New favorite four word phrase: “temporary injection site reaction.” It sounds like right-wing jingoism to me. I call it “OMG, WTF DID YOU DO TO ME!!1!”
My mom called me Saturday and asked me if I would drive her to pick up her new teevee. Naturally I said okay, nevermind that I was playing hookie from work for, like, the 7th consecutive Saturday. While she was signing paperwork, I perused computers. Fifteen minutes later, I had been convinced by a 12-months-no-interest special to get a couple of special treats for myself, too.
I had an attack of buyer’s remorse, but that is natural and in true fashion as I’m highly manic and was coming down from the excitement anyway. This is normal.
Now, it’s all good. I know some of you are going to berate a little because it’s not a Mac, and others because it’s an HP, but my first computer was an HP and it was ridiculous how long it lasted. I think it still works, actually. This computer is crazy powerful, and the monitor even moreso, respectably. It’s so bright I had to turn the brightness level down to 10%, and the contrast is low, too.
Now if only I can keep from splurging on a Blu-Ray player.
Last weekend I went to Houston for a (very successful) surprise birthday party for a friend. Much fun was had as we chatted, ate, drank (a lot), and watched a few things on their big projector in the backyard. Strangely, bras ended up hanging from flagpoles, but that’s another story. First, of course, was a bootleg copy of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog, which most of us had seen already and could quote verbatim. Next up was National Treasure 2, which is by far one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Normally I blame Nicolas Cage for his bad movies, but there was no saving this one. After that, the Amazing Screw-On Head, which was surprisingly awesome and finally an encore of Dr. Horrible.
I hate long drives, but I’ll say the scenery between Dallas and Houston is far more picturesque than the crapscape between Dallas and Austin. But Austin wins the Best City in Texas award by a landslide. I had never been to Houston, and don’t care to go back. Sure the downtown area is “pretty,” and the buildings are tall, but the place just never fucking ends. I’ve never seen so much concrete. And then I drove by that god damned Joel Osteen largest-church-in-the-world and that sealed my disgust.
My actual vacation was cancelled for a handful of reasons, but I’m still spending the entire week off work. I decided to spend it looking for another job, which is turning out to be a major bust. It’s not like my standards aren’t low enough already: must be mostly indoors, pay at least what I made last year and not make me want to brutally slaughter others and then myself. Sadly, the last part is negotiable since I’m arguably well-versed in coping (I’m alive and they’re alive, right?). I don’t think I can stand to create another profile with an agency or a pre-screener. I’m all profiled out…srsly. I have to peel my eyes open to blink again. I’m only typing this because I’m taking a break.
In the meantime, I’ve been bored. I’ve cleaned up three years of financial paperwork, sent off for rebates I’m owed, stayed up late and slept late, organized my illegal downloaded tv serieses and seen a couple of movies. The first was The Dark Knight, of course, since I couldn’t be last. I thought the movie itself was mostly ho-hum, except for Heath, who was concentrated brilliance. The other film I saw this morning was The X Files. I was a bedside fan of the show, but this movie’s plot was just phenominally lackluster. That’s all they had? It would’ve made for a decent two-part episode, but as a movie I expected a lot more. More devoted fans will probably be sated. I just don’t care enough, it’s not like it was Buffy or anything.
Speaking of which, I think I’m a couple of months behind on comics. Walked into Border’s last month and the comic section had mysteriously teleported somewhere… didn’t bother asking because I have social anxiety disorder, but I did search for it to no avail.
BTW - I’m officially over 20 pounds on the weight loss. Go me. Kind of hit a plateau. My energy level for the last three weeks has been nil, and my depression high. I’m thinking it might be another thyroid thing, so possibly another visit with the doc is in order. I can see the mountain top but I have not been there.
I just met Jay Brannan and now I can die happy. I felt the warmth of his body pressed against mine. That is all. I may have something more to say when I’m much more sober and don’t have to be at work in 6 hours. Make your own sense, I have none.
I know my many ones of readers have been waiting patiently for this moment, but it is with much regret that my cell phone makes her official debut. Yes, I said her. I don’t name these things, people. I am merely the vehicle by which the names are transmitted. And I fought against this one for months, but it is what it is. She really doesn’t fit in and has sort of become the red-haired stepchild of my appliances, but I love her anyway (in the way that one can love one’s sister’s third husband’s autistic teenager by his first wife) and do keep her with me almost always. My only real complaint despite her being a woman is that she’s hard to text message on and thereby causes a lot of misspelled words. Some of you have received this evidence firsthand.
Ta dah.
I found out last week that one of my co-workers was on Divorce Court, making me one step closer to that long eluded life on the ‘F’ list. Drama ensued because someone was saying it was Cheaters that he was on, which would make sense because it is filmed locally. Somehow, I became the one who was spreading the lies and deceit (I barely talked about it, I swear). And the cute maybe-gay co-worker got attitudey with me over the whole thing. But why wouldn’t he? We’re talking about a celebrity for God’s sake. Not that old jerk who always looks like he might’ve just killed and dissected a small woodland creature.
After yesterday’s fiasco, I took Maximo to a professional place and got his windows tinted as dark as the law allows, so you can all rest easy. And I bought a lifetime warranty. He’s dark and mysterious now. And tall, for a coupe.
I received my new cell phone last week. I’ve yet to decide on a name, though. He doesn’t quite fit in with my Itialian-Spanish motif since he’s not grey or black, but is instead a metallic shade of blue with a rubberized texture, so no names spring to mind just yet.
I’m in a severe spring cleaning mode. I haven’t actually done much of it but the impulse is STRONG. First thing I’m doing is trying to get rid of things that are valuable (mostly on eBay). After that’s done, I’ll start piling stuff into the Hefty bags. I really hate clutter and useless paraphernalia… really.
I sold a cell phone I got last year and barely used, and used that as an excuse to go buy more junk. This, IMO, is worth the cost. Especially if you managed to get it for $15.99. I had to resist the urge to buy them all, even though I barely have use for one.
The other frivolous item I bought was an iPod Shuffle. I wanted it in orange, but settled for silver since my options were all pastel Eastery colors. Seriously - whose idea was that? Anyway, I got him (the iPod, whose name is forthcoming) to take to the gym with me. The gym I’ve yet to go to. Personifying him makes me feel less alone, nevermind the fact that I name all my favorite things anyway. My car is Maximo, my iPod Classic is Marco, and in keeping with the theme, the shuffle is stuck between Mateo, Modesto, and… I’m thinking of breaking away from this theme because at some point my only option will be Mandingo - and I’m saving that one for something special.
I just read that Charlton Heston is dead. And sighed, relievedly.
All Spanish or Italian sounding name suggestions will be seriously considered. All whitey sounding names will be cursed and reviled.
I love my iPod, affectionately named Marco, but I hate that there is a new version of either iTunes software or the iPod firmware every time I go to plug the thing in. And right now I’m hating that the second letter of their stuff is capitalized, it’s making me angry. ANGST.
I’m considering getting a new computer, and for the longest time I wanted an Apple. But now I’m not so sure. Why set myself up for disappointment when with Ol’ Reliable, I already know to expect it?
I finished the third season of Buffy last night without having the fourth season ready. ANGST. I’ve been downloading them off the internets in .avi format and putting them on dvds because my dvd player recognizes it. Eleven episodes per disc, two discs per season. It’s genius, really. And then last night I had apparently filled up my hard drive - a feat I was sure I could never accomplish. DEL. I’m still not sure how this happened. It’s not porn, I promise.
I know I really should keep my hands off co-workers, but I spend so much time with them. There’s always one I’m pretending to be married to in my head. Most of them turn out to be real assholes. The latest one just happened to be cute and nice and sweet and spoke English as merely a broken, second language.
I’m not seeing a downside here.
My friends know him as The Peruvian. I caught him reading The Secret, and that’s when I knew he was gay. His birthday was yesterday (29), and he was looking for a date for Valentine’s Day. I came this close <-> to asking him out. But the fact that he hasn’t shown up to work this week at all kind of ruined my tentative, hypothetical plans. I’m assuming he’s been terminated. It’s just what happens.
On happier notes, the weekend after next is going to be all fun times. I have a hockey game, a concert, and the North Texas Irish Festival to attend… all of which are merely excuses to be drunk in public (spleen permitting, natch). It says “hi” and waves adoringly to you. My spleen.
Three months ago, I bought my new and first iPod. I said I would let you know when it was finally named. It happened. He is Marco. No particular reason. I was sitting here staring at him thinking how sexy he is in his sleek silicone body glove and the name magically appeared in my skull. That is all.
I’m a fan of most cookies, but I have a close personal relationship with that of the fortune variety. I know it’s dumb, but I can’t help it. I get take out every Friday night for the fortune cookie. The food’s okay, too. But I don’t think they have any validity if you get a fortune cookie more than, say, once per week, on a regular basis. Fortune cookies are your destiny! That one cookie was made for your mouth only. And you have to finish your food before eating the cookie or else you’ve ruined your life. I’m only superstitious about fortune cookies. Because they are fate.
Sometimes they’re utter shite. But other times, I have to wonder.
I’ve let the last four collect inside the lotus bowl in the hands of my Buddha statue (ha!). In the chronological order of their receipt:
“Take that chance you’ve been considering.” Vague and generic, but “that chance” it speaks of is all-consuming and never leaves my mind. Ever. There’s really only one I’m considering. It would lead to subsequent chances, but it is the preliminary chance that must be taken.
“You will never need to worry about a steady income.” See above. But still, if the past is a good indicator of the future, I’m not putting all my fortune cookies in this jar. Will I never worry because my death is imminent? Because of the prophecies for 2012? Because the value of a dollar will soon be that of a peso? All of the above?
“You will have a close encounter of a surprising kind.” I did have said close encounter. It was no good. I was very surprised. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
“You will be unusually successful in an entertainment career.” If fortunes were horses… Now this one could mean all sorts of things from fronting a band, to writing, to balancing midgets on my nose in a circus. Either way, it’s success and I’ll take it!
They may be as vague as any horoscope, but I don’t believe in coincidence. In some way or another, these all collide with my current juxtaposition in an eerie way. I figure that either the future for me is bright, or that the universe is trying to tell me to quit my job, move into the woods and survive on berries and small woodland creatures whilst composing my manifesto. Only time will tell, but I promise signed first editions to everyone on my buddy list.
