I sense a disturbance in my pants, ma'am

The title for this post isn't supposed to be symbolic of anything; I just heard Jimmy Neutron say it this morning, when my brother was watching cartoons in the living room.

Yesterday was pretty rad. I managed to shower early enough to go with my mom to a couple of garage sales. The first was actually one of my grandparents neighbors. They had a lot of junk but a lot of neat stuff, too. They had this hogmungous (like, Church-sized) old Bible. I would have gotten it if I had $10 to spend on a book I would probably not read anyway. There was also this thing that looked like a butter churn but was this old bread mixer or something, and the recipe was on the lid. I got one thing as this garage sale: an abacus. Yeah, the weird old use-beads-for-counting thing. Of course I have no idea how to use it, but that what's the Internet is for; pornography, gossip, and learning to use an abacus.

The second was in Oakley. It was mostly crafty stuff and fabrics and such. They had these odd little turtle figurines... it was two turtles, and on the undersides, one had a penis, and the other had breasts and a vagina. I found them vaguely amusing as far as novelty items go, but this one guy at the garage sale (who obviously knew the people who lived there) thought they were HILARIOUS. He laughed for straight days, so of course his daughter wanted to see. "You can't see the turtles, honey." "Why not?" "They're not wearing panties." People are silly. I didn't find anything there, but my mom got some cute stuff and a couple of good, big shelves that were cheap.

Stopped by the grocery store real quick before coming home, where I cleaned my room, dusted my abacus (that sounds naughty) and then attempted to nap because I had a serious sinus headache. Nap failed, so I watched this old episode of "Law and Order" that had Zeljko Ivanek. He looked pretty dreamy. Homemade tacos for dinner (word!) while watching Judge Judy, and then I sat down and wrote for straight hours. Actually it wasn't that long... two and a half hours, maybe, but it was very productive, so I'm really glad. I still had a headache, but I stayed up for awhile before going to bed.

I have been having serious sleep issues lately. Last night is probably the worst example - I got in bed at 10, and didn't fall asleep until 11. Then, I woke up at 1 and didn't fall back asleep until after 3. I could not get comfortable in any way. When I did sleep, I had these... not even dreams, but like kind of hallucinations? I may have been half asleep. I woke up again just before 7, gave up, and got up. Boo.

I'm actually feeling quite a bit better, though. No headache today, and I decided on a whim to go to Target. I went with the intention of scoping out some stuff that would help organize my room, namely a CD rack and like plastic storage. Being me, I barely glanced at the CD rack and didn't even do the other thing. Instead, I did what any broke person does when they know they shouldn't buy stuff - I bought stuff. A really neat Swell bracelet with little flowers and leaves, and a tote bag that says "I (heart) shopping". It's so me. How could I not buy it?

This morning in the shower, for whatever reason, I started thinking about this teacher I was obsessed over in high school, and high school in general. After I got home from Target and had lunch, I dug out my old diary from that time, already cringing and such. Reading through wasn't as painful or humiliating as I thought it would be. There were a lot of good things I had forgotten about, and bad things too. It's really made me wonder how much I have or haven't changed since then, though. I was worried about pretty much the same things I worry about now - my friends, guys not being interested in me, my writing, blah blah blah.

Sometimes I think all it would take for me to get jumpstarted would be for someone to say to me, seriously, "Quit fucking around and get on with it, already." I always have been the kind of person who needs to be pushed into things.

Suicide for dummies

Alternate titles for this post:
The Idiot's Guide to Killing Yourself
Chicken Soup for the Suicidal Soul

No, I don't think suicide or suicidal feelings are something to poke fun at. Too many people, including yours truly, have felt that bad at least once in their life. But I think this guy really takes the cake. Having decided to kill himself, Juan Vasquez (or Valdez? some Hispanic name) parks his car (every news report needs for some reason to point out that it was an SUV) on the railroad tracks in Glendale, CA. At the last moment, he decides he either doesn't want to die this way, or at this time, and gets out of his car and runs away, leaving the car where it is... a chain reaction eventually leading to the death of at least 11 people and injuring over 100 more. He's now being held without bail in a jail ward of an unnamed hospital, where he has attempted suicide twice, to no avail. He will probably be charged with murder for each person dead, and might face THE DEATH PENALTY.

Now, why didn't Alanis mention something like this in "Ironic"?

Meanwhile, in another part of the world, Colin Farrell has to re-shoot love scenes with the 14-year-old co-star of a movie about Pocahontas and the British guy she gets involved with. Yeah, apparently someone who saw the dailies of Colin and the girl going at it were terribly offended so they had to re-do it and blah blah.

Why can't I be the Native American teenager who not only makes out with Colin Farrell, but got PAID to make out with Colin Farrell, and then has to make out with him again? Some people have all the luck, and some people have to read about it on the IMDB gossip, I mean news column.

I got this spam e-mail today promoting "Mortgage assistance - the Christian way!" What do they do? Give you cash back from the collection plate? Get Jesus to plague your current enemy (that is, mortgage company) with locusts unless they lower your interest rate? I'm really curious. Not curious enough to actually read the e-mail, though.

This morning I was amused to see that either Red Lobster or Sizzler has changed their commercial about shrimp cocktails. In it, a guy is fantasizing about said shrimp cocktail, and imagines himself running on a beach towards the shrimp with open arms. Up until today, every time I've seen this commercial, the shrimp's tail or whatever is curled up towards the guy. This morning, I noted that the tail is now in the back. I always thought tail in front looked kind of weird, but I have a dirty mind, so I didn't think they'd ever change it. I wonder who complained? The Christians who are ranting about gay Spongebob, I suppose. I wonder if they're also the same ones trying to assist me with my mortgage? It's a small world.

Anyway, about commercials, I'm looking forward to Superbowl XWhatever this year, to see what good old Budweiser has come up with. My only hope for the big game this year is that there's no stupid booby mama drama - not because I'm offended by breasts (that would make showering difficult) but because it was REALLY BORING to have to deal with the 11 months of complaining that followed.

Besides, if there's going to be nudity, I want it to be something I DON'T see everyday, like cute male bum for instance.

We don't need this fascist groove thang

I woke up this morning thinking one thing: I don't feel like crap.

I'm not completely well yet, indeed no; my nose is still stuffily and I have a cough, but the vague fever and the general stupidity is gone. Not my own natural stupidity, just the kind that comes from being sick. I predict total wellness by the weekend, just in time to... sit at home because I have no money and all my friends hate me (well, not all of them). Damn.

I've been having dreams in which I'm acting like even more of an idiot than I really do. Sunday night, I had one where I was in a combination hospital/movie theater/Costco (?) and I was using a backpack. I was waiting in line for who knows what, and feel someone trying to get into my backpack, so I turn around and it's this annoying kid who says something like, "Well, you should watch it more carefully if you don't want people to steal." I'm looking through the bag and realize I can't find my glasses, so I start searching the whole place before I remember I left them back in the hospital, where I'd been getting a massage. Dur!

And in the one last night, I was waiting for it to be time to go hang out with EC and JH, and I decided to walk around this place that looked kinda like my old college. I go to this kind of deserted part in the building to get a drink from the soda machine, and this creepy looking guy comes up so I scream "Get the fuck away from me!" and it turns out he's a cop. I'm really embarrassed but he thinks it's funny, and invites me to go and talk with him and his cop friends for awhile.

Yesterday I was in super-need-chocolate mode and made my dad buy the Herschey's brownies mix. Mmm. By the time I actually made them in the evening, though, most of my craving had passed. Boo. It was still good, and I still ate them, but I didn't need them like I had been. My PMS-ness has now morphed into the wanting-crunchy-salty-food stage. You know you're stupid when you can't keep up with yourself.

I heard a news report this weekend about these whiny Christians who are whining (predictably) about this video being distributed to a lot of elementary schools. The video has little bits from popular cartoon characters, most notably Spongebob Squarepants, and was designed to teach kids about getting along and acceptance and diversity and all that. The "offensive" thing is apparently a little message on the website of the creator, who wants to promote tolerance among people of all races, religions, genders, and... :::ominous music::: sexual orientations.

How does that press conference go? "Well, we agree that racism and sexism are bad, but we still think gay bashing is okay."

I don't necessarily want non-gay-approving Christians to give up their stance and embrace homosexuals (although I think it would be nice if they did do that), but I don't see why it's so bad to teach kids to be at least tolerant. Even if you think it's wrong and a sin, that doesn't make it right to create an atmosphere where people are bullied, terrorized and humiliated because of something they can't change. Besides, to my understanding, there isn't anything in the video that actually "promotes homosexuality" (whatever that means); it's just the website message that people are getting their undies in a twist over.

It's not quite as stupid as the scandalous gay Teletubby incident, but it really doesn't make good publicity for conservatives, either.

"Oh, my ovaries!"

Welcome to Crampville, population me. Yeah, enough about that.

So I now officially have a cold. Bummer. And once again, modern medicine has failed to relieve my symptoms. There is no combination of Tylenol Cold, Nyquil and Dayquil that can make me feel even vaguely human or useful.

Saturday, I got my W-2 from my old job... I'm scared to file taxes. Well, not so much that, but I'm afraid I'll mess up terribly and end up owing the IRS a trillion dollars. I'd like to blame my bad math skills on the sexist American public school system, but really, I'm just lazy. I never saw the point of learning to do long division manually when you can use a calculator. Also, there's too many rules involving numbers. I only like rules and laws when you can make them mean different things; two plus two is always four, and that just sucks.

While watching "The OC" on Thursday, I attempted to make a yummy drink from my bartending book called 'Bee Stung Lips.' It sounded good - honey, rum and cream - and it probably is good if it's made right. I must not have, and it was not fun times. I couldn't even decide what was wrong with it - too much honey or too much rum or too much cream. Boo.

So yeah, I guess Marissa and Alex (a girl-Alex) on "The OC" are going to kiss. Apparently some people are upset about this, but I don't see the point. It has to be at least more interesting than the Roseanne/Whichever-Hemingway kiss that happened super years ago. I don't know about anyone else, but my family has watched enough portrayals of gay sex on HBO shows to not be embarrassed about seeing anything as banal as two high school girls smooching. Thanks, "Six Feet Under", for arranging for my parents and I to watch a dude get a blowjob. No, really.

Now that I think about it, I can't wait for SFU to start up again. With the lack of fist-fighting on "The OC", I'm so not meeting my recommended daily allowance of melodrama.

Blow beautiful with Thermasilk

I think I'm getting the cold my brother and sister have. It sucks to be me. And I was considering leaving the house today... no, really... shut up.

So now my pretty bloggie is on my pretty website... yay. I feel semi-smart for having figured out how it works.

I have nothing to say, really. This morning I woke up at 4 and didn't fall back asleep for at least an hour. When I did get back to sleep, I had this weird dream where I went to this public place (a bank maybe? I was only in the lobby) with the sole purpose of using a pay phone to call a phone sex line. It wasn't a real one, though, it was a free 800 number, and when I talked to the woman who answered, I was only telling her how I couldn't really talk because I was in a public place. There is probably some deep Freudian interpretation of this but my head feels too stupid to attempt it.

I've been amusing myself with "I Love the 90's" part 2. It's mostly okay, but there was a hilarious part where they were talking about The Cranberries and the song "Zombie." The Modern Humorist guys almost made me wet my pants, imitating Dolores O'Riordan's little Irish voice. "And their bombs." "And their guns." "And their bombs." "And I believe they had bombs also." Word.

I watched too much TV this week, actually. My mom and I watched the first two "American Idols"... so bad. I like to watch early on, to see the bad singers, which isn't nice but it is pretty funny. They seem to come in two groups. The first are the ones who you can kinda tell know they're bad, but give it a shot anyway, and usually walk out crying. The other group is made of seemingly nice, normal people with terrible voices who are convinced they're really great... and when they don't make it, they flip out and start having tantrums and cussing like sailors. I actually prefer the psychos to the nice ones, who get all sappy and trite and say things like "Well, I guess it wasn't meant to be, but God still wants me to be a famous singer" or whatever. I kind of doubt it, dude.

I actually made breakfast this morning. Ham and eggs, hash browns and biscuits. It all sounds really impressive (at least to me), but the hash browns and the biscuits were both frozen so all I had to do was heat them up. It was yum, but I wish we had scones. I heard "they" are changing the food pyramid. They should add a category especially for scones... mmm.

Now I must either go to write, or sleep.

Thinking of you keeps me up all night

I just read an article about "Jane Roe", the woman in the 1970's Roe v. Wade Supreme Court case that legalized abortion. Ms. Roe (I can't recall her real name) is now asking them to overturn the decision. Huh?

Here's a comparable, if not inappropriately jovial, situation:

"Well, your honor, back then I thought it was my right, and the right of women everywhere, to have a chocolate chip cookie if I wanted or needed one. Now that time has gone by, and we've done more cookie research, I realize that chocolate chip cookies are harmful and nobody should be allowed to have one."

It's not as if I think everyone should have my opinion. Just because I am "pro-choice" doesn't mean that I'm anti-life, or that I like abortion. I think it would be great if the only babies conceived were wanted, and that they would all be born healthy and into happy, stable homes. But the things that happen when abortion is illegal are worse than what happens when they aren't. Keeping abortion legal, you have at least the chance to save the life of the woman.

What really burns my ass about the whole debate is that so many (not all) of the anti-abortion people are also against the things that could prevent it from happening, such as sex education and contraceptives. I also don't understand the militants who try to do things like blow up clinics or murder doctors who perform the procedure, or women who undergo it. I haven't heard of one pro-choice person yet who forced someone to have an abortion.

I could go on at this for a number of hours, but I'm already pissed and I'm only talking to myself, here.

Happier things:

Last week, I used my cool new cocktail shaker to make a Cosmpolitan with the mix EC sent me. It was pretty good but really, really strong. I don't think I've had vodka at all before. My tolerance must be better than I thought because I drank it while watching Jeopardy! and still got most of the questions right. The purple sugar I used around the rim of the glass was so yum. Empty calories rock.

This is actually an unhappy item - I did some aerobics for the first time in... some terrible amount of weeks on Sunday night and did very, very bad. Ow...

"I Love the 90's" part 2 started Monday night. I figure that, with the 70's, two 80's series, and now two 90's series, I will have wasted fifty hours of my life watching random VH1 trivia. I don't think any time spent watching Michael Ian Black and Hal Sparks could be called "wasting" time, though. Hee hee.

Now, I am heading off for an early lunch so I can come back afterwards and do some writing, yay.

No one should brave the underworld alone

I am sitting here fiending like you wouldn't believe for my MP3's. They're all stuck on my old little hard drive that is apparently useless, so hopefully my parents will get me a new one soon. :::Hint::: The insane humming of the eMachine isn't very musical at all. When my computer semi-died earlier this year, I actually got all of my music (at the time) onto CD-R's, and I could play them on my stereo or TV, but I refuse to give in.

Yesterday I attempted to watch an episode of "Sex and the City", because Dean Winters is in it. I'm only mildly obsessed, right? SATC went over even worse than "Hellraiser: Hellseeker" did last week or whenever it was. I believe I made it through 7 minutes of a half-hour episode before feeling the need to stab my face off at the boringness and inanity of the lives of Carrie and her friends. So much for that experiment.

I turned that off and instead watched this movie "Shattered Glass", which was really fascinating. It's a true story about Stephen Glass, a reporter for this Washington DC-based magazine, The New Republic. He's probably one of the best-liked writers at this magazine, even considering how stressed out he is because he's also attending law school to please his parents. Everything is dandy, or close as it could get, when a writer at the online magazine Forbes starts doing a little research on a piece Glass had written about computer hackers, and can't locate anyone or anything mentioned in the article.

It was just amazing how this movie showed the entire article, and pretty much Glass' life and career, completely fall apart. His editor even drives him out to where all these events (including a hackers convention) supposedly happened, and every single one of them can be easily disproved. At the very end, you learn that more than half of the articles Stephen Glass wrote for TNR were partially or totally falsified.

It made me think a lot about writing in general and why I do it, and why I write fiction. When I went to college I worked on the student newspaper for a semester, and I liked it quite a bit better than I thought I would. What I loved was the writing and editing part, but I was definitely not the best interviewer on staff. To me it was just too much work to find out the truth. Which sure isn't to say that I would have gone the way Stephen Glass did if I was in his position - he had a harder time making things up than he would have talking about things that actually happened. He had to fake up notes of interviews, phone numbers - as for the story about hackers that got him caught, he even made a mock website for a company that did not exist, and had his brother in Palo Alto pose as the head of that company over the phone.

My local newspaper, the Contra Costa Times, has like a weekly "Real Life" column where readers can send in a story about something that went on with them, and I've thought about doing that myself. Whenever I sit down to think about it, I can never think of a good story to tell. It's not as if nothing good or bad or thought-provoking has ever happened to me, but I wouldn't know where to begin to make it come together as a good story that people would want to read. I can only come up with good (sometimes not so good) stories about people who don't exist outside of a name on a piece of paper.

That's not to say I consider that a bad thing. I like being able to do that very, very much.

As for my novel, I seem to be moving forward at a more normal rate, finally. Right now, I have 7 or 8 handwritten pages (both sides, even) to add onto my file, who knows when I'll be able to access it because the eMachine doesn't have a zip drive (of course, of course). The way I write is usually starting off something by hand, then moving onto the computer to put that in and continue as far as I can. I've noticed that the longer I wait between writing something by hand and then typing it, the harder it is for me to be able to correctly deciper a word. My handwriting is really bad. I'm looking at a page right now, and it's only out of context that I know that what looks like "bitch" is actually "bottom".

I need to go back to kindergarten.

Newsflash: I am a sexist pig

Well, apparently so.

Yesterday, my dad gets a letter in the mail from Kaiser saying that his primary care practictioner (his doctor in other words) is retiring. This doctor is also my PCP for whatever reason, and I saw her twice and wasn't really won over by her personality, so I'm not crying over her leaving. My mom immediately started harping on the great quality of all of her doctors, who are apparently all women. And I, staunch feminist that I am, came up with:

"I want a man doctor."

As soon as I said it, I knew it was probably the wrong thing to say, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was true. There is no why; I never had any big beef with a female doctor (though nurses may be another story), and I certainly don't believe that women aren't smart or dedicated or strong enough to get out there everyday and save lives. As Oprah or Ricki Lake would say, "You go, girls!"

But I still want a man doctor, dammit, and I fear that this kind of revelation will ruin my reputation as a fiercely liberal (and admittedly opinionated) supporter of women's rights. They may even kick me out of the Ovary Club for this. Not only that, what if I begin to... change? What if, instead of rolling my eyes at athletes and scoffing at Neanderthal musclemen, I become a cheerleader or a groupie or one of those psychotic, desperate single girls who make suicide pacts if they're not married and poppin' out younguns by age 30?

I don't think I'm in too much danger, though. I'm still too fat and conventionally unattractive to consider becoming obsessed with guys, stalking them around the supermarket and hoping one of them will propose a nice, little marriage where I'll stay home and cook from scratch all day while my hubby works, coming home at night with the sole purpose of impregnating me.

Nah, I figure I've got several years left of heating up single-serve, microwaveable meals, leaving the house without makeup on, and staying at home watching HBO while everyone else around me marries and reproduces and divorces at alarming rates.

Awesome.

Should I therefore be made the subject of fun?

When other people plan things, they generally go through. When I plan things, disasters tend to happen. For example:

- Early/mid 2004, I lose some weight and vow to keep it off and lose more. End result: gainage of all original weight.

- Mid/late 2004, I look for a job, my effort ranging from so-so to "I need some money dammit!". End result: As of mid-January 2005, still unemployed and unable to update my Lipsmackers collection.

- November 2004, participate in Nanowrimo and dedicate to myself to writing 50,000 words in 30 days. End result: As of now, I am around 43,000 words, and moving slowly if at all.

The most recent catastrophe of my attempting to get things done - with 1/24 of 2005 already over, I decide I need to go into (or rather invent) super-Yvonne mode and do the following:

- Finish my novel
- Get a job
- Make my blog look really cool
- Spend my spare time making clever mix CD's

A computer is essential for all of these things, except for possibly #2, but it was my access to craigslist that got me a job interview for the first time in the super months I'd been searching. I admittedly was not HIRED for that job, but you should get my point.

So picture it: Sicily, 1922 - actually, that's wrong. Picture it: my bedroom, yesterday. I turn on my computer and it starts up normally, the Windows 98 logo comforting me with its cheery blue sky as usual. Desktop icons and wallpaper and McAfee Security Protection Center all load normally. I am about to check my e-mail when the infamous Windows "Blue Screen of Death" appears and informs me that my C: drive does not have a valid FAT partition. The hell you say!

To make a long story short (too late), my gorgeous 21 gigabyte, Comast-fueled, CD-burner-having, MP3-containing Quantex is now about as useful for computing as a rubber band wrapped around a pencil. There seems to be no way around it: Trying to partition the hard disk is impossible, as the computer insists there is no disk to be futzed with. I can not format the disk, install Windows, or do anything other than run Scandisk, according to which there is no problem with the C: drive (which I thought you didn't have, ya clever bastard).

Until me, my dad, or the nerdy computer guy who fixed my computer last year can figure out what's up, I have now hooked up my family's old eMachine computer. The specifications of said machine:

- 2 gigabytes of space
- Close to no RAM
- Will load web pages... eventually
- Makes a roaring sound louder than my 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee

So for now, I shall have to write my novel by hand, look at job ads at the actual paper-versionof the Contra Costa Times, keep my blog simplish, and listen to CD's I already have. Bummer.

On the plus time, it is now almost time for lunch.

"If Billy Bob were a woman, I'd be a lesbian"

If I hear/see even ONE MORE news item about Brad Pitt/Jennifer Aniston split, I will throw something. If said report mentions the possible involvement of Angelina Jolie, I will throw myself OFF of something.

I don't know, but I don't think I'd dump Aniston for Jolie. Let's look at the facts:

Jennifer Aniston
+ Pretty
+ Good-ish actress
- Bony
- "Friends" was as irritating as hell
+ Sane

Angelina Jolie
+ Pretty
+ Good actress
- Made out with her brother
+ Adopted a kid
- Says weird-ass things, including the quote that is the title for this post
- Wore a vial of Billy Bob Thorton's blood around her neck
- Gave BBT a vial of her blood to wear around his neck

Jennifer Aniston is clearly the winner on paper (onscreen I should say), but in a real fight, I think Angelina would probably win, just because she's crazy.

There may be a plus side to this for Ms. Aniston, though; with Brad no longer an issue, she could pursue a relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal, who she got to make out with in "The Good Girl." Admittedly, he may or may not be back together with Kirsten Dunst, who I am jealous of for various reasons. What can I say - I'm just too bitter to want JG & KD to be the next Ryan Phillippe and Reese Witherspoon (a youngish married Hollywood couple that actually seem happy and non-dysfunctional). What's the fun in that?

Stick it on your message board, Lurch!

Not much going on. I'm not quite sure the last time I updated here, but here's what I think I've been up to since then:

- Rented "Urban Legend", even though I'm fairly sure I have it on tape somewhere. That movie never fails to amuse me. I also got "Hellraiser: Hellseeker" and, despite Dean Winters, could only stand 20 minutes of the boring-ness.

- Cleaned my room hella good. The disorganization has already started up again, though. Damn.

- Last night, had this odd dream where JH came over to hang out and I made her some hot chocolate. We were watching TV (Oz?) and then PD and NJ came over to talk to her. PD would barely talk or even look at me, and it was really annoying but also kind of funny. Dream ended where they were in the backyard playing basketball and I was trying to convince them to come in the garage and play air hockey.

- This morning, got in and out of a shower at a fairly respectable time and went by the library and then to the video store and got Disc 2 of "The Wire" season one. It only has two episodes. What gives? And there are three more DVD's to go. Things should stop costing stuff.

And that's it. Writing is still going slooooooow.

Purple Monkey Dishwasher!

God, I love "The Simpsons."

I just read the most stupid article about this guy who plans to sue "Fear Factor" because watching people eat rats made him throw up, and also get so light-headed and dizzy that he bumped his head in a doorway. Did he ever think about, you know, turning the TV off? Or at least changing the channel? If you watch a show as pointless and degrading as that, you deserve whatever you get.

I didn't come here to rant, I just wanted to post this cool survey dealy so I can get in the shower, shower, dry off, and then WRITE or JH will kill me.

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
- Sense of humor
- Not stupid (usually, ha ha)
- Strength (emotional)

THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
- Poundage
- Laziness
- Don't let myself have fun enough

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
- Mexican
- Irish
- German

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
- Rollercoasters
- Weird sounds at night or when I'm alone in the house
- Being a hogmongous failure

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
- Pen & paper (they count as one since they're useless alone)
- A shower
- People to make me laugh (failing that, people to laugh at)

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
- Glasses
- Two pairs of socks (it's cold!)
- Gold nail polish

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment):
- Elvis Costello
- New Pornographers
- My Bloody Valentine

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (at the moment):
- Boxwing "She's Real"
- Elvis Costello "I Don't Want to Go to Chelsea"
- Bonnie Tyler "Total Eclipse of the Heart"

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
- Getting & keeping a job
- A totally different hairstyle (I have unhealthy emotional attachment to my hair)
- Finishing my novel (hopefully it won't take the entire next 12 months though)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP (love is a given):
- Respect
- Trust
- Able to talk to each other about anything

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
- I am a spendthrift
- I have a lot of books
- I can drive a stick shift

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX (or same) THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
- Smartass sense of humor
- Nice eyes
- Cute bum?

THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
- Get drunk
- Relax
- Say exactly what I mean

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
- Reading
- Making bracelets
- Writing

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
- Writer of course
- I like the idea of something having to do with law enforcement but any job I can think of is not right for me
- Music video director?

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
- New York
- Canada
- England

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
- Fall in love (ew)...
- And have the same person fall back in love with me (ew again)
- Get something published

Take a chance, you stupid ho!

If there's a more grrl-empowering lyric in music today (hell, ever) than I don't know it.

Seriously... I have tried and so far been unsuccessful in warming up to Ms. Stefani's solo stuff. It's not that I'm the biggest No Doubt fan (I have "Tragic Kingdom" & like it pretty well but that's it), but I would have thought I'd like this stuff. Not true, though, or maybe it's just the weird-ass Asian girls meet "Alice in Wonderland" video that freaks me out. Not as if I have anything against Asian girls or AIW, of course.

I wouldn't have made a note about any of this except I was thinking about it and there are a lot of songs that I hate when I first hear them, and love them later on, long after they have disappeared from the radio except in feel-good lunchtime request hour flashbacks. I present the following:

- Aqua "Barbie Girl". First, found this to be the most irritating song ever. Now, I find it amusing and enjoy singing along.

- Tal Bachman "She's So High". Couldn't stand it; now, love.

- All Saints "Never Ever". Mostly disliked them/this song because they reminded me of the Spice Girls, who are possibly the worst group ever. Now that the Spice Girls are gone except for the occasional gossip column tidbit about Posh Spice (or is it Sporty that married the soccer guy?), I can enjoy this song without the bad association.

- Eminem "The Real Slim Shady". Tried desperately to hate this song; resistance futile.

- Jennifer Lopez "Love Don't Cost a Thing"

- Wheatus "Teenage Dirtbag". BEST SONG EVER.

- Lillix "It's About Time." Vaguely reminds me of Avril Lavigne, except there are 4 or 5 of these girls, I don't think they're Canadian, and they definitely don't suck as much. My having their CD still makes me feel embarrassed somehow though, so don't tell everyone, hmm?

First entry (duh)

I've decided it's about time I had a proper blog. I've kept an online journal off-and-on since I figured out how to do basic (crappy) HTML in high school, but I update it pretty rarely, and not just because I have no life.

I've also been lazier working on my website since my AbsoluteFTP decided it hates me, and I've been having to use the scary-ass DOS-looking windows FTP client. It makes me feel more nerdy than even I should.

I suppose I should try to update on "major" events since I've last written anything:

- Halloween. Definitely not the same without EC and our "The Exorcist" tradition.

- November: NaNoWriMo! I had signed up in early October and had a sweet outline just ready to go on Nov. 1. I write really slow (when I write at all) so I thought I would probably not get 50,000 words by the end of the month. The longest project I ever did before, I got about 40,000 words in four months. Damn. Anyway, as of Nov. 31, 2004, by midnight, I had 26,000 words, which for me is amazing. I'm still working on the novel, and right now I'm at 42,000. Hell, enough with wordcounts.

- Thanksgiving. I vaguely remember it as being pretty awesome. There was a lot of food and amusement as usual. A few days before this, I went out with JH & LS for yummy Coldstone Creamery cake-flavored ice cream. It was bitchin.

- Early December: Job interview! Okay, so it was a phone interview, but it so counts. It was for this temporary data entry thing in Oakland. I would have really liked to have gotten the job (apparently there was minimal phonage) but I wouldn't have liked that commute, so I guess it balances out. My job search pretty much dropped out of sight with the holidays and such but I'm predicting (and by predicting I mean planning) it will soon get back up to full speed. Sigh.

- Christmas: Once again I was majorly spoiled by the parental units, other relatives, Santa Claus and my friends. I got everything I asked for (couple of DVD sets, from my parents) and lots of cool things that surprised me. It's really neat how presents from different people kind of go together... EC sent me this cool set of a martini glass that comes with a mix for cosmpolitans (and pretty purple sugar to coat the rim) that so went perfectly with the cute martini shaker LS got me. Besides the usual superfluity (not a word, or it shouldn't be) of presents, there was just general nice, getting-along-ness that is always a relief.

Christmas Eve, my dad's mommy came over and we had duck (mmm) and Christmas, we went to my mom's parents house where I had fried chicken and way too many cashews, score. There's another fattening meal in there somewhere, where I met up with (who else) LS & JH at Olive Garden and had something-or-other with chicken, and cheesecake.

- Sometime between these two major holidays, Jerry Orbach died. I was and still am honestly sad. I just loved L&O's Lennie Briscoe so much. I've watched that show probably 5 or 6 times since then (including tonight's 1st-season rerun of an SVU that featured him) and each time I always forget he's dead... until Briscoe makes me laugh and I remember. Damn.

- New Years Eve, which was just a few days ago... stayed at home, big surprise! But it was fun, my grandpa came over (unfortunately sans Grandma, who's still fighting a cold) and we ate appetizers (OK, I ate most of them), watched "Man on Fire" (weird but Denzel is always good, not to mention HOT) and played cards. 2005 was rung in enthusiastically, with some people in the neighborhood doing firecrackers that made the dogs act like sissies. I was going to stay up all night to either watch the "Law & Order SVU" marathon (which I did last year) or my new 1st season of "Oz" DVD, but I decided I was too tired for either so just went to sleep.

- New Years Day, which was just a couple days ago... spent exactly one-third of the day absorbed in the first season of "Oz." Took a break for 2004 Fall/winter fattening meal #5 which featured a capon and drool-inducing homemade macaroni and cheese. My mother = genius.

Other than that all, not much has been going on. I will now sign off, to use the bathroom and sleep. I know I didn't have to add the bathroom part, but then I realized I have another quick story to tell. Just a couple hours ago, I was watching the previously mentioned SVU rerun and needed a bathroom break. Went in as usual, turned on the light, closed and locked the door, and then hear, I swear to god, breathing that was not my own. My options as I saw them, according to horror movie tradition, were this:

- Pull back curtain and get slashed
- Ignore it, sit down and get slashed while half-naked
- Scream and have someone lunge out to slash me
- Whistle casually* and walk out as if nothing weird has happened, and run upstairs to have my daddy go investigate.

I went for option number 4, with my dad discovering of course NOTHING (that is to say, nobody) breathing threateningly behind the shower curtain. This caused my parents to laugh at me for approximately 15 minutes and make "Have you checked the children?" jokes. Very funny, Mom and Dad.

I'm out.

* I actually can't whistle. I just thought it sounded nice to say.