Tryin’ To be Frugal

So yes I went to Ikea and spent money, but it wasn’t that much and I am feeling buyer’s remorse as I type this. I need to be saving money and cutting back on my spending. Why you say? Three reasons: Reason 1 – I think the Ghetto Bug is dying; Reason 2 – I would someday, hopefully, like to move out of my parents’ house so I won’t feel like quite so much the loser; Reason 3 – I want to attend grad school outside the state I currently reside in. There you have it.

Shoppin'

So the weather was nice for a minute and do you think I spent that minute basking in yummy warmness? HELL NO! I went to Ikea where I could bask in Swedish frugalness. Anyhoo I purchased a clock and a shelving unit for my shizz. I also bought some cute aquatic finger puppets to give to my Squidgy the next time she visits. Right now my sister is frantically trying to potty train my cute Squidgy before she starts pre pre school. All she has managed to do so far is enrage Squidgy so that instead of going on her nice Pottery Barn kids toilet (or whatever fancy brand my sister bought for what basically amounts to a crap receptacle), Squidgy uses the living room floor as her own personal water closet. I have to admit that I would laugh if I were there to see Squidgy squatting in defiance, but only until said squatting took place over my luggage.

Desperately Seeking Gratitude

So Hoshie showed me his mid-term report card and he received all E’s, as in E for Excellent. He had the cutest little grin on his face and I wanted to reward him for his efforts because I feel like I’m still scarred from getting JACK from my family for all my years of scholastic endeavors. So I reached in my purse, pulled out a dollar (I’m not cheap, I’m broke) and placed it in his pasty little hand. Immediately his smiled turned into a scowl and he grumbles, “I wanted a video game.” Apparently the E in citizenship only applies at school.

On another note, Black Project posts will not be as frequent because my family just subscribed to expanded cable and I have me some TV to watch.

OH YEAH!

Yep, I've finally watched these and I love them! If I made one I would want it to be "I'm f**king Jeff Fahey," because he's bitchin.

He's Back!

So I call my sister today and when she answers the phone I can barely hear her because Hoshie is screaming his angry little lungs out in the background. Ladies and gentlemen ... all's right with the world.

Hugs from Hoshie

So I have been remiss in my family visiting duties lately what with all the work and letting my hair return to its natural, hideous color (I call the shade sewer rat). So anyhoo, I finally went to see my sister, otherwise known as she who gave birth to the world's angriest child, and upon entering her house a SMILING Hoshie ran up to me and gave me a big hug. For a second I thought I entered bizarro world where angry Hoshie became happy Hoshie and suddenly I got all excited because if this was bizarro world then dateless Via would suddenly become guy-magnet Via and that has been my dream ever since I spent my prom night watching Doctor Who - alone (for the longest time I thought Tom Baker and that dude from REO Speedwagon were the same person). So anyway I quickly realized that no I had not entered bizarro world because my surly niece, she was still surly (she gets it from me) and Hoshie - he still smelled of cheese rather than beef (I'm assuming that beef is the bizarro equivalent of cheese). True I was disappointed that I would still be spending my Friday nights watching Ghost Whisperer all the while being pissed off because Jennifer Love Hewitt has way better boobs than me, but for the time being I could be happy knowing that my little Hoshie loved me, if only for ten minutes, because after ten minutes he screams in my face and kicks me in the shins.

Chewie? Really?

So here are the latest additions to my assortment of old things. Yes, that is Spongebob and Patrick in the picture. I love Spongebob Squarepants! Anyhoo, I would really like to learn how to put new TV parts in the old TV. I am hoping this is something my brother would like to help me with. He can laugh when I electrocute myself.

Besides collecting more stuff, I visited this website - http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=nickname – and received my Sawyer nickname. I found out about this through another person’s blog. Her nickname was Moonbeam, me, I’m Chewie. Upon learning my nickname my first thought was, “What the ****? That is a nickname for a wookie!” Anyway, I was disgruntled until I put in my friend’s name and she received Pud. Suddenly Chewie didn’t seem so bad.

YEAH MST3K!

So I finished this big project at work and it turned out awesome if I do say so myself. I already have plans for next year's. Is it wrong I get an adrenaline rush thinking about these things? Anyhoo, now I can focus on catching up on MST3K which my wonderful friend, Larry Kroger/Jason Bateman loaned me. I am now totally in the know if someone references the "Torgo school of fondling." I hate to admit this but I have gone out with guys who attended that school. I had to put the hurt on them.

Dealin' With Stuffins

So I have been super busy and haven't had time to post. First off I have been dealing with the aftermath of being rear-ended. SO FUN!!!!! Let me tell you, dealing with residual whiplash and the insurance company has been a horrible, stressful experience. Ughhhhhh! So that is about it. I'm spent, nuff said.

OMG! It's Joel McHale!

So this weekend I went to a comedy club to see none other than Joel McHale from The Soup. He was pee-your-pants funny and I had some beer so I was totally in danger of that. Anyhoo, afterward I had my picture taken with him. I was so excited that when I later looked at the picture, I realized that I looked like someone just jabbed me in the butt with a fork. I had this weird excited yet terribly surprised look like "I can't believe I'm touching The Soup guy!" So I covered my face. Another reason for covering my face is that I like to keep my identity a secret. I have many ex-boyfriends whom I would rather have think I'm dead. My picture on this blog would give my living and breathing away. (I am aware no one reads this blog, but I don't want to risk it.)

Sorry - It's All Good

So I have this habit of apologizing for everything and I mean everything. I walk around in a constant state of penance because of the apparent guilt I feel over breathing air. Anyway, I'm at the store today and I get in the checkout line where I immediately apologize because the purchase will need to be split which means more work for the guy at the register and I feel like an evil, picky shopping bitch who refuses to combine work purchases with personal ones. The guy just smiles and replies, "It's all good." He then starts to ring up my purchases and I place my shopping bag on the counter and apologize because now not only am I the picky shopping bitch but I am also eschewing their fine plastic shopping bags - I am evil, picky, pretentious shopping bitch. He replies with, "It's all good" and I realize that I am an apology whore, throwing out "sorry" at any supposed offense. I need to take a cue from the cashier and instead of punctuating every sentence with a barrage of sorries, I should keep repeating "it's all good" and give up "I'm sorry" all together. I can just see myself now, the next time my klutzy as hell self ends up diving face first into someone's fine china, instead of apologizing profusely, I will smile as big as I can with Royal Doulton embedded in my cheeks and say, "It's all good."

Right On!

So I have some truly super fantastic friends where I work, two of whom brought me back this gorgeous Buddha from China. It is handmade (yes people still make things WITH THEIR HANDS) and I love it. Many many thanks to them for being awesome.




















My teeny Eiffel Tower is behind him. He is visiting Paris - one of us should and it sure isn't going to me - I'M BROKE!

So Awesome

My newest acquisition! I had the highest bid in a silent auction. I think my crazed auction look drove the other bidders away in fear. It is from Indonesia and I love it.

Update on my shizz

So my car may or may not need a new catalytic converter. I am hoping for the may not because I am still very attached to both my kidneys. In between all my car drama I caught a few shows at Sundance. The first show was Be Kind Rewind with the hilarious Jack Black and the man of my dreams - Mos Def. I really enjoyed the snippets where they remade certain films (especially Ghostbusters), but overall I felt the film was all over the map as far as tone and the characters were not fully developed - still - Mos Def is hot. The next film I watched was Smart People. This film was great. Thomas Hayden Church has cornered the market on lovable slackers, although, I have totally seen his pasty butt enough to last me a lifetime. The last film I saw was Transsiberian. Ben Kingsley and Emily Mortimer were fantastic and the scenery made me want to visit Russia. Actually every movie that takes place in Russia fills me with a desire to go there. I love the architecture.

My car is evil - PURE EVIL

My car is broken - again. The check engine light is on and only the dealer seems to know how to reset it so it stays off long enough to pass emissions so I can register the bane of my existence before the end of the month. Problem is, there is only one dealer in the area and they apparently have a monopoly on all things having to do with that demonic little light. So needless to say they basically charge such a large sum of money that I will have to start selling my organs to pay TO TURN OFF THE DAMN LIGHT!!!! This has sent me into a funk because it means more debt and more stress. This car eats all my measly attempts at savings and I am stubborn and refuse to purchase a new one because it is paid off and I am going to ride that mechanized hell beast right into the river Styx! In other words, the engine will have to disintegrate and floor fall off before I will consider going into debt on an automobile again. I am already dealing with a bunch of other debt that I want to get out of the way before accumulating more. My car situation would not be so stressful if I had done my research and realized that the one dealer for this particular make makes an obscene amount of money bleeding every poor sap that walks through their doors dry. Last time I was there I left in tears because I was charged close to $1000 for my repairs. THAT IS WRONG PEOPLE! I really wish that people looked out for each other and not just their bottom line because honestly, it would save me a lot of heartache.

Hannibal Frosty

Here is another photo from my town's Christmas Village. I love this one because of the horrified look on the snowman's face. He just realized that by eating ice cream, he is basically practicing cannibalism. The horror! The horror!

Random Pictures

My sister was given a box of gently used shoes. These shoes were among them. She and I both decided that this particular shade of brown can only be described as "turd."




















If you have ever wondered what happened to that creepy guy from Poltergeist II and III, his body has been lovingly preserved in my town's Christmas Village, complete with young children whose souls he can steal.

In Memoriam

My third grade teacher passed away this week and while it has been a long, long, long time since I was in third grade, I kept in touch with her through the years. She was always one of my favorite teachers. I remember how she taught our class to say the Pledge of Allegiance in Spanish (which I promptly forgot) and how to use poi balls (surprisingly I can still work the poi balls at the same proficiency level I did then, poi ball to the eye and all). I also remember the time she put on a class play about dental health. I wanted to be the tooth fairy who got to wear a beautiful dress and carry a sparkly wand, instead I was cast as the tooth decay witch (an indicator of my life to come). I had to jump out of a box and cackle, only the box was huge and instead of jumping out, I tripped and fell out – onto my face. I did still manage to cackle, because at eight, I was already the consummate professional.

When I was in college I had the opportunity to help her in her class during the break between semesters. I was once again able to show off my mad poi ball skills. I even taught the kids an alternative use for the poi balls – as weapons with which they could bludgeon each other. Working with her I was able to see what I couldn’t see when I was young. I saw how devoted she was to teaching. I saw the effort and time she put into making learning exciting for the kids and I realized that it was because of that effort that she stood out amongst the many teachers in my life. She truly cared about her students and I truly cared about her. She will be greatly missed.

New Year - Now With Extra Cheese!

Yes, I did not post during the holiday break from school and I have a very good reason – I was stuffing myself with cheese, the exotic kind with names you can’t pronounce. Anyhoo, nothing really happened except for when my cute little two year old Squidgy decorated the piano with her feces. My sister said she does that because she lacks tactile stimulation. I think she does it because she knows of all the things she can do to gross someone out, 99% of them involve pooh. In addition to cleaning up after poohcasso, I decided that once again I would not participate in the making of New Year resolutions. I don’t like to tie myself down to anything, I prefer to just go with the flow – good way to reduce stress. That is why, when the piano smells like crap, I can laugh while everyone else freaks out.

Stick a fork in me

So I am pretty sure I am done with all my work for this semester and I am hella happy about that. I have been in a constant state of stress for weeks trying to get my brain to work long enough to crank out a paper and put together a presentation that didn't totally suck. In my humble opinion, they only mildly sucked. I can now get all holiday inebriated without the guilt associated with the fact that I should probably be doing something more productive than killing my brain cells, such as watching The Hills. I love that show, Spencer is such a tool and Justin Bobby, I'm pretty sure I dated his twin during the period I refer to as "my dark ages." I say pretty sure because I've blocked those years out, along with high school and the all the years I had a perm.

Busy-ness

Holy Moly! It has been such a busy month. I know that it will get busier with presentations and papers due at the end. I am trying not to get overwhelmed, but my stomach has been acting up in protest of all the stress. Oh well, such is life.

Man Moratorium

So I have definitely decided that for the time being I am not dating. Normally I could say that this decision would not make any change in my social life because I date about as often as Hoshie has a happy day. Lately, however, I have actually had some interest of the male variety, but I just don't feel like dating. I really just want to be alone and figure out why I am so musically cursed. I decided to take up the guitar and thanks to my efforts; I think I have killed some of my family's brain cells. Bet you didn't know that horrendous guitar twanging could do that - but it can! The surgeon general is going to show up at my house any day now and slap a sticker on me stating - "Will cause copious brain cell death when placed near a musical instrument."

Hoshie-isms

Here are some statements from my own sweet, seven year old Hoshie. Keep in mind that almost all the statements were shouted at the top of his angry lungs.

After his sister Jess jokingly tried to bite his back - "YOU'RE GETTING SALIVA ON MY JACKET!!!!!!"

After his sister Jess jokingly pinched his angry little bum - "SHE PINCHED MY BUTT AND I HATED IT!!!!!"

After his sister Jess asked for a second time if he wanted some soup because he mumbled his first reply (in his defense he was in videogame mode and anyone who knows Hoshie knows you are playing with fire if you disturb his videogame time) - "I SAID SURE!!!!!!!"

And finally, just to prove he is not all screaming and anger, in one of his happier moments - "Yert, let's go outside and spin!"

Welcome back Miller!

I am so glad that Miller is back and I appreciate his concern for my social well-being. That being said ... Miller ... the cheeseburger thing ... it ain't gonna happen. Let it go. Anyway I have no time for guys, someone has to document the goings on of the Hoshus Rageous for prosperity. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would never have believed that such an incredible amount of rage could exist in such a small package. I believe that because I share DNA with Hoshie, I can stand in the same room as him without the risk of being fried by his anger. Therefore, I own it to others who live with little angry ones to study Hoshie and perhaps someday find a way to live in harmony with those who get pissed at having to share a planet with people.

VIA IS INCOMPLETE WITHOUT CHEESEBURGER BOY

ITS ALLLLLLLLLLLLLIVE!!!!!! ITS ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIVE!! Yes...please please...sit back down. Yeah its me Miller Machiavelli! And, IM BACK! So I miss Via a bunch and all the gang back at da offiz! Well, almost everybody...
Life is good.

So VIA....hows the boy sicheashion? Any authors out there you are after? Cheeseburger boy was a catch...why didnt you go for him?

Brain ... no ... work

So I haven't posted in a while because, well, there is nothing really to say other than - my life is soooo boring. All I do is work, read books, watch movies, drink excessive amounts of Chai and pee frequently because of aforementioned Chai. Oh, one major thing that happened, my crushing ceased. I don't really know how it happened but one day I realized that I felt more of a "hey, you're my buddy" feeling than a "hey, let's make out" feeling when I was around my crush. I am relieved because I hate being all gah gah over a guy. I would rather not care either way and then the only way to go is up.

Hoshie draws to express his rage

His brother Chase obviously enraged him. Let this be a warning to anyone who crosses Hoshie's path - he has a pen and he is not afraid to use it.

Bring on the Distractions

So this weekend I tried to make sure that I stayed busy so I would not dwell on the fact that my crush thinks I'm a troll. I began the weekend by stuffing my face at a fundraiser. At said fundraiser, you pay a set price and you get to sample man cooking. Unfortunately, I arrived at the tale end and the only man prepared foods left were a few pieces of bread and some noodles. I am still bloated from all the carbo loading. On the upside, I was too sick to dwell on my being a gorgon. The next day, my friend and I went on an old home tour. It was fantastimo and I coveted me some old homes - big time. If only procrastination paid, I would be rich and could afford to buy one. Behold - some pictures!















The rest of the weekend I either did homework, avoided doing homework or chilled with my relatives who would never refer to me as nice because I've stolen food off most of their plates.

Kiss of Death

So today I was being good and not obsessing about my crush too much when my friend Chapstick mentions that my name came up in a conversation he had had earlier with my crush. I was stoked until he told me what my crush said...he said that I was nice - NICE!!!!!!! He could have easily substituted "nice" for "I find her as appealing as Larry King in drag." I was crushed. I now know that I am firmly entrenched in the "friends" category and I feel like crap. However, on the plus side, I now have a new answer for all of my mother's friends who constantly say to me, "I don't understand, why aren't you married?" Instead of answering with something like, "oh, I just haven't found the right person." I can now say concisely and without any sarcasm - "I'm nice."

New Old Stuff

So the semester has started and I am trying to concentrate in spite of my raging crush. Why does he have to be so sweet AND hot!?! However, my scholastic work and crushing have not kept me from my number one ambition in life - to make all the world's cheap, old stuff mine. That being said, here are the newest additions to my vintage family:

One rotary phone (IT WORKS YO! Too bad my MacBook doesn't, seriously HUGE PIECE OF CRAP!!!!)













And a ceramic parrot (I found it in our barn)

Red Rider and Road Rage

So this weekend I went to visit my sister. When I arrived I ran into my nephews – Hoshie and Yert, who were masquerading as “Red Rider” and “Tire.” “Tire” being the alternate identity of Hoshie. I told Hoshie that perhaps “Road Rash” might be a little catchier than “Tire” and would go nicely with his red hair. He misheard me and excitedly started calling himself “Road Rush.” As the day progressed, rage built up in Hoshie, as it usually does and by the end of the day he was in full on anger mode (if we could just harness that power for energy, I am pretty sure it is clean burning). At this point, my sister and I decided that “Road Rage” was a better fit for our dear, sweet Hoshie.

AAAGGGHHHHHHHHH

So I’ve decided that even though the crush is back on, I am going to give my crush plenty of space so I don’t creep him out. I know I can do this because when I set my mind to something, I have fantastic willpower (said willpower does not work when food is involved). I think I got all giddy from him paying so much attention to me the past little while. I wasn’t used to that and it kind of made me sick – good sick not bad sick. Quite a few of my friends have told me to go ahead and ask him out, but I am really, really freaked out about the whole going on a date thing. I have had some spectacular crash and burns in my past and I am worried that dating disasters follow me and I like this guy too much to watch our friendship go up in smoke because I’m a spaz. Anyhoo, I also need to step back so I can focus some energy on getting ready for school. I need to work on my writing skills (A LOT) because my papers last year – they were crap. Nuff said.

P.S. You are awesome TP! Have fun at grad school!

Commence Crushing!

I found out that my crush is not off the market. Now, in addition to being extremely giddy, I have been analyzing his every move hoping for some sign of interest. A large part of me knows that I am deluding myself into thinking that some small part of him might like me, but I just keep hoping. So far he has winked at me three times, but I can’t really take that as a sign of something because some men are just winky. One day he spent an hour and a half asking me a lot of questions about myself. The conversation ended with him wishing aloud that if someone liked someone – they would just come out and say it. I replied that some people are afraid to state their feelings for fear of rejection. I left out the part about how said individuals (namely me) are one rejection away from adopting thirty cats and calling it good. Anyhoo, I am trying not to get my hopes up and keep everything in perspective, but then I see him and my stomach gets all tied up in knots and I fear for the worst – I’m completely gone over this guy.

My Boss is Awesome!

My boss - he gave me this chair - because he is AWESOME!

Venting

So I'm venting because I really don't like my macbook. I have always loved my macs in the past. I am not the most tech savvy person, so I have loved that they haven't needed me to be. However, my new macbook is possessed by some evil poltergeist that thinks it is funny to break every time I update my software. First I updated the airport and it killed my ability to find my signal. Being non-tech savvy the only way I knew how to fix it was to reinstall my operating system so I backed up all my 80s hair-metal and I reinstalled everything and WOO HOO I find a signal. I haven't updated the airport since because of that unfortunate incident. I have updated other things. This weekend after updating my software, my mac developed this charming habit of freezing and telling me, in a kindly worded message that I must restart (this happens every fifteen minutes). I restart and the mac tells me that the operating system malfunctioned. I tried to find the solution on the web but came up with a whole lotta nothing. I am going to take it to my mac friends to see if they can help or if perhaps I can trade it in for one that is not defective, as I have only had the thing a few months. I can also see if my old standby of reloading the operating system helps. It is a pain because backing up the ultimate Van Halen mix is no small feat, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If anyone knows a better solution, I would greatly appreciate the help. I am seriously considering letting Hoshie melt my macbook with his rage.

SO LAZY!!!!!!!!

Must write something, but so tired and brain not working.

Check this out

Exciting Stuff

No news is good news. Right?

Complaining and Junk

So I found out my secret crush is seeing someone and I’m feeling a little sad. I am trying to be good and wish him the best, but part of me wishes he was still single so that, eventually, he could see that I am not so bad. True, I cheat on my Pilates push-ups and I hoard things. I also covet the Plinko set from The Price is Right and I have a large collection of Star Trek toys (MIB), but that doesn’t make me completely unlikable (only vaguely). This latest rejection has convinced me to give up on men and take up decorative macramé. I have also decided that I really want a doughnut – the cake kind with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I am posting some pictures – enjoy.

Proof

Squidgy loves to dance!

Salsa and s#%t

I have been so wiped lately that I do not have the brainpower to type up a blog entry that makes sense and/or makes sense. Right now I am about to plop my head on my keyboard. I am so exhausted that I would not wake up until tomorrow afternoon. By then, part of said keyboard will be permanently adhered to my head (my drool doubles as super glue). Anyhoo I'll give you a groggy recap of the highlights my week. On Monday, I spilled salsa in my lap and then having wiped it up to the best of my ability made use of my verbal pre-emptive strike and upon meeting anyone, for the rest of the day, I would blurt out, "I SPILLED SALSA ON MY SKIRT BECAUSE I AM A HUGE SLOB AND CANNOT KEEP IT ON MY CHIPS!" To which they would reply, "I didn't even notice a stain." They don't realize I just saved them some eyestrain. I also like to do my part to deter olfactory wear and tear by using my freakishly strong sense of smell to provide information such as, "Does anyone else smell feta?" My comments usually do not elicit a strong response because no one else seems to care that the room smells vaguely of pungent cheese. On Tuesday I decided to try to get over my crush because I feel that my crushing is futile. Beyond him learning my name, I have not made very much progress. I will instead work on the Guinness Book of World Records record for longest armpit hair (the toe nail dream inspired me). Wednesday I ate some toast. Thursday I ate a pita, with hummus, it was good. Friday I tried my hand at socializing and spent time with my friends who don't mind that I frequently reference Star Trek and insist that they call me Spock. All in all, a very productive week.

A Whole Lotta Nothing

So I feel as if I have accomplished nothing this week. I didn’t post anything until today. I didn’t clutter my room with more items from Ikea and/or various thrift stores or garage sales. I didn’t win over my crush by regaling him with detailed accounts of my dreams (I dreamt my toe nails were really long and I couldn’t wear shoes – who wouldn’t find that fascinating?). I did clear some space on my floor by putting some books into storage. Quite a few were self help books my mom gave me in hopes of raising my self-esteem. I found they had the opposite effect – Dr. Phil is harsh.

Ikeaaaaaaaaaaaaa

So this week the first Ikea in the state opens its doors so that we can all celebrate Scandinavian frugality. I am excited, but also a little worried due to the fact that I am an obsessive hoarder. I tend to tell anything that is cheap and old or cheap, new and retro looking “come live with me, I don’t need any space to move around.” Last week I happened upon a surplus sale where I purchased a telephone booth – yes, an actual fit a person inside phone booth. Upon showing it to people the first question they inevitably ask is “what are you going to do with it?” I don’t have the courage to tell them that I will probably spend most nights, dressed as Doctor Who (Tom Baker version), pretending it is my TARDIS. They don’t need to know my special secret; it is between me and the Daleks that live in my head (they tell me to do stuff like eat excessive amounts of pudding). I know that if I go to Ikea I will want to invite almost every item in the store to come live with me so I am practicing some restraint and staying away – for now. I have almost convinced myself that being able to see one’s floor is highly over-rated.

Vay-Cay

So I haven't posted in a while, partly because final papers were sucking up what little brain power I possess and partly because, to recoup said brain power, I went on vacation.

I went to visit my sister and cute little Squidgy. It was fun, but instead of being able to recharge, I spent the week having to wake up at the crack of dawn by having the world's youngest Sarah Jessica Parker fan (more on that later) jump directly on my bladder. From that moment on I would spend my vacation -

1. being screamed at because I was eating something exactly the same as Squidgy, but because it was on my plate, it was like manna from heaven. Manna that was being denied "she who jumps on bladders."

2. watching Squidgy dance during her 5000th viewing of Girls Just Want to Have Fun. That was actually quite funny. I call her dance the "the sumo head-butt." She crouches, with her legs wide apart and moves from one leg to the next while simultaneously trying to head-butt her imaginary dance partner.
3. dodging the world's most psychotic squirrel. I swear it gave me the evil eye!

I also found time to visit the beach where Squidgy proved that while it is okay to embrace perfect strangers in the airport, it is not okay to have salt water anywhere on your person.














And I found out what happened to Don Johnson's long lost Miami Vice stunt mannequin - he has a gig at the Swap Shop, warming Porsche seats.

Unshun

Miller established contact and I hereby retract my previous post in which I called him and turd and denied him the dairy goodness of cheese. There is cheese in my office as we speak and you are welcome to it Miller.

The only way to travel

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to take a 15 minute ride in a Black Hawk helicopter. It was incredible and I had a blast. I was worried because, while I had never been in a helicopter, all my other flying experiences involved airsickness. Fortunately, I always had ginger ale and a packet of cream cheese on hand to settle my stomach. This time however there would be no in-flight snack. I kept an airsick bag in my hands, but I never needed it. The ride was super smooth and the lifting off the ground part was a blast. Anyhoo, I have posted some pictures of my adventure for your enjoyment.

I am completely heartbroken. My thoughts are with the victims of the Virginia Tech tragedy, as well as their friends, family and the campus community.

Un-shun and Re-shun

I was thinking about Miller today. If you haven't noticed, he does not contribute to The Black Project anymore. He has also disappeared off the face of the planet, technically he got married, but as far as I'm concerned - same thing. After he stopped working in the office next door, despite his promises, he cut us all off. He promised a wedding invite, it never materialized. Needless to say, we think he is a bit of a turd. I was going to invite him to my commitment ceremony (me and my TV are registered at Target), but now he is not invited. Miller, you will miss out on all the fries and processed cheese, so suck on that!

Hair today Due tomorrow

So I still have a TON of work left to do on my final two research papers. I feel a little overwhelmed and a little ticked at myself for procrastinating (curse you wonderful, craptastic TV). I have had to buckle down and concentrate on school which means I have decided to put a moratorium on my crushing. I can no longer spend precious brain power on pondering what my crush’s hair smells like (I have never been close enough to him to smell his hair, but I imagine it smells like oranges and hotness).

Speaking of hair my cute, little, toe-headed Squidgy will be visiting next week. I am very excited because I haven’t seen her in almost a year and because I think that by now she is old enough (18 months) to write my papers for me. All my nieces and nephews know that as soon as they are old enough to poop mid-stride, they are old enough to type up my papers. Hoshie is the one exception. I am afraid the heat generated by his extreme anger would disintegrate my laptop.

BOOK SALE!

So I have been remiss in my blogging duties and I haven’t posted in a while. Needless to say, nothing has really been happening except for it being THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR – BOOK SALE TIME! Last week, my local library had its annual book sale and I loaded up, because I have an addiction. I have no idea when I will get around to reading all of my books, but I want to, that is why I bought them. I ended taking my grandmother’s little metal cart and I filled that thing – twice. I can now no longer see my floor because the books cover it (the bookshelves are full as is the space under my bed) which means I no longer have to vacuum – yeah for books! I do however have to keep up on my dusting, because I don’t want spiders making their homes in my books. After Bernard disappeared, I just haven’t been able to become attached to another arachnid. He was special and his place in my heart and in my slippers can never be filled, so I’m not allowing any of his relatives to take up residence among my stacks of bibliorific joy.

Also, I had the most interaction that I have ever had with my crush this past week. He spoke to me for a good half hour, well actually I peppered him with innocuous, non-invasive questions and he answered them in an extremely concise manner. Why do men not elaborate? Does elaboration fall into the frivolous behavior category along with asking for directions? Anyway, he was extremely kind and funny and I was just happy to get to know him a little better. I now know he likes bees – me too – they make honey –honey is good.

Weekend Warrior

So this weekend I went and saw 300 in between my homework sessions. I have to intersperse my homework sessions with something and then go back to them later, otherwise my brain locks up and I am completely useless. Usually when my brain locks up, my mind focuses on something completely off the subject of my homework. I think about my crush, or pudding, or that time I learned that popcorn seasoning must be used sparingly. Now that I have watched 300 I know that as soon as I start picturing Gerard Butler in ancient hot pants, it is time for a break, preferably a pudding break. Of course it is hard to concentrate on pudding when you have so much Scottish hotness on your mind. Anyhoo, I highly recommend the movie, besides the copious amounts of cinematic eye candy, it was very entertaining.

In other weekend news, I recently did my semi-frequent software upgrade on my MacBook and my AirPort revolted and stopped working. I will admit that I only have very basic tech knowledge in that I know not to use my MacBook as a coaster, so I had to call in reinforcements. My sister's husband, the computer guru, worked for hours and could not get it work. I started becoming quite depressed at the thought of being torn away from countless hours spent browsing eBay for stuff I don't need. Last night in a last ditch effort to save my sanity as I felt myself slipping into a technology deprived coma, I backed up all my info and I reinstalled OS X. It worked and now I have my precious internet back. You would think that I could handle internet deprivation, seeing as how I just barely got the internet a few months ago, but those few months have been the best of my life. I now think I know how the cavemen felt when they discovered fire.

Chillin' with Hoshie

Last night, while my sister was tucking Hoshie into bed, the family cat, Oreo, decided to jump up on the bed and try to knead Hoshie like a pillow. While he was being plumped, Hoshie said to his mom, "cats are colorblind."

"Yes, they are."

"They can only see you if you wear black."

Then Why Can't I Understand Poetry!?!

I think my mastermind only works when it is being used for evil.

Hunger/Embarrassment Pains

So I’m sitting in class last night – starving. I go straight to school from work and I don’t have time to eat in between. Anyhoo, we are discussing gyres in Keat’s poetry and I say in a really loud voice, “MMMM, GYRO!” I don’t even pronounce it correctly. Low blood sugar made me do it.

Found then Lost














I recently found a vintage store that I love only to find out that it is closing. I think I'm cursed, every place I love closes. My sister says it is because I have freakish taste but I know that I am not the only one who gets excited when they find a Leonard Nimoy record. He does a cover of "Proud Mary" that is phenomenal. Anyhoo, I spent last weekend buying as much stuff from there as I could, including the radio that is pictured above. It worked great until I saturated it with my drool. In addition to the awesomeness of old stuff, the building the store is located in is probably one of the coolest in the town. I was petrified that it would be torn down, but the storeowners assured me that the impossibly hip individuals from San Francisco who bought it, would not destroy it. If they do, I hope that they are cursed with excessive back hair. Needless to say, I'm sure that they will gut and renovate it so I am going there this weekend to take pictures of the beauty that is old school warehouse. I just hope that my craptastic photography will do it justice.

Nothing to post ... nothing has happened. Oh wait! I ate some pudding. Yum!

I'm hoping he thinks I'm perpetually sunburned

So I saw my crush today and spoke to him for what had to be the longest I've ever spoken to him - one half hour. I was the shade of a nice ripe tomato the whole time and I laughed like some hysterical spaz. The best part was when my friend told him that he had to fix my computer yesterday because it seized up and I said, "it is because I download all that porn." He got this look on his face and I thought, "tell him you are kidding - you would never download porn on your work computer - that is what the home one is for." Unfortunately nothing came out of my mouth. I just sat there, frozen in a state of panic. I now understand perfectly why I don't date and should probably never date so as to save the men of the world from my extreme awkwardness.

Sundance Sweetness

This past weekend I had the chance to attend a few screenings of some Sundance films. I was very excited to go because I looooooooovvvvvvveeeeeeeee movies. Anything that detracts from reality is tops with me. I saw the films Waitress, Eagle vs Shark, and La Misma Luna. I thoroughly enjoyed all three, but I think that Eagle vs Shark was my favorite. It was quirky and strange and it spoke to me. I too hope to someday meet a mulleted, socially awkward, numchuck wielding candle maker who will lie to other people about my accomplishments or lack thereof. That is love to me.

Can't think - must revel in his muffininess

I am in a total fog. I can't even think. I shared a tangerine with my secret crush and it was, quite possibly, the best thing that has happened to me so far this year. I'm pretty sure my crush would freak out if he knew how much I cherished sharing fruity goodness with him. He is, after all, of a very kind and sharing nature (thus his appeal) and shares most of his food with those around the workplace. I just get really really giddy whenever I am around him. Giddy and stupid cuz my mind tends to blank and I look as if I were the poor intern who forgot to lock up Paula Abdul's meds. Thus incurring the wrath of Simon Cowell, who I am sure would suffocate me in one of his shrink-to-fit tees. What was I saying? Oh yeah, tangerines with my crush. Best snack ever!

New year ... more of the same

I used to wax poetic about how fantastic the new year would be. I had all of these ideas about how this year would be different from last. I would finally learn to take pictures that were as nice as those taken by hyperactive four year olds. I would learn to make food that did not have the consistency of burnt evil. I would not forget everything I learned within three minutes of learning it.

All of these resolutions seem doable, but by the end of every year I am still in the same place that I was at the beginning - blurring, burning and blanking. I decided this year, in order to same myself from feelings of failure, I WILL NOT make any resolutions or hold onto any delusions of future competence. I will not only embrace my ability to completely bungle all endeavors. I will celebrate my ineptitude. 2007 is going to rock!

Holidays and Stuff

So I have been sick on and off pretty much through the whole holiday break. I hate being sick when festivities are afoot. I am surrounded by food and I don't have the stomach to eat it. So since I was bummed to begin with, I decided to read The Bell Jar. I finished it with enough time left over to help my nephew build the Krusty Krab with Legos. I have pictures of said Krusty Krab, but I have been too lethargic to take them off my camera. You will just have to use your imagination and picture an eight year old and a girl way too old to play with Legos, squealing with delight at having finished their holiday project and now they can get to the real fun of playing make-believe in the land of Bikini Bottom - I call Squidward!

Sleep deprivation and stuff

So I haven’t posted in a while and it is not because something exciting has happened. Excitement for me is bringing home a brand new jar of processed cheese/salsa. I haven’t been posting because all of my mental ability has been focused on finishing my school work. I have spent the last two weeks languishing in my own personal version of hell – paper writing. It never fails that when I have to sit down and regurgitate the information my mind through some miracle retained, I freeze up. It is like someone threw a wrench in my head cogs and everything grinds to a halt. I can barely remember my name let alone anything that resembles scholastic knowledge. Some people call it writer’s block, some people call it a brain fart – I call it proof that I should never again have to write another paper. From now on I will prove that I have indeed learned something through the use of interpretive dance. Look for my performance of “Hamlet, now with extra Jazz hands” on YouTube.

Thanksgiving and junk

So I haven't been very good at posting lately, mostly because I haven't been around a computer and because I've been sick, like yak up my food sick. Anyhoo as you know last week was Thanksgiving or the day my family teases me incessantly about being a vegetarian. I find the best part of Thanksgiving is when my sister tries to get Hoshie to actually sit in a chair and eat something made up of solid matter. I'm convinced the kid survives on anger and the occasional block of cheese. I never saw Hoshie put any food in his mouth, but I did hear the screams of rage he emitted throughout the afternoon as a result of having to play with actual human beings as opposed to something manufactured by Nintendo. My family was able to enjoy the meal, content in the knowledge that while he may not be getting his daily intake of protein, he has more than enough rage to sustain him through Independence Day.

Chilly

"So Hoshie, I heard that you ate lunch with the Principle because you're such a good student."

"Yeah"

"What did you have?"

"Chili, in a bowl, it was plastic."

Nature Crouching

My sister and I like to go to the Art Stroll our community has the first Friday of every month. Our stroll always involves me drinking one glass of wine and for the rest of the evening having no volume control (total lightweight). It makes for a fun time when you are looking at abstract art, "OH, IT LOOKS LIKE GRANDMA'S FAKE NAILS, YOU KNOW AFTER SHE HAS MADE STUFFING AND BREAD CRUMBS ARE STUCK ALL UP IN HER NAIL BEDS!!!!!" That Friday one gallery we stopped at was featuring photography from various artists. My sister and I started at one end of the room and at about the third wall, we came across of photo of feet, but they were not just feet, they were feet at the beach. It took me a minute before the whole context of the picture came to me and when it did, "IT'S SOMEONE PEEING, THEY ARE CROUCHING ON THE BEACH - PEEING!" Normally peeing on the beach would not elicit such a strong reaction from me unless said urination was occurring on my Spongebob towel. However, I was giddy from my glass of wine and I still laugh at what my mom refers to as bathroom jokes, i.e. any joke involving things that take place in a bathroom. The photo was one of many in what I am referring to as the artist's "urination" series. All featured women in various locations answering the call of nature. By the time I reached the last picture I felt bad for my initial reaction because I believe in the artist's right of expression. This artist was trying to say something and I was too focused on remembering that time when I crouched the wrong way on a hill. As a show of penance I offered to purchase "Crouching in the forest" for my sister, but she declined. I think she preferred "Crouching in a field."

My persona makes most men run away

Read My Result
Take the Test

The SonnetDeliberate Gentle Love Dreamer (DGLDf)

Romantic, hopeful, and composed. You are the Sonnet. Get it? Composed?

Sonnets want Love and have high ideals about it. They're conscientious people, caring & careful. You yourself have deep convictions, and you devote a lot of thought to romance and what it should be. This will frighten away most potential mates, but that's okay, because you're very choosy with your affections anyway. You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you, for instance.

Lovers who share your idealized perspective, or who are at least willing to totally throw themselves into a relationship, will be very, very happy with you. And you with them. You're already selfless and compassionate, and with the right partner, there's no doubt you can be sensual, even adventurously so.

You probably have lots of female friends, and they have a special soft spot for you. Babies do, too, at the tippy-top of their baby skulls.

ALWAYS AVOID: The 5-Night Stand, The False Messiah, The Hornivore, The Last Man on Earth

CONSIDER: The Loverboy

I tried to get him to meow like that Grudge kid, but he would only scream

So Halloween fell on a Tuesday, holidays are never as fun when they fall on weekdays. How can you truly party if you know that you have to appear at your respective job, competent and fully-clothed, in eight hours? Not that I had anywhere to party, I spent the night hanging with Shakespeare and Hoshie and trying to be in the same room with those two is hard. Shakespeare feels that Hoshie doesn’t “get him.” I don’t really “get him” either, but I am good at faking like I do. I was also bummed because my costume didn’t work. I was planning on dressing up as Stuart from Mad TV, but I bought my costume at the last minute and I ended up looking like Bill Gates would if he had just lost a lot of weight. I had pictured in my mind, looking almost exactly like Stuart, except without the crossed eyes, because my eyes don’t do that (the only trick they perform is focusing exactly one foot in front of them and no more). Hoshie’s costume however, turned out fantastic. He was a ghost and you would have thought that my sister would have laid off the face paint because the kid already glows in the dark, but she didn’t and the result was half ghost, half kid from The Grudge. I immediately asked him, “What does a cat say?” hoping to get that creepy cat sound from him. Instead I received a little non-menacing, “meow.” I said, “no, you have to think feral cat with rabies and a severe case of mange – rrrrrrmeoowwwwwrrrrrrrr.” He refused to say it and I told him that Hollywood would never take him with an attitude like that and as his agent I was entitled to 20% of his candy.

Typical Halloween Talk

“I love The Lost Boys. Any movie that features vampires with mullets is automatically the best.”

“And earrings”

“Yes, man jewelry does add to the appeal. I also enjoy the movie with the cat people.”

“Cat People?”

“No, the other cat people. The mother and son cat people.”

“The one where they can be defeated by actual cats and slutty people.”

“Yes, that one.”

I would have pressed the issue but his scream makes my ears bleed

This weekend I spent some quality time with Hoshie. I went to my sister’s house to pick her up for our weekly walk (I have to try and fight my butt from taking over the entire southern portion of my body) and when I walked in the door I came upon Hoshie. For a moment I thought I was in the wrong house and then I thought someone had replaced my Hoshie with one that did not have game paddles surgically attached to his hands. Upon further examination I realized that it was indeed my Hoshie. Translucent skin: check; Permanent scowl: check; Smells of cheese and anger: check. What threw me off was the fact that he held in his hands a piece of paper, plain, simple, non-electronic paper. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he was doing his homework. He was answering questions to a story he had just finished reading, The Little Red Hen. I remembered that story well as it taught me the valuable lesson that all lazy asses would starve unless they had money to eat out. Thank god I have money to eat out. Hoshie had to fill in a multiple choice test using the information he gathered from the story, i.e.

The Little Red Hen was:
A. Underpaid because she worked in Walmart’s bakery
B. Extremely happy that the no-carbs diet disappeared
C. Stressing over outsourcing to country where the dog, cat and pig would not only work, but would do it for a fraction of the cost

One of the questions asked how the dog, cat and pig felt at the end of the story. The answer choices ranged from happy to various states of misery. Hoshie chose happy. I went through the end of the story with him and asked him if he thought that the dog, cat and pig were really happy given that they were going to starve. Hoshie said yes they were happy. When I asked him why, he said that they wanted to help. Yes Hoshie, but they only wanted to help after warm, yeasty goodness was denied them. I felt very strongly that said animals would be somewhat saddened at the prospect of having to resort to eating manure yet again. Hoshie however was convinced that they all were extremely happy at the end and I have to give the kid credit for having such a positive attitude. Me I picture the dog, cat and pig plotting some horrific revenge on the condescending hen, one involving bees, a viola and some Boudreaux’s Butt Paste.

Same old Same old

So I have nothing really to talk about this week because my life is THAT BORING. The most I can say that I accomplished was I informed some people that the building they work in smells like feet (I just love verbal diarrhea) and then I hounded my friend for details on my secret crush. "What does his hair look like today and how does he smell?" Both very important questions. My friend, apparently felt differently as he informed me that he is not that comfortable sniffing another man. I would sniff random strangers for him, but he can't do me a solid by leaning in close to the man that I think about WAY too much. Where is the love?

Weekly Recap

So here is a rundown of my week since I am too lazy to actually post something daily and only one day contained anything remotely interesting. Unless you find talk of shopping for a minestrone soup that doesn’t make me yak interesting. That interesting day was today and the thing that made today interesting was a visit from my sweet nephew Hoshie. I had been telling my co-workers Hoshie stories for months. I would tell them how he wouldn’t eat unless you shut off all power within a two block radius in order to pry him away from his Game Cube. I told them how when he did eat, he would only eat things that were made of cheese or entirely hidden by cheese. I told them how, when I asked him to shut off his electronic crack, he would write scathing notes about how he “hats” me and then would proceed to scream when I asked him to elaborate as to whether he Bowler or Fedora “hats” me. Needless to say, the kid has become something of a legend in my office. So today when he came with his mom to visit me, I was worried that he would be extremely angry because he was forced to do something that didn’t involve a game paddle. However he was actually quite sweet and proceeded to leave three sticky notes on my desk. One said, “I love you.” One said, “Your the best.” And the last one had a portrait of me that I have entitled “Via of the Giant Hands”. It was really quite sweet. My coworkers all remarked that Joshua was very cute, very pale and only smelled a little of cheese and anger.

Red Bull gives me stomach cramps

So I tried my first Red Bull today, not because I was curious, but because I give in very easily to peer pressure. Oh my God! My hands are shaking as I type. My head feels funny and I’m sure it is my stomach that they are hearing in the House of Leaves. I’ve realized that I should not drink Red Bull for two reasons. Reason 1: I consume way too much caffeine during the day and the addition of a Red Bull sends me into some sort of caffeinated psychosis. Reason 2: Aspartame makes me violently ill. Why I didn’t read the ingredients before I chugged, we’ll just chalk it up to my unbridled enthusiasm at trying something that tastes like liquid Spree. I have learned my lesson and will steer clear of Red Bull, until I forget said lesson as I do with all lessons I learn (see hair cut incident).

Nerd, Geek or Dork

So I took this online quiz (THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST) and here are my results -

Outcast Genius - 60 % Nerd, 65% Geek, 82% Dork
For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius. Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occasion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject). Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius. Congratulations! - I could have guessed on the outcast thing, but the genius part was a pleasant surprise.

My fantastic, social butterfly of a sister took it as well and here are her results -

Joe Normal - 34 % Nerd, 26% Geek, 17% Dork
For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored less than half in all three, earning you the title of: Joe Normal. This is not to say that you don't have some Nerd, Geek or Dork inside of you--we all do, and you can see the percentages you have right above. This is just to say that none of those qualities stand out so much as to define you. Sure, you enjoy an episode of Star Trek now and again, and yeah, you kinda enjoyed a few classes back in the day. And, once in a while, you stumble while walking down the street even though there was nothing there to cause you to trip. But, for the most part, you look and act fairly typically, and aren't much of an outcast. I'd say there's a fair chance someone asked you to take this test (her outcast genius sister did). In any event, fairly normal. Congratulations!

I should have known that all those years of watching Doctor Who would stunt my social growth.

So Miller has decided to join me in the quest for additional knowledge. Actually my quest is to become a dilettante. If Miller joins me in this quest, then perhaps if you put us together in the same room, between the two of us, we would have enough knowledge on one particular subject to actually call ourselves proficient. Another plus would be that he could take a seat between me and the boy who giggles every time Shakespeare uses “know” in the biblical sense.

I am really bummed out. My first choice for a band name - Goatwhore - is taken. I will now have to go with my second choice -

Hair - Part Deux

"Have you seen the hair cutting scissors? Did you hide them?"

My mom cut it

I have this issue with my hair. It is unruly and I’m pretty sure that it is planning a coup to take over my entire head so that I will look like Cousin It or that freaky chick from The Grudge. This week I was so fed up with it that I was almost tempted to cut it myself. Fortunately I remembered the follicular disaster of 2001 and I resisted the impulse to make myself look like Jeff Bridges from Dumb and Dumber. I was stressing because I my hair was driving me insane and I kept referring to myself as “Scraggly Ann.” Unfortunately, money is a tight right now and will be for a while so a salon visit was out of the question and I only trust my hair with people I know - people who will flatter it and get its cooperation long enough for them to cut it and run away before it turns them to stone. However, desperate times call for desperate measures so I asked my mom to cut my hair for me. This is a HUGE leap of faith on my part. My mom has not been allowed to touch my hair since she gave me a mullet in the sixth grade.
The haircut started out fine, a harmless snip here a harmless snip there. Next thing I know she has this intense look on her face, the kind of look my nephew gets when you feed him too much cheese. She was upset because she couldn’t get the sides even. She kept cutting and cutting until the topmost layer looked like Moe from the Three Stooges and the bottommost looked like Jane Fonda’s hair from Klute with the middle layers striking out in all directions as a form of protest. In order to cease the hair slaughter, I convinced her it looked fine and ran and hid the scissors. The next day I stopped by my mom’s office so she could see how my hair looked after I applied every hair product known to man to my scalp. Her entire office laughed, including my mother and offered suggestions on how to fix it. At one point my mother grabbed the scissors from her desk and I ran out of that office faster then Hoshie from toys that don’t plug into the wall. I’m hoping that I learned my lesson, but knowing me and my inability to remember what happened five minutes ago, my hair will probably be subject to her scissors as soon as the memory of “Moute” has faded.

Can’t keep my big yap shut

So I have this problem with telling EVERYONE about my secret crushes. “Hey everyone who works in his office – I have a crush on your coworker – be sure to gossip about this around the water cooler in front of him.” “Hey random person on the street – I have a crush on this guy – let me describe him to you in precise detail and tell you exactly where you can find him.” You’d think that given my HUGE mouth he would have found out about my crushing on him. Fortunately, I don’t think he has because he doesn’t avoid me yet. I do suffer from constant teasing, thanks to my friends who frequently compare him to some type of hotdog that I should smother in relish. I am now unable to look at him without picturing him drenched in mustard. Curse you Chapstick!

He keeps coming back for more

I really need to stop with the eulogies for Miller cuz he keeps coming back and that is a good thing. He is far more eloquent than I and he has more chest hair. Anyhoo, while he was off communing with nature, I was left here wondering who would eat all the crap on the floor of my car. I also spent that time distracting myself in class with thoughts of men I have seen in very loosely based Shakespeare movies. This week the professor informed us that we are going to read Taming of the Shrew, beyond that I have no idea what happened in class - Heath Ledger is super fine!

MY ADVENCHURE THRU DA NORTH

So I just got back from the final and last great North American Fronteir--no im not talking about Alaska...im all about....YUKON!! Out of the blue a few weeks ago, my friend called me up and asked me to accompany him on his move to Valdez Alaska. It took 4 days to get there (annonomys location to Alaska). I had some really good experiences and some that were not so good--like the night I camped on the side of the road in Alberta and I woke up to the sound of a massive rainstorm at 4 in the morning!! My bag was ******* wet! Anywho...we finally made it to my most favorites of locations...YUKON. The mountains there are so damn big there, the rivers are so rapid, the trees are so thick, the sky so wild, and the animals so gargantuan that it makes man feel as small as a mere gust of breeze in a wild, wild country!! I loved it. The faces of the people there held stories of hardship...an arduous existance to be sure. Alaska pales in comparison...

I highly recommend a trip to Yukon..be prepared to pay 9 dollars for a gallon of milk, and 5 bucks for a loaf of bread...but its worth it!

Alaska was nice. I miss it already. While gazing at her many incredible glaciers, I wonder how many men served her appetite by falling in the numerous crevasses! Alas, I love Alaska. You will have to ask me one day about how I woke up next to an Equadoriana one morning in the outskirts of Valdez! Thats a whole notha story /....mutha truckas!

I miss Via a lot. I havent abandoned this project. Im still here, Via. Via is one of my good buddies...shes way cool...if anyone wants her number just leave a comment and Ill give it to you.
Dating a girl who likes to suck blogs is a good thing..trust me!

Miller Machiavelli

Shakespeare in Lust

I started my first class this week – Graduate Seminar in Shakespeare. I was nervous because I am entering this program with no real background in English other than I do a good job of hacking the language to pieces whenever I open my mouth. So I’m sitting in class the first day, very excited, pen in hand, ready to furiously copy down every word out of the professor’s mouth. She starts to give a little background on dear Will and she happens to mention the movie Shakespeare in Love. Next thing I know 10 minutes have gone by and I have no idea what occurred in class during that space of time. I did not black out, nor was I taken up in an alien spaceship for a quick bit of probing - I was deep in thought. Deep in thought on Shakespeare - Joseph Fiennes’ Shakespeare, the one with the fantastic brown eyes and extremely kissable lips, not the dude who looks somewhat constipated on the cover of my textbook. I recovered from my daydream in time to catch the beginning of the discussion on Hamlet – Kenneth Branagh looks REALLY good tormented.

Further proof of freakdom

So I have problems relating to people. If I said it before, it bears reiteration - weird is an adjective that is used frequently to describe me. It used to bother me and I tried to tone the weirdness down, but it didn’t work. Weird is an integral part of who I am. I have found that weird and socially awkward tend to go hand in hand. Case in point – what happened today. I have these “secret crushes” which are crushes that basically everyone I know knows about, except the crushee. I like to keep it that way and hope that they are never the wiser. Those in the know say “oh don’t worry, they’ll be flattered” if the worst case scenario of crushee enlightenment occurs. It actually ends up as “Oh My God! That strange girl who seems to be constantly dressing as Napoleon Dynamite likes me - Must disappear NOW!” As a result I have learned to be so low key that people can never tell who I like unless I tell them and I tell a lot of people – I will never be recruited for covert operations. This works for me - has for years despite most of the planet knowing their identity.

Today I happened to run into one of my secret crushes who informs me that he has run into my mother, my lovely mother who says to him, “So you’re *****, I’m Via’s mom.” With NO OTHER explanation as to why she knows who he is, she left it at that and he relayed it like that and I turned the brightest shade of red (Al Gore could put me in his slide show with the caption – “Global warming leads to world’s worst sunburn”). He said, “Your mom is really nice.” I reply, “mkoajeyeahmfaoeij dajodjbrainnotworkingdakdja daoidjfakjbyekjaojkk” (statements in red actually intelligible words). I could have come up with some fantastic excuse for why my mother knew about him, but NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO, I was blind-sided and all I could do was stand there and mumble. The freak strikes again! AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Happy B-Day Jack Black!

Big thanks to Chapstick for reminding me of today's importance and for being The Black Project's one and only fan!

Back to School

So I've been running around frantically this past week trying to get ready for a new year of school. I am excited and a little scared. I am entering a new program and this semester will be the trial run, make or break time. I'm hoping that I make it. I know that I am dedicated to working my scrawny butt off (at this moment - see next sentence). I'm just worried that my talent will fall short or that a bright, shiny object will distract me and suddenly I'll want to pursue water polo as my life's ambition. On the plus side, I have no social life to cut into my study time.

Words of Wisdom from TP (the person - used for conversing not wiping)

"I really don't mind cleaning toilets. I like to be wet."

I’m pretty sure you just violated the 3 second rule

So I’m hanging out with Miller (he no longer blogs with me, but we are still buds). We had decided to go and get some lunch. We jump in my car - David Hasselhoff like (Miller currently lacks mechanized transportation) and we head down the street. Next thing I know I hear Miller say, “Mmmmm Starburst, my favorite.” I’m about to ask for one when I realize that Miller doesn’t have any Starburst on him, said Starburst have been sitting on the floor of my car for god knows how long because I am terribly lazy and I don’t bother to clean my filthy filthy car. If you searched the floor of my car you would probably find a pair of fluorescent parachute pants and a can of Crystal Pepsi – that tells you how often I clean it. I shriek in horror, “DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT HAS BEEN THERE!?!” To which Miller replies, “It’s still good.” I shrug and decide not to focus on the fact that I’m sure he just ingested a biohazard but instead focus on the bright side - I have one less piece of garbage in my car.

Swapping Spit

I remember the first time I realized that kissing could involve more than the very PG pressing of CLOSED lips. I have my neighbor to thank for that (it is not what you are thinking). My mother was always very mindful of what movies my siblings and I were allowed to watch. They were G or PG, absolutely NOTHING else. Fortunately for us my mother was gone a lot and left my older brother in charge. As the designated caregiver my brother was always a little too busy running around with his friends finding new and unusual places to crap instead of being mindful of what we were watching. My sister and I took advantage of the lax supervision and invited our neighbor over to watch movies – HER MOVIES. Our neighbor, having cool parents, had access to the best PG-13 movies available. One fateful afternoon the movie she brought over happened to be “Dirty Dancing.” I LOVED Patrick Swayze with his fantastic mullet, kick-butt dance moves and lines that would move me to tears – “nobody puts baby in a corner." Damn right Patrick you give that Law & Order guy a piece of your mind and after that – do a sexy dance for me. It was exposure to that movie that had me spending hour after hour passionately open mouth kissing i.e. breathing Fruit Loop breath on my pillow in an attempt to duplicate Patrick and Jennifer’s kissing scenes. It took me a good two years before I realized that there was actually tongue involved and then I felt really stupid and really relieved that in those two years I didn’t try breathing heavily on someone (that’s strictly for phone use only). When I did swap spit with my first beau I remember wondering why it wasn’t as romantic as the movies made it out to be and why my face felt like it had just been smacked with a really wet rag.

The Birds

Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel like you just stepped into a scene from a movie? I had always hoped that I would have one of those moments and that my moment would be the one from “Sixteen Candles” where Molly Ringwald comes out of the church and Jake Ryan is waiting for her outside, leaning on his red sports car. Alas my moment would have to be the one from “The Birds” where Tippi Hedren looks out the window only to find that birds have taken over the lawn.
So I came home from running errands Saturday and found what had to have been a dozen or so magpies standing on my back porch squawking loudly. I had never seen magpies do this before. I was immediately freaked out, because in my paranoid mind they were planning my untimely demise. It is not actually that far fetched that birds would plan my demise, I was once dive bombed by a crow in a parking lot. It scared me so bad that I almost choked on my juice box. It would have made more sense if I had nest hair, but my hair has no volume whatsoever. Miller’s hair looks like a nest, I call it the “Eagle’s Nest.” It is very majestic, like you would picture an eagle’s nest being. Anyhoo, I decided to open the door and do the whole crotchety “What the HELL are you doing on my porch!?!” routine only I would feel horrible if I actually did yell at them so it would have come out more like “Yeah, sorry to bug you, but you’re kind of pooping on my hose.” Anyhoo I opened the door and all the birds flew off, all but one. This bird happened to be lying on the pavement, feet sticking straight in the air. My first thought was “OH MY GOD! BIRD FLU!” I screamed and slammed the door. My step-dad had to dispose of the poor dead thing. He told me that the bird had died of old age and that you could tell this because its legs were wrinkly. I think that he said this because he desperately needed the saran wrap I had used to create my sterile bubble suit. In the end I accepted his explanation and formed my own opinion for why the birds all gathered around squawking at their dead comrade. That bird possessed some knowledge he had yet to share. Knowledge that would have changed magpie life forever. Randall (yep, I named him) the smartest of all the magpies had figured out the plot to “Syriana.”

Freaky Deaky

I absolutely love this blog – Diary of a Freak Magnet. I have spent most of my life feeling that I was a freak magnet as well. However, recently I discovered that I am not a freak magnet - I am in fact a freak (I knew there had to be some reason why all my dates kept referring to me as “weirdo”). While a lesser person would perhaps slip into some kind of depressed funk (one in which they spend all their time creating their own batch of Storm Troopers out of earwax). I have not. I have embraced my freak status and it in turn has given me the freedom to allow my Id to take control. I am free to speak without running the dialog through my poorly operating inner monitor - you know the thing that is supposed to stop completely spastic things from becoming audible. I can verbally spaz to my heart’s content. I can get away with wearing a picture frame as jewelry, I am actually thinking that frames should be the next jewelry fad and they should be distributed by a company called “You’ve Been Framed.” These may not seem that freaky to some, but in the context of my life, they are. I will of course be coming up with new freaky things to do in the future, as soon as freaky replaces my current and primary adjective – lazy.

Adios Miller

So Miller is moving onward and upward and I will miss him. I say I because I am the only one who reads this blog - probably because our/my blog postings are frequently very short and frequently infrequent. I blame myself, I am extremely lazy and suffer from frequent mental blocks (I think I still might be trying to define Quality). Anyhoo, I will miss Miller’s contributions – his poetic rants about poor pastry-related customer service, his quoting of all things “Wayne’s World” and his amazing photographs (my dendritical photos tend to make all things floral look like a sea-witch had her way with them). Miller, your presence will be greatly missed. Our blog has now been downgraded from “teflon hot” to just plain soppy.