Shitty in General

Quickly bringing you up to speed:

Saturday Eva threw me a birthday party. We went bowling at Pin-Up Bowl. Then we went to her house for a bonfire. I got way too drunk to know what I was doing, but tried opening gifts. Opened an embarrassing box of sheep (thanks Rob and Brandy, it was cute, and very thoughtful), told people they could eff off (lol, it's like my new thing to do these days), dragged my brother into things he didn't want to be involved in (no wonder he doesn't really like me). I was crying because I'm old and I feel like an idiot and the anxiety I have these days is beyond overwhelming. I made myself throw up because the amount of alcohol I had in my system was too much for me to manage. Glad that is over with! I did get some really great gifts though.

Sunday morning, a knock on the door, I answer to see our neighbor Jim. He looks alarmed, proceeds to tell me that someone busted out my car window. I was so confused I just nodded and looked from him to the car several times. I dressed and looked. I lost all faith in humanity. I am angry and hateful. I slept all day Sunday since no one would help me become totally obliterated. Someone threw a fist sized rock so hard through my window that it bounced off the opposite side door panel and broke that as well. Still waiting to hear from the insurance company.

Among other things about last week, which was shitty in general (turned 30, heartbreak, I was annoyed by coworkers, had too much anxiety about the party, had jobs creep up on me causing lots of stress, wanted to cry most nights, did cry a few nights, told that our structures group is moving in the office thus loosing space, Ruben is officially out of our department, Andrew is now part time in our department) work was more stressful than I'd ever like it to be for me.

Finished reading You Suck by Christopher Moore, brilliant stuff.

Started reading The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. 33 pages in and I'm already crying and thinking of the people I should call to tell them that I love them, just in case I should die tomorrow, today even.

. . . to Kelly if you are reading this, we both know Mike wants to keep you, and I would venture to guess you know I think we should get to keep you too, but in all seriousness, you are awesome and I haven't seen Mike this alive in many years. So even if we can't keep you (which I think we should get to) thanks. It's good to see friends happy!

. . . to Becky, dude, I am sorry for laying on your boyfriend. He's like a teddy Bear and he was laying on the couch where I wanted to be . . . sorry dude. It won't happen again; and you were looking totally cute on Saturday, don't know if I told you that or not!

. . . to my sister who so awesomely gave me a link for T-Shirts that I've been wanting to get; 80stees.com . . . I'm thinking for sure a Ghostbuster's T-shirt.

So onto today:

Read Janet's blog, and saw these posters . . . done by graphic designer Stephan Massed-Bidal. He takes odd, and old images and then pairs them with a quote. Different, which is exactly what I was looking for this morning.

Words that I have not given you:

eco porn: A corporate advertisement that extols the company's environmental record or policies, usually by a company known to rape and pillage the environment as often as possible.

prevert: A softcore pervert. Someone who is in early stages of perversion.

effed in the a: A different way of saying, "Dude, we're screwed".

Clark Kent job: Your day job that pays the bills but is not what you really want to do.

Anxious Woolly Bodies

Some books are written for the sole reason of having me read them. I know that no one but me will ever believe this. In fact, I know that the authors would laugh at me for having such a bizarre take on their literary works. But, if you read often enough (and I know you are out there (Mike C., Kelly G., Jen S. and Eva)), you will understand what I mean. Sometimes you read passages of a book and you think to yourself "am I being spied on"; or "wow, I never knew anyone else thought of a bridge the way I do".

I continued reading Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist, a spectacularly spooky, brilliant, and bittersweet book that I can't even begin to explain. While reading it last night there were a few passages that I believe were written for me. Here are excerpts from those passages, [my notes following]:

Passage page 255-

He knew exactly how it was going to go.
In an hour or so the bottle would be empty and Janne would go home.
Then Dad would pace...decide he needed to talk to Oskar.
He would come into Oskar's room and he would no longer be Dad. Just an alcoholic-...

[I think the author must have met my father, or, is it that all alcoholics with young children do this, forcing their children to think that an evil monster is inside their father, taking over Dad's body?]

Passage page 285-

I'm not completely normal.
...organic machines with the brains turned off.

[This is what humans are, organic machines, few would agree with me on this. When we die, our brains are turned off for good. No button to push in order to make them come back on . . . or maybe there really is!]

Passage page 293-

The Traneberg Bridge. When it was unveiled in 1934 it was hailed as a minor miracle of engineering. ... One mighty single arc that soared ... . A life-weary senior, sorrowfully pondering the days when the heavens were brighter, the clouds lighter, and when it was still the longest single-span concrete bridge in the world.

[I do not believe that there are many people in the world that would ever speak on bridges as having a human context. I see a bridge and see its functioning parts, its ragged body, and its desire to be noticed as a bridge instead of some path people take to get from Point A to Point B. Every bridge is significant to me, not only in its purpose as a path, but for its engineering.]

Passage page 297-

Ten minutes later the first patrol car had turned up and the first thing the officers did was check the stables, nervous, their guns out and ready.
The sheep had become restless and before the officers were done combing the building the whole place was a seething mass of anxious woolly bodies, loud bleating, ...

[Uh, yea, sheep. I like sheep. They are cool little dudes. I'm not completely normal. ]

Words of the day:

nowt: Nothing, zero

In use: Can you lend me some money, I haven't been paid yet so I have nowt.


bakeage: Drugs that get you baked.

Just Pining

I walked to my desk, hit the button on my computer that makes him think, replenished my water and sat down for a busy day of organizing paper! As the morning usually goes, I skipped past the news and went straight for my blogs. It was here, on this day, March 26 of 2009 at 7:40AM that I saw my soul mate. You might be giggling to yourself thinking that I am having yet another delusional morning, but no, this is not the case. I really did see him in a YouTube video. Are you dying to see him too? Okay, well here he is, Matt Harding in his video "Where the Hell is Matt?".

Have you watched it yet? Did you see that he is both travelling and dancing? How awesome is that? Did you see the elephants?

I am in a better mood this morning, so I will write as quickly as my fingers can type so that I can get a couple of stories in and then quickly get to work on those stacks of paper that are just pining to be organized!

English Beat Tix...Kansas City radio station has tickets to this show. It is the only way to get tickets to this show. I e-mail the radio DJ who tells me that I can have tickets but that I must call the morning show on Wednesday morning to get them. I do this, and she tells me she changed her mind. Really?? I was in no mood yesterday to handle anything like that. I think she heard my heart drop because she apologized profusely and told me that it should be a KC thing, and we were St. Louisans! Really?? So long story short....I begged, literally begged for them; she made me say things like "I hate St. Louis radio" and "I hate Cornbread". Oddly enough, both statements are true! But then she tells me that I have to wear a scarlet letter the entire night. Really?? I don't even know what that means! Oh well, we'll see what happens between now and then!

Dub Kitchen...I work with an awesome girl named Jen R. here at my cult called HOK. She is in a dub reggae band called Dub Kitchen. I got to see her perform for the first time, and she totally rocks! Her voice is perfect for this style of music, and she was adorable on stage as well! I got to dance too! I've already briefly blogged about the event, so I won't dwell, but my complaints are about Missouri bars, smoking, and hippies. Ugh, hippies! I went to the show alone, but knew a couple of people there to hang out with, though, I did little hanging 'cept between bands. Fellow cult member Seth was one of these people. He told me that on very rare occasions, he goes to the Pub, yes, the one and only O'Connell's Pub! He likes the jukebox! So do I!

Okay, so seriously, I need to get to these papers. They are giving me some looks that say, "Touch me all over and shove me in that binder. Scan me baby, scan me!". I really can't deny them of their due treats!

A few other notes before I get to it; 1)How did I get this bruise on my arm?, 2) How many times do I say "I'm sorry" in a day?, 3)Am I allowed to say "stop asking me that or I WILL punch you in the face"?, 4)Elephants are cool, so are seals, 5)I really need to not drink alcohol, I am failing miserably at this task!

Word of the day(I so like this one):
cheeky monkey: Originally used to define someone who gives lots of lip and is a smart-ass, but now refers to anyone talking or behaving audaciously.

Funerals Suck and Justin Rocks!

So today is a new day, but you know that already.

Today is Amanda's father's funeral. It makes me miss my dad. I still plan on going to lay on top of his grave and just crying for about an hour. You'd have no idea how much you'll miss some one until they are no longer around to hold you when you just need to be held. I could talk hours about my own dad; I have a lot to say about him. He was a good person, some of the time, and a bad person a lot of the time. It's what one might expect with an abusive alcoholic father. I wrongfully wished him gone for a long time. I had always assumed that his drinking and desire to be "outta his mind" were due to the fact he was unhappy with his life, unhappy with his family. He degraded me often, so I had also therefore assumed, he didn't want me around. I knew his alcoholism was a disease, something he couldn't quit. It took me a really long time to know there was a difference though. The sober guy that was my daddy was the coolest man on the face of the planet. He was funny, smart, and loved music. We would rock out all the time together. We listened to everything! When I was small and we would be travelling by car, he carried me up the apartment stairs when I fell asleep from the ride. When I was upset, he'd let me curl up in a ball in his lap and he would just hold me. Those are the things I really miss. But what I guess I'm really getting around to talking about is the funeral, not really my dad.

So this funeral, will be a Catholic service at some little church in the middle of Nowhere, Illinois. Last night was the visitation. I really loathe that part. People go and look at a dead body to see what the person, if they were still alive, might look like. I have an aversion to dead bodies for one. Secondly, I don't want to remember or see what some one would have looked like alive if they weren't dead. I want to remember the good things. When I think of dad, I think of the dead version of him, in the casket so that when you looked just right, he was smiling! So when I go to these things, I try only to glance when I have to, and spend more time ignoring than anything else.

But I've gone on long enough about some of my idiosyncrasies; it's time to move on to some one else's! That someone would be Justin, my favorite blogger [said with a dreamy smile and twinkle in my eye]! He didn't mention me this time, but a coworker that I don't know. In this story, Justin goes by a supposed character name of Mitch, of which I highly approve! His blogs are always thoroughly entertaining with little hints of sarcasm and misanthropy. I feel that while I don't know him at all, and have a slight aversion to his desire to be an architect, I feel he is a kindred spirit! He is after all my blog crush! I treat him as though he were Douglas Adams, an untouchable writer! But instead he is Justin Mitch Z! Ahhhhhh!

So I want to thank Holly for taking the time to blog, you go! No one has to write excellent to blog, you just need to do it! And if you are lucky, you might get one very interesting freak named Steph to fall in love with you!

I want to thank Eva for taking time yesterday to sit down to dinner with me and let me vent and whine pretty much the whole time. I don't share a rank, which is good to know!

Thanks people for reading, you don't have to; so I hope this is at least entertaining with a mix of odd humor, distaste for mankind, and a draw of strong depressive mood swings!

Onward with the word of the day:

ACB: Short for "air-conditioner booty". A woman whose buttocks, when viewed from the side, resemble a wall-unit air conditioner protruding from a house.

In use: Jodie's ACB was knocking people's drinks off the table last night!