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13 December 2009 @ 02:28 am
I know it's been a while since I posted. LJ says 60 weeks. That seems like a lot, but I guess they would know. And now that I'm finally compelled to write, it is my active lack of interest in my subject that compels me to do so. I am just so ridiculously tired of hearing about Tiger Woods and who is or was or will be in his bed that I am ready to take a driver to the television. Who cares?!?! Seriously? It's none of my business. It's none of your business. What does it matter? The man is a golf player, not the second coming of Christ. I have long despised with a deep and abiding passion those disgusting 'entertainment news magazines' (that's what I just heard one of them call themselves), but you know what I'm talking about - the tabloid TV trash. My Mom watches two, back to back, swearing they have different 'news'. I can't even be in the same room. But occasionally, I'll be watching something I've DVR'ed and when it ends, that's what's playing and I hear a minute of the tripe before I can get to the remote to change the channel. One of the bubble heads on one ET or some similar show was discussing the 'Tiger Woods Investigation', yes she ACTUALLY called it that. An investigation. Really? Digging up dirt on the private life of someone who is now virtually unemployed is not an investigation, it's being nosy and then gossiping about it. But what really touched my heart was when another of the ladies (I use the term loosely) said that who she felt sorry for was "Poor Elin", what with her life falling apart so publicly and all. Oh, really? That's sweet of you. So shut up! And stop 'investigating' her marriage. Idiot. Seems like that might take a little of the public embarrassment part out of it. Leave people alone. Man, I really hate stupid people. Oh, look! Looks like I care after all.
10 December 2009 @ 01:25 pm
So I've been having trouble sleeping lately. Actually, that would be an understatement. I've been going days without sleeping plus having migraines, both of which are triggers of sorts for sleepwalking. Though to call what I do 'sleepwalking' seems something akin to calling what Michelangelo did 'doodling'. I seem to go all out. When I do mercifully doze off, I've been waking up in strange places like outside on the porch or sitting up on the edge of the bed, both of which are remarkably uncomfortable. Particularly as the temperature outside drops into the 40s. I also do lots of weird things. But today was a doozy.
My parents left around 10:45 for a doctors appointment, and as I hadn't slept at all last night, I was exhausted and decided to lay down for a nap. In my PJs, in my bed, in my room. I guess I fell asleep pretty quickly. Because it seems I got a lot done while they were away. When they returned a while ago, it was to an odd scene. I'm sure it was weird for them, but it was incredibly disturbing for me, so I'll be telling this story from my perspective.
So I went to bed. In my room. Next thing I know, someone is touching me, I open my eyes to find my mom and Miss B staring at me and I am for some reason terrified and I scream. Blood-curdling, spine-chilling, afraid for my life scream. And I realize that I'm in my parents' bed, where I'd apparently been sleeping soundly. I jump off the bed crying, still afraid for some reason of my mom and Miss B, and start trying to figure out what is going on. I realize that my hair is in pigtails. The high up, kindergarten kind. I look in the mirror and I look ridiculous. In addition to the pigtails, my look includes full makeup. I've gone for smoldering eyes, with heavy dark eyeshadow I would never normally wear. I can tell I have on powder and bronzer and several shades of lipstick. I'm still wearing my pajamas, but have put a dressy shirt on over them. I look like a Halloween costume gone very very wrong. I go into my bathroom and there is evidence of my makeover everywhere. Makeup is all over the floor, cosmetics cover the counter. For some strange reason there is a dinosaur (my nephew's toy) perched on the rim of the toilet seat. It literally looked as if he were taking a jurassic leak. Equally inexplicable were the three loaves of unopened bread, lying in a row in the middle of the living room floor. There were no other signs that I'd been in the front of the house at all.
It is hard to describe how creepy and disturbing it is to go to sleep and not know what you will do, where you will go while you are sleeping. Feels a little like being possessed. Besides being completely exhausting, it is a little scary. Just last week, during a nap, I went for a stroll in the back yard (thank God for privacy fences)in a T-shirt and panties, then came in and began to change into my swimsuit for a swim in our partly empty, wholly green and swampy pool. That time I was saved because Miss B saw me come walking in with the vacant look in my eyes and she woke me up as I was changing into my swimsuit. What if she hadn't been there? Would I have gotten in that pool? You'd have to see the pool to truly appreciate how horrifying that thought is. I'd probably STILL be in the shower. Man, what I wouldn't give for one whole, long night of normal,uninterrupted sleep.
Current Mood: exhaustedexhausted
15 October 2008 @ 08:39 pm

I don't know about you, but I have pretty much had all I can take of the ludicrous, inflammatory, irrelevant, often completely fictional e-mail forwards I get every day.  Maybe it's just my family (the source of 90% of the tripe I receive on a daily basis).  It's tiresome.  It clogs up my inbox.   And it often makes me sad. 

It is sad to me how quick people are to click that forward button and send loads of pure horseshit to everybody on their mailing list, without any regard for truth.  It generally takes about 5 seconds to Google whatever inflammatory crap has your knickers in a twist, and find out that it is wholly without fact.  That part pisses me off.  Because that means people must either just not care, or that they actually believe their own hype.  And at least a few of the zillions of people they forward it to are going to believe it too.  These beliefs, however misguided, are what shape people's realities, their perceptions of the world.  And maybe most unfortunately, these people, along with their distorted realities, are going to be voting in a few weeks.

I've read recently that Obama is the anti-Christ in an email claiming to quote scripture that just doesn't exist, forwarded to me by self-avowed Christians.  I've watched a video that has finally linked illegal Mexican immigrants to 9/11.  I've read that, should Obama win the election, Christians would no longer be allowed to freely worship their God.  Just this morning I read an email about how much more stoic the flood victims in Iowa have been when compared to those of Katrina.  Seriously?

For a while, I tried to reply to the most offensively misleading or false forwards I got.  But I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth even trying.  If people can actually be so myopic and fallacious in their thinking and reasoning as to give credence to this crap in the first place, how am I to make a difference? 

What scares me is the ease and speed with which misinformation is spread via the internet, and that there are hundreds of thousands of misguided people who will be taking all this crap with them to the polls.  We should all be frightened.

Before I start getting angry replies here, I'd like to address my own obvious bias.  I make no bones about the fact that I am liberal in my political views.  However, I know and respect many people whose views are quite the opposite.  In no way do I feel that I have all the answers, or that someone's opinions are valid only so far as they align neatly with mine.  We all have our passions, we all have our priorities, and we all have the right to our own opinions.  I only ask that they be considered opinions, arrived at through reflection and reason.  I resent being looked at as somehow 'less moral', 'less patriotic', or 'less spiritual' because of my politics.  Because it is precisely my deep sense of right and wrong, justice and injustice, the morals and ethics I hold most dear that make me who and what I am.

But the ridiculous, mean-spirited, unproductive, frighteningly often racist and xenophobic propaganda - OPINIONS dressed up as and passing for FACT, that just makes me sad.  It worries me for our collective intelligence as a people...as a democracy. 

Sadder still when I get these hateful things from family members and friends I have long looked up to and respected.  People whom I know consider themselves good Christians.  People I have always considered good people. 

As passionate as I am in my beliefs, I always strive to remain open minded and if I learn something new and compelling I have no problem adjusting my views accordingly.  How sad that lately the only thing I've had occasion to reevaluate in regards to these emails is my respect for their senders.



Did you ever feel completely and utterly alone?  Invisible?  Irrelevant?

Did you ever just feel like you could fall off the face of the planet and nobody would even notice for days?

Did you ever feel the visceral need for physical contact - to be held by another human being, their touch  reminding you for a few moments of your own humanity, your own physical existence? 

Did you ever wonder what it's all for, what it is we're all really struggling for day in and day out? 

Has your pain ever been so intense that you feel it has consumed you, physically altered you, and you look in the mirror, searching for any trace of what you once believed yourself to be?  Have you ever done this only to not recognize the person looking back at you?

Ever wonder how you'd make it through yet another day just like the one before it?  If you'd ever be able to pick up the pieces?  If it was even worth trying?

 Schopenhauer once said, "It is a clear gain to sacrifice pleasure in order to avoid pain."  I used to find him a tad pessimistic.  Now I'm not so sure he doesn't have the right idea.

 I honestly don't know why I bother writing at all anymore.  Nobody's listening.  Nobody hears what I'm saying.  Nobody ever seems to care.

Current Mood: scaredscared
04 January 2008 @ 02:28 am

So I was a band nerd in high school.  From an early age, I acquired an appreciation for music of all sorts, and even after I gave up the piano lessons and the French horn, that love has not left me.  Music has always been a powerful influence in my life, from writing to singing to praising to mourning loss to simply sharing and thus doubling my joy, I have always enjoyed music.  My tastes have run the gamut from Chopin to Milli Vanilli (shut up, you know you had that tape, too) to Pearl Jam to Simon & Garfunkel to Tchaikovsky to Snoop Dogg.  There's nearly no genre that I have failed to explore at some point, and very little that I've been unable to find at least something to appreciate about.


But there have been a few pieces, composers, or groups throughout my life that have just moved me.  Moved my soul.  Opened my mind.  Touched my heart.  Hopefully, you know the kind of music I mean.  A song that you can hear anywhere, anytime, and from the first bars, your heart skips a beat.  Like a deep breath after being underwater too long.  You inhale its rhythms, its melodies, its words… and somehow all is right in your world again.  It speaks to you – says everything you wish you could say and more.  It is almost tangible, this feeling.  You feel the music inside you.  You can't help but move.  You can't help but sing.  For me, sometimes these experiences have been songs of praise in church.  Sometimes they were a beautiful classical piece I was playing on the piano, or in band.  Sometimes it was an old CD of Simon & Garfunkel belonging to my parents that I discovered when I was barely 14.  The Beatles make me feel this way.  Sometimes it was an unexpectedly phenomenal concert.  Sometimes it was just the satisfaction of seeing the joy said music brought the ones I love.  But most recently, my friend Scott played a CD by The Black Crowes on New Years Eve at our house.  It was a relatively old CD.  The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion album.  Around 15 years old.  But from the moment the song, "Thorn in My Pride" began to play, the second the organ kicked in, from the first "shhhhh," I was taken to another world.  I was tired, it was late, and I just laid back and let the music soak in.  He and Dave were dancing in the living room, with looks of such sublime satisfaction on their faces as they sang along.  I felt like I had taken a sudden, much needed plunge into a warm bubble bath.  And then I heard "She Talks to Angels".  I know I'm way behind, all this is so old, but, oh how it moved my soul. That's what music is about.  Music is more than something you hear.  Real music is something to be experienced.  Something you feel, something that speaks to your soul, opens your eyes, opens your heart, leaves you a different person than you were even the few minutes before you first heard it.  I love these experiences.  And I never forget them.  I will never forget that night, the first time I heard those songs, and the looks on the faces of those I love as they danced about and sang along.  One would be hard pressed to come up with a better gift than the gift of perfect song.


Music is one of life's greatest pleasures, one of our greatest gifts.  Seek it out.  Feel it.  Sing it.  Share it.  Experience the bliss of a perfect melody and lyrics that speak to your soul and the feeling of completely letting go and just letting the music move your body as you dance in a world at least temporarily all your own.  There's scarcely anything better.

Current Location: Heaven, for now
Current Mood: peacefulpeaceful
Current Music: The Black Crowes
03 January 2008 @ 07:21 am

So it's before six in the morning.  I finally fell asleep last night after 2.  A noise must have roused me, and then I freaked out thinking I'd overslept.  I was just too comfortable, something had to be wrong.  Well, it was.  Besides the obvious injustice of my being fully conscious at such an unholy hour, I heard what can only be described as the end of the world taking place outside.  It was the garbage truck that woke me, and excepting the fact that this makes the second time in a row we've forgotten to but the bin out (meaning we should be swimming in our own refuse by this time Sunday), I could have settled in for a few more hours of much needed sleep.  This was not to be. 

It was after a brief discussion with Chris about said garbage that the sirens started.  We live near the hospital, so we do hear an occasional ambulance.  I've gotten used to that, and Chris hardly ever even howls anymore when they start up.  But this sounded like every emergency vehicle in Bay County had come out for a last-minute parade.  It went on for a really long time.  And of course, all 47 dogs in the immediate vicinity were duty-bound to join in the cacauphony. Naturally, if something big or particularly off-pissing is going on, I need to know about it immediately.  Gives me a chance to run from the invading aliens, or march down in my slippers and single-handedly put a stop to the ill-advised pre-dawn parade.  So I go to the trusty worldwideintronets.  And nothing. 

Now the noise has stopped.  My powers of deduction say this was no parade.  So I'm gonna go start packing canned goods, water, and all the toilet paper I can find so we can get the heck out of dodge.  Maybe head someplace warmer.  Like Canada. 

Stay warm out there, folks, and stay on the alert.  (And if anybody out there knows what that shit was all about this morning, why I am now completely awake and unable to sleep, please do share.)

Current Mood: ffffreeeezzzing
12 December 2007 @ 01:14 pm
I got a call today from the school.  I have an interview tomorrow at 2:40.  I also now have a terrible case of the nerves.  I HATE interviews.  But, I REALLY want/need/gotta have this job! 
08 December 2007 @ 10:36 am

So times have been more than a little trying lately.  I've been stuck in a rut of my own creation, and for a while now have not been able to see any hope of escaping it.  I've never had a great sense of direction, but I don't recall a time in my life where I have been so lost.  I lost my sense of self, who I was, what I wanted.  And when you can't find yourself, don't know where you are,  it's virtually impossible to navigate life with any sense of purpose or direction and find your way to your desired destination.  You kinda have to know where you're coming from to know where you're heading.

Depression is an ugly, hateful creature.  It can turn even the brightest of moments dark, eradicate all traces of hope, and leave you  wandering aimlessly and alone in the void of a desperate, desolate existence.  I've always felt that the worst kind of lonely is the loneliness you feel even as you walk amongst friends and loved ones.  The self-perceived isolation, the feeling that no one can understand the depths of your despair, the however irrational feeling that no one cares... It's rough, to put it most mildly.  Reason and logic seem to fly out the proverbial window, and you're left with tiny pieces of who you used to be, and an outlook on life that is remarkable in both its pessimism and downright inaccuracy.

But things are beginning to look up, at least in some areas.  I've been without a job for far too long now, dealing with illness myself, sick family members, and the untimely death of someone who meant more to me than I even knew.  Every time things seemed to be getting better, something else would hit me.  Most recently I received a very polite letter from a probation officer letting me know that the evil bastard who raped me is now finished with his post-incarceration community control.  Basically he's free now to do as he pleases.  And I now live in an almost constant, though admittedly sometimes irrational, fear of crossing paths with him again.  But I digress.  Back to the good news!  This past week I found a job that greatly interests me, and through a few twists of fate seem on track to get it.  The job required 5 more hours of college credit than I currently have, so I was required to take a six week class and pass a test to qualify.  On Thursday, I found out that the most recent class had just been completed and that the exam was in two days.  Some calls were made, and I was able to just go ahead and take the test sans prep classes.  Otherwise, I'd have to wait until March to pass it, and I need a job NOW, not in three months.  SO, this morning I show up for the test completely clueless as to what to expect, while the 25 people around me sat cramming from their books and notes.  Long story short, despite my nervousness I was the first one to complete the test, and I got a perfect score.  So I'm feeling pretty psyched about that.  Monday I take in all my paperwork, get fingerprinted, and then I'm officially in the running for this position.  Keeping my fingers crossed.  Haven't wanted anything this badly in a long time.

On the home front, times are still somewhat turbulent.  I'm terribly worried about my significant other, and quite unsure what the future holds for our relationship.  The most important thing to me at this point is definitely his happiness.  I hope and pray that he can make some sense of his significant inner turmoil and find that happiness again, with me or without me.  I love him so completely.  Seeing him unhappy is hard enough.  The idea that I am contributing in any way to that unhappiness is simply unbearable. 

I may not be able to fix whatever is broken in him right now, but I can fix me.  I now believe, with a conviction that has been elusive of late, that whatever happens between us, I am going to be OK.  And that feels good.  Here's to hope, that most welcome of long-lost friends. 

I am Amanda, hear me roar!

Current Mood: hopefulhopeful
03 August 2007 @ 11:17 am
So, needless to say, when my honey announced that he'd be gone on his business trip for damn near a month, I was miles away from thrilled.  Since we got together, I think we've spent maybe two weekends apart.  We're no good at it, as he would say.  So a MONTH???  I had visions of long, lonely nights...just me and the Molly watching TV and sulking.  Well I got that part right, but I forgot to envision the everything going to shit as soon as he got out of town part.  He flew out Wednesday.   He's been gone less than 24 hours, when the friggin' roof starts cavin' in.  Well maybe I exaggerate a little.  But let's just say there was a monsoon in full swing,  and I awaken to discover a big crack in the ceiling over the computer desk, and water dripping rapidly through it.   WTF?  This had been going on a while, judging from the puddle that had accumulated 3 inches from the CPU.   Is the ceiling gonna cave in?  How many days will I remain trapped in the rubble before the Molly eats me alive?  So I make some calls.  Then I realize that it's about a million degrees.  Check the thermostat, and the A/C is fuxt.  This is unbearable.  Inhumane.  If I know nothing about drywall, I know less than nothing about fixing A/C.  I'm considering packing it in and heading to a shelter, when the Spankster calls and walks me through it.  Then the brother came by after work to look at the roof and ceiling, and so far it seems I'm safe.  Now I get to wait for the landlord.  

In other news, holy shit about this bridge situation in Minneapolis.  The whole thing is just awful, first few hours were a little intense because we have family that live there, but they are safe and sound.  I have always been afraid of bridges.  I don't like driving on them and I pretty much come unglued when I'm in traffic that stops on one.  But now?  It used to be an irrational fear.  And some would say that it still is.  But in reading the statistics about how many bridges in America are rated as poorly or even WORSE than the one that fell, it's a little scary.  Close to 5,000 high traffic bridges rated even lower than this one on inspections.  WHICH ONES? is what I want to know.  That's a lot of fucking bridges that I don't wanna cross.  I can't even fathom what the people involved in MN are going through right now.  So sad.
Current Location: The outskirts of hell
Current Mood: Lonesome
19 July 2007 @ 04:23 am

I can't sleep.  Nothing terribly unusual there.  But tonight I have been too distracted by a dangerous new discovery on the internet to deal with the TV, so I have been permanently scarred by two infomercials in a row.  If you haven't seen the ad for the "Hip Hop Abs", well you just wouldn't understand.  It is something special.  And directly following that freak show was a bunch of wackos raving about this air stepping thing, all while looking like idiots.  Currently there are two women with breasts larger than my head and shirts cut down to their navels telling me that they can make me rich on the internet.  I'll bet they can.

Anyway, I discovered Woot.com today.  This is not a good thing.  A very cool site where they have one item, very deeply discounted each day until it sells out.  Just one item.  It changes every night at midnight central time.  But today just happens to be different.  It's an occasion called a "Woot-off", indicated by flashing lights on the page, and means that as soon as one item sells out, it's immediately replaced by another.  You have no idea what's next, or how long the items keep coming, or how many of each item there is.  I already bought two things.  Both for my significant  other.  But now I can't put the damned computer away, because what if that thing I want is next?  What is that thing I want?  I haven't the foggiest.  But this is one of the cooler websites I've ever spent money at.  Now I'm sleepy.  Must go to bed.



Current Mood: groggygroggy
13 July 2007 @ 10:44 pm

Oh the laughing it hurts.  Was just laying on the bed with the Spanky, trying to decide what to do next.  He says, "If I go to sleep now, I can sleep 8 hours and get up at 6 in the morning."  I call him on this obvious bullshit, saying that it'll never happen.  I tell him his biological clock won't let him wake up that early, or something to that effect.  Then he says, with a straight face, "my biological clock wakes me up at 630 EVERY day."  And I start laughing.   And he's all like, what's so funny?  And I say well then how come your biological clock doesn't ever get your ass out from under the covers til after 8 or 9 every day?  I say he's full of mud.  He says "No, I DO wake up at 630, i just CHOOSE to go back to sleep cause i don't WANT to get up."  Personally, I don't see what's so biological about setting an alarm for 630, sleeping through it for 5 minutes while it wakes me up, and then hitting the snooze button for the next two hours, but he is the scientist.  I think I'm going to sneak in there and set his alarm for 6 tomorrow before I drag his snoring behind from the couch to the bedroom.  See how his biology's working then. :o)  He is too funny.  

In other news, we had awesome dinner at Carraba's tonight with H and Dave Marowski.   It was yummy.  I had fun.  Laughed a lot.  Ate too much.  Then came home.   It's a rock and roll lifestyle I lead.  Now I must go to sleep.  I have to wake up at 6 to torture my boyfriend. 

Current Mood: sleepysleepy

Relief.  Finally.  The headache that has been plaguing me for a couple of weeks now finally became so unbearable this morning, that I gave up trying to help myself and called the doctor in tears.  My lovely uncle Shane graciously took time out of his busy work schedule to drive me to their office and they gave me an injection of Nubain, which usually will knock out my migraines.  I came home to lay down and sleep it off, only to get sicker and sicker.  A second call to the doc culminated in a trip to the ER.  Always a good time. 

Chris drove me over, and I waited in the waiting room with all the assholes and their screaming damn children. One lady kept letting her toddler come over and touch me.  Normally this wouldn't bother me, but I already felt like puking and the kid clearly had some type of infectious disease, and a completely revolting matted up pussy eye.  But I couldn't think of a polite way to say "Could you keep this walking stack of germs off me?"  so I just changed seats.  

Chris and I were supposed to be having dinner with his folks, as there were some relatives in town just for the day.  He was going to cancel, but I made him go ahead and go without me.  I didn't want either of us in trouble on my account, and it don't take two to wait.  He did call my sweet uncle Shane when he left, and Shane came right over after work and sat with me.  It's good to have good family. 

Anyway, they finally called me back.  They gave me fluids and a combo of toradol, demerol, and phenergan.  Nothing.  Head still pounding.  So the nurse comes back with something else, forgot to ask what it was, because the second he put it in the IV, I was feeling no pain whatsoever and could barely keep my eyes open.  Felt a little like morphine, though.  Finally, a head that isn't aching at all.  Miraculous.  So we leave at ten, and I come home and go to bed.  And then a few minutes ago I wake up hysterically crying.  I mean hysterical!  I was dreaming, and I'll spare you all the nonsensical details, but at one point my sister and I were having typical sarcastic banter with my dad about something he wanted us to do, and I didn't share his enthusiasm.  Suddenly my aunt Lane is there, and she says something to the effect of she's been listening to all this, and it's funny, but she thinks Melissa's just the sweetest thing.  But you? (she looks at me)  Not so sweet.  And oh boy did I start the boohooing.  It hurt my feelings.  All kindsa bad.  In my dreams I said "I was only kidding around, I am sweet!" Apparently I said this out loud and started SOBBING.  Gut-wrenching sobs.  Wails.  It was ridiculous.  I haven't cried like that since finding out my grandma was sick.  My eyes are puffy and sore.  All I can guess is it's the drugs.

Current Mood: groggygroggy

First order of business.  My significant other has objected to his presence on the worldwideintronets.  You think that’s bad?  I got forbode!  Not only am I not allowed to talk about a really funny thing he did yesterday, I am no longer allowed to use his real name.  He is apparently some type of government witness, terrorist, fugitive from the law, or secret agent in addition to the whole elusive bovine thing.  So from now on, I shall call him Spanky.  (He most definitely asked fer it.)  And no one shall know who this mysterious Spanky is, I am certain of it.  I do however feel that this whole business is discrimination, as others routinely mention his given name with no repercussions whatsoever.  In fact, Rusty Cage posted both his picture and a mention of his abiding affinity for black wieners on his flickr page, and he got off scot free!  Beyond that, Spanky himself has his very own webpage, with his very own picture! So as soon as I complete my bitching and moaning here, I shall immediately write my congressman, which I learned at poker nights from the master of such gambits, the divine Miss H (you do still have that direct line to Allan Bense I hope?), and then I will contact my local chapter of the ACLU.  I know my rights!  FORBODE, he says!  Hrmmph!  I’ll teach you to persecute me, Spanky McSpankerton.


Now that I have gotten that gross injustice off my chest, I shall move on to the next thing that is troubling my poor mind.  A blog that I started writing the other night when I couldn’t sleep, and then in typical mesogoodatprocrastinating fashion, left behind.  I just read more of this asshole’s stuff, (why do I torture myself so?) and so I am fired up all over again.  Now I shall attempt to finish what I started.

Current Mood: crazy like a loon
11 July 2007 @ 01:43 pm

Oh noes!  Me head is all confused like!  What to do?  What to think?


I’ve always been one to think things through and weigh carefully the options before taking a stance on any issue.  And I try to always have a well thought out opinion prior to opening my mouth.  I think of it as Soundinglikeasshat Risk Management.  I also try to remain flexible in these opinions, though I’m not always terribly successful, as I tend to be pretty passionate when it comes to my beliefs, not the least of which is my unwavering faith in my own infallibility.   But I just saw something that has rattled me to my core. 


Ever since I put any real thought and research into it, I have been 100 percent, completely, absotively, posilutely against the death penalty.  And I’m not fond of genocide, ethnic cleansing, or religious persecution either.  I am also a proponent of free speech and believe that everyone has the right to both have and voice their own opinions.  Even those people whose opinions differ from mine, and so are clearly misguided and wrong.  (If they weren’t free to express them, then nobody could laugh at them until they shamefully see the light and eventually get off the idiot highway, and back to my way.) 


But this crazy bitch I saw today?  Holy hell.  Her opinions aren’t just wrong, they’re toxic.  She calls herself an "evil angel,"  but she's like BFF with the man upstairs.  Look, watch the video, I'm not makin' this shit up!  And she’s procreating like she’s trying to start her own goddamn marching band!  My first thought was, somebody shut her the fuck up.  Ah, but free speech.  Just cause she’s clearly a tard, don’t mean she can’t prove it to the world.  Shit.  Then I thought, somebody take her out!  Run her over, have an “accident” with the 21 gun salute at one of the military funerals she disrupts with her loony blather.  But that would still leave the dastardly brood of little hateful mini-terrorists whose minds she has already fucked.  Small scale genocide?  Goes against everything that I believe in. 


Ah, the irony.  This hateful, loathsome freak of nature continues to live and breathe in this country she admittedly hates only because all the rest of us horrible, doomed-to-hell heathens are better people than she is.  Ain't that some shit.....  Sigh.  And because the soldiers whose funerals she is disrupting with her cheering pickets and protests are serving to give her sorry good-for-nothing ass the freedom to be an insufferable ingrate.  (Is there anything in the Bible about impaling people on picket signs made and displayed in taste that is poor beyond all reason?)  If not, I may know someone who knows a guy.  I'm just sayin'.


If there’s a just God, or such a thing as Karma, these miserable fucks will die a slow and miserable death  of  a broken heart when all eleven of this bitches children come out of the collective closet.  And if there is a hell, Mommy Dearest'll be stoking the fires with her “God Hates Fags” signs for eternity.

Current Mood: predatory
10 July 2007 @ 03:27 am
So today I did not clean the house as I had planned.  I did however complete another project that, though it pales in significance, I've been wanting to do for a while now.  I copied my blog from MySpace over to my brand new LiveJournal account.  It was getting a little out of control on the MySpace side, and LJ seems to be where it's at.  At least it's what all the cool people are doing, and I'm a sucker for the peer pressure.  Plus my sister joined the MySpace, and I find myself stifling my opinions and unable to fully express myself for fear of giving her a massive coronary.   Censorship goes against everything I hold most dear, especially my affinity for the word fuck, and my ability to work it into just about any sentence both eloquently and repeatedly.  I'm pretty sure my recent life of oppression may have contributed to my headaches, and probably had something to do with Chris' kidney stone, too.   But I digress...
I've been feeling lonesome lately.  A little acutely aware of the fact that I haveth no friendseth.  I'm homesick for Tally, though all my friends there have no doubt long since forgotten me and upgraded to a newer and more better model 'manda.  I just don't seem to be able to really connect with anyone here.  I miss Shane. :o(  The others I fear merely tolerate my presence as Chris' other half, and I can't ever seem to relax and be myself around anyone but Dave.  I'm too old for this shy bullshit.  I am a nice and funny person.  Why is it that I no longer am able to speak English and make witty conversation when we are around certain people?  I am so intimidated, and it fills me with self-loathing and contempt.   I needs me some friends dammit!!  I even want someone to go shopping with.  That is proof positive of my desperation, for I am not that average mall-crawling girlie-girl.  Maybe one of these days.

So, we watched the Dog Whisperer tonight for some incredibly strange reason.  Mostly strange because we have neither a dog nor any intention of obtaining a dog in the foreseeable future.   What was funny was how totally fascinated Chris was by him.  Now we are on a quest to find a cat whisperer.  Molly is in desperate need of psychological help, and now Chris is sure it is out there somewhere.  If you hear of anyone, let me know!
Current Mood: lonelylonely
09 July 2007 @ 03:36 pm

What is it about Radiohead's OK Computer that makes listening to it feel like some sort of religious experience?  It's like once you put it in your stereo, it's there for good.  It would be a sacrilege to remove it.  Chris and I were having this conversation the other day.  He thinks it's because the guy sounds like he's barely clinging to life while singing most of the songs, which would make what he was saying pretty special.  I guess I can see that.  I don't know.  I just know that the first time I heard it, I was like holy hell, this is some important shit I'm listening to!  And I'm pretty sure the CD stayed in my car CD player for at least 3 months.  

So we finally made it to Tallahassee this weekend to see my family.  The kids are precious as usual.  Brayden  still won't talk, and Haylee is still constantly surprising you with what comes out of her crazy mouth.  Melissa and dad cooked a great meal for us on Saturday, and my mom got a four-hour pass out of the hospital on Sunday so she could come home and hang out.  It's the first time she's been home in about a month.  She's still not getting around very well, but they're talking about discharging her on Tuesday.   I don't know how to feel about that.  I know it sucks for her to be up there in the rehab hospital, but I worry about her being at home by herself with her mobility as limited as it already is by her MS, and now the broken shoulder compounding things.  Oh well.

For our part, Chris and I were a sad case all weekend.  I had a horrible migraine, which seems par for the course lately.  But poor Chris got another kidney stone.  Very unlike me, he's too stubborn to take a pain pill when something hurts until he is near death.  So he suffered more than he had to, but I gave him plenty of the pity that he always requires when feeling under the weather.   His stubborn behind refused to call the doctor this morning which pisses me off a little.  But I'll work on him a little more later.   He was a good sport though all weekend, and even sang karaoke with me Saturday afternoon on the TV once his Vicodin kicked in.  

The bad part?  Coming home to this messy house.  Holy shit what a mess.  After New Orleans last weekend and then being gone this weekend too, our house has been woefully neglected.  I'm afraid to go into the kitchen.  I think some of the dishes may have legs.  Oh noes!  Well, I better stop this rambling and go clean up some of this junk before my baby gets home. 

Current Mood: blahblah
09 July 2007 @ 02:29 pm

Lessons from Jim Cantore... the weather channel guy... too funny!


To: ex-Floridians, present Floridians, and future Floridians or those who know a Floridian.


We're about to enter the peak of the hurricane season. Any day now, you're going to turn on the TV and see a weather person pointing to some radar blob out in the Atlantic Ocean and/or the Gulf of Mexico and making two basic meteorological points:


(1) There is no need to panic.


(2) We could all be killed.


Yes, hurricane season is an exciting time to be in Florida. If you're new to the area, you're probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we'll get hit by "the big one.''


Based on our experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple


Current Mood: amusedamused
06 July 2007 @ 02:06 am

Ok.  So we got Borat from Netflix a week or so ago and finally got around to watching it.  I'm fully aware that the following statement will totally prove once and for all my complete transition to unhip old fart, but what a complete waste of however long that piece of crap movie was!  (And for the record, Chris is an unhip old fart, too, because he totally agreed, expressing his disappointment after all the hype so many months ago.)   I am not without a sense of humor.  I can even laugh at the sad state of affairs that has become our country.  Team America, though a bit uncomfortable at times, was quite entertaining.  But this movie was pathetic.  Not only did it put some of the worst that America has to offer on display for the whole world to see, it just wasn't funny enough, when it was funny at all.  Basically it was a British guy making fun of Americans who were too stupid to realize they were being made fun of, but the subject matter was just sad.  Bigotry, sexism, rape.  Not funny.  The stadium full of people cheering the total annihilation of Iraq?  Not funny.  The douche bag frat boys?  Not funny.  The homophobic redneck rodeo clown?  Not funny.  Back pussy?  Seriously?  Not even a little bit funny.  What kind of sick fuck thinks of some shit like that?  That whole scene was just deeply disturbing.   

Pretty sure my IQ went down a few points just for watching that tripe.  If I want to see Americans making asses of themselves, all I have to do is turn on any cable news network.  They certainly don't need some foreign actor helping them out.   What's sad is how easily these morons played right along, giving him all the fodder he needed to make us all look like a bunch of jackasses.  Idiots.  And then the rest of the country celebrates?  What a sad statement that is.    I just don't get it. 

Tags: ,
Current Mood: disgusted
12 June 2007 @ 02:00 pm

Came across this blog by Practically Harmless on blogspot.com.  Made me laugh.


Okay, so it looks like the White House has hired a new pastry chef. William Yosses, the First Lady says, "has a light touch with desserts, and the enthusiasm with which he approaches his profession makes him a real asset for all of us.''

Basically, it means that the man who'll be making dessert for this guy:

is the man who wrote this book:

Can't. Make it. Up.


Currently listening :
Pretty in Black
By The Raveonettes
Release date: 28 July, 2005

Current Mood: amusedamused
30 October 2006 @ 01:49 pm

So I guess it's time to post some pictures from our mountain trip.  The weekend of Oct. 14, we went to Georgia for the weekend for the Eric Clapton concert.  We rented a big house in the mountains for all of our friends to stay in before the concert and spend time together.  We left on Friday for a trip that should have taken 7 hours.  Naturally it took us about 11.  We thought we'd never get there, and the last little road up the mountain, I was pretty certain we were all going to die.  

We got there around midnight eastern time, but there was a lovely fire waiting for us, and we spent some time unwinding.  The house was amazing.  It was also FREEZING outside.  But that didn't stop us from hopping in the jacuzzi on the deck.  And we saw the sun rise Saturday morning.  The views were breathtaking.  We just couldn't capture them with my little digital camera. 

We slept a lot Saturday, then I marinated steaks and made bread while Chris and Shane got potatoes ready so that we'd be ready to put everything on the grill and in the oven after the concert.  We all got dressed and headed out for the show.

The concert was awesome.  We were a little late, so we just caught part of Robert Cray's set, but he was really great.  Then Eric Clapton was, of course, awesome.   Derek Trucks was with him, and he was great too.  Our seats were aisle seats on the floor and they were really good, except maybe for the guy next to us who appeared under the impression that he had paid for 1 and 1/2 seats, which he used throughout most of the show, no matter that Chris was underneath him.  Poor Chris.  And bless him for trading seats with me when he did.  I no doubt would have punched the guy before it was over, I'd already given him the look a few times while he was in my lap, complete with the requisite "ahem", but he seemed wholly unmoved.  He was clearly an asshole.  I would have had words and we'd have been stuck there for hours in an uncomfortable situation with this greasy pretty-boy personal-bubble intruder.  Chris just nudged back and tried to ignore him.  It is a strange feeling dating someone who is so much better a person than you.  At any rate, the wonderful concert ended, we met up with friends outside, then drove back to the house.  We had a kick-ass dinner of steak, roasted garlic and rosemary potatoes and onions and toasted bread with a compound butter and bleu cheese sprinkles, a recipe my friend Scottie taught me.  It was all so yummy, we ate at like 2 in the morning.  But it was awesome.  Here are some pictures from our great adventure




Currently reading :
Static: Government Liars, Media Cheerleaders, and the People Who Fight Back
By Amy Goodman
Release date: 05 September, 2006

Current Mood: contentcontent
06 October 2006 @ 01:42 pm

Does nobody care anymore?  Has the world today really devolved into so many myopic slices of egocentricity, where far too few can be moved to give a shit beyond their own tiny, relative, complacent existences?  That's what I see more and more from where I sit.  People getting comfortable and losing perspective, forgetting the millions and millions of those who aren't.  And just not caring to even give them a moment's consideration. 


The other night I had a discussion which at some point degenerated into an argument with two acquaintances who happen to be republicans.   I don't even remember the beginning.  It was the end that upset me so.  We had gotten onto the subject of taxes and I was hearing the familiar refrain of "why should the rich have to pay a higher percentage than the poor," etc.  And then they actually told me that they could see no relationship whatsoever between the corporate fatcats making millions of dollars and the minimum wage workers they employ.  Those minimum wage workers have options.  They aren't forced to work for that company for wages that they can barely live on.  So it is perfectly OK to raise their taxes to a rate equal to that of the wealthy, reducing their income below that required for basic subsistence, and the wealthy should bear no social nor moral responsibility whatsoever in making up the difference.  So we push a few thousand more Americans into literal starvation, so a few more can buy another boat, but hey.  That's capitalism.  They have options.  It was when I realized that these people arguing with me were being glib, flip, even just playing devil's advocate at times and laughing at my passion that I ended the discussion.  This stuff isn't funny.  It's real life.  It means something to me. 


The people these two hecklers insist have options are the very foundation of our economy.  None of our big businesses can exist without products and services produced and provided at the lowest cost therefore the highest profit.  Somehow profits keep going up, the cost of living keeps going up.  Wages don't.  Someone has to make up the difference.  As long as companies aren't willing to take care of their own, the taxpayers have to.  Those who are already living at the poverty line can't pay more taxes.  They just can't.  How can people of good conscience ask them to?


It goes beyond taxes.  I don't profess to be an expert on fiscal matters.  It all seems pretty common sense, really.  In my opinion, it all boils down to greed.  People are greedy.  Corporations are greedy.  I worked for one of the world's largest communications companies.  I went to quarterly meetings.  I tried to cheer and be excited as we heard about yet another quarter of record sales – sales I made.  But that's tough to do when I'm barely paying my bills, and from one year to the next my income went down 5,000 dollars because they restructured their commission payouts.  My hourly rate went up, a little, not as much as inflation, but my annual income literally went down, significantly, because they decided to pay less for the people who were on their front lines, dealing with their irate customers, selling their products, the very lifeline of their business.  Their annual income?  Record high, of course.  I'm afraid I don't see how that's fair.


You have full-time employees of the world's largest retailer being encouraged by their managers to rely on public assistance for their healthcare because they simply aren't paid enough to afford their own company healthplan.  And if they complain, they're fired.  Unionize to better their positions?  Fired.  These folks are a dime a dozen and they're told as much from the get-go.  They are individuals who do not matter to society until they inevitably become a burden to society.  Then society has plenty to say.   


It happens everywhere, everyday.  Retail.  Manufacturing.  Telecommunications.  Hospitality.  Wage-laborers, though vitally important, get the shit end of the capitalist stick.  And someone else bitches about having to provide their healthcare, or food stamps, or pay more in taxes.  Greed.  And I'm sick, tired, weary of it. 


Why do I have to care so much?  This is more than some after-dinner sporting event to me.  More than a chance to throw around statistics in a pissing contest, a chance to see who's smartest, who can outwit who.  This isn't some debate club for the pushing-30 who didn't make the real debate club – arm-chair politicking.  These things keep me up at night.  They break my heart.  I look at the world around me and don't recognize it.  I wonder how things got this bad.  I wonder why other people can't or won't see it.  I cry.  Oh, man, do I cry.  I wish someone, or something, would just fix it all.  Make everything right.  I wish someone would give me all the answers instead of so many troubling questions

Current Mood: depresseddepressed
27 September 2006 @ 11:49 am

So, I pull into the parking lot at work coming back from lunch, and a familiar symbol catches my attention from the corner of my eye.  For some reason, those things always draw my attention.  Mostly because they piss me off.  But also, partially because I feel they say a whole lot about the person displaying or, even worse, wearing them.  But that's not my point.  Anyway, I look up, and there's this stupid truck with literally a dozen little retarded bumper stickers on the back window, all with some stupid saying and the confederate flag.  So I read some of them.  The first one says, "HERITAGE NOT HATE".   Yeah, OK.  And then, about a foot and a half away is a sticker that says "THE SOUTH WAS RIGHT".  Um, whatever dickhead.  The south was a whole lotta wrong about a whole lotta shit for an awfully long time.  What exactly do you think we were right about?  Slavery?  Secession?  Jim Crow?  Lynching?  Segregation?  White supremacy?  You're a real shining example of our intellectual superiority, what with your "BUBBA UNIVERSITY" sticker proudly emblazoned across your oversized pickup truck.  (I'm not making that up).  If the south WAS right about all of that, then how is this flag NOT hateful?   To top it all off, was a GOD BLESS THE USA ribbon.  So, which is it exactly?  You like the confederacy or the USA?  Because the two are pretty much mutually exclusive.  You know, I have no problem with heritage.  The past should be remembered and lessons should be learned.  But heritage should be something to be proud of - something to celebrate - and nothing about the confederacy qualifies, except maybe its defeat.  Let it go.  No one likes a sore loser. Open your tiny little mind and join us here in the real world.  Your flags are offensive and they make you look every bit as ignorant, bigoted, disrespectful, and insensitive to your fellow Americans as you no doubt are.  (And that's another thing you might not want to advertise to the world.)  Dummy.  

Incidentally, if you are reading this, and you wear that flag, EVER, you should really think about all of the people - ALL of the people - you come into contact with every day, and the message that you're sending them.  Because if you really think it's a pride thing, you're seriously deluded.  That's not at all the message you're putting out there.  Some things, you just shouldn't be proud of.  And some of us, more of us than you know, already know that. 

Racism is so passe. 


Currently listening :
Finally Woken
By Jem
Release date: 23 March, 2004

09 August 2006 @ 01:39 pm
I am so damned tired of feeling so damned SAD.  Will this constant black cloud EVER lift itself from where it seems seems so content lately right over my life?  Despair the depths of which I am growing accustomed to lately are of use only to poets, to artists, to blues singers maybe.  I am none of the three, (those of you who were at Pockets that one fateful karaoke evening can absolutely vouch for the latter).  Point is, why?  Why can't I just be happy again?  Why can't I stop the tears?  Why am I even writing this?  Who am I even talking to?
Current Mood: morosemorose