In Which The Magun Backfires (Now With More Fistulae)
This is, basically, a giant brain dump, because I can't be arsed to post on a regular basis. For that, I apologize. Perhaps I will manage to get my shit together by January.
l33: L33 HAS HAND-EYE COORDINATION SUPERIOR TO THAT OF A BRAIN-DEAD ZOMBIE AND CAN HOLD ON TO THINGS
The Universe: ERROR
The casualty list for last week:
+ One towel bar (broken for no apparent reason; I set a hand on it getting up from the shitter, but I didn't lean on it or yank on it).
+ Half a box of cornmeal (dropped when I was getting it out of the cabinet and the lid came off. The Quaker Oatsmen should take more pride in their work).
+ Small bits of epidermis on my left arm and face (splatter burns from when I was making dinner on Monday and misjudged how hot the oil was before adding ingredients to it; nothing that quickly-applied cold water and moisturizer couldn't take care of).
+ One bottle of Purell laundry detergent (the lid came off when I was scanning it, whereupon my register, the floor, part of the wastebasket, my left arm, and my pants were covered in the blue plague. Purell turns your skin green, by the way. I'm not sure what the chemical processes are at work here).
+ Some Cascade dish detergent (spilled when I was loading the dishwasher the other night).
+ A travel-size stick of deodorant--not actually ruined, but when I was bagging it, the lid popped off. Thank God for gracious customers.
+ The structural integrity of the middle finger of my right hand, sliced when I was tearing apart a cigarette carton and gave myself a nasty paper cut. Hand sanitizer and paper cuts don't mix, in case you were unaware.
+ A mouse. (I dislike rodents and am not sentimental about them; I don't particularly enjoy making them die, but it's them or us. We had mice in the house. Traps were set. BOO-YA, MOUSEY POUSEY. HOW YOU LIKE THAT PEANUT BUTTER?)
+ One of my wisdom teeth apparently broke or chipped. I can feel the jagged edge if I reach back with my tongue. I have no idea how this happened.
Also, due to a headline on the latest Cosmopolitan, which is about the Guide To Your Hoo-Ha (Get A Happy, Healthy Vagina), it is Reproductive Health Awareness Month. (I swear to God, it says "hoo-ha" right on the cover. Swear to GOD.) Seriously, we've talked about nothing else in the break room. We surreptitiously examined the article in question, which states, reassuringly, that Things Can't Get Lost Up There.
a.) Is this a concern for grown women? I mean, yeah, when you're thirteen and poorly-informed, you probably heard somewhere that tampons can get lost inside you and end up in your lung. But when you're 23? (Also, this is not completely accurate; it is possible for things to be left behind inside you, if you know what I mean and I think you do, but it’s pretty rare and unlikely to be a concern for most people. They will not, however, end up in your lung.)
b.) Cosmo seems to assume that its readership is college-educated and professional (in a high-powered corporate-lametard kind of way). How the hell can you get through at least a bachelor's degree and several years of real life without knowing how your genitalia work? Or is this yet another example of how Cosmo condescends to its readership? (I have to read Cosmo as comedy, or it makes me mad. And no, I don't buy it; I flip through it in the library.)
c.) Could we please knock it off with the infantilizing, cutesy-wootsy words for our body parts? I understand that you can't use four-letter words on the cover of a magazine intended for general readership, but seriously, the clinical term is unlikely to offend anyone. Some time ago (at least 6 months or so, not sure), Cosmo advertised an article with the words YOUR VAJAYJAY! splashed across the cover. When was the last time you picked up a copy of Men's Health and read the headline YOUR PEE-PEE!? Or The Complete Guide To Your Wiener? Never, that's when. Not to get all Andrea Dworkin about this, but the implied message is that 1.) we can't use adult language when we're talking about women's body parts, because women aren't real adults, and/or 2.) women's genitals are a scary and threatening thing, and if we use Cosmospeak for them, they become less so. Yes, it's important to be educated about things your genitalia can and cannot do, especially when you're sexually active or you aren't sure what's normal, and it's good that Cosmo is running articles like this, but the magazine-speak seems to send a different message.
d.) AND REMEMBER: Your cunt is not a black hole and tampons, sex toys, fingers, etc. cannot wind up in your colon, unless you put them in the wrong orifice. Or, possibly, if you have some kind of bizarre mutant fistula. I really like the word "fistula", by the way. Fistula. Fistula. FISSSSSStula.
+ I really need to learn to knit or something so my hands have something productive to do rather than conveying food into my mouth. I am feeling particularly self-loathing at the moment, and it would be 4W5UM if I could kick this fucking eating habit.
+ I am seriously considering changing my name. As in, like, my real name, in real life, as opposed to my Int0rbuttz handle. (I will, in all probability, be Wang Xi-feng until I die.) And no, I'm not planning to change it to Wang Xi-feng; that's a little too masturbatory even for me.
+ LOL AYN RAND. In the interest of full disclosure, I have never read Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead. I did try to read some of her literary criticism in high school, but it was the most horrible thing I had ever read (and I read a lot of horrible litcrit in high school), and I couldn't keep going past about 40-50 pages. Also, this was during my Communist phase, and...yeah. You see where this is going. I'll stop now.
+ I had this dream that I had gone to visit H and we actually did get to the foreplay but then I woke up in the middle of it and couldn't get back to sleep. WHY GOD WHY. YYYYYYYYYYYYY.
+ Also: ’tis the season!
Dear Sketchy Santa,
This year for Christmas Festivus, I would like at least one of the following things.
1.) Brutal, violent Elmo hatefic, preferably involving the Crimson Blight getting his come-uppance and being reduced to so much red fur. Around Festivus, when I'm scanning and bagging Elmo toys, and they tend to go off when I'm bagging them, and I have to hear Elmo's insipid little voice, I begin to get my hate on. Just sayin'.
2.) Star Wars fanfic, because I know people who can do so much better than the dreck on AFFN ("How May We Destroy Your Fandom Today?"). I want Vader/female OC, no penetrative peen, bonus points if they do not fall in love, and mega-bonus points if the writer can come up with some sort of explanation for this shit. [NB: I'm in the process of writing an entry about this.]
3.) If I am going to have sex dreams about H, and if I am then going to wake up in the middle of them, I would like to at least wake up because I came. (I am told that dreams are devoid of color and sound. I feel very sorry for these people, as my dreams have color, sound, and physical sensations.)
In return, I will set a six-pack of Bud out for you.
Love,
Wang Xi-feng
uigenna: RAIEN. RAIEN. RAIEN. I have hopped on but not seen j00. Also, I have most of Friday and most of Saturday free (though I do have to work for a few hours in the evening). Just FYI. I do want to play with j00!
l33: L33 HAS HAND-EYE COORDINATION SUPERIOR TO THAT OF A BRAIN-DEAD ZOMBIE AND CAN HOLD ON TO THINGS
The Universe: ERROR
The casualty list for last week:
+ One towel bar (broken for no apparent reason; I set a hand on it getting up from the shitter, but I didn't lean on it or yank on it).
+ Half a box of cornmeal (dropped when I was getting it out of the cabinet and the lid came off. The Quaker Oatsmen should take more pride in their work).
+ Small bits of epidermis on my left arm and face (splatter burns from when I was making dinner on Monday and misjudged how hot the oil was before adding ingredients to it; nothing that quickly-applied cold water and moisturizer couldn't take care of).
+ One bottle of Purell laundry detergent (the lid came off when I was scanning it, whereupon my register, the floor, part of the wastebasket, my left arm, and my pants were covered in the blue plague. Purell turns your skin green, by the way. I'm not sure what the chemical processes are at work here).
+ Some Cascade dish detergent (spilled when I was loading the dishwasher the other night).
+ A travel-size stick of deodorant--not actually ruined, but when I was bagging it, the lid popped off. Thank God for gracious customers.
+ The structural integrity of the middle finger of my right hand, sliced when I was tearing apart a cigarette carton and gave myself a nasty paper cut. Hand sanitizer and paper cuts don't mix, in case you were unaware.
+ A mouse. (I dislike rodents and am not sentimental about them; I don't particularly enjoy making them die, but it's them or us. We had mice in the house. Traps were set. BOO-YA, MOUSEY POUSEY. HOW YOU LIKE THAT PEANUT BUTTER?)
+ One of my wisdom teeth apparently broke or chipped. I can feel the jagged edge if I reach back with my tongue. I have no idea how this happened.
Also, due to a headline on the latest Cosmopolitan, which is about the Guide To Your Hoo-Ha (Get A Happy, Healthy Vagina), it is Reproductive Health Awareness Month. (I swear to God, it says "hoo-ha" right on the cover. Swear to GOD.) Seriously, we've talked about nothing else in the break room. We surreptitiously examined the article in question, which states, reassuringly, that Things Can't Get Lost Up There.
a.) Is this a concern for grown women? I mean, yeah, when you're thirteen and poorly-informed, you probably heard somewhere that tampons can get lost inside you and end up in your lung. But when you're 23? (Also, this is not completely accurate; it is possible for things to be left behind inside you, if you know what I mean and I think you do, but it’s pretty rare and unlikely to be a concern for most people. They will not, however, end up in your lung.)
b.) Cosmo seems to assume that its readership is college-educated and professional (in a high-powered corporate-lametard kind of way). How the hell can you get through at least a bachelor's degree and several years of real life without knowing how your genitalia work? Or is this yet another example of how Cosmo condescends to its readership? (I have to read Cosmo as comedy, or it makes me mad. And no, I don't buy it; I flip through it in the library.)
c.) Could we please knock it off with the infantilizing, cutesy-wootsy words for our body parts? I understand that you can't use four-letter words on the cover of a magazine intended for general readership, but seriously, the clinical term is unlikely to offend anyone. Some time ago (at least 6 months or so, not sure), Cosmo advertised an article with the words YOUR VAJAYJAY! splashed across the cover. When was the last time you picked up a copy of Men's Health and read the headline YOUR PEE-PEE!? Or The Complete Guide To Your Wiener? Never, that's when. Not to get all Andrea Dworkin about this, but the implied message is that 1.) we can't use adult language when we're talking about women's body parts, because women aren't real adults, and/or 2.) women's genitals are a scary and threatening thing, and if we use Cosmospeak for them, they become less so. Yes, it's important to be educated about things your genitalia can and cannot do, especially when you're sexually active or you aren't sure what's normal, and it's good that Cosmo is running articles like this, but the magazine-speak seems to send a different message.
d.) AND REMEMBER: Your cunt is not a black hole and tampons, sex toys, fingers, etc. cannot wind up in your colon, unless you put them in the wrong orifice. Or, possibly, if you have some kind of bizarre mutant fistula. I really like the word "fistula", by the way. Fistula. Fistula. FISSSSSStula.
+ I really need to learn to knit or something so my hands have something productive to do rather than conveying food into my mouth. I am feeling particularly self-loathing at the moment, and it would be 4W5UM if I could kick this fucking eating habit.
+ I am seriously considering changing my name. As in, like, my real name, in real life, as opposed to my Int0rbuttz handle. (I will, in all probability, be Wang Xi-feng until I die.) And no, I'm not planning to change it to Wang Xi-feng; that's a little too masturbatory even for me.
+ LOL AYN RAND. In the interest of full disclosure, I have never read Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead. I did try to read some of her literary criticism in high school, but it was the most horrible thing I had ever read (and I read a lot of horrible litcrit in high school), and I couldn't keep going past about 40-50 pages. Also, this was during my Communist phase, and...yeah. You see where this is going. I'll stop now.
+ I had this dream that I had gone to visit H and we actually did get to the foreplay but then I woke up in the middle of it and couldn't get back to sleep. WHY GOD WHY. YYYYYYYYYYYYY.
+ Also: ’tis the season!
Dear Sketchy Santa,
This year for Christmas Festivus, I would like at least one of the following things.
1.) Brutal, violent Elmo hatefic, preferably involving the Crimson Blight getting his come-uppance and being reduced to so much red fur. Around Festivus, when I'm scanning and bagging Elmo toys, and they tend to go off when I'm bagging them, and I have to hear Elmo's insipid little voice, I begin to get my hate on. Just sayin'.
2.) Star Wars fanfic, because I know people who can do so much better than the dreck on AFFN ("How May We Destroy Your Fandom Today?"). I want Vader/female OC, no penetrative peen, bonus points if they do not fall in love, and mega-bonus points if the writer can come up with some sort of explanation for this shit. [NB: I'm in the process of writing an entry about this.]
3.) If I am going to have sex dreams about H, and if I am then going to wake up in the middle of them, I would like to at least wake up because I came. (I am told that dreams are devoid of color and sound. I feel very sorry for these people, as my dreams have color, sound, and physical sensations.)
In return, I will set a six-pack of Bud out for you.
Love,
Wang Xi-feng
uigenna: RAIEN. RAIEN. RAIEN. I have hopped on but not seen j00. Also, I have most of Friday and most of Saturday free (though I do have to work for a few hours in the evening). Just FYI. I do want to play with j00!