Hump Day

Let me start off by saying I'm listening to "All Along The Watchtower" - Hendrix version. It's phenomenal.

My feet reek. No joke. When you stand around in leather shoes with synthetic sockies on for about 8 hours, they eventually begin to accumulate a certain scent. Add the amount of dried dairy living in the crevasses....you see where I'm going with this. Yuck, right? Right.

I had toast for breakfast, and came to the decision that I'm really average. It was disappointing.

I lied to a woman named Connie tonight. She invited me to a Mary Kay make-over party (which makes me feel horribly and obviously fugly), and I politely declined, throwing out the bullshit excuse that I had to cover someone's shift at work. With my luck, she'll show up and the scene will look something like this:

Connie: "Where' that lying sack of shit I invited out tonight? I'mma kill her."

Someone I Work With: "Who?"

Connie: (wielding a hunting knife) "Starbucks employees, you will pay!"

Connie then proceeds to savagely murder my work friends, leaving her Mary Kay business cards strewn about for me to find, mafia style, so that I know who is responsible for the carnage.

And scene.

I was going to tell you something important, but I completely forgot what it was. This is happening to me a lot lately, and I'm actually rather concerned about it. I was considering taking vitamins again, but every time I take them, my pee turns green. I don't see how that can be a good thing, you know?

I'm Icelandic; You're Adorable,

FMcG

eggshell white

I'm having a bad life day.

It's just one of those days, you know? Like, I woke up this morning, and I felt okay. I talked to a certain someone I've been interested in lately, but you know what? I'm just not feeling it. I thought I was, but today's conversation just cemented what I've known all along - he's just not the one for me, either. Today, I definitely feel "off".

Like, I'm not exactly sure where I want to go now in May. I was very confident on moving to Victoria, jamming with other writers at UVic....but now I'm not really sure. Ideally, if I want to be a writer, that's where I should go, but I just don't know how I feel about it anymore.

A part of me really wants to be in a bigger city, like Vancouver or Toronto.

People tell me I should wait, that eventually I'll get there. I know they're right, but at the same time, I have cabin fever now. I need to get out. I've been nosing around some other institutions, and I'm liking a few on the coast.

I really want to be near the ocean. That's really my only requirement.

P.S. Happy(?) Remembrance Day.

This is really only for my own personal enjoyment.

....but you can indulge, too.

Hay is for Horses and Heteros.

Blogging Jesus, strike me down.

You know what I do? I work and I sleep. That's about it.

It's not all bad, you know. I work with uh-MAY-zing people. Scotty and E-Dubz, that be a shout out to you, my fair friends. And the shit that happens at work? Epic to the point of painful laughter.

I got hit on yesterday. This would be something less incredible if it weren't for the fact that I was completely oblivious to it until afterwards, at which point I asked my co-worker/good friend Irina if that's what went down.

"Oh yeah, that dude was maaaaad hitting on you. That was almost sad how hardcore he was givin' 'er."

I had no clue! And then I started to feel bad, because I was so indifferent to the conversation he was trying to strike up with me, and I have to give him mad props for attempting to mack on such an obvious bitch. Anyways, I'm sure that he'll be back into the store sometime....apparently he works just down the street and he "loves this place". Direct quote, guys. When he does coming wandering in again, I'll be sure to let him know that "I'm spoken for*, but thanks anyways.".

On second thought...maybe I'll just play along. He wasn't completely unfortunate looking, but (not to sound vain) I'm a little out of his league. It could be fun* to just, you know, have someone adore me from afar and eventually end up following me home one night only to kill and dismember me. Or just have someone like me enough to want to come visit me where I work, even if I don't (want to) know them.

*Complete lies.

P.S. I didn't get to roll with my Halloween tradition. In fact, I didn't get to celebrate Halloween at all. This, however, does not mean that I am not a full-fledged trick 'r' treat looter; I've been scarfing down mini Crispy Crunches since the 30th. I feel WAY fat, and constantly jittery. No surprise there.

No alarms and no surprises

Mmm.

I don't really know what to say. It's 9:00 and I'm headed to bed - I have to be awake at 3:45am to go to work. Time is something I don't have enough of lately. Here I am, Queen of Halloween, and I still don't have a costume. This year just doesn't seem to have dress-up written anywhere on the agenda. Even more bogus than that is that I'm not even going to be able to get around to pumpkin carving. My very great plan was to carve Billy Corgan's face and then Nov. 1, smash it on the streets while laughing at my own cleverness. Sure, I've done that in the past, but this year I was going to spend a whole lot more time on the carving. You know, get the image just right. I mean, it's a fucking tradition, man! My heart is broken.

Maybe I'll just go out and buy "Zeitgeist", then smash that somewhere. It may not have the same meaning, but at least it'll make me feel better. Yeah, that's right; the die-hard Pumpkins fan hates "Zeitgeist". Corgan chases the dollars. Like, let's be honest here, would the Beatles still be the Beatles if only Paul and Ringo were in it? Would it still be the Beatles if they threw in two randoms to replace John and George? No, I don't think so, either. So, why is it cool for Billy to add in some punk-esque nobody to stand-in as D'Arcy, and some other random talent to be the new James? It isn't. Thus, "Zeitgeist" is a shitty album, and I'm eternally angry with my old friend B.C. You can't even really call it a Smashing Pumpkins album; it's more like a Jimmy and Billy project that numbskulls half-liked. My case? Rested, but this is old news anyways.

Thank you, goodnight.

ordinary day

I got caught checking out boobs today.

No joke! She was wearing an extremely low-cut shirt and had huge fake plastic jugs that were literally spilling out of her top. She was either a trophy wife or a porn star. Or both - it's possible. Anywho, I was just glancing, you know, because they kind of caught my attention (read: they were huge), and just as I locked onto them...yeah. I got caught. She didn't say anything; she didn't give me a dirty look. She was completely indifferent. I'm thinkin' she's probably used to it. And, the way I look at it, the titties were crying for attention.

I'm not gay, by the way. Just clarifying.

I've been downloading a buttload of new tunage lately. Sometimes I feel mildly guilty for being a music pirate, but then I just remind myself that I'm neither raping nor pillaging with my piracy, and I feel better.

I'm wearing flannel pyjamas to bed tonight. It's beginning to look a lot like...winter.

apology

My level of neglect is epic recently.

Whatever.

So, happy Thanksgiving. (Americans = confused) I stuffed myself to an embarrassing degree tonight on various festive dishes. I don't do the Thanksgiving thing, so I just invited myself over to my mom's place and made her feed me. She was happy to oblige. At my place, the leftover almond roca from last Christmas has found it's way back to the candy dishes of the coffee table. I'm the perfect hostess.

Tonight I discovered that I do not like Björk even half as much as I thought I did (I'd still procreate with her, though, because our children would be Icelandic and AWESOME). However, I rediscovered that I do now, and always will, have a love for Thom Yorke that is too great to describe. I suppose I could compare it to a magical tiramisu, that you can neither consume nor see, because it's just that awe-inspiring. Makes sense? No? Well, to me it does.

So, what am I thankful for anyways? I'm thankful for 2 for $25 CDs, late university drop dates, and people like you.

I smell like coffee and dead bird.

P.S. I voted. Did you?