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Sunday, July 09, 2006
For those who are confused, and want to know - here's my official statement:
I'm not going out with Calvin. We're friends.
I'm not going out with Marty. We're friends.
I'm not going out with anybody, and don't plan to.
Hopefully this'll stop people asking me the same questions over and over again. If I really could have a press conference, it would really alleviate some of the frustration and irritation these new friendships are bringing. I just want some people to hang out with while I'm out here - I don't want to rock the boat.
No more questions, please...
Saturday, July 01, 2006
 Hooray for the red, white, and...um...more white. Yeah. Hope JJ is having fun over there in the Land of the Leaf, on its day of days. I wish I'd been born there so damn bad...ah well. At least I have a unique chance to view how the most venal arrogant jingoistic powerful country in the world operates, from the inside. Eh. I am in the belly of the beast, and I shall give it heartburn. W00t!
In other news, if my new neighbor's dog does not stop barking, I swear to the gods, I'll put down poisoned steak. I recognize the primal, ancient bond of the human and canine races, that first alliance, and the pioneering case of domestication as a refinement of lifestyle. But what IDIOT thinks to themselves, "I live in a crowded residential area with heavy car and foot traffic, I think I shall get a highly territorial animal with a loud voice. Yes, I see no problems there." The things that dogs are truly good for, such as companionship in times of loneliness, romping workouts, retrieving the poor bird you just brought down, or keeping everything from burglars to squirrels off your property, all take place in rural areas. In fact, the vast majority of dogs need/want large areas to run around in. Its proven that it increases their lifespan, not to mention their overall health during that lifetime. And, unscientifically, they're happier, because they're living the way they were meant to. This frenzied puppy next door has about 20 square feet of fenced-in green space, and its driving him - and me - crazy. It'll be a mercy killing, really. The other next-door neighbor has been blasting country music until well after midnight every night for five days now. I'm gonna end up purging the whole neighborhood at this rate.
Got some new bras the other day...I have to shop in the preteen section, it's humiliating. First we browse the actual lingerie section, and then off Mom goes, through the fields of little girl clothes; pairs of jeans I could maybe put an arm in, frilly dresses that make you think about Shirley Temple and wonder where she's got to, and there we are; it's a wall of pink, in which the words "Training" and "My First" are featured heavily next to the more expected word "Bra" on the labels. Pictures of happy little ten-year-olds sneer at me as I find my size on their racks. For some reason, they're all fully dressed, leaving us only to assume that they are in fact wearing the product they are modeling for. You can get a lifetime's supply of breasts in every size and shape in the adult department, but these little-kid bodies demand a greater refinement, apparently. I would be more sympathetic if there wasn't a display of ten-year old girls modeling bikinis right next to it. I guess it must be the principle of the thing.
I make an effort to avoid vanity and surface obsession, a hazard of my age - I go for "weird and interesting" before "pretty" when shopping - but I must admit that I want an actual bust more than a lot of things. It's definitely in the top ten, right up there with an actual better memory, a lover who will never leave me, and a hamster. I'm not saying that I need to look like Dolly Parton to feel worthwhile or anything, but seeing as how I'm not even an A cup, I feel a little substandard, woman-wise. My only tactic is either to wear clothes that A) draw attention to my butt, or B) are so wacky that people forget to actually look at the person under the getup.
But hey, at least I'm trimmer than I was pre-tonsilectomy days. Incedentally, Discover Magazine's July edition says that inflamed tonsils have a link to ADHD symptoms such as inattention, hyperactivity and misbehavior. The tenuous theory is that it keeps children from getting enough rest at night, which makes them slightly manic, and disrupts optimum brain functioning...possibly chemicals being produced in response to the lack of sleep. So hopefully, next semester I'll be able to focus even better than last semester.
...Oooh! Look, a chicken!
Friday, June 16, 2006
We are so cool.
Kids have struck another blow against The Man Grown-Up and all the sundry rules thereof. Presenting...the Mosquito. Once an anti-teen device in Wales, now a western world phenomenon as our kiddie comrades turn the weapon upon the enemy who engineered it. Now the newest in covert conversation technology, the sharing, free downloading and allover generosity that has given trans-Atlantic wings to this new concept has forced the Soulless Corporation™ to patent the bootlegged technology in its pro-preteen form, just to save their financial asses...an all-over win for the Children's Front.
We kick so much ass.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I Need To Learn That Sarcasm Is Not My Friend
I find this hilarious. The art gets better as the artists' experience grows, and it's so fun! I give it two thumbs up.
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