channonyarrow

Blah blah blah Panic at the Spambot.

Okay, yes, I was able to empathise by thinking about how I would feel if MCR or TAI or CS split. BUT THEN I SAW THIS AND I HURT MYSELF LAUGHING.



Courtesy swear_jar who got it from valerie_z.

In other news, my couch is made of solid evil, and I either need to get a DSL cable, set up the wireless network, or get a new couch. Since my couch looks like it was hacked up by the 70s, I'm not sure any of those options are REALLY appealing, but I bet I could get another $25 couch at Value Village that would be more comfortable for prolonged sitting.

However, it would not look like Shaft's hairball. THIS IS TOTAL FAIL, AMERICA.

Yesterday: got in the shower and thought "What am I doing here?"

Today: have achieved painful burn on leg from dropping hot poptart. I only actually cook poptarts about one time in five hundred. Clearly the deck is against me.

This week is on probation.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I JUST GOT A SPAM SOLICITATION FROM PETA. I AM LAUGHING FOR-FUCKING-EVER.

IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO EXPRESS THE SHEER AMOUNT OF "HELL FUCKING NO, COCKSMOKING DICKSMACKS. PUT UP AND SHUT UP AND THEN WE'LL TALK. ALSO, STOP KILLING DOGS RATHER THAN SAVING THEM, YOU IMBECILIC NEANDERTHALS."

The word of the week is, apparently, "irony".

(Also, the subject line is "Want to help neglected dogs? Have a heart for animals! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH PETA FUCK YOU WITH A CHAINSAW, FOR SERIOUS.)

I bought legwarmers because I like 80's retro, because American Apparel is making them and they're fairly cheap (also, I ♥ AA for being the sort of business we need more of), and because they're semi-scene and I am nothing if not a scenewhore.

This of course explains why I have worn them every damn day for the last week and a half.

No, wait! The white shit falling out of the sky explains that!

So I'm off to do some holiday shopping, Metro willing. Basically, Metro's on the radio right now saying "If you live in West Seattle, don't make any fucking plans."

Also, you know what? I really like my body. I thought I'd just throw that out there. It's rare for me to like my body, and today I do. It's not a bad one, even if there are a couple things I'd change. Even though my back is fucking killing me, which means more stretching, more situps, more yoga.

Okay. Having made no fucking plans, I'm gonna go prop up the economy. I wish I could find my headphones, but that's life.

I know not why I do what I do.

Seriously. I live on 90s music compilations (or, you know, not really, but I collect them) so I'm downloading VH1's Top 100 Songs of the 90s, and I'm going "Wow, I already have that from the Whatever box set." Or, in one extreme case, "Wow, that song will never, ever, ever be on my computer. Never."

But realistically, top genreless songs of the 90s is not a great idea. Yeah, okay, so I can totally get behind Vogue and ...Baby, One More Time, and Gonna Make You Sweat, and definitely behind stuff like Losing My Religion and Nothing Compares 2 U and Shine and Criminal. I can support these things.

However. I spent the 90s listening to...uh, three radio stations, really. Well, more than that, but MAINLY three. And none of them were KUBE 93 FM. Which probably means that, really, Tupac is not on my list of top 90s songs. Nor would Notorious B.I.G. be on that list. At the same time, I am from Seattle. Which means that Smells Like Teen Spirit is not the only grunge song to ever happen. (Yes, Jeremy and Black Hole Sun are both on the list. I defy anyone to prove that they are, in fact, grunge.)

So I love the one-hit wonders and the stuff I actually liked at the time, but I have this disorder where I need to have the entire album if at all humanly possible, and it is only recently that I have realised that the only way to make Eminem listenable is to delete half his songs. (I vowed a long time ago that Spin Doctors would never touch my computer.) And really - I do not need to hear Mmmbop approximately before the 23rd of Never. Or Peaches. Ever.

Clearly I need to stop this insanity of needing the whole album, but I don't know that it's gonna happen any time soon. I only do not have OCD because I refuse to admit I have OCD and because I do not do any of the generally-accepted things that are OCD. I am, perhaps, OCD-lite. Or perhaps just OC, because I don't want to go to the point of judging on D.

Also, I did not drink enough last night to be hungover, which is bad because my family requires booze to handle, believe me, and it is not even seven am and the person below me is moving furniture. Not that this woke me, but WHY?

If my computer tries to play Detachable Penis one more time this year, I am going to stab it right in the trackpad. I like the song, but it's played it four times in three days. It's a bit much.

Clearly, it's an election.

- I have been binge-eating and watching the MSNBC widget (this is what I get for having no cable and being basically, bitchy and in pain all fucking day - I am not watching on television) and if I eat this last fucking cupcake (why did I buy a fourpack of Cupcake Royale cupcakes? Do I WANT diabetes? Do I WANT to sweat when I take a bite of the frosting? (This, by the way, is no lie. I can handle the stump, but when my lips touch frosting now, I start sweating, and not in a good way.)) I will probably die.

Most parenthetical comments ever ftw!

- Earlier, I self-diagnosed with an impending UTI, and am overdosing on cranberry juice in an effort to be, you know, NOT declaring bankruptcy so I can get that taken care of, but now I'm not so sure that's actually the issue. Regardless, I have a quart of the shit to get through in the next two hours or so.

- Mint chocolate cupcake + cranberry juice = NASTIEST TASTE EVER. I am, basically, including every single thing I have ever put into my mouth in any way when I make that judgement. That includes but is not limited to: money, dirt, cat food, wet cat food (I was seven), something that probably should have been poisonous considering what it was made of (paint was a prime ingredient), something that WAS poisonous but fortunately only in relatively large quantities (plant life ftw!), bleu cheese, and circus peanuts. This is kind of like...god crapped in your mouth, smacked you across the face, and demanded that you stop your fucking crying 'cause he don't like fucking sissies.

I would continue with that scary, scary metaphor, but not even I am that mean. I think the next step would be he and Jesus gang-raping Santa, though, if you're curious.

- As totally predicted, I had no lines at all when I voted. I never have a line. However, I did, as per usual, manage to confuse the poll worker with my name. Because, see, let's say for the sake of my Google rating, that my name is Patricia Stephanie Rosenblum. (I don't know where that came from, but it clearly indicates that I am no longer allowed to select nom de plumes for myself.) For some reason, the poll worker always, ALWAYS, turns to the "P" section, despite the fact that I kind of think that Patricia is pretty obviously a FIRST name and Rosenblum is pretty obviously a LAST name. Additional irony here is that they take my name off of exactly the same card form that they're taking from EVERYONE ELSE EVER, and yet, they get my name backwards. WHY NOT. Normally, I gently say "Actually, my last name's Rosenblum," when I get tired of watching the poll worker flip around in the Ps looking for me and not, oddly enough, finding me. This is not always the same time that they start to get panicky that they can't find me, because I am in fact that mean.

This time, though. This was, indeed, a special election! It was SO special that the poll worker turned, on receipt of that statement, to the S section, because apparently I had said "Actually, my last name's Rosenblum. I MEAN IT'S STEPHANIE, WHAT THE FUCK AM I SAYING?" So that was fun.

But hey. I exercised my civic right/duty, and didn't even get a fucking sticker for it because I didn't realise that Babes in Toyland was giving away free vibrators. So now I'm annoyed.

- One person used the touchscreen machine while I was there. Does this mean that WA, too, will soon be subject to the machinations of Diebold?

- This would be a perfect time to watch Iron Man, which I bought the other day in a binge of consumerism (see also buying forty jillion cds) except it's still in the car for some reason and it would take actual excavation to get it out of there at this point. Like, for serious. Maybe I'll just watch gay Canadian junkie porn instead.

(This movie is also known as Twist. It's quite good. But it is a definition of genre film for me, and that genre is gay Canadian drug addict movies.)

I feel like I'm drowning.

Today's pressing question: Can I make a business case to be sent to SXSW for work?

King David was totally the Biblical Lennon and McCartney (or possibly Gilbert and Sullivan). Also, he was totally emo. King David probably had ye olde biblical eyeliner. And definitely had ye olde emo-biblical confusing sexuality.

This post brought to you by the fact that I have been sitting at work reading Psalms all day long, and I am getting weirder looks than I do when I wear fishnets and combat boots and short skirts in snow. FINE MY COWORKERS KNOW I AM A HEATHEN QUIT JUDGING ME.

Another completely crap weekend, in which I did not manage to get dressed on Sunday, but I did manage to plot the book that I didn't want to plot, and also, I cleaned up most of the place, which has been something that needed doing for about a month and a half now. I cannot believe I got so behind on that, but there you go. On the bright side, I've been alternately sick/tired/depressed/home late that a month and a half of crap looked more like a week's worth, except in the sink, and even then nothing was alive in there, so that was a win. Still, I have never before managed to use all my spoons and then decided to eat ice cream with a fork, as washing the spoons was going to be a problem in that I did not want to do it.

I did minimal writing and no sewing, but I did decide that probably what I need to do with TDL is take out all of the heroin plot. Because there's nothing better, when you're 150K into a book, than taking out a major plot point. But it's not working for me, and I can't decide if it's working for the book.

Note to self: do not let books progress over major developmental points with you. Write it, THEN grow as a person.

Right now, I'm working on the "write it" portion of that statement. Still, I'm close to my original goal - the only problem with that is that I need another twenty k. So I'm taking it on vacation next week and maybe I can get a big chunk of that done. I'm still shooting for editing it the week of the winter break, right after Christmas, since no one interesting will be in town.

The upside is that it turns out that people really do think I have vampire teeth. I have pointy incisors, what can I tell you? I also have an enormous gap between my upper and lower teeth, and two people asked me this weekend if I was wearing those caps to look like I have fangs. The answer is no. These are my real teeth.

So that was fun.

And now, burning questions that I have, at least: how many books can I comment on, while fighting to retain a line and also taking yoga? If the answer is not "two, and a third one that you proof," then the world will end. QED.

And another burning question: WHEN will I have time to transcribe my rant on vampires? But the answer to that one is "next week", and I personally find that hilarious.