Archive for June, 2003
Er, the cats enjoy walking across the -keyboard-, where the formerly non-functional L and . keys are located.
Anyhow!
* For the three of you that have spent the last fifteen years under a rock or in a mayonnaise container, ‘that’ fred phelps is the guy behind www.godhatesfags.com (no link because I don’t want anyone there to even entertain the most fleeting possibility that I might be on their side) — he has also done such memorable things as protested that Mr. Rogers — Mr. Fred Rogers — “encouraged kids to think that being gay was okay” because of his simple (and important!) message that you’re fine, just the way you are. If you -do- visit the site, be sure to check out the links to the news articles — because a _lot_ of the links still work, and many many many articles cover the -positive- responses to phelps’ inanity -and- point out that he’s pretty much just an attention-whore with issues.
*a — I also desperately, and this almost propelled me off the couch to go interact with the nutjobs, wanted to know if those people used perjorative terms like ‘fag’ and ‘whore’ in everyday speech — and I would have asked the kids. “So, are y’all allowed to call your friends f*g/k*ke/w*p/sp*c/n*gg*r/wh*re/m*ck/etc. at school? Y’all allowed to call your teacher a slut, a bitch, a two-dollar hooker? How about your mama?” And of course when Mama herself was outraged, utterly -incensed- that I’d be talking like that to Little Precious, I’d tell her that -my- mother taught me that all of those words were not to be used in polite company, mixed company, or in front of children and grandparents. And if -she- was so fucking offended by my asking her little bastard if he fucking slagged off on everyone he met with oh-so-specific words, what the HELL were they doing there, waving those fucking signs? Again, I didn’t. Getting maybe five hours of sleep will sap anyone’s energy. (And it -did- save me from having to -say- those words, which is a plus.)
** — Be sure to follow the ‘Sponsor’ link, and then the link to The Empire Of All Alaska – I know The Duchess. Hee!
*** This says “I have a dumb cat. My dumb cat ate fabric. The dumb cat was sick. The cat is dumb, dumb, -dumb-.” And of course I’d have to have a picture of the dumb cat, looking all sweet and innocent…
Posted in 
Just in case anyone was wondering.
Also? Just yesterday, the L and period keys weren’t working, and now they are. I blame the cats, who seem to enjoy walking across it.
Other News:
— I was housesitting for Ev’s girl’s parents. They have a pudgy kitty and an insane dog, both of whom are very very friendly. Fortunately, neither of them are do-everything-with-one-hand friendly, unlike Donna’s dog… Heh. I like him, though — he’s sweet. And it’s never a stay at Donna’s unless he eats something of mine.
— I get to go to the bank tomorrow, yay! This means I can also go to the gas station, because I am low on fuel.
— I’m still debating about letting my hair grow out. On the one hand, I -liked- my long hair, and I _know_ it was one of my best features. On the other, it was a huge time-sucking pain in the -ass- (okay, _neck_, head, whatever) to deal with. of course, no one is holding a gun to my head and telling me I have to grow it back down to the small of my back again Or Else… Shoulder length or a little longer would be do-able, I think.
— Ebay is an amazing place. You can find silk duipioni (sp?) for, like, nine bucks a yard. Which is like half of what it goes for in the stores here. (Being me, though, I’m inclined to wonder A) just -how- the seller can offer it at such a low price, and B) shouldn’t I really be supporting my locally-owned non-chain fabric store(s)?)
— People are dumb. This isn’t news so much as a rhetorical observation. the “reverend” fred phelps (yes, -that- phelps*) was in my city this past weekend, which marked the culmination of Pride Week** — which is why he was here. There’s nothing quite like being told that your city is, and I quote the bastard, “a sodomite whorehouse” to make your blood pressure rise. he/they (the recruited/touring protesters) picketed a bunch of churches in the city, including but not limited to -the- most conservative Episcopal church in Anchorage (whose vicar thinks that women should not be allowed to be ordained, blahblahblah sexistcakes) and a Catholic church whose congregation has been nothing but (as far as I know) accepting and tolerant of those who are not Catholic (like, me). I had to drive past the (pitifully small) band of idiots out waving signs reading ‘Fag Church’ and ‘This Way To Hell’, and noticed that they were primarily women and children. -Short- children. I was a good little weasel and did -not- stop and harrass them, though I desperately wanted to. I wanted to walk around and just -look- at them in turn, tilting my head this way and that, making little ‘hmm’ing noises to myself… And when they asked what the heck I was doing (because they’re Fine Upstandin’ God-Fearin Folks That Don’t Use Bad Language In Front Of Ladies And Childern), I’d just say, “Oh, I was just marveling at the fact that evil -does- have a -physical- manifestation. I never knew.” I also wanted to ask the kids what kind of autonomous decisions they made, and then ask if A) they believed that what phelps said was ‘right’ and then B) if that belief was a real-live decision they came to on their own, after examining all of their true thoughts and feeling or if they were just doing it because grown-ups said so. (I _know_ those kid’s’ll have a crisis of faith eventually, but wouldn’t it be nice to set it in motion early?) I also wanted to tell them all that I was living proof they were barking up the wrong tree: if, according to their doctrine, evildoers are justly punished by God for their Earthly sins -while on Earth- (as it seems to say), then why am -I- alive? Why has God reached down and kept me from dying in situations where I rightly should have -not- come out as unscathed as I did? For crying out loud, God knows me inside and out, know my future and my beginnings, and -if- God knows these things, -if- God thinks that anyone that loves another person of the -same- sex is such an abominable sin that He needs to smite them, why did He keep his hand over me when my friend and I snuck out of the house and walked about a mile to an all-night grocery store? I was a stupid little 12-year-old, dolled up to look older. Any psycho could have snatched me off the sidewalk, or slipped away with me from the store, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to resist (or resist loudly enough) to prevent my subsequent torture, assault and death. And not only that, but I snuck out a -second- time, the same night, and walked to a 7-11 that was probably about a mile and a half away. Same thing — stupid me, looking like any serial killer’s wet dream, walking through heavily wooded terrain at 6 in the freaking morning when no one seemed to be awake, when there weren’t that many houses in the area, short and fat and easily overpowered… Live bait, fresh meat, easy prey and -only-, _ONLY_ by God’s grace am I sitting here today typing this and marveling at how fucking box-of-hammers-AND-rocks STUPID I was. So. If God’s so big on Old-Testament-Style vengeance and the like, why didn’t He let some psycho get me? Why did he give my mother and I a quarter-mile of clear road the night Mr. Bunny hit a patch of black ice on the highway and made three and a half perfect circles before coming to rest facing the oncoming traffic? Why did I not die while my mother was in labor with me, stuck? Why was I not even -bruised- when I lost control of my Phoenix one winter, trying to get stopped and failing, trying to get into an empty lane and sending myself instead into a spin and finally stopping perpendicular to my former route of travel after striking the bumper of a pickup truck with the left rear fender (the -only- damage incurred, by the way)? Why does He not smite me when I blaspheme, or make heretical remarks? Because phelps is an ass of the highest order and because God is _NOT_ out for vengeance, Smiting-The-Assyrians style. I’d be dead by now if He was. Hell, billions of people would be dead, if He was. I also had an answer thought up if they asked who I was: ‘An agent of Satan. An agent of God. An agent of change. Everyone, no one, your daughter, sister, mother, an agent provocatuer, anyone, any-thing-. Me. Nobody important.’ But I didn’t bother them, though they bothered me, and in so doing I avoided jail and/or physical injury.
— Today, we got rid of The Brown Couch. TBC is a hideous monstrosity whose main purposes in life, over the last year or so, has been to hold up junk, provide the cats a place to sleep and sharpen their claws, and gather dust. The problem with it is that it’s -not- comfortable to _sit_ on, which is -stupid- for a couch. It -did- make a great place to take a nap, and it had a hide-a-bed, which was convenient for those three million and one sleepover guests we never had. The dog also loved to sleep on it, to the point where she would get really miffed if it was too messy for her to sleep on. Anyhow, as part of Mom’s ongoing campaign to Clean Up This Armpit We Call Home, we tossed it out. This meant that I brought almost all of my stuff that had been living in the living room (where else?) back into my room (which, between the computer area, the AV setup, the shelves and the dresser, is beginning to look and feel more like a dorm room (or perhaps apartment in Tokyo) than ‘just’ a bedroom). Then we swapped my desk for the computer table, so that the desk is back in my room (holding up my Sony Vaio as I type) and Ev’s computer is out on the computer table. I also finished putting together my dressing table, and it’s currently holding -mostly- dressing-table-specific items. The other stuff needs to be moved and/or put away, which I will. Eventually.
— As a side note, I found a bunch of clothes I’d been wondering about, a book I was thinking about just last night, and my packet of T-shirt transfer paper. Now I can make a shirt that says ‘watashi no neko wa bakana neko desu. watashi no bakana neko wa [fabric] tabemashita. bakana neko wa byoiin deshita. baka baka baka na neko desu!’*** …Or something like that, anyhow. Whee! I may not know how to sew, yet, but I -know- I can operate a computer, a printer, and an iron.
…Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet around here, which is how I like it.
*Bounce* Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code is out, and A Series Of Unfortunate Events 10: The Slippery Slope will be out in September!
Also? If anyone can remember the title of the story about the guy that goes to an island in search of giant snails and ends up as snail chow (if I recall correctly, it used the Latin name of the snails as the title, Something Lexii or similar…), or the name of the anthology it was published in, I’d love you forever.
I have about a million and one goals for the next, oh, year or so. I think writing them down will help, but who knows…
– Laundry, organization and/or culling of clothing; sometime in the next couple of days. I need to wash my dirty stuff, put away the clean stuff that is sitting in a heap in my closet, and get rid of stuff I don’t/won’t wear.
– Find employment. Bleh. There’s a local motorhome rental company that wants customer service reps — for between 14 and 15 dollars an hour. I think I can do that…
– Save money; ongoing. Things to be saved for: new vehicle, school, investment opportunities, a new pair of regular ol’ shoes, a pair of docs (or comparable), travel, a sewing machine, and an iron of my own.
– Learn to sew; some time in the next twelve months. Not incredibly difficult, horribly challenging things (at least not at -first-) but enough so that I can make myself things that I want but can’t necessarily find in my size.
– Find a sturdy mirror for my dressing-table, clamps optional — sometime in the next couple of weeks. Mostly what I need is something that won’t break the first five hundred and sixty-seven times the cats knock it onto the floor.
And that’s about all I can think of, for the moment. On to Randomness!
— You know how books will tell you that cats don’t like drinking out of deep, narrow things? They LIE. Ivan just happily spent a number of minutes with his head stuck waaaay down in my glass, drinking -my- icewater. Of course, I being the evil nasty horrible person that I am, I -never- do _anything_ nice for my cats, like provide them with their very own dish of fresh water; or check on it every day so that if it gets scungy, I can clean it out and refill it, nooooo. And I have never done the ownerly task of refilling both food -and- water dishes before either were empty, nooo… (This, I would like to point out, is sarcasm. I had -just- done that very thing about twenty minutes before I discovered him drinking _my_ water. Gaaah!)
— I put my portfolio on the top of one of my sets of shelves, and my suitcase on the top of the other. Last night, Toulouse spent almost all night (and most of today) sleeping on the suitcase. Ivan got up onto the portfolio and rolled around, waving his feet at Grumpy Toulouse (“Does this bother you? I’m not touching you! Does this bother you?”), to the point where I thought he was going to fall off — the shelves are like six feet tall! Of course, by the time I got untangled from my blankets and out of bed, he was sitting upright and looking down at me… Then he promptly curled up and went to sleep.
— Muddy has an appointment to get his fur almost all shaved off… He’ll look so funny when he’s done! He will also, I hope, be -far- more comfortable, both in the heat and from lack of mats. Poor baby… But we have a hard time convincing him that being combed is A Fun Thing! and that the dog won’t hurt him. He -really- doesn’t like the dog at all, which makes her sad.
— I get to go spend Quality Time with my dear faaaaather tomorrow. Fortunately, Dory, Ben and Isaac are here, so -they- are distracting him. H’ray! And I’ll be doing computer stuff, so I’ll probably just fiddle first and do step-by-step later, which is easier on -me- if nothing else.
That’s about all for this portion of Randomness Theater, but there will be more.
Argh. I should know better than to look for employment on an empty stomach this late at night… So much for me.
“Mmm, you smell like…Cucumbers!” Demeter makes funny fragrances.
DHC Skincare — Prices vary wildly. Ten bars of soap are nearly one hundred dollars, but their nailpolish is regularly 4.50 (currently on sale for 3.00). I haven’t ordered anything from them, yet, but I plan to. Particularly because they let you order four samples for free with each order, so you can try other products before spending money on them.
I got my order from CCB-Paris a couple of days ago, and I love almost everything I got.
— The cleansing wipes are one of my favorites — perfect for mornings when you’re running late, late nights, or sweaty afternoons when you don’t want to take a shower.
— I’m liking the Oxygenating Scrub, too, though I’ve only used it a couple of times.
— The Canadian Lip Balm is really spiffy — I debate the assertion that it’s “scented with real maple syrup!”, but it moisturizes like nobody’s business, lasts a long time, and smells/tastes nice. It’s certainly less obtrusive (or more attractive) than Carmex…
— And once again, I succumbed to the lure of a new bottle of nail polish only to discover that what -I- think of as ‘Garnet’ is not the same as the color -they- think of. It’s another shade that has far more brown in it than I was expecting. It’s not -bad-, just different.
— The Wild Berry multipurpose pencil is nice; it smells like every cedar pencil you’ve ever smelled, which is my favorite part. It goes on smoothly and comes off quickly without staining, which is a big big plus in my book.
I’d like to get a few other things from CCB, as I’m getting low on the daily purifying gel, and I’d like to try their Balancing shampoo and Eau De Cobson. I’m also still looking for My Perfect Foundation, since I don’t seem to have found it yet. (I also still think foundation is overrated, for the most part — it’s -supposed- to even out your skintone, conceal, bleebleeblee, but I find the fact that it catches in (and thereby highlights) every little imperfection to be more annoying than helpful. And it’s not like my makeup ever stays -on-, either, as I break into a sweat simply jumping to conclusions.)
My mother stayed home from work today and she and I cleaned up.
See, we have this tendency, in my family, to make piles. And then to stack piles of stuff on top of other piles of stuff. So, next thing you know, you’re knee-deep in newspapers and catalogs.
Because of this habit/genetic predisposition/curse/whatever, sometimes the house gets hideously messy. _Dangerously_ messy. And eventually, it hits critical mass and we spend a day cleaning it all up. Why today? Well, because mom had been home on Monday because she was ill, and spending the day on the couch, staring at the stacks of stuff and listening to -me- declare the place a condemned armpit not fit for man or beast really didn’t make her feel any better. (She felt fine today, though, no worries.)
In addition to cleaning up the living and dining rooms and kitchen, I cleared up the floor in front of my closet (from which stuff had been falling in an incredibly -slow- avelanche over the last few months). On Saturday, we’d put together two sets of tall Sterilite shelves for my room, and today we went back and found a four-drawer storage unit (also by Sterilite*) as well. It’s going to be my dresser, and the shelves will hold an assortment of boxes, computer equipment, and miscellaneous things that are currently living in the living room. We also found a nice little ’shaker’ console table (I have no idea how close it is to the true Shaker style) which I am planning on using for a dressing table. Hooray, no more keeping my makeup on my nightstand!
Once my stuff is back in my room, our extraneous couch will be tossed out (probably taken to a thrift shop so that people who can actually use a marginally uncomfortable sleeper sofa that weighs two and a half metric tonnes can benefit) and our living room will have more space available! Not that I know what mom’s planning on doing with it. Possibly nothing more than just enjoying it, at least at first.
(* We actually have a number of items from Sterilite — including one of the 1210 laundry baskets (very cool) and the 1082 version of these — great for keeping dogs and silly black cats out of the garbage.)
Heeee.
I had two treats today: I picked up Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix at the reserve price, and I got to see The Matrix: Reloaded.
Matrix? Kicked ass. Loved Trinity/her clothing, loved Neo’s coat, got some Twin Time… I can’t properly process it all, at the moment, because…
I just finished …Order of the Phoenix. I’ve finally figured out what I am — not a book-slut, not a book-whore, not even a book-coveter. I am a book-glutton . I could have savored Order, but instead I gulped it all down in two glorious stretches (of five and four hours and forty minutes, more or less). Ah well, I can always read it over again, more slowly… But books like Order aren’t really meant to be taken in small doses. The writing is paced so that you desire more, and more… Perhaps I’m less a glutton and more an addict. Heh.
Anyhow, that’s really all the news that is news. Also? Unhappy Solstice. *Blows a raspberry* Not for the religious part — that doesn’t bug me in the least — it’s just that now the days will be getting shorter. Bleah.
I need to go to sleep. Heh.
Read the rest of this entry »
- Arbitrary:: Random
- Sweatshop :: Work
- Cotton ball:: Fluff
- Intimate:: Private
- Forgotten:: Lost
- Photography:: Click
- Secretary:: Fast
- Stadium:: Dodgers
- Purpose:: -ful
- Shoe box:: Keep
Once again from Luna Ni?a
Between the books I was discovering at my grandparents’ house today and some of the interesting clothing to be found at GFLA, I’ve spent my next nine hundred and six paychecks.