El Beasto

I'm yancy today. Nathan smelled like toothpaste (sh'up, you did D:) and the interweb kept going down, which was pretty sweet. Other than that though, I've been really out of it. I think I stole some tooth paste from WalMart (fuck! I was supposed to be not shopping there), but I don't think so, considering that I'd bought weights and need two hands to carry that shit.

So possible shoplifting aside, I'm in a foul mood and keep thinking up these plans for getting to [aforementioned destination], but thus far, none of them really have outcomes that don't involve living under a bridge and being ground up into hamburger meat by a vagrant or perverted state senator.

Enough about the Kennedy's though, I am having my very own pre-mid-life crisis. Although, they're nowhere as fun to have when one doesn't have the money to squander on fast cars and slow women.

Oh well. Here are song lyrics for the day, they were stuck in my head all day:

a hemisphere with no fear, fly over

the blue yonder where
the sky meets the sea
and eye meets no eye
and boy meets world
and became a man to serve the world
to save the day, the night, and the girl too

The Dutchess of Irritable Bowel

John Wayne was a hero.

He took what he wanted when he wanted, drank, smoked, yelled, lead cattle drives across the rugged desert, usurped stage coaches, slapped women, and sometimes he even starred in movies. Little boys wanted to be him when they grew up. He was the quintessential man who men wanted to be and women wanted to be with.

When the Duke died, doctors found a chunk of shit in his colon that was weighed more than a small child. Apparently it isn't easy being a hero.

Despite how good it feels, every drag of cigarette, every bottle of schnapps, every off the wall tantrum brings us closer to a mortician finding an ecosystem in our bowels. That's just from living well, too.

So I don't know what made me think of this. Talking about the Hepburn book maybe, she always makes me think of him (and vice versa), or something. It got me thinking to how much damage I'm doing to my body by stressing so much, and how much it really doesn't matter because everything worth doing in life is bad for you.

Not eating or sleeping right is giving me ulcers, but doing some of my favorite hobbies has broken about every bone imaginable.

Conclusion? I can't win!





I don't know where I was going with this. I can has cheezburger now.

3 TMI Post

1. While grabbing then shaking my thigh-fat during a fight with my parents tonight (we're a passionate breed, us) my dad gives me this shocked look and goes, "You have a tattoo?!" when he was the very first person I told/showed when I got the dumb thing.
2. Friday or Saturday I was in a verbal argument that resulted in not leaving the bathroom until about five pm last night, not even to call work, because apparently being well enough to call in means being well enough to go.
3. Did you know that after olfactory and maxillary surgery, vomiting usually ends with a downright apocalyptic sneeze that, more often than not, will make the author bang the back of her head against the faucet? -especially if she is forced to utilize every basin in the entire house, including the tub and one misplaced flower pot?

I'm not an entirely happy camper right now, in other words.

I love Missouri. I love Illinois with all my heart, and despite living next to a railyard and stockyard, still have a soft spot for Kansas. But I hate the Midwest.

This one is a relatively new discovery, maybe only a few minutes old, but I've come to realise that a lot of my hassles and griefs are coming from the location, the people, and the circumstances.

Also. Due to unforeseen emotional blackmail, plans with Brandon have been canceled or at least postponed and if he reads this before he gets off work/I call him, feel free to grant me with the Biggest Douche Bag in the Universe Award.

One more gripe, then I'll get back to digging around through spider nests: Why post an ad for an apartment when your building has absolutely no openings, or even temporary vacancy?

-

My prescription for the day? Close blinds, curl up in bed with Mudhoney blaring, enjoy a good book in my own home.

The activities for the day? Painting and packing then unpacking.

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Ah. To end this on a good note: Someone I've been writing with for about a year informed me last night that we have about 400 pages down. That made me slap-happy.

Sometimes I have these thoughts that just pop right up (in accordance to the previous post), and they either piss me right the hell off, or just make me sad in the way that might have made you curl under the bed when you were little.

A few minutes I thought about someone who died when I was very young. He ended just as I began, and I thought, what if I'm ending, this very minute maybe, and someone else is beginning?

I'm a tad selfish, in case you haven't noticed.

Secondhand Prick-Guilt

My mouth tends to not listen to my brain. Either that, or they have some sort of instant wiring service that I'm unaware of, because I can't really recall the last time my mouth has acted with my permission or blessing. It just spouts off whenever it wants, telling everyone what I'm thinking before even I'm aware that I'm thinking it.

It's annoying. It's very, very annoying, and it makes people mad at me for being mad at them because, I hate to say it, but what I call "common sense" is really just "being a dick" sometimes.

People irritate me sometimes though, and when it seems that they're being just blatantly stupid or trying to be malicious to me (as was the case today), what little control I have on that evil mouth-type-thing goes completely out the window and I can really tear someone a new one if I need to.

. . .

Still feel pretty shitty over it, though. Bah.

Today was chock full of win.

I've finally reached the end of my book, and the end of Kingdom Hearts.

Tomorrow I am going to cash/deposit my check, and Tuesday, Doug and I are going to chillax at his house for a few hours of mindnumbing infotainment.

I chalked my wooziness to regular summer yuck, but apparently everyone in my family who ate at the same BBQ got a really nasty stomach thing from it, and I only had a few hours of puking.

Score.

Unsolicited AIDS Tests

It's the weather, or not sleeping last night, or something, but I can't really seem to wake up today.

My mouth hurts on the one hand, but on the other, my stomach pain has gone away and of course since the two accompany each other, my "oh so awesome" panic attacks have let up too. Sweet!

I'm facing sort of a dilemma right now- Cardin is showing me a $300 apartment soon, and I'm considering a studio since it will be just me and the animal(s), so hopefully there will be a bit more cash flow.

$300 a month for rent
$90 a month for car insurance (bleh)
$50 a month for food for self, animal(s), and possible cleaning supplies
$50 a month for gas + recreation
$9 - 20 a month for the telephone
$40 a month for interweb
Utilities

This means getting a freelance or night job. While I have no doubt I can do that, especially if it's only part-time (four or so hours a night isn't bad for $100 - 120 a week), I really want and need to attend school again.

Am I putting too much on my plate? I know people who attend full-time, play sports, work full-time, and manage a family. I will just be doing the work, school, lackadaisical sports, and herding cats thing.

You know, there's a lot to be said for feminism, but I have to wonder if we've given up too much. Right now I could be taken care of and married, comfortable, and surrounded by a man and children who love me. A lot.

. . . Pff.

I'm going to try my hand at online classes, but it's the classroom experience that I miss. We'll see.

Oh!

Snaps to a friend of mine, who's recently had his first AIDS test. I can't tell you how many times the gentlemen I know of only get tested after nagging and nagging and not putting out and nagging and so on.

Good for him.

Maybe we're just weird.

So as I was doing a happy little dance over my freshly opened carton of cottage cheese, it occurred to me that America is a very icky place to live.

Taking a bite of a large chunk of fermented milk (and loving it), I pondered.

We inject ourselves with botulism, eat bacteria harvested for the purpose of consumption, give birth in unnatural and stressful circumstances, cut the foreskin away from our sons when an education in simple hygiene would suffice, rip hair from our bodies, eat animals that lived in conditions that don't make them fit for eating... I could go on forever, I really could.

However.

We create shots that make our wombs safe from cancer. Cancer vaccines.

Our newspapers come from renewable farms, a constantly reusable source that has left our country with more trees now than when we got to it in the first place- albeit misplaced, you take your victories where you can.

Millions of dollars a year help the starving, the impoverished, $19.99 a month (less than the cost of a cup of coffee a day) to help the orphans in Darfur because God knows a nun without arms can't hold a spoon properly.

We don't do not nearly enough as a society, and we are hella icky, but I look over what a kooky, zany people we are and I have to lawl at least a little.

Vrij Veilig der Saalon!

Work has been the suck lately, partially because of an upside-down sleep schedule.

Sometimes I remember that I work for a .com business, and I shudder. When some people live on the edge, they have wild sex with beautiful strangers, they adventure through war-torn countries, they drink deep and toast the sunrise.

I have a complete disregard for job security.

La vida loca, interwebs, marico triste.

Insomnia

When I was a little girl, nothing bothered me as much as being in that old Phillips house at night.

It was in that house where my dad had grown up in with his five brothers and one sister, in the bed that one of those brothers died. My cousin and I would cling to our plush horse toys and huddle together under the blankets, peeling away sunburn like snakes shedding their skin, and like those snakes, we were irritable and snappish towards each other.

That's how we deal with fear in my family, or any adverse stimuli. We drink, we abuse one another, we snap like twigs under the weight of sensations we weren't genetically equipped to handle.

My grandmother and grandfather died in that house. My uncle festered with AIDS during the early nineties, and would later break my brother's arm with a branch from a tree and rob us blind.

My father ran away from there when he was 16, out to join the army and fight in Vietnam with his brother. They were tired of breaking their backs drilling oil, tired of watching that bastard wolf-dog Duke tear into neighbors, ripping flesh, and chasing cops to the hoods of their cars.

Even at such a young age, even curled up with my cousin, my best friend until not very long ago, that tiny, three-room house felt so sad that my chest would ache.

In Texas, where all old houses feel like that, a wind kicks up at night.

It doesn't whistle or sigh through the canyons, it shrieks. It slams against the panels of the houses until the paint gets sanded to nothing, and a seven-year-old girl can get knocked right down into a cluster of goatheads, or mesquite thorns, that tear into the meat of tender young hands until they've embedded themselves into sleepless nights and make the owners of those tiny hands shudder into adulthood.

They were prairie ghosts, vengeful and bitter, as angry as a nest of rattlesnakes. On nights like this, when I can't sleep and the heat makes us all a little crazy, I watch old Spike Lee movies and gnaw my fingernails to the bone.

I think of how the wind would slam into the house at night, and no one would remember it but me.

Switzerland or Bust

I wanted to post some pictures today, or go on about my dad's weekly departure, but I don't feel like it now.

We live in a country ruled by the popular media. A media owned by the entertainment business, because free enterprise died... hell, ages ago, before my time at least, youngun that I am.

Now while that's a discouraging thing in itself, what's worse is that our information, our pop culture, our anything, will be based entirely off of our coastal cities. LA and New York, Cisco and Boston, Hookers and Blow, etc etc etc.

I've ranted about this for a while to my friends, and yeah I do agree that I'm taking it to heart, but Jesus Christ. This country is not the fucking East or West Coast, this is a country that used to be great solely because of the fact that so many cultures blended together to form an incomplete, constantly evolving society.

Now our cultural identity is http://www.mtv.com/ontv/dyn/the_hills/series.jhtml or whatever piss-poor stereotype Hollywood can pull out of its ass in order to humiliate, and take advantage of popular locations that once had their own, original, cultural identities.

Now I can't even find a news story about a psychopath walking to a small-town Missouri church and mowing down people with a machine gun.

I will post pictures later

So the tux-fitting didn't pan out again, but our schedules have been so twisted lately that it's hard to really be irritated about that other than the fact that... well, our schedules have been so twisted lately.

Aside from missing those crazy kids, it was a pretty alright day. Rob and I went to gawk at the big fork (that doesn't really get old), saw Shrek 3, took a long walk to a Chinese fast food place that was something akin to highway robbery, and then watched Army of Darkness.

I got home at something like 1am, but didn't go to sleep until about 3am, because... ah, I don't remember, actually. I think I was waiting for someone.

Toodles, poodles.

I am laying in bed, trying to configure keyboard shortcuts for Black & White 2, and eating a whole wheat shrimp and steak fajita. Later today, if I ever get out of bed, Rob and I are going to Pythian Castle for God knows what (exploration, adventure), and then another if, if Doug and Shiloh and I ever find a day that our sleep/work hours aren't butting heads, we'll do a tux fitting.

Paid presentations are guilty little pleasures for me. Kitchen appliances, Dean Martin collections, and the Carol Burnett show, especially. The colon cleansers I'm pretty sure we could go without.









- and yes, still quite the photo hoor.

I Hart White Porcelain

I could have gone without knowing about the third installment of My Wife is a Gangster, the latest piece in a series of Korean cinema goodness to obsess over. The first one was great, and I saw it last night for the first time, same goes for the second.

Don't waste your money on the third one.

Vanilla Sky was fantastic; I'm very rarely glad that I watch the movies I'm talked into watching, but it was actually very good.



Also. Brandon is really good at Guitar Hero, and it makes me angry with the jealousystuff. My friends make me want to buy that game again, practice and absurd amount in my dark cave of a room, and then whip out l>>t Guitar Hero skills on them. Ha!

Until then though, I'm going to stick with Kingdom Hearts, now that playing it doesn't make me ridiculously dizzy. I was doing alright with it today until playing with my gums, and kind of spurting blood and the chocolate I'd been eating earlier today everywhere.



Foamy carpet stuff didn't get it out of the shag, but most of it ended up in the sink, and I can never resist a good photo op with porcelain (the definition of "good" here is negotiable, by the way).



Aside from that, there was a dark cloud hovering over Springfield all day, that kind that randomly spits droplets of rain at you, but does it so petitely that you wonder if it had really happened, or if you are just feeling things.

1o5 Degrees Out Today

Billy Idol has this nice habit of putting moods and days in a nutshell. I have a lot on my mind right now and a lot to write, but it's kinda avalanching because of the few days no posting/technical difficulties. Expect a play-by-play guide to Blogger very soon.

For now though.

I've been having trouble with work lately. I won't go into it because that's rude to my employer despite relative anonyminity and all, but basically, myself and about 90% of my co-workers are really uncomfortable at work.

Never treat your workers in a way that you'd be uncomfortable with if you knew they were sharing on the internet. If they keep MySpace or LiveJournal blogs, then chances are, the whole world knows your business practices.


Anyway, that's going to be it for now. My camera ate some delicious pictures of the fountain, Brandon, fair people, and anything else interesting that went on.

By the way- speaking of work, I've finally shared the address with someone from work.

Hi, Nathan!

I'll eatcha!

uggoo
Originally uploaded by belatedthings

My once a day post for the day. Kinda had a bad day today, but tomorrow's will be doubly awesome to make up for it.

+10 if it has rofflesauce!

Claw Machine

knife
Originally uploaded by belatedthings

Had a great time at the Fair, with much excelling at the Midway.

Pwn!

Sleeepy again

I'm sleepy again, and just haven't been up to blogging lately, to be honest. It's something I enjoy a lot period, just not entirely so right this moment.

The reason I'm so tired today is that last night Brandon and I went to the Palace to not see a movie. This turned into wandering into the world's largest fork, a very speshul statue, and eventaully the Ozarks Empire Fair.

We had a blast, and I'm glad we got to hang out for a few hours. But? Going home and staying up for the remainder of the night playing with the new camera, that wasn't very smart at all. Tonight I'll prolly post like mad while trying to stay up, turning hours back around for work and all, so look forward to moar pictures and moar barely comprehensible mutterings!

Moar pah!

Today was tiring. This morning was the second-to-last appointment, the last being on Monday, when the stuffing is going to be removed and all will be well.

Last night I signed up for the Big Sister/Brother organization, which is an uberspiffy thing that anyone over 18 (or 16, whatthefuckdoIknow) should do, and I am waiting for the phone-call about that.

There's only one conclusion to come to regarding this: I am a masochist. Only after hours of gnawing fingernails to stubs regarding work, and then carting sproglings around for neither fame nor lulz, can this be explained any other way.

Currently it's 8:30pm and I'm waiting for nine to roll around so that sleeps can be had. Tomorrow will be even busier but see, I am going to take the fun route. After work, that is.

Also! Thinking of getting a camera tomorrow. That will entail returning this computer, but hell, fuck it. Vista. Pah!

Well hey there, chilluns!

So we actually have my brother's kids this week, that is pretty groovy. They don't really care about me right now because I'm currently not setting off fireworks, threatening life and limb on the four-wheeler, or showing them violent video games, but they'll come crawlin' back... you'll see!

Actually, I have a box of Zebra Cakes in my room, so once they catch whiff of modified sugars and icing, they'll remember how cool Aunt 'Nnie is. Pwn!

EDIT: HAHA! About two minutes after writing that, they came in for hugs. I love those sprogs.

My temperature is down and after the grossest night evar, I am ready to do things tomorrow. Will get a note explaining the being absent from work thing, and take another Endothing for sleep, then be back up to par again.

Still taking a break from writing, but obviously not blogging or work- just a quick hiatus to get caught up on work again. S'all groovy.

My nose blowed up

My temperature got to aboot 103-5 today, and mi madre was nice enough to call the clinic for me to see what was happening. In all the paperwork I got, none of it said "stop taking penicilin", "don't lift over five pounds", or "don't got to work for ten days". Hell, I wasn't even supposed to blow my nose and have been doing that for days, because that is what one does.

I had no idea at all, and I know I am a dumbfuck on occasion when it comes to listening to my body, but if the doctor had said to stay at home then I'd have done so. Right now I'm on penicilin again for the infection, back on a liquid diet (oh yay), and on some new tranquilizer. I don't remember the name of it right now but it has "Endo" written on the tabs, and they are magic.

So that is what is going on. Still going to ArtWalk/work/otherthings if all goes well at the clinic today, because I need a doctor's note (had no idea I'd be missing work!) and will be in town anyway.

In a nutshell: I basically made myself seriously ill by having an extremely half-assed day at a desk job, and then blowing my nose.

It may just be this "Endo" stuff... but yes, it is darn hyelarious. See you all soon, and keep me updated on your things!