badrabbyt

...you know, there are times in my life where i'm nothing but ungrateful. i mean, i have a job that pays quite well, i have the resources to return to school to better myself (and buy my own damn rabbyt hutch, complete with indoor toilets), i'm more or less healthy. i have all these great things and opportunities, and yet... when i got to school monday afternoon, i felt depressed. i had this lyric in my head, and it really got me down. so, maybe i shouldn't be listening to that cd in the car. and maybe i should be thankful for what i have. so, for about four hours, i was an ungrateful little snot. then i went to the bookstore.

in general, bookstores make me happy. i used to work at one - a big one, that we'll call the evil empire - and while i was getting the crap beaten out of me that entire time, i have fond memories of that time. does that make sense? i mean, i haven't really been smacked since december 31, 1999 (and i'm not taking applications, thank you), but that's really fresh in my mind. and i haven't shelved a book since march 2000, but i still find myself tidying up in bookstores. huh. maybe i just have a really good memory. i can still remember my first boyfriend, shane cox, and that was in grade school, yo. he had the gayest haircut ever. and while i love the gay, i did not love his bowlcut. i can still see it in my mind.

uh...

so yeah, bookstores. i was telling moi earlier that i get sick of living in my own head sometimes. and that's always been true. i have this running internal dialogue; it's not like a narrator or anything weird and creepy like that. but i think and analyse things constantly. i think this is maybe why i have anxiety. i behave in a vaguely appropriate fashion, and then i pick it apart while driving home, or wherever. i used to do this at the bookstore. a lot of retail work does not requite thought, so it allows you to compose your shopping list, think about that hottie that works at the cafe, or whatever. it's kind of like cotton candy - it has no nutritional value, but it's kind of sustaining. when i lived in san francisco, i was pretty miserable. so, late at night, i would drive out to the palace of fine art. i would sit there, or walk around the neighborhood, and think. it was my happy place. i never went during the day. too many people for me to ruminate. so, during the day, i'd be a good little book whore. at night, when i was really upset (which was often), i'd drive out to the presidio and walk around the palace.

tonight, i went to powell's. and while i was still all hissy, i found some good stuff that made me glad to be alive. aside from the travel books i bought (one on cheap road trips in the u.s., another on stuff to do in hawaii), i saw this stack of books:

that is, hands down, the best title i saw. the book itself didn't look too interesting. so, i didn't buy it.

i do have to say, i have a hard time with the travel section. when i was in college, i took a class where we had to read a book a week. while that may seem brutal to some, a lot of the books were short. we would read the book, and write a one- or two-page critique. during class, we would have the author come in and read a selection from the book. i should say these were all independent authors, like kevin killian (he's cool. way cool). but, the one i was really pissed off about was frances mayes. she taught at my college, so she was obigated to come down from the fifth floor (where all the heavy-duty professors, like the co-founder of rolling stone, had their offices) and read to us. now, some background. the book - her first one, under the tuscan sun, was about buying a house in tuscany, blah blah, go read it or watch the movie. this was at san francisco state, which is in a town that's almost as expensive as new york city. studio apartments were never cheaper than $700. and those were cheap closets. we were all dirt-poor students, and we had to buy this instructor's book. this instructor, who could afford a villa in tuscany.

(grrrr)

anyway, they had a bunch of her books in the travel writing area. and i don't think she's a good writer. there, i said it.

moving right along...

it would appear that i'm grumpy still. i know i'm not constipated.

 

this kills me. it was an urban dictionary. that cover made me laugh out loud.

and... oh, this was not at a bookstore. this was somewhere else, a few days ago. they're selling bunny suits. they just looked creepy, hanging there. someone skinned the easter bunny! i really wish some children had been nearby, so i could warp them with that knowledge. and the one on the far right is a baby chick costume. chicks and bunnies are not safe...

this still makes me smile. cecil found this at some random store. you know what peeps are, right? well, they have the chick peeps, and the bunny peeps. and now they have plush peeps. he said they also had sets of both plush chicks and bunnies, in the little yellow boxes. we're going back for more later. fuzzy peeps! the crazy thing is, i don't like to eat peeps. but it would appear i'm not the only one. and totally click that link. good times.

i love the google.

finally... it's been awhile...

gratuitious pussy shot. note the foot next to the head. if i tried to sleep like that, i'd end up in the hospital.

but i'd have lots of dates when i got out. thanks for stopping by.

i was thinking about this the other day. one - it's been awhile since i did a list-y type thing. two - i bet there's a bunch of fun stuff y'all don't know about me. like:

• i really like perfume. usually, i don't like it on me. either late last century, or earlier in this one, i bought myself some lovely perfume with a dirty name. a name i can't say now that i've given up swearing. it smelled so girly, and guys that smelled me said i smelled nice (a fabulous compliment i almost never hear). and it was called star f*cker. yes, really.i bought it from some random interweb site that has since gone MIA. oh, well. i now have two body sprays, and i reserve what's left of the star for special occasions (haven't had any yet this year). one is called white jasemine, and it's vague and pretty. the other is called wild rose, and it's some potent olfactory assault. it smells good (i really do smell like roses, and not some perfume's interpretation of roses), and it stays on forever. i wore it saturday night, when capt clydesdale and i went out about the town, and even though my beautiful gray cardigan (yes, i wear cardigans to heavy metal shows; i can totally whup your ass) smelled like dank cigarette, i could still smell the roses when i had gotten home. love that stuff.
• i might be allergic to wool. which kinda sucks when you knit obsessively. and i say 'kinda' because i only have an issue with wollen bits on my head. i have two great hats made of wool, and when i wear them i get a rash around the, uh, brim/ cuff thingy. but it would appear the rest of my body is quite okay with wool. my beautiful skirt, which i had to rip apart and am still re-knitting, doesn't seem to make my legs itchy. i tried it on the other night (nearly done, and about goddamn time, too), and it looks lovely. and i didn't scratch myself anywhere.
• i love shopping at thrift stores, but i hate the dressing rooms. this has nothing to do with not liking to get naked in public (apparently, i showed a guy my boob friday night. although i don't think that counts, since my brassier was wrapped around it. but that's what cecil said), but rather... well, you don't know where that dressing room has been. i have gotten really good at guesstimating clothes and their fit on me. i seldom pick a loser. i mean, in the sense that it doesn't fit. if you've seen me dressed, you know damn well it's hit or miss with me.
• my favorite thing about cheesecake is the crust. seriously, that graham cracker crust? love the holy hell out of it. my mom hates crust in general (not enough humiliation in her eating crust is my guess), so when she would order cheesecake somewhere? she'd eat the cheesey bit - which is nice, don't get me wrong - and would give me the crust. because i really do love that crust. when i have my own place again? i'll buy the stuff to make crust, and just that. yummmm.
• i hate chocolate. which sucks if you're, say, a boyfriend trying to buy me sweets. i really have a strong dislike for chocolate. unless it's in my coffee, or walking hand in hand with some peanut butter. now peanut butter... there's an addiction. i'm not sure what i'd do if some guy were to cover his personals with peanut butter. maybe i'd ask his name? uh... yeah. i like the peanut butter. not the chocolate.
• i'm pop-culture retarded. the aged lush at work was telling me that anna nicole smith had died. at first - and this is the god's truth - i thought she was someone we worked with. i had to google her to find out who she was. and... well, i'm still not sure what she's famous for. the same thing with paris hilton. had to google her about two years ago, because she was on some television show? and people i knew were asking me what i thought? and i thought she was a hotel in paris? it would appear i'm not so far off on that one. and i don't know what she's famous for, either. although, someone got here by googling 'crotch shots paris'. maybe i should go to mass next week. i feel a burning sensation in my soul.
• i have a mutant tongue. okay, quick anatomy lesson, folks. in your mouth, under your tongue, you have a little flap of connective tissue called a frenulum. some of you may be aware of this - boys also have a frenulum on their wang. but back to tongues. in most cases, the frenulum stops about a third of the way from where your tongue connects to the rest of your business in the mouth. mine goes all the way to the tip of my tongue. which is why i don't stick my tongue out at people - it looks retarded. and i can't french kiss, although i do accept others' valliant attempts (best french kiss ever still goes to michael vincent moreno, wherever he is). and it doesn't impede on my ability to do other dirty things. like eat popsicles in a hands-free kind of way.
• i strongly dislike tomatoes. i'm not sure how i can even say that now. i despise tomato sauce. i'm not keen on ketchup. and until recently, i loathed the tomato vegetable itself. and for no real reason. no traumatic tomato-related injury in my past. just never saw eye to eye with tomatoes. then, they started to creep onto my sandwiches. i didn't hurl them with great force across the room, as per usual. and when on appeared on my grilled cheese, i was mildly happy. although, still - the best thing to put on grilled cheese still remains spinach. i guess i should be saying i hate dismembered tomatoes.

and that's about it for now. hope you took notes - there's a test next week. thanks for stopping by.

hey y'all! it's truly official! i'm going to hawaii!

yay! yay! and double yay with knobs on!

okay, seriously... apparently, there was, like, five seconds, where we weren't sure if i was allowed. because i'm a white girl. no, really. see, there's this wedding. one of z's vast cadre of cousins is getting hitched, and they happen to be doing it in hawaii. originally, she was going to hornswaggle dude (i.e., lie her ass off), and she was going to take myself and mr sparkles along. oh yeah - and her kids. we officially got the invitation last week, and zima called me the other day to confirm dates and times, so she could book her timeshare whatsit. z called her auntie, the one who's kid is getting hitched, just to be sure it was okay for me to come along. she had to explain that dude wasn't going ("that white man? we're not sure about him. such foul language. does he have a prison record?" seriously), but she wanted to bring her 'date'. yes, i'm the date. mr sparkles isn't going, which really is too bad. we coulda done some major damage in a bar crawl. anyway... there are times when it's just easier for z and i to pretend we're, you know, partners. like we, uh "know" each other in a biblical way. i kinda like saying stuff like that. i don't know z in a biblical way (but i've seen her naked enough times to qualify, thankyouverymuch), but i like getting to say stuff like, "yeah, i know that guy. not biblically or anything." it's amusing to me, and it makes people chuckle. so z is telling her auntie that she'd like to bring her roommate. and the auntie's all, "oh, i'm not sure about that. it's a family event, you know? and won't that be uncomfortable? having a white person there?" once z mentioned my name, and that zima had wanted me to come along, the auntie was all, "oh, her? we've heard about her! she's the one that corrupts your kids, yes?" so then i was asked to come to the wedding. so, looking forward to that.

now i have to buy a new swimsuit. christ.

anyway... did i say i did well on my midterm? i don't care if i did, i'm saying it again - i did well. i coulda done better (there was a bit of an issue with not having had enough sleep before the lecture exam, but hey), and i will do better on the next one. but yay for me anyway. cecil was very supportive. after i told him my grades, he went out and bought me a purse. he said if i had got an a, i woulda received better swag.

oh! so, the other day, cecil and i were playing 'airplane'... i should stop there and say two things. one - our clothes were on. two - different people play 'airplane' different ways. actually, i was told that what we were doing in powell park there is actually playing 'helicopter', but whatever. we called it 'airplane' in the neighborhoods i grew up in. even the gangbangers called it goddamn 'airplane'. we were not doing the thing where you lay on the other person's feet and you stick your arms out - i always thought of that as 'superman'. no, this is the one where you grab someone's right arm and leg, and swing them around. which is easy when you're a kid and everyone weighs, like, 20 pounds. i just realized that this would make more sense if we had taken pictures. but alas... anyway, cecil grabbed me and started swinging. we were laughing hysterically, which has nothing to do with the abuse i endured. something in my shoulder make a little crunching sound, and i couldn't feel my fingers. when we finally stopped 'airplaning', i was pressing my left hand into my right shoulder. stuff moved about in there (let's not discuss how many injuries i've had in my life, and accept that the cartilage over there is just plain screwed), and something clicked back into place. i can feel the fingers on my right hand, but i can't sleep in certain positions anymore. and right now, while typing, my shoulder hurts and my ring and pinky fingers are starting to lose sensation. i may have to go visit the doc.

too bad i'm not mel gibson in the 'lethal weapon' movies, where he could dislocate his shoulder, then do that awesome running-into-stuff maneuver to re-locate it.

and, i may have completely deterred my stalker. but i have no way of knowing for sure. so, if anyone really hot wants to stalk me (crush? you know you have a bit of free time), send me an email and i'll hook you up with an itinerary. because i don't like to make things difficult for others.

i need to go knit now. thanks for stopping by.

ahem. so, i guess a few of you love that abe vigoda link in the last post, yeah? it's funny what you can find with google. and that's really all i have to say about that.

now, i read. i used to read a lot more than i currently read, but that has more to do with being back in school than anything else. i still read, but it's devoted to my textbook and associated articles. that one about the human brain project (it's a division of the human genome project) was really engrossing. anyway, i read. the amount of books i've read won't fit convieniently in that sidebar whatsit i've got devoted to books. it's like that sidebar over there about music - there will never be enough room. so, here's some stuff that i've read and think other people would like. and, uh... sorry about the white space around the pictures. i couldn't photoshop it away.

i really liked this book. i think i read about it somewhere online, or maybe i was intrigued by the title. it was described as a love story, but i don't really think of it as a love story. it's the story of a relationship between these two people, one of which time travels. it's not science fiction; it's not like he invents a portal or something. it's something to do with his own physical body. anyway, the story is told by both the husband and the wife. it's unique and charming. and i liked that the music they discuss is stuff i really like. i seem to say 'like' a lot. sorry. but i did enjoy this book. it may not change your life, but it did keep me interested. so there.

yes, it's a knitting book. i rather like that it looks like a dominatrix wrote it. actually, i'm not sure what she does when she's not knitting. but there are some good patterns in here, and the how-to section has already taught me a few things. my favorite pattern involves devil horns. of course. no, wait... actually, i have two favorite patterns. one involves devil horns, and the other involves those little heart-shaped candies that say 'be mine' and stuff. ohhhh, yeah. i'm totally going to make those. with my own little zippy phrases on them. one of them may be 'just sayin'.

just sayin.

i have to say that originally, i checked this out from the library by accident. i'm not sure what i thought i was getting, but this wasn't it. then, i had to return it when i was only partway through it. like an idiot, i didn't write down the title or author, and i could only remember what the cover looked like. having worked my way through college at a bookstore, i knew i couldn't go into a shop and say, 'yes, it was a classic, and there were people on the cover in what i thought of as victorian dress'. they take you out back and shoot you, then re-cover the kids' books with your flesh when you do that. anyway... it's kind of an interesting class tale. zola's work in general is dominated by class issues. it's the story of a boarding house and its inhabitants, and how the face they put to the outside world very seldom matches the face that is truly them. it's the first zola i ever read, and now i love the guy. that should indicate how good the book is.

and, this is the first russo i ever read, on the recommendation of a friend i worked with at the bookstore. sorry about the 'search inside' thingy - i lifted the picture off amazon, and that just came along for the ride. the picture i got off the powell's website wouldn't play nice with the programming language over here. so... richard russo is really quite funny. i know there have been movies made out of his books, but i've neer seen them. his writing isn't wee-your-pants funny, but it is chuckle-out-loud-on-the-bus funny. an english professor is pushed to his very limits, which peaks in his threatening fowl. yes. i can't do the damn thing justice, so just read it. it really is a fantastic story, and it's amusing. i guess that's what you'd call a two-fer.

i just noticed that i have none of this man's books in the sidebar over there. which is shameful, really. i just gave moi one of his collections for christmas. so, it shows that i really suck, and i should add more books over there. in keeping with my unintended theme, this is the first burroughs book i read. now, running with scissors is a fabulous and hysterical book. and it explains a lot. in terms of augusten's life, this book takes place shortly after scissors. he's in new york, working in advertising and being a gay lush. i think this started a trend of me reading books where the author does horrible (or, at least, not cool) things while chemically altered. anyway, it's a great book. i wouldn't read this one first, though - try scissors, or maybe his one fiction book, sellevision. but read this one at some point. and definetely read it if you live with recovering addicts.

and since i brought up the addict thing, i read this based soley on the first couple paragraphs. this was before he was on oprah, i think, but it wouldn't matter since i don't pay attention to oprah most of the time. i did happen to tune in when she forced him to come back on the show after it came out that some of his story was fabricated. and really - i don't care. i mean, i didn't read this as a factual account, but as a memoir. augusten burroughs has this great preface on his most recent book, possible side effects, where he says that he fabricates bits and pieces, here and there, to tell a good story and make people seem less stupid. i mean, how can you remember ever word of every conversation from five years ago? i'm not sure that you can. oh sure, key phrases will stick with you. or maybe a talk that changed your life will be embedded in your brain. but, not everything. i don't buy it... sorry. despite all the crap swarming around this book and it's author, read it. it's a good tale.

now, i think i might have mentioned once or twice that i have a bit of the irish in my background. not that you need it to like roddy doyle (he wrote the committments, and i hear a lot of people liked the movie they made out of that), but i think that's why i originally picked up his books. and each one had been a good read. now, i should warn you - most of his books involve gutteral irishmen (and women), so there's lots of poverty and drinking. but really, i don;t know any wealthy irish folks, and i've never heard of any. they must exist, but no one's seen them. maybe they live in the same neighborhood as the easter bunny. dunno. but this is a great book, about a little boy that's poor. der. actually, it's kind of like reading angela's ashes. i mean, they're not the same book, and they're certainly not by the same author. but they have a similar feel in the sense that it's told about a child that has a less-than-stellar outlook. yeah, it's not a happy book. but it a well-written story.

now, this is by far not a finite list. and these are not my top ten or anything. but they are books i've been thinking about recently, and i wanted to share them with you. now, get reading, lazy bones.

thanks for stopping by.

this has been amusing me for, like, 20 minutes. what? i have a lot of free time at night. especially after 2 a.m.

later monday, or very early tuesday, i plan on having some book reviews. because yeah, that pile of book titles to your left there isn't nearly enough of a representation of what i read, or how much. nor does it account for the things i've procured at my local independent bookstore. so until then, hit refresh every so often on that link up there. just to be sure...

so, yeah. friday i went to this crazy great club, where YMCrae and i saw a band called ocean 503. good times, although i don't know which i enjoyed more - the music, the drunk white guy that tried to buy the band a round (he was so creepy, they turned him down), the white people trying to dance (yes, i'm white and i can dance, but in general... white folks don't have a whole lotta rhythm), or our clever gay waiter that was rocking suspenders and had a fit singing along with the band on one particluar song. oh, he was fabulous. the bathroom was fabulous - i've never been in a club bathroom that was stocked with listerine, right guard, and jergen's lotion. seriously. i don't use the word "classy" too often, but that restroom was, indeed, classy.

oh! and we saw this guy that YMCrae has seen at other shows. he looked a bit like lionel richie, or that guy from hall and oats. and he was a smooth operator on the dance floor. i mean that in the worst way possible. i mean, he looked like he was ready to go workout - he was wearing these runner-type pants and sandals. and his moves... we couldn't stop laughing. we named him thrusty mcgrinderry, if that gives you any indication of his mojo. i'm pretty sure the lady he was dancing with had wang burns on her thigh from his gyrating. ohhhh.... good times.

double keen with knobs on. ask moi.

saturday, i had a massage (hot stones are brilliant!) and sushi. the sushi was great for a few reasons. one - it's sushi, man. two - the place we went? every time i've been there, they've had sumo wrestling on the televisions above the sushi bar. three - not often can i take a picture of my food, send it to moi, and totally gross her out:

say hello to my little friends. those are whole shrimp, deep fried. i only ate one of them. yes, they still had their eyes on. that's what makes them so creepy and great. the brains were a bit bitter. and one was missing his ass.

and, i didn't even crack my textbook. i did, however, finish the slippers i was making for my mom. that gigantor sock i showed off not long ago? i finished its partner, and into the hot water wash cycle they went. as i said before, my intent was to knit them large, then shrink them. why not just make them the regular size? when you felt (that is, intentionally shrink) wool, it becomes thicker and more dense. i explained it to cecil as changing the molecularity of the fabric. and after about five go-rounds in the hot water, plus two stints in the dryer, i have these:

they are very thick and bulky. they are for my mom, but i needed to wear them to make them comform to a foot-like shape.

they used to be close to a foot long. they are now about half an inch from my big toe. and they are warm little bastards. yeah, that's my ankle. or, my lower leg/ calf area. whatever. it's a view of me you won't see too often. i think this is the cat's line of vision.

usually, wool makes my feet itch a bit. i mean, it goes away after a few minutes, but with these... no itching. i just hope my mom really does have roughly the same size feet i do, and i'm not just hallucinating that. because, as cool as these are? i don't want them. i already have two pairs of slippers. these kind of make me think of norway. i don't know why. it's not like i used a norwegian pattern.

anyway, that's all the news that's fit to type. i'd tell you about the ingrown hair, but, well... that's not right. thanks for stopping by.

well, happy valentine's day to you all. having said that, i really have a dislike for a day on the calendar that makes you hyper-aware of the fact that you're walking down the street by yourself, while everyone else is velcro-ed to someone else. it kinda makes me sick, in a way. i suppose i'd feel differently if i weren't sitting at an internet cafe, waiting for my grilled cheese sandwich to NOT be burned to a crisp. the guy was very sweet. and he's very cute. and he smells like soap...

i was just telling moi in an email about how i think i'm in heat or something. a guy comes near me, i kinda want to grab him and smell him. not have sex, per se, because i'm overly cerebral (you have to excite my body and my mind; i'm very demanding that way), but maybe work them into a sweaty lather. there's this guy in my class - he drives an ambulance. i know this because i've seen him a few times at my hospital. but he seems like a nice guy. and he's shy and charming. and... well, if it werent' for the smell of formaldehyde...

i mean, the salt shaker over there is looking kind of shexy. i fear for all household appliances in my vicinity.

sigh. moving on.

so, midterms are over. and thank god, really. today, i skipped the gym, thinking that i'd get more sleep. but it would appear that my body has gotten use to my schedule of work-workout-crash-repeat, so i laid there for the better part of the day, thinking about the nervous system. i maybe got 2-3 hours of sleep. so now, i'm sitting here (he just burned it again - now i totally have to ask him for his phone number), trying really hard to stay awake. if i can make it to midnight, i'll be okay. right now, i just want to put my head on the laptop (yay for carmen!) and sleep. or maybe just lay in the coffee shop guy's lap. he sure does look like a nice enough fella...

ooo, he came over here to chat. i'm so in love with his scruffy face. but i would totally dump him for the crush.

back to midterms. i think i did okay. i mean, my head stll feels about to explode. i know all this... stuff, about the nervous system. stuff i may never use again. but if it gets me to where i want to go, then yay for ganglions and neurotransmitters. so, this weekend, i plan to not think about anatomy. except for when i'm in the shower.

you know. thanks for stopping by. i have to go flirt now.

seriously... when you check your email, do you look at the subjects of your bulk mail, or spam box? because some of that stuff cracks me up. the title up there was from some crap email about credit or mortgages or something. i love getting the emails about penis enlargement. i think they're funny.

because yeah - all my problems can be solved by a bigger dick. moving on...

i threw up this great and silly post waaaay early this morning, and the great vortex of the interwebs saw fit to swallow it whole. i was funny, dammit! and now it's nowhere to be found. i swear. well, this will probably be far less funny. but i'll do what i can to make you wet your pants. that's my whole goal in life. either make people cry, or make people laugh.

g man - do not extrapolate anything. you can totally get arrested for that in your neighborhood.

capt - i think we need to go back to that breakfast place and steal that one sticker. you know - the one that read 'quit grabbing my ears, i know what i'm doing'? or something like that. you know what i'm talking about. or that one magnet about virginity. that one slays me.

so, uh... took a midterm, thanks for asking. i think it went pretty okay. i have another wednesday afternoon. then carmen and i are going to a wi fi cafe, so i can celebrate and she can get online. no, i have not called the geek squad as of yet. i've been too busy stalking and studying. and trying to figure out my hair. it's at that point between being too short to pull back, and too long to just let it be. i mean, look:

it's crazy up there. and, although the picture does not show just how crazy, trust me. it's all atwitter. it's not like i did anything special to it, other than run a comb through it. i have a lot of hair, and it's all schizophrenic. this is where most folks would cut it. but i need to grow it out, so i'm resisting. it had better settle down up there soon, i tell you what.

rolling right along, i got a ration of horse manure from cecil about not talking to the crush friday. and you know what? this is my m.o., so screw you, tight ass. okay no, really. i have two really unfortunate reasons, besides the aforementioned hair and nerve gas i was emanating. apparently, i'm trying to grow a third eye between my eyebrows. it's not a zit, per se, but it is now a red scab. and it matches the mountain trying to grow on my nose. normally i can pass for attractive. right now - i'm an eyesore. that's all there is to it. so cecil, i'm blaming this weird leperous facial outbreak on you. asshat.

oh, and this weekend i get to really fun stuff! like my taxes, and finishing my radiology application. and complaining in general about things that bother me. like morons. i read this thing recently (here's my intro, moi... you know what i mean), about how profiling is a good thing. and the writer was all, if terrorists looked like me (vaguely aryan), i'd be happy to be harassed. i mean, not exactly what the person said, but a rough approximation. now, people - i don't often air my politics here, for one real good reason - while i have such opinions, i'm much more talented at poking fun at myself and my friends than writing down those opinions in a reasonable and cohesive way. but since i pay the bill over here (in euros, no less), i'm going to truck out my soapbox for a brief minute.

(trundle, trundle, trundle)

here's the thing - you don't look like a terrorist, so shut up. you've never been profiled, so i don't give a rat's holy sphincter what you have to say about it. well, okay... that's not exactly true. but, dude.... you're kinda ignorant. allow me to give you some examples. remember when the germans locked up all the jews (if you're one of those people that don't believe the holocaust didn't happen slap yourself hard, NOW)? i consider that profiling, in a way. i'm sure there are bad jews, just like ther are bad christians, bad muslims, bad catholics, bad atheists. profiling assumes that since you identify as one of them, you must be one of the bad ones. so, off to the concentration camp with you. tattoo that little number on your arm, because you're less than human. FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPIDITY. i know i gave up swearing, but that doesn't count (i think i said i'm no good at this? i know i made a point somewhere up there, but it's a little murky). jesus, people. can we quit with the stereotypes? not all people with any one thing in common are the same. got it? not all black guys are thugs, not all white guys are racists. not all muslims are going to explode, and not all pop stars are sluts. this is a speed bump, and some folks are having trouble getting over it.

okay, thanks. (trundle, trundle, trundle) back to mocking myself and my friends. now, for a few more pictures:

remember the ginormous sock i said i made? this would be it. the wee orange sock is actually not a child's sock, but one i wear on my own wittle feet. for reference, i wear a size 7-8 shoe. i should clarify, since i know at least one european reads this - that would be US size. which is, uh, like a 3-4 on UK sizes, i think? average size foot, let's say that. the sock is so huge because i'm going to felt it and make slippers for my mom. for anyone that has ever washed a wool sweater in hot water, you know that felting shrinks the fabric and makes it really dense. which means it's really warm.

what do i look like when i wake up before 8 a.m. on a sunday morning, you ask? an oompa loompa, apparently.

i hate you, moi. kiss kiss. or rather, (smack!) YATZEE!!

when your life really sucks, just think of this poor bastard crab (well, hold on now. how do i know his parents weren't married?). he's waiting around at the grocer to be your dinner. this is crustacean death row, folks. and all i could think was... hmm. i do like me some crab.

thanks for stopping by. unless you believe in profiling. then, well... would you like me to tattoo a number on your arm?

well, almost nobody. this is just one of those things. not to get into the whole story, mr sparkles got a straight boy to show him his penis. and the straight guy (should i be putting straight in quotation marks?), not realizing that mr sparkles was sort of kidding around, whipped it out. shortly thereafter, the straight boy says, "i can't believe i just showed my dong to a dude." so, mr sparkles asked me - since my preference happens to be the straight boys (that is, the ones over 21 that are not candidates to have a major psychotic break) - well, who the hell says 'dong'? personally, i prefer the term 'wang', so we called cecil for the final word. and, uh, it's wang.

make a note, would you?

so... let's see. i saw the crush friday. much rejoicing. although, it was not as long as lingering as i would have liked. however, our taser went off, and we had to go eat. maybe i should explain?

i forced/ begged capt clydesdale to go see this fabulous band with me. what band? not telling. why? because i still have a stalker, and i still don't want to see IT in public if it's at all avoidable. i really hope that my stalking does not affect the crush in the same way. would i know? hmm... uh, anyway. so, since the capt needed to be fed, we stopped at a foodie area at this place we saw the band at (wow, what a crap sentence. having a not-sexy stalker kind of sucks. the crush is sooooo lucky, man). since there was a 45-minute waiting list, we put our name on the list. the hostess handed us one of those pager deals that all the swank places seem to employ. these pagers, however, looked like tasers. i really should have taken a picture of the capt trying to stun me with the pager. damn you, why didn't you say anything?? crap. so, since we had time to kill, we had a little drink (he had port, i had a wine called rabbit ridge - of course), then found the band, which i promptly fell in love with. i'm still kicking myself that i did not buy a few of the cd's they had for sale. so, we do this 'sorry we're late' sneak from the front of the stage to the waaay back, where the capt sat in something wet and/ or damp (it's kind of nice to know that these things don't just happen to me). after being there for about 30 minutes, our little taser came to life and we had to exit. while we were leaving, i saw the crush, who smiled and waved in a very genuine-type of way. again, i nearly swooned. but it could have been the lack of dinner. which we promptly went and had.

anyway, after a great salad and an interesting discovery (spinach and artichoke dip tastes, well, not right, once it gets cold), i bid the captain goodnight and went back to hear more of the band. while it's got to be murder on the musicians, i kind of like the idea of a 3-hour set. anyway, i kind of fell in love with them again. especially after that last song. it was a love song, and the sound of it made me weak in the knees. dude, a troglodyte coulda proposed to me, and i would not have been able to resist. it was just... sonorous. man, i'm a sucker for great music. and did i talk to the crush? er, no. i had hair issues. which sounds superficial, but really. that, and i think that dip gave me some really unfortunate gas. not the kind of thing you need to have while talking to someone that makes you weak in the knees.

yup, that's my life.

saturday night, i supervised a sleepover for z dog. and while i've done it before, i will never do it again. and i'd like to smack the two boy children that were there with z dog. foul language, talk of screwing 'ho's' and filming it, and general disrespect. mind you, z dog is 12. jesus. i did tell them several times that i could hear everything, and if they didn't tone it down they could just sleep in the garage like the dogs they were. this makes me realize that i probably shouldn't have kids. or at least, i shouldn't have teenagers. once they hit 12, i should get to ship them somewhere. but maybe, that's the whole point of parenting. teaching your kids that screwing ho's is not something you do or talk about at a friend's house. i don't know; i'm stil testy about all that.

and now, some pictures:

this is my backyard. the building corner on the left there? my house, aka the rabbyt hutch. yeah, we have a trampoline. no, i do not jump on it in my underwear. some of you might notice something - we seem to be missing a back fence. a panel of our fence came down last weekend. so, around wednesday, i noticed that the entire damn thing has gone missing. our neighbors back there? i think they're replacing it. but they've been saying they're gonna replace it for about two years. argh. at least their dog isn't running around our yard, making ophelia panic like a silly little kitten. she's a grown damn cat. that's no way to act.

speaking of - kitten gives us a facial shot. then she made the worse noises while licking her nethers. i swear, she has no class. ugh.

oooh, look what i got in the mail. i ordered some schaeffer yarn, for the serrano top i'd like to make. i wasn't expecting the fiber so soon. since i have elevelty billion projects going at the moment, i'm not winding this up on sir windy just yet. i've decided i have to wait until the end of this quarter. maybe i'll take it on my trip to BFE, california, to visit my parents. she of the bong and shotgun, he of the ipod. yup. i need yarn for that. sexy yarn.

and this stuff is... rrrowr. i don't know how else to describe it. it's handpainted, and soft, and it feels extravagant, sorta. this picture does not do it justice. it really is this lovely, slightly varigated red. i... i... i may love it.

and by the way... if the crush reads this, i'd be happy to make you a scarf. you know, to protect that weird, thick neck you've got there. i kind of want to nibble on it. and i mean that in a non-creepy kind of way.

jesus, i'm a dork. thanks for stopping by.

don't mind me... i'm just adding and updating links today. this morning. whatever.

i feel slightly uninspired, and i blame my co-worker for this. yes, the one that is roughly 10 feet away and snoring. yeah, it is nearly four in the freaking morning. but hey, guess what? we work the GRAVEYARD shift, which means we sleep another time. bastard. like i can't hear him over what sounds like the world's crappiest hip-hop album. and i love my hip-hop. you know, when it's good.

ahem. well... i'll be knitting bits on my scarf, trying NOT to throw something at the snoring co-worker (because, while i am not afraid of him, he is easily twice my size), and doing some pretty-ing up around here.

thanks for stopping by anyway. cheers.