Daylight!

Two finals down, one to go. Never felt like I would get here, but I'm so glad to have sociology and poli-sci over with, at least for now. After next Tuesday I have five, count 'em, five glorious weeks to sit up like a big old sow and watch tv and go to bed at seven-thirty if I wanna. I can take a nap and then stay up watching Anderson Cooper 360*, if I wanna.

This will almost certainly be the fastest five weeks in my life.

So, in addition to getting ready for finals, I spent my vacation trying to work my way through some of the backlog of magazines that I own. I found a Vanity Fair from 1996. I had an almost uninterrupted 18-month stretch of Lucky, National Geographics of various topics stretching back to the mid-90's and a "D" (as in Dallas, TX) Magazine from 1996. The article I was saving that entire magazine to read was the sum total of three pages long. I did some Googling and found out that everyone, with the exception of the author of said article, everyone mentioned in that article was dead! They are all dead and I have finally recycled a magazine that I have been carrying around like a glossy paper monkey on my back for nine years. That means I have shlepped that magazine in and out of the last three places that I've lived. Shit.

I did not, however make any headyway when it comes to my books. Their un-dogearred pages are still mocking me from the confines of their plastic tubs. I didn't read a single one the entire time I was off. Good thing is however, I managed to go into a Barnes & Noble and managed to only add four more novels to the stack. But I didn't buy anymore magazines, so that should count for something.

So, please excuse me while I read , from April 1999's issue of Vanity Fair magazine: The Gangster and the Goddess, The sensational 1958 stabbing of Lana Turner's gangster lover, Johnny Stompanato by her teenage daughter, Cheryl Crane.

Toodles.

Vacation all I ever wanted.......

Sometimes I still can't believe I begged my mother for some of her hard earned cash to go see the Go-Go's.

Ah, youth. It really is wasted on the young.

But, chicos and chicas, I am out of here this afternoon and am on vacation for the next 16, that's right count'em sucaz, 16 glorious days.

Of course a hefty part of my glorious 16 days will be spent cleaning house, cooking, READING (!!!!!) and just generally goofing off.

And, hopefully if the planets line up just right, getting a new computer.

See ya!

Elmo got's personal boundary issues.

I just took some "which Sesame Street character are you" quiz.

And it turns out that I am (drumroll please) ............ELMO.

Um, ok, I guess. As long as somebody (who isn't on the list*) doesn't try to tickle me, I guess I'll be ok.

*Applications to be on the list available with sase.

And who says stupidity isn't illegal?

Check this shit...



Which is worse?

That this jackass is trying to cop his 15 minutes of fame by telling himself and anybody that'll listen that the Holocaust didn't happen, or that the government is wasting the taxpayers money by arresting and detaining him. How do you punish stupid?

Yes, I'm sure that his denials are hurtful to families who were torn apart, had their legacies stolen from future generations and the effects of that terrible crime agaist humanity that just keeps perpetuatting itself on future generations, cause, let's face it, no matter how hard a parent might try, their upbringing rubs off on their children.

But there are some people who are just out for attention. This guy might as well be wearing a pointy purple hat, jumping up and down waving a flag hollering, look at me, look at me.

Some people defy explanation. There isn't much else to do besides shake your head and walk off from them.

You can't be too carefulf, stupidity just might be catchy.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one film project.

Ok, so I got the film project done last night with minimal muss and fuss. Popped by dvd of Fargo in, gave the class technical guru a list of the scenes I wanted him to play and let 'er rip. I got a couple of chuckles out of the instructor and a few jaws dropped when Steve Busemi shot and then kicked the shit out of Harve Presnell, and I was like, "what, you folks never saw this movie, do you live under a rock or what?" Anyway, my instructor will "evaluate" us and let us know how we did next week. And I'm not sure why he bothered to say that he would challenge our choices, he didn't ask one question of anybody, Not that I'm complaining. On a lighter note I think I managed to bluff my way passed that feeling of "gee, I hope this doesn't come across like I just selected this last night and I really unprepared," feeling, a classmate came running into class with her video-store receipt in her hand and tossed a copy of "When Harry met Sally" into the machine. And of fucking-course she had to use the diner/fake-orgasm scene. Pardon me, but how on earth can somebody put that much effort into ordering pie ala mode and not put that much into communicating to her lover what she needs to get her hump on and settle for faking it? I just don't get it.

Have I mentioned lately that I tend to pass on chick flicks in favor of murder mysteries and documentaries anyway. And I don't embrace the idea of this new kinder, gentler Martha Stewart either, I always looked up to her as a "stay out of arms reach until I'm sure you aren't icky" kind of role model, she could really pull tht off without being offensive.

In other developments, my best friend is coming from Florida with her baby and husband for Thanksgiving! So very hopeful that her family doesn't feel the need to plan her entire time here, they should be considerate and give me a little of her time to monopolize. And thank whoever my book review is not due tonight. I was thinking about starting to sweat that one until I got in this morning and checked my e-mail, my instructor finally deemed me worthy of a response. Damnit, three ignored e-mails are enough, don't make me call your secretary.

The big project on my mind for next week is getting my desk area put together in my bedroom. I'm pulling a fifteen hour load at school come Spring semester and I will never be able to get it all done in slack time at work. Goody, I'll have two desks that look like a tornado hit them. So what, got to get that degree. Why did I do this to myself? Why didn't I take college more seriously the first time around? Cause I'm an Olympic caliber procrastinator, that's why. But I'm still ambivalent about the future post degree. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

There must be a shortage of assholes in tweed jackets somewhere.

My Sociology instructor ran through the lecture last night like his backside was on fire, dismissed class and was the first one out the door. Hey, sorry we kept you. Here, take my e-mail and just let me know next week if you're feeling the same way and I won't even bother to show up. If I wanted to deal with somebody that's in a shitty mood I have broader horizons than you offer that don't require a fourty mile drive home afterward. Go home and be in a shitty mood with your wife.

I thought that after we'd missed two weeks due to Hurricane Rita and another two weeks with a holiday and a Doctor of Sociology Retreat somewhere out west that he just HAD to attend, it would be smooth sailing. We'd be behind, have to rush to catch up and then he'd decide that there would be no way we could catch up and screw it anyway, just show up for lecture, forget about the last three chapters, and the final is not comprehensive. WRONG.

And this does not by any stretch of the imagination serve as an excuse on my part for the fact that I'm lazy about getting the reading done or that I can procrastinate like nobody's business, cause hey, the day that procrastinating becomes an Olympic sport, I'm going to be team captain. I don't get anything done as soon as I'd like to, therefore I feel like nothin is done as well as I'd like it to be. Even now I've got a book review that's due tomorrow night that I haven't even opened up a new document window for. At least this time I can be grateful that I did infact read the book. Even if it was by flashlight when Hurricane Rita came through and I couldn't watch tv for two days. I've got a film project due tonight in my Communications class that I didn't even bother putting in the dvd for until last night after aforementioned fourty mile drive home, shower, and watching Anderson Cooper getting his "aura" read by some lady who hires hersef out to parties to read auras. You could tell by the look on his face that he was so not buying in. For a second I thought he was gonna go off on her like she was a government functionary in New Orleans after a hurricane.

So this film project, it's a strange one. Pick a movie and find four scenes that demonstrate the following:

Win - Win, Win - Loose, Loose - Loose, Loose - Win.

But you have to challenge the instructor's mind with your choices and be ready to defend your choice of film. No sex, language is ok. (And no, the instructor doesn't have to defend his coming up with this assignment.)

At first I was going to use Pulp Fiction. It has got to be one of my all time favorite movies. But then when I started running through it in my mind, there aren't that many scenes in Pulp Fiction that don't have "fuck" or "nigger" peppered throughout them and while foul language doesn't bother me in the least, there are a couple of very nice older ladies in my class that I would not want to offend. And then I couldn't decide if Uma Thurman's heart shot scene was Win - Loose, or Loose - Win. Altough Ving Rhames definetly lost out in that pawn shop basement scene, talk about taking one for the team. Ewwww.

So, last night in the shower I decided that it was up to the Coen brothers to pull my collective fat out of the fire and went with Fargo. Face facts, some of the characters in that movie could keep a head shrinker busy for years.

Hell, facing facts, so could I.

Please, second guess me, I love it so.

Ok, that is a complete fabrication. I hate being second guessed. I hate it almost as much as I hate SPAM. And I really hate SPAM, in all it's forms and designs. The only thing worse is SPAM in any combination that involves potato salad. Yuck!

But I digress. As usual.

Anyway I just do not understand why one person in particular that I work with insists on second guessing me when I've been doing the job twice as long as she has. It's always an argument with this one, I cannot get away from it. It drives me nuts.

But God, Jesus, and organized prayer in public schools........................

She sucks that shit down like it was chicken chow mein.

Arghhhhhh!

Ok, I watched "Fat Actress" last night.

It sucked. Moving on.

Ok, so I didn't let it bother me that I got passed over for promotion at the office, again. Considering that the person I got bumped in favor of is the chief admins "best friend" (at least for now until said chief admin needs a sacrificial lamb) and her husband plays golf with the fella whose name is on the door I figured out a long time ago that she would be moving on up a lot faster in this organization than I would.

But then I got into the office a month ago and found this e-mail.

...we are changing your hours until {XXXXX} get more comfortable with her new job....

(and yeah, that is how much of a grasp of grammar the woman possesses)

Excuse me, but I'll put up $20.00 that says she's already comfortable with her new fucking paycheck.

I've expended all the energy I have to be pissed off about it. But it has changed the way I deal with work now. I really hate this shit, it's not what I signed on for. I have become that last one in, first one out joker that never sticks around for anything. I really could care less. Not that I was ever very good at not giving someone my honest opinion, I was at lest decent about sparing someone else's feelings. I don't make much effort to do that anymore.

Stuff that has zero to do with my life, now, instead of saying something along the lines of, "that's nice" or "well, I hope that works out well for her", now gets a "fascinating" or "not much I can do with that" and I find someplace else to go. If I can't can't have a level playing field at least I can have some physical distance and complete and total emotional detachment.

If I'd spent less time concentrating on college and more time concentrating on the fine art of kissing ass... who am I kidding, I'd still be in this same situation. My kids didn't go to school with the bosses kids and I never ordered anything from the bosses daughter when she was selling Tupperware, Pampered Chef, or any of the other wonderful home based businesses she's been in over the years. I tell myself that I am a good employee and deserve a shot at management because I come to work everyday, mind my own business and don't gossip (at least not much anyway) and keep my personal phone calls to a bare minimum. This is not the case. In retrospect I should have been running out of the office because my kid farted and belched at the same time in class, borrowing money from co-workers and running out because my utilities have been shut off, or borrowing money from the guy whose name is on the door because my teenage daughter who already has one child and really can't handle another needs an abortion. Not once, but twice.

But hey, I'm not bitter.

I'm not sure I'm ready to see that, yet.

Mike Logan is back.

Yeah, Law and Order Mike Logan, only this time he's on Law & Order: CI, in all his glorious plaid tie, American flag pin, rangy leather coat glory. But at least in CI he's got a girlfriend, of course he was bailing her out last night so she'll probably never be on the show again, but we can rest assured that Mike Logan isn't a closet homosexual.

I'm not sure I'm ready to see that.

I'm sure as hell that I wasn't ready to see him with all the makeup smeared all over his face.

Dude looked like fuckin' Dracula.

Free to Good Home!!

I thought something smelled mighty funky last night when I got home. I thought maybe I had left some laundry in the washer for a few days, but upon inspection the washer was found to be empty. But then again, I had been so grossed out by the peculiar body-odor of one of my lazier co-irkers earlier in the day that I figured my mind was just stuck in "he smells like dog-shit" mode and it was going to take a hot shower and some good prescription strength dope to get that smell out of my head.

Yeah, right.

Hours later, after I had spent most of my valuable t.v. time trying to convince myself that one of those fucking cats hadn't in fact taken a shit under my t. v. chair I go into the bathroom and get ready to take a shower and find out that one of those fucking cats had peed on the bathroom rug.

Then the little bastard threw up on it.

Or maybe somebody got sick, was in the process of throwing up and peed by accident.

Maybe somebody got sick, and somebody else came along and decided to cover the throw-up smell with pee. Mybe somebody peed and the smell was so bad that the next somebody that came along was overcome with nausea and threw up.

Who knows, the possibilities are mind boggling.

All I know is that I'm glad the washer was empty. I threw that befouled rug into it and chugged a healthy amount of ammonia in after it.

Thirty minutes later I was finally able to shower.

Today is just, well, hummmmmm

It's cold.

I'm bored.

I'm sitting here thiking about shagging Vincent D'Onofrio. I'd spend the rent at La Perla for that man.

Other than that, I've got nothin'.

This is not what I signed on for.

My co-worker is jabbering at me like a mother-fucking monkey on crank, about absolutely nothing.

My hands are cramping like hell.

My car pool is going to be running "just about an hour and a half late, you don't have to be anywhere until 7:00, right?"

You got the exact same invitation I did and it states to be there at 6:30.

Of course whenever we go someplace together, we are never on time. Anybody with half a brain would know that we won't be on time this time, but hey, I'm a dumbass.

Just shoot me.

I really want to go to law school?

It used to be a certainty.

Without question I knew that once certain obstacles were surmounted that I, yes, I was going to law school. That was what I wanted above all else.

And then it hit me. This morning, right between the eyes came the thought.

Court TV is fucking boring.

And just as a point of consideration, if I were to pursue law school and in fact become a lawyer, wouldn't at some time I be expected to appear in court for something?

It's going to take me at least seven more years to be finished with my undergradutae degree and law school. I can retire from this soul sucking job that I hate in ten years. If I spend too much time thinking about this, I think my right eye will explode.

Things are pretty fucking uncertain for me right now. I feel lost.