ExpandoTweet/ 11-16 December
Um, these are really pretty boring. Like me. I should stop talking at some point, I think. That would probably be awesome. But I tell myself this is for me, and not you, so whatever. I like having the chronicle, as it were. Yeh, let's run with that as my excuse for this pointless blathering.
I'd probably be less hungry if I'd remembered to eat lunch, like a grown-up should.
So... I got all busy and shit. And I forgot to eat lunch. And when I got home that night, I was ready to eat my own arm off. TOTALLY worth documenting that I forgot to eat. I am awesome.
Holy crapoli, I'm going out on a school night. Terror! Meyhem! Insanizzzzz...
BUT! Then I found out that Ruff 'n Stuff got the job he applied for about a month ago, and he was all "WOOOO! CELEBRATE!" And because I am occasionally a nice person, I offered to accompany him in the celebrating. But: It was a school night. And I am not so very accustomed to going out during the work week, preferring to sit in my rocking chair and watch Matlock and complain about kids today. All in all, we didn't get too wild and/ or crazy - we began by going out to Shiprocked, but in true Old Folks fashion were immediately distraught that we couldn't hear one another. "WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! IT'S SO LOUD IN HERE! ... HUH?" So we decided to go over to EB's. And of course, the whole walk was "I can't believe how very loud it was in there! That was nuts! It didn't need to be that loud!" etc. But we got to EB's, and as it is a lovely, hole-in-the-wall, dive pool hall, it was perfect, and so we sat and yakked it up and then I turned into a punkin after buying him his Capt'n & Coke. Kinda nice, actually.
Can't decide between: sin, flesh-eating reindeer, embalming fluid, and blood lust. 'Cos they are all so similar, natch. Happy Friday!
I decided I wanted to wear purfume, which I often forget. But I couldn't decide what I wanted to smell like. (I went with Sin, which I liken to "hippies in hell," as its primary notes are amber and patchouli, and it's quite toasty warm smelling, and I am a fan of that.)
Playlist: Minor Threat, Agent Orange, Gang of Four, Cock Sparrer, The Slits. That should get me started.
... Because I went out, Friday was very difficult for me to pull it together and get motivated. So I thought some good old-skool punk rock would help. (It didn't, really, so much)
"You ready to gamble?" "I gamble as much as I drink." "Where are your VICES?" "Um, are you really asking me that?"
This amusing exchange happened between The Big Boss and me, as I was in the reception area for... oh, really, whatever, no one cares what it was so: he came out and saw me, and en route to give me a hug (...?!), he boomed that first question in his weirdly high-pitched voice. Yes, seriously. What I didn't write in that update is that he asked if I was ready to gamble his money, which made it freakishly more creepy. Like I am supposed to gamble with him? I don't know. The punchline here is that he - CEO of a major Pr0n Factory - asked me - the director of business development of same - if I have any vices. *blink*
I'll admit I am not the brightest cookie in the shed*, but I'm pretty sure peddling smut all over the webbertubes and watching relatively large quantities of same qualifies. If not, well... That's too bad, 'cos I ma not planning to let him in on my real vices. 'Cos then there are all the conversations about "shooting" and "making a site" and those are just... Well. I prefer not having those conversations whenever possible. (*Yes, I did that on purpose. See? It's like... Oh, nevermind. It's not funny when I have to explain it.)
"Your thumb is on the button right now." "Wait, here?" "Yes! Just press that." "Nothing's happening." "Press the button with your thumb!"
And then! It was Friday night! And like the Gilmore Girls, it was time for Family Dinner! Except this was dinner with my family of local choice, and not so much Crazy Emily and Richard (and I am so sorry for that reference, but I love them), and THAT means hiliarity ensued. As will happen, when you have a buncha freaky folks from various rounds of life. At one point, there was a thing with a phone, wherein petzilla was trying to take a picture but was unable to make it happen. The phone's owner (the lovely spiderchick736) kept telling him to press the button, and he kept not knowing waht button she meant, and dj_spider kept interjecting about button-pressing abilities and lack thereof, and... there was complete dissolution into chaos and painful faces [from laughing, with the muscle-y hurtings?] and the rest of the establishement giving us the ol' stink eye. 'Cos, really: a table fo 15 people howling about
"YOUR THUMB! IT'S ON THE BUTTON!"
"...that's what I say everynight..."
"Wait, what button? I can't find it!"
Comedy gold, my friends. Comedy gold.
Fabulous time Greeking out with the Gloom Cookies and more. My face hurts from laughing so much. <3 I am so grateful to have so much love.
Please see previous explanation. This is the aftermath gratitude.
I remain convinced the filthy secret of growing up is that you never feel like you have, which engenders massive confusion.
Ongoing theme lately. It seems awfully early for a midlife crisis, but what the hell do I know. I miss my bumper sticker I used to have that said "Cleverly disguised as a responsible adult." I am mildly heartened by how many people seem to be in the same place with this, though. If you have it all together, I don't want to hear about it. I feel crummy enough about my shambling mess I make of myself without knowing someone else has figured it all out. Thank you.
Dear HP: a wee bit of serenity would be aces right now, thanks. LYMI.
Ooooh. Saturday was a Bad Day of Braining Badness. Just... Icky. Like, the skullmeat just kept worrying the same little things over and over and over again, but couldn't find a way to resolve it, and didn't really want to, I think, or I woulda FUCKING MOVED ON about it, but no. Instead, I kept trying to distract myself with various things, and go, like, be of service to people and shit. It didn't work, but it helped a little. And then I was able to get enough of a remove that I could be rational (doncha HATE it when you get rational about emotions? SO CONFUSING) about the cray-cray emotastic bullshit. But it was nowhere approaching serenity, though it's gotten a little better in the interim.
Sweet baby Cthulu, I have an inordinate amt of #BPAL. Must needs arrange swapfest soonish. Imps 'n LEs, oh my. Srsly: talvikuu and star dust
SO, I was cleaning as part of trying to get out of the crap just above. And you know how waaaaayy up there, I mentioned something about perfume? Yes. BPAL is the company from whom I buy my oils. They have an insanely broad catalogue, plus this crazy tendency to do limited editions, and when I was making [much more] money, I bought a fair amount. And in the process of this cleaning, I came across a sizeable number of bottles of smellies I had forgotten I owned (bad me! NAUGHTY!). Some of these bottles are four and five years old. On the plus side, hey! I found some awesome smellies I'd forgotten about. Mmmm. Midway! EggNog! Samhain!
"Holiday casual"? WTF does that even mean?!
The company HotRod works for has a hellidaze party every year. Every year, it's a formal deal, and everyone is in cocktail attire - and that's always what it says on the invite. This year, they changed it up so people wouldn't have to get all dressy 'n shit. Which, it must be said, was a problem, since I had the cocktail dress, and it was all ready to go, and in which - it bears mentioning - my rack looks fantastic. But, no. THIS YEAR, they cazh it up.
Which would've been fine, except I found this out at approximately 1745. And we were supposed to leave at approximately 1800. And then my brains melted. 'Cos: WTF? And so I am scrambling trying to find something in my wardrobe that would meet these criteria (... Yeh. 'Cos I have SO MUCH Xmess-y stuff? No. Just... No). There may have been panic. I put this query out to the world, mostly meaning it to be rhetorical, but of course everyone wanted me to wear an Xmess Sweater Of Stupendous Irony (also: No).I ended up defaulting to my current favourite warm 'n snuggly and asstastic sailor pants (best $35 dollars ever spent, I am beginning to think). I threw on a (surprise!) turtleneck sweater with some kinda sparkly crap in it, and called it good. Not hellidaze colours, no trees, no baubles. But whatever - I figured I could claim there was tinsel. Done.
Dear Lord. There are women wearing Bump-Its here, and a jazz trio playing Muzak. Live. Shoot me.
It was terrifying. I wanted someone to save me. Or, obviously, shoot me in the face. Whatever. On the plus side, HotRod got a groovy cool award for being awesome at his job. That award translates into "more crap that we're not going to dust," and not, like, money or anything useful. But I reckon it will look good on his resume, and it's always nice to get recognised for one's hard work. So: good on him! But, seriously: Bumpits? I didn't know people actually bought those for real.
I have a lot to do today, but the smart money says "bwahahahahaha!" to odds of it getting done.
... Sunday. 'nuff said, right? But then:
I'm trying to con The XY into a quest at Volde*Mart and possibly IKEA to fix Das Loo's myraid storage fails. Wish me luck!
Somehow, I was compelled to want to organise our bathroom. It is important that you know when I saw "IKEA" here, I actually mean "Target, 'cos I am kinda scared of IKEA." So off we went to the Volde*Mart (tm: LaPetiteFlower), whereupon [I totally typed that as 'whenerupon" which I think I like more as a word] The Mister had the BRainFlash "Why don't we go to IKEA? They have lots of good organise-y stuff!" Me: "*whimper* OK..." "Cos when you have instigated the organising rampage, it is Poor Form to avoid the Mecca of Inexpensive Swedish Design and Oragnise-y Goodness, right? Well, it seemed like it would be at the time. So we went. And my brain broke, and HotRod knew immediately when it had, because apparently, I walk differently when I start to get overloaded (... ?? I am still not sure if this is the coolest thing ever 'cos it shows how in tune we are, or if it is creepy as all fuck), so we scampered out of there with a quickness.
Except then I realised they had charged me 3x for something I only bought 2 of, so we had to GO BACK, and that was hard. But in the end, there was organisational stuff, and we spent the rest of the day... Cleaning the bathroom. STOP THE EXCITEMENT TRAIN; it is too much fun.
[... o, hello, sarcasm. I didn't see you there]
Magnets, E-6000, and maniacal laughter. I think IKEA broke me, y'all.
It is true. because in the overheated mess of my brain, I somehow decided the Best Idea Evar was to magnetise my makeup, in order to eliminate The MakeUp Chest of Doom.And yes, this did, in face, entail me sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor with a large quantity of disc magnets, all of the makeup known to mankind, and a tube of E6000, with which the magnets were adhesived (so very not the right word, but I can't think of the right one and this is getting stupid long and so you will GO WITH IT) to the backs of all of the various pots of colourful elixir I smear on my face.
And, um, I don't know if you know this, but E6000 will get you a tiny bit high, if you are using it in a room that has zero ventilation. Like, as fer instance, my bathroom. Which doesn't. Ahem.
I'm out of celery, so I just made chicken salad with diced carrots instead. It's actually not horrible.
Just a PSA. You can use diced carrots, if'n you wanna.
Crap. Downside of cleaning/ organising: I can't find anything.
Whoops: left my phone at home. If you need me, you'll have to call the office or hit me on IM. Sorry!
... also forgot utensils with which to eat my lunch. Can I go back to bed? The Wardbear: he calls me.
-- This is three items from the same Monday. It wasn't the prettiest Monday you ever saw. (Also, it bears mentioning that I ALSO fucked up silverware today. It is a bad week for me and flatware)
On the other hand, I did kinda realise how weirdly dependent I am on my phone for all things ever. I am not sure that's a good thing, though.
FakeAPStylebook
Depending on the situation, sometimes you will want a conjunction, and sometimes you'll just want to cuddle.
*giggle*
Oh, come on. You love it.
Things that are No Good!: developing an allergy to dust when living in the Casa del Critters y Me. Srsly: that can't be good for The XY.
In a continuation of the Great Cleaning Frenzy of '09, the man began doing things like "moving things" and "vacuuming." It was all very alarming. And sneeze-inducing. He ended up (omigodtheshame) putting on a respirator to continue cleaning. Any time someone wants to send us a wife, that would be groovy. We're willing to go in on one and share, if we need to.
Watching The XY be productive makes me think "hmmm. I think I want toffee." His hard work is wearing me out.
[truth] [also: this led to something you'll see in a moment]
It's been raining for so long, I think I am starting to mildew.
Oh. My. Fucking. CHRIST. It rained when I was in LA. I came home, and it was raining. And it has pretty much continued to rain, nonstop. Today it is finally NOT raining, and I am afraid to enjoy it in case Goddess ThunderPants takes offense and rolls back in. Seriously. Every shoe in my closet is damp. Ick.
Today has convinced me that stupidity is the new black.
The less said about that, the better.
Did you know toffee is equal parts butter and sugar, heated? No wonder it's so disturbingly, addictively delicious.
In an attempt to make up for the Rampant Stupids, I looked up "making toffee" (see, I told you it would come back into play) 'cos I thought I'd dream about it in an effort to make myself feel less wretched. Turns out, it's astoundingly simple to make (no, I didn't make any, 'cos I have no butter in the house)(and really, if I did, do you really think I would be sharing it? No, of course not. Because I am a greedy sugar slut)
Recklessly wearing a vest. Fashion be damned.
I got this vest a few years ago from my step-grandmother, and it's always been vaguely weird to me, 'cos: faux mink vest? Really? But I took it with me to Amsterdam, and I got a ridiculous number of compliments, and it's kinda cosy, and I dunno. I kinda feel like Billy Hunnenwell Winthrop Ikehorn Orsinni Elliott when I wear it. But sparklypoof has made SO MANY "tsk tsk" noises about vests lately, I can't help but feel kinda anti-fashion in it. I care not at all: I am fuzzy and warm. The end.
In other news: my favourite webwriter ever seems to be back, and this makes me beyond happy. I've linked to her in the past, but her site's been pretty much abandoned for the last year, and I would periodically poke my head in at her site and then get sad there was nothing new, but OMFG I looked this week and THERE IS NEW SHIT. If you have not become acquainted with MissDoxie.com, I strongly reccomend you go there RIGHT NOW and read.
Ok, if you're at work, maybe you shouldn't. Not 'cos she's all pervy (not at all), but 'cos you will get SO RIDONKULOUSLY SUCKED IN that you will cease working. Also, you are likely to start laughing out loud, and that's always awkward. I may or may not know this from personal experience when I began reading her, back in the day. Make a point to read "Cookie and the Geese," in particular. And read the archives.
But I will warn you: you may pee yourself the tiniest bit from the absurdity and laughter. Go forth, my children, and make with the merriment. You know you need it.