is safari really a force to be reckoned with? that i should design the site to be compliant with it? and how do i go about doing that, exactly?

ideas?

i am going to make a feeble attempt at this skinning thing again. i have like four designs (not including the original tankgirl one, because i don’t want to get smacked again by gettyone’s email thugs). and i want to make more. but i like this one too. so i want to make them all available.

if you need me, i will be buried in tutorials. just leave the pizza on the doorstep.

Hi, friend -

Maybe you’ve noticed that every time you bring up your son’s name in conversation, an icy silence ensues. You tend to keep talking through it, speaking of what you’re proud about, so I’m not sure that you know how hard I bite my tongue every time your son’s name is mentioned.

I used to go out with your son a long time ago. He treated me worse than any man I’ve ever dated, with the exception of the one-time date who had apparently heard about date rape on TV and thought it sounded like fun (he failed, anyway). Your son treated me with utter disregard, doing such things as:

• getting upset with me for not introducing him to my friend whom he thought was cute
• then asking said friend on dates
• claimed to have written a song for me, then named it for said friend
• played hot and cold mercilessly
• was scarily controlling to the point where I had to yell for help at a party when he wouldn’t physically let me go
• decided that a commited relationship was not the way to go
• and in the course of this picked up and passed on to me some pretty nasty social diseases after screwing someone from the personal ads
• and man that shit doesn’t go away ever
• and can cause serious problems later in life, especially where kids are concerned
• was an utterly constant pothead
• called me by his ex-wife’s name during arguments
• ridiculed my creative work
• and last but certainly not least, had chronic and possibly fatal halitosis.

For some warped sense of loyalty, I can’t seem to bring myself to tell you this in person. I can only take this “Dear Abby” style approach and hope you’ll read it. But you need to know that the reason I don’t call to chat is that every time I do, you bring up your son, and it upsets me for days afterwards. I do not want to hear about him, and I do not want to think about him. Admittedly this is probably not healthy, but I want to put the memory of your son away in a box, lock it up, and dump it into the deepest part of the ocean.

I love your other kids to death. Talk about them instead.

Love,
Me

can’t i read a novel and lounge on the beach instead?

argh!

assorted ping and connectivity issues all day yesterday and this morning too. isp must die because they have a monopoly and suck ass. lucky for them it works most of the time.

papercut on finger hurts! unbelievably swamped at work, so much so that i can’t even stop to freak out about how stupid most people are.

many things to do.

the css is all sloppy and there is entirely too much extraneous code. but it looks okay. and for now i have too little energy to really truly give a shit.

possibly ellie will get the urge to go clean up all the templates?

i am just wondering if there is a place for people my age in this world. i am not old enough to remember when jfk was shot, but i remember when they shot at reagan. i have enough of my life behind me to know the tricks guys use to get you into the sack, and too much in front of me to know how to manage my 401k effectively. i feel wet behind the ears at work and like an old fogey at the gap.

where do people like me hang out? the ones who know who jody watley is and why her career tanked before it went anywhere, the ones who remember madonna’s “boy toy” phase, the ones who look at anna nicole and wonder what the hell happened to the beautiful girl she used to be.

my one and only thrill is that i still get carded most of the time at bars. i was at the bodega last night and this frat boy came in and plopped two magnums of bud down on the counter, and the chick at the counter asked him for id. at which point he stammered that he would have to get it from the car. i am not kidding you when i say that it took all my self-control to keep from craning my neck to see where he went in the parking lot. and that when he did not come back for a long time, i had to force myself to snicker quietly. and that when i got into the car i locked my doors and rolled up the windows and sat there laughing like a hyena for at least five minutes.

then i called my best friend and told her the whole story, and she laughed with me. because it was funny, it really was. and i didn’t feel quite so all alone after that.

i am without a doubt a dork from hell.

there are no dates anywhere on our pages, because emmie got rushed and forgot to add them to the template!

i promise promise (myself) i am going to fix the freaking layout today. and go to the bank.

also, i figured out what that japanese site is. i don’t have the energy to explain it, but i have mixed feelings about it now that i know. if you want to read about it go here or here.

btw, today is monday, april 28. (cursing self)

someone tell me if we should be freaked out about this, please.

i did a google search for girlsinthebag, and i came up with this link, which appears to be an exact replica (updated and all) of this site with a japanese link in the upper left corner. all i can find out from tracing the dns/ip is “west japan backbone”.

is this one of those weird ecosystem bot cache kind of sites? or is someone ripping us off? seriously.

apparently mt doesn’t like posts without titles. if you don’t pick one, it picks the first 5 words of your entry. that sucks.

so far everything is kosher except a couple of the comment templates (preview and submission error). i imported the old comments in from yaccs, using phil rignalda’s script, and it looked okay, but i don’t see any comments on the entries anywhere. yes, i remembered to rebuild. and refresh.

bleh.

tomorrow i will work on fixing the rest of the comment templates. but for now it’s mostly okay, the domain works, the archives work, the links work, all is 90% footloose and fancy free.

now you tell me: is it time for a new template? cause my design finger is itchy.

host change completed, mt installed.
now to reconfigure the template from blogger to mt.

more update later. still forgiving wonkiness, eh?

i can’t remember where i left my handbag last night, and i misplaced my glasses too. however even when i am drunk i can remember the following ridiculous dates:

january 5 – birthday of that guy i liked in 5th grade who later turned out to be gay.
march 31 – birthday of that jerk who dicked me around (the sort of cute one).
april 23 – birthday of that asshat who dicked me around, for a little less time.
december 28 – the day dumb stepmom gave me a new kids on the block video thinking i would actually like it and therefore cease resenting her trying to be my mom.

this crap is ridiculous. someone please invent a magic pill that erases all stupid unnecessary tidbits from one’s brain thereby making room for more important shit, like the fact that i have a ten pound bag of cat litter at home and therefore don’t need to buy another one.

you can dry your eyes, our love is strong and will stay forever
and if your love’s gone, my heart remains like a buried treasure
break down, i would break down if you were ever gone
break down, i would break down if i were all alone
cause right where you are is where my heart will always be
you know i’m never far, if you look behind you’ll see
oh yeah

now that i found you my life has changed to a sweet emotion
it’s for you to take, my love i give with complete devotion
break down, i would break down if you were ever gone
break down, i would break down if i were all alone
cause right where you are is where my heart will always be
you know i’m never far, if you look behind you’ll see
oh yeah
oh yeah, yeah

someone please tell me how i remember all the words to that song he wrote and recorded for me when i was so young? i haven’t thought about him in ages but i heard a riff on the radio that sounded like his song and it started to come back in pieces. how i cared so much and how he lied to me. and how he disappeared without a word of goodbye or a forwarding address or anything. and how for some reason he didn’t actually go to school, and he always kept me from meeting his parents. and it makes me understand what a gift trust is, and how painful it must be to lose it. because i wondered after that if he actually wrote that song, and if it was actually him singing and playing that guitar. hell, maybe he even lied about what his fucking name was.

he once told me that if he ever had a kid, he was going to teach it that a chair was called a banana, and that a banana was called a chair. and the kid would grow up thinking it was okay to eat chairs and sit on bananas. that always struck me as ridiculous, until i got much older and realized it was probably true.

and that america is the only place in the world you can say you grew up without speaking the native language.

hosting company is proving unreliable and possibly bankrupt. planning to transfer domain in next few days; setup of movable type will follow.

please forgive any random wonkiness. thanks.

i found some old stuff that i used to have pinned to my bedroom wall back when i had a roommate. they are not worksafe at all. my favorite is this one (large photo). from the same issue i also had two pics of drew barrymore and her lovely tattoos. i tried to find a link to those, but since she’s a celebrity it’s all hidden behind adult age verifiers, popup ads, and spam windows. grr.

i also found some old 3 1/2″ disks that used to contain zip files of all the nudes i collected. i specialized in redheads, jenny mccarthy (and her inspiring santa pictorials), and the artwork of olivia. all those files are corrupted now. too bad, because nowadays they actually make hard drives big enough to store all that crap without resorting to floppies.

i remember how time-consuming it used to be, and that all you could really get were stills, unless you had a very expensive computer that supported large video files, which i didn’t. i would pore over newsgroups (in pine, of all programs!) and cut and paste three or four files together to make one large jpg image file. free file compression utilities sucked back then too.

now i have limewire, which is time-consuming and irritating and only returns one good movie clip for three hours of searching. all that waiting in line to download, sending requery, couldn’t download, waiting for sources crap. when i had napster it didn’t occur to me to download anything but music because i’m a dork.

i’m always like eight years behind the curve anyway.

all of these years i have had trouble understanding the idea that some people are born into the body of one gender and spend their lives feeling wrong in their skin and wanting to be the other gender. i had accepted this phenomenon, but i never had any insight into what causes it or whether these people are right or wrong. that changed in the blink of an eye this week.

i have heard of scientific studies of the brains of deceased transgendered people which prove that their brains are physically more similar to normal brains of the gender they feel most like. in other words, a man who has surgery to become a woman would theoretically have a brain which is physiologically identical to that of a person born with female genitalia. this seriously started me thinking when i heard someone say “nature doesn’t make mistakes”.

which leads me to several conclusions. first, clearly there are genetic anomalies which occur. whether that is a “mistake” by god or nature or whatever is a spiritual matter with which i am unconcerned. the fact is, all humans should have ten toes, and some don’t. all humans should have four chambers in their hearts, and some don’t. all humans should have normal skin and some people have spina bifida. in all of those cases, we understand why they seek medical treatment to make them “normal”, and we even donate to charitable causes that help them get it. why is the same not true for people who are born transgendered?

why is gender determined by genitalia, when there are obviously other factors involved in what makes you the gender that you are? apparently the brain has something to do with it. so instead of it being that transgendered people are born with weird brains, couldn’t it be that they were born with weird genitalia? we know that this can happen because some people’s genitalia is not biologically functional, and others are born with incomplete sets or with complete sets of both kinds of genitalia. who defines gender in scientific terms? and who gave those people the power to do so? and on what knowledge are their definitions based?

obviously the constitution has been amended to meet certain situations which did not arise until many years after it was written. medical science rewrites itself constantly, as does the english language.

dictionary.com defines male as “Of, relating to, or designating the sex that has organs to produce spermatozoa for fertilizing ova.” it defines female as “Of or denoting the sex that produces ova or bears young.” however, there are men and women incapable of reproduction, so does that make them not male or female? and “Of” is kind of vague, too.

i’m just wondering why it is that we assume the genitalia are indicative of what should be present in the brain, when it’s not the genitalia that make us who we are. as complex creatures, our brains determine our personalities, our moods, our erogenous zones, whether we are violent or logical or organized or loving. having a uterus does not make you a competent multitasker, a nurturing person, or anything else that is stereotypically a female trait. not everyone with testicles is a huge sports fan, or knows how to change the oil in their car, and some of them even remember anniversaries.

it seems to me that our gender definitions need redefining.

i think that part of the problem is that all these things that sound sexy really aren’t in real life. like there are all the practicalities that just don’t come into play when it’s your fantasy or a porn movie. fucking on the beach sounds hot and sexy, until you try it and encounter jellyfish, lifeguards, security officers, naked toddlers, and sand in the crack of your ass. boffing in a hot tub sounds like fun, but then you realize that it does get really hot, too hot to smoke or god forbid touch someone. group sex? yeah, sure! but wait – that person who is fucking your boyfriend is actually hot and gives a way better blowjob than you do, and he always wanted to date a blonde with no tan lines anyway…

i mean seriously. who are these freaky people that actually go out and do this stuff and then actively advocate it to other people? how do they have any normal kind of life? do they see a guy at their office and go hey, joe, you and mary were lookin’ hot at that swing club this weekend! let’s do it again soon, mary’s a great lay! golf thursday?

i HATE all these marathon running, snowboard freaking, mountain biking rich traveling fucks. hate them. and i also hate it when they have some dumb epiphany. like, gee it sucks to have to move all the time and stuff. fuckers!

you think that i argue with you to be difficult, that we debate because i like the sound of my own voice.

possibly it is that intellectual stimulation is, well, stimulating? and that for me, debate is like a sport, and in the same way that you enjoy winning a tennis match or achieving five miles instead of your usual four, i get off on it at the end? this is also probably why it is imperative that there be a concession of some kind at the end of a particularly heated match, because if you are too angry, you might not let me fuck you.

i know it’s a roundabout way to get something that could easily be requested. you, the sporty type, should understand the thrill of the chase, and that the spoils come in waves, again, and again, and again…

in the end, that’s all i really wanted anyway.

i didn’t mention that i actually was a dyke in another life, in that life which i have outside of my job. well sometimes i am, anyway. mostly i am filled with repressed longings for cutie pie that works in accounting, for hottie that works in advertising, for that little trollop down in systems.

of course the occasional male form tempts me as well. like when i saw him freshly showered the other day, with his hair still wet and uncombed. he walks on tippy-toes when he has just showered, like he’s afraid to get the bottoms of his feet dirty on the walk from the bathroom to the closet. and the muscles in his shoulders ripple when he is toweling off his back. there is a mole right there, and the curve at the sweet spot of his neck into his shoulder is the exact right depth.

i should call the trollop and invite her to tea.

another unnamed person told me today that i could have been a dyke in another life, because i’m already so queer. fortunately said person did not accuse me of hiding in any closets or make any public attempts to out me or anything like that. because then i would have had to poison somebody’s coffee or something.

i would like to offer a sincere appology to any of your firm’s associates who may have felt discomfort due to a reduced level of personal hygiene on a recent business luncheon at the plaza. in a nutshell, sorry. in future i would endeavour to do better.

i am not kidding. someone actually fucking wrote that. and it wasn’t anonymous, either. so we know who he is and which account is his and stuff. possibly we should send him a goodwill gift, a crate of deodorant? we could sign the card

we wish you luck in your future endeavour.

ha!

oh, and ps: learn to spell ‘apology’.

and if you ring my fucking telephone at 4 a.m. one more time i will have no choice but to drive to the wrong side of the tracks and hire a large group of burly gang bangers to wipe the walls of the city with your lame ass.

fuck right off!!!

i swear i am still so fucking gullible it makes me want to puke.

was completely and utterly duped today by tricky person who asked for one thing which was perfectly okay and yet wanted another which was wrong, wrong, wrong. like a dumbass i said yes despite this person’s shady history of wool and eyes and stuff. and thus i inadvertently helped this person to achieve an end which was utterly heinous and it was all my fault it happened in the first place! i mean, i know it would have happened anyway but it is somehow so much worse because i facilitated it.

ARGH!!

please see previous post re: me needing a vacation.

someone please explain to me how it is exactly that i can be so fucking bored when i have three cubic assloads of things that need to be done? such as my pedicure, some dishes, debugging my machine, actually washing some clothes instead of just sniffing and wearing them, finding someone to fuck, that presentation for work, getting a new job, and feeding the cat. and yet i stare at the walls and whine that there is nothing to do.

fuck, i need a vacation! somewhere sunny with mai tais and a cabana boy, please.

also, how is it that you can have a lot of food and nothing to eat? is that the same law of physics which states that although you have 500 satellite channels, there is never anything to watch? or perhaps an inverse derivative of the radio corollary*?

*the radio corollary states that at any given moment in time, there is always a channel playing something by stone temple pilots, led zeppelin, or pearl jam

i cant tell i someone is hitting on me or not. if i like them it makes me nervous and act like an idiot. if i dont like them it also makes me nervous and act like an idiot.
can i not have a few male friends please? i suck at having female friends. my friends have always been mostly men and that is fine with me.

he was taking a shower and didn’t hear me come in.

i had slipped out of my clothes by the front door, making a neat little pile of jeans and socks and shoes. underneath i wore a leopard-print thong and sheer nightie. he loved leopard-print.

he had soap all over his face when i stepped into the shower, and he didn’t see me until he rinsed his face and opened his eyes. he was startled at first. then he grinned at me and said

you’re going to get your clothes wet, trying to make me take them off.

instead, i wrapped myself around him and pulled him under the spray of hot water with me. the fabric clung to me even when he ceased to do so.

they already are i said, and went down on him.

when asked to write a description of myself I totally balk. why is that?
I try to do it, but all that comes out is every negative thing I can think about myself. I think I am afraid to say good things about myself because I don’t want people to think I snooty or I am afraid I will say something good and other people will be secretly laughing up their sleeves at me.

“hahahaha. I cant believe she thinks she is good artist. what a joke!”

holy shit. she is so loathesome! and worse, i know she thinks I am the loathesome one.
it’s so weird!!!!!

i am generally pretty gullible. this makes much fun for my teasing minded friends and sales people everywhere. i am also easily manipulated in some ways, often peoples motivations go way over my head. (unless they are a boy, that is.)

i realized a few years ago that about 7 years ago she easily manipulated me and used me to act for her. so, she didn’t like him at all. and he was irritating sure. but since she hates conflict of any kind, and always wants to be seen as calm hippy moma, she used me to do her dirty work. goading me into acting a certain way towards him. i have always regretted it. and when i realized that she was the major cause of it i regretted it even more. i am not necessarily blaming her for my actions, i am just becoming aware of them and am going to make sure it never happens again.

i see that she is trying to do it again. but this time with her husband. thank god i recognized it before i acted. she likes people to think of me as the angry reactive one. i mean, she is partially correct. i show my anger or annoyance more readily than she does. but at least i get it out in the open instead of festering like she does.
but it annoys me that she enjoys having people see this distinction between us. at least i know that she isn’t miss calm hippy moma. she is just as irritated and pissed off as i am but she doesn’t know how to show it. and she thinks it is bad to show it, bad to cause strife or rock th boat or let people know what you really think.
i disagree.
back to the husband… she is so irritated she can barely exist at this point. and he irritates me too. but damn it! he isn’t my husband! i didn’t choose him! i absolutely will not appear irritated with him,. i will not point out his irritating little things.
i started to do it last weekend. i said “please stop that!” but the i realized she had been waiting for me to say it.
i wont say it again.

i was yelling.

grrrrrrrrrr!

i meant to put that last post all in bold. unlike some people, i don’t yell in caps.

it is not cool of you to use your inferiors to do your job who aren’t paid for that. they will invariably fuck it up because they don’t have the experience that you do or the tools necessary to do the job and you are therefore setting them up for a fall. and how dare you unleash your wrath and suspend their perks because you didn’t have enough time to do your job or the balls to take the responsibility for not having done it.

feminism, affirmative action, minimum wage, family medical leave act, communism, democracy…

it all looks great on paper. somewhere between the abstract that was presented to us and the plan which is actually carried out something got extremely fucked and none of it works right anymore. and nobody knows exactly how to fix it, either.

it’s all very much like a company which goes into business and then hires a consultant to tell it how to run a business. if everyone did yoga and practiced feng shui i think the world would be a much nicer place to live in general.

it’s also that when i was a teenager, eddie vedder and kurt cobain and all the other angst-ridden vocalists seemed so deep. now they seem stupid and shallow, for some reason. possibly because i have heinous debts to pay and a real job that gives me no money and no credit. while they and their ilk make trillions of dollars and bitch about the price of fame. someone please tell me in what fucked up universe it is okay to pay someone 4.5 million a year to shoot a fucking basketball while peace corps people and teachers make dirt money?? argh!!

also i was looking out the window of my office and noticing that from so high up all the cars looked new and shiny. and there were scattered mercedes, lexus, and bmws that made me wonder: who the hell in this company is making that kind of money and what do i have to do to get their job?

i think that all this protesting crap is making everyone hypersensitive. i said something at work tonight like eddie vedder sucks and got promptly attacked by people threatening my life and questioning my taste in music. how could i abhor someone who lost so much money trying to give the fans cheaper ticket prices? how, indeed. he’s hooked up with neil young, and that’s enough for me.

all i’m saying is everyone seems to be a little bit trigger happy lately.

okay, let me just say that chris pirillo (in addition to going pantless today) has his own font for his blog, and it’s somehow embedded so that you see it even if you don’t have it installed on your machine. the font family is actually named for him. i wonder if he fontographed it himself? or if it’s actually his handwriting made into a font? damn, that’s cool! must study his source, and read his archives thoroughly to find out how he did that. because i’m a copycat like that.

wonder if he’ll mind? i hope not. he seems like a fairly important blogger and i wouldn’t want to piss him off.

also i find the public image and the lack of support for bisexuals horrifying. most people think that bisexual automatically means polyamorous, which is patently false. and they think it means that bisexuals are twice as promiscuous and twice as likely to cheat on you if you are in a relationship because they can’t control their attraction to absolutely everyone.

the het community belittles bisexuals as dilettantes and accuses them of not knowing what they want. they also blame bisexuals for spreading the gay plague to the precious het world, nevermind the fact that plenty of people who enjoy sex with persons of the same gender refuse to admit it and flatly reject any label except the biblically acceptable one. meanwhile the gay community where bisexuals should find refuge revile them as traitors if they do not live exclusively gay lifestyles and accuse them of sleeping with the enemy. it is much harder for me to understand the concept of wanting to be the opposite gender and paying a bunch of money to do so, then dating only people who are the same gender as your new self, than it is to understand that some people like to have sex with either a man or a woman. it seems to me that bisexuals are more focused in general on the person to whom they are attracted rather than the body of that person.

and in the end, everyone focuses on what you actually do, rather than how you feel, meaning what kind of sex you are actually willing to have rather than what you find exciting. i would think that a woman who is turned on by other women but too scared to act on it for various societal reasons is still bisexual, even if she marries a man and never even touches another woman. and because that concept would mean that most people are more depraved than they are willing to admit, the concept is banished by society at large. but i guess if it weren’t that way then people who considered killing someone would actually be murderers? and those who were willing to carry it out would be stupid murderers because they risked getting caught? which means that some of us are stupid bisexuals? i guess you can’t have it both ways really.

i’m just saying that bisexuality seems every bit as acceptable as heterosexuality or homosexuality. and even polyamory seems acceptable, if the people involved can do it responsibly without hurting people left and right.

wait, there i go having an opinion. perhaps i should scrap that and just say that everything is cool?

my mother used to tell me that everyone was different because if the whole world liked apple pie there wouldn’t be enough to go around. my father used to tell me that everyone in the world was stupid, except me and him. i suppose that included my mother maybe? but he said that even before they split up, so.

i do not think she is stupid. however, i do find myself wishing that everyone would just fucking eat apple pie and be done with it. there’s plenty, let’s be honest. this whole different viewpoints crap is getting kind of irritating. particularly when i go into the break room at work to unwind and find about eight people of varying ethnicities and religions arguing over this retarded war. and then just when i am feeling sorry for civilization for being all divided on it and shit, i think about what it must have been like during the civil war, and that sort of shuts me up for a while.

still, i walk around all day pretending to have no opinion on much of anything in order to avoid all the arguments because i am simply too fucking tired to explain to you why i feel the way that i feel. plus most of what i feel is on gut alone so i would probably get ribboned in a debate anyway.

i don’t think everyone is stupid. i certainly think my father falls into that category now though on several occasions. and it’s kind of ironic being how he is all formally educated and my mother never graduated, because she is the one who is really smart. now that they split up she tells me all kinds of dumb shit that he used to do when they were married, and when i see him i mock him in my head because he thinks my image of him is what he wants it to be, not what he actually is. my mom is good at parenting and keeping house and working and getting promoted and kicking ass in almost everything.

and can i just say that because i’m a woman doesn’t mean that i like to do housework, or that i’m even good at it, or that i want to take care of a man and raise kids because that is the only thing that can possibly fulfill me. however should i choose to do so that is nobody’s fucking business and i will not be used as ammunition for one side of the debate against the other. fuck, that pisses me off! who the hell asked them anyway? not me. also i think that most women are smarter than they are given credit for. and i think that men are just as manipulative because it clearly takes some sort of awareness to know that you have to keep us down or we will be a force to be reckoned with. possibly they are untrusting and selfish for not being willing to share the power.

in a world like this where there are so many unnerving shades of gray it seems that sweeping generalizations is really the only way to go.

i realized that i was secretly having a competition with her in my mind. how very very sad!

it has been brought to my attention by a colleague that another colleague had internet access revoked after our systems people were reviewing their cookies/history/temporary internet files and found stuff non-work related.

am freaking out and not blogging from work until i find out more.

i am going to write a book about things that happen to me over and over and this will be chapter one:

person who said they would help me do something: hey, no problem. glad to help.
me: thank you so much! i hate imposing on people. let me take you out to dinner as thanks.
pwstwhmds: it’s okay, it’s no trouble, really.

halfway through said task:
pwstwhmds: (sighing with frustration) you know, this is really too much for me.
me: i know it’s hard. i’m sorry. we’re almost done though!
pwstwhmds: maybe if you were better organized you wouldn’t be in this mess.
me: i haven’t found anyone who could help me though.
pwstwhmds: well, find someone. because i’m quitting after today.
me: okay, i understand. thanks for what you’ve done so far!

after 24 hours spent scrambling and stressing to find someone else to finish said task:
pwstwhmds: hey, why is there someone else here doing what you asked me to do?
me: um. you said you couldn’t do it anymore?
pwstwhmds: no i didn’t!
me: (thinking) did i fucking dream that conversation? did i actually stress myself over a dream?!
pwstwhmds: here, let me help.
me: but i’d have to change all my plans, again.
pwstwhmds: well you took what i said the wrong way!
me: (growling)

well, i was going to invite her to the movies tonight. but she has sent me so many irritating emails today that i cant stand even the thought of her. nevermind having to go spend an evening with her.

and after having my regularly scheduled panic attack, i noticed that she was sitting in the lounge, watching the news and knitting something smallish.

i didn’t know she could knit. that’s kind of unusual for someone like her.

what i hate is this kind of thing:

customer service rep: may i help you?
me: hi, a number one combo please.
csr: of course! right away, madame! please don’t despair, for i am here to help you!
me: um. thanks.
csr: and may i interest you in a freshly baked apple pie for 25 cents more today?
me: um. okay?
csr: brilliant! please, don’t go away, for i will soon return with your freshly made to order meal!
me: …

i mean where the hell do people like this get their enthusiasm? and moreover how come there is a heinously bubbly person at my office who talks to people like this one minute and the next minute he is all that guy was a dumb motherfucker, emmie, and i told him so, right to his face, because that shit don’t fly with me. — ?? i mean hello, bipolar much? if you’re going to be an ass to people, do it constantly and well. at least nobody can say you’re unstable or anything then.

the problem with the ribbed ones is that if you don’t wash them right away, and i mean immediately, they are damn near impossible to clean. excuse me while i wash my vibrator, don’t start without me! very sexy. all that i want is an affordable, fat vibrator which is dishwasher safe. we have the technology to clone stuff, but i can’t get one of these?

someone please explain to me where the justice is.

dear santa, could you have those elves make one for me please? i mean after all i did for you last christmas eve, you owe me one anyway. please, one without any weird animal heads on it because those creep me out. thanks. love, emmie