Within a house, within a room

I have volunteer arugula! At least, I hope it's arugula. I'm eating a bunch of it. If I get symptoms of poisoning I suppose I guessed wrong at what that green, leafy thing growing in my yard was. Yes, I eat random food I find on the lawn. Gotta find excitement somewhere.

The library may or may not have a hiring freeze starting up. This means:
1) There might very soon be hired a children's librarian thus sending me back to the dole
2) There might not be a children's librarian hired for close to a year. Leaving me employed but only slightly less psychologically stimulated as if I was watching a Gidget Marathon on TV whilst on Ludes.

I'm not even supposed to answer the phone or wait on customers anymore. I'm not supposed to work the desk. Because that's the 'new, improved' new manager rules. I have an MA. I've graduated with honors twice. I've test in the 98th percentile on IQ tests. That really should mean something. (Other than that I have zero social skills and even less ability to adapt to the work environment in a manner that would result in permanent employment.) I'm doing a job that a high school drop out with an IQ of a gnat would find demeaning. I'm making a living doing the exact same tasks as I was when I was a manically-depressed 15 year old. Only with less responsibility. I don't know whether to laugh or slit my wrists.

The latter sounds more likely. On top of this I am rolling headlong towards the suicidal depression of the week before my period. That's what I need right now. A reason. G-d, if I could come up with some way to alleviate the PMDD...If wishes were horses, yes? Even knowing that's all it is doesn't give me even the slightest hint of hope that I can deal with this crushing psychological torment. Oh goody.

As much as I don't want to keep doing what I'm doing I don't want it to stop. I need the work. My brain doesn't work right when I'm bored. I am so bored. Unfathomably bored. There is no mental stimulation at this job. I spent near to eight hours taking DVDs out of envelopes and putting them in DVD cases today. Eight hours. Emptying envelopes. But what else can I do? I have to eat. I need to pay my rent. I have no choice but to hope for the second option to be the one that comes to fruition. I can't face unemployment or sporadic employment. I have no choice. It is dull and uninspiring work. The pay is terrible. But it's better than anything else I've ever had.

Perhaps if I had even the slightest modicum of ambition. But, alas, I have not. That personality trait (along with so many other positive aspects) was handed out when I was otherwise engaged.

House would do Wilson before you'd do Chase

THIS QUOTE RIGHT HERE MAKES THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE!!!!!
WILSON AND HOUSE ARE KNOWLEDGEABLE IN THE WAYS OF THE VILLAGE PEOPLE!!!!
ZOMG!!!1!
CAPSLOCKING TOTALLY NECESSARY!!!1


GAH! I can't get on TWoP! The first episode of House in a month and I can't get onto the board to talk about it! Sons of bitches!
I totally felt House's pain with that whole not being able to pee thing. That is not something I'd recommend for a jolly holiday. I'd list it as one of the least jolly holidays I've ever had. Right up there with the time my parents dragged me across the country on a camping trip. When I was 13 and in the midst of a depressive episode. In a eensy weensy Chinook camper. During which time we had only each other for company. And the sister was hung up on Wilson/Philips (she would kill me for mentioning that-HAHA!). Where they saved time and covered the most ground by making me pee in a plastic potty.
Wow. Awful lot of piss talk for such a small space. I should stop that. It's a bit weird. And sorta icky. But y'know me-totally cool with sharing my bodily functions with friends and strangers alike.

ANYHOO-I have returned from my vacation. Yea me. No longer on holiday. (Why do I keep using that term? I am not British. Or am I? *eyebrow* No, I'm not.) I'm home. In my cramped little apartment. I'm very glad to be here because the drive was hellalong. I somehow managed to not load the audiobook onto the iPod so I was without speaking audio to amuse me and the music was making me go into a coma. Stupid decision to craft a playlist out of all my favorite Massive Attack and Sandy Denny songs!
I drove for hundreds of miles listening to news on NPR over and over and fucking over again. I know so much about the 15 British soldiers being held by the Iranian gov't it's depressing. It was pretty depressing when I knew very little.

Had a nice trip. It was pretty chill mostly. I didn't go to Cleveland for the B47 show. Because gas is too damn expensive and the truck gets such crap mileage. OK-not really such crap-but I don't appreciate that my automobile gets less than 30 MPG. Sure, it's 25-but those 5 miles per gallon add up when you're driving close to 1200 miles in a week. Doesn't matter at all when I'm at home. But I think I want one of those nifty little Smart Cars. They get insane good mileage. How trendy would I be? Tres. You know me, very fashion conscious.

Visiting with the parents was verily a non-event. We didn't do much. Or anything. Well, that's a bit of a lie. We went out for Friday night Fish Fry. Because, despite my total lack of Catholicism (or Christian belief system at all, really) I observe meat free Fridays during Lent. And in traditional manner, I don't consider fish meat. The vegans tend to disagree with me on that. I found that out the hard way when I grilled up some delicious Tilapia last night...D'oh.
Not complaining, though. I enjoyed myself. They had to buy a new DVD player. That pissed them off a bunch. The $27 investment just made them SO MAD! Especially since the old player was only 7 years old! SRSLY. They're funny.

Saw the play the sister's in. It's a little overamped. No. It's a lot overamped. But I enjoyed parts of it. Mik was excellent. She played a mute. A very sad character. It was kind of depressing. But she seemed to do with it what she could. I enjoyed it. But a lot of it failed to strike me the way I hoped it would. Her love of shelter and food probably came into interpretation of the character. Just a theory. I am reminded of Dame Judy Dench telling her daughter of the importance of William Shakespeare the 'gentleman that pays the bills.'
Glowing recommendation, isn't it? It's worth the trip if you're in the area. But don't go to QDoba for a quick taco. That's the center of sandy vag for the universe there. Me and Jason stood in that damn line waiting for a snack for 20 minutes while some stupid betch argued that she should get her $7 back for the meal her friend ordered wrong. When the stupid cow finally left everyone in line wished her a painful death under the wheels of a bus. (I'm not kidding. Several people told her to go die. A couple stated an interest in watching and not helping. She was that cuntish. And these were nice people. In state college sweatshirts. That just wanted a tasty snack. Who were stuck watching her fat ass bitch about $7 motherjumpin bucks for a really long time.)

The cats are cool. Jeff is very nice. He's a good boy. Steve...oh, what to say about Steve? He flicked water on my face this morning. I was sleeping. Trying to, I should say. But he thought I should be up. He perched himself by me and went "MEOW!!!! MEW!!!REOWWW! RORRRA!" Following that, he put his paw in my water glass and flicked water at my face. The first time I thought I'd imagined it. But then I realized that he was actively trying to annoy me. Bad pussy.
Last night he got out of the house into the fenced in area. In typical bad fashion he avoided capture by me and J and tried for his escape by jumping the gate. That was unnerving.

We all had a nice visit. It was fun. On Sunday we went to the bar and played pool and the jukebox. I won both games despite getting only 2 balls in all night. I always win when I play the jukebox. My musical taste is just that good. I was introduced to Lost. I need to catch up on that show. It's kewl. A little too particular with the weird, but I enjoy a mystery.

Tired now. Going to DVR Colbert and be off to bed soon.
Hopefully to dream happy House doing Wilson and Cameron being very lonely and Chase meeting a nice non-psychotic sex crazed exhibitionist girl and Foreman hooking up with Cuddy because they're both free that weekend dreams.

Ate a whole lot of late night drive in food-Drank a lot of take home pay

In front of me is a pint of Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream Ice Cream. Due to my extreme lactose intolerance I've had to eat about 6 lactaid pills so that I could digest the quarter cup I've eaten. But it's worth it-because it's Stephen. Anything for Stephen. Mmmmm....milky goodness....deeelicious...uhnnnhnnn

But seriously folks, it's very tasty and if you're a fan of ice cream buy it. And if you're not-buy it anyway. Not just because there's caramel and cruncy chocolate-y waffle cone bits. But Because each serving has 6% the RDA of Iron. And no Bovine Growth Hormone. And a picture of Stephen on the tub. And proceeds go to a charity of some sort. What more could anyone want from dessert.

My tummy feels funny.

Otherwise my day has been semi-productive. Got the laundry finished. Woo. Went to the park (going to the park is kind of assumed on my day off when it's not raining, I would think) Cleaned the truck inside and out. It's a very attractive automobile. For a piece of shit car. If automobile was defined honestly in the dictionary if would say "constant source of annoyance and drain on the wallet." At least mine looks decent. And runs well most of the time. Gets crap gas mileage though. And the stereo blows. But other than that-can't complain. Right now. Ask me again on Thursday evening.

Bought the Complete Jeeves and Wooster DVD set today. It was on sale-50% off. I've seen it used at $70 and that's the best price I've seen. I got it for less than $40 and that's with shipping. So, yeah. That's nice. When I get depressed I've found that dramatizations of Wodeouse's best known characters oft times brings the cheer. I think it's how cute Fry and Laurie look in period costume. I'm a sucker for a man in antiquated dress. I spend money like I have it. I don't. I don't not. But I also don't. But by cracky-I can spend the motherfuckin' stuff I tells ya what. I do so love TV shows on DVD.

Last night being as it was St. Paddy's Day I went to the local and partook of the Jameson's Whiskey and the Pints of Guinness. There was a special. $3 each. At first I was just sitting in an empty bar watching endless overtime on the Vandy/Wash St game. People started trickling in a little after 7. A woman had a stack of CDs.
"I brought Irish music," she said.
"What kind of Irish music, eh?" I asked.
"All kinds of stuff--Cheiftans, some guy from Pittsburgh, Sinead O'Connor, Black 47.."
"Did you say--Black 47?"
"You've heard of them?"
"I am vaguely aware of their existence, yes."
So, my night was made. I had a best friend for the moment. I have no idea what her name was. The bartending dude didn't think my choices of songs were Irish enough. He wanted more "fiddle-dee fiddle-dee didle-dee dee" music. Oh well. The pints tasted good and the bar is good. And conveniently located.
After a lot of alcohol (more than I'd planned-less than I could have had) I needed a burger. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW G-DDAMMIT!!!!1!
I ate Krystal Burger for dinner. Really, really fast. Then I passed out watching an Elvis special on PBS. Then I woke up and wanted my last burger but some dirty rat had eaten it. My apartment has rats! It's the only possible explanation. Coupland looked very guilty because he didn't catch the fiend. That unmistakable aroma of bad hamburger on his breath was a coincidence. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Now I'm trying to organize my iPod video collection. That isn't nearly as easy as I would like it to be. Why do I have so many videos? Why do I keep acquiring more? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Nothing. I'm just a normal American type female with no social contacts whatsoever.

Oliver Cromwell can kiss my swinging Emerald Scrotum

The Departed happened to be available from my favorite place to get movies-the Video Bin- today. That was fortuitous. There's something like 350 reserves on that movie at the library. If it hadn't happened to be available at the Bin-well, I might never have been able to see it. Lucky, lucky me. It's usually pretty hard to get ahold of the Best Picture from a small place so soon after the Oscars.
If you're the squeamish sort, don't bother. To me, it was Scorsese from first scene to last. Well, obviously. What I mean to say is that it's not a huge departure from what you expect from a Martin Scorsese. The good guys are bad. The bad guys are good. The soundtrack is fantastic and ironic. Violence is constant and numbing. But, all things being equal, it's a serious mind fuck of a movie. The actors are amazing. Leo and Matt (cuz we're friends) are intense from the first scene to the last. And it's seasonally appropriate, since everyone's Irish and most of them are cops or in the mob. A lot like life.
That's a recommendation. I write shit reviews. It's why I'm not working as the paper as the movie critic. That and a lot of other reasons.
I want to see that new Adam Sandler movie. It looks good.
There was some hilarious wank in the House fandom. It's been awhile since we got anything really good. Mostly the comms are so policed that everyone is forced into politeness. That's nice because the stupid is kept to a minimum. But dammit-I like stupid sometimes. It makes me feel superior.
With that in mind I give you house_md_news on LJ from 14 March 07:
Check out the links under 'Capslockery' for the LOLZ
ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS GROW A PAIR OR GET OFF THE INTERWEBZ!!!1 DAMMIT!!!

Meanwhile, Stephen Colbert is talking about St. Patrick's Day. He made Jimmy dress like a Leprachan and now he's saying that science is telling us that the Irish and English are the same people. He's been drinking all day, trying to cope with that. I'm with him. 90% of Irish identity is based on hating the English. I love Stephen Colbert. He just mocked people that make St. Patrick's day into a Minstrel Show and mocked the Irish that take it too seriously. Thank you, Stephen Colbert.

That being as may be-on Saturday I have to work with Mr. Nice. The man with one adjective. I hate him. I hate-y hate hate him. Based entirely on the content of his charactr. His character is that of an asshole. A lazy asshole. And not good lazy like me. The bad lazy that doesn't actually do anything. I just know he's going to show up on Saturday-my favorite g-ddamn holiday-dressed in green and spouting off about the luck o' the Irish and pots o' gold. Oh-and I get to work with the Bitch too. She's going to be opening the building and covering lunches. Thanks for doing everything within your power to ruin my favorite day of the year dickheads. Their personalities just long to piss me off all day Saturday (they've never failed to do so before-why stop now?) Why is everything so unfair?!?!? WAAAAAA!!!!

I KNOW!!! I'll show up to work hung over and reeking of the pint, a fag in my mouth, a bottle of Jamesons in my hand, my iPod programmed to play nothing but Black 47, Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly and Danny Boy every third song and an itch to fight. If we're going to embrace stereotypes I'm going to go for the fun ones. Fuck yeah. I went to a wedding last week. I beat up my mom. She beat me up. It was great. I love my mom.

Oh, it breaks my heart to see you this way

Well, fuck.
Here I was all set to go out and have an evening at the club catching a show. I'd spent all day psyching myself into going out. Finally, I got all excited and was totally looking forward to the show. I got into the car, drove across town and almost got into a car accident since I didn't realize I was on a two lane road. The only problem was that it didn't have two lanes, not really, so I'm not sure why that other car was trying to drive by me. But I'm pretty sure if we had collided it would've been my fault. Which is neither here nor there. Nothing happened. I got parked and walked over to City Hall-all excited and feeling more punk rock than usual and...the show was sold out.
Well, fuck.
Nothing to do about that. I turned around and went back to my car. A bunch of punk guys were standing around in the parking lot. One was playing with a skateboard. Mostly they just looked annoyed. I walked towards them, prompting skateboard guy to put up his board and a couple of them to straighten up. Aren't punk boys, cute? They're so polite under their 'I'll kick your ass if you look at me funny' exterior. Or maybe it was my "East Nashville Bail Bonds" shirt, to an outsider that might give the impression I was a bail bondsperson and thus a big time hard ass. Once the largest and burliest of the bunch had determined I was not in the bonding business (I didn't tell them I was a librarian either-I want to keep some street cred here) they returned to slouching and asked me where they could find some sweet bud in this town. Uh...sorry, dudes. Dunno.
I bummed a fag off of one of them and we commiserated. They'd driven from Alabama and didn't have a show to go to. I didn't even miss Bones or American Idol before the disappointment. They decided to go down to Broadway and listen to some hillbilly band butcher Johnny Cash. I decided to come home and watch South Park.
I'm bummed man. That ain't right. I never get myself out of the damn house. Especially not on a school night. And then to be disappointed. Life. Is. So. Unfair.
At least I've got Black 47 on Saturday week. That'll rock my socks. And remind me that I'm not lame all the time. The downside of that is that Mik's Sunday show is at 2 in the afternoon. I'll have to be up and out by 10:30. Harsh toke, dude.
We've got a manager at work. She's Canadian. I assume she's white. I don't see color. And I only see American. So I don't actually know. She's 40 and single and thus everything I kind of presumed the Boss Lady hated. I think I'm going to get along with her. Dunno. She's only been there one day and now she's on vacation and then I'm going on vacation a week from today. It'll be almost two weeks before we work a full week together. But if she keeps us busy doing weeng and shelf reading and in general getting that library looking decent I'll be happy. And I'll make myself indespensible. Then they'll have to hire me. Or, they'll let me do all the grunt work for the nothing they pay me and then, when it's done, hire someone else.
That's all I've got.
Very exciting shit here.

For what it's worth

How to make a simple task unbelievably time consuming: A guide

First, decide you need to make a simple purchase. Trainers, for example. If you live near a large outlet mall this shouldn't take more than 45 minutes. Pop into the store, grab the first pair of shoes that fit reasonably well and pop out in time for tea.
Upon arrival at the large outlet mall begin to doubt your first brand choice. Try on several dozen shoes, worry you might be spending too much. Decide you should shop around at every shoe store in the large outlet mall. Try on seven thousand pairs of shoes. Decide the first choice was the right one. Begin walk back to shoe store. Experience very annoying and painful pain. Stop and get a 15 minute massage. Return to your first stop, prepared to buy lovely pair of tennis shoes that look an awful bloody lot like the pair you're wearing. Realize that would be your third or fourth consecutive pair of blue and white tennis shoes. Become despondent. Spot thoroughly gaudy purple and silver shoes just clearanced-woo! $50 from $120! Buy two, you mad thing! At that price you simply must! On a whim, check your shoe size. Begin to doubt everything you believe when you measure your foot and discover you've been wearing the wrong size shoe your whole adult life. Long for alcohol. Walk around the store for 15 minutes wearing 2 different size shoes. Notice no discernable difference between the two sizes. Opt for the size you've been wearing all along. Wait in a twenty minute line. Begin to wonder if you really need new shoes that much. Seriously condsider not buying shoes. Grow to hate your shoe choice. Just about turn around to put the damn things back onto the shelf and just buy a pair of flip flops from Walgreens. Buy the damn shoes. Feel all cranky because the whole day was spent buying shoes and now it's too late to go to the park and try out new shoes.
Still have to go to the damn grocery store. Shop. Buy lots of random groceries. Realize all you've eaten today is a pack of string cheese and half a cup of oatmeal. Somehow manage to be even more cranky than previous reaches. Want to cry. Get in line-wait in another 20 minute queue. Roll eyes at Britney Spears' new status as one of the many bi-polar celebrities. Better bi-polar than crazy bitch, you suppose. go through line. Leave potatoes and pretzels in the cart. Have a nervous breakdown when you can't find the pretzels on the drive home. Unpack groceries. Put on new shoes. Turn around, go back looking for pretzels. Begin to think of pretzels with the same passion Indiana Jones thought of the Holy Grail. Get to the store. See the carts have been taken in and thus your precious pretzels are gone. Want to cry.
Go to Wal-Mart for Propane and Pretzels and Potatoes. Find the propane wall empty. Return to the truck. Fight with the dog who refuses to leave the driver's seat. Make frantic hand motion that probably looks like you're trying to keep your brain inside your head. Swear. A lot.
Stop at local ghetto mart. Buy single beer. Cook hot dog on George Foreman grill. Notice how comfortable your new shoes are. Eat candy.

I know you can hear me

2 posts in one day! My my aren't I just the chatty one?
Not really, I just have this one awfully funny story to relate and a brief and not very useful movie review to type up.

SO-I was at the Kroger today (the one in Inglewood because I was feeling posh so I'd gone to the liquor store that doesn't have a tempting to the point of simply must not pass it up dusty but somewhat terrifying bargain bin o'random liquors for $3/walk) and the place was packed. Everyone and his cousin Larry was out buying groceries this Saturday night. Ain't no party like an Eastside party. I tell you what.
I wanted hot dogs for dinner and they had to be Kosher franks, none of that turkey, pork, beef, earthworm blend stuff for me-oh NO! I wanted the good stuff. And I needed some crunchy snack food. Corn chips, pretzels, didn't care as long as it wasn't fuckin' brocolli. That isn't a snack, I don't care how many times I try to tell myself it is. The dog was in the car being very annoyed that he was not allowed in any of the stores. When I went to check out I saw that the U-Scans were all closed (probably has something to do with how they don't want to take money) that meant that everyone in the store (and that was about everyone in the area code, I swear, place was packed!) had to wait in one of the four open lines. I didn't want a hotdog that bad. I was in the process of leaving my unpurchased items on a display lawn chair when this old dude (hair white like a fluffy bunny, shoulders rounded like the top of Stone Mountain, pants pulled up to within 6 inches of his chin) threw (THREW! LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK OVERHEAD ALL HISTRIONIC AND DIVA LIKE!) his groceries into the air, whipped the plastic 'lane closed' sign aloft and stomped out of the store. All of East Nashville laughed at this dude. He rocked like a rocking thing. I turned to the rockabilly standing next to me and said, "Damn, I'm not waiting in that line either. But my exit won't be nearly as flamboyant as that chap."
"Er, no," said rockabilly.
So that was fun.

Then, no hot dogs and only the recently re-christened Piggly Wiggly (the sign says 'Piggly Wiggly is Back!' oh good. I missed it so) to supply my dinner (no kosher dogs-dammit) later I came home and watched The Night Listener with Robin Williams. I'd read the book, so the movie didn't offer any suspense. Since it was billed as suspense I think it would be better for someone that had no idea what it was about. Robin Williams was pretty decent. The guy who played the dude that was hoping to run for President in 'Role Model' on House was a book publisher or editor or something. I'm not sure. Whenever he was onscreen all I kept thinking was "One day we'll have a black President. One day we'll have a gay President. Maybe we'll even have a gay black president." That kind of took me out of the movie. Not going to say that one's a recommendation. I wouldn't say avoid it-but I can't say run to your local video store (or holds bin, as the case may be) and get it.

I put an East Nashville bumper sticker on my truck today (37206 We'll Steal Your Heart-And Your Lawnmower). I think I want to stay here. Damn.

Partly truth and partly fiction

A meme thing. Because if I spent all Saturday watching vids on YouTube-that would just be sad. Wouldn't it?

1. Can you cook?
Indeed
2. What was your dream growing up?
Don't know that I had one. To be a famous rock star writer actor I think.
3.What talent do you wish you had?
Play the piano
4. Favorite place?
Other than my couch, I presume. Clonakilty, Ireland
5. Favorite vegetable?
er-rather like them all, actually. Oh-NO! Corn on the cob, fresh picked, bought from a roadside stand on the hottest August day in Ohio
6. What was the last book you read?
Maurice by E.M. Forster
7. What zodiac sign are you?
Sagitarius
8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
at one time I had two holes in my ears and one in my belly button (G-d, I was stupid). None now, I don't think
9. Worst Habit?
the occasional cigarette? the constant drink? my relentless pursuit of the Maltese Falcon?
10. N/A
11. What is your favorite sport?
curling
12. Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
everyone that knows me knows I'm a motherfuckin' cockeyed optimist.
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?
have a panic attack because I'm claustrophobic and hate elevators
14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
I accepted an invitation to coffee when I was 17
15. Tell me one weird fact about you.
is there a fact about me that isn't odd? I own nearly 2 dozen pairs of shoes. I hate wearing shoes.
16. Do you have any pets?
I have a hairy, four-legged, snout faced child. No pets.
17. Do you know how to do the Macarena?
yep, it's like the 'Personal Jesus' only kickier
18. What time is it where you are now?
9:27pm
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
scary
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?

my hair
21. Would you be a partner in crime or conscience?
I think I'd be the one breakin' the law. But conscience isn't my kind of thing.
22. What color eyes do you have?
brown. but if I was a character in a fanfic-they'd be coffee
23. Ever been arrested?
Yes. Courtesy of the decision from question 14
24. Bottle or Draft?
don't care. long as it's cold
25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
pay off the credit cards, buy some new clothes, buy a Vespa (break my father's heart) book my trip to Ireland for the fall or maybe rather than the new clothes-put a down payment on a house
26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
not really a bubble gum person
27. What's your favorite bar to hang at?
3 Crow

28. Do you believe in ghosts?
No convincing reason not to
29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
fuck all
30. Do you swear a lot?
oh no. my mouth is as clean as Ivory soap
31. Biggest pet peeve?
stupid people
32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
odd

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Stuff that happens when the weather's nice:
Sleep late. Take dog to park for a walk on the short path.
Return home. Eat breakfast. Feel guilty about not doing anything with my day.
Do load of laundry. Hang laundry out to dry. Repeat three times until dark.
Go to Dollar General. Buy a new shower curtain. Clean the bathroom.
Clean the kitchen (sorta in a half-assed kinda way).
Dust.
Vacuum. A very pleasant and satisfying experience.
Fail to figure out how to work the Recorder part of the DVD-Recorder I'm holding hostage.
Run out of things to do. Go to the Dog Park.
Spend over an hour watching my dog try to have the age inappropriate mansex with a puppy named Murray. Explain that my dog has teh gheys.
Somehow end up discussing tiny hobos. The kids today, they love a hobo. I tell ya what.
Wash the car. Well, drive through the car wash technically. Scare the dog half into a coma in the process.
Come home, make dinner.
Eat dinner.
Cut my hair in a haphazard, kind of, random snippy snippy way. It's alright-I have curls. It'll be hardish to tell.
Decide I need new shoes. Expensive fancy shoes. Because, I like shoes. And I have bad knee and hip. So I totally need really expensive shoes. That's the ticket.
Refrain from buying shoes.
Continue to want to spend money.
Browse eBay for Vespa scooters.
Hide credit card.
Watch General Hospital.

Frat housin', keg tappin', shirt tuckin' , backslappin' haters of hippies like me

The terribly awesome idea that if I work at a shitty, no future job I should make the most of it. Which I did today, in a way I will not describe so as not to incriminate myself. Just to double plus cover my ass, it isn't illegal what I did. Or even a new thing. It just not very nice or considerate of others. So, it's exactly the sort of thing I'd do.

ANYWAY-allow me to be the last person in the country to recommend Borat. I laughed so hard that I felt deep, personal shame. The people of my country can't really be like that! Noooooo!!!!! But, OMG! It was so hilarious.
That is the sort of movie I don't recommend watching with your parents. Not that I think my parents wouldn't get the jokes, but I don't want them to. How's that for denial.

My dinner was unsatisfactory.

Idol voted off Antonella! How happy am I that I won't have to look at that skanky ho and listen to her bitchy "I'm not like anyone else on this show" blather. Yeah, you're not like anyone else. You can't sing and you're skeezy. HA! And Sundance is gone too! He bored me. Thought he was a lock for the win. You could tell by the smirks he was always casting. The only thing he should've done was sing the actual lyrics to "Jeremy" instead of editing it for TV. Burn those bridges, baby! Burn 'em!

Errrr....otherwise...ehhhhh....I got nothin'. The weather's nice. It's been in the 70s for 2 days and is looking to stay there. I've been taking my lunch in the park. That's nice.

Actual topic of conversation at work today (abridged)
Person 1: And he actually wanted to go to that Bonaroo last year! I told him hell no! Those people all laying with each other and doing drugs and pretendin' they're hippies! That time is over. There aren't hippies. Just fools.
Person 2: Those people are crazy. That's right. They just damn fools. Hippies were fools the first time around. Why relive that?
Lazyasshippie: *bites tongue*

The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload

I am so easy. Really, really easy. There are whores that are harder to please than I am.
The lowpoint of my day was not finding any of Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream. I can't even eat ice cream but I need some of that. Yesterday.
Highpoint:
House was new tonight. Dave Matthews (shhhh...I like DMB....don't tell people it'd ruin my street cred) played a piano playing savant. Kurtwood Smith (Red on That 70s Show and Neil's bastard Dad in Dead Poet's Society-I love him) was his very caring and gentle father. House might have brain cancer but I won't go into that. The Ham kiss didn't make me want to stab myself in the eyes until I went blind. The last thing really surprised me. I expected unbelievable suffering. I was ready to scream with the torment of the damned. Luckily, TEH HAWT that is Hugh Laurie cancelled the bloodless boredom that is Jennifer Morrison. I don't actually dislike her, she's young and not untalented but she's one dimensional. It is important to remember that HL was best known as an upper class British twit with limited range drawing light from Stephen Fry's bright star until House came along. I'm not saying she's that good--but it's something to consider. The episode left a lot of die hard House/Wilson shippers (and few will die harder than I) cold but I loved it. The way I see this episode is that House is very sad. He's pushing everyone away and trying to find ways to make his life have something resembling what he presumes to be meaning without the normal human connection. He doesn't trust himself and he doesn't trust the people that claim to be concerned about him. Everyone has an ulterior motive. It's not about caring about a fellow human being, it's about 'what does this mean to me?' Even Wilson's suspect in that manner. House isn't happy. He's manipulative and he's an ass. He's beginning to wonder if he wants to be that way. That's why he was trying what he was. It was misguided and selfish (particularly from the Wilson standpoint---oh my darling Wilson! You suffer so!) but that's House. House has a talent, he's able to make people that otherwise wouldn't have the chance live. But he isn't living. Not the life he would like to. Or at least, there doesn't seem to be the option of living like he would like. The end was unsatisfying because I don't buy that it would be accepted. If I was in that restaurant I'd tell him to go home and get his selfish lying face out of mine. But that's just me.

In my life. My life is less interesting than an episode of House. For example, Dave Matthews totally did not guest star in my day. No one played lovely melodies on the piano while I mused. Gomez did not provide a soundtrack. What did happen was that I spent most of the day at work reading TWoP. Very little happened at work other than the excitement of having temporary custody of a DVD recorder. That's fun.
I had errand to run on the way home. Buying DVD-Rs for example. But I also needed beer. And TVGuide. And something for dinner if I could find it. It's important for this story to know that I was very single minded in my search for cold Smithwick's, a rotisserie chicken and the TV Guide that has HL, RSL and Omar Epps on the cover. And not the other one.
The sign at Kroger says "Rotisserie Chicken Guaranteed Ready 4-7pm" I was there at 6:15. There were no damn chickens. I wanted a damn chicken for dinner dammit! Sons of bitches! Is that so hard? I stalked up and down the store making demands of deli employees and random smocked individuals as to where the hell my "guaranteed in stock" chickens were. I was pissed because everyone told me that the guarantee didn't actually mean there would be chickens during that time. What!the!fuck?
Then it got worse because I could only find room temp Smithwicks. That will never do. SO I had to stomp around the store looking for cold beer, because surely they have cold 6's of the advertised beer special of the fucking week, right? Wrong. Which left me with warm beer. And I kept finding the wrong TVGuide and had to duck from aisle to aisle until I found the right one. Meanwhile, Cadbury Creme Eggs were taunting me with their cremey goodness. It was getting late. I had no food. Warm beer and TVGuide is expensive. It wasn't a pretty image. Made all the less pretty by the fact that I was dressed in a pair of very lame trousers and a sweater with dainty flowers on it. That's right-I wasn't having any luck with my shopping and I was dressed like a librarian. I just wanted to get home.
FINALLY-I decided to just fail at my trip and maybe eat kibble for dinner. I didn't care. Whatever. Screw you, Kroger. I was checking out at the U-Scan, having an argument with the computer voice lady because I wanted to cancel an item but it wouldn't let me and there was a line and people were looking at me funny. Especially this guy in glasses that I'd passed twiceand only noticed because he looked at me funny and I had no idea why because-- NO COLD BEER OR CHICKEN!
Having convinced the U-Scan to take my money I was about to skulk out of the store. I think I might've actually been talking to the U-Scan during the transaction. Like ya do. When glassed dude comes barreling at me with his cart, pushing into the teensy U-Scan space and almost clipping my achille's heel. I thought about hitting him, and pointing out that was an asshole thing to do but I like being allowed to shop at the grocery store. Even if they don't have what I want.
"You better hurry home. It's Hughsday."
"What?" I blushed and stepped away in alarm. Again, like ya do. Because either this person is insane or I've managed to not recognize someone I should. Either way, it's embarassing for one or both of us.
The latter was the case. I'm very self-possessed. I live in a one person world. There's no reason to pay attention to other people, they don't notice me. Uh, unless I've known them for about 7 years. Then, they'd probably notice me. Especially me when I'm stamping around a store and talking to myself. Actually, I suspect a lot of people noticed me. I was acting a bit odd. And I had on a very unfortunate outfit. It bordered on the professional.
So, yeah. That was funny. The glasses and the hat are a clever disguise. Or casual wear. I dunno. It was less funny the being picked on loudly and in public for my Doctor Who watching, House loving ways. I'm a nerd. We all know that. The guy checking IDs at the self-checkout does not need to know that the highlight of my week is watching House alone in the dark whilst drinking import beer. Inglewood does not need to know about my long standing crush on Robert Sean Leonard. That's why I don't talk to people. They point out aspects of my personality that might indicate I'm less cool than I like to pretend I am. The bummer is, some people have known me long enough (or in the right capacity) to know that I'm everything but cool. Stupid history. Guess it's time to go somewhere where no one knows any of mine.

Living's mostly wasting time and I waste my share of mine

Talked to the sister today. She informs me that her kitty-puss Steve is retarded and has forgot how to learn. She also does a very good cat imitation. It's kind of creepy actually. I am lead to believe that her mogwogs are as big as my doggums. That's a very big puttems tat. I'm looking forward to meeting them. But not hearing the Jeff and Steve 6am variety hour that she was telling me about. That doesn't sound like fun.

I've got a basic plan for my holiday to the exotic locales of the Rust Belt. Just not sure if it's Steel or Rubber city first. Either way. It'll be a thing to do. And it won't be in Nashville, so it's like vacation.
I should be doing more serious work trying to find a job. That's tomorrow's at work fill the hours thing. There's a new episode of House on tomorrow. And there will be Mexican take away (or Pizza) and beer and much rejoicing. Except the Ham kiss. There is no way I'm going to like that. Unless I close my eyes and pretend it's me. Oh Hugh...you are so sexy-wexy. Please to not be making out with the skinny bitches.

Finished that story I'd been working on for a month. It's not that long. It's not what I wanted to write-but I got it out. Now to start on the story for the fic challenge due at the end of the month. My prompt is "velocity." I have a couple of ideas for that-but what a prompt. It's good to have hobbies. Some people play Boggle or jog. I write stories.

My vacuum cleaner is the best thing since cheese and tommy-toe toasties. Mik's jealous of my purchase. We are made of awesome. I'm considerably more poor now but that's nothing new. My carpet looks great.

Nothing to complain about today. Very eh, kind of thing. I'd say I'm in okay shape. Not interested in much. Still easy to annoy but I gues I'm doing alright.

Hangin' on the telephone

"This is going to sound like a stupid question, but where does one go to buy a toilet seat?"
"A toilet seat...Wal-Mart?"
"They only had $20 ones."
"Why is she buying a toilet seat?"
"Your dad wants to know why you're buying a toilet seat."
"Because the other option is using a toilet without one. That's unpleasant."
"She says the other option is not having one."
"Her landlady should buy it."
"Did you hear that?"
"I don't want to bother her. She's nuts. I don't plan to spend more than $5."
"Going for quality, I see."
"Just keeping with the theme of the rest of the apartment. I finally bought a vacuum cleaner."
"I didn't know you were going to go buy a vacuum today. That's exciting."
"Not the word I'd use. But it's something anyway. Cost me close to a hundred dollars. I'm cheap. That's a lot of money."
"You're not cheap. You're thrifty."
"Call it what you will. I'm at Home Depot. Will they have toilet seats?"
"Go towards the plumbing, then look for the custom baths. Do you see the custom baths?"
"No, I am so out of my element here."
"You could ask someone that's works there. You might get better directions."
"Fine, fine. They're two aisles over. Your directions were close. That's almost eery."
"I knows my way around the HFD."
"Indeed. Ahh, here we go. Valu-without an e. That's my kind of toilet seat cover."
"You're very domestic."
"Don't rub it in. I'm boring as hell. I need to go to a show, get ridiculously drunk, make out with someone I barely know and wake up in a hotel room and not remember how I got there."
"Is that something you used to do on a regular basis?"
"No, of course not. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm becoming old. How did that happen?"
"You bought a washing machine. Bought a washer and joined the establishment."
"I need to rock like I've never rocked before. This is wrong."
"Do you have a show picked out for this?"
"No, but I'll come up with one. It's March. Lots of Irish bands on tour. They're always good for some debauchery."
"Should you be telling me this?"
"You're a big girl. It's not like it comes as a shock."
"Some things are better left unknown. What kind of vacuum did you buy?"
"Bissell upright. It's bright red. Tres chic."
"Bagless?"
"Yeah. That seems to be the norm with cleaners these days. I was going to buy a Hoover, most of those are bag types, but they weren't well reviewed. The Dysons are fantastic but who has $500 to throw down on a vacuum? Not me, that's for sure. I'd almost settled on a $150 Bissell, or was it Eureka-anyway HEPA filter, bagless, settings for bare floor to deep pile carpet but Best Buy had a sale on this very similar model. Not as high rated, but close, and it saved me close to 60 bucks. Cuz, you know, cheap. It's got attachments, anyway. One for corners, another for curtains. Something else, maybe to vacuum the dog. I dunno. The big problem was finding one that was under $200 and rated good for picking up pet hair. I mean, come on, if I didn't have a dog I wouldn't have to have a vacuum. Sheddy beast."
"Wow. You really are boring."
"It's a big purchase."
"Oh. Yeah. And you did your research."
"Informed consumers are good consumers."
"Anything else going on?"
"I'm coming home the week of the 20th."
"For how long?"
"I think 7 days."
"...."
"Not all with you."
"Thank goodness. That sounded like an extended visit."
"Way to make me feel loved."
"Just saying, you might not want to miss that much work."
"Backtracker. If I could fly I would only bother you for two or three days. But, dog. It's always the dog. Isn't it? As much as I love him, he does put the damper on my footlooseness."
"How much would it cost to fly him?"
"$150. It'd only cost me $160. For reals!"
"So you'll be driving."
"Indeed. But don't worry, two of those 6 or 7 days will be spent on the road. Only two will be with you. The rest will be in Pittsburg."
"Does she know that?"
"I haven't talked to her."
"No one does."
"I've been preparing a script, so if I do talk to her I can get everything I need to say out in the 30 seconds she alots me."
"Speaking of short phone conversations, you should go check out so you can go home and run your new vacuum you wild thing, you."
"Shut up."
"I love you."
"Hmph. Love you, too. Bye."
"Bye."

Cheer up honey I hope you can, There is something wrong with me

My pets-do you want to know something strange? I had a decent day today. Do you want to know something even stranger? I spent the entire day doing work I declared myself too educated to do. Stuff that harkened back to my first job-15 years ago now. Shelving, shifting shelves, shelf reading. All that shit-that's what I did. For hours and hours. And when I tired of that-I read. Just positioned myself behind a shelf and sat among the stacks and read. A book. Now a web page or the newest issue of Psychology Today or fanfiction but a deceased tree imprinted with ink.
I was avoiding work. Isn't that funny? I spent the whole day working much harder than I usually do in order to not have to work. See-there's this person I can't stand that sometimes works on Saturday. He took my parking space, first of all. It's my space and I like it and he can't have it. It's under a tree. If the tree had leaves on it I would get valuable shade by parking under that tree. There aren't any leaves right now, but if there were I would have chosen my space well. You see the logic, right? That and it's my bleeding parking space and he can't have it! I like things the way I like them and changes make me angry.
This person is an idiot. He talks constantly. About nothing. Less than nothing. If someone enters the building he says "There's someone here. Someone to check out books. That's good. That's good. Someone's here." If someone wants to use the computer he says, "That's good. That's good .You can get on the Internet. Yes, use the computer. Good." If no one is performing any action he reads random signs, "Gas has gone up to $2.39 a gallon. That's not good. No. No. $2.39 a gallon. Not good. Mama Mia, is coming to town, that's good. Mama Mia, yes. Featuring songs by ABBA. ABBA is good." His grasp of the multitude of adjectives available in the English language is someonwhat lacking. His ability to shut the fuck up already is really lacking. Working with him makes me long for deafness. That's severe-I love hearing stuff ever so much. The ability to hear stuff is one of my most favoritest senses. I daresay it is my very favorite. But I would relinquish that ability for the duration of the time I am forced to work with him.
Also problematic is the fact that he seems to be unfamiliar with the Dewey Decimal system. Now, perhaps I'm the exception, but I've had it pretty much memorized for nearly two decades. It's not that hard. It's damned easy actually. 000s-computers, 220s-religion, 629-car repair, 636-pets, 800s-poetry and drama, 970s-American history. Etc, etc, etc. Easy shit, really. Requires just less than half a brain to figure it out. Further, things that are in other groups (vids for instance-that all hae the call number 791.43) are in alpha-fucking-betical order. Alpha-fucking-betical. The first thing people learn when they learn to read. And yet the location of films on the shelf continues to elude him. And it's not just him either-it's every damn person that works there except for me and Katie. The page (spoiled brat-still hasn't spoken to me, it's been almost 2 months now) can't seem to savvy the alphabet. Neither can the volunteer. I've tried to explain that it goes A-B-C-D-E-F-G... and if they get messed up there's a clever song they can sing to help them along. They don't appreciate my assistance. In fact, they seem to like me even less when I offer the helping hand. Ingates.
Imagine my joy. The man that was there today-he's a branch head. A motherfucking head of a g-ddamn branch. It took him an hour to do 2 dozen paging slips and even then couldn't find half of them. I got my hands on them and had them all pulled in 5 minutes. How the hell does he run a branch? He's the only one what works there? Does anything ever get done? Or does he just sit at the desk for 8 hours a day reading the paper out loud and commenting about how the news from Iraq "isn't good."
And the there's the fact that I got all the books and videos shelved today. That isn't interesting unless you are told that the Napping Wearing Baby Page has been saying for 2 months that there was no room on the shelf for any more books and so she couldn't shelve anything. Her only job is to put the books that are on the cart onto the shelf. That's the sum of it. But for two months she's been saying it couldn't be done. So she's been coming in for 10 hours a week and talking to people on Facebook because there wasn't anything she could do about it. Funny. Hilarious, I would say, that with very little effort I got everything shelved. I even shelf-read a bunch of stuff and found several books that were on the shelf that didn't belong to our branch. I must have super human powers. It's the only possible explanation.
I suppose I should admit that all of this gave me a frightfully inflated sense of self-worth. Not really something I need because as much as I really don't like myself I do believe I'm way more awesome than most people. Definately smarter. And more clever and witty. And I have better hygiene than most of the people I encounter on a daily basis. Working around the lower among the denominators has done nothing to teach me humility. That's the thing I should admit. I had a good day today not because it kept me busy and the day went fast. I had a good day because all day my actions were a thinly veiled but undoubtable "FUCK YOU" to the people that have a full time steady pay with benefits job that I can't seem to get. "FUCK YOU"-I was telling them. You may have all that-but I AM SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU WILL EVER BE. I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO TRY. I'M SUPERIOR TO YOU.

I am a charmer. Further illustrated by the fact that the phone just rang and I didn't answer it. There was a message. I deleted it without listening. Very bitchy of me. Cowardly too, I think. But, another call or two without a response and he'll move on. I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him on the street. It's no loss. Other than the almost pang of guilt I have from not having the decency to just tell him to stop calling. The thing is-if I talked to him--well, I don't have a lot of people to talk to...I might not stop. I might say things. I'd rather be a bitch than crazy. That's why I don't talk to people. I'm afraid I won't shut up. Get close to someone and s/he finds out how mad I am. No need to spread that around. It's in bad form for me to open up to people. I'm lucky to have the people I do. I push them to the brink on a regular basis. I feel bad enough about that. Don't need anyone else dragged into my bullshit life.

Down by the riverside there's got to be a better ride than what you got planned

Here's a fun conundrum for you:
I have nothing to say. That is, I don't want to talk about myself. I don't particularly want to have a conversation. Yet-I would like to have someone to talk to. About nothing and at no great length. I don't want to divulge pieces of my personality or my thoughts on anything. I wouldn't mind talking about American Idol or Anna Nicole or something else that doesn't mean anything. That's why I'm not calling the person I was talking to last week. He wants to know about me. I don't have anything to say about myself. As far as I'm concerned there' nothing to say. I did call and say that. I thought it was a good out. I thought anyone would understand that "I haven't had anything to say to anybody for a few days. Don't take it personally, I just don't feel like talking" was not the sort of thing a person that is good company would say. Guess not. Now I'm officially avoiding his calls. I don't want to. I want the calls to just stop. Really, I don't want any new relationships. I'd ask why I keep meeting people that do, and want one with me at that, but it would be silly of me to think that my view of human interaction is the norm. I understand from books and movies that most people enjoy the company of others. Would it be too harsh to change my VM message to "I'm sorry the number you are dialing is out of service. Please check the number and try again"? They usually give up eventully. It's waiting until then that's annoying. I almost feel guilty. But mostly, I'm just annoyed.

I am a terrible, terrible person. Don't even know why I do things like that. It's shameful.

The point of this is-I don't want to have a conversation but I would like to have someone to talk to. I have little in the way of casual acquaintances (zero-to be precise). I'm not depressed, but I'm not happy either. If my mood was a color-it would be light gray.