The 9-11 bullshit on MySpace about did me in....
Ok seriously. After about the 1000th MySpace bulletin yesterday for 9-11 drama, I was sure I was going to snap. But somehow I made it to the 1001st bulletin for 9-11 drama that was posted today before it finally took me over the edge...
I don't believe any of us NEED to review scenes from 9-11 over and over again to be reminded of how horrific those events were. We don't need "boo hoo" statistics (3,100 children left parentless, 1,000 widows...blah blah blah) to point out the magnitude of the event (and, btw, most of those statistics you're quoting...AREN'T correct). I think any rational and thinking human being has already grasped the magnitude of the horror of the 9-11 attacks. If you do not grasp this, perhaps you should do us all a favor and remove yourself from our planet post haste.
Why are they posting this crap? Well, here is an excerpt from one bulletin explaining why the poster felt the need to share:
People move on ith [sic] their lifes [sic], but seriously, don't you remember this? This is hisorty [sic]. You will be telling yuor [sic yet again] kids this story when they are older. Just don't forget your past. If you do, you have no future.
(you also don't have any future if you don't know how to spell...but I digress)
*But seriously, DONT YOU REMEMBER THIS*???? WTF!!!! September 11, 2001???? Did something happen that day??? Do we need a MySpace bulletin to be REMINDED of these events already??? I don't fucking think so. And while that bit of idiocy almost tied my brain in a knot... this tidbit at the end really sent me over the edge:
PLEASE REP0ST THiS F0R ALL 0F THE PE0PLE WH0 HAVE DiED. THEY W0ULD D0 THE SAME F0R Y 0 U . .
So the epitome of respect we can show for those who died on 9-11, the most expressive form of grief and remembrance we can offer the dead, is to REPOST a lame ass BULLETIN on MySpace? And really, would the dead do the same for me, were I in their place? Does this person truly believe that the reposting of graphic pictures and misspelled inane drivel will somehow COMFORT the SOULS of the dead, or the souls of their loved ones who remain behind???
My fucking god you drama hound children. You can almost feel the need to be *part of the drama* dripping from whomever composed that bulletin. And the reposters, too. Let me reassure you ~ and allow those who were THERE and LOST loved ones to also reassure you ~ 9-11 was NOT an event YOU wanted to be part of the drama of. It wasn't that kind of drama where you break up with your boyfriend and get to block him from your MySpace page and remove his phone number from your cell phone.... then wait for him to realize he's been blocked so that you can have a wailing, crying dramatic moment over it. One where you get to be the star of your own fucked up freak show...
The events of 9-11-01 were not good ones to be personally involved in. I almost feel idiotic having to say that. I am ETERNALLY grateful that I was not involved directly in the tragedy. And I don't care to perpetuate the assinine drama bullshit that went on yesterday over this whole anniversary. We remember what happened. We don't - and WON'T - ever need to be reminded about what happened. And we should have proper REVERENCE and RESPECT for those whose lives were ended or forever altered by its effects.
Grow up and be grateful, you little drama fucks.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Locomotive Breath?
There's a lot going on right now in my life, most of which I still can't divulge publicly for another week and a half or so... suffice it to say I am quite busy, quite stressed out, and wondering what in the world is going to become of our little family (yes, cats are family...damn it).
I still have a ton of commission work, but I'm giving it a break for a while because I caught a creative muse. I have about 8 projects in my head right now that are screaming to be let out, but the combination of the day job and commute and life in general makes it a really slow process bringing those projects to reality. I have so many new ideas. So much potential. If only I had TIME. Oh yeah, time... and limitless funds... hahah.
I never went back to my doctor for my cyst check up. Turns out she sent me to a lab that wasn't covered under my insurance, and all the shit they put me through ended up costing me about $500. Which I don't have. And I was by God NOT going back for another $500 in tests. So I might be dying of cancer at this moment. Not bloodly likely, tho. Maybe once... all the shit thats gonna happen this month... happens... I'll see about looking into that little issue again. Until then, what doesn't kill you makes you... wonder when it WILL kill you :P
I'm still a little surreal this morning. Fell asleep on the train on the way in. Usually I don't fall asleep on the way in, just on the way home. But today...boom...out went the lights. Woke up to a train full of people ready to get off the train. Jumped up (I sit right by the door), got off, and got halfway down track #9 toward the exit before I even realized I was awake. Nothing like coming to your senses in the middle of a train station... haha. Only moments ago I was sitting on a white sand beach, with an umbrella drink in my hand... and now the only ocean I see is an ocean of pissed off people trampling each other to get to work.
But I'm here now. whee. Got me a can of diet coke, my internet security blankee (mmmm internet) and four meetings scheduled today. Sounds like a full day. Gym at 3:15, then back home to try to satisfy the world's strongest creative muse just as slowly as I possibly can :)
Wow. No rants today. Not fully coherent yet, I don't think. I'm in the middle of *that time of the month* , so you'd think I'd have plenty to expound on. But I really don't. No exciting, drama-laden, self destructive spirals this month. Just tired old me, slowly turning the wheels of time and trying to stay awake on the train long enough to know when the fuck to get off.
God, he stole the handle... and the train it won't stop going, no way to to slow down....
I still have a ton of commission work, but I'm giving it a break for a while because I caught a creative muse. I have about 8 projects in my head right now that are screaming to be let out, but the combination of the day job and commute and life in general makes it a really slow process bringing those projects to reality. I have so many new ideas. So much potential. If only I had TIME. Oh yeah, time... and limitless funds... hahah.
I never went back to my doctor for my cyst check up. Turns out she sent me to a lab that wasn't covered under my insurance, and all the shit they put me through ended up costing me about $500. Which I don't have. And I was by God NOT going back for another $500 in tests. So I might be dying of cancer at this moment. Not bloodly likely, tho. Maybe once... all the shit thats gonna happen this month... happens... I'll see about looking into that little issue again. Until then, what doesn't kill you makes you... wonder when it WILL kill you :P
I'm still a little surreal this morning. Fell asleep on the train on the way in. Usually I don't fall asleep on the way in, just on the way home. But today...boom...out went the lights. Woke up to a train full of people ready to get off the train. Jumped up (I sit right by the door), got off, and got halfway down track #9 toward the exit before I even realized I was awake. Nothing like coming to your senses in the middle of a train station... haha. Only moments ago I was sitting on a white sand beach, with an umbrella drink in my hand... and now the only ocean I see is an ocean of pissed off people trampling each other to get to work.
But I'm here now. whee. Got me a can of diet coke, my internet security blankee (mmmm internet) and four meetings scheduled today. Sounds like a full day. Gym at 3:15, then back home to try to satisfy the world's strongest creative muse just as slowly as I possibly can :)
Wow. No rants today. Not fully coherent yet, I don't think. I'm in the middle of *that time of the month* , so you'd think I'd have plenty to expound on. But I really don't. No exciting, drama-laden, self destructive spirals this month. Just tired old me, slowly turning the wheels of time and trying to stay awake on the train long enough to know when the fuck to get off.
God, he stole the handle... and the train it won't stop going, no way to to slow down....
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
You Want Rants? I Got Rants. Gross Rants, Too...
Yeah its been a while since I blogged. Actually I have been blogging...on my private profile on MySpace. I have a few things to say that can't be voiced publicly at this time ;) so I've been there, not over here.
But today I'm here. Why? I dunno. I guess it started this morning with my train ride into work. Why do people insist on taking up spare seats with their bags? On one side as I boarded the train, we had a lady with her purse sitting squarely on the seat next to her. Why? I guess that handbag must weigh 700 tons and its uncomfortable on her lap?? On the other side as I board the train is Mr. Intent Businessman with his laptop out and his briefcase, laptop bag, lunch, gym clothes bag and who knows what the fuck else on the seat next to him. I take the seat across from Mr. Businessman. Some other lady makes the 700 ton purse woman move her purse so she can sit there. And you wouldnt believe the shit SHE had! She's been on the train before...I call her Miss Fucks Around Constantly. She has - no shit - 3 full bags. She throws one on the seat across from her, one in the aisle next to her, and puts the third on her lap. She then proceeds to do what she does everyday - why she got the moniker Miss Fucks Around Constantly - open bags, take out stuff, reorganize stuff, open a book and read it for four minutes, put it away, open another bag, take out a newspaper, read it for 4 minutes, fold it up, replace it in its plastic bag, put it in another bag, rummage through the big bag, find her purse, proceed to clean out her purse, dump the trash in another plastic baggy, place it in a different bag, replace the purse, get some food out of another bag, eat three bites, put it away in a bag, put that bag in a bag, put that bag in a bag, get her makeup bag out of another bag....
Yeah thats not annoying at 7 in the morning in the quiet car. A fucking adult with 3 full bags of shit who cant sit quietly for 25 minutes...
THEN Mr. How the FUCK Many Bags do I Need Just to Go to Work boards the train. Mr. HTFMBDINJTGTW has...oh three bags that are too big to be airline carry on bags. To go to work. And he wants the seat on the inside next to Mr. Intent Businessman with the laptop...the very seat Mr. Businessman has his briefcase and bag of lunch and computer bag etc etc piled on. Of course Mr. Intent Businessman is trying to find a place to put all his shit, meanwhile Mr. How the FUCK Many Bags do I Need is trying to crawl over ME, with his three large bags swinging to and fro and knocking me and Mr. Intent Businessman and everyone else in the immediate vicinity, in the face (although he managed to miss Miss Fucks Around Constantly...who really could have used a swift smack in the head with a large bag to maybe knock her out for awhile so she could relax).
He finally sits down (he's bigger than Eddie Murphy as the Nutty Professor, by the fucking way) and has NO place for his three monstrous bags except his lap (which is already sporting a monstrous gut) and the floor...the space between these seats that we commonly use for OUR LEGS. Between him and Mr. Businessman, there is no room on the floor for my legs, let alone me, and the whole fucking rest of the ride in is like a claustrophobic's worst nightmare....
How much shit do you need to go to work? I have one small bag containing a lunch and gym clothes. It sits nicely on my lap, and doesn't weigh 700 tons...
Speaking of the gym...rant #2... I've mentioned before that my gym is in my building, and I've also mentioned before that a lot of coworkers work out there. And I've also mentioned before that there is a locker room...and we all know that people change clothes in the locker room. I like to keep my eyes focused as high up as possible, and staring off into space, as I really...really....REALLY don't want to know what my coworkers look like naked. Just not appetizing. Coworker muff... UGH. And every damn one of them has winterbush (sometimes they catch you in an off moment and you catch a quick glimpse before you can refocus your eyes upward). No one in this gym knows how to even trim...double UGH. Now I'm not afraid of public nudity...hahah. I was raised by European hippies who paraded around the house naked in front of my friends (there's an old blog in here somewhere on that very topic), so I was not raised with shame for my body. That said, I do NOT undress my *lower regions* in the gym. Why not? Well, unlike most, I am friendly with the razor. A bit too friendly *ahem...* I really don't think most of those women actually ever looked in the bush to see what they got down there...and I don't want to parade around them giving them an anatomy lesson. AAAAANNNNYway... that said...
I walk into the locker room yesterday. I was thinking of something other than keeping my eyes turned upward... and as I walk in, directly in front of me was this woman disrobing - ok, more specifically removing her panties - and she wasnt doing it in the standard sort of off of one leg, off of the other leg while sitting down kind of modest fashion. She had her back turned to me, she grabbed her panties by the elastic waistband with both hands, and slid them down both legs simultaneously to her ankles...
with her hands on the elastic waistline the whole time...
essentially touching her toes...
back turned to me...
NOW...allow me to preface this by saying I'm all for this kind of display...in the privacy of my own bedroom ;) I'M ALL FOR IT (in fact I'm thinking of taking applications for bedroom display models haha) But this was wrong. And it wasn't just because she was a coworker...
It was because she was 70 years old....
I almost had to leave the gym. Right then and there. Was that close to turning around and walking out and going home and never coming back. I am still so scarred that I might wear blinders into the locker room from now on.
Just because its a locker room and its *ok* to get all naked and parade around other women (I suppose), what the fuck ever happened to modesty???? Christ. Double Christ.
I got more but lunch time is nearly over. And that last rant nearly made me revisit that lunch (mmmm macaroni and cheeeeeese)....
toodles
But today I'm here. Why? I dunno. I guess it started this morning with my train ride into work. Why do people insist on taking up spare seats with their bags? On one side as I boarded the train, we had a lady with her purse sitting squarely on the seat next to her. Why? I guess that handbag must weigh 700 tons and its uncomfortable on her lap?? On the other side as I board the train is Mr. Intent Businessman with his laptop out and his briefcase, laptop bag, lunch, gym clothes bag and who knows what the fuck else on the seat next to him. I take the seat across from Mr. Businessman. Some other lady makes the 700 ton purse woman move her purse so she can sit there. And you wouldnt believe the shit SHE had! She's been on the train before...I call her Miss Fucks Around Constantly. She has - no shit - 3 full bags. She throws one on the seat across from her, one in the aisle next to her, and puts the third on her lap. She then proceeds to do what she does everyday - why she got the moniker Miss Fucks Around Constantly - open bags, take out stuff, reorganize stuff, open a book and read it for four minutes, put it away, open another bag, take out a newspaper, read it for 4 minutes, fold it up, replace it in its plastic bag, put it in another bag, rummage through the big bag, find her purse, proceed to clean out her purse, dump the trash in another plastic baggy, place it in a different bag, replace the purse, get some food out of another bag, eat three bites, put it away in a bag, put that bag in a bag, put that bag in a bag, get her makeup bag out of another bag....
Yeah thats not annoying at 7 in the morning in the quiet car. A fucking adult with 3 full bags of shit who cant sit quietly for 25 minutes...
THEN Mr. How the FUCK Many Bags do I Need Just to Go to Work boards the train. Mr. HTFMBDINJTGTW has...oh three bags that are too big to be airline carry on bags. To go to work. And he wants the seat on the inside next to Mr. Intent Businessman with the laptop...the very seat Mr. Businessman has his briefcase and bag of lunch and computer bag etc etc piled on. Of course Mr. Intent Businessman is trying to find a place to put all his shit, meanwhile Mr. How the FUCK Many Bags do I Need is trying to crawl over ME, with his three large bags swinging to and fro and knocking me and Mr. Intent Businessman and everyone else in the immediate vicinity, in the face (although he managed to miss Miss Fucks Around Constantly...who really could have used a swift smack in the head with a large bag to maybe knock her out for awhile so she could relax).
He finally sits down (he's bigger than Eddie Murphy as the Nutty Professor, by the fucking way) and has NO place for his three monstrous bags except his lap (which is already sporting a monstrous gut) and the floor...the space between these seats that we commonly use for OUR LEGS. Between him and Mr. Businessman, there is no room on the floor for my legs, let alone me, and the whole fucking rest of the ride in is like a claustrophobic's worst nightmare....
How much shit do you need to go to work? I have one small bag containing a lunch and gym clothes. It sits nicely on my lap, and doesn't weigh 700 tons...
Speaking of the gym...rant #2... I've mentioned before that my gym is in my building, and I've also mentioned before that a lot of coworkers work out there. And I've also mentioned before that there is a locker room...and we all know that people change clothes in the locker room. I like to keep my eyes focused as high up as possible, and staring off into space, as I really...really....REALLY don't want to know what my coworkers look like naked. Just not appetizing. Coworker muff... UGH. And every damn one of them has winterbush (sometimes they catch you in an off moment and you catch a quick glimpse before you can refocus your eyes upward). No one in this gym knows how to even trim...double UGH. Now I'm not afraid of public nudity...hahah. I was raised by European hippies who paraded around the house naked in front of my friends (there's an old blog in here somewhere on that very topic), so I was not raised with shame for my body. That said, I do NOT undress my *lower regions* in the gym. Why not? Well, unlike most, I am friendly with the razor. A bit too friendly *ahem...* I really don't think most of those women actually ever looked in the bush to see what they got down there...and I don't want to parade around them giving them an anatomy lesson. AAAAANNNNYway... that said...
I walk into the locker room yesterday. I was thinking of something other than keeping my eyes turned upward... and as I walk in, directly in front of me was this woman disrobing - ok, more specifically removing her panties - and she wasnt doing it in the standard sort of off of one leg, off of the other leg while sitting down kind of modest fashion. She had her back turned to me, she grabbed her panties by the elastic waistband with both hands, and slid them down both legs simultaneously to her ankles...
with her hands on the elastic waistline the whole time...
essentially touching her toes...
back turned to me...
NOW...allow me to preface this by saying I'm all for this kind of display...in the privacy of my own bedroom ;) I'M ALL FOR IT (in fact I'm thinking of taking applications for bedroom display models haha) But this was wrong. And it wasn't just because she was a coworker...
It was because she was 70 years old....
I almost had to leave the gym. Right then and there. Was that close to turning around and walking out and going home and never coming back. I am still so scarred that I might wear blinders into the locker room from now on.
Just because its a locker room and its *ok* to get all naked and parade around other women (I suppose), what the fuck ever happened to modesty???? Christ. Double Christ.
I got more but lunch time is nearly over. And that last rant nearly made me revisit that lunch (mmmm macaroni and cheeeeeese)....
toodles
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Short Girl's Disease
Yep. I've got short girl's disease. Now I know how it is for guys when they feel *inadequate* around other guys...
So there's this girl who works in my gym. She's a personal trainer, I hear she plays - played ?- basketball. Let me tell you about this girl. She is top to bottom, side to side, built like a motherfucking brick SHIT HOUSE. I mean, the first time I saw her last month, I was looking at her from behind and I'm like holy DAMN is that a guy or a girl?? She's that built. I mean...damn. Damn. Like the body of my dreams.
And she really intimidates me. And maybe she does it on purpose I dunno...lol... In any case, she's got me beat heightwise by 6 inches easy (not hard to do)...and 30 to 40 pounds too...and thats ALL muscle... and I swear she would not only beat my ass if given the opportunity, she would kill me stone cold dead before I had time to run away (which, btw is exactly what I would do if I found out she was angry with me...haha).
Now for the short girl's disease. This girl works in my gym, like I said. And every time she's there when I get there...something goes wrong in my head. My wires cross. I can no longer complete a *standard workout* .... noooo... it has to be super-omega-gamma-kicking-my-ass-making-me-ill workout. I'm doing cardio like my ass is on fire. Lifting, when she is around, is always a heavy day - even if it was a light day rotation - cuz I'd die before I'd let her see me curling measly little 15 pound dumbbells. Gotta do 20s... I'm literally killing myself when she's around... why? short girls disease... yeah, she's bigger than me, but I gotta prove to her that I can keep up with her anyway. Even though she probably never even notices or cares... lol... like I said, something goes wrong with the wiring in my head...
Just thought I'd share that story. Maybe its best that I'm not the buffest girl in the gym... haha... keeps me motivated at any rate...
hmm...strange...
Anyway, so they banned a bunch of shit on carry on bags on airlines today. Now you know I have a bad history with airline security. I absolutely cannot stand the *rent a GED* losers they have operating our *security* system. Nothing like being yelled at, hit (yep hit), having your shit rudely confiscated, etc etc, by some big fat attitude-laden bitch who cant even SPELL security...
So now, because of this new and twisted little terrorist plot, we can no longer bring bottles of liquid or gel onto planes. You know what I think? I think Al Queda sits around on Saturday nights, getting drunk in a cave somewhere in Afghanistan, thinking of retarded shit to do to us. I envision this:
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "Hey Osama, what can we do to fuck with the American infidel now?"
Osama: "I have a good one! Lets pretend we have a plot to blow up planes...using hair gel and ipods!!! We can spread the word that we intend to take down 10 planes that way, and see what happens!!"
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "*hic* hahahah Osama, that is rich!!! I can see it now! All the American Infidels having to rid their bags of hair gel and ipods before they can get on the plane!!! hahah!!!"
Osama: "Oh what chaos we will bring!!! The American Infidels won't know how to act without their Dippity Doo!! "
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "Lets do it! Lets do it! I double dog dare you!!! AYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYYAYYAYAY"
*sigh*
Our world is fucking retarded.
So there's this girl who works in my gym. She's a personal trainer, I hear she plays - played ?- basketball. Let me tell you about this girl. She is top to bottom, side to side, built like a motherfucking brick SHIT HOUSE. I mean, the first time I saw her last month, I was looking at her from behind and I'm like holy DAMN is that a guy or a girl?? She's that built. I mean...damn. Damn. Like the body of my dreams.
And she really intimidates me. And maybe she does it on purpose I dunno...lol... In any case, she's got me beat heightwise by 6 inches easy (not hard to do)...and 30 to 40 pounds too...and thats ALL muscle... and I swear she would not only beat my ass if given the opportunity, she would kill me stone cold dead before I had time to run away (which, btw is exactly what I would do if I found out she was angry with me...haha).
Now for the short girl's disease. This girl works in my gym, like I said. And every time she's there when I get there...something goes wrong in my head. My wires cross. I can no longer complete a *standard workout* .... noooo... it has to be super-omega-gamma-kicking-my-ass-making-me-ill workout. I'm doing cardio like my ass is on fire. Lifting, when she is around, is always a heavy day - even if it was a light day rotation - cuz I'd die before I'd let her see me curling measly little 15 pound dumbbells. Gotta do 20s... I'm literally killing myself when she's around... why? short girls disease... yeah, she's bigger than me, but I gotta prove to her that I can keep up with her anyway. Even though she probably never even notices or cares... lol... like I said, something goes wrong with the wiring in my head...
Just thought I'd share that story. Maybe its best that I'm not the buffest girl in the gym... haha... keeps me motivated at any rate...
hmm...strange...
Anyway, so they banned a bunch of shit on carry on bags on airlines today. Now you know I have a bad history with airline security. I absolutely cannot stand the *rent a GED* losers they have operating our *security* system. Nothing like being yelled at, hit (yep hit), having your shit rudely confiscated, etc etc, by some big fat attitude-laden bitch who cant even SPELL security...
So now, because of this new and twisted little terrorist plot, we can no longer bring bottles of liquid or gel onto planes. You know what I think? I think Al Queda sits around on Saturday nights, getting drunk in a cave somewhere in Afghanistan, thinking of retarded shit to do to us. I envision this:
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "Hey Osama, what can we do to fuck with the American infidel now?"
Osama: "I have a good one! Lets pretend we have a plot to blow up planes...using hair gel and ipods!!! We can spread the word that we intend to take down 10 planes that way, and see what happens!!"
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "*hic* hahahah Osama, that is rich!!! I can see it now! All the American Infidels having to rid their bags of hair gel and ipods before they can get on the plane!!! hahah!!!"
Osama: "Oh what chaos we will bring!!! The American Infidels won't know how to act without their Dippity Doo!! "
Mohammad Mohammad Achmed: "Lets do it! Lets do it! I double dog dare you!!! AYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYYAYYAYAY"
*sigh*
Our world is fucking retarded.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The Relentless Pursuit
I think I can safely say that I'm within 5 pounds of my goal weight...I use the term safely because I tend to gain weight rapidly - like pounds a day - and I know some of you are saying *That's not possible* but you haven't lived a day in my body - it IS possible...I live it ;) In any case, I think I'm maintaining well at 135 lbs...if I can lose this last 5 and maintain it, I think I will have finally reached my weight nirvana. Just in time for my damn doctor to put me on birth control to help control my cysts...and BOOM up will shoot the weight again... *sigh*
I guess I'm just going to have to be MORE militaristic. You don't know what I've put my body through these last few months to lose this 13 pounds. Ive gone from three days a week in the gym to five minimum - sometimes I can even get away with six days - and cut waaaay down on my food intake. I can't even finish a standard sized meal any more. And restaurant food? No way in hell I can eat what they bring me any more. I've finally managed to shrink my stomach some so that I feel full with less food.
My damn clothes are all too loose. I love it. After this last five, I'm finally going to make myself those damn black & metal capri pants I've been waiting to make...
fucking birth control...
Its ridiculous to even think of me on birth control. First, I'm 37...I should have my tubes tied by this age, for god's sake. And second, I'm infertile anyway...hahah...it just seems kinda dumb...
maybe I wont take it...
I told the doctor that they were going in the trash as soon as I hit 140 pounds. Told her i'd rather be dead than fat and out of shape. That didnt go over too well with my husband...who of course had to roll his eyes at me...
*sigh*
In other news, I've been really low lately. I wrote a huge ass blog about it yesterday, then got sidetracked by Moxie and never did recapture the mood to finish it ;) Basically, you know...everything sucks and it sucks to be me...haha...I guess I don't have to post it now...
I need to blog more. My brain refuses to shut the fuck up for even a minute these days. Expect more random stupid shit...
I guess I'm just going to have to be MORE militaristic. You don't know what I've put my body through these last few months to lose this 13 pounds. Ive gone from three days a week in the gym to five minimum - sometimes I can even get away with six days - and cut waaaay down on my food intake. I can't even finish a standard sized meal any more. And restaurant food? No way in hell I can eat what they bring me any more. I've finally managed to shrink my stomach some so that I feel full with less food.
My damn clothes are all too loose. I love it. After this last five, I'm finally going to make myself those damn black & metal capri pants I've been waiting to make...
fucking birth control...
Its ridiculous to even think of me on birth control. First, I'm 37...I should have my tubes tied by this age, for god's sake. And second, I'm infertile anyway...hahah...it just seems kinda dumb...
maybe I wont take it...
I told the doctor that they were going in the trash as soon as I hit 140 pounds. Told her i'd rather be dead than fat and out of shape. That didnt go over too well with my husband...who of course had to roll his eyes at me...
*sigh*
In other news, I've been really low lately. I wrote a huge ass blog about it yesterday, then got sidetracked by Moxie and never did recapture the mood to finish it ;) Basically, you know...everything sucks and it sucks to be me...haha...I guess I don't have to post it now...
I need to blog more. My brain refuses to shut the fuck up for even a minute these days. Expect more random stupid shit...
Friday, June 30, 2006
YAY!
No tumors!! Yay!!
But I gots an *abnormal* ovarian cyst...
haha so JoAnn wins the *guess my illness* pool! Your prize will be forthcoming :)
So get this...I gots a compound ovarian cyst....that's bleeding into itself...??? God I hope its less gruesome than it sounds... The cyst is 2 cm in diameter, right ovary...they are going to see if it corrects itself with time...so THAT means two months from now, ANOTHER transvaginal ultrasound!!! yay...fuck...
I feel like Cartman. Why does everything today have to do with something going into or out of my vagina???
ewww I said the word. Sorry. Me stop.
If the cyst is still there in 2 months??? I dunno. I guess they take it out??
The lump in my lower pelvis is still there. Still too large for the doctor's taste, but she is of the impression that it, too, will go down with time. I have to go back in two months for the ultrasound anyway, so she will follow up then. If its still swollen?? I dunno. I guess they take it out?? LOL I have no idea.
Oh yeah and I have a tipped uterus. Ooops! It musta gotten drunk and fell over backward ;)
Of course she said they can't diagnose or even fix endometriosis without a laproscopy. I am pretty much NOT for opening myself up unless its life threatening...so we went with the *who knows maybe someday when we're in there already we will have a look at that* plan. That works for me.
...BUT NO TUMORS!!! YAY!!!
But I gots an *abnormal* ovarian cyst...
haha so JoAnn wins the *guess my illness* pool! Your prize will be forthcoming :)
So get this...I gots a compound ovarian cyst....that's bleeding into itself...??? God I hope its less gruesome than it sounds... The cyst is 2 cm in diameter, right ovary...they are going to see if it corrects itself with time...so THAT means two months from now, ANOTHER transvaginal ultrasound!!! yay...fuck...
I feel like Cartman. Why does everything today have to do with something going into or out of my vagina???
ewww I said the word. Sorry. Me stop.
If the cyst is still there in 2 months??? I dunno. I guess they take it out??
The lump in my lower pelvis is still there. Still too large for the doctor's taste, but she is of the impression that it, too, will go down with time. I have to go back in two months for the ultrasound anyway, so she will follow up then. If its still swollen?? I dunno. I guess they take it out?? LOL I have no idea.
Oh yeah and I have a tipped uterus. Ooops! It musta gotten drunk and fell over backward ;)
Of course she said they can't diagnose or even fix endometriosis without a laproscopy. I am pretty much NOT for opening myself up unless its life threatening...so we went with the *who knows maybe someday when we're in there already we will have a look at that* plan. That works for me.
...BUT NO TUMORS!!! YAY!!!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Fascinating!
Ultrasounds done. Of course, I was good and blitzed for the tests. Yay for rum shots first thing in the morning. They weren't going to let my husband in the examination room...but ummm I'M THE PATIENT and I have rights, so at my insistence he got to come along...fuckers. Having him there made me feel about 1000 times better.
Overall, no problem at all. Even the *ugly* ultrasound. I don't know why I even get so upset...
Anyway, of course there is nothing to report, they can't tell you what they see. The lady took a bunch of pictures and measurements...and she didn't laugh when I asked if it was a boy or a girl...I guess rum makes you think you're funnier than you are ;)
The only thing I know is that I'm currently about to ovulate...hahah...on my right side. I got to see the giant black-hole looking cyst sac that forms around the egg. In a day or two that bitch will burst open and voila...I will once again not procreate hahah...YAY!!
But thats all I know. Now the week of waiting begins.
Overall, no problem at all. Even the *ugly* ultrasound. I don't know why I even get so upset...
Anyway, of course there is nothing to report, they can't tell you what they see. The lady took a bunch of pictures and measurements...and she didn't laugh when I asked if it was a boy or a girl...I guess rum makes you think you're funnier than you are ;)
The only thing I know is that I'm currently about to ovulate...hahah...on my right side. I got to see the giant black-hole looking cyst sac that forms around the egg. In a day or two that bitch will burst open and voila...I will once again not procreate hahah...YAY!!
But thats all I know. Now the week of waiting begins.
Friday, June 23, 2006
In the Space Between A Blink and a Tear
Pull me out of body don't want it don't want in.
Feeble frail and rotting descending I'm lost in
A structure that's collapsing don't want it cast into
Maker take the body don't want it wants me...
Spending my morning in a low-grade freak out. Not a full panic attack, just a nice even keel freak out...enough to keep the blood flowing fast, but not enough to leave me in a bathroom stall, shaking, rocking and mumbling various incoherencies...
I plan to start the morning off tomorrow with a few shots of rum. They say drink 24 ounces of clear liquid an hour before the tests. There is no further specificiation as to the *clear liquid*, so Bacardi clear qualifies in my mind. I do what I have to in order to get through my existence...don't judge lest you be judged yourself ;) The tests are all ultrasounds anyway, so my level of intoxication will have little bearing on the results.
I've had similar tests done in the past...not the TV ultrasound - my main reason for being drunk - but all kinds of these things before. And the trick is to watch the face of the technician while they are looking at the screen. Obviously, a technician cannot give you any diagnosis, and really, ethically, they shouldn't even tell you shit about what they see or think they see. They just know how to run the equipment, they aren't fully qualified doctors. But they've done a thousand of these things before...and their faces show when they see an anomaly. Especially a gross anomaly - something so obviously wrong that even I would know it if I saw it (and honestly...I look at the screen too and I couldn't tell you shit from a hole in the ground on those things. It all looks like nothing to me.) Also, if they keep saying, "Let me get another picture of this area...just one more. How about another one...just want to be sure..." then you know they see something.
Maybe the trick is NOT to look at their faces. Maybe just shut your eyes, turn away, turn on the ipod loud and try not to look at the screen. Maybe its better to not know....
*sigh*
I'll be ok. A little drunk, but otherwise ok. I know there's something wrong, I'm not sure if I'll like the *what* that turns out to be wrong, but there's not just a whole lot I can do about that now, is there? So I'll just toughen up and take it, and deal with it. After the alcohol wears off ;)
And every time I start to drown in my own little puddle of muck, I am reminded that things could be a whole lot worse....
One of my oldest friends (not age wise, but that too hahaha) and a regular reader and commenter on my blog - Blind Colorado Perv aka Ken - is having his second kidney transplant operation on Tuesday. While I do have his phone number, you can rest assured I won't call, due to my phone phobia... (Dont worry, my husband will call...we are not total cads, only mostly cads) But anyway, he comes by the blog every once in a while, so I'm gonna take my opportunity, if he does come by, to wish him and his sister (his donor) both the best on Tuesday. And a speedy healthy recovery. All that good shit. And I'd also like to say HEY KEN!! How about you don't fuck this kidney up this time??? ;) They work better if you don't keep poking at them with forks... I don't even know what that means, but it gives me a funny little mental image so I'm going with that.
I do miss my good friends...fuck I'd like to go back home to stay...
Well, shit for another day. I have to go to the liquor store to buy some rum now...
Feeble frail and rotting descending I'm lost in
A structure that's collapsing don't want it cast into
Maker take the body don't want it wants me...
Spending my morning in a low-grade freak out. Not a full panic attack, just a nice even keel freak out...enough to keep the blood flowing fast, but not enough to leave me in a bathroom stall, shaking, rocking and mumbling various incoherencies...
I plan to start the morning off tomorrow with a few shots of rum. They say drink 24 ounces of clear liquid an hour before the tests. There is no further specificiation as to the *clear liquid*, so Bacardi clear qualifies in my mind. I do what I have to in order to get through my existence...don't judge lest you be judged yourself ;) The tests are all ultrasounds anyway, so my level of intoxication will have little bearing on the results.
I've had similar tests done in the past...not the TV ultrasound - my main reason for being drunk - but all kinds of these things before. And the trick is to watch the face of the technician while they are looking at the screen. Obviously, a technician cannot give you any diagnosis, and really, ethically, they shouldn't even tell you shit about what they see or think they see. They just know how to run the equipment, they aren't fully qualified doctors. But they've done a thousand of these things before...and their faces show when they see an anomaly. Especially a gross anomaly - something so obviously wrong that even I would know it if I saw it (and honestly...I look at the screen too and I couldn't tell you shit from a hole in the ground on those things. It all looks like nothing to me.) Also, if they keep saying, "Let me get another picture of this area...just one more. How about another one...just want to be sure..." then you know they see something.
Maybe the trick is NOT to look at their faces. Maybe just shut your eyes, turn away, turn on the ipod loud and try not to look at the screen. Maybe its better to not know....
*sigh*
I'll be ok. A little drunk, but otherwise ok. I know there's something wrong, I'm not sure if I'll like the *what* that turns out to be wrong, but there's not just a whole lot I can do about that now, is there? So I'll just toughen up and take it, and deal with it. After the alcohol wears off ;)
And every time I start to drown in my own little puddle of muck, I am reminded that things could be a whole lot worse....
One of my oldest friends (not age wise, but that too hahaha) and a regular reader and commenter on my blog - Blind Colorado Perv aka Ken - is having his second kidney transplant operation on Tuesday. While I do have his phone number, you can rest assured I won't call, due to my phone phobia... (Dont worry, my husband will call...we are not total cads, only mostly cads) But anyway, he comes by the blog every once in a while, so I'm gonna take my opportunity, if he does come by, to wish him and his sister (his donor) both the best on Tuesday. And a speedy healthy recovery. All that good shit. And I'd also like to say HEY KEN!! How about you don't fuck this kidney up this time??? ;) They work better if you don't keep poking at them with forks... I don't even know what that means, but it gives me a funny little mental image so I'm going with that.
I do miss my good friends...fuck I'd like to go back home to stay...
Well, shit for another day. I have to go to the liquor store to buy some rum now...
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Blood Tests and Other Ramblings
I gave up a good three vials full of blood today for all the blood testing my doctor ordered. Thyroid tests, blood counts ~ I always wondered how many platelets I had...hahah...now I will finally know ~ a lipid test...for cholesterol I'm guessing? I have no idea what that has to do with *female* issues, I guess she just wants to know. I keep forgetting I'm 37 years old, I guess I need to be up to date on stuff like my cholesterol level. I'm pretty sure its low as hell, I have NO blood pressure, I'm suprised the blood makes it to my brain, so my heart is obviously not having to pump its ass off to get my blood through clogged arteries. I'm sure I'm just fine there. Well hell, I hope I'm fine there. I shouldn't jinx myself. Christ.
Yeah, I keep forgetting I'm old. When I went in the other day to the doctor's office, they like to ask you all those *history* questions. She asked when my last mammogram was. I was like...uhhh...I've never had a mammogram?? (I mean christ, I'm just a fucking kid). She looked at me, gaped mouth and aghast...and said *You've NEVER had a mammogram??* OH YEAH thats RIGHT, I AM old...I probably should have had one of those by now. Fucking ooops. Ugh.
Hahah and then she said, *we want to get your accurate weight...so we need ummm need you to take off those boots...and ummm...those chains...really....* HAHAHA I was laughing so hard I didn't even notice that I was down to 136 1/2 (YES!!!! FUCKING A YES!!) until like 3 minutes later. I can hear her at dinner that night...*so we had a patient in, 37 years old...yeah...had to have her take of her giant metal and leather ass kicking boots and 4 yards of chains so we could get her accurate weight...*
On rare occasions I actually do enjoy being me. That was one of them ;)
Oh yeah and the other story...and only Moxie, Sugarkitty and a few others will get this one...but its funny nonetheless. When you first come in, they get a copy of your insurance card and driver's license (I think Moxie knows where this is going). I'm sitting in the waiting room...they call my name...I follow the lady to the examination room. And just as we get to the door she turns around and goes *Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I think I got the wrong patient. You're not Cindy Gribble, are you?* I'm like...uh...yeah?? (I mean if its bad to be me at that moment, then call me Annette and let me have a running head start out the door...but at that moment, I guess it was ok...) She asks again - *You're CINDY GRIBBLE?* I'm like YES!!! What? How is this so difficult to accept? She looks at my driver's license picture...then at me...then at the driver's license picture...HAHAHAH... I still don't think she thinks I'm me. She thinks I'm some boot wearing, chain laden imposter...running around pretending to be Cindy Gribble so that I can...what?...reap all the fucking benefits of being Cindy Gribble? Hahahah....riiiiiiiight....
I can guarantee that pretending to be me at this stage of my life is no fucking treat. So there's no need to attempt...or continue...it... I tell you what, if you want to fucking BE ME, come do this transvaginal fucking ultrasound for me Saturday morning. Yeah, get on google and look THAT fucking shit up. Then be glad you're you and move on.
*sigh*
If I can get past Saturday...and survive the week of wondering what sort of heinous ugly cancerous masses are going to show up on these tests (yes I always assume the worst...) and make it to next Friday and she says YAY no cancer...just...I dunno...fibroid tumors?? Cysts?? 25 years of endometriosis growing all over my innards??? Twisted parts (my husband's theory)???...whatever....
If I can get past it and get the good news...well its still not good news, but its nonterminal news...which is good news...I think I am going to quit my job, move away from this shithole, and finally live my life the way I want to. Cuz I'm getting old and time is getting short.
I guess I need to schedule a mammogram, too... hahah... fuck me.
Yeah, I keep forgetting I'm old. When I went in the other day to the doctor's office, they like to ask you all those *history* questions. She asked when my last mammogram was. I was like...uhhh...I've never had a mammogram?? (I mean christ, I'm just a fucking kid). She looked at me, gaped mouth and aghast...and said *You've NEVER had a mammogram??* OH YEAH thats RIGHT, I AM old...I probably should have had one of those by now. Fucking ooops. Ugh.
Hahah and then she said, *we want to get your accurate weight...so we need ummm need you to take off those boots...and ummm...those chains...really....* HAHAHA I was laughing so hard I didn't even notice that I was down to 136 1/2 (YES!!!! FUCKING A YES!!) until like 3 minutes later. I can hear her at dinner that night...*so we had a patient in, 37 years old...yeah...had to have her take of her giant metal and leather ass kicking boots and 4 yards of chains so we could get her accurate weight...*
On rare occasions I actually do enjoy being me. That was one of them ;)
Oh yeah and the other story...and only Moxie, Sugarkitty and a few others will get this one...but its funny nonetheless. When you first come in, they get a copy of your insurance card and driver's license (I think Moxie knows where this is going). I'm sitting in the waiting room...they call my name...I follow the lady to the examination room. And just as we get to the door she turns around and goes *Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I think I got the wrong patient. You're not Cindy Gribble, are you?* I'm like...uh...yeah?? (I mean if its bad to be me at that moment, then call me Annette and let me have a running head start out the door...but at that moment, I guess it was ok...) She asks again - *You're CINDY GRIBBLE?* I'm like YES!!! What? How is this so difficult to accept? She looks at my driver's license picture...then at me...then at the driver's license picture...HAHAHAH... I still don't think she thinks I'm me. She thinks I'm some boot wearing, chain laden imposter...running around pretending to be Cindy Gribble so that I can...what?...reap all the fucking benefits of being Cindy Gribble? Hahahah....riiiiiiiight....
I can guarantee that pretending to be me at this stage of my life is no fucking treat. So there's no need to attempt...or continue...it... I tell you what, if you want to fucking BE ME, come do this transvaginal fucking ultrasound for me Saturday morning. Yeah, get on google and look THAT fucking shit up. Then be glad you're you and move on.
*sigh*
If I can get past Saturday...and survive the week of wondering what sort of heinous ugly cancerous masses are going to show up on these tests (yes I always assume the worst...) and make it to next Friday and she says YAY no cancer...just...I dunno...fibroid tumors?? Cysts?? 25 years of endometriosis growing all over my innards??? Twisted parts (my husband's theory)???...whatever....
If I can get past it and get the good news...well its still not good news, but its nonterminal news...which is good news...I think I am going to quit my job, move away from this shithole, and finally live my life the way I want to. Cuz I'm getting old and time is getting short.
I guess I need to schedule a mammogram, too... hahah... fuck me.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Cryptic Writings on the Wall
I have a lump in my lower abdomen...pelvic region actually. Right side. It is very large and palpable - about the size of a quarter. It seems to me to be an inflamed lymph node - it feels just like one (you have those in your pelvic area too, not just in your neck). I went to the nurse practitioner today in our building and found out that I have no signs of infection, no fever, no sickness of any sort...in fact, I am otherwise about as healthy as a person can be... except for this giant painful lump in my abdomen. The nurse practitioner can't diagnose...they aren't allowed to...but she very strongly suggested I go see my doctor NOW because, without signs of infection, this is a sign of some other very serious problem. So I am home from work now, in a few hours I have an appointment with my doctor.
The only conclusion I can draw is that when women have breast cancer, the lymph nodes in their underarms swell...without sign of infection...because they are trying to fight the cancer.
Of course I'm not a doctor. If I was, I'd probably still be miserable at my job, but making five times as much. But I know this. And this may be TMI for some of you, so if you can't take it, stop reading now. I've had *midmonth* bleeding for about 6 months now. Usually starts a week after my period, brought on by strenuous excercise (who? me?) and lasts as little as a day or up to 4 or 5 days. Ive had it in the past, about 10 years ago...I took birth control for about 6 months to regulate myself, and have been fine until just recently. On two occasions in the past 6 months, I have had extreme pain immediately after sex. Cramps - just like menstrual - to the point where I laid in the bed and moaned in agony for about half an hour. I have difficulty urinating - my joke, that I thought was funny until about an hour ago, was to say that my prostrate was swollen, that's why I couldn't pee (see I'm female, I have no prostrate...haha, huh?) and on several occassions over the past few years I have had pain immediately after urinating - much like menstrual again, lasting about 3 minutes...quite painful and sharp, then subsiding pretty quickly.
I am also infertile for reasons that are unknown to me. Other than the times I have taken birth control to regulate my period, I have not used any form of contraception...and I'm 37 years old...and have had sex a LOT over the last 21 years...and never been pregnant...so...yeah...I'm infertile.
What does all this mean? It doesn't sound too good, does it? I'm thinking not. I'm not looking forward to 3:30 and my appointment...I've already pretty much resigned myself to what they are going to say. They are going to recommend a blood test for cancer, and a pelvic ultrasound for starters...
Maybe even a biopsy...
All I know is that survival rate for ovarian cancer is approx. 50%, and that depends of course on the age and general health of the patient, and the stage of the disease. Overall, that would be a pretty grim diagnosis. Perhaps there is nothing wrong other than some simple endometriosis thats working my system into a frenzy...unfortunately the symptoms I have occur with just about every abnormality in the female reproductive system, and a biopsy is going to be the only way to know for sure....so it could be nothing. It could also be something very terrible.
I'm not afraid of death. Not at all. Its an inevitable fact of life, it is part of nature, therefore it is the right thing to happen, and nothing to be afraid of...because it IS supposed to happen. Just not sure if I'm ready for it to happen just yet. I don't really feel that I've even gotten my life off the ground yet...I think I still have more to offer. Hahah...more is a funny word to use there because I'm not really sure I've actually offered ANYTHING yet...maybe I should just say I think I have something to offer...
At any rate, that's that...
POST VISIT UPDATE: Before my mother reads this and drops dead, I figure I better update. The doctor thinks that gland in my pelvis is probably swollen due to drainage from an ingrown hair I had...you know...from shaving... *ahem* I'd thought that that little problem I had was pretty much healed up, but the doctor thinks its a reaction to that. She put me on cipro and thinks that will solve that problem.
Now for the less than good news. She says there is something very wrong with my plumbing. She thinks cancer is a pretty off chance, but is not ruling anything out. I have to have blood work done this week to rule out anemia and thyroid problems, and I have an ultrasound Saturday morning so they can...well, why sugar coat it...so they can look for *unusual masses*. Then I go back a week from Friday to discuss the test results, where we go from there, and have my pap smear...which by the way is ridiculous that she just didnt do that today, since she did an otherwise full pelvic exam...wtf? Three more seconds down there would have finished that up...guess they want to charge twice. Or maybe I'm cute and she wants me back. Who knows...haha...sorry again to those of you for whom that was too much information. But did you expect otherwise?
At any rate, I feel somewhat better, but still fairly trepidacious about what these tests are going to show.... not one of the world's happier campers...
The only conclusion I can draw is that when women have breast cancer, the lymph nodes in their underarms swell...without sign of infection...because they are trying to fight the cancer.
Of course I'm not a doctor. If I was, I'd probably still be miserable at my job, but making five times as much. But I know this. And this may be TMI for some of you, so if you can't take it, stop reading now. I've had *midmonth* bleeding for about 6 months now. Usually starts a week after my period, brought on by strenuous excercise (who? me?) and lasts as little as a day or up to 4 or 5 days. Ive had it in the past, about 10 years ago...I took birth control for about 6 months to regulate myself, and have been fine until just recently. On two occasions in the past 6 months, I have had extreme pain immediately after sex. Cramps - just like menstrual - to the point where I laid in the bed and moaned in agony for about half an hour. I have difficulty urinating - my joke, that I thought was funny until about an hour ago, was to say that my prostrate was swollen, that's why I couldn't pee (see I'm female, I have no prostrate...haha, huh?) and on several occassions over the past few years I have had pain immediately after urinating - much like menstrual again, lasting about 3 minutes...quite painful and sharp, then subsiding pretty quickly.
I am also infertile for reasons that are unknown to me. Other than the times I have taken birth control to regulate my period, I have not used any form of contraception...and I'm 37 years old...and have had sex a LOT over the last 21 years...and never been pregnant...so...yeah...I'm infertile.
What does all this mean? It doesn't sound too good, does it? I'm thinking not. I'm not looking forward to 3:30 and my appointment...I've already pretty much resigned myself to what they are going to say. They are going to recommend a blood test for cancer, and a pelvic ultrasound for starters...
Maybe even a biopsy...
All I know is that survival rate for ovarian cancer is approx. 50%, and that depends of course on the age and general health of the patient, and the stage of the disease. Overall, that would be a pretty grim diagnosis. Perhaps there is nothing wrong other than some simple endometriosis thats working my system into a frenzy...unfortunately the symptoms I have occur with just about every abnormality in the female reproductive system, and a biopsy is going to be the only way to know for sure....so it could be nothing. It could also be something very terrible.
I'm not afraid of death. Not at all. Its an inevitable fact of life, it is part of nature, therefore it is the right thing to happen, and nothing to be afraid of...because it IS supposed to happen. Just not sure if I'm ready for it to happen just yet. I don't really feel that I've even gotten my life off the ground yet...I think I still have more to offer. Hahah...more is a funny word to use there because I'm not really sure I've actually offered ANYTHING yet...maybe I should just say I think I have something to offer...
At any rate, that's that...
POST VISIT UPDATE: Before my mother reads this and drops dead, I figure I better update. The doctor thinks that gland in my pelvis is probably swollen due to drainage from an ingrown hair I had...you know...from shaving... *ahem* I'd thought that that little problem I had was pretty much healed up, but the doctor thinks its a reaction to that. She put me on cipro and thinks that will solve that problem.
Now for the less than good news. She says there is something very wrong with my plumbing. She thinks cancer is a pretty off chance, but is not ruling anything out. I have to have blood work done this week to rule out anemia and thyroid problems, and I have an ultrasound Saturday morning so they can...well, why sugar coat it...so they can look for *unusual masses*. Then I go back a week from Friday to discuss the test results, where we go from there, and have my pap smear...which by the way is ridiculous that she just didnt do that today, since she did an otherwise full pelvic exam...wtf? Three more seconds down there would have finished that up...guess they want to charge twice. Or maybe I'm cute and she wants me back. Who knows...haha...sorry again to those of you for whom that was too much information. But did you expect otherwise?
At any rate, I feel somewhat better, but still fairly trepidacious about what these tests are going to show.... not one of the world's happier campers...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH...
*gulps in air*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH...
Why
Cant
I
Be
Sane
?
Motherfuck I hate my brain.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH...
*gulps in air*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHH...
Why
Cant
I
Be
Sane
?
Motherfuck I hate my brain.
MySpace *rolls eyes*
Sorry. I picked up that eye roll thing from Marci...
I actually wanted to send this off as a special little bulletin from me to the world...but I thought it better to keep my rants here, where I've always kept them. The MySpace account is *supposed* to be business related anyway, and not rant related...although it appears I have no problem with making it *horny little bicurious girl* related...haha...
Rant number one about MySpace: Bulletins! Here is a fact about bulletins that, it would appear, several people don't understand: they only go to the people on your friend list. Nowhere else. Every time you send out a bulletin, no matter how many times you send it, it only goes to this same pool of people. This makes it really, really, and I do mean REALLY unnecessary to repost the same goddamn bulletin ad for a band/event/ebay auction every four minutes of the day. You have a limited audience. The same limited audience. We all read the bulletin the first time. After you send it 4 more times, you have saturated us with the information. Post an informational bulletin once, post it again as a reminder maybe a week later. That's all you have to do. Anyone who is interested will take the appropriate measures, believe me.
I've deleted more friends off my friend list for this reason....seriously...
Rant number two about MySpace: Bulletins! Here is another fact about bulletins that, it would appear, several people don't understand: They go to EVERYONE on your friends list. hahah. Yeah similar to above with an important difference. Why the hell do some people find it important to bulletin personal matters that the vast majority of the people on their friends list don't frankly give a shit about? And not important life events - posting a bulletin about your graduation, for example, is not a problem. Posting a bulletin that you won't be online or otherwise available for a few days, not a problem. Posting a bulletin that you're bored...wtf? Here is a bulletin that I think is so important that everyone on my friends list must know about it: I'm bored. Hooray for you.
Even worse, and the reason I deleted one person in particular from my list - white trash drama games in bulletins. So you're having drama with someone...and of course, when you have drama, you must block this person from your MySpace. Now that's fine, provided you really want the drama to end, but you don't. You then start posting bulletins every five minutes about how this person lied and this person cheated and how you have proof of this and that...and so and so says you said this and that... of course, knowing that a mutual friend is going to forward this information to your drama mate so that the drama can continue... Seriously, I DONT WANT TO BE A PART OF YOUR DRAMA, yet, I am forced to be a part because I am in your friend list, too, and I get to have this poison delivered to my home page. I could certainly not read it...but you know, with a title like JENNIE SMITH IS A BIG LYING SLUT WHORE BITCH on the bulletin...the poison manages to get through with no action on my part.
If you had half a fucking spine, you'd NOT block the person you want to have the drama with...contact them DIRECTLY, and HAVE YOUR FUCKING DRAMA WITH THEM. Keep me out of it.
Rant number three about MySpace: Bulletins! HAHAHAHHA yeah, I have a burr up my ass today. But its my blog so fuck it, I'm going to speak my peace. Let me set this straight for all you morons out there that might not understand this. Tom isn't angry, and he isn't going to delete your profile for not reposting a gay ass bulletin. And despite the many warnings, you don't have repost anything...if youre gonna have bad sex for the next 8 years, or never go on a date again, or get dumped by the girl who likes you...its going to happen regardless of whether or not you reposted a bulletin.
Exception: YOU MUST REPOST ALL ANGRYLITTLEDEADGIRL AUCTION BULLETINS! hahahah
And another stupid bulletin...the *goodbye myspace* /*so called friends* bulletin. Gee...I agree with you all that people are getting fake on myspace. This is a test to see who is really paying attention to me. Repost this bulletin or I will delete you from my friend list.... Please. Just today I saw a mutation of this bulletin, where instead of people getting *fake* on myspace, they are getting *retarded* on myspace...hahahah. Do ya THINK so?
Here's an idea. If you want to post this bulletin, or any of the other ones above...just delete me first. Seriously. I don't fucking care. But do it before you send the bulletin, because I don't want to be bothered with looking at it :)
Blog=good therapy...
I actually wanted to send this off as a special little bulletin from me to the world...but I thought it better to keep my rants here, where I've always kept them. The MySpace account is *supposed* to be business related anyway, and not rant related...although it appears I have no problem with making it *horny little bicurious girl* related...haha...
Rant number one about MySpace: Bulletins! Here is a fact about bulletins that, it would appear, several people don't understand: they only go to the people on your friend list. Nowhere else. Every time you send out a bulletin, no matter how many times you send it, it only goes to this same pool of people. This makes it really, really, and I do mean REALLY unnecessary to repost the same goddamn bulletin ad for a band/event/ebay auction every four minutes of the day. You have a limited audience. The same limited audience. We all read the bulletin the first time. After you send it 4 more times, you have saturated us with the information. Post an informational bulletin once, post it again as a reminder maybe a week later. That's all you have to do. Anyone who is interested will take the appropriate measures, believe me.
I've deleted more friends off my friend list for this reason....seriously...
Rant number two about MySpace: Bulletins! Here is another fact about bulletins that, it would appear, several people don't understand: They go to EVERYONE on your friends list. hahah. Yeah similar to above with an important difference. Why the hell do some people find it important to bulletin personal matters that the vast majority of the people on their friends list don't frankly give a shit about? And not important life events - posting a bulletin about your graduation, for example, is not a problem. Posting a bulletin that you won't be online or otherwise available for a few days, not a problem. Posting a bulletin that you're bored...wtf? Here is a bulletin that I think is so important that everyone on my friends list must know about it: I'm bored. Hooray for you.
Even worse, and the reason I deleted one person in particular from my list - white trash drama games in bulletins. So you're having drama with someone...and of course, when you have drama, you must block this person from your MySpace. Now that's fine, provided you really want the drama to end, but you don't. You then start posting bulletins every five minutes about how this person lied and this person cheated and how you have proof of this and that...and so and so says you said this and that... of course, knowing that a mutual friend is going to forward this information to your drama mate so that the drama can continue... Seriously, I DONT WANT TO BE A PART OF YOUR DRAMA, yet, I am forced to be a part because I am in your friend list, too, and I get to have this poison delivered to my home page. I could certainly not read it...but you know, with a title like JENNIE SMITH IS A BIG LYING SLUT WHORE BITCH on the bulletin...the poison manages to get through with no action on my part.
If you had half a fucking spine, you'd NOT block the person you want to have the drama with...contact them DIRECTLY, and HAVE YOUR FUCKING DRAMA WITH THEM. Keep me out of it.
Rant number three about MySpace: Bulletins! HAHAHAHHA yeah, I have a burr up my ass today. But its my blog so fuck it, I'm going to speak my peace. Let me set this straight for all you morons out there that might not understand this. Tom isn't angry, and he isn't going to delete your profile for not reposting a gay ass bulletin. And despite the many warnings, you don't have repost anything...if youre gonna have bad sex for the next 8 years, or never go on a date again, or get dumped by the girl who likes you...its going to happen regardless of whether or not you reposted a bulletin.
Exception: YOU MUST REPOST ALL ANGRYLITTLEDEADGIRL AUCTION BULLETINS! hahahah
And another stupid bulletin...the *goodbye myspace* /*so called friends* bulletin. Gee...I agree with you all that people are getting fake on myspace. This is a test to see who is really paying attention to me. Repost this bulletin or I will delete you from my friend list.... Please. Just today I saw a mutation of this bulletin, where instead of people getting *fake* on myspace, they are getting *retarded* on myspace...hahahah. Do ya THINK so?
Here's an idea. If you want to post this bulletin, or any of the other ones above...just delete me first. Seriously. I don't fucking care. But do it before you send the bulletin, because I don't want to be bothered with looking at it :)
Blog=good therapy...
Sunday, June 04, 2006
...feet fail me not, this may be the only opportunity that I got
Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
One moment...
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
Her palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on her sweater already, mom's spaghetti
She's nervous, but on the surface she looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but she keeps on forgetting
What she wrote down
The whole crowd goes so loud
She opens her mouth, but the words won't come out
She's chokin, how everybody's jokin now
The clocks run out, times up over, bloah!
...
She better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass her...
To seize everything you ever wanted
One moment...
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
Her palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on her sweater already, mom's spaghetti
She's nervous, but on the surface she looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but she keeps on forgetting
What she wrote down
The whole crowd goes so loud
She opens her mouth, but the words won't come out
She's chokin, how everybody's jokin now
The clocks run out, times up over, bloah!
...
She better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass her...
Friday, June 02, 2006
Spiral...
I am fully focused in my own head at this moment. There is no escaping it. God knows I've been trying all day but I CAN'T get out of it. Does anyone else experience this? I am completely focused...narrowed...sited...in one specific location within myself. Certainly there is an environment around me. And I move within it and among it...and I interact with those who share that space...but I'm not here. I'M NOT HERE.
I am focused in my head and I cannot leave. Everything and everyone around me is a blur. I can't concentrate on what people say to me. Hell I don't even know half the time that they're talking to me. All I see is the inside of my head. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad except that my head IS NOT quiet. It is a loud and horrible and angst filled place.
I'm sitting in it right now. Ever hate yourself so much you cant bear to consider the fact that youre still alive and taking up space? Ever sit somewhere and just repeat to yourself over and over again IHATEMYSELFI HATEMYSELFIHATEMYSELFIHATEMYSELF.... well I was just there. Over and over again. And the panic. The sheer panic panicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanic because ihatemyselfihatemyselfihatemyselfihatemyself....and thank god someone walked into the room because it forced me to shut the fuck up...I was just mumbling...because I really didnt want that particular coworker to think that I'd
FINALLY LOST IT
FINALLY SNAPPED
FINALLY WENT OVER THE EDGE...
because thats not the kind of shit that goes over well in the workplace or anywhere else for that matter. And I ran out of that room and ran here and I am so fucking FOCUSED in my BRAIN that I just want it to sleep. I just want it to stop. I just want to feel normal and I just want the FUCKING PANIC TO STOP.
But no, its getting worse.
Im shaking. Right now I'm shaking. And I typed all of this in like 3 minutes. Nonstop typing. And my fucking eyes are as big as saucers and still I dont see ANYTHING but a fucking FOG and that goddamn voice of panic and fear and self loathing and self hatred and self destruction. Holy shit I feel like my eyes are going to explode....
*a panic attack...narrated in real time...for your motherfucking reading pleasure*
I need...to scream...
I am focused in my head and I cannot leave. Everything and everyone around me is a blur. I can't concentrate on what people say to me. Hell I don't even know half the time that they're talking to me. All I see is the inside of my head. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad except that my head IS NOT quiet. It is a loud and horrible and angst filled place.
I'm sitting in it right now. Ever hate yourself so much you cant bear to consider the fact that youre still alive and taking up space? Ever sit somewhere and just repeat to yourself over and over again IHATEMYSELFI HATEMYSELFIHATEMYSELFIHATEMYSELF.... well I was just there. Over and over again. And the panic. The sheer panic panicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanicpanic because ihatemyselfihatemyselfihatemyselfihatemyself....and thank god someone walked into the room because it forced me to shut the fuck up...I was just mumbling...because I really didnt want that particular coworker to think that I'd
FINALLY LOST IT
FINALLY SNAPPED
FINALLY WENT OVER THE EDGE...
because thats not the kind of shit that goes over well in the workplace or anywhere else for that matter. And I ran out of that room and ran here and I am so fucking FOCUSED in my BRAIN that I just want it to sleep. I just want it to stop. I just want to feel normal and I just want the FUCKING PANIC TO STOP.
But no, its getting worse.
Im shaking. Right now I'm shaking. And I typed all of this in like 3 minutes. Nonstop typing. And my fucking eyes are as big as saucers and still I dont see ANYTHING but a fucking FOG and that goddamn voice of panic and fear and self loathing and self hatred and self destruction. Holy shit I feel like my eyes are going to explode....
*a panic attack...narrated in real time...for your motherfucking reading pleasure*
I need...to scream...
Monday, May 22, 2006
I Need a Vampire Bite....NOW!!
Awww Christ...I just looked at the calendar. Almost *that* time again...
No, not my period...hahaha...
My birthday. Christ X 2. Christ X 3. I am not ready for this. Not ready to be 37. Hell, I'm not ready to be 36...or 30 for that matter...but ya know, I really have no choice in the matter other than to stop the clock all together. And I'm not ready for THAT yet, either.
This really scares me. This 37 thing. Sounds a whole lot like 40. Sounds a whole lot like OLD. I look in the mirror and I can see that I'm on the cusp of my youth...I don't have much time left. Soon I will look *middle aged* ~ wrinkes, gray hair (goddamn them I never had them before just recently...wtf), saggy this and flabby that ~ and I AM NOT READY FOR THIS. I'm fighting it tooth and nail but soon...oh so soon...it will become a losing battle.
I don't want to grow old. I don't want my skin to age. I don't want my hair to age. I don't want my body to age. I really, really, really don't want my mind to age. I don't want to become feeble. I like being strong, bright, vibrant... young...
I feel the empty.... I feel the minute of decay...
No, not my period...hahaha...
My birthday. Christ X 2. Christ X 3. I am not ready for this. Not ready to be 37. Hell, I'm not ready to be 36...or 30 for that matter...but ya know, I really have no choice in the matter other than to stop the clock all together. And I'm not ready for THAT yet, either.
This really scares me. This 37 thing. Sounds a whole lot like 40. Sounds a whole lot like OLD. I look in the mirror and I can see that I'm on the cusp of my youth...I don't have much time left. Soon I will look *middle aged* ~ wrinkes, gray hair (goddamn them I never had them before just recently...wtf), saggy this and flabby that ~ and I AM NOT READY FOR THIS. I'm fighting it tooth and nail but soon...oh so soon...it will become a losing battle.
I don't want to grow old. I don't want my skin to age. I don't want my hair to age. I don't want my body to age. I really, really, really don't want my mind to age. I don't want to become feeble. I like being strong, bright, vibrant... young...
I feel the empty.... I feel the minute of decay...
Monday, May 01, 2006
I Stand Alone Today
Well, not fully alone...I'm still heavily supported by eBay, but I'm working on that. Someday I can cut that umbilical cord for good.
But for the most part, as of today, I stand alone. One small girl with an armada of sewing machines and new online store. While I love the idea of it, the reality is that it's freaking the shit out of me...hahah. What's funny is when I started this business almost two years ago, the thought of listing on eBay freaked the shit out of me. I'm such a total nut...Before I started listing on eBay, I made like I don't know how many corsets, and sent them to like I don't know how many friends, and begged them to tell me if my work was good enough for someone to actually spend hard-earned money on. Because I'd never sewn professionally before, just for myself and family. Sewing professionally is a WHOLE other ballgame, because people come in every shape and size, and they expect when they give a professional seamstress their measurements, the final product will fit, and will be comfortable, and will hang right...and will be PERFECT. And I desperately needed validation from others that my skills were up to that challenge. Yeah, I was a little freaked out, so everyone I knew got free corsets ;)
In the beginning, eBay was the perfect venue to show my work, and it has gone suprisingly well. I've been blessed with an awesome client base and a fairly successful run ~ this is my 16th month as a powerseller ~ and I really can't ask for more, although I often do...
Well, times change, and I've come to the realization that listing full time on eBay has really outlived its usefulness. I have very specific goals and objectives for aNGrYGiRL Gear, and simply auctioning off premade items on eBay and hoping for bids is no longer helping me to attain those goals. In fact, listing on eBay full time has almost become a handicap to achieving the goals and dreams I have for aNGrYGiRL Gear. I've been nursing this powerseller status...not wanting to let go of it like its some rare treasure or some sort of symbolism of the worth and value of my work...and all the time I've devoted to working to keep that status has kept me from exploring other opportunities ~ because keeping powerseller status is a FULL TIME JOB. I haven't had time to explore new design ideas (oh and I HAVE them....tons of them...some really really good ones....) or work on promoting my *Design Your Own* concept, or even something as painfully simple as offering straight jackets and hoodies for men, because all I have time to do is create and list more items for eBay...
Feeding the machine. Its a vicious circle...a catch 22...
And that is why I stand alone today. It's time to reduce my presence on eBay, and start to work towards achieving those goals and objectives. Yeah, I still have to rely on eBay for advertising; thus I will still be listing a few items, but only in support of my new online store. My intention is to auction 1 or 2 items a week on eBay, list any other items I have time to make in my online store for immediate purchase, and start to concentrate on what I find to be the most interesting and challenging aspect of this business: customer commissioned pieces. Some of the ideas y'all come up with just blow my mind away...and are technically challenging too, which is great because I need to be challenged constantly. Also, I find nothing is as gratifying as bringing a client's vision to reality. When "Hey, I have an idea for a jacket..." turns into "OMFG this jacket is unbelievable"....THAT makes my day. That makes me want to come home at night after a fucking LONG day of work and sew some more.
I know this change of direction won't bring overnight success with it (but wouldn't that be nice if it did?). I have a lot of work to do in the next 6 months to develop an advertising plan, get my name and my work out there, and begin to establish a client base that extends beyond the bounds of eBay. And I know I can do that. It just won't happen overnight and I can accept that. But there's nothing that says I can't be freaked to shit about it nonetheless ;)
Thanks to everyone for your continued support. I promise I won't disappoint :)
But for the most part, as of today, I stand alone. One small girl with an armada of sewing machines and new online store. While I love the idea of it, the reality is that it's freaking the shit out of me...hahah. What's funny is when I started this business almost two years ago, the thought of listing on eBay freaked the shit out of me. I'm such a total nut...Before I started listing on eBay, I made like I don't know how many corsets, and sent them to like I don't know how many friends, and begged them to tell me if my work was good enough for someone to actually spend hard-earned money on. Because I'd never sewn professionally before, just for myself and family. Sewing professionally is a WHOLE other ballgame, because people come in every shape and size, and they expect when they give a professional seamstress their measurements, the final product will fit, and will be comfortable, and will hang right...and will be PERFECT. And I desperately needed validation from others that my skills were up to that challenge. Yeah, I was a little freaked out, so everyone I knew got free corsets ;)
In the beginning, eBay was the perfect venue to show my work, and it has gone suprisingly well. I've been blessed with an awesome client base and a fairly successful run ~ this is my 16th month as a powerseller ~ and I really can't ask for more, although I often do...
Well, times change, and I've come to the realization that listing full time on eBay has really outlived its usefulness. I have very specific goals and objectives for aNGrYGiRL Gear, and simply auctioning off premade items on eBay and hoping for bids is no longer helping me to attain those goals. In fact, listing on eBay full time has almost become a handicap to achieving the goals and dreams I have for aNGrYGiRL Gear. I've been nursing this powerseller status...not wanting to let go of it like its some rare treasure or some sort of symbolism of the worth and value of my work...and all the time I've devoted to working to keep that status has kept me from exploring other opportunities ~ because keeping powerseller status is a FULL TIME JOB. I haven't had time to explore new design ideas (oh and I HAVE them....tons of them...some really really good ones....) or work on promoting my *Design Your Own* concept, or even something as painfully simple as offering straight jackets and hoodies for men, because all I have time to do is create and list more items for eBay...
Feeding the machine. Its a vicious circle...a catch 22...
And that is why I stand alone today. It's time to reduce my presence on eBay, and start to work towards achieving those goals and objectives. Yeah, I still have to rely on eBay for advertising; thus I will still be listing a few items, but only in support of my new online store. My intention is to auction 1 or 2 items a week on eBay, list any other items I have time to make in my online store for immediate purchase, and start to concentrate on what I find to be the most interesting and challenging aspect of this business: customer commissioned pieces. Some of the ideas y'all come up with just blow my mind away...and are technically challenging too, which is great because I need to be challenged constantly. Also, I find nothing is as gratifying as bringing a client's vision to reality. When "Hey, I have an idea for a jacket..." turns into "OMFG this jacket is unbelievable"....THAT makes my day. That makes me want to come home at night after a fucking LONG day of work and sew some more.
I know this change of direction won't bring overnight success with it (but wouldn't that be nice if it did?). I have a lot of work to do in the next 6 months to develop an advertising plan, get my name and my work out there, and begin to establish a client base that extends beyond the bounds of eBay. And I know I can do that. It just won't happen overnight and I can accept that. But there's nothing that says I can't be freaked to shit about it nonetheless ;)
Thanks to everyone for your continued support. I promise I won't disappoint :)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
You Know What....FUCK ALL THIS. FUCK. IT.
Yeah my fucking mood took a dive for the worse this morning. I'm gonna lay some serious fucking SHIT on the next person that even stresses me out in the slightest. I can't think of one good thing to say about anyone or anything at this particular moment. So I'm gonna let it all loose here. Because it makes me feel better. And this is what this blog is all about. And if you don't like, fucking stop reading now and go somewhere the fuck else.
Lets start with sleep. Or the lack thereof. Going on less than 15 total hours of sleep since Monday. Fucking starting to halucinate. Why can't I sleep? I don't know. Stress? Worry? Who the fuck even knows any more. I'm so tired now that I can't even SLEEP. Ridiculous. But I manage to drag myself out of bed one more day because I'm SO FUCKING EXCITED to get to my little brown cubicle (thats sarcasm kiddies...and not even subtle sarcasm). And of course the goddamn Metro is broken and its been like 7 minutes since a train has been at the platform, and the next one isn't due for another seven minutes, so you have like literally ~ and I'm not even exaggerating for effect ~ LITERALLY 3,000 people waiting for a 6 car train that holds about 600 people max. And everyone needs on that train NOW. Nothing like starting your morning crammed in to a small space with 92307384543 other motherfucking human beings, all of whom fucking STINK and are fucking LOUD and are jamming their bags/purses/arms/legs/who the fuck knows what else into your body...and oh btw you don't LIKE people in the first place...and hate to be touched... And of course, when the train stops and you need to get off...you get about a 10 second window where they open the doors and its a free~for~all to get the hell off before they close the doors and move on to the next stop...and you have people jammed in every square inch of space on this train...and the ones crammed into the door aren't getting off, aren't going to move, and won't let you off...
Makes you want to really let loose with a couple of fucking hxc moves on their fucking lame stinking fucking non-moving asses...
And what the fuck is it with people and elevators. You can be sure if there are 5 floor stops on an elevator, and you are going to the top...there will be a grand total of five people on that fucking elevator. And they will need all five floors. And if for some rare reason you get lucky and you dont have EVERY button pushed on the elevator already when you get in, you can bet you're gonna stop at a floor you didn't push a button for, and some lazy jackfuckass is gonna get on and go up ONE fucking floor to the next floor no one pushed a button for, so that you can still visit every fucking floor on your way to the top floor.
So I manage to make it to the general area of my little brown cube... and it starts. *Good Morning!* *Morning!* hey *Good Morning!* NO ITS FUCKING NOT A GOOD MORNING. I am not a morning person. I'm not really a day person or a night person either, I pretty much hate it all. But of them all, morning is the worst. And having just had a lovely commute in, its really not been a *good* morning, yet coworkers insist on shoving this shit down your throat every day. And you know what, they don't even CARE if you have a good morning or not, its just something they are trained to say, like little automatons or some shit. There's no genuine meaning or feeling behind it. *Hey, Good Morning!* Its almost as annoying as the *hello* bullshit when you pass someone in the hall. What the hell is with that, anyway? Every time you pass someone you know in the hall, even if you've already had a conversation with them that day...you always have to say *hi!* or *hey!* or *how's it going?*, like anyone really cares how its going... It's like...OH LOOK, I KNOW YOU!!! HI!!! Um yeah you fucking know me. We work here. We are here more than we are with our families. Of course you know me. You don't have to fucking greet me every time you see me. Its ok if we have comfortable silence. I don't need to be greeted. Thanks.
Then there's the arbitary decision by someone somewhere that you need to go to training in Filthydelphia for a week...the same week that there's a convention. And the only available hotel rooms are an HOUR away. Christ I only live TWO hours away. Fuck that shit. Fuck...and I do mean FUCK. That. Shit. I couldn't be more livid about it if I tried. My fucking eyeballs are about to pop out of my head...
And you wonder why I'm angry...
I wonder why I'm not dead....
Oh and there is SOOO much more to go on about. Oh so much more. Like fucking hollow doppelgangers who like to attach themselves to a host organism, then proceed to suck the soul right out them....and then try to rework themselves in the image of their host organism, assuming their personality and identity. Of course they fail miserably and pitifully, but that doesn't stop them from flailing around hopelessly until they find another host organism to attach themselves to... and start the process again...
And some people just don't get this: comparisons when made without benefit of EVIDENCE tend to devaluate the better of the two things you are comparing. And quite frankly, I'm tired of being devaluated by everyfuckingbody that just doesn't UNDERSTAND what it's all about. See, cuz when you actually have the evidence, and you realize that the comparisons you made were not valid...the damage is already done to the one who would have been victorious. So thanks for that. Thanks a fucking lot.
Cryptic Writings on the Wall...The Beginning of the End. Fuck today. I need sleep. I need all stupid people to die. I need to get the fuck out of DC. And I really don't care what order all that happens in, as long as it happens...
*sits and waits*
Lets start with sleep. Or the lack thereof. Going on less than 15 total hours of sleep since Monday. Fucking starting to halucinate. Why can't I sleep? I don't know. Stress? Worry? Who the fuck even knows any more. I'm so tired now that I can't even SLEEP. Ridiculous. But I manage to drag myself out of bed one more day because I'm SO FUCKING EXCITED to get to my little brown cubicle (thats sarcasm kiddies...and not even subtle sarcasm). And of course the goddamn Metro is broken and its been like 7 minutes since a train has been at the platform, and the next one isn't due for another seven minutes, so you have like literally ~ and I'm not even exaggerating for effect ~ LITERALLY 3,000 people waiting for a 6 car train that holds about 600 people max. And everyone needs on that train NOW. Nothing like starting your morning crammed in to a small space with 92307384543 other motherfucking human beings, all of whom fucking STINK and are fucking LOUD and are jamming their bags/purses/arms/legs/who the fuck knows what else into your body...and oh btw you don't LIKE people in the first place...and hate to be touched... And of course, when the train stops and you need to get off...you get about a 10 second window where they open the doors and its a free~for~all to get the hell off before they close the doors and move on to the next stop...and you have people jammed in every square inch of space on this train...and the ones crammed into the door aren't getting off, aren't going to move, and won't let you off...
Makes you want to really let loose with a couple of fucking hxc moves on their fucking lame stinking fucking non-moving asses...
And what the fuck is it with people and elevators. You can be sure if there are 5 floor stops on an elevator, and you are going to the top...there will be a grand total of five people on that fucking elevator. And they will need all five floors. And if for some rare reason you get lucky and you dont have EVERY button pushed on the elevator already when you get in, you can bet you're gonna stop at a floor you didn't push a button for, and some lazy jackfuckass is gonna get on and go up ONE fucking floor to the next floor no one pushed a button for, so that you can still visit every fucking floor on your way to the top floor.
So I manage to make it to the general area of my little brown cube... and it starts. *Good Morning!* *Morning!* hey *Good Morning!* NO ITS FUCKING NOT A GOOD MORNING. I am not a morning person. I'm not really a day person or a night person either, I pretty much hate it all. But of them all, morning is the worst. And having just had a lovely commute in, its really not been a *good* morning, yet coworkers insist on shoving this shit down your throat every day. And you know what, they don't even CARE if you have a good morning or not, its just something they are trained to say, like little automatons or some shit. There's no genuine meaning or feeling behind it. *Hey, Good Morning!* Its almost as annoying as the *hello* bullshit when you pass someone in the hall. What the hell is with that, anyway? Every time you pass someone you know in the hall, even if you've already had a conversation with them that day...you always have to say *hi!* or *hey!* or *how's it going?*, like anyone really cares how its going... It's like...OH LOOK, I KNOW YOU!!! HI!!! Um yeah you fucking know me. We work here. We are here more than we are with our families. Of course you know me. You don't have to fucking greet me every time you see me. Its ok if we have comfortable silence. I don't need to be greeted. Thanks.
Then there's the arbitary decision by someone somewhere that you need to go to training in Filthydelphia for a week...the same week that there's a convention. And the only available hotel rooms are an HOUR away. Christ I only live TWO hours away. Fuck that shit. Fuck...and I do mean FUCK. That. Shit. I couldn't be more livid about it if I tried. My fucking eyeballs are about to pop out of my head...
And you wonder why I'm angry...
I wonder why I'm not dead....
Oh and there is SOOO much more to go on about. Oh so much more. Like fucking hollow doppelgangers who like to attach themselves to a host organism, then proceed to suck the soul right out them....and then try to rework themselves in the image of their host organism, assuming their personality and identity. Of course they fail miserably and pitifully, but that doesn't stop them from flailing around hopelessly until they find another host organism to attach themselves to... and start the process again...
And some people just don't get this: comparisons when made without benefit of EVIDENCE tend to devaluate the better of the two things you are comparing. And quite frankly, I'm tired of being devaluated by everyfuckingbody that just doesn't UNDERSTAND what it's all about. See, cuz when you actually have the evidence, and you realize that the comparisons you made were not valid...the damage is already done to the one who would have been victorious. So thanks for that. Thanks a fucking lot.
Cryptic Writings on the Wall...The Beginning of the End. Fuck today. I need sleep. I need all stupid people to die. I need to get the fuck out of DC. And I really don't care what order all that happens in, as long as it happens...
*sits and waits*
Monday, April 24, 2006
Monday... *sigh*
Oh my freaking God, its Monday AGAIN...how does this keep happening? I feel like I accomplished nothing over the weekend. In reality, I finished a straight jacket, started on a commissioned hoodie, made a new corset, went live with the D.Y.O Shrugs page on my website, designed and ordered some business cards...went out to eat Saturday night, got plastered, got laid...heh...
Yet I feel like I wasted my weekend. I seems I should have been able to accomplish more with that treasured 48 hours. I really am too hard on myself. And I know this, obviously, because I just wrote it down, yet I can't seem to get the idea to actually SINK into my head that I work enough...hell I work TOO much...but I feel always like I'm five seconds from being buried alive in my work ~ both works ~ and that if I'd just APPLY myself, I could get ahead of the work avalanche. So I work harder, and harder and harder...
My head is so messed up.
At any rate, that weekend passed and now I have to endure 5 more days of hell before I can get a stab at making better use of another one.
I remember when I was a kid, my mom would always say, *Don't be in a hurry to grow up...being a kid is a LOT more fun than being an adult, and once you're an adult, you're an adult FOREVER...* I used to think she was nuts...because I was kid and I wanted to grow up...but guess what, she was right. God damn it. God double damn it, I hate it when she's right....
All I have to look forward to in my life is work...8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year, every year until the day I retire...HAHAHA retire, like I'm not already almost 40 years old with not one fucking red cent saved toward retirement...or die. And I'm not the only one out there living this wretched, horrific monotony. This is the life of the typical American adult.
Day in day out day in day out...get up, get a shower, go to work, work, go home, work, go to bed. get up, get a shower, go to work, work, go home, work, go to bed. Wash rinse repeat. Its like Groundhog Day (that lame movie with Bill Murray) only worse, cuz this ain't no movie... It's enough to make you wonder what the FUCK this is for. I don't need fancy, expensive shit...ok I need gasoline, and that, my friends, is EXPENSIVE SHIT...but really, I'm not out to own a Mercedes or a big fucking house in a gated community. I want to eat, have a place to live where I'm not afraid of being shot at, drive a Jeep that runs, and maybe have a few extra bucks to go out to eat on Saturday night, get plastered, and get laid...
This can't be all there is to this...
Yet I feel like I wasted my weekend. I seems I should have been able to accomplish more with that treasured 48 hours. I really am too hard on myself. And I know this, obviously, because I just wrote it down, yet I can't seem to get the idea to actually SINK into my head that I work enough...hell I work TOO much...but I feel always like I'm five seconds from being buried alive in my work ~ both works ~ and that if I'd just APPLY myself, I could get ahead of the work avalanche. So I work harder, and harder and harder...
My head is so messed up.
At any rate, that weekend passed and now I have to endure 5 more days of hell before I can get a stab at making better use of another one.
I remember when I was a kid, my mom would always say, *Don't be in a hurry to grow up...being a kid is a LOT more fun than being an adult, and once you're an adult, you're an adult FOREVER...* I used to think she was nuts...because I was kid and I wanted to grow up...but guess what, she was right. God damn it. God double damn it, I hate it when she's right....
All I have to look forward to in my life is work...8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year, every year until the day I retire...HAHAHA retire, like I'm not already almost 40 years old with not one fucking red cent saved toward retirement...or die. And I'm not the only one out there living this wretched, horrific monotony. This is the life of the typical American adult.
Day in day out day in day out...get up, get a shower, go to work, work, go home, work, go to bed. get up, get a shower, go to work, work, go home, work, go to bed. Wash rinse repeat. Its like Groundhog Day (that lame movie with Bill Murray) only worse, cuz this ain't no movie... It's enough to make you wonder what the FUCK this is for. I don't need fancy, expensive shit...ok I need gasoline, and that, my friends, is EXPENSIVE SHIT...but really, I'm not out to own a Mercedes or a big fucking house in a gated community. I want to eat, have a place to live where I'm not afraid of being shot at, drive a Jeep that runs, and maybe have a few extra bucks to go out to eat on Saturday night, get plastered, and get laid...
This can't be all there is to this...
Friday, March 31, 2006
I'm Not Really in the Mood
Its 10:30 on a Friday night, and I'm home alone, sober, and bored out of my mind. I could be working, in fact, I have a massive volume of orders to work on, and ebay listings right now are waaaaay out of the question, yet here I sit. I've sewn nonstop every day for I think the last 20 or 25 days, and I DID do some work tonight...I had to alter a corset for someone, took a few hours...packed up some orders to ship....but I'm not really in the mood....
It's ok to take a little time off every once in a while, right? sure.
I think I might turn on Everquest II for a bit and go kill some evil shit. Oh wait, my character is an evil shit, so maybe I should go kill good things...hmmmm....
It would certainly relieve the boredom. Wow, I bet you're bored just reading this. I mean for once I'm not pissed as hell about something (well I am, I always have a good rant in me, but tonight im not really in the mood), I haven't caused any major controversy *yet* - although I did just join a new forum as angrylittledeadgirl...another geek forum...and oh yeah, they did something that pissed me off and I had to write a small nastygram to the forum owner...LOL damn, my husband is right, I really AM a bitch...hahah..but right now, I'm not really in the mood...
My job has been keeping me pretty busy. That's been kinda nice, cuz boredom such as this usually makes the day go longer.
Maybe I should just go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of wine....
*slaps alcoholic down*
Ehhh...that's ok, actually, I'm not really in the mood. Think I'm just gonna sit here and stare...
What the hell kind of blog entry is this anyway? I guess I'm just not really....oh fuck it nm :)
It's ok to take a little time off every once in a while, right? sure.
I think I might turn on Everquest II for a bit and go kill some evil shit. Oh wait, my character is an evil shit, so maybe I should go kill good things...hmmmm....
It would certainly relieve the boredom. Wow, I bet you're bored just reading this. I mean for once I'm not pissed as hell about something (well I am, I always have a good rant in me, but tonight im not really in the mood), I haven't caused any major controversy *yet* - although I did just join a new forum as angrylittledeadgirl...another geek forum...and oh yeah, they did something that pissed me off and I had to write a small nastygram to the forum owner...LOL damn, my husband is right, I really AM a bitch...hahah..but right now, I'm not really in the mood...
My job has been keeping me pretty busy. That's been kinda nice, cuz boredom such as this usually makes the day go longer.
Maybe I should just go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of wine....
*slaps alcoholic down*
Ehhh...that's ok, actually, I'm not really in the mood. Think I'm just gonna sit here and stare...
What the hell kind of blog entry is this anyway? I guess I'm just not really....oh fuck it nm :)
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
I am a Husky Hypocrite!!
oooh no space limit today...haha...maybe you might wanna go get a snack or something and come back to this. Cuz today I'm really upset at gym clothing manufacturers. Yeah you read that right. And maybe the whole garment industry in general (looks around, halo on head)...
So I wanted some UnderArmor to work out in. Its a brand of athletic clothing - you know, *Protect this House* or some shit.... Anyway, I went to the local sporting goods store, gobs of money in hand, ready to purchase their overpriced clothing. I got to the rack. I really need some shorts - the ones I have I bought at a place called Ames for like $4 a pair - Ames is now pretty much out of business, but they are one of those places like Walmart or KMart, only they make Walmart look like Sachs fucking 5th Avenue... Anyway, searching through the shorts for my size...small, no...medium, no...large, well probably not...oooh extra large!!
...and pulled out a pair of shorts... EXTRA LARGE... that would not fit on my cat. Seriously. Grabbing each end of the top of these shorts with both hands...my hands could not have been 8 inches apart... Now, they ARE that stretchy lycra shit, so I said hmmm...maybe... and tried to stretch out one of the legs. Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING on my body would fit through that hole, fully stretched.
Need I say it again...extra large...there I said it again. extra. fucking. large. I was in a foul mood to begin with, because I was shopping instead of at home in my cave in front of the computer, and I pretty much lost it right there in the store. I was ready to march right up to... well, some damn teenager making minium wage and wishing they were home and not at that store working... to have them explain to me how in god's green acres these shorts were an extra large. I wanted them to explain to me why clothing manufacturers think women... curvaceous beautiful women... should fucking look like malnourished stick figures. Extra large!! What the fuck is the girl in the size small supposed to weigh or look like????? OMFG if you fit into the small, you're already 3/4 dead, on a respirator, and being fed intraveinously.
So you say, well, these are gym clothes. Obviously any woman in a gym is a size one. She works out. BING. You're wrong. Yeah there are a few stick figures walking around my gym. Then there are a lot of girls working on what they view as their shortcomings - their curves - and they need gym clothes too, and they aren't getting them from this manufacturer, let me tell you. Then there are girls like me (well just a few unfortunate ones) who have that weird body style (mesomorphic...a nice synonym I found in the thesaurus is HUSKY...THANKS) where we work out and gain muscle mass, not as bad as a man...but close. Yeah, I am one buff & bulky bitch....*husky*...again, thanks for that. Always have been. I have HUGE quads and hamstrings from my years of acrobatics, track, cross country, and mountain bike racing. I have a huge butt from same (and from genetics... thanks mom and grandma). I spend hours upon hours upon hours in the gym...and I will NEVER ever ever ever ever ever ever fit into those extra large workout shorts. Never. Even at my thinnest, when I was mountain biking my ass off every day, I wouldn't have fit into those shorts. I'd have still split them up the middle.
*sigh* I wish women designed workout clothes. Seriously. Men just want the stick figure with the tiny little round ass and the perfect little stick legs... and even if thats NOT what they want, they figure thats the only kind of girl they want to actually see running around in lycra shorts at their gym. Girls like me...no thanks, they'd rather vomit...so they arent going to design shit for me. Please buy that husky girl some baggy sweat pants so we dont have to see THAT.
Women come in all fucking shapes and fucking sizes...unless you work for UnderArmor. Then women only come in puny. Good for them. I went and looked at their workout tops too...I wont EVEN tell how well they will NOT fit over my fucking husky arms.... Back to the Ames for me!!!
Yeah I just went and looked at the sizes of corsets I make. The hypcrisy is not lost on me. Then again, I never said I didn't suck. I suck. *sigh*
So I wanted some UnderArmor to work out in. Its a brand of athletic clothing - you know, *Protect this House* or some shit.... Anyway, I went to the local sporting goods store, gobs of money in hand, ready to purchase their overpriced clothing. I got to the rack. I really need some shorts - the ones I have I bought at a place called Ames for like $4 a pair - Ames is now pretty much out of business, but they are one of those places like Walmart or KMart, only they make Walmart look like Sachs fucking 5th Avenue... Anyway, searching through the shorts for my size...small, no...medium, no...large, well probably not...oooh extra large!!
...and pulled out a pair of shorts... EXTRA LARGE... that would not fit on my cat. Seriously. Grabbing each end of the top of these shorts with both hands...my hands could not have been 8 inches apart... Now, they ARE that stretchy lycra shit, so I said hmmm...maybe... and tried to stretch out one of the legs. Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING on my body would fit through that hole, fully stretched.
Need I say it again...extra large...there I said it again. extra. fucking. large. I was in a foul mood to begin with, because I was shopping instead of at home in my cave in front of the computer, and I pretty much lost it right there in the store. I was ready to march right up to... well, some damn teenager making minium wage and wishing they were home and not at that store working... to have them explain to me how in god's green acres these shorts were an extra large. I wanted them to explain to me why clothing manufacturers think women... curvaceous beautiful women... should fucking look like malnourished stick figures. Extra large!! What the fuck is the girl in the size small supposed to weigh or look like????? OMFG if you fit into the small, you're already 3/4 dead, on a respirator, and being fed intraveinously.
So you say, well, these are gym clothes. Obviously any woman in a gym is a size one. She works out. BING. You're wrong. Yeah there are a few stick figures walking around my gym. Then there are a lot of girls working on what they view as their shortcomings - their curves - and they need gym clothes too, and they aren't getting them from this manufacturer, let me tell you. Then there are girls like me (well just a few unfortunate ones) who have that weird body style (mesomorphic...a nice synonym I found in the thesaurus is HUSKY...THANKS) where we work out and gain muscle mass, not as bad as a man...but close. Yeah, I am one buff & bulky bitch....*husky*...again, thanks for that. Always have been. I have HUGE quads and hamstrings from my years of acrobatics, track, cross country, and mountain bike racing. I have a huge butt from same (and from genetics... thanks mom and grandma). I spend hours upon hours upon hours in the gym...and I will NEVER ever ever ever ever ever ever fit into those extra large workout shorts. Never. Even at my thinnest, when I was mountain biking my ass off every day, I wouldn't have fit into those shorts. I'd have still split them up the middle.
*sigh* I wish women designed workout clothes. Seriously. Men just want the stick figure with the tiny little round ass and the perfect little stick legs... and even if thats NOT what they want, they figure thats the only kind of girl they want to actually see running around in lycra shorts at their gym. Girls like me...no thanks, they'd rather vomit...so they arent going to design shit for me. Please buy that husky girl some baggy sweat pants so we dont have to see THAT.
Women come in all fucking shapes and fucking sizes...unless you work for UnderArmor. Then women only come in puny. Good for them. I went and looked at their workout tops too...I wont EVEN tell how well they will NOT fit over my fucking husky arms.... Back to the Ames for me!!!
Yeah I just went and looked at the sizes of corsets I make. The hypcrisy is not lost on me. Then again, I never said I didn't suck. I suck. *sigh*
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