Again dark hair and light eyes. (Okay, fine. There's some narcissistic tendencies I'm sure, since I have the Drew Fuller combo.) He seems to take SV fans in stride, and trust me. They make Harry Potter fans look fairly sane. That's some sad shit right there.

Julian McMahon

I just have...he's got the dark hair, but his skin tone and eyes make it pop more. He's not short (Sorry, but no short people for me. I'm short enough.) and that accent. I'm just that shallow, people.

Joanie Dodds

I don't even like blondes usually. But man, I watched her on America's Next Top Model, and she was hot. Flat out. She's got curves, where she doesn't look anorexic. And she was nice and sweet. Concerned about her teeth before ANTM paid to have them fixed.

A worthwhile fanvid? No way!

2007-10-04T02:22:00.000-04:00

Okay, kids. I'm gonna try this embedding thing, something I never thought I'd actually use. The fanvid (meaning a fan of Dr. Who made the video to a song) is quite impressive for what it is, and really, it made me like Ten for a minute. And that children takes some serious work cause I usually hate the motherfucker with the passion a thousand exploding suns.

For the record? Never seen any old Who. Have no desire. I have vague recollections from childhood and that's traumatic enough. I usually avoid Who fandom like the plague. I'm sorry, when you make Harry Potter fandom look sane, you got issssssssues. Those people created Cassandra Cla(i)re. But since I posted my geekiness in the last post, I figured it'd be all right to out myself in how geeky I truly am.

What I really, really want!

2007-10-02T21:46:00.000-04:00

I stole this from Misty Dawn, and the original source is Ten on Tuesday. I should state that I don't buy a season DVD that is more than 20 bucks. Except for one, which I'll mention in the list. And you'll notice that there's a specific genre that most fit in.

10 Television Shows You'd Like to Have ~~(or Have already)~~ on DVD

1. Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I am a child of my generation. What can I say? But honestly that was one of the few shows in the late 90s that actually presented the fact teenagers aren't totally stupid. I have the first three seasons, I just need the last four. Wait? Eliza Dushku? Hot.

2. Angel, the series. Kinda goes with Buffy, since it's the spin-off. But it has Cordelia, who is one of the few women characters in the past decade I can honestly say I identified with. She's materialistic as hell, but has a huge heart and will kick your ass for messing with her family. She's who I would be on television.

3. Brothers and Sisters. I watched the show for the first time last Sunday, and oh my god. I love it! Tight writing, great acting, overall awesome appeal. And I'd like to be caught up.

4. Charmed. Okay, fine. The first three seasons anyway. I loved Prue so much. She was like Cordelia, but mature in a different way. She was a bitch and okay about. Would drop kick in a second for touching her sisters. Was willing to change her life when it was no longer working. Took care of what needed to be done.

5. Seaquest DSV. I don't care about the season where it was like 100 years into the future or something. That'd be about the time it jumped the shark. But I loved that they had a dolphin that could communicate. Brilliant.

6. Dark Angel. Season Two since I own the first. Why? Because it's my guilty pleasure. When I get upset, I can stare at the pretty, pretty man known as Jensen Ackles and pretend the plot doesn't suck by the second season.

7. Stargate SG-1. Okay, fine. I really only want seasons Six and Nine. I bought Ten the other day for 25, which was half off. I just love Vala so much. She's the kind of person I think I would be if I had grown up differently. Maybe not as flirty, but still the same kind of person. And characters drive me to love shows.

8. Farscape. Okay, so I technically "own" a few seasons, but I would love to actually have a physical copy for the seasons. Unfortunately they're hella expensive. Seriously. You get like 4 episodes a disc, and the prices can range from like 14-30 bucks. You can buy the seasons, but they're like 100 bucks. Er, no. I have to buy that in stages. But I would love to own them all. I haven't watched it consecutively because there is no point if I'll have to wait. But I will one day. And I like the extras. The entire boxed set, for all 4 seasons is 498.00 on Amazon.

9. Doctor Who. Okay, again. I only want Nine's season and Ten's first. I identified a lot with Rose, where I am emotionally now, and frankly, I could give two shits about Ten. I just liked her. And Nine just rocked hardcore. He kicked so much ass it's not even funny. Fantastic. Both sets are 133.64 on Amazon. See why it's in the wish list?

10. Smallville. Oh, kids. I hate to even admit I like the show. It's so bad. I don't do comics, so I don't compare to anything. But it's so cheesy. Sometimes, you need a lot of that. See Dark Angel. And Seasons Six brought me Justin Hartley. And well, have you seen Tom Welling's abs? Hell, yeah. Shallow McShallow here.

Honorable mentions would be Xena, Warrior Princess and Stargate Atlantis. I just loved Xena. Period. Even when it jumped like thousands of sharks. It was awesome watching Xena grow into herself. Stargate Atlantis had the first male lead I've liked in the past 15 years or so. Joe Flanigan's acting is awesome. As are what little the women are given to work with. I wouldn't buy it for myself but I like it nonetheless.

Boobs! I got boobs for sale!

2007-10-01T00:37:00.000-04:00

I had to get resized. I went from a 40D a couple years ago to a 44DD today. The lady thought I might be a DDD; luckily I wasn't. You know, I'll give at least one D's worth to someone that needs 'em. Seriously. Any takers? I was a B by the time I was 12, at the end of 5th grade. A D by 7th grade, and DDs by 10th-11th grade. I totally skipped training bras.

What a bumbly bear...

2007-09-28T02:46:00.000-04:00

Before I tell you the story, lemme break down my class grading scale for you.

16 Labs - 5%
16 Quizzes - 5%
8 Study Guides - 10%
Tests - 20%
Mid term exam - 15%
2 Exams that aren't mid or final - 20%
Final - 25%

(Exams are scantrons. Tests are free response.)

And every day there is a lab, test, quiz, or exam going on. A lab and quiz per week. So, in 16 weeks, I can't miss a single class or else risk getting a zero and dropping my average down.

Because I have way too many obsessive tendencies with my grades, I've been checking like five times a day to see my updated grade (the prof only does it like once a week), especially since I took a test Wednesday. One I kinda sorta didn't study for. Well, hell, y'all. How do you study for a word problem test? Really?

So it was finally updated around 11-12, since I last checked about 10 (see, told you it was an addiction). I checked and...saw a 46. Holy shit, I didn't think I'd bombed the test at all. Of course, if I'm confident on a test, I usually do. But seriously, I worked my ass off. Usually after a test, we learn at least one section, but we're ahead of the schedule, so we got to leave after class. (Normally that's reserved for only exams.) Anyway, so I have my stroke and am in shock. I go look again a couple hours later (because I couldn't believe and had to check again myself), only to find it's now a 92. The dumbshit forgot to double it since he graded on a x/50 scale. It was only 10 questions so they must have only counted 5 points. I was scared to death.

But! I got a 92. Hell yeah. That's the first A I've gotten since kindergarten. No, wait. Probably since letters decided to join in on the number orgy, so seventh-eighth grade. And my grade overall? 88.71! Damn shame it doesn't count on my GPA, since apparently I should know this information before beginning college. Pssh. Clearly, the people who made that guideline didn't actually graduate from the Georgia public school system.

I'm so thrilled I could spin in circles and pull a Julie Andrews. Heh!

I also find out the guy I'd dubbed Cute Boy has an actual name. He wanted me to sign him in for the day, cause really, once you get comfortable you don't wanna deal with the aisles made for people that are skinner than a minute (which, clearly, for the record I'm not and he is). And he was lazy, but okay. Whatever. I get it since the teacher puts it out at the front of the class about the time everyone's trying to run and get into class on time. And I go, "I would, but what's your name?"

Now, mind you. He sits in front of me, has been talking to me and flirting (and okay, confusing me on whether it's gay, straight, bisexual, or an alien from Krypton...) but never actually told me his name. He just looks at me and goes, "Caleb." I'm thinking, "Thanks. Coulda used a last name too, but okay." I signed him in (hopefully it was him) and he was like teasing me about it. *shakes head* So now I can mentally call him Caleb instead of Cute Boy. This would be the one that made me think I was a pedophile for a minute cause he looks at most 18.

Flip That Switch

2007-09-24T01:36:00.000-04:00

So, I know I complain a lot on here. And it does bother me somewhat that y'all might think I'm not a sunny side up person. I'm actually pretty upbeat. I just use this blog as a way to let myself be able to feel unhappy and not have to deal with the emotional repercussions my family makes me feel ashamed of. It's a nice release.

I named this blog after Noelle, aka Ninja Kitty, because she is the light of my life. Seriously, when the rest of the world can go suck it, she gives me the chance to enjoy the sunbeams. She curls up with me while I sleep. Takes my pillows before I go to sleep. Generally is never far enough away that she can't tell every step I take. She doesn't like being held, but will tolerate it for about 30 seconds before starting to squall. But it's a nice warm, cozy feeling.

And, here's the thing that really, really gets me: she needs me. I have a maternal streak a couple oceans wide. It's a natural thing, and most of my friends end up at some point saying, "I don't need a second mother." And like a mother, I totally ignore them. Hey, I'm not changing my personality. Take it or leave it. I take care of my own. It's a natural thing that I don't try to force on people, but it's a given with me.

She doesn't care that I can't parse a sentence, that inequality graphs and notations are the bane of my existence, that I have some serious road rage, or that I'm not always the brightest bulb in the lot. She just loves me. That's an amazing feeling, and one I'm not really acquainted with. Usually people only like me for as long as they can use me up. I know, and I still let them. That's all right, though. Not that they do it, but if I'm aware, then it's on me. But having that kind of love at my fingertips has actually kept me from going off on a lot of people.

As for the upbeat thing. Man, sometimes I can make Pollyanna look like a downer. It's that whole "hey, I've lived through hell so the rest of life must be a cakewalk." I never said I was bright, did I? But it makes it easier for me to handle the bad spots. I find the oddest situations funny. Like I can start laughing over something totally stupid and I'll keep laughing until I can't breathe. Like when I tickle my godmom's feet and she wiggles around like a 4-year-old, or I'm on the phone with one of my best friends and we'll start discussing how damn stupid some fans are, like making My Little Pony characters of characters (note: I have, in fact, seen Stargate ones, along with hearing about Dr. Who) and how the sanity train musta never left those stations. Or I'll get tickled over the dumbest knock-knock joke, especially when my baby brother was younger and would tell them.

I'm not totally upbeat, as you've noticed, but I do try and keep some perspective. Hence the fairly twisted attitude. I might wanna choke a bitch, but I'll do it with a small on my face.

Ain't Bubbette's Bitch, Yo!

2007-09-18T21:19:00.000-04:00

So little updates as I watch Big Brother 8 give money to either asshole or motherfucker choices.

I mentioned this a couple times on other people's blogs, but there's a cute guy in my math class. Of course, he looks twelve, so I assumed he was at most 20. Thus, making me feel like that pedophile Livejournal's determined to call me. Which, ick. Totally.

But turns out? Not so much! He's 26. And apparently might be gay. Well, I'm sorry guys, but y'all are hard as hell to figure out. Stop that. Right now. Your queen demands it, or off with your little head. Doesn't matter if he is gay; ain't like I'd land him anyway if he were straight. But it's fun to flirt regardless.

I went to see my godmom's lender today, to find out what I need to do to gain a condo in the next couple years. I'd love a house, but let's be real. I don't have the chance to get a 250k house in Atlanta, since I don't really wanna reside in the ghetto. Safety first, and I'd stand out. But Nancy, at least your house colors would match my location. ;)

So what I found is that I need to be employed for a year before attempting. I'd have my inheritance and substantial down payment along with paying off my old debt after I pay for a newer car. Now? I just need to find a job. WTF is up having clean credit for a clerking job? Er, they do realize they're in the land of foreclosures because people can't afford jack shit and thusly go into debt more, right? Right? Good to know people have their heads on straight. So hopefully in about 18 months I'll be in my own. I don't even have to rent. Woohoo. Godmom's offer to cosign was a huge help, since she's got impeccable credit. And has for like 50 years.

Other than that? I found out that I might have financial aid for school, and possibly a 90 in my non-credit class. Why can't I get that grade in a credited math class? WTF people. And now I shall frolic into looking at condos for my godmom.

Double U turn to the T around the block to F

2007-09-16T22:19:00.000-04:00

I...I...

Tarina linked me to this fabulous piece of journalism. Anus starting to smell like a litter box? Pussy not perky enough? Well, these surgeries and procedures are for you! Just call up your local overpriced plastic surgeon and look like a mutant for only five grand! What a bargain. Call now and get a handy dandy supply of Depends for those times you need to pee and can't quite get to where you to be fast enough. Just throw them away as soiled.

People scare me. A lot.

Blow Out Those Candles For Me, Bitches!

2007-09-12T00:13:00.000-04:00

I have to post my Dragon*Con experience in a couple days. Was gonna do it sooner...but if you don't mind, I'll hold off since I'm (a) not sick anymore, (b) not bogged down with school work, and (c) in the mood for the first time in about a dozen or more years to celebrate my birthday. That's right kids. I was born on September 12th, 1981. Making me the ripe old age of 26, going on 52.

I had planned a nice, thought-provoking post, but you know, just not in the mood for it. I know what I go through every birthday (seriously, my birthday? Like a homing beckon for disaster.) and quite frankly, I'm tired of drama, drama, drama. So, I'm gonna go to math class, enjoy my fun time, be thankful for the easy A I get for showing up to class for that freebie quiz, and just...exist. We're going out to eat on Saturday. Hyatt Regency's awesome food, thank you very much. I'm hankering for some shrimp fettuccine, with sweet chili spices. Yummy!

Also, everyone go tell Pug Mom happy birthday. She's part of the elite club of the September 12th baby. Y'all are all just jealous you're not of the few, the proud, the awesomely in-fucking-sane.

Okay, kids...

2007-08-29T21:06:00.001-04:00

I'm going away for the long weekend, starting on Thursday (tomorrow). So, I'll be out. Now, no one kill anyone, castrate or maim, get sent to jail, or do anything else that might otherwise land your butts in a sling.

Be back Monday afternoon.

Kiss My Grits, Mel!

2007-08-27T22:17:00.000-04:00

I am so damn tired of being an adult, as in a fucking partner for my godmom. Dude, I've been an adult since I was born, having to deal with my parents foolishness, and that counts her too. She alternates between treating me like I'm her fucking husband to a three-year-old. I'm tired of dealing with her 30-year-old thoughts on Atlanta. Hi, it's changed. Areas have changed. I'm tired of dealing with her crap about "I don't know if I can handle a house" and when I say "fine, we'll just cancel that whole part of the search!" She goes "No, we need to look." Look, woman. You're 73-years-old. Grow a goddamn backbone! I shouldn't have to be the one to pick out everything! I'm not your husband! I'm your kid!

She won't even pick out the restaurant to eat at. She tells me to. Dude, seriously, grow a fucking pair. I'm 25, and I've been surrounded by her negativity all my life. And I love her, and I babied her so I created part of this mess, but come the fuck on! I'm so over this. She acts like I don't know a thing about house hunting. Oh, sure. I only look shit up daily, looking at prices and what we can afford. 220,000-250000 is not what it was five years ago, lady. The prices have gone up. Inflation happened. Please, I don't pull this shit out of my ass. I pay attention. I'm so over it!

I want my own place. I want my own space. I don't need someone up my ass 24/7. She just walks into my room, and sits down. Because she's bored. And she'll hound me to death. Seriously, I get the same nagging comment about six-seven times a day. Ugh, lady. I just. I'm so over this. I know I'm not in a position to be on my own. Hell, I don't even have a car since I sold it the other day (junkmonster's gone, thank god). But god knows I could use a way out. I'm seriously about to crack. It's compounding. Do you know how TIRED I am of listening to her human equivalent of "nom, nom, nom" EVERY. SINGLE. BITE. she takes? And a huge breath. And her fucking neurosis about her weight. Dude, you're 73. You're not gonna be a size 4 anymore. Get. The. Fuck. Over. It. I swear she has an eating disorder. She'll eat like a piece of cheese toast for bread, a candy bar for lunch, and half of whatever sets out when she makes for dinner. And she always goes "I'm so full." And don't get me started on her passive aggressive shit. I can't say one thing without it being held against me for fucking decades. Seriously, she brings up shit I did when I was like 11.

I'm 25. How about giving me a little credit? I've survived a pretty fucked up childhood, came out fairly mentally in tact, working on changing that even better. I'm just...so over this. Honestly, all I want is to be given a little downtime, for me. I shouldn't have to worry about her shit and mine, because she acts like I'm her partner. Dude, I get it. Finances are tight. But if I say something? I'm treated like shit, even if she wants my opinion and asks for it.

I'm going to lose my mind in the next couple months. I can feel it starting. I've gotten like this more than once. Hell, even in the past seven years, at least twice. I just. God, is it such a big deal to let me be a normal 25 year old every once in while? Really, is it that hard?

I'm about five minutes from a great big, giant crying jag. Because the stress is unreal.

Holy Capers, Batman!

2007-08-16T03:06:00.000-04:00

Just a quick check in blog.

A) I'm doing my best to finish up my schedule for school. Hopefully I'll get to go in next three days. That's right, they're being that slow. Aren't they fabulous? I haven't been trying to get all squared away for the past two months and holds pop up one at a time, instead of a normal checklist. Oh, and school starts on the 20th.

B) I've been setting up a non-livejournal fandom account, since I'll be moving from there. Seriously, when you make AT&T look downright courteous, you got issues.

C) Been reading up on Livejournal/Six Apart's dumbass moves. Seriously, folks. If you have your employees mocking the userbase, they tend to not be happy. Along with being lumped in with pedophiles. We're crazy like that.

D) Walmart's can suck Dom Deluise's hairy balls! That's all I'll say on that.

E) This 102 degree heat sucks like a Hoover on shag carpet.

Misty, I'll do the memey thing after I take my pic. Give me a couple days, yeah? Now, I'm going to bed so I can go take a dumbass test I know I'll fail and have to be in Math 98, instead of college level algebra. Go team me! Or something.

Now I go to bed. Hopefully this is the last hold I have on my record.

Defying Logic

2007-08-12T18:01:00.001-04:00

You know, I don't really believe in organized religion. I've to been a couple different types (like five), and the closest I've felt to a happy place was an Episcopal church that we'll eventually go back to when we get our life straightened out, time wise. And they stop having 10:30 services. Because it's normally at like 11:15. Which is a much easier time for us. Mostly they seem welcoming. Not a one of those five were a perfect fit. It's more what's the most fitting within the confines.

Now, the thing of it all, is I have a friend who posted a couple stories earlier today about her brother's attitude on church. Can't repost, or won't, cause it's meant for friends list eyes only. But it kinda bugged me. Because she's found her path, it must be his. I don't get that. If he doesn't want to do something, then let it rest. It's not her decision. I don't get the converting thing. People will come to their own decisions, in their own time. I just...don't get it.

Sorry, random rant, I know. But it really bugged me that because he didn't attend a Bible based church and would rather think it through with logic, he's wrong. Why do people say that? Churches are great for some people, but not everyone fits into the neat little boxes. Like me. I've kinda picked and grabbed from various religions, along with non-religions like basically spirituality. And then she went on to question her mother's actions on her brother's choices. I just don't get it.

Kerthunk!

2007-08-07T17:50:00.000-04:00

Now I was talking to someone about the LJ/6A debacle and I mentioned beating someone with my godmom's cornbread pan. Now, this thing is like 100+ years, considering she's in her 70s and it was her grandma's. Threatening to beat someone with the cornbread pan is based on a real story, though.

You see, my godmom's mom (my other godmom), Nona, wasn't too keen on her lecherous brother-in-law. He was a drunk and bum. He kept his wife pregnant (they ended up with 12 or 13 kids) during the time too. Nona's sister was his wife, so she put up with the scum, but wasn't happy about it. He would make comments about how much better Nona thought she was compared to them. Never mind that Nona and her husband worked full-time, took care of her parents (who watched their kid), and their child in the 30s and pre-war 40s, and their bathroom was still on the back porch so they weren't too high up. The Lech's girls got my godmom's hand-me-downs, and he was upset about that. Needless to say, he wasn't a winner.

Though according to him, he won WWI all by his lonesome, and then the aliens took him into space and played 'spot the organ' with an anal probe. So take that for what you will.

So, he and his family were over visiting the grandparents. It was breakfast time, and Nona had to cook the meal. She had something like 9 extra people to cook for. While she's preparing it, old Lech comes over, and being a never sober fool, decides he wants a piece of his sister-in-law. Nona's not so thrilled with the concept. After he groped her, she reached around on the stove and grabbed the skillet of eggs, knocking him out cold and leaving the eggs on the floor. That skillet had been on the range for awhile, and remember this wasn't a modern day oven. So it was a pretty hot pan.

Nona's hubby comes in from keeping the guests happy after hearing the ka-thunk to find the scene. By that time, Lech has woken up slightly, a bit groggy. He's moaning, and Nona's ready to hit him again. This is a woman that hates violence to boot. She says he's never to come into the house again, and he does, she'll hit him. Her truck driving husband backs her up and Lech leaves. And never comes back.

This is why pissing off a generally nice Southern woman is a very, very bad idea.

Boo Motherfuckers

2007-08-03T20:38:00.000-04:00

Oh, LJ/6A you fail so hard it's insane. So, once again, people are getting TOSed, without anyone clarifying what's TOSable. Apparently common sense went out the window. I keep my LJ for my fandom things. That's the whole point of that account at this point, and I'm not going to link it either. It's where I can put shit y'all don't care about, and I'm a complete feedback whore, so instant gratification is a blessed thing.

Now, I don't particularly like Snape and Harry relationships, or any student/teacher. I never have, wasn't my kink. Chan/lolita/whatever the hell else you call makes me squick the fuck out and run and hide. But I also didn't judge other people. How could I? Dude, I read Harlequin romances...and am proud about it. I have no room to judge. So, they're cracking down because the wackos at Perverted Justice are on them this time. Seriously? These people fail so hard at business sense that it's astounding. Y'all, fictional characters? Get the same treatment as real people. Uh huh. That whole 'fiction isn't reality' thing is a blurry line with these fools.

I'm not gonna hash it out much more, because well, I've been looking at it all damn day, and why I haven't visited many blogs. It's just insane. LJ/6A needs to go back to business 101. If you piss off your customer base, it will leave. When it leaves, advertisers won't stick around. Then you have a waste of money, and you'll have to close something you paid a lot of money for. Dude, if I can figure this out after one marketing class, then they're totally fucked.

Oh, and the Supreme Court? Totally the best thing to model anything on for the obscene laws. The same Court that said fiction couldn't be obscene, because it is in fact not real. And LJ/6A is the same company that said that fan fiction and art was safe, three months ago when they did the first dumbass shit of deleting and permabanning people without investigating. *sigh*

Make the stupid stop. Make it stop.

So what are you, the flying nun?

2007-07-28T21:38:00.000-04:00

Now I'm a child of the 80s. I remember the last half better than the first, but I was born in 81, so that's 9 years. I love learning 80s trivia, the outcome of the stars, rewatching the movies and listening to the music. Oh, yes. As cracked out as the 80s were, at least they weren't the 90s, which brought the lumberjack look into mainstream.

So, of course I'm interested in A&E's show, The Two Coreys. I mean, come on. Everyone knew about the Coreys, especially their dumbass moves. Haim, for the win! Ahem. Anyway, I did some looking and bless Wiki for the information that it brings.

You see, it linked me to his official page. Oh, yes. He has one. And a thrilling one it is! The news looks like it was cobbled together by a writer for Bop or Tiger Beat. And clearly all his fans must be in drug-induced hazes. Now, doing some looking around, I noticed a section called "Artwork." Oh, you know where this is going, don't you? It seems he's got some art in museums over in Europe (what they did to deserve that, I'll never know). They say he's got a Picasso feel. Now, I'm not fan of Picasso, but you know, I somehow doubt that Haim's in the same category as movement's founder and all. But I digress.

From his website, the entire blurby thing.
When COREY isn't busy filming, one of the things that he enjoys most is painting! Already an accomplished artist, COREY currently has seven pieces of his artwork displayed in museums in Sweden, Switzerland, and Germany. In fact, he recently sold one of his paintings in Bruges, Belgium, for $7,400!

Much like COREY's favorite painter, Pablo Picasso, his style is very unique. Using a thick texturing of acrylic paints on canvas and his gift for intuition, COREY can create an abstract visual that is very pleasing to the eye!

COREY is now offering the opportunity to own one of his paintings -- an original work of art created just for you! He will need to know what size painting you want and a little bit about your personality. Let him know:
1. Three (3) of your favorite colors (in order of importance or preference)
2. What a few of your hobbies are -- or a few keywords to the feeling or mood of the painting you want, and
3. Whether you prefer black or white!

Now, the prices. For a 16"x20" painting, it'll be $788. For a 18"x24", it's $988. Now my question is how much coke did he snort that he's willing to offer his painting talents to anyone that'll pay nearly a grand for them? Seriously. What is it with child stars? Do they like not pay attention to many generations before them and not get an accountant while wildly successful?

Sorry, that's my useless post for the week. I was just amazed that you can spend nearly a grand for a famous person's artwork, and it reads like ordering fanart requests. I'd prefer to buy the fanart, honestly. After all, I know what to expect there, don't I?

Death By Chili

2007-07-27T13:05:00.000-04:00

The other day, my godmom and I went to Steak N Shake, as we usually do once a week or so. Ate some food, grabbed three or four cans of chili to go.

Skip to now. I'm looking something up for my other mom, bread that has metal in it or something. She didn't hear because we were talking on the phone. Bopping along on our ABC affiliate's website, scouring but couldn't find it. And what do I find under the consumer report?

Castleberry Hill's recall on botulism. And guess what? There's been a recall on Steak N Shake chili with the 195 lot. Yes, that's right. The same lot we ate. Lovely! My godmom said it tasted funny. Was it the taco chips? No, we'd just opened them a week before. Guess we know why it tasted funny, huh?

Bad Moon Rising

2007-07-25T23:29:00.000-04:00

Since Augs was feeling down, I decided to tell a tale on myself....from high school. Yes, the place that always makes you feel stupider than dog shit and twice as unimportant.

Now, I had a friend named Patricia, who in an interesting turn of fate had the same name as that friend that decided her best friend wasn't as important anymore. She says, "Hey, the guy you're dating? Hit on me." That is one thing that will turn me into a screeching harpy. Hello, look at my family for reasons why. So, I'm of course gonna believe her, cause she's one of my best friends. Anyway, I confront him on our next date (which, for the record, was really only like our third/fourth, but you know high school dating). Long short, we break up. I'm upset and stuff, right?

Well, we have a business class, either keyboarding or more indepth of learning MS Office, can't remember which. I decide on the final day, where we actually took finals, to dress up in a dress, tights, and heels. Of course, I'm not a skinny mini, so I wear those girdle things. You know, the ones your grandma wears. Yeah, those. So I wear that with a dress. And I hate dresses, so much. Cause, dude, that requires tights/hose and those are bitch to deal with.

So I'm done with the final, and I need to go tinkle. I get a pass, go the 100 feet to the girls', do my thing and come back. I sit in my seat and when the bell brings, I'm ready to go. I've done the whole "Dude, you totally fucked up" thing girls do. As I'm walking to next period, and halfway there, some girl runs up and goes "You're dress is in your panties."

Oh, yes. Folks. I was showing my granny panties to the world! I was so embarrassed, I wanted to die. And I wanted to choke some females that hadn't told me. Not so great on a 10th grade ego, you know? I pull it down, right there, not caring because hello, I'm showing the world what I'm wearing, and I'm just so mortified. Because of all the work of finding a dress that I looked good in, was all jazzed up about making him pay...and all for nothing. I ended up looking like a fool. That's not very good with me. I don't suffer personal foolery well. Like, at all. So I'm hoping the day ends soon because it's like three days before break and I really, really don't wanna be remembered as Showgirl Wonder.

And the kicker? I found out in the end that he didn't make a pass at her. She was just lying cause she was jealous. I was not pleased when I found that out. I think if I'd been in a more pissed off state of mind I'd have smacked the girl all the way to Kalamazoo, as in the Michigan city, y'all. Of course, he did end up dropping out of high school the next year, but still! Damn it, that was my fellar. Bitch.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

2007-07-23T23:47:00.000-04:00

Vick was told he can't go to pre-season training camp. I wish he wouldn't get paid, but I'll take what I can get.

Do you know how much this makes me giddy?

Oh, my god. If I could, I'd invite everyone over and have some serious alcoholic drinks. Cause hot damn, there's a little justice. Especially added with the Commissioner's statements. *boogies*

Summer Storms

2007-07-22T21:50:00.000-04:00

So, in case anyone missed it: I'm afraid of thunderstorms. Like, I hate them. Not as much as I used to, but still hate them. This morning about 7:45 thunder shook the house, and woke me up from sleep. Disoriented, I managed to unplug my computer and DSL, then unhooked my godmom's laptop.

Why do I hate thunderstorms? Hell House. You have random bolts come all wily-nilly in your house and tell me you wouldn't freak the fuck out. And I had that happen from kindergarten until freshman year of high school. Yeah, and lightning? Blew out all the outlets in the house. Like, Mama had to replace all the televisions, have the wires checked out. Thank god for beachfront insurance policies.

I did fall back asleep, though. I'd only been asleep like 4 hours, so I needed more. Plus, I'm way lazy when that sleepy. I just ignore everything else.

Welcome to summer storms in Atlanta.

Boring, Miss Boring.

2007-07-20T23:41:00.000-04:00

Just so you know, I have no intentions on leaving the intrawebs because of HP7. Heck, I couldn't finish the 6th, so what the hell would I read the 7th for? Apparently I will be driving all over god's creation on errands tomorrow though. For the record, I don't mind anyone sane, but lord, the batshit Potter fen scare the crap out of me. Just ask the NYT.

Oh, and we so fired the real estate agent. And now she's emailing, after telling my mom she wasn't serious, even though Mom got a bank letter for the loan and everything. And she wants to help, blahblahblah. That was of course after she basically called my mom a liar. There's a winner for you! Oh, and she doesn't think she did anything wrong, so she doesn't know what our problem is. No, seriously, she put that in email.

Jenny's still around. *shudders* Saw her at the grocery the other day, and yesterday she knocked on door. We pretended to not hear. We're smooth like that.

Okay, that's all. I'll post something more interesting than paint drying someday soon. Maybe. If I remember.

Oh, hey, added like 14 hours later...I found this on another blog and well, I liked it. So I made my own. Pretty much me in a nutshell. Though, when I was younger, I was more of a INFJ/INTJ.

Hell House

2007-07-19T16:03:00.001-04:00

Pug Mom and Augs Casa requested it, so I'll write about the Haunted House from Hell. No, really, totally one.

My godmom bought what she calls The Beach House at Murrells Inlet, SC. Oh, yes. Right at the edge of Lowcountry and on the beginning of the Grand Strand's haunting area. She was brilliant. Like me.

So, she and her mom (my other godmom) move in. It's a three stories, plus the garage, with a little room off that leads to the back porch. It went: garage, living/dining/kitchen/breakfast room level, two bed/bath level, then the master suite on the top floor. And it was a master. Jacuzzi tub, double vanity, separate shower/tub and toilet. Two long closets. That was just the bathroom. The bedroom was big enough for a queen-sized bed (room to spare) and a sitting area. Entertainment center behind closet doors. Overall, the house had 3.5 baths and 3 bedrooms. There was an elevator to go on all four floors, too.

We realize pretty soon that we're hearing voices, specifically from Nona's room. Nona being my elder godmom. So, we listen. The ghosties sat the end of the bed, talking to each other. Clear as a bell. There was two men and a woman. One of the men's name was Harold. He was the bastard of the bunch. Obviously the woman was awesome. What with having ovaries and all. They were pirates, the men anyway. Not sure about the woman.

You see, that area was the pirate dumping ground. Before they got to Charleston, they dumped their dead along the inlet. One of my godmom's neighbors did a background check on the area. There's a lot of history in Horry County. Actually, my godmom chose a Garden City Beach address, even though they were on the inlet. See, it was right the cut-off point. People could choose. She thought Garden City Beach sounded better. I tend to agree.

At least one person in the town homes died, miscarried, went crazy, nearly had an appendage chopped off. Poor Tommy almost had his dick chopped off when his previously turned off boat motor got him right when the leg meets torso, when it started without the keys in the ignition. He had to be in the hospital for awhile. Gigi miscarried. Bill, the swindling builder, ended up dying of cancer. Those are just the ones I can remember offhand.

I won't go into all the history of the area, but Alice Flagg is one of many stories. One day I'll tell you all about the visit to Alice's grave. Murrell's Inlet official site.

Now, it's been established the house was haunted, what with having non-coropreal men in the room and all. Never mind all the times lightning went in one window and out the other, straight through the house. Or the way it would rain on one side or the other. Strange, strange house.

As for the elevator on fire story.

Oh, yes. It happened. My godmom (I really need to give her a nickname besides Mama don't I?) was coming up from the kitchen to her bedroom (the master). Halfway between the kitchen and next level, the elevator stopped suddenly. She hadn't touched the buttons, or opened the gate or door. Nothing. She smelled the air a little, and hey, it's on fire. Smoke starts coming in under the door. She's freaking out because the doors won't open, at all. As she's trying to figure out what to do, she hears the female ghost's voice go "Harold, they've had enough. Let her out." A couple minutes later, the door buzz (which is what happened when the door into the elevator shift was open), releasing the gate. She pushes and crawls up, like they do in movies with the bellycrawl type thing. Nona's been talking to her for those last few minutes, trying to figure out what was going.

The next morning, the elevator people come to the house. They're like "You couldn't get out of there." Mama's like, "I beg to differ." The bottom of it scorched, still stuck in between the floors. Neither woman uses the elevator for a good week after. Which means the poor 70-year-old lady has to walk up and down three flights of stairs if she's going up to visit Mama. And the ghosts are still talking on her bed. Rather loudly.

That doesn't include the moving man that had a heart attack in there. But that's another story for another time. Along with the flying newborn, painters that shot up the house....oh, yes. This is just one of many, many stories.

Eight Facts

2007-07-19T00:33:00.000-04:00

I was tagged by Misty Dawn, so here's mine.

Here's the rules:
1) Each player must post these rules first.
2) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3) Tagged people post their eight things and these rules.
4) End your post by 'tagging' eight new people to play.
5) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog for these instructions.

Here We Go...

1. I'm scared to death of sleeping in the dark. I always sleep with either the TV on mute, or a night light so my rooms not completely dark. I got in the habit after living in the haunted house from hell. You hear boots tapping on the floor above you and a pirate ghost wanting you gone, sitting on the side of your bed at night, and tell me you wouldn't freak out either.

2. I was almost named Misty Morning. Yeah, my dad didn't go for it either. It would have been ironic since I've never been a morning person. The most interesting things happen at night, damn it.

3. In kindergarten, I nearly broke a guy's finger for kissing me, or trying. He didn't succeed so well. Especially after he kissed my best friend not 10 minutes earlier. He kept trying until the teachers learned to keep us apart. Wasn't my fault that he had cooties.

4. I compare myself to a weird Faith/Cordelia/Lilah hybrid. Whedon characters for those not in the know. I'm screwed up like Faith, got the bitch-meets-mother Cordy attitude, the no nonsense, practical outlook from Lilah. I'm also a strong woman, which each of those have in spades.

5. I have very little self-esteem and confidence, but a wealth of self-worth. It's strange, I know. I may not think highly of myself, but I know I'm worth than being the mud on someone's shoe. I'm worth more than most people I know because of who I am. I just necessarily think I'm special, as in a rare find. It's an odd problem, believe me. I don't hold myself as a particular brilliant or funny person either. I consider myself average.

6. I don't believe in true love. Love, sure. But true love? Crock of shit in my opinion. Love changes, alters. Rarely have I seen that stand the test of times. In fact, I never have. At nearly 26, I've been in love once and it's not something I care to repeat. I was in love with him, while he thought of me as a friend. So, yes. Bah to that. Part of me is still in love with me, stupid heart that I have. Damn loyal bones. I'll stick to being a loner. For me, the two things are intertwined. But unfortunately most people in love that I've met turned on serious blinders to the other person's fault...and that can't be healthy. Cynical should be my middle name, I swear.

7. I'm happiest with a good book, romance or scifi/fantasy being genres of choice. I generally don't like people. Can't trust them not to fuck you over. My experience anyway. However, that doesn't mean I don't mind being around people I enjoy. I have friends I see, or talk to, and they make me laugh and forget my life. True friends. Ones that have the same interests and don't mind mocking that we're geeks about it. Those I can handle for long periods, but not general people. Being a people person doesn't mean you necessarily enjoy the masses.

8. I was on phenobarbital from 11 months to six-years-old for seizures. Before I was a year, I had a seizure that stopped me from breathing. Recent studies (as in less than ten years ago) show that pheno can lower a kid's IQ and make cognitive skills less developed. Yay. Go '80s doctors handing out pheno like it was candy.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it.

I completely give up

2007-07-18T13:15:00.000-04:00

I love my godmom, I really do. I put up with her bullshit because I do. But this for the birds! The real estate agent she has is making big promises, and then insults and talks down to us. I don't mean a snappy comment here and there. I mean, full-on. Like, I look for condos in the market because my godmom asks me to. Since I have a computer, why not? I can find things, since I know what we like. Especially since our real estate agent doesn't listen to a damn thing we say.

It's like being between two passive-aggressive fools and a hard place. You see, my godmom wants to fire her, but doesn't want to hurt her feelings. EVEN THOUGH, said agent has said phrases like "FMLS has all the condos with your criteria. All you are doing is making my job harder," when I find something we might be interested in. I didn't have the MLS number. I got it off Craigslist. But, it was listed by another agent, so it should be in the database. So I thought, hey, she can call and ask. I gave all the info I had. There were three of them. She's also said things "I am going to send you everything from 200K to 250K with your criteria. THIS IS EVERYTHING. You are wasting your time searching Craig's List. Everything I am sendng you is ALL THERE IS." I later found the one we were more interested in by doing a quick look on the site that was referenced on Craigslist. If I can do it, she can spend 10 minutes looking up like I did. And this is her usual conversational speed when being an agent, apparently.

Now my godmom called earlier, trying to say "Hey, we don't like being treated like crap." Agent pretended to not hear her. At all. So she emailed me through my godmom's email since that's what we're using as the main one, "I am a Certifed Real Estate Appraiser and know the value of things." And later on in the email, she said, "Every time you make out a rent chck you are losing money." You can see why I'm fed up with this lady. She doesn't listen, makes those smarmy comments, and it gets old. Fast.

My godmom still wants to use her, but goes, "I feel like I'm in a hard place between you and her." I'm sorry, what?! I'm sorry I don't want you treated like a doormat because the agent wants a quick sale fast and is telling you, full stop, what you want and don't...and is unwilling to take you to the locations so you can see for yourself. She's done it from the beginning. It's giving my godmom ulcer problems for the past three or four days. We have another agent lined up, and she's like "Well, there's no reason we can't use both." Well, other than the fact the current one is telling us to take the first one we saw that we liked, on the first day, without looking at any other comparables, sure. And the fact she ignores everything you say, bullies and bosses you around. Tells you that your daughter's diabetes and elderly dog's care should be a second or third priority to getting a condo, absolutely. Why not believe she has your best interests at heart.

I finally just said "Fine, then don't take me into consideration." I'm sorry, I'm tired of getting four-five emails a day not listening, having to repeat the same goddamn statements of why we don't like this or that condo (like it'll need 15k in work before it's livable for her needs), and we keep getting shown the same thing and hammered to buy one that she can make quick money off of. Gee, that's a good reference. I'm so over that, though. Because she's making my mom physically ill. And my godmom just takes it rather than rock the boat. I'd rather rock the boat than be spoken down to like that, especially by someone that will earn a hefty commission check. Now mom's in another snit. Considering she never seems to get out of those, whatever. I'll just deal like I always do. But I'm not apologizing and backing down this time. I don't think it's wrong to expect your real estate agent to treat you some courtesy.

But what do I know?

Save Us! Save Us!

2007-07-16T21:23:00.000-04:00

So, does everyone remember Jenny? Well, she's baaaaack. She lives here now. I know, scary. Not with me, hell no. But with her sister's ex upstairs. Her kids, too. I think. I didn't speak to her, Mama did. So, that's my news. White trash is moving in. Is moved in, I guess.

Thank god we're looking at condos now. We're so better off. Although, I've considered homocide multiple times. Between the bossy real estate agent and my godmom's "I'll look at the condo flyers when I'm done" that the agent sends to us. Because apparently I don't have a life and don't need to do other stuff.

Oh, and my former best friend? Has been emailing once a day. Oh, joy. Lucky me!

Cyanide Cookies For You

2007-07-14T14:06:00.000-04:00

Now, I had planned to tell the Jennifer news yesterday, but I got sidetracked. I'll post about that in a few minutes.

Once upon a time, I had a best friend. Someone I had known for 20 years, since she was two and I was four. We hadn't always been best friends, but friends. My godmom and her mom were friends. Actually her mom wanted to marry my godmom's son, but that didn't happen. Anyway, you get the idea. I ruined my GPA over her. She wasn't planning to go to college, so I went four hours away to junior college, couldn't drive yet so I was at her mercy. I had to leave my finals without taking them, same with my midterms, actually. She couldn't be bothered with waiting for me. Her way or no way. And let's not mention the FOUR HOURS of Billy Joel, The Carpenters, and occasionally burned CDs. Every. Single. Weekend. That's to and from, so eight hours round trip. And I loved all the artists before that. We went to a place where she could rent her grandparents house, and I paid 150/month for a three bed/one bath home.

I did have some fun there. Just so you don't think I was all bad. It was awesome having the only two screen theater in the tri-county area. And? We got in for like 3 bucks. Who cares if we were like 2 months behind on the shows. We got 'em. And midnight at Wal-Mart's will never not be funny. For the record, that was my second college. I flunked out of the first due to early symptoms of diabetes, not that we knew it at the time. Never mind I'd gone to the school clinic thing a couple times trying to figure out what was going on. Was just told I needed more sleep. Bitch, please.

So my best friend met a boy at her job, the junior college bookstore at our hometown where we both went to after she fucked our GPAs all to hell. Actually, he was her boss and like seven or eight years older than her. Also, her only boyfriend...as in ever. So they dated and didn't tell anyone. Then, two or three months after that, she finally told me. Which explained where the hell she went. See, we used to talk like two hours a day, because of our extremely fucked up lives. Good bonding experiences, that. Then she disappeared. So, I'm hurt but I talk to her anyway. Then she drops a bombshell. If she can't tell her boyfriend about her past, could I? Oh, yeah. Just what I wanted to do. But I tell her I would, because hey she's my friend. That's what I do.

Fast forward like a year. She hasn't spoken to me. Hasn't made any contact since she got the boyfriend. And then? She's engaged! Am I a part of the procedures, being her friend and all? Nope. Not a one. She was bubbling and I didn't have the heart to say "Bitch, take that and shove it up your ass, please. Kthxbi!" And how do I find out? Through IM. So then a couple months later, hey, we've got the wedding invitations. Do I get a special one, or even a little note in it? Hell no.

So it's April 2006, we go to the wedding. Why, I don't know. Maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment, or more than likely, I just wanted to see my best friend (former at this point) happy. Hey, just because I'm treated like shit doesn't mean I don't want other people to be happy. I'd prefer to keep that karma away from me, or reserved for my mother and stepmother. Whichever. We go. Her mom is glaring at me, acting like I pissed all over the cake and blew chunks in the food. And it hasn't even started yet. I see Friend in her dressing area. Yippee. After the ceremony, I finally meet the goddamn groom. Barely. You know that quick in line thing. Still being frozen out by the family. So is godmom. Fuck that shit. We skipped the reception.

Cut to a couple months later, I just send a "happy birthday" message to her. Then cut a couple months after that, I get a "happy birthday" message to me. Great, we're barely friends. Wonderful. The person who's known me the longest, and who's mom offered to let me live with her while my family figured out what the fuck they wanted. So, I go over and have dinner at their house one night. It was actually pretty fun, and her husband cooked the dinner. Okay, so I met him, actually spoke to him. Damn, he's boring. Seriously, y'all. Bor.Ring. Which makes him a perfect match for her.

Now, that was the last time I spoke to her...until yesterday. Oh, yes, Augs, she shares a birthday with you. Lucky you. Anyway, she emailed me, just chattering away. This leads me to think What in God's Hell does she want now? I was right to question it. I got all caught on family gossip I could give two shits about since I'm not considered part of the family. I got an email earlier, asking if we looked at apartments today (please note: we're looking at condos, not apartments, which I clearly stated last night), and if not, were we doing anything? I tell her no, that was tomorrow. Today we're doing some packing and sorting so when we do find a place, we'll be ready to go. Haven't heard from her since, and that was about 3 hours ago. She was bored and wanted me to come over. Please note, I'm only important when I can do something for someone. At least with her.

Be interesting to see the reply I get. If I get one.

"Leave Me Alone, Mama!"

2007-07-12T19:39:00.000-04:00

So, I'll be posting about White Trash Woman, aka Jennifer, later because apparently my story wasn't done yet. But! First I have to share my cat pic. I took this a couple weeks ago, and well, she's just so cute. Ahem. Oh, come on, we all know I adore my cat. The light of my life. The thing that puts meMama in the poorhouse.

She usually sleeps on my bed, curled up like that. But the flap over her eye is just so cute. Like she's mimicking how I put a pillow over my face when the light is too bright in my room (yes, I sleep with a night light, so sue me). So adorable, the little shit.

What? No, really, what?

2007-07-06T14:49:00.000-04:00

Oh me, oh my. What a day. I woke up at 9:30, getting ready to go into town (Atlanta). About 10:30, I meet my mom in the kitchen, after eating breakfast and bringing it back in (she makes it). She goes, "I saw this lady crying on the stairwell, and talked to her, while taking the boxes out to the car." We were going to run to the storage room while in town. Now, not so much.

So, the lady ends up knocking on our door. Apparently she'd been in a fight last night and walked about 5 miles to get here. Can we take her back to her house? Sure, we say, since my godmom asked earlier. I get dressed to take her. We (me, godmom, and lady) get in the car, she starts talking about what happened. The usual routine of "I was bruised, had a fight, I had to leave my kids." Right. You get the idea. Turns out, she knows of my mom. Right. That's a terrific recommendation, except totally not. So she keeps talking, and mama and I get keep getting a bad feeling.

She's living with her family, who are drug addicts and dealers. Greeeat. Go mama. Her mom had custody of her kids, but she died, so it reverted back to Jennifer, the chick. Riiight. Because they just took the kids away all willy-nilly. Me, I'm level-headed and I kept her from socking all the people she hated throughout the time. It comes from living with my family, I guess. She's calling the cops, DFACS (family services), her (ex-)boyfriend, her sister's ex (who was the one that let her in here), 911. We were there for 2 hours.

Let's see, her ex-husband, who is the father of two of three kids, was there next door. He had tried to break the fight up last night, and was pushed aside. She said, according to not!Depp (he looked a lot like Sparrow, which is kinda scary), that her kids were bastards and she didn't want him so he could have them. Her grandmother was gone, getting a TPO against her. Oh, yes. Her brother, the sex offender, was there in the house when he wasn't supposed to be. Her pregnant younger sister was there. Oh, god. It was a clusterfuck. Three cop cars, though one was a niiice truck. The truck was a deputy sheriff, the one she'd called in. Jennifer's screeching and acting like the fool, so the cops eventually get tired of her and threaten to take her to jail if she doesn't shut up. They're not really talking to her, so you know she was fucked up in the records department. She had a warrant out on her, too. Wonderful. My mom can land us in the strangest situations.

Long story short. After two hours of sitting with a chick we don't know, with some slight talking to the cops, we're really tired of this shit. Seriously, she's so white trash. Her ex-mother-in-law showed up, she started screaming at her, while I'm keeping an eye on my Blackberry that she's borrowing to make calls (thank god for 5000+rollover minutes). The cops have this look of "Oh, god. Let's just go home." Unfortunately, they can't. They're over this drama, like most sane people. The situation was fucked, a very vendetta all around thing. Jennifer and crew had the altercation last night, and she kept trying to bring that up, while the police were like "We can't deal with that." Oh, yes. These people were bright.

She had to go pee in a cup. Drug test. Thank god. She was getting on my nerves, to be honest. Even my infinite patience can be taxed out by druggies and trying to keep someone you don't know from slugging someone else you don't know.

One of the cops goes, "You don't have to stay here. Since you're just transport. You can just vamoose." And go we did. First we gave him our info. God, he was funny. He had hung his head down when Jennifer kept blabbing. Like "well, shit and damnation." You got the feeling he wanted us to leave, for safety matters. These folks were crazy. Though, both cops were all kinds of hot. I'd have gladly brought one home to keep.

We left her crap by the mailbox, where the cops pointed to. And we skedaddled, quickly. Had Arby's for lunch. Well deserved. We're having pizza for dinner, since we didn't unfreeze anything for dinner. You know, what supposed to be in Atlanta and all.

So that was my adventure. I was thisclose to landing into some white trash drug hell. *snort* I need to febreeze the hell out of the car, too. And take a long shower. And wash our clothes.

I forgot the best part! She was 30, had more than a few grey hairs, and had grandkids. Seriously. Grandkids that were like 2 or 3. *blinks* So how old were her kids that were having them? Thank god we dropped her off and fled.

It's drunk day!

2007-07-04T13:23:00.000-04:00

Happy 4th, y'all. Wanna beer *shudders* or something with an umbrella in it? I'll be making my cosmo. Now, I celebrated. Right there. You saw it.

People have been celebrating since the 1st around here. I know because I've heard the fireworks going off around us. And tonight Lenox'll be full of fireworks. Hmm, naw, not worth the drive. Seriously. I wouldn't get home until like 4am. Yeah, no thanks. I'll just watch it on the television. I'm cool like that.

I woke up around dawnish, sitting straight up, legs facing my door...on the bathroom floor. Okay, that? Not so unusual, considering I used to sleep in the empty tub, on the toilet, in a closet, on the couch. And all the while not remembering how I got there. The fun part was trying to stay awake for 5 minutes to make my feet move the 15 feet to my bed. I kept dozing off. Thank god I don't snore or drool in my sleep. Finally I got up and got to my bed, walking like a drunk man, or Robert Redford in Barefoot in the Park. Take your pick.

It's sad when you're totally not surprised by these things. I was just thrilled I wasn't stuck in the tub this time.

And, as it turns out, I needed another nap. So I spent like an hour sound asleep in the tub while bathing.

Flipping That Switch

2007-07-03T19:19:00.000-04:00

Soo...my temper? Is pretty hard to get up if you work in customer service. I'm awesome about talking to representatives, cashiers, bank tellers, wait staff...whatever. Because I was raised to be polite since they're doing you a favor. So, because of that, it takes a lot to get me yelling on the phone. Wanna know the top way? Pussyfoot when I'm asking a direct question, and trying to explain that, because my city so damn special, Bellsouth only has three cities in the country with my kind of DSL. I know this because when it was getting set up, the BellSouth people told us..repeatedly. Therefore, I'm not a complete dumbass, even if I'm not a computer tech major. When I tell you four freaking times, pay attention. Don't give me instructions that DO NOT WORK. Especially when I tell you this, time and time again. I'm sorry if you're not qualified, but hey, you're Tech Support. Therefore? Pay attention to what I'm saying.

I dealt with this from 11am-6pm last night. Seriously. Off and on, all day. First time, "oh, we're doing a network fix [except, he didn't use fix, but fuck if I can remember what it was called]. Call back after 1:10 if it doesn't work." This was after being hold for 15-20 minutes, with the lady recording going, "all our network representatives are busy" EVERY 15 SECONDS. Y'all? I had heard that the night before last when the storm knocked our DSL out in the first place. So I had to listen two times in less than 12 hours. Oh, and they use voice activation. God, that shit is awful. I can't even get a live operator. Seriously, they do not exist IN THE TECH DEPARTMENT.

I call back at nearly 3 since it still wasn't working, listening to the same damn lady talk every 15 seconds, with me adding lots of threats like, "If I hear you one more goddamn time, I'm going to kill you." 15 seconds later, "No, seriously. Gonna kill your ass dead." My irritation went ratcheting up higher and higher every time she spoke. 15 minutes later, I get to talk to someone. Who once again acted like I had helium holding my head up. Again, don't talk down to me. That'll press my bitch button quicker than she-who-gave-birth-to-me asking me to go get her liquor because she's too drunk off her ass to drive. Actually, that just makes me sad, since it's happened more than once. Either way, he was talking to me like that. Didn't turn out well for him. I started yelling. As referenced, I don't yell at people who are doing their job, because that's just not right. Talk down? Oh, hell yeah I will. Especially since I was again telling these yahoos that our DSL isn't like everyone's else and we don't have a company router because the company doesn't make them. We have to use LinkSys. (But when I set up LinkSys, the BellSouth people were nice enough to help me out, setting it up.)

Oh, right. BellSouth was bought out by AT&T not too long ago. Fuck me with a chainsaw, y'all. AT&T in Atlanta's a joke. We were thrilled to be out of their area when we moved out here. Now we're back in hell since it has the Atlanta monopoly.

Anyway, after finally flipping my shit, he still talked to me like I was a three-year-old. Bubba, don't even try that with me. I will fillet your ass and hand it back to you on a silver platter. He kept saying, "it's your computer." Uhm, it might be? But that's why you have tech guys come out and see. It's the crazy thing people are doing now. I got so frustrated that I handed the phone to my godmom, and went, "Here! Talk to him before I do something bad." She had no idea what was going on (she pays for the service, I'm the tech person on this end when listening to people who actually know what they're doing) but backed me up. All the way. And he started talking to her like he was me. I could tell by the expression on her face. That did it. I was sitting there, yelling about a foot or two away. "Don't try and pacify us." And he kept talking to her like he missed JESSIE FLIPS HER SHIT 101, and finally, when she was asking for his supervisor, he got downright rude. That's when I screamed, "GET YOUR BOSS ON THE PHONE NOW." He heard me. Because when the supervisor got on the phone line, I railed hardcore. He said, "I'll put an expedite order on it. It'll be two hours before he gets back to you." I was telling him that I wanted a tech out here last night, even if it was the last stop, because this was fucked up. I wasted all day, listening to tech advice, when he could have been out at one. Oh, and the tech, only works 1-5. Okay, whatever.

So I help my mom around after hanging up, because I had two hours. Turns out? Not so much. More like half an hour. I look at my cellphone at 4:30, and he had called an hour ago. Okay, fine. I call the number back, trying to get a hold of him. Not so much. You can't call it back, even though it's a work phone. You have to have a password to get in touch...with the TECH. Okay, whatever. This is why I hate and loathe AT&T with a passion. I finally call the tech support number AGAIN, get the same lady recording. Scream at the phone in frustration, call the main residential service, but she handed me BACK to the recording lady. I find out that the tech said he'd talked to me, and he totally hadn't. Still trying to figure out why he called on my cell, instead of the regular phone, since you know, that was fine. (Which is another mess for another day.)

Okay, so he was going to be here between 1-5 today. At 2, he arrives. Turns out that the lightning storm that hit about 100 feet from our house fried the networking card in my computer, only he replaced it, and hey, STILL didn't work. Fucking hell. So in the next couple of days we have to go to Office Depot and get it checked out.

Oh, and kicker? This is the second computer that this apartment has fried of mine. Same outlet, since it's the only close to the phone jack (well, the jack that works). The wiring in this apartment is fucked over. One phone jack can't be used, the other one in my room, because it kills the phone line. Then we have the various electrical outlets that we can't use anything with the power of say a vacuum because it'll either catch on fire, or cause half of our apartment's electric to stop working. Not to mention when they had to rewire in lines over the pantry (phone lines), by going into the ceiling and tying to make the wiring less fucked up. And the phone lines in the hall closet, where they all meet, is so screwed.

Oh, yeah. These apartments were well built. So that's where I was the past two days. One can only watch The Deadliest Catch so many times, by the way. I was so bored it was unreal.

Why come?

2007-06-30T17:25:00.000-04:00

Okay, ignore the perv part of that title, please. Thank you. Now, why did my godmom have to tell me bleu cheese had mold in it?! That's my favorite dressing, like ever, and now? I can't eat it. I mean, I knew the blue probably wasn't good for me, but without knowing, I could pretend, damn it! Now, I can't. And I love steak and bleu cheese salad. Mmmm. *sigh* Why, why does she tell me these things? I like not knowing. Makes it easier to pretend. Of course, I eat mushrooms on my salad, too. So you know, fungus doesn't rate as high as mold, apparently. Well, it did take me like 10 years to eat fungus again. Maybe in a few years, I'll be able to eat bleu cheese again. Of course, I'll be like 35 probably forgotten what it tastes like.

Also, when your little toaster oven (you know the little fake ovens you warm leftovers in) starts vibrating and making noises, you need a new one. I foresee a trip to Walmart's tomorrow. A very necessary one. I wonder how long it's been doing that. Mama tends to not notice those type things. Oops. Unplugging it nearly burned me. Since the plug's behind it.

Totally Tubular!

2007-06-29T17:12:00.001-04:00

Guys! Guys! OMG!1!!! *bounces on feet* I've been reduced to teeny speak! My dad called when I got back earlier, and told me that he's paying for my car insurance for the next six months (which is about 200 bucks), an old credit card debit (like close to 2 grand), and whatever financial aid doesn't cover. Holy shit, y'all. The only requirement was to find a job, which duh, I'll do after Labor Day, when all this shit's in order. *boogies* This is awesome, y'all. Like beyond. This is unreal. Looks like granddad's 10k will provision came through.

AND! My day got even better when my BlackBerry arrived. Well, technically it's my godmom's but she bought it for me since I need a new phone. It's not good when you have wonky miscommunication. As in, I can hear them and answer, but they can't hear me. So! She got me a new phone, said BlackBerry. It's a refurbished 7103c. I have no idea what it does, but damn it was 40 bucks with signing up for two more years. Mama let me decide on what I wanted, since I'd be using it. *grins* I can't play with it until tomorrow since it has to charge up....but dude.

Go Go Gadget

2007-06-29T13:18:00.001-04:00

Okay, so I've talked all about my weird family (lord, are they weird), but I don't think I've told enough on me. Now, I could tell you all about chopping my hair off in defiance of my dad's marrying the Whore From Hell, but I won't. Instead I'll tell some random facts about me as a child.

I would eat chapstick and lipstick like some kids eat candy. Why, the world will never know. But I did. I also loved to eat TP and notebook paper. And I did this until I was...12, I think.
According to my godmom, right before one of my ballet recitals, she told me no on whatever I wanted. Bad idea. I did everything backwards in the recital. And more parents were taking pictures of me than their own kids. Not that I could blame them. I was a damn cute kid. Smartass to the nth degree, but cute. Big blue eyes, Barbie blonde hair, and ivory skin. Oh, yes. I was the cutest thing and knew it. After the recital, I was never told no again.
Because my attitude, I made the local paper when they came to my ballet school for a fluff story. My picture was the one showed. And I strutted for awhile. No one was cooler than me.
I was kicked out of ballet, swimming, jazz dancing, tap dancing, gymnastics, and ballet again before I was in kindergarten. I was just that cool. They kept trying to fob me off on to another teacher.
In gymnastics, I told the other kids they could go home. The teacher had me and they weren't needed. I did this more than once.
At Downtown Disney in Orlando, I played hide and go seek...without bothering to tell my godmoms. Oh, yes. They had everyone looking for me (including security) and I was hiding under the register. The sales lady found me and I told her "Shh, I'm hiding." Godmoms were so happy to find me that I didn't get in trouble, even though everyone was ready to have a heart attack. Bat the eyelashes and everyone would forgive me.
And finally, because god knows the list could be long, I was invited to go pet the dolphins on stage at Sea World when I was seven. Me being the person that adores dolphins and orcas, I jumped at the chance. Well, the trainer goes, "At the count of three, jump in and go swimming." He started counting and by three I was ready to fly in. He caught me be the seat of my homemade parachute pants. Oh, yes. These were dayglo colored and patterned from the kids' fabric section. I'm a natural born swimmer, so this was no problem in my book. The bad part was that there was some Begulas on the other side and I probably shouldn't go swimming with random animals.

So there you go. Random stories and facts. And all that before I was ten. I have more (seriously, I can recite the stories at this point) but that's enough for now. I'm particularly proud of the last one. Hey, dolphins. I was going swimming. I still would. Wait, I did. Kinda. Another story for another time.

Time to go get my high school transcripts after a quick shower.

News at 11: Catfight at local bar

2007-06-27T21:32:00.000-04:00

All right, so we've established I have a very messed up family, and really, is it any wonder I decided perhaps it might be a good idea to get some professional help? Now, since I was on my dad's insurance at the time, we did the co-pay route. That meant I went to one my stepdad recommended. However, the person I requested wasn't taking anymore people, so I got someone straight out of school, I swear.

Why do I think this? Well, she insinuated my problems with dear old stepmom was from jealousy. Yeah, no. My school counselor said the same thing, but the problem is neither one had met the woman in question. (This is the woman that was about 160 lbs and wore a midriff and daisy dukes out in public. She's rouuugh, too. Seriously. Oh! I can show you the pic. *runs off to get the link* Here you go. Don't consume food or drink while looking, unless it's brain bleach.) They also pooh-poohed the maternal influences in my life. Sure, I bet they have a usually drunk mother. I'm so sure. And a manipulative godmom. Really, I wanna see their personal life credentials.

I went to the lady for about four months, once or twice a week depending, before she came up with the bright idea of getting all my family together. The list includes: me, dad, mom, stepmom, and godmom. My stepdad was invited but decided that it would be safer out of the line of fire. Bless his heart. He had the right idea. I told the therapist that it was a very, very bad idea. But hey, what do I know? I only live with the people.

So we're all sitting around, trying to let me unload all my problems they've forced on me (why it wasn't done individually, I'll never know). But I do it, and surprise, surprise my stepmom turns around and starts attacking my mom and godmom. Saying this that and the other. Riiiight, bright idea, genius. I have a temper like my mom, only it's hard to set off, so when my stepmom got in my mom's face, pointing at her and calling her a drunk, I knew no good could come from this. My dad, unsurprisingly, was silent the whole time. Daddy doesn't talk much, he thinks about things before commenting. My mom and godmom who normally never get along were together in beating the bitch who made my life hard. Never mind it was because I was their property. Anyway, long story short, the meeting broke up soon after because my mom was ready to deck stepmom. It got ugly fast. And I never went back to the therapist, as she never called to schedule another appointment, and it's not like she has a single brain cell anyway. I didn't miss her too much.

Now this was in January of 98, I think. On Valentine's Day, I got a call late at night. My aunt was calling to tell me that my mom was seen at the bar trying to attack my stepmom. Normally I wouldn't cheer my mom on, but stupid stepmom went into my mom's hangout for the past 20 years and thought she'd be welcome. Apparently, Aunt's (that'd be the recently dead one) friend said my mom froze up when she saw the couple come in, and was trying to be cordial when my daddy (bless his dumb heart) stopped by to say hello. They were talking low, and all of my sudden my mom comes out with "No one treats my daughter like that!" and ready to start swinging. For the record, mom? Was drunk off her ass, but that's not unusual. Aunt's friend said, "whoever her daughter is, I wouldn't want to her mom after me." The friend had no idea that the one ready to fight was my mom. It was pretty priceless apparently.

Right after my godmom hung up with aunt, my mom called. She explained a lot of the same things my aunt had told, but there was more! You see, they did start cat fighting, or nearly as one could in the small space. My dad was trying to move my stepmom out of the bar (and hee! she was permanently thrown out of the bar after that), and my stepdad was holding my mom back. Bad, bad idea. Like colossal. You see, we've all told R (stepdad) that when my mom's fighting, just let her finish it. Don't stop her, don't attempt it. Bad, bad. Apparently, he didn't listen. So while his trying to hold her back, she reached around and grabbed him by the balls. Oh, that's not the worst of it. My mom has long, rounded sharp nails. So imaging them squeezing him really hard. It had to hurt, especially since he was attempting to keep my mom held at the same time. Mom was told to go out of the bar for the night and come back when she'd calmed down.

See, this is when it's useful to be a regular. Hell, I went into the bar looking for my mom when I was something like five, cause I have vague recollections of it. And I went in as a high school senior because of who she was. After I got out of school, she and R would meet up for drinks, so around 3 we'd go over. I loved it, honestly. Seriously, I knew half the patrons for most of my life. Nice and convenient. Though, kinda skeezy when someone my dad's age was hitting on me. Damn rack brought the pervs.

Now, my stepmom, bless her dumbass self, said that never happened. Never mind we had an independent source tell us the same story. To date, the best Valentine's Day present ever. Seriously, who could top that? My mom fucked my stepmom's shit up for trying to emotionally abuse me (okay, fine, she totally did) when I was her property, and for calling her a drunk when my stepmom moved in my dad after knowing him a grand total of a month and had gotten her eviction notice a month before she met him. Oh, and my dad and stepmom? Met at the same bar she was banned from. Haha! But that's a story for another time. A good story though.

This? Is a normal day in the life of me.

(Oh, and to clarify, the bar is really a redneck honky tonk. So imagine the fight in that kind of setting.)

Wassit?

2007-06-27T19:43:00.001-04:00

This was taken last year, at some point, and it was the first flower bouquet that Ninja Kitty had been around. Being the incredible goof, she ended up hitting all the petals off. But I chose the pic because look at that face. She has the most expressive face ever. She couldn't figure out what the camera flash was and why it was going off all the time. She was about a year here. You can tell cause she's not quite as wide.

I had bought the arrangement for my godmom, just because she was feeling awful and needed something purdy to look at. Too bad they didn't last long. I think she got a kick watching Kitty attack the plants. Speaking of which, we should get some more. If nothing else, the odd looks Noelle shows off and makes us laugh with. Little shit.

Okay, funny post coming up later tonight. I was just looking through the camera pics and had to share this one. And she really doesn't have laser eyes. My camera just likes to make everyone think she does.

My Two Point Six Cents

2007-06-25T15:28:00.000-04:00

Okay, I've been bombarded with military posts lately (through my own curiosity or links). This leads me to believe it's time to say my piece. Now, I'm saying it over here, and not on my other, more fandom-centric journal. This? Is a serious toned one post.

I disagree, rather heavily, with the politics behind the war. I'm 25 and it seems like we're always at war. I remember Desert Storm, when as a youngin' my class sent tapes for the soldiers, where we sang and showed our support. But even then, I wasn't sure war was the best answer. And my opinion hasn't changed much over the years. I have a cynical nature, I must admit, and I get the feeling that some politicians are looking at the vote potential instead of the people that are putting their lives on the line. That bothers me, a lot. I've seen, and dealt with my stepfather's PTSD in the 12-13 years I've known him. It's untreated, and probably will stay that way. I believe he said he served three tours. Watching him suffer, knowing that he was a kid that was forced to kill young children, tends to make me not a fan either. Because it's a heavy burden to carry, and it's even heavier when it's a 12-year-old that has to make him feel better during a freak-out over it. Not his live-in girlfriend (my mom), or his own children, but someone who barely knows him but can see the hurt that still lives in him.

That is a large majority of why I don't support the politics behind war. I've seen the disastrous outcome.

However, and please let me be abundantly clear: I will always, always, ALWAYS support the troops. Until my dying breath. I've watched my stepfather deal with the outcome, and I have so much pride in him. He may be an alcoholic sonofabitch sometimes, but he still did something really hard when he was barely old enough to graduate high school. I do my best to call on Memorial Day, or Veteran's Day. Of course, I do forget sometimes, but I make the effort.

Because you know what? I'm a chickenshit when it comes to things like going over and fighting for people I don't know. I am. Now if it were an abused animals? I'd be nailing someone's balls to the wall with a Tim Taylor'd special nailgun. Same with abused kids, after watching my stepbrother be molested by his youth minister, and not his first case of it, either. The first two times were because his mother decided to take him to drug houses. Oh, yes. She's a bright one. Though, I really love one thing about her. When the youth minister went to jail for molesting my little brother? She called in a couple jail favors and had his ass whupped up one side and down the other. She's been to jail a couple times, so she knew some people. Okay, fine, vigilante justice and all, but my little brother was 12 at the time, and thought he was safe.

Those incidents? I'll put on my shit-kickers and you'll be 20 feet in the ground before you know it. Probably with some hurting balls or boobs, depending. But I couldn't fight a war that I didn't understand, and more or less didn't agree with. These people in the military risk their lives so I don't have to. How can that not earn my respect, admiration?

Well, okay, one person doesn't. But considering he's my stepmother's son, well, we'll just take that into account. Plus, he married his 17-year-old girlfriend when he was something like 20. Yeah, not so much a winner there. Especially since they divorced less than a year later. He worked at Langley, working on the airplanes since his vision kept him from flying, which is what he really wanted to do. He got out after...eight years, I think. I tried to forget him as much as possible, so I'm not sure offhand. That's the only one I can think of.

But I completely support everyone fighting. Well, with the exception of ole JB, since he seems to think my dad owes him everything. Now, do I agree with why the troops are there? Hell no. But I do think they need to stay there, until they feel comfortable leaving. It's not me over there so it's not my call to make. Their opinions hold a lot more weight than someone trying to get votes, or the media's desire to stir the pot for more air time to devote to "the drama". Sorry, I like less drama in my news. I have fandom for that. Thanks. I want to know without political biases.

I've started reading military blogs, figuring out ways to make a contribution I can afford to the soldiers. They deserve it, and I'm trying my best to get a more accurate view, from the firsthand accounts. I want to know what I'm supporting, because it matters to the soldiers. It only seems right.

I don't think in political party things, either. Though, I do think George W. needs to go back to Kindergarten and start over. Primarily on using common sense, but that's not what this is about. It's about making the best of the situation we're in. Instead of pointing fingers, being jerks, acting the fool, the country needs to understand what the soldiers feel and see. To understand and accept that knowledge. And more importantly, to let them know that people can separate the politics from the troops. No matter someone's stance on the war, the soldiers shouldn't feel the burden. That's not their jobs.

Well, shit on a cracker

2007-06-23T16:24:00.001-04:00

Not bringing the funny, sorry.

So, my godmom and I get along for the most part. I love her, and she loves me. However, she has this problem: passive-aggressive, guilting you into doing exactly what you want type behaviour. She's 74. She does it because her mom did it to her. Which gives her a little bit of wiggle-room, but after 25 years, I'm just slightly over it. Just a little.

Whatever I'm feeling, it's broadcast loudly and clearly. You can't miss it. So, I had asked my godmom to buy my kitten the birthday present since I'm presently broke. Like, I have enough to pay for my insurance and to eat for a bit, but that's it. I asked her this awhile back, and I found a cheap but functional thing. For 17.34, I could get a two-story cloth cat condo and a little one-story hammock. It was pretty okay. But she didn't want to buy it. You know that face, the mom face? The mouth twists down to a frown and the look of "I don't think so" comes over the face? Yeah, I got that one. Which normally it doesn't bother me. I'm used to that sort of thing because I'm forever doing something wrong.

So while I was waiting on her to catch up on me, I was muttering some not so nice things under my breath. I was pissed and hurt because I had told her ahead of time how much it was cost, at least a rounded up "around 15 bucks." Just to make sure she knew it'd be more than 10, less than 20. It depends on the store at times. I used the c word. I use that word...maybe twice every two years. I don't like it, I never have. And I also really, really appreciate what my godmom does for me. I'm not stupid; I know I'm lucky. But I just get tired of the mind games. Seriously, I could give lessons on how to win an argument through manipulation before you're eight. Battle ground from womb on.

So I wasn't surprised after showing my displeasure when in the car, my godmom goes "With your lip poked out like that, you look like your mother." My instant reply, "Thank you!" Now, comparing me to my mom is like the most cruel thing you can do. The woman is the most selfish woman I've met. I just can't even describe the anger in those words. Me, I'm the opposite for the most part. I'll give you the bra off my boobs if you need it. Not because I get to tell everyone about the good deed like my mom, but because it's the right thing to do. I have a pretty solid moral compass. It doesn't waiver, and I don't think it ever will. I'm pretty solid in my beliefs. My mom cheated on my dad because he didn't give her enough sex and she didn't want to have me in the first place. She called me names like bitch by the time I was 12. She was jealous of all the advantages my godmom gave me because no one did it for her growing up. She thinks she knows all about my diabetes when she talks ot me about 5 minutes every three months. Yeah. So comparing me? Hurt like a mother. And my godmom knew it would.

Right now? Not so much talking to her. And I probably won't for a couple hours. Don't worry, though. My showing displeasure will be something I'll pay for in the coming weeks and months. She skips the hours and days and goes straight for the whole hog. Lovely.

Oh, and she spends about 40-50 a month on diet pills. At 74. While crash dieting. And not exercising. Then complains when she can't fit into her St. John Knits that are made for fashion sized 14, which is like a 10 on normal people. She has got a closet full of clothes but she refuses to face the fact at 74, she's not 40 anymore. Her body doesn't work that way. And it's something I have to discuss with her daily. Her body issues make mine look positive. Imagine doing this on a daily basis. Passive-aggressive swipes get old real fast.

Gee, why do I want to move out?

I want my unicorn...NOW.

2007-06-20T13:17:00.000-04:00

Shamelessly snagged from The "Mind", because I'm cool like that.

I've taken it before, but it's been a long time ago. Apparently I got the same answer then, too. Sheesh, I don't think the person described has a functioning brain. And? I have PLENTY of bruising. My heart's got more scars than a scarred up thing.

Toilet and all

2007-06-17T15:03:00.000-04:00

For another story of my moms family's....unusualness, I'll introduce y'all to Uncle T. Now, all my mom's brothers (and hell, my step-father) are alcoholics. Uncle T is a mean drunk. Oh, yes. Unlike my Uncle C, who is awesomesauce when drunk...unless it's his ex-wife. He's also got the family pride, temper, and lack of common sense. You'll see all those come into play by the end of this post. Okay, that's enough of back story.

My Uncle T and Aunt L were getting a divorce about 10 years ago. They were the fist-fighting, screaming at each other sorts of arguers, so you can imagine the hell that went on when they were mad. Now, they lived in squaller. I do mean that, too. My two cousins had pet roaches. Seriously. I know this because I used to stay there before school. And I hated the way it smelled. Talk about junk collectors. They were renting the house, I think. Hell, they might have owned it for all I know. I can't be certain. Anyway, if you've ever seen Animal Cops on Animal Planet, the hoarder houses? Yeah, pretty much. Just don't add the too many animals to it.

Okay, so my uncle and aunt were fighting, arguing over something but no one's ever said. He got so angry that he went and ripped the toilet off the floor. No, really. Straight up and broke the bolts. The worst part? That was the only bathroom in the house. So they had to go out to a trailer next to the house that held the rest of their shit to shit. Oh, yes. We're a winning family. Of course, there was also a weird shed on the property that held lawn mowers and possibly a pig or two, along with two small cornfields on either side. Oh, yes. White trash representing. And they picked the corn. Ahem, got side-tracked. Sorry.

Now, it's guaranteed that he was drinking, since alcoholic and the day ended on Y. And they kept arguing after the destruction of the toilet. It got to the point that he went and pulled out his handgun. Because in this family, meaning my mom's, you had better be prepared for anything. In a case of infinite wisdom, he started waving it around while Aunt L was outside. Pissed off, he shot it.

No, no. He didn't shoot her. You see, he shot it straight ahead, so it went into the woods across the street. But the story doesn't end here. You see, there happened to be someone jugging over by the trees. Not just anyone, but an off-duty cop. Of course, he had his radio on him because sleepy town or not, there's some crazy people in the world. He called it in and I think had his gun, too.

So my uncle was arrested for shooting a gun while drunk. He served time, but I'm not sure how long, and then was put on probation. Aunt L also ended up divorcing him because she wasn't gonna live with his crazy ass. Can't say I blame her really. This is also the same guy that tries to tell me what the best job for me would be. Uh huh. Because he's got awesome thought processes like that.

The toilet didn't get fixed for about six months.

My family? Fodder for a book, seriously. No one would believe these things happen.

Plight of the Dead

2007-06-13T16:18:00.000-04:00

My mom's family is, shall we say, unique. Not just redneck, but redneck white trash. So funerals are a fun experience. Like finding out who bathed, who didn't, who's coming in overalls or jeans (that'd be over half), who dressed up (a little less than 1/4th), and finally, who's coming with who since they all pretty much date in the family. Oh, yes. We are an inbreed clan, and that folks is why I don't date. I'm sorry, it doesn't interest me to date my third cousin; removed or not, still sharing the same tree.

Now, my aunt died two Fridays ago, and we buried her last Tuesday (a week ago). The day before my mother's birthday. Oh, yes, my family has spectacular timing when deciding to die. So, everyone's in all their glory, most looking like ship-wrecked idiots that don't own a razor. Seriously, my family? LOVES the scruffy, unkempt look. It's rather sad. Nothing like seeing your uncles dressed in jeans, flannel shirt, and jean jacket with a hat on. Oh, yes, even in the chapel, the hat stays on. And not just any hat, but a trucker one! We rule, really. I had to piece together something quickly since I couldn't find pants that fit at Lane Bryant, but I still looked ten - no, twenty - times better than these people.

There were eight surviving children, two dead. Now it's seven, and all the siblings sat with their significant others (if they had one, which surprisingly, Denim Uncle did not). The nieces and nephews sat behind their parents. So, I being the smart person, dragged my godmom to sit with me. What? These people are nuts, I ain't stupid. And then, when my step-siblings asked if they were supposed to sit with us, I jumped on that bad boy, too. We had nearly a whole pew all to ourselves. Oh, there were a couple great-aunt's but hell if I know their names. One's nickname is Snooks. Oh, yes, you know you're jealous.

So on my left was godmom and on my right was my step-sister with her son on the lap. Next to her was my other step-sister, sitting with our niece. We'll call the one with the two kids Sister A and the other Sister J. So, we're sitting there, listening to the first preacher (because oh yes my aunt had two preachers), and going "Okay, this is going along good. Annnny minute now, we'll be done." But alas, that was a pipe dream.

You see, it was time for Preacher Two to step up and speak. And this man sees all of us as a congregation, which as I told Sister A, "we're the captive congregation." I mean, I went through the same thing with my grandfather's funeral. Same guy, same sermon. Oh, yes, it was a sermon. Lots of loud talking, telling us to accept Jesus into our life or we'd never see my aunt in Paradise. Now, I'm not particularly religious. I have my spiritual beliefs and that's about it. But I don't begrudge people their choice of dealing with their spiritual side. However, I don't particularly think a funeral's the time for a 45 minute sermon on the evils of life at a funeral. Did we discuss my aunt? Not unless you count a few sprinklings of meeting her in Paradise.

Can't have a pesky thing like the dead person's contributions being talking about. Okay, so she wasn't Mother Teresa, but she was pretty nice when not being vain about it. I loved her anyway. So, I'm sitting there, doing my best to not nod off since that what I always do in sermons. So, I'm all, blahblahblah, until it was time to view the casket.

I don't like looking at dead people. I haven't since I was about 12. So, needless to say, this wasn't the most fun thing for me, but I did it for my pride. What? I wasn't gonna let the family say something about me. They already think I'm abnormal for not being married or divorced with three kids at my hip. Now, after everyone else in the world's looked at her, it's the family's turn. And lemme tell you, that's jacked up. Family? Should be the first to say goodbye. Primarily because the chapel was about 60% full and that was a long wait. Anyway, so we go see her, and it didn't occur at the time, but seriously...little kids? Shouldn't have to see dead bodies.

My niece, let's call her K, was crying over seeing the dead body, and with a two-year-old on Sister A's lap, I took Little A. Sister A looked alarmed, said "No, he doesn't like that." And by that time, Little A was sitting on my lap watching his sister cry and trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't utter a peep. All I told him was "Sissy needs to sit with your mama right now, and I'll give you back in just a minute." He was fine. Both my step-sisters looked flabbergasted. Which is odd because kids usually love me. I'm pretty personable, really. And I was talking to Little A very calmly so K could get the attention she needed. It all worked out, I think.

Then I went to the grave site for the lowering. Over the whole family thing by then, I skipped on the at the home talking about her bit and went to the library to get my books. *grins* Luckily, it was two doors down. Hey, why waste the gas?

And that is the story of the captive congregation. I wonder if other areas have that, or it's just this special guy's spiel.

Happy Time

2007-06-13T00:04:00.001-04:00

Okay, really, I don't have a lot of happy things to mention about my day (mostly because I only left the house for about two hours), but well, the blog was getting rather bitter. I try and dole that out slowly as to not scare the nice people away.

So positive things. Reading Crystal McBoob's blog, I found this place. And truly, if you've ever had a pug, you understand how well they control humans. We are their puppets, and we dance, dance our little hearts out until we give them what they want. Granted, no one reads my blog (darn my promotion skills), but hey, I'll add it out there because what's posted is so true. I mean, honestly. Go read, laugh, and see how those us that are owned by pugs live. *grins*

Noelle is crashed out beside me, loving the floor lamp that keeps her nice and toasty since the cruel humans didn't raise her window today. Maybe we will tomorrow. God knows we're weak-willed when she looks sad. But...kitty. Pretty kitty, even. That's my Thunder Kitty (okay, and Ninja Kitty, as named when she was a kitten and would attack randomly). Thunder Kitty comes from the fact she sounds like it when she runs to follow from the front.

And oh my god. WORST KITTY MOTHER EVER. Today was her birthday. *headdesk* I was thinking it was July, but no, I gave her June 12 so it's three months in front of mine. Damn it. I owe her something. Hmm...wonder if I can get my godmom to buy her a toy or something. Probably. Godmom loves her almost as much as I do. Well, shit. Okay, *ponders* since it's late anyway, I should make it a good present. That means I've had her for about a year and a half. She's the best thing that's happened to me in that time. Why? Because she makes me laugh and giggle, keeps me from sliding into depression, and most of all just loves me. The unconditional love of a pet is the best thing ever. Because when I'm sick, she guards me. When I'm crashing at night and dangerously low, she'll paw at me. When I'm sleeping, usually she can be found curled around my feet snoozing right along with her brain-dead human. Every day I realize how lucky I am to have her. God, and since we don't speak often I'll take this on high authority, blessed me with her. She healed some old wounds helps me remember why I'm on this earth. Because I'm part of a team.

Best. Cat. Ever.

Oh goody! I'm old.

2007-06-11T17:52:00.000-04:00

At 25, I'm afraid that I've got another medical problem. Diabetes is like the jumping off point, which sucks ass. I have subclinical hypothyroidism. What is that? Fuck if the Internet's telling me. All I know is that I'm on pills now. More medicine. Oh, yay. And I have to take this one hour before I eat, which means I have to wait to take my insulin. Goody, goody gumdrops. Since that seems ever so safe! Of course, a quick look at the medicine website tells me, that oh goody, Type I diabetes is an autoimmune disease. How come my docs never told me this? Hello, this is very, very important information.

Bloody hell, and now I'll have to start getting up at 9am every day to keep it on a normal schedule. I like sleeping until 1 pm, damn it. *sighs*

From their website:

Do not stop taking Synthroid or change the way you take it unless your doctor tells you to do so. If you do not take your pills each day as prescribed, your doctor may not be able to tell if your current Synthroid dose is helping to keep your thyroxine level in balance.

If your doctor prescribed Synthroid even though you had no hypothyroid symptoms, you need to keep taking Synthroid even if you feel fine. Stopping the medicine could lead to other health conditions, such as infertility, problems during pregnancy, and heart disease. It is very important to get follow-up TSH tests to make sure your TSH level is within the target range.

Oh, gee! That makes me feel good. Good thing I hadn't planned on having kids anyway. You know what? I give up. I do. I say I go back into my mother's womb and start over. Okay? Or better yet, lemme pick out a better model when it comes to mother. I need one that's not a bitch from hell. Thank you ever so much.