Dating my dad...

So my dad is using an online dating service, which is where he met his last girlfriend and which is why I keep hearing that he has plans with "Missy" or "Susan" etc. So I told him that I wanted to see his profile because I wanted to see what he wrote in it. This is like the adult version of the facebook or Myspace. So I was going to try to sign up and search for my dad, but he actually gave me his username and password.

First of all you can only sign up for eharmony as "Man seeking woman" or "Woman seeking man." I'm no lesbian but that even offended me. When I got to my dad's profile I read through his stuff and it was pretty much stuff I already knew, but some of it was funny. First of all, I fixed a bunch of typos (sorry but he's a terrible typist). He didn't have his name capitalized, yet he'd be making witty jokes about string theory. That seemed a little backward.

Then there was: "I must have someone who is willing to explore our sexual desires with passion and understanding."

Now I'm not stupid; I know my dad must have some sort of sex life, but understanding? How kinky is my dad that he needs to advertise to his future partners that they should be understanding? I guess daddy likes it up the butt...

Oh and he also "must have a partner who is considered "very attractive" by most current standards"

Didn't know you were so choosy, though I guess that's where I got my good looks from. I guess the plus side to dating a woman in her fifties is that if she was going to gain that middle-aged weight, she already did!

What was that, nerd?

My cousin is getting married on September 3rd, so all my relatives are in my house taking their vacation time and all that. Yesterday they went to a gourmet dinner and took a limo there in honor of my aunt & uncle's 30th anniversary. It was funny watching the driver try to get the huge thing into our driveway.

Basically, my relatives are only in the house about half the time, and it just so happens to be the half that I'm on the computer. I was on the computer for a few hours in the day yesterday, and then my family went to a 7 hour dinner, during which I was NOT on the computer. Ten minutes before they get home, I get on the computer, and they all make fun of me because they think I've been on it the whole time.

Whateva, fools!

When you're high and the pizza guy gets here, you RUN to answer the door

Yesterday was lovely. Mr. Boyfriend took me to Kirkland and we walked next to the water and watched the sunset (just to clarify, it wasn't a romantic thing, we just happened to be on the water while the sun was setting. holding hands and all that. shut up).

Then we went to my neighborhood and got high in his car. Let me tell you, driving the two blocks to my house was really fucking hard, and I wasn't even driving. So then we went inside and waited for the pizza and thought it would be a good idea to write notes to each other. Here is what happened:

Me: "Being high is like playing my 'game'* because when you're high you often have to explain how you got from one thought to the next."
Boyfriend: "That is so weird... I totally understand that. But then I eventually lose the thought... I'm hungry"
Me: "God you're lame. And a boring note writer. You sound mentally retarded."
Boyfriend: "You are not nice. I was opening my heart and you step on it. Damn you. Heartless wench. I hope you drown in feces. Butt-head."

I decided not to answer him but he thought something he did was funny enough to write down:
Boyfriend: "I did a weird 'Hey' thing. I was trying to be sexy because L12 seemed unattracted to me. So I hit on her with a 'Hey' thing... She won't date me. I tried my best."**
Me: "You sound like Strongbad. TROGDOR!"
Boyfriend: "Strongbad is hot. He likes to cuddle"
Me: "Oh. Cuddling is hot?"
Boyfriend: "Yes it is, L12. Yes it is. 'My God this house is freakin sweet!' I like family Guy. And... I like you. Hello."

At this point I realized that note-writing wouldn't be fun because Mr. Boyfriend is actually mentally retarded. And watching Family Guy when you're high is... confusing.

* My 'game' is a game I came up with when I was with my dad and brother. When you're bored and with some people, you all close your eyes and someone says what to start with. For example, Chair. Then everyone lets their stream of consciousness take them from one thought to the next until the person who said Chair says stop and each person says what their ending thought was. It's funny because people end up with things like "Aladdin" from Chair, and then they can explain how they got there. Don't laugh at me, I'm still cool.

** The REAL story is that Mr. Boyfriend had said something retarded (not unusual, but maybe being high makes me clairvoyant...) and so I pretended to be disgusted with him (not unattracted; much much more than unattracted) and so he leaned over and in a weird voice said "Heyyy... Heyy Heyy.... or something." I laughed because who says "or something" when they're hitting on someone? Well, I do, but who else?!!

It's a liger. It's pretty much my favorite animal

On Saturday night, I went to a Napoleon Dynamite party. Ohhh yes, you heard me. You may think a Napoleon Dynamite party would be a nerd gathering, but we're not nerds. We're too awesome to be nerds. I decided not to dress up as a character, because someone else was being Deb (my side ponytail would be too distracting in all its glory anyway), and there are only a few other female characters. Grandma was taken. So all there was left was Summer and Starla. Now, in all honesty I'd rather be a female body builder than Hillary Duff's sister, but I just don't have the muscle for it. So I went as my alter ego: "girl who wears clashing colors." Red black and yellow!! Oh you know you love it.

So what happens at a Napoleon Dynamite party? Well, there are nachos, steaks, corn dogs, and a delicious bass. And... TOTS. Oh also there were jello shots and donut holes. Those weren't in the movie but I think maybe they should have been.

Fear and loathing in Las Concert

On Wednesday night, I went to see a concert. About 95% of me said "nooo I'm too lazy" but the other 5% said "Leave the house before you die of being indoors with your parents." So I'm not sure how, but the 5% won. I think I was too lazy to tell my friends that I didn't want to go.

Anyway it's amazing how seeing something I never wanted to see could make the night so interesting. The opening band was great. I noticed there was this guy rocking out pretty intense so I figured he was a friend of the band members. But he kept rocking out when the next band came on stage. Maybe I should clarify. By rocking out, I mean he was doing air guitar and air drums, and then bending over and shooting his arms up behind him like a little kid pretending to be an airplane. Oh- and this guy was at least 40 years old. At first I was sort of amused in a somewhat frightened way. Then when the next band came on, and I was in the crowd, he started "dancing" right next to me. I made the mistake of looking him in the eye, at which point he started urging other people to dance like him. After about two minutes everyone had backed away enough that the guy had a huge space to himself for his "dancing."

After a while, the old weird dancing guy ran away and his strangeness was replaced with another type of odd. The singer of the fourth band. He seemed to think that since he was just singing; not playing guitar or piano or whatever, he needed to do something else that might be interesting. Okay, but did he really need to seduce his microphone? He was literally gyrating his hips and looked like he was about to give the mic a blowjob at one point. Then he did the thing where he put a foot up on a stool and bent over a little, making him look like a prime candidate for some male lovin', and sang the sweet soft part of the song to a group of girls in the crowd. I guess he's ready to start his boy band! The funny weird part? Everyone except me and the people I came with loved him.

When that band was finally off the stage, we found what I think might have been the old crazy dancer's brother. Or a relative of some sort at least, because this guy was also insane. Again he was the only 40 year old man in a crowd of mostly high school faux punks, and yes, he was dancing. It was more of a spin around and wave your hands like you're at a hippie festival dancing than an airplane deal. But it was still pretty strange. He eventually cultivated a small space around him as people noticed his strange dancing and stepped away in... admiration. Yeah, that's it.

No rest for the weary. Good thing I ain't weary

After leaving my money-maker job doing my favorite thing imaginable (data entry), my mom took advantage of my free time and need for employment by offering a sturdy $10/hour to do research for a company she wants to start.

Basically, I'm getting paid to read. And the lucky thing is, I'm naturally a slow reader! Good deal, right? The catch is - sometimes I'm not all that keen on learning. It can get rather tedious. Luckily I get to log my own hours and use "company" time to "organize" (clean up) my "office" (bedroom).

The best part is that I don't get to see any of the money (or touch, smell, taste, hear it) because I owe my mom $2,000 so I'm basically working for free to pay that off. At least I'm not pulling weeds. I wonder if she'd pay me to do other stuff. I mean, being paid to read seems sort of strange. I read all the time. Maybe she should pay me to watch TV, too. And listen to music. If I can somehow tie it into research, maybe this could be a sweet deal.

Maybe blog writing too. I think I should clock in.

How to get ass... skeezy ass

After watching only four episodes of Sex and the City, I can already feel myself adopting a Carrie-like voice-over, analyzing everything, and generally just thinking a lot more about getting some ass.

Last night I was with my girl friends out to meet some boy friends and get some booze, and - I'll admit it - I was being a bit of a flirt. I've always been a flirt and always in a good natured, over the top way. But I'm never all that serious about what I say when I'm flirting. I always thought people understood what I meant by my flirting, and never thought too much about being more careful with how I present myself to people.

Then I met her. The girl I never want to be. The girl who suggests we play ten fingers ("I've never ___") so she can lose. The girl who won't shut up about how horny she is, how much she likes sex, and how many strange and exotic positions she's done it in.

The thing is, this girl had everyone's attention and a guy's arm around her. Is it wrong to be... not jealous, but a little beyond annoyed by that? I guess it's not exactly flattering that her behavior might get her enough attention for a one night stand, but at least it got her something.

I may have more peoples' respect, but who needs respect when you could have a good fuck?

I'm not fired, I quit...

With no warning or prior notice, no hints, no discussions beforehand, I was fired from my job. The one that gives me money. And I owe my mom $2,000.

So I think I'm going to have to rent myself out to people. No, not like that (well, maybe). But I have mad skills. Here are some of them:

- I can carry on a conversation for a long time without much participation from the other person.
- I am extremely good at complaining.
- Brown hair? I have it.
- I know how to read.
- I speak English, French, and a little sign language.
- I am not color blind.
- I know a lot (and I mean a lot) about The Sims
- I can write in both print and cursive!
- Am very good at eating food. Entire meals can disappear when you let me loose on them
- Do I Yahoo? No, but I know catch phrases!

That is a small preview of my many talents. Obviously I'm amazing and renting myself out will be an incredibly successful endeavor.

No mom, I want to go on the ferris wheel!

Apparently, Mel Gibson is considering recreating the crucifixion in the streets of Sydney. “Plans include holding the Last Supper at the famous Sydney Opera House ending with the crucifixion of Christ at St. Mary's Cathedral.” Reading this immediately reminded me of other re-enactments, particularly of Civil War battles. While those involved in the re-enactments may very well be incredibly devoted to the events, it strikes me as odd to think of re-enacting Jesus’ death. First of all, it sounds somewhat like a festival, carnival, tourist attraction. If that’s the way the Church is going… much of my already shriveled respect for religious traditions is quickly disappearing. And secondly, the Civil War is an event that is over and people re-enact it acknowledging it as such. While I’m aware that the crucifixion of Jesus is over, it seems that by re-enacting part of the Bible, Christianity becoming ever more concretized and defined, it loses a lot of the universal and eternal appeal that it had before. The climax of the Bible being acknowledged as past and done with – somehow seems a symbol that everything else in the Bible; all the stories, morals, lessons – are also past and done with.

Good thing I’m not religious.

http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/1123448537975_15/?hub=Entertainment

You put the "ooze" in snooze

I think I have a problem, and I’m finally willing to bow down to it and admit it. I make a point of not having vices: I don’t smoke (cigarettes at least), I’m very aware of the fact that my family has a history of alcoholism, I don’t even drink coffee. Sometimes I might be a little too drawn to the Diet Coke, but… today I finally recognized a serious addiction of mine.

The snooze button.

I’ve been late to work several times because of it. This addiction is starting to affect my family, friends, and professional life. I need a support group.

It seems really easy, every night when I set my alarm. “I’ll wake up at 8 and make myself a good breakfast.” Or “I’ll get up a little early and work out before I go to work.” And honestly, I think I’m getting a pretty decent amount of sleep. So why is it that when my alarm goes off, I can’t wake up? Okay, I know it’s normal that most people hit snooze. But I always hit it with the intention of getting up the next time it goes off. Even when I’ve been hitting it for a half hour. This morning, when my snooze button turned off and I only had the option of turning my alarm clock off, I actually reset my alarm for ten minutes later. If I can do something with that much concentration, why can’t I just get up? Because I’m addicted to the snooze button.

Example: a few days ago, my mom woke me up and I had to write her a check. I had to get up, go online to check my balance, write a check, bring it to her. By the time I was finished with all this, I was wide awake, and only had 30 minutes until I would have to wake up anyway. But I went back to sleep. Because I LOVE the fucking snooze button.

And every morning, I look at it and think “Is that really how you spell snooze?”

I cannot stop to pick them up or I would be late. Bye-bye!

As I was blog surfing yesterday, I found a site that I'm just not sure about. It might be a joke, but I sure as hell hope not because it was the most hilarious thing I have seen. Ever. Basically, it's this Asian woman who thinks she is the bomb. You know, the hottie of the year, the woman of the hour, whatever. How do we know? Here are some clues that she gives us:

- "In your life you cannot find one as lovely as me. Men have fainted at the sight of me. I cannot stop to pick them up or I would be late. Bye-Bye!"

- "I SO Sweet!Men, please do not look at this picture unless you are sitting down. I do not want anyone to get hurtso take it easy."

- "I am most beautiful of all. Big of breast and Big Behind, keeping one thing on your man's mind."

I think the funniest part is the stunted English. Sooo funny. Please look:

http://sisterfurongjiejie.blogspot.com/

Feeling a little insane are we?

I must have ADD today or something. As I was driving in my car, I kept thinking about the weirdest things. Here are a couple gems (also known as the ones I remember):

- The cement trucks that have the tops that spin around remind me of frozen yogurt machines
- The homeless guy who's usually at the freeway exit wasn't there today. I thought to myself "Maybe he's at a job interview..." But then I saw him at the other exit. Maybe he found out that people coming from the opposite direction are either more rich or more generous.

At work today I must've said...
- pussy (6 times or more)
- cunt (4 times or more)
- fuck (8 times or more)

All of this probably loud enough for my supervisors and maybe even the customers on the phone to hear. Ahhh yes.

Finders keepers

Okay so I'm looking for cool blogs and I end up finding this one that is really really funny. I know it's on the blogger main page, but I don't care, I'm going to pretend I found it for myself.

http://thecasualfriday.blogspot.com/

Other links I recently added are:

Overeducated Nympho
Overheard in New York

You're welcome.

Peek a boo!

My parents are having the exterior of the house painted. I'm usually gone while the painters are doing their work, but on Sunday (who paints houses on a Sunday?) I was home and they were working. I woke up and took a shower, and while I was taking it, it sounded like someone was knocking on the bathroom door. They didn't say anything though, so I didn't respond. When I turned the water off, I peeked outside the shower curtain and... in my bathroom window was the face of one of the painters.

Well I was sort of surprised and not all that willing to walk out of the shower in my birthday suit for him to see me, so I stayed there for a while just standing and dripping and starting to get cold. It occurred to me that perhaps the painter knew I had been showering. The guy didn't move from the window for quite a while. And he only went up there when I had started showering. I think I stood there for about ten minutes, somewhat on the verge of going "fuck it" and giving the hard-working perv a show, before I snuck my towel in without him seeing, dried off, and scampered into my room when he was looking away.

Interestingly, he stopped painting outside the bathroom window shortly after I left.