The Expatriate Achtung! You are 23% brainwashworthy, 27% antitolerant, and 0% blindly patriotic

Congratulations! You are not susceptible to brainwashing, your values and cares extend beyond the borders of your own country, and your Blind Patriotism does not reach unhealthy levels. If you had been German in the 30s, you would've left the country. One bad scenario -- as I hypothetically project you back in time -- is that you just wouldn't have cared one way or the other about Nazism. Maybe politics don't interest you enough. But the fact that you took this test means they probably do. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. Did you know that many of the smartest Germans departed prior to the beginning of World War II, because they knew some evil shit was brewing? Brain Drain. Many of them were scientists. It is very possible you could have been one of them. Conclusion: born and raised in Germany in the early 1930's, you would not have been a Nazi. The Would You Have Been A Nazi? Test - it rules -

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 15% on brainwashworthy You scored higher than 37% on antitolerant You scored higher than 0% on patriotic

Link: The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

It's a post bonanza (again).

WHAT ARE YOU DOING RIGHT THIS INSTANT?
I'm sitting in the office. My neck is throbbing in pain. It has something to do with extreme stress, fibromyalgia, and a generally hyperchondriactoid personality problem. There is knot at the base of my cranium that is like a solid golfball. This is called a 'trigger point'. I'm close to death, I think.

HOWEVER! Relief is on the way...three asprins and:

The Frozen Vegetable Ice Pack

This relieves tension through ice cold therapy without the runniness of the typical ice-cube-in-ziplock-bag solution.

However, I now faintly smell of broccoli, as it is beginning to thaw.

WHO (IF ANYONE) IS LOOKING AT YOU RIGHT THIS MOMENT?

Funny you should ask. SHE is looking at me right now:

Doesn't she look like Satan? I think you would have a golfball size trigger point, too, if this thing stared hard at you for awhile.

Well, here's another Flash Fiction Account. You can also link to it from my Story Page Link. Have a blast!

My tribute to Sleep Goblin.
She seems to always be up right before I get up.
At two AM.
Here's to you, Sleep-a-Roo.

Evidence would support that some former coworkers have made some lovely “Anonymous” comments. I say “evidence would support” because I do not have actual proof these comments were, indeed, from said coworkers. I wouldn’t want to entrench myself in some Free Speech battle.

These are hilarious comments. I believe they were posted on ‘Beef With Anonymous’, and "Life of the Unemployed"

Why are they funny? Well, one, apparently some people have nothing better to do than keep their little eyes fastened to my blog, even though I don’t work there anymore. If I were such a worthless employee (as suggested), then why waste the time? I have an image in my head of people huddled around a computer at work checking my blog. This would be only too ironic. The fact is, people are probably waiting to go home and then taking the extra effort to check my blog, which simply means there is not enough decent television out in the world. I guess people are ‘checking’ up on my blog for human interest, perhaps? A mild tranquilizer to ease a bourgeoning caseload that burgeoned long before I came and left the office? A sense of greatness, to knock someone when she’s down? Someone to blame? Someone to use as a scape goat? Or am I giving these people too much credit? I think they just want to hurt my feelings, and get a reaction. Well, THAT, my friends, is called “dirty ball” fighting.

It’s also funny because they chose to remain Anonymous, meaning that they aren’t big enough to speak up for themselves and stand behind what they are saying. That’s a shame. Maybe they are afraid? Hmm. I find it interesting that I primarily got fired for having a big mouth. It didn’t have to do with much else; it had to do with my big mouth. One of my biggest complaints about that office was how unable people seemed to confront one another. No one went face to face with anyone else about problems. Everyone just danced around issues, rather like a group of—well, I would say children, but children express feelings in proactive ways. I, however, did face people on their own turf and ALSO apologized to people face to face. The only way to clear up an issue is to confront it. These ‘Anonymous’ folks are just proving yet another one of my points: “Cowards do not count in battle; they are there but not in it.” (Euripides).

Now, I’ve said in previous blogs that I made a mistake. I’m not unwilling to admit that. It was a subconscious thing, I’m sure, because I hated that job and had very little tolerance for some small-brained people I worked with. I’m pleased as pie not to work there anymore because as it turns out, brighter and better (paying) jobs are on the horizon. Thank Buddha and God.


Let’s take a gander at these posts, shall we?

1. “Maybe if you had done an honest job instead of cheating the State out of the money you were paid to work (when we ALL know you were not), you would not be in this situation. Who's to blame? Duh...Maybe God and Buddha would be pleased if you offered to reimburse the State of all the money you stole from them...”

Well, that can all go back to my second paragraph. I did work quite hard, but this isn’t a pissing contest with me, so, fine. This individual can point a finger at me for being ‘lazy’ and ‘cheating’ the State; I know what the truth is and so did the people that mattered. When Anonymous uses the word ‘ALL’, he discredits himself, for he is leaving no source of information. Of course, using generalized pronouns in most situations is quite dangerous and not well thought-out. I’m pretty sure I know of one or two people who would disagree with this statement. I’m also confident the State did not send me to Management training for being lazy. I don’t think the State gave me raises for being lazy. I can’t imagine the State consistently noting my hard work and giving me good reviews for being lazy. I can document these things, but Anonymous cannot. And, I think it important to say, I worked for four years at this job; even if I had ‘cheated’ the State, I did not ‘cheat’ as much as other employees have (and had). When we look higher up the bureaucratic ladder, we see the cheating get worse and worse…and that costs a lot more than me occasionally looking at my blog or bank account from my office desk. And then, we have a stab at my Theological beliefs, which is even better, because mocking one’s thought processes about religion is as childish as pointing at people who look ‘different’ from ‘normal’ in the street. Can my readers understand why I am nothing but relieved to be out of there? But I’m finished with this trite comment. Its speaker has discredited himself from the get-go by remaining Anonymous, using the word ‘ALL’ , and obviously overlooking the ‘lazy’ tendencies of other co-workers and
management.

Now let’s move to comment two, a more fascinating one, in my book. I’m going to take it line by line.

“You should be really proud of yourself...”
Thank you, I am.
“ [Y]ou have caused an extraordinary hardship on some of your former co-workers,”
I remember apologizing to a certain manager about the extra work; apparently the message was not spread.
“who did not deserve to be assigned with extra work”
We rarely get what we deserve, do we? Or, I should say, we often have hardships that we don’t deserve. But that’s a rather Socialist comment that Anonymous #2 makes; the State has never attempted to be ‘fair’ in its workload, nor ‘recognizant’ of extra hard workers. “because you decided to be dishonest and play on your computer instead of doing the work you were hired to do...”
Again, this is not what fired me. Or, maybe it was, on the books. In any case, if I hadn’t been so mind-numbingly bored with my work and disgusted with some of my coworkers, I guess it wouldn’t have come to that. Let’s not talk about why’s and what-ifs. Let’s face the music, shall we? Yes, I did use the computer for things other than work…sometimes I played a bit of DinoBlast during my lunch hour. Yes, I did check my email. Yes, I did check my blog. Yes, I also did my work.
“You wanna talk about honesty?”
Please! Why isn’t our Speaker #2 honest about his/her identity?
“You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ASS!!!”
And this comment, folks, I just don’t get. What? The last thing that bit me in the ass was my cat, and I was able to know what that was. Don't fret. I'm fine.

So, I believe I’ve thoroughly worked out my demons with these small minded people (who may or may not work where I used to work), and have come out feeling even better than before. However, for the sake of posterity, I shall be removing the “Anonymous” button from my comment section. That way, if people must truly be bold, and make a statement, they will have to be honest about themselves, first. I do not mind being critiqued—I think it is healthy for growth. I think it is unfortunate that my little challenging friends must stoop to this…following my blog four weeks after the fact, and making snide comments. But that’s their world, isn’t it? And mine is a lot brighter, and much broader than that.

Today, we celebrate our bodies in an entirely innocent way.
I was struck by Spinning Girl's "Unspun", and so decided to participate.

These are extremely hard posts for me. I am entirely disenchanted with my body, and have been since I was ten years old. I am glad it is only "Half" Nekkid, and not fully nude.

My body is a warzone, for me. I eat, and hate myself, so eat more. And the cycle goes around and around. When I see pictures of myself, I don't revel in them. I don't enjoy them. I feel awkward and wrongly accused: "There's the big girl." My outsides don't match what's inside.

But I am pleased to say these Half Nekkids are helping. I am starting small, with the things about myself I truly, truly love. Maybe, one day, I can get a little bit more proud of this machine, my body.

I kept seeing this silly blogtag thing, and then I went to Spinning Girl's site, and really wanted a piece of the action. NO, not of Spinning Girl, but of this particular new thing going on. So I stole it without getting tagged. Brilliant.

Instructions:
1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

Okay, sounds easy enough...here I go...

"I have been rejected because I am an only child and not a member of their sorority."

This is from "Upon Being Rejected as a Team Member..."

It's a pretty boring post, but fun for me to find out about. Hmm. Is this supposed to mean something? Is this my destiny? Oh, Gack, I hope not.

Huh. This is strange.

Here it is...Finally. The Ode to Heather

I.
Borne of Eire, a lovely maiden.
A firefly, a mermaid, with mermaid hair
and azure eyes, she came to be a mum of three.
She was rescued (so I've heard) by a doctor,
a man of staunch intellect and great rapport,
from the North Sea, where the waters did
rap about her head so hard and almost tore
her iridescence fins from her lithe tail, but nay!
The doctor swam and found her on a little rock and
kissed away her crystal tears and brought her to shore.
Wrapped her, he did, in a coat of colors and made
her smile,
even though she lost so much, so much.
II.
Her family, large, lived beneath the sea in
caverns of great coral, moss, and lichen,
and Heather of the mist did twine her hair
between her fingertips whilst in such
pleasant company...
and her heart did cheer for those
who wore such warriors' garbs, but she
did long for more, for more.
III.
She is the mother of three water babies,
their tresses fair as hers, their hearts as pure.
She lives in a castle on the land, and smiles
with ancient memory.
Her Gaelic roots are not forgotten, but her
mind is filled with future loves.
A kinder mermaid has never been met,
and we are lucky to know her.
IV.
I have been lucky enough
to have her extend empathy, just as she has
for all who are lost at sea,
just like she, just like she.
She's bathed me in friendship and while
I barely know her:
I know this much:
A kinder soul could not be found
here or on Ireland's ground.
Thank the saints for this little fish!
She is our dearest, brightest star of the Sea,
and the doctor....Well, lucky he.

There's somebody out there who's plaguing my site. It's some Anonymous with a nasty attitude. At first, the barbs were cute. Then, they suddenly turned really nasty.

I have a sneaking suspicion this person and I know each other in real life, and this person is too much of an asshole to just tell me who he is. But I've decided not to fret anymore.

I was considering disallowing Anonymous comments, but that would prevent people like my mother from posting. While Mom probably thinks my blog is over the top, I can't stop her from posting. After all, this is the only method she has at the moment to see how truly strange her only daughter is.

So, I'm stuck with some butthead making comments in order to piss me off. The last one read, "What a pathetic life. I hope you don't have any sharp objects around."

Yes, because suicide is ALWAYS something to laugh about, isn't it?

Another idiotic barb was defending Georgia's 'at will' employment status. Anonymous said something about only competent people should be able to work, after that, the State has the right to reclaim their jobs for people who are competent.

So, there are no incompetent people who work in Georgia, apparently. And everyone who gets fired is incompetent. Hmm. Okay. Then I guess when all of my evaluations came back with glaringly good reports and I got recommended for management, that must have meant I was incompetent. Everyone writing this down? Good.

For the record, this is the last time I am even acknowledging Anonymous' presence. After this, we will all be ignoring Anonymous, and not paying attention to his 'free speach', as he likes to say.

What an asshat. (Thanks, Monica, I love this tag).

First, let's all get a big welcome together for the ESTROGEN FISHBOWL. Go look at the website, but don't expect wonders. They are new to all this blogness. They are personal friends of mine, and helping me through being jobless.

Also, there is a special little Simian out there who deserves Birthday Cheers. So, here's for Monkey (give it up for the Fuzzy Butt!).

Because I am sure most of you are curious about the tedium of my day, I thought I would document it for you.
Try not to get too excited.
6am: Wake up with boyfriend
6:30 am: Make coffee
7-8am : Check blog
8-9am: Consider a shower
9am: Go to the unemployment office, showered or not. Stand in line for awhile.
10am: Drive back home on fumes because there is no money to put gas in car
10:30am: Check blog and email
11:00am: Eat a Lean Cuisine
11-11:30am: Watch recorded Family Guy
12:00: Call that place you want a job at, where you've left two resumes and two applications. Leave another voicemail.
12:15pm-3:00pm: Search internet for jobs, email resumes, fill out on-line applications, break printer.
3:00pm-3:30pm: Try to fix printer. Give up. Eat some hotdogs.
4:00pm-6pm: Check email, check blog, call boyfriend, leave a message.
Then, realize boyfriend won't be home until 9pm because he is working on car audio system at friend's house. Feel lonely.
6pm-6:30pm: Take a nap, but wake up shortly after because house is too quiet and cat is sleeping on left foot.
6:30pm: Dig through fridge. No food. No gas. No goody. Check blog.
7:30 pm: Check blog. Write a post.
8:00 pm: Go outside and smoke (again)
8:15 pm: Dig through couch. Find enough change to buy a pack of cigarettes. Realize all the books you placed on reserve are at the library, but you don't have gas to get there. Sigh in frustration. Go to gas station and get laughed at by high school punks.
9:00pm: Boyfriend still not home. Talk to cat for awhile. Turn on some music.
9:15 pm: Boyfriend gets home. Follow boyfriend around, asking questions about his work, his co-workers, his car, his friend. Boyfriend turns on television to quiet the background 20 questions.
10:00pm: Go to bed.
11:30 pm: Wake up. Check blog. Go back to bed.
2:00am: Repeat
4:00am: Repeat and pray the next day gets here quick, only to realize there is nothing to do but what you did the day before.

This is so depressing, I'm going to get to the nap early. You'll find me buried in afghans and kleenex...bawling my eyes out.

1. Crave:: ice cream
2. Whole package:: ha ha...uh, Michael
3. Roommates:: lesbians
4. 5:30:: cocktail hour
5. Lesbian:: short hair
6. Poignant:: memory
7. Hurtful:: jobless
8. You and I:: strangers
9. Grateful:: obligation
10. Giggle:: teenager

You know the drill. She says a word, I say a free-associated word back.

I've had a tough week-or four-trying to deal with this whole getting fired/unemployment thing.

I've never been fired before. I've never been without work. I've absolutely NO idea how to pay bills, and rent is coming up. Things are getting interesting.

When a person is fired in Georgia and said person goes to the unemployment office to file, the department of Labor has to contact the employer about the 'separation'. The former employer has to sign off on the unemployment claim before poor, unemployed person can get a check.

Guess what? I'm getting denied my claim. GDC isn't signing off on the unemployment checks.

You know why? Because I'm a threat to GDC, and they want to make my life as miserable as possible. Because I stated some tough facts about how that corrupt and worthless agency performed 'corrections'.

People have often called me paranoid, and I do suffer from anxiety. Often, I'm being PERCEPTIVE and not paranoid, and all of this is coming out.

Oh, Look! I found this on the web: "Plaintiff Calvin J. Stone lost a jury verdict as to two defendants, and a directed verdict as to another, in his suit against officers of the Georgia Department of Corrections claiming they terminated his employment in retaliation for his speaking out about the improper use of public property and funds."

So, this isn't the first time someone got canned for speaking out about the TRUTH of the GDC.

Here's the truth:
1. The acting Director of Facilities was recently found in violation for doing his secretary. He was not fired. He was moved to the department of Policies and Procedures. Hmph. That's interesting.
2. The acting Commissioner uses tax money to hire a personal driver.
3. Why is it that some counties have access to only three early model Plymouths for state cars, while others drive brand new Crown Victoria's?
4. Why is it that the average Probation Officer handles approxiamately 350 active cases and is only paid roughly thirty thousand dollars?
5. Why is it that some employees can drink on the job and not get fired?
6. Why is it that some employees can lose sentences, lose cases, not supervise individuals properly, and never get reprimanded?
7. Why is it that one young woman who did her job phenomonally well got fired because she had opinions?
8. Why isn't inmate abuse more public?
9. Why doesn't the Georgia Public realize how unfit the GDC is in protecting citizens?
10. How come 'new' hire employees (employed after 2000) are not considered 'exempt' employees, thereby limiting their adverse action abilities and due process?
11. How come unions are not permitted to demonstrate on behalf of government workers?
12. HOW COME I GOT FIRED?

Some people have been telling me to calm down and know it's for the best that I got fired. Look, I know it's for the best that I don't work there anymore, no doubt, but I have every reason to be PISSED OFF.

Even more fun: In order to combat GDC, I need an attorney. I don't have any money for an attorney. I don't have any support. I just have this one little blog. I'm living in fear that I'm going to get sued, or get into some trouble. I know I've been blacklisted from just about every state agency there is. People have told me I have a decent enough case to sue. Okay.

Then someone hire me an attorney. Until then, I don't want to hear one other person in my life tell me I have a decent case. I KNOW I have a decent case. I KNOW my rights and I KNOW I'm protected under the First Amendment to say what I want to say.

Sometimes, when people are TRYING to help you fix problems, they just make you feel worse.

Should this concern me? Or does it just mean I'm a bit of a bitch? Or I like toys?

I promise you, my boyfriend is going to disagree with this. As much time as I spend in the bathroom, applying makeup, this just CAN'T be right.

Maybe in a few hours, I'll have something worthwhile to say. Until then, QUIZ TIME!

You Are 70% Boyish and 30% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

I stole it from CRUSH you.
He is such a good person at heart.

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered.

Go, young traveler, and read my new account of fiction here.

Bring some oars if you're a monkey.

We discovered something tonight, while moving furniture around to continue the Great Painting Project.

We have mice. Lots of them.

(Note: This is NOT a blatant ad. for the Tiffany bracelet Michael bought for me. It isn't! Stop thinking I care about name brands! I so don't! It just so happens Michael bought a Tiffany bracelet? So what? Heather owns tons of Pottery Barn! Go pick on her!)

Anyway, we found this coven of mice beneath an ottoman. They apparently had been hiding out there for months, and began to ingest strange poisons which dyed their hair into bright colors, thereby eliminating any camoflauge ability.

Delilah, however, could not be convinced to kill the little bastards.

In three months, they will have reproduced so much that they will clash with my color pallette. What the heck is this cat good for, anyway?

I SO stole this from Sleep Goblin.

It's quite scary how accurate this is.


Tri-Lamb Material
82 % Nerd, 39% Geek, 56% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Dork, earning you the coveted title of: Tri-Lamb Material.

The classic, "80's" nerd, you are what most people think of when they think "nerd," largely due to 80's movies like Revenge of the Nerds and TV shows like Head of the Class. You're exceptionally bright and smart, and partly because of that have never quite fit in with your peers or social groups. Perhaps you're realized, or will someday, that it is possible to retain all of the things that you like about being brilliant and still make peace with the social cliques around you. Or maybe you won't--it's really not necessary. As the brothers of Lambda Lambda Lambda discovered, you're fine just the way you are and can take pride in that. I mean, who wants to be like Ogre, right!?

Congratulations!


Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Professional Wrestling

Love & Sexuality

America/Politics

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 92% on nerdiness You scored higher than 51% on geekosity You scored higher than 93% on dork points

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid Free Online Dating

DOODLE OF THE DAY

Time: 1:40 pm
Place: Library/Office...facing South
Music: Jesus and Mary Chain
Mood: ---------
Just Finished Doing: Calling the ACLU, only to be told I have to write a request in for a case. Yeah, whatever.
Just About to Do: Take a nap
What Was Done Earlier: Yet another resume run to downtown Atlanta
Was it Worthwhile?: Yes, I think so.
What is Pet Doing?: Sleeping, looking really cute. I know better.
What is Significant Other Doing?: Working. Like I should be.
What is Going to be Done Tomorrow?: Washing the cars. Grocery-shopping. Photo field trip. Drawing. A Movie at home on the couch.

What News Item/Political Issue are you enraged about today?: The eleven children found in cages in Ohio. All are special needs children adopted by two crazy people who actually thought it would be best to let the children sleep in three-foot by three-foot cages. How can people do this to children?
What Book Are You Reading?: Native Son.
How do you Like it?: Fair to middling.
What are you peeved about today?: Coffee tasted like sludge this morning.

Who would you like to take this Personal Meme? Anyone who's interested.

Synopsis: My God, I'm dull.

All right. I am presenting two posts in one.
First, My Doodle of the Day.



And in celebration of Half-Nekkid Thursday...a picture of my tresses. Yes, that's the natural color. Yes, I am vain about my hair.

Atlanta is famous for all sorts of things. There's the whole birthplace of Martin Luther King, Jr. There's Margaret Mitchell's house (she was the drunk who wrote Gone With the Wind). Ted Turner's baseball stadium, which costs about thirty five dollars a ticket to sit on the field. Hmm. I know there's more stuff. Um, the traffic makes Atlanta notorious. We've got the Hawks, the Falcons, and the Braves. We're home to numerous recording artists and rappers. Centennial Olympic Park. Phipps Plaza Mall. Ludacris--who cannot spell, apparently.

You know what we're also well-known for?

Dead bodies showing up on streets. In the past six months, more than ten bodies have been found in streets, generally in the early morning whilst some poor sucker is walking the dog. Generally, these corpses have been deposited there by their killers, but some of them have been struck by passing motorists who were either to drunk to know they ran over a human, or too afraid to be caught. In any case, yesterday marked yet another corpse found on the Southeast side of Atlanta.

I don't really know what the point of all this banter is--except to say, if you move to Atlanta, please bring a lot of reflective tape and attach it to a bright orange vest, in case you are murdered and placed on the street.

Because running over a human would probably cause a lot of damage to my car.

Preface: I ride a black and purple Honda Shadow Aero 750. I have named her Lilith, and we are inseperable.

Do you know the story of Lilith? I will share it for you.

Ancient Judaism said Adam had a wife before Eve--Lilith. Lilith was old--older than Adam. Lilith was adored by the creatures. Lilith was strong and wise and noble. And, Lilith didn't like the way Adam fulfilled his manly duties. He didn't please her sexually. So Adam complained to God, and God smote Lilith and made her a dragon, or a snake. So, Lilith may or may not have borne Satan.

I hate this story, but it explains a lot, huh?

Of course, it is a wonderful metaphor for the Goddess religions that prevailed through cultures and histories long before the Male God got wind of them and started preaching HellFire. I know that ancient men were responsible for this, not God. But this is the story of Lilith, and so I named my motorcycle after her, because Lilith and I take no male riders, and flaunt men when we are out. She is my fierce mare, and she breathes hot fire. Don't mess with Lilith.

And Now, The Ode.

Upon two wheels I will sit
and make a face to all who glare
at my audacity--a woman and a motorcycle.
On two wheels, I have no pity
for any living thing, nor mercy, nor grace.
On two wheels, I respect only
the road, the long, curving road,
the granite, harsh road.
On two wheels, I am as lithe as a gymnast,
as fast as a missile, as aggressive as a tidal wave.
On two wheels, I am Alone
and Proud.

When I alight on the ground,
I remember my quiet place.
I do not look men in the eyes.
I do not make a peep.
When I alight on the ground,
I smile at children, say 'please' and 'thanks'.
When I alight on the ground,
all is generous.

On two wheels, I stop for no man,
nor speak from beneath my black helmet.
I only breathe the wet, wet wind
and lift my left arm in praise to the Earth,
and feel the grit sting my chest. I am singular.

Grasping black leather grips, throttle, brake,
clutch, and the whine of the engine
beneath my trunk,
I am at once free and captive of this machine,
this abrupt deviance from

the nice, sweet girl
everyone thinks
I am.

Discuss.

I'm quite disappointed in several of my readers who chose NOT to discuss my last drawing, and so will make it QUITE AVAILABLE for them HERE. By all means, go look and comment.

If lazy behavior continues, I will have to punish all with a swift slap of wet noodlage. Remember! I USED to be in law enforcement, but I haven't forgotten all of my tricks...

DISCLAIMER: After several people commented on this link, I did go and dig around a little bit more. It seems the company that published this is also in cahoots with an 'alternative' news site...and after reading SOME MORE...it appears the news site is concerned with the end of the world AND alien beings.

However, I STILL believe this is an important link, because you may question yourself. And that's important.

If you have a moment, go to http://spademusic.com/pentagon.html.
It may take a moment to load.
Tell me what you think.
I'm freaked out.

Popular Science presented an article, claiming to debunk the idea that a plane never crashed into the Pentagon. It has decent reading material, as well. I'm doing my best to be objective.

It's true. I doodle. Here is something rather strange and wierd.

I did it while listening to the following: STROMKERN, BOYTRONIC, DE/VISION, ICON OF COIL and other INDUSTRIAL BANDS. Okay, Boytronic is not so much industrial. I think they are just angry gayboys who want to be New Order.

Please discuss picture and what you think it means. Later, I will tell you what I think it means.

This week brought to you by: Unconscious Mutterings and Diana of the Moon.

1. Less filling:: vapid
   
2. Glue:: orange
   
3. Surprise me:: balloon
   
4. Model:: alien
   
5. Fee:: parking ticket
   
6. Microphone:: crowd
   
7. Choices:: vanilla
   
8. To the bone:: cold
   
9. Run!:: woods
   
10. Appeal:: bald
    

Okay, first off: if anyone tells me I'm not putting enough effort out to find a job, I have this to say:

"SCREWUS YOUUS"

Secondly, WHO THE HELL except me DRIVES all over Atlanta to DROP OFF a resume, rather than faxing, emailing, fedexing, or camel packing it to the location?

Today started with hope. I had a cover letter, a resume, an application. I actually blow-dried my hair. I put on a SKIRT! A skirt, I tell you! (Monkey, you're rubbing off on me). I got in my car. I filled it up with gas. That was expensive, so I SKIPPED coffee.

I got on I-75 South. I looked for exit 109, like the directions said. THERE IS NO EXIT 109!! So, I got off in downtown Atlanta. I headed into Decatur, then Dekalb. Then, I got onto I-285 (seen above). I almost died four times. One dude was going 100 miles per hour and almost hit me. His car had a neon price sticker on the windshield. I don't really care if you stole the car; JUST DON'T HIT MY NEW CAR!! Anyway, I drove almost completely around the Perimeter. I wound up in Atlanta AGAIN. I was driving for THREE HOURS before I found the office building I needed; mind you! The computer said it was only 28 miles away from my house. I put over 150 miles on my car today, all because SOUTHERNERS don't know how to LAY OUT STREETS. I HATE this city, sometimes. How can I have lived here for like thirteen years and STILL get lost?

After all that, I got lost COMING back. I wound up in Bankhead, and for those of you who listen to rap music...well, let's just say, "Bankhead represents". Of course, some thug came up to carjack me and I was all, "It's a stick," and he was all, "Oh, I don't know how to drive that. Can I take your purse?" and I was all, "No, because I just got fired and I don't really have any money." and he was all, "Dammit. Stupid blond honky bitch."

SO, I'm home. I'm not going out. I'm NOT MOVING. I'm sitting still, in the quiet, in my pajamas until tomorrow. And I'm going to call that office building back for BETTER directions come my interview!

Fuzzy Butt (ie: Monkey) heard my cry and tagged me.

SEVEN THINGS!!!!

Which reminds me of a joke, which I'll tell:
A blonde, a redhead, and a brunette walk into a bar. Redhead asks the bartender for a BL.
"What's a BL?" asks bartender.
"Duh! A Bud Light!"
The redhead asks for an ML.
"What's an ML?" asks bartender.
"Duh! A Miller Light!"
The blonde asks for a fifteen.
"What's a fifteen?" asks the bartender.
"DUH! A seven and seven!" says the blonde.

And now, onward...
Seven Things I Say Most Often:
1. I know, right?
2. I'm goin' out for a smoky treat.
3. I could use some coffee.
4. Where's my lighter? Have you seen my lighter?
5. All your base are belong to us
6. I think I'm sick. Do I look sick? I feel sick.
7. Delilah, get down!

Seven Things I Plan to Do Before I Die
1. Go to Florida. I've never been.
2. Make a lot of people laugh at once.
3. Meet Kurt Vonnegut
4. Take a Blue Train ride
5. Tell Oprah to shove off
6. Go to Paris
7. Tell the guy downstairs to please park his truck somewhere other than one foot away from our driveway.

Seven Things I Can Do
1. Ride a motorcycle
2. Dance
3. Write
4. Whistle and hum at the same time
5. Contort my ankles, knees, elbows and all finger joints
6. Touch my tongue to my nose...and then some
7. Dishes

Seven Things That Attract Me to Another Person:
1. Empathy
2. Money
3. Sincerity
4. Nice eyes (and by eyes, I mean butt)
5. Humor
6. Integrity
7. I was kidding about number two.

Seven Things I Can't Do
1. Work at Georgia Department of Corrections ever again.
2. Fit into a suitcase
3. Listen to Rush (for all Rush fans, you're so gonna love this link)
4. Do a cartwheel
5. Stop talking.
6. Cook
7. Take a joke

Celebrity Crushes
1. Kayne West
2. Michael
3. Katie
4. My Mom (no, not that way)
5. My Dad
6. Monkey
7. Spinning Girl

What? They are stars to me. Actually, I HATE celebrities of many types, so...there you go!

Firstly, this post comes with the express permission of my Boyfriend. Unlike GDC, he will not fire me for posting about a particular event.

Secondly, Michael is the handiest, greatest man guy in the world. He can fix anything, from a broken bracelet to an audio system in his car.

So, here is the story of which I referred to yesterday.

Saturday was beautiful. Michael, being cheerily handy, went to work on his car audio system. He's been acquiring all the peices for weeks, and has now begun the installation process. While he worked in the garage, I sat and watched T.V. TLC was having a 'Trading Spaces' marathon. PJ's, coffee, and TLC were the name of the game.

After ripping off a door panel and installing some very cool speakers, Michael came in energized. We watched some telly and then, without warning, he said, "You want me to start on the ceiling?"

It should be known that the tray ceiling in our apartment was the clincher for me. It's really pretty, and we decided to paint it red. That was three months ago. We've got the ladder, the paint, and brushes. I've been harping at him for weeks about it.
"So, when are we painting the ceiling?"
"Gee, the red in this pillow would be accented so nicely with a red tray ceiling!"
"Honey, my parents want the ladder back."

However, this Saturday, when Michael asked about the ceiling, I said, "Um. Sure. I guess." See, I was watching TLC and for him to have to paint the ceiling would require me moving to the bedroom or dancing around him with a paint pan. Neither sounded very good to me. But there goes Michael, off to the garage. He gets the tarp, the ladder, and the little paint pan. He begins working on the ceiling, and does a terrific job...for about ten minutes.

I'm dusting the coffee table, figuring I should do something for the house, when all of a sudden I hear, "Oh, F--k." I look up, and there is Michael, standing on the floor, surrounded in paint. Red paint. Everywhere. From the corner of the dining room to the tops of his favorite black Converse tennis shoes, I'm seeing red. I try not to laugh.

Beige carpet and red paint, my friends, are not easily separated. Michael and I discovered this after using: laundry detergent, dish soap, Goof Off, and Oxy-Clean. In the end, we have a pink carpet in the dining room. We've managed to cover most of it with a huge area rug.

While Michael fails to see the humor in this, I cannot help but chuckle. This is because Michael did something that normally, I'm famous for doing. He simply forgot the paint pan was on the ladder when he moved it. I've crashed into rocks while backing up his car. I've gotten stuck in traffic because I forget I'm driving a shift stick. Let's not forget, I get fired for being a big-mouth. And Michael stands by, and smiles, and says, "It's O.K., hon."

Well, it's my time now to say the same to him. The world is not going to end because we've repainted the floor instead of the ceiling. But he'll never hear the end of it.And I'll never stop telling him, "It's O.K., hon."
Now: Pictures!

Now, Michael is taking a break from projects, and is watching Sunday football. Good for him. Cheers, babe, you deserve a break!

All of this lay before Michael's Jackson Pollock canvas. It is eight feet tall, and the red paint is the same that is on the ceiling...err..floor. My only thought was, when the splatter first hit, "My, now he's taken the same genre from the canvas onto the floor!" If we had left the splatter there, I believe it would have been a statement unlike any other.

No, it's not blood. It's red paint, turned pink through hours of labor. Lovely, yes?

The aftermath

The beginning of a beautiful ceiling.

Okay, here goes. Another desperate cry for attention.

The Blogathon Ode.

('Round the campfire sits: Spinning Girl, Monkey, BOBI, Dane, Bobby, Calzone, Sleep Goblin, Monica, CG, Kitty, CRUSH you, Madge...Some other people who I've sure forgotten, oh! And my Mom, who's generally Anon Mom).

(In this mental picture, I'm wearing wings and a Valkyrie helmet)

I sing:
"Oh! Weary friends with too much time!
Come closer now, and feed, and dine! For Fortune's thread
runs so long,
and it is time for the Blog Song!"
(Cheers erupt. Sing song to the tune of "The Worms Go In, the Worms Go Out")

"For people who are thought of as dorks,
there is a place for us to consort.
We write about our silly lives
occasionally, we tell some lies!

BOBI drinks and so does Dane
and their audios are arcane.
We all look forward to Spinning Girl
who's blogs take all for a whirl.

We laugh our heads off at Monkey
and think Calzone is kinda funky.
We get some kicks from Sleep Goblin
and chuckle at the Travelin' Frog.

And the blogs roll in and the blogs roll out
Up your monitor and out your snout.

Heather is an Irish Saint
Her hair is red like the paint
that decorates my living room floor
However, I can say no more.

I know I'm jobless, and it shows
Because I sit around and write odes
to people that I hardly know!

CG, I think, is a spy
and Monica her husband despises (I know it didn't rhyme, shuddup)
I never get tagged by anyone at all
But that's okay, because in my head you all like me best (now, I'm struggling).

CRUSH you is something of a freak
I wonder if he eats kids as treats.
I can't believe I've stooped this low
to get more folks to come to my show.

In the end, all you I adore,
Madge and northerners from all corners.
My Mom stops by and hits some threads
I think some of what I write, she secretly dreads.

And Michael, of course, is a pet
for reading this, and thinking I'm best.
Now, I have to wrap this up,
because you're all getting sick of this ode, like I am.

Now, I have to go and link all of you. What a pain. Cheers! Hope you all liked it.

Briefly, I mean to tell all I've had a very strange day. I won't go into detail, but it had to do with a large amount of red paint and beige carpet.

Also, I've completed another story for Flash Fiction Friday, and you can find it here. It's really boring, so don't hold your breath. But I'd still love for you to read it.

Oh, and here is me and Delilah impersonating Michelangelo.And before the event with the red paint and the beige carpet...

You Are an Emo Rocker!

Expressive and deep, lyrics are really your thing.That doesn't mean you don't rock out...You just rock out with meaning.For you, rock is more about connecting than grandstanding.

I stole this from Heather. She happens to hate cats. Now, I know, and will use this fact to bug her in the future.