Because I'm not going to buy curtains

All right homies, I decided to change the template on my blog. I wish I knew more about computer language so I could make it all special, but... I just don't. What do you think? I'm only trying to please you.

Anyhow, Mr. Boyfriend is in New Jersey on a family vacation for 2 and a half weeks, so I guess I'm just stuck here with my hand. Or a dildo. Or that banana over there looks nice too.

Okay, I'm not that sick. I meant cucumber.

Anyway, nothing that funny has happened to me lately. The only funny thing in my life right now is that I walked into a coffee shop carrying a huge Starbucks cup and got a lot of rude looks. Assholes! Starbucks rules, fuck them!!

A case for diapers

Today's topic: Automatic-flushing toilets.




Why? Because they are bad for you. Now, at my paid job, we have "automatic-flushing" toilets. I use the quotes because they don't add to the comfort or ease of my bathroom activities.

As soon as I take a quick pee and stand up, I just look at the toilet while it doesn't flush. HELLO. It's called AUTOMATIC. So then you have to push the damn button and I think to myself, what's the point?

The point seems to be to prove that toilets have feelings. Just as humans make errors, so do toilets. And just as humans feel guilt... toilets feel guilt and attempt to compensate for their neglectful behavior by flushing 4 times the next time you sit down. While you're sitting. I've caught myself a few times actually saying things to my toilet because I must have hoped that I could reason with it. All to no avail.

So, what's the point of automatic-flushing toilets? Well, who wants to get their hands dirty pushing down on the flusher, right? Who knows whose hands have been on there?!!

Well that just makes me think you don't plan on washing your hands. Gross. Luckily, you don't have to touch peoples' germs at the sink anymore because we now have sinks with hand sensors. They go nicely with our automatic paper towel dispensers:

Now you've made your way through a very dirtifying, personal process in a sterile, very non-personal (and maybe even non-involved) way. The only problem is, if you were really that worried about your hands being clean or just thankful that you didn't have to share germs with that icky person who doesn't wash their hands, please don't feel safe. You are especially going to share germs with the people who don't wash their hands. Here's why:

Trust me. Just don't. Ever. Go.

More contraptions:
Pissing all over the toilet seat??? Not anymore!!!

It may be time to run away...

So, I haven't talked much about Old Bitch, but a lot has been happening with her. If you don't remember, Old Bitch is the woman my grandpa married right before he died. And she's insane. Seriously.

My mom goes to visit her every week or so, and found out that she's supposed to be taking medication for manic depression and schizophrenia. YAY!

She says the craziest shit. I'm not kidding. When my mom went to visit her yesterday, she asked her about the yard, because Old Bitch hadn't been taking care of it. Old Bitch claims that she had people come by to take care of it, and they brought the goat with them to help mow the lawn.

Mom: "The goat?"
Old Bitch: "Yes. You know, like the animal."
Mom: "What would a goat do?"
Old Bitch: "Oh, it helps them!"

Okay? But besides saying weird entertaining things like that, and thinking my grandfather is still alive (she bought two tickets to Greece and wrote him a letter at the hospital...), her strange behavior has become somewhat... sadistic.

The last time my mom visited, she noticed that a picture on the piano had been turned to face the wall. It was a picture of my aunt. When she visited yesterday, my aunt's picture was entirely removed, and another picture was facing the wall. It was a picture of my uncle. But, scarier still, my stepdad went over to look at some of the pictures. One of them was of my mom, her sisters, and their husbands from when they went on a cruise together. Old Bitch had cut the faces of my aunts out of the picture.

This seems like something that would happen in a horror movie. The scary thing is, it doesn't seem like something that would happen at the beginning of a horror movie; more like something from the middle. You know. Right before someone gets murdered.

Charlie and the Evil Factory

I've decided that books and movies like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Harry Potter are hurting mankind. They always start out with something like "Here is the story of an ordinary boy. Something extraordinary happened to them." They make a point of saying that cool things can happen to loser kids.

I didn't realize the hurtful effect it has on society until yesterday. I drank a Dr. Pepper. No big deal. In my drinking pleasure, I looked at the label, which spoke of a 1 in 75 chance of getting a mini cooper convertible! The fact that I think those cars are cute added to my excitement. I went up to the computer, took the trouble of registering for the Dr. Pepper site (which meant giving them my phone # and address! Stalkers.), and only after all this did I discover that no. I hadn't won a car.

Fine. My point is, I don't think I would've expected to get a car until I saw that damn Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie. Charlie gets a winning candy bar in only three tries. There is definitely NOT a 1 in 75 chance of him winning since there are only five bars. But that damn kid won anyway. And Harry? Who the hell just turns into an awesome wizard?

These books and movies are making kids believe they're special when they're not! And it's making us all hope for good things to happen to regular people. And when that doesn't happen, we get even more cynical. I wasn't a bitch before I lost that mini cooper. But now I definitely think the world is out to get me. And I'm definitely a bitch.

Rich Man, Poor Writer

I'm reading a book called Rich Dad, Poor Dad because my stepdad read it and told me he wanted me to read it. I'm a pretty good reader. I've been reading for a long time and it used to be one of my favorite forms of entertainment (my parents didn't let me watch much TV when I was a kid). But I'm having a LOT of trouble with this book.

It's basically about financial literacy, how to invest in things that generate wealth (stocks, etc) rather than trying to work hard to get a pay raise like the average person. Fine. My problem isn't in what the writer is saying; it's how he says it. He basically starts the book as a story of how he started learning about money. But the problem is when he uses language and writing skills meant for a 10 year old reader. I'm not ten years old! Even if I was, I think I could grasp what this guy is saying without him having to repeat things thirty BILLION times. You don't have to drill it into my head; I heard you the first time.

Here is a perfect example. On page 59, the author writes:
"We focus on the word 'literacy' and not 'financial literacy.' What defines something to be an asset, or something to be a liability are not words. In fact, if you really want to be confused, look up the words 'asset' and 'liability' in the dictionary. I know the definition may sound good to a trained accountant, but for the average person it makes no sense."

Now, on page 61 (a mere 2 PAGES LATER) it says:
"The primary cause of financial struggle is simply not knowing the difference between an asset and a liability. The cause of the confusion is found in the definition of the two words. If you want a lesson in confusion, simply look up the words 'asset' and 'liability' in the dictionary.
Now it may make sense to trained accountants, but to the average person, it may as well be written in Mandarin."

Am I going insane? Can I please sue him for making me go insane?!!!

The thing is, he does this ALL THE TIME. Now some people might say, "Well they're just trying to reach a large audience." So? My opinion is, if you're not smart enough to read it once or twice and understand, you don't deserve to find out how to get rich! Seriously!

Pick your poison

You know that thing where you wash your car, you clean your room, you do the dishes, you stop drinking soda, you get off your ass and work out... and you're supposed to feel better about yourself?

And that thing where your car gets dirty again, your room is a mess in about two days, the next time you eat there are more dishes, you eat all the junk food you can get your hands on, and sit there watching TV all day? How is that one supposed to make you feel? Is it a "guilty pleasure" or is it just life?

Well I don't think either one makes me happier than the other. In fact, the only reason I think I'm happier when I'm a "good little girl" is because I know that we're supposed to do those things in order to be better people.

Well I don't know what else to write, so...
You know that Postsecret blog? What secret would you submit if you were going to? (If you got off your ass to do it.. haha) You can post anonymously of course :)

Mine would be:

I should stop taking it as a compliment when people tell me they want to have sex with me

Y'know when you're not sure if someone of the same sex is checking you out? They might be, but you really shouldn't jump to conclusions... but oh, they just looked at you again, for the 400th time in the last. five. minutes. I don't know, maybe there's something to that paranoia.

Paranoia = clairvoyance?

And also: do you take this as a compliment? How about if you're wearing the most hideous clothes in your closet?

Also, I'm not sure if you know this... but... I'm straight. Mostly. Well. Completely, when I'm around lesbians.

Funny thing is, with certain guys, I get just as creeped out when they're checking me out. I feel gross and watched more than admired or flattered. Maybe the wrong kind of guy is the same thing as the lesbian kind of girl.

Why did the rabbit cross the road?

On my way home from work, I was sort of stunned by the sight of a little kid (maybe between 9 and 12 years old) flying by on the sidewalk driving what looked like a miniature motorcycle. I felt like I should swerve out of the way, since the kid was heading the opposite direction of my car and on the wrong side of the road. I couldn't quite figure out what the thing was, but it was definitely powered by a motor. Shouldn't this kid have a license or something to be driving? I know it's not a car, but still... And it was especially funny because usually when I see people outside, I think "good for them, they're outside enjoying the fresh air" but all I could think about was that while the kid was outside, he wasn't riding a bike or on rollerblades or something - he was simply sitting on something. Don't we have enough problems getting kids to exercise with computers, video games, and TV taking over our lives? And now finally when a kid does go outside to play, they're not even doing anything except sitting on a pretend motorcycle. Buy your kid a treadmill, idiots.

On the way to the movies, I was stopped at a light and saw a rabbit start crossing the street while the oncoming traffic approached. I was really sad because it looked like the rabbit was going to meet with a few wheels before it got out of harm's way, but after a few very close calls, the rabbit made it to the other side. The best part was that after a few moments, I realized the rabbit had been crossing exactly where the crosswalk was. Maybe the rabbit was smart after all but just not tall enough to press the button to trigger the crosswalk light.

Please sign here if you'd like to participate...

One of my “things” is that I want to be more outgoing. Y’know. Start things up, talk to people, basically just cause trouble. So at my internship, I suggested that the interns get together and hang out sometime. I don’t think they were too keen on the idea until jello shots were mentioned. We skipped being productive and went to a company barbeque where we all got into a conversation about checking out hotties, aka “window-shopping.” Luckily, a couple of random strangers found this conversation intriguing and we got to meet some rather strange* people who work in our company.

In continuation of the “start things up” theme, at my job-job (the paid one), everyone communicates through email. We use it like an instant messenger service. Officially, we only use it for work purposes, but most people (or at least me) use it to talk to people who are around the corner because we can’t talk during work time (as I found out from my supervisor…). Common topics are: male coworkers wearing g-strings, which of our coworkers are virgins (possibly to remain virgins until death), and the very annoying new hires.

So last weekend me and my work pal (we’ll call her Spodey) organized a party at her friend’s house and five or six work people came. So today I suggested that Spodey and a friend (we’ll call him Mr. Indifferent) have dinner with me after work sometime. Mr. Indifferent did not answer my email.

Now, in this scenario I’ll dub myself Duchess of Wild Assumptions, as I then concluded that Mr. Indifferent hates me and wants me to stop inviting him to do things. I emailed Spodey and she denied it, saying he’s simply a poor correspondent, and then finally she said something to him so I got an email back. Mr. Indifferent had thought that by not responding, he was giving his consent to go to dinner. Since when does not responding mean “That sounds fun”?**

*Why strange? They’re in the technical department. That’s all the justification I need.
** Should I attach a signature to my emails that says RSVP just to be clear?

You can't carry my baby for me, I'm already pregnant

The story of:
How I was pregnant for a day

Actual words: "After work I want to talk to you about something"

From Mr. Boyfriend's perspective: "After work I want to talk to you about getting car insurance"
From his mom's perspective: "After work I want to tell you I got my girlfriend pregnant"

So he goes to work and she freaks out. Here are her facts to back up her point of view:
- A few weeks ago when I was at his house, I felt sick and my stomach hurt
- Since we've been fighting lately, he's been "acting differently" at home
- "Mothers just know"

So she starts freaking out and calls Mr. Boyfriend's older sister and tells her that she thinks I'm pregnant, and Mr. Boyfriend's older sister (we'll call her Phoebe) and her start talking about what should happen. Here is roughly how the conversation went.

Mom: "Well L12 will still want to go to school... and so will Mr. Boyfriend. I could take the baby when it's born and take care of it."
Phoebe: "Yeah and I could carry the baby!"
Mom: "What? You can't do that..."
Phoebe: "Well Phoebe did it for her brother in Friends."
Mom: "This is a little different. The baby is already inside L12, you can't just take it out and put it in you."
Phoebe: "Whatever"

So when his mom finally sees him after work, she's all freaking out to hear what he wanted to talk about and he's like "What? Mom, I just wanted to talk about getting insurance for the car."
"So L12's not pregnant?!"
"WHAT?! NO!"

Return of the demons from hell

In case it matters, the whole deal with Mr. Boyfriend was solved. Acting like a bitch didn't help, not that I really did or anything. But threatening to is pretty close, right? Oh well. I thought I was going to live on the edge for a while, but I thought wrong.

So the last terrible thing my young bratty houseguests did became evident last weekend. They left on Friday and when I went to take a shower, I reached for the shampoo... and there was none. They had been using my bathroom stuff... annoying but I might not have cared if they had the decency to tell me they used the last of it. So I had to get out and get more shampoo. Then I went to grab for the conditioner. Yea, you guessed it. That was also gone. I was very very annoyed.

Make us proud, Nazis!

One of my favorite shows is Grey's Anatomy. I'm not sure why, but I'm pretty much addicted to it - like Desperate Housewives. It's a show about medical interns in a hospital in Seattle. I only caught the tail end of the season though, so as re-runs have been coming out, I've been watching them.. but they stopped showing for a few weeks, so I went to ABC's website to see when the next showing might be. I ran across a message board and out of curiosity, I read some of the posts.

One of the subjects is called "Really Racist Show" and basically criticizes the show for a comment a character made about the education system in Mexico. I believe the line was: "Where'd you go to med school; in Mexico?" I thought it was interesting because my bet is a lot of medical interns would make the same joke - and it's not as if racist or sexist jokes aren't popular even if they're not considered politically correct.

What really irritated me though was that the response to the person's comment was incredibly racist. The initial commentor was a medical student in Mexico, and felt offended by the show's comment, and the people replying basically called Mexicans poor and seemed to understand Latinos only under the context of Latin gang members in bad San Diego neighborhoods. Not every Mexican is a Latino gang member just because that's where you see them.

One person said that "most" of the several million Latin Americans "don't even understand English", when English is today considered the language of diplomacy, the most common second language, and is spoken by 1/4 to 1/3 of the world.

Americans are really, REALLY full of themselves.

Here is the forum link if anyone's interested:
http://forums.go.com/abc/thread?threadID=460226&forumStart=0

Victory is mine!

I'm rich! Today is a day of money. I found out that we get monthly bonuses, and that my first paycheck didn't include 8 hours of pay. That means I get lots of extra money!!

AND...

About a week and a half ago, everyone on my team at work was told that they could win $50 by submitting ideas for a contest for our sales team. Of course, $50 is a lot of money for a college student, and I practically invented contests... so I wrote in an idea. I was pretty confident because I had used bulleted lists and WordArt to impress the boss, but when I didn't hear back that week, I figured hope was lost.

Luckily, the WordArt had done the trick, and I found out today that I won!! What now, bitch! I just got $50 for my thinking skills. This college business is paying off.

The funny part is that the prizes in the idea that I sent in are way cooler (like season tickets for sports teams or a trip to Vegas) and here I am getting excited over a $50 gift certificate.

Do not follow my example

Let me just tell you that I learned something new today. One should NOT attempt to cut an apple with a plastic knife. I don't think I can make myself sound any smarter by explaining why I did it, because no excuse would pardon that stupid, stupid idea.

Now. I was thinking about this. Me and my friends were talking about the whole "fight or flight" instinct. And while I was driving, I thought: maybe the animals that are road kill are just the animals with the "fight" instinct who didn't realize that they couldn't beat the car. Now doesn't that just make road kill seem brave?

So I'm mad at Mr. Boyfriend. You know how you spend a whole relationship dealing with situations in a certain way? My way of dealing with things is to solve them, talk about them, figure out what's wrong. Well apparently I'm going to try something called "be a bitch" this time. Because I don't do that, so I want to see if maybe that'll work. So far... it's not working. But he doesn't know that I started yet. Mmm, isn't this just spicier than a jalapeno?

Look, we don't call me an idiot for no reason

Well well well. The Fourth Of July.

Did you know that the sheriff wears brown? I do, now.

About 15 minutes after I arrived at a Fourth of July party, two officers came down and found 4 kegs and 10 or so cases of beer that the party hosts had hidden in the bushes. Also, a box full of bottles of liquor. Apparently that's not allowed.

None of the 15 or so people there are over 21... And one of the people planning the party was cuffed because he had a concealed handgun that was stolen. So... then we all had to pour the ten cases of beer out onto the fire. It smelled horrible... and it looked pretty funny. The problem was, it was getting dark and we had to lug everything up a steep hill. It was also muddy. Good deal.

Well, after dealing with the police for about 2 or so hours, they asked us all for our names, date of birth, and home phone number. So here I'm thinking... crap. Are we in serious trouble?

So I flashed the officer some tit and he said we weren't getting MIPs.

Seriously.

Perhaps I should clarify. By tit I mean questions and by flashed I mean asked.

It's okay because I'm not big on the "outdoors." I would be big on the outdoors if it didn't get you dirty and there weren't any bugs outside. So in essence, I mean that I would be big on the outdoors if they were inside. Which is funny, because there are tons of bugs inside. And that's why I get so upset when I see them indoors - because they don't belong there. This is my safe zone.

Oh so for the 4th of July I went over to an indoor place and got really drunk. I came home at around 4am, and woke up at around 8am and had to rush to work. Now, having not drank any water or eaten anything, I believe I was still a little tipsy on my way to work. And when I got to work, too. How do I know? Because I was nice to the guy on the elevator.

Usually when you're on an elevator with other people, it's pretty damn awkward. You don't know them, they don't know you, yet you feel like you should. I mean, you're in the same building, so you must have something in common. You could probably talk with this person for quite a while if you were both really cool. And not standing in a freaking elevator.

The other problem is that usually when I'm in an awkward situation where I want to look busy, I'll pull out my cell phone. But when you're in an elevator, that doesn't work because you can't get a signal on an elevator. What's really cool is that one time I actually pulled my cell phone out as if I was going to make a call, and then realized I couldn't, but I couldn't just put my cell phone away because then they would know how dumb I had been. Oh but what could I pretend to do on my cell phone by keeping it out? ... prepare to make a call? Not really.

Next time I get in an elevator, I'm going to sing a rap song really loud and see what they do.

... I hope the next time I get on the elevator no one's in there with me...

Introducing: Old Bitch

I'm going to tell you about someone I'd like to call "Old Bitch." While her name may not give away how I know her, I hope it helps define other things about her. Like her age, and her species. Well, after my grandma died when I was five, my grandpa met Old Bitch. My grandpa was sick and Old Bitch took care of him when he had strokes and cancer, etc. I appreciate that. But that's the extent of her good qualities. (Maybe that shouldn't be plural).

No one in my family likes Old Bitch. They may say they do, but all that means is that they don't hate her so much that they want to rip out her pug-like face and bury it in the backyard.

Why do we hate Old Bitch? Because she is not a person. She thinks she's awesome and cool and that we like her, but she goes around telling people what to do (as if she has any authority) and what she does (as if she did anything). For example, she will probably spend about 30 minutes dwelling on the chicken that she ate yesterday for lunch. What was on it, Old Bitch? Was it dry? Oh - I'm sorry, I don't care.

Here is an example of the way she interacts with out family. For the wedding in Hawaii, my cousin walked over to the cooler to grab a beer and Old Bitch says "Okay, that's your last one."

... It was his first beer. Hmm...

Well grandpa married Old Bitch and when he died, she became the executor of the estate. Yea. Did I mention that she's bipolar? Right. So Old Bitch, who's in charge of all the things my grandpa left behind, is absolutely insane.

Do you think I'm kidding?

She wrote a letter to family friends in Texas telling them that their sympathy card was appreciated but unnecessary, as grandpa had been revived in the funeral home. Yea. She thinks he came back to life. Yea she also called his medical insurance company to tell them he needed his insurance back because he was revived. Hmm.

So if we were able to prove that Old Bitch was unable to handle the estate, my mom would be next in line as the executor. Sweet, right? Well...

My mom has this belief in special things. Intuition? Oh, she's got it for sure. She'll always just get this smile and say "I just know it's going to happen." When she gets home, she'll say "I knew there wouldn't be much traffic." Okay Mom. But what's always hilarious is when she's wrong. We needed to get gas in Hawaii and we took an exit off the highway without knowing where the gas station was. My mom says "I can sense that it's on the right. I just know it." So we turn right... and there isn't a gas station. Funny thing is, she later says "well I figured if you kept driving, there would EVENTUALLY be a gas station..." So you felt it? Yea... well I feel that the red light here is going to turn green. Y'know. Eventually.

So my mom met with Old Bitch on Saturday. I figured she was bringing an attorney or something. Ho, no. Mom comes home and I ask what happened and she says "It's going to be ok" and just nods.

Me: "Why? How do you know?"
Mom: "I can just tell. She's going to do the right thing."
Me: "The right thing? What's that?"
Mom: "Follow through with what the will says."
Me: "OK, but how do you KNOW? Did you ask her? Did you talk about it?"
Mom: "No. I just know."

Yea OK, Mrs. Gas Station. It wouldn't surprise me too much if next time she comes back saying "But I talked to Old Bitch and it turns out grandpa WAS revived!"

Don't shower on my parade. Or my clean clothes, either

Let me tell you a little story about responsibility.

I'll start by admitting that I'm not always all that responsible. For example, I've been meaning to clean my car for weeks, and to change the oil and get a service check for months.

But that sort of stuff is understandable.

What I don't understand is the following:

My mom is having her friend B-Dawg* and two 13-year old girls stay as guests in our home for a few days. Fine. Of course, my bathroom is the unofficial place that EVERY SINGLE GUEST uses to take their showers and do their dirty bathroom things. Why? I'm not really sure, since we have a full guest bathroom. And I really don't think I put out the whole "welcoming" vibe. Whatever.

So I wake up this morning to find that one of my "responsible" acts has been trampled upon. Yesterday I washed my clothes. I hang dry a bunch of my clothes so they won't shrink, so I hung them on my shower rod. When I went to the bathroom this morning I noticed that the two 13 year olds had hung their used towels on my towel rack and so I deduced that they had taken a shower.

Did they move my clothes off the shower rod? No. Did my clothes get wet from the shower? Yes they did.

I'll admit I made a mistake here. I began by talking about "responsibility" when in fact, this here is an example of "common sense." I apologize.



* This is a fabricated name... my mom isn't cool enough to have friends whose names end with "dawg"

Young at liver

All right, I'm going to be honest.

I'm a fucking bitch.

Now, let me tell a story about last weekend. My mom became 17 years old in the span of one hour. Pretty weird, right?

Here are some quick facts.

Michelle: Mom's best friend (recently diagnosed with breast cancer)
Dennis: Michelle's husband and designated drink maker

To the story!

I get home from work to find that everyone is at our house. This means all of my mom's best friends and her 3 sisters are there. Her husband (my stepdad) is gone. The alcohol is out. Dennis puts a cosmopolitan in everyone's hands (including mine, SWEET!) and refills incessantly. I've had half a drink when all of a sudden I look over to see my mom absolutely hysterical, crying to Dennis about the breast cancer deal. Whatever, she's tipsy and there are things to get sad about, right?

Mmm dinner is served! As soon as my mom sets down her plate, she walks away and apparently goes up to her bathroom to throw up... too much drinking, mom?

I go up to check on her after I finish my plate and she's sitting there with Dennis trying to comfort her, crying like a sorority girl. I ask if everything's okay and she starts bawling and makes me sit on her lap and hugs me and breathes her puke-breath onto my face. And Dennis leaves to get her water and she keeps asking me if she's a good mom, etc. I'm like 'WHOA calm down.'

When Michelle came upstairs, here are a few bits of conversation that made me realize that this whole being drunk and stupid thing? It's not just for young people. This is as mature as we get.

Mom: "I feel like I'm out of control, I'm the only one who's drunk and everyone else is fine"
Michelle: "Honey you're fine! Everyone's drunk!"

Mom: "I don't know why I had to throw up; I didn't even drink that much!"
Michelle: "You know you can't mix your alcohol! You had wine before you drank your cosmos"
Mom: "But I didn't even drink that much! This is so embarrassing..."

Michelle: "Drink some water, you'll feel better"

---

It was the best time I've ever spent with my family. When my mom came downstairs, they turned the music way up and started doing the can-can and pretending they could break-dance. It was hilarious. And I have pictures to prove it.