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?

pathetic

Okay, so I have a cold.

This is not the worst thing that could happen, however, I do hate getting sick. Especially now that I've started a new job at you-know-where. I am a complete man-baby when I get sick. I refuse to even attempt to function. Leave me alone...I'll be in the bitchcave.

I'm Miss Procrastination because of this slight illness, and I've yet to even start on this new project. I did make a cover page, though, so that makes me feel less like a loser. It's just that I still don't have my laptop back, and whenever I want to work on it I have to drive all the way to my office. And, my friends, I don't like doing that because gas is expensive as fuck. It's getting cheaper recently, which is a breath of fresh air. There for a while, I actually considered turfing the bitchmobile and replacing her with one of those sweet bikes with a basket on the front. But, then I remembered that I'm really lazy and I'd probably just end up having to bum rides off of people and regret selling my car. I am going to probably release the sunbird back into the wild when I move again. In a big city, cars are really just troublesome. Nowhere to park, traffic jams, etc. That's when I can finally make good use of a bus pass and a bicycle. Okay, probably just a bus pass. Plus, I look totally eco-friendly without a car.

Alright, Tootsie-cat and I are going back to bed now.

guess what....

Fuck yeah: I'm gonna vote.

I've never voted before, and then I got it in my head that, as a woman, I should take advantage of what ladies before me fought for. So, I'm going to make an educated decision, and then I'm going to put that decision in a box. Yeehaw!

Hey, I have a to-do list longer than my left arm. It's very discouraging.

And I'm also feeling the effects of a weak immune system. Sigh.

coffee and cigarettes

Just when you think things can't get worse, they get....better?

Okay, so that's not usually what happens, but I'm hyper-pleased to announce that I'm actually having decent days as of late. Hey, guess what? I'll make you a cup of coffee and tell you to have a good day, because I now work at you-know-where. I like when something good comes shining out of a garbage heap of a situation. I can't guarantee that grinding beans and blending ice will make me a happier person, but it's a start. It's something that I wanted, and for once, I actually got it.

Oh haaaay, guess wut? I'm back in the screenwriting saddle. With spurs this time. Yessir, I got creative the other night. I'm placing the blame on warm spinach and feta dip, and on my beautiful film-maker amiga, Emily. We consume food together and we get to throwin' ideas around like insults at a high school football game. I'm a lame-ass, so I'm not really at liberty to say what this offering will be about, but I will say this much: prepare to be AMAZED. Like, David Copperfield live in Vegas amazed. Like, I just ate my own head amazed. (!!!)

Dangerous, that girl is so dangerous, that girl is a baaaad giiiiiirl.

Yes.

lessons.

I'm right back where I started.

I have advice for those of you already wise enough to heed the warnings of those more experienced than you, and it is this: always know what you're getting yourself into before you dive into it. Otherwise, you'll end up in my situation, and trust me: you won't like it.

Sigh. Did I mention that the Futureshop guy had to send my computer across the continent? Code purple, kiddos. You know what that means? It means they don't know what the fuck is wrong with it. Francesco, the heavy set Italian Futureshop computer wonderkin, figures something is fried on the mother board. I'll have to take his word for it.

It's okay; public computers have a sexy danger about them that I'm getting rather used to.