Southern Comfort and Soul Stuff.

"Can't stop what's coming, can't stop what is on it's way..." Just another intoxication. It certainly makes my obsessions clearer. And I speak in very cryptic and obscure sentences. Because for some reason, when I drink, I convince myself that I am plugged into some collective conciousness and those relevant minds hear me. I am however, merely drunk. Still, it would be neat if my mind was really broadcasting this. I suppose blogging it is as close as I'm going to get. Nobody really even reads this. I'm just a drunk girl with stupid theories, talking to herself.

Listening to Peter Murphy. I really like it. I think I've had almost enough Southern Comfort to...I dunno, actually, I've almost finished the bottle. Drinking makes me feel lonlier sometimes. It's almost as if my brain is disappointed that it doesn't get a response when drunk, even though I have no one to talk to but myself. I feel...not all there. But not in an insane way. I feel...partial. Is that normal? Do I make sense, or am I really further gone than I thought?

I think...this is really me. I need to drink and get over all the outward jumble to show my soul. If the soul is really...real. Too bad it's always late and when I'm alone. It makes me love me even more, I am fucking AWESOME. Anyone who disagrees, you are what is wrong with the world. I feel like the bright center of everything. Kiss me, I'm Irish. Or whatever, yeah, I am quite drunk.

My thoughts on country music. It's shit.

This job wouldn't be near as bad if the same mind-numbing country songs weren't played over and over from my bosses offices. Really, if given the choice (which I never am) between country music or none at all, I would pick silence. And there's nothing that makes me feel more irritable and unpatriotic than hearing the shitty twang of a country music rendition of the Star Spangled Banner played every day at noon. Way to ruin the national anthem, people, it sounds like you're singing it out of your assholes.

After Christmas Shittiness

Had a nice holiday, though so many of the family were sick (myself included). Now to tackle the feat of making it through the rest of winter. The endless stretch of cold and dark. After Christmas, all I want to do is curl up in bed or drink. Or curl up in bed AND drink. I've got kids constantly yakking in my ear so I can't form a fucking thought. I used to write poetry when I was down. It was depressing and angsty poetry, but it felt good to create something that represented the shit that I was feeling. Hell if I can do that with Spongebob Fucking Squarepants blasting on the TV.

All I want is Southern Comfort and nachos and to watch back to back episodes of Sherlock by myself. Followed by typing out drunken poetry while listening to the Doors. Maybe light some incense. The only way I get over depression is by wallowing in it. Roboting through it all and pretending it's all okay is not helping. I want to open the front door and scream.

Christmas

"I'm looking forward to Christmas, though I'm not expecting a visit from Jesus..."

This sums up the holiday nicely for me. I love the tradition of celebrating togetherness and watching goofy movies. Giving surprises to people I love. Spending time and eating cookies and drinking (well, okay, the drinking is done year-round) with a big fucking sparkly tree in the living room. I don't believe in any of the religious aspects of Christmas. But I still really like it.



Happy Holidays. Whatever holiday you celebrate. And if you don't celebrate, you should at least drink heavily and overeat. Because hey, look, we're halfway through the dark. *hug*

Stuff.

I like using "language." Like shitfuckmutherfuckercocksuckingfuckbagWANKER and maybe I'll offend someone (if I have offended you, you're welcome). I like expressing myself in the language I actually think in, and I often scream FUCK in my head for no reason. It just feels right.

Anyways, I just got back from a week-long vacation at the beach. I started said vacation healing from the blisters of the hand-foot-mouth disease given to me by my children...only to have blisters covering my back from a massive sunburn a week later (now...a week later is right the fuck now). Why can't I just TAN?? I mean, I normally like to stay a palish gray color most of the time, but when i DO go in the sun for an extended amount of time, no amount of sunscreen can protect me anymore. SPF 50 and I am still fried. Fuck. Me.

Glad to be done with my summer classes (in which I aced both, like a boss...and I think that's the first time I've tried to use, "like a boss," in a sentence and will most assuredly be the last time). I've got a couple weeks now where I don't have to try and bullshit my way through anything...other than work. So with all this extra time on my hands, I might be getting drunk and posting more whatnot.

I've actually been drinking tonight, so if this doesn't make any sense, I am just writing it to amuse myself.

I should be doing my homework...

...but I needed a shot of beauty into my liquor soaked reading of Moby Dick (I find that Southern Comfort helps me absorb this massively dense fat-ass book, which is required reading for my American Lit. class)

Therefore, Tim Minchin.

hey, it's franklin...

How can this fucking turtle just chill outside of his shell and still be alive? Isn't that his spine and rib cage in there, in his shell?? He should be dead. I must remember to explain this to my daughter the next time I read Franklin In the Dark to her at bedtime.

FRANKLIN SHOULD BE DEAD!

Wow. I really need to stop wasting time picking out the flaws in cartoon characters and finish my homework....

The Reason Rally

It finally happened. After months of waiting and figuratively biting my nails in wild anticipation, the weekend arrived where I could finally be surrounded by like-minded, enlightened individuals and listen to brilliant speakers, wicked funny comedians, and awesome musicians tear up the stage. I just never really thought I’d be in a poncho the entire time. Yes. It rained pretty much the whole day, but I didn’t mind. Neither did the rest of the crowd of 20,000+ people.

Sadly, my plan of bringing my 11 year old son, Dave, did not pan out, as we woke up at 4am the morning of the rally to the juicy splattering noises of him purging his dinner from IHOP all over my best friend’s floor and sleeping bag. But, this wonderful friend of mine, after my son probably permanently stained her carpet orange, offered to stay home with him while Charlie and I attended the rally. Thank you, Mandy. I hope the stain comes out and your sleeping bag can be salvaged.

Richard Dawkins

Eddie Izzard

Bad Religion

zombie check

what's this silliness? everyone in the house asleep but me and i decide to start watching The Walking Dead on Netflix. good show, great, now i'm doing little "zombie checks" every time i hear...anything. i'll sit here on my lappy watching YouTube videos with headphones on and suddenly i think...what could be going on around me that i'm not hearing? zombie check.

holy crap, i don't believe in this nonsense! i get another glass of wine instead of reading my history chapter, peruse fucking Twitter (thank you charlie, this sudden concern with Twitter is YOUR fault), and...zombie check.

the fan outside just shut off. now it's quieter. i thought it was most quiet before, i just didn't notice that hum of white noise until it shut off, now it's a disturbing kind of nothing. i may need to turn the tv on just for the comfort of sound. which means going into a dark living room...what was that?! shit, i just saw the edge of my glasses out of the corner of my eye and...zombie check.

i feel like i'm fucking five. like when i used to run and jump onto my bed so any hands that tried to reach out and slit my achilles with a butcher knife wouldn't have enough time, then i would lie there trying not to breathe too hard under my holly hobbie bedspread, and would finally have to open a TINY slit of blanket so i could get some cool air (making sure it wasn't near my eye so i wouldn't have to see some ghostly horror floating over my bed waiting to pounce). then waiting. and listening. and picturing a man with a machete under my bed. realizing that if that were the case, he would just need to stab up through my mattress and i would be toast. but i couldn't very well get up or the floaty ghost and butcher knife dude would get me (my bedroom apparently got very crowded at night).

whew. i'm glad i've grown up and come to my senses.

zombie check.

I'll tell you what...

For every criticism and complaint that I receive for my being the way I am, for every insult meant to point out what I consider to be a strength as if it were a laughable weakness, and for every person who goes out of their way to be insulted by my beliefs and disbelief, I can only say that I will never be made to feel ashamed. If I ever decide to change my mind, it will never result from your obnoxious bullying, but from my own observation of facts. I am proud to be who I am, whether or not it fits with your image of perfection. You are certainly not without flaws. I have never gone out of my way to single someone out to tell them that they are wrong in their beliefs and they should live their life the way that I deem appropriate. I resent anyone that inflicts that same idiocy upon me. I believe what I believe because I think it is worthy, true and beneficial to myself, my family, and to society as a whole. I can't help that you hold the opposite opinion, but you have the right to disagree with me. Just keep out of my fucking face.

it's a minchin day

best thing to get my mind off being miserably sick? watching tim minchin videos on youtube.

juicy

i have a cold. i'm not dying, i'm not helpless and i'm not actually feeling that bad yet. but holy fuck, i want someone to come and take care of my kids for a week, clean my house, make me soup, give me a large bottle of southern comfort so i can numb myself and then let me sleep. then disappear from the face of the earth, so i wouldn't feel guilty and the need to repay the kindness. i don't need a mommy. i need elves to come and make me some fucking shoes. or something, i can't think straight.

lucy's sick and snotting all over. she's been like this and had a nasty cough for the last few days, so for the last few days i've been waiting for the inevitable and now it's here, in all it's juicy glory. how i despise colds. heavy lungs, aching head, burning throat and all kinds of nastiness backed up somewhere in there waiting for me to sneeze in front of someone. yeah, that's disgusting. the worst of it hasn't hit yet and i'm scheduled to work the next three days. fuck.

reason rally

richard dawkins. tim minchin. adam savage. james randi. bad religion. and me. because i'm totally going, and bringing charlie and dave with me. hoping for a most epic adventure. and HOLY CRAP, TIM MINCHIN!!! YESSSSS.

morrissey

for the past few months, i really haven't wanted to listen to any music unless it involved morrissey's voice. all kinds of beautiful.

worry

i worry about some people. i can't do anything about their situation, and if i tell them i'm worried without offering to help (because really, in this situation, there really is nothing i can personally do for them), they would resent me. it may just be my perception of a situation i know nothing about (i have lost much contact and haven't seen them in over eight years), but said person really does not seem...lucid anymore.

i miss you, friend, and i hope your situation turns around. i hope people stop praying for you and do something that actually yields results. i will not pray for you, but you are in my thoughts. i know that really doesn't help you, though.

happy fucking holiday

i'm an atheist. i also LOVE christmas. i don't celebrate it as the birth of jesus, because it isn't. the celebration is much older than christianity and pulls from other cultures and religions (largely from pagans). but whatever, that's a well known fact and i'm sure i'm not the first person you've heard this from.

whatever the origins, i love it. it's a good time to be with family, watch corny movies, eat cookies and buy shit for people. it's the happy warm place during a time when it's cold and dark and depressing outside (i'm not a huge fan of winter weather). it's a good excuse to celebrate and drink (not that i need an excuse for that), and it makes my kids happy.

but if i have to continue to endure this, "he's the reason for the season," or, "keep CHRIST in christmas," or worse yet, the idea that saying, "Happy Holidays," is somehow offensive and part of a war on christmas, i might just snap. it's almost funny that people who have no problem with telling me that i'm going to burn in hell can't handle the words, "happy holidays." i have very little patience for religious people, especially that annoying habit that most of them have of trying to shove their make-believe god down everyone else's throats. so if one more of these flag waving ultra-american redneck bible lovers that think they own this holiday try to impose their ridiculous beliefs on me or my family, i'm afraid i may have to tell them where they can shove their god.

BOOM!

too much wine = silly nonsense blog post

i'm still the same girl that projected herself into the future when she was 9. i remember vividly, standing at the top of the street by myself waiting for the school bus, trying to picture it. i wondered then if i would be the same person when i was a teenager...in college...a mom. and yes, it's still me. i have had a very definite sense of ME for my entire life, and i am proud and appalled to say i don't change much. i have the same imagination and insecurities as i had when i was a kid, yet i now seem to hide...both. the imagination comes out a lot when i'm drinking, though. like now. but i try to hide that hope that someday i will be "very important." as in famous for something. i suppose i am important to my kids and family. that's enough. i guess.

fruit fly holocaust

look at the little bastards. muahaha!

i had a problem. i refuse to stop buying bananas and apples, but a tribe of fruit flies have begun to make our kitchen their home. not just a few. for some reason, they've been really thick. i've searched around to make sure something hadn't gone bad, and removed some things (a bag of potatoes, some tomatoes from my cousin's garden), but we've always had bananas and apples on the counter and have never had this bad a problem with the fruit flies.

i had tried clapping them in my hands or smacking them on the walls and kitchen counters. didn't work. i tried following them around the kitchen with lysol (i don't want to taint everything in the kitchen with Raid). didn't work. i got the vacuum out and sucked up a whole bunch of them, but that was more fun than effective, as i just temporarily scared most of them away. so i googled a solution. and i found it.

i got a clear cup and put a little apple cider vinegar in the bottom. then i made a paper cone with a tiny opening at the tip a little larger than a fruit fly. then, i put the cone into the cup with the tip pointing down (making sure it didn't dip into the vinegar) and taped the top to the cup to seal it. i left the room for about 5 minutes, came back and BOOM! i had caught exactly six. it's now been about an hour and there's a bunch.

yesssss.

sunday night

it's never okay to mix cheap wine with jenny at 2am. or feed the mogwai after midnight.

it's one of those nights where i know i need to get things done and i know i need to wake up early and be coherent, yet at the same time, the notion of sleep seems absurd. sleep?? i'm too busy drinking and listening to moody music, man! i'm the only person awake in the world right now. never mind time zones, i am IT. me, myself and i. the rest of the human race will not exist until...say...about 7am.

i want to go sleep and have one of those very consuming dreams that will set my mood for the rest of the day. the sort that has me pissing and moaning about having to wake up and interrupt it. normally they are extremely bizarre, so if i happen to have that dream and remember it tomorrow, i'll be sure and post the details.

good night, all you nonexistent people.

after watching Walking and Talking. by myself.

i'm a little...drunk? maybe. but i just finished a romantic comedy from...i suppose from the mid 90's, i dunno. there's nothing like drinking and being absorbed into a movie. living someone else's life for a change. not that i don't like my own (i do), but it feels so fresh, feeling someone else's feelings. mine feel so stale and predictable. i miss newness and skinny dipping. i need some shaking up is all. it's all become monotonous. i think charlie and i need a vacation. just us. i adore our kids, but i feel i'm becoming boring. that is the thing i have always feared most. that and clowns. and spiders.