yeah, but try fishing with it

I've finally stumbled over some awesome, funny blogs. I laff and laff!

que sera sera, kawabunga, and what's the fuss. There are more, but I'l'l need to retrace my steps and don't feel like doing so at the moment.

loving you/is hard because you're mean to me...

It is an extremely good think I do not live alone, first, of course, because of the spider situation; namely, that I can barely get up the courage after half-hour self-pep-talks to put jars over spiders, and that actually killing one with force and removing it is just never going to happen, and so if I lived alone there would be glass spaghetti sauce jars with suffocated spider bodies under them all over the apartment...


But also, two, because of the tendency towards assuming I'm in a horror movie and providing the sound track for it whenever anything remotely creepy happens. Like today, when I was loading the washing machine and the back door shifted inward and made a thumping noise. Probably just the wind, yes, but I think, "Evil's at the door -- let him in...". Evil was by no means at the door (and yes, of course it's a him!) but the next time the wind shifted the door inward, I had the same thought. And then the dogs went nuts and ran to the front door a minute later, which did not help. Evil was trying the front door.


And in addition to the overactive imagination, there is the added tendency to make up songs about things like Evil being at the door.

Evil's at the door, let him in, let him in

Evil's at the door, let him in

He will come and get you if you don't, if you don't

He will come and eat you if you don't.

Great!

whatever you say there, wallaby-pants!

Oh man.

nuclear power is so last century

i am a jack (well, jane, if you want to get technical) of all trades. can this work for me?

i am the ghost of grover cleveland

I found this blog, Alfie Explains It All, which I like except for the puns and cheesy jokes. Keep?

Richard Clark is my hero.

I can't seem to bring myself to do work. This is very, very, very bad.

what does?

Jesus. Leave it to the R*p*bl*c*ns to try to allude to pop culture and be so five years ago. Maybe their white middle-class businessman constituents will get a snicker out of it...

doh.

god damn you, toony!!!

So my friend from college called me yesterday as I was heading out the door. It had been months since we'd last talked, so we had a lot of details to convey. Or she did, at any rate - my big news - my marriage - was straightforward and didn't take long to share. Hers, however, was long and convoluded and included the information that she is now working as a phone sex operator.


I have a friend who works as a phone sex operator.


Pretty much still recovering from that one.

Anyhow, I'm home alone now. Home-home. And being home-home is weird, because everything has changed in ways I can't control, and driving around and feeling this weird sadness tinged with of-course-ness, I realize that despite my deep and abiding disgust for so many aspects of it, my hometown is, like it or not, part of who I am. So I'm realizing how much this stupid place means to me as it's changing irrevocably. Both ends of the stick turned out to be short.


Also, and this is kind of alarming, I can't seem to stay out of the new Super Target. I go there all the time. And when I'm not there, or en route there, I'm thinking of reasons to be going there. Being at home makes me want to buy small colorful disposable things. Lighters. Barrettes. Pens. Notepads. Lotion. Plastic figurines of Sesame Street characters. Jewel Cases. (mmm, jewel cases.) Chapstick. Dog toys. Pop Tarts. Plastic rings. Peanuts. Hair bands. Magnets. Pushpins. Digital thermometers. CANDY. Stickers. I've held out admirably, but tomorrow is another day.

it's got a beat you can't argue with and a voice like pie

I'm now working on a baby blanket. It's yellow, and requires two different types of stitches (yes, the most basic two, but I've only successfully done one of them). Anyhow, I now completely understand - in a way that I would argue that only a knitter could - that song, "The Sweater Song" by Weezer. Lyin on the floor! Lyin on the flo-or! I've come un-do-one!


I had the least articulate conversation of my life yesterday, in which two friends and I tried to remember the melody of and lyrics to that song "Baker Street," going on nothing but an initial mis-remembering of the title (I thought it was "Bakersfield" - somewhere in Illinois, I figured) and a burning desire to hum it. That, combined with Google (praise Google), was enough.

head-bangers' nightmare

I finished knitting my first successful project - which is not to say my first project - but it turned out nicely. It is an ivory-colored chenile scarf. I would like it to be a tad bit longer, but it is not misshapen and is long enough to function as a scarf, so I'm happy with it. It looks a lot like fettucini alfredo.

Someone needs to invent a perfect journal. Or at least, dear readers, one of you needs to point me to one that already exists. The problem that I run into is that there is a high end and a low end in the journal market, and not a whole hell of a lot in between. I can purchase for $14-$30 a nice high-end journal, complete with embroidery or beadwork on the cover and a nice satin-y page marker and thick, thick, bleed-thru resistant paper; or I can get for $4 or less a traditional college- ruled composition book (which have an abnormally high sex appeal for inanimate objects) that is a nice width and thickness overall, but the pages, should I use liquid-inked pens (which I often do) are only usable on one side.


What to do? I usually just go back and forth. When occupying composition books, I paste a lot of stuff on the un-writeable-on sides of pages, which is nice to do because I usually have interesting stuff. Sometimes it's a stretch, though. It takes me less than a year to fill one up, and soon I'll move out of an expensive one back into a comp book, although this time I went with a non-traditional comp-book-like "journal" as it declares itself on the front (which has got to go, by the way) with a very light checkerboard over even lighter paisley print, all in subdued greys and blues. It's nicer than it must sound, swear.


Time to stop boring the nice people and get back to work. Sorry, nice people.


Oh, yeah! Not so fast! I have to vote tomorrow, and am caught between three separate desires. First: vote for my man Howard, becase I actually, for the first time, put effort into a political campaign on his behalf and want to be loyal - also it might contribute to sending progressive delegates to the convention even if he doesn't get the nomination. Second: vote for Edwards on account of my pronounced and surprising but not completely unexplainable dislike for John Kerry. Third: (and most distasteful) vote for Kerry so that he can win the nomination strongly in a show of force that would (hopefully) propel his candidacy into a resounding defeat of that horrible, horrible man. (Ugh.)


What will probably happen: hell, I don't know if I can bring myself to vote for Kerry in the general election, so I honestly don't see it happening in the primary. I guess I'll watch the polls and if Edwards seems to have any sort of shot, I'll vote for him, but it would be really silly to shoot the obvious nominee in the foot, as the fucking Democratic party did when they had a frontrunner breaking fundraising records nearly a year before the general election. Idiots. (Honestly, sometimes I don't know who I hate more, the R*p*bl*c*ns or the fucking Democrats.) I'll probably go with Dean. I sent *money* to him, for God's sake. I can't not vote for him.