James and I went to Toys-R-Us today, and I stumbled across this little gem:



Yes, that is a lecherous little Wolf staring right at her bust. Check out those fishnet stockings! My oh my, Barbie, but you have grown up!

I thought I'd take a page out of www.thingsmyboyfriendsays.com post some funny things James has said:

On my cat chasing a ball around, and me trying to distract her:
   "She's performing her rolling rituals. Christ, would you leave her alone? This is a sacred time for her!"


His exaggerated imitation of me gloating when I'm right:
   "Fuck you, buddy! Suck cock forever!"

A conversation between us:
   "Ow!"
   "What?"
   "There's a pain in my stomach. Right here (points)."
   "It's your uterus trying to crawl its way out. RAWR!"

http://www.slashfilm.com/2009/02/09/hollywood-studios-bidding-for-pride-and-prejudice-and-zombies/

James just sent me this. I can't decide if I'm incredibly pissed off or not. It's like a 15 year old boy was forced to read the novel in English class, and instead spent the entire time daydreaming about how much better it could be. And then there was a publishing company stupid enough to print this junk. And then a movie studio jumped on the book-to-movie bandwagon and destroyed a little bit more of our literary history.
 I guess I'd be more excited if the dude actually rewrote the book and cleverly tied it in with zombie hordes. But no. Apparently 85% of the original book is still there, and he's just randomly thrown in Victorian Undead. And then, he has plans to fuck up Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, as well. Just because these novels aren't under copyright anymore, does not mean they need to be rewritten. They were perfectly fine as they were. That's why we calling them motherfucking classics.

One of the guy's who works here says some pretty strange stuff. Today he commented that he hopes his baby won't be able to see ghosts. I'm not sure why, but he did. And it got us talking about our ghost stories.

When I was about 3, I was staying at my grandmom's house in my own room. In the morning, I sat at the table telling them about this nice old man with a white suit and white beard. He sat in the rocker all night and talked to me when i felt scared. My aunt looked horrified and told us that she had seen the same man on a nightly basis when she was my age. But she had never told anyone that, especially not a 3 year old.

Do you guys believe in ghosts? Do you have any crazy stories about them?

http://images.teamsugar.com/files/upl1/19/192653/15_2008/boobtoos.preview.jpg

She has ruined perfectly good cleavage.

I'm so pissed off. I have to rant.

My coworker just pulled me into a meeting with the most sexist asshole I've ever met. This customer had an attitude with me the entire time. Every question he had with me was ended by his obvious opinion that I'm young and a female, so I had no idea what I was talking about. Every time I or my coworker (who is also female) answered he would say "Uh hunh. Okay, come on..." and ACTUALLY MAKE A HURRY-UP MOTION with his hand. And if he didn't like his answer, he would gather all of his papers together violently and make to leave.

He told us that we were more expensive than our competitors, and that they had more incentives. Good. I hope he uses them. Because I REALLY don't want to deal with this man ever again.

When he found out that this was a family business and that my sister did his first package, he said "Oh. That girl. Right. (speaking to his wife) You remember that girl and boy that came out. Hunh" They asked if I had a degree in this, if I had been doing it long, and he ACTUALLY SNEERED when I said I was learning as I went from my Dad, and it wasn't as hard as it looked.

And he demanded instant results for something I can't give. I said "If you'd like me to re-do this.." and before I could get it out he said "No. This is what you're going to do for me..".

Sorry guys. I'm just so damned angry. I know I'm young, and I'm a girl. In this field, that means that most men are going to look down on you. I've also only been here since August, so I don't know ever little detail about this field. But JESUS CHRIST I have never felt more useless in my life. And we're a damned good company.

Go to our competitors. Good riddance, asshole.

And then I found this:

http://www.vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=173714%22%20quality=%22best%22%20scale=%22exactfit%22%20width=%22400%22%20height=%22300%22%20type=%22application/x-shockwave-flash%22

And I felt much better.

This morning we were surprised when an ambulance pulled into my neighbor's driveway. He's been living next to us since I was born, and quite like my other grandfather. His wife, his daughter's family (who lives across the street) and he are the most wonderful people you will ever want to meet in the world. My neighbor is perfectly fine, he just felt funny while exercising. His family wanted to take precautions, so he's going to the hospital to have tests.

But something funny happened during all of this. I wasn't scared-to-death and in tears like my mother and sister. When we all thought my neighbor had died, those two were completely upset. I love my neighbor, but I saw it more as a fact of his age. I even wondered if his wife would move in with her daughter, and if they would sell the house.

I'm not sure if something is wrong with me, or if most people react so calmly. When my grandmother died, I cried a little, but only when I first found out. After that, the necessities of the day just took over any need to grieve. It's sad, of course, but I just don't get completely upset. 

Luckily, my dad is the same way. He stays calm, and doesn't let it visibly bother him. Maybe he'll react differently when one of his parents die, I don't know. I'm worried that there may be something wrong with the two of us. We don't dismiss death, but it doesn't seem to effect us like other people. There may be something wrong with me, but at least I'm not alone in my peculiarity.

Yesterday I was standing in the post office line reading a book and waiting for my turn. I hear some guy behind me talking, and, being that it's unusual for people to talk in that line, turn around. He's about my age, but there was something off. He had stepped a few feet out of line to talk to the woman right behind me, bypassing the four other people in between them. So the first thought is that they know each other. Then he says "You know? Life is really funny sometimes. I just bought a jacket that looks just like this one, and it's the same size, but it doesn't fit! Now I have to return the whole thing!" And I expected her to start talking to him, because it sounded like a conversation you'd have with someone you knew. But instead she just got a wary look on her face and said "Umm, yeah...." And tried to break away from him. Then he just keeps talking to random people. Just starts in the middle of a topic about all sorts of different things like they were already talking to him. I got nervous about the whole situation, and decided I could mail my package the next day.

So, I know nothing actually happened, but I can't help feeling like I was right to leave, despite really being an idiot for having to go back. It seems like people ignore their instincts in favor of being polite, or politically correct. Would you guys have done the same thing that I did, or just ignore him and hope nothing happens? I've ignored people before...but this seemed weirder somehow.

Also, I can't find about ten of the records I want. I'm a terrible collector. The hunt is not thrilling to me.

I couldn't drive myself to work this morning because my car door wouldn't open. It rained, then iced over, and my soft convertible top formed in a rock-hard ledge hanging over my window. I pulled on the door so hard, I thought the handle was going to break off.

I'm not really sure whether I'm angry that my car is terrible in the winter, or really really amused that I can be thwarted by cloth.

I'm sitting at a red light on Church Road (the road onto which we're moving next summer) and I hear this fantastic bang, like something in the distance just blew up. From the corner of my eye I can see a white flash in a field behind me. Then there's this big brown cloud shooting up...and it all disappears. No one else seems that concerned around me, or even saw anything. But now I'm terribly worried that someone's heater just blew their house up. Backfiring cars don't produce white flashes. But it wasn't fire smoke.

I'm ridiculously curious.

I just spent the last hour re-reading the old forum on the Superhero Manga Graffiti site (or MCC to all of us old schoolers).  It is bananas. There was something very very wrong with all of us, I'm certain now. Also, did anyone else notice how much less-clever we all became as time went on? Mailing it in. *sigh*

In unrelated ranting: Yesterday I saw a guy in a green motorcycle with a side car for his dog. His dog was wearing goggles. Score.

I just realized my last three posts started out with "So". Bizarre.

Take a listen to Born Ruffians' "Red, Yellow & Blue".  Not just the first song, the whole thing. Awesome. 

So, everyone should have heard of Don McLean's "American Pie", but I've always considered his "Tapestry" album to be a greater achievement. Actually, I think the best song from that album is "General Store". It's beyond haunting with it's uplifting guitar, but morbid lyrics. My problem is, I'd love to get guitar tabs for it, because my music ear isn't good enough to pick that out. Take a listen, I think you'll know why. If anyone knows a great guitar player who can direct me to those tabs, PLEASE let me know!  It's driving me nuts!

So, my entire writing career seems to consist of filling up idea journals, and writing three lines while James watches baseball. It's a little discouraging. Even those three sentences suck c****. Sparky, how do you do it? I can't tell if I only like the idea of writing and actually enjoy reading more, or if my ADD is just standing in my way.

End whiny rant.

So I'm listening to a local radio station's podcast this morning and some guy comes on talking about the bands he's signed for the big Lollapalooza show, including the band Gogol Bordello. I say to myself: "Sounds like an awesome name! I'll have to check that out later!"

I write an email to James a few hours later asking him to remind me to see what they sound like.

Later this evening I watch a great indie flick called Wristcutters:A Love Story, with Patrick Fugit, Tom Waits, Shannyn Sossamon, etc. I hear this cool song that's like punk Russian gypsy music. Great. I'm already singing along.

Turns out...IT'S GOGOL BORDELLO!!!!!!!!!!!  On the same day I decide to check out a band I've never heard of, they turn up in a new movie and I actively like the song without even knowing who it is first!!!

I'm kind of freaking out. This is just too coincidental. I'm...seriously...freaking...out.

Oh, check out both the band and the movie. They're great. It's worth it alone for the scene in which Tom Waits sings some little Superman song while flying over a prison wall.

I have a terrible head cold. I'm pretty sure I'm dying. I think it's the plague.

YOU GAVE ME THE PLAGUE!!!!!!

That is all.

I'm scared to death that I'll trip going across the stage today.

My cousin, Megan, is adorable. Small, skinny, blond, adorable. And 16. If she's even 5 feet tall I'd be flabbergasted.

Tonight, a cop pulled over Megan in her own, hard-earned car because he thought she was a 12 year old who had stolen the family car and took it for a joy-ride.

I love my diminutive cousin!

I"M GRADUATING! I just got my grades back and I made Dean's List. So now I get to graduate on January 5th with a fabulous Bachelor's Degree in English. Yay no more school!

Time to boogie on down!

And Happy Belated Birthday to Lloyd and Sparky!