If you haven't read about my hijinks two weeks ago at the Atlanta airport, refer to the post titled *When the Cops Come All I Hear is whoo whoo whoo* post about 3 below this one....
Everyone out there had better FEAR ME. I'm wanted...
Ok...this time its Baltimore/Washington DC airport on Monday - fixin' to fly out for a week's training in Dallas ~ still here btw...yo, y'all :) ~ and this time, this time damnit, I'm not gonna do anything to get myself suspected. Its amazing what I have to do to get through airport security without being detained:
Step One: I dressed *reasonably* normally for my trip to the airport ~ in other words, I left that damn D-ringed shirt that caused me so much trouble in Atlanta at home (so sad that freedom of personal expression = POSSIBLE TERRORIST THREAT but fuck us Americans anyway). Not much I can do about my hair...and I DID have on my New Rock boots - now I'm not an idiot, I know these boots are LOADED with metal (christ are they ever...*drool*) but I figure, hey...have to take off the boots anyway so they can go through the X-Ray, so I'm good. They don't ding the dingy that way, and I'm golden.
Step Two: I didn't take any sewing equipment. Got tired of explaining the function of a serger to illiterate morons, and I have sewn SOOOO much the last few weeks that I figured I could use a few days off. So, no funky looking machines to arouse their suspicion. I'm golden there, too.
Step Three: I was warned by a friend that when you check in, if the ticketing agent thinks you're acting suspicious, they will code your boarding pass so that you get harassed the whole way though the airport. So to solve that problem, I brought no baggage to check, and I checked in at the self-service machine. No ticketing agent even had a chance to look at my suspicious self and therefore code my boarding pass. I'm feeling really golden here.
Step Four: I used my goddamn government issued LAW ENFORCEMENT BADGE AND ID at all ID checkpoints instead of my driver's license. Yes, I am in law enforcement, for the federal government, and I carry a badge (cool huh? lol...not really). Figured this way, I'm better than golden...I'm the fucking cops!!
Well, what the hell do you suppose happens? Of course we get to checkpoint charlie and we have to completely disrobe to go through the machines. My boots went in alone, followed by my laptop (all alone in the tub...god forfuckingbid you have ANYTHING over it...because while the XRay machines can see through your luggage, they apparantly cannot see through laptop cases), my coat, and my suitcase. Well there is so much shit to go through this machine that my stuff gets backed up behind my coworker's stuff...so Im waiting behind to push all our tubs onto the conveyor belt. Well...I stood there a while waiting because the conveyor belt had stopped...
Why you ask? My fucking boots. They could not tell, in the xray, that these were BOOTS. They werent in anything...just their plastic tub...two boots in a tub. One of the security guards grabs my boots and starts yelling *WHOSE BOOTS ARE THESE?* *WHOSE BOOTS ARE THESE?* and he's handling them like they're fucking explosive. And thats just what he thinks they are. He runs off with my $250 pair of imported fucking bull leather boots to do a BOMB TEST ON THEM. yeah, a bomb test....for reals...
They handle probably 5,000+ passengers a day at that airport. Every day. And this is the first pair of New Rock Boots they'd ever seen? Yeah right. My ass. They either know that people who usually wear those kinds of boots are freaks, and they're ... I dunno, you cant say *racially profiling* because freaks are not a race ... but its something like that. Either that or they are TOTAL MOUTHBREATHING FUCKING IDIOTS. Now while I was wondering If I was ever gonna get my expensive ass boots(to a poor girl like me anyway ~ I'm sure lots of people have more expensive boots than mine), the conveyor belt stops again.
Another idiot starts screaming out *WHOSE SUITCASE IS THIS?* Gee can ya guess whose?
Sooo my suitcase gets torn open again.... everything that was nicely folded and packed in the fashion of the overly obsessive compulsive and anal... is ransacked. A search reveals...a pair of scissors. My good dressmaking shears. Why do I have scissors? Well, most people use a comb to groom their hair...I use scissors. The ransacking plunderer informed me that I couldnt take these scissors on the plane.
Anyway, as of the day I flew back from Atlanta two weeks ago, the FAA had made it legal to bring sharp objects on to your carry on bags. Tools too. Scissors were included as OK items to bring. I checked. So, of course I told the ransacking plunderer that. Then some big, fat, loud.....you know....security guard bitch comes up behind me and says *WE aren't allowing them until this Thursday. * Huh? The FAA says its ok but you're waiting til....Thursday? Why Thursday? Why nearly three weeks after the FAA changed the law? And who the fuck are you to decide this?
I was beside myself at that point. I still didnt have my boots back, and now I can't take the scissors that the law says I actually CAN take. So I said, *Fine, take my good pair of dressmakers shears*. The fatass bitch came up behind me, grabbed them from me and said *I will*. My only response...*Gee, thanks*. I wanted to add *fatass loud....you know....bitch...* but I didn't want to go to jail. At this point I was absolutely beside myself with a blinding fucking red hot rage. No idea how I kept my mouth shut. No idea. Haven't been this angry since...well...two weeks ago at the Atlanta airport.
Finally got the boots back, got handed my ransacked luggage, and off I was sent, minus a very expensive pair of shears...that I was ALLOWED to take, you know, by federal law, but not by the law of that big fat loud bitch. See cuz Monday, I'd have used those scissors to hijack the plane, but come Thursday, I'd have just been using them to cut the pokeys out of my braids. Its all a matter of four days.
Thank god that security guard was there to save the world from my evil tyranny. I fly out of Dallas Thursday. I swear if they give me one SHIT INCH of grief, I'm done traveling. My job can shove it right up their ass. With the metal tip of my New Rock boot.
Guess what I'm getting for Xmas now...
new shears...
:(
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
OMFG the Conspiracy Theorists were RIGHT! *you might wanna read this*
So you all heard about the bankruptcy laws changing in October, right?? Well, these new laws make it nearly impossible for American citizens to file bankruptcy out from under their debt. Isn't that a great law? FUCKERS. Anyway....after this law passed I started hearing rumors from my husband and some other whackjob conspiracy theorists (the ones that see a cop firing a gun behind every grassy knoll) that credit card companies, now empowered with this law, were going to up their minimum payments to nearly double what they were before. Why not drag more money out of us? We can't get out from under debt now, so there's nothing we can do about it...we have to take it, once again, in the ass...
Well, I dismissed this...as you can plainly see...as conspiratorial bullcrap, much like the cop behind the grassy knoll theory... No way that's gonna happen, right? Credit card companies can't be that stupid and coldhearted, considering what gas and heating oil is currently costing us...
Right.
Got my credit card bill today. Normally $159 minimum payment (yeah I'm in debt up to my eyeballs...its called surviving grad school...so what of it...like I give a fuck). Minimum payment as of today is.... $217! I looked on the bill, interest rate had not changed (that is this particular company's favorite trick, second only to lowering your credit limit to exactly $100 under what your current balance is, then charging you for being overlimit and demanding the overage immediately. DONT GET AN AT&T UNIVERSAL CARD).
I called the credit card company, and politely asked why my minimum payment went up 50% over last month. I knew what was up as soon as the helpful representative (who spoke clear and concise English...thank you very much) mentioned that the laws had changed in October...
I stopped her right there, didn't even let her finish because I knew where this was going... and my politeness had already run away and hid in a fucking closet. I said, *So, you're telling me that since I can no longer file bankruptcy out from under this debt, you've taken the opportunity to screw me by increasing my minimum payment by 50% each month?* Well, she explained, that was not the case, they were instead doing this as a *service* to their customers, as they are concerned that it takes too many years to pay off credit card debt.
Mandatory minimum payment increases are now a SERVICE to me? Great. As a service to my eBay bidders, my auctions will now start at a minimum price of $40. Doesn't sound like customer fucking SERVICE, does it? *Dont worry, Im not raising my starting prices for real haha*
Well, I knew about all this beforehand, having talked, as I said, with my husband and the various *there's a cop shooting from the grassy knoll* people. I heard from these types that credit card companies were the major lobbying force behind the bankruptcy law changes, and that as a concession to congress to get them to pass the laws, they had to do *something* to make it take less than 40 years to pay off a $10,000 credit card debt. Their answer? Require us to pay more! GENIUS! Again I blew this all off as bs, like I said...how could anyone allow the credit card companies to lobby to take away our rights of debt forgiveness...its just not right, so there's no way that happened...
Well, omfg...the conspiracy theorists were right. And now I wanna know who the fuck that cop is I see shooting from the grassy knoll...
*as a post-comment, how to fix this problem if you run into it: Credit card companies are required to have you agree to certain terms and conditions if you want to have a credit card. Your minimum payment is defined in those terms and CANNOT BE CHANGED until your card expires, without your agreement. When they get ready to raise your minimum payment, the credit card company MUST present you with new terms and conditions. Most people figure that there is nothing they can do about it, and ignore it. WRONG! Your terms and conditions are like a lease, when they change your minimum payment, its like your leasing agent coming up to you and saying, well, rent was $400, now we decided its $600. You'd never let that happen because you have a lease, right? Same with the terms. They will send you the terms and conditions. If you don't respond to the terms within a set period of time, this constitutes your AGREEMENT to the new terms. If you get a new terms and conditions specifying a raised minimum payment, or a raised interest rate, or anything you dont like...call them and DECLINE THE TERMS IMMEDIATELY. What happens then? Well, nothing until your credit card expires. They can't change anything until then, just like in a lease. So they can't raise your minimum. The down side? Once your card expires, the account is closed (like moving out of your apartment at the end of a lease), you can no longer use the card, and you have to continue to pay off the account balance...but here is the good part...according to the terms you agreed to. Remember, as long as you owe them money, they are gonna keep trying to trick you by sending you new terms and conditions...read them! Or pay attention to your bill.
Fuck them, fuck George W. Bush, fuck gas companies, fuck heating oil companies, fuck everyone who tries to hang a bucket everyfuckingwhere I leak. I'm tired of all of you.
Well, I dismissed this...as you can plainly see...as conspiratorial bullcrap, much like the cop behind the grassy knoll theory... No way that's gonna happen, right? Credit card companies can't be that stupid and coldhearted, considering what gas and heating oil is currently costing us...
Right.
Got my credit card bill today. Normally $159 minimum payment (yeah I'm in debt up to my eyeballs...its called surviving grad school...so what of it...like I give a fuck). Minimum payment as of today is.... $217! I looked on the bill, interest rate had not changed (that is this particular company's favorite trick, second only to lowering your credit limit to exactly $100 under what your current balance is, then charging you for being overlimit and demanding the overage immediately. DONT GET AN AT&T UNIVERSAL CARD).
I called the credit card company, and politely asked why my minimum payment went up 50% over last month. I knew what was up as soon as the helpful representative (who spoke clear and concise English...thank you very much) mentioned that the laws had changed in October...
I stopped her right there, didn't even let her finish because I knew where this was going... and my politeness had already run away and hid in a fucking closet. I said, *So, you're telling me that since I can no longer file bankruptcy out from under this debt, you've taken the opportunity to screw me by increasing my minimum payment by 50% each month?* Well, she explained, that was not the case, they were instead doing this as a *service* to their customers, as they are concerned that it takes too many years to pay off credit card debt.
Mandatory minimum payment increases are now a SERVICE to me? Great. As a service to my eBay bidders, my auctions will now start at a minimum price of $40. Doesn't sound like customer fucking SERVICE, does it? *Dont worry, Im not raising my starting prices for real haha*
Well, I knew about all this beforehand, having talked, as I said, with my husband and the various *there's a cop shooting from the grassy knoll* people. I heard from these types that credit card companies were the major lobbying force behind the bankruptcy law changes, and that as a concession to congress to get them to pass the laws, they had to do *something* to make it take less than 40 years to pay off a $10,000 credit card debt. Their answer? Require us to pay more! GENIUS! Again I blew this all off as bs, like I said...how could anyone allow the credit card companies to lobby to take away our rights of debt forgiveness...its just not right, so there's no way that happened...
Well, omfg...the conspiracy theorists were right. And now I wanna know who the fuck that cop is I see shooting from the grassy knoll...
*as a post-comment, how to fix this problem if you run into it: Credit card companies are required to have you agree to certain terms and conditions if you want to have a credit card. Your minimum payment is defined in those terms and CANNOT BE CHANGED until your card expires, without your agreement. When they get ready to raise your minimum payment, the credit card company MUST present you with new terms and conditions. Most people figure that there is nothing they can do about it, and ignore it. WRONG! Your terms and conditions are like a lease, when they change your minimum payment, its like your leasing agent coming up to you and saying, well, rent was $400, now we decided its $600. You'd never let that happen because you have a lease, right? Same with the terms. They will send you the terms and conditions. If you don't respond to the terms within a set period of time, this constitutes your AGREEMENT to the new terms. If you get a new terms and conditions specifying a raised minimum payment, or a raised interest rate, or anything you dont like...call them and DECLINE THE TERMS IMMEDIATELY. What happens then? Well, nothing until your credit card expires. They can't change anything until then, just like in a lease. So they can't raise your minimum. The down side? Once your card expires, the account is closed (like moving out of your apartment at the end of a lease), you can no longer use the card, and you have to continue to pay off the account balance...but here is the good part...according to the terms you agreed to. Remember, as long as you owe them money, they are gonna keep trying to trick you by sending you new terms and conditions...read them! Or pay attention to your bill.
Fuck them, fuck George W. Bush, fuck gas companies, fuck heating oil companies, fuck everyone who tries to hang a bucket everyfuckingwhere I leak. I'm tired of all of you.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
I Feel Like a Sellout and a Whore...
But I have to do it.
I joined LiveJournal, and also kinda *did something* with my otherwise unused MySpace account. I advertised my new auctions last night....UGH.... retched hell...in some DIY/auction/goth communities that I found. I am also doing some research and find even more communities to whore my clothing in. Again, everyone else in DIY does this. And having no choice but to do something that follows *the crowd* leaves me feeling really...uck. Just...uck.
But I did it. Had to be done. That's how business has to run, at least for me. I have GOT to get the word out that I'm here... there are those sellers that don't have to do JACK SHIT to get great business...again, as it seems with all things, I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE SELLERS. So yeah... I'm an LJ whore... a MySpace whore... and now I'm just like everyone else. Begging you...begging...begging...you to please please please please bid on my items.
I feel like I could vomit. I feel so... well, I have some other feelings on the matter but I'm going to keep them to myself for a change, before I offend. But I had no choice. Not if I want to take this to the next level...
Get used to seeing me around. Oh by the way... buy my product... There's a link on the right, I think. If not, there soon will be :S
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
It's Like a Spiral, only not so much....
Okay then, I've been sitting here staring at this blog editor for about 10 minutes. I have a lot on my mind today, and I have a lot of things inside me that really need to come out. But here I sit staring at this blog editor. Why? Oh I guess there are a lot of reasons. Am I gonna say what those reasons are? Probably not. Because I'm just sitting here staring at this blog editor.
Rode the train in the morning, was sitting thinking of corset ideas (my life is sooo interesting...can you tell?) and just staring out the window, watching the world go by. The train is a nice ride. Very relaxing usually. Today I sat up front near the engine, usually I sit in the back in the *quiet car* - no talking, no cell phones, no noise, you get the idea. I think after today that I'm going back to the quiet car. I hate sitting listening to people talk on cell phones, and these days, thats all you get, so to block out the cell phone chatter this morning on the train I went ahead and plugged in to the MP3 player and cranked some Lamb of God at maximum volume...(and really, who the FUCK are these people talking to on their cell phones at 7am???? If someone called me at 7am, there better have been a death in the family, because if not, I can guarantee you there's fixin' to be one). Ironic that to get the quiet I needed, I had to play Lamb of God at full volume....maybe its not so much the quiet I crave...I just don't want my space (even my aural space) to be invaded by other people.
In any case, I was sitting on the train, enveloped in the turmoil generated by Randy Blythe screaming in my head ~ ahhh the serenity :) ~ thinking about corset ideas. And about how great it would be to NOT be on that train but rather at home, working for myself as my own boss...hahahah yeah right. Pipe dreaming I believe is what they call that. It really depresses me. It depresses me to read the bios of others who do full time as I do in my spare time...how do they do it? How does anyone generate any acutual, palpable, respectable income working from home? Especially in DIY. Christ. My best ever sales months, BEST EVER, didn't equal up to one paycheck that I make sitting in this cubicle hell. And right now, I'm not even having a string of really great sales months. I'm just squeaking out powerseller status by a hope and prayer right now, I'm on the cusp of getting the dreaded *your account no longer meets bronze powerseller status* email... Of course some of it is my fault ~ I've been travelling sooooooo much with work, my commute time has doubled since I've moved to the suburbs ~ I don't have the TIME to put into my gear that I would love to have. I get maybe 4 hours a night of free time, 5 nights a week. 20 hours a week is not enough for me to make even 2 items. Not even close. So yeah, my time is rapidly constricting on me. And if you can't put out product, you can't sell it. Duh. I've wracked my brain trying to figure out how I can solve this problem short of not eating or sleeping any more, but I am fresh out of solutions. The only real solution is to quit my day job and jump into sewing full time...
The pause was me stopping to wipe my eyes...I tend to tear up when I laugh that hard...
*sigh* its the proverbial rock and a hard place. You want something different for your life than what you have, but your life is structured in such a way as to prohibit any deviance from the course you have already set. This is why so many of us end up alcoholics, or worse yet, statistics....
I also wonder why so many DIY bidders/buyers avoid me like the plague...if any of you reading this fit this description (which would be kind of odd that you'd be reading this, but stranger things have happened...) drop me an email explaining this phenomenon. Seriously. I want to know what the hell I'm doing wrong. Drop me a line at freak@angrylittledeadgirl.com. Be honest. I can take it, believe me.
I have a lot of spare time at work (which could be put to soooo much better use...) so I watch a lot of ebay...I watch A LOT. I see just about everything that goes on. And I see a lot of bidders who just go nuts on other auctions...but I've never seen them on my auctions. Yeah, I know, my gear doesn't appeal to everyone, but there are other sellers out there whose tastes and styles are very similar to mine, and these bidders, who go nuts on those seller's items (I can explain the *go nuts* thing in a minute, if i remember to) seem to not even know I exist. I mean it's strange...they bid (and bid high, which kind of = *going nuts*) on the work of these other DIY sellers but somehow manage to completely miss me. Hmmm. Maybe I've overexaggerated my presence in the market. I see a lot of sellers getting 1000 + hits on their auctions on a 7 day auction. I am lucky to get 350 hits in 7 days. Why is that? Why am I not being seen? Or worse yet, if I'm being seen, why am I being passed over? I just don't know...
I need to take aNGrYGiRL Gear to the next level. But I have no idea how to accomplish that given my time constraints and my apparent lack of market presence. I wonder, do people lack confidence in my sewing ability? Haha maybe I gotta add something in my about me page about how I've been *sewing since I was a little girl* or how *my grandma taught me to sew* or *I started sewing by making barbie clothes*....bah... I just hate that shit. It's so...I dunno, everyone just does it and the simple fact that everyone does it makes it absolutely repellent to me. I'd just love to scream out *I can fucking sew!!* .... hey wait this is MY fucking blog....
I CAN FUCKING SEW!!
Grand, now the three people who read this, and who already knew that, know it even louder than before...heh. No really, I have a sick innate talent for sewing. I guess I'm THAT anal and THAT much of a perfectionist and SOOOO left-brained that it fits my given abilities perfectly. I can also make any computer my bitch ;) And do math. Its all the same sort of thing. It's just something I can do, and do well, and do right. There's not much more that I CAN do well and do right, so I gotta take ownership of the few talents I have :)
Yeah so I'm kinda really down. I don't know what more to do to take this beyond...to ratchet this shit up a notch or two so that maybe, maybe...maybe....MAYBE...if I devoted myself to it full time, that I could possibly eek out half a semblance of an income at it. I guess I'm just going to have to work harder to A) convince people that I'm for real...that my work is worthy of a bid, and worthy of someone's hard earned money B) get some FUCKING ATTENTION. HELLO I'M HERE WHY AREN'T YOU SEEING ME??...that sort of thing. Not just attention in general, LOL. I draw enough of that just walking down the street and C) find the time somehow, somewhere, some way...to get out more product without sacrificing even a fucking TIDBIT of quality...
Just like I said...a pipe dream. The kind I will continue to have every Monday thru Friday morning, sitting on the train, watching the world pass by.
Rode the train in the morning, was sitting thinking of corset ideas (my life is sooo interesting...can you tell?) and just staring out the window, watching the world go by. The train is a nice ride. Very relaxing usually. Today I sat up front near the engine, usually I sit in the back in the *quiet car* - no talking, no cell phones, no noise, you get the idea. I think after today that I'm going back to the quiet car. I hate sitting listening to people talk on cell phones, and these days, thats all you get, so to block out the cell phone chatter this morning on the train I went ahead and plugged in to the MP3 player and cranked some Lamb of God at maximum volume...(and really, who the FUCK are these people talking to on their cell phones at 7am???? If someone called me at 7am, there better have been a death in the family, because if not, I can guarantee you there's fixin' to be one). Ironic that to get the quiet I needed, I had to play Lamb of God at full volume....maybe its not so much the quiet I crave...I just don't want my space (even my aural space) to be invaded by other people.
In any case, I was sitting on the train, enveloped in the turmoil generated by Randy Blythe screaming in my head ~ ahhh the serenity :) ~ thinking about corset ideas. And about how great it would be to NOT be on that train but rather at home, working for myself as my own boss...hahahah yeah right. Pipe dreaming I believe is what they call that. It really depresses me. It depresses me to read the bios of others who do full time as I do in my spare time...how do they do it? How does anyone generate any acutual, palpable, respectable income working from home? Especially in DIY. Christ. My best ever sales months, BEST EVER, didn't equal up to one paycheck that I make sitting in this cubicle hell. And right now, I'm not even having a string of really great sales months. I'm just squeaking out powerseller status by a hope and prayer right now, I'm on the cusp of getting the dreaded *your account no longer meets bronze powerseller status* email... Of course some of it is my fault ~ I've been travelling sooooooo much with work, my commute time has doubled since I've moved to the suburbs ~ I don't have the TIME to put into my gear that I would love to have. I get maybe 4 hours a night of free time, 5 nights a week. 20 hours a week is not enough for me to make even 2 items. Not even close. So yeah, my time is rapidly constricting on me. And if you can't put out product, you can't sell it. Duh. I've wracked my brain trying to figure out how I can solve this problem short of not eating or sleeping any more, but I am fresh out of solutions. The only real solution is to quit my day job and jump into sewing full time...
The pause was me stopping to wipe my eyes...I tend to tear up when I laugh that hard...
*sigh* its the proverbial rock and a hard place. You want something different for your life than what you have, but your life is structured in such a way as to prohibit any deviance from the course you have already set. This is why so many of us end up alcoholics, or worse yet, statistics....
I also wonder why so many DIY bidders/buyers avoid me like the plague...if any of you reading this fit this description (which would be kind of odd that you'd be reading this, but stranger things have happened...) drop me an email explaining this phenomenon. Seriously. I want to know what the hell I'm doing wrong. Drop me a line at freak@angrylittledeadgirl.com. Be honest. I can take it, believe me.
I have a lot of spare time at work (which could be put to soooo much better use...) so I watch a lot of ebay...I watch A LOT. I see just about everything that goes on. And I see a lot of bidders who just go nuts on other auctions...but I've never seen them on my auctions. Yeah, I know, my gear doesn't appeal to everyone, but there are other sellers out there whose tastes and styles are very similar to mine, and these bidders, who go nuts on those seller's items (I can explain the *go nuts* thing in a minute, if i remember to) seem to not even know I exist. I mean it's strange...they bid (and bid high, which kind of = *going nuts*) on the work of these other DIY sellers but somehow manage to completely miss me. Hmmm. Maybe I've overexaggerated my presence in the market. I see a lot of sellers getting 1000 + hits on their auctions on a 7 day auction. I am lucky to get 350 hits in 7 days. Why is that? Why am I not being seen? Or worse yet, if I'm being seen, why am I being passed over? I just don't know...
I need to take aNGrYGiRL Gear to the next level. But I have no idea how to accomplish that given my time constraints and my apparent lack of market presence. I wonder, do people lack confidence in my sewing ability? Haha maybe I gotta add something in my about me page about how I've been *sewing since I was a little girl* or how *my grandma taught me to sew* or *I started sewing by making barbie clothes*....bah... I just hate that shit. It's so...I dunno, everyone just does it and the simple fact that everyone does it makes it absolutely repellent to me. I'd just love to scream out *I can fucking sew!!* .... hey wait this is MY fucking blog....
I CAN FUCKING SEW!!
Grand, now the three people who read this, and who already knew that, know it even louder than before...heh. No really, I have a sick innate talent for sewing. I guess I'm THAT anal and THAT much of a perfectionist and SOOOO left-brained that it fits my given abilities perfectly. I can also make any computer my bitch ;) And do math. Its all the same sort of thing. It's just something I can do, and do well, and do right. There's not much more that I CAN do well and do right, so I gotta take ownership of the few talents I have :)
Yeah so I'm kinda really down. I don't know what more to do to take this beyond...to ratchet this shit up a notch or two so that maybe, maybe...maybe....MAYBE...if I devoted myself to it full time, that I could possibly eek out half a semblance of an income at it. I guess I'm just going to have to work harder to A) convince people that I'm for real...that my work is worthy of a bid, and worthy of someone's hard earned money B) get some FUCKING ATTENTION. HELLO I'M HERE WHY AREN'T YOU SEEING ME??...that sort of thing. Not just attention in general, LOL. I draw enough of that just walking down the street and C) find the time somehow, somewhere, some way...to get out more product without sacrificing even a fucking TIDBIT of quality...
Just like I said...a pipe dream. The kind I will continue to have every Monday thru Friday morning, sitting on the train, watching the world pass by.
Monday, December 05, 2005
When the Cops Come All I Hear Is *whoo whoo whoo*
Please don't think I listen to that kind of music...it's just one of the songs that my husband's Xbox plays a LOT...hahah
Yeah I've been a bit of a rabble rouser lately. Dunno what the fuck my problem is. Almost got arrested at the Atlanta airport...the security guard lady apparantly told some another guard that I was a *psycho*...of course not in front of me (because I'm a psycho) but I was there with about 6 other coworkers and they heard her say it. It all started because I had D-rings on my shirt, and suspicious looking luggage (its called a SERGER...ugh I get tired of explaining it at airports). Well the serger set them off...then I dinged when I walked through the metal detector (I know better than to wear that damn shirt, I was having an off moment). Then the next thing you know I'm hustled into a clear plastic hallway with some clear plastic door and I'm not allowed to touch my luggage (they had special people bring it over CAREFULLY so that it could be searched). Well to make a long story short, I've never been treated like a TERRORIST at an airport before, so when they started shouting their instructions at me, in garbled fucking ebonics no less, I had NO idea what the hell they were asking me to do. I couldnt understand a fucking word so I was trying to figure it out ~ I happen to speak very clear and concise ENGLISH...wish all americans did ~ so I'm trying to figure out what the fuck is going on...they are literally restraining me from grabbing my luggage ~ they asked something like is anyone traveling with you who can watch your luggage...or something??? I don't really know...I pointed at a coworker and said she's with me but she can't carry all that ~ a serger and a sewing machine AND a carry on bag ~ too much stuff ~ so I went to grab one to help out and that's when all hell broke loose. Like I said, I've always been treated like a whitebread american citizen in the airports before, especially because I carry a badge...lol...so I didnt know I couldnt touch my luggage once I was a terrorist suspect....
Anyway they whisk me off to an area...three people carrying my luggage in tow...and I swear...the security guard did NOT speak english...she points at a mat on the ground with foot marks on it...mumbles something about standing on the mat, so I do, presuming my feet should go where the feets marks are on the mat...well, one foot was half off the foot mark and the guard yells...GET YOUR FOOT ON THE MATCHING SPOT ON THE MAT...I was like OOOOOKAY christ. Then there were mumblings about put your arms up...So I did. Apparantly you're supposed to turn your palms up when you do this, which was not expressed to me, so the bitch HITS ME in the arm with her little metal detector palm and yelled....PALMS UP. Yeah, hits me. Because I'm a psycho. I don't know at what level of this retardation I became the psycho...maybe they pegged me as such before I ever went through the machine because they were busy judging books by their covers...but whatever... I got the full pat down, everything. I'm suprised I didn't get a cavity search.... and I got to spend another 10 minutes explaining the functionality of a serger...
See because I am a terrorist. With a serger. Fly this plane to Cuba or I'll....sew you all fucking jackets!!! Nooooooo....
I find it ironic because that day was the first day you were allowed to start carrying sharp objects in your carry on bags again. The FAA has decided that sharp objects do not represent the biggest threat to air travel. At this point I take the wayback machine to the past....and seem to recall that the 9/11 planes were hijacked with....boxcutters??? Are those not small sharp objects? Now, shoes and laptops...those are the BIGGEST dangers to air travel. One asshole one time tries *and fails* to light some bomb or firecracker or something lodged in his shoe...and shoes are suddenly the biggest threat to air travel. I'm suprised they don't make us fly nude. You cant wear your shoes or jacket through the metal detector any more...
Well, anyway, I made it home. And didn't come up on any federal charges for obstruction of justice or terrorism...or failure to understand ebonics, or anything like that.
And then on Saturday, I went to Best Buy. I was looking for a processor fan for my computer....it was running too hot and kept shutting down and I looked and lo and behold...the fan is not turning...duh... So yeah, I went to Best Buy, and they didnt have it (its socket A, its practically legacy equipment) but they referred me to a geek store that might have it. I had to make a right out of this huge strip mall parking lot. and as I'm driving down the parking lot, parallel to the road I need to get on, I see NO opportunity to turn right. No exits. None. So I get all the way to end of the strip mall (there are like 10 major stores all in a row at this thing...so its like half a mile long with NO right turns out of it) and I see a light to the left that I can turn right on. Go to make the left out of the parking lot to go to the light and...NO LEFT TURN? What the fuck? Like they KNOW you need to turn right at that light and are gonna do everything possible to ensure you never ever ever leave their lot. So I looked around real good, didn't see any of our fine law enforcement officials, and went left anyway.
When the cops come, all I hear is *whoo whoo whoo*
Fucker was in an unmarked, regular person car... *sigh* Officer came to the window - an african american lady who... guess what... spoke in clear and concise english THANK YOU VERY MUCH...and she comes to the window and starts her spiel and all I say is, * I know, I know*. No argument from me, you caught me.
Oh and did you know you can get a ticket for not immediately presenting your license and registration information? I mean IMMEDIATELY. Like they come to the window and you shove it in their face right then because if you waste 10 seconds of their time looking for it (like I did...) you get a ticket. I was lucky and got a warning on the 10 seconds of her life I wasted. But I didn't get so lucky on the left turn. $80!! Jeebus H!! I got caught speeding last year (90 in a 55...heh) and only paid $170! $80 for a left turn! I asked the nice, clear speaking officer why exactly it was that I couldnt turn right anywhere onto the street I needed. Her answer: People were turning right out of the parking lot and not going fast enough and getting T-boned by oncoming traffic. She said they had a wreck out of that parking lot every day til they closed it off.
People, if you can't turn right out of a freaking parking lot onto a busy road without getting hit.... you deserve a T-boning. Its called natural selection. If you are that inept, do us all a favor and put your car in the garage and walk. Seriously.
So how do you get out of the Best Buy parking lot? You have to go behind the buildings to a residential area that's nice and safe with no chance of being T-boned and apparantly at some point it spits you out onto the street you wanted.... but I bet you still have to make a right turn there somewhere....
I'm a psycho....heh
bitches.
Yeah I've been a bit of a rabble rouser lately. Dunno what the fuck my problem is. Almost got arrested at the Atlanta airport...the security guard lady apparantly told some another guard that I was a *psycho*...of course not in front of me (because I'm a psycho) but I was there with about 6 other coworkers and they heard her say it. It all started because I had D-rings on my shirt, and suspicious looking luggage (its called a SERGER...ugh I get tired of explaining it at airports). Well the serger set them off...then I dinged when I walked through the metal detector (I know better than to wear that damn shirt, I was having an off moment). Then the next thing you know I'm hustled into a clear plastic hallway with some clear plastic door and I'm not allowed to touch my luggage (they had special people bring it over CAREFULLY so that it could be searched). Well to make a long story short, I've never been treated like a TERRORIST at an airport before, so when they started shouting their instructions at me, in garbled fucking ebonics no less, I had NO idea what the hell they were asking me to do. I couldnt understand a fucking word so I was trying to figure it out ~ I happen to speak very clear and concise ENGLISH...wish all americans did ~ so I'm trying to figure out what the fuck is going on...they are literally restraining me from grabbing my luggage ~ they asked something like is anyone traveling with you who can watch your luggage...or something??? I don't really know...I pointed at a coworker and said she's with me but she can't carry all that ~ a serger and a sewing machine AND a carry on bag ~ too much stuff ~ so I went to grab one to help out and that's when all hell broke loose. Like I said, I've always been treated like a whitebread american citizen in the airports before, especially because I carry a badge...lol...so I didnt know I couldnt touch my luggage once I was a terrorist suspect....
Anyway they whisk me off to an area...three people carrying my luggage in tow...and I swear...the security guard did NOT speak english...she points at a mat on the ground with foot marks on it...mumbles something about standing on the mat, so I do, presuming my feet should go where the feets marks are on the mat...well, one foot was half off the foot mark and the guard yells...GET YOUR FOOT ON THE MATCHING SPOT ON THE MAT...I was like OOOOOKAY christ. Then there were mumblings about put your arms up...So I did. Apparantly you're supposed to turn your palms up when you do this, which was not expressed to me, so the bitch HITS ME in the arm with her little metal detector palm and yelled....PALMS UP. Yeah, hits me. Because I'm a psycho. I don't know at what level of this retardation I became the psycho...maybe they pegged me as such before I ever went through the machine because they were busy judging books by their covers...but whatever... I got the full pat down, everything. I'm suprised I didn't get a cavity search.... and I got to spend another 10 minutes explaining the functionality of a serger...
See because I am a terrorist. With a serger. Fly this plane to Cuba or I'll....sew you all fucking jackets!!! Nooooooo....
I find it ironic because that day was the first day you were allowed to start carrying sharp objects in your carry on bags again. The FAA has decided that sharp objects do not represent the biggest threat to air travel. At this point I take the wayback machine to the past....and seem to recall that the 9/11 planes were hijacked with....boxcutters??? Are those not small sharp objects? Now, shoes and laptops...those are the BIGGEST dangers to air travel. One asshole one time tries *and fails* to light some bomb or firecracker or something lodged in his shoe...and shoes are suddenly the biggest threat to air travel. I'm suprised they don't make us fly nude. You cant wear your shoes or jacket through the metal detector any more...
Well, anyway, I made it home. And didn't come up on any federal charges for obstruction of justice or terrorism...or failure to understand ebonics, or anything like that.
And then on Saturday, I went to Best Buy. I was looking for a processor fan for my computer....it was running too hot and kept shutting down and I looked and lo and behold...the fan is not turning...duh... So yeah, I went to Best Buy, and they didnt have it (its socket A, its practically legacy equipment) but they referred me to a geek store that might have it. I had to make a right out of this huge strip mall parking lot. and as I'm driving down the parking lot, parallel to the road I need to get on, I see NO opportunity to turn right. No exits. None. So I get all the way to end of the strip mall (there are like 10 major stores all in a row at this thing...so its like half a mile long with NO right turns out of it) and I see a light to the left that I can turn right on. Go to make the left out of the parking lot to go to the light and...NO LEFT TURN? What the fuck? Like they KNOW you need to turn right at that light and are gonna do everything possible to ensure you never ever ever leave their lot. So I looked around real good, didn't see any of our fine law enforcement officials, and went left anyway.
When the cops come, all I hear is *whoo whoo whoo*
Fucker was in an unmarked, regular person car... *sigh* Officer came to the window - an african american lady who... guess what... spoke in clear and concise english THANK YOU VERY MUCH...and she comes to the window and starts her spiel and all I say is, * I know, I know*. No argument from me, you caught me.
Oh and did you know you can get a ticket for not immediately presenting your license and registration information? I mean IMMEDIATELY. Like they come to the window and you shove it in their face right then because if you waste 10 seconds of their time looking for it (like I did...) you get a ticket. I was lucky and got a warning on the 10 seconds of her life I wasted. But I didn't get so lucky on the left turn. $80!! Jeebus H!! I got caught speeding last year (90 in a 55...heh) and only paid $170! $80 for a left turn! I asked the nice, clear speaking officer why exactly it was that I couldnt turn right anywhere onto the street I needed. Her answer: People were turning right out of the parking lot and not going fast enough and getting T-boned by oncoming traffic. She said they had a wreck out of that parking lot every day til they closed it off.
People, if you can't turn right out of a freaking parking lot onto a busy road without getting hit.... you deserve a T-boning. Its called natural selection. If you are that inept, do us all a favor and put your car in the garage and walk. Seriously.
So how do you get out of the Best Buy parking lot? You have to go behind the buildings to a residential area that's nice and safe with no chance of being T-boned and apparantly at some point it spits you out onto the street you wanted.... but I bet you still have to make a right turn there somewhere....
I'm a psycho....heh
bitches.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Atlanta
Atlanta is like my own personal little hell.
And its not Atlanta's fault. Anywhere my supervisor's had decided to hold this staff meeting - short of, oh say in WASHINGTON DC where we fucking live - would have been my new personal little hell. I'm staying downtown in a really nice and expensive hotel (your tax dollars at work) and I've just discovered that it costs $10 a day for the internet use, and $7 a day to use their on-site fitness facility (*gym*). $7 a day for an onsite gym? I mean, I've been to hotels before that don't have gyms and they cut a deal with the local Golds or Ballys or whatever and hotel guests can go to the gym for like $7 a visit or some such. But never ever have I had to pay to use a hotel's own onsite equipment. But now I have to pay $17 a day for 5 days to have access to the things I already have *and am paying for as well* back in Laurel...all because the bosses want to get away from their wives and kids...
So yeah to make a long story short I don't have that kind of cash. I'm fucking broke and no matter how much I tell work that, they can't seem to get me that promotion and raise that I've been screwed out of twice now....red tape bureaucratic bullshit....the new people coming in to the job - who have the same education I do and LESS experience....are making $10,000 a year more than I am because human resources fucked up my paperwork when I started (seriously) and since its a federal job, once you accept the position it CANNOT BE CHANGED EVER(seriously). They've been trying to find work arounds to fix this problem for almost a year now. Every work around has failed. Meanwhile I really enjoy having these brand new coworkers start at a higher grade and salary than I'm making. They're buying clothes and new cars....and I'm sinking under my creditors. I REALLY enjoy that. It REALLY makes me want to come to fucking work every morning. Really.
So yeah to make a long story long....I don't have the kind of cash to spend $100 on the hotel amenities that are COMMONPLACE in my home. And work will not reimburse for them. Because they are not necessary for my job function. So tonight I don't work out...and I just get fatter, and I'm borrowing - yes borrowing - my co-worker's internet login while she sleeps so that I can at least WATCH my auctions end and answer any last minute questions.
And here is something else that my workplace REFUSES to understand. When I'm not at work, I am on MY time. I have a LOOOOOT of shit to get done on MY time, including running MY business. When they make me travel constantly....they are taking away MY time. Oh, they will say, we aren't making you do any work after regular work hours. Your evenings are still free just like every other day. You sit on your ass at home and watch TV every night right? Well, you can do that here too. No harm done.
Yeah, well sure...but im in ATLANTA, NOT HOME. And being asked to finance amenities that I have in my home already. Oh and where is my industrial sewing machine right now? Not here. I can't drag it out of my HOME and bring it here. And what about cleaning my house? And the 100 errands I have to run? Oh yeah. Maybe I'll just hop in my car and ... what? No car? Well, then fuck it. Maybe I will just use MY time to go cuddle up with my husband and sleep...oh wait....
This is an absolute infringment on MY time. And most likely a waste of YOUR tax dollars as an added bonus. And it really really sucks. Oh shit...got to run....she needs her internet back :S Will write more later....maybe some actual happy positive stuff ... heheh riiiiight.
And its not Atlanta's fault. Anywhere my supervisor's had decided to hold this staff meeting - short of, oh say in WASHINGTON DC where we fucking live - would have been my new personal little hell. I'm staying downtown in a really nice and expensive hotel (your tax dollars at work) and I've just discovered that it costs $10 a day for the internet use, and $7 a day to use their on-site fitness facility (*gym*). $7 a day for an onsite gym? I mean, I've been to hotels before that don't have gyms and they cut a deal with the local Golds or Ballys or whatever and hotel guests can go to the gym for like $7 a visit or some such. But never ever have I had to pay to use a hotel's own onsite equipment. But now I have to pay $17 a day for 5 days to have access to the things I already have *and am paying for as well* back in Laurel...all because the bosses want to get away from their wives and kids...
So yeah to make a long story short I don't have that kind of cash. I'm fucking broke and no matter how much I tell work that, they can't seem to get me that promotion and raise that I've been screwed out of twice now....red tape bureaucratic bullshit....the new people coming in to the job - who have the same education I do and LESS experience....are making $10,000 a year more than I am because human resources fucked up my paperwork when I started (seriously) and since its a federal job, once you accept the position it CANNOT BE CHANGED EVER(seriously). They've been trying to find work arounds to fix this problem for almost a year now. Every work around has failed. Meanwhile I really enjoy having these brand new coworkers start at a higher grade and salary than I'm making. They're buying clothes and new cars....and I'm sinking under my creditors. I REALLY enjoy that. It REALLY makes me want to come to fucking work every morning. Really.
So yeah to make a long story long....I don't have the kind of cash to spend $100 on the hotel amenities that are COMMONPLACE in my home. And work will not reimburse for them. Because they are not necessary for my job function. So tonight I don't work out...and I just get fatter, and I'm borrowing - yes borrowing - my co-worker's internet login while she sleeps so that I can at least WATCH my auctions end and answer any last minute questions.
And here is something else that my workplace REFUSES to understand. When I'm not at work, I am on MY time. I have a LOOOOOT of shit to get done on MY time, including running MY business. When they make me travel constantly....they are taking away MY time. Oh, they will say, we aren't making you do any work after regular work hours. Your evenings are still free just like every other day. You sit on your ass at home and watch TV every night right? Well, you can do that here too. No harm done.
Yeah, well sure...but im in ATLANTA, NOT HOME. And being asked to finance amenities that I have in my home already. Oh and where is my industrial sewing machine right now? Not here. I can't drag it out of my HOME and bring it here. And what about cleaning my house? And the 100 errands I have to run? Oh yeah. Maybe I'll just hop in my car and ... what? No car? Well, then fuck it. Maybe I will just use MY time to go cuddle up with my husband and sleep...oh wait....
This is an absolute infringment on MY time. And most likely a waste of YOUR tax dollars as an added bonus. And it really really sucks. Oh shit...got to run....she needs her internet back :S Will write more later....maybe some actual happy positive stuff ... heheh riiiiight.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Donuts......*drrrrrroooooool*
Here is your daily Tip for Living Well, brought to you by aNGrYLiTTLeDeAdGiRL:
If you have to be up at 6:30 in the morning to go to work, don't stay up til 2:30 in the morning playing Everquest 2 and drinking Molson XXX beer.
:) Not hungover so much as just BLECH feeling...that kind of *stale beer* feeling in the pit of my stomach. Yay! See, I have to finish my monk armor quest on my character so that I can be *super cool* ... I have six more of these damn lions to kill on the quest (the geeks call it AQ6 - armor quest #6) and I finally get the full set of armor. I sewed all night, then about midnight I stopped, turned on the game, and set about killing the multitude of items required by AQ6. Jeff got home at 1 am and brought...beer!!! with him, so I downed three of those in rapid succession, gave up on finding 6 more lions, and stumbled to bed. Then the alarm went off...like three seconds later... and here I am at work.
Yeah so im blech feeling, and I STILL don't have my *super cool* armor. I say *super cool* because simply stating that I'm doing armor quests on an online role playing game makes me waaaay less than *super cool* :) But I love online gaming...been doing it for years. Which reminds me I need to sell my damn Ultima Online account...
Anyone who plays EQ2 on Najena who wants to help me slaughter 6 fucking lions tonight in the TS for AQ6 please PST me ingame tonight cuz I'm a lvl 30 Monk LFG big time ;)
*super cool*, huh? :)
Speaking of drunk...hahah...I'm fixing to host a whopping big Thanksgiving party at my nearly empty and abandoned house in Pittsburgh! Ok its not gonna be whopping big, but I am having a special guest over - Shannon (Sugarkitty Corsets) and her husband are gonna be in town doing some holiday shopping - apparantly there is no IKEA in Ohio?? hahah - and I am gonna be in town packing up the attic and garage of my nearly empty and abandoned house - and we decided to combine efforts and have an alcohol-themed evening get together...complete with sleep over (camp out is more like it) at my house! YAY! It will probably be the last event I ever have there :( boooo. I'm trying to decide if its worth it to fill the hot tub and heat it up for one night :) heheh... Maybe I can talk her into buying the house :) COME ON YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO MOVE TO PITTSBURGH DAMN IT...
BTW anyone who wants to buy a house in Pittsburgh please feel free to contact me :) In fact its gonna be a famous house now, as I will be able to say *Sugarkitty slept here* hahah...
I've been a downright angry little bitch lately. I am WAAAAY tired of people. Pretty much tired of all people. There are TOO FUCKING MANY people on the east coast of the US. Too fucking many. And 80% of them have their heads so far up their asses that they walk around looking like little donuts... *there's a visual for you*
Seems there's a fucking donut in front of me everywhere I go now. Yesterday, no one wanted to walk on the left side of the escalator. They all just wanted to stand there like little donuts blocking the already fucking clogged artery out of the train station. Normally you see that once a week or so. Yesterday...EVERY escalator I hit was clogged full of fucking donuts.
Then there's the gargantuan fat ass who doesnt realize the amount of space she is taking up (or does realize but is *not even trying to hear that*) and waddles down the MIDDLE of the hallway...at a snail's pace of course because she is so fucking fat she can't move without breathing heavy. I will be the first to admit that I'm NOT thin, BUT if you can't walk at a normal pace, let alone a fucking brisk pace, maybe you should reevaluate what you're fucking stuffing in your mouth. And if you don't give a fuck and want to be a gargantuan fat ass...FINE...just realize that you ARE and get the fuck out of the way of people who have to get places. Rub up against a side for a change.
Then there's king donut jackass...another crowded metro train...I hop on, no place to sit. That's fine, I'm capable of standing. So I grab the nearest pole and hang on for dear life (No blindcoloradoperv, I wasn't twirling on it hahah....) Well there are seats behind the pole, and there are people sitting in them, including a very nice looking, healthy young man. I have a huge bag on my shoulder (all my workout gear...and computer geek gear) that tends to rest up against my butt (cuz my butt is so large and I'm short so it hangs low) and the metro is bumping and weaving and tilting to and fro...speeding down the track...making sudden stops...and you do your best to stay upright and not fall over on to people. Well anyway, this young man (I'd say 25 ish) taps me on the back...which is a BIG NO NO to begin with...DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!! ugh....and says, "I just wanted to let you know I'm sitting here behind you." What the fuck does that mean? OMG IS MY SWINGING BAG GETTING IN YOUR WAY? IS MY ASS GETTING TOO CLOSE TO YOU WHEN THE METRO COMES TO A SUDDEN STOP? cuz, asshole donut....I'M STANDING UP ON A SPEEDING TRAIN. And you, a perfectly healthy young MALE....are sitting down. And you're upset that as people are knocking around into each other that I'm getting TOO CLOSE TO YOU???? And guess what, fucktard non-chivalrous-not-gonna-offer-my-seat-to-a-lady ASSMUNCH...I happen to have KNOWN that you were there. You're sitting 2 feet away from me. I'm not a fucking retard. I just looked at this fucker with my best look and said, "What????" He went back to looking at his paper or his cell phone or what the fuck ever he was using to occupy his feeble little mind and didn't reply to me. Didn't offer me a seat either.
And then there are my own little fucked up idiosyncrasies (yes, that's spelled right) that drive me right up the wall, and have just fed my fire recently. I am so freaking clumsy it drives me nuts. Am I the only one who can't keep an MP3 player on my person, or the earbuds in my ears, for 3 whole minutes? I get on the train, the cord from the phones catches the door and pulls the fucking player out of my hands and on to the ground...I'm using the elliptical machine at the gym, grab the damn player to change songs, one of the moving handles catches the cord, and flings the fucking player ...which btw is a brand NEW 4 gig Nano... Ive been wanting an IPOD for just about ever ...and off it flies 10 feet in the air, landing with a clatter that makes me think I pretty much just trashed a new Nano...every time I lift a weight, an earbud falls out of my ear, and I either get to hear half the song in one ear until I'm done with the set, or if I'm really lucky the OTHER bud will fall out too and the headphones will just dangle there til I'm done. Then there's the headphone cord slammed in the car door (which doesn't do nice things to it), or me (or a cat) tripping over the cord as it sits on my desk recharging...and off it flies again. The earbuds come out of my ear if I even so much as TOUCH the side of my hair, like to move a braid out of my face...or if I walk too fast, or if I turn my head too fast, or if I think too hard...and trying to get the one earbud back in the ear causes enough movement that the OTHER one falls out. Seriously, everone else I see seems to have good MP3 player/earbud management skills...why am I walking around looking like a fucking Psycho Circus???? That Nano goes flying about every other day...
Ugh...once again I have written too damn much but when it starts to spill it just spills and it doesn't want to stop. I guess that's why writing this all down makes me feel better. It gets the poison out of the sytem for a while...until the next earbud falls out or the next donut dumps itself in my path. Oh yeah...one more donut last night. Ok, when you go to get on the Metro, the train stops at your stop for about...oh 20 seconds. The doors open, the departing passengers exit, then the new passengers get on. The driver, whenever he feels like it, sets off a door chime warning you that the doors are gonna close. Now, if they waited for everyone to get on before they closed the doors, the trains would never move because THERE ARE TOO MANY FUCKING PEOPLE and there is a continuous stream of traffic. So you can imagine what happens when the doorbells chime...donuts go into panic mode and start running for the door which btw is a really bad idea, because unlike an elevator, these doors DO NOT open back up when they hit something - like a body part or a purse. They close on whatever is there and sometimes (I saw a video on the news of this like 2 days ago in Tokyo or something) they don't open back up. And if you or your purse or your arm is stuck in that door...and the train starts moving...you know what's gonna happen. At any rate the donuts run. And the other day I was running late for my commuter train, and it only runs every hour, so if you miss it, you get to sit in Union Station for an hour, at the Ben and Jerrys store, having ice cream. Hey wait, why was I worried about missing the train??? hehe ANYHOO I was running late and the metro was already there and the doors were open and all of a sudden my head was rerouted through my ass and I started to run for the doors, figuring they would close at any second. And so did the dude ahead of me and a bunch of people behind me (pack instinct...yes, donuts are pack animals) Lo and behold, the door chimes went off and I was maybe three feet from the door and the dude in front of me was right at it. Gonna make it! The dude running in front of me...gets just inside the door...like RIGHT INSIDE....and STOPS!!! STOPS COLD!! Doesn't move to the fucking interior of the train like you're supposed to do. Stops. Blocking the door. That is fixing to close...on about 10 donuts (myself included) that are still running at full speed for the door. I guess he thought he was the last one in line for the train??? Fucktard. Well, I can't slow down fast enough so I figure I have to get on somehow and with the consequences...figure maybe I can squeeze around him. Well there was a donut behind me who was REALLY worried about missing that train and wasn't gonna NOT be on it, even tho the doors were closing. He PUSHES ME through the closing door and into the dude blocking the door...I couldnt even work my way around him...I got slammed INTO him. heh. Figured he learned his lesson about stopping at the threshold of the door? Probably not. Most likely not. Definitely Not. And what of the absolute motherfucking fucktard who almost got me killed and had the FUCKING GALL to SHOVE a LITTLE BITTY FEMALE into a train that was about to be moving? He went and took the last seat. No apology, no excuse me, no nothing. Got out his paper and commenced to occupying HIS feeble little mind. Blocker donut DID apologize for being in the way. So that's some recompensation. But ya know, what am I gonna do about shover donut? Throw down with a grown man? Not likely. Tell him he's an assram fucktard who needs to die? Not likely. Explain to him nicely that hey, maybe we shouldn't push girls around? Not likely. Stand there and fucking fume and want so badly to fucking explode and break everything in sight with my bare hands, then get a machetti and slaughter every fucking donut on that fucking train? Most likely.
That's where we get the aNGrY...and yes, I know it isn't right nor is it healthy. But lithium makes me groggy :)
Here is another daily Tip for Living Well, brought to you by aNGrYLiTTLeDeAdGiRL:
Watch out for donuts
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
I'm Bored, Full and Rambling about Gas Again
I'm really going to *try* to keep this short today, because I have a lot going on...
OMFG it took me 2 1/2 hours to get to work this morning. The traffic was at a total stop. It took an hour and a half to go the 9 miles to the metro train station. I was 40 minutes late to work...on a flex schedule even!! I didnt get in until after 10 am. Left the house at 7:45.... Yes, that is what we like to call an UNTENABLE situation. We have another commuter train (the marc train) that leaves about 1 mile from my house...its more expensive, but its a direct shot to the metro train stop just before mine at work. Starting Monday, I'm riding that damn train. Most days, traffic sucks but is OK, usually about 20-30 minutes to go that 9 miles to the metro. Its those days like today, tho, that you can't predict....and that just make you want to turn around and go back home to bed.
Got the next two days off work...taking some leave Thursday, Veterans Day holiday on Friday. Thought I might get some sewing done and then I looked in the mirror and realized that its REALLY time for a rebraiding, so I'm heading down to the gallery Friday at 6:45 am sharp to get in line for a 10 hour braidfest. Of course, that means I have to UNBRAID first...ugh...and that is what I get to do tomorrow. It wont take all day (only about 5 or 6 hours...really) so I can get some work done :) but man, I hate rebraiding time. Its payback for all the hair shit I don't have to worry about every morning. How many women would love to get up in the morning, unwrap the scarf around their head, shake out their hair, and go to work? I can be ready in less than 8 minutes :) and that includes shower, shaving, lotion, makeup, the works :) But MAN do I pay for it on unbraiding/rebraiding days.
Ahh well. I still enjoy this hair style and its been almost 2 years. So why quit now :)
So yeah that's whats up. Been messing around with my hoodie pattern, I have some new and interesting designs coming up in the next listing...I guess that part should really be on my About Me page - this isn't an advertising area, this is my damn blog...hahah...but yeah I've been working hard on it, and I'm pleased with the outcome, so I guess I can say that here.
OMG...was that something positive in my blog???? FUCK. I'll have to stop doing that.
I just had the BEST beef stroganoff for lunch. I'm stuffed full and uncomfortable and I'm gonna have to spend 2 hours in the gym tonight to make up for it. But man was it GOOD. SHIT. I've had a few meetings with my personal trainer here over the last week...redid my lifting regime...I told him its time to take it to the next level (MEGA GIRL hahahahahah) and now he's got me doing lifts I've never heard of before...with ridiculous numbers of reps...hahaha...he says in a few months I'm gonna be the freaking incredible hulk...
But i dont like green.... :(
The point of mentioning that tho is my ass hurts. my ass HURTS. my literal ass. my ass. my butt. hurts. squats...ugh...straight dead lifts...ugh.... and tonight he has me doing.... get this... PUSH UPS!! what the fuck. im not in the military... he says drop and give me twenty and I said YEAH RIGHT go fuck yourself. he didnt go fuck himself. he told me to do them. so tonight its push ups...
I have to do girly style push ups...you know, balancing on your knees with your legs in the air (i know what blind colorado perv is thinking right now....) because I weight 138 pounds and I can't bench press 138 pounds. I can bench maybe 55 pounds with 10 reps and 3 sets. I can maybe bench press a max of 80 pounds one time. I can't lift my lard ass off the ground....so its girly push ups for me. Maybe someday when I am the green hulking woman I will be able to bench press myself. haha sounds dirty....
Oh and don't get me started on Ebay sales today. Wow is the market in a slump and so close to Christmas, too, which is odd. I remember this time last year sales were bangin'...this year...so far mostly blah. Its because we are all paying so goddamn much for the necessities of life right now...
Speaking of which, did you hear the news yesterday? Oil companies just reported their annual profits...some were up 100% over last year!!! 100%!!!! They are reaping HUMONGOUS FUCKING PROFITS while farmers cant afford to put gas in their fucking tractors. WHAT THE FLAMING FUCK???? I hear the gov't is going to try to go after them - maybe windfall profit tax - to try to relieve some of the burden on us. I have a better idea....but its waaaaay far too violent....so nm. How about we find some criminal charges to indict their CEO's on? How about we line up thier corporate officers, strip their asses naked, bend them over, and have an ass raping conga line??? A nice payback for the reaming they've been handing us. oh wait...far too violent again. oops. Ya know they went on about IRAQ, KATRINA, RITA...blah blah blah our refineries are broken/damaged/expensive to run.... yet crude oil goes up in price only 10%.... and gasoline goes up in price 100%. YEAH. You oil companies are robbing us blind ON PURPOSE because, well, you can (how about some REGULATION??? in the oil industry...fuck the phone company and the electric company cant charge us out the ass for their services...why not gas stations too???) I'm suprised we aren't all rioting at this news. But we aren't. We're filling up our fucking gas tanks and going to work (when traffic will let us get there).
Fuckity fuck that shit pisses me off. Can you tell?
Oh well. Off to do some gov'mint work, then do push ups, then sew...
OMFG it took me 2 1/2 hours to get to work this morning. The traffic was at a total stop. It took an hour and a half to go the 9 miles to the metro train station. I was 40 minutes late to work...on a flex schedule even!! I didnt get in until after 10 am. Left the house at 7:45.... Yes, that is what we like to call an UNTENABLE situation. We have another commuter train (the marc train) that leaves about 1 mile from my house...its more expensive, but its a direct shot to the metro train stop just before mine at work. Starting Monday, I'm riding that damn train. Most days, traffic sucks but is OK, usually about 20-30 minutes to go that 9 miles to the metro. Its those days like today, tho, that you can't predict....and that just make you want to turn around and go back home to bed.
Got the next two days off work...taking some leave Thursday, Veterans Day holiday on Friday. Thought I might get some sewing done and then I looked in the mirror and realized that its REALLY time for a rebraiding, so I'm heading down to the gallery Friday at 6:45 am sharp to get in line for a 10 hour braidfest. Of course, that means I have to UNBRAID first...ugh...and that is what I get to do tomorrow. It wont take all day (only about 5 or 6 hours...really) so I can get some work done :) but man, I hate rebraiding time. Its payback for all the hair shit I don't have to worry about every morning. How many women would love to get up in the morning, unwrap the scarf around their head, shake out their hair, and go to work? I can be ready in less than 8 minutes :) and that includes shower, shaving, lotion, makeup, the works :) But MAN do I pay for it on unbraiding/rebraiding days.
Ahh well. I still enjoy this hair style and its been almost 2 years. So why quit now :)
So yeah that's whats up. Been messing around with my hoodie pattern, I have some new and interesting designs coming up in the next listing...I guess that part should really be on my About Me page - this isn't an advertising area, this is my damn blog...hahah...but yeah I've been working hard on it, and I'm pleased with the outcome, so I guess I can say that here.
OMG...was that something positive in my blog???? FUCK. I'll have to stop doing that.
I just had the BEST beef stroganoff for lunch. I'm stuffed full and uncomfortable and I'm gonna have to spend 2 hours in the gym tonight to make up for it. But man was it GOOD. SHIT. I've had a few meetings with my personal trainer here over the last week...redid my lifting regime...I told him its time to take it to the next level (MEGA GIRL hahahahahah) and now he's got me doing lifts I've never heard of before...with ridiculous numbers of reps...hahaha...he says in a few months I'm gonna be the freaking incredible hulk...
But i dont like green.... :(
The point of mentioning that tho is my ass hurts. my ass HURTS. my literal ass. my ass. my butt. hurts. squats...ugh...straight dead lifts...ugh.... and tonight he has me doing.... get this... PUSH UPS!! what the fuck. im not in the military... he says drop and give me twenty and I said YEAH RIGHT go fuck yourself. he didnt go fuck himself. he told me to do them. so tonight its push ups...
I have to do girly style push ups...you know, balancing on your knees with your legs in the air (i know what blind colorado perv is thinking right now....) because I weight 138 pounds and I can't bench press 138 pounds. I can bench maybe 55 pounds with 10 reps and 3 sets. I can maybe bench press a max of 80 pounds one time. I can't lift my lard ass off the ground....so its girly push ups for me. Maybe someday when I am the green hulking woman I will be able to bench press myself. haha sounds dirty....
Oh and don't get me started on Ebay sales today. Wow is the market in a slump and so close to Christmas, too, which is odd. I remember this time last year sales were bangin'...this year...so far mostly blah. Its because we are all paying so goddamn much for the necessities of life right now...
Speaking of which, did you hear the news yesterday? Oil companies just reported their annual profits...some were up 100% over last year!!! 100%!!!! They are reaping HUMONGOUS FUCKING PROFITS while farmers cant afford to put gas in their fucking tractors. WHAT THE FLAMING FUCK???? I hear the gov't is going to try to go after them - maybe windfall profit tax - to try to relieve some of the burden on us. I have a better idea....but its waaaaay far too violent....so nm. How about we find some criminal charges to indict their CEO's on? How about we line up thier corporate officers, strip their asses naked, bend them over, and have an ass raping conga line??? A nice payback for the reaming they've been handing us. oh wait...far too violent again. oops. Ya know they went on about IRAQ, KATRINA, RITA...blah blah blah our refineries are broken/damaged/expensive to run.... yet crude oil goes up in price only 10%.... and gasoline goes up in price 100%. YEAH. You oil companies are robbing us blind ON PURPOSE because, well, you can (how about some REGULATION??? in the oil industry...fuck the phone company and the electric company cant charge us out the ass for their services...why not gas stations too???) I'm suprised we aren't all rioting at this news. But we aren't. We're filling up our fucking gas tanks and going to work (when traffic will let us get there).
Fuckity fuck that shit pisses me off. Can you tell?
Oh well. Off to do some gov'mint work, then do push ups, then sew...
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Christ I am a Long Winded Bitch
I was sitting in my car reflecting on a number of issues enroute to work this morning ~ not like there's much else to do when you're sitting stopped in traffic. I have some shit going on at work right now...and there's the continuing battle to try to preserve my mental state...and I just got to thinking, why am I like this??? Why am I me? Why do I break everything I touch (even the stuff I DON'T throw against the wall on purpose, I somehow manage to fuck up)? Why can't I integrate with normal society?? Then again, why the fuck would I want to? Why do I hate myself, people in general, and the whole goddamn motherfucking world so much? Why am I such a perfectly fucked up girl?
I guess Sigmund Freud would say it all started with my parents and how I was raised (or maybe Dr. Spock would have said that...I dunno I get confused). I wasn't abused as a child, but I was also not doted on in the least. My mother tells me that she never wanted children, she just had me because back in the sixties that's what you did - you got married...you had kids - you didn't question the cycle of existence, nor did you deviate from the cycle. So hey, society says you get married...you have kids...out popped little old me. Don't question the matrix.... My brother followed five years later because that's what Dad wanted... a son. Soooo dad got a son. Don't, as I said, question the Matrix. I don't think they ever really *wanted* us. We were just kind of *there*...if that makes sense. My mother and father were more like grown up friends that would occasionally scream at you to make your bed, and that was about all.
*AND you ask yourself...WHY does cindy not have children?? She's married and 36 after all...hmmm....*
So yeah, I was raised by strange people. I know you don't know that yet. You know I wasn't doted on...thats about all you know right now. My father was a 2nd generation Danish immigrant, and apparantly they have different customs in Denmark than they do in the United States (Duh...but still). I grew up in a family that was WAAAAAY open. WAAAY. Growing up, I did not know, I had NO CONCEPT...that people closed the door to the bathroom when they went to *relieve* themselves. At our house, you could have taken the door to the bathroom down for all the use it got. My dad's favorite passtime was coming in to *lay pipe* while one of us was in the tub. You'd be sitting there in the tub, dad would walk in with a big old smile on his face and start laughing...heading for the toilet...and you'd be like NOOOOOOOO DAD NOOOOOOOO!!!! Arrrrgh!! Yeah. Favorite game. Bizarre yet? No? My parents also walked around the house naked a lot. There was no shame or pretense in my house. We undressed in front of each other...it was just no big deal. I would have friends over and I'd have to warn my dad not to come walking out of the bedroom nude. Cuz he'd do that. He'd be like....OH Hello little Suzie! Glad to see you're here! And the thud you'd hear would be little Suzie hitting the floor...
So picture this. I went to live with my boyfriend after my first year of college (this boyfriend turned into my husband...so it wasn't like just some dude...anyway). He was still living with his parents, I was just staying the summer, working at an ice cream shop (MMM) and saving money to go back to college that fall. So I get up the first morning...was sleeping in my underwear and tshirt...and came downstairs to have breakfast with him and his mom and dad...still in my underwear and tshirt....
The first thud was his mom fainting. HAHHAH. The second one was him. I was like, what??? I never knew that the way I was raised was contrary to how every other person in the US was raised. No concept.
Anyway...funny story that. I guess Sigmund Freud was wrong, this doesn't really shed any insight into why I'm fucked up. It just explains why I'm sitting here nude at work right now ;)
*get that picture out of your head...I dare ya*
How do you build the perfect little fucked up girl? I guess you start with a huge dose of insecurity, mix in a few cups of pure hatred and aggression, bake for 30 minutes, and frost with a generous helping of socially inappropriate tendencies (oh look I guess Freud WAS right).
I got the huge dose of insecurity primarily from being female. American females are insecure. We are bred to be that way, courtesy of society and the popular media. Feel fat? A little ugly? A little stupid? Not good enough? Don't look a THING like those ads you see on TV and in the magazines? Yep, you're a typical American female. And that is a soapbox for another day....in fact, that horse may be beaten to death already.
Insecurity, for me, was born, nutured, and matured to adulthood at a most sacred institution: Public School. You remember the popular girls, the pretty ones with 100 friends and all the right clothes and the boys falling all over them? I was not one of those. You remember the girls that no one remembers was even there...the ones that hid in the corner or something and 5 years later at a reunion you go, who are you? I was not one of them, either. You remember the pariah of your school...the one kid that everyone, even the fucking losers, thought it was perfectly OK to pick on, to torment, to treat in the most inhumane and humiliating fashion? Bingo. Me. Why they chose me I'll never know. I wasn't particularly ugly. I wasn't fat, in fact, I've always been quite athletic and well built. No zits. No greasy unkempt hair or dandruff. No visible reasons to fuck with me. While I was bright and excelled in school, I was not a geek. No, I didnt have the right clothes, my family was not rich, but neither were so many other kids' families. I never started shit, either. I wasn't like a bitch that needed a beating or anything like that :) I was a quiet girl who kept to herself and pretty much went about her own business. There was just something about me that made everyone want to push me as far as they could.
I was the *Jeremy* - the kid in school who, today, would be taking a gun with them to class and teaching all those motherfucking assfucks a fucking lesson...but we didn't DO that back then. We just had to survive every day as best we could. And I don't know how to shoot a gun anyway :) I'm so small I'd probably fly three feet backward in the air if I tried...
Starting around 4th grade...the girls would follow me home wanting to kick my ass. Why? Dunno? I grew up in Colorado, so sometimes the *girls* would actually be a group of hispanic girls...and let me tell you something, those girls can be MEAN. Haha sometimes it was the whitebread popular *prom queen* girl, too...I guess everyone wants to make a name for themselves by trying to beat up the pariah girl. It didn't come to blows most of the time. Girls are all show and little blow ~ usually the one that stands her ground or acts the most like shes GONNA throw down is the one who escapes unharmed :) I didn't back down. Actually, I had nothing to lose in my mind at that point. So I figured fuck it, if I get beat up, I get beat up...how could it possibly get any worse than this anyway??? Most people don't expect that, and the shit never gets physical because they don't really want to fight, they just want to make a lot of noise. I can remember three times between 5th and 8th grade that there was actually a fight...out of about 100 or so encounters (yeah it was that bad for a few years)...so that's not bad odds, really. One of them was actually a whitebread little girl...with all her little whitebread *badass* friends (hahahah) on their little pink bikes with the banana seats, and their izod shirts with the collars turned up...christ. I wasn't expecting her to go for it, but she did. I ended up owning a shredded izod shirt hahah....oh yeah, that one didn't go over so well with her parents. My parents didn't give a rats ass (as you can imagine them coming to the door, butt-fucking naked, to hear little Suzie's mom go off about how I destroyed her little precious princess' $20 izod shirt and left her running and crying down the street in her training bra....)
Wow I'm getting long winded here. Sorry. I guess I'm just on a tear. Its my blog, so wtf. Read in shifts...or go check out my auctions or something if I'm boring you to death...
Another time was one of the hispanic girls. About 3 feet bigger and 100 pounds heavier than me. She was the *big* friend of some little bitty hispanic girl - like her bodyguard or some shit - the little girl hated my guts...but wouldn't fight me herself. Go figure. Wish I had a big ole girl around, too, to fight my battles for me. The fight broke out just as I was walking past my best friend's house...they'd been following me for about 2 blocks, yelling and screaming and kicking up a fuss...luckily her mom heard the racket and came out and broke the shit up before I ended up dead...hahah...shit... That was 6th grade.
When 7th grade hit, the fun really began. I went to a target school that was not in my neighborhood - it was one of those *fundamental alternative* schools for the more gifted kids. I figured hey, no one from my neighborhood even knows me here...I'm golden! A fresh start! Nah. The fights pretty much stopped ~ brighter kids don't use physical violence so much ~ but the mental abuse kicked ahead full steam. As a retarded example, my full name is Cynthia. Everyone thought it was great fun to run around...for months...MONTHS...screaming out *Cynthia* in a fake brittish accent everytime they'd see me. *Oh Cynthia*...of course there would be other profane shit coming out of their mouth along with that (hahah I didnt just freak out cuz they liked to say my name...that woulda been kinda cool) but everything would start like that. And they'd call me that...in class...and the teachers...would just not notice the teasing. Well her name IS Cynthia...so what if they say it funny and make a face and laugh for like 8 hours afterward? I don't get the fun in it...but to this day I absolutely ABHOR that name. Occasionally someone will refer to me by that name, and the hatred and anger are RIGHT THERE again...just as if it happened yesterday...and it was 25 freaking years ago. They turned my name against me!! Christ. I lost countless sack lunches at that school. Get up from your seat in class for some reason...come back to lunch gone (we didnt have lockers at this school, you slid your stuff under your desk seat). Spend the next hour seeing pieces of your lunch go flying across the room...again...teacher doesnt notice unless I say something to the offenders...like STOP IT...then guess who got in trouble...yep! I spent more time in the principal's office just for defending myself. It was like a fucking conspiracy...one of those animal house movies where the administration is in league with the evil fraternity. I remember one time I got fed up and grabbed this fucker's balls as hard as I could (he had it coming...he'd been running his comb between my legs whenever he went by...WHY? Can you say SEXUAL HARASSMENT? Not back then, no that didn't exist). He did it once, he did it twice, he got warned....the third time he was on the ground screaming and I was in the office so fast it made my head spin. Apparantly the *recess guard* failed to notice that he was touching ME but was RIGHT THERE when I got him back. The principal decided it was time to spank me for my behavior but you needed parental permission to do it. He called mom and told her what happened. I got on the phone and explained my side. My mom got back on the phone with the fucking principal and turned on HER little anger demon....needless to say I was not spanked and was sent back to class with an apology...not a heartfelt one, but an apology nonetheless.
I got white out poured in my hair (that bitch got turned around on and smacked in the face...and I got...principal's office!). I got my new monster fur coat stuffed in a toilet...never found out who did that. I sat alone on the bus (which...guess what assholes...was FINE WITH ME) because everyone who'd pass by would go *ewww I'm not sitting with Cynthia (english accent added)*.... One of their favorites was the age-old book tipping exercise. The first time it worked...I'd never encountered that tactic before, and the bitch snuck up on me. She didn't want to finish what she started tho...I almost went to the principal's office again anyway...LOL...and after that I kept a tight grip on my books. One day in the 8th grade, tho, I kinda slipped and forgot and carried my books under my arm like that and lo and behold, another whitebread *prom queen* popular bitch (hahah she actually DID end up being prom queen at her high school many years later...can I vomit now?) came up behind me and tipped out the books. That was the third time it ever came to blows, and she wasn't prepared for it. She was just standing there going *haha fun whee* laughing it up with her friends...and all the rage just came flooding out of me and on to her and she got it pretty hard. I actually felt bad afterward...how fucked up is that? I didn't go to the principal over that one...the teacher that broke it up was actually sympathetic to my situation, and just told the little crying prom queen *badass to be* to go wash up in the bathroom and come back to class. I think she was too freaked out to ever bring it up again. She was even kinda nice to me after that...not a friend...but she was more on the ally side than the enemy side.
I can't even detail all the atrocities that occurred at that school. You already know the kinds of things that happen to the school pariah anyway - they were either done to you, or you did them to someone else, or you stood by and watched others commit these acts and didn't say a word for fear you'd be put on the pariah list, too.
Ya know, I just spent an hour reliving all that...and while that really sucked and it was really a lot of wasted time in my life that could have been better spent doing things other than saving my own ass...I don't think that's the main source of my feelings of inadequacy. I'm just sitting here right now thinking...that is where it all started...I think...but there are other things on the path that got me where I am now that built on that base...made me that nice pillar of pain, hate and suffering that I am today.
Eh...more to think on. I'm being a long winded bitch today so I'll spare you having to read anything more about it today. I want to take a nap, but I have listings to get out...
I guess Sigmund Freud would say it all started with my parents and how I was raised (or maybe Dr. Spock would have said that...I dunno I get confused). I wasn't abused as a child, but I was also not doted on in the least. My mother tells me that she never wanted children, she just had me because back in the sixties that's what you did - you got married...you had kids - you didn't question the cycle of existence, nor did you deviate from the cycle. So hey, society says you get married...you have kids...out popped little old me. Don't question the matrix.... My brother followed five years later because that's what Dad wanted... a son. Soooo dad got a son. Don't, as I said, question the Matrix. I don't think they ever really *wanted* us. We were just kind of *there*...if that makes sense. My mother and father were more like grown up friends that would occasionally scream at you to make your bed, and that was about all.
*AND you ask yourself...WHY does cindy not have children?? She's married and 36 after all...hmmm....*
So yeah, I was raised by strange people. I know you don't know that yet. You know I wasn't doted on...thats about all you know right now. My father was a 2nd generation Danish immigrant, and apparantly they have different customs in Denmark than they do in the United States (Duh...but still). I grew up in a family that was WAAAAAY open. WAAAY. Growing up, I did not know, I had NO CONCEPT...that people closed the door to the bathroom when they went to *relieve* themselves. At our house, you could have taken the door to the bathroom down for all the use it got. My dad's favorite passtime was coming in to *lay pipe* while one of us was in the tub. You'd be sitting there in the tub, dad would walk in with a big old smile on his face and start laughing...heading for the toilet...and you'd be like NOOOOOOOO DAD NOOOOOOOO!!!! Arrrrgh!! Yeah. Favorite game. Bizarre yet? No? My parents also walked around the house naked a lot. There was no shame or pretense in my house. We undressed in front of each other...it was just no big deal. I would have friends over and I'd have to warn my dad not to come walking out of the bedroom nude. Cuz he'd do that. He'd be like....OH Hello little Suzie! Glad to see you're here! And the thud you'd hear would be little Suzie hitting the floor...
So picture this. I went to live with my boyfriend after my first year of college (this boyfriend turned into my husband...so it wasn't like just some dude...anyway). He was still living with his parents, I was just staying the summer, working at an ice cream shop (MMM) and saving money to go back to college that fall. So I get up the first morning...was sleeping in my underwear and tshirt...and came downstairs to have breakfast with him and his mom and dad...still in my underwear and tshirt....
The first thud was his mom fainting. HAHHAH. The second one was him. I was like, what??? I never knew that the way I was raised was contrary to how every other person in the US was raised. No concept.
Anyway...funny story that. I guess Sigmund Freud was wrong, this doesn't really shed any insight into why I'm fucked up. It just explains why I'm sitting here nude at work right now ;)
*get that picture out of your head...I dare ya*
How do you build the perfect little fucked up girl? I guess you start with a huge dose of insecurity, mix in a few cups of pure hatred and aggression, bake for 30 minutes, and frost with a generous helping of socially inappropriate tendencies (oh look I guess Freud WAS right).
I got the huge dose of insecurity primarily from being female. American females are insecure. We are bred to be that way, courtesy of society and the popular media. Feel fat? A little ugly? A little stupid? Not good enough? Don't look a THING like those ads you see on TV and in the magazines? Yep, you're a typical American female. And that is a soapbox for another day....in fact, that horse may be beaten to death already.
Insecurity, for me, was born, nutured, and matured to adulthood at a most sacred institution: Public School. You remember the popular girls, the pretty ones with 100 friends and all the right clothes and the boys falling all over them? I was not one of those. You remember the girls that no one remembers was even there...the ones that hid in the corner or something and 5 years later at a reunion you go, who are you? I was not one of them, either. You remember the pariah of your school...the one kid that everyone, even the fucking losers, thought it was perfectly OK to pick on, to torment, to treat in the most inhumane and humiliating fashion? Bingo. Me. Why they chose me I'll never know. I wasn't particularly ugly. I wasn't fat, in fact, I've always been quite athletic and well built. No zits. No greasy unkempt hair or dandruff. No visible reasons to fuck with me. While I was bright and excelled in school, I was not a geek. No, I didnt have the right clothes, my family was not rich, but neither were so many other kids' families. I never started shit, either. I wasn't like a bitch that needed a beating or anything like that :) I was a quiet girl who kept to herself and pretty much went about her own business. There was just something about me that made everyone want to push me as far as they could.
I was the *Jeremy* - the kid in school who, today, would be taking a gun with them to class and teaching all those motherfucking assfucks a fucking lesson...but we didn't DO that back then. We just had to survive every day as best we could. And I don't know how to shoot a gun anyway :) I'm so small I'd probably fly three feet backward in the air if I tried...
Starting around 4th grade...the girls would follow me home wanting to kick my ass. Why? Dunno? I grew up in Colorado, so sometimes the *girls* would actually be a group of hispanic girls...and let me tell you something, those girls can be MEAN. Haha sometimes it was the whitebread popular *prom queen* girl, too...I guess everyone wants to make a name for themselves by trying to beat up the pariah girl. It didn't come to blows most of the time. Girls are all show and little blow ~ usually the one that stands her ground or acts the most like shes GONNA throw down is the one who escapes unharmed :) I didn't back down. Actually, I had nothing to lose in my mind at that point. So I figured fuck it, if I get beat up, I get beat up...how could it possibly get any worse than this anyway??? Most people don't expect that, and the shit never gets physical because they don't really want to fight, they just want to make a lot of noise. I can remember three times between 5th and 8th grade that there was actually a fight...out of about 100 or so encounters (yeah it was that bad for a few years)...so that's not bad odds, really. One of them was actually a whitebread little girl...with all her little whitebread *badass* friends (hahahah) on their little pink bikes with the banana seats, and their izod shirts with the collars turned up...christ. I wasn't expecting her to go for it, but she did. I ended up owning a shredded izod shirt hahah....oh yeah, that one didn't go over so well with her parents. My parents didn't give a rats ass (as you can imagine them coming to the door, butt-fucking naked, to hear little Suzie's mom go off about how I destroyed her little precious princess' $20 izod shirt and left her running and crying down the street in her training bra....)
Wow I'm getting long winded here. Sorry. I guess I'm just on a tear. Its my blog, so wtf. Read in shifts...or go check out my auctions or something if I'm boring you to death...
Another time was one of the hispanic girls. About 3 feet bigger and 100 pounds heavier than me. She was the *big* friend of some little bitty hispanic girl - like her bodyguard or some shit - the little girl hated my guts...but wouldn't fight me herself. Go figure. Wish I had a big ole girl around, too, to fight my battles for me. The fight broke out just as I was walking past my best friend's house...they'd been following me for about 2 blocks, yelling and screaming and kicking up a fuss...luckily her mom heard the racket and came out and broke the shit up before I ended up dead...hahah...shit... That was 6th grade.
When 7th grade hit, the fun really began. I went to a target school that was not in my neighborhood - it was one of those *fundamental alternative* schools for the more gifted kids. I figured hey, no one from my neighborhood even knows me here...I'm golden! A fresh start! Nah. The fights pretty much stopped ~ brighter kids don't use physical violence so much ~ but the mental abuse kicked ahead full steam. As a retarded example, my full name is Cynthia. Everyone thought it was great fun to run around...for months...MONTHS...screaming out *Cynthia* in a fake brittish accent everytime they'd see me. *Oh Cynthia*...of course there would be other profane shit coming out of their mouth along with that (hahah I didnt just freak out cuz they liked to say my name...that woulda been kinda cool) but everything would start like that. And they'd call me that...in class...and the teachers...would just not notice the teasing. Well her name IS Cynthia...so what if they say it funny and make a face and laugh for like 8 hours afterward? I don't get the fun in it...but to this day I absolutely ABHOR that name. Occasionally someone will refer to me by that name, and the hatred and anger are RIGHT THERE again...just as if it happened yesterday...and it was 25 freaking years ago. They turned my name against me!! Christ. I lost countless sack lunches at that school. Get up from your seat in class for some reason...come back to lunch gone (we didnt have lockers at this school, you slid your stuff under your desk seat). Spend the next hour seeing pieces of your lunch go flying across the room...again...teacher doesnt notice unless I say something to the offenders...like STOP IT...then guess who got in trouble...yep! I spent more time in the principal's office just for defending myself. It was like a fucking conspiracy...one of those animal house movies where the administration is in league with the evil fraternity. I remember one time I got fed up and grabbed this fucker's balls as hard as I could (he had it coming...he'd been running his comb between my legs whenever he went by...WHY? Can you say SEXUAL HARASSMENT? Not back then, no that didn't exist). He did it once, he did it twice, he got warned....the third time he was on the ground screaming and I was in the office so fast it made my head spin. Apparantly the *recess guard* failed to notice that he was touching ME but was RIGHT THERE when I got him back. The principal decided it was time to spank me for my behavior but you needed parental permission to do it. He called mom and told her what happened. I got on the phone and explained my side. My mom got back on the phone with the fucking principal and turned on HER little anger demon....needless to say I was not spanked and was sent back to class with an apology...not a heartfelt one, but an apology nonetheless.
I got white out poured in my hair (that bitch got turned around on and smacked in the face...and I got...principal's office!). I got my new monster fur coat stuffed in a toilet...never found out who did that. I sat alone on the bus (which...guess what assholes...was FINE WITH ME) because everyone who'd pass by would go *ewww I'm not sitting with Cynthia (english accent added)*.... One of their favorites was the age-old book tipping exercise. The first time it worked...I'd never encountered that tactic before, and the bitch snuck up on me. She didn't want to finish what she started tho...I almost went to the principal's office again anyway...LOL...and after that I kept a tight grip on my books. One day in the 8th grade, tho, I kinda slipped and forgot and carried my books under my arm like that and lo and behold, another whitebread *prom queen* popular bitch (hahah she actually DID end up being prom queen at her high school many years later...can I vomit now?) came up behind me and tipped out the books. That was the third time it ever came to blows, and she wasn't prepared for it. She was just standing there going *haha fun whee* laughing it up with her friends...and all the rage just came flooding out of me and on to her and she got it pretty hard. I actually felt bad afterward...how fucked up is that? I didn't go to the principal over that one...the teacher that broke it up was actually sympathetic to my situation, and just told the little crying prom queen *badass to be* to go wash up in the bathroom and come back to class. I think she was too freaked out to ever bring it up again. She was even kinda nice to me after that...not a friend...but she was more on the ally side than the enemy side.
I can't even detail all the atrocities that occurred at that school. You already know the kinds of things that happen to the school pariah anyway - they were either done to you, or you did them to someone else, or you stood by and watched others commit these acts and didn't say a word for fear you'd be put on the pariah list, too.
Ya know, I just spent an hour reliving all that...and while that really sucked and it was really a lot of wasted time in my life that could have been better spent doing things other than saving my own ass...I don't think that's the main source of my feelings of inadequacy. I'm just sitting here right now thinking...that is where it all started...I think...but there are other things on the path that got me where I am now that built on that base...made me that nice pillar of pain, hate and suffering that I am today.
Eh...more to think on. I'm being a long winded bitch today so I'll spare you having to read anything more about it today. I want to take a nap, but I have listings to get out...
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Irony at its Finest - Pablum Puking Part II
Ok so I'm going through some bags that my husband left on the kitchen counter. They seem empty, but it turns out there IS something in one of them. Fearing the worst ~ I have thrown away paychecks before...it is no laughing matter ~ I rummaged through the bag and found...
A Pamphlet! A Watch Tower Tract titled, "Does Fate Rule Our Lives? Or Does God Hold Us Responsible?"
I sez to myself I sez, wow, how ironic...that I just wrote a blog on this this morning and here, for like the first time EVER, is one of these very pamphlets in my home. I read it. Mind you, I am quite intelligent and I've heard their lines before...so I knew exactly what I would find inside. Paraphrasing ~ Does man have freedom of choice to chose between good and wicked, or are his actions predetermined? If a man's future is ruled by fate, then how can God rightly judge him on what he cannot change? The answer, after 4 or 5 bible passages that are only *slightly* germaine to the question...man has been given the freedom to choose the path between righteous and wicked. Best choose righteous and do it now...and here's how...because the end times they are a comin'...
Let me tell you a joke I heard about this very devoutly religious man. There was a huge flood that wiped out his town. He was stranded in 10 feet of water, on his rooftop. A helicoptor came by to rescue him, but he declined, saying, "God will take care of me." A boat came by to rescue him, only to be turned away the same. A fireman threw him a rope to try to haul him to safety, yet this pious man still declined, saying, "God will take care of me." Well, as it happens, the man starved to death, and went to Heaven. When he finally got to meet God he asked, "Why, Lord, did you not take care of me as you promised?" God replied, "I DID try to take care of you! I sent a helicopter, a boat, a fireman......."
Point? Well, is it fate...coincidence...humorous happenstance that this phamplet is sitting, so ironically in my home....or did God just send me a helicopter??
Think on that one. I'm going to go sew now.
A Pamphlet! A Watch Tower Tract titled, "Does Fate Rule Our Lives? Or Does God Hold Us Responsible?"
I sez to myself I sez, wow, how ironic...that I just wrote a blog on this this morning and here, for like the first time EVER, is one of these very pamphlets in my home. I read it. Mind you, I am quite intelligent and I've heard their lines before...so I knew exactly what I would find inside. Paraphrasing ~ Does man have freedom of choice to chose between good and wicked, or are his actions predetermined? If a man's future is ruled by fate, then how can God rightly judge him on what he cannot change? The answer, after 4 or 5 bible passages that are only *slightly* germaine to the question...man has been given the freedom to choose the path between righteous and wicked. Best choose righteous and do it now...and here's how...because the end times they are a comin'...
Let me tell you a joke I heard about this very devoutly religious man. There was a huge flood that wiped out his town. He was stranded in 10 feet of water, on his rooftop. A helicoptor came by to rescue him, but he declined, saying, "God will take care of me." A boat came by to rescue him, only to be turned away the same. A fireman threw him a rope to try to haul him to safety, yet this pious man still declined, saying, "God will take care of me." Well, as it happens, the man starved to death, and went to Heaven. When he finally got to meet God he asked, "Why, Lord, did you not take care of me as you promised?" God replied, "I DID try to take care of you! I sent a helicopter, a boat, a fireman......."
Point? Well, is it fate...coincidence...humorous happenstance that this phamplet is sitting, so ironically in my home....or did God just send me a helicopter??
Think on that one. I'm going to go sew now.
Blog Ring...Let's See if it Flies
I got an idea...
Probably a stupid one....
But if you have a blog and want to link with me...let me know...if we all get together, we could start our own blog *ring* sort of thing...
It would be fun...come on
AND THEN WE COULD RULE THE WORLD
*cough*
anyhoo my email is freak@angrylittledeadgirl.com. Lemme know. It would be fun...come on...RULE WORLD...etc...
Probably a stupid one....
But if you have a blog and want to link with me...let me know...if we all get together, we could start our own blog *ring* sort of thing...
It would be fun...come on
AND THEN WE COULD RULE THE WORLD
*cough*
anyhoo my email is freak@angrylittledeadgirl.com. Lemme know. It would be fun...come on...RULE WORLD...etc...
Its SO Cold Out that I'm Puking Up Pablum
It is soooo fucking cold out. Oops I said fuck *waits for blog to disappear again*....
Maybe its just me, but its like last week was sunny and pretty and then boom...its cold, rainy and depressing...winter is upon us again...yay *whimper*. I had to break out the leather this morning for the commute to work and I was STILL COLD! I have a train pass made of plastic, like a credit card only a bit thicker, that I keep in my pocket. I pulled it out to use it, put it back in the pocket, and the damn card was so cold against my skin I about jumped.
My morning went thusly: run at top speed to car, crank up heat...arrive at train station, run at top speed to train...get on train, shiver...get off train, run at top speed to front door of work...arrive at desk, leave leather on, and turn on portable heater. My plan is to live next to portable heater until its time to reverse the run back home. You'd think with all that running I'd have warmed up.
Oh yeah and the furnace at my new townhouse doesn't work. Didn't know that before last night when I was like, why the FUCK is it 60 degrees in here??? Fan is on, but the air is coooooold. Its not a furnace so much as another air conditioner.
Now here's what really makes me wonder. As I'm sprinting from the train station to the front door of work, there are people out on the streets trying to push their pablum on me - phamplets telling me that GEORGE BUSH SUCKS or ABORTION IS WRONG or JESUS IS LORD or DON'T LET BABIES DIE...this is Washington DC, people want you to walk *literally* over to your congressman and tell him GEORGE BUSH SUCKS or ABORTION IS WRONG or etc...etc...you get the idea. Ok so its like SIX degrees (I exaggerate because I can) and these people are still out there this morning! I had three different pablum pukers trying, at 7am in the cold, to sway my opinion on serious national and moral issues! I can't believe these people! I must say I have fairly strong beliefs of my own ~ I certainly DONT want babies to die, and maybe George Bush does suck, even though I voted for him ~ but there is NO WAY IN HELL you'd get MY ass out ANYWHERE at 7am in the freezing cold to volunteer to hand out pamphlets expressing ANY belief...national, moral, religious or otherwise. I guess I don't have that kind of conviction. Or maybe I just don't care that much what other people think. I'd rather spend my time sleeping in a warm house (hahha...) than freeze my ass off trying to affect another person's belief system to reflect my own.
Anyhoo, I just found that curious. I also find it curious that they ~ the pablum pukers ~ really believe anyone (esp. someone sprinting to work in the freezing cold at 7am) would grab one of their pamphlets, actually take the time to read it, and have like some major revelation. Like, OMG....they are SOOO right...I thought George Bush was fucking awesome, but now I read this pamphlet and I have to admit, GEORGE BUSH SUCKS (why do I keep writing that in all caps????) Or even more amazing, to say, I didn't see anything wrong with abortion but NOW...now that Ive read THIS PAMPHLET...I am pro-life!! or...OMG ~ JESUS is Lord!!! For the last 40 years I thought ALLAH was Lord!!! OMFG how wrong I was...and how wrong my parents were...how could those HEATHENS have raised me in the Islamic faith??? Praise Jesus I found this pamphlet!!!
Yet they stand out there freezing their asses off hoping to enlighten the masses...
I guess need to make me a pamphlet. I need to get MY pablum out...damn it I have conviction now!! I want to freeze my ass off while changing the world to reflect MY beliefs!!! Now what the hell do I want my pamphlet to say??? Shit its apparantly a pretty powerful document, so I want to make sure I get this right...
My Pamphlet
1. Do onto others as you would wish them to do onto you (that one is an old classic...and you have to believe in the ethics of reciprocity)
2. Let' give ALL individuals the right to pursue their lives as they see fit, as long as they cause no harm to others, with minimal governmental interference.
3. Leave me the fuck alone. LOL. Don't talk to me if you don't know me unless its to say WATCH OUT FOR THAT BUS! and really, really, really DO NOT call me or even worse, touch me. (If only I could get this one to work for real).
4. Bid high on aNGrYGiRL Gear! Hahahah....hey if they can change my entire belief system with a pamphlet...why not capitalize on it too??? ;)
Ok off to work with me...fucking cold in here....
Maybe its just me, but its like last week was sunny and pretty and then boom...its cold, rainy and depressing...winter is upon us again...yay *whimper*. I had to break out the leather this morning for the commute to work and I was STILL COLD! I have a train pass made of plastic, like a credit card only a bit thicker, that I keep in my pocket. I pulled it out to use it, put it back in the pocket, and the damn card was so cold against my skin I about jumped.
My morning went thusly: run at top speed to car, crank up heat...arrive at train station, run at top speed to train...get on train, shiver...get off train, run at top speed to front door of work...arrive at desk, leave leather on, and turn on portable heater. My plan is to live next to portable heater until its time to reverse the run back home. You'd think with all that running I'd have warmed up.
Oh yeah and the furnace at my new townhouse doesn't work. Didn't know that before last night when I was like, why the FUCK is it 60 degrees in here??? Fan is on, but the air is coooooold. Its not a furnace so much as another air conditioner.
Now here's what really makes me wonder. As I'm sprinting from the train station to the front door of work, there are people out on the streets trying to push their pablum on me - phamplets telling me that GEORGE BUSH SUCKS or ABORTION IS WRONG or JESUS IS LORD or DON'T LET BABIES DIE...this is Washington DC, people want you to walk *literally* over to your congressman and tell him GEORGE BUSH SUCKS or ABORTION IS WRONG or etc...etc...you get the idea. Ok so its like SIX degrees (I exaggerate because I can) and these people are still out there this morning! I had three different pablum pukers trying, at 7am in the cold, to sway my opinion on serious national and moral issues! I can't believe these people! I must say I have fairly strong beliefs of my own ~ I certainly DONT want babies to die, and maybe George Bush does suck, even though I voted for him ~ but there is NO WAY IN HELL you'd get MY ass out ANYWHERE at 7am in the freezing cold to volunteer to hand out pamphlets expressing ANY belief...national, moral, religious or otherwise. I guess I don't have that kind of conviction. Or maybe I just don't care that much what other people think. I'd rather spend my time sleeping in a warm house (hahha...) than freeze my ass off trying to affect another person's belief system to reflect my own.
Anyhoo, I just found that curious. I also find it curious that they ~ the pablum pukers ~ really believe anyone (esp. someone sprinting to work in the freezing cold at 7am) would grab one of their pamphlets, actually take the time to read it, and have like some major revelation. Like, OMG....they are SOOO right...I thought George Bush was fucking awesome, but now I read this pamphlet and I have to admit, GEORGE BUSH SUCKS (why do I keep writing that in all caps????) Or even more amazing, to say, I didn't see anything wrong with abortion but NOW...now that Ive read THIS PAMPHLET...I am pro-life!! or...OMG ~ JESUS is Lord!!! For the last 40 years I thought ALLAH was Lord!!! OMFG how wrong I was...and how wrong my parents were...how could those HEATHENS have raised me in the Islamic faith??? Praise Jesus I found this pamphlet!!!
Yet they stand out there freezing their asses off hoping to enlighten the masses...
I guess need to make me a pamphlet. I need to get MY pablum out...damn it I have conviction now!! I want to freeze my ass off while changing the world to reflect MY beliefs!!! Now what the hell do I want my pamphlet to say??? Shit its apparantly a pretty powerful document, so I want to make sure I get this right...
My Pamphlet
1. Do onto others as you would wish them to do onto you (that one is an old classic...and you have to believe in the ethics of reciprocity)
2. Let' give ALL individuals the right to pursue their lives as they see fit, as long as they cause no harm to others, with minimal governmental interference.
3. Leave me the fuck alone. LOL. Don't talk to me if you don't know me unless its to say WATCH OUT FOR THAT BUS! and really, really, really DO NOT call me or even worse, touch me. (If only I could get this one to work for real).
4. Bid high on aNGrYGiRL Gear! Hahahah....hey if they can change my entire belief system with a pamphlet...why not capitalize on it too??? ;)
Ok off to work with me...fucking cold in here....
Monday, October 24, 2005
I Have Offended the Browser God
Ok so check this mystery (sorry if you're zero technical, I'll put this in as easy of terms as possible):
This blog is a web page...just a bunch of html code that a browser (internet explorer, mozilla, etc) translates and displays for you. Apparantly last week all the browsers got together (cuz I asked a bunch of them) and agreed that they would no longer translate my blog. Nothing changed in the code - yesterday they could translate, today they can't...talk about selective memory.
I have the code for the blog (and everything else in the world and 7000 other things I don't need) on my computer. I try to open a blog on my desktop and the browser will translate it. I see blog. I try online, the browser won't translate it. I see error message. All the time.
Tried changing folder names, file names, extensions (.htm vs .html) and nada. The browsers hate my blog. I send the code to my Chinese friend and IT coworker, who is so smart she makes me look like a drooling retard..and she doesn't understand why the browsers hate it.
APPARANTLY THE BROWSER GOD DOES NOT LIKE IT WHEN I SAY FUCK.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK heheheh
*waits for lightning to strike*
So to make a long story short, instead of publishing to my web address (I like to keep my documents in my own possession), I now have to publish to the blogger site....and for some strange reason, that makes the browsers remember how to translate my code.
But its not gonna stop me from saying fuck.
More later...for now...work...yay!!
This blog is a web page...just a bunch of html code that a browser (internet explorer, mozilla, etc) translates and displays for you. Apparantly last week all the browsers got together (cuz I asked a bunch of them) and agreed that they would no longer translate my blog. Nothing changed in the code - yesterday they could translate, today they can't...talk about selective memory.
I have the code for the blog (and everything else in the world and 7000 other things I don't need) on my computer. I try to open a blog on my desktop and the browser will translate it. I see blog. I try online, the browser won't translate it. I see error message. All the time.
Tried changing folder names, file names, extensions (.htm vs .html) and nada. The browsers hate my blog. I send the code to my Chinese friend and IT coworker, who is so smart she makes me look like a drooling retard..and she doesn't understand why the browsers hate it.
APPARANTLY THE BROWSER GOD DOES NOT LIKE IT WHEN I SAY FUCK.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK heheheh
*waits for lightning to strike*
So to make a long story short, instead of publishing to my web address (I like to keep my documents in my own possession), I now have to publish to the blogger site....and for some strange reason, that makes the browsers remember how to translate my code.
But its not gonna stop me from saying fuck.
More later...for now...work...yay!!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Testament
I'm so alone
My head's my home
And I feel
So alone
You know...
At last...
I'll return to serenity
My head's my home
And I feel
So alone
You know...
At last...
I'll return to serenity
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Still Tuesday
7:00 pm and I figure I've worked hard enough for one day. Your start and stop times should never both start with the same number. These network tests can run themselves for the rest of the night anyway.
Make my way to the Metro. Its dark outside. Nothing like not seeing the daylight...the Metro is quiet, thank god, and the train is here! RUN girl RUN!! Some interesting characters out here riding the train after commute hours. Hahaha, but then again, look at me :)
Make the train switch without a hitch...thank god because the next one was 13 minutes away...all of a sudden my eyes get heavy and boom, next thing you know, it's my stop (huh...usually that trip takes about 25 minutes...) The parking lot is dark and empty, so I grab my car key in my fist like a knife, put on my best *fuck you* scowl, and walk quickly and with purpose to the car.......get in the car......start the car......
HOLY SHIT WHO WAS LISTENING TO RAMMSTEIN THIS LOUD??? GEEBUS H!!!
I'm amazed that traffic is little better than it was this morning. No, I'm not really amazed. I'm being sarcastic. That freakin LOUD Rammstein is really putting me in a mood ;) but hey I'm almost home and home is good, home is warm, home is friendly...home is almost here...
Shit. I need cat food and coke. One sudden left into the grocery store, and I'm off to spend the last $30 in my Paypal account. I wonder if they have toe flavored cat food?
I got cat food (no toe flavor), cokes, and tired girl food too....instant macaroni and cheese, my how the mighty have fallen. Home home home home...feed cats, feed tired girl....turn on computer, marvel at 45 or so emails there.....marvel at the huge pile of half finished projects on my sewing desk....
*sigh*.....8 pm and time to get to work. Seems like I just did that...Turn on the radio....
HOLY FUCK WHO WAS LISTENING TO THE RADIO THIS LOUD??? GEEBUS H!!!
meh.....
I dont even have to look at the calendar this time.
and 5:30 am is coming around again.
Make my way to the Metro. Its dark outside. Nothing like not seeing the daylight...the Metro is quiet, thank god, and the train is here! RUN girl RUN!! Some interesting characters out here riding the train after commute hours. Hahaha, but then again, look at me :)
Make the train switch without a hitch...thank god because the next one was 13 minutes away...all of a sudden my eyes get heavy and boom, next thing you know, it's my stop (huh...usually that trip takes about 25 minutes...) The parking lot is dark and empty, so I grab my car key in my fist like a knife, put on my best *fuck you* scowl, and walk quickly and with purpose to the car.......get in the car......start the car......
HOLY SHIT WHO WAS LISTENING TO RAMMSTEIN THIS LOUD??? GEEBUS H!!!
I'm amazed that traffic is little better than it was this morning. No, I'm not really amazed. I'm being sarcastic. That freakin LOUD Rammstein is really putting me in a mood ;) but hey I'm almost home and home is good, home is warm, home is friendly...home is almost here...
Shit. I need cat food and coke. One sudden left into the grocery store, and I'm off to spend the last $30 in my Paypal account. I wonder if they have toe flavored cat food?
I got cat food (no toe flavor), cokes, and tired girl food too....instant macaroni and cheese, my how the mighty have fallen. Home home home home...feed cats, feed tired girl....turn on computer, marvel at 45 or so emails there.....marvel at the huge pile of half finished projects on my sewing desk....
*sigh*.....8 pm and time to get to work. Seems like I just did that...Turn on the radio....
HOLY FUCK WHO WAS LISTENING TO THE RADIO THIS LOUD??? GEEBUS H!!!
meh.....
I dont even have to look at the calendar this time.
and 5:30 am is coming around again.
Good Lord its only Tuesday...
Am I reading this calendar right?
The predominate mood of the morning is *wasted tired* as 5:30 am hits like an anvil on the brain. And really, can this alarm clock get any louder and more intrusive? Hobbling into the bathroom, I turn on the light...AHHHHH bright light bright light...eyes watering...take a quick shower, spray some gook on my braids...
fight with the cat who keeps trying to eat my toes...
put some gook on my face, gather up my meager belongings, kiss my still sleeping husband goodbye, stagger out the door. 6:00 am... still dark out. Great. Dew all over, kind of hazy out, too, like mist. Waiting for the heat and defrost to start working...
Managing through the shivers (come ON heat) to toss a Pantera greatest hits cd into the deck. AAAAhhh nothing like testosterone-driven aggression to start the morning off right. And I'm gonna need it, too. The 8 mile ride to the train station is on one of the most heavily-used arteries into the nation's capital. Today it shows the use, because I'm sitting in a 20 minute bumper to bumper backup. Come up on police lights - finally - to find a Ryder truck pulled over. WTF? Where is the wreck? Where is the mangled body show? 20 minutes of stopped traffic over some dude getting speeding ticket??? They aren't even blocking the road, people, what the FUCK?
Pantera just doesn't cut it any more. Switching to Rammstein. Considering Lamb of God...need more aggression...really want a coke. Can't have a coke. Will make me have to pee at some point on 45 minute train ride. Can't have that, right? Although the caffeine jeeb is so bad that the small chance I'd take in actually wetting my pants makes it seem worth it.
$9.50 to park and ride the train in, not to mention the gallon or so of gas to get here. $9.50 - Christ. What do I make an hour??? Am I losing money coming to work?? The train is nice and quiet for a while, then the kids start piling in. And piling in. And piling in. Turn up the Mudvayne louder...all I have on the MP3 player is Mudvayne, as it only holds about 2 1/2 albums...so its got Mudvayne, Mudvayne, and half a Mudvayne. Wish I had the other half of the Mudvayne, but thats all the room I got.
Switch trains.
Wheee fun. If I miss the train, I wait 10 more minutes. Can't miss the train but this BITCH in front of me wont a) MOVE b) walk faster c) MOVE d) MOVE....
All this to get to my final goal...a bland brown cubicle in a bland brown building. Turns out I get to stay late tonight to do some network testing. Hoooo ray. MUST GO TO SNACK BAR AND GET COKE NOW. and dry cleaning. and drop this package off at the post office *the charity shrug...pink...eeek*
Back in the bland cubicle. Boss needs to schedule a meeting. I can handle that. Easy. Let's just pop open this calendar....
Am I reading this calendar right???
fuck.
28 1/2 years to retirement, kids. Aint life grand?
The predominate mood of the morning is *wasted tired* as 5:30 am hits like an anvil on the brain. And really, can this alarm clock get any louder and more intrusive? Hobbling into the bathroom, I turn on the light...AHHHHH bright light bright light...eyes watering...take a quick shower, spray some gook on my braids...
fight with the cat who keeps trying to eat my toes...
put some gook on my face, gather up my meager belongings, kiss my still sleeping husband goodbye, stagger out the door. 6:00 am... still dark out. Great. Dew all over, kind of hazy out, too, like mist. Waiting for the heat and defrost to start working...
Managing through the shivers (come ON heat) to toss a Pantera greatest hits cd into the deck. AAAAhhh nothing like testosterone-driven aggression to start the morning off right. And I'm gonna need it, too. The 8 mile ride to the train station is on one of the most heavily-used arteries into the nation's capital. Today it shows the use, because I'm sitting in a 20 minute bumper to bumper backup. Come up on police lights - finally - to find a Ryder truck pulled over. WTF? Where is the wreck? Where is the mangled body show? 20 minutes of stopped traffic over some dude getting speeding ticket??? They aren't even blocking the road, people, what the FUCK?
Pantera just doesn't cut it any more. Switching to Rammstein. Considering Lamb of God...need more aggression...really want a coke. Can't have a coke. Will make me have to pee at some point on 45 minute train ride. Can't have that, right? Although the caffeine jeeb is so bad that the small chance I'd take in actually wetting my pants makes it seem worth it.
$9.50 to park and ride the train in, not to mention the gallon or so of gas to get here. $9.50 - Christ. What do I make an hour??? Am I losing money coming to work?? The train is nice and quiet for a while, then the kids start piling in. And piling in. And piling in. Turn up the Mudvayne louder...all I have on the MP3 player is Mudvayne, as it only holds about 2 1/2 albums...so its got Mudvayne, Mudvayne, and half a Mudvayne. Wish I had the other half of the Mudvayne, but thats all the room I got.
Switch trains.
Wheee fun. If I miss the train, I wait 10 more minutes. Can't miss the train but this BITCH in front of me wont a) MOVE b) walk faster c) MOVE d) MOVE....
All this to get to my final goal...a bland brown cubicle in a bland brown building. Turns out I get to stay late tonight to do some network testing. Hoooo ray. MUST GO TO SNACK BAR AND GET COKE NOW. and dry cleaning. and drop this package off at the post office *the charity shrug...pink...eeek*
Back in the bland cubicle. Boss needs to schedule a meeting. I can handle that. Easy. Let's just pop open this calendar....
Am I reading this calendar right???
fuck.
28 1/2 years to retirement, kids. Aint life grand?
Sunday, October 02, 2005
I HATE ME
yeah that about says it dont it.
I HATE ME
No response, eh? Yeah....
Its not easy, btw...being WRONG...being ME...
I FUCKING HATE ME
I HATE ME
No response, eh? Yeah....
Its not easy, btw...being WRONG...being ME...
I FUCKING HATE ME
Friday, September 30, 2005
Do the Right Thing, Be Original
Ok I've officially had it. And I'm doing something about it. If you don't like it, bring it to me...
Here is an ebay listing I want you all to take a look at (right click and open it in a new window or it will overwrite this window):
http://cgi.ebay.com/diy-Green-Day-Billie-Joe-Hoodie-Track-Jacket-NWT_W0QQitemZ5430023859QQcategoryZ63862QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
I'm not sure how this blog works with links, so you may have to cut and paste. What you see here is a lovely store bought hoodie with Green Day logos painted on it. Original? Not really. For some ungodly reason (I fucking HATE Green Day with a passion) everyone is painting Green Day logos on store bought shit and selling it as DIY, some of it for great money too. Why Green Day I dunno. Works for My Chemical Romance too, however, I digress from my point.
If you're still on that ebay page, go ahead and link to the seller's about me page, then scroll all the way down to the bottom, by the picture of the cute little girl. If you closed the window, here is the link (right click again and open in new window):
http://cgi3.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewUserPage&userid=zombie_couture_inc
For those of you who don't care to cut and paste or follow links, here is what it says, basically, on this about me page. These sellers are artists, btw, which is way cool. They have art work, I'm sure that is unique to them, probably copyright protected, that they put on clothing. Thats Awesome! I love that shit! Here is what it says, tho, at the bottom of that page:
All artwork is protected under copyright law and ebay's vero program. Do the right thing and be original...
I'm fucking speechless. Ok, apparantly not. I'm full of speech on this topic. Do the right thing and be original....?????????????????
Green Day logo merchandise is officially licensed to a company in Oakland, California, called Cinder Block Incorporated. Cinder Block has been made aware recently of all of the *wahoo lets fucking paint Green Day on everything and sell it on eBay* kick. I have no idea if they will take action against the sellers of this crap, but if you ask me, they should.
The Green Day logo is NOT officially licensed to the seller of this item. Yet the seller of this item wants you to know on their About Me that they will use whatever legal avenues they have to ensure that YOU don't steal THEIR artwork and PAINT it on a fucking store bought hoodie and SELL it on eBay. This early in the morning, I like to take my hypocracy with cream and sugar, don't you????
Must I say more?
Yeah.
Purchasing one of these painted pieces of stolen art is equivalent TO CONDONING THE ACTION. Everyone and their sheepdog would STOP doing this if there was no money in it. I've seen this painted stuff go for hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. And yes, I know its the buyer's money not mine, so fuck me for telling them what to do with it, but if you're a fan of the band...do you not OWE them the courtesy of purchasing LICENSED materials??? Dontcha??? And lets face it, you can buy a hoodie at walmart for $10, and fabric paint for another $10 and you could probably do a much better job of painting the logo than some of these sellers (come on, you're a fan...you sit and draw heart grenades in math class instead of learning algebra II...these sellers aren't fans, they just want a buck). Go do it yourself...express your own love of the band through art...DIY means do it yourself, right???
and then please, for the love of GOD, don't sell it on ebay.
Here is an ebay listing I want you all to take a look at (right click and open it in a new window or it will overwrite this window):
http://cgi.ebay.com/diy-Green-Day-Billie-Joe-Hoodie-Track-Jacket-NWT_W0QQitemZ5430023859QQcategoryZ63862QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
I'm not sure how this blog works with links, so you may have to cut and paste. What you see here is a lovely store bought hoodie with Green Day logos painted on it. Original? Not really. For some ungodly reason (I fucking HATE Green Day with a passion) everyone is painting Green Day logos on store bought shit and selling it as DIY, some of it for great money too. Why Green Day I dunno. Works for My Chemical Romance too, however, I digress from my point.
If you're still on that ebay page, go ahead and link to the seller's about me page, then scroll all the way down to the bottom, by the picture of the cute little girl. If you closed the window, here is the link (right click again and open in new window):
http://cgi3.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewUserPage&userid=zombie_couture_inc
For those of you who don't care to cut and paste or follow links, here is what it says, basically, on this about me page. These sellers are artists, btw, which is way cool. They have art work, I'm sure that is unique to them, probably copyright protected, that they put on clothing. Thats Awesome! I love that shit! Here is what it says, tho, at the bottom of that page:
All artwork is protected under copyright law and ebay's vero program. Do the right thing and be original...
I'm fucking speechless. Ok, apparantly not. I'm full of speech on this topic. Do the right thing and be original....?????????????????
Green Day logo merchandise is officially licensed to a company in Oakland, California, called Cinder Block Incorporated. Cinder Block has been made aware recently of all of the *wahoo lets fucking paint Green Day on everything and sell it on eBay* kick. I have no idea if they will take action against the sellers of this crap, but if you ask me, they should.
The Green Day logo is NOT officially licensed to the seller of this item. Yet the seller of this item wants you to know on their About Me that they will use whatever legal avenues they have to ensure that YOU don't steal THEIR artwork and PAINT it on a fucking store bought hoodie and SELL it on eBay. This early in the morning, I like to take my hypocracy with cream and sugar, don't you????
Must I say more?
Yeah.
Purchasing one of these painted pieces of stolen art is equivalent TO CONDONING THE ACTION. Everyone and their sheepdog would STOP doing this if there was no money in it. I've seen this painted stuff go for hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. And yes, I know its the buyer's money not mine, so fuck me for telling them what to do with it, but if you're a fan of the band...do you not OWE them the courtesy of purchasing LICENSED materials??? Dontcha??? And lets face it, you can buy a hoodie at walmart for $10, and fabric paint for another $10 and you could probably do a much better job of painting the logo than some of these sellers (come on, you're a fan...you sit and draw heart grenades in math class instead of learning algebra II...these sellers aren't fans, they just want a buck). Go do it yourself...express your own love of the band through art...DIY means do it yourself, right???
and then please, for the love of GOD, don't sell it on ebay.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
All Good....Gee...Thanks :S
I'm gonna let this out here because if I don't I'm going to unleash it on a paying customer, and that's really not a good business practice.
To whom it may concern:
I read the feedback you left me today regarding that handmade item of clothing that you recently won from me. I am glad to hear that everything was *all good*. It took me several hours of difficult, detail-oriented labor to create that top quality, perfect garment which you now have in your hands. Additionally, I packaged it safely and made sure it arrived at your door within 2 days of your payment. It does my heart good to know that the many, many hours I put into this project were were hours well spent as, for me, there is little praise higher than *all good*.
As you know, the feedback system is an essential element to operating a successful business on eBay. There is a lot of competition out there in my market, and buyers often make their decision on whether or not to bid on my items based on the feedback that my clients have left for me. Thank you for being a part of that process by leaving helpful and thoughtful feedback. I'm sure that future clients of mine will benefit by knowing that our transaction was *all good*.
Again thank you, and have a great day - aNGrYLiTTLeDeAdGiRL
To whom it may concern:
I read the feedback you left me today regarding that handmade item of clothing that you recently won from me. I am glad to hear that everything was *all good*. It took me several hours of difficult, detail-oriented labor to create that top quality, perfect garment which you now have in your hands. Additionally, I packaged it safely and made sure it arrived at your door within 2 days of your payment. It does my heart good to know that the many, many hours I put into this project were were hours well spent as, for me, there is little praise higher than *all good*.
As you know, the feedback system is an essential element to operating a successful business on eBay. There is a lot of competition out there in my market, and buyers often make their decision on whether or not to bid on my items based on the feedback that my clients have left for me. Thank you for being a part of that process by leaving helpful and thoughtful feedback. I'm sure that future clients of mine will benefit by knowing that our transaction was *all good*.
Again thank you, and have a great day - aNGrYLiTTLeDeAdGiRL
Friday, September 09, 2005
The World's Longest DIY Rant Blog...and I Didn't Even Rant all my Rants...
2580 plus 2378 equals?? Anyone? 4958. No this isn't a math class blog. This is the total number of DIY women's clothing items that are on sale at this MOMENT on ebay. 5000 items. FIVE THOUSAND! 2580 in ebay stores, and an additional 2378 available at auction.
Are we familiar with our economics? I know its been a long time, hasn't it? Its a matter of supply and demand here, very basic. As the supply goes up, demand goes DOWN. When demand goes down...well, you know what happens.
I have to say this because its been weighing on my soul for far too long. And that's what my blog is about...getting this shit out of me and into another format so it will leave me alone.
I started browsing *and eventually buying* DIY clothing a few years ago because, after 7 years of intoxication, I sobered up, climbed out of my bottle and discovered that I didn't think like everyone else. Which is probably why I started drinking in the first place. In any case, sobering up reminded me of one aspect of life that alcohol had smoothed over for me: I AM NOT LIKE ANYONE ELSE ON THIS EARTH. I am so fucking far out of the realm of normal that its difficult for me to relate to other people...to put myself in their shoes. But anyway, a topic for another blog. I fell into the habit of making my own clothes, and eventually buying DIY on ebay because I felt the need to be different. I had to be unique. I got into selling the stuff I made so that I could support both my fabric habit (that shit aint cheap) and my ebay buying habit.
Back then, a few years ago, there were not so many DIY sellers on ebay. The items they made were the first of their kind seen on ebay. Now a days, thats just not the case. I'm really so tired of T-shirt remakes that I could puke. I don't know how many about me pages/listing descriptions I read that say something to the tune of *I took this baggy men's T-shirt and gave it a flattering cut*....its been done. Done done done done done. And let me tell you why. Its not difficult to take a tshirt and sew new seams in it and make something else. You can learn to do it well *enough* to make something semi-decent in maybe about 5 to 10 attempts (and I swear some people don't even make THOSE attempts before they start selling on ebay). Taking a Tshirt and giving it a *flattering cut* is NOT INSPIRED. Its the equivalent of using printed fabric as the sole source of your design individuality - a plain dress...in a print fabric...IS NOT INSPIRED. Its a plain dress in print fabric. It doesnt matter how many different print fabrics you find to make your plain dress out of. Its not inspired. Its not art.
But anyone with a sewing machine and an hour to spare and a MINIMUM of ability can achieve at least a semi-decent result. And when you first saw it on ebay a few years ago...you went WOW thats cool...and the sellers doing it...were making some good money. So many people have seen these reconstructions and thought...I could do that...and BAM a flooded market is born whereby everyone and their dog is cutting up a tshirt and trying to sell it....and not everyone and their dog is talented enough to pull it off...because let me tell you, even though you CAN do it with a minimum of ability...that doesn't mean that youre doing it RIGHT. That what you're making is going to last more than a month. That what you're making is going to fit right on human anatomy...be comfortable, hang right...etc.
Wow thats a long way out of the way to go to make a point. That point being that the idea of all this was to be unique and individual, not to all wear the same tshirt cut up in 20 different *flattering* ways. And to top it off, back to the Keynsian economics here...the more sellers that enter the market, the more you DEVALUATE the product. And the sellers that enter the market with *less skilled* product devalue our market more, because when a buyer pays money for a DIY product and that product does not live up to their expectations, they will be hesitant to buy next time...not just from the less skilled seller, but from all sellers. They may leave the DIY market entirely.
I'm sure very few people understand my point here. And I'm not suggesting that the floodgates to DIY seller *heaven* should be closed and I'm not saying fuck anyone who decides to start a DIY venture on ebay. I'm saying this: Its not for everybody. You really need to think this DIY thing through very carefully. Here are some points from grislted veterans (myself included...hahah)
1. This is not all fun and games. Its not a work-at-home-when-your-lazy-ass-feels-like-it-so-you-dont-have-to-go-out-and-get-a-real-job sort of thing. If you take this seriously, and you have to to have ANY CHANCE of success...you're gonna work your fucking ass off. Seriously. Oh yeah sewing is fun. How much fun is it after 15 straight hours? After making 250 or so corsets? How much fun? Its not grinning ear to ear fun let me tell ya. It beats raking shit for a living *maybe, I hear shit rakers have great benefits* But its a job. And its FULL TIME. You can't put 20 hours a week into this and have any hope. It takes me 20 hours to make one item sometimes. And then there are the aspects of seeking out and purchasing your supplies, answering emails, doing listings, desiging your HTML, networking with other DIYers and suppliers, putting together packages to send, sending those packages, coming up with new ideas, designing those new ideas, mocking up the new ideas and begging people to try them on for you and give you an honest opinion...all this takes a lot of your time out of the day. I spend easily 50 to 60 hours a week on my ebay activities. And all of the other DIYers I talk to, and I talk to a LOT of em...put in that many or more. No weekends off. No evenings off.
2. The materials of this business are not cheap. Tshirts cost money. Fabric costs money. Trims cost money. All the fucking metal I put on my clothing - costs money. Sewing machines cost money. Sergers. REPAIRING the fucking sewing machines and sergers. I have easily $2000 in sewing equipment in my home. Easy. Talk about capital investment. I have enough fabric in my home to start my own store. None of it cheap...not even close. My capital investment into my business has reached well into the thousands. And where do you keep all this shit? I have TWO ROOMS dedicated to this. Two rooms of my townhouse. Doesn't leave much room for anything else.
3. PROFIT. You make a nice shirt...takes you 3 hours, say, plus an hour to take pictures and list. You sell it on ebay. And due to the lovely market glut we are currently in, you rake in a cool $20 on it. Ohhh yeah $20. Less the cost of the tshirt ($10), trim and other materials ($3), ebay and paypal fees ($3), income tax and social security tax($2 and YES you are going to have to pay income tax...otherwise you could GO TO JAIL. And yes the IRS DOES CARE, even if you only make a little bit. They will eventually find you...the rat bastards). That's $18 in cost...not even including all the little minor expenses that add up quick. So for your 4 hours of labor you net...at best...$2.
I see so many people trying to sell on ebay that make $8, $10...$20 on an item...and I think, HOW can they keep operating at a loss? Cuz they are. There is no way to make a profit at that level. Why put in ALL those hours, and spend all that upfront money on materials...to lose?
4. Market glut = little chance of exposure = little chance of success. That's the sad truth. There are sooooo many DIYers out there now, its gonna be hard for anyone to see you. The marketing blitz you'd have to put on to get attention now would have to be astronimical. I've bought some DIY from exceptionally talented people, and I could tell you their ebay IDs but you wouldn't know them. Because they get no exposure. You type into your search bar *DIY corset*, for instance, and EIGHT pages of results come up. How many people actually sift through 8 pages of results? How many people actually pay attention to the details of EVERY result?? How many are going to see your item and click on it? And what are the odds, with all the DIY out there, that they are going to buy yours and not go shopping instead for a similar item made by someone else that is cheaper??? I don't know how anyone but established sellers are even getting SEEN out there. I know from watching my numbers that I'm BARELY getting seen. Its chaos stew out there...
I guess I've ranted enough, and I really need to get back to work before I lose my edge...that I'm already losing...lol...but there is a whole realm of unranted rant about Inspiration and Art and Vision and the stunning lack thereof in the vast majority of DIY listings. There is also the rant about things that are not DIY being sold as DIY: FOR EXAMPLE...buy a walmart hoodie and screen printing a *ahem...licensed...btw* band logo on it that you drew on your computer and calling that STOLEN SHIT DIY....I love the listing I read yesterday...a new DIYer...had a screen printed hoodie from Old Navy (NWT!!! fuck....) and were of course selling it as *DIY* and had the gall to put a whole paragraph in their listing about how they had over 30 years of combined sewing experience. Ok. If you can sew....SEW A FUCKING HOODIE. I'm not trying to be a *sew only from scratch* snob...because there are legitimate reconstruction DIY projects that ROCK!! I've seen a lot of them...wearydrearies for one makes wonderful reconstructions...but these items display *again* inspiration, art...changing something to make it TOTALLY UNIQUE. Stealing a band logo and screen printing it on an Old Navy hoodie is NOT
inspired, is NOT art...should not be *DIY* and mostly, is fucking illegal and disrespectful to the bands who work hard for their money, too. I sometimes think I'm going to start reporting screen printers to ebay, then I think, fuck it. Its not my problem. I'm not in the band... but really, maybe we should...
Anyhoo, I've ranted too long. I think you all know where I'm coming from anyway. Just had to get that out. Badly. I'm sure there will be more spewing out me soon...I don't feel...done yet.
Are we familiar with our economics? I know its been a long time, hasn't it? Its a matter of supply and demand here, very basic. As the supply goes up, demand goes DOWN. When demand goes down...well, you know what happens.
I have to say this because its been weighing on my soul for far too long. And that's what my blog is about...getting this shit out of me and into another format so it will leave me alone.
I started browsing *and eventually buying* DIY clothing a few years ago because, after 7 years of intoxication, I sobered up, climbed out of my bottle and discovered that I didn't think like everyone else. Which is probably why I started drinking in the first place. In any case, sobering up reminded me of one aspect of life that alcohol had smoothed over for me: I AM NOT LIKE ANYONE ELSE ON THIS EARTH. I am so fucking far out of the realm of normal that its difficult for me to relate to other people...to put myself in their shoes. But anyway, a topic for another blog. I fell into the habit of making my own clothes, and eventually buying DIY on ebay because I felt the need to be different. I had to be unique. I got into selling the stuff I made so that I could support both my fabric habit (that shit aint cheap) and my ebay buying habit.
Back then, a few years ago, there were not so many DIY sellers on ebay. The items they made were the first of their kind seen on ebay. Now a days, thats just not the case. I'm really so tired of T-shirt remakes that I could puke. I don't know how many about me pages/listing descriptions I read that say something to the tune of *I took this baggy men's T-shirt and gave it a flattering cut*....its been done. Done done done done done. And let me tell you why. Its not difficult to take a tshirt and sew new seams in it and make something else. You can learn to do it well *enough* to make something semi-decent in maybe about 5 to 10 attempts (and I swear some people don't even make THOSE attempts before they start selling on ebay). Taking a Tshirt and giving it a *flattering cut* is NOT INSPIRED. Its the equivalent of using printed fabric as the sole source of your design individuality - a plain dress...in a print fabric...IS NOT INSPIRED. Its a plain dress in print fabric. It doesnt matter how many different print fabrics you find to make your plain dress out of. Its not inspired. Its not art.
But anyone with a sewing machine and an hour to spare and a MINIMUM of ability can achieve at least a semi-decent result. And when you first saw it on ebay a few years ago...you went WOW thats cool...and the sellers doing it...were making some good money. So many people have seen these reconstructions and thought...I could do that...and BAM a flooded market is born whereby everyone and their dog is cutting up a tshirt and trying to sell it....and not everyone and their dog is talented enough to pull it off...because let me tell you, even though you CAN do it with a minimum of ability...that doesn't mean that youre doing it RIGHT. That what you're making is going to last more than a month. That what you're making is going to fit right on human anatomy...be comfortable, hang right...etc.
Wow thats a long way out of the way to go to make a point. That point being that the idea of all this was to be unique and individual, not to all wear the same tshirt cut up in 20 different *flattering* ways. And to top it off, back to the Keynsian economics here...the more sellers that enter the market, the more you DEVALUATE the product. And the sellers that enter the market with *less skilled* product devalue our market more, because when a buyer pays money for a DIY product and that product does not live up to their expectations, they will be hesitant to buy next time...not just from the less skilled seller, but from all sellers. They may leave the DIY market entirely.
I'm sure very few people understand my point here. And I'm not suggesting that the floodgates to DIY seller *heaven* should be closed and I'm not saying fuck anyone who decides to start a DIY venture on ebay. I'm saying this: Its not for everybody. You really need to think this DIY thing through very carefully. Here are some points from grislted veterans (myself included...hahah)
1. This is not all fun and games. Its not a work-at-home-when-your-lazy-ass-feels-like-it-so-you-dont-have-to-go-out-and-get-a-real-job sort of thing. If you take this seriously, and you have to to have ANY CHANCE of success...you're gonna work your fucking ass off. Seriously. Oh yeah sewing is fun. How much fun is it after 15 straight hours? After making 250 or so corsets? How much fun? Its not grinning ear to ear fun let me tell ya. It beats raking shit for a living *maybe, I hear shit rakers have great benefits* But its a job. And its FULL TIME. You can't put 20 hours a week into this and have any hope. It takes me 20 hours to make one item sometimes. And then there are the aspects of seeking out and purchasing your supplies, answering emails, doing listings, desiging your HTML, networking with other DIYers and suppliers, putting together packages to send, sending those packages, coming up with new ideas, designing those new ideas, mocking up the new ideas and begging people to try them on for you and give you an honest opinion...all this takes a lot of your time out of the day. I spend easily 50 to 60 hours a week on my ebay activities. And all of the other DIYers I talk to, and I talk to a LOT of em...put in that many or more. No weekends off. No evenings off.
2. The materials of this business are not cheap. Tshirts cost money. Fabric costs money. Trims cost money. All the fucking metal I put on my clothing - costs money. Sewing machines cost money. Sergers. REPAIRING the fucking sewing machines and sergers. I have easily $2000 in sewing equipment in my home. Easy. Talk about capital investment. I have enough fabric in my home to start my own store. None of it cheap...not even close. My capital investment into my business has reached well into the thousands. And where do you keep all this shit? I have TWO ROOMS dedicated to this. Two rooms of my townhouse. Doesn't leave much room for anything else.
3. PROFIT. You make a nice shirt...takes you 3 hours, say, plus an hour to take pictures and list. You sell it on ebay. And due to the lovely market glut we are currently in, you rake in a cool $20 on it. Ohhh yeah $20. Less the cost of the tshirt ($10), trim and other materials ($3), ebay and paypal fees ($3), income tax and social security tax($2 and YES you are going to have to pay income tax...otherwise you could GO TO JAIL. And yes the IRS DOES CARE, even if you only make a little bit. They will eventually find you...the rat bastards). That's $18 in cost...not even including all the little minor expenses that add up quick. So for your 4 hours of labor you net...at best...$2.
I see so many people trying to sell on ebay that make $8, $10...$20 on an item...and I think, HOW can they keep operating at a loss? Cuz they are. There is no way to make a profit at that level. Why put in ALL those hours, and spend all that upfront money on materials...to lose?
4. Market glut = little chance of exposure = little chance of success. That's the sad truth. There are sooooo many DIYers out there now, its gonna be hard for anyone to see you. The marketing blitz you'd have to put on to get attention now would have to be astronimical. I've bought some DIY from exceptionally talented people, and I could tell you their ebay IDs but you wouldn't know them. Because they get no exposure. You type into your search bar *DIY corset*, for instance, and EIGHT pages of results come up. How many people actually sift through 8 pages of results? How many people actually pay attention to the details of EVERY result?? How many are going to see your item and click on it? And what are the odds, with all the DIY out there, that they are going to buy yours and not go shopping instead for a similar item made by someone else that is cheaper??? I don't know how anyone but established sellers are even getting SEEN out there. I know from watching my numbers that I'm BARELY getting seen. Its chaos stew out there...
I guess I've ranted enough, and I really need to get back to work before I lose my edge...that I'm already losing...lol...but there is a whole realm of unranted rant about Inspiration and Art and Vision and the stunning lack thereof in the vast majority of DIY listings. There is also the rant about things that are not DIY being sold as DIY: FOR EXAMPLE...buy a walmart hoodie and screen printing a *ahem...licensed...btw* band logo on it that you drew on your computer and calling that STOLEN SHIT DIY....I love the listing I read yesterday...a new DIYer...had a screen printed hoodie from Old Navy (NWT!!! fuck....) and were of course selling it as *DIY* and had the gall to put a whole paragraph in their listing about how they had over 30 years of combined sewing experience. Ok. If you can sew....SEW A FUCKING HOODIE. I'm not trying to be a *sew only from scratch* snob...because there are legitimate reconstruction DIY projects that ROCK!! I've seen a lot of them...wearydrearies for one makes wonderful reconstructions...but these items display *again* inspiration, art...changing something to make it TOTALLY UNIQUE. Stealing a band logo and screen printing it on an Old Navy hoodie is NOT
inspired, is NOT art...should not be *DIY* and mostly, is fucking illegal and disrespectful to the bands who work hard for their money, too. I sometimes think I'm going to start reporting screen printers to ebay, then I think, fuck it. Its not my problem. I'm not in the band... but really, maybe we should...
Anyhoo, I've ranted too long. I think you all know where I'm coming from anyway. Just had to get that out. Badly. I'm sure there will be more spewing out me soon...I don't feel...done yet.
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