Gamgam's not a whore.

We survived Texas. We survived family. We survived eating nothing but Sonic Burger and Waffle House for 8 days. Stewart's Grandma thinks neither his brother-in-law nor I am good enough for her babies (What a grammatically awkward sentence that was). I has to go to the eastern Texas Ren Fair, a scene that I am not into. Beer was more expensive per bottle than DISNEYWORLD, the price gouge capital of the US. We drove a half day on our first day back so we could visit with family. Due to traffic and weather, we had to drive straight through from Texarkana to home. There were torrential downpours the whole time. I-40E in Tennessee had 11 car accidents between memphis and knoxville. When we got onto 84 in New York, we passed a bus that was missing the front end. It was full of hasidic Jews. Thanksgiving was good.

Stewart: We could go get Discount Chinese.

Me: Why would we get discount Chinese? I don't believe in Discount Chinese food. [insert series of reasons why discount Chinese food is bad idea]

Stewart (interrupting): Well it's right down by the SPCA.

Me: Why do we need to go to the... That's really fucked up.

Stewart: Yeah, but their meat is always so tender....

s: What is Jezebel?

e:It's like TheSuperficial and Feministing had a baby.

s:What is feministing? Sounds like a really lewd porn act...

e: Um. Feminist-i.n.g.

s: Oh.

a little crazy=good. a little psycho...

One of the creepiest things that broads do is plan their wedding before there is a groom in sight. I hate it, and my absolute hatred of this innate female quality was exacerbated when I went to Binghamton for the wedding. I was one of two women (in the peer group of about 15) who had a date. But there were a couple girls who had their wedding planned to the last flower petal to hit the aisle before they promenade in their white silk flip flops down to the ocean to meet their fictitious groom.

I know most girls are preprogrammed to think about this stuff, but when the odds are higher of you becoming a crazy cat lady that finding a DATE, how is it healthy to obsess about marital bliss?


I need to admit here that I have a very concrete idea of some things (but I have a boyfriend and we've been together long enough that the only anniversaries we celebrate are the years). The first is bridesmaid dresses, which is more a matter of practicality than psychosis because there are going to be some LARGE chested women in my bridal party. Second, the seating chart is done. I did it because a lot of our friends don't play nice with one another, and my grandparents have a difficult time being in a room together. I watched his sister go through hell with her seating chart the week of the wedding and I wanted mine done. And engraved in marble. The last thing, which is more of an ongoing discussion, is what the first dance is going to be to. I keep pulling for Lou Reed's "perfect Day." I'm losing. The runners up are Paul Simon's "Maybe I'm Amazed" or the Weakerthans' "My Favorite Chords." But I honestly have no idea where this shindig would take place, if there will be religion or what my dress should look like.

Just goes to show what is important to me, no titties flopping out, no heads being busted and some sweet tunes.

I should let childhood memories lie.

When I was a senior in high school, I watched Don't Tell Mom, the Babysitter's Dead, a movie i remembered loving when i was about 8.

I was forced to reconcile what I remembered as a great movie about kids with no supervision with ten years of knowledge, puberty and sexual consciousness. And I yelled at my mom for letting me watch it as a kid.


So, now, I'm revisiting the catalog of Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

I knew all the words to "I hate myself for loving you" before I started kindergarten.

Many years later, and with a lot more knowledge, I feel like I know WAAAAAYYY to much about her. Like the cover of "I wanna be your dog" being flanked by "Black Leather" and "Love is Pain."

It was a welcome transition back to Costello's "Allison," which i was at least old enough to get the undertones of when i first heard it.


Damn getting smarter and dirtier.

Quoth my boyfriend

"Is it bad that every time I see someone who posts their email in a comment, like, 'Can you send me more information on this,' I sign them up for the...Oh, what's that bitch? (me: Ann Coulter?) Yeah. The Ann Coulter a day list?"

Now we drink champagne when we thirstay.

I don't really like my birthday. It started a few years ago when two of my closer friends completely forgot it. And i mean, we hung out and did all th sorts of things that we were apt to do, (drink wine, bowl, watch movies, whatever). It was fun, but we were sitting on this hill behind our high school watching the sunset and talking and i said something about it being my birthday and they both just looked at each other dumbfounded.

I'm pretty sure I wasn't a fan before that, but that was one of the defining moments of the point.

I'm always afraid of who is going to forget my birthday. Every year someone completely drops the ball on that seemingly unimportant memo. Last year it was my sister. The previous it was both my father and best friend. I know my ability to remember dates is above average, but I'm the oldest child. Come on now.

And for something completely different: Sport dating.

Stewart and I had dinner with one of our friends who moved to California last year and she was talking about her OKCupid scene. She disclosed that a guy she met was immediately crossed of her list as far as sex because of his beer gut. As it turns out, she has a list of disqualifiers: fat, stupid, effeminate, etc. There are six, but I can't remember them.

So she told beer gut that he was not going to be getting laid, and he continued to take her out for a couple of months until he finally realized he actually wasn't going to get laid.

That conversation, in conjunction with this chapter from Richard P. Feynman's book made me realize that I have no standards for who I sleep with.

That's right, fellas. I'm almost 24 and, apparently, I'm a whore. I save all those eligibility checkmarks for people I will actually emotionally invest in. I mean, there was a survey for awhile.

Can you speak German? Can you tap dance? Given the choice, would you watch Futurama or Family Guy? What is the air speed velocity of an unlaiden swallow?

Over a 2.5 (with a bonus question regarding a capella music) was usually a ticket to vagina land. That or some fierce game (and by game I mean innovative pick up lines or cockiness). My workd was a simple place. And I have the battle wounds to prove it.

My low standard or sexual partner gets joked about with stewart, because he is great and exceeds all of my boyfriend requirements. He always tells me I had really low standards to begin with, so it's not hard work.

To end, I was supposed to pull a double at work tonight and stay for 3rd shift. As it turns out, on of the other flex staff was extra and they pulled him (negating the need for overtime) and I wasn't notified until after I had chugged a can of rockstar at 10. So, this is what happened.

a small update for significant happenings

Last Saturday, Stewart and I adopted a baby girl, named Alice. She is a short haired tuxedo who likes to curl up right under me when I'm typing. She also enjoys terrorizing Charlie and Jake.
We also recently moved into the attic, which looks amazing and smells markedly better now that there is not cat mess everywhere. My Piet Mondrian inspired wall came out AMAZING.

I also built a couple bookcases and a desk. Sometimes I am awestruck by my own handiness.

Nick is dying. Very rapidly. There are blood clots and infection. The parents are up and trying to take care of things. Which is becoming increasingly difficult now that Nick is refusing to go to Texas with them. There is drama. I have an opinion. It is not the time to share it.

I've decided that Eharmony has every right to not partner gay members if that's what they choose, it being their research, business and religion. This corresponds with my newest life fear that instead of being a spinster cat lady living with my sister, I'm going to be in a bomb shelter somewhere in middle America with a tin foil hat and a rifle. I want The Man out of my business (not to be confuse with the man, a.k.a. my dad). I also wholly oppose the idea of personal gps that lets you track your friends. Stewart thinks it's cool. But i know there are people I don't want readily able to find me.

Stewart and I have decided on the theme for our birthday party. Heroes and Villians. It's a costume party. The date is up in the air as of yet, because there are people we want there who may or may not be in town.

We intend to go to FB for a weekend to visit Danny and others.

End.

So, my grammar has been leaving something to be desired lately, but I still feel like I know prepositions. Personally. I mean, I'm engaged with prepositions all the time, as is everyone else, and I think we owe it to them to use the correct preposition in all situations--or at least an appropriate one.

I suppose if I didn't have so much time on my hands right now, I wouldn't even notice. But what does it mean to have "the last straw of Wal-Mart?" People make straws all the time. I don't think we'll ever run out.

Also, thanks to Matthew Malaprop, my eyes have been opened to how appropriate it is to "preposition" someone as opped to "propositioning" them. Over, over, under, around, in, in, in, IN.

We had a good laugh about that.

Still I burn this earthen Fire.

Ten bucks to any one can go through and tell me how many of my blog titles are Cake lyrics... Seriously, I think it is a LARGE number.

So, I have to go to the registry tomorrow to have a hearing to hope to god that they don't suspend my lisence (again) because it is a condition of my union's contract that we maintain a valid MA driver's lisence.

I like my job and aim to keep it. And, unfortunately, I'm in an impossible situation as far as being cut slack for shit because of my mom.

There is a small amount of tension between stewart and I because thursday is his brother's birthday. And I will not have anything to do with it. He annoys me and I am not going to put myself in a situation where i have to bite my tongue and play nice, because I am so past capable, I wouldn't be able to hold it in.

Nextly, I nearly drove to south hadley the other day to snap Nick's neck. I'm so sick of him lying to everyone and then getting offended when we call him a liar. Because if there is any part of untruth in what you are saying, it is a lie. And therefor, the one saying such things is a liar.

So, saying things like the insurance agency was closed for 2 weeks (or a really long one and a half days--because I called and checked) or that you called to have all the med equipment picked up and they didn't come on the right day (although you didn't get the phone number until monday within two hours of their closing) or you cancelled the appointment (and they had never heard of you calling, because I checked) makes you a liar.


Wise people keep saying don't object until you're accused...

And Nick doth protest too much.

You're a fucking liar.

And Stewart calling to take care of it was a favor to you on his part. Because I would have ripped you a new asshole, among other things. Because I have no patience for people like you.

The end.


p.s.

Spelling and Grammar, aprise yourself.

Dear World,

If you are using the gerund form of a word which happens to end in 'e,' please remeber to drop the 'e' prior to adding the 'ing.'

Also, how in the name of christ do you manage to misspell words in a text message that automatically enters the words for you?

Finally, if you leave more than three words out of a thought, and at least one of them is a verb, don't get bent when you have to repeat yourself or don't get the desired effect.

Thank you.



***


On a different note, I'm sitting in my kitchen and can see my breath. I have not showered in 3 days because i don't want my hair to freeze immediately out of the shower. The oil man ought to be coming tomorrow. And if he doesn't, I'm going to beat him to death with a rubber hose.

I got an apron in the mail the other day from my swap partner on craftster. It is wicked cute. I love it. I finished most of my newest swap project. It is AMAZING. It's for the dress me like a pin up swap.

And I am amazing as well. Just think about that.

Excuses, excuses...

Do you think my insurance company would buy it if i didn't pay my bill because the cat ate it?

Because he really just did.

Box O Random

Is it appropriate to send someone you don't talk to anymore and who you make extremely uncomfortable an email saying, "Hey, I had a dream last night where I kicked the shit out of you...no really, I jacked you up against teh refridgerator and Choked you within and inch of your life. But you shouldn't have been in my house to begin with."

Maybe not.

On a different note, I rediscovered one of my memory boxes (from phase last of my life). The best way to describe it is as a box of random. There is stuff in there I thought ws lost and eaten by Vega (little bitch). There are incriminating photos, notes people wrote me, a few letters, cards, pictures, ticket stubs. All of which I actually remember that moment in time and most of which evoke the same exact emotion. Which is not necessarily a good thing.

Also, I found books to move out and filed my taxes. I rule.

old and unusual

Stewart and I spent our first night apart the other night. First in ten months.

And it wasn't that bad.

We both survived.


However, when he goes to Texas, if anyone wants to come stay over for a night and get kicked in the kidneys a couple times and possibly get leaned on a bit, holla.

LIke sharpening knives through Chicken McNuggets

I get called vindictive A LOT. Not to say that I don't do vindictive things, but usually when people are labeling me as such, it's not correct.

The first time it sounded just wrong. The real proof got eaten by my best friend's dog (for real) or misplaced, but the story went something like: I kissed the boy she liked while I was drunk... Drunk not being the excuse, because it was a shitty thing to do either way...on Halloween a few years ago. So after using my car on Monday and again on Tuesday to get to the train station to buy records, she shoves the $10 she owes me in my coat pocket and doesn't return my calls for 2 days, which involves not showing up to pick me up for school, because every Tuesday and Thursday, we'd get breakfast before class.

So I walk to school (not a horrible imposition... took less than 10 minutes when I was rocking to Kanye on the way up). When I get to breakfast, I eat with my Shute, see her in class and ask if she still intends to be at our series of weekend plans. The short answer was no and I can't accurately convey the attitude that went with it, but I knew it was done already.

I go to work and then to Ter's house for movie night. Broad had sent her a text about how I'd crossed a line and she couldn't put up with me anymore. The next day I went to her house and took my stuff (we lived together for 4 months and weren't on bad terms when I physically moved, just the month preceding it). I didn't take anything that wasn't mine and, in fact, left some stuff that was mine there. And four days later, there's a note on my car. The two important things about the note were that she called me a "vindictive cunt" for going into the house and getting my stuff (which was piled near the door) because she intended to talk to me and second, that it was written on the back of a pencil drawing of the two of us I'd given her for her birthday that year...that she had erased her face from and written in her place, "So you can draw in whoever you dupe into being your friend next."


This is an appropriate place for the definition of vindictive. According to Dictionary.com, vindictive has two meanings:

vin·dic·tive

1. Disposed to seek revenge; revengeful.
2. Marked by or resulting from a desire to hurt; spiteful.

OK. The next time wasn't as horrendous, just dumb and doesn't need much explanation--just that I got suddenly dropped by a guy because he had stopped taking his antidepressants (via im)and I was vindictive for something like calling him.



But I did do something vindictive lately. I convinced Tara's Boyfriend to pee on the car door handle of this kid he wanted to fight.

I guess it was more merciful than having his teeth put out.

And now the being the bigger person half...

This is written about me. I'm not sure where it came from, but the answers to broad's questions were because you dry hump my boyfriend everytime we see you and because I've known with your "fiance" for about a decade (I'm so old). AnI i told her in an email. Mostly because Stewart wouldn't give me her number to call her and won't let me just show up at her work to tell her. It was straightforward and transparent. AnI i got a reply that I'm fairly certain is very common for a fifteen year old. It was signed "~never again~" and then she posted another journal about it. And in my head, I'm thinking, bitch, you hope never.


And that summarizes my newest internet drama and a brief history of why I think fighting on LJ, etc, is retarded.