Cause who parties better than Pirates?

Geekery vs. Lechery

2008-10-23T11:04:00.003-04:00

He: I should stick to the naming convention I already chose - Shadowrun dragons. Lofwyr... Hestaby... Ryumyo

Me: Masaru, Rhonabwy, Sonador, Sirrug

He: Sirrurg, isn't it?

Me: Wow, yes. It is. Holy shit, you remember the proper spelling? You're a freak.

He: Do you know how long I played Shadowrun for?

Me: Longer than I've been having sex?

He: Probably. I started in highschool. 89? 90?

Me: Yeah, lost my virginity in like 93? 94?

He: Then played twice a week for like... 3 years.

Me: Hrm... you may have played more SR than I've had sex. This is disturbing.

He: Maybe.

Me: I wonder who had more fun.

Unhealthy Obsessions

2008-10-01T09:02:00.002-04:00

Why do I find myself attracted to Putin?

Is it his intense stare? His massive power?

Or simply the idea of screaming out, "Rape me like I'm Georgia!" in bed?

Science rocks my soul

2008-07-01T13:51:00.002-04:00

Here's a really interesting article from the NY Times by John Tierney.

Deep Down, We Can't Even Fool Ourselves

Not a post about turning 30

2008-06-25T09:28:00.005-04:00

I had planned to write some rambling thing about turning 30 today. But instead, I'll sum up and get to what is really on my mind.

30: Been looking forward to this. Yay! I'm 30. Guess what, I'm still me. And if you're one of those twits who thinks I should feel bad about this milestone... then maybe you should start looking at yourself and figure out why you think youth is an end point, not part of the journey.

Now, on to the madness.

My mother calls me today. The traditional 8:15 wish me a Happy Birthday call. And... about 2 minutes into it she says she has some bad news. I think... cancer. She has cancer. She is dying. No, not tragic enough. My nephew... the youngest one... yes... he is dying. Some wilting disease. Right?

Newp. My sister is getting a divorce. Instead of going into detail on that and airing the dirty laundry of a woman few of you know... I'll get to the point. In the conversation that follows, as my mother tells me more and more of the recent events that led up to someone actually uttering the word divorce, I find myself going through all the damn enabling behavior of my sister. Just like the enabling behavior of my mother. All fueled by fear.

And of course, I get angry. I do my thing where I just go over and over in my head how people can be so stupid. I once again mentally tear into my sister, my mother, and a couple of my friends. Why would they put up with that? Why would you stay in a situation where you obviously weren't happy? Why would you go along with something you just didn't agree with? On and on... and other than my brain... only the beau really has ever heard how bad it can get. How truly cutting, judgmental, and harsh I am of other people. And the people I care about get it the worst.

But then, he understands why I need to do it.

Sometimes, I feel bad about this little cycle of mine. Where I pick apart every flaw of a human being, connect the dots and ask, "Why? Why the fuck would you do this?" Just a few nights ago, in fact, after totally dissecting the unhealthy behavior of a friend I growled and threw my hands up and asked once again why I bothered.

He just calmly started to bring up a few points to remind me that people, are in fact, human. And not all mistakes are about willful stupidity.

I sighed. "I'm an ass. I go off. I know I do. But it just makes me so angry. But I shouldn't. We're all dealing with our own demons."

He just smiled. "It's okay."

"Why is it okay that I'm a judgmental bitch?"

"Because, you're like that with everyone. You're worst on yourself. And you remember to forgive them all just as quickly as you damn them."

So, as I listened to my mother go on and on, wanting to strangle her and my sister for being emotionally masochists, that little twinge of guilt wasn't there.

We do really deserve to be strangled for our faults.

We also deserve to be forgiven when we work to change them.

Ms. Undead South Dakota

2008-05-14T09:06:00.003-04:00

Him: I have a major Dead Rising hankering... More cool zombie dreams last night. ~nods~

Me: I would like to point out that you describe having dreams about zombies... as... 'cool'

Him: They're not always cool... but when you're the hero fending off hordes of zombies with grace and poise.. that's pretty cool

Me: ~smiles~ Grace and poise? Was there an evening gown portion of the competition?

Him: haha yes.

And I won.

I love you interwebz

2008-05-14T08:47:00.002-04:00

Since I can't have a single conversation without twisting a dirty thought from it, of course I love to see someone twisting dirty thoughts into innocent humor.

Innocent Spam

Flesh Torpedoes

2008-05-12T13:08:00.002-04:00

So a student walks in and I can't stop staring at her breasts.

No, they are fully covered. She's wearing a turtle neck. No, they are not remarkably large. She's a fairly petite girl. I think it had something to do with THE 1940's CROSS YOUR HEART BRA she must have been wearing. The type that forms your unsuspecting boobs into pointy flesh torpedoes. It was all I could do not to clutch my own chest and whimper an empathic 'ow'.

This is me... sucking

2008-04-09T08:47:00.003-04:00

So yeah, life has been nuts. In the past couple of months we have been through an unexpected firing, the plague flu from hell, a respiratory infection, two moves (yes, moved. twice. fuckinghell.) the beginning of two divorces of friends, and the start of a friend's life here in Connecticut. And these are the things I have directly been involved in the physical and emotional labor of. Enough to keep a girl busy, sure. But not an excuse for my recent fuckupery.

I've always been shitty with dates. I mean this. I love you, but I will forget your birthday. Unless I write it down and stare at that calendar every day, I will miss it. And I'm not likely to do that. There is a very small handful of people that I can actually remember the date. And of those people, I will still often lose track of time and not realize it was their birthday until after its gone.

But it still bothers me. And I will still feel like shit over this for a while. Cause all I had to do was pick up a phone and say, "Bella baby, hey." She deserves a shit ton more than that.

Anyway, this is to all my friends. Since I know I have forgotten and will forget your birthdays, anniversaries, and other important occasions. I'm sorry. I love you. I will do it again. And I still love you. Just because I know you well enough to explain your own emotions to you, or we're close enough that I've petted your hair while you cried... does not mean I will feel and do those things any less. Even though I suck enough to forget to say Happy Birthday on time.

Forgive me this flaw, please. I will continue to fondle all of your flaws. I promise.

Even better than the lamentation of their women

2008-03-07T15:45:00.002-05:00

The best lollipops ever

Seriously, all they need is a freaking honeypot pussy flavored one and I will be complete.

It's been a while

2008-03-05T08:46:00.002-05:00

So, there was a flu. And an upper respiratory infection. Followed by a move... while I was still getting winded just from going up the stairs once. We would not have made it through without the help of some very excellent friends. Thank you guys... yet again.

We're out of the ghetto that we were living in... however we're not yet at the new place. The old tenet is being evicted and that is tacking on some extra time. So for now, we're at Jesse's old place which is still his current place.... for the time being. Wheee fun.

But what inspired me to finally post has nothing to do with any of that.

Gary Gygax died.

And geek though I am, I am not going to sit here and wax poetic about his life. He created a really cool game. And then showed himself to be a rotten old turd when people TRIED TO MAKE THE RULES OF HIS GAME ACTUALLY WORK.

Long live D20. Screw you, Mr. Gygax.

PSA

2008-02-01T08:43:00.001-05:00

Soooo... I'm filtering comments now. Why? Because I hate anon posting. You don't have to give your address, but just a little something to let me know who the fuck you are.

I found a comment up last night that I took down for just that reason. It was a question, one that my TMI ass would have happily answered if it had been signed. But it wasn't. So instead, it just creeped me out. Maybe it was a spammer. Maybe it was a pervy ass stalker.

If it was a pervy ass stalker, all I ask is that you make up some handle to sign your shit and I'll let your comments stand. I mean cause, what fun is masturbating to the thought of your greasy fingered questions if I don't have a name to scream out?

My mind, the gutter

2008-01-31T13:36:00.000-05:00

So after a brief exchange about software, my coworker says:

"I'll be thinking of you while I boot up tonight."

Am I the only one who finds that statement vaguely dirty?

Come and knock on our door

2008-01-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

I am stuck at work, but the boys are out apartment/house shopping today. Here's hoping they find something with a large bathtub, good lighting, and a robot that comes out of the broom closet and cleans it all while I'm at work.

I actually spoke with my mother the other day, trying to explain the upcoming shift in my living arrangements. It started simply enough, with the phrase 'I'm moving'.

"Away? Again?"

I say: No mom, just around the block or maybe a few towns over. We're getting a roommate, Jesse, so we're going to need a bigger place.

I think: No mom, I already moved away. And to the land of yankees. I don't think in your mind I can get anymore away than that.

"Oh, is this a friend of John's or something?"

I say: Yes, and mine. They work for the same company. He's a really great guy and we all get along very well.

I think: You know, I can hear the suspicion in your voice. Your brain cannot compute why I'd rather have a roommate instead of kid. Obviously, something is wrong with me and John. And possibly, I am fucking this other guy for kicks. Hrm... now there's a thought.

"Well, it'll be like Three's Company then, won't it."

I say: So I have to pretend I'm gay when the landlord shows up?

I think: So I have to pretend I'm straight when the landlord shows up?

Overdue Wrap Up

2008-01-14T13:10:00.000-05:00

I know. I am totally a slacker. I'm supposed to do one of those end of the year wrap up/first of the new year posts. Well, I think we all know... I'm not that girl. I don't really do resolutions. If you can't keep a promise to yourself in the middle of the year, what makes you think you can do it at the start? And if you don't know what my year as been like, chances are, I planned it that way. Sorry, I think I'll keep the details of my pap smear to myself.

So instead I shall present totally random stuff.

Rockband! - Normally I would have linked that to their official site. But, their official site does that annoying thing where it resizes your browser window. And... I utterly hate that. But so far, that is the only complaint I have about Rockband. So there.

It's fun. It's social. And it's the only thing in decades (evidently) to get Micki to listen to some new music.

Also, I can use my drumsticks as weapons. Sometimes even intentionally.

Heroes - Finally started watching Season 1. Totally hooked thus far.

Apartment Shopping - As in, we are moving it looks like. We've been debating for some time, getting a second cat so that Pip would have a playmate. But, what's better than a kitten? That's right, a muppet. We're moving in with Jesse.

I can taste your jealousy. And it tastes like... um... caramel? Yeah. Caramel.

Absinthe - It's legal now, sweeties. However, this is not an excuse for the absinthe parties to end. It just means they will be less illegal now. I know. I'm sad too.

Sushi is still tits.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

2007-12-20T09:24:00.000-05:00

Please, please, let them cast some beautiful amazonian as my first true love... Scarlett.

G.I.fuckingJ.O.E.

Santa is a strange man

2007-12-18T11:12:00.000-05:00

Ah, the horror and allure of that stranger in a strange suit, propped up in the middle of the mall.

I have two memories of Santa's lap.

One, from when I was small. I remember crying, because I was left alone on the lap of a strange man. I remember being told not to cry and instead smile for the picture. I remember the hyper elf trying to snap a picture between my screams.

The other memory of Santa's lap is from highschool... and group of us piling around him for a group photo. How cute! Yeah, I was the one rubbing up against his lap, trying to give Santa a hard on... for the sheer perversion factor. Tee hee!

Happy Fucking Holidays!

And sometimes, I wish I was Catholic... I don't know why

2007-12-12T11:42:00.000-05:00

Normally, someone dies... you write about their death... and their life.

I think we all know that I am not normal. So instead, I'm going to write about an obsession of my life, Catholicism.

I was raised in a Free Will Southern Baptist home. My mother was raised Methodist, but that was not something that was discussed openly. You know those Methodist, they're just one step away from being papists. Being raised in an environment where ritual was the devil and veneration of the virgin Mary and any such ‘saints’ was considered idolatry at its finest… is it any wonder that I developed an obsession with all things Catholic? Besides, as everyone should know, orgasms taste better with a rosary shoved in your mouth.

Prior to my Japanese school girl obsession, there was my little catholic school boy obsession. Hey, when you’re growing up in the south east, the idea of altar boys is pretty exotic… and totally fell in line with my overriding need to seduce and corrupt. Oddly enough, yes, I have landed myself with one Jesuit trained catholic school boy. But, I can hardly say I’ve corrupted him. It was a mutual corruption of acceptance.

I’m rambling. I do that. My point.

Yesterday I attended my first actual Catholic… thing. Was it a mass? A funeral mass? Something. Catholics have names for every bloody thing and I can’t remember them all. I’m too busy asking John why people keep bowing at the front of the church. And why does that priest have a throne? Wait… I shouldn’t call him priest? Monsignor? Jesus fuck… too much shit to keep straight.

On the Monsignor. I liked the guy. He seemed genuinely concerned and loved filled and kind. And when he spoke, if I took out all the references to his God and Church… then I could really get behind his message. But, I had no fucking clue what a Monsignor was. So, I asked Mr. Jesuit Trained. His response? “He’s a level 10 priest.” And yes, that did actually explain it all to me.

On baptism. Catholics sprinkle and call it a baptism. In the world I grew up, if you didn’t come up choking from under the water, you didn’t love Jesus enough. But that priest… Monsignor… slung his little tiny water sprinkler mace around and called it a second baptism. It was a right pretty speech and a nice bit of ceremony… but all I could think of was teaching those altar boys how it’s done by holding their heads under water in the fountain. By the way, crazy baptismal fount (aka Jesus’ Eternal Water Fountain)… made me want to pee the whole time.

On altar boys. I don’t know. I thought they’d be sweet and cute. Likely to lead me to dirty thoughts about confession booths. But first of all, they were baby boys. Hey, in movies they aren’t THAT young. And… they were creepy. Seriously. Creepy. Their expressionless faces. The way they moved without direction or seeming thought, just silent and obedient without any of the usual signs of life in a kid their age. I found it utterly unnerving. C’mon… just shuffle one foot. Something!

On the magic book of spells. That’s what I’m calling the book the Monsignor carried with him and read from. It was not a bible, that’s for damn sure. But the cover was pretty and he was always marking the page he was one with one of those ribbons. And all I could think was, “He’s checking to see if he memorized enough Cure Lights for the day. He may have to convert one of those Sanctuaries.”

On speaking in unison. Catholics LOVE speaking in unison. And I am not talking AME church testifying or calling out. No, hive mind speaking in unison. Every time I thought I’d caught on to when to speak, they’d do something else to totally throw me off. How do you know when to say “Amen” and when it’s “Oh lord hear our prayer” or some other random thing? They busted out the Lord’s Prayer at one point. Great, I thought, I got this one. I know it. But then they stopped before the end… and THEN threw a Hail Mary in there. At that point, I was fairly sure there was a sign over my head that said, “Girl without lips moving is Baptist.”

On the Eucharist. Whoa. There was some crazy shit going on there. Kneeling before taking bread out of a box. Singing a song to the bread. And when it was finally a communion with real wine (Welch’s Grape Juice has always been the taste of Christ’s blood to me), no one drank it! Thankfully, I didn’t have to cause a scene or be a hypocrite… and instead of taking communion I was simply blessed instead. I’m pretty sure that means I will burst into flames if I step inside of a Baptist church now.

On transubstantiation. This led to me making a totally inappropriate comment to John during a funeral mass. Or really, during any mass. “You know, I’ve taken communion before… but I’ve never tasted the actual body of Christ.” Fighting back the giggles between us was so hard. And then saying ‘Body of Christ’ stuck that damn song from South Park in my head. Faith +1!

On kneeling and bowing. I get it. God is really cool and we should kneel to his coolness and bow before the image of Jesus twisting horribly on the cross. Except… listen… God doesn’t live at the front of the church. And the kneeling… well… listen, my mother slapped me once for the way I took communion, tilting my head back like I was giving Jesus head and loving it. So, it’s no wonder that while in the middle of all that damned kneeling for God… it was all I could do to fight the urge to put my knees shoulder width apart, head up, eyes down, shoulders straight, wrists crossed at the small of my back. That… is how you really tell God that you love him.

On the censer. You know, I always thought this would be one of the coolest parts of mass. The priest swinging this cool censer about and the scent of incense filling the church. But, I also always imagined that the incense would smell… different. I don’t know, like Baby Jesus burps or something. But instead, it just gave me flash backs to smoking up in Shawn’s basement and playing Playstation all night. Dude, who let the hippies into mass?

On the hymnal. Which they referred to as a song book. Oh dear god! I thought white Baptists sounded unhappy when singing. At least their hymnals are full of blood and gore and the fear of demons. But this was… Eddie Izzard, Dressed to Kill, making fun of the C of E.

Now, I am certainly not knocking Catholicism… at least not any more than I knock any organized religion. But the culture clash was just leading me to amusing observations. And, my presence there and John’s growth away from the church, led him to view things as an outsider for the first time. I think it really clicked on a personal level for him, what Protestantism was about. It reminded me that though I’ve grown a whole hell of a lot… my roots are still my roots. And it made for a long interesting (and stupidly funny) conversation on the ride home.

How do you know?

2007-12-04T09:04:00.000-05:00

How I know we are insane:

We now own two Xbox 360s. Why? So that it's easier to play Rock Band on the big TV. We don't have to move the system, just the hard drive.

How I know we are in love:
(A conversation last night)
Me: You know how when I get PMSy I get all cranky and annoyed at the world and in a bad mood?

Him: Yeah.

Me: And you'll notice I am in a good mood.

Him: Yeah.

Me: Well, this month... instead of the bad hormones... I got the good hormones. But you probably still want to be careful. Cause if you touched me, I'd likely just rape you. As in, ride you and break your spine kind of fucking. Seriously, I would destroy you.

Him: Do you mean that in a bad way?

Me: Well, no. You'd die with a really big smile. But, you would die. It's just... instead of festering ball of seething rage... this month I am a burning ball of ravaging fuck.

Him: (laughing) That needs to go on your blog.

I can't stop laughing

2007-11-12T13:03:00.000-05:00

Seriously.

Remember when I said I was the sort of person who can take joy from the misery of miserable people?

That is totally me today. God, I love it when willfully stupid people get it in the ass. All together now, everybody sing, "But I'm the victim".

I cannot fucking fathom it

2007-11-02T13:43:00.000-04:00

You know, some people are just jackasses. Some people just have shitastical judgment. I know I stick my foot in my mouth plenty. So, I'm just going to clear a few things up. Just for anyone wondering. Just in case you were curious. Just so you don't have to ask, though you probably fucking should have before opening you giant fucking mouth. But here goes...

Now I am a a certain kind of asshole. I will rip people to shreds for being stupid. I will delight in the misery of miserable people. I generally feel that people who aren't at least trying to be honest with themselves, aren't worth the oxygen they breathe. I am willing to put the desires of my beau ahead of the comfort of others. And I don't apologize for being me.

Now, here's the kind of asshole that I am not. I don't care what your race is. I don't care whatever the fuck goes on between consenting adults. I don't give a fuck who you worship. And I really don't think that your height or weight has fuck all to do with your value as a human being.

So there, just in case you were wondering what sort of asshole I am.

Sometimes it's not so easy

2007-10-25T14:23:00.000-04:00

Prejudice works in odd ways.

Preconceived notions. They happen. It’s a part of how our brains work. With the mass of stimuli out there, our brain likes to put things in little boxes. Neat little labeled boxes that make the world easier to sort out. Now yes, I grant you… there’s quite a difference between your brain deciding that all fire is hot and that all Mexicans are dirty clown car packers… but stick with me… I’m going somewhere.

I grew up in a world where I was a numerical minority. And culturally, the line between black and white wasn’t nearly so important as the line between native to the land and outsider. I will admit, I’ve had preconceived notions about things here and there, and have done my best to be aware of these thoughts. To try to compensate for my prejudices. It’s the little things, like taking a deep breath and thinking to myself, “Now just because he is pissing you off, it’s not because he’s a yankee. It’s because he’s an asshole.”

Well, recently I was forced to realize that there was one connection I’d placed in my head that wasn’t necessarily true. A preconceived notion that my brain automatically applied to situations, as if gospel. And again, I’ll lay this at the feet of growing up in the south. Prejudice or not, it was something that I saw proven right again and again. So, I just took it to be universally true. Who knew I had some naiveté left?

You see, silly me, I thought only ignorant people were racist. Ignorant, ugly people. That’s what I grew up with. You could spot them a mile away. And if maybe their confederate flag jacket was in the wash that day, you could certainly tell they were hate filled fucks after talking with them for about 30 seconds. I just equated that sort of ignorance with stupidity and moved on with my life.

I certainly never thought that I would one day be friends with someone like that.

I never thought that after years of sharing hobbies, dinners, birthdays and late night video games with someone… I would THEN find out that anything other than the tall white man was inferior in their eyes. Yes, there were some signs leading up to this. But I just wrote it off as New England White Bread behavior. I mean, some of these boys think you make sweet tea from a MIX IN A CAN! How can you expect them to know how to act right?

Meh, this just has me in a shitty mood. I hate it when people insist on sucking.

Why I love my friends

2007-10-19T10:06:00.000-04:00

Highly educated, low brow humor.

The lovely mix of perverted minds and too much knowledge.

How, you ask, does one mix quantum theory and dick jokes?

Simple. Schrodinger's penis.

And there was much rejoicing!

2007-10-12T09:13:00.000-04:00

Nancy arrived this week. All big and black and daring me to touch her.

It was awkward at first. A stranger in my home. Just sitting there, top off and waiting. But slowly, carefully, John helped me to take care of her. To get her settled in. And most importantly, to make sure everything I needed fit right inside of her.

Then... finally... I got to touch her button. She purred.

Yay new computer!

Whose Fish?

2007-10-02T11:36:00.000-04:00

We used to do logic puzzles like these all the time in like 2nd and 3rd grade gifted and talented. So this was a fun flashback for me.

It was also a fun way to kill a little bit of time at work.

Who owns the fish?

Good Day

2007-10-02T09:48:00.001-04:00

Any day that begins with bacon, is a good day.

Stuck in my head

2007-09-28T13:40:00.000-04:00

Today I am amused.

Also, I have a song stuck in my head.

These things are not a coincidence.

History repeats itself
Coiling down into the future
When it's one second to twelve
The hands touch and follow deeper

History repeats itself
I didn't learn, I wouldn't listen
I couldn't see the books were on the shelf
For my good sense, I never missed 'em

Wish I was standing by the shore
Feel the wind blow in my face
See the waves roll in for an encore
They take a bow, they know their place

I do not want, I do not feel
I've turned away in myself
I can't find anything that's real
But history repeats itself

- A.O.S.

Random Thing I Hate

2007-09-26T15:21:00.000-04:00

People who pronounce the place where I get chicken nuggets as MAC Donalds.

Context Matters

2007-09-26T08:34:00.000-04:00

Hot:
Feeling rebellious and dangerous because you did not wear panties to work today.

Not so hot:
Feeling disoriented and tired and therefore forgetting to wear panties to work today.

Bad Day

2007-09-21T09:16:00.000-04:00

It's a bad day. It's a no patience day. And that's just a bad day all around for everyone else.

See, that's what people get off on about me. Patience. Acceptance. I'm the Mother-fucking-Theresa of deviant thought and action.

But not today. Today, all you little flowers who come to me. Come to me begging, "Unfold me. Bloom me. Show me who I am." Today I want to crush you all. Stomp you under my boots. Fuck off and die if you haven't got the strength to find out for yourself.

Today I'm just too tired of being your haven. Your refuge. Of holding bloody hands and understanding the crimes. Tired of whispering righteousness back into your blood. I know, I know. A day or two from now, something will happen to completely renew my stores of patience and faith.

But not today.

Today I want to file my teeth and grind all your pink vulnerable parts to blood.