[.Walk, Don't Run.]

Oh, hai! Looking for me?
Well.
Okay, see, there was this thing? And then there was this other thing, and the net result of all of these things, and all of the SHEER PANIC and TERROR inspired by these things, and then, there was this:
I’m moving.
Oh, wait. That's not...interesting? Oh. Um, you're totally right!
This has been a long time coming. Most of you know this, and most of you know that you will not believe it until I’m actually right there, INYOFACE with my face. I’m shotally excited, peeps. You think you know, but you don’t. I’m just so thankful for my friends and family that have stuck around and supported me throughout the years. I appreciate them a whole lotta.
Aw. Look at me, getting all sentimental. You know, all this fuzzy sentimentality will disappear REALLY FRIGGIN’ FAST, THOUGH, when I have to actually...move. Then I will say things like, "This may be the worst idea in the history of mankind. Why can't I just keep all my junks in my car? I mean, besides the part where nothing hardly fits in my car.
Anyway, I’m so reckless. Haha, random! Why do I turn into such an incoherent weirdo when I blog?
But anyway. Hi! So, I've been a little busy, and I am now at work, typing reallyreallyreally fast, because I do not update from work, OH NEVER, because I, um hello am at work and should be working, but on this one occasion I am making an exception just so you all stop sending me profane, threatening emails. It's all for you! Look at the risky risks I do take.

What in the name of Sweet Fanny Adams...
I am out of CONTROL right now with craziness. I’m sure my resting heart rate is over 100. Lemme check...GOOD GRAVY 116.


Well, I’m going to leave now, for the sake of it being my lunch break and whatsuch.
I would say goodbye, but I'm sure I'll be back in an hour with something else. I'm just annoying that way.

-C

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[I'm Still Hungry for Bacon.]

I wish this weren’t such a serious subject, because it’s really hard not to go hog wild sarcastically all over it with a zillion pig puns. For reals though people? Are you friggin’ scared out of your minds? Oh my gawwwwd there’s hand sanitizer everywhere. It's all over the news.

If I have to hear or read about Swine Flu preparations one more time,

I might actually throw a pig at someone.

People are idiots. You're all idiots.

The symptoms, mortality rate, and treatment are no different from the common flu.

But in the midst of all of this chaos, there is a growing opinion that "swine flu panic" is almost as dangerous as the virus itself. Panic caused by a media determined to over-inform the world with breaking news to keep them all "prepared." Panic caused by both parents who are determined to vaccinate their children with untested, uncertain formulas in new viral vaccines due to their fears.

If someone coughs or sneezes in the workplace, they get sent home immediately and put into quarantine for a week. Um hi, what about allergies assclown? So now I have waste time at home away from work for a pollen intolerance?

All of this hysteria makes me want to run straight to a farm and kiss a pig. Or wear a dead one on my head like a hat. Sick, right?

*cough* oh...I need to lay down...do you smell bacon?

I definitely smell a pork product of some kind.

Oh my gosh, remember SARS?


HAHAHAHA.
Ridiculous.





-C

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[.Cannot find REALITY.SYS. Universe halted.]

After countless hours spent attempting to fix my POS, I mean…DOS..

I was able to pinpoint the problem being with one or two drivers. So I decided, maybe I’ll update. Soon enough I receive the good ol’ WGA warning, which is an anti-piracy system that forces you to go online and verify that you in fact paid for your software. PFFFFT.


So I created this screen shot of my desktop with a pretty straight-to-the-point message. >>>


My computer seemed okay, when I got home yesterday evening. But once I opened up the Windozzze Media Player, to play some music, I get the dreaded
BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.

My computer ran at the same speed of a dead horse. It was like magic. Like magic spyware had entered into my house.

Coincidence?















I think not.

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[.Life Has Questions. Google Has Answers.]

What is the meaning of life?

To quote Merriam-Webster:

Main Entry: 1life
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural lives /'lIvz/
Etymology: Middle English lif, from Old English lif; akin to Old English libban to live -- more at LIVE

1 a : the quality that distinguishes a vital and functional being from a dead body b : a principle or force that is considered to underlie the distinctive quality of animate beings -- compare VITALISM 1 c : an organismic state characterized by capacity for metabolism, growth, reaction to stimuli, and reproduction.
2 a : the sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up the existence of an individual b : one or more aspects of the process of living
3 : BIOGRAPHY 1
4 : spiritual existence transcending physical death
5 a : the period from birth to death b : a specific phase of earthly existence c : the period from an event until death d : a sentence of imprisonment for the remainder of a convict's life
6 : a way or manner of living
7 : LIVELIHOOD
8 : a vital or living being; specifically : PERSON
9 : an animating and shaping force or principle
10 : SPIRIT, ANIMATION
11 : the form or pattern of something existing in reality
12 : the period of duration, usefulness, or popularity of something
13 : the period of existence (as of a subatomic particle) -- compare HALF-LIFE
14 : a property (as resilience or elasticity) of an inanimate substance or object resembling the animate quality of a living being
15 : living beings (as of a particular kind or environment)
16 a : human activities b : animate activity and movement c : the activities of a given sphere, area, or time
17 : one providing interest and vigor
18 : an opportunity for continued viability
19 : capitalized, Christian Science : GOD 1b
20 : something resembling animate life

It's not in there.

so-

there you have it.

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[.Mmm Burgers with Extra LMAOnaise .]

The best way to revenge yourself on an animal is to eat it.

Oh come on.

Everyone knows it but they leave it to me to say it out loud!

And this is the problem with vegetarians! If a cow sasses me, I can say "Oh yeah? well guess what, wise guy? I will use your flesh for digestive energy." But vegetarians just take it! And then cows have no idea who they can get away with sassing, and let's face it they're not the smartest pickles in the fountain, so they sass EVERYONE and then I end up eating a lot of beef. It's not that big a problem.

It's so SATISFYING. You're like, "My feelings are hurt, but soon I'll be full of meat. Wow, I feel better already!!"

you're coming with me and we're going to sneak on to a farm.

Sherri, I know you're vegetarian, but you've been vegetarian since forever. You were ahead of the curve. But lately everyone ELSE is suddenly like, "Oh, Chels, I'm sorry, I don't eat roast anymore because it's just way too delicious. And gosh, no, no, steaks are out too because they don't have any stupid chlorophyll in them!"

Vegetables are good, but they are not fun. Nothing makes vegetables fun except using them as weapons (carrot swords, etc).

First off, you've got your lacto-ovo vegetarians, who don't eat meat but do eat eggs and milk. There's also lacto vegetarians and ovo vegetarians. Then you've got your vegans, who don't eat meat products or ANY animal products, so eggs, honey, milk, and cheese are out, and even leather sometimes. For - shoes. And pants?

My favorite are the freegans! Where you be vegetarian for free, you ask?

Close! It's where you don't eat meat unless you're given it for free, like from a dumpster. You prevent meat from going to waste, but you don't support its production.

That sounds close to flexitarians, who only eat meat when being vegetarian would be rude or inconvenient.

Now, I myself and a tremendomeatatarian, which means that I only eat meat which I find to be tremendously delicious!

I know you've seen me eat fruits and vegetables...

Yes. On account of the golly gosh-darned scurvy.

Hmm, I gotta go.

I'm totally craving a meat salad right now.

-C

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[. It Wasn't like LA Story.]

Do you remember what you were doing at 4:31 a.m. on Monday, January 17, 1994?

Well, I was sleeping. I was eight years old; there was no school that day, thank God, because it was a holiday. 
I was lost in a dream, when a previously unknown thrust fault in the northeastern San Fernando Valley, freight-trained itself through Northridge to the house in which I was living.

My bed was built in between a wall panel where I believe a washer and dryer belonged. To be honest, I didn't feel the earthquake. It was the loud banging that woke me up; I didn't know what it was, so I tossed up my blanket over my head frusterated and rolled over.
Suddenly, all of my Encyclopedias and statues began falling off the built-in shelves over my bed. One book managed to hit me square in the face, actually in the corner of my right eye, turning it into a bruise for the following week.
After it finally passed through, the shaking may have soon dissipated, but the house continued to sway back and forth with creaks and cracks while shedding various things. Pictures and collectibles and such continued to fall with bangs and shatters, echoing, underscored by a strange, surreal and incessant sound that to this day sends chills drag racing down my spine.
Then, there was complete silence. I wasn't afraid for myself, I began to panic thinking my parents were dead. I cried out for them, my mom shouted "Chels?! Are you all right?! D's coming to get you, stay in your bed!” My Dad walked through what I remember to be 4-5 inches of glass to get to my bed and carry me into their room. Luckily I wasn't so far away. I remember when he picked me up I asked "did the roof fall down?" I really had no idea. It was so dark, and still, so very silent. Not too long after, the birds began panicking and crying.. the phone started ringing off the hook. All of our relatives who had and hadn't felt the earthquake were calling, it was all over the news and our house was in the epicenter.
We received many calls from worried family members, fortunately none of them lived in the Valley.

The inside of our house... The kitchen was absolutely trashed. I remember the fridge doors being wide open and everything that had been in it was now on the floor. Applesauce was everywhere. I remember eating Frosted Flakes out of a box, once my mom checked the inside for glass, of course. That's funny, you can actually spot the box on top of the rest of the pile of ruined food.
In the living room, beyond the mountain of stuff on the floor, many drawers against the walls had emptied out hundreds of VHS tapes. Our television set had timbered down across my floor. I was supposed to have my two best friends stay the night, that night. I usually slept in the middle; you can see what would've happened to the three of us.
My bed was now littered with hardback books among jagged shards and pieces of those shelves. My parent's room was full of glass pieces from my mom's collection of porcelain dolls and my dad's statue collections.
We stayed at home until the aftershocks stopped. Each one was no smaller than a 5.0. I was too young to understand everything, so I wasn't sure if our house was going to crumble everytime the ground shook. Later on we went on a drive to check out the damage. And to pick up water and food. The sun had hardly risen yet, so it was very difficult to see how bad it really was. It still didn't feel very real to me, but as daylight began to show the destruction, it was clear that this was real. And it was tragic.
Severed gas lines hissed from broken foundations. In some areas, they turned into leaping flames destroying everything that came in their way. The Northridge Meadows apartments where ultimately 16 people lost their lives, was a prospect home for my Uncle, Aunt and cousins. Seconds after the earthquake hit. The first floor of the building collapsed under the weight of the top two stories. I learned that a section of the Santa Monica Freeway had collapsed, as had a transition from the Antelope Valley Freeway to the Golden State. We drove downtown where the Northridge Mall was destroyed; Bullocks Department Store in the mall had completely collapsed. One parking structure collapsed into a pile about twenty feet high, trapping a worker inside. We drove by numerous apartment buildings, one was white and I remember seeing a large, stuffed Pink Panther animal on the balcony. That has forever stayed in my mind.

We returned home after awhile to clean up what we could. That night we stayed with my Grandma in Monrovia, we felt somewhat safe there. And were very thankful to have somewhere to go. Many others didn't. I don't remember doing much else, besides watching the news with my parents. Each story was more horrifying than the last. The deaths from the collapse of Northridge Meadows, the motorcycle cop who plunged with his bike off the end of the Santa Monica Bridge, while racing in to duty. When the interchange was rebuilt again one year later, it was renamed the Clarence Wayne Dean Memorial Interchange in his honor.

The following days my Dad received calls from his customers asking him to look at their houses. They had been condemned. We drove into a neighborhood where my Dad had remodeled homes; the foundation was cracked, leaving a six inch gap between their living room floors. One man pointed it out to me and jokingly told me to "not fall into the Earth". All around these housing tracks, were families setting up tents and trying to clean what was left of their homes. Many doors had been red-tagged, indicating that an emergency inspection had been performed and found the house to be unsafe for entry or inhabitation.

We drove by CSUN, where a parking structure collapsed and three buildings were severely damaged and were unrepairable. Several other buildings of the college were damaged as well.
Balboa had flooded due to obstruction of the pipelines and there was a giant dust cloud engulfing the sky.

The one inspiring moment was when rescuers were able to bring out a worker alive who had been trapped in a destroyed Northridge Plaza parking structure. I remember my whole family watching the news, following this story, praying that he survives.

Aftershocks continued for days after the earthquake. My heart still stops when I feel a building shake, even though I'm now in Arizona and it's merely just the motions of people moving about.
I'll never, ever forget that day. We moved to Simi Valley not too long after that. A year later, my Dad died. One painful event after another. I guess those two years had a strong impact on my life.
I love California, my heart is there...but these images in my mind are sobering reminders that while California is a beautiful place to live, life can be unstable.

-C

Here are my Mom's memories of that day.

http://docs.google.com/View?id=dc77qx9_0g4trvpc4

(when she says "you", she is referring to me.)

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[.Walk of Life.]

I lay awake some nights, with half written post swirling in my head, wishing I could muster up the energy to get out of bed and put them in writing but my long busy days win out and I fall asleep with all those well constructed sentences vanished in thin air by the time I wake up. I go about my day without a inkling of a thought about writing but yet return to the same spot each night, same thoughts, same post.

Good grieeeef...Why does a new document in Word have to be so white? And wide? And…blank? It’s very intimidating, especially when you have NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT.
So I guess it’s time for some stream-of-consciousness writing, where I simply yap on about whatever occurs to me until I’ve filled up the majority of this big blank screen. I can tell you how much I suck at life.

• I very nearly choked and died while taking a multivitamin. I started swallowing the pill before I even had my glass of juice up to my lips. Gag reflex ensued, but the vitamin got stuck in the back of my throat. Rather than take a swig of juice to dislodge it, I panicked and stood there gagging on it for a good 30 seconds.
  But in the end, I’m alive and full of nutrients.




• While blow-drying my hair, I noticed that the little lint filter thing was pretty gross looking. So I popped the dryer open and started picking out lint. After deciding this was taking entirely too long, I put the filter back in the dryer and closed it up. Only I put the filter in the opposite way, because I figured this way I couldn’t see all the gross lint. Problem solved. Until I turned the dryer on and a big cloud of lint and dust came shooting out and into my hair.




• I was dumped by my Pet Boyfriend because I totally forgot to go visit him. And I was kinda bummed about this.

I wish I had the desire to work out. Really. Why don't I, you ask? Now, is it because I’m lazy? Absolutely! But also, that I really hate it. I do. No, I hate it more than you do, because you probably DO work out. Even though YOU hate working out, you still do it anyway, right? Well, I hate it so much that I don’t. See? I win.
Want to know another reason why I suck? Somehow I have managed to completely screw up Gmail, the most user-friendly and idiot-proof email interface out there, and delete and entire label’s worth of emails. And then I went a step further and deleted them forever. Gmail users will understand how difficult this is, and have now lost all respect for my technical skills, and will probably send me t-shirts that say “LOSER” on them, or maybe "ASSCLOWN" or "I R A DUMASS".

Okay, I'm getting tired. My eyes burn and still I sit here, staring at the screen, forging on. I think Dean is really sleeping. Actually, he may have even gone to bed over an hour ago. Why am I here? Why is this happening to me? IS THIS REAL LIFE?

All right, all right, all right...I'm going to bed.

-C

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[.Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.]

Might as well get this over with. I apologize for an extended absence. Blah blah blah....busy busy busy. I'm lazy. Here’s a list of things I’d like to accomplish, maybe.

1. Run a 5K. Do this completely and without walking. And beginning the race at the mile 2 marker does not count. Because maybe one time you and your friend were trying to get to the starting point but were running late. And maybe you came across the race at the mile 2 marker. So being normal and sane, maybe you just started running at the mile 2 marker. And then maybe you had to act more tired and winded than you really were when you reached the finish line so as not to tip anybody off. This is all hypothetical, by the way.

2. Find a good volunteer opportunity. Perhaps something with animals and whatnot. Or maybe Habitat for Humanity. Find some way to give back, because listen to this...this guy I know got pulled over for speeding, and when the cop came to the car to do the usual routine he asked my friend what he did to help other people. My friend told the officer how he helped with the youth at his church, and to make a long story short, my friend basically got a warning. So that made me think about what I would say, and I'm not proud of the fact that there was not much that came to my mind.

3. Do something with the gym membership. Either use it or cancel it. Using it would require me to switch to a closer location, preferably near my house. Canceling would mean admitting that throwing away $29 a month is stupid. I convince myself that this isn't a large amount of money, but it is. And I convince myself that if I quit, then I will just have to turn around and pay start-up fees down the road, but if you add up all the monthly dues I pay for nothing, then I have paid a lot more than a simple start-up fee.

4. Swim in a swimming hole. Probably need to head to Apache Junction for this.

5. Figure out my 401K situation. Right now, my old 401K has been rolled over into an IRA...I think. See what I mean? I have no clue. I'm guessing it's the numbers in the name. 401 are numbers and numbers have to do with math, and anything that has to do with math....ppppfppfft! and I probably need to remedy this situation.

I know I sound ignorant, let me 'splain.

In the fifth grade, I attempted to cheat on a fractions and percentage test. I say attempted because I got caught before I could even get the goods. For some reason (probably fake illness) I missed the original test and had to make it up. And back then I did not understand fractions or decimals, largely in part because I chose not to understand them. Also that large gap of school I missed when my Dad died when I was nine.
So, I was sitting in our empty math class room taking my test, all the while knowing that everyone had already got their graded tests back and those were in everyone's math folders sitting on their desks. So I got the bright idea to look at someone's test to check my work. And then the teacher (Mrs. Fava-fatwitch) walked in. And then I had some 'splaining to do. I think she realized I was cracking under some intense 5th grade pressure, and combined with my sterling reputation, decided to take pity on me by giving me a 60% or something on the test rather than give me zero. However, at the time I was either student of the month, or was about to be student of the month, so needless to say I was stripped of the title and all the benefits of said title. And that is why I don't cheat: A) I'm not good at it and B) I can't handle the guilt that comes with it.

Now I'm feeling all guilty. Kind of like, how I felt this morning on my way to work. This Lexus in front of me had a license plate that said 'THKSLRD'.
Now, this makes me really jealous. Apparently, Jesus gave these people a Lexus and all he ever gave me was some teenage guilt and confusion. Maybe if Jesus would have given me a car I would have stuck with that whole church thing rather than skipping merrily down the path of heathen bliss which certainly leads straight to hell. So I would like to hereby officially offer to give the religion thing another shot, provided that Jesus provides me with a new car. I think I would like a Range Rover, but if all he has is a Lexus I will take it.

Okay, now I am feeling guilty about what I just typed.

I digress.

-C

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[.in the book of life, the answers aren't in the back.]

So it’s been awhile, again. I suppose you all are used to it by now. I know I still have to post pictures from San Diego last weekend. And yes, those dreaded old kid pictures of me that you’ve been asking for for the last six months.

Annnyhow, I just wanted to take some time out of this hellish short week to talk about my beautiful best friend Casey (HI BFF). You may remember her from an earlier post > http://chelseylora.blogspot.com/2008/10/barbie-twins-cant-be-separated.html
After she recovered, we all thought she was going to be okay. And she was, until February when she had a large seizure that caused her to go into a coma. Casey was in the hospital, with what turned out to be a very dangerous brain lesion. Over the next few days, she was becoming progressively worse. It was one of the scariest weeks of my life. I took my cell phone in EVERY room with me, making sure I got the update. But then, her blood pressure started dropping. Casey had six different IV bags going into her at the same time. It was terrifying. I then received the dreaded call from Jodi, “I think you need to get down here and be prepared for the worst.”
They purchased the plane ticket for me and I stayed in Beverly Hills for three very long days. Both nights were spent either in Casey’s room or in the waiting room with Carl (her brother) and Meeker (close friend). The three of us sang to her, prayed for her and fought the exhausted that came both physically and emotionally. Casey and Carl’s parents begged for the three of us to go downtown and take a break. We went down to Hollywood & Hayward and checked out the Stars and the Footprints. We tried to have an okay time, but we couldn’t hide our sadness.Sunday, just hours before my flight back home, she woke up. She couldn’t speak and looked very shaken but we were all so, so relieved that she pulled through. I didn’t want to leave her, out of fear of losing her. I just didn’t want to walk away. Within days she seemed to be her old self again. Making jokes, laughing and already planning more theme parties. And so far she’s been great, but has to have surgery. Brain surgery. When?
Tomorrow.
Seriously, why, God? Did I piss someone off? Was it Al Gore? Did I piss Al Gore off? Because, Al Gore, I will heartily apologize, if you will please leave my best friend alone. I will recycle! Just for you! I will cart all of my groceries around in eco-friendly bags! I will weave them from hemp! Whatever the hell you want
I'm sorry that this entry isn't funny or light and is...totally a bummer, actually, but it was important to me to speak of someone I love so very much.So I guess I’ll leave it at that.

Waffle-

My beautiful, beautiful friend, my soul-mate…I love you, am praying for you and wish I could be there so badly with you tomorrow. You’ve been such a wonderful addition to my life and I couldn’t be happier since we’ve been so close. I don’t want to be in a world that doesn’t have you in it. If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always remember; you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. i'll always be with you. I can’t wait to see you, Til then, I’ll be wearing my l0l3rskat3s racing to catch the r0flc0pt3r to hang with you. ;)

Everyone else-I'll be back in the next few days with tales of the debauchery that is my daily existence. But in the meantime, if you get a chance, please say a quick prayer or think a kind thought for Casey.

“If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.”

-Winnie the Pooh.

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[.Fast ship? You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?.]

It has already been a month since my last post? Really?

I don't know what the deal is, you know, with me not posting anything for forever. It might be because I've been really busy. That is a possibility.

Or, it might be because I've been trying to come up with an extra-funny essay that will make you laugh until you just fall down with all the hilarity. That also is possible. Or, you know, it MIGHT be that I have actually written THREE ESSAYS, all of which have somehow DISAPPEARED, possibly because I cannot remember how I SAVED them on this COMPUTER, because I am RETARDED.

I haven't been busy. And I was sitting here, imagining my individual brain cells, hanging out somewhere else, smoking itty bitty vials of crack or whatever, when I was immediately reminded that I need to post something before I get hatemail.
I haven't had much to say, at all the past couple of weeks..I mean, I could be making up idiotic captions for pictures I take with my cell phone in order to illustrate the random neuroses that plague me on a daily basis.

So most nights, exhaustion mixed with pathological boredom causes me to go to bed early. I managed to watch the entire Star Wars saga. And yes, I've nearly passed out on my desk trying to reach for my pencil with the force. The force is not strong in me, I fail.
The question is, what makes a geek? I’d always thought I didn’t particularly look like a geek - but that notion was shot down by a well-meaning person when I wondered why everyone assumed I was some kind of computer whizzkid. Besides the fact that I am one, of course. (in my dreams.)
I went to California this past weekend for my cousin's baby shower, it was a wonderful trip and I spent some time with family I don't see very often. Sunday morning, Heather's friend needed to be dropped off at the airport at 5:30. YESI'MSERIOUS. So we woke up at FOUR AM. Needless to say, Rob and I were ready to board a crazy train. Sunday night, my flight was at 6:35. we left at a decent time...but thanks to the universe, I get there and..:

So, I text Rob, he drives down to get me. What do we do 'til 8:40? Go to Applebee's of course! Two drinks each + dinners later, we get back to the airport and say our goodbyes. I can't say I regret it, it was valuable time spent with Rob, and to me, that is priceless.
Yeah, so. Anyway went through security, where I was not chosen for a body cavity search, which was really just shiny of TSA given the fact that I was disheveled to the point of looking like I’d spent the last year living in an isolated cabin somewhere, stockpiling weaponry and furiously typing letters to governmental agencies.

I made the flight, made it home. Yay. Now it's time for another weeked.

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[.He's a Rebel.]

All right,

I've got these problems with Jack. His diet (because he's the largest mini-rex the Vet has EVER seen), is going okay but his attitude is slowly making me want to eat glass shards and possibly use whatever is left over to stick in my eyes. People seem to believe that I am just being hard on my little guy, and that he is actually a sweet little darling angel thing. He is most certainly not. He is just plotty. But nobody believes me.
He does not listen to me.
If you tell him 'get over here, I thought you were about to burst..., and no we are NOT having a snack, because you weigh as much as a Volkswagen.'....
That will not work. He won’t even look at you.
If you clap your hands and say, “Maybe there is a rabbit in the other room, under the bed, that I forgot about! Let’s look together!”, he does not take the bait. And if you try to bend over and pick him up, he let kicks, scratches and squeaks, because JACK IS STARVE, and JACK DOES NOT WANT TO LEAVE FOOD BOX. Food Box is only hope of Jack.
In reality, of course, JACK IS LIE. In fact, JACK IS NOT LOSE ANY WEIGHT AT ALL SINCE DIET START. But he’ll never tell you that, and in the meantime, he’s got me on the horns of a short, brown dilemma, because....I feel so bad. Everytime I come home he's on his tippy toes looking for just a small goldfish cracker, rice chex or corn chip. He has all this hope, and in his big, brown eyes he's saying "lookit mommy! I'm doing the tricks you and daddy taught me". I squash these hopes.
He still marks his territory.
And this "territory" happens to be in the corner of my kitchen behind the kitchen table. Dean and I cannot take our eyes off him for more than 10 minutes without returning to the kitchen to find 50 little poops and a small puddle of pee. It's disgusting. And he needs to run around, I don't want him to be locked inside his cage for hours upon hours. Some days all I want to do is relax and watch a movie, or my favorite tv show, and not worry. But I cannot ignore him.
The one time I ignore Jack will be the one time he has explosive diarrhea someplace inconvenient and novel, like in my hair. And so, every night, I continue to let him out, and he continues to make a beeline for the kitchen table, and I continue to wonder how it is that I so often get outsmarted by a creature who regularly eats his own poop.

And that is why I drink, the end.

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[.Ferris Beuller, You're My Hero.]

I have nothing to say. Hi! Nothing! ahaha.ha.

Still. I'm kind of bored, so I figured I'd write something anyway. You all know how I get.
And...nothing else!
I've been busy, though. Sort of. And this is where I make another confession, but one that is startlingly less interesting than the poop confession of the last confessional entry, though it was deleted but...well, really, I can't top the poop confession. Which is a good thing, I suppose. You'll never know anyhow.

But anyway. So one of my friends (HI Meeker!) sent me an email a couple of days ago wondering where in the hell I was, because I didn't visit his apartment in 'yoville' (yes, I'm a facebook nerd) and I finally had to admit that I have gotten myself this very embarrassing new hobby, that I picked up by accident, in the style of a nasty viral infection.

And, see, (now is where I explain myself to try to make this sound normal. Pay attention) it all started because I hate the radio, HATE YOU, RADIO. All Arizona stations are desperate to appeal to either the 16-28 year old immature male group, so it's all "Fear Factor" and trying to swallow animal testicles at eight in the morning, which...no, OR it's going for whatever Lifetime-movie lovers (which...okay, sometimes me, but shut up) want to hear, which includes stories of love and togetherness and weddings on the beach (gayyyy), interrupted occasionally by Tales Of Children On The Brink Of Death But Who Were Then Saved By The Dog. And even that I could handle, if they didn't feel the need to punctuate an already interesting (shut UP, I said) radio story with snippets of EASY LISTENING MUSIC. I mean...have you heard this? Do you know what I'm talking about? Someone is talking, and then the station will cut away from that to play a few seconds of some heart-wrenching song, and then, WHUMP, back to the interview? It's disconcerting. I HATE. Here's an example:

Radio Caller: So, the dog was whining for me to follow him, and I finally decided I'd better turn off the Springer and go on upstairs...
Sudden CutAway Fairy: Did you ever knooooow that you're my heeeeeeeeeeeeroooooooo?
Caller: ...and there was the baby, sitting in the middle of the floor, just chewing away on something...
CutAway Fairy: Did I ever TELL you YOU'RE MY HEEEEEEEEEEERO? You're EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING, I WISH I COULD BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Caller: ...and THAT'S when I saw that the baby was eating from the big box of broken glass I like to keep next to his crib!
CutAway Fairy: Walkin' on, walkin' on, broken glaaaaaaaaaaaass!

And so forth. I'm guessing this isn't just an Arizona thing, but it has finally, permanently driven me away from the radio. And don't get me started on the AM stations. Just...don't. And I love me some Simon & Garfunkel, but it doesn't hold my attention the way that babies who eat boxes of glass shards might. I need comedy! I need to LAUGH. So what's a girl to do?

I started writing my own song parodies.

I was kind of embarrassed about this new hobby, because let's just go ahead and admit that it puts me squarely in nerd category. But that's all right, 'cuz someday soon I'll be famous, all over your local radio station, perhaps even star in a 'straight to tv' movie (y'know, like UHF) I'll spread around the world like a bad case of Herpes.

*Sigh*...
Friends, there comes a time in everyone's life when one has to look the potato of injustice right in the eye.
I've been reading a lot of junk about Gun Control lately, I think it's a bunch of malarky.
Gun control is for wimps and commies. Listen, let's get one thing straight-
Guns don't kill people. I do.
I would love to own a gun.
I'd give up my Coach bag for a gun.
But unfortunatly stupid people own guns. The ones that simply cannot master the instructions, the code. THE FREAKING SAFETY RULES.
Here's one: Never point the gun at anything you are not willing to destroy. and;
All guns are always loaded. So don't be playing Russian Roulette.
Wow, I'm sorry. I don't even know HOW I got into that subject. Maybe because all my liberal, democrat friends keep ranting about Gun Control, Abortion & Gay Rights. Whatev. I'm not that conservative. I am pro-life and pro-gay rights. So no hate mail, k?

Ahh, anyway. I have nothing else to say. Nothing new to report. Actually, what I have is an unusual problem. It is a problem of so much unusualness that I am going to ask you all to tell me what, precisely, you would do if faced with this problem. Now, I warn you. Just because this problem is unusual does not mean that it is not stupid. It is. This problem is completely lame.
I cannot... grap the concept of time.
It's becoming a serious problem that I have come to realize is destroying my entire being.
that and bad telelvision.
Blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.

-C

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[.Had to Share.]

Here's a montage Brittany made for me and others.
I really loved it.
Figured I'd post it on here to save, since myspace is full of bugs, hackers & viruses.
Enjoy.

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=80d628b94871dd42d28bbc&skin_id=601&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

You may have to paste the link into your browser. I tried to make it easier, I fail.

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[.I Caught Fire.]

No, I'm not gay. No, I do not have a "girl crush" on Brittany.
But she is my best friend.
And since she gave me grief a few months ago that she probably forgot about, I decided to make a montage for her.

The song has no lyrical meaning, just a personal favorite of ours.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

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[.Making a Memory.]

First off, don't judge me!
Second, I don't really consider Jack my child. I'm not one of those pet owners.
But since I'm often left out of the loop amongst family and friends, here's a little "Baby of Mine" video I made of him.

Enjoy. :)

-C

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

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[.That Christmas Newsletter I Promised.]

But as you all probably noticed by mail, that you didn't receive, that I didn't send one to you...or anyone.
TOTALLY forgot, TOTAL idiot.
Sowwie...
Here it tis.
Oh Happy Holidays my friend!
Another year has passed before us and I am taking time out of my busy schedule to personally write you this letter explaining to you what is going on in my life. Please do not infer that just because I am constantly referring to you in the generic second person and not including any personal information about you that this is one of those tacky one-size-fits-all impersonal letters that are being mass mailed to everyone I know instead of taking the time to write individual letters. I would like to think that you know me well enough to realize that I am above that type of behavior.Ahahaha, I joke. You all are getting the same one.
Usually I get bundles of these and they are all filled with kid updates, vacations, good news and bad news. I like knowing that my friend's have productive, successful lives and talented, wonderful children. Is there anything these families couldn’t do? Do they make this stuff up? I’d like to see the rough drafts to the letters that throw caution to the wind. These are the ones that would update us on what is really happening in our friends' lives, with a lot less of the sugar coating and a lot more real life. For example;
“Little Bobby got kicked out of preschool, but we think he's got a bright future as a hostage negotiator. And Mikey ate a bug, Mikey likes it!”--

Didn’t that kid die from Pop Rocks?
Ahh, enough about them, what about me!?
Despite the fact I didn't accomplish much. I did manage to keep myself busy enough to write an end-of-the-year letter, which I never have before. However, because I'm one for giving back to the people, I decided I would write one of my own. You can be sure it will be filled with delight and upbeat happiness that only I can provide during this festive season. And it's all free with no danger of you being added to my mailing list or pestered for money when I'm living in a cardboard box under the viaduct next year.
2008 was all about making changes, and at the beginning of the year 2008, I changed my gender.

HAHA, FOOLED you!

In case you didn't already know, I left my jobs at both the Chiropractor’s office and Suncoast Motion Pictures. Among other things, the thought of working two jobs and working another Black Friday slowly wore down my will to live. I started working for an Insurance company and have been there since. I love it there, and I continue to stay there until they either fire me or the building is destroyed by a small, ticking package from Florida.
While I’m generally not good at things like “making plans” or “developing strategies”, I did manage to come up with a vague notion of creating a blog. I know, I’m late. After the first two entries I was hooked. I would say it is like crack to me, but I've never smoked crack, so something like "high fructose corn syrup" or "partially hydrogenated oils" would be more appropriate to my situation.

I am really good though, at putting things off a lot longer than I probably should at times, so this year I decided to get a jump on my mid-life crisis and bring a new man into my life. His name’s Jack. He’s a Rabbit, settle down. He’s growing up real fast. My, how those tender first moments fly by. Well, nothing has changed. Except that the tiny poops aren’t cute anymore. Lately the only thing I’ve accomplished with him is weight gain.
Oh yeah, and that other guy.

Dean and I hit the 3 year mark March 15th of this year. As I’m typing the date, I’m actually trying to figure out when it was that our relationship actually started. We both decided that the first time we met in person was the start of our relationship for future anniversary purposes. But now, wait a tick, I’m starting to document no less than five different levels of the relationship that need to be taken into consideration in establishing an anniversary date. There is the first time we met, the first formal date, the first time we agreed not to see other people, the first time we said "I love you", and a few other milestones that I can't remember at the moment. Nailing down an anniversary date has been an exercise in futility.

I’m making an executive decision and placing our anniversary on the same day as the Super bowl. This way we can always celebrate it on the weekend, and he can’t forget.. I briefly considered making it Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, but that is always on Monday, and I didn't want Dean accusing me of playing the race card. Anyhow, I think he’s enjoyed my presence; he’s only tried to throw himself out of a moving car once or twice.
I lost a lot of my hearing this year. Which I’m dealing with, and have discovered it’s endless benefits. Such as, avoiding conversation, noise from public restroom stalls and friend’s horrible music taste.
October of ’08 I moved from my apartment into a house. Everyone is welcome to come and see it- provided that I in no way, incur any financial responsibility and that you leave when I grow tired of your company.
I sang at my friend’s “Anti-Wedding” party a couple of weeks ago. Really, it wasn’t cynical, it was a celebration! We covered what felt like several hundred 80’s songs and I’m pretty sure everyone in the audience enjoyed it. We even got a standing ovation, in which everyone was already standing, but they hopped a little for enthusiasm. They then cried and promised us all lots of money. I’m sure I was probably the only sober one there, so that’s the story I told them.
Where am I going to go from here? What will 2009 hold for me? If you know the answers to these questions, please e-mail me ASAP so I can get on with my life. I'm thinking of getting out of the whole working industry all together. And following my dream of dying my hair blue and forming a comedic guitar duo that sings funny songs for spare change out on the street when the weather is nice. I've already written a couple songs such as "I Fought the Law (and now I’m in jail)’" and "Dear Stalker, I Miss Your Phone Calls"-- those I believe will help me earn a name for myself in the cutthroat
Well, I guess I've rambled on enough for this year. I wish only the best for everyone in 2009. Everyone, that is, except for Jar Jar Binks-- I wish only bad and evil things for that computer generated monstrosity. I fantasize about him being pummeled to death in the next Star Wars movie by the Ewoks after some wacky misunderstanding during his gratuitous vacation scene on the third moon of Endor. (I caught the middle of that movie last night). I can’t be the only person that feels that way. Oh and make Al Gore happy; remember to recycle folks, because if you don't all of us will have to live with the garbage until the sun runs out of fuel and collapses on itself with the resulting explosion enveloping the planet Earth as we know it-- instantaneously converting countless generations of accomplishments back into the basic building blocks of matter from which we were created. And that's a long time. That about wraps things up here. In all seriousness folks, I love you all and wish only the best for you this new year. LIVE IT UP! And if you ever question how to live your life, just remember what everyone tells John Cusack in the movie "Better Off Dead"-- "Go that way really fast. If something gets in your way, turn."

So uh, yeah MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Love,

that blonde girl who's last name you cannot pronounce or spell correctly.

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[[2009, No One Invited You...]]

Let me start off my saying "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"


So, I haven't written much in the last couple weeks, but what is funny, is that actually, yes, yes I have. I have written two entries, but both are so ridiculous and nonsensical that in retrospect, I decided they did not, NOT need to be posted.


I suddenly ask myself though, why? Why should such labors be wasted?
Ahh, oh well.
Anyway, I still have my Christmas tree up...wondering when and why I should take it down....

In case you also were wondering, how you should definitely NOT take down your Christmas tree, like, you were thinking to yourself, "Self, exactly what would be the worst possible way to take down a Christmas tree, and what is the way that is most likely to involve destruction?" Which unfortunatly happens to me, because mine is fake and predictably I lose my temper and begin knocking the tree to the ground before removing any of the branches.

But if yours is real, I'm sorry...you will have pine needles raining over you and will get EVERYWHERE.
Bah, I will do it later.
Does this entry make sense?
Because I feel as though I am rambling.

Oh, you know what? It occurs to me that I have never written about my Jeep, my sad, long-suffering car that I have abused and driven irrationally and unsafely since I was nineteen (which isn't that long ago, but still), that keeps on chugging away even though I say mean things to it, and pass out and drive into ditches with it..except when it decides to die spectacularly on the side of the highway that one time.

Wow. Well, here's a picture>>v

Okay, I lie. That's my first Jeep. Within a month of having my license, I drove it into the back end of an Escalade. Give me a break, I was late for class and no one should be stopped on a highway.
But, my current Jeep is the same year, just blue.
I really hope it makes it for another couple of years. I'd hate to have a car payment, and also have a new car in which I constantly stare out the front window staring at assuming everyone walking by is casing it.

I really feel like going back up North and playing in the snow.
I had so much fun with my family. Despite almost getting frostbitten toes. I survived. :) There's me and Emily hanging out. >>>
I'll upload more as soon as I can get a hold of them.
Well, I just wanted to fill up an empty space and I feel as though I've done a decent job.

'night folks.

-C

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