Don't you miss your teddy? You left him in your past.
You used to love your Teddy. You swore your love would last.
You left him in the attic, and you grew up too fast.
Well now old Teddy's got a knife, and he's gonna stab you in the ass!!
Holy Shit, run away from Teddy!! 

That's a poem I just wrote. Swear to God, I made it up. It's good, huh? You don't have to lie. It's okay, I just had nothing to write.
Wouldn't it be funny is that poem was not about a teddy bear at all, but about Theodore Roosevelt? "You bastard, why'd you wheel me up to your attic and forget about me?? I was a terrific President, just ask Eleanor!! I sang with Annie, for Pete's sake!! Well, FUCK YOU TOO, TRICIA! Fuck you too."

 

Have a good show Marilyn Manson!

Last night I had a very weird dream. I'm at some sort of arena with Kane, Lisa and my mom. We all have tickets to a Marilyn Manson concert. We walk up to the door, and the security guy looks at Lisa and my mom's tickets and says, "Ok, you two have backstage passes.", then he lets them through this door with all this blue light coming from it. Kane and I are nervous, because we don't have backstage passes, but we're hoping this guy won't notice and will let us through. He takes one look and tells us general entry is on the other side of the building. Feeling all dejected,  Kane and I start to walk that way, but then remember we have a problem. We have a huge rolling cart full of about 80 stuffed animals, and if we leave them here, they'll get stolen. "We better put them in garbage bags, then we can take them into the concert with us!", so we frantically begin stuffing all the elephants and tigers and ladybugs and stuff into garbage bags. As we're doing this, Marilyn Manson begins walking our way. He's on stilts, and is very unstable. He has three guys trying to keep him steady up there so he doesn't fall and ruin his bright pink leotard and fake boobs. As he's walking past, I hold up a small little stuffed bear, and I shake it at him while saying in a funny high-pitched voice,"Have a great show Marilyn Manson!". He looks at the bear and smiles, and says"Thank you very much you guys!" in Cartman from South Park's voice. Kane and I get back to putting the stuffed animals in the bag, and then I just collapse on the ground. Now here's where I had the dream....
 
I don't even like Marilyn Manson. Or stilts for that matter.

My, aren't you boys HANDSOME!

I haven't written anything in a long time, I just haven't had anything to say. I still don't but here I go a-ramblin'.
Last night I got sucked into watching "I Love the 90's". I saw 93, 94 & 95 and it was awesome. I love these stupid VH1 shows, I just can't turn them off. Maybe I should see a doctor about it or something. The best part about I Love the 90's was that they had Trey Parker, and Jay and Silent Bob doing commentaries. I could listen to Jay talk about moving into Melrose Place with all the "slutty, big-boobied women" all day.
A few days ago I made plane reservations for me, Kane, Lisa and my mom to go to Jersey for the first week in September. I cannot fucking wait to get there, September is too far away. We're going back for Kristen Marsh's wedding, and then I'm going to give Kane the tour, like where I used to live, and where the infamous Middletown Chuck E. Cheese is. Holy shit it'll be fun.
My new favorite way to kill time at work is to play "Bejeweled" on MSN games. My high score is 17,485. I am such a geek that I not only know that, but that I'm proud of that.
Today I saw a bird fall out of a tree right outside my window. I don't think he got hurt, cuz he got right up and flew away. I don't know why he fell. Maybe he fell asleep and lost his balance, or maybe he's just an asshole clutzy bird. Can birds be clutzy? If people can, why not other species? Is there some fish out there that keeps pissing off the other fish by swimming into them? All the fish swim on the right, pass on the left, but here comes this fucker to mess up their whole routine. Fish can be assholes when you fuck up their routines. Shit!

Today is Wednesday, and I've been on vacation since last Friday. It was so nice, not having to worry about work all the time. I had a 5 day weekend. I don't remember what I did on Friday, but saturday Kane and I went to see our friends Mike and Tracy at this hotel they were staying at, where we drank some daiquiris and went in the hot tub. Sunday I decided last minute not to go to a party Kane and I were invited to for our friend Rob's birthday (and for the 4th, I guess). Instead Kane went without me and Lisa came over, and we went swimming before we cooked a big italian dinner as if we were big italian women, drank pina coladas and ate cake and chocolate pie. We missed the fireworks on tv because we were too busy watching The Simpsons Season 4 on DVD. I think we each gained 10 pounds that night, but maybe we laughed off some of the fat thanks to Ralph Wiggum. Monday I spent most of the day in a pissy mood, just all weepy and bitchy. I kept trying to figure out why, but then I remembered it was just PMS. Then I felt better, and Kane and I watched "Unwrapped" on the Food Network, made up some new songs and danced around the apartment old-tymey style. To finish off this 5-day rampage of fun, I shook Kane awake around 10:30 yesterday morning and we hauled ass to make it to an 11 AM showing of Spiderman 2. Which everyone kept saying it was just okay, but I really liked it. I liked it just as much, if not a little more than the first one. The story was better, and Doc Oc was a much cooler villain that the Green Goblin. I mean, the GG was great too, but I liked how you sort of feel bad for Doc Oc. I am a big fan of likeable villains I guess, plus Alfred Molina is just awesome anyway. Plus there's a little more romance in this one, and referring to my aforementioned PMS, I thought that part was better than the first.
So my long weekend was a good one, but now I'm back at work. Before I left last week, I recorded a new voice mail message to let people know when I will be back in the office and have a great holiday blah blah blah. So this is the very first of 18 messages I got this morning:
"Hi Trish, this is (I'll leave his name out to protect his anonimity), and that's REAL NEATO that you're out on a fucking vacation, but just what the FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL MY CUSTOMER ABOUT THE RING THEY ORDERED???!!?!". Then he hung up. Nice guy. He also left two more screaming messages, even though he knew damn well I would not be back in the office until today. Then I got yelled at by this other guy who wants his jewelry, then I get a fax from the factory that they broke a customer's very rare, very very expensive tanzanite, and they don't know how it happened and they're sorry. Then I get a call from said customer, saying "Hi! This is Lynn, I'm just calling about my customer's tanzanite ring, she's very anxious and nervous about her stone and wants to know how soon she can have her ring. Please have some good news for me, honey! Thanks, Bye bye!". Then I had to call and ruin her day by telling her the stone is ruined.
I'm about ready for another 5-day weekend, I think. And maybe 1 or 10 pina coladas. With lots of whipped cream.

Yowza!! Parker Lewis CAN lose.

HAPPY JULY!! Actually I didn't mean to yell. I forgot I had the Caps Lock on.
Anyway, in honor of it being July (and in honor of me having nothing to write about today), I decided to re-post an old blog that seems to be a popular one. I have heard from a few people that this was a good entry, and since I don't know how to do that neat link-to-a-specific-blog trick, I'm doin it the old fashioned re-postin' way. It's a great story filled with love, hate, laughter and deer antler.
Here goes:
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.

Happy 4th of July everyone. Be safe and try not to stir the kool-aid with your dick this year. Mom really hates it when you do that.