badrabbyt

seriously. i saw two random bastards that, when i'm in charge of the world, will have their driving licenses yanked and twenty papercuts apiece bestowed. on the webby bit of the hand, and the sides of the index finger, because that's where they really hurt.

the first one was on the damn freeway. i'm not sure if it makes her better or worser than the numbnuts i saw on a city street, but hey. oh, and i didn't have my camera, or i totally woulda taken pictures. or at least published their license plate numbers.

anyway, on the freeway. i'm driving on a bit of road where there are three lanes, and i'm in the center lane. in the fast lane, about two or three car lengths ahead of me, a white sedan bumped into the center divider, which is straight up cement right there. no sparks or anything, and the car keeps going. it slows down a bit, then speeds up. i'm alongside it long enough to notice the driver is either a woman or a dude wearing a crazy curly black wig (cecil, was that you?). she speeds up again, until she's practically in some guy's trunk, then slows down so fast the SUV behind her nearly hits her. this crazy behavior, along with quite a bit of weaving, makes me speed up and change lanes. the SUV was an unmarked police car, which was kinda nice. for once, the po-po are exactly where they should be. crazy lady is now behind me, and the cop lights up like a carnival. we're all in the fast lane, and in trying to get to the right shoulder, she nearly clips an 18-wheeler. oh, and the cop's lights were going for a full minute before she turned on her blinker. i never did see them actually reach the side of the road.

the other instance - i was walking in my neighborhood. and i was knitting a sock, but that's just how crazy rolls around here. anyway, there's this stop sign. it's been there forever. and this old guy runs right through it, stopping instead in front of driveway someone is trying to back out of. i actually yell something un-ladylike (shocking, eh?), and the guy turns to me with an annoyed look on his face. i point to the stop sign, then give him the finger. he speeds away. i should note three things about this stop sign. #1 - it's there because of a crosswalk, which is connected to a neighborhood park. #2 - at any given time, there are an ass-ton of little kids running about, because of the park. and because i live in a town where people drop litters of children like their tubes are going to dry up. #3- the park and crosswalk are connected to a school. actually, a grade school and a middle school. seriously. mass amounts of kids, and this bastard's running the stop sign.

so, uh... i have no point. just drive careful-like. and walk careful-like. and, a thousand papercuts to the next guy that races down my dead-end street.

thanks for stopping by.

so...

see, this is why i dislike taking long-ish breaks from the blog. sure, it was a good little mini-break, and i feel vaguely refreshed and all. but, i do tend to forget what i've said and not said. which further makes me feel like i'm my mom, with the not-remembering and all.

most recently, my car is on its last little legs. it's been having a hard time holding its water as of late, and wednesday night last week, it scared the holy hell out of me while i was driving to work. there was noise, and smoke, and the threat of overheating. all of which i dealt with reasonably well (this means i used very little bad language, and was constantly giving pep talks to my car. it's a good thing i don't carpool, y'all). when i took it to my wonderful mechanic, he told me to just buy a new car, because it made better financial sense to put down what he was going to have to charge me on something that looked and sounded better. that's the cliff notes version, and... well, this man would not lie to me. i've had my geo - named princess palindrome because the front pretty much looks the same as the back - since 1999. it's a '95, and it gets great mileage. i've held onto it primarily for this reason. after having a large van piloted by an old, drunk bastard backed up onto the hood of my car a few years back, i've been a bit embarrassed about its physical appearance. but it still ran fabulously, and i just referred to the body damage as my 'anti-theft device'. but now... my baby is making some weird noises, and losing water whenever she damn well feels like it. and, my mechanic tells me someone must have hit my car in a parking lot or something, because there's more body damage. and, he says, they didn't leave a note or anything because they were pretty sure i wouldn't notice.

and i kinda didn't. i mean, i noticed, but i just thought i wasn't paying attention and the dent had been there for awhile.

anyway... i am sorta on the hunt for a new car. and i think i may have found what i want, and i've dealt with a so-far nice car dealer. but i'm not talking about all that until i have something to talk about. my princess is still drivable. but only for short distances. so, z has offered to switch cars with me, until i get my wheels under control. it's really very nice of her, and i appreciate it to no end. but... her ca's an automatic. i hate automatics. i don't trust an engine that shifts on its own, is all. still, i'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth or anything, and i drove her car to work tonight. once i got here, i realized a few things: my ID badge, which i need to get into the buildings at night, is in my car, in my driveway. along with the key to my locker, and my gym membership card. i was less than pleased.

also, i had to bang on a few windows to get someone to let me in, and i got that sour you're-not-prepared look from a few co-workers. well, screw them. i'm disheveled, and i keep trying to shift. and it's a station wagon. argh.

in brighter news, i finished a few knitting projects, which always makes me happy. i saw a great movie, talk to me, which i highly recommend. i discovered one more reason i love YMCrae - during the previews of talk to me, we saw a quick second of an interview with milla jovovich, and dudes... they're making another resident evil! both of us made that inhaling noise that girls make when they see something bright and shiny. i'm so excited! i love resident evil. and so does she! rock!

in a few days, i get to get on a plane - really a giant suppository with wings, if you ask me - to go visit moi. i'm so very thrilled! and i'm not packed yet. but that's okay. i do rather love airports. i don't like getting on the plane, because it means i have to stay in one cramped place for a while. but the airport is nice. there's all that possibility, and people are usually happy at the airport. except for babies. babies hate the airport. and they hate landing patterns.

just saying. thanks for stopping by. i need to eat something.

(oh - blue corn is not real food. carry on.)

seriously. there is no blue food. i mean, found in nature. i'm aware there is/ are blue candies and whatnot, and if you put blue food dye into your batter, you can make blue bread - but dude, the ew factor is pretty high there - or blue cookies. and don't point to blueberries. they're purple; blue on the vine my ass. so are blackberries. okay, technically the juice in blackberries is a really dark fuschia. fine.

whatever.

so... have i mentioned smurfs yet this week? no? i was thinking about smurfs not long ago. actually, while i was eating the berries i mentioned briefly in the previous post. because there were blueberries in my fruit mixture, those lying little suckers. anyway - smurfs. in the theme some to that tv show, there was some mention of them being three apples high. i used to be able to quote the whole damn song, but apparently some booklearnin' erased that nugget. have you ever stacked three apples, just to get a visual of how tall a smurf is? i bet that's just me. and dudes, let me tell you... they're kinda tall. i mean, they're still little people and all, but still. for reference, my cat? about three apples tall. on all four legs, not standing up on her hind legs like some prairie dog.

basically, smurfs are not as short as the cartoon would lead you to believe. those three apples? for the sake of argument, let's say each apple is 3-4 inches tall. your smurf would be 9 inches to a foot tall. which is about from my elbow to my pinky (i'm a short person myself) (yes, this has nothing to do with anything. pipe down in the back there. we'll be having a test later). that's tall. how did they hide from that gargamel dude if they were a foot tall? and what kind of mushroom does a foot-tall blue dude live in? i know - they're magic. they use magic to hide from gargamel and live in mushrooms. personally, i think someone chewed through a couple of those 'magic' mushrooms and saw blue people.

and, of course, there's this. it kinda makes me laugh.

i usually care not to think about this, but since i'm here... the one female smurf? just one? this is really horrible, but i'm gonna say it anyway... do they drown the girl babies, like they used to in china? it makes me cringe. okay... after a hefty 20 minutes of research, my memory has been jogged. there was not one but three female smurfs. smurfette, her little sister sassette, and... was her name granny? nana? an elder lady smurf. but still... three females, and... um... 97 males? i think there's only supposed to be 100 smurfs at any one time. i don't know how that works out.

and... who pitched this idea to the network? i mean, how high was that guy? i sometimes watch children's television now, and i try to imagine what sort of drugs the creators were on. don't even get me started on the teletubbies. or monchichi, which no one but me seems to remember. i still have two of those dolls, i think.

wow. what the hell's in this hummus, anyway?

i was going to make a bunch of catty observations today, but... well, i've been boggled by smurfs. again. they are a cultural train wreck. i can't look away.

i've decided - my soul mate will have to announce himself to me by singing their theme song. preferably on the first date. thanks for stopping by.

i really like fruit. especially berries. which has nothing to do with anything right now.

see, i keep telling people to comment. and so few people actually comment. do it or not, whatever. i'd love to hear what you think about what i say. i keep telling y'all - i'd really like this to be a conversation. which means, i say stuff, you comment, i comment back. if you're not prepared for me to have a response, then maybe you shouldn't comment.

this is not an apology. for anything i've said here. and... you know what? i read other blogs, and i comment on them. some of those folks i know in real life. and i don't type anything i wouldn't say to their face. further, i don't try to turn the conversation around to me. if i have something i need to tell them about me, i call them. i email. i go talk to them in person.

argh.

so, yeah. if you read le comments, you know this came up recently. i haven't told anyone to NOT comment. but, apparently, i have to do yet another disclaimer. look - i'm kind of a bitch. you should all know that. i try to be a caring person, but... well. this is rather difficult to say. basically... don't comment unless you're prepared for a response.

 that's all i got at the moment. snippy observations coming up in the next post!

this weekend, i sustained a yarn injury. i wasn't even knitting.

which is totally not what i wanted to talk about. originally, i think i wanted to talk about old television shows, like night gallery and the twilight zone. because i found a channel on the cable that does nothing but horror. and horror, sadly, has never really scared me. but i'll get back to that in a minute.

i have had a bajillion skeins of yarn, just sitting around in plastic bags. i am not a fan of plastic bags. or cardboard, truth be told. i'm one of those annoying people that, when she moves into a new place, has all her stuff unpacked in less than two days. i leave nothing in cardboard boxes. if i need another bookcase or whatever, then... so be it. i procure a damn bookcase. then i break down my cardboard and get it to the damn recycling already.

you can imagine how annoyed i am that most of my life is still in cardboard boxes in the garage. i long to set it all free. and find that one pair of shoes.

anyway.

so, the skeins. i went insane for a minute, and when i came to my senses, i had all this lovely yarn. most if it needed to be wound into exciting balls. which means a visit with sir windy and some chairs in the dining room, if cecil's arms are not available. and since i shot down his hope of cruising IKEA friday morning (i just couldn't hack it, i needed a nap or something), he shot down my plea for a winding partner. so, i wound solo. and i must have wound a metric ton of yarn, because it took a few hours, and my shoulder still hurts. because i don't have a swift - which i will, when i get my own place again - there's a lot of shoulder action as i whip the yarn off the skein wrapped around the chairs, then wind it on sir windy. sometimes, no shoulder action is needed. i can slap the skein onto one of our barstools - yeah, barstools in a clean and sober house. shut up - and, holding the free end of the yarn just so, wind the ball with little effort.

this was not one of those times.

i picked up even more sock yarn. i figure i now have enough sock crappe to keep me busy through december. but... well. one skein of the sock yarn was unaviodable. see, this new shop opened, and i've been dying to go in. it's bad luck to go into a new shop and not buy something, so i had to get the yarn. and this stuff is fabulous. the company is a one-woman army called yarntini. i don't know if it's hand spun, but it's hand dyed, and a lot of the colorways are named after drinks. the skein i bought is called tequila sunrise (if you go to their website, and click on the 'colorways' link, you can see it). and it's beautiful.

the store - twisted - is also lovely. i may have to hang out there more often. they're doing a movie night this coming friday, and i plan to be there. knitting. with the cool kids. i do hope my shoulder is better by then.

so... horror that doesn't scare. i blame this all on my dad, if you want to know. he used to let me watch all kinds of crap on the telly. he did not believe in censoring my media intake. i mean, he never actively let me watch porn as a tyke. but he hid it pretty badly - it was behind all the other tapes. he loved taping movies from tv. which means there were weird jumps from commercials, and sometimes you missed chunks here and there, because he was up getting a beer or a soda. anyway, the adult movies were behind the indiana jones movies. i only found out because, as a young one, i was often told to stay at my own house during the summer. we lived in a really bad neighborhood, and it wasn't unheard of for kids to be shot for screwing around in the wrong place at the wrong time. so, my friends would come over, because it was southern california and we had an above-ground pool - a pool is a pool is a pool, yo - and a big backyard. and a big dog that sounded menacing if people were cruising the house or watching us kids.

but when no one came over, i would bake cookies. my dad had a thing for chocolate chip cookies, and my mom is a lousy cook. over the years, i have perfected my baking, and my dad will drool when i suggest i'll send him a batch of my cookies. i am a pretty good cook. and back then, as i sometimes do now, i needed background noise. so , i would grab a movie. i used to be able to quote a lot of really odd movies, because they were always playing while i mixed the butter and sugars. anyway, that's how i found the porn. it's also how i saw the first alien movie. for the longest time after i saw that, i wouldn't eat spagetti. go rent it if you don't know why.

so... my mom never liked horror movies. they were creepy and gross, she said. but then again, she didn't think monty python was funny. it was a commonality i had with my dad. oh... we used to watch elvira, when she was on public access. i never could figure out how her dress stayed up. or how she got her hair that way. i didn't know about wigs and boob tape back then. anyway, she showed these absolutely insane films. i remember only one with any clarity. maybe it was called the paperclip killer or something, because all the victims seem to have choked on paperclips. but i loved how bad these films were. i still love really bad horror movies (hello, grindhouse!) because of elvira.

the only movies that really scared me... well, back up a second. i used to be afraid of teen movies, but only because they seemed so far removed from reality. but, that was a different kind of fear. the movie that totally scared the crap out of me was the exorcist III. i had never been allowed to see the first one, because it scared my dad so bad he slept with the lights on for a week. although... i saw it recently, and i wasn't too terrified. creeped out, sure. but scared enough to regress? not really. but exorcist III, that was a different story. i was in high school, and i was having a halloween party. my dad thought we should watch a scary movie, and that's the one i picked. my theory was... if the first one terrified my dad, then the third one would surely be scary. there were about 16 people at my house. i was not super popular, but i knew enough people. anyway, only four of us actually watched the movie - the others were too busy gossiping or something. piper, who would later steal my dad's calling card number; zak, who would expose himself to me the next summer in hopes of getting laid; and someone else whose name i can't recall. we were sitting closer to the television, and we were completely absorbed in the movie. so much that, when it was time to wind up the party, the four of us ended up sleeping my my bed with the lights on. i have never been that scared of a movie.

so, a few weeks ago, i was up at four in the morning and alone at the house. i was looking for background noise, and i found the chill channel. which plays nothing but scary-ish movies. that night, they were playing the twilight zone movie. which was not that scary. except for that last part. i remember seeing that the first time, and not wanting to go anywhere near an airplane for a few months. anyway... horror movies are not scary. they are, however, great to knit to.

thanks for stopping by.

so, while not a natural at the spinning of yarn, i did get a little better at it wednesday. the wheel is in my room, and the cat is not thrilled. and while it's kinda fun, i will not become addicted to this particular craft. i will take pictures, because whenever i tell someone that i'm learning to spin, they either give me a blank look or change the subject. like it's code for, "i'm learning how to wear my intestines on the outside." people, we all have to start somewhere.

oh, and i've been watching dead like me. that link is pretty awesome - it appears you can watch some of the episodes right there. nice. i have the whole first season on loan from the library - where else? as three of you know, i don't really get into a lot of telly watching. i mean, yeah - i'll watch mythbusters or no reservations if i'm home and just knitting or something. but in general, i don't veg in front of the tube. so, getting an entire season of a show that someone else i know really likes is kinda nice. i don't have to worry about knowing when it's on or anything.

and i finished oryx and crake, by margaret atwood. i'm pretty sure i didn't tell anyone i was reading it. but dudes, it's a good book. a bit creepy. but well-written. and it makes me leery of taking my vitamins. next up is moral disorder, i think. maybe the seven daughters of eve. i haven't decided.

and now i'm going to turn a heel on a sock. and eat some cup o' noodles. well... just the noodles, not the cup. i know - i lead a truly exciting life.

thanks for stopping by.

i sure as heck did.

so, i just barely got out of my spinning class. i'm not a natural, meaning, i didn't churn out perfect yarn the first go-round. but i did rent a spinning wheel to take home and practice with. it's in the backseat of my car as i type.

that makes me laugh.

so, i've been... uh, knitting. a bit. my new rule is that i can start one project for every two i finish. you know, to clear up the backlog or whatever. and... did i say that i have to take something apart (again)? that lovely serrano cardigan i finished not log ago? the sleeves don't fit right. so, i have to un-sew, rip back and re-knit. which is no big deal, really. i do love to knit. but... i have to take it apart. that's the frustrating thing. de-constructing something you've recently constructed. i think i may have wept a bit when i realized what i would have to do.

and i bought yarn. there was a going-out-of-business sale, which was so sad. but i scored some dope, dudes.

this is called 'touch me'. i swear to you. it looks like velvet rope.

lavendar velvet rope. it's going to be a purty cabled scarf. that i actually started, because i had finished serrano. and this.

another scarf. but the yarn - if you could call it that - was crazy. it was like fishnet or something. obviously, it's not finished here. i went to a movie on saturday, and finished it there. it still needs a bath. it's a goofy scarf. i'm  all atwitter to wear it. somewhere, anywhere.

some lovely cotton that will grow up to be a shrug, i think. i don't usually like cotton yarns. it's nothing personal against them because they're cotton. they just don't usually turn my head. you understand.

but these two? good gravy. the bad thing about going-out-of-business sales is that they have what they have. meaning, if you only find four skeins of a color that you have a crazy sudden love for, that's all they got. good luck finding it elsewhere. you can, but it's similar to a needle in a haystack. and that color is far more vibrant live and in person.

still working on the pink acrylic thing. it's large and cumbersome at the moment. 

now, to change topic randomly...

i was waiting for z's plane to get in a while back. the truck next to me had balls. i think one of them had a crab. and yeah - they are gold balls. 

our table at the doug fir. a lit cube. it's kinda like tron up in there.

dude. best sorbet ever. and how can you not love how the little berries are dressed up like pirates? it's berried treasure! get it? see... oh, never mind. it's so yummy. 

and... i was cleaning out my closet, and i found a white skirt. which is crazy enough. i'm going to justify it and tell you that it's made of linen. but... well. check the fringe. little shiny mirrors. that make a clinky noise when i walk.

that's all i got for now. thanks for stopping by. 

dudes... you have to check this out.

so, these two folks break up, right? i know it's more complicated than that, but we're summarizing. anyway, he says she stole the can opener.

hiarity ensues, y'all.

i'm totally playing. are you? come on... you know you wanna.

... and so, i will be brief. ish. you know.

so, i have pictures, and you will get to see them tuesday-ish. because the next four tuesdays are for spinning (anyone that reads the yarn harlot - link over yonder; i'm just too lazy - will think that charming), i will have a random hour or so where i will have... erm, time to futz with pictures and posts. and so i shall. futz.

yes, yarn spinning class starts in a brief amount of days, so i'm happy. in a handful of hours, they - it's always they, isn't it? - start accepting applications for my school thingy. my application is in my bag, and it's pratically vibrating to go to the administrators. yes, really. vibrating. it's not my phone. anyway... i have a small amount of joy knowing that mine may possibly be the first application they get. since i'm dropping it off in person, at a freakishly early hour.

at the end of the month, i go visit moi. because i really want to. so, that't a trifecta of happy. and i refuse to be annoyed by the fact that, as soon as i bought my ticket, stevie freakin' wonder decides to start touring again, and do a show mere blocks from my house. while i'm gone. that blind bastard.

oooo... i just checked, and i got my dates all screwed up. i will totally be here for the stevie. wow. the mind boggles. he's not a bastard at all.

and... uh... oh. soup. thanks for stopping by.

not talking about the crush here. just to clarify.

and... i'm not going to divulge other people's secrets or anything. so let's just say YMCrae and i were talking about jerks in our pasts. she asked me how i was able to walk away from 'that jerk'. which, realistically, could be any of the guys i've dated in the last 10 years.

with the savage, it was cut and dry. the po-po took him away in handcuffs after he threatened me with a knife and i beat him with a bat, and... well. i saw my chance and took it. now, i'm sure i've said this before, and i've probably said it recently, but it bears repeating - no one expects to be a statistic. i never thought i'd be an abused woman. ever. it doesn't fit with everything else i think i know about myself. but there it is. and because i never thought i'd be that person, i was totally unprepared for being that person. does that make sense? it's like... you don't expect to find yourself at an orgy. so, when the orgy happens around you, you aren't expecting it. meaning, you wore the ugly underwear, or you didn't shave. something.

i went through three years of waiting to be killed. and the fourth year, i think i got tired of waiting. i had the cancer, and i was pretty sure i was gonna die either way. so, i started fighting back. he was arrested december 31, 1999. i was in hiding by march of 2000. great way to start the new millenium, i tell you's. but my point is, i walked when he wasn't around to pull me back. which is cowardly, i admit. but it's the best i could do. and then, when he wouldn't leave me alone, i ran to another state. which is also cowardly. but again, it's the best i could do.

the dirt bike dingo was... a weird little sideroad in my life. he wasn't cruel, but he wasn't kind either. it was casual attention when i needed it most. i just wanted him to talk. and i got tired of waiting.

the ex-mister was a different horse altogether. while he never hit me, he sure did his best to make me feel sub-human. he told me what he thought i needed to hear in order to stay. and then he would go out and make himself a liar.

typing those little sentences took a long time. i keep thinking about all the things we did and said to each other. i'm not completely blameless; i know that. but i'm not the person... well, never mind that. i've left a lot out, obviously, largely because i'm still a bit embarrassed to admit that i was duped, completely and utterly. he fed me a line or three, and i fell for it all.

the official story there is, i moved out because he wasn't paying his half of the bills, and i was resentful. he wasn't doing anything. he had stopped working, he'd dropped out of school. all he was doing was drinking, using my bank account, and going to online chat rooms. we were technically still together for a few more months after i moved out, but i just got tired of all his crap. again, i'm going to leave a lot out. i'm so embarrassed that i still did his laundry a few times, and still fed him. like i was his mommy or something. so, it was more of a lingering death. and the more i think about all this, the more i'm aware that i'm still totally upset about him. and how stupid he made me feel. he would say, i'm not making you feel that way, you can't blame that on me, you choose to feel that way. sure. and i choose to bail on your ass, too. good luck living on the streets.

which is totally mean, and i'm going to hell. we know this.

my point in this long, rambling, and not-funny post is - it's really hard to walk away from anyone or anything you feel invested in. a job, a relationship of any kind, a committment. you can't stand your insane roommate, but you don't want to leave them stranded, so you give them as much notice as possible. you leave your boy- or girlfriend in stages. you make someone hate you, so leaving is easier. you might be terrified to be alone, so you hang on to the horror that is. because the horror of what could be scares you more.

i'm not here to judge. i want the best for all of you. i need y'all to know that. and i know at least two of you feel the same way about me.

so, why do we do this to ourselves? we know that putting our hand into the flame will get us burned, and yet we still do it. are we stupid? no. we're hopeful, or at least i am. i know damn well that fire burns. but i also know that fire will keep me warm on cold and endless nights. and i do like to be warm. i like that feeling of, someone likes me enough to sit here and listen to my pointless rambling. because, as you know, it can often be pointless. sometimes, i find the main thread purely by accident. i have been known to get lost in bathrooms, on occasion. while i'm smart, i'm not perfect.

um... anyway. that fire. it burns. put your hand in; it's okay. you're totally going to screw it up. or maybe, you'll find that part that feels good, and you can leave your hand in forever. but if it hurts, take it out. i'm not far away - i can help bandage it. we spend so much of our lives being alone... when we aren't really alone. you're not alone. i'm right here. and i don't want you to be hurt. any of you.

thanks for listening.