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::::january 2002::::
<<<10:13pm>>>
For the Resident Stephen King Fans
i'm currently taping the last installment of the new Stephen King mini-series "Rose Red". i haven't watched any of it yet, so i can't say if it's any good so far; when it comes to these made-for-T.V. flicks it's best to proceed with caution. but i plan to watch the first part tomorrow morning, so i'll let you know.
<<<31 january 2002 9:31pm>>>
Find A Death (Dot) Com is an interesting read for a boring, snowy evening. join the debate over whether a coroner's photo of Kurt Cobain is authentic (disclaimer: pic in question really gross), or take the less graphic road and read about the last days of the great Sylvia Plath.
the funniest entry has to be one concerning Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone With The Wind-- and the Webmaster's scathing review of her house-cum-museum in the heart of Atlanta, Georgia. includes a (not gross) photo of Margaret lying in the street minutes after making fatal acquaintance with a taxi cab. good lord. is there no dignity anymore?
<<<8:27pm>>>
Bad Seeds
BF and i were just talking about some bad things we did as kids. you know, crazy stuff that we did because we didn't know any better, or before one is able to grasp the concepts of consequences and accountability-- or sometimes on purpose.
when i was three, i accidentally killed a frog. it certainly wasn't intentional, because i really like frogs, but i was playing with it and hugging it, and at some point, i must have squeezed too tight. the thing is, to this day, i still feel terrible about it. no bullshit. it makes me feel like crap to think that i took the life of an innocent living creature, even though there was no malice involved.
but, i try to consider the fact that it was an important lesson for me that day. it was the first time i encountered the concept of death. when i brought the dead frog to my mother, she had to explain to me that the frog had died; all living things die and can be killed. i had killed the frog. i was responsible for its death.
oh, and when i was a little older (about six, i think), i cut off one side of my cat's whiskers with my plastic safety scissors. but again, that was not done in malice. however, it did earn the wrath of my mother.
then there are little punks like BF who, in his tender years, found great hilarity in repeatedly shoving his cats down the laundry chute.
so, what were some heinous things you can remember doing? e-mail me; i'd love to hear some good stories.
<<<1:17pm>>>
Short Review of Hair Therapy's Nourishing Green Tea Conditioner, Enriched With Pure Green Tea Extract, Chamomile and Vitamin C, $1.99 Plus Tax Per Bottle at Target
wow, this stuff really works well. it makes my hair really soft. i'm pleasantly surprised. it's just this cheap stuff i picked out at Target because i was in a hurry and it smelled good. i was using that Thermasilk stuff, but since i rarely blow dry my hair, i guess it wasn't really doing anything for it.
<<<30 January 2002 12:37pm>>>
Take the What
animal best portrays your sexual appetite?? Quiz
whoa, whoa, whoa-- let's pause at the "having their way" part. what exactly is considered "having one's way"? i mean, i'm open minded. let's talk about this.
<<<11:10pm>>>
Craptastic Day
seriously-- what a long, crappy day. nothing on friggin' television tonight-- unless you wanted to watch a stuttering FAS baby for two hours. i think a hot bath and an early trip to the mattress might be in order soon.
i finally got around to watching an episode of The View that i taped yesterday morning. they had Kim Cattrall on, and i didn't want to miss that because i think she's so cool. well...it turns out she's just written a book with her husband, about, uh, how they get it on-- which is currently #1 on Amazon.
frankly, i think that's pretty creepy. they had her husband on the show too-- and he looked pretty creepy. just like the sort of creepy person that would do something as creepy as exploiting their private, married sex life as an excuse to knock off some upscale pseudo-tantric, high-class softcore-- with pictures.
me, a prude? of course not!
<<<10:17pm>>>
Rumors? Whatever.
According to MTV2, Madonna just recorded the David Bowie classic Ziggy Stardust for her new album. They claim that Madonna has always been a big fan of Bowie and Ziggy Stardust is her all-time favorite song by Bowie. MTV2 also claims that Madonna is recording more music for the album at the present moment and that the album should be in stores this summer. They also said this album will be her first where she plays guitar.
via absolutemadonna (dot) com.
<<<10:03pm>>>
only two days left in the Remix Madonna contest at ACIDplanet. i'd love to see if someone could do something really interesting with "Deeper and Deeper". such a good, positive, dancey song, and one of Madonna's most overlooked.
<<<29 january 2002 2:05am>>>
cyndi found this photo of the two of us together, from a few years ago when my hair was bleached platinum. i have fond memories of being blonde. they say that blondes have more fun-- well, no, not exactly. but i can testify that they get more attention and better service. i'm not sure why that is...but it's the way it is.
one thing i learned is that being a fake blonde is a full-time job. to even get my hair to such a radical shade in the first place was a major operation. my natural haircolor had to be stripped first, then bleached, then toned. my hair grows so fast that i'd have black roots two weeks later-- and being the sort of person that i am, i didn't like to have sloppy roots, so touch ups were frequent and painful. my poor scalp would be angry and sore for days afterwards.
nonetheless, i eventually came to the conclusion that it was just not "me". it looked good, but i never really got used to it. every time i passed a mirror, i would startle myself, and Japanese tourists would stop me on Newbury Street and ask if i was Gwen Stefani.
<<<26 january 2002 8:39am>>>
Another Crazy Dream
what the hell is going on in my dreamlife? just the other night i dreamed i was at this horribly depressing wedding; last night, i had an even more depressing dream-- i dreamed i got a call at work, and was told my mother had died. she was at home and a ceiling fan had fallen on her head, knocked her out, and she had bled to death on the spot.
now, the funny thing is, in retrospect this dream is making me laugh. but at the time it was an ultra-sad, ultra-scary dream. i had to fly down and take care of her house and organize the funeral and deal with crazy relatives and it was just a depressing mess.
<<<10:47am>>>
Which drink are you?
<<<25 january 2002 9:50am>>>
good morning, my little starshines! care for a little Friday Five?
1. What cologne or perfume do you wear? Coco by Chanel, Angel by Thierry Mugler; currently sampling Glamourous by Ralph Lauren and Dark Vanilla.
2. What cologne or perfume do you like best on the opposite sex? soap and pheromones.
3. What one smell can you not stomach? toss up: muscadines and wet dog.
4. What smell do you like that others might consider weird? crayons. new pencil erasers. rubber cement. construction paper. happy memories of elementary school art class.
5. How do you plan to spend your weekend? snowboarding, catching up with friends.
<<<9:10pm>>>
"The Seven Habits of Sensitive, Celibate Men." there's some good points here, but...i certainly don't agree with the part about glasses. i think men who wear glasses are extremely sexy.
<<<8:49pm>>>
hehe: this is me by georg bush.
<<<5:45pm>>>
Ice Cube Rocks And All, But...
Next Friday has to be one of the dumbest movies ever made. that said, i have absolutely no explanation for why i ended up watching it last night-- for the third time.
<<<24 january 2002 10:41am>>>
dream journal 23 january
now, in order for you to understand the signifigance of this dream, i have to give you a little background: an old friend of mine-- militantly feminist, radically independent and stoutly anti-matrimony-- suddenly gives me a call a few weeks ago to announce that she is (ta da) getting married-- to an acute schizophrenic she met two months ago while she was fucking another member of the band. i was too shocked to say very much, and just managed a weak congratulations. i mean, what else are you supposed to say when an intelligent person stands there and tells you they've just decided to flush their life down the toilet with both hands?
i dreamed that my friend asked me to be her bridesmaid, and for some reason-- perhaps i was feeling particularly masochistic-- i accepted. then she went out and purchased all of the bridesmaids' dresses, and they were these cool little black sequined numbers-- and i thought, right on, maybe this won't be so bad. but then the wedding took place, and everyone was wearing black, and the flowers were all black, and it was more like a funeral than anything else. no one was smiling; there seemed to be all these angry vibes penetrating everything, and it was so depressing. and when the ceremony was over and the bride and groom passed us on their way down the aisle, i just burst into tears and began to sob into my black orchid-bouquet. then all these people were coming up to me and trying to comfort me and putting their arms around me and saying things like, "oh, i know, it's just beautiful, isn't it? do you always cry at weddings?" and i couldn't seem to stop sobbing long enough to tell them that i wasn't crying because it was beautiful, i was crying because the whole thing was just so horrible.
the rest of the dream was really boring; i think i left the reception and went for a bagel or something, and spent another two hours getting involved in other inane situations-- as dreams sometimes go.
<<<23 january 2002 12:03am>>>
Knocked Up In The City
i was really afraid that i might have to stop watching Sex and the City. it seemed to be going downhill pretty fast, what with the squicky pregnancy subplot and Carrie's engagement. well, at least Aidan has turned out to be an official loser, and Carrie didn't back down to him. points: +54,876,097. i'm glad Trey is leaving Charlotte's whiny ass (or is it the other way around? either way, the man's better off). points: +950,675. i really hate Charlotte. i secretly hope terrible things keep happening to her. isn't that crazy?
but then, Miranda gets warm fuzzies from feeling her baby kick. gag. points: -300,098,987,000.
oh well. at least Samantha is still my favorite. and she rocks in every episode.
<<<11:03pm>>>
i'm watching Sex and the City right now. good god, what is up with all the pearls? Sarah Jessica Parker has to be wearing at least ten pounds of pearls right now.
<<<1:25pm>>>
note to self: if you slather your entire face with Vicks Vaporub and then go to sleep like that, some redness may occur.
<<<10:57pm>>>
ever play MASH as a kid? well, now you can play it online. what a time to be alive.
You live in a Mansion.
You're married to Thom Yorke.
You drive a Land Rover.
Your car is the color gray.
You live in the state Colorado.
Your honeymoon is the Orient Express.
Your occupation is a contortionist.
You have this many kids: 0 (0 male; 0 female).
hmmm, it might be amusing to be married to Thom Yorke. i only listed him as one of the "possible spouses" because i couldn't think of anyone in particular i'd like to marry, so i just rattled off names-- but now that i think about it, Thom Yorke just might be the only human being on Earth i'd agree to marry. why? because he's a fucking genius. ours would be a sexless marriage, though. i just don't love Thom in that way.
an intellectual, "open" marriage based on mutual and artistic respect? ideal. i could dig it. 0 kids is definitely a plus, as is driving a Land Rover and living somewhere in the uncultivated Colorado landscape. fantasies, fantasies.
<<<7:29pm>>>
Shopping
my russian goth friend invited me to go shopping with her today, so i met her at the mall after work. i wasn't really planning to spend any money but i thought it'd be fun to hang out with her anyway, especially since she quit the job and i no longer see her on a daily basis.
shopping for clothes is tricky for me, due to my positively goofy physical structure. first, there's my almost abnormally long torso to contend with. this, coupled with my very small waist, and "Lopez-esque" hips and ass, means that finding a pair of trousers to fit me correctly is next to impossible. more often than not i find that a pair of trousers that simply fits my waist won't fit over my hips, so i have to go a size up to accomodate this. well, now that i've gone a size up the waist no longer fits, so the waistband creeps down and comes to a rest on my hipbones, leaving them baggy in the crotch and butt and generally looking ill-fitting all around.
that's part of the reason i'm loving the whole "low rise" hiphuggers trend, because for once in my life, i'm finding pants that fit. long live the three-inch rise.
tops are a similar story. if i can find a top to fit my chest, then invariably, the armholes are huge and the sleeves are long enough to engulf my hands. i don't wear my tops tight because i'm slutty-- (as was once delicately suggested, and just as delicately retracted under threat of my beringed fist), i wear them tight because it's preferable to wearing a tent. then, i have to make sure the top is cut long enough to fit my torso, or i'll end up with an instant Britney Spears belly shirt. no scissors required.
people have suggested that i buy my clothes at one of those specialty "petite" shops. come on, have you seen the kind of stuff they sell at those places? no thanks.
we went to Express and tried on some stuff there. i tried on a pair of jeans, and concluded that i might possibly benefit from some Thighmaster sessions. my friend was not much help. every time i came out of the dressing room and begged for her opinion, the only thing she could say was "you have such tiny waist" in her thick accent.
"how's my butt look in these?" "you have such tiny waist." "is this top too tight?" "you have such tiny waist."
i was unable to discern whether her comment was loaded with admiration, or morbid fascination-- or if she was just trying to avoid saying something like, "i can't tell. all i can focus on is how huge your ass is."
then, in Filene's, we met the cutest British guy. we were watching him as he tried on sweaters, pulling them over his t-shirt and studying himself in the mirror. finally i said, "the green one looks best." he replied, "i've just bought one over at Abercrombie & Fitch," and pulled it out of his bag to show us. then he started pulling everything out of his shopping bags, telling us where he got it and how much it cost, and whether or not it was on sale, as we oohed and ahhed over his purchases, and felt how soft the fleece pullovers were, at his request. he seemed thrilled to bits to have two girls fawning all over his sweaters.
by the time i started home it was a freaking blizzard outside, and the plows hadn't gotten to the roads yet. i decided to take the backroads home instead of the turnpike, because i didn't want to be on the highway when some crazy eighteen-wheeler decides to go 80mph on black ice. i listened to AC/DC and crept along at a snails pace with the other brave motorists. things were still a bit slippery, but i went to 2WD and managed to remember to down-shift on hills, and made it home with a few minor spin-outs but ultimately, without a scratch.
so, that was my day. how was yours?
<<<21 january 2002 9:43pm>>>
i went for an early morning walk since i was feeling better. i walked up to a cafe on the corner that advertises a two egg, two bacon, two sausage and two slices of toast breakfast for $2.25...but then turned back and started home when i decided i wasn't that hungry.
i'm not quite sure what this is about, but sadly i won't be there for the event, as i'm due in at work at exactly that time.
<<<11:24pm>>>
i took a turn for the worse today. spent much of the day horizontal watching Emeril and Iron Chef. this is definitely one of the worst sinus infections i've ever had.
<<<20 january 2002 12:56am>>>
sorry about the lack of posting today. it's not that i don't have anything to say, i'm just having a hard time concentrating for some reason, and the words are not coming and i'm having a hard time articulating. it's frustrating. everything spinning around and not connecting. i get this way occasionally. maybe i've had too much caffeine.
anyway, i think i'll try this again tomorrow (or later today). i have good news to share, at least, and maybe by then my head will be clear and there won't be quite so much going on in my little gourd.
gross. the neighbors are having sex. headboard against the wall action. time to put on the headphones.
<<<1:46pm>>>
off to work for a few hours. expect more posts tonight.
<<<19 january 2002 1:20pm>>>
The Eleven And Other Rhythmic Oddities
Eight sided whispering hallelujah hatrack
Seven faced marble eye transitory dream doll
six proud walkers on jinglebell rainbow
Five men writing in fingers of gold
Four men tracking down the great white sperm whale
Three girls wait in a foreign dominion
Ride in the whale belly
Fade away in moonlight
Sink beneath the waters
to the coral sand below
Now is the time of returning
--Robert Hunter
<<<7:55pm>>>
Europe's First Brothel For Women Goes Bust
ok, i like to think that i am not sexist, but lets face it. there are some just some careers that men will never be suited for:
"If they'd operated like a normal brothel and made sure they got the money before the sex, they would have been all right...But they didn't ask for money until afterwards and the women only paid for what they thought the service had been worth."
no skillz to pay the billz, baby.
<<<7:51pm>>>
well it's ABOUT FUCKING TIME, wouldn't you say? didn't this show jump the shark years ago already? considering i completely stopped watching, oh, around 1996 or so, i had to be reminded it was still with us in the first place.
<<<18 january 2002 7:08pm>>>
Embarrassing Travel Memories, Part 1
two years ago i found myself at Denver International Airport. after disembarking the plane and collecting our luggage, we headed straight for the car rentals, since we still had a six-hour drive ahead of us. while we were standing at the counter talking to the agent, i decided i needed some lotion, and reached into my carry-on bag. i neglected to think about the fact that i hadn't opened the lotion-- which had a flip-up top-- since before taking off, and that the little bottle had just been subjected to several hours of extreme pressure changes.
you might see where this is going. upon opening the top, i completely sprayed the poor car-rental agent with peppermint-scented glitter-filled lotion. we're talking projectile.
i cried, "oh my God, i am so sorry!" then i blurted out, "wow, looks like my lotion got a little too excited there." the agent did not find my attempt at humour amusing. the next few painfully awkward minutes consisted of digging around for tissues, profuse extended apologies, an offer to pay a dry-cleaning bill and a very bright red face on my part. the dry-cleaning offer was declined and eventually the fracas subsided.
ah, but revenge is sweet. they stuck us with a Ford Taurus.
<<<12:40pm>>>
for some reason, i was just thinking about this music video i saw when i was 13. i think it was for Britny Fox. the scene: a schoolgirl arrives to class in her plaid skirt and white blouse, along with all the other girls in plaid skirts and white blouses. the difference is, she's got her Walkman with her, and starts grooving to-- what else, a Britny Fox tape. music video ensues. i remember my immediate reaction to this video was "ok, that's just ridiculous. i don't know any of those girls down at the catholic school that are even allowed to have a Walkman, much less listen to it during class."
let's just say, i was a late bloomer on the irony train.
<<<11:37am>>>
yesterday i was so out of it. my ears were full of fluid and i could barely hear anything and my balance was off. thankfully everyone was in a good mood and the day went smoothly.
in other news, wish me luck-- i'm applying for a scecond job today. it's just a little part-time deal at a hippie/headshop. maybe nothing will come of it. maybe i'll get the job, and end up liking it better than my first one. or maybe it'll just be enough to serve my immediate need-- spring holiday money.
weird-- the application asks for my high school's street address. good lawd, i don't remember my high school's address. i was hardly there in the first place.
<<<17 january 2002 11:22am>>>
More From The Files Of "I Just Don't Get It..."
today on "The View" they are doing a segment on wedding dresses. at the beginning of the show Meredith Vieira brought out this large box and said, "this is my wedding dress, hermetically sealed in this box the day of my wedding in 1986. today we're going to open it up for the first time in almost twenty years and take a look at it." i'm sure they assume this is the sort of thing that will make every female viewer in the land just squeal with anticipation or something. well, not me. i must be insane.
my mother kept her wedding dress. she says she is saving it so that i can wear it at my own wedding. uh, i don't think so. suffice it to say that my mother got married in the 70's. i don't have the heart to tell her that for years, i believed her wedding photos were actually pictures of her at a Halloween party where she dressed up as Princess Leia.
<<<16 january 2002 1:29am>>>
Phobias
i suffer from a particular phobia, which i am interested in overcoming. unless i can help it, i choose not to reveal this phobia to casual acquaintances. my reasoning for this might be a bit odd-- but as i generally believe that knowledge is power, i feel that the public revelation of such a thing effectively renders me vulnerable, in one way or another.
the logical first step in confronting a phobia would seem to be pinpointing its exact root. for example, when was the very first time you ever came in contact with the phobia, and/or what did it do/represent then that was so frightening? the trouble is, i can't remember any single incident or traumatic event that stands out. i can't remember a time when i wasn't afraid of this. in fact it seems like i was born with my phobia.
my father had a paralyzing fear of bridges; in particular, driving across bridges. the worst situation he could possibly be in was stopped, in traffic, on a bridge. if he happened to be driving and it looked like traffic would come to a standstill, even momentarily, on a bridge or highway overpass, he would get very antsy indeed. at some points his fear of bridges became so consuming that if he were on his way somewhere that he knew he would have to cross over a particular bridge, someone else would have to drive.
i mention this because it poses some interesting questions: can the tendency for irrational fear be inherited? the fear of bridges seems pretty silly to me, but the same could be said about my own phobia. so, assuming that you have no "trauma" to connect it to, what exactly determines what you will be afraid of? it is totally random, i.e. the first thing that comes along, or just happens to be in the same room the moment two phobic neurons start rubbing together? or is it really more to do with biological responses to psychological inconsistencies that never connect properly?
<<<9:42pm>>>
The Naked Chef-- A Balanced Perspective
i can't seem to figure out this guy with a cooking show who calls himself The Naked Chef. first of all, he never gets naked, which i am actually quite thankful for. he's not really that great. he's really unattractive. i wouldn't want to know him in real life. in fact, he just comes across as a real punk. (not the Joey Ramone variety.)
<<<9:03pm>>>
Scintillating Update
i made oven-fried chicken tonight. i really outdid myself there; in fact i got the ultimate compliment: my chicken is better than my boyfriend's mother's chicken. (mee-ow.) i also whipped up a nice little pumpkin pie-- because it's my favorite dessert.
i feel a lot better today. i can't wait to go back to work tomorrow; i'm bored as fuck, and a bit cabin-feverish. and i am sure my journal reflects that :)
<<<4:47pm>>>
welcome to the AMAZING world of Colorgenics, which claims to produce a highly accurate psychological profile based on your current predilections for specific colors.
my advice? kill the sound. i found the "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire"-esque soundtrack to be highly unnerving. it's not like i'm good at taking tests in the first place.
<<<4:26pm>>>
ageofconsent(dot)com has compiled this handy reference chart detailing legal "age of consent" in every country. interesting to note how inconsistent the laws are throughout U.S. states.
in Spain the legal age of consent, across the board, is 13. in Madagascar it's 21!
<<<15 january 2002 2:39pm>>>
"drivin' that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones you better watch your speed." --Grateful Dead
apparently British people are so fed up with their rail service that the BBC has deployed two reporters to spend the day as passengers on various commuter routes. their findings are documented in an ongoing weblog.
my experience with British trains is minimal. i only remember one incident several years ago on a train from York to London, where we suddenly came to a full stop-- not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but we could see it from our window.
it was a pretty full train on a hot summer day, but everyone waited patiently in complete silence. a half hour went by and there were no announcements of any kind, just rustling of newspapers and occasional cell-phones going off. being A)an American and B)a Bostonian, i was surprised at how nonchalant everyone seemed about it, but i quickly gained the impression that if the locals weren't worried, there was no reason for us to be, so my friend and i read and re-read our fashion magazines until we eventually succumbed to a heat-induced stupor and just stared at the floor-- for the next two hours.
eventually, another train showed up, and we were all directed to board it. we still had no idea what was going on, but just went along cheerfully. eventually we arrived at Euston station where we were told-- and i'm not sure if this was actual fact or not-- that the extreme heat wave had caused the rails to expand, making it impossible for our train to complete it's journey.
wow, weird, we said. okay, thanks. hey, let's go find some dinner.
now, we were just backpackers with no real time-constraints or commitments, so this was not something that really impacted us. but i remember thinking at the time that if i were a commuter with a job to get to, i'd be one seriously pissed-off chick.
<<<10:36pm>>>
Interesting Reading
His Guitar Never Gently Weeped
this guy's articles tend to ramble a bit, but i think i know what he's trying to say. interesting reading nonetheless; a bit like Hunter S. Thompson on mood-stabilizers.
"...[I]t is hardly original yet still instructive to note that the public, despite stacks of evidence to the contrary, never ceases to lionize such Grade-A creepizoids as David Crosby."
creepizoid. for years i've been searching for the perfect description of the above-mentioned Mr. Crosby. eureka!
<<<7:06pm>>>
this is interesting-- Debbie's Lord Of The Rings Weblog. she reads a chapter and then posts her summary/report/opinions of it.
"Warning to LOTR fans: I am going to be pretty blunt about what I like and don't like. You'll have a chance to throw rocks at me (in the form of comments) at the end of each of my chapter reports, but please remember that I'm admitting that I might have been wrong about the book and am making the attempt. And I WANT to like LOTR, really!"
i really don't get it either, but hey.
<<<6:01pm>>>
everyone hates my little Dia de los Muertos calacas (figurines). my boyfriend won't even let me keep them in the living room. i don't understand why-- i think they're uber cute.
i'm thinking of adding another one to my collection. (the first one's perfect-- dig the eyelashes.)
<<<4:38pm>>>
Sick Day
sometime this morning i decided that, having hardly bathed in almost two days, i was less than daisy-fresh, and spritzing myself with Ralph Lauren Glamourous was not getting around it. now i just smelled like a dead flower factory. the trouble was, i didn't really want to take a bath and i didn't really want to take a shower, and i couldn't decide between the two, so i ended up crouching in the tub with the drain stopped and taking something of a weird half shower/half bath. i suddenly realized that i'd neglected to brush my teeth last night, and was angry at myself. then i made myself an omelette and fell asleep on the couch.
last night, around midnight-- in the middle of uploading my last post, in fact-- the snowstorm cut the power. feh, i thought, and climbed into bed. the snow plows woke me at 5am, and i saw that the power was back on, went online, uploaded my post, rattled around a bit, became annoyed at the fluid in my ears, went to sleep again. it's just been a surreal day, full of random naps and the beep-beep-beep of snow plows, and occasional web surfing.
<<<14 january 2002 12:01am>>>
Harry Pothead and the Right Royal Shocker
hee hee. what else can you say about it?
good to know that Prince Charles acted decisively, whisking him off to a rehab clinic to show him the dangers of cannabis use: extreme hunger, heightened libido, indiscriminate mirth-- these things are just not becoming of a prince.
in other hilarious news, George W. Bush almost choked to death on a pretzel today.
<<<11:17pm>>>
current music::: Martika, Martika's Kitchen
i knew it. i have another fucking sinus infection.
this sucks. i get (at least) one of these every single year. except i always get it around september, and i didn't this time, so i thought i was off the hook for once. tch.
at least i no longer feel like absolute ass-- i took Tylenol PM and had a good five hours or so of sleep. maybe this one will blow over pretty quickly.
<<<13 january 2002 8:32pm>>>
The Doorway
take a look at this photograph. pay close attention to the doorway. do you notice anything? if you don't, just keep studying it for a minute or so. you'll know it when you see it.
<<<11:07pm>>>
we watched Scary Movie 2 tonight. i have to say i liked the first one a lot better.
<<<12 january 2002 6:21pm>>>
MY LIFE IN PICTURES: A Retrospective Of My Life and Achievements Made Possible By Google's Image Search*:
here's the first photo of me ever taken, sitting outside our humble shack. i had a difficult, painful childhood which came to an abrupt end when i gave birth to my illegitimate daughter-- lucky for both of us, i was quickly able to sell her to some kid that was just driving by. (mommy will never forget you, precious angel baby!!)
after that, it was time for college. BUCKNELL COLLEGE RULES!
oh, here's a photo from when i won the Mrs. Oklahoma Pageant. how could i have forgotten that?
in the 60's, i went to 'Nam, where i spent a lot of time crouching in the woods, with only my lucky hat standing between me and certain death at the hands of the Viet Cong.
after i got home from 'Nam, people spat at me and called me a babykiller, and i had trouble finding a job. my life only took a turn for the worse when i was caught redhanded assaulting a dog.
but there are hills and valleys in everyone's life, and eventually, mine got better again. one of the reasons i am able to live in such splendor is my ongoing career as a popular disc jockey.
here's my work ID photo. and another more casual shot of me. and me at my family reunion-- just chillin' with the clan.
here's a photo from when my friend Pete Cooper came to visit and we went fishing. that was fun!!
all in all, i'd say i've had a fulfilling life. there were fleeting moments of fame, such as the time i was able to identify a vicious killer computer before a sensationalized courtroom, and my audition for The Blair Witch Project (i didn't make the cut :( not enough snot, they said).
anyway, thanks for checking out my retrospective! i've got to go; i have a bowling tournament to win.
*all these photos were collected by typing my first name into the Google Image Search.
<<<4:21pm>>>
"la la la, la la la la la, la la la, la la la la la." --Kylie Minogue
<<<11 january 2002 3:14pm>>>
Don't Try This At Home
for several years i've been searching for a video copy of Heartbeat In The Brain, a performance-art/documentary film in which a British woman called Amanda Feilding trepans herself (drills her own bean).
Feilding, who is, believe it or not, alive and functioning today, believes that trepanation allows one to live in a refined state of consciousness because of the increased volume of blood to the brain. in the early 80's, she ran for Parliament twice, on the platform that trepanation should be made freely available on the National Health Service.
Amanda's site is called The Trepanation Trust, and you can read a text-only version of her presentation Blood and Consciousness here.
<<<6:06pm>>>
McMarriage
we were watching the news yesterday when the lottery results came on, and my boyfriend asked me if i had heard about this guy that won the McDonald's Instant Giveaway while he was there eating with his newlywed wife. i responded, "well, i guess married people have to eat too." he said no, the couple were actually having their wedding dinner there. i tried to find more info about this and couldn't; so i don't really know what he was talking about or where he heard it.
this caused me to imagine what my own wedding might be like.
honestly, i just can't see myself as a married person. the very idea of matrimony makes very little sense to me. but if i were to get married...i think i'd like to wear a very simple dress, maybe something like a slip-dress with spaghetti straps-- in pale blue, because that's my favorite color. i wouldn't care what my groom wore, but i'd appreciate it if he dressed up a little. and i might do something really interesting with my hair, like have it blown out straight and then get these extremely long hair extensions and leave it down. i think it'd be nice to get married at night, perhaps outside or in the woods, with a bonfire...but i'm not picky about that. courthouse or registry would suffice, but i definitely wouldn't want to get married in a church because i wouldn't consider it a religious thing. we could exchange rings if my partner wanted to, but honestly, it'd be just one more thing to have to keep up with, IMO. i don't know if we would write our own vows-- you've got about a fifty/fifty chance there of turning out something really cheesy, in my experience; although i've been to one wedding where the couple wrote their own vows and it was really good, so it's open for consideration. all in all, i don't want anyone to cry or get all emotional or anything-- i just want it to be as simple and chill as possible. then everyone would throw glitter instead of rice over us, because it looks cooler, and rice hurts the birds. and i'm not going to do that garter thing and tossing the bouquet thing-- that's just disgusting.
when i was fifteen i attended a very strange pagan wedding. the bride and groom were recent graduates of our high school, and the invitations were spread by word of mouth through friends of friends-- basically, if you knew about it, you were welcome to attend. the wedding was held in a secluded park on a nice sunny day. the bride and groom had actually met in 1512 A.D., in a previous existence, when she was a slave to his family. (at least, this is what they believed.)
perhaps in concordance with the couple's beliefs, the theme of the wedding was some sort of medieval/fantasy, and the entire wedding party was wearing latex elf-ears, while the bridesmaids wore large, gauzy fairy wings attached to their backs. i laughed at one guy and told him how great his ears were. he thundered, "i am an ELF, and these are my REAL EARS!!" since he was also wearing a very real-looking sword, i wasn't inclined to disagree, and just went away. there must have been some serious high-powered blotter being passed around there, and i just didn't notice or something. the actual "handfasting" was short and sweet; the couple joined hands over a tree stump, and exchanged vows full of "hath"s, "thou"s and "thee"s under threat of a small dagger (the athame) before it was all over.
please don't get the idea that i'm slamming the pagan religions here, because that's not my intention. but that wedding was really weird.
<<<10 january 2002 10:41am>>>
Morning Television
i can't believe i'm even giving the Maury Povich show the time of day, but truthfully, i'm just waiting for The View to come on. today's Maury is a real train-wreck though, entitled (and i'm definitely paraphrasing here), "I'll Drag You Onto National Television And PROVE You Are My Baby's Daddy!" the thing i find so amusing is that these chicks think they have it all figured out with or without a paternity test. they point to a huge photo of the baby and say, "see, she's got his nose, and his lips, and his ears-- she's got my eyes though."
the baby's fucking two months old, for Christ's sake! it doesn't look like anybody or anything at this point!
i don't know anyone who even remotely resembles their baby photos. i know i sure don't. when i was a baby, i had a squashed-looking, flat nose, and my hair only seemed to grow in a mohawk. shortly thereafter, my famous unibrow made its first appearance. then when i was six months old, some nitwit thought it would be a brilliant idea to pierce my ears.
there was absolutely no evidence back then that i would one day become the radiant beauty that sits before you.
<<<8 january 2002 6:54pm>>>
"ridin' in a bus down the boulevard, and the place was pretty packed;
couldn't find a seat so I had to stand with the perverts in the back;
it was smellin' like a locker room, there was junk all over the floor;
we're already packed in like sardines, but we're stoppin' to pick up more."
--Weird Al Yankovic, Another One Rides the Bus
this morning i let BF take the truck, so i, in turn, took the bus to and from work. i never really minded public transport; in fact i kind of prefer it, because i can just put on my headphones and ignore everything. even if i'm not listening to anything, i'll still put on my headphones, because people will assume i'm listening and leave me alone. i've started to prefer taking the bus whenever i want to go downtown, anyway. i don't have to find a place to park, and there's a bus stop practically right outside my door, so it's pretty much a breeze.
the ride to work was quiet. everyone was still sleepy. i listened to a U2 bootleg Cyndi had given me and propped my head against the window and dozed. i got to work with time to spare for a croissant, and the day began as normal. it was the ride home that made my $1.00 worth it. by this time i was bored with my CDs and just sat with my headphones on, observing people.
the route home stops at the Shop N' Save supermarket. as the bus came to a halt the woman next to me stood up suddenly, looking startled. "is this the Shop N' Save?" she asked me. i replied that it was. she quickly gathered her things and headed to the front of the bus.
she asked the bus driver, "is this the Shop N' Save two blocks from Congress Street?"
the bus driver said no, this was the South Portland Shop N' Save.
"i'm in South Portland?" the woman looked around in disbelief. then she shrugged. "well, i'll see what it's like." she disembarked the bus without another word.
as we approached downtown the passengers became fewer and fewer, until it was just me and another older lady. the bus driver suddenly called back to her, "do you need the #1?" the lady said she did. then the driver picked up her radio and called the dispatch, saying that she was in Monument Square and could they please hold up the #1 a few moments? they did, and the lady made her connection.
wow, i've never seen a bus driver do that before.
at the downtown hub a large group of people got on, and we were on our way again. one strange Algerian/North African man who sat in the back spent the rest of the journey talking loudly, to no one in particular, about how his family only speaks French, no English, while he spoke a little English, but no one here speaks French, and he wished he spoke more English. this must have been the only exchange he actually knew in English, because he just kept repeating that information over and over. then he went about asking everyone on the bus if they spoke any French.
sure, I speak a little French, but i ain't wasting it on you, buddy. sorry.
and then i was home again. and that was my journey.
<<<3:10pm>>>
Keep The Creature In Your Sight, But Hold Your Fire. I Want To Study Its Habits.
i was just going through some photos my friends and i took while driving through Florida a few years back. i took several pictures of these huge, day-glo colored billboards proclaiming JESUS IS LORD AT SO-AND-SO'S RESTAURANT because i thought they were funny.
"JESUS IS LORD." okay, fine by me. however, i'm still perplexed as to what bearing that has on a business. i just have a vision of fundie people driving around going, "well, i just won't eat anywhere that Jesus Isn't Lord."
<<<2:59am>>>
excerpt from Big Secrets
<<<7 january 2002 12:52am>>>
current music::: R.E.M., Document; Veruca Salt, American Thighs
i miss the 90's. in particular, i miss the early 90's. post-Paula Abdul, pre-Nirvana phase.
i remember it was around that time that the whole 60's/70's fashion revival began. "baby doll" dresses were suddenly a big thing, and i had one, in a nice blue floral print, which i loved. in fact, it was about the only thing i wore for a period of about a year. i liked to wear it with black or white tights, and these round hippie/John Lennon glasses with blue tinted lenses. i had this artsy asymmetrical haircut that was shorter in the back and long in the front. my friends and i listened to the Cure. i was so un self-conscious back then. it was so much more important to be comfortable.
i remember what happened to my baby doll dress. it got washed so many times it faded, and then it got a hole in it, and my stepmother made me throw it away.
<<<6 january 2002 12:18pm>>>
"Sunday morning I'm waking up..."
i dream about houses, a lot. always different houses. i rarely seem to dream of a house i'm already familiar with, or see on a daily basis; and the houses are always in different locations, and various conditions.
sometimes i'll dream about a house that's dark and nearly decrepit, and i'll want to go in and explore it, only to find these beautiful paintings on the walls.
several times i've dreamed about a house with a bright red door that sits on top of some sort of hill, with a long spiraling path around the hill that you must take to reach the house. in these dreams i never made it to the house. something always distracted or discouraged me while on the path, or i woke up before i could make it to the top.
it used to be that i'm just visiting or exploring a house, but in recent years, with increasing frequency i dream that i own the house or i am living in the house.
i dreamed last night that we moved into this terribly shabby little house. in real life, i'm not terribly picky about my housing, so maybe that's why in the dream i didn't really mind being there, although i never did pick up on exactly why we had moved or why we chose this worn little place.
so i was moving my things into my new bedroom, and i pushed my bed into the corner with the head facing east, just like i like it. and somehow, i had ended up with these two paintings of weird, sad children with big eyes that used to hang in my childhood bedroom, that i hate with a passion. i figured my mother had finally managed to foist them off on me, and i didn't want them or know what to do with them, so they were just stacked against the wall.
as i stood there debating what to do with these ungodly little things i noticed a small tear in the wall above my bed, where the plaster was starting to peel off and crumble. i thought, "oh dear", and pushed my bed back across the room. then i called BF in, and showed him what was happening. could he fix it?
BF grabbed the torn plaster and pulled, and the entire wall of plaster came down with it. behind the plaster was pretty pink wallpaper with tiny blue flowers. i thought, "who would cover up something that pretty?" and went to get a broom to sweep up the plaster.
except that i didn't stop with sweeping up the plaster. i thought (typical of me) that as long as i was sweeping this room, why not sweep the rest of the house while i'm at it?
and that's what i spent the rest of the dream doing-- sweeping the house, but in the process, i kept discovering new rooms. there was no one in them, so i just swept them and opened the next door, and moved on. i thought, "how big is this place?" then i opened a closet door and found a corridor, and i heard noises and people talking at the end of it. but i never discovered what was going on at the end of the corridor because at that point, i woke up suddenly.
even though it's always houses i dream about, and not other specific buildings, i used to have what i guess you'd call a "recurring" dream about the apartment i grew up in.
in this dream i am always my current age, and the action takes place in the present, but my father is still alive, and my sister and stepmother are there. i go to visit them in the apartment; i no longer live there with them. everything, down to the most minute detail-- decor, furniture, etc.-- looks exactly the way it did the day i left the apartment in real life.
we are sitting around in the living room talking and i notice a kitten wandering around. "who's kitten is that?" i ask. my family replies that they don't know whose cat it is, it just followed them inside one day and they are keeping it until they can find whoever it belongs to.
this kitten is being very destructive-- clawing the furniture, biting ankles and disturbing the other cats. so i get up and take the kitten to the bathroom, intending to shut it up in there until we can figure out what to do with it. i open the bathroom door and attempt to set the kitten down. the kitten doesn't want to be shut up; in fact, it seems to want absolutely nothing to do with that particular room. it struggles and becomes violent, and scratches up my arms and hands, but i manage to shove it into the bathroom at last and slam the door.
i always, always wake up at that point.
i've described this dream in detail to BF, who has a degree in psychology and might possibly know what he's halfway talking about. his analysis of my dream interprets the "kitten" as a representation of the trauma i suffered upon my father's death. my attempts to shove the kitten into the bathroom-- the very same bathroom where my father died-- mirrors my subconscious efforts to supress the trauma and it's effects. so, as i am pushing and forcing the kitten into the bathroom, i am subsequently squishing my feelings further and further down into my psyche. the kitten scratches and resists because these feelings need to be acknowledged and examined and eventually let go. his verdict is that i need...that word i can't stand...that word that rolls off serpentine tongues with sticky-sweet ease and sustains the Oprah-watching masses one day at at time-- THERAPY.
it's not healthy, he says. get it out in the open and deal with it, he says.
i'll tell you what's healthy-- moving on. it happened and it sucked. a lot of things happened, and they sucked. i accept that, and i get over it and i move on. what's not healthy, IMO, is dredging up shit from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away that makes no difference now for the purposes of inventing something to piss and moan about, while you pay some dipshit $95 an hour for the pleasure.
i always win. i always manage to slam the door shut.
<<<10:10pm>>>
Barbie Loves McDonald's
"Barbie has an afterschool job at McDonald's, which gives her a chance to learn the value of responsibility while saving money for the latest fashions."
yeah, but will it pay for the Dream House and the Corvette? doubt it. i guess Ken picks up the tab for those.
<<<7:34pm>>>
Take the Radiohead Collective Member Test.
You are Stanley Donwood, responsible for most of the artwork on Radiohead's albums post-Pablo Honey. You own a neurotic little website called slowlydownward.com and nobody has ever met you because you never leave your house. In fact, no one is really entirely sure you exist because no one knows what you look like, and it is suspected that you are merely a figment of that mischeivous Thom Yorke's twisted imagination.
You also run Radiohead's official website which borders on brilliance and madness (or is it pretention?). Your artwork reflects Radiohead's music entirely, and your vision has been much plagiarised in the sleeves of albums belonging to inferior bands. Have I mentioned that you are responsible for kooky things like this?
You also tell your children that when they grow up, the toys that they loved so much as children will kill them as adults. You sick bastard.
<<<6:11pm>>>
IRON CHEF!!
i forgot to post that after Run Lola Run and before we went to bed, we watched Iron Chef, this crazy Japanese drama/comedy/WWF/cooking competition with running commentary that i absolutely love. (it was early, and i was undercaffeinated. sorry.)
last night was "Battle Beef", which was kind of boring, considering the theme ingredient is usually more exciting and challenging like "conger eel", or "lotus root", or octopus. (you try coming up with an entire meal based solely around octopus, in an hour's time.)
the best Iron Chef Battle was Battle Sturgeon, IMO.
<<<5 january 2002 1:30pm>>>
current music::: The Sundays, Blind
Manniiii!!!
last night we watched "Run Lola Run". BF had never seen it before, and about an hour into the film he said something to the effect of, "this movie is really weirding me out." can't say i blame him; it's a fairly intense film experience. but in the end he liked it-- i think.
then we decided to have an early night. 11:30pm is an early night for us.
we got up this morning and thought it would be nice to have french toast. except, we wanted to try making french toast on the George Foreman grill, just to see if it would work. it doesn't.
we're supposed to be heading out later to see about my watch. BF bought me a watch for Christmas, and it's too big for my wrist. i put it on, and ker-plunk!-- onto the floor. (one of those snap-closure things, not a nice adjustable, practical band like i like.) so, ostensibly, we're going to see if they might have a smaller band, or can adjust the band or something, which i doubt. that's why i'm going to (in a subtle fashion) try to just convince him to get his money back.
i mean, i know this sounds terrible, but i have enough watches. so maybe i can suggest that he take the money and get me a nice bottle of perfume, perhaps? ('coz i'll simply never, ever have enough perfume.) or take me out for sushi. or just keep the money for himself-- he gave me plenty of nice presents this year already.
<<<10:41am>>>
I Am A Moron
for the longest time i thought the BBC show "People Like Us" was for real, and Roy Mallard was just a very, very strange person.
last night we were watching the "estate agent" episode, and at some point, BF *kindly* pointed out to me that it was all fake, and everyone was an actor/actress.
i feel really, really stupid right now.
<<<4 january 2002 10:24am>>>
there seems to be a disturbing lack of Bebe shops where i live. people keep asking me, "Where did you get that top/sweater/etc.?" i'm starting to feel like i stick out around here. i certainly don't dress like your typical Mainer-- yet.
i did a store locator at their site. sorry girls; closest Bebe is Massachusetts.
thank God there's an Express at the local mall. otherwise, i might just have to walk around naked.
<<<3 January 2002 6:34pm>>>
From Gravy Train To "Would You Like Fries With That?"
an interesting article about what happens when success comes fast and hard, and then a recession bites you in the ass:
'Queen' Dethroned From Web Nirvana
i can't say i empathize very much with this chick. hell, i'd be quite happy to take any job that was 'beneath' me, if it kept me from having to move back in with the folks. i value my self-sufficiency almost above all else. i guess that's what separates me from most of my peer group.
yeah, i'm starting to feel the sting of an abysmal economy, too. but i'm like a cockroach-- i was there at the beginning, and i'll be there at the end. hills and valleys, as they say.
Barely old enough to drink legally, she was earning $70,000 a year at a time when her monthly bills amounted to $700.
<<<1 january 2002 10:54am>>>
Good Riddance, 2001 (Ow, My Tummy Hurts This Morning)
i think i ate way too much sushi last night.
*new year kisses* for everyone. i'll catch up with ya later today.
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