Wedding nightmares that I have already awoken in a cold sweat from:

1) I haven’t sent any invitations out due to the mistaken impression that, due to the importance of the event, people will just KNOW to attend. It is now the day before the event, and the idiocy of this idea is now apparent.

2) It’s the day of the blessed event, and I have forgotten to order flowers. No flowers for me! So sad.

3) I’m trying on my dress in my parent’s kitchen, and Al walks in, thus seeing me in “The Dress.” I call off the whole affair.

4) Slight variation on #3

5) Slight variation on #4

6) Slight variation on #5

Anyone who tells me that these are trivial matters that plague my dreams will be put to sudden and immediate death.

Thank you.

This is for a job listed for MANAGEMENT TRAINEE.

This was sent to me under the title "Highly Educated and Hard Working Induvidual" (give yourself time to find the fatal flaw):

OBJECTIVE:
To Obtain a High Level In The Work Forse And Achieve Any Goals That I Try to Achieve To Better My Work Progress And To achieve rapid promotions
Description of my perfect job:
I would Love to beable to achieve gettin my CDL Drivers Licience for a driver and or an opportunity in the feild of deisel or auto tech. I can also do carpentery and some light electrical work, but in any case i am a fast learner of any trade and would love to try the opportunity to try anything new and exciting.

NOT.

HER:
Wedding dress, fittings, color scheme, flowers, rings, centerpieces, guest lists, wedding jewelry, bridal party gifts, DJ selections, invitations, thank-you’s, hair appointments, head piece, church, limo, diet, color match, shoes, undergarments, old-new-borrowed-blue, make-up, nails, menus, tips, seating arrangements.


HIM:
Tuxedo, show up.

IamNOTaGIRL!!! I’MNOTI’MNOTI’MNOTI’MNOTI’MNOTI’MNOT!!!!

"Hard working, young, Intelegent man ready to work for you"

I'm NOT kidding.

I read through the advertised joba nd wish to apply for the same.I heer by send you my c.v and covering letter and would be please to work for your company. I would be highly appreciated if you would consider my applicationa and would be sure that you would not regrette employing me.
Awaiting your Favourable and prompt reply.

Helloooooooooooooo Monday!

It’s O.k., I’m all right. I just got off the phone with The King and I infringement people. They just wanted me to know that they had NOTHING whatsoever to do with the song I Feel Pretty. That song was, in fact, done in the musical West Side Story. The good people at The King and I also wanted me to know that it is their wish that they have no connection with the musical West side Story, nor the song I Feel Pretty, in this or any other blog hereafter, and that they also wish to never again be referred to or adapted by me here, or anywhere else, as they do not like me, nor do they find me funny.

Oh, and I’m not going blind. But I am developing whooping cough.

The following adaptation was brought to you with the full knowledge, and hearty consent, of the writers and producers of The King and I:

“I feel shitty! Oh, so shitty! I’m so crappy I could cry!…”

I woke up late this morning. No. I don’t think you realize the severity of this. I WOKE UP LATE. Really late. Past the time I was supposed to be IN late. There is nothing in the world that will make me feel more useless than waking up so late that I’m not THERE in the morning. I suppose it may not be the same in another company. Actually, in any of the other jobs I’ve had, being late would just make you look bad. Here, I’m the one in charge. I’m supposed to be the leader. In most cases, I would be the only one in the office with a KEY to get in. Luckily, there are three of us at the moment. I just can’t stop beating myself up, thinking “what if…”

PLUS, I think I have Vertigo. Life sucks. I have come to the conclusion that I am a new breed of mental patient: Ambivalent Hypochondriac. If I get a bump on my skin, it’s cancer. If I get a headache, it’s an impending aneurysm. I get short of breath, it’s asthma. Cough, pneumonia. Leg hurts, gout. The difference between most hypochondriacs and me is my stubborn refusal to DO anything about it. Even when I’m sure that something really is wrong my response is usually, “Eh. It’ll go away.” I hurt my neck in 1993… I seeked treatment in 2000, a year after I was hurting so badly that I could not get off my bed to attend my grandmother’s wake. I finally seeked treatment when the pain was so bad, and so chronic, that I could not, at any time, look over my own shoulder.

AND, to make my life complete, my company has just hired Batman. C’mon, you all know him. I’m sure you all have your own Batman. Some of you may even BE Batman, and not know it.

“Lemme ‘splain… no, is too complicated. Lemme sum up.” ~Inigo Montoya~

Being Batman is that guy or girl that says or does something JUST so that you will ask them what they are doing/thinking/reading/referring to. MOST times, Batman will try very hard to get you to ask them this so that they can then DENY you the information anyway, causing Him/Her to have/know something you want. Stay with me now. Observe. A reenactment of an ACTUAL EXCHANGE between myself and my ex-boyfriend, Chief: the ultimate and original Batman…

Scene: We are in my car, going to a club. I am driving. His beeper goes off… or so I would be made to believe.

Chief: (reaches for his beeper looking angry. Sees the offending party. Looks annoyed) Shit! (muttered under breath)

Me: (silently ignoring this, knowing full well that this is my cue to ask, “Who is it?” so he can wave me off, vaguely murmuring “No one, never mind…” )

Chief: (noticing my not noticing, pulls his beeper off his belt once more. Perhaps the offending party has changed… nope. Still the same offending party) Fuck.

Me: (see above)

Chief: (deciding more drastic baiting is necessary, ignoring the fact that we are now walking distance from our destination) Can we pull over and find a phone?

Me: (completely aware of the fact that we are now walking distance from our destination) Chief, we are now walking distance from our destination.

Chief: (Trying to maintain his air of mystery) Oh, good… good.

See, Batman is the Dark Knight. That mysterious person who knows and sees things that you can’t. This is supposed to make them interesting, magnetic, Cool.

It drives me Bats. The less offensive, but just as annoying version, is the one that does it not to be mysterious, but to strike up conversation. Instead of, “Oh, wow! Look at this!” They go, “Oh, wow!” and wait…. For you to ask, “What?” so they can share. And if you don’t ask, “What?” they’ll continue to go, “Oh, wow!” until you, or someone else, does.

This last is who has been hired. And he’s sitting next to me. Joy to the world.

So that’s my day. My own private Idahell. (Yeah, I pulled a muscle reaching for that last one) I gotta go now, the infringement rights people from The King and I are calling me. Besides, my eyelid is twitching madly, and I think I’m going blind.

**I used spell-check and dictionary.com for this.

O.k., so I think I should clarify. Apparently, I was SO obscurely funny I was over my OWN head. See, this sounds better than “all my friends think I’m a ninny, and I haven’t a clue about the sociopolitical condition of our nation.”**

NO, I do not REALLY think that Stem Cell research has anything to do with plants. That having been cleared up, I would like to clarify that a “Wandering Jew,” for the outraged many who did not know, is a PLANT.

GET IT?!?!? A PLANT!! GET IT?!?!? Wandering Jews!!! Experimentation!! HA HA!!… Plants… stem cells… get it?

Sigh.

Anyway, I bear no ill will toward ANY Jews, wandering or otherwise, and am not now, nor have I ever been, annoyed by the Buddhists. Except that one time. On the L.I.E.

But we won’t talk about that.

This is a test. This is only a test. Had this been an actual Blog, you would have been bombarded with useless information, and nonsensical drivel. This is only a test.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Thank you. We now return you to the monotony of your lives.

We had a surprise 50th birthday party for my Uncle this weekend.

O.k., so his girlfriend actually HAD the party, but I was there.

O.k., so I missed the surprise part, but in spirit…

Anyway. I have to tell you, it was the MOST bizarre thing ever. See, it was about 25 aging ex-hippies who were schnockered out of their MINDS, running around my parent’s back yard thinking they were cool. I got hit on by approximately six different guys who were EASILY my dad’s age. Almost none of them could lift their eyes above breast level while talking to me. And my poor eighteen-year-old sister… I don’t even want to TALK about that (she's a hottie).

My Uncle Harley (not his real name, to protect the not-so-innocent) is a big guy, and a tough customer. He and his ex-wife used to own twin Harley Davidson bikes that they used to take my cousins and I for rides on. They’d do parentally unauthorized wheelies and donuts with us, and we thought they were cool. My favorite memory of my uncle is of giving him a flannel shirt one Christmas when I was about six. The shirt was a size or so too small, but instead of taking it off to return it, he kept it on and flexed his muscles, Lou Ferigno Style, and tore the shirt across the seams. My cousins and I just about lost our MINDS. Our Uncle was The Hulk!

Of course, I would find out later that he was also on many drugs, Lou Ferigno Style, and that may be why he didn’t just exchange the shirt for one that fit.

ANYway, here we all were at my parent’s house. The Kids (defined as 18-30) and The Adults (defined as…. Older than that). What a frightening role reversal. It was like a geriatric frat party. Someone got my uncle a blow-up sex doll with THREE ports of entry. Think about it……. o.k. My 25-year-old sister was chasing our very frightened dalmation around the yard with it. MEANWHILE, back at the ranch, the “kids” were Aaaaaaall (comparatively) sober. I looked around and thought “what Losers we are.”

Then I had a really good look at the “adults.” There were shirts open to the navel exposing gray chest hair. There were mullets. There were daisy duke short-shorts showing off road map of Florida legs. There was screaming laughter from fifty-somethings talking about blowjobs (shudder). There was… ready?… Karaoke.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

And they kept trying to get Krang and I to SING. Why not just light two llamas on fire?? You’ll get the same effect!! And long time readers know my affinity for Karaoke and all that it entails. Oh, yeah. I’m in Hell.

All in all it was a great evening. No, really.

On to other news: Sharks. Attacking. Run.

O.k., enough about that. I just want to add to Disney that HELL YEAH I was serious about the Stem Cell thing! I’m gathering up all my Wandering Jews as we speak for experimentation. And my Buddhists too, they annoy me.

My sister says it's the Hundred Year Shark Jamboree.

No one EVER listens to me!!! I TOLD you the sharks are coming!! Emergency! Everybody to Get from the streets!!! (bad The Russians Are Coming reference). Go to http://www.chynakatt.blogspot.com/ (because I don't know how to link) and click on her "shark" link from yesterday.

They're PLOTTING I tell you!! All species are gathering!! They're trying to create LEGS, I say!!!
RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!

feck·less (fkls)
adj.
Lacking purpose or vitality; feeble or ineffective.
Careless and irresponsible.

I'm sad today. Don't worry, sometimes sadness or sickness can actually make me funnier.

O.k., that was a lie, but my intentions were good. Don't hate me because I'm conceited…

I’m really tired today. I have that “if they would just let me lie down on the carpet I could go right to sleep” thing going on. I thought about what I would post today, but couldn’t come up with anything…. So I did the worst thing in the world.

I read the Newspaper.

What was I THINKING?? Holy Hell this world is going to the shitter. A fifteen-year-old girl was lured into a kidnap situation via an online relationship she had with a couple on Long Island. The couple raped, beat, and sodomized the girl for a few days before “lending” her to a friend to use as a sex slave. After a week of terror this LITTLE GIRL (she’s only 15) got up the courage to look through the house for her cell phone and call the police. When they got to her she was in shock, and had marks on her neck where the attackers had chocked her repeatedly. The defending attorney is saying that the girl was left unattended several times and, had she wanted to, could have escaped. A woman teacher in Queens is being prosecuted for seducing, and having a two-year affair with, two sixteen-year-old students three years ago. And another woman, a single mother of FIVE, is being brought up on manslaughter charges in the death of her two-year-old youngest son. She apparently was coming home from shopping and put the oldest child (a fifteen year old boy) in charge of making sure all of the kids got into the apartment. Well, somehow the youngest got forgotten, and that poor baby died after an hour in the 105-degree car. They’re charging the mother with negligence.

They’re not safe on a computer. They’re not safe at school, and they’re not safe at home. And Skye wonders why I don’t want to have children.

I know the parents probably should have better taught the kid on the Internet, but that freaks me, too. I don’t get from the article, or from the defending asshole (does that make me biased) that the girl is a problem kid, or that the parents were abusive. I think that she’s just fifteen, and thought that she could handle herself. I mean, this is a whole new breed of kids. I knew enough not to go off with people I didn’t know, but these kids think that they know these people! They’ve “hung out” with them in chat rooms! Has none of you out there “met” someone on line? The only reason I haven’t is because I’m computer retarded. The days of “don’t get into a car with strangers” are gone. Now it would seem we have “Talk To No One,” “Don’t Make Eye Contact,” and “Always Bring a Bodyguard.” Fifteen-year-olds are cocky and over confident by nature. There’s only so much you can do.

The teacher claims that there was never any sexual contact with the two boys. They claim that the relationship went on for two years, until each of the boys met their current girlfriends. The boys are now 19, and she just turned 25 last week, making them 16 and 22 at the time. Think about that for a second. I know a guy who is 24, and recently decided to quit his teaching job because he couldn’t handle the 18 year-old-girls throwing themselves at him. He’s a Very good-looking guy, funny and well spoken. Compare that to the dregs you see in the local High School parking lot. One girl was so aggressive that he finally had to tell her to knock it off or he’d lose his job. She was apparently very attractive, so he told her that he couldn’t date her now, but to look him up after she graduates (which would have been in six months). She bragged to friends, and it wasn’t long before his job was in jeopardy, and his reputation was shot. He decided it wasn’t worth it anymore, and never renewed to work the next year. She was 18, he was 22/23.

And the last story breaks my heart. That baby’s last hour was a nightmare. Who do you blame??? This woman was a single mom, but we don’t know her situation. Were they from three or four different dads? If so, does that make her irresponsible, and thus a bad mother? Was she from another culture, and birth control is not an option? Did the man in her life die? Was there EVER a man IN her life? She could have been a frazzled mom who got distracted by life. OR… she might have just not cared enough to check on the baby. All I can think about is that little boy. I have a nephew and a niece. Each is about that age, and I get sick just thinking about it.

O.k., have I depressed you all? Good! Now I don’t feel so alone.

O.k., I’m better now.

O.k., This one just came to me today. Why me?

“Ms. Johnston, thank you for such a quick reply to my resume submission.
I am considering numerous career avenues. I will need to investigate
other leadership position offers before I can give you a definite
answer. I would rather not have a interview at this time, being that I
am not sure about working with you.

You are not this body, not this mind, you are the Spirit.”


DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY THINK THAT THIS WOWS POTENTIAL INTERVIEWERS?? And WHY would this person even THINK that I might consider him for an interview, let alone a JOB, after he sends me some nutball response like this??? Pant, Pant!

Arg!!

A lot of my job consists of reviewing resumes sent to me by such sites as Hot jobs ™ and Monster.com ™… O.k., at this time ALL of my job consists of that, but let’s not mince details. I’m feeling a lack of funny today, and I became concerned that I might not be entertaining enough lately. Oh, sure, I’m funny enough normally to actually DESERVE a day to stink like a Dunkin’ Donuts ™ break room; and granted, while confusing, YESTERDAY’S blog may have made at least two of you chuckle (you know who you are), I still found myself worried.

Then it occurred to me that there is nothing funnier than reality. That said, may I introduce to you all: These People (I’m not allowed to use actual names, as that is an invasion of privacy, and slander, and will generally let the whole blog universe know how fundamentally stupid these people are). These are ACTUAL resumes and/or responses to my query about their resume. None of the spelling or grammer has been changed by the translator (that's me, by the way):
Example #1
Name: Xxxx XxXxxxxxxx

Experience: n/a

Skills: Computer knowledge, heavy lifting not a problem

Example #2
Hello:
Thank you for interviewing and showing me how wonderful your organization are.
I feel very interested about your company and hope I can have chance to use my knowledge and being a member of you.
Thaks again!

Example #3
Hi papa,
I got this mail wel lthe company may be small lbut the best part is it started to come well as you r job manager I am sending this to u
Bye
Xxxxxxx

Example #4
Very large penis. Can last more than half hour. Garanteed orgasm everytime. 14” penis 7”girth



I could not make this shit up.

The homeless should be round up and put into a... a... HOME somewhere, or something! That'd learn 'em!

OH! And a happy 25th Birthday to my sister Krang!!!

I heard something last night about this HUGE controversy over Stem Cell research. President Bush even came on the T.V. the other night (dangerously close to interrupting WWF Wrestling) and talked in circles about it for a while (actually, he might have made some very lucid points, but the second I see his face all I hear is the sound that the adults make in all the Charlie Brown cartoons). Since this seems to be a hot political topic, I feel I should weigh in ….. hold on a second, I’m trying to get over the idea of getting weighed .
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O.k., I’m all right.

I say (and I know you are all waiting with bated breath to hear what I say), LET them take all the damn Stem Cells they want!! What’s the big deal?? Let scientists harvest them in droves, for God’s sake!! I heard that it’s become a MORAL issue? Moral HOW??? I mean, come ON! They’re just PLANTS after all! What harm could it do?? If you take a little piece of a stem, will the rose die?? NO! So Stem Cell away, I say!! And hey, even if the ferns or whatever WOULD die, if it’s going to cure Alzheimer’s or something, I STILL say go for it. I’m sorry, I’m just controversial like that.

O.k., that took a lot out of me. It’s like that when I get passionate about something.

Hey! Nightskye!

I disagree!

O.k., I'm done.

“MOCK! (Yeah!) ING! (Yeah!) BLOG! (Yeah!) YEAH! (Yeah!)…”

So I had an adventurous weekend! My Lovely Mother and SEVEN (count ‘em, SEVEN) Bridesmaids held a Bridal Shower for me. I’ve never had a surprise party thrown for me before! It was VERY cool. It did, however, make me realize something about myself… I felt WEIRD being the center of attention. I had the uncontrollable urge to stand up and say, “There’s nothing to see here! Go on… go about your business…”

Oh, shut up all of you. I’m serious… I was shy.

Ahem.

Anyway. They got me good. I was TOTALLY HAD. I thought that I was going to my cousin, Kim’s shower. They even told me that SHE thought she was going to MY shower, and I bought it. I thought, “What a great idea! She’ll be totally fooled!” What a rube I am. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that they got me. I’m one of the single most gullible people on the planet. Al, NO! I mean, SKYE, knows this, and could’ve gotten me there under pretty much any pretense.

“Baby? Why do I have to wear a dress to go deep sea fishing?”
“Everyone does.”
“Oh…. (shrug) O.k.”

So the whole thing was GREAT. They sat me on a throne and had me open gifts in front of everyone. The only thing that was missing was the maroon velvet ropes and a ‘Do Not Feed The Bride’ sign. I felt so weird that I ended up keeping a running joke commentary through the whole thing. I was a one-woman comedy act. I’m really funny. No really, I am.

We were, however, on a time limit for the party room at the Ramada Inn, Riverhead. This time limit successfully turned my mother, code name Psychomom, and sister, code name Krang, into the Gift Gestapo. I was in the room for a total of 24 seconds when they were like, “Sit down, you have to start opening gifts!” It was Kamikaze Shower time! This was no Shower, this was a Monsoon!

I think I pulled a muscle reaching for that.

All in all, I had a great time. The wait staff left something to be desired. Never have I seen such an unenthusiastic bunch. There is apparently more job satisfaction at the DMV then there is at the Ramada Inn, Riverhead. These young gits went right over "bordering on rude," and landed square on You Guy Suck Ass As Waiters. Krang spared the manager the joy of dealing with Psychomom, and had at it herself. We got all of our drinks for free. HA! You guys poured for NOTHING!!

They probably spit into the pitchers.

O.k., enough about that, I’m boring myself. The rest of the weekend was great, as I had PEOPLE over my apartment. Woo-hoo! Who’s the hostess?? Yeah, I ‘da hostess!!

It was a great time. We watched DVD’s and SKYE barbequed in the pouring rain and we played drinking games only I didn’t drink because I’m on a diet and we had cookies that shot my diet to Hell and we lounged around and some of the people played Magic The Gathering ™ which is appropriate because we WERE gathering GASP! Grammatical Rebellion is MINE!

All in All it was a great weekend. Skye and I have decided to divorce and remarry once every year and a half, just so we can do it again. Except that now you’ll all know about my ploy! Drat! Everything would have worked out fine if it weren’t for you meddling KIDS!

There is nothing more insufferable than sitting DIRECTLY next to a person who is leaving for a cruise in a matter of hours. I wish to stab them in the neck with my pen.

My drive to work this morning was impeded by the 14lb little old lady in the Jalopy in front of me. The elderly should be forbidden from driving in rush hour. Verboten, I say! It would have been different if I had been on a major highway, such as the Long Island Distressway. But no, I was on one lane only Suffolk Ave in Islip. This scrawny little bat of a woman, who couldn’t have gotten closer to the windshield if she were sitting up on her steering wheel, was moving at roughly the speed of…. Slow stuff. Yeah, I blanked there.

Here’s my idea… we round them all up and have them killed. And all the Asian, too. And people with too much space between their front teeth. And women who say things like “WHAT Ever!” pronounced as two separate words and punctuated with one hand raised palm out.

What was I talking about?

Oh yes! The Jalopy Bat. In the end I did the only thing I could… I ran her off the road. NO! I mean, Iiiiiiiiii drove patiently behind her until I could safely and LEGALLY pass. Yeah. That.

And disregard anything you may read in tomorrow’s paper.

I e-mailed my sister the address to my Blog site. This is the cut and pasted response I got from her:

"What the HELL was that website???? Is it a bulletin board? A chat room? And what the hell?!?!?

You people need some therapy...may I suggest AROMAtherapy (cue my loud, and not terribly unmoist fart).

Have a good one.

Oh yeah...Kris and I are tre's unhappy about Attack of the CLones. Kris says it sounds to much like Attack of the CLOWNS, and I think it sounds to much like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. Ewan McGregor pissed in Lucas' coffe by saying it is a suckass title too.

I would have preferred "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad War" "

Does this clear anything up for you? I thought so.

Stupid F@#$!ng Blogger is down!! Don’t MAKE me write another poem!!

Um, Wry Guy, I just want to say, sincerely, and from the bottom of my heart, COPY CAT! COPY CAT! PPPPLLLLLBBBBBTTTT!! (raspberries) No big deal, we'll just talk about you behind your back.

And Ghost, you leave Skye alone! If he wants to fold like a Christmas card in the face of my incorrigible wrath then that's his prerogative.

Hey, Logi! Nobody won the Bed Wars.... I ALLOWED him to sleep next to the wall.

"Where are the Clones... send in the Clones... Don't bother, they're here" ~Swank Finestra~

Hey, didja hear about the guy who was arrested at the Bronx Zoo? He was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, trying to climb the fence into the Gorilla exhibit. The GUY was climbing, not the shorts. He said he “wanted to be closer to the monkeys. My thought is, it doesn’t sound like he needs to climb any fences to get “closer to the monkeys.” And hey, if he wants to take his chances in there with the monkeys, let him! Why waste taxpayer dollars on the police work needed to get him out?

Oh, wait. By TODAY’S example, he might be safer with the gorillas than he is with the Fuzz.

I feel a Several Post day coming on, so stay tuned… or keep retuning… or whatever….

Soooo.



How ‘bout those Knicks?

Hot enough for ya’?

Seen any good movies lately?

Okaaaaaaaaaaaay. Fork. Me. Done

So....... the next installment to Star Wars saga, the long awaited, apprehensively anticipated sequel to the prequel…. Titled…… titled….. I can’t even say it……

Attack of the Clones.

Worst. Title. Ever. (read as Comic Store Guy from The Simpson’s) Haven’t they crapped on the fabric upon which I have based my life enough?

Sigh. O.k., I have to go back the TMBG issue. Not because I want to mind you, but because that second voice in my head is making me. I heartily agree with UIM. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and all that. Discussing our THEORIES is one thing. Making a judgment on what’s in someone’s head is like complaining about the contents of a book to an illiterate.

I think I hurt myself just then.

Vive La Revolucione! I think I've successfully connived, uh, I mean convinced, my friend Diablo to create his own blog. This after MONTHS of following my lead and mocking Skye in his internet Geekhood.

P.S.
Pssssst, Gclef...... after I lost my second post I now cut and paste from word. My grammatical anal retent knows no bounds.

um..... yeah, what was I saying?

Hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!

The sharks are coming!! The sharks are coming!! Run for your lives!! Is there no END to the hell???? For those of you living in caves possessing nothing but this computer with access to ONLY blogger, shark attacks have been on the rise in recent years. This presents us with some alarming theories.

Ahem. 1) The food supply for sharks has been recently depleted by the upswing in fishing industry demand, forcing the sharks to come closer to shore to search for food, inadvertently putting them in close range to humans. 2) The Human population is becoming increasingly larger, causing there to be more recreational water activity involving humans, again, putting US in close range with THEM. 3) They are huge, toothy, bloodthirsty monsters that have tasted human flesh and want more! More!! MORE!! They are becoming smarter and smarter, as witnessed in the feature film Deep Blue Sea, endlessly bent on taking over the world, biding their time until they find a way to travel on land, destroying us all!!!!!

Mind you, these are just theories.

Speaking of bloodthirsty monsters, yesterday was my parent’s thirtieth wedding anniversary. I called my Dad at around noon to wish him a happy anniversary, to which he replied, “Yep, Twenty-five great ones.”

Hmmmmm. This is not the most encouraging thing in the world. But, Hey! 25 out of 30 is pretty good, right? Right? Anyone? (cricket… cricket… )

Note to Wryguy (everyone else can skip to the next paragraph). My company’s mascot/logo is a Rhino. We call ourselves rhinos. To be a rhino, you have to be really tough and undeterred. I like to think of myself as really tough and oblivious.

Note to Gclef ( lied to the rest of you, skip to the NEXT bit). You can call me anything you like, baby!! Whichever you like. Whichever’s easiest to type. Whichever makes me look thinnest.

Note to Tempest (“I can’t believe it, man! You fell for it! The oldest trick in the book!!). Laughed my fool ass off imaging you acting like Skye and me. BAY-be!! Hahahahahah
Hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!

“Don’t think me unkind. Words are hard to find. They’re only checks I’ve left unsigned, from the banks of chaos in my mind. And when their eloquence escapes me, their logic ties me up and rapes me.” ~The Police~


O.k. So. I think I’ve transcended lack-of-creativity, and landed right on loss-for-words. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to Social Commentary.

Exhibit A: My friend Gclef (I never stop feeling stupid doing that) blogged in to talk about her brother-in-law’s “attempted” suicide. I write “attempted” in “quotes” not to sound “sarcastic,” but rather to illuminate the fact that it was not a real attempt, in that he did not actually WANT to, I mean, that is to say, his INTENTIONS were to end his life but his resolve wasn’t, I mean where as he, uh, I mean, We the people, being of sound mind and body, no! I mean….. Can anyone tell me what the HELL I’m talking about??

All I can say is this: I believe that anyone who says that they have never thought about taking their own life at SOME point, is a bald faced liar. However, those that take the thought into some form of action, whether they intend for it to end in their own undoing or not, need help. They ARE thinking about the pain that they are causing those around them. I don’t mean for this to sound twisted, but anyone with any mental disorder like that (i.e. botched suicide, eating disorder, cutting/hurting themselves) DOES realize that their actions are hurting others. My feeling is that they are NOT, repeat NOT, JUST looking for attention. Some of it has to do with attention (i.e. any attention is better than none at all), but I feel that there’s more. Frankly, it gets under my skin when I hear “Oh, she/he’s just looking for attention.” That feels very closed off and dismissive to me.

Someone who cuts themselves, or swallows a bottle of aspirin, and then runs out and tells someone about it doesn’t really want to die, obviously. The closest thing I can come up with as an analogy is this: Imagine that there are two voices in your head (I can almost hear the cries of “Just Two?” out there. Good, you’ll understand better, and I have less chance of you trying to have me committed). Anyway, one voice is good. It knows you’re a good person, that you deserve good things in life, that you’re worthwhile. Then there’s that other voice. You ALL know it. It sound’s like this: “You’re stupid! You’re FAT! No wonder no one likes you, you’re a complete burden! Why do you even bother to live? No one likes you, you’re a complete FAILURE.”

Everyone o.k. out there? O.k.

Now, my feeling (note the repetition of the word) is that sometimes the second voice becomes louder than the first. I hear guffaws from the crowd, “Noooo! Really?!?! People have LOW self-esteem??? Surly you JEST, Jess.” But wait. I know that everyone feels that their second voice can be louder at times without sucking back a bottle of Tylenol™, but imagine if all you can hear is the second voice. Just for a minute, try to think about how it would feel to hear nothing but that all day long, with only a thin little dental floss-like thread keeping you in contact with the first voice. Eventually you get a little wiggy. Eventually, you fight back…. Unfortunately, so does the voice. It’s a losing battle really, at least it is if you’re doing it on your own. You don’t have the right firearms. Soon, the voice will want justification. That’s where the aspirin comes in. You nosh on some Nuprin™ and then run to your brother. And do you know what you hear from the voice? “SEE!! You’re such a burden!! You do nothing but cause trouble! You can’t even KILL yourself right!”

This person needs help. He’s in a battlefield, and he needs a military strategist, not a brother and sister-in-law. They don’t have the proper weaponry either. They just get to deal with the fall out.

O.kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Now I’m gonna be funny, O.k.?

I think that the Traffic Dog Hurler should be fined for damages (to the cars of the people hitting the dog), serve community service at an animal shelter containing ONLY yappy little dogs, and have his license revoked pending psychological evaluation. Or, he can choose to be taken out back and have the shit kicked out of him by two burly Italian guys and Snoop Doggy Dog, while a cassette player plays Who Let the Dogs Out by the Baha Men.

The Dog Owner Lady: Ditto.

Thank you for a beautiful post, Ghost (Pooooooost Ghooooooost). What the Hell do you mean you didn’t like me?!?! Just kidding, I think I sensed the tension. I’m sharp like that. I’m glad we could put our differences aside and admit that it was all your fault.

Thank you, Logi, once again for your help with our move. Nightskye and I, having been raised in barns by barbarians, overlooked the thanks you should have received sooner.

And what the Hell IS “Bald faced,” anyway?

Oh, and Ghost…. Sorry about stealing your quote format…. Just kidding about the your fault thing….

Whew. I’m exhausted.

So…. I went to Karaoke on Friday night. Not because I wanted to, mind you, but because the love of my life would be singing in the All-time-Karaoke-Leader-Of-The-World-Until-Next-Time contest. Me, I would never get up to sing. There’s no audience in the world with that high a tolerance for pain.

So, off I went, stand by your man and all that. O.K., This bar…. alright, picture this… thirty-something women in sparkly tube tops, and baby-tee’s that say things like “Spoiled Brat” in hot pink glitter. Forty-something women in spandex pants and belly shirts exposing enough belly for TWO……. And men? Mullets as far as the eye can see.

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it’s off to Hell I go.

BUT… my baby was competing, so I dress nice and go. Luckily, he has several friends that go as well, and these people are comparably normal (sorry everyone). I just want to say Kudos to Logi, who has a lovely voice. I envy you, and secretly plan your untimely demise. NO! I mean, uh, I… secretlyyyyy ADMIRE you!….. Yes, that’s it.

You are all braver lads than I, Gungha Din. At any rate, it was my EXTREME joy to watch my Sweetheart get up in front of a room half full of pseudo rednecks and sing “I’m a Sweet Transvestite.” How many of us out there can say THAT?

And God help me, he WON. What a great country. He was really good, too. I was so proud. The other two people who were in the FINAL-Final-All-time-Karaoke-Leader-Of-The-World-Until-Next-Time round were Logi, and some other chick who is of no relevance to me other than the fact that she had a really good voice until she chose to sing the “Star Spangled Banner”, which I’m sure she thought would be a show stopper but wasn’t because BOY did she screw the pooch on THAT one. GASP.

How’s that for a run-on sentence?! Grammar be Damned!

So. Suffice it to say that I had a really good time, despite my dislike of all things Karaoke. Next weekend I get to pick what we do. I’ll give you all a moment to picture your friend Nightskye Salsa dancing. Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!! (evil laugh)

O.k., stick a fork in me. I’m done.

'Till tomorrow…. Or 'till some bright, shiny object catches my attention.

Buh-Bye.


P.S.
To Disney (a.k.a. gclef)
You’re welcome!

VICTORY!!!!

Gee I wish I knew how to link people to this stupid Blot.

A poem……… in tribute to the Blogger Black Hole:

Ahem.

G*D D@$% Mother F*&%ING B@$!ard lost my stupid post,
I can’t decide which F*&%ing feature pisses me off most.

I pour my heart out on the screen, typing till I’m numb,
Only to have the G*D D@$% Blot lose the work I’ve done.

I feel a deadly wrath within, but I don’t know whom to blame.
I’d like to point a finger, but I hang my head in shame.

I’m technologically illiterate, this is my first time, you see.
For all my P!$$!ng and moaning, the culprit here is me.



Thank you.

A posting I will go, a posting I will go ……

Or not.

Perspective? Prospective? Perpendicular?

I do a lot of interviews over the phone for my company. The perspective candidates are from all over the U.S.A., and the position is outside sales (read door to door).

I just realized……. New Yorkers suck ass.

We are rude, crude, pushy, greedy, impolite, demanding, demeaning, nasty, emm eff’s. It never even dawned on me before. Amazing.

So I’m back for more……………………………………. This is what I mean about being unable to tap into the creative pool. Things like this used to just flow from my hands. Now, just blank stares from the peanut gallery in my head. Don’t hate me because I’m mundane…

I have all sorts of interesting things (she’s lying) going on in my life. If I REALLY wanted to I could go on for hours in truth (more lies). I’m sure you’d all be thrilled to hear about my wedding plans (lies to the self are the ugliest), or my new apartment (won’t the hell ever end), or… um…. No, I guess that’s it really.

O.k., it would be boring to hear about my day-to-day idiotics. They interest me (dooooooon’t yooooooou believe iiiiiiiit).

I tipped two Spaniards $20 and gave them each a cold Coke™ for delivering my couch, love seat, and armchair. Was that enough? Too much? Anyone? Anyone?

I’m listening to co-workers argue about the format of our customer service. I have a vision of walking out of my office and firing at LEAST two of them. One of them I’d like to use real fire. I’m the manager. I have that power. Not a jury in the world that would convict me.

Ack.

Well.... here I am.

Good God, What have I become? For the longest time I mocked my fiance, Ni....... ugh. Nigh....... sigh. I can't BELIEVE I'm going to refer to him as this............ Nightskye. There I said it. Nightskye. I have no idea why no one in the Blog universe seems to be able to refer to each other by their given names. Are we all supposed to be Superhero's, but only when were posting? Jessica. My name is Jessica (your name is TOBY. Not Kunta Kinte.). There I said it. Does that oust me from the Blogger Universe? Sorry.

For the Longest time I smirked at (sigh) Nightskye's Blog tendencies. I mocked him as a geek, having his very own website. Frankly, I can't even believe I find myself sitting here typing this. I have no idea what I'm doing. In fact, this is my second attempt at posting. The first resulting in a disastrous memory wipe, affecting everyone within a ten mile radius.

I suppose I began contemplating my very own Blog a few weeks ago. Oddly, the urge to try was spurred on by the memory of my old college journals. I remembered that I was never parted from it for more than a few moments, save for one horrifying weekend when I left my bookbag at a boyfriend's house. Shudder.

Those spiral notebooks acted as an anchor for my head. They let me keep my thoughts ordered, and allowed me to get creative ideas out before they disappeared forever (thank you ADD). The fright of it is, there was a time when I couldn't walk from class to class without pulling out that journal and jotting something down for later. I used to start writing a story or poem and loose all contact with reality for the next two hours. Now it occurs to me that, even if I were so inclined, I'm not sure that I could sit and write a poem. I don't know where that flame went. It's like waking up one day to find that your hands have gone numb. That they have in fact BEEN going numb, and you have chosen to ignore it.

I don't know what this journal will yield. I can't gaurantee that I won't get frustrated with myself and abandon this three days from now. I can't promise that Woo-Hoo!! this will be entertaining. I can't even be sure that anyone but me is reading this. Except maybe Nightskye, who will read this regardless of the fact that he will hear everything directly from my own lips not four minutes after I type it.

He's good like that.

So.... Here I am. Who knows. And I do apologize for the stupid ROOTS reference..... sort of.