I have mermaid hair, as my friend Jessi has dubbed it. And since Jessi is way cute, I'm going with it.
I walked under a ladder no fewer than four times today. My question is -- if you walk under a ladder an even number of times, does that cancel the bad luck? I guess I'll find out.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Gotta Have Faith
This is about to go more deep & meaningful than I usually tread. Be warned ...
It's probably not common knowledge that after I lost my dad, I went through a serious period of doubt concerning the existence of a higher power. This was pretty traumatic for me, as I'd never before even considered that God might not exist. I'd always been certain that God did exist. But the more I thought about it, and the more I comprehended the pain and suffering and complete random cruelty of the universe, the more likely it seemed to me that we are just one big cosmic accident.
I got over that, needless to say. I have my faith back, and I'd say by now it's pretty well unshakable. But it's changed. I no longer consider myself a Christian. I believe Jesus walked the earth, performed miracles and said some pretty amazing things in parables, but I don't believe he was the be-all end-all savior, that he's coming back to earth, etc. Maybe someday I'll go into what I do believe, but that'll suffice for this post.
On Sunday I did a favor for my mother -- and it was the last time she'll ever get that particular favor out of me, I've decided. She asked me to go to church and I said okay. It was so, so uncomfortable. First, singing the hymns and praying the prayers that I don't really endorse. It felt wrong. Although I might not label myself a Christian any longer, I still have respect for the church and the religion, so to me, it seemed extremely disrespectful and blasphemous for me to be paying nothing more than lip service by participating in church.
Second, the sermon itself ran counter to just about everything I've figured out for myself in the past couple of years. It was difficult to sit there and listen to it when what I wanted to do was stand up and explain to the entire church (including the sermonizer) how very wrong they are. Of course I didn't do that -- I played the Magic Eye trick with the front of my hymnal instead; its title is Sacred Selections, so I made the two capital "S"s in their fancy script line up, over and over and over again.
It was a good lesson for me, however, in what I will and won't put up with. There are some things I will do with and for my mother out of love, even if I don't particularly feel like it. But compromising my personal beliefs is not one of them, and that's what it felt like I did. I think it's good that I went, because now I know what one of my lines drawn needs to be and where it needs to be drawn. No more church for this girl.
It's probably not common knowledge that after I lost my dad, I went through a serious period of doubt concerning the existence of a higher power. This was pretty traumatic for me, as I'd never before even considered that God might not exist. I'd always been certain that God did exist. But the more I thought about it, and the more I comprehended the pain and suffering and complete random cruelty of the universe, the more likely it seemed to me that we are just one big cosmic accident.
I got over that, needless to say. I have my faith back, and I'd say by now it's pretty well unshakable. But it's changed. I no longer consider myself a Christian. I believe Jesus walked the earth, performed miracles and said some pretty amazing things in parables, but I don't believe he was the be-all end-all savior, that he's coming back to earth, etc. Maybe someday I'll go into what I do believe, but that'll suffice for this post.
On Sunday I did a favor for my mother -- and it was the last time she'll ever get that particular favor out of me, I've decided. She asked me to go to church and I said okay. It was so, so uncomfortable. First, singing the hymns and praying the prayers that I don't really endorse. It felt wrong. Although I might not label myself a Christian any longer, I still have respect for the church and the religion, so to me, it seemed extremely disrespectful and blasphemous for me to be paying nothing more than lip service by participating in church.
Second, the sermon itself ran counter to just about everything I've figured out for myself in the past couple of years. It was difficult to sit there and listen to it when what I wanted to do was stand up and explain to the entire church (including the sermonizer) how very wrong they are. Of course I didn't do that -- I played the Magic Eye trick with the front of my hymnal instead; its title is Sacred Selections, so I made the two capital "S"s in their fancy script line up, over and over and over again.
It was a good lesson for me, however, in what I will and won't put up with. There are some things I will do with and for my mother out of love, even if I don't particularly feel like it. But compromising my personal beliefs is not one of them, and that's what it felt like I did. I think it's good that I went, because now I know what one of my lines drawn needs to be and where it needs to be drawn. No more church for this girl.
Plans for the Future
This is going to have to be a quickie, cause I'm busier than all get-out ...
I'm going to write a best-seller. I've thought about it long and hard and I figure this is the only way that I, personally, can make enough money to pay off all my debts, buy a house and some property somewhere isolated in the mountains, and help support my family. There just isn't enough money in journalism right now, and anyway, I'd rather write fiction.
I'm not sure yet what the plot, or even the genre, of this bestseller will be, but I'm thinking a quasi-romance-cum-murder-mystery could be in the works.
Another blog to come later.
I'm going to write a best-seller. I've thought about it long and hard and I figure this is the only way that I, personally, can make enough money to pay off all my debts, buy a house and some property somewhere isolated in the mountains, and help support my family. There just isn't enough money in journalism right now, and anyway, I'd rather write fiction.
I'm not sure yet what the plot, or even the genre, of this bestseller will be, but I'm thinking a quasi-romance-cum-murder-mystery could be in the works.
Another blog to come later.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Going Green
Everyone is talkin' green these days, so I thought I'd share some tips on how I keep it green, yo!
* Recycle. Duh.
* I use environmentally friendly cleaning products, from window/glass cleaner to all-purpose cleaner to dish detergent to laundry detergent to an Oxi-Clean type cleaner to fabric softener.
* I use kitchen towels for most of my cleaning, saving paper towels for things that really require paper towels. The paper towels I buy (and the toilet paper I buy) are 100-percent recycled. Nothing wrong with that.
* I have this great thing called a Star Mop. It's kind of like a Swiffer, but it's got reusable (washable) pads that you attach to the bottom to sweep up pet hair or mop your floors. I like it.
* My vacuum cleaner has a container for dust and dirt that you can empty -- it's bagless. Way cool.
* I use power strips on my TV and other such things so I can turn them all the way off when I'm done. It's good for your electric bill, too.
* Whenever possible, I try to buy local, organic food to cut down on the carbon footprint of my food.
I'm not at the point yet where I can ride my bike everywhere (I wish!) but another thing I've been thinking about is arranging my schedule to where I can take the bus to and from work at least one day a week.
* Recycle. Duh.
* I use environmentally friendly cleaning products, from window/glass cleaner to all-purpose cleaner to dish detergent to laundry detergent to an Oxi-Clean type cleaner to fabric softener.
* I use kitchen towels for most of my cleaning, saving paper towels for things that really require paper towels. The paper towels I buy (and the toilet paper I buy) are 100-percent recycled. Nothing wrong with that.
* I have this great thing called a Star Mop. It's kind of like a Swiffer, but it's got reusable (washable) pads that you attach to the bottom to sweep up pet hair or mop your floors. I like it.
* My vacuum cleaner has a container for dust and dirt that you can empty -- it's bagless. Way cool.
* I use power strips on my TV and other such things so I can turn them all the way off when I'm done. It's good for your electric bill, too.
* Whenever possible, I try to buy local, organic food to cut down on the carbon footprint of my food.
I'm not at the point yet where I can ride my bike everywhere (I wish!) but another thing I've been thinking about is arranging my schedule to where I can take the bus to and from work at least one day a week.
New Toilets
We have new toilets in the building.
This is particularly exciting for me because (grossness alert!) the other day, when I was in the Bad Mood, something really disgusting happened that quite possibly sent me over the Bad Mood edge. What happened was this: I walked into the bathroom to use it and there were two women standing in there chatting. I thought, whatever, and went into the stall. There was toilet paper spinning around in the toilet -- bloody toilet paper, very bloody -- and the toilet was just running and running and running.
Which pissed me off -- I think it's fair to assume that the bloody toilet paper belonged to one of the two women who couldn't be bothered to make sure it flushed down, and who instead thought it was appropriate to just leave it and gossip with each other. I took the top off the tank and fiddled with the chain that holds the stopper that fills up the tank -- the stopper wasn't all the way down, which is what was causing the toilet to run like that, and basically, it was just gross. Beyond gross. Disgusting. And frankly, if I know enough to fix the toilet, anyone should know enough to fix the toilet.
So I got it fixed but was still irritated by whoever's bloody toilet paper that was. Ick.
Now, though, the toilets flush like champions, and I even think they're low-flow. We also are getting rid of styrofoam cups in an effort to be green. More on that later ...
This is particularly exciting for me because (grossness alert!) the other day, when I was in the Bad Mood, something really disgusting happened that quite possibly sent me over the Bad Mood edge. What happened was this: I walked into the bathroom to use it and there were two women standing in there chatting. I thought, whatever, and went into the stall. There was toilet paper spinning around in the toilet -- bloody toilet paper, very bloody -- and the toilet was just running and running and running.
Which pissed me off -- I think it's fair to assume that the bloody toilet paper belonged to one of the two women who couldn't be bothered to make sure it flushed down, and who instead thought it was appropriate to just leave it and gossip with each other. I took the top off the tank and fiddled with the chain that holds the stopper that fills up the tank -- the stopper wasn't all the way down, which is what was causing the toilet to run like that, and basically, it was just gross. Beyond gross. Disgusting. And frankly, if I know enough to fix the toilet, anyone should know enough to fix the toilet.
So I got it fixed but was still irritated by whoever's bloody toilet paper that was. Ick.
Now, though, the toilets flush like champions, and I even think they're low-flow. We also are getting rid of styrofoam cups in an effort to be green. More on that later ...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Bad Mood!
I was in a bad mood yesterday. I forgot my water bottle at home. I had to fix a bunch of convoluted sentences. There was the plane fiasco. I didn't think I was going to get my shift covered. And on. And on.
Then I got home and really didn't want to work out. But I did anyway. And I can't even tell you how much better I felt when I was done. It was awesome.
Then I ate some delicious dinner and went out to a really funny, fantastic production that I am in love with now.
I think I just have too much on my plate. I have things to do most evenings of the week, things to see, things to write about. But I need to start limiting myself. I don't have to watch all the screeners I'm sent. I don't have to read all the books. And I don't have to feel bad about limiting my time to stuff I want to do.
Wow.
Then I got home and really didn't want to work out. But I did anyway. And I can't even tell you how much better I felt when I was done. It was awesome.
Then I ate some delicious dinner and went out to a really funny, fantastic production that I am in love with now.
I think I just have too much on my plate. I have things to do most evenings of the week, things to see, things to write about. But I need to start limiting myself. I don't have to watch all the screeners I'm sent. I don't have to read all the books. And I don't have to feel bad about limiting my time to stuff I want to do.
Wow.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
True Blonde
I think sometimes that I am secretly a blonde. This is because I am ditzy beyond belief. Today I had one of those moments that made me re-check my hair color in the mirror.
I'm also trying really hard not to be frustrated at a loved one in my life (not D, thanks for caring). I just have one question: Is it reasonable to expect advance notice when someone wants you to go on an out-of-town trip? My schedule, as you may have gathered, is a hectic thing. This weekend I have volunteering on Saturday and a bar shift on Sunday. I can't do either of them because someone bought me a plane ticket ... and neglected to tell me exactly when I was leaving and returning.
Nice to buy a plane ticket.
Irritating as all get-out not to inform me as to my travel information.
I hold some blame here, too -- I should have asked, and asked, and asked again, until I got an answer. Today I made about eight phone calls (none of which the person in question answered) until I finally had to call this person at work, and he/she was all, "Oh! I didn't tell you?"
NO, you didn't tell me! And now I have to get this shift covered for the bar, and nobody can do it, and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. It's beyond frustrating.
I need at least two weeks advance notice if someone wants to take up more than a few hours of my time. AT LEAST. If you want two days, it's better to make it three weeks. This person had to buy me a special plane ticket -- I can't go out with the rest of the group because I have prior obligations and can't leave when they are leaving. And then I have to deal with other members of the group acting all affronted because I've made plans already and I can't just drop them last-minute, no matter how much you'd like me to do so.
GRRR-animals!
I'm also trying really hard not to be frustrated at a loved one in my life (not D, thanks for caring). I just have one question: Is it reasonable to expect advance notice when someone wants you to go on an out-of-town trip? My schedule, as you may have gathered, is a hectic thing. This weekend I have volunteering on Saturday and a bar shift on Sunday. I can't do either of them because someone bought me a plane ticket ... and neglected to tell me exactly when I was leaving and returning.
Nice to buy a plane ticket.
Irritating as all get-out not to inform me as to my travel information.
I hold some blame here, too -- I should have asked, and asked, and asked again, until I got an answer. Today I made about eight phone calls (none of which the person in question answered) until I finally had to call this person at work, and he/she was all, "Oh! I didn't tell you?"
NO, you didn't tell me! And now I have to get this shift covered for the bar, and nobody can do it, and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. It's beyond frustrating.
I need at least two weeks advance notice if someone wants to take up more than a few hours of my time. AT LEAST. If you want two days, it's better to make it three weeks. This person had to buy me a special plane ticket -- I can't go out with the rest of the group because I have prior obligations and can't leave when they are leaving. And then I have to deal with other members of the group acting all affronted because I've made plans already and I can't just drop them last-minute, no matter how much you'd like me to do so.
GRRR-animals!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Gross But Good
The first item in this post is actually just gross. Usually it's good. I'll elaborate: Yesterday D went grocery shopping and brought me home my usual containers of salad mix. I get the organic King Soopers brand "herbed spring mix" -- essentially, it's spring mix with dill, basil, cilantro and other herbs added to up the flavor profile. It's actually really delicious, and even though it's more expensive (obviously) than buying my own spinach, red cabbage, arugula, baby romaine, etc., and mixing up my own spring mix, that would be a giant pain in the ass, I wouldn't do it and then the greens would end up rotting in my fridge. Trust me, I know this. So I spend a few more dollars and, in return, I get fully washed and prepared spring mix with which to make my salads. And it actually all gets eaten. (I'm growing some herbs at my house as we speak, so possibly in the near future, I'll start buying the plain spring mix and adding my own herbs. Just in case you cared.)
So I open up one of the containers last night to make today's salad, and ... it's gross. At least half of the greens are all dark and slimy, which is what lettuce does when it gets beyond the point of edibility. Well -- maybe you could still eat it. I'm not about to find out. It's the nasty. I'm picking through the container, saying "Ugh" a lot and trying to find some salvagable salad mix from this mess. It's really gross. D comes over and checks the expiration date (7/25) and gets all heated, so today he's going to take it back to the store, show them exactly what they sold me and exchange it for some (hopefully) fresh produce. Thankfully, the other container was in much better shape, so I could still assemble my salad (which I just finished eating).
Another gross but good thing are these vitamins my brother hooked me up with. I'm about to go into informercial mode here. The brand is called Passion4Life. It's a liquid vitamin, and 98 percent of the vitamin/mineral/etc. blend gets absorbed into your body within three minutes of taking it. It's also kind of a pyramid marketing scheme that Art's involved in, so when he first told me about it, I was kind of like, "Yeah, okay, I'll buy some of this to help you out." Then I quit taking it for a minute and just started again yesterday. And wow! What a difference. He swore up and down that it helped his energy levels and his focus -- he was absolutely right. Weird that I didn't notice it sooner, but it's definitely helped a lot in both of those aspects. I feel like I can do everything on my list and then some today. It's pretty awesome. I just ordered another bottle of it and plan on continuing to take it. If anyone is interested in learning more, let me know -- I can get you Art's consultant number; you'll pay the same price for the vitamins but he gets credit (and paid) for it. They are kinda expensive, but completely worth it for the effect you get, in my opinion.
But. It tastes awful. Like those natural vitamins you can get, that you can smell as soon as you open the bottle, and kind of taste when you swallow them, but not really, cause it's only on your tongue for a second? Worse than those. It really does taste, as Art would say, "gnar." So what I do is this: I blend it into a smoothie which becomes my breakfast first thing in the morning. Here is the recipe:
3 ice cubes (crush these in the blender before making the rest of the smoothie so you don't get big chunks of ice in the smoothie)
1/2 cup mixed berries, approximately*
1/2 cup mixed fruit, approxmiately*
1 baby banana, or 1/2 a regular banana
1 serving (individual cup) Yo Plus vanilla yogurt**
1 ounce Passion4Life
Blend and enjoy.
*I buy frozen mixed fruit and mixed berries from King Soopers (again, the King Soopers brand). I defrost them for about 24 hours in the fridge -- when I'm putting them in my morning smoothie, I'll replace what I use in my special container in the fridge. I only defrost one day's worth at a time. You don't really have to defrost them, but it makes the smoothie thinner and thus more drinkable.
**I've tried both Yoplait's Yo Plus and Dannon's Activia. Yo Plus blows Activia out of the water, in case you were wondering. Not only does it have the fiber, protein and the other added stuff that Activia leaves out, but that whole claim about "regulating the digestive system?" Activia did nothin' for me, Yo Plus actually works. Plus it is much creamier than Activia, and tastes better.
So I open up one of the containers last night to make today's salad, and ... it's gross. At least half of the greens are all dark and slimy, which is what lettuce does when it gets beyond the point of edibility. Well -- maybe you could still eat it. I'm not about to find out. It's the nasty. I'm picking through the container, saying "Ugh" a lot and trying to find some salvagable salad mix from this mess. It's really gross. D comes over and checks the expiration date (7/25) and gets all heated, so today he's going to take it back to the store, show them exactly what they sold me and exchange it for some (hopefully) fresh produce. Thankfully, the other container was in much better shape, so I could still assemble my salad (which I just finished eating).
Another gross but good thing are these vitamins my brother hooked me up with. I'm about to go into informercial mode here. The brand is called Passion4Life. It's a liquid vitamin, and 98 percent of the vitamin/mineral/etc. blend gets absorbed into your body within three minutes of taking it. It's also kind of a pyramid marketing scheme that Art's involved in, so when he first told me about it, I was kind of like, "Yeah, okay, I'll buy some of this to help you out." Then I quit taking it for a minute and just started again yesterday. And wow! What a difference. He swore up and down that it helped his energy levels and his focus -- he was absolutely right. Weird that I didn't notice it sooner, but it's definitely helped a lot in both of those aspects. I feel like I can do everything on my list and then some today. It's pretty awesome. I just ordered another bottle of it and plan on continuing to take it. If anyone is interested in learning more, let me know -- I can get you Art's consultant number; you'll pay the same price for the vitamins but he gets credit (and paid) for it. They are kinda expensive, but completely worth it for the effect you get, in my opinion.
But. It tastes awful. Like those natural vitamins you can get, that you can smell as soon as you open the bottle, and kind of taste when you swallow them, but not really, cause it's only on your tongue for a second? Worse than those. It really does taste, as Art would say, "gnar." So what I do is this: I blend it into a smoothie which becomes my breakfast first thing in the morning. Here is the recipe:
3 ice cubes (crush these in the blender before making the rest of the smoothie so you don't get big chunks of ice in the smoothie)
1/2 cup mixed berries, approximately*
1/2 cup mixed fruit, approxmiately*
1 baby banana, or 1/2 a regular banana
1 serving (individual cup) Yo Plus vanilla yogurt**
1 ounce Passion4Life
Blend and enjoy.
*I buy frozen mixed fruit and mixed berries from King Soopers (again, the King Soopers brand). I defrost them for about 24 hours in the fridge -- when I'm putting them in my morning smoothie, I'll replace what I use in my special container in the fridge. I only defrost one day's worth at a time. You don't really have to defrost them, but it makes the smoothie thinner and thus more drinkable.
**I've tried both Yoplait's Yo Plus and Dannon's Activia. Yo Plus blows Activia out of the water, in case you were wondering. Not only does it have the fiber, protein and the other added stuff that Activia leaves out, but that whole claim about "regulating the digestive system?" Activia did nothin' for me, Yo Plus actually works. Plus it is much creamier than Activia, and tastes better.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Poor, Poor Pitiful Me
I don't have enough time. And it's getting worse. I get screeners for movies I don't have time to watch. I get review copies of books I don't have time to read. And then I feel bad because when I do, by some chance of the stars, have time for something pleasure-related -- I never want to read or watch what I get sent for free.
It's frustrating.
This next week, by the way, is going to be hell. (Not this week, but next week.) My supervisor, whom I cover for, is leaving for a week. AND the copy editor, whom I also cover for (for whom I also cover?), is also leaving for more than a week. So I get to do three ... three ... three jobs in one!
It's going to be bad, I already know it. I'm trying to prepare. The most frustrating thing is that, outside of my job, the thing that demands the most of my time is family. I feel bad for being frustrated by that. But there are times when all I want is to go home to my quiet house and hunker down on the couch and read some and catch up on some laundry and do a little bit of cleaning and go to bed early. But my brothers consider my home their refuge away from home. Don't get me wrong; I like that. But what I don't like is how they call up and invite themselves over at precisely the times when I most want to not have anyone over. My friends do it, too. It's maddening.
I love them, but I also love being by myself every once in a while. At least I got my brothers to start calling me ... they were in this really bad habit of just stopping by whenever, and I managed to convince them that was a really bad idea. Sometimes I wasn't home. Sometimes I was working or otherwise engaged. And sometimes I just don't want any visitors.
Well, I'm running out of daylight already -- time to blow this popsicle stand.
It's frustrating.
This next week, by the way, is going to be hell. (Not this week, but next week.) My supervisor, whom I cover for, is leaving for a week. AND the copy editor, whom I also cover for (for whom I also cover?), is also leaving for more than a week. So I get to do three ... three ... three jobs in one!
It's going to be bad, I already know it. I'm trying to prepare. The most frustrating thing is that, outside of my job, the thing that demands the most of my time is family. I feel bad for being frustrated by that. But there are times when all I want is to go home to my quiet house and hunker down on the couch and read some and catch up on some laundry and do a little bit of cleaning and go to bed early. But my brothers consider my home their refuge away from home. Don't get me wrong; I like that. But what I don't like is how they call up and invite themselves over at precisely the times when I most want to not have anyone over. My friends do it, too. It's maddening.
I love them, but I also love being by myself every once in a while. At least I got my brothers to start calling me ... they were in this really bad habit of just stopping by whenever, and I managed to convince them that was a really bad idea. Sometimes I wasn't home. Sometimes I was working or otherwise engaged. And sometimes I just don't want any visitors.
Well, I'm running out of daylight already -- time to blow this popsicle stand.
Oil Baron
Do you know who the most disgusting man on the planet is?
Brandon Davis.
Ugh.
He's never done anything of note, that I know of -- his parents own a bunch of oil, or something? I don't know. Basically, he's a billionaire. A really irritating, stuck-up, arrogant toerag of a billionaire, who didn't make any of his own money. Good for him.
He's friends with Paris Hilton, if that tells you anything at all.
He's really, really gross. I would hate to be Brandon Davis. And even if he gave me all of his money, I would never sleep with him. I would never even be his friend. Ew. And I would hate to be him, because who knows if any of his friends really like him at all, or if they're just friends with him because he has tons of money? I don't think he's even smart enough to know, or care, about that aspect of his existence.
Here's what got me started thinking about Brandon Davis: He made up a nickname for Lindsay Lohan a couple of years ago. (I'm sure you can find video of him telling the paparazzi this nickname on YouTube if you care to look.) He was hanging out with Paris Hilton and they started asking him about Lindsay and he was like, "Lindsay Lohan is, like, really poor. She only has about four million dollars. She lives in a motel. It's really disgusting." Then he started calling her Firecrotch.
The reason I even looked any of this up is that I'm pretty well addicted to gossip columns, and the MSN "Hot Gossip" was always referencing Lindsay Lohan and her "unflattering new nickname, bestowed upon her by Brandon Davis and referencing a certain part of her anatomy." Of course I was eaten up by curiosity. What did he say about Lindsay, I wondered? It must be bad, since they won't even reprint it. What could it be? How awful is it, really?
So you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered it was merely "Firecrotch." Sheesh. Brandon Davis might be disgustingly rich, but he's definitely not winning any points for creativity.
I mean, Firecrotch? Seriously? That's an insult? All it means is that she has red pubic hair. Big effin' deal. Playboy pays extra for that, I'm pretty sure.
I wonder if Brandon Davis has ever dated a redhead? And if so, did he make her bleach her pubic hair? Or dye it brown? What is wrong with him?
Really, though, I don't want to know. I don't want to believe that Brandon Davis has ever had sex with anybody. I would puke for weeks if I ever got that visual stuck in my brain. Ew, ew, ew!
Brandon Davis.
Ugh.
He's never done anything of note, that I know of -- his parents own a bunch of oil, or something? I don't know. Basically, he's a billionaire. A really irritating, stuck-up, arrogant toerag of a billionaire, who didn't make any of his own money. Good for him.
He's friends with Paris Hilton, if that tells you anything at all.
He's really, really gross. I would hate to be Brandon Davis. And even if he gave me all of his money, I would never sleep with him. I would never even be his friend. Ew. And I would hate to be him, because who knows if any of his friends really like him at all, or if they're just friends with him because he has tons of money? I don't think he's even smart enough to know, or care, about that aspect of his existence.
Here's what got me started thinking about Brandon Davis: He made up a nickname for Lindsay Lohan a couple of years ago. (I'm sure you can find video of him telling the paparazzi this nickname on YouTube if you care to look.) He was hanging out with Paris Hilton and they started asking him about Lindsay and he was like, "Lindsay Lohan is, like, really poor. She only has about four million dollars. She lives in a motel. It's really disgusting." Then he started calling her Firecrotch.
The reason I even looked any of this up is that I'm pretty well addicted to gossip columns, and the MSN "Hot Gossip" was always referencing Lindsay Lohan and her "unflattering new nickname, bestowed upon her by Brandon Davis and referencing a certain part of her anatomy." Of course I was eaten up by curiosity. What did he say about Lindsay, I wondered? It must be bad, since they won't even reprint it. What could it be? How awful is it, really?
So you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered it was merely "Firecrotch." Sheesh. Brandon Davis might be disgustingly rich, but he's definitely not winning any points for creativity.
I mean, Firecrotch? Seriously? That's an insult? All it means is that she has red pubic hair. Big effin' deal. Playboy pays extra for that, I'm pretty sure.
I wonder if Brandon Davis has ever dated a redhead? And if so, did he make her bleach her pubic hair? Or dye it brown? What is wrong with him?
Really, though, I don't want to know. I don't want to believe that Brandon Davis has ever had sex with anybody. I would puke for weeks if I ever got that visual stuck in my brain. Ew, ew, ew!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Sweet Revenge
There are these two women who occasionally will stand around while I'm driving to work, on the corner of one of the streets downtown, holding up a big sign that says "Abortion Kills."
Now I will be the first to agree that yes, in fact, abortion does kill. It's not a pretty thing. But honestly -- I don't think that banning abortion should be our priority right now. War kills, too. Full-grown adults, at that (not that babies are any less precious). And until we have the resources to ensure that every single child born in this country will have enough food to eat, a good education, a stable family life and parents that love it -- not to mention the ability to strictly enforce child support from deadbeat dads -- then no one in this country has any right to tell anyone else what to do with her body. Period. And the planet already has way, way too many human beings on it as is.
But I really couldn't care less what these women think -- what really irks me is what they look like. I know, shallow. But seriously, they're both fat. They took the lives that their mommies and God gave them and used those lives to get fat and unhealthy. What a swell representative of what life can be for these poor babies that never get to see the light of day -- you, too, child, could one day be obese and bitter. Sure, maybe they have a glandular disorder; maybe there's some thyroid problem going on somewhere inside them. But you know what? Maybe some of the women they're targeting were raped, or are in serious danger of dying if they don't have an abortion. And what about ectopic pregnancies? Should those be terminated, or left as is, so both mother and child will die? Point being: Judge not lest ye be judged, bitches, and if you're going to judge the entire population that drives by your stupid sign, then I'm going to judge you. Fatties.
Last night D and I went to Schezuan Chinese, the best Chinese restaurant (I think) in the city. It's almost impossible to find, tucked away in the corner of a nigh-inaccessible strip mall. (Yes, this does have something to do with the abortion women. Hold your horses.) Usually when I go there, I order something fair-to-middling healthy, but last night I was on a blowout and ordered what I think is the hands-down best option on the menu: the pan-fried dumplings. These dumplings have been lauded and awarded; they're filled with spiced pork and some herbs, and they're greasy and fatty and oh, my god, so, so delicious. Grease runs down your chin when you bite into them. They are heaven on earth.
So here is my plan: I'm going to get one of my healthy, fit friends to stand with me on the corner opposite these women. I'm going to make a sign that says simply: "Diabetes Kills." And while they're fretting across the street, I'm going to eat so many of those dumplings, laughing at them over my greasy chin because they can't have any.
Neener neener neener!
Now I will be the first to agree that yes, in fact, abortion does kill. It's not a pretty thing. But honestly -- I don't think that banning abortion should be our priority right now. War kills, too. Full-grown adults, at that (not that babies are any less precious). And until we have the resources to ensure that every single child born in this country will have enough food to eat, a good education, a stable family life and parents that love it -- not to mention the ability to strictly enforce child support from deadbeat dads -- then no one in this country has any right to tell anyone else what to do with her body. Period. And the planet already has way, way too many human beings on it as is.
But I really couldn't care less what these women think -- what really irks me is what they look like. I know, shallow. But seriously, they're both fat. They took the lives that their mommies and God gave them and used those lives to get fat and unhealthy. What a swell representative of what life can be for these poor babies that never get to see the light of day -- you, too, child, could one day be obese and bitter. Sure, maybe they have a glandular disorder; maybe there's some thyroid problem going on somewhere inside them. But you know what? Maybe some of the women they're targeting were raped, or are in serious danger of dying if they don't have an abortion. And what about ectopic pregnancies? Should those be terminated, or left as is, so both mother and child will die? Point being: Judge not lest ye be judged, bitches, and if you're going to judge the entire population that drives by your stupid sign, then I'm going to judge you. Fatties.
Last night D and I went to Schezuan Chinese, the best Chinese restaurant (I think) in the city. It's almost impossible to find, tucked away in the corner of a nigh-inaccessible strip mall. (Yes, this does have something to do with the abortion women. Hold your horses.) Usually when I go there, I order something fair-to-middling healthy, but last night I was on a blowout and ordered what I think is the hands-down best option on the menu: the pan-fried dumplings. These dumplings have been lauded and awarded; they're filled with spiced pork and some herbs, and they're greasy and fatty and oh, my god, so, so delicious. Grease runs down your chin when you bite into them. They are heaven on earth.
So here is my plan: I'm going to get one of my healthy, fit friends to stand with me on the corner opposite these women. I'm going to make a sign that says simply: "Diabetes Kills." And while they're fretting across the street, I'm going to eat so many of those dumplings, laughing at them over my greasy chin because they can't have any.
Neener neener neener!
Diner Dash 2!
Oh, yes. There is a Diner Dash 2. I just discovered it last night -- and it is awesome.
Flo is still your character, and since her five restaurants have done so well, she's helping friends open theirs up. There are a lot more customer types -- along with the businesswoman, the senior and the college kids, there are also cell-phone yakkers, bookworms, families and joggers. The families and cell-phone yakkers make a lot of noise. Bookworms can't really tolerate noise, so you can't seat them next to cell-phone yakkers or families. Joggers wear headphones so you can put them anywhere (I use them as a buffer between bookworms and cell-phone yakkers). Families need a high chair as soon as they sit down or the baby will cry incessantly.
So far all the extras are the same -- drinks and snacks and a podium to talk to people waiting in line. It's not all that hard yet; I've been getting expert scores, but I'm only on the second restaurant. The graphics are pretty cool, too.
Although it is pathetic that my favorite game involves being a waitress. You'd think I'd have gotten enough of that in real life.
Flo is still your character, and since her five restaurants have done so well, she's helping friends open theirs up. There are a lot more customer types -- along with the businesswoman, the senior and the college kids, there are also cell-phone yakkers, bookworms, families and joggers. The families and cell-phone yakkers make a lot of noise. Bookworms can't really tolerate noise, so you can't seat them next to cell-phone yakkers or families. Joggers wear headphones so you can put them anywhere (I use them as a buffer between bookworms and cell-phone yakkers). Families need a high chair as soon as they sit down or the baby will cry incessantly.
So far all the extras are the same -- drinks and snacks and a podium to talk to people waiting in line. It's not all that hard yet; I've been getting expert scores, but I'm only on the second restaurant. The graphics are pretty cool, too.
Although it is pathetic that my favorite game involves being a waitress. You'd think I'd have gotten enough of that in real life.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Stylin'
What is up with Avril Lavigne and her "punk" style? I was watching TMZ last night ... or maybe it was Access Hollywood ... regardless, it was one of those shows about celebrities and they were discussing her new clothing line. They called her a "punk princess" or something stupid like that.
I don't understand it. Avril Lavigne is no Siouxie Sioux. I am more punk than she is, even in what I'm wearing today (black top with cat/dog hair liberally applied, dark blue jeans, black sandals and -- gasp! -- a brown belt. I know. I'm such a rebel). I think they just will call anybody "punk" who is even pretending to affect that trend. I understand that maybe when Avril was a fifteen-year-old girl, full of angst, with her wifebeater and men's tie, okay, maybe that was kind of edgy. Kind of edgy. But that was, what? Ten years ago? Almost.
I guess that's what happens when people start considering Sum 41 punk. When I think punk, I think Sex Pistols, I think spikes and mohawks and Repo Man. Not what passes for punk today. Especially not Avril Lavigne.
Anyway ... where was I? Oh, yes. Avril Lavigne has a new clothing line. So she's showing it off -- it's called Abby Dawn or something lame like that -- and she's like, "And here is my Abby Dawn skull," and holds up a black shirt with a silver sparkly glittery skull on it, wow, how risque! "And here is my favorite hoodie, see, it's not all baggy, it's cute!" and she holds up a zebra-print hoodie with some ridiculous cat ears on the hood. No, I am not making this up. And the interviewer is oohing and ahing, oh wow, Avril, you are so cutting edge!
So I says to Damon, I says, "How is she even remotely punk?" He kind of shrugs and says something about her being Canadian punk (like Sum 41) and not American punk. And something about Blink-182. I tell him that in my opinion, Blink-182 only had two decent punk albums in them; the rest was shit. He agrees. Then I say, "You know who they should really be calling the punk princess? Gwen Stefani. She has way more street cred than Avril." I mean, I think maybe Avril Lavigne spit on a photographer once or something. Oooh, how raw! Gwen Stefani is from Long Beach, spent years in a band that definitely qualifies as punk, and she married Gavin Rossdale (not punk, but hard rock -- close enough).
"Not anymore, she's not," D says.
"It doesn't even matter," I tell him. "No matter what Gwen Stefani does in her musical future, she will always be more punk than Avril Lavigne. She could start singing like Celine Dion tomorrow, and she'd still be more punk than Avril Lavigne."
D agrees.
I mean, seriously. "Punk princess?" Did they even listen to that lame-o song Avril put out, "Boyfriend" or "Girlfriend" or something? "Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!" It was all cheerleady and pepped up, and not even in a rockin' way, like, again, Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl."
Now THAT is punk rock.
(Oh, and here is the plan for the weekend: Two blogs tomorrow, two on Monday, since my home computer still is giving no sign that it will be cooperating at all. Sound good? Good.)
I don't understand it. Avril Lavigne is no Siouxie Sioux. I am more punk than she is, even in what I'm wearing today (black top with cat/dog hair liberally applied, dark blue jeans, black sandals and -- gasp! -- a brown belt. I know. I'm such a rebel). I think they just will call anybody "punk" who is even pretending to affect that trend. I understand that maybe when Avril was a fifteen-year-old girl, full of angst, with her wifebeater and men's tie, okay, maybe that was kind of edgy. Kind of edgy. But that was, what? Ten years ago? Almost.
I guess that's what happens when people start considering Sum 41 punk. When I think punk, I think Sex Pistols, I think spikes and mohawks and Repo Man. Not what passes for punk today. Especially not Avril Lavigne.
Anyway ... where was I? Oh, yes. Avril Lavigne has a new clothing line. So she's showing it off -- it's called Abby Dawn or something lame like that -- and she's like, "And here is my Abby Dawn skull," and holds up a black shirt with a silver sparkly glittery skull on it, wow, how risque! "And here is my favorite hoodie, see, it's not all baggy, it's cute!" and she holds up a zebra-print hoodie with some ridiculous cat ears on the hood. No, I am not making this up. And the interviewer is oohing and ahing, oh wow, Avril, you are so cutting edge!
So I says to Damon, I says, "How is she even remotely punk?" He kind of shrugs and says something about her being Canadian punk (like Sum 41) and not American punk. And something about Blink-182. I tell him that in my opinion, Blink-182 only had two decent punk albums in them; the rest was shit. He agrees. Then I say, "You know who they should really be calling the punk princess? Gwen Stefani. She has way more street cred than Avril." I mean, I think maybe Avril Lavigne spit on a photographer once or something. Oooh, how raw! Gwen Stefani is from Long Beach, spent years in a band that definitely qualifies as punk, and she married Gavin Rossdale (not punk, but hard rock -- close enough).
"Not anymore, she's not," D says.
"It doesn't even matter," I tell him. "No matter what Gwen Stefani does in her musical future, she will always be more punk than Avril Lavigne. She could start singing like Celine Dion tomorrow, and she'd still be more punk than Avril Lavigne."
D agrees.
I mean, seriously. "Punk princess?" Did they even listen to that lame-o song Avril put out, "Boyfriend" or "Girlfriend" or something? "Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!" It was all cheerleady and pepped up, and not even in a rockin' way, like, again, Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl."
Now THAT is punk rock.
(Oh, and here is the plan for the weekend: Two blogs tomorrow, two on Monday, since my home computer still is giving no sign that it will be cooperating at all. Sound good? Good.)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Go, Go, Go!
Here is my schedule starting as soon as I leave here, which I will do once this blog is posted:
Today
* Work out (this will take about an hour).
* Head to Film on the Rocks to watch Labyrinth. Take notes and pictures.
Tomorrow
* Stop by Red Rocks/Green Mountain Open Space on my way to work. Take notes and pictures.
* Write blog on Film on the Rocks.
* Write another blog on some food donations during the Mile High Music Festival.
* At 2 p.m., go to Silver Jeans store at Park Meadows. Take notes and pictures.
* Write Silver Jeans blog.
* Stop by dinosaur tracks on way home form work; take notes and pictures.
* Work out at home.
Friday
* Finish all listings for this week (there are at least a hundred of these to input).
* Catch up for next week.
* Write up my dinosaur/Red Rocks/Green Mountain findings.
Saturday
* Go to memorial service for old family friend.
* Shakespeare in the Park (maybe).
Sunday
* Work.
* Shakespeare in the Park, again (definitely). Take notes and pictures.
Monday
* Shakespeare blog.
* Try to get ahead for this week; people are going out of town and I need my wits about me.
Next Thursday I have a salon opening to attend as well as the sneak preview for the X-Files movie. On the same night. I'm going to be doing approximately three jobs, and leaving next weekend for a trip to my grandparents' on the momentous occasion of their 60th wedding anniversary.
The following Thursday I have a stationery store opening to attend.
Sometimes I just feel like I'm operating on autopilot -- which I will be for the next few days. It's mind-bending. Not to mention this party planning crap ... aaaargh.
It's gonna be okay though, I'm good at what I do.
Today
* Work out (this will take about an hour).
* Head to Film on the Rocks to watch Labyrinth. Take notes and pictures.
Tomorrow
* Stop by Red Rocks/Green Mountain Open Space on my way to work. Take notes and pictures.
* Write blog on Film on the Rocks.
* Write another blog on some food donations during the Mile High Music Festival.
* At 2 p.m., go to Silver Jeans store at Park Meadows. Take notes and pictures.
* Write Silver Jeans blog.
* Stop by dinosaur tracks on way home form work; take notes and pictures.
* Work out at home.
Friday
* Finish all listings for this week (there are at least a hundred of these to input).
* Catch up for next week.
* Write up my dinosaur/Red Rocks/Green Mountain findings.
Saturday
* Go to memorial service for old family friend.
* Shakespeare in the Park (maybe).
Sunday
* Work.
* Shakespeare in the Park, again (definitely). Take notes and pictures.
Monday
* Shakespeare blog.
* Try to get ahead for this week; people are going out of town and I need my wits about me.
Next Thursday I have a salon opening to attend as well as the sneak preview for the X-Files movie. On the same night. I'm going to be doing approximately three jobs, and leaving next weekend for a trip to my grandparents' on the momentous occasion of their 60th wedding anniversary.
The following Thursday I have a stationery store opening to attend.
Sometimes I just feel like I'm operating on autopilot -- which I will be for the next few days. It's mind-bending. Not to mention this party planning crap ... aaaargh.
It's gonna be okay though, I'm good at what I do.
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