These are my pants. They are ranting.

Karr didn't do it- who told you first, bitches?

I did.

http://www.cnn.com/2006/LAW/08/28/ramsey.arrest/index.html

I knew it.  I'm a good eyereader.

today masturbates walruses

I can not sit still, I can not concentrate.   I want to scream.   I'm having anger bursts in my chest and I just want to fight everyone.    My face isn't even able to fake a smile, I think it looks like a snarl.   I want to go home, I want to go under my bed.   I want to not feel threatened by the world.    I feel insecure and stupid and not wanted.   And believe it or not, this isn't PMS.  This is just emotional retardation.

It comes with the territory.

.... for 30

"Yeah! She was pretty cute. ..
        ....
                ......
                            .....

            ......
                        .......
                                    .....For a THIRTY YEAR OLD" - my jackass roommate.

I said....

"[insert name of obviously retarded totally insensitive and immature and misled roommate here]
I'm going to be 30 ... it's not like it's that fucking old"

"Right, and you're cute.   For 30..." - my vapid, unaware, self-centered, should have been stillborn roommate.

"[insert name of total cock ridden rash licking anus face roommate], It's not like 30 is fucking one step away from death" - me, while premenstrual, containing my rage.

"Yeahyeahyeah!" - in this super--italian-but-I-grew-up-in-suburban-whitebread-Connecticut way, the roommate.

If you hear of a preppy fuck found strangled with his button down shirt, left for dead covered in Abercrombie bags near the Prada midtown... I fucking did it.

YEAHYEAHYEAH.

She's a maniac, maniac

.... not so much on the floor, but in the uterus.   Some sure fire signs that I have an angry uterus:

• the sound of ice tinkling in a glass makes my ears feel like they're covered in razorwire
• I am annoyed by food preparation gestures
• I humph loudly at people chewing gum on the train
• I get extraordinarily and inexplainable angry if I'm made to wait, plans aren't clear, or they change quickly
• I get so pissed off I can't control muscle spasms inmy lips
• I think everyone is trying to sabotage me
• I feel no one respects my work
• I feel people think I'm full of shit and unskilled
• I think that today is the day the boy will realize that I am too much work
• I think my parents hate me
• I question my sanity
• I want pizza in the worst way, and I don't mean up the butt
• I think I suck
• but most importantly, I probably think YOU suck

Brooklyn Vegan: Stoned

My boyfriend always encourages me to read the brooklyn vegan.  I've popped over there but never really found any reason to comment or really read that much.  I mean, whatever, if I can find out about some hush hush shows or nifty things to discover in the city, sweet.  Otherwise, it's nothing to shake a stick at.  It's about as award winning as this blog.

However, whatever you do, do NOT knock the Rolling Stones.  Who knew that people would get so riled up?  I felt the need to actually comment today on a post about a free Stones concert in some obviously musically vacuous sunny locale.  And, um, it's become like the old days of highschool livejournal.

I struck a bit of a negative chord.  It's funny.   I think I was even accused of being a hipster.  If only they knew I'm just some midwestern trollop.

Peep it!

There's no accounting for taste

http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Music/02/08/grammy.awards/index.html

Unless, someone licked Mariah Carey.  She looks like she would taste like butterscotch.

I'm smart and witty, but not intellectual

Taxi Driver was a let down.   

I think my problem is jazz.  I hate jazz.  And I hate it in movies.  It makes me want to put my head into an elevator shaft while lying down, and let the elevator fall on my fucking head.  I think that the majority of people who say they like jazz only say they like it to sound intellectual.  These might be the same people who say they love Christ.  And the same with people who say they like Steely Dan.  I fucking HATE steely dan.

Commitment really IS a four letter word

For as long as I have known myself, I have known that there are an innumerable amount of people unable to commit to anything.   Or just somethings.  But mostly, if you can't commit to brushing your teeth every day or wiping front to back to avoid any intermingling of bacteria, the likelihood of you being able to commit to meetings, relationships, normal ingestion of fiber is nill.   Today was a very frustrating day.  Very. 

• I committed myself to be more well read and learn more about the world around me and expand my vocabulary only to find that this is delayed by up to 12 weeks.  Very irritating.
• I committed to meet with someone at 1:30 to help them.  Did I mention that?  I agreed to stop what I was doing and help them. I got blown off without so much as an email or IM.  Fuck me, right?  I made myself available at that time - hell, I could have gone tanning, or running, or I could have slapped myself around in the shower, but no - I freed my time up for you, and you blew me off.
• I committed to DHL that I will be available for them to pick up my shit ass iPod by 6:00P.  Do you think that's going to happen?  I'll bet they don't commit.  And here I sit.  I could be out running a fucking marathon.   But see, I honor my committments.
• I committed to plan something.  However, this planning is also dependent upon receipt of information from someone else.   I have pestered ad nauseaum only to not receive any sort of response.  What the fuck?  Pressure is put on me to get something IMPORTANT done, yet the importance is kind of gizzed upon when response time is lacking.
• I have committed to not eat pizza or basically any bread product/noodly creation until February 12 (the day after my birthday).   But my body is not honoring its committment to change.  What the FUCK, body??
• I have a review coming up for work.  I am committed to my team at work, and I worship them.  They're awesome.   But I'm going to assume that, just like last year, the commitment to my team won't be seen as important by the pal who reviews me.

Fun right?  I'm going to guess that my crankiness is being brought on by the carb withdrawals (and that might explain why my breath smells like hot compost), but seriously, why is it so hard to commit anymore?   Why do people flake out?  Is waffling and being so mooshy really easier?  I would think it would be difficult to maintain such a beige tofu-like existence all around.

blech.

I want sushi.

Gimme the pressure

Why is it that I can only REALLY produce when under pressure?  If I have lead time I can't get inspired.  My brain just plops in my skull maybe playing scrabble, maybe a little lobe Twister, maybe concocting new ways to assault my boyfriend, but definitely not thinking about the looming task at hand.   I have write a rather important announcement for my team concerning a project that we used to host for free internally, but are now attaching a price to - and we're also using Grid Computing, so that makes it all cool cool cool, right?  So I should be able to sit down, put my headphones on, crank some mind expanding music and power through this right?  Smoke should be wisping up from my sparking fingertips and I tear through my keyboard to pound out the most astounding announcement ever!

Not so.   I take a longer lunch.  I write an email.  I get coffee.   I edit some other webpages instead of scribbling what I have to scribble.  My belly feels grody, too, maybe I can blame that.  I think Red Bull is bad for me, I always have tummy trauma the day after...

But anyway.   As soon as the deadline is hours away, regardless of the writing task's potential visibility or name-making, I am inspired and creative and almost eloquent.  Because of the f ing pressure!  It's as if I can't really knuckle down and focus unless I have a sweat film in the pits and a touch of stress induced Parkinsons.  I don't get it.   Maybe I'm motivated by pain.

First Step: Do

You may rememeber from my "Wartist" (wannabe artist, for those of your turds who are like "hey, asshole, spellcheck, or maybe fix your shit when you press a wrong key".  You can also bite my sphincty) that I said I never make good on my mouth noises.  Well guess what, suckas?   I was experimenting last night with creating my own stencils using photoshop.  Now, I'm not talking the letter A or a sunshine.  I want unique, different, creative.. DIFFERENT.   I failed at creating what may seem to some as an obvious stencil - you know, for some who have literal blinders on.  What I want to do is select the reverse of what I created, print them out and the cut out the dark bits.  Imagine, then, that I'd slap that shit on a tshirt and spray paint the hell out of it and maybe die from the fumes.   If you can't imagine that, maybe just enjoy some weird images, ok?  Because, I like them and I don't need your affirmation.

OK, yes I do, so if you like them, go ahead and tell me.  If you don't, pretend you never saw these.

And then:

Next:

And then I wanted to stencil this dude's face.  The best boyfriend ever works with him and he has a great face... for radio.  Heehaw.  Kidding.  Anyway, so I made these, too.   I'll make them smaller to spare you too much face.

And that's it.  I mean, what the hell else am I supposed to do while my stupid asshole camera is broken and I can't take any NEW photos?  I have to muff around with the old.