HEY! A new post!! Don't get too excited, I don't really have much to say. I was re-reading my last post, and I really sound very bitter, I think. I'm not really, it's just that people look at me like I just bunny-punched their mom in the eye when I say I don't like the Beatles or Sex and the City. Everyon'e got their own opinion. Opinions are like assholes, if there ain't no poop comin' out, you need more fiber. Isn't that how the ol' saying goes??
I would like to now take this time to make a public outcry to my big sister, Lisa. (As opposed to my other, imaginary big sister, Eunice) When we went to Clown Day, at Rawhide (check out Lisa's blog for the details of that event), she brought her video camera. Lisa, Kane and I took turns filming some of the wierd scenes and strange goins-on, all pretty buzzed up from the 100+ degree heat and the margaritas. We filmed clowns, crying children, and the occasional gangly teenager trying to ride the mechanical bull. I would very much like to see this footage, so I ask you dear sister, put that shit on a regular video tape already, you're killing me over here. I need to know if the camera was rolling right after sundown, when we passed the depressed looking girl in the saloon-gal outfit walking a camel on a leash. And I said,"Hey! That girl's got a bad case of CAMELTOE!", only the alcohol made my voice a bit louder than I intended it to be. She looked pretty pissed. I need to relive that magic again. Please Lisa. If not for me, do it for the children.

Oh, one more thing I forgot to add, although I'm supposed to like this beacuse I'm FEMALE and live in America.
#5. Sex and the City. Excuse me while I fart on this show.
I hope when this show is over I never have to see these four women again. And Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a lion. Yeah, I said it, what??

There are certain things that everyone in their 20's and 30's living in America are supposed to like. I really don't get it, beacuse I do not always appreciate these things. I'm sure that almost everyone reading this particular blog will disagree with me, but that's only natural. So here goes just a few:
#1. The Beatles. I don't get it. I really think their music sucks. They were four ugly guys from the U.K. who started "The British Invasion", beginning with their cheesy, light-hearted pop music, ending up with really long, trippy, rambling songs that let the world know "Hey, we've discovered LSD.". Now I can understand you liking the Beatles(excuse me, THE BEATLES, since it's a Holy diety I am talking about here) if you lived through that time period. You were there in the 60's and it must have been a flowery, tie-dyed experience for you, but what's up with the people my age? Guaranteed if you go into any dorm room in any college in America, or any small apartment occupied by a 20-something gen-X-er (is that still the term for us?), you will find either an "Abbey Road" or "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" poster tacked to the wall all crookedly.(Posters are cooler when hung crooked. Look at the set of any teen movie if you doubt me.) Oh, and there will also be a "Yellow Submarine" or "Hard Day's Night" DVD in their collection. Right next to "Hackers" and "Pulp Fiction".
#2. "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory". People will probably send me hate email over this one. EVERYONE loves this movie. I watched it when I was a kid, and I thought it was okay, but as I got older I liked it less and less. Charlie is played by the most boring, uncharismatic actor in the whole world, and something about the quality of film and sound, and the colors in this movie make me depressed. The scene where Charlie and Gramps float up to the fans used to really scare me, and the Oompa Loompas. They look like psychotic little murderous monsters, and I am pretty sure they raped that Violet girl after they rolled her out of the room. Scary! I am hoping the new one that Tim Burton is making is going to be good, especially since Johnny Depp is playing Wonka. I'm sure it will be. I mean, Roald Dahl HIMSELF hated "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory".
#3. The Real World or Road Rules on MTV. I get upset if I'm around these types of people at the movies or at the mall, why would I want to watch a show about them? This is really the first reality(and I use that term loosely) show on tv, and just in case you have never seen it, the cast is always the same: Drunk frat guy, slutty blond girl, slutty brunette girl, drunk frat guy #2, angry outspoken black girl and gay guy. They live in a nice house that they don't deserve, and go out and get drunk and hook up with each other and fight about absolutley everything. Road Rules is the exact same thing, except they are on a bus or a camper or something, and they sometimes stop at a place and do some wierd stunts. And everyone I talk to says, "Oh, I don't like that show either, EXCEPT for Season 3, when blah blah blah, or season 5, when yadda yadda yadda....". By the way, where does MTV get off still calling themselves MUSIC TELEVISION? Whatever happened to that pesky old "music" anyway? Oh, well, I'm off to watch Punk'd...
#4. Josh Hartnett, Ben Affleck, Vin Diesel., Russell Crowe. Or as I like to call them, Date Rapist, Doughy-face, Date Rapist and Belligerent Drunk. These are the best "Heartthrobs"we can come up with? Wow.

Today's probably not the best time for me to write, I'm feeling all bitchy and pessimistic. I'm just having one of those days where everything has been a huge project, and it's all just been going wrong. Work has been non-stop all day, and I had to do about 4 days worth of work in one day. Then customers keep calling with the dumbest fucking questions, and I'm sorry, but I have no patience for these people. Even getting lunch was a big problem, thanks to the damn gas shortage here in Arizona. I drove to McDonald's but it is right next to a gas station, and the line of cars waiting for gas takes up practically the entire shopping center parking lot. I had to drive past the place to get to the drive through, but as soon as I did, all these people started honking at me and shit, like I was trying to cut them in line for gas or something. Holy Christ! Relax, bitches!!! I just want a fucking burger. Then I get up the drive-through and order and pay and get back to work, and they gave me the totally wrong food. I guess I should have checked before I left, but everything looked okay at a glance when I checked the bag for ketchups. I tried to eat the stuff they gave me but it was all gross. Dumb old McDonalds. And thanks to the big fiasco it was to get through the parking lot and get my lunch, I'm now getting pretty low on gas. Argh.
But I think I know how to solve the gas shortage. All we have to do is tell all the people who have giant SUV's that there's a place "right outside of town" that has gas, and nobody's over there yet. Then when they leave, we lock the big iron gates behind them. They're the ones who have giant gas tanks and burn up all the gas anyway. Fuck Em. They're all the types who have kids named Dakota or Taylor or Cody or Skylar, which automatically puts them in my "People to Shoot in the Goddamn Face" category. Plus, what do you need an SUV for anyway? Are these people really hauling heavy building materials around, or off-roading? I'm guessing not too many gold-rimmed Escalades are out there, doing donuts in the mud somewhere with Lenny Kravits's "Dragonfly" blaring from their stereos.
I bet Edward Burns drives a big, gold-plated SUV. Fuck that guy!

"(Static)Mike Toole....(static)....please abandon the Ice Cream Social and attach the safety harness to your person, Over."-Helicopter guy.
Lisa did a good job trying to translate our little "scenario" into writing. Except you forgot one thing- Edward Burns feels he should be spared from New York City based on the fact that he is a huger-than-life Megastar!!
"WAIT!!! Didn't you see 'She's the One'??!?!" Burns, running at top speed grabs the ropes attached to the safety harness and ties it tightly to his belt."Tell Christy TURLINGTON I LOVE HERRRRRRRRRRR.....uhhh!" Edward Burns slams face first into the side of a van, with enough force to briefly knock the vehicle up on two tires!
Later on in the trip, we see Mike Toole peeling Cherry-flavored outer space shapes from the cellophane of his fruit Roll-up. "Hey! Look Ed, it's a spaceship! Blast off to Planet Fruit!!" No reply from Edward Burn's limp, lifeless body dangling below.
"Whoa, looks like there's a little rain coming our way! Better Zip up your jacket, Ed!!" Toole buttons his coat and tucks his hands into the pockets, feeling rather satisfied from his "meal" of processed fruit pieces. No reply from Edward Burn's limp, lifeless body dangling below.

I did a really cool painting last night. It's very Tim Burton-esque, of a black and white carousel on a pink background. It came out great, but as it was drying, my kitten Fizzie jumped up onto the table and landed right in the center of my masterpiece! I was so pissed, I yelled at him and put him in the sink and tried to wash the pink paint off his little paws and tail. This is the second time I have been painting and he's jumped on it and ruined it. I think he's got some kind of an issue with my creativity. And with my fireplace, he likes to jump in there too. Luckily there's been no fires at these times. He did try to get into the hot oven once. I think he needs some therapy.

Well, this past weekend, Kane and I rented "The Ring". Hmmm. After all the hype I was expecting something a little scarier. That movie was all build-up and no payoff. And by the way, how did the thoughts of a dead girl get transferred onto videotape in the first place? I think they were just trying too hard to make something totally scary. Oh, and please, no more children who speak to the dead and know their secrets and whatnot. I'm noticing a pattern with scary movies where there's always a kid with a throat problem which causes them to whisper all their lines, and who speaks to ghosts, and usually they hold the key to whatever mystery happens to be going on in the film. But of course no one bothers to ask the kid until the last 1/4 of the movie. This is a mistake. In the future, as soon as I notice my house is haunted, the first place I'm going is to ask my kid. I'm guessing that bitch has to know something!!

Once upon a time, Lisa had a boyfriend who lived with us named Mike. I'll leave his name at that to protect his anonimity. So once upon a time Mike lived with my family in our condo in Middletown. He cluttered up the place with tie-die and sunflower seeds, and enriched our lives with Star Trek facts and memorabilia, and a Star Trek "Q" boxed set of videos. It seemed very out of character for Lisa to be this guy's girlfriend, as they were clearly from different worlds and had vastly different interests, at least from an outsider's point of view. Mike, unlike Lisa, was a habitual pot-head. He had a large collection of bongs and pipes and hookas, most of them he had fashioned himself from various pieces of hoses and glass bottles and other trash, and each one he could talk about endlessly, with a glimmer in his eye much like that of a child on Christmas morning. Mike was okay. He was never mean or anything, always very nice and usually smiling, but he was not exactly my favorite of Lisa's boyfriends over the years. There are a number of reasons why I wanted him out of our home, some of which I've been sworn to secrecy never to talk about, but here's a little story for ya.
I can't remember the exact date, but it was late 1997. I was going to Brookdale Community College at the time, and had an early Algebra class the next morning so I went to bed early that night. Anyway, after a few short hours of slumber, I was awoken by a loud noise. As of someone not-so-gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door. I got up, very groggy and still half asleep and looked at the clock. 2:30 AM. What could have happened? Was there an accident? Was someone hurt? Did someone eat the last piece of chocolate cake? I opened the door and found Mike, smiling broadly, looking very pleased with himself.
Me (in my bitchiest, most tired voice):"What?"
Mike:"I just made something, and I want you to be the first to try it out!"
With this, he slaps a dirty broken old piece of antler into my hand. Ah yes, the deer antler he found in the woods somewhere in Arizona when he and Lisa vacationed there a few months before. The one he planned to make into a pipe, and then planned to smoke weed from said pipe. Indeed, he had drilled a hole through it, and attached a metal bowl to it, which looked ripped off of one of his many bongs. I didn't like the idea, antlers are for deers to protect themselves and disguise them from hunters in the forest, not for Mike to smoke from.
So he wanted me to take to be the first to try it. Take the maiden voyage. He had packed the bowl with his "kindest bud", and was very insistant, even though I wasn't really interested in getting high, especially not from old dirty deer parts. Still though he insisted, like it was the highest honor, being offered the first hit. I just wanted to go back to bed. So okay, fine.
I took the "pipe" from him, and lit it, and took a fairly large hit, larger than I was prepared for, and also more painful than I was expecting. Apparently, Mike had forgotten one very important step in creating this masterpiece. He had forgotten to clean out the excess chunks of deer antler from the hole had drilled. My throat closed up, and I could feel bits of bone in my mouth, lungs and throat. It was the most disgusting feeling EVER, and I spent the next hour or so practically hacking myself to death, desperately trying to cough up the antler bits. See, that's a sentence no one should have to write! Mike apologized profusely and ran back down to Lisa's room in the basement, leaving me to fend for myself in the fight to breathe. That was just fine with me though, because if I could have talked, I probably would have told him to get the fuck out of my house!
The best way I can describe how it felt is imagine how it feels when at the beach you mistakenly get a few grains of sand in your mouth. Multiplied by 1,000, and at the same time suffocating in smoke, and at the same time having a severe sore throat. I didn't sleep any more that night, needless to say.
I was really glad when Mike moved out. Yay.

I've always been a pretty small person. Only recently have I started to watch what I eat, more out of wanting to be more healthy than wanting to lose weight or anything. So why why WHY is it that people (and when I say people, I mean women) always try to make me feel bad about the food that I eat? I've encountered so many women who are dieting. That is totally fine, if you are not happy with your body, then by all means help yourself to a nice extreme diet so you'll lose 10 pounds and gain it back next month after your husband leaves you. But why do women on a diet feel compelled to come up to me as I'm eating McDonalds and tell me what they can and can't eat. Then they look at my cheeseburger longingly, and re-inforce that they can't have that, "That's too many carbs!". Like what am I supposed to do for you? Should I be dieting along with you or something? Go away, I don't care that you can't have "carbs". NEWSFLASH: Everything is carbs. Except meat. And I'm pretty sure if you eat nothing but meat, you'll have a heart attack next year.
So I'm off to eat my bowling alley nachos and I don't give a fuck if you can have them or not. I'm not offering you any, am I? Nope. Fuck off.
Women. Jesus Christ!!!