The kind of person that you meet at certain dismal, dull affairs

The Lump with ADD is gone!
Mwahahaha!
Of the worthless piles of lumps of crap I have worked with (and I have worked with a LOT) he was the most recent.
Obviously Mr. Easily Distracted is a child of priviledge that has been spoiled to the point of worthlessness.
Allow me to prove my point:
In an era of $3 a gallon gas (election months not counted) he drives an SUV
Said large automobile is no more than 2 years old. It appeared to have leather interior, I didn't get a look at the stereo but I have suspicions.
He has personalized AND University themed plates (each customization costs $25-$50 extra a year, he has 2, do the math)
He is a musician in a band that seems to have no name and despite my tendency to stay far away from clubs I know the names of all the bands that play regularly around here (I read). I've never heard of his band. He couldn't describe the kind of music he plays, this leads me to believe the 'band' is actually a bunch of guys that watch Futurama DVDs together and talk about how they'd have the most awesome band in the world. If they had a band.
He has been working off and on and temporarily for a temp agency for some months and has been out of school long enough to have run through any student loans he might have backlogged
I know he's been out of school awhile because he tried to leave work an hour early to catch the kick off of a football game (on fucking telly) featuring his 'alma mater.' Someone that just graduated would more than likely use a more immediate term, such as "my school."
Further, he used the term alma mater, which just reeks of suburban wealth. Really, who says that?

"My alma mater, Devry Techical Institute, is having an open house tonight.I wouldn't miss it for the world."
See, it doesn't make sense.
I could go on. But the amount of energy I put into observing him so far outweighs the actual amount of effort he put into performing his assignment it doesn't reflect well on either party involved.

The manager of the branches I've been working at today told me that She doesn't want people in other clusters (there are a lot of libraries in the system) to know about how good I am. She said she's afraid she'll lose me to someone that gets clearance to hire someone before she does.
Baby, even the losers...
Realizing my position was secure I became a real bitch to Lump. He was sitting at the front desk playing on the Internets. This kept me from accessing the one computer. If I needed to do something on the PC I just pushed him aside and said something charming like, "Excuse me, person that's actually productive coming through."
Or, another great moment in snark:
Katie had told me that I was to sit in front of the computer and not move until it was time to close. She said I could do whatever I wanted as long as it kept Lump off the Interweb. I was reading a delightful fanfic MST. Lump began drumming his fingers on the counter. He drummed and drummed like some new kind of torture.
"Is that really necessary?" I said in my best angry BBC announcer voice.
He stopped.
Tee hee. He has been told to not bother returning after Saturday. I shouldn't take pleasure in another person's loss of employment. But I can't help myself. I'm just unpleasant.

Now for a bit of wank. As you may have read Tues on House Wilson argued House as Asperger's syndrome and then stated that he knew that wasn't so. WIlson said that he (House) just wishes he did. This amused me. I diagnosed myself with many of the signs of AS awhile ago. (If memory serves the proof of that is somewhere recorded in this very blog.)
Here's a quick cut and paste of the symptoms:
1. Qualitative impairment in social interaction;
2. The presence of restricted, repetitive and stereotyped behaviors and interests;
3. Significant impairment in important areas of functioning;
4. No significant delay in language;
5. No significant delay in cognitive development, self-help skills, or adaptive behaviors (other than social interaction); and,
6. The symptoms must not be better accounted for by another specific pervasive developmental disorder or schizophrenia.[4]

* Limited interests or preoccupation with a subject to the exclusion of other activities;
* Repetitive behaviors or rituals;
* Peculiarities in speech and language;
* Socially and emotionally inappropriate behavior and interpersonal interaction;
* Problems with nonverbal communication; and
* Clumsy and uncoordinated motor movements.




Sounds like me. But, in conversation with someone (Mum, Dad--actually, I think it was Mik) the statement was made that it would be nice if that was what made me weird. But, fact of the matter is, I'm just not like the other kids. Having been branded 'gifted' at an early age I was ostracized by the rest of the people with whom I went to school. I had no sporting ability and so took to reading at recess rather than playing. The tales of my inability to act in a manner appropriate to a child are popular family lore. Ask Dad, he's gotta million stories and he loves to tell them all. Since I was unsure how to act around people my age I had few, if any friends. I immersed myself in books or television or whatever area of interest I was drawn to at that moment. Information I had, social skills---not so much.
Now add to this information that I became increasingly more insane and my behavior became more and more inappropriate with each passing year. By my teens I had no social skills and what most people interpreted as a serious drug problem. My actions did not add a lot of dates to my social calendar.
In an attempt to be 'normal' I started dating someone when I was 17. When that horror story ended I made one more attempt at the interpersonal, romantic relationship that is supposed to be so important to human beings. I was barely 19. He was 33. It was a match made in pedophile heaven. After breaking up with him I removed myself from the dating pool.
I was fairly sure I was gay.
To quote Dan Savage "being queer isn't a consulation prize."
After those years of reflection I realized, I just really, really hate people. Not just men. Not women. I desperately want to avoid contact with the vast majority of humanity. They bore me. It took me until I was 24 years old, but I reached a level of emotional maturity that I was able to accept that I didn't have to like people if I didn't want to.
That opened up a whole new outlook on life for me.
Now, I'm only nice to people I actually like. Exceptions made if I'm trying to maintain employment. But I don't go out of my way then. Either someone will accept me how I am or he/she won't. I do however, care quite a bit that I stay on the right side of people whose company I enjoy.

ANYWAY-my point of all this is that I was stunned by Wilson's statement:
"You're not autistic. You don't even have Asperger's. You just wish you did. It would exempt you from the rules. Absolve you of responsibility."

By the way, I, too, have a stain on my carpet. Literally, a stain that serves as a reminder I almost died last May. It's covered by a throw rug, but it's there. I've tried to clean it up, but whatever the dye was in the pills I was taking just won't come completely out. Sometimes, I just look at it. I don't know why.

A big democracy cakewalk

Hey kids. I know you've been checking here on the occasion "What's become of our girl?" Well, nothing terribly interesting. I find that working 40 hours a week is pretty time consuming. In a totally different way than going to school full time and working 20 hours a week was. When I get home, I just want to torture Mr. Baby and toss back a couple of pints whilst watching telly.
I had to find a pattern. Now, I've fallen into it and it's quite comfortable. I need a pattern or else I'll go a bit odd(er). Tomorrow is spaghetti night....can't sleep clowns'll eat me...can't sleep clowns'll eat me....
But SRSLY folks. I dig my job. The women I work with are great and we enjoy ourselves. That's something I'm not used to at work. The moments of laughter are genuine.
A favorite:
This fella, he looked downright downtrodden, (but then, I work where "People will just as soon shoot ya as look at you") came up to the desk.
"Ladies, I'm an entrepeneur and I'm selling African American Study Bibles," Katie gave me a look. "I was thinking you two would want to take advantage of my special offer."
I should mention that I am the token white girl, keep that image in mind.
" I don't need one. How 'bout you?" Katie asked.
"Nah, I get all my Bibles from hotel rooms." This is a 100% true statement.
The entrepeneur bows out gracefully.
"Oh no you didn't! I know another mackenzi, and she's the one that said that. Cuz you wouldn't have gone there."
I just laughed. It wouldn't have been nearly as funny if it weren't true.

Today, I was talking to the Mumsy. She was pressing the topic of my brilliance as a writer. ;P
"I don't really want fame, Ma. I wanna be, like, Amy Sedaris famous. Not David, that's a lot to ask. But Amy seems reasonable."
"Amy is pretty damn famous," Mum responded.
"But she's still a major niche market. You could go through a crowd and most people would have no idea who she is."
"That niche market is much larger than any market you're drawing.And besides,if there's anyting you are, it's an acquired taste. You always have been kind of limited in your appeal."
Mummy said that, of all people. Mothers are weird creatures. Meanwhile, Dad is working to resign himself to my desire to move to New York City. He doesn't think it's a good idea, but far be it from him to tell me I can't do something.

As it is-the highlight of my week is Hughsday and watching House. (Speaking of which-how much did you love Wilson saying House has Asperger's as an excuse for his behavior? They are so in heterosexual life partner love. I love RSL and HL--they win the award for awesome for this fiscal year.)

Lest you think I've gone soft:
Current Music:
Asshole-Denis Leary

(I really am an asshole.)

It's almost like havin' in all

I double posted.
Here's a fun thought:
It's less than a month until we get to see Todd!!!!
25 days to be exact.
YEA!!!
And we get to meet new people since the seats aren't together!
Unless I run into him at Kroger or something.
Oh-and Hayes Carll wears a suit of fantastic and I heart him. For the record. Little Rock is such a brilliant record. It's such a real life observational collection type of song.
Awesome-The Devil You Know just came up on random.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Since I recently realized I possibly don't exist utside of some writer's mind I've decided that my next ambitious project (since I'm known for those) should be to write, direct and star in (with a large and impressive ensemble cast and a bitchin' soundtrack that includes songs written and performed by people that aren't known for their musical talent-cuz that's artsy) a movie about East Nashville and the people that I would encounter on a regular basis. If I was actually here. Which there's no proof that I am. Or even, if you're going to get technical that East Nashville exists. Maybe Nashville ends at the river and there is no neighborhood across the bridges. As there aren't any bridges.
Then again, maybe I've been watching too many independent films of late.
Furthermore, if I'm a character in a movie then someone would've randomly stopped by my apartment this morning when I was fighting with my washing machine.
The scene would've gone like this:

SCENE: Sunday morning, Our Heroine (OH) is standing in the kitchen sorting the week's worth of pre-approved Credit Card offers. She is using the washing machine, which is running, as a table. Her computer is plugged into speakers and an eclectic and varied series of tunes play throughout the scene. Current music: Elvis Costello-Kinder Murder. OH shifts her weight from her right leg to her left and notices the rug in front of the washer is wet.

OH: Oh for fuck's sake. She gets quickly stops the washer and turns around and pulls the plug out of the wall. Muttering a string of curse words that would cause the HBO censors to take note she stomps through the apartment and comes back into the living room carrying an armfull of towels. The next several minutes are taken up with mopping activities. She pushes the washer, which is full, away from the wall. Begins fighting with the hoses. Fucking heavy thing. Drain hose, tight. Hot water hose, good. Cold water. So, the fuck anyway? Current song on the radio: Harry Chapin-Dreams Go By.

CUT TO: Bedroom. OH is on the phone with DAD.
OH: I have to get the water out? How do you propose I do that? There's at least 4 gallons of water in there.
DAD: (who hasn't suddenly traveled 2 states over) You would rather it was on your floor?
OH: Well, no...
DAD: A wise man once said, "If you work real hard, this job can be easy." Enjoy.

RETURN TO: Living room/kitchen. OH is dipping water out of the washing machine using a 2 quart pitcher. Sexx Laws by Beck plays in the background. There is a pile of wet towels and rugs in the corner of the kitchen. The scene continues with wringing out of towels in the sink and an eventual switch to a cup to dip out the water in the bottom of the washer. Hair falls in eyes, glasses are covered in splashes of water, OH is a ridiculous mess of a person. Waterloo by ABBA plays. There is a knock at the door. Enter-Hot Guy That Just Happens to Have a Full Collection of Tools on Hand. Hot Guy (or HG) for short will be played by John Simm who has the added bonus of being well known in England but not huge in the States. HG knocks at the door and OH reacts in the logical fashion.

HG: Saw your truck, thought I'd stop. (She opens the door to let him in. He looks at her and registers that she's failing to have a lot of fun)
OH: Bleeding great. The fucking washers fucked. Leaking everywhere, I'm out of towels. Best time ever being had here.
HG: If we can get the water out of there, I've got my toolbox. Could try to fix it. If you want.
OH: Knock yourself out.
Son House: Death Letter Blues plays

TIME PASSES in a mini montage. The washer is emptied. The towels are hung out on the line to dry. HG doesn't hang clothes, he walks the dog around the yard. Sodas are ingested. The washer is dismantled.
HG: (On the floor, behind the machine. OH is leaning against the front. The DOG is chewing on a rawhide.) There, that's it. A lose hose. We need a clamp. Quick trip to the hardware store and it'll be fixed.
OH: You're a hero. Come on, let's go down to the store. We can make a stop at the bar. It's 2 for 1 day.
HG: A cunning plan if ever I heard one.

CUT TO: 3 Crow (using real locations is essential) Here we would meet up with several people on various levels of fame and have witty conversations for the rest of the day. Suddenly everyone takes up smoking and drinking anarchronistic mixed beverages like Brandy Alexanders and Old Fashioneds. Everyone is trendy but appoachable. Since this is East Nashville, several people have guitars with them, they drift to the back deck and play random bits of songs. The movie breaks off into 32 Short Films About Springfield territory and the other characters that we met at the bar are explored.
Some of the people we would meet include:
Todd Snider plays any role he wants to-as he is Todd.
Peter Cooper and Tommy Womack and Will Kimbrough are the musicians playing on the deck.
Other people for whom I shall write roles:
The Sister (a role wherein she plays on normal and not at all wacky or on the edge of crazytown individual-I want to cast her against type)
Stephen Fry as a television announcer
John Lithgow
Amy Sedaris and Paul Dinello
Chuck Klosterman
Robert Sean Leonard
(why not Hugh Laurie? well, it's a bit of stunt casting isn't it? should I bring in Emma Thompson, too? I mean, come on! Oh, well, it's my movie that could never be produced so what the hell)
Hugh Laurie (on telly doing an interview-as himself)
Jim Krasinski
Tony Geary

That movie would wear all sorts of rock

Oh-but I should say what actually happened.

I got the water out, tried to unscrew the back of the machine-failed. Tried my cordless drill-it needed charged. So I went down the pub and had 2 Bloody Marys and a pint of Hefewiezen. Sent Mik some files that may or may not interest her-what do I know? Watched a lot of YouTube videos-esp Martin Short on Colbert as it was the funniest interview of all time. Color Me Barbra! ZOMG! The gay! When I got home I called my folks (because that's what a person that has been drinking as is attempting to play with power tools would logically do first.) Realized the drill wasn't working and has gone kaput. Decided not to even bothering trying to fix the damn thing and probably I can't even fix it anyway since it's ancient and y'know arse over tits and all that.

We're living diametrically opposed lives

This AM I was at my place of employ, doing only enough as to appear occupied but not enough to cause me any lasting damage My knapsack began to vibrate.
I grabbed the phone.
'Just a second,' I whispered.
'K,' Mik said in hushed tones.
I dashed off to the restroom and pushed the door shut. "Okay, now we can talk. Sorry, I'm at work, gotta be discreet, y'know."
"I thought you'd be at work. I was expecting your voice mail."
"Oh, well, I can hang up and you can just leave a 'sorry I missed you.'"
"Shut up."
It's always fun to sneak a personal phone call on the clock. Tho I have this suspicion I'm allowed to take the occasional if it's important (as hearing from the sister is, of course)
"So, how you doin? How's work"
"Eh, it's boring. I read a lot. I'm working my way through the Jeeves and Wooster series. No, not the videos, the books."
"Oh that is just nuts!" At least with the vids I would've got the sexy, what do the books give me?
"It gets worse, it's 9:30 in the morning and not only am I at work but I'm wearing a suit coat, my hair is done and I have on make up."
"Meanwhile I'm on my way to be tongue kissed and dry humped onstage by unattractive men. We're living diametrically opposed lives."
"The question is, which one of us is having less fun."
Odd and as different as our existences are we find amusement in the same things. Cable and substances. What more is there, really? And before you answer, I read 3 books this week, read every available periodical, went to the park twice, took at least one 30 minute walk everyday, cleaned the house top to bottom and worked on a story. The way I see the world there's plenty of time for frivolity in televised or mixed drink form if you work hard enough at finding it. Or if you avoid social contact as much as possible. People tend to muddy up the whole mechanism.
****
"You seem normal enough to me," said Mum. "Unless you're a sociopath, which you don't seem to be."
"Come now, Mum, sociopaths crave the company of humans. Oh sure, in the end they kill them, but the craving remains."
"You're funny."
*******
"Y'know Pop, I would be very happy in New York. It's a great town. Full of people that only care if you live or die because they don't want your death on their hands specifically."
"A perfect place for you. But you'd have to live so outside the city to be able to afford being in the city. The commute from here would be murder."
****

"Hey Sissy," I said after we'd been talking for a little over ten minutes, "I better amscray before they notice I'm gone."
"Yeah, go pretend you're busy."
"Stay gold Pony Boy, love you."
She missed the reference, "We'll talk soon. Love ya."

"I have to go rescue your sister..."
"What, I just talked to her this morning!"
"From her piece of shit car."
"Oh, that. Thank goodness, I was worried."
"No trauma but a stupid CV joint."
"Hell, we're lucky that car is still on the road at all."

Me and Dad talked about the amazing capability of the modern computer.
"Who invented the first hard drive?" he asked.
"Big Blue."
"Was it?"
"And it was as big as a pizza pan!"
"Bigger than that."
"And our first computer only had 64 mg of memory!"
"K, kid, it had 64k of memory. If it had 64 mg that would've been amazing."
"It's crazy, you can't even think in k anymore. Terrabytes are easier to grasp than kilobytes."
Then we argued about the worth of the iPod.
"So CDs weren't as good as vinyl and now the mp3 isn't as good as the CD. I'm building a car with sound proof everything and I can put in six top quality speakers and then I'm supposed to get an iPod that gives me lossy music of below CD quality to sit on my dash and look good."
"If you're not seduced by the pretty, which I admit that I am, you can purchase something like a Creative Zen with 40 GB of memory that allows you to upload music in CD quality format. It just doesn't look as good on the dashboard."
Me and Daddy are what the kids are called geeks. We argue about mp3 vs mp4 vs CD quality and the issues of lossy compressed audio format. We talk about the idea of the modern jukebox with 200 GB of available memory and an endless array of tunes for the searching individual. This is why he would never be invited to parties if it weren't for Mum. And why I wouldn't be any fun if I was invited. What amuses me is all shades of not interesting to most other humans.

My fun event o'the day. Great Escape was having a big ole sidewalk sale. VHS was $1. That's so uncool to buy VHS, but this was too cheap to even pass up. If I hate the movie I can set it on fire and dance around on the embers. No loss to me!
I bought so many videos I wouldn't even be able to rent (but reckon one day soon I'll be able to convert to a hard drive containing 200-ish GB of mem)Sense and Sensibility, Swing Kids,Much Ado About Nothing,Last Days of Disco a video that is selling for ridiculous funds on amazon, Dead Poets Society, and one DVD, Vertigo or as I like to call it: Oh my God, George Bailey is so creepy it isn't even funny and it makes me afraid!
Guess the (totally unintentional) theme and get a cookie!

Mmmmm cookies!

Rainy days and Mondays

You know that song that American Idol played every 10 seconds last season? That obnoxious 'had a bad day' piece of tripe? That is totally my day today. Sucktagious.

Woke up from a restless night with a big headache and my back was screaming bloody murder. Tried to take the dog out and it was pouring down rain. Left for work late and like the silly ass I am took the wrong direction on the parkway. Then some dim bulb of a person was blocking the door to the library and despite my repeated near topplings from having to step around her didn't bother to move. And it was still raining-so my first trip out to the book drop with the wrong set of keys got me wet and the second trip with the right keys did not succeed in drying me off. Nearly dropped a bucket of books of the lump on the steps but she didn't even move a little to the side to make my life easy.
Before doing anything else I made myself a nice cuppa. Tea. That's the answer-fucking tea. Which I promptly knocked over and spilt. All composure gone at this point I just swore for a few seconds and stomped around the building as if that would somehow fix my problem. It just made my head hurt more.
The day calmed down for a bit and I was enjoying the adventures of Bertie, his right hand man Jeeves, Gussie, Stinker Pinker, Stiffy and Madelyn Bassett. A delightful paliative is the world of Wodehouse. Takes the mind right off the pounding in the temples.
That is until the screaming children from the local church came in for tutoring and study sessions. I've studied a lot in my time and it never was as loud as those children manage to be. And the manners! Augh, I know they're kids and they really are no worse than any other colletion of underage beasts but they were taking me away from my visit to Totleigh on the Wold and reminding me of my headache.
Ahh-but all was well when the event came to an end and I made my way home to see that my tape of House was running smoothly. I finished dinner, whipped up a batch of comfort brownies and waited until 2 after 8 before touching the VCR-so as to make certain I had not missed important detail.
Do I ever need to say it? The bleeding tape cut out right as House was solving the problem and I didn't get to see the important House/Wilson scene! I am so pissed off right now! Son of a Bitch! GodDAMmit!
My head hurts.

Stalled on the Devil's Strip

First of all, I must apologize for the closing statement in my last post.
Obviously, it was meant to be:
I have more Bits of Fry and Laurie, etc
The oversight shames me.

And on to the day. Work, and work, you know. Got to spend half my day at one branch and the afternoon at another. No one is quite sure what my purpose is, but everyone agrees I probably have one. Hence, no one speaks too loudly about my complete non-necessity status. What would happen if someone figured out my raison d'etre and I'd been made redundant?

Got home and the Little Gentleman needed an outing. As dogs often do. On my way out of the door I tripped, falling forward as one does, and wrenched the knee. Upon recovery we made our way down the block only to be accosted by the wrath of Pomerian from a house two up and over to the other side of the street. The vicious fluffy black thing came running at us with all force traffic and fates be damned. I had no recourse but to pick up Coupland and try to hold off the w. of P. until we could get over to his yard. His mistress was up in arms and swear at him whilst holding up traffic in the course of crossing the street.
Terrier battle averted we made our way further down the street, where we encountered two big headed dogs at the corner. Speckled big head crossed towards us. I was tired of battling the neighborhood for a leg stretch.
We turned toward home. C. decided then would be a good time for a kip and stretched out on the Devil's Strip. My only recourse was to drag him toward the apartment-belly to the sky and gutteral growling noises emitting from the throat. That dog is certainly not right in the old noodle.

As I write I am half paying attention to a doc on VH-1 about drugs and fighting that beast that is writer's block with a story that I would very much like to write but can't manage to actually put into words.

Oh--and I simply must add--out of curiosity I googled "Devil's Strip" as I have found that many people don't know the term. This strikes a person as quite odd, since it is the most obvious thing in the world-it is the patch of grass that separates the road from the walkway. My google-ing has taught me that the term is an Akron-ism (a phrase that just makes my little linguiphile heart miss several beats with joy). Back home we actually have signs that say "Don't park on the Devil's Strip." Proof from nowhere near Akron. It's such a delicious term, one that conjures images of a demon dancing across the road, a pitchfork in hand, laughing and hindering traffic as he traipses along. Isn't that just lovely?

But I wore an onion in my belt, which was the style at the time

Saturday night, I'm kickin' it, listening to some tunes and browsing the interwebs.
Was directed (via Fark) to this article about the 50th anniversary of the hard drive.
That got me to thinking about my first PC-the IBM PC Jr. A lovely machine produced for one year (1984-85). My guess is we got it for Christmas, so I was 8. But it was first shipped in March-so I might've been 7. Dad worked (works) for Big Blue and back then that meant something, employees got deals on the stuff the company made. Not like now. If you're not a geek and don't want to read the specs (it fascinated me...) a brief rundown.
The PC Jr had a retail price of $669
It featured the now Geek legendary 'Chiclet Keyboard' that required 2 AA batteries for use

The hard drive as was an impessive 4.77 mHz

The basic model offered 64 kilobytes of memory.

Programmers in training could use the highly functional and sure to never go out of style BASIC or (for the real tech geek) DOS languages. (Yep, I used to program in DOS-once, I got a line of dots to travel down the computer screen into infinity. I so rocked.)
Games included JumpMan (a game that foreshadowed my future gaming skills-I never beat it)
The 'floppy' drive was the optional and 'ere popular 5.25"
We weren't excellent enough to get the available 300 bit modem so I missed out on the Internet until the mid-90s when Dad let me connect to AOL on his company laptop one Saturday night. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with the Internet. The son of bitch that I hope is rotting in hell or suffering from inoperable extremely embarassing slow moving but inevitably fatal cancer had a connection but since he was a bastard that deserves death as much if not more than the person that pops into your head when you think of the most evil person your brain can conjure he never let me use it. My first search on the World Wide Web was for Red Dwarf. Not surprising in retrospect, but there were several websites-most of them based in the UK.
10 years after we got our first computer I was able to connect to a series of images created a half a world away about a relatively obscure (in the States anyway) science fiction TV show. The Internets clearly ROXORS.

Trying to wrap my mind around the idea of 64k of memory.
---The last story I wrote was 640k-10x the available memory on that first computer.
---The picture of me and Stephen Colbert is 16.9k
---My computer has 9.65gig of music
----That's 10,118, 758.4 kilobytes
----Which is 158,105.6 the amount of memory available on the PC Jr
----Just my copy of You Can't Always Get What You Want requires 5.08 mb. The first disc of 40 Licks would've over 2/3 of the memory (50k at 96 Kbps).

My first computer that I bought myself was an Aptiva. A huge piece of junk it died a painful (to me anyway) death less than 2 years later.
Next I bought an HP that set me back close to 2 Grand. It had a DVD player (totally posh in those days) an internal modem and something crazy like 2 gig of memory. I'd eventually upgrade it (out of necessity due to a hard drive crash that ate my undergraduate career) to 30 gig. In the 5-6 years I nursed that thing along I installed 2 hard drives, upgraded the memory to a finite level, a sound card, 2 modems (finally settling on an external model, and a CD-RW upgrade. Went through 3 monitors and approx 7 keyboards.

Today I've got one of those laptops all the kids were raving about 5 years ago.
It's not the top of the line but I'm everything but complaining.
60 gig of memory.
CD-RW/DVD drive (one-not 2 like the HP)
1.6 GHz processor
15.4 in screen
Wi-Fi Card

I have more downloaded Fry and Laurie video than the available memory on all of my previous computers combined.

That's sexy (my blog-Valley Girl version)

So, I was, like, totally at the mall today and I was like, oh my God, there's a sale at Macy's! And I was like, I should totally go shop there and like buy clothes.
Y'know? I totally did, I bought, like 5 awesome tops and like a pair of capris. Then, I was like oh my God, I need new jeans. So I went to Target and bought jeans. And then I came home and tried on all my new clothes and I'm like, 'That's hot!'
Now, I like, only need some really fancy shoes and I'd be totally cool.

Sorry. It just, kinda happens, when I go to the mall. My IQ drops to single digits and so, too does my bank account. (Not quite, I am more or less employed at the moment after all.)

It took over 5 hours. Baby Jesus cried, my little bit of my soul died but I got new clothes dammit!

My weak moment came when I bought a t-shirt that cost more than everything else I'd bought. But I needed it. It's way cool. Totally awesome.

Now I can weed out all the old worn out stuff and start buying new stuff.

Stuff rocks.

I went down to the demonstration, to get my fair share of abuse

House is back. I'm happy the way I used to be in the X-Files days. Those were good times. Not life, my life back then mostly sucked. I have very clear memories where I was trying to drown out what was happening to me in reality by concentrating on what I was experiencing via the X-Files. But that was such an engrossing show. Even a bad week was better than a good week on a lesser program. Every Sunday I could turn off everything that made life so hard to deal with--give myself over to the story and just be entertained.
The Internet has done a lot to ruin that. Everything is picked to teeny tiny little shreds and a decent start becomes shit in the eyes of the message boards.
I'd like to give myself the joy of a pre-Internet television viewing experience.
You can't go home.
Or-you can always go home, you just can't stay.
Either way, the simplicity of television viewing has been destroyed by the ready availability of immediate discussion.

With that in mind I'm going to not say anything about the episode.

Tomorrow, after I watch it again and maybe I try to Detox from the commentary (I'll fail, I'm an addict) then I might say something.

Tell Cuddy I want Ketamine

Mum says I should keep trying to not become a curmudgeon.
I thought that was an interesting choice of words.
Who says 'curmudgeon'?
"I'm not a curmudgeon, Mum. I think one needs to be a bit older to get that title...Totally off topic, but I dyed my hair yesterday."
"Color?"
"Well, it was supposed to be brown."
"So, jet black."
"How did you know?"
"Oh, Kenz, I told you..."
"Yes, Mum, but I picked a color called 'medium brown.' How was I to know that would turn out to be jet black when applied to my hair."
"It will fade."
"Until then I'm just going to pretend I wanted my hair to be this color."
"Brunettes do have more fun."
"I've never thought so, and I've seen no proof, but it's easier to keep up."

The rest of the day? It was terribly exciting. Saw an old buddy today. There was this guy lived across the street from me the first year I lived here. He's about my parents' age-a Viet Nam vet (I know because I interviewed him for the Veterans' History Project). He moved away over a year ago-he and his old lady got a bigger place on the main road. Once, I had the flu, could barely walk, much less cook, he made homemade chicken soup and brought it over to me. That's the kind of neighbor he was. I hadn't seen him in ages.
I was walking the dog this morning. A white truck drove by and blew the horn. I waved-it's easier than trying to portray dismay. The truck took the turn-around.
"Wait a minute there, girl!" the driver shouted.
So I did. Because I'm trusting that way.
The truck pulled into the driveway and before he even got out I knew that it was my neighbor.
He got out of the truck (He didn't own a car when he lived here, so I knew he'd moved up) "I haven't even been down this street in so long, but I knew that was you! You're as beautiful as ever."
And I let him say that-cuz he's not an idiot-he knows I'll punch him if he tries anything.
We hugged, "I can't believe you recognized me." (After all, the dog has changed...)
A woman that wasn't his old lady was in the truck, she was singing to a song other than the one on the radio. She seemed a little more than a little crazy. "That's my brother's woman," he said.
Our chat was only a couple of minutes. He's doing good, buying a house. I'm out of grad school-that's something.
"This is Coupland, he's my little dog. He's mean as hell... Baxter passed on..."
"I'm sorry...Wow, he is vicious, isn't he?" I held Little Dude up for inspection. "I'm afraid."
It was just interesting. When I moved here I didn't know anyone and he was one of the few people that I've met that didn't seem like bastards. I know he's attracted to me, he's said so ("I like you more than I man should like a woman...") but he never thought it would be a good idea to act on the idea.
He took off and I doubt we'll see each other again.

The rest of the day was Vertigo and House. The disturbing fact that those two things blur rather neatly together. Struggling with the Holmesian impulse to overanalyze and now I'm watching Whose Line?

Back in another life I wrote a paper about this show and its fan culture. Fascinating.

No. Not at all.

I see a red door and I want to paint it black

I'm filling my evening-watching House, like ya do-and in the kitchen I hear a dog doing rotten things. Sounds like he's stealing food-tho how a 10 lb. 6 in. high dog can steal food I'm not sure. I must've been in a time warp-
"Stop what you're doing, black dog."
Black dog.
Baxter.
Son of a bitch.
I hate slips like that.

"You bastard! You did not just throw that dog!'
For the win for best line shouted at a movie screen this decade. Sorry, if I left out any swearing or otherwise paraphrased. Obviously, that's why the people in front of us took their small children home before Sam Jackson got those mothafuckin' snakes off that mothafuckin' plane. Talking during a movie is SO tacky. I can't believe I even go to movies with you.*

*totally a joke, dude

"Hi, honey, just returning your call...So glad you have plans...have fun...talk to you soon."
That's how fun my life appears, Mum gets excited if I do something. Anything. If it isn't staying at home and having a Strangers With Candy-a-thon she's thrilled.



My hair is very dark. I was going for Lisa Edelstein but wound up with Elvira. If I wash my hair enough I should have a semi-reasonable shade on my head by Thursday. Which is only 2 days of people looking at me with that 'is she trying to look like Robert Smith?' look on their face. Thing is, I kinda like it, but it's just that much too dark. Not horrible, but it isn't the color on the box either.