Of all the things to be annoyed by

It suddenly ticks me off that in Discovery Channel shows about sex and sexual attraction, hetero sex is always man-on-top.

Seriously?

unintentional poetry, brought to you by Facebook chat.

how the hell do i remember what song

was playing when i left a city

Music! because I can.

The first one is an old favorite, the next two are new--found through a former coworker's Facebook. The last one talks about Lasik and mentions other optical things--though in optometry at least (I don't know what those crazy ophthalmologists do) we say "minus" and "plus," not "negative" and "positive." If your glasses Rx is -2.25-0.50x120, you say "minus two point twenty-five, minus point five, at one-twenty." And "negative five is pretty much blind" is utter nonsense--assuming your vision is correctable, you're not even legally blind at -5.00. I'm -7.50 in my right eye--I see less than 20/400 without lenses (the large E projected in the exam room? looks like jumbled semitransparent blocks, basically), but I correct to 20/20 and am therefore definitely not "pretty much blind."

Nitpick, nitpick, nitpick. It's a great song anyway.

Bunny Chaser

Hoo Boy

Started a new job in a (kind of new) city recently.

Boss is, of course, kind of a dick.

Too exhausted at night to blog.

But hey, at least I get paid...*falls over*

The Ballad of Jimmy

My freshman year, I took a Creative Writing class. At one point, we all, as a class, selected six words (some of which ended up being phrases) without knowing what we were going to use them for. It turned out our homework for that evening was to write a sestina with the words: (phrases):

Jesus H. Christ
shafted
Chuck Norris
wobble
mustard
Catholic Boy's School

Mine ended up being about a boy named Jimmy who got in trouble at St. John's Catholic Boy's School, because a priest who looked like Chuck Norris caught him saying "Jesus H. Christ." Oddly enough, another girl in the class wrote about the exact same thing. It wouldn't seem so odd, because there are probably a limited number of coherent stories that can be made up with a group of words like that, if she hadn't picked the name Jimmy for her protagonist.

And if we hadn't come to class on multiple occasions wearing the same outfit, and had not picked the same poem to read to the class when we started the Poetry unit and had to bring in a favorite poem (the poem was "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes)

Perhaps "homemaker" is a better word than "housewife" or "stay at home mom"...

-11 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

Hah. Letting my bra strap show totally did me in. How fucking nitpicky is this test? "Wears red nail polish"? "Seams on stockings often crooked"?

67 As a 1930s husband, I am Superior Take the test!

A much shorter and easier test, indeed. Were all 1930s husbands complete wifebeating louts, that I am so superior?

...actually, considering what I've heard from my family, that's entirely likely.

In trying to post more often, the author resorts to YouTube.

*snicker*

Oh God.

I'm cleaning my room.

The horror, the horror!

(Heart of Darkness got put in the "get rid of" pile...)

Having moved back home for another summer, it dawns on me that I never really unpacked last summer. And I haven't cleaned my closet in a few years--actually, that's pretty good, for me. Previous to that I hadn't cleaned my closet since we moved to this house. When I was ten.

I am realizing more and more that hoarding is one of my most troublesome neuroses. I can't get rid of the September 2000 issue of Allure! I might need it someday! For...collage! Yeah, that's it, for collage materials! Never mind that I have twenty other issues and they're all the same!

(Fashion magazines are my vice of choice. That and swearing.)

And don't even get me started on the stuffed animals *hangs head in shame* I identify far too strongly with cute and fluffy inanimate objects. I feel guilty enough about keeping the majority of them in the closet, much less entertaining the idea of giving them away. And Wulfy doesn't help, either, as he has a similar soft spot for cute-and-fluffies, compounded with feeling really, really bad for anyone or anything that seems to feel unwanted. The thought of a needy sock monkey makes him get all teary-eyed.

And oh god, the books. I moved a bookshelf to school this year and got to leave it there until fall semester, so I'm now short one. I have a weird hand-me-down shelf (an Oakley display case, a cast-off from my dad's office) but it doesn't fit a lot of books. The shelves are clear acrylic cubes that look big because they're deep, but they're actually absurdly short compared to normal bookshelves.

I feel silly having all this......stuff.

Happy Birthday Kim

i be wearin no pantz, wif mah skinny legs.


































Wulfy takes issue with the skinny legs part, but it's true.

[Edit] I also never clean my glasses. And I get that spit-grin from my daddy. Yep, that's a smile.

Bahaha

Out of Wulfy's mouth just now:

"You're sweeter than a vagina filled with whipped cream."

Isn't he awesome?

A Brief Observation.

Taking off a bra is one of the most lovely feelings in the world.