I might have said something really drunken dorky to the Cool Guy in the Pub tonight. I'm not sure. Spleeef.

Please God, don't ever let this buzz fade.

And "I'm sorry" is the most inadequate phrase EVER. It's like having a forged note from your mother excusing you from responsibility. From life. Saying "sorry" does not make anything better, all it might do is make the unhurt person feel like they have paid their debt to the hurt person, while the hurt person does not feel remotely vindicated and in fact wants to strangle the unhurt person with some piano wire. Hence, the aforementioned unbreechable line.

Obviously this does not apply to all situations. Sometimes "I'm sorry" is a perfectly acceptable response, say, if you stepped on someone's foot or there was a simple misunderstanding. When it is absolutely NOT acceptable is when you are in the process of irreperable friend-betrayal.

Today I said to my former friend, "You are a spectacularly large asshole." *

* Note: This did not actually happen.

I think that of all the lines that can be drawn between people, be it black and white, gay and straight, liberal and conservative, the most defining and hardest to breech is between the hurt and unhurt.

Though perhaps it is better than hurtling toward death at a breakneck speed, depending on your point of view.

I sort of feel like I'm drifting slowly toward death. That can't be good.

However, I think listing "cereal" in your interest list is very cool.

Ditto "cheese."

Spotted on someone's Yahoo profile interest list:

Bible Studies
Hacking
Christianity

*wonders if hacking officially breaks any commandments, and decides that an important lesson was missed at some point, regardless*

No, I'm not behind the drapes.

When one loses one's imaginary friend, to where exactly does one turn for friendship? Gerbils? Dust bunnies? Pencil sharpeners?

What I want to say to people: Don't you understand that I would rather be a catgirl or a fairy or a student at Hogwarts than an outcast in this desert world? What the hell point is there to reality anyway, except as a springboard for the imagination? Who the fuck really cares about copy machines and golf handicaps and GPA's (or anything else with smug initials) and new wallpaper and car mileage and all the other obscenely dull things people insist on blathering about? Anyone? Do people choose dullness or does it choose them? I am hiding from dullness. And I am not telling you where. You might tell!

It seems I have forgotten a large number of the things I was going to write today. I wish I could remember those things and forget everything else, though at least some of them were probably about the things I don't want to remember, so perhaps it's best that I forgot them. *nods*

Egads... I have been posessed by the spirit of Blogging Yogi Berra.

No one. Is ever. Going to talk. To me. Again.

I now have Bermuda shorts.

Mmm... it's peppermint... so soothy... ok, you talked me into it.

Would it really be rational to have another cup of tea?

I just don't know what to do with the daylight.

There are these red spots on one page of my library copy of "Prozac Nation" which I really, really hope are tomato sauce and not blood.

I finally told me MIF to fuck off. I said, "You have no regard for how your actions affect other people." Truer words have not been spoken from mountaintops.

Two days til my birthday. Refugees of war-torn Middle Eastern nations who have nothing but one goat are in a more celebratory mood than I.

After all, they have a goat.

What Natural Disaster are you?

Whoo hoo! I am RISUSA THE TSUNAMI!!

Funny phrase of day: "My fairy keeps getting caught!" - Dork who wears big silver fairy ring (i.e., me).

Runner-up: "Have you ever wondered how crazy people tie their shoes?" - Me again, slightly drunk, watching crazy person flail about in pub.

Hey, I'm on a roll.

Eh.

There really just seems to be no point to reality.

This coming from the girl who's wearing black fuzzy cat ears in her profile. But, that's different.

Check out how cool I am: I have Harry Potter green apple bath soap with a lightning bolt cut into the bottle, and YOU DON'T!

And may I use this moment to point out how much people's Yahoo profiles crack me up? It's always something like:
Name: LORD OVERKILL
Occupation: MASTER OF DARKNESS
Location: Dayton, Ohio

*snicker snicker*

Now that I have heard "Mr. Jones" performed live, I can die happy. Also noteworthy: some jerk behind me kept shouting "LONG DECEMBER!" As if they weren't going to do Long December. Sheesh. Then someone else yelled out "FREEBIRD!" which was pretty funny, and the band played a few unnervingly competant lines of it. I guess this proves that at some point in every band's career, they have to learn "Freebird."

I have decided to send my brain on holiday to Cancun.

Do not forward my calls.

Do not pass go.

Do not, under any circumstances, disseminate anything without the express written consent of Major League Baseball. At least not until I get back.

Adios! *waves*


mmm... mental margaritas...

No one is ever going to talk to me again. I am convinced of it. I am adrift in my little boat. La la la. Whee...

Just because I HAD TO KNOW -

Billboard's Top Ten Albums:

Godsmack (I think this is one of those bands teenage boys on skateboards listen to)
Linkin Park (I think ditto)
50 Cent (score one for black guy with funny name)
Various artists, Now 12 (I'm going to assume that Jennifer Lopez is on this somewhere. Either her or Rotting Garbage. Even though I made them up.)
Lisa Marie Presley (Huh?)
Ginuwine (Not a clue)
Cher (Proof that people over 40 still buy music)
Celine Dion (pop, but not bad)
Norah Jones (Kinda know who she is)
Evanescence (not bad)

The Top 40 also featured, in ascending order of evil: #31 Christina Aguilera, #22 Avril Lavigne (more evil than Christina because she thinks she's... heehee... punk), #24 Justin Timberlake, and, number 40 with a bullet, some kind of ghastly Christian rock confection. Perhaps if you get both #'s 31 and 40, good and bad (or saintly and slutty) will wage war for your eternal soul via your CD player. Now, that's what I call music.

Thus ends my heartfelt yet completely ineffectual assault upon the music industry. I shall now go quietly into this good night.

*bows*

Not the one that Cartman drew on his hand. She was clearly too talented for Top 40.

And Jennifer Lopez.

And a nuevo-punk band with a name like Rotting Garbage or something.

People should eally listen to Kay Hanley instead of whatever's in the Top 40 right now. I have no idea what's in the top 40 right now!

I'm thinking there's prolly a black guy with a funny name.

Where does your soul go, when you lose your soulmate??

Well. So. My Imaginary friend has gone, to wherever imaginary people go when they disappear. I've gotta say, for someone who didn't exist, I'm going to miss him a lot.*
*actual translation: Kill me now.

So. Am going to bury self in music. Music is all that matters. Everything else is shit. *nods*

Well. That sucked.

I saw two completely seperate people wearing bright green sweat pants at Kroger today. For some reason, I felt personally offended.

Things I ran across while looking at Yahoo Profiles: A man who listed his occupation as "computer" (methinks he left off an s), and a woman who stated, "I'm a pagan and a bisexual and quite happy about it all, actually!" It's so simple for some people...

As usual, my search yielded (approximately): 24 boring people (ones who list their interests as "going to movies, working out, and stuff" or similar), 19 stupid people (these include randomly swearing teens, sneering rednecks, and republicans), 14 sexfiends, 8 lesbians, 5 things that make you go hmmm??, a partridge in a pear tree, and not one single kindred spirit.

And, I am over it. Sort of.

I should probably write something...

Yes. I'm feeling a strong desire to write poetry. This can only end badly.

False alarm. I have possibly never felt so lonely in my life.

Clearly, I am not over it.

I'm OVER IT!!!! I AM FREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

*Insert non-depressing entry here* Perhaps something about visiting the pier and eating saltwater taffy and riding the ferris wheel? If someone has a happy taffy-type experience to spare, I could really use it. Thanks.

Gray:
You poor, depressed child. A rain cloud seems to
follow you everywhere. The worst has always got
to happen doesn't it? Life is miserable.


What color do you see the world in?
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Well... sheesh. It's not that bad. *small voice* Is it?

Went to global candlelight vigil, which was nice, but was greeted with initial dilemma of what sort of candle to use. Then it hit me: what I need is a... candle consultant!!!

Am truly blown back by the fundamental interconnectedness of all things.

Also, my cat is licking the wall.

In other news, I just had a slice of cheese even though I had already brushed my teeth. Ha HA! Take that, world.

Phrase of day that would be funny were it not so mind-numbingly stupid: Freedom fries. No, that isn't grease you're tasting... it's FREEDOM!! Mmmmm. Freedom is good with salt and vinegar.

I want to know you, my most imaginary friend. I want to discover what lurks beneath the surface, even if it's the Creature from the Black Lagoon. We are so close, yet so far away. In the same place but on different planes of existance. Will I ever truly know you? I fear I won't rest until I do. You intrigue me. Amuse me. Enrage me. You are the realest person I know, yet strangely imaginary. You are unique; that is your hold over me. Can I blame the mundane, normal everyday world for my fixation on you? Blame it for making you seem such a bright shining star in such a dark sky? My star flickers, still shining but fading. I want to light up the world with you. Instead, here I sit. Dreaming and dying. Sparkle and fade. Who will light my sky when you are gone? I curse you for not knowing the power of your light. I want to ease your pain. Why can't I? I want to know you, my most imaginary friend. Is reality too much to ask for?

If you actually read this, would you even know it was about you?

Yours in non-poetry,
L

Wait. It's actually an avocado.

*creeps out from under covers* OK. Lime fixed. Whew.

And to top it off, MY LIME IS BROKEN!!! GAH!!! *goes to bed and throws covers over head*

AGH!!! THE BELL JAR DESCENDS!!!

Really, why is it so damn cold in here???

Also, I can now put poms on socks that did not have poms before. I am... THE POMINATOR!!!

Sign on door at the Wal: "Door not working due to problems." Once again proving my theory, all the great minds work at K-Mart.

Sock crisis averted! Was able to buy lifetime supply of replacement poms at the Wal for $2.97. Sometimes life makes sense.

I should probably also mention that I have no idea how to write poetry, except that it is not supposed to rhyme.

It's still really cold in here.

I've been toying with the idea of writing a poem about my MIF and posting it. Hmm. Perhaps will write poem about hedgehogs instead. Or use hedgehog imagery but in fact make it still about him.

Could have called blog "hedgehog imagery." Damn. Always a day late and a dollar short, I am.

My feet are cold!

Ponderings on the TV I Watched Today: (This should be prefaced by saying that I basically hate TV, yet watch ridiculous amounts of it.)

If Jennifer Lopez changes her name to Jennifer Lopez Affleck, she'll be J. Loaf.

What I thought while watching presidential thingy: Oh crap, Survivor's gonna run into South Park now.

In a sort of retraction, I think the phrase is actually "hizzle fo shizzle," which sounds disappointingly less like a Chili's appetizer (I think fizzle fo shizzles would have been like jalapeno poppers). I still, however, don't know what it means.

That's what I thought.

Is it tacky to drink wine out of a plastic Spider-man cup?

Proof that I am the whitest person to ever saunter into the Gap: I have no idea what "fizzle fo shizzle" means, other than it kind of sounds like an appetizer, yet my TV has been blaring it at me all week. (My TV is, apparently, quite ghetto.) And it was just last week I learned what "bling bling" means. For some reason, I thought it was a cell phone. "Bling, bling!"... "Hello?"

Yeah, I'm a dork ^-^

I just don't want to go to bed!

The little pom thingy fell off my sock. I am hopelessly depressed.

It should also be noted that I did, in fact, reunite with my Most Imaginary Friend (or MIF, as he will be referred to henceforth), though it isn't quite the same since depressing conversation of two weeks ago. Can't shake feeling that he thinks I'm a loser. This is one of my biggest problems - I like people who are really similar to me, but they always seem to not like me, or like me but want someone who's better than themselves because they don't like themselves. Does this mean, in some twisted way, that I like myself after all?

Ok, this is kind of mean, but also really hilarious (yes, I know it doesn't link). http://maddox.xmission.com/irule2.html "Rachel?? More like RACIST!! Nice try, Hitler." HEEHEEHEEHEE!!! That is SO wrong.

New idea for war substitute: Monopoly. Whoever gets hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place wins. Unless Saddam decided to go the Baltic-Mediterrenean-Vermont-Oriental-Connecticut slumlord route. Then Bush might be in trouble.

-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
placed. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
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Um... er... *blinks* I don't even know what to say about this, I'm just so touched...

Funny phrase of day, old school: "Big-ass ham."

Am in very, very bad mood. The phrase "cabin fever" has hit home with stunning clarity and force. I think I might actually qualify for hermit status now. Can you register as a hermit with the government and have them send you supplies of like, flannel shirts, and maybe blocks of surplus cheese? Doubtful. Hermits- the FORGOTTEN minority! (Note to self: ad-campaign.)

I had like, all this stuff I was going to blog, and I can't remember any of it. My head is all muzzy. I NEED AIR!!! *opens door and is blown back by Arctic blast*

So. The situation is:
1. It is butt-freezing outside.
2. I have no transportation.
3. There is nowhere to go, anyway.
4. I can't even take a walk or rollerblade when it warms up because there are no fucking sidewalks and everything is all bendy and twisty due to mountains.
5. I hate this place.
6. My life is bleak as bleak can be.


Also, I really wish male contestants on Lingo would not sort of leer at the camera when they pull out number 69. It's subtle, but still. Come on. Or maybe they can't help it. Maybe men see "69" and raise their eyebrows and look naughty AUTOMATICALLY. Like when I used to not be able to say "toilet paper" without cracking up.

Toilet paper. *giggles*

I really hate when some guy looks at his wife/girlfriend and says "She's the boss!" Sometimes you get the feeling he's being patronizing, like "I *let* her be the boss, wink wink," and sometimes you get the feeling the guy's just a pussy. Either way, it's sickening. Is it really less belittling to have to keep a full-grown man "in line" than to be under some guy's thumb? I mean, why does anyone have to be the boss? People's relationships are so depressing!

Also, I don't actually have Bermuda shorts. In case anyone was wondering.

Ever.

My hair finally looks exactly like I want it to. I mean, it looks really spiffy. I can so be a rockstar now. (Because obviously, the only thing that's been holding me back is Bad Hair.)

Also, Alex Trebek is the biggest dork in the universe and should not ever be allowed to sing, ever.

There's a HUGE mountain of dirty black snow outside my apartment. I want to have my picture taken in front of it wearing like, Bermuda shorts or something and caption it "Welcome to Paradise."

I love these purple pop-tarts with green icing. Bless the creative minds of the good folks at Kellogg's.

Hmm. Can't have a post that's entirely about pop-tarts. What else can I say? Maybe something about granola. In retrospect, I prolly should have had the bowl of granola instead of the pop-tart, as opposed to in addition to it. Perhaps when they start making granola in purple and green. But then the milk would turn a disgusting sort of gray-puce colour, and I've spent way too much time on this subject.

""To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting." "

Yeah. That's it.

FIGHT THE POWER! Word.

I saw a couple great quotes recently. I don't remember them exactly so I'll just paraphrase: "If you look, you may not leap." Good advice for most people; bad advice for people who live by the edge of a cliff. The other one was something about remaining yourself when people do everything in their power to convince you otherwise. Or something. Damn, I really gotta get that quote. Hang on.

href="http://ramsites.net/~s2varope/net/fortunemain.html"> src="http://ramsites.net/~s2varope/net/images/fortune/5.jpg" border=none>
href="http://ramsites.net/~s2varope/net/fortunemain.html"> Come get your fortune
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Created by ptocheia

My fortune is... "You will be questioned by a woman named Sally, who is also startlingly tall."


*gasp* Sally must have found out about my secret cache of chee... no, I've said too much! I'm *not* going to try to take over the world with a turbo-charged catapult and some well-placed cubes of extra-sharp cheddar, not at all! Project CheeseLaunch simply does not exist. Where would you ever get such a crazy idea?! *laughs nervously*

*grumbles under breath* Curses! Foiled again!

0=00111141011411477888888888844444140447788888888884444


This message has been brought to you by my cat, who just randomly walked across the keyboard. Or... is it random? Maybe it's a secret message from the cat world! The equal sign makes me think some kind of complicated mathematical equation, but it's prolly just something about tuna.

Excellent. I was just looking out the window and thinking, "What we need now is more snow." I love when my sarcastic prayers are answered.

I just watched Ghost World, and I'm going to watch it again when it's on in an hour. This is the bright side of having no life, if you want to watch the same damn movie twice in one night, who's going to stop you? The dark side is, if you want to go beat your noisy upstairs neighbours to death with a frozen leg of lamb, who's going to stop you? NO ONE!! MUAHAHAHA!!! Er.

I want to make a short film called "Puppet People." This would entail sitting in places where boring office-type people hang out and penning their most dreadful, mundane statements to paper. These would be turned into a montage of statements, spoken at close range to the camera by real people. This would comprise almost the entire film, until the end where they are revealed to be dangling by strings, and go puppet-shuffling off into the skyline. This part would, of course, require actual puppets. This idea is copyright to ME, so don't go stealing it. HA!

Nobody wants to be my friend, and I'm out of cheese. *sigh*

When I wear two socks, I find that my feet get too hot. When I wear no socks, I find that my feet get too cold. So, I am now wearing one sock and feel just right. *squishes*

I've noticed the majority of blogs that have words like "crazy," "strange," and "demented" in the title are in fact mundane and boring and written by teenagers who think going to the mall and crushing on their boy/girlfriend constitutes la vida loca. I could not let this irony go unchecked. For the sake of irony everywhere.

And while we're on the subject: 1. Have some rudimentary concept of spelling before you blog, please? Pwetty please? 2. Using letters iN thiS fAShiON is not cool, it is aNNoyiNG! 3. Is it really so hard to type out the words "are" and "you" in their entirety? And 4., is it really so hard to not speak like a gangsta if you're 17, white, and living in Oak Park, Illinois or similar? Thank you.

I want to marry Tim Quirk of Too Much Joy just so i can be Lissa Quirk. I truly do. Unless he's already married, and his wife has a cool name, like... Natasha. Natasha Quirk. I can't possibly compete with that. Or Mona Quirk.

Fasten your seatbelts- it's going to be a bumpy night!!!

Human contact: the final frontier. First, I hate that I have something in common with Comic Book Guy. Second... well, that's pretty much it. Dare I brave the snow, the wind, and the general chill of society in the pursuit of...? It seems some unseen force is pushing me in that direction, kicking and... well, not so much kicking and screaming as emitting a low gutteral moan that only dogs can hear.

Brilliant paragraph from Carl Hiaasen book that sums up whole life: Carrie: "He doesn't seem to fit anywhere." Molly: "You wouldn't want him if he did. The world is full of nice boring young men. The crazy ones are hard to find and harder to keep, but it's worth it." Carrie: "But crazy isn't the word for it, is it?"

This reminds me of what I was thinking the other day, about why life doesn't work, which is basically that nice people are boring and interesting people are assholes. Except me, of course.

For once, though, I should be the one to leave something, even if I'm still just sitting here. I don't wanna hang around like a faded dress, in the wise words of Kay Hanley. But it takes an incredible amount of courage to leave while standing still (not to mention possible supernatural ability).

What kind of strange inertia left me sitting in this chair? Maybe someday I'll be set in motion; then I'll be too busy whizzing by to ever get left behind.

Did I just say "whizzing?" Hehe. Hehe. *Beavis laugh*

OK, so I haven't exactly lost my imaginary friend. I just feel like I should tell him to zark off if I want to be empowered and stuff. I feel this very strongly.*

*actual translation of paragraph: *whimper*

I have discovered that pretty much anything that can be done in regular clothes can also be done in pajamas, with the possible execption of mountain-climbing, which I do not do anyway.

Let's see... what else can I do in my pajamas?

Just went and did laundry in my pajamas. Not really sure how I feel about this.

I bet someone in New York would buy it. *nods* My charred and blackened soul would hang above the trendy post-modern sofa in someone's Manhattan loft. It would have to listen to a lot of pretentious cocktail party chatter, but it would prolly have a much better view than it does now; perhaps overlooking Central Park. Wait, is that in Manhattan? Hmm. My lack of New York knowledge is suddenly painfully obvious.

If I painted a canvas solid black and said it was a portrait of my soul, do you think I could sell it for a million dollars?

So now I have to take my pain and do something artistically significant with it. Hmm. *thinks*

I will always get left, just for the simple fact that I have no where else to go.

Cougar


What Is Your Animal Personality?
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This might be me. Then again, it might not. *is mysterious*

One's dreams should not be more interesting than one's waking life, particularly if one's dreams are about chopping onions. (They were green onions, not white. Just to clarify. Not sure if that's more interesting or not. Just a different colour.)

Actually, tomorrow I'll be chopping onions for real. So you could say, my dreams are about to come true. Whoo!!!

Sign on store window: "We have lampshades!" Yup, that about sums up Morgantown...

Funny phrase of day: "Big tap-dancing pimp." Funny phrase brought to you courtesy of Matthew Perry, 6 comedy writers, and the letter "Q".

The funny phrase is all I can muster; I simply do not feel like peering into the abyss at the moment. There are things in there, things with glowy eyes and snarly teeth and scuttly feet. I *will* face the abyss-dwellers, one of these days. Until then...

Chowda! Hobbit feet! TROGDOR!!!