I'm Pretty Sure It's Still Illegal

From a Spam entitled "Our church will ordain anyone who asks":

"MARRY your BROTHER, SISTER, or your BEST FRIEND!
Don't settle for being the BEST MAN OR BRIDES' MAID"

I'm assuming this church is located in West Virginia.

Meat Lover's Skillet

So I try not to blog about my referral logs, cause it's lame, but I just gotta tell y'all about this one.

Someone found this page searching for, "Oral Sex at Denny's."

All I can think is, "Well, that gives a whole new meaning to 'Moons over My Hammy,' doesn't it?"

Lack of Pet Ownership Is Not A Crime!

The quest to obtain a cat has hit a roadblock.

As I mentioned previously, Phil and I went to the animal shelter and filled out some forms and checked out the cats (who were really, really cute and friendly). And the animal shelter people told us that we need a vet reference.

The problem is that we don't have a vet. I called a couple of vets today, and they were understandably reluctant to provide a reference to someone they have never actually met. We don't have a vet, because we need a pet in order to have a vet. We don't have a pet, because we need to have a vet in order to have a pet.

The most aggravating thing is that everyone is acting like I'm a huge freak because I've never had a pet before. They're like, "Really? You've never had a pet?" and I'm like, "Well, I had them when I was a kid, in Los Angeles, where they saw vets that are currently across the country." And they're like, "But you've never had your own pet? With a vet here?" and I'm like, "NO! I'm only 24! I moved here a year ago! No pets! No vets!"

I really don't understand why this is that difficult. There are a goddamn lot of cats out there, and I am nice and fairly responsible, and willing to promise that I won't poke at them with sticks or anything.

Conversation (Or: The Picture Phone Fulfills Its Destiny)

Me: I like that picture because the labret piercing and the nipple piercing visually echo each other.
Him: You should write that on your blog.

I Need Validation

If you're on Orkut, you should add me as your friend. (I'm there as Cyn Taylor.)

If you're not on Orkut, and you want to be, ask and I'll invite you. It seems to be pretty groovy so far.

Then write testimonials about how much you want to sleep with me. Or how cool you think I am, if for some reason you don't want to sleep with me.

Picture Phone!

Well, it's only a matter of time until I get drunk and upload pictures of my tits. That should give you all something to look forward to.

In the meantime, if you think I should have your phone number, could you please either call me or email it to me?

Gone Missing

I've managed to lose my cell phone, so if you want to talk to me on the telephone, well, you just can't.

Also, if anyone sees a blue cell phone, it may be mine. It has a Hello Kitty dangly thingy on it, and the display says "Lesbophone."

Diamond Ads Are Sexist. Surprise.

There's a diamond ad I keep seeing that says something like, "Give her something she'll be able to look at when you've got a pot belly and a receding hairline." I think it's part of the same ad campaign as the ad that says, "Of course there's a return on your investment. We just can't print it here."

Every time I see it I think, "Man, that diamond ring's gonna hurt when she fucks herself with it." Because that's what the ads are saying. That women will trade sex for money.

I can't even express how much this irritates me. Except to say that it's probably less chafing than a diamond in the cooter, but only slightly.

Recent Acquisitions

In the last couple of weeks I've gone from having no boyfriends to have two boyfriends. It's all been just as drama-filled as one would expect, and if I never have to discuss my feelings ever again, it will be too soon. My new rule is that if feelings are going to be discussed, there also has to be plenty of booze around. In fact, it would be best if all of these discussions could take place in a bar, as the bartender could be used as a referree, or possibly the other patrons could vote on whose feelings are more valid.

I'm kind of torn about whether to blog about this. On the one hand, I don't really wish to discuss the socio-political or personal ramifications of this. On the other hand, the boyfriends are probably going to do something amusing at some point, and I'll want to blog about it without a lot of pointless and distracting backstory. The funny, of course, is winning. Humor above all else, after all.

One of the boyfriends is far away right now, and most likely far away for the next year or so. I'm considering calling him The Far Away Boyfriend, and the other one The Not Far Away Boyfriend for blogging purposes. I'm also considering calling The Purple Haired Boy as a nickname for The Far Away Boyfriend, but then I'd probably have to come up with a hopelessly twee nickname for The Not Far Away Boyfriend as well. I may also just use their names, like a normal person. Most likely, I will do all of this plus throw the phrase "my boyfriend" around indescriminately, and you will all have to figure it out through contextual clues.

For those of you who are worrying that this will lead to a lack of pussy around here, fear not, for Phil and I are getting a cat. We went to the pound today, and put in an application, and now we just have to get a vet and wait until they decide that we're not pet molestors. We've decided we want an older cat, so it will be less rambunctious and already be toilet trained and everything. Our master plan is for it to kill or at least frighten the mice, who have become very loud and fearless and have basically laughed at all our attempts to slaughter them thus far.

As far as names go, we are waiting until we get to know the cat, but I am leaning towards either Rasputin or Princess Boo Boo the Wonder Kitty.

Birthday

You know you have a good birthday when it involves the friends you never get to see, drinking all day, getting presents, sitting naked in a hot tub in the snow, and giving each other make overs.

So I'm 24 now.

I Hate My Subconscious

I had a sex dream about Neal the other night.

And I have to say, thanks a whole fuck of a lot, brain. I really didn't think you could top the sex dream in which I was late for work because I was having sex with one of my exes, but the sex dream about the dead ex-boyfriend definitely beats it.

I think my brain has just decided to fuck with me. It's going to start trying to get me to shove my fingers into light sockets or something next.

At least he was alive in the dream.

The Littlest Elf

One of my dearest friends has started a blog. She is small and smart and funny and a very good writer.

Check out The Littlest Blog.

Last Night, In Haiku Form

Drag Queens get Hipsters
naked. PBR for all.
I know everyone.

Notes:

1. I think the drag show in a hipster bar might be my target demographic. I knew way too many random people.

2. All I wanted was to see hipster boys make out with each other, but did they? NO! For the love of god, metrosexuals, get it on all ready. It's not like I'm screaming "MAKE OUT!" at you for my health.

69th Street

The Philly buses and subways are suddenly filled with ads that say something like, "Come visit the shops at 69th street!" I'm not sure of the exact wording, but the salient details are that there are shops on 69th street and you should go there.

Because I am mentally five years old, I am constantly rewriting these ads in my head.

"Go down to 69th street!"

"Eat at 69th street!"

"69th Street: Everybody's coming!"

"Things are awkward and complicated at 69th Street!"

"Get your sub-par oral sex at 69th Street!"

(Much like Anti, I am not a fan of 69. There's just way too much going on and it's all confusing and I need to concentrate, people.)

Observation

Looking out the bus window, I see a winter-clad couple making out against a storefront. Both wear fur-trimmed parkas. They resemble mating hippoes, bulbous and awkward. The larger, beige parka engulfs the smaller, blue parka. No flesh is showing. Occasionally, a hand reaches out, and then returns.

"I'm OLD! I'm 80! I have wrinkles!"

A note on the title of this entry: I was 21, and in a punk bar in New Orleans. This 18-year-old punk boy was hitting on me, and being rather drunk I attempted to fend him off by hollering about how ancient I was. (I think there was probably also a lot of pointing at my face to demonstrate said wrinkles.) He, of course, responded by telling me how young I was and attempting to grope me. The story ends when I skedaddled back to youth hostel, sans punk boy.

I turn 24 on the 24th. I'm old! I'm in my early mid-twenties, or possibly my mid early-twenties! It's definitely time for my quarterly life crisis.

The quarterly life crisis goes like this: I like the titular story of this entry. It has lots of good ingrediants - a random place, someone hitting on me, my inappropriate drunken behavior, the word "skedaddle." I have a lot of stories with similar themes, and I like most of them. I like the one where I end up barefoot on the bandstand at 3 am in the middle of November in Ohio. I like the one about the homemade ether.

But it's just all so exhausting. And I have a job. And I knit a lot. And somehow, in a lot of situations, I end up looking kind of responsible and mature. And I've started to notice that when I'm drunk, I'm really only funny to other drunk people.

Last Friday night, I made juice in our new juicer. Then I knit and watched Buffy. The juice had beets in it.

I think that maybe, against all odds, I've somehow ended up where I should be at 24. I have a job and an apartment. Sometimes I go on weeklong benders, but I find my way back. I feel a little bored sometimes, a little like I'm stagnating, and I've decided that by the time I turn 25, I'm going to have a new plan for my life. But things are going to be okay.

And if 24 could avoid being the total carnival of fuct upedness that 23 was, that would be awesome.

Quoted Song Lyrics = Quality Weblog

"I am healthy, I am whole, but I have poor impulse control.
and I want to go home.
But I am home."

-Riches and Wonders, The Mountain Goats

I'm Pretty On The Inside

I taped my x-rays to the windows in my bedroom. I really like the way x-rays look, I think they're really pretty, and this way you can see them because they get lit from behind during the day. The view from my bedroom is of another apartment building and a parking lot, so the x-rays are a definite improvement. Plus I'm hoping this will cut down on the sun coming through and waking me up. I'm thinking of getting copies of the rest of my x-rays, and covering all of my windows.

I will make a stained glass window out of my bones, and when the sun shines through I will sleep wrapped in my own arms.

Fuck Space

Okay, I realize I'm a little late on the news here, because everyone else found about this on Wednesday, but I live in a media-free zone, and also I've kind of been busy.

But this whole Bush space plan is quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Seriously, this makes me spitting mad. I start talking about it, and I'm waving my arms around and yelling in about two seconds. I'm all, "But! AHHH! ARRRRGH! I want to punch the president in the face!" There is nothing about this plan that is not stupid.

When did we put a twelve-year-old in charge of our country? Sending people to mars? Um, hi, didn't anyone notice that we're kind of oh, I don't know, in a motherfucking deficit up in this piece?

I don't need my tax dollars to go to the moon. I need them to go to schools, and health care, and getting people jobs on, oh, say, earth. Yeah, space is kind of cool and all, but as returns on investment go, it blows. What the hell am I getting out of the government sending my money into space? Why are we sending someone to fucking mars? Seriously! Why are we doing this? Do we need to blow people up there, too.

I have non-fiscal reasons for thinking this is idiotic as well. I know most people aren't going to agree with me here, but people + space = bad. Sending people into space is insanely expensive, it's dangerous, and scientifically speaking there's really nothing we get out of sending people up that we can't get from robots. And when you send robots into space, it's cheaper and you don't blow up school teachers or anyone else. We send people into space because the general public likes it, and that's the only reason. It gives us something to identify with as humans, it plays into our whole manifest destiny mythos, it makes us feel good. And maybe I'm finally getting in touch with my Protestant work ethic, but as far as I'm concerned, if a stupid idea makes John Q. Public feel good, it's still a fucking stupid idea and I don't want to spend my money on it.

If private industry wants to send people into space, I'm all for it. Let's send the rich into space! They'll have fun, we'll get some science, if they blow up we can redistribute the wealth. But we're choosing to send someone to Mars with money that could be spent improving the quality of life on earth, and we're not getting anything back. We're just sending money into space, and hoping it has fun there. And if the goverment really has 12 billion dollars lying around that they don't have anything better to do with, they can give it to me. I promise to redistribute it real good.

At least we haven't decided to start any new wars this week. (Knock on wood.)

I Have Two Arms!

I went to the doctor today, and the cast and sling are off. He said that since it was such a little break, keeping it in the cast would just make it stiff, and that I should just work on getting full movement back and come back in a month.

I have two arms! Two! And one of them is my right arm!

I can type and knit and I don't have to make Phil hold the lighter when I freebase meth out of an old lightbulb! I'm so excited!

This Band Fucking Rocks

The Mountain Goats play Philly March 4th. Who's with me?

Welcome to Insurance Hell

Monday, I called the number on my insurance card to get an appointment about my arm. The woman I talked to said, "Well, I can give you a phone number for orthopedics," and I said, "Okay." So I called the number she gave me, and I gave someone all my info (including my insurance stuff) and they said they'd call back later that day with my appointment. They actually called back the next day, but they gave me an appointment so I didn't mind.

It's all good until I show up today and they're like "Do you have a referral?" and I'm like, "Uh, I didn't know I needed one," and to make things even more complicated I don't have an actual primary care physician so I don't even know who to get a referral from. Then there is much calling of people on the phone, and finally they're like, "Get a primary care physician, get a referral, but first get the hell out of here, no doctor for you."

So I leave and later I call the number on the card and weirdly get the same woman as before and I explain and she's like, "I ca give you the phone number," and I'm like "But I need a referral," and she's like, "You need an appointment to get a referral," and I'm like, "I had an appointment, they said I needed a referral," and she says, "You should have told me you needed a referral," and I say, "I didn't know, I'm sorry," and she says,"Get another appointment and then call and get a referral." I ask how long the referral will take, and she says they'll process it quickly because it's an emergency.

I call back the orthopedics people and ask for another appointent, and they tell me the first one is January 29th, and they do it in a very, "Well, you fucked up your first chance," way. At this point I got semi-hysterical and was all, "I have a broken arm. I'm supposed to get physical therapy with in ten days, and I broke it on the 12th. I need to MOVE MY ARM. There must be someone in the hospital who can see me." Because, really, these people are a major fucking hospital, and you cannot expect me to believe that anyone who breaks a bone is screwed until the 29th. So the lady's like, "Well, if you get a referral right now I'll get you an appointment today.

I call back the referral place and leave a referral request being all, "You said you could do this because it's an emergency."

The appointment lady calls back and says, "I got you an appointment for tomorrow because I don't want to rush you, but call back later to make sure we got it."

I make another referral request.

I call orthopedics back. They haven't gotten it.

I call the referral people. Their voicemail says to call back during office hours, which are 1 pm to 7 pm. It's currently 4 pm. I hit the "Talk to a real person if it's an emergency" option and get a call center person who says all he can do is transfer me to their message service. So I call back and transfer to the message center myself. (Trying hard not to leave a message that says "It's your office hours! Why aren't you fucking cunts there!") And it's full, so I can't leave a message.

I call back orthopedics and explain. And I'm just so fucking pathetic that the woman is like, "Come in tomorrow. We'll get the referral."

If I don't see a doctor tomorrow, I'm going to rip off my sling and beat someone with it. I better get some fucking good pain killers out of this.

Thanks!

Many, many thanks to all my guest posters. I'm not sure whether to be terrified or amused by the many animals with photoshopped pink hair, but I'm totally thrilled at the brilliant stuff that was posted while I was gone.

(Now that I'm back we can lower the standards around here back to where they belong.)

Warning

Do not go grocery shopping insanely hungry and with a broken arm. You will end up with more food than you can carry, and most of it will be cheese. (Need for calcium = much cheese love. It's good for me, I swear!)

The Good Side

All this one handed typing is going to make it totally easy to secretly jerk off to internet porn while having AIM conversations.

Clarification

To clear up any confusion: I did not, in fact, break my arm skiing. I broke my arm when I slipped on some ice walking between the Biltmore Casino and the Lake Tahoe Brewing Company. I put my arm down to catch myself when I fell, noted that my wrist stung a bit, got up and continued on my merry way. Afterwards, I went to two different bars, played shuffleboard, got into an altercation with an overly-friendly middle-aged man, and got home about two am. Then I drunk dialed Ro to tell him that I thought I had broken my arm, and went to sleep.

The next day I woke up, noted the limited mobility and pain in my right arm, and sought some medical attention.

Thank Goodness Tomorrow Is Tuesday

Wednesday marks the return of our highness. Though dibilitated I'm fucking hip-hip-happy Cyn will be returning. Everyone bow before her greatness/Glorificus.

P.S. Buffy Season Three is MIA and will probably never return...damn that troll I took in...I should have known better.

Moronic Tales

I consider my family to be well educated...on my mother's side. Now my aunts, uncles and so on may not have college degrees however, they all offer something to the conversation or a specific topic...again on my mother's side. Now my father's side of the family...hmmm? I can't say for certain but if a catscan was done the doctor's would probably discover missing brain or the whole damn thing missing...maybe not even a brainstem. Why am I talking about the family in such a tone? Here are three questions my 56 year old Aunt asked...two tonight...one when her mother passed away:

1. "Paul, where exactly is your hip located? Is it attached to the leg?"

2. Situation: The nurse had told my Aunt that her mother had went to rest (i.e. she was in the hospital for 3 months with bone cancer...rest=death). My Aunt proceeds to ask the nurse, "So when did she fall asleep?"

My mission in life is now to educate my father's side of the family in hopes that they can be released into the world without too many fuck-ups. Is it wrong of me to question the knowledge of this side of the family after hearing this shit? I think not.

P.S. Hoping Cyn is feeling well and that lots of vicodin are headed her way.

Announcement

I have broken my right arm. It is not anything to be overly concerned about, as it is more of a dent than a break, and the pain is more "sad whimpering" than "cannot fucking stop screaming" level.

The downside is that one's right arm is very useful. Less useful when in a sling for the next six weeks.

The upside is that vicodin fucks one up real good, yessir.

Somehow, I think of Georgia O'Keefe

Is it just me, or does this not-so-vaguely resemble this previously mentioned link?

Naughty Boy

How does one fight temptation? Do you set the thoughts in the back of your mind and just hope that they stay supressed for a while? Do you quickly change the subject and try to focus on something else? Temptation is something that I have never been good at fighting. Wether it come to drugs, alcohol, stripping at a bar I just can't seem to fight it. Is this a bad trait to have? Or does it make me stronger because I try to learn from my mistakes? All I know is that Rafael/Mr. McHottie is a temptation I am willing to travel for. I know I should resist but damn...this guy is on fire.

And speaking of fire...I'm about to burn my house down in the pursuit of finding my 4th season Buffy DVD set. Where did it go? I have looked for it all day and have yet to find the "precious." Damn living in a big house. There are too many possibilities. There is a specific episode that I want to watch and I want to watch it badly...what is a deprived fan to do?

worst tattoo ever.

Cows

Launchcast just played me the best song. It had me in stitches. It was a punk song by some group called the Suburbs. Entitled "Cows," the opening lyrics ran thusly:

"I like cows, and they like me.
I like cows, just wait and see."

Ok, I know I'm easily amused, but STILL. Brilliance! The best part was the affected, bored punk voice of the singer. Kills me.

Besides, cows are comedy animals. I find them even funnier than monkeys or chickens. They just STAND THERE. Comedy gold, I tell you what.

A little dab ul do ya...

Finally decided to get tattoo number eight today. Felt the pressure of not having one done in about 6 months so it was much needed. Got the following William Blake quote written down the side of my calf:

To see a world
In a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

I love it and it will be with me permanently unless I decide to have my leg amputated. I just don't see that happening in the near to distant future.

God Cyn needs to come back. I miss the wittiness (I hope this is a word). I miss the scarcasm. I miss our Pink Haired Lady. *tear*

But her absence has granted me the opportunity to be a guest so I really can't complain. And has anyone ever listened to CruxShadows? If you have do you find the album cover disturbing?

I must go find a vegetable to eat. Anyone got a receipe for something vegetarian that is yummy? Please leave comments.

Veggie Tales

I have decided that I'm going back to living as a vegetarian. Not that I eat a lot of meat anyhow. Does one consider chicken a meat? I do so that's what is getting cut out. I do like chicken however. I really can't stand red meat..eww. And fish...I'd rather eat a bloody tampon than deal with that mess. So the journey has begun.

Someone thinks I should sprout horns and have a pointed tongue at work because I have and do laugh at old people in general. When they fall I just can't help it. However, I do laugh at other clumsy individuals. Not specifically old people. Well maybe them a little more than others. Is this a bad habit? You know you do it too.

So comments were posted that I need to go to graduate school. First I have to finish my degrees in Computer Networking and Political Science. The minor in Graphic Design can wait. College is the equivelant to to a limp dick...somedays it gets hard and other days it goes without notice. I can't stand being lectured to. Hello...what the fuck was so important about the Treaty of kiss my ass. Exactly. But one day I'll finish. I've only got a couple more semesters so I don't feel the pressure to rush. Plus having to pay for the shit out of my own pocket holds the rushing part as well. Damn the government for not giving me money. Those bastards in office just are plain greedy.

Remember guys...

No matter how bad it is, it can always be worse.

You could have lost a lottery ticket worth $162 million and had someone else claim the ticket instead.

Don't believe me? If you haven't heard about it, here's the Washington Post article about it.

And for the curious, South Euclid is on the other side of Cleveland from Oberlin, but that's not too far away.

At-o-mic Doooooog!

Why must I be like that, why must I chase the cat?

Nothin' but the dooog in me...

(Bow-wow-wow-yippee-yo-yippee-yay)

I'm such a sheep...

But I couldn't resist giving my Fred dog a makeover, too.

Kitten Makeover

A bullet to the head...

Does work make anyone else feel like a zombie? Jesus Christ, it is so repetitive and the thought of going in each day makes me want to play Russian roulette. Is there a job out there that is actually satisfying aside from pornography and laughing at old people when they fall? Am I infact the evil person I aspire to be and my padded cell with florescent lighting my payback? Wah...wah..wah...blah..blah..blah...I really need a career change. Something in the art of selling crack to the Baltimore crackheads I saw over the past week. However, the temptation to dip into my own sales would be too tempting. Not that I do or ever have done crack. I can list on 37 fingers the drugs I have done....memories.

As I do so often at work...think...I ran across a question today? Are beavers vegetarians? If not would they hurt my precious rat, Baby Girl? If so beavers are so out of the question. Although BabyG (my little thugstress) is quite tough and could protect herself.

It's Tuesday evening and no more Buffy new premiere episodes. How depressing is that? No more witty musicials or valley type talk. What is a guy to do? Alas, the day fucking sucked so what makes the night seem like it should get any better. If only Rafael was online so I had someone to talk to. He is so fucking gorgeous and the conversation is very much interesting. Oh where is my Mr. McHottie when I need him?

Well, if we're going to post pictures of animal abuse...

That's my mongrel dog. And the green thing on his head is not some mutant broccoli, but a fuzzy hat I made.

Clearly, this is animal abuse and I should be reported to the SPCA.

I put the FUN in defunct

i wore my BORED FCUK t-shirt to work today. i hate fcuk as in the brand, "french connection united kingdom." i only got that tshirt cos it was in one of those reject shops franchise in malaysia where stuff are sold for peanuts and they cut off the labels (as though you can't already guess which brand it is?!)

"mona lisa smile" suck. anyone who dares to oppose me shld watch dead poets' society and realise that the only thing mona lisa lacked was the word, carpe diem.

i went to borders bookstore after the movie and listened to a bunch of cds. Actually, I just love scanning the bar code, hearing the machine go beep and getting the listening booth to work. i have a thing for scanning bar codes. i have always wanted to work at the check-out counter way before bar code was introduced to singapore but my dad wouldn't hear of it. so now, i get cheap thrills in stores like target and carrefour that allow me to do my very own price check. among the albums i scanned were: blink 182, aqualung, BT, the magnetic fields, travis... only travis seemed to be worth the $ they were charging it for. And my friend, fads is a sucker. i mean, i love kurt and all but i wouldnt pay borders SGD$35 for his journal. i would photocopy it!

Definite Public Service Announcement

Hey, kids! It's Emmett from Datatype. Once in a while I'll release a public service announcement for the betterment of all mankind over on my blog, but I suspect that The Pink One has a higher readership than I do. Therefore, I'll be sharing this one with you in the hopes that it is taken to heart by all immigrants to the vast network of computers that I like to call the 'internet.'

Ladies and gentlemen, the word is spelled 'definitely,' not 'definately.' I don't even know what 'definately' means. It's got the word 'ate' in it, but I don't think that means anything. 'Definitely' is an adverb, which means that it modifies other things. 'Definitely' is not a one-word answer to something else. Proper usage would be like 'I'll definitely be there at eight.'

So there you are. Go in peace, the Mass is ended.

yep.

The Matrix IV - Now Starring Christina...

Perhaps not as cool as New. Pink. Boots!, I bought myself a coat at Macy's last week, because everything's insanely discounted in an attempt to move the fugly merchandise that didn't sell. I picked up a nice, full length black coat (not a trench, no stupid waist tie cinchers that make you look huge) with a skirt like bottom (but not frilly). It is, of course, black.

Wearing it, I feel like I should be an extra in the Matrix. Where did I leave those sunglasses?

It also has a hood. I decided with the hood up I was a Benedictine monk (hrm... or maybe a Franciscan...). Tonight, I was walking my mongrel dog and pulled the hood up because the temperature dropped 30 degrees in 3 hours. Looking at my shadow (because I'm just. that. vain), I decided the monk was not cool enough.

Now, it's a tossup between the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and a Ring Wraith. While Christmas Yet to Come has all sorts of punny goodness, I'm going with Ring Wraith.

Christmas Yet to Come can only stand and point, while as Ring Wraith, I get to huskily whisper "No man can kill me."

Oh won't you be my beaver...

Watching the Discovery channel has made me realize how much I want a pet beaver. They are undeniably cute when they are babies or cubs or whatever they are called. Plus, when I have the moat built around my house it can make its own little damned fortress and visit me when it likes. I think my beaver's name shall be "Muffy." She will be cute and mine forever. Does anyone know where you can purchase a beaver. And by this I mean the animal not a woman's body part?

Besides my new appreciation for the kingdom of beavers I have a question. Has anyone besides myself ever seen the independent film "Party Girl," starring Parker Posie? If so, what is your reaction to it? And if you own it where can I get a copy? I myself was afraid of the Dewey Decimal system at one time and then learned that the system as a whole is pointless. For you librarians out there shame shame for using such a bogus dot system.

Food glorious food

things that happened today: (skip if you can)
1. Went for a shoot at 3 food stalls in the red light district. I've decided that there are so many parts to tiny Singapore that I haven't explored so I can't complain that this friggin island is too small (647 square km) and "There's nothing to do!" on a weekend.

2. I sent telepathic signals to my crush at work when he walked by to get some stuff from me. Included among the code were lines like, "I want you." "Now, on my desk." "Fcuk, (notice) me please." He didn't bat an eyelash and he smelt good.

3. It's 9.10pm and I am at work. still. i am a loser. i print thousands of tickets each month for a show that no one comes to watch.

4. A colleague came back from the Gold Coast and deposited a koala stuffed toy holding a boomerang on my table. hooray. now my stuffed hello kitty (interchangeable into a mac burger, don't ask me how) has a new friend.

5. I came across this HUGE black and white cat at one of the stalls selling Fried Ostrich Kway Teow. The cat looks more like a frisian cow when it was crossing the road. I don't eat Ostrich Kway Teow even though I am not a vegetarian.

A moment of sharing...

Hello everyone...this is Paul. It's my first time guest blogging so I'm going to try to not bore you to death.

I went to Baltimore this week to visit family and wound up staying with the grandparents. Have you ever noticed how grandparents rock and have oodles of information to share? Well here is the moment of sharing with my grandmother that made me feel more like a queen than I ever have.

Me: Granny, I didn't know you liked football?
Granny: Damn right. I love this shit.
Me: How much is one of those kick thingys worth? And how much for a touch down? (I figured she would have no clue).
Granny: Touch down is 6 pts. and a "field goal" is 1 point.
Me: I'm supposed to be the man here...why don't I know this?

Later that night when Granny decided she wanted me to give her a manicure:

Me: God this fingernail polish is thick...I need to add some remover to it to make it a better texture.
Granny: I never knew you could do that? You know Paul you should really look in to being a nail technician.

Something is seriously wrong here. Grandmother knows more about sports and I know more about cosmotology. Do I have an "inner woman" or am I just making too much of the situation? You decide.

And last for the evening...as I was going through the little pamphlets that come in the 5th season Buffy DVD collection I noticed that the 6th(and most impressive season) doesn't come out until May 2004. Now I have to wait like 5 months. Are the producers of the "Sacred Buffy DVD's" being dick teases or what? How will I make it that long to see Willow as the "Psycho You Killed My Lesbian Lover Widowed Girlfriend?" Damn mass production.

Here's yr Guest Blogger

It's 2.09pm here in Singapore and I am yr guest blogger for the week, Mariana. (cue applause) thanks to Cyn for letting me have this space, my usual humble abode in lala land is bursting with fruit flavour. I guess we should start off by introducing myself....blah blah blah...drum roll.

here are the 10 facts u need to know to be up to date about me:
1. I am 23 years old going on 18. I have had many comments about my age and how it differs from the way I look. Maybe it's cos I don't bother with the way I dress (in this humidity and because I am chronically late, t-shirts, bermudas and slippers look good for the office) and I don't put on make-up (to be read as "cant be fcuked" with makeup, except maybe when I feel like trying out the Goth look but it doesn't work that well with tanned skin.)

honestly kids, i cant be bothered to type with the correct punctuation marks and capital letters at the start of every sentence so bite me.

2. I thought I always knew what I wanted to be when I grow up when I was 15 and so geared myself towards a career in TV broadcasting. now that I have had only about 1 year in it (not counting the internships and freelance gigs) I think I will get bored pretty soon. yawn.

3. I have never met Cyn in real life. I dont know how i stumbled upon her blog, probably one of those days when I first started on my job and I had absolutely nothing to do so I started clicking on sites which brought me to more sites and then her URL was easy to recall so I started reading her blog as and when I can.

4. I am a non-practicing heterosexual and muslim by default. shiver. By that I mean, i do want to have sex with a man but I don't on a regular basis. makes sense?

5. at the last head count, I have 3 hamsters left. They are beady, mini and mini beady.

6. I wish we have the 4 seasons here but all we get is rain and shine. And more rain and more shine and no, Singapore is not "near" China. We DO have to take a flight out about 6 hours I think. Just don't be fooled by the amount of Chinese people we have here. I swear the population is mostly migrants. From about a 170 years back. I am Malay by the way but that does not make me from Malaysia. sigh, let's not get into this.

7. I made my sister put streaks in my hair yesterday and with hair dye, I get dandruff. hooray for flakes. Plus, the colour was all wrong. Instead of turning "smoky grey" as the Gatsby packet from Japan implies, I got dark brown. trust the japs to do that. hey, i love japs by the way. they are so cute.

8. speaking of cute, i have yet to get over my teenage "fetish" of sorts. i have a thing for skinny, lanky, pale, freckled boys with very dark dark hair (with or without black hair dye). and protruding pelvic bones (all applications shld be mailed to marijuana@ekno.com with the subject: I AM YOUR MAN.). yum.

9. I am horizontally-challenged, morbidly obese for an asian and surprisingly voluptuous (speeling?) on a good day. i love my food and no, I don't eat small men though friends have said I might.

10. naff said.

Home Again

Well, I made it to LA safe and sound, despite my best efforts. I went to sleep at 4 am last night, and woke up in a dead panic when my alarm went off at 8 am, convinced I was going to miss my 10 am flight. (I am perpetually early for flights. I always convince myself I need to get to the airport two hours early, and that the taxi will take an hour. This means I'm constantly getting to the airport approximately 6 hours before my flight leaves.) Anyway, there was a little bit of panic of my part, but I made it to the airport with time to spare, and spent my flight from Philly to Phoenix attempting to sleep.

Stopped over in Phoenix for an hour, then had an hour flight to LA. The pinkhairedfam picked me up at the airport. There were Christmas presents, and mommy food, and things smell nice here.

This is probably my last post before the internetless wilderness. Guest posters, y'all are kicking ass so far!

Conversations I haven't had yet...

Christina says "Sorry, I didn't realize how FUCKING LONG this was!"

So, I’m writing this in San Jose International airport. It won’t be posted until I’m back in DC and the realm of wireless communication again.

It’s nice and ironic that I’m coming back from 2 weeks of vacation while Cyn is heading off on her vacation. She’s probably at an airport right now. It’s not like it’s travel season, anyway.

I have a season length internship at a DC theater in theater administration, in case anyone cares. They gave me two weeks off and were gracious enough to pay me for one of those weeks. Never mind that 3 of the 10 days were paid holidays and we get 5 paid vacation days. Maybe that’s the fellows and not the interns, I’m not sure. No one ever told me what the difference was. Anyway, money or not, I don’t care. I just wanted to go home for a while.

They were actually very nice about giving me the time off. It was the first thing I asked when I got to the internship itself, and as it turns out, my time coincided directly with a major opening, when I’m busiest. Since it happened over holiday weekends, I doubt I missed much.

What I really dread about going back to work is not the piles of crap that have accumulated in my absence. It’s the annoying random office chatter, the conversation that I’m sure I will have over and over again.

No one actually cares about these things. They just ask because they feel they’re supposed to. And of course, you have to answer correctly. “Fuck off and die” is not an appropriate response to “What did you do for your vacation?”, Especially if you’re considering extending your internship for a year (which I am), or if you want to be invited to the out of office parties (which I usually am not).

“So, you went home for vacation?”

“Yeah, I went home, visited family. They’re in California. Near San Francisco.” (This anticipates and hopefully negates the ‘So where are they?’ question. The stubborn/overly curious will get you to give up the name of the town. Perhaps they know someone near there. That’s nice. I don’t. Or they regale you with stories of how beautiful California is, and how warm and sunny it is there. It rained the entire time I was home)

“So, what did you do?”

Now, the correct answer for this is abso-fucken-lutely nothing. Not a damn thing. I stayed home, caught up on my sleep, watched too many makeover shows on TLC, knit until my wrists went numb, caught up on some movies and books, and drank with friends. No one wants to hear that. No one actually wants to hear about my mom’s turkey, how I slept 12 hours a day, woke up New Year’s Eve with a cold and still drank myself stupid. And yet, they ask.

What I want to say is “I rescued monkeys from a Stanford lab, and set them free in a local mall where they ran amok hilariously. For New Years, I made out with a boy I didn’t know, and then his girlfriend, and then I singlehandedly saved us all for the Goddess on New Years Day. Then I averted an apocalypse at the San Jose Mineta airport by not being strip searched for having a pair of nail clippers in my bag. What did YOU do for Christmas?”

What I say is “Oh, you know, hung out. Saw some friends, spent time with the family. Saw some movies.”

Hopefully, you get off without having to describe said friends and family. The two who are actually permanent in the area, with jobs and cats. The friends visiting from college from Oregon and Texas, the permanently unemployed one in LA. Descriptions of the little brother in college, the older brother who still lives at home despite graduating college 4 years ago, my crazy, transpersonal psychologist mother, my dad with his head constantly in a computer. One of about computers currently in the house. I might even get off without having to give my reviews of LotR: RotK, Rabbit Proof Fence, LA Confidential (for the 57th time), Mommy Dearest, The Ring (which I now own! Ha!), the many episodes of Family Guy which the little brother got for Christmas. You say these things because they ask, and watch as their eyes glaze over completely. Then you feel guilty for not having a more exciting vacation.

“So, are you glad to be back at work?”

“Yes, of course! I missed you guys!”

No, not really. No one is honestly thrilled to be back at work. I would love to make a career out of sitting on my ass and watching television. Since I knit at the same time, it is entirely possible I could, except for my tendonitis. (Too much knitting = bad for the wrists) But there’s this little thing called money and living semi-independently and our current society’s insistence on having a career and being productive when no one really wants to. I think reading Daniel Quinn growing up ruined me for any and all office work I might do. Even though I work in a field I love and most days I enjoy my job, it’s still difficult to get out of bed some mornings. Usually when I’ve been up until 1 am reading blogs.

Life in the... blue?

Despite DJ's demands, I will not be dying my hair pink during my guest-blogging experience. My hair is already blue. Well, except for the parts that are bleach blonde.

I spent my afternoon being slept on by kittens and watching extremely bad monster movies on the Sci-Fi channel. Then I had to come to work. Damn.

I find this to be a very entertaining link. Enjoia.

Thank you very much, I'll be here all week

OK, first of all - sorry about that title. I've got no excuse for posting something that lame. Secondly, as I just asked on my own site, I'm going to a "Break Your Resolutions" party tonight and crap if I didn't make any this year, so I've got nothing to break. I need suggestions of some resolutions I can make and then break real quick. Thanks. And finally, to try and make up for that title which I still feel bad about, here's a link that you'll be able to enjoy for hours.

Oh, The Possibilities

First, I would like to point out that I have dyed my hair pink for the week, just for authenticity's sake. I mean, how can somebody without pink hair post on a blog called Life in the Pink and refrain from being a poser? You can't. For the same reason I also shaved my goatee, got a Hello Kitty tattoo, bought New! Pink! Boots!, and added a tail to my favorite pair of jeans. I expect all of the other guest bloggers to follow suit immediately.

Robot Poetry

So has everyone else been getting these spam or whatever that just contain a lot of random words? I just got one that was entitled "peregrine effluense" and contained the words "jackdaw" and "hemeroid."

I know they're just weird robot spam things, but I like to pretend they're little poems.

PS. It's January 3rd. Get to work, Guest Posters!

Guest Posters

So, I suppose I should introduce you all to the hooligans I've handed the keys to my blog to for the next week. About half of them actually know me in my non-blog capacity, which is vaguelly terrifying. (Try not to post too many embarassing stories, okay kids?)

Christina has promised to bring the knit geekery while I am gone. (And also the music and theater geekery, which you do not get from me, so it will be a nice little treat for you.) Christina is a much, much, much better knitter than I am, though, so you cannot judge my knitting compared to her stuff. She went to Oberlin with me, and was even in the computer science program a wee bit.

DJ also went to Oberlin with me. He is now a professional corporate whore in small town Ohio, despite the rest of constantly begging him to come here and live with us. One time my brother was staying with me and I was trying really, really hard to be a good influence and not reveal my natural state of debauchery, and then DJ came back from Prague and it was all shots of absinthe and cigarettes and vodka and my attempt to pretend to be good was totally shot to hell.

Emmett is excessively clever. If he tries any funny business on this here blog while I'm away, someone should give him a stern talking to. Here is a Decemberists quote that reminds me of Emmett: "and we are vagabonds/ we travel without seatbelts on."

Jill is my coworker, and has to put up with me on a nearly daily basis, god help her. The bluehairedgirl to my pinkhairedgirl, she has promised to continue to be my friend even after I have a nervous breakdown/shoot various other coworkers/start biting people. She has a lot of cats, but steadfastly refuses my attempts to get her down with the pussy.

Paul has promised to bring the Buffy the Vampire Slayer love. (I'm bringing the 5th and 1st seasons with me on my vacation. I predict a lot of ridicule from the rents over it, but a Cyn without Buffy and knitting is an unhappy Cyn.) Those of you who read the comments probably already know him.

Mariana lives in Singapore. She aspires to be a hobo, and I can only hope that there is both train-hopping and making muligan stew out of an old boot in her future. Also, she likes the totally fab Igby Goes Down, so mad props to that.

Sean lives in LA, so it is only fitting that he guest post, as I will be in LA for approximately five seconds on this trip. His recent post about having his bags searched on blogging.la is not only an annoying reminder of what I'll be going through in about ten hours, but also reminds me of the last time I got my bags searched, when they left the little note telling me that my suitcase had been searched directly on top of the porno that I happened to have in my bag. Those wacky kooksters in airport security! What will they do next?

So that's who'll be posting for the next ten days or so. I may check in from time to time, depending on what my internet access is like. Have fun, be good, and don't make me turn this blog around.

Laundry/New Years/Good-bye

One day to go until vacation, and I totally got all my laundry done today. Of course, it's all in a huge pile in the middle of my floor, but I think that will make it easier to pack.

I spent New Years with a bunch of friends at Star and Emmett's. I left around 12:15 am like a big loser because I was completely exhausted, and then I went home and slept. Which means today I'm all rested and a can do a reasonable impersonation of functioning.

My indie rock buddy has left the building. Sadness.