Sunday, February 26, 2006

I HAVE MOVED

Yes, I've moved. I've been looking for something with a few more options than blogger has been providing lately. Namely the ability to keep some posts private and to catagorize posts. So here's my new home:

http://battybeyond.wordpress.com


So go ahead, alert the media, update your bookmarks, celebrate in any way you see fit.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Dear food: go to hell.

So, I had a kiwi for breakfast. I made real breakfast at like 9am, like oatmeal and stuff, sat down to eat it, and forgot about it. I dont know if that's ADD or just advanced apathy for food. About an hr later, I was thinking to myself... damn. Why am I so hungry? Then I remembered... oh yeah. My food was sitting on the coffee table while I was at the gym, expending callories I had not consumed.

James brought the remainder of his rye bread, so I ate a chunk of that, and just kinda kept drinking water and hoped for the best.

I brought a frozen dinner for lunch (haha) and ate that and a salad I had mercifully forgotten to eat yesterday (notice this food amnesia pattern?) and a handful of candy. That was about 4:30. I'm a little pekish now. By a little, I mean go out and kill a buffalo with my bare hands and eat it raw.

Oh well. I'll just drink more water until I forget I'm hungry and wake up at like 6am ready to gnaw my own leg off.

Keep Your Winky Warm

Yesterday morning I woke up to a lovely little tale on the radio about how early in the morning, a man had walked into a local conveniance store and asked the clerk if he could heat something up. The clerk gave him permission, and the man began looking at a few items in the store. Shortly thereafter, the clerk thought the contents of the microwave smelled funny. So he opened it. Lo and Behold, wrapped in a napkin was a human penis.

The police were called, the man ran off... the whole thing was on the air shortly thereafter. Left a lot of folks scratching their heads, wondering where the penis came from and what kind of sickness had lead to a man putting it in the microwave?

Turns out that it was a fake penis full of urine.

Not a tough job to fill in the blanks. We all know the story about the guy who takes the drug test and gets called in by the potential employer. He asks if he got the job. The boss says no, but you're pregnant. Yes, there's a black market for drug-free urine.

It's been possible to buy dehydrated urine on the internet for quite a while. Employers doing drug screening became wise to this, and several have made it mandatory to take a urine test in front of someone, so as to ensure that said urine came out of said individual. Shortly after this new trick, it became possible to buy artificial genitalia that not only looked like the real thing, but also had bags attached capable of holding the rehydrated wiz.

So obviously this guy had a job interview/drug test and needed to come up clean when obviously that wasn't his actual state of being and obtained said fake soldier. He reconstituted the stuff, but being the drugged out bum that he is, didn't think to use hot water. Which won't do, because if your aparently real genitals pee luke warm water, either your game is up, or they're going to rush you to the hospital. So he tried to nuke it. In a conveniance store/in public. That isn't so wrong, is it? To want warm internet-wiz?

Of course. That isn't the only explination. I mean, it was very early morning, I can't imagine having an interview or drug test that early, or being silly enough to think your nuked pee would stay warm until the place opened for business for the day. I mean... that's just a way-crazy chain of events, you know??

It's just easier to take the simplest rout. Isn't it just possible that, it being so early in the morning, the guy just wanted a nice steaming cup of piss?

Friday, February 24, 2006

See, I'm loveable, bitches.

Your Candy Heart Says "Hug Me"

A total sweetheart, you always have a lot of love to give out.
Your heart is open to where ever love takes you!

Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a surprise romantic evening that you've planned out

Your flirting style: lots of listening and talking

What turns you off: fighting and conflict

Why you're hot: you're fearless about falling in love

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Who are any of us?

Many of us spend a good portion of our lives comparing ourselves to others, comparing how we see ourselves to how others must surely see us, comparing their reactions of our actions to the intentions of our actions. Usually we fall short in our own eyes of our expectations of ourselves. We can expect less from others, but from ourselves... well, we just KNOW better.

We know who we want to be--nicer, kinder, smarter, faster... a bunch of qualified adjectives that we'll never live up to. If I'm kinder today than I was yesterday, I'm still less kind than I could be. I'm still less kind than that guy over there, and if I become kinder, there's still some theoretical person out there who is kinder than I am. I am inadequate.

I think even for the bravado of the arrogent bastard sitting in the cubicle next to you that you'd like to run through the hand-cracked wringer on your grandmother's oldfashioned open-basin Maytag washing machine, he's still unsure of himself. He still senses he's less than he could or should be.

Are we who we should be? Who is that? Is that the person we long to be, or fear to be? Is it the person tied down by hurt or anger or our past that we see when we look in the mirror? Is it the happier, freer person we were in our childhood, that brief blink of an eye before the world's troubles piled up on us.... maybe when we were four or five? They say that children are wise; there is often a certain simple depth to the things they spout so freely. Perhaps that is the pinical of our being. We may grow smarter, but are we ever truely wiser? We may grow up and older, but are we growing, if we gradually stoop under the weight of the world?

Life weighs us down. It gives us the opportunities and tools to become who we should be. It also gives us our greatest obsticals. And even if we come out on the other side, what of all the places we paused in between? The people we've hurt, the relationships we've convoluted.

We were sitting in a funeral service today. A small room had been set up with a podium, some flowers and photos. The service had spilled out of the small room and into the larger ajoining rooms, and there were people standing to the sides. The mother of the deceased kept rather composed as she spoke of her son. I hadn't know him; he'd been a supervisor of James at work. Friends and family shared memories of his humor and cheer, his good will and intentions, his woodworking and how he enjoyed simple pleasures like drinking coffee on his porch in the morning, and I tried to remember if this was the supervisor James always complained about, or the one he liked. Funerals are for the living, you see, and even if he'd been totally reprehensable, we'd have gone out of respect for a mother who had outlived her son. Inconsequently, I remembered much later that it wasn't the one that he complained about, though I still can't seem to recall his exact feelings on the matter.

A friend of the deceased spoke, and even though they were just friends, I could tell they really were two connected souls just from what she said. I did become a bit sad for the missed opportunity--the fellow had had two previous failed marriages, and probably hadn't even known that this girl was 'the one' when he took his own life. Depression clouds over many things, our perception of the world, our perception of the world's perception of us. Our own vision of who we think we are and how we measure up. But that's another post for another time.

I've been to funerals for family members my fair share of times. I remember the stifiling warmth, the low voices, the sad smiles and the chuckled-over tales. Most are the "highlights" of the person's life. Others are low-lights that are now humerous anticdotes. All of our twisted relationship baggage to that long-gone situation is released, at least for that moment. Character flaws that annoyed us to no end just last week are suddenly exhaulted strengths, or personality quirks to be smiled at fondly. It can be jading when you think back to how your mother has bitched for years about so-and-so's habit of doing such-and-such, and how she saw it as being spiteful or interpreted it as a personal attack, but suddenly that person is now a saint!

The deceased left a lengthy note, part of which stated that he felt that there was no love in his life. Sitting in the overflowing rooms, I got a sense that he didn't percieve his life as it actually was. Perhaps those stories laundered by time and distance are the reality of our life. Perhaps there is something deep within us that we're capable of recognising in each other, something that lets us see past flaws and agonies, no matter how deep the gordge or the scars they've left.

The comforting stories, the good character traits, the positive spin on the less-than-ideal traits, that may be the real us. Not us who we were, deep down, but who we meant to be, who we were meant to be, and the potential that others saw within us.

It's a shame we need distance and death to help us remember what we saw in those times when we glanced, out of the corner of our eye, each other's souls.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

ACLU Seeks Apology From NASCAR, Daytona 500 Winner

AP (Florida) In a press conference today, a spokesperson for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) asked for an apology both from NASCAR and race car driver Jimmie Johnson. After winning the prestigious Daytona 500 race, Jimmie Johnson declared from the winners' podium that "this is for all the hater."

ACLU representatives maintain that the use of the term "haters" is a serious abuse of the urban vocabulary and is "found to be particularly insulting coming from a southern white male involved in a sport enjoyed primarily by rednecks and Caucasian minivan-driving suburbanites."

NASCAR executives released a statement early Tuesday night, declaring that at the time of Jimmie Johnson's podium announcement, the term "hater" was not under copyright. NASCAR has since begun work to secure the rights to the term, thus eliminating any future problems that may arise by the use of the term "hater."

Representatives for Mr. Johnson and Lowes Racing have stated that they were unaware of any efforts to copyright the term by NASCAR, Inc. In a separate statement issued early Wednesday morning, Mr. Johnson regretted any confusion or inconvenience the use of a word thought to be "an obvious urban expression," but states that "people who pee off their front porch have just as much right to any word listed in the New Oxford English Dictionary as anybody else, including people who deal drugs from theirs. 'Course, it'll be moot if NASCAR owns the word, then, now won't it?"

Attempts to contact the ACLU for a reaction to these comments have been, at the time of this printing, unsuccessful.

To Joel Late': Remedes for the Flu

Dude, you got offline before I could tell ya...

Minty stuff seems to help tummy problems. Gingeraile with mint is aces. No milk, no caffine, plenty of fluids... herbal tea is helpful...

I also absolutely swear by Airborn. It's that herbal stuff you drop in the water, it fizzes and you drink it... $5 a bottle, but I SWEAR... if I take that as I get sick and while I'm sick, I am not AS sick or as long.

I had to buy the plebian underpants

yes, the time came, I had to start replacing the cute underpants because aparently they only have a half-life of about two years, and my underpants have long-since reached their half-life.

Yeah. I know. Where the hell would I be without womens' magazines telling me when my underpants are expired?

Not the point. The point is... I paid like $18 a pair for those underpants and they were cute, damnit. So when they got all snaggly and such half-lifed, I found myself to be in a position of having to replace my underpants. Only, I don't want to spend $18 on underpants any more. Well, I do. I want $18 underpants. I want their soft softness to caress my tushy as I get anally raped by various individuals throughout the course of my day. But I'm married and in school now, and while $18 underpants would be yummy, they're a bit out of my price range.

So I *gulp* marched myself towards my doom down the center aisle of Walmart, into the socks and underpants section and belabored picking out a pack of Hanes slouch socks that I felt would keep my ankles moderately warm when I'm outside jogging so slowly a slug could pass me by in the thin disparagingly cold air and slipping on the un-shoveled walks in the dead of winter. Warm ankles are important in these circumstances. Especially when you're ass is freezing cold from slapping the pavement at 43 mph (terminal velocity for an ass dropping from ass-height to the ground in the middle of winter as my legs fly out from under me).

Ahh yes, my ass.

And instead of being caressed by the $18 underpants, they will henceforth be cushioned three days a week by cotton tighty whities (actually I bought the cute pinky ones, which cost me like a whole extra buck--bastards) from the nice people at Hanes who make afordable underpants for the masses and their cold asses.

I hope they're soft. Like jersey sheets are. They're not silk sheets, but they're their own type of squishy. And then I can pretend they're $18 underpants.

*WAAAA*

I miss my elitist underwear already!

Monday, February 20, 2006

I've got the gunk. Or possibly the plague.

I'm going to choose to think I had no umf today because I got up at least two hours early every day last week, and four hours early yesterday. I meant to exercise, really. But sleeping in and the couch were so good. And it aint even a c omfy couch. I watched an enjoyable movie today too. "Something The Lord Made," I think it was called. Alan Rickman and Mos Def. Everybody likes Mos Def, right? Cuz that's a cool name.

So, hopefully I'm just tired and not getting the gunk again.

Mmm... Nothing else to report now, I don't think. Well, stuff happened, but I'm kinda too tired and scatterbrained to think of anything coherant to say.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Tony Stewart, are you on drugs?

I just watched Tony Stewart screw a driver for the fifth or sixth time today. This is the first race of the season, and he won the cup last year, and now he just looks like shit. The nice thing about NASCAR is that it's much more gentlemanly than other sports. Nothing like basketball players running into the stands to beat on people. If you even swear on the radio you get penalied. No one rushing the mound, no one cracking anyone else over the hands intentionally with a hockey stick. Some folks ding each other and act stupid, they get in trouble. And so far Tony's gotten his knuckles rapped a few times. Unfortunately everyone who retaliates gets thunked on the head with the ruler. Like, da hell, man? Tony was an ass in 2003 to everyone when he won, and last year he really did seem to be better. Now he's back to assitude. Dude, if you're a bad monkey, apologize. Say he's sorry, it was my fault, bla bla bla.


Ook, the race is over... Tony Stewart is back to being an ass in my book. The whole 'he started it, but I finished it" with the arrogent little smirk. Oh shut up. I was almost ready to stop hating him, because really he IS a good driver. But really. We can all do without the attitude and the "dick" element. Geeze.

They do love me.

James and Full-bodied Joel replaced the battery on my laptop. Not sure which one I should kiss. Of course, I'll be all YAAY!!! at being mobile again until I see the bill. Wonder where the old battery is. I want the stupid little foot off of it. This laptop has been missing a foot since like the first week we had it. Anyways, sweetness shall reign once more in my life as mobility is returned. New HD, new battery... now all I need to do is get a magic marker out and write in all the letters that're missing. Most are mostly gone or are completely gone. Q, T, Y, U, P, G, J, Z, X and V are the only ones completely there. E, I, A, S, D, F, H, L, C and N are completely gone. W, O K, B and M are getting there. Nothing a magic marker can't cure. It bugs James of course. He can't see to peck. But I still lerb him, even if he cant' type without looking. Anyways, my spine is sad. So I'm going to go to sleep.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

NASCAR Sunday Sunday Sunday!

I have a feeling I'm going to fall asleep five minutes after Daytona starts tomorrow. I've gotten up uber early every day this week, including today, and I'm just completely pooped out. Then I gotta get up like really fricking early for church tomorrow. And it's not even like *shaking fists* You'd better appreciate how freaking early I got up today, God! No. It's more like... *shaking fists* You'd better appreciate how early I got up today, Choir Director!

Which is a shame. Because I bought chicken strips and everything.

Mmm. Chicken.

[completely haven't had my ADD meds today, can't you tell?]

Some of the folks I went to high school with have little kids, and I see their chubby little faces sticking out of carts at the grocery store, and my first reaction is awwwwww.... My second is... y'know, ya aint getting any younger... the third is... HOLY CRAP. I COULD NEVER HANDLE KIDS!!! I COULD NEVER HANDLE BEING EVEN MORE TIRED THAN I AM NOW!!! (Yes, yes, we do what we need to when the time comes, survival instinct is necessary for the perpetuation of the speciec, bla bla bla, but never say that to a tired woman).

Of course... I have a similar reaction when I see the kitties that live in the house at the end of the street. They have two identical white/tan cats, a grey cat, a black and white cat, and a tan cat... at least two dogs... every day when I drive by there's usually at least one in the window. If there is, I know it's gunna be a good day. Find a penny, pick it up. And if there's two in the window, that's really special. Sometimes, I'll drive by and there's one sitting up, another laying down, and a third with it's head on the second one's butt. It's picturesque and stuff.

[I'd like to take this opportunity to say... MY LITTLE PONY AND ME!!!!!!!--need my meds]

I saw the one that's white and black today, he's so thin and little. I don't know if he's a kitten, or just petite, and I thought awww... I want an animal soooo bad. Why do I want one? That's like... more work. And I always try to check my desire to want things for the sake of wanting them... and I decided, it's not like wanting a bigger shinier TV, it's like... wanting more love in the home. And kitties give love. And then I was like... wait... that's what kids're for.

And then I paniced again. OH MY GOD, I CAN'T HANDLE A KID! I want a cat because I can't handle a kid! I'm so selfish, I just wanna have my own life, and not worry about someone else all the time... I'm such a horrible person for only wanting to do what I want to do all the time! I can't have my time interrupted from now until someone's 18, and never have a quiet moment ever again! I can't handle getting up early and getting grocery shopping done, and getting my chores done and working. I can't imagine being responsible for someone and working. And the cost of childcare! Oh god, I'll be one of those people that puts my kid in daycare and doesn't see them 12 hrs a day, then they're sleeping for 8, and I'm spending an hour in the morning and at night fighting with them to get dressed and get bathed and put their toys away... Holy crap, my job would NEVER be understanding if I had to take off because a kid was sick... shit, I don't even know how they'd feel about maternity leave. I can't afford maternity leave! I can't work and have someone who needs all kinds of taking care of and SUPERVISION!!! And will just keep wanting STUFF, and whining and crying all the time when I have a headache!! OH MY GOD. 18 years of WHINING while I have a headache!! Constant misary! That's hell! I don't care about that 'love they have to give,' shit! What about the heartache, and the not listening to me, and going off and ruining their lives with some guy who can't even hack community college...

All of this was going on in the half block from the kitty house to the stop sign closer to my end of the street. I stopped and made myself take a deep breath. I'm tired, because I am working full time and going to school. School won't last forever. It feels like it, but it won't. And I'll eventually get a full night's sleep. Eventually.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Do not adjust the dial. It's really purple.


A post all about my hair--and my hair is worthy of a post or two. I finally broke down and dyed it. It's actually more of a dark purple with a lot of blue under it, which you really can't see too well under the lights here. Posted by Picasa

Don't say I never gave ya nuffin.


Ok, so there're now a few pictures of me on the internet. It looks better when I iron it out straight and put gook in it so it doesn' t lay so flat on top. Alas. Posted by Picasa

Holy crap, it's my nana! Posted by Picasa

It's true. So true.









Dick Cheney should run for president. "If he's willing to shoot his friends, think of what he'd do to Al Queda!"

Ok, so you can tell I haven't taken my antidepressants today.

This is just a thought...

The size of the average American has gone up significantly in the last thirty to fifty years.


The size of the ideal American has gone down significantly in the last thirty to fifty years.

What amazing dissonance. In either case, what are we hiding fromo within ourselves? What are we trying to sate, appease or ignore? The self-loathing contained within the boarders of this country is almost palatable.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

My little meat stick

My Little Pony,
you'd make great balogni
to eat with my Rice-a-roni.
My Little Pony.

And me.