Sunday, December 26, 2004

Evolution in my textbook gave me Gonorrhea!

If it isn’t already known to anyone that reads this, let me just say, I’m not a religious person. I don’t believe in a higher power, and while I’m open minded, at this point in my life I consider myself a firm believer in the theory of evolution. And, despite the fact that I don’t believe it’s true, I am fascinated by religion. So, here’s a little site I feel I must share… still not sure if it’s a spoof site or not because what they’re saying is so incredibly ridiculous, in my opinion.

“Let us examine the "benefits" of evolutionary science in our textbooks.
SINCE 1963: (source-Wallbuilders,Inc 817 441-6044)
-Gonorrhea, a sexually transmitted disease, has increased by 226%”

Evolution in my textbook gave me Gonorrhea! Come one. Are they kidding?

“Evolution is key to corrupt forms of government such as communism and socialism.”

Evolution made my country communist and gave me gonorrhea!

“There is no evidence for evolution and we have never observed one kind of animal change into another kind of animal.”

That is total ignorance. Next I want to hear “Evolution says that you come from a chimpanzee, and before that, slime!!” Cripes. It doesn’t happen in just a few days! How can these people argue something they have absolutely no idea of? Ah, but at least it amuses.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

I spoke to Geoff yesterday about his little excursion to Malaysia and heard that Firefly has reached Malaysia’s black market DVD ring. The entire series, extras included, is for sale for about two Sing-dollars.

Also, I'm in desperate need for e-hugs. I'll be crying in #firefly soon enough, you'll all know the news.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

It’s perfect!

This little excerpt from the magazine Scientific American Mind sums up (for me atleast) the reason why so many people around the world have religious views (creationism) and/or are so closed off to the theory of evolution.

“One basic answer is that the theories promote a simple message. Whatever has happened, there is a single force--usually an evil one--behind it. Humans tend to drastically simplify complicated issues, reducing them to a lone cause whenever possible. This exercise brings order out of chaos; it makes a complex world intelligible. And once a person believes he understands how something works, he holds fast to this belief. Trust in a secret master plan created by a powerful organization offers simple cause-and-effect relationships that build along a linear chain of events. Chance and ambiguity have no role, which is comforting even in the face of sinister forces.”

Interestingly enough, this excerpt isn’t about religion at all, it’s from an article about conspiracies.

Monday, December 20, 2004

la la la

I’m in a better mood now…and all it took was a little personal serenade from Tony Orlando (“knock three times on the ceiling if you want me…”)and his band. He’s been in town all weekend for his “Santa and Me” show and they all stayed at our hotel. They were great fun. ‘Santa’, Michel Jackson, Toni Wine ( to know her think Elvis, Springsteen and the meow mix song), and all the other guys were great fun; Mr. Thompson, ‘Santa’, ho ho ho, being my favorite. As they we leaving yesterday ‘Santa’ told me to wait and not go anywhere. Well, okay. I stayed where I was, standing being the counter. Then the band came out, stood around the counter, hummed for a moment, then broke out singing "broken lady"(the song 'Santa and I had been talking about earlier that day). I was so silly and smiley. That needs to happen more often.

p.s. don’t google for “Michael Jackson Tony Orlando”, you’ll just get a bunch of gay porn. Unless you want that... but it's not even good gay porn. All pixely.

Also, it was -2 degrees Fahrenheit this morning when I had to go out in my knee-length skirt and slippers to clean off my car before work. I have yet to regain the feeling in my legs.

P.s. x 2 also, I've been put in charge of teaching the new opperation system at the Hotel and get paid for working at home. I just feel like I need to tell you that.

Friday, December 17, 2004


I was just reading the back of my Colgate tube (yes, as previously discussed, I have no life till January) and, in the tiny bitsy fine print reads: “Colgate-Palmolive company”…. are they saying that the same people that make my dish soap also make my toothpaste? Ya-gack.

Also today I discovered the joy in Tenacious D and I too wish to have the power to kill a yak, but I probably wouldn’t because they have big pretty cow eyes.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004


Have you ever had those days that just hurt? They hurt in such a way that you can’t even feel the hurt anymore but you just know it’s there.

My Uncle is dying. He’s been dying for awhile. Not for that long…a few months maybe. He went into the hospital with some minor complaints. Next I knew, he was in a coma. Nine days later he woke up referring to his wife as “Mrs. Arafat”. Now he has been diagnosed with colon cancer, penile cancer, and has suffered uncounted heart attacks. We’ve been told that he doesn’t have long.

I’m sick of people leaving and dying and fighting.

And to help the situation, I’m chasing white wine shots with chocolate covered raisins. I’m feeling quite pathetic.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me.

The Spanish homework is done.

I am alone again.

Que the "eat worms" song.

I'm all alone....

I’m all alone. I have nothing to do. I went to sleep at 7:30 yesterday. 7:30 P.M!!! I haven’t done that since I was eight, or since I was last medicated before some major surgery.

--The school quarter ended (don‘t even ask how it went), and it doesn’t resume until January.

--The man I love is now physically the furthest he could possibly be from me while still being on the planet earth, and he’s not coming back until right before January. *sob*

--The Holiday Inn has decided to be “nice” and cut back my work hours (again, until January) because of the holiday season.

I basically have no life until January.

God. I have nothing to do. There are only so many times you can ….

Oh! My brother needs help with his Spanish homework! Yay, entertainment!

Sunday, November 28, 2004

"Buzz" for no apparent reason

I don’t know why I’m updating now. I’ve all but given up on having any function, never the less having some flare. It’s all come down to the fact that I’ve very,

v e r y,

V E R Y,


and when I’m busy, I avoid doing what I have to do and spend all my time doing things that really could wait

Hold on a moment. Let me explain, because honestly, it makes perfect sense.


No wait.

No, it doesn’t.

It’s the most ridiculous, self-destructive manner in which to go about living. As an example, instead of working right now and closing my shift I’m playing on the computer in the back office. Instead of preparing for my Bachelor of Art’s portfolio Review in December (the thing that decides if I get to graduate with an Arts degree or not) I’m planning a weekend trip to Canada with my boyfriend. Instead of going to class or doing homework I’m reading Genome by Matt Ridley. And it goes on and on. ( I consider it due to the four hours of sleep I’ve been averaging for the past few weeks).

On occasion, or really, more than one, I just suck.

But I do have pretty red glitter toenails! That’s at least one redeeming quality.

And everyone must have at least one of those*.

(*Redeeming qualities not toenails. You can be just fine with more than one toenail.)

P.s. I just answered the phone and hiccuped in a man’s ear.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Sunday, October 10, 2004

“Hey Piranha! Get off my back!”

Today’s phrase heard at the good ole’ Holiday Inn:

“Hey Piranha! Get off my back!”

Again, so much happens in such a short amount of time, plus I’ve a very busy person and a horrid updater, so…. a semi decent post will be replaced today by a list.

--I ate Indian food again! Chicken Saag. Very green and yummy.
--I spent hours on a photography assignment, shot 2rolls of film, and both came up completely blank. 48 pictures gone! I keep trying not to cry.
--I saw “without a paddle”. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so long or so hard in my life. “I’ve reached my end. For two hours now I’ve been walking behind sweaty ball sac and sweaty ball sac and that’s it. I’ve reached my end.”
--I went to an art gallery show with Geoff and some artsy friends. We ate tiny brownies, lots of nuts and pretzels and pretended to be art snobs. After that we went for pizza and talked about roasting ‘nuts’ and video games.
--And I forgot about all the other stuff I’ve done. But you guys can just pretend that it was great.

Ohhhh! Geoff is the most wonderful boyfriend on earth! I just spoke to him on the phone about the fact that my photo’s didn’t turn out, and he said he’d drive up an hour to my house tomorrow morning about 5:30am to help me out before his classes start. God, I love that man.

Monday, October 4, 2004


Geoff came over last night. There was hanging out and computer surfing and all sorts of fun little things done to pass the time. After awhile my brother came in and plopped himself onto my bed (dirty-feet-towards-pillow first), and while Geoff was drawing we chatted. Then after a few minutes I peeked my head over and lookie what he made.

It's me!

It makes me all giddy and smiley. Doesn't he just rock?

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

I was told it was time for an update, but I'm feeling lazy, so here. Go. Kick ass. Scream and play.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

the hallucinations thing

Hola grand new world, it’s the first day of school! Well, not so new, and only perhaps a little grand. It’s my third year at the same campus so I kind of know my way around. My 1st photography class started today at 9:30 (keep in mind it’s a 30 minute drive away from home), and I woke up at 9:15.


I made it in just in time to see the professor, (who looks younger than me but speaks louder), and pick up my syllabus. Then, there was some ever exciting sitting I experienced in my car… then some sweating… then some hallucinations. Then onward to my next class ( a math class, good god, and 50 minutes away), only to experience some more sitting, sweating, but with fewer hallucinations.

Oh! And in the middle of that I happened to get a spur of the moment hair cut! Also, nothing new and/or exciting, but hey, it was done.

And now I find myself sitting, ever pitifully, in the campus computer lab, updating my lj and checking my e-mail compulsively every 3 ½ minutes.

Today is kind of a let down.

But, there are things that are going to be happening… exciting things… stressful things… things involving grandparents, weddings, and computer geeks dressed up in 17th war garb. To take away some of the fun sounding-ness, it’s really that my grandparents are coming into Ohio on Friday to stay with us for a few days, then we’re going to this historical war re-enactment, then in October Geoff and I are going to hop on a plane and go Philly to his cousins wedding, then… well, that’s the end of my list so far. And now I think I should probably try to find my math class, and go sit. Then maybe sweat. Then, you know, the hallucinations thing, just to stick with tradition.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004


Hahahahahah. I just went with Geoff to see Resident Evil2. I must be a dork for a moment.


It was just so bad. And not even that bad that’s kind of good, it was just…. not enjoyable… with one simple exception:

In this one scene Milla Jovovich looks up at a security camera. The guard looking at the camera gets this odd look on his face. His fingertips start to bleed. Then a close up of his face-- he begins to bleed from his eyes, nose, and mouth as he screams. Hum…. Sound familiar?

It made me laugh so hard in the theater, and nobody got it. Oh yeah, there’s another exception, the comic relief black man in his 70’s bling bling and “mother fucker this” “mother fucker that” was also pretty funny.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

"Docile Barbie without the slut thing and the missing genitals"

Life is good. Well… life is complicated. It’s gotten really, really, really, complicated the last few months, but it’s so good. Chocolate, desert mountains, olives, foreign money, old men that smell like cigars, chi, Firefly, kisses behind the ear, warm pillows in the winter kind of good. But it’s also that kind of complicated that’s irritating, teary, red-eyed, no sleep, apologetic, gut wrenching, gritted teeth, long talks kind of complicated that is somehow all worth it. It’s worth all of that tenfold. God, why must romance turn you into a romantic. But life is simply complicatedly good.

I’ve also gotten a new computer, so yay about life being good, and here I come #firefly! You don’t know how dependent you are on the internet until your computer breaks and only lets you on every once in awhile for tiny ten minute increments before it goes all bad ass black screen on you and you are forced to chant “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckalicious , fuckendous , fucking fuckity fuck, fuck on ice, fuck squirrels… aw, fuck”. But the new computer (yet to be named) is all nice, and pretty, and doesn’t like bad language. It’s like a docile Barbie without the slut thing and the missing genitals.

... not that my new computer has genitals... it's just not missing them...

I need to be killed. Right now.
You deserve death! People probably use AIM
to complain about how damned irritating you
are, and sometimes laugh through their pain at
your entries. You're either a teenager or a
strange middle-aged woman, but without the
charm typically intrinsic to either of them.
You not only update too often, but what you say
is often unintentionally hilarious. But that's
not enough to endear you to anyone.

Please die.

How Annoying Are You In Your Online Diary?
brought to you by Quizilla

Saturday, August 28, 2004

Ohhhh la la

“Butt splices”, “jacks”, “mounts”, “3-ways”, “inserts”, and “plugs”.

And no, I wasn’t at a porno shop, I was at Lowes looking at phone accessories.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

Fucking frog lickers!

Voodoo ca ca Rendez-vous:

I got scared by a very strange albino man in a top hat today. He was walking to Target and bumped into me almost three times… and we were the only people on the sidewalk! He also had yellowish eyes. And I was alone. In Columbus. With scary cat-eyed albino man. I was seriously thinking about pissing myself.

Movies (and yes, I’m stealing Sarah’s style)
Triplets of Belleville:

This movie kicks extreme ass. Go get it. It’s in French, but that doesn’t matter all that much because they hardly speak anyway. It’s just so wonderful and it the most absofuckinglutely marvelous sound track ever. Go download “Benoît Charest - Belleville Rendez-Vous” if you don’t believe me.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

A little foreign adventure!

I went to Canada. I’m gonna be Canadian! I’m already working on my ‘ooout and aboot’. Canadians are so nice, and smiley, and they have arcades, and they let me drink and gamble my money away. It’s so great. And, as usual… I have pictures!

Look, we’re in a foreign country!

And it’s Geoff being all touristy!

Then it’s angry me!

And us eating Candian McDonalds!

Then my Mazda, but, but… a Candian version!

And isn’t he just a hottie?

Okay, now I’ve got to stop writing because there is pizza and cheesy bread and cinnamon sticks and a scary movie and my boyfriend.

And, just in case you feel like being freaked out tonight...

Friday, July 30, 2004

Want to get your point across to someone you really don't like? Make them one of these, making sure to use the word 'fuckwit' at least once, and send them a quick little e-mail.

P.s. you may not want to send that e-mail, or if you do, don't blame it on me when you start getting threatening e-mails or friendly warning from the police.

Saturday, July 17, 2004

Man, I love my job.

I say that at least half a dozen times a day. Today it hit me when I was leaning against the front counter talking to Vicki while eating a piece of birthday cake a little girl had given me, blue messed up frosting all in my teeth. One of our regulars, George, sat across from us in one of our big yellow chairs and tried to teach us dirty phrases in German. Earlier, a little five year old boy looked up at me and said “you’re really nice, you know?” after I popped popcorn for him. A group having a family reunion of sorts bought us pizza. Vicki and I sang songs from the Supremes and waltzed behind the counter. There were well mannered motorcyclists, women spilling out of their bikinis, men talking about lime Jell-O sex, drunk brides, and so much more.

Man, I love my job.

... where'd therubble go? Why am I not seeing any entries?

Wednesday, July 7, 2004


Eight pictures in all, probably huge files.

Tuesday, July 6, 2004

I must summarize yesterday and today.


I ran over two raccoons, one each day, and not on purpose.
I was almost killed on numerous occasions, most including the use of fireworks or horseshoes.
And I went sky diving. (insert ‘holy shit‘ and no, I‘m not lying.)

Detailed stories and an annoying sum of pictures soon to follow.

Now, sleep.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Coincidence or craziness?

I stopped at Target for a minute today and parked in front of this pretty little bright blue car, and the license plate read M*A*G. Then at the holiday inn I watched Yu-gi-oh while wiping down tables and setting up for third shirt. Then, then on the drive home I heard Run DMC’s tricky tricky on the radio. All I need now is to run into a young girl wearing shoes that read “Zoë” on one foot and “Wash” on the other. Well… and after that I’d like to lounge in the waffle house with a half dozen other road weary travelers and have a chance to walk across the counter looking all menacing.

My computer is kinda broken. Where the power cord plugs into my computer, that thingy, the female end, is broken, so my computer won’t hold a charge and keeps turning off. So now that I’ve finally gotten some time, no mIRC for me. Bah and boo hoo.

P.s. I’ve been offered a promotion at work. I’ll get to be sales manager and have meetings and conference calls and paid travel time. All I really want is really funky looking business cards.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

And I shall call my disposable friend "Dippy"

Memoirs of a Geisha.

Great book, not extraordinary as I expected, but then again, I still have about thirty pages left. Through reading this book and working in a business oriented hotel I find myself thinking that I have a little Geisha in myself. But even as I think it I frown because it sounds pretty much laughable that a little Ohioan gal working the front desk of a hotel wants to think of herself as a little bit Geisha. But I don’t mean it in the kind of stereotypical way we (and very much myself) thinks of Geisha. I don’t mean to say that I think I’d look good in white face paint and a kimono, nor do I think I have any type of a delicate walk or serene attitude. To explain what I do mean I gotta summarize a bit from the book. Sorry for any of you that haven’t yet read it.

The main character, Sayuri, is about 13 years old at this point and is apprenticing to be a geisha. Her ‘older sister’, the geisha who is teaching her asks for her to pour tea as though she was a male customer. Sayuri grabs the pot and pours the tea. Her teacher then stops her and tells her how pretty the underside of her arm is and that to tease her customers she should try to subtly show it as she pours the tea. Sayuri tries again. This time she is too obvious. Again she tries until her teacher decides that she is able to subtly about to show just a hint of the pale underside of her arm as she pour tea. Just enough to make the men sweat.

This is where I think I have a little in common with this idea of geisha. Or maybe it’s nothing as elegant sounding as geisha but it’s just simply being an entertaining tease.

Today I noticed myself doing it and couldn’t help but think of this book. I was talking to a man at the holiday inn. He had just come in from work and was dead tired but he stopped in the meeting room anyway to say hello and out of kindness I made small talk with him for a few minutes. He told me about work and what he’d done that day and that because of a clerical mistake he had been sent to Ohio a whole day earlier. I tried to make things positive, “well at least it gives you a day to get things together, give you time to rest before work tomorrow.” He told me that yes, it did give him time to rest, at least time to rest his feet. When I asked about his feet and why they were such a concern he told me about a day, a few months ago when a young man accidentally turned on a machine he shouldn’t have and it caught his shoes and sucked him into a piece of machinery that crushed the bones in his feet and pulled all the muscles and tendons from one side of his foot to the other. Of course I frowned and gasped and stuck out my lower lip sadly as I listened to him retell the tale.

And ta da, this is where the subtle little thing started happening. As he was talking I kept noticing his eyes darting down to my lower lip. After a few moments he lightly slipped into the conversation the fact that he wasn’t married. His eyes dropped down to my lips again. I stuck out my bottom lip just a tiny bit more in a pout. He started asking about my work schedule. I crossed my arms and his eyes went to my chest. He asked me again when he’d see me again, what hours I worked, would I be there in the morning?

I could have laughed out loud. This isn’t unusual, I do it pretty much every time someone comes into the holiday Inn. It’s just another word for customer service. You smile, they wink. You ask if they need anything, they ask what you’re willing to give. You tell them goodnight, they offer room keys. The men fidget and ask about the rings on my fingers and all you do is give them vague answers, jokes then point them in the direction of their room. Seeing so many people from all walks of life come in and out all day long really makes you pay attention to the way people act, their expressions, the sound of their voice as the tone changes. Or maybe it’s just me and how I get after being stuck in the act of “friendly young woman who would love to talk and help you out” for eight hours. I do nothing but converse and people-watch for at least five hours of that time.

And my allotted computer time is up. With work, school, and some sleep I’ve figured that I have about an hour a day of ‘free’ time, where I get to eat, dress, and check my e-mail. If I stay on-line any longer I’ll be cutting into my scheduled sleep time.


And here's to hoping I can come up with something a little more meaty for my next blue-moon update.

And just 'cause... well... it's so annoying and so right!

And (yes, I know it's my third one) because I'm adding "Disposable Friend" to my Christmas list.

Thursday, June 24, 2004


Yesterday was a fun day at work. We had the governor come in to the hotel to meet with bunch of executives from another country. It’s was all quite hush-hush. I got to put my little spy hat and take the oath swearing that when the media calls or comes in I know ‘nothing’. I even got a walky-talky. And there were all these men in suits with those phone thingies in their ears and guarding all the doors and saying things like “the plane just touched down, he’ll be here in 15”. To this I leaned over to my boss and whispered in his ear, “I don’t think the governor of Ohio has been to Ohio before because shouldn’t he know that it takes at least an hour to get to the Columbus Airport?” To this I got an elbow in the ribs and the stupid little girl look and a little explanation of how he was flying right into our small little town. Oh… d’oh. All in all it was amusing because everyone who knew was paranoid and tapping their feet nervously and all the other guests in the hotel were totally oblivious and running around to the pool barefoot and munching on cheese snacks.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

My poor innards.

This morning’s breakfast was like one of those commercials.

Open on a small group of unhappy women…

Woman1: “I ate nacho crumbs and three spoonfuls of vanilla frosting for breakfast.”

Woman2: “I had salad dressing on a stale hotdog bun.”

Well, I ate a whole pie crust for breakfast. Heheh, yum. This is what happens when my brother invites five of his high school guy friends over and they eat all the food in the house. Next I plan on creating some wonderful lunch from leftover peas, a cheese square, and half a can of cream.

Sunday, June 20, 2004


Oh, I got to visit a porno shop! Really it was simply called “Adult” but I’m not really hip enough with my porn to know if that’s a porno shop or not. It did have a blue virgin vibrating virgin, a twenty four inch long dildo and rows and rows of sex tapes ranging from anime tentacle lovin’ to “hot mama’s 60 years and plus”. I don’t think the old men liked seeing little teenagers like Geoff and I walking around the shop and pointing fingers and trying to act like we knew stuff.

He’s in Singapore right now. Boo. Well, not boo for him because he’s on his tropical little utopian paradise… the big dork. But boo for me because I’m stuck here working.

And double boo for me because I can’t write more right now.

Lastly, as a p.s., has anyone read Memories of a Geisha yet? I've just started it.

Tuesday, June 1, 2004

My dinky little town rocks for the most inane reasons.

And my dog, Zane, died after surgery a few days ago. It really sucks because he was sweet and loving and he licked cats and was always my pillow and his big belly made for a really nice drum.

Sunday, May 23, 2004

I finally have a serious relationship with a guy and all we do is hug toilets.

Do you believe in karma? Do you believe that there’s a kind of balance in the universe?

I surely didn’t until this weekend.

For anyone who reads my LJ you’ll remember that just about a week or two ago I went out on a date with my boy, Geoff, and got all icky and sick and urpy and I was just not a pretty sight. Well, what comes around goes around.

Geoff came over Friday and ate fake Taiwanese/ Chinese/ American food with my family and hung out with me until the wee hours of the night, then spent the rest of the evening sleeping on my couch. The next morning we hung out, had some nasty McDonalds, and did the weeks grocery shopping for my family. And just as the Evil Shake and Steak did to me, Kroger did to Geoff…

he got sick.

So I took him back home and put him to bed. Then I went to work from 4 to 8 and when I got back things had just gone downhill. One cool wash cloth, a throw up bucket, and a few glasses of ginger ale later it was decided that he’s just not all that fit to drive home. He had been sleeping in my bed, but for the night my parents decided it would be best for him to again be on the couch.

The downstairs couch.

Full grown man with vertigo + tiny little wooden steps = a fall on your ass waiting to happen.

It took us a full ten minutes to get downstairs and for most the way we scooted on our butts because walking on two legs was just too dangerous. Before bed we wanted to try and get something in his belly… so chicken soup it is. Then urp. Then gag. Then chicken soup it was.

Finally managed to get the boy to bed around 3a.m., sacked out myself only to wake up at 6a.m. for work. I wish I could say “needless to say” but I can’t, because I’m gonna say it anyway. I was late for work. This would probably make more of an impact if I had written about being four hours late for work a few days before this. Hummm…. I’m so bad.

When I got back from work today Geoff was feeling much better sans the gigantic pulsing headache. Okay, but that’s workable. Except for the fact that he then wanted to go with me to my little brother’s band concert. Bum bum bum bum bam bam! Minutes later the poor boy found himself in a small little echoing auditorium listening to a mediocre high school band play “authentic“ Native American music… but with trumpets saxophones, and a steel drum.

It's so wrong.

And for more wrongness I offer Naughty Food Items!

Saturday, May 15, 2004


I really like my job at the Holiday Inn.

Today the Drifters, the Platters, and the Coasters stayed with us. I got to hang out with the Drifters for some time today between shows while they were all dressed up in their tuxedos and bling bling. They’re pretty sweet guys.

I was talking to a few of them for awhile while they waited for a friend, and the first thing their friend said to me when he came down was “how old are you?”. And the first thing I thought was, “hummm, inappropriate question.” But I told him I was 19.

Next question he asked, “are you getting married?”.

Initial thought, “No, but I still ain’t diddling around with you, you old man”. But what I really said was a very sweet, “no, I’d like to, but not yet”.

And his response, “Well little lady, when you get ready to get married, we’ll come play at your wedding. We’ll come play and we’ll all party.”


Also, a man came in yesterday while I was sick and left me a note saying what when I write my children’s book he’ll illustrate it for me.

Double sweet!

Always fun when it comes to zapping bugs.

Friday, May 14, 2004

Whoops, forgot to enlighten you all with a little Sponge-Bob-Square-Pants paraphrase--

Yellow guy: Aw, the poor little clam can’t fly.
Pink guy: Do you think it’s stupid?

Dear LJ,

My boy Geoff heard from his mother the other day that she changed her mind about moving. She is now planning on keeping their house in Singapore, the house he grew up in as a child. Yay. So, yesterday was a day of mushy celebration. Pancakes for lunch severed by our newly appointed Favorite Waitress, Anna, started things off, then lots of wink wink back at his place. Things were going along swimmingly, (god I hate that word, “swimmingly”) until about midnight when we realized we were starving. No biggie. Geoff lives downtown, it’s easy to find some place to eat at midnight. So hand in hand we walked down the main drag to a Steak and Shake for some fries and chicken fingers. As we’re walking I started to realize just how hungry I was. My stomach was in knots and I was starting to feel light headed.

I’m such a wimp.

Finally we reach Steak and Shake, get our table, and order our food. My stomach is still braiding itself into little friendship bracelets, and I can barley keep my eyes open. Dear lord, what kind of a wimp am I? I know I work up early for class but it’s only midnight. I’m a college kid, I should be able to stay up around midnight without any trouble. So I rested my head on the table for a few and fought to keep my eyes open till our food arrived.

First thing we get?

Cole slaw.

Kayt1: Why in the hell did I order cabbage covered in mayo when my tummy hurt?
Kayt2: Because, Kayt1, you are an idiot.
Kayt1: Oh.

I then excuse myself and go to the ladies room, splash some water on my face, and try to wake up. Still I’m feeling funky. When we get the rest of our food all I can do is manage to down four French fries. Back to the ladies room for more water in the face. At this point in time I notice that I’m looking a little red in the face. I make one last attempt at eating before I’m back in the ladies room with my head nicely situated above a toilet saying goodbye to those four French fries.

Okay, not really sweet, but I can handle it. I spiffen up the best I can, grab Geoff and go to pay. And that’s when I start seeing stars. So while he pays I went outside for some fresh air. There’s little ole’ me, alone, downtown on high street at a bit past midnight swaying, watching the road in front of me morph and twist as these little black and white spots of light dance in front of me and the remaining contents of my stomach begin a new game of ping pong in my belly. Damn. I am not going to throw up on myself and pass out on high street while on a date. I just wont.

When Geoff finally comes out of the Steak and Shake I grab him, walk around the corner, and there, on the first little patch of dirt I can find, I throw up. And, my poor boyfriend gets to stand beside me through all of it.

Then he threw up.

What a pair.

Yes, I have had better moments.

So there I was, sitting in the dirt of a parking lot off of high street in a cold sweat, shaking, while Geoff gives me a little pat on the back, and an “it’s okay”, “you’ll be alright”. Poor boy was so confused. He thought I was emotionally worked up, like I had something bad to say to him, and that’s why I was sick.

About ten minutes later we hobble back to his apartment when I promptly planted myself on his bathroom floor and began praising his toilet. Somewhere along the line my contacts got put away and I found myself in his bed getting nine glorious hours of sleep.

One of the first things he said to me this morning-- “So, we finally got to sleep together. How’d it make you feel?”
Me-- “Nauseous.”

I hate the flu.

And, let’s get away from all this sickly green icky stuff.
It frightens me with it’s happy beeps and rainbow colors.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

Sex, ice cream, then more sex, or ice cream during sex, sex, and more sex, chin chye so how?

I heart #firefly.

I’m becoming such a bad updater. There is a fantastically, wonderfully, steamy new rubble update out there, so go read it. Go read it now. Are you reading it? No, you’re not, because you’re here. Go away and come back afterwards.

Welcome back. That post paired with the fact that I’ve slept through yet another Anthropology class today has given me the gumph to update.

I’m not quite a hundred percent sure about what to write about anymore. My LJ has always felt like something kind of private to me. I know some of my kick ass darlings from #firefly read it occasionally, but (and Spark, I‘m not saying internet friends are not real friends) there is a difference between the friends you make and know only through the web, and the friends you meet face to face. If you’re questioning where I’m going with this, well, my boyfriend, Geoff, found my LJ online a couple of days ago. Egad that was awkward. It felt like I was writing a personal note to a girlfriend of mine about my “new uber cool boy” and while I was passing it to her in the cafeteria she dropped it and Geoff happened to pick it up and read the little note that’s all about him, then in this hypothetical fantasy I just die of embarrassment and become a cute little angel with wings and a harp and my own personal cloud to jet around on. Needless to say I still don’t have the harp and it still feels embarrassing.

Short summery like updates:

On work news, I still have a job, am actually getting paid, and will soon be left alone in charge of the hotel. Meaning I’ll be general manager for half of the day. Ohhh, the awesome power of it! I can’t wait.

As for school, I hate real and recorded time with a bubbling-red haze-passion, and have currently missed way too many classes and failed at least one midterm, possibly two.

Boyfriend? As stated earlier, he’s all uber cool, frighteningly logical, has really nice lips, is learning to ballroom dance, and is also teaching me some Mandarin and Singlish, (though he says I sound hopelessly American).

--“Fatty bom bom!” A fat-bottomed person.
--“Ingrish”. English.
--“Chin chye”. To be satisfied with any outcome or to be without preference.
Example: We take the MRT or we take the bus. Still arrive. Chin chye so how?

And now, a link…

I have no idea what it its.

I miss #firefly.

Saturday, May 1, 2004

Got another one for you.

Less entertaining than the last, but a new one none the less.

In the last 48 hours I….?

A. had someone confess their love for me.
B. was told that said someone fantasized about me and my panties.
C. laid around in the grass with Geoff and watched a rainbow form.
D. ate pizza and salad with over forty D.U.I students.
E. was serenaded.
F. lost one of the diamond earrings that my grandmother gave me before she died.
G. got a boyfriend.
H. sat with said boyfriend by the lake at the park and learned some tae kwon do.
I. checked in a man into the Holiday Inn named Akira and five minutes later, checked in a man that looked like a chubby Spark. Coincidence? I think not.
J. or, all of the above.

I think it’s needless to say that that that the answer is “J”.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

A little test…

In the last forty eight hours I…?

A. Touched an Indian man’s underwear.
B. Drove through snow, hail, rain, and beautiful 72 degree weather.
C. Pissed in the boys bathroom.
D. Made friends with three lesbian women over forty.
E. Unintentionally fasted.
F. Got 16 hours of sleep one night then got 1 and a half hours the next night.
G. Learned to speak a little Mandarin.
H. Talked about porn for over seven hours straight.
I. Was nicknamed “smiley” by around twenty corporate businessmen.
J. Discovered a heard of buffalo.
K. Counted over thirty squished animals in less than forty minutes of driving.
L. Heard on the radio: “Jesus is like so cool, he’s always there for you, he doesn’t judge, Jesus just wants to be your friend.” and said out loud, “no, I think Jesus just wants in my pants.”
M. Hung out in the OSU library for almost 12 hours.
N. Taught someone to drive stick shift at 3 a.m.
O. Set off two fire alarms, sadly, without fire.
P. Or, all of the above.

First off, be glad this wasn’t a fill in the blank kind of question. Second, if you answered “P”, you answered correct. Yay, a gold star for you!


Also nice...

Friday, April 23, 2004

Took my Zane into the vet this morning for his chest X-ray. Lordy, that was heart wrenching. Poor Zane has had ouchy surgeries for his ears before, and seen our other dog Clair taken to the vet, and not come back, and is all around terrified of other animals and new places. As we were standing in line he was shaking so hard he couldn’t stand, he kept falling down. Then I have to take him into the back where there are all these other big, young, tear your throat out, probably cross bred with mutated, violent bulls, dogs in tiny cages. And Zane is shaking and pacing and looking up at me like “don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I’ll be better. Don’t leave me. I’ll be a good dog. Why are you punishing me?” Ow, my heart. So I sit on the ground and hold him, and pet him, and talk to him, try to get him to calm down and know that I’m coming back for him, but it kill me because I know he doesn’t understand. He’s such a good pup. Never growls or bites or is anything but a sweet cat lovin’ child-face-licking canine. He wouldn’t get in the cage on his own, but I put his front paws up there and he didn’t fight it. I picked up his back legs and maneuvered him into the cage and he just shook and accepted it. Poor baby. I wish I could stay and sit with him so he would know that we’re not abandoning him because he’s old and can’t walk like he used to. I know it’s just an X-ray, but it’s all sad.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Do not deprive me of my fish!

Ooooh, good Angel. Don’t know that I can say anything that won’t be all spoilery, but yeah, whoa, good Angel.

And, you might want to sit down for this one….

Bob the Fish Guy has closed down! No more of “the best fish in Ohio”. Wipe your tears and blow your nose, we might survive. There’s another Bob the Fish Guy’s on the south side of town, but for us northerners, no more fish. Boo.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

To undress... or not to undress...

My art teacher just called me from her life drawing class. The nude model that was supposed to come in and pose is sick, so they’re kinda in a pinch. She just asked if I’d mind coming in and posing. Euh… to who ba wha ba? Good lord, that was an awkward phone call.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Bury your own damn grapes.

Today I woke up at the ass crack of dawn, was running late, hurried off to school, drove thirty minutes, was 10 minutes late, found out that my class changed rooms, finally made it there, and my professor gave us the day off. All that work, all that driving, for nothing! Can I get a communal growl please? Grrrrrrr!

I ended up spending some fun time hanging out with Geoff and Joel, then came home early to spend some quality time with the sun. In an attempt to avoid doing dishes (that later failed) I rested in the grass, feeding grapes to my pups, for over three hours. Those are the most entertaining, yet weak minded animals on earth. I’d throw a grape, they’d hunt, not find it, then later sit on it. On one occasion the evil beagle Lou (soon to be renamed Baloo because of his habit of rubbing his butt on things) found a grape, then spent the next five minutes digging a grand hole, burying it, and carefully covering it up for safe keeping. Later, when I dug up his buried treasure, he sneezed towards me, and is still, six hours later, ignoring me.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about the hole. Do you remember, as a child, any holes you’ve dug? You know, the ones you hear about in the movies “Jimmy told me he dug a hole to China”. Have you ever tried to dig a hole to China? Or have you tried to dig for buried treasure? Well, my brother and I never really dug any great holes. So, a few days ago we just grabbed some shovels and started digging. Oh, it was a beautiful hole. We found all sorts of broken glass, china, old pots, plastic cat toys, rusty nails, and pop can tops. Our parents weren’t too thrilled about the large hole in the middle of the yard, but it was worth it to have a nice childhood memory of a hole dug.

The hole:

And my garland, made with daydreams of Mag on the Moon running through my mind. When we get to go on our trip, Mag, we’ll have to make many more.

Saturday, April 17, 2004

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Dance puppet chicken, dance!

I just got my ass, well… more specifically my face, kicked by my own bloody umbrella! One of the thin wire strips that hold up the umbrellas shape snapped in the wind and whipped me in the face. I was expecting blood but I didn’t even get a sweet looking red stripe. Bah.

I’m feel like gushing about Mag. So, prepare yourselves. This shouldn’t be taken in a stalker--esque manner, but I was thinking about her all last night. She’s really uber cool and interesting to thinking about, but mostly I was thinking about her because I was thinking about Spike doing Buffy in the butt. Did Spike do Buffy in the butt? Did Buffy do Spike in the butt? And then the mini shoulder Spark sprung up a question: were there vegetables involved? The shoulder Spark then tried to get a peek under the covers but I wished him away. I bet Riley never did Buffy in the butt. Though I bet Faith isn’t new too it… did Xander do Faith in the butt? What about Angel and Eve? Oh, it’s just a big circle of theoretical butt sex. But other than the fictional butt sex, I just had Mag on the mind.

And I’ve finally got an abbreviation I work with! JWL, Jehovah’s Witness Lady. She’s my supervisor at work. Lovely lady, but scarily sweet. I think I know what the sweetness front is for though… “let me explain, no, there is too much, let me sum up“--“I’ll drink the cool aid. Is that what this is leading up to? Ohhhh, but you can’t off me because then I wont be around to do your bidding”.

I can’t quite quote but I can’t stop paraphrasing.

I’m still in a bad ass mood, but it stopped raining, that made life better. Oh, and I was also thinking about Sarah last night and had “The Natural One” song playing on loop in my head…but then I was kind of going nuts all night because I couldn’t think of what that song was called and then I couldn’t check from where I knew it was written on the BC’s but talk of the BC’s disappearance is quite googleable. And Sarah? Why is your picture missing from

There is so much I have going on that I want to write about but it’s just… well, I have so much going on. I’ve been kinda busy lately and I’m super lazy.

Fun link: This is odd and a little scary. I like to have him dance and swim.
I am in such an unbelievably bad mood for no reason whatsoever.

Wednesday, April 7, 2004

Fun with bush murder.

1. Put on garden shoes.

2. Hack away.

3. Get tired and leave the nasty stumps still sticking up.

Then, if you’re lucky,

4. Find treasure.

(If you know what this thingy is, or you want to guess, please do, because I wanna know. So far I think it’s the top part of a lock on a treasure chest buried under the evil bush sometime before the Spanish Inquisition. There is all kinds of treasure the Spanish left behind in our house.)

And, the truck the drove in front of me on my way to school today read “Rush’s Fucking” instead of “Rush’s Trucking”.

Oh, another “and”….does it make me a bad person if I think Brittany Spears’ Toxic music video is kind of cool? I’m having guilt abut liking it.

Monday, April 5, 2004

I got a haircut today. It’s the shortest it’s been in years. Probably the shortest I’ve had it since sixth grade. It’s also my brother’s first haircut. Not that his hair was cut for the first time, but it’s the first time he cut my hair.

You know those plans you get? Those complex plans that can’t fail? Well damn, they do fail.

Now I wanted a hair cut today, but nothing is open on Sunday, so what to do? What to do? I asked my mum, she‘s cut my hair many times before in a pinch and does a pretty good job. No go. She insiss that I drive to Columbus and get a proper hair cut. Well I’m just too impatient for that.

So starts the plan that cannot fail.

The last time a hair cut plan went into action my dad just started to cut my hair with some zigzagged craft sizzors after having a few vodcka shots, and that prompted my mother to jump in and do it right herself. So, being the logical ones that my brother and I am, we figured if he, being the awkward 14 year old boy he is, started hacking at my hair my mum would jump in and work her magic. Sounds like it’d work…. right? Well think again. My brother starts cutting, keeps cutting, mum looks away. More hair falls to the floor and my mum just keeps working on making dinner. There comes a point where Jake stops and mutters “whoops”. Does my mum jump in to save my head of hair? Nope. She shakes her head and denies me help. In the end I lost about four or five inches of hair, but it looks even to me. I think he did a pretty good job. It’s all one length, but I thought layers might have been a little too advanced for his first try. Maybe next time.

Friday, April 2, 2004

I have tummy butterflies. Gross.

Life can just be really odd sometimes. I want to say ironic but I don’t think that’s quite the word I’m looking for.

Just a few minutes ago I got a phone call from business offering me a job, and yesterday, I got one another one. What the hell? Why did these nice, close to school, few hours, more money, no thinking type jobs wait until I got another job to offer me one of their own? There were four years of no job offers and then they all wait to call me the week I start at the Holiday Inn? It’s just not fair.

Countdown: thirty minutes till work. Then 8 fun hours of standing around pretending I know how to do all the things I wrote about in my resume. My ubersexy blue work shirt is an XXL in men’s. Now I’m not a twig by any stretch, but the three janitors and I could work comfortably in this shirt. And now I have cat hair all over my fancible navy pants. Is calling in sick on the first day bad? Aw boo.

Thursday, April 1, 2004

I got nothing.

Here we go. Last post… well, unless I write one tomorrow morning… before I go to work and hopefully, cross your fingers for me, get fired! I have high hopes.

Next, I got flowers today. Not from a sexy someone, but from my mum and dad. The napkin under the vase read, “Congrats Chicken lips.” My parents were so desperate for me to get a job that they had to congratulate me with flowers. Sad, but I won’t argue. I got flowers. They smell pretty.

Next, next, thanks to Mag and Spark, I’ve got new sexy Wes icons. Now all three of my icons are Wesley kissin' ones. Sigh. And also in this “next, next” thing, I've got to say, Wonderfalls rocks. I think there were other things I wanted to write about, but I’ve forgotten them already, so I guess they were all lies.

And this is amusing in a disgusting kind of way.

In the past year, I have eaten up to:
- 11 insect larvae
- 27 whole insects (or insect parts)
- 28 fly eggs
- 6 maggots
- 27 rat hairs
- 3600 mites
- a can or two of 'honey-combed tissue' in your tuna (whatever the hell that means).


Wednesday, March 31, 2004


I am now officially employed. Goodbye life, hello sleep depravation.

I would have written all about the interview and everything else that led up to this but… well, I just didn’t. To sum it up, I got dressed up all oldladyish and kissed ass.

Imaginary person--“What for?”

Imaginary me-- “For a desk job at the Holiday Inn.”

If you could see me now, I’m shaking my head in that “why oh why?” kind of way. The pay isn’t good, the hours are long, but the other employees are nice and hug me. I’m scared. I don’t want a real job. My job at delta wasn’t really real. Everyone who worked there were like uncles and grandfathers to me or were my parents. I didn’t do real work. I clean and put things in alphabetical or numerical order. And I have a phobia about answering the phone at a business. Why, oh why did I apply for a job to answer phones? And I also have to wear an ugly blue shirt. Boo. But I get a sexy nametag. Yay. Friday’s shift ends at 11p.m. and Saturday’s shift starts at 7a.m. Boo. But I think I get money for working...yay.

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

I am a fucking Moron. Little “f”, big “M”.

Guess when Kayt’s spring break was over? For a hint, check the tense. If you guessed Monday, you’re right! Last Monday! As in classes started yesterday and I’ve already missed the first day of physical anthro and real and recorded time. I am a fucking Moron. Since when is Spring break only a week? I thought it was supposed to be a month or something.

Can we all chant this together now?

“Kayt is a fucking Moron.”

But my lovely Mag and my genius Spark made my day so much better. The ever annoying virtual memory warning is gone and photoshop is working again.

Monday, March 29, 2004

Go Holy Cornucopia!

My Aunt Kris is a big wig in the business department for God. She works for the church up north and somehow got wind that I made a new site. Her e-mail to me--

“…I tried your web site: and could not locate it. Would you
please give me the correct url for your web site? Thank you darlin.”

Uh… “onholy”? Does she think that it’s a site about a holy cornucopia? Oh dear. I don’t think she’s ready to accept that fact that I’m not the church going angel she thought I was. Sending her my favorite book on the aquatic ape theory of evolution obviously wasn’t a strong enough hint. I wish I could see her face when she finds out it’s the “unholy fruit basket” and then sees the smuticons.

Sunday, March 28, 2004

Kaythryn Turvey?


My best friend Stacey came up from Virginia yesterday and surprised me by taking me to the Pfizer Fantasia Equine Affaire downtown. That is arguably the coolest damn show on earth. I wasn’t expecting much, just some white Lipizzan stallions hopping around and some local farmers clapping. Nope. The coliseum was packed tight, all the tickets sold weeks before hand and, you know what? Cowboys are fun.

While we waiting for the show to start music was playing to keep the crowd entertained. Apparently cowboys and cowgirls can’t just be entertained, they must party. People were standing and dancing on their chairs, moving out into the aisles and shaking their groove things, and the wave. Oh dear, the wave. I must be out of the loop because I remember the wave as four people standing up and screaming, then everyone else turning to stare at them like they’re freaks. Not with cowboys, because cowboys are fun. The wave started, round and round and round the coliseum, screaming, hooting, whistles, waves, men with canes waved them high in the air, women with babies held above their heads, and I bet I was up and down at least twenty times. All very bizarre.

Then the show started with the national anthem. As well as being fun, cowboys are excessively patriotic. Every hat in the house was pressed against a chest, hands were covering hearts, and heads were bowed…except Stacey and I. We laughed and got lots of dirty looks.

After the very solemn national anthem there was a little salute to the armed forced. Wow. The screams and cheers. My throat was sore and my hands stung already. Then came a horse dressed like a lion for Lion King, saddle horse rhythm riders, Icelandic horse congress, Ghost rider Bridleless Freestyle, blah, blah, tons more fun and laughs and me squealing, but the best was The Riding Instructor. Tommie Turvey with his paint horse Pokerjoe. That man is the most talented guy on earth. And the funniest. And I’m gonna marry him. First I have to meet him, then he’ll teach me how to ride, then I’ll marry him. I’ve got it all planned out.

In the coliseum, the lady sitting on my right was taping the whole event and, while I didn’t think of it during the show, I think I ruined the sound part of her tape. They won’t be hearing the music but instead they’ll hear me going, “Wow. Oh my god! Wow. Whoa. Wow. Whoooo! Wow. Yay!”

After the show we drove around Columbus looking for a nasty place to eat and finally found one we deemed suitable, next to Bob’s Bar, and they served pancakes. Yum.

And another happy thing, it’s such an amazing day out today. It snowed two days ago but this afternoon I was walking around barefoot washing my car and laying in the garden. The crocus’ are blooming.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

And, for more of my spam.

It seems our friendly Nigerian e-mail scammers now have Asian copycats.

“I am Mr.Wang Qin, credit officer of Hang Seng Bank Ltd. I have an urgent and very confidential business proposition for you….This sum of US$28,000,000.00 is still sitting in my Bank and the interest is being rolled over with the principal sum at the end of each year…Consequently, my proposal is that I will like you as a foreigner to stand in as the next of kin to Mr. Pavel Kepak so that the fruits of this old man's labor will not get into the hands of some corrupt government officials.”

Yeah, ‘cause everyone wants tons of money to go into the hands of some 19 year old American girl instead of their own country. What really kills me is their grammar and punctuation. If you want me to believe that you’re really a credit officer, then capitalize your damn sentences.

Friday, March 26, 2004

Tonight, when it was dark and raining, I ran in heels. On four different occasions tonight. Me, running, without twisting my ankles, wearing heels. That’s a prerequisite for being a girl spy or a super hero, isn’t it? Wear wonder bra and run in heels.

I feel so empowered.

Bizarre rumors are sending me to hell.

I think the veterinary’s office ranks as the scariest, dirtiest, smelliest, mutant freak showiest place on earth, and not just for pets. Had to take my dog Zane there today. Esh. Now besides the occasional run-away and the sporadic trips to the park, mostly my dogs know to run out to the fenced in part of the yard when we open the back door… except when somebody’s got a leash. When there is a leash in sight all hell breaks loose. Zane cowers near the door, does a few twirls and looks up at you with a huge grin on his face. Lou jumps three feet high up in the air over and over again landing on top of the other two dogs. Abby walks over everyone and crams her nose in the crack of the door waiting for that instant when it opens. All the while I stand in the middle of this swirling jumble of dogs trying to think of a way to get just one of them out the door.

Plan: Leash Zane. Push his old self up to the door. Kick other dogs away. Push Zane out the open door while still kicking other two dogs away. Slam door behind myself. Take happy Zane to happy vet.

Reality: Leashed Zane. Pushed him towards the door and kicked the other two animals away. Opened door. Lou sprinted out and headed across the street. Abby ran out into the yard. Pushed Zane into the fenced in yard. Hauled Abby back into the house. Started running after evil beagle Lou. Two streets, one alley, a dozen houses, and a racing heartbeat later I had Lou by the neck. Am also running late.

Reality sucks.

After some shuffling I was able to get Zane into the Mazda.

Small stick shift car + big dog = fury figure half in passengers seat, half in drivers face and trying to eat chocolate granola bars out of the glove compartment.

I really should invest in one of those doggy seatbelts.

Minutes later and we arrive at the vets. Parking lot’s full and people are lining up on the street. The vet’s lobby is even worse. All the benches are taken, people are leaning up against the wall or sitting on the floor and there are lots of big, young, intimidating dogs. Zane is now hyperventilating and trying to hide between my legs. Nobody holds their animals close because they think they’re all nice sweet animals so cats and dogs just walk right up to poor old having-a-panic-attack- Zane and sniff at him. When one growls in his face Zane looks like he’s going to melt away.

It took about fifteen minutes but we were finally able to sign in. Instead of insanely waiting inside we went outside and sat in the parking lot on the back of the Mazda. Tick tock, tick tock, two hours later and we’re still waiting. We people watched and watched their pets too--dogs, roosters, goats, horses, cats, and a
baby pot bellied pig all went in and out or back and around. Finally, two and a half hours later, Dr. Carpenter (very nice lady, has perfect gray hair, but doesn’t look old) came out to get us.

I’ll skip all the icky poking and prodding and go straight for the diagnosis. Zane has cancer. Bahh. They need to get a chest X-ray to see if there are any tumors in his lungs before they can operate, but he's been around for a pretty long damn time, I'm not terribly sad yet.

100 most mispronounced words

I’m sorry, but I do say sherbert.

Bizarre rumor generator

And, oddly enough, this was the first thing that came up-

According to the New York Times, disgruntled God obligingly bet against the other Satanist chicken.

This one came a little later-
When Jesus was a little boy, the melon-headed lawmaker detestably rode with corrosive God.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Ah, nothing like a drug bust to lull a girl off to sleep.

And nothing quite like those flashing police lights to help that pounding headache.

My house is right on the corner of main street and town, near the school; so if you’re gonna get pulled over in Kayt-land, it’s gonna be in front of my house. On top of that my room’s three windows (covered in a transparent white curtain at night) face main street, and the other faces town street. Then, the genius that I am positioned the head of my bed between three of the windows so when you do get pulled over in front of my house the police lights flash through my curtains, through my eyelids, and directly to my brain to pinch at my sensitive throbbing head veins. Ew and ow.

But, it’s like a live episode of Cops.

Less than an hour ago Jake and I sat on the second story steps and stared out through the cover of the stained glass windows to watch the arrest. Jake had mum’s lap top and was chatting on aol with the kid across the street, who was also sitting by his window watching.

We small town folks are so easily entertained.

It was a red car that two cops pulled over. A thin man was inside, looking like a cross between the Marlboro man and anorexic Santa. The cops pulled him out, hands on their nightsticks, checked his eyes over and over, and made him walk a straight line.

Oh boy.

Ten steps never looked so difficult. I think his feet managed to walk a straight line but the top half of his body was wobbling dangerously. Then there was a whole bunch of talking (Jake and I filled in our own dialogue), and then they handcuffed him. We all cheered.

And for the climax of his arrest, they searched his car. Smoking Santa was such an idiot. Handful after handful we watched the cops pull out small plastic packets of drugs and pile them on top of the car. Handcuffed Santa man just sat in the back of one of the police cruisers and freaked out with all manner of yelling. Well… I couldn’t hear him, but unless he was just red faced and mouthing dirty words with large puffs of air, he was yelling. When the cops rove off with him, Jake and I left our watch post. I glanced out the window a few minutes ago on my way downstairs-- they’ve managed to make the red car disappear. I’m pretty impressed. I don’t know if someone used his keys and drove it somewhere or if they towed it, but whatever it was, it was fast. Way to go, cops, and thanks for the show, just get a damn dimmer on those lights please.

Monday, March 22, 2004

I’d like to be the first to introduce you to… The Unholy Fruit Basket! /drumroll

There’re still a few kinks to be worked out but all in all, kinks are sexy.

Friday, March 19, 2004

And the spam just keeps rolling in.

"Re: Past Due Payment, account Abbynormalartist - biopsy mockingbird steeplebush ..."

What the hell is a biopsy mockingbird steeplebush? I checked it out, it was a credit card advertisement. Boo.

Boob biting and large rubbers for all

Blah. I’m at work. I’m not working, but I’m here. I got to see Chloe, she tried to eat my ravioli (and by the way, ravioli, not as cool tasting as it was when I was a kid). She’s looking so much better lately, almost normal, with exception to the chipped tooth. Still a little off, but close to being back to her wacky self. I got a pretty picture of the evil bird (wrapped in a towel because that‘s the only way we can hold the bastard), and one of the ever cute (but with very sharp teeth and a tendency to bite boobs) puppy.


Max and my left hand.

Max and my mothers shoulder.

Oh dear. Violence in the workplace. We’ve got a rubber band war starting.

Oh oh, and McCoy is in court. Tisk, tisk. You're in trouble.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

I made a snow penis!

The snow today was far from packing snow, but I was on a mission. I kinda ran out of steam before I could make it a 9ft tall penis, but for today, I can live with only a 4ft tall one. When I started doing the detail work my mom pinched my ear. I don’t think she liked the fact that I put the penis in front near the street. Instead of beating down the tiny un-detailed penis with a shovel I gave it a few badly executed karate kicks until it crumbled.

The snow penis.

And that bump on the upper left might be an indication that my penis is a sickly penis.

And me, in my ever sexy man snow clothes, cornered by my camera toting mother. No, I’m not a dork. Heh, really.

To my Mag and all Angel watchers out there… I’m only caught up to season three in Angel but I just saw one of those Angel recap thingies for a rerun ep from season four and… what the hell?! This stuff just keeps getting crazier. I'm downloading season four right now but it’s just not fast enough.

Fun new spam!

"Abbynormalartist, wach ladies getting deflorated... "

I almost clicked on it just to see what the hell ladies looked like getting "deflorated".

Monday, March 15, 2004

Today’s post is brought to you by the fact that I just really don’t want to do my English final. So instead, a story about my bathroom spider.

About 80 years ago our downstairs bathroom was a little pantry thing. It was just a tiny dent in the wall with a door over it that the cook would put canned goods in. Then, years later, for absurd reasons unknown, someone decided to pull out the shelves and put a toilet and a sink in there. I’m thinking that this happened during the depression when the Virtue family that lived here was starving. They didn’t have food, so why have a pantry? They were all skinny and starving, so it wasn’t much trouble to fit themselves into the tiny bathroom. Fast forward a few centuries, the people living in this house no longer weigh 90 lbs or less… it is now the trouble bathroom.

To get inside this bathroom is something of an obstacle. You open the door first, then turn to the side and shuffle a few steps. Once your hip hits the sink, ( it almost touches the door when closed) you have to bend your knees and shuffle. If you’ve managed to suck in and do the shuffle correctly you should find yourself on the toilet with your legs pinned neatly under the sink.

So that’s the 2x3 foot pantry/bathroom I’m sure you all wanted to hear about, now for my spider. A few months ago, I spotted a tiny spider hiding the wallpaper pattern of the bathroom. He was white with almost invisible clear legs and was just a little jumpy. I would have squished him right then and there but… well that’s just icky. I figured he’d move on to another part of the house and I’d forget about him. But no. In addition to being jumpy he was also quite voyeuristic. Every time I found myself in that tiny bathroom he was there… watching. I nick named him Tom Harrington (“Peeping Tom” … original eh?), greeted him with a little puff of air. He’d jump and I would know he was alive.

But, a few weeks ago I noticed he was missing. I don’t know if he just got sick of me puffing air at him and disrupting his web, or maybe he needed a change of scenery. A new wallpaper, a new bathroom. I may never know. (Cue dramatic soap opera-ish music. Fade to black, new scene.)

Eck, maybe he was murdered. I never considered that. Well, the point is, I am now lacking a bathroom spider. I’ll be interviewing applicants from the back corner of the basement tomorrow, but I don’t think it will be the same. No one will ever be able to replace Tom Harrington.

Military code name generator:

The Generator figured this would be a good codename for my naval battle in Russia:
Rolling Flash

Watch out Russia. Operation Rolling Flash is coming your way!

Okay, now I really need to do my English final.

Saturday, March 13, 2004

I have kryptonite sitting on my bed.

The other day, as I finished off my second piece of chocolate cheesecake for breakfast, I figured I should probably start eating real food, possibly even healthy food. So I did. Sounds smart, right? Somehow it’s not ‘cause as soon as I started eating “good” food, I got sick. Blah. I need some cookies and a jar of olives, maybe then my allergies will go away.

When I was a kid I used to go on bike rides a lot with my family. Mostly we just rode up behind the doctors office, or HPM to the railroad tracks. Then we’d walk the tracks, play baseball with sticks, and sit down and look through all the rocks and junk. I don’t know what’s special about the tracks, but the stuff there was awesome. All kinds of fossils and crystals and bugs and rusted iron train parts and terracotta bits from an old pottery shop that exploded years ago. With our pockets and bike baskets full we’d ride home and clean up the things we’d found and come up with all kinds of wonderful explanations for what each thing was.

“These are bullets from a train robbery back a thousand years ago.”
“This is a fossil of dinosaur poop.”

We don’t go up there much anymore, but my dad still brings home fossils he finds at work. Yesterday he brought home this weird blue… thing. I put up some pictures here.

If you know what it is, tell me, because I can’t figure it out.

Friday, March 12, 2004

I like it, sweet and simple, but without the "sweet".

How Would YOU Take Over the World?

And my drained icon rocks. I’ll have to be drained more often so I can feel better by watching it’s face melt.

Monday, March 8, 2004

Check out my porno!

I'm so proud...

(Edit: I spelled "good" wrong the first time, but it's fixed now. Yes, yes, super blonde moment.)

It's too big to be used as a LJ icon, but I had to post it anyway.

Thursday, March 4, 2004

I've hooked another one! My friend from school, Geoff, is now a Firefly fan. He's seen the first three episodes and is hungry for more. Now that sounds good and all, but he doesn't like Kaylee. What the hell is up with that you might ask... well, I don't know. He must be sick or crazy or dirty or sick and crazy and dirty. Not sure.

And my mum just sent this to me. It's nothing we don't already know.

Blah, now I have to go to school in the rain.
I’m a tit? Why am I a tit?

Which Spike are you?

Snatched from our very own Pop.

Wednesday, March 3, 2004

My dad just got home and he brought me chocolate covered raisins. I heart chocolate covered raisins so much. I even did the dance, “ungh” thrust and all.

Also, all you Browncoats out there know the news. Green light for FF movie. Hallelujah! That made my morning.

Friday, February 27, 2004

I will slow dance to save the free world!

I will slow dance to save the free world!

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

Happy, happy, joy, joy

I’m alive.

Hun, that’s always a comforting statement to make.

Well, the not so fun week became the not so fun two weeks and you better be listening Powers that Be because it’s over! You hear me. No more of this not so fun crap. We’re moving back to happiness and flowers and cute puppy dogs. (For another day- the new puppy at work, not so cute and sweet.)

So, to recap, Chloe fell last, last (whatever) Saturday and broke her nose, chipped her teeth, bloodied her lips, and scraped up her face and arms. So they took her to the hospital. Not fun. Not fun. But patch her up, send her out. Right?


Her chemical stuff was all out of wack, she had a urinary infection, and her diabetes stuff was just plain wrong. So the hospital has kept her since yesterday morning and that‘s just because John threw a hissy fit and took her home. Since Chloe is missing a large chunk of her brain and can’t remember anything new they put her in the crazy-in-the-brain wing of the hospital while she was there.

Oh yeah, it was really great to be able to look down the hall about five or six doors and see the room my grandmother stayed in while they “treated” her for terminal brain cancer just over a year ago. Fun.

Also since Chloe is kinda crazy, and when her chemical stuff is all screwed up she’s even more nuts, the nurses were unable to tell when she was telling the truth. When she said she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. When she said something hurt. When she said she wanted to check herself out. Or, one of my favorites, when she said she needed to get to Mexico. (I think the nurses figured that one out) So somebody has to play interpreter.

Then, come Saturday, John got back the results from his medical exam he took just before Chloe fell. He has cancer. Wow. Just more freaking fun. The good? Supposedly it’s completely treatable, fixable, gonable. The bad? I get to be crazy Chloe translator.

The nurses looked at me like I was crazy every time I told them something. “No. She does have to go to the bathroom.” “No, she doesn’t have to go to the men’s club.” “No, don’t call her mother, she’s dead.”

So while the Ohio shindig is going on I got to walk Chloe down to get an MRI as she tells me about the Christmas decorations we’re gonna put up in a few hours. I’m still coping… maybe I’ll skip the coping and keep right on with pissed.

You know how much sleep you can get when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag on a couch in the loony wing of a hospital? Not that much. You know what kind of food you get? Bad egg rolls. Never eat hospital egg rolls. Why the hell do they even make egg rolls? Stick to what’s in the vending machine. Monday I got bored so I only ate orange things from the vending machines. You’d be surprised how many orange things there are. Orange pop, orange juice, cheese crackers, cheetos, orange ticktacs, cream swirls, those nasty honey bun rip offs, cheese lay’s chips, and orange skittles (I gave the rest to Kenny). There were more orangey things but not quite orange enough to fit my strict criteria.

Also, the longer you hand around crazy people the easier it is to think you’re nuts.

I got home yesterday, after they let Chloe go home, and slept all day. All day. Got home around two and went to bed. Didn’t wake up till this morning. Ahhhhh.

Friday, February 20, 2004

Why must the hotel for the shindig be downtown and why must I get out of school at four, also known as rush hour, on a Friday? Also, who the hell thought that one way streets would be a good idea?

Thursday, February 19, 2004


Crazy incestuous insect orgies only in your sexiest fantasies?


Now they can be your screensaver.

Monday, February 16, 2004

Ah hell. Let me be cliché, when it rains, it pours.

This week has to go down in Kayt history as… the… really not fun week.

I’m really busy so I’ll skip the good stuff and school stuff and the little bads and go to the crappy part. Chloe is in the emergency room. She fell Saturday and busted up her lip, teeth, nose, and arm and has been talking really slowly and walking like she’s drunk these past few weeks. It makes me feel sick. On top of feeling scared for Chloe it freaks me out because this is just how it started when Nana got brain cancer. She sounded like she was drunk. Talked slowed, swayed when she walked. The last day she was pretty much normal I stayed with her. The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to be alone. We sat alone at my Aunt’s house all afternoon. She make dinner, spaghetti I think, and we watched art history programs and shows with that tattoo guy from star trek playing a cow boy. She was having a really hard time talking then. I remember as she spoke she used hand gestures… the right side of her body seemed slower than the other. For lunch we ate bagels. She had hers dry. I thought it was odd, but she said that was how she wanted it. Later that evening I got a call, she was in the emergency room. She had been left alone. She ate another bagel and choked because the right side of her body was becoming paralyzed because of the brain tumor that they didn’t know about at the time. I’m just so scared that’s what might happen to Chloe. She’s already had an aneurysm. She’s missing a big chuck of her brain, and her ability to remember anything new because of the aneurysm. She’s a diabetic. She’s seventy something. Oh, and on top of that John, her husband, the eighty something year old Hungarian man spent Saturday wielding without the ventilation on so he inhaled all that crap and couldn’t breathe and his circulation went all to hell and he was all icy last night. Damn people, you couldn’t wait till I turned in my sociology and English papers, hun?

And argity, arg, arg, my computer is broken. The screen part of my lap top doesn't stay upright without a support because I broke the hinge. Grrrrr...

In an attempt to end on a happy note, Jake waltzed with me in the kitchen today and made my mom incredibly happy.

And lastly, lastly, I just gotta post this. She'd kill me. Heh. Chloe's angry face.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

Gimpy Gimpy Bo Bimpy...

I dreamt of a little black kitten with mismatched eyes and only three legs. I loved him and squeezed him and hugged him and called him Gimpy. I took him to the Columbus Shindig with me and he slept in the bathtub.

If only in my dreams…

Ah, and more about the Shindig. In theory it sounds like a great plan to spring the “can I go downtown alone and meet my internet lovers for three days of sci-fi craziness and all around incestuous orgies” when they’re a bit tipsy, but the flaw there is that the don’t freaking remember the next day that they said yes. Ah, hell. My mother and father looked up the address to the hotel we’re planning to stay at and are now concerned that it’s in a bad part of town for me to be running around in alone. So their solution?

Mom: Well I’ll just go with you. It’ll be a good excuse if you don’t like it there. You can say your overpowering lesbian girlfriend is making you go home. Oh! And we’ll take John and Kenny with us! Kenny can be… oh what’s the name… the prostitute…oh…. (I‘m sure she‘ll blend right in not knowing the characters names)

Twenty minutes later…

Mom: The Companion! That’s it! Kenny can be the companion and John can be little Jayne. They’ll be our body guards. (Point of interest, Kenny is the exact opposite of Inara except he does have long curly black hair, and John is an almost 80 year old Hungarian man.)

Me: We could… or you know… not.

28.5% downloaded and I bet you can’t guess what I’m gonna say… yeah, they cancelled Angel. And just as I was starting to get into it and know the characters names. Fuckwits. I also really like that word, fuckwits.

And this makes me want to scan in the writing I find on money... maybe all the reported Browncoat bills found.

Marriage is love.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

Yo, I have 9% of Angel: Season One downloaded.

Almost 9.1%

Just another week and I might be able to watch some of this... and then I'll find out that I've seen all of the eps from season one and have to wait another week for season two and it'll probably be in French or something else and then another week of downloading to find it in English and then it will be that someone labeled it wrong and it's really season one all over again and then there will just have to be bloodshed.

Or maybe not.

And maybe I'm alone on this but making this lady wink at me just too much fun.

It's rumored that she plans to ask the Wizard of Oz for a body someday.

I'm still not at 9.1%.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Little story, lots of mush

I made every green light between home and school today. Well, some were yellow, but I made it through every light without stopping today. That’s almost twenty street lights. I was very proud. So of course I hit almost every red light on my way home. Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to boast about the green light drive.

And I gotta say, I love all my #firefly friends. Seriously. Hearts all around. Before I started chatting I wouldn’t of thought that people I only knew from the internet could surprise me, make me laugh out loud, cry, jump up and down, or make me smile until my cheeks hurt. But they do. The other day I got to see something from a #firefly-ee (“pounder“? “#fireflyer“? You know who.) that made me squeal, smile, jump around, clap and cover my eyes to peek between my fingers because I couldn’t bear to be so surprised. There’s so much I’ve learned from the friends I’ve made at #firefly and so many things I’ve been introduced to. It’s octo-fabulous and mushy. I think about it a lot, think about my friends, quote some of their lines when I talk to other people, (“Fuck me pink and purple” “Affle house?” “I blame all the world troubles on the uterus” ) and when I watch Angel, Buffy, Firefly, Family Guy, or Futurama it’s not show quotes I hear, it’s quotes from people in #firefly I remember that just so happen to be said in this show. I was watching Buffy the other day and Dawn said “Everyone likes a slim ankle”. I yelled at the TV, “Mag said that!”.

And if you’ve ever thought your home or apartment was cluttered, well, this will make you feel better… or scared for the world.

Monday, February 9, 2004

Boob mints for all

I love Mulan. I’ve probably seen it a hundred times. And come on, what could be better than a cricket playing drums while the ancestors spirits rock out and play volleyball with someone’s head. I hope I don’t need to say it, but you know the rules to head throwing.

I think I’ve managed to dump the family come shindig time. It takes lots of oysters and more than the usual amount of alcohol but I think I’ll be attending stag… well… I’ve already promised to hang with Jake at COSI, but other than that, it’s just me baby! Also, just as a notice to all you with boobs, don’t drink with my friends ‘cause somehow we all end up with mints in our bras and stuck to our boobs at the end of the night. Go figure.

This is the link to the artsy craft festive we went to Saturday before dinner at our favorite bar. We got some of this guy’s stuff, and a bunch of other goodies, but I can’t find any links for them. This is the guy I got these funny little oil lamp heads from, thus the need for lamp oil. There isn’t any in Ohio. None. Nada.

And lastly, it's just 9:00 and I'm fighting to stay awake. I don't think I've fallen asleep this early since junior high school. It's freaky I tell you!

Sunday, February 8, 2004

Dear World,
Lamp oil is not the same fucking thing as potpourri. When someone comes into a store and asks for lamp oil don’t tell them you have it when you’ve never had it and apparently don’t know what in the hell it is and all you have is fucking potpourri you god damned bastards.

Friday, February 6, 2004

An amazing wonderful title that I just can't think of, insert here

My cat, Cleo, the bitch, woke me up, like she does every morning, at 6:30 a.m. by squeaking her paws on my door, and for some reason I’m still awake and now enjoying my gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich, luke warm hot chocolate, and the only thing that’s showing something other than news, VH1.

The tambourine rocks and most music videos really suck.

There’s a terrible over abundance of tall black women in bikinis and high heels that only want to wiggle and gyrate with half a dozens of their cookie cutter friends next to some short pimp guy in tacky clashing bling bling. I wanna get famous, wear plaid and a hat with a feather in it and have unusually endowed men giggle around me then show it to the world as a music video. Yeah, maybe my video will have music in it, still not sure about that bit.

Seals song from Living ‘till the End is on. Humm… yeah, this video also sucks… it could use just a little more boob giggling and some hip smacking tambourine.

It’s starting to get bright out. It’s a very wet and gray day, warm though.

Yesterday I was feeling all violent so I took it out on the three inches of ice that was covering our driveway. One girl, one hoe, lots beating and hacking at the ice. Twenty minutes later, it became, one girl, one ice chip in the eye, lots of whining and “Ow, ow, ow, look at my eye! Is it bleeding?”. It hurt like all hell and I had visions (only in one eye) of that poor guy from Ariel, bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Of course I was told to shut up and sleep it off. Amazing how “sleeping it off” heals everything. When I woke up we were all congregating in my parents room on their bed. My mum was trying to sleep, my dad trying to watch tv, I was trying to suck sympathy, and my brother was causing trouble, stiring up the cats and dogs on the bed and threatening to poke my eye.

DAD: “Want me to rub your back, honey?”
MUM: “Let me sleep.”
DAD: “Are you sure?”
MUM: “Want me to pirece your ear with my teeth?”

So friendly.

Somehow we got on the topic of man makeup and the next thing I know Jake’s sitting on the end of my bed and I’m applying sea green and pinkish purple eye shadow to my 6 foot tall wrestler brother.

Oh dear, so much fun.

I used to dress him up like a girl tons of times when he was little, but when he got taller than me, there was no way in hell I’d be able to threaten him into a dress.

Now I’m too nice, or scared, or something to post pictures of Jake, and believe me, there were pictures, but he looked like a cross between these two pictures.

Curly blonde wig, pearls, pink shawl, fire engine red lipstick and all done by a girl who couldn‘t see out one eye. Heh, it really doesn’t take much to make me happy.

And while I was searching for “scary blonde man/woman” pictures I found this. Don’t you think with boobs that big you’d need some kind of bra?

Advanced Big 30 Personality Test Results
Sociability ||||||||||||||| 42%
Gregariousness ||||||||| 30%
Assertiveness ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%
Activity Level |||||||||||||||||| 58%
Excitement-Seeking |||||||||||| 38%
Enthusiasm |||||||||||||||||| 58%
Extroversion ||||||||||||||| 49%
Trust |||||||||||| 38%
Morality ||||||||||||||| 46%
Altruism ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Cooperation ||||||||||||||| 46%
Modesty |||||||||||||||||| 58%
Sympathy ||||||||||||||| 42%
Friendliness ||||||||||||||| 49%
Competence ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Neatness ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Dutifulness ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Achievement ||||||||||||||| 50%
Self-Discipline |||||||||||| 34%
Cautiousness ||||||||||||||| 50%
Orderliness |||||||||||||||||| 55%
Anxiety ||||||||||||||| 42%
Anger ||||||||| 30%
Depression ||||||||| 26%
Self-Consciousness |||||||||||||||||| 54%
Impulsiveness ||||||||||||||| 50%
Vulnerability ||||||||||||||| 46%
Emotional Stability |||||||||||||||||| 59%
Imagination |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Artistic Interests |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74%
Emotionality ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%
Adventurousness ||||||||||||||||||||| 62%
Intellect |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%
Liberalism ||||||||||||||| 46%
Openmindedness ||||||||||||||||||||| 69%
Take Free Advanced Big 30 Personality Test

Snatched from Maystone.

Friday, January 30, 2004

GNA=bad evil bitch

Guess who had a crow pecking around her car this morning?

Of course it’s me, who else would I write about? Well, that made me smile, then, on my drive to school I saw GNA. That bitch.

Yesterday on my drive home from class (that was cancelled by the way), late at night, in the snowy wonderfulmusness that is Ohio in January, a red Bug drove in front of me going all of 20 miles an hour... when the speed limit was 55. Ah, to be fair, her top speed was around 23 miles an hour.

And not just for a few miles.

And no, she wasn’t looking for a street or a house address.

She was driving from the University into my town, about thirty minutes away. And for about forty five minutes I sat in my car, driving ever so slowly, with just my middle fingers, behind the bitch, staring at her license plate “GNAS BUG” and cursing her with every curse word in English and Mandarin I could think of. I finally said “who gives a crap about safety” and passed her in the blizzard. In case you’re wondering, I did survive.

She is now my enemy for life. A pox on GNA and her screwed up odometer.

And today I saw her. In that evil red bug, with some nasty man in the passengers seat, the most annoying license plate “GNAS BUG” and stuck in traffic right outside of town. Ha! That’s what she gets for driving like that. I clapped and beat on my horn that doesn’t really honk but is truly a celebratory stress reliever.

Also, I made chocolate covered raisins today and feel so very chef-y and cool. Before the chocolate I tried to be all crafty and makes these seemingly cute things but failed miserably. Let’s just go back to the chocolate.

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

"Straw Warts"

Crows are my good luck symbols. I know it might sound a bit odd, most folk lore’s I’ve heard say that crows are the bringers of bad news or death, but not for me. I’m not superstitious, I don’t really believe it, but I like being able to say that I have a good luck charm. Some people have lucky numbers, days, or charms… I have crows.

One day, when I was sixteen, I was walking between buildings at my campus style high school and saw this big ass tree with no leaves but three crows perched on it, one on the left, one in the middle, and one on the right and the half moon behind it all. As I was walking the crow in the middle flew down and over my head, his wing brushing over my head. It was my spiritual/surreal experience that was kinda laughable but kinda cool.

So, since then I’ve figured that crows are my good luck symbol. Now I just need to figure out why my bad luck symbol is, ‘cause it was around today. I wont go into all the details, but it involved me falling on my ass and cracking my head on the ice, again having to crawl through the evil Mazda’s trunk, and then missing yet another class. I’m thinking that maybe snow is my bad luck symbol. Nothing seems to go right when there’s snow around.

And here's a link for you. Oodles, and oodles of... fun... with palindromes?

Monday, January 26, 2004

I was curious when I could expect to see Living ‘till The End in theaters so I sent off a little e-mail. Here’s the response I got back…

we're still in post. keep checking the site for details and more shots of sean...have given him his own page -- not up yet. thanks for the response...spread the word.

And she even spelled my name right. I can’t wait.

And after looking at this list I don’t know how you could say anything and it not have something to do with masturbation.