The Way I See It...

I knew early on that I didn't see things the same way other people saw things. Things like color and form and the minute differences overall that makes each and every thing and each and every space around each and every thing that makes this world unique.
No matter how many universes, dimensions, continuums, this here-and-now is seen differently by... Everyone.
I don't know if it was the heat, the sun, the dozing day off this is rapidly becoming (but really shouldn't. I have to return library books and go shopping.), but I was looking at the side of the house and I saw

Opus. Or a study of Opus. You know, Opus. And yeah, I do see it still and will for awhile more. But most people would look and say "What? That smudge? What is that? What caused that? Ew!" and I just see a track left by some kind of plant or creature and I see Opus.
And it could be because I'm reading Sagan, thanks to Karl Elvis and the bargain bin at the local BAM.
But it does all come down to each individual.
I can see tones of the same colors that other people don't see. I hate matching paints up because something that other people can't see sends me into giggle fits ("That's the wrong navy. No, really, I'm telling you, it's much much lighter than that other navy. Yes, it's almost black, but it's the wrong navy.") or conniption fits, one or the other. At my mother's house, my bedroom was always pink. The color was Strawberry Shake, and they didn't mix it right at the paint store, so instead of the paler, it was brighter and it jarred the senses.
When I was 16, they allowed me to pick out my own wall paper and it was an ashy pink lily with a greyish jade leaf on a slightly creamy background with sponge stripes separating.
The walls became grey.
It was a calm room.
I weep easily at schmaltzy crap, and find it very hard to cry when I'm sad. I've cried more in anger than in sadness. I've hollered more in laughter than in anger. I groan over bad puns, and then make some of my own. Sic-un won the last pun-off. I pretty much taught myself to read and still marvel at the fact that something I've always pronounced in my head one way will sound different when it's pronounced properly... Sis caught me on 'epitome', which still looks like epi-tome. I caught myself out recently on Epiphone guitars. I've always thought 'epi-phone', but it struck me the other day "Dimwit! It's epiphany! GROAN"... Right? Like grey-gray. Both are acceptable, but gray is the more common, but it's really a different sort of word, gray is very hard and grey is very soft and that's how I see grey when I see grey.
At least, that's the way I see it.

Politically, I'm screwed. I don't believe in bread and circuses and I do believe teachers should be paid more and the people that are paid the most are paid too much for very little work. But I'm also against big corporations being given personhood status and mucking about with the food supply and the water supplies and hey... You know why the bees are disappearing? Has it ever occurred to ANYONE that it could be they just don't like the fucking flavor of genetic manipulation? I don't agree with the government bailing out the banks, I don't agree with the government bailing out housing, I don't agree with the cash-for-clunkers program (wherein the mostly traded vehicles were large, gas-guzzling trucks traded for more-but-newer large gas guzzling trucks). I think it's all bread and circuses. The last time this seriously happened, when banks fell and housing was bust and people were out of work in droves all over not just regionally or locally, we had the New Deal programs which have just become another cog in the government machine. Put your artists to work! Construction crews out of work? Why not put them to work for the government (hell, if we're paying them unemployment anyway, may as well get some work from them!) taking care of housing for the homeless and/or poverty stricken? How many blighted neighborhoods are financed by HUD and are falling apart? Put the unemployed back to work, dammit! Wait! They need places to live? How about you agree to something like the Habitat homes? Work for your mortgage! What are you working for anyway? Housing? Ok.
I'm not moderate, really, the problem is that I'm the only one who thinks the way I think.
At least, that's the way I see it.

Everyone wants me to be happy about having separated days off. I think it sucks, and each person who wants me to be reasonable and accepting of it has weekends off. Weekends, meaning 2 days off in a fucking row. I have to request time off to get it. It's not fair and I will continue to spout off on it occasionally. But it just means I don't have to work on the days they could actually use me the most because I'm taking time off. I can afford to work 35 hours a week. Really. It means things become a bit scrape-y, but I can. So I don't mind having to take the time off to have days off in a row.
And yeah, that's the way I see it.
Next time off is Sun-Tues. I'm gonna see about working more on my fan starting Saturday night. THIS Saturday night.

pizza

I'm proud of this one.
It's my pizza sauce.
Yes, we make our own pizza. And I've been tackling my own sauce, lately.



5 small ripe tomatoes, peeled and squeezed firmly (easy way to remove the seeds, core and 70% of the juice)
1 oz sun dried tomatoes (dry pack), snipped small
1/4 c water
1/4 tsp Jane's Crazy Salt
1 tsp dried 'Italian Seasoning Blend' herb mix
1 Tbsp prepared pesto (I personally use jarred right now. My basil died)
1 Tbsp olive oil

Bring tomatoes and water to a boil, drop to low, cover and steep for 30 minutes. Stir in Janes and herbs. Blend mixture and remaining ingredients in blender or food processor until thoroughly mixed.

It smells how I imagine parts of the Med smell. The garlic in the pesto underlines everything. Yumyum!

Making christmas...making christmas...

...falalalalaaaaah.....
Con-man wants a guitar. Actually, the way I say it is "Con-man wants a GEEtar". He's begged (me, at least) and apparently has been playing acoustic, but wants to switch to electric. I say...


The kid will get his guitar. Thank god for Musician's Friend. AFFORDABLE toys for not-so-grown-boys.
Archie McPhee will be getting some cash this year as well, again, yet, still....
The Boy (not Con-man, but the Boy, who is Sic-un's spinoff) will be getting Handerpants. Yes, Handerpants. Underpants for your hands. And I'm seriously looking at getting my mother Squirrel Underpants. Can't have them running around nekkid, now can we? Although I've always been attracted to the hopping lederhosen, as well...

That's The Boy to the left, there. He has no preferences, at least, none that he's willing to share. He's relatively quiet, he eats like a horse, and has been relatively calm. He was also raised by a prude, but is a self-proclaimed slut, having 2 or 3 girlfriends right now. I applaud that attitude. Means there is still some worth to him. I suppose I could also get him the Undercap by Archie McPhee.

Now for Sic-un for the holiday.... I'm debating getting him a new computer. New tower, that is. Someone at work said they got a website from school (Roane State) that had $125 towers. We'll see. If they're decent at that price, it's a possibility.

I hate having split days off. It Sucks Sewer Water.

Although there has been good news...

Mako is enceinte. I'm thrilled. She's high-risk, and the apparatus was disconnected years ago, but apparently the fix didn't take. They're both thrilled, it's a win all the way around, and I'm happy-dancin' for her. I'm also very worried about her, but that's my own thing. Still....

Mako, you rock!

So who's Mako? Nonyer. I adore her, and that's enough.

All Hallow's....

Ahhh.... the smell of fal...
Well, out here, it's not so much fall as it is wet leaves. It is raining again, and the leaves (those that have fallen) are soaking already. Mmmm. Mold.
***
I ended up carving a lantern. I almost didn't, but then changed my mind last minute and managed to find a perfectly sized and shaped pumpkin, with only 1 small ground-side spot.
I decided to go the traditional route, and free-handed a face...

With Flash

Without Flash

It's a happy face, methinks, and I'm glad I ended up carving it.
***
We have had only 1 beggar of sweets. I'm not surprised, it is the buckle of the Bible-Belt after all, but the next kid that knocks on my door is getting a fistful of Hershey's, no questions asked. I don't care if that kid is 40.
Otherwise it'll just sit and sit and sit unless I do something with it. As an aside, I have found you can make a pretty damn good cup of hot choco by melting 5-9 of the mini bars o'chocolate goodness in a double boiler and mixing milk in very slowly, by small amounts.
*+*+*+
All of the churches that I drive by on the way to work have things like 'Join us for our Trunk or Treat!' instead of trick or treat. I have to admit I'm curious as to what 'trunking' is, but I'm still pissed they're usurping one of the longest-running widely celebrated holidays in the world. It's almost as bad as the church-sponsored haunted houses. Instead of ghouls and ghosts jumping out at you, they show you the (insert sarcasm, folks!) really scary things like the junkie in the corner and the hugely pregnant 10 year old getting a 3rd trimester abortion (last I checked, illegal in TN, except to save the life of the mom and even then that's a bit dicey to prove)... You know, the 'sin' stuff.
I say every community has unwanted pregnancies and junkies and they have all had them since time immemorial. You can't tell me Zog and Brod and Ralm sitting around the fire in the Lower Paleolithic didn't share ganja. You know they did... They depended on plants for their lives, they'd know the properties and drugs inherent in each one. I mean, c'mon... We have cannibinoid receptors in our fucking brains. You also can't tell me they didn't fuck like bunnies every chance they got. Sex is not new and this generation did not invent it, damnit! I'm also pretty sure Ms. Paleo didn't want to be pregnant all the time.
I just wish those who believe in their religions would practice tolerance of others and let us have our holidays, you know?
*+*+*+
I only know about the single costumed one because Sic-un told me. I was at work all evening. All evening? Hell, all day.
They have split up my days off. I now no longer get a 'weekend'. I don't, apparently, deserve a 'weekend'. But because I still get 2 days off a week (Friday and Sunday. How's that for a slap?), I really have no recourse.
Rumor says merit raises have also been suspended, indefinitely, due to the current economic crisis.
I have a shit schedule (hours are great, days off suck), and I have no hope of getting paid more as any kind of recompense. Why complain, you say. Why not do something about it, you say.
The answer is known, but I don't want to look for another job. I won't throw away 7 1/2 years with my employer just because I get a shit schedule. I've had worse. I remember 3 ten-hour days paired with 2 days of 5 hours each and separated days off. I just wish all that loyalty on my part was worth something on their part.
***
I still wanna win the lottery.

Merry Samhain, folks. I hope yours is happy. Pumpkin gets blown out and brought inside (if it is indeed still lit....yeah, it is) at midnight.

I feel stupid...

....oh so stupid!

Apparently, when you replace the battery in my car, you're supposed to reprogram your remotes immediately. Of course, the batteries have been dead on my remotes for over 2 years now. I just turned the alarm off with the last gasp of juice in the one remote, the other having died long before, and never got replacement batteries. Hell, the alarm didn't go off, did it? And I had reprogrammed it immediately after replacing my alternator when that needed done.
So what happens when you don't reprogram a remote to it right away?

You have to disable the engine killswitch before you can start your vehicle. EVERY time before you start your vehicle.

o_0

So it wasn't the starter (although that went for a very minor trip away from the car to test it at AutoZone). And the car had a vacation from the front of the house, although being stuck at work wasn't quite the vacation it had in mind, I don't think.
Even worse would be if I had paid a mechanic to take a look at it.
But I got a new battery (which it needed), and my little blue bomber from deep in the desert is back in front and I have my transpo again. Tomorrow I'm going to get a set of jewelers' screw drivers to open the cases on my remotes and replace the batteries.
It has really sucked. I've missed (strangely enough) going to the grocery. I've missed being able to get up and go someplace even if I don't go anywhere.

Thank you Jesse and Sic-un! (even if all they did was point out my stupidity)

I've always depended on the kindess of strangers

...Although I've never considered myself a Blanche Dubois type, although I detest asking for help (even though I may really need it), I actually begged a ride tonight from someone I know, at best, marginally. It made me feel... weird. And boyo, I thought my own car had shitty alignment. I've never been in a car that kinda goes thumpa-thumpa-thumpa from side to side (not up and down, and rather uniformly)...audibly. My car only does a little wiggle thing.
Or it would, if it were actually capable of going anywhere right now. Currently, it's about 5.1 miles away from the house, parked very safely in the farthest-from-the-door reaches of the parking lot that I am usually relegated to.
I, like a puling idiot unable to wipe my own nose much less be one to be trusted to operate a motor vehicle safely, left my lights on Thursday because it was drizzly and state law requires it (TN code 55-9-406). Of course, by the time I got to work, the drizzle had stopped, but no... I couldn't be bothered to remember to turn off my lights. Well, come out to the car 9.5 hours later and ta-fucking-da, the rear lights are faintly glowing, I curse like a drunken sailor out for a good time, and see if there's any way at all I can magically get an almost-but-not-quite-all-the-way-dead battery to somehow turn over the starter to get the alternator pumping juice back into the not-yet-quite-expired battery. Click-click-click. Fuck.
Get a jump from Junior and his 'jump point' featured car. Lights on the dash get brighter...oh wait. No click-click. O...kay. Means it hasn't say on a charge long enough. He has no problem talking inanely to a strange woman on her bestest behaviour to be a reasonably polite member of society. Let's wait, shall we?!?
I have problems talking inanely to, well, let's just use the word locals. I'm a morally reprehensible, socially bankrupt type of gal. Really. Ask anyone. I am, at the very least, a bit of a bawd. I find it hard, oh-so-very hard-hard-hard! to talk to rednecks whose only concern is that their basest needs be met in a manner they deem acceptable. These males are often referred to as 'Baby's Daddy' as opposed to 'My Husband'. Frequently 'engaged' and introduced as 'My fiance... you know, my baby's daddy?', they are usually good enough to fuck but damn are they as dumb as a box full of rocks! This one wasn't even pretty to look at.
But I was polite, asked about the baby asleep in the backseat, nodded, murmured politely, essentially waited (but not silently) for 1/2 an hour while my means of transport sat hooked up like an anemic to a transfusion kit.
I honestly don't think Junior could have shown me where the battery was actually located on his car. Knowing about some of these things, it was probably in the trunk. But I wasn't hooked up to a real battery. I was hooked up to the little bolt and fuse contraption that passes for a place to jump-start your car under the hood in a silly engine instead of with a genuine battery. Can't convince me it works to jump TO a dead car as opposed to getting a jump at it.
Half an hour, 30 minutes, and dammit, there's a fucking cold front pouring down on us from the great white north (take off, eh!) and I'm just getting over being sick for a fucking month and 1/2 and not feeling well and losing my voice twice and .....ARGH. Turn the key, no click-click-click, just that 'You've got all systems engaged and ready to go but it's stopped' almost muted tap. But the lights are brighter, the dash lights. I've started it with about the same amount of juice before (last time you left on the lights, dumbfuck!), but no dice. No turn over. Dead car.
That was Thursday.
Friday, I had off. Sic-un worked, I had it off.
Saturday, I had off. So did Sic-un.
Ever try to lug a car battery while riding pillion on a motorcycle? I have. Now, that is. It's not fun, requires a steady driver and the ability actually balance to a certain degree on your own. There was no room for it anywhere on the bike except my lap, and since you straddle the seat (mental picture: Guy in a tutu riding a Vespa with a lantern battery on his lap lighting up his wand and fairy crown), it's only balanced on 1 leg. Heh. Not fun. And had to lug it both ways, dammit! Took the dead one to the friendly AutoZ, tested it, watched the individual cell tests or circuit tests or whatever you want to call them, and it ranged from 2.4 to 12.1, none of which were what they were supposed to be. Verdict, knowing it's 5 years old and I've left some lights on 3 times previously (parking lights 2x, dome light 1x (door didn't shut properly)), but for much shorter duration, bad battery, replace. Get it back to the car. Burn with shame at having people look at me carrying a battery balanced on my fucking lap.
30 minutes and $85 after arriving at the car to begin with, new battery is installed.
The lights come on. Nobody's home. No click-click, not a turn over in sight. Not even a whine. Just that muffled tap when I engage the key all the way.
This was supposed to be the paycheck I blew on Xmas stuff so I could actually give what I wanted to give this year instead of what I have to settle for giving to the people I love because I make shit for wages. DAMMIT.
Can't. So sorry. Too bad, so sad, where's the waaaahmbulance? Now I get to hope, for a full fucking week, that it really is the starter, that my ignition isn't bum (and I really don't think it is) and that I'll be able to, with Sic-un shuttling me and/or his son back and forth to my car and the parts places around here looking for a starter (although the AutoZone website says they have it available in store! thank whatever deities you wish!) that it really is just the starter and not the ignition or some other main fuse bullshit or coils or some such.
I don't wanna afford a tow and a serious electrical repair on a 10 year old car.
I can't afford a new car. I can't afford the few used cars that I'd trust. Urk.
And put all this together with being sick since what? July?!?!? (various respiration things, due (at least in part!) to the humidity, the flu, and several colds from people that don't think they're contagious) and 3 months of sounding like Harvey Fierstein without the glorious accent while they're demanding at that...that place that I just keep talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and then missing a period
OOOOH. Yeah. That was fun. Furiously taking a piss on a stick of fibers designed to entrap hormones released when you're pregnant. Yeah. Fun. MMMhm. Love it. Love.It. I recommend EVERYONE do it at least once in a lifetime. I did 2... 5 days apart. During which I should have had a period. Nothing. And negative on both tests. But wait! The next time the cycle runs around, there it is! And oh boyo, let me tell you...

Mother Nature is a bitch. The month of October has been a truly horrific experience for me this year. The entire fucking month to date has been quite horrifying. But I'm not pregnant (visualization: Large, heavy, oak beam connecting to my fist). At least, taking a piss on the stick says I'm not. And regular biology says I'm not either. As does checking to see when I last had a penis in me.
So add to all that loverly stress and now I have car issues.
Who'd I piss off? Why all this, right now?
Causing me to not only beg a jump from someone, but also to beg a ride from a genial gentleman I work with so I don't have to ride (I really can't believe I'm saying this) the back of the bike when it's only 40 degrees outside, even though I'm riding it every morning when it's under 40 degrees, forget about wind chill... I feel like the biggest stupe on the face of the planet. And Sic-un... my good grandmother what a fucking peach.
Really! No complaints, no bitching, he's having to get up a full 2 1/2 hours early to shuttle me to work, he's having to run all the errands. Get this...
"Well, this is the free paycheck, so we can pool if we need to and get it taken care of. Ketchup sandwiches, no problem."
o_0
Last time a car I owned was broken and needed fixed, Idiotboy pretty much ordered me to borrow someone else's car to come see him so he wouldn't have to drive across the fuckin' bridge.
Without prompting, asking, anything...Sic-un just says 'We'll get it taken care of'.
Comparisons are odious, so state Cervantes, Christopher Marlowe and John Donne. I should quit letting his decidedly elegant and beautiful nature continually surprise me. I should be used to it by now. And some large small part of me hopes like nobody's business I won't ever get used to it.
Can I bask in this for awhile, karma? Can I just appreciate the hell out of the man I have? All this and if I wanna fuck someone for the thrill, I have permission? Really? ME? I can? And this wondrous man is mine???And he washes dishes and he'll scrub a tub and will run the vacuum and get dinner and keep me in my soda (even after I told him just the HFCS crap from the shit-n-git on the corner is fine, no, he goes to the big grocery store 4 miles away instead of the QuikEMart and picks up my cane-sugar-only beautimous Jones cola, lugging fuckin' 12 packs on the Grape Ape...) and he makes the bed and sets the alarm and makes me giggle and blush even after 3 1/2 years and still makes me stare with how beautimous he is... Can I just bask in him for a bit? Without so much stress crap?

I'm tired of being sick and tired and stressed over bullshit. I want my long weekend (I have off friday through monday, so does he) with no stress, but I may, and ONLY "may" get a chance to get 2 days (sun/mon) with little to no stress. "I'm very adaptable to circumstances." I am, too, although I'm still not a Blanche Dubois type. But I'm tired of being very adaptable. I want to wallow in hedonistic orgies of conspicuous consumption, and not necessarily in that order. All together now... money money money MONey

Spreadin' the word...

Word...



Thanks, KE...smooches!

What I did this weekend...

I keep saying I have a dozen ideas in my head. I'm not huge fan of traditional, but I do want to learn, so this is really my own teaching. I'm using the myriad issues of magazines I have floating around for ideas. And it's all freehand, which is something I haven't done in a bit.



The fat heart turned out the best as far as the hearts go. The heart itself, that is. I like the banner on the double hearts better.

The butterfly and the yellow flower are my interpretation of flash from c. 1920-c.1960.

Ahhhh.....The Weekend...

...the 4 Day Weekend, that is.
Yes, the 4 day weekend is a marvelous invention known as "I take 2 days off, paid, and don't have to do anything".
This weekend, Sic-un's son came to visit. Good kid. Cute kid. Well-behaved. He made his bed! Eats like a horse, doesn't say much, blushes becomingly, but is a good sport.
Did I cook? No. Well, made breakfast, but that doesn't really count. Anyone can scramble eggs. We ended up getting Chinese Friday and eating at Hacienda Degollado last night.
Poor kid said when they go out for Mexican, he 'always gets just nachos'.... Last night he had the house special.
I'm grinning. I like it when people give new foods a try. He liked it. This pleases me.
Hell, even Sic-un tasted some of the General Tso's and some of my teriyaki chicken. That's an accomplishment. I'm refusing to ever hold my breath for him to ever EVER like mushrooms, but that's OK. I can live with that quite easily. Usually when I eat mushrooms, it's on pizza (do the 'personal' size and you never have to worry about somebody not liking your topping) or sauteed up with some onions for steak (and I can do that in a separate pan).
So it's leftover Burritos Tampicos for me. I have no idea what that really translates to. On the plate, it's a steak burrito with a real tomato-y red sauce, cilantro laced tomatoes and onions with the strips of steak. And of course, the loverly queso blanco I appreciate so much around here.
In NM, they use cheddar, which is oily on the plate. Here, queso blanco. Mild, creamy, sets off the chiles in a very good way.
I'm currently drawing. Essentially making some traditional style flash. First attempts and all that. I need more practice. Which is another reason for the weekend. No pressure, no tired-ness, no "I gotta get up at 9:30" just....
Pick up the pad and draw.
And while I draw (and finish off the Burritos Tampicos), I'm absorbing the beauty that is the National Parks.
Enjoy.

Too good to not share...

From here.

Grr.

It's bad enough I get every forward in existence through my email. Worse, most are political. Coming from a large family, I get both sides of every political discussion.
The latest?
'Forward to other people this dastardly thing that points out that our Mr. President has read/is reading/did read a book called "The Post-American World". FORWARD IT! NOW! The OUTRAGE!!!!'
Sigh.
I can't. I really can't. In good conscience, I cannot -CANNOT- point fingers at anyone for their choice of reading material.
Think about it. This is what leads to Fahrenheit 451. Really. "I don't approve of your reading material". I cannot hold with that.
I WON'T HOLD WITH IT.
My current reading list is online porn and a 1971 "Best of" collection of the Hugo winners I'm skipping through (volume 2, not the whole kit'n'kaboodle). I just recently finished Rollins' A Preferred Blur, returned to the library The Book Nobody Read, a da Vinci bio, a very dry and unreadable history of the Victorians, and Kiln People (Richard waded 1/2 way into this, I didn't end up touching it).
I have read everything from Aesop to Zhang. I don't make judgments on my reading materials, and I don't make judgments on other people's reading materials. I cannot judge anyone based on their own reading materials, except to say 'Huh. Sounds like a good book'. I sneer at Twilight (sorry...every time a vampire sparkles, Bela Lugosi spins in his grave), but I won't ever prevent someone from reading it. I may say "It's drek", but I won't stop you from reading it. I'll laugh at you for reading it, but prevent you??? Hell no!
I'm sorry, that's like telling someone "You can't THINK this way"...
GRR. Not allowed. Now I get to email it to my parents and say "Uh, guys, you always encouraged me in my reading no matter what I happened to be reading. Give BO the same courtesy."
After all... I didn't vote for the guy, right?

Productive long weekend....

...I go back to the AlternateDimension tomorrow. The good news is that there is no mandatory OT on my schedule this week. The better news is 2 days and I'm off for another 2. And then (and THEN?) I'll have off the 28th-31st. So does Sic-un, so it's all good.
I like days off.
I like lots of days off and I still want to win the lottery.
Still, it was a productive weekend.



I redid Mari's Eye of Horus, just to the right there. She's going to JP this upcoming weekend. I wish her safe journey and for her to have a frickin' ball. She needs it, desperately. Just a weekend, but that's ok.


As for me... well, that's below. Didn't get the fan completed, but I got more done on it. It's a little strange, tattooing yourself. There's the pain involved of actually getting a tattoo, but you have to work through the pain to actually do the tattoo itself. It makes (especially on the top front of the thigh) for a painful proposition, you know?
Still, I did get some more into it, and it's coming together. Then I surprised myself and decided to go back to the basics while waiting for the fan to heal up for the next round.
Enjoy.

I've been incredibly remiss about updating lately. My only excuse is OT at the AD. That's "OverTime at the Alternate Dimension"... People seem to think I should be overjoyed at the overtime and gobble up as much overtime as I can possibly get, up to and including volunteering for the damn hours. No. Not gonna, don't wanna. So, the AD pulls the 'It's part of the handbook' card. I say "If you MUST give mandatory OT, it means you don't have enough people". That's logical, so it doesn't fly. It means I've been working incredibly long days (11 hours? Talking to wits who argue about troubleshooting? JOY!) and have very little time for just me.
So why am I home early today (approx. 1.75 hours early)? I'm tired. That's all. I'm tired. I took the 1/2 incident to my attendance and I came home. Now I need to unwind so I can go to bed and get sleep. I'll give it about another hour before I'm out. And starting Friday, I'm off work for 5 days. I'm going to finish my fan, and redo the fill on Mari's Eye Friday/Saturday. Then I'm planning on sleeping and cleaning and generally goofing off.
But I thought I'd take a brief moment for the 'This is news?' and 'Can we say 'should have seen it coming'?' files... It's amazing what's going on out there the people don't think anything about...
(yes, it's Yahoo news. It's a one-stop shop for the sublimely ridiculous)
First up, THIS little gem. Look, lemme tell you something ladies. If your boyfriend lives in his mother's basement into his 40's?? Something is very very wrong. And if your boyfriend wants your help in raping infants? Something is very very wrong, but not only with him, the problem is also with you. Get help. PLEASE.
Next, we have the loverly "This looks good" salad mixes in Germany.... Guys, if you cannot identify it with certainty, don't throw it in my salad. I do have to laugh, though... "Samples were sent to the University of Bonn for testing, which detected more than 2,500 micrograms of poison -- 2,500 times more than the recommended daily allowance -- in 150 grams of salad, German media reported." .... The poison is 2500 times more than the RDA... You give an RDA for cyanide too??? Hmmmmm.....
Then there's the 'If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is' stupidity.... If you have fallen for this scam, then you deserve what you get, sorry. Use your heads, people. It's not hard. Does it make sense? If not, don't do it.
THIS is why I get money from my bank, not the random convenience kiosks. Convenience usually means it costs more...You didn't figure that out with the $2 12 ounce soda you just bought? Silly goose....
Let's give a round of applause for the parents of the year, shall we? I personally think children should be an IQ test item, but that's me. You can go to the first blurb above for my thoughts.

So, it is with great disgust at the imbecility of this nations lower IQ people that I bid you good night (it's only 8PM! OMGWTFBBQ?????).
See you on the flip side, should be with pictures.

Come back to the five & dime....

It's been a LOOOOOOONG time, hasn't it?
I'd apologize, but I've had a really sucky July (S.J) and I would really rather NOT apologize for having such an S.J..... Part of this non-apologetic behavior is because the Alternate Dimension moved me back to the phones. People, I would hope (being friends o'mine--and several have worked the same call-centers I have!) that you would never-ever-never-ever cuss out the person on the other end of the line, no matter what you're calling about. Not kosher.
So work has been part of the SJ.
Another part of the SJ is that I got sick at the alternate dementia, during training, actually.
Yeah, sick.
Middle of the freakin' summer and I get a cold. My seat in training was right under the A/C vent that handles the entire front of the 30K square foot building. I was having 60 degree cold blowing on me for 2 weeks. Tends to lower your resistance, and I don't know about where you work, but things spread like wildfire through the call centers.
So I had an ear infection and laryngitis. On the 3rd week of it, I decided it had gone on too long and went to the dr. They were going to give me prednisone again, and I probably would be ALL BETTER if they had, but I talked them out of it.
If you think I'm crazy now, you should see me on prednisone. I turn insane. Seriously, damaging-ly insane. So they gave me antibiotics and some albuterol (ooooh....legal speed!!!) and I'm (mostly) better now.
But then my insomnia kicked in.
And they started mandatory OT in the alternate dementia...

And they turned down my vacation (it was open when I requested it, and most of the days are still showing open!) but apparently I can't take vacation? WHAT??

I can re-request it, but it may take an act of showing my ass to get it.
I don't want to show my ass over this. I want to have my 5 days off in a row so I can finish my leg tattoo and I want 4 days off so I can spend Sic-un's long weekend with him.

A new job or winning the lottery would be nice, but in this economy, yadda yadda yadda...

In other news, HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY, Whirlbrain! ... I missed it, I'm sorry. I saw your post, and was just too damn tired to say it then, so...

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY! I'm throwing confetti in your general direction.

I miss my nephew. His voice has changed, he's growing up, and all I wanna do is wander around some of the museums with him.

I miss my momma.

I miss (and I never thought I'd EVER say this)...I miss the sand. I miss the dry. I miss seeing stars.... Yeah, stars. Yeah, we have them here, but.... They call them the Smoky Mountains for a reason, you know.... Mist rising from the valleys and over the top of the ridges and you don't see ANYTHING in the sky. You're lucky if the moon shows its face. So I miss the sky, the open-open sky.
I miss driving straight highways. All of ours are loopy.
I miss drying clothes in a dryer and having them still be dry when you take them out that evening, or the next day. I'm tired of drying clothes and leaving them and having them just have to be re-dried because of the humidity levels.

Oooh. Just remembered. Must. Change. A/C. Filter.
I think I'll do that now.
Hold on.
OK. Changed.

Anyway, there's a whole list of things I miss. I even miss the elegant simplicity of my allergies from Russian thistle. There is no Russian thistle here, just kudzu. And junipers. And lots and lots of unknown plants that leave yellow pollen sticky in the humidity over everything.

So I bide my time and I take the bullshit because you have to in order to have a paycheck above minimum wage in this town. The desert chewed me up and spit me out and now its siren song calls me again...

Damn, I'm rather poetic tonight, aren't I?

C'mon lottery....c'mon lottery.....

How I Relax....

...after talking to the ill-tempered sheeple all day....