I swear I'm either mentally retarded or stuck in a episode of "boiling point"

I went to Walmart (yes, the evil communist bastards that they are) and spent a hundred and fifty bucks yesterday. It's stuff I've been putting off getting for a long time now. Stuff like a vacuum cleaner (and ooo I got the cutest little vacuum ever!).

When I shop, I pass all those sweet treats that helped me gain so much weight -- and I'll be damned if i haven't had a single skittle in like 9 months. So my cart usually gathers a bit of junk to test my willpower. This is then distributed around the store as I finally tell myself "no Karen, you can't eat that. Ever. Unless it's a really special occasion -- then you can eat it." Things like the (sugar-free) cookies I picked up at the entrance. They ended up back with the milk. And ooo V8 makes a drink that is 100% real juice now -- and look at all the flavors! Who knows where that ended up. I should drink things that don't contain empty calories. Like unsweet tea sweetened with Splenda -- AKA my blood (picked up 2 gallons of that). Then I passed the cupcakes. Lord I love cheap cupcakes cause they have that super yummy icing! But it would make me sick. Of course I can be slightly sick -- I'm just hanging around at home - but no, there's no way I'm gonna buy a dozen. I'm sure I spent at least 2 minutes of my life I'll never get back debating on how yummy that cupcake would be -- but I resisted. Then the donuts -- aww cream-filled Krispy Kreme long johns! I'll be honest -- those made it all the way to the register before the angel on my shoulder knocked me a good one. So I made it out of the store safe with no bad junk. I'm wondering if it's bad that I want all that stuff -- or good that I resisted... Anyway...

So I come home with a TON of stuff to bring into the apartment -- And unfortunately I had to park reasonably far away. So I grab a ton of stuff and carry it to the apartment, place all those bag just inside the doorway and go back to the car. This time I come back with 40 pounds of cat-litter (fucking cat). I carried this 40 pounds of cat litter quite a ways -- and the heaviness was much. (And holy shit -- I've lost TWICE that). So I finally get to the door with this massive weight and I kick it only to find that in that short minute that I was outside -- my fucking good for nothing - wont clean a goddamn thing - can't speak a lick of English -- and shuffles her feet constantly roommate has left her room, navigated around a ton of shopping bags and locked the fucking door. And boy was I pissed. What the hell would lead you to do that? What the hell is her problem? My computer costs more than every possession she has in this apartment -- is someone going to come in and steal the caked up gunk around the spices she keeps on the counter? Are they gonna steal the dust bunnies in the hall? How about the spot on the floor where she spilled something and decided not to clean it up? Are english vulgarities wasted on the Chinese?

Anyway. Yeah. And one of the things I bought was a "AirWick" automatic air freshener. I was going to go with one of the "Glade" ones that spray poofs of smoke at you but that one had half an ounce of smell stuff for 60 days and this one had 6 ounces of smell stuff. I'm going with that one. Yall know I'm paranoid about stuff smelling bad -- especially now that I keep a litterbox in my room. So I get it out of the box and start to assemble it. Ok... "Insert can with nozzle facing out." K. And the thing sprays me in the face. And not just a little poof of smoke either -- the thing blasted me. But I move on.

THEN Last night I was setting my alarm before bed. Hmmm what time do I want to wake up? And the thing blasts me AGAIN. Right in the face.

Just thought you should know.

My what beautiful nails you have!

If you happened to be walking through Southeast tonight and heard the horrifying sounds of one of Gods beautiful creatures being slowly tortured to death, I just want to let you know that the spoiled brat is fine. It was just Jack getting his nails trimmed and a new set of SoftPaws caps applied. And no, he wasn't hurt in the process -- P.E.T.A. ain't got nothin' on me. He was even rewarded for his stunning over-dramatization with a dinner of gourmet beef tips and gravy while I, the one who did all the work and had to bear the screams, was stuck with leftover pizza. I repeat: the spoiled brat is fine.

In fact, while writing this very post, he just pulled an entire glass of tea on himself in an effort to get the neon pink bendy-straw for himself. And I felt so bad for him when I saw his fur dripping with oh-so-delicious Milos tea that I couldn't even punish him -- Instead, I dried him off with a towel and let him have the straw. He's now happily oblivious again.

And I changed his litter-box (which gets scooped every night), gave him fresh food, and cleaned and refilled his water dispenser. Yeah. He's fine. A little wet, but fine -- and cute. He's cute too.


Do they show Iron Chef America in Japan with bad over-dubs?

Are snow clouds dark like rain clouds are?

Surprise for me!

Today was my last day at BN. I was only seasonal and they "aren't keeping any seasonal people." I would be scheduled the worst possible shift: 9 to 5. I knew I should have called out -- I'm just too freaking reliable to do that with no reason. I didn't get to work with the people I like. Erin had the day off and cutie in the cafe was off too! I had even decided to make some boldly flirtatious statement about me having to leave before we even went on a date. The best laid plans always fail.

It was a long day. B was in a horrible bitchy mood and it was super slow (aka boring). Up until about 12:30 that was it -- just a boring last day. But then I took my lunch break and happened to catch a glimpse of next weeks schedule. You know -- the regular schedule. None of the managers ever talked to any of us seasonal people about when seasonal would end or anything like that. In fact the only way we knew was that last weeks schedule said it was the last seasonal one. So we all knew that today would be our last day. V had told me (in front of witnesses -- don't make me pull out the witnesses) that they weren't keeping ANY seasonal people this year -- she followed this with a lengthy explanation and blah blah. Fair is fair though -- I was hired as seasonal so I'll leave quietly even though I'd love to keep the job...


There was something odd about this schedule. Sure, MY name wasn't on it -- you know, the first seasonal person they hired -- but 3 of the other "seasonal" people WERE. They were working all week. WHAT THE FUCK? I was (and am) FURIOUS. I've called out once in the entire time I've worked there. I'm good at my fucking job. My till is always next to perfect. I'm quick and efficient. Hell, I sold three of their damned memberships today. PLUS I was the first seasonal person and have always made it clear that I wanted to stay -- and I'm the only one NOT STAYING? TWO people called out today -- they have jobs. K is like 9 months pregnant (quite literally) a total bitch who doesn't do any work cause she's pregnant and cant -- she's gonna drop that baby any day now and she won't be able to work THEN (not that she works now) and she decided to just not come in for her last TWO shifts -- SHE HAS A JOB.

I wanted to just up and leave. But I stayed -- lord only knows WHY. I even asked David why they got to stay and I didn't and he gave me some bullshit about how that was the only week. Bullshit -- you said last week was the last week for ALL of us -- why should I believe you now?


I was in a wretched mood for most of the day. Then at around 3:30 I look up -- and my mother was there. She literally scared me! My mom lives 2 hours away but she drove up to surprise me and have dinner! HOW SWEET! (Naturally, I asked if I could leave a bit early since my mom was right there but they wouldn't let me. Even though there were about 8 people there and 5 of them were just standing at customer service chatting it up because they are the click of the store and they don't have to work like the rest of us).

So we went out and had Mexican for dinner. Then she came over to my place to play with Jack for a bit -- and we went shopping too. It was nice. Such a great surprise after such a bad day.

My momma is sooooo cool.

Parking fine # 4

One month adoption-anniversary

Originally uploaded by KarenAlexa.
I almost missed posting that I've had Jack for exactly one month now! Yep. Exactly one month ago to this day, I took the little furball home. Isn't that sweet?

He's doing well -- spoiled, naturally. I'm so glad I decided to get him -- and I'm excited that he's turned out to be such a great cat. Waking up isn't quite so hard when he's looking at me and meowing cause the alarms going off. And it's nice to come home and find him purring because he's so happy I've returned to play with him and give him treats.

He sleeps in my bed, usually on my pillows. It doesn't matter how many times I take him off or tell him no, hell just wait till I fall asleep to snuggle up in my hair again. This morning I rolled over and rested my head on him... only I didn't know it was him. He surprisingly stood for it for a while before waking me up so he could move. He likes to get under the covers too. Man, I want to say "no you can't get in my bed" -- but it's just so sweet and cute. (I know Izzy is probably gagging by now).

When we first got him, he needed to be held constantly. He's already grown out of that one. On the one hand, I can type on the keyboard without him sitting on it. But on the other, it WAS pretty sweet. Now he's just content to sit somewhere near you. If I go over to my desk, he curls up in the cat-condo you see in the picture.

China is warming up to him. Today she walked in and he ran to my door to see who was here -- I heard her say something along the lines of "hedge-oh yak." I was worried that my apartment, and specifically my room would be too small for him, but he doesn't seem to mind. Not only does he not want to go outside, he hardly ever leaves my room. I leave the door open during the day for him, but he's content to stay in here or at the most, sit in the doorway and watch what you are doing.

And if anyone wants to give him presents, he requests feathers. Of all the toys (and believe me, I'm talking about a lot here) he LOVES anything with feathers. He eats them. He specifically like to wrestle with them on top of me while I'm trying to sleep. Though if you were going by my request, I'd have to say some kind of breath -freshening treats.

Speaking of his horrible breath, I'm pleased to say that my room doesn't smell like him or his litterbox! That was my biggest concern. I didn't want to stink and I didn't want my room to stink. I've managed to keep this up by dutifully cleaning his litterbox every single night. Plus, as always, there's plenty of candles and air-fresheners. And not that I admit this, but if I'm spraying a nice scent on myself before I head out the door... it might have a tendency to spray his way as well...

Anyway, that's enough about him... for now. HAPPY ADOPT-IVERSARY, JACK!


So all day I've been super psyched about my 80 pound weight loss (even though I had another anxiety attack this afternoon). It's nice to feel like I've lost some for a change.

But then I can't help but fall back into the fact that I have 80 more pounds to lose to make my goal... which will still be "obese" by medical standards. And technically I have to lose 80 to hit that goal and I've only lost 68 since the surgery. Can I really make that? Dammit. Plus I was talking to a friend of mine and I joked that I weighed twice as much as she does... and then it occurred to me that she's super tiny and even after my 80 pound loss -- I'm still weigh more than twice what she does. You can't deny the numbers. Oh the horror of this revelation is so painful.

And you know what? After a HUGE loss of 80 pounds, 99% of guys still wouldn't give me a second glance. It doesn't matter how awesome (albeit slightly off-kilter) I am if I can't even get my foot in the goddamn door. And what's sad is that I want someone to appease me and tell my I'm beautiful, but they won't cause they don't think I am. Three psychiatrists have told me that by societies standards, I'm just not. And as a dear friend said about that: "what good would lies do me?"

So, yeah yay I've lost 80 pounds. People still see me as fat. Notice the period after "fat."

And I'm 23 and single. An no, not because I broke up with someone but because every guy I ever even remotely liked didn't even think I was worth a shot.

And yeah there's all that you have to love yourself first bullshit -- but you know what? Don't you think it would help my self confidence to have a boy friend -- someone who saw me as a beautiful person inside and out and who supported me? Just the knowledge that someone thinks I'm worth a shit -- let me lay my head down on the pillow knowing that someone out there loves me.

Yeah, I'm upset. Yes, I already took my Effexor twice today. And yeah, I even broke out the Klonoipn I keep stored away for when I REALLY freak out.

It's not helping.

I shouldn't post this -- I should pretend to be confident and happy because that's what everyone wants. No one wants ME as I am. No one. Period. Isn't THAT a happy thought?

And BTW my cats breath smells horrid.

REAL rechargeable batteries

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but why don’t they make rechargeable batteries? And no, I’m not talking about those pieces of shit that they call rechargeable batteries now. Those are based on the regular old battery capacitor whatevers. I’m talking about making something that works exactly the same as a cell phone or iPod or whatever battery, but is in the convenient shape and design to replace your good old double and triple A’s. Yeah. A double A battery that runs for days and days – probably longer because the devices that take AA batteries don’t need nearly as much power as the standard cell phone or iPod. Then when it dies, pull it out stick it on the charger and in like 2 hours you’re good to go for another couple of weeks.

See rechargeable batteries as we know them now are shit. They only have a certain number of life cycles – they have horribly short charge life and they’re expensive as fuck. But what about cell phone batteries – laptop batteries – hell you’re fucking color iPod can play music on a back-lit color screen for like 20 hours. Could a AA come even close to that? Fuck no. An yes, the cell phone battery costs like 60 times more, but it will also last you years. No replacing the remote batteries – the digital camera batteries – and lord if you have kids, imagine this: no replacing all those little beeping blinking electronics batteries. Just have a couple of really kickass AAs in the drawer and you are set, my friend!

See, I think the reason this hasn’t been done is that manufacturers want a cheap power source – and we all know standard batteries are way cheaper. I’m not saying stop making them. Your TV remote can still come prepackaged with some good old Duracells – but give the consumer the option to pull out all the stops. Sure it works with your batteries, but give us the option of replacing them with something that will last almost infinitely longer. And yes, to replace all your double As would cost you an arm and a leg. I’m not saying replace them all – but for parents, they could have a set to keep in their childs favorite toy of them moment. Or I could put them in my digital camera. Or safety workers could still use their trusty Mag-Lite flashlights and theyd NEVER be dead when they needed them. And if they were, they could plug them in to their cars cigarette lighter like we do any cellphone and get a charge that will make them useable again.

Why hasn’t anyone one this? How much does a patent cost? I should patent this.

Was my butt THAT big?

Was my butt THAT big?
Originally uploaded by KarenAlexa.
I know I didn't do a 8-months post-op update. I didn't do one on purpose. Yes, I lost another 8 pounds this month but I just didn't feel like dragging out a tape measurer and recording my progress. (I'm so resisting the urge to put "slow" before progress). I'm half-way to my goal now! HALF! And it's been 8 and a bit months -- maybe I'll make my goal after all eh? I'm told I have 18 months of prime weight loss opportunity -- so I'm half way to my goal and I haven't even spent half of the prime weight-losing time yet. Yay! This makes me feel good.

Tonight, I decided that I'd drag out some of the old clothes and see what 80 pounds lost (note -- 68 since surgery) looks like. I need the moral boost (especially after having a full-blown anxiety attack this morning). And wow -- yeah, you CAN tell. As the title says: Wow, my butt was a lot bigger than a remember. This makes me feel good :) Almost great, even. And look at how big the shirt is. Damn.

Feel free to urge me on in the comments -- and by saying that I'm totally requesting it, I admit it.

I lose about 2 pounds a week -- that's where I've been for quite a while now. I hate that "weight-loss panic chart" I started filling out a few months ago. Yes, I'm 30 pounds behind the average (insert many curse words here), BUT writing down my loss each week gives me no choice but to recognize that I'm still losing steadily. Also, as to being 30 pounds behind the average -- please note that in the first two weeks when all I could eat was jello and I was told I was doing TOO much moving around, I only lost half the average amount -- my body just likes the fight me. Maybe it's all the anxiety...

Oh, and take note -- I uploaded some photos to flicker tonight. There's a few of me in the super baggy clothes -- plus a special bonus photo of how gross my neck looks when I strain it. I honestly can't tell if that's normal or if my skin is just really loose. It feels so icky when you touch it! Can you tell that I've always been fat? These things amaze me.

I also documented China's habit of thawing raw meat all over the apartment -- and I got the rice cooker in the same shot -- score! And check out the unidentifiable ingredients on my counter-top. And yeah, you knew there'd be one of Jack in there too...

Either the best or worst fear factor stunt ever

I'm watching Fear Factor with my mouth wide open. In this stunt, the guy spins the girl and whatever her head is pointing to is the hair cut she gets. They're all patterns of how their head will be shaved. This is EVIL. The girls are crying and freaking out -- will any of them go through with it? The guys are saying that they can get wigs or extensions. My lord. So they might have to get a "taco" shaved into their hair and not even win the money!?

OH lord -- a girl is actually doing it. She's getting "patches" cut into her hair. But she was smart -- she said shed do it if they guaranteed her 25,000 dollars. Ugh it looks horrible -- she looks like a dog with mange. And they just showed her herself in the mirror and now shes crying.

Dude, thats sooooo evil.

I hate the media.

Oprah just did a special on the "inevitable" bird flue pandemic. Let's all panic because we're hopelessly misinformed and we're all gonna die. She even had the nerve to make a deal out of doctors getting some vaccine that the rest of us weren't getting. Ummmm... first, if ANYONE gets it, it should be the doctors that are going to save everyone else's ass. And second, and more importantly -- who's more likely to contract some freaky virus -- the doctor, who's JOB is to come in contact with the sickest of the sick every day all day -- or Oprah? How selfish are people? That just crawled under my skin. If I have to choose between saving a doctor who will work on saving everyone, or saving Oprah and her entire staff -- I'm going with the doctor. And sure, some of that might just be spite -- but the rest of it is totally justified.

Sorry about this misinformed rant. Oprah just has a tendency to make me mad. I have no idea why I watch the show.

Wussy (leash training my cat)

Jack isn't taking to going outside very well. And yes, I'd have included a picture with this post except that the batteries in my digital camera are dead and I'm too poor to buy new ones. We just came back from our third venture in the great outdoors. Here's a quick run through of my progress.

I didn't enter into this light heartedly -- I read a book and lots of websites on training a cat to walk on a leash. I followed their advice and let him become "acclimated" to the leash and harness. He just wanted to play with them. So I moved on to letting him get used to wearing the harness. He would just roll around drunkenly when I put it on him. I tried on three different occasions -- we weren't making progress. At all.

So the other day I decided to just jump drastically ahead. I put the harness on him and watched him roll around drunkenly before I took him outside and set him in the grass. This had the desired effect of making him forget about the harness. He was scared to death though. All in all, we stayed outside for about 40 minutes. He tried to climb trees and continuously fell back to the ground (can't get a grip with the caps on his claws). He hid everywhere he possibly could. He freaked every time he saw another person. This came as a huge surprise considering that until now, he has been fearless. I still considered it a success though.

The next try, I set him outside the door and stood in the opening with the door held open. I figured this way he'd feel safe because he could choose to go back inside or to walk outside. I just didn't think that he'd immediately choose to run back inside.

Today was try number 3. I took him out to the hallway -- he hated it. He just wailed and pressed himself against the apartment door. No matter how many times I took him away, he returned to our door. At least he knows where home is! I decided to jump the gun again and walked him out to a picnic table where we could sit. He just wailed and wouldn't leave my lap. And since he was shaking so much -- obviously scared, I didn't have the heart to make him stay out there.

We just came back inside and now he's acting like he's Mr Big again. He's just running around my room fearless... as long as he's in here. He went straight to the windowsill to watch the people passing outside. He loves sitting in the window, and if I am leaving he makes to run out the door with me -- so what's the hold up? Anyone have any experience with this?

On another note, I saw my RA (and while we were talking, another RA came up). He said he had received a memo about Jack. Apparently they sent one out announcing him as a resident of South East -- how cute!

Of course while we were talking he said something about his goldfish that was his best friend because he didn't have a choice. That made me feel kinda bad about having Jack. I can't help but feel slightly pathetic for getting a cat because I was lonely. It is so cliche, isn't it?

Though I have to say, getting him was a good choice. He's rather fun to play with -- and he keeps making me laugh. How can you not laugh when he fetches? It's a little cat FETCHING. Come on, thats cute.

Weirdest reaction award winner.

Through my pointless clicking around this evening, I came upon this photo. I took a moment to let it seep in. I looked it over. I debated on what thoughts led up to this or if it was even real. And then, after a good long pause -- I burst out laughing.

The delayed humor response.

Jack wouldn't be still for that. Would he? And how do you go about sizing for such a thing. He's not really big enough for an orange. A lemon maybe... NO. Bad, Karen Bad. What about banana dreadlocks?

Where's my sticker(s)?

Today my subconscious was so messing with my head. You know how you have dreams where you get up and get ready to go and then climb back in bed to catch a little bit more sleep. Then you ignore your alarm and the time because, after all, you are already ready to go -- you've only got to put your shoes on. Then you finally get up and realize that your subconscious totally screwed you? It was somewhat like that.

Lately, and by lately I mean for the past month or so, I've been dreaming about being in school. It's the same continuous dream only it takes place in my old high school and includes a few teachers from elementary school. I'm taking English and History too -- my two WORST subjects. I think we have P.E. as well -- ugh. These dreams started even before this semester when I was already worrying about it. So in it's own warped way, it has a backlog of history/memories and realistic timeframe. But these dreams always really suck, like I'll be going to a class that I haven't attended in two weeks and there will be a test. Or in P.E. we have this totally impossible course to run and everyone can do it but me. Mainly they revolve around anxiety. Anxiety of going to a class I haven't attended in a while and not knowing what's going on and knowing that everyone knows I haven't been there and they turn me into a joke.

Anyway, this particular morning I dreamt that I slept late and missed class. So I'm laying in bed and I look at the clock and what's the point of getting up -- I already missed class. History starts at 11 and I missed it. Dammit. And then after like an hour, I realize -- holy shit, I don't have a class at 11 -- dude, I don't even take history! Fuck me, I gotta get to class.

Does stuff like that happen to any of yall? Do I need to add another medication to what Steph already refers to as "my growing collection?"

Anyway, I went to BOTH classes today. Yep. AND I walked so I got my exercise too. You know, I really am still fascinated that I can walk all the way across campus to class and not be out of breath. Dude, I totally walk to class now. I've never been able to do that before. So yeah, I did the school thing just like I should -- where's my sticker?

And for bonus points, I went to the grocery store. PLUS, I stuck to my budget. Well, Ok so I went over 93 cents -- that's not even a dollar. Do any of yall keep track of how much you are spending when you grocery shop? I never do -- I just buy what I need and what I like. The past few times though, I've had to keep track because I only have a small amount of money. Wow, I shop so much better on a budget -- I come home with exactly what I needed and better things too. Seems like I get so much more for my money that way. You should try it.

Then, for even more bonus points, I totally washed and folded all my laundry (using the dryer sheets that I purchased at the store). Oh yeah, and I cooked dinner too. My lord I was so good and domestic today that I can't believe it. It's a good thing I didn't mop, I might have been struck down for overstepping my bounds of usefulness.

Poetry Hour II ~ 7:00pm Monday - Thursday, 8:00pm Friday - Sunday

The Heart Rounds Up the Unusual Suspects
I sleep with the cat
When no one will have me.
When I can’t give it away
For love or money-

I telephone the ones
Who used to love me.
Or try to lure the leery
Into my pretty web.

I’m loony as a June bride.
Cold as a bruja’s tit.
A pathetic bitch.
In short an ordinary woman.
Grateful to excessiveness.

At the slightest tug of generousness,
I stick to the cyclop who takes me,
Lets me pee on the carpet
And keeps me fed.

Have you seen this woman?
I am considered harmless.
Armed and dangerous.
But only to me.
-Sandra Cisneros


I swear I didn't right that. Really. Look it up. I am however please to say that it's something I could see myself writing, but not something I'd write at the moment. And sure, I'm fully aware that the whole lonely woman with a cat thing is totally over-done and pathetic -- but I like the cat, dammit. He's cute. And yeah... he curls up with me in bed - so what? I never said I WASN'T lonely.

Poetry Hour ~ 7:00pm Monday - Thursday, 8:00pm Friday - Sunday

Somewhere A Seed

Somewhere a seed falls to the ground
That will become a tree
That will some day be felled
From which thin shafts will be extracted
To be made into arrows
To be fitted with warheads
One of which, some day when you least expect it,
While a winter sun is shining
On a river of ice
And you feel farthest from self-pity,
Will pierce your shit-filled heart.
-Michael Fried

Thank you, Mr Fried. Today's reading was taken from "The Hell With Love" A book of poems.

Stalked for a video game guide.

You may not know it, but BN stocks video game guides too. Obviously, with the millions of games out there though - we don't have a guide for every game. This was the case with a man who came in wanting a guide for "God of War." No problem, dude, we can totally order that for you and you'll have it next week. Cool.

So we placed the order (I remember helping this man and ordering it for him -- lucky for me he doesn't remember ME). This arrived last week, I suppose. As is our way, we called him to let him know it was there and that we would hold it for 10 days. Specifically, R called him. So he came in to pick it up.

Problem: we seem to have misplaced it. Yes, we lost the guys book -- we admit our wrong, but this guy was furious. Eventually we had the store manager talking to him and every single employee looking for the book. We went through the manga and comics, and the game guides, and the crossword puzzles, and the magazines, -- anywhere it might have been placed by mistake -- plus we ransacked the back and the info counter -- no one could find it anywhere. The book is just lost. Any normal person would take a deeply irritated breath and accept that we can reorder it and give you a discount for the trouble. Not so with this man.

He demanded to talk to the regional manager -- so we let him. He accused R of stealing the guide for herself. he demanded she be fired. Through all of his fit, he was seriously convinced that she stole it. Obviously, everyone knows the guy is off his rocker so nothings going to happen to her -- lord only knows where it ended up. I'm placing bets that it ended up with the returns or trash.

So to appease the raging maniac, we order the book again -- we are having it shipped over night to him at no expense -- PLUS he gets it for 50% off. You would think this would pacify him. Not so.

Today he called. He didn't say who he was -- but we so know it was him. He asked if R was there. She wasn't. He asked when she was supposed to come in. We aren't allowed to tell people things like that. He asked if she had been fired. He was angry and he wants to talk to her... because she stole his VIDEO GAME guide. Apparently she spotted the guide, decided to steal it and then called him to tell him his order had come in. The deviant little bitch.

So she's getting stalked by some idiot over a VIDEO GAME GUIDE. Yes. Take a moment to absorb that. How can someone get THAT upset over something so trivial? I think that guys dangerous. I'm so glad he doesn't remember that I placed the order for him. If he shows up again, the police are going to be called and a restraining order placed. He's THAT angry.

Chronicles of an Idiot: Vol. 97,243

The things that some people just cannot grasp amaze me. Today I was trying to help a woman buy the collection of Narnia books (C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia). She wanted them in hardback to match one of the books she already had. Sounds simple right? Well we have a whole table dedicated to those books because of the movie (Narnia). I started showing her the different editions, and that's when it all went downhill -- quickly.

She couldn't understand that the book may have different covers, but it's still the same book. I tried to explain to her that they are just different printings of the same book but that was a no go. Though, for some reason, I really wanted to help this woman. So I dumbed it down real far and explained that these books have been out for quite some time and they didn't have enough of them so they printed some more -- and they just gave them a new cover with a picture from the movie. Not only did that not help her to understand, that brought up the topic of the pictures from the movie. Why didn't the other books in the series have pictures from the movie? Well, the movie was only about this book -- it wouldn't make sense to have pictures from book 2 on book 7. She didn't get it. I spent 30 minutes trying to explain that this edition was still the same STORY as that edition. I even stooped as low as to utter the following: "They took the words from this book *holds book in left hand* and put them in THIS book *holds book in right hand* --- the WORDS are the same."

...Then we had the question of why THIS book had more pages. *sigh* And somehow the issue of pictures came up again... And THEN she saw the books that were ABOUT the series and C.S Lewis. I was stupid enough to think she'd understand that these books were not part of the series. Yeah, she didn't. I was literally taking a book from her and saying "Don't buy that." I felt like I was talking to a three-year old.

It was one of those conversations that turn into an argument with both sides deciding that the other is an absolute idiot. Of course I must be CRAZY! This book has a picture of a lion on the cover and that book has a witch on the cover -- there is NO WAY they are the same book!

In the end, she ended up with one of the larger ones that contain the entire series in one book. I swear she probably thinks it's a completely different book though. I wouldn't be surprised if she comes back to return it arguing that I lied to her.

The little things that make you SO happy

I'm playing with iTunes and testing out some new headphones. I'm told that you can hear parts of songs you've never heard before -- this bears testing. So I open up my purchased music because I have no idea what I'm in the mood for and lord knows if my cheap ass paid for it then I like it.

Do you know what I saw? Billy Joel's "River of Dreams!" I totally forgot that I bought it! It hasn't even been listened to!

You can not possibly imagine how happy this made me.

In the middle of the -- I go walkin in the -- in the middle of the -- I go walkin in the -- In the middle of the -- I go walkin the

In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep. From the mountains of faith to the river so deep. I must be lookin' for something -- something sacred I lost. But the river is wide and it's too hard to cross. Even though I know the river is wide, I walk down every evening and stand on the shore. I try to cross to the opposite side so I can finally find what I've been looking for...

There are a few songs that just resonate with me and make me incredibly happy. This is one of them. Other include "Lean on Me," "Stand by Me," "Billy Don't be a Hero," "Happy Together," "Poison Ivy," "Don't Worry Be Happy" ... Hmmm The list keeps growing as I hear a song on the radio that I haven't heard in 15 years and yet can still sing. There are many more that escape me at the moment, but no matter.

Play one of these songs for me and I brighten up instantly. It's a good thing.

It's like summer camp -- but for adults!

Tuesday, my sister went for another half-hearted suicide attempt cry for attention. Yes, she's fine. No, she wasn't really trying to die.

So now she's in a rehab center for two weeks which is going to cost someone (never her) some major money. This isn't the first time this has happened -- actually, something like this happens pretty regularly with her. The last time, she went to this same rehab center for two weeks under court order. She claimed to be better -- the whole family was behind her... and that lasted 2 weeks -- max. So this time, no one really gives a shit. She's worn out the good hearts of everyone she knows -- except for my mother, but she's approaching her breaking point.

We've been trying to get mom to kick her out for years. All she does is eat and drink and stress out mom (and I quite literally mean that thats all she does). So after this latest fiasco which involved her cutting up her arms and waking mom up at 4AM to show her -- then slitting her wrists while mom was getting dressed to take her to the hospital -- then drunkenly and repeatedly pulling out her IV line and being incapable of seeing WHY she couldn't go home... Wait, I got lost in my run-on. Ok so this time, my sister in law called her mom who lives in a Rehab center/mission in Tennessee to see if they could take her. Praise God they can!

Now this is a great place. It's free and it's done miracles with her mom -- MIRACLES I tell you. And hell, she likes it so much that she LIVES there. The program lasts a year and all Jenn has to do is call them. Jenn has to call them, not us.

Jenn won't do it.

She claims that she did this so that she could go back to Bradford (the rehab center she had to go to under court order). She knows she needs help because for the past 30 years all she's done is ruin everyones lives and drink. So she apparently reasoned that this was the only way. Cause, you know, just going up there and checking yourself in must be too simple.

Well what the fuck -- you can go to a rehab center that DIDN'T help you for two weeks and the expense of our entire family, OR you could go to this great mission in Tennessee for a year on God's dime. It's like fucking summer camp up there! Dude, they have doctors and therapists and great food and tons of programs and classes -- My sister-in-laws mom likes it so much that she LIVES THERE NOW. Do you know how many people would LOVE that? It's a year long free vacation -- but see the rest of us have obligations and such and no ones gonna pay for us to veg out for an entire year. AND SHE WON'T DO IT? Why the fuck not? Does she want to spend another 30 years holed up in her bedroom at moms house drinking until she passes out and loses control of her bowels and vomits on the expensive rug in the living room and someone has to check to see if shes still alive and either haul her piss-covered self to her bedroom or just leave her in the kitchen or front yard for the neighbors to see?

And no, I have not an ounce of sympathy for her. When mom relayed the story to me, she mentioned that when Jenn first woke her up, she thought something had happened to the cat. Well, as I told her and I'll tell yall now: I'd have cared more if something had happened to the cat. How many times do you want to be arrested for being drunk? How many public places do you want to pass out in? How many cars do you want to wreck? How many times do you want to make some lame ass attempt at suicide and how many years do you want to live with mom? Get off your goddamned ass and get over yourself.

Yes, I acknowledge that she has serious mental issues that she was born with. But you know what? I took her abuse for years and years. I grew up under the same circumstance only worse because I had to deal with her. She's always been the center of everything -- she gets all the handouts -- everyone wants to help her, all she has to do is get off her ass. And look at her. Do you see ME ruining everyones lives and becoming an alcoholic? No. I go to therapy and support groups and I take an obnoxiously high dose of powerful anti-depressants twice a day just to even have a chance at surviving the day. There wasn't any money for ME to move out and go to school but I did anyway. Hell we ALL did. No one has had it as easy or as cushy as she has PLUS we had to deal with her bullshit all our lives.

She has no excuse -- NONE. The help is there. The help is being shoved in her face. The support is there. She's HAD the help. She just won't do anything.

Ok, so yeah I'm just ranting. Everyone say a prayer that she'll go to that mission in Tennessee. Even if it doesn't work in the end -- it'll give the rest of us a year of peace.

Slowly going blind.

The other day in class, the professor used an overhead projector to display some paperwork that we, as software engineers, will soon have to write to prove that we wrote the previous paperwork which was to provide back-up that we wrote the paperwork before that. Really, writing software is 98% paperwork. I'm totally serious. Anyway... Even though I sit in the front row, I could not read the words projected on the wall.

You're supposed to get new lenses for your glasses every 2 years. These lenses are not even 2 years old yet. This disturbs me.

Now today, I sit down at the computer without my glasses on and trying to read the words that are a mere 2 feet from my face is giving me a major headache. I had to go get my glasses just to write this post. And I'm NEAR-sighted.

So this is it. I'm going blind. I shall go to the eye-doctor and order my coke-bottle lenses.

Work woes -- you knew they were coming.

So the time for me to not like working at BN has finally come. I had been hoping they would keep me for more than just seasonal work, but the other day I found out that that will not be. So now I have no motivation for working there.

Then this Saturday I called out. Now I had good reason to call out -- and I didn't just not show up. I went in Thursday, tried to fill the shift by calling everyone who wasn't working that day, and informed RA that I wouldn't be able to come in. RA was VERY rude and bitchy about it. That pissed me off because I've never missed a single shift. There are people who work there who literally probably miss a shift a week. JS, anyone? Whats his percentage of shifts worked? 45%... MAX? And most people don't even call in -- they just don't show up. So yeah, that didn't settle well with me. She also didn't tell anyone. So Friday, I made sure to tell RJ and B too. I gave them 2 days advance notice and told every higher-up I saw in those two days.

And yet... Saturday morning, they were wondering where the hell I was. Erin had to tell D that I had called out -- no one had passed along the message to him. B also decided to get on some high-horse about how "I had accepted the responsibility of having the job" and blah blah blah. Bitch, I already explained why I wasn't coming in to you personally.

Now I'm REALLY pissed. Instead of getting hurt when people talk about me behind my back and get angry at me, I just get pissed and start to hate them.

So that's my bitchy whining rant about work for the day. I'm done.


I've been organizing things on my computer. Yesterday I deleted and freshened up my buddy lists... all of them. That was kinda depressing. The names you've been meaning to delete for some time make it look like you talk to more people than you really do. Seeing your "buddies" cut in half is super depressing.

Today I moved all my RSS feeds over to bloglines. My RSS reader pissed me off today so I made the switch... back. Yes, I used to use bloglines, then a certain someone told me I was an idiot for not using NewNewsWire because bloglines was for idiots. Of course now that he uses bloglines, NetNewsWire is for idiots and therefore I am an idiot for not using bloglines. Uhuh. I like that bloglines can be read from anywhere, and NNW had trouble with atoms feeds -- but I really liked having that icon in my dock that told me when I had things to read. Can I get a bloglines widgit for my dashboard or something? That would be cool.

Eight months post-op

Well, it's been ALMOST 8 months since I had gastric bypass surgery (May 15, 2005). I'm still losing SLOWLY but surely.

I'm down to 245 which is nice. It's nice to be on the lower half of the 200s. Let us not forget that when I strolled into the office in April, I was 325 (and that wasn't my HIGHEST weight). Thats EIGHTY (80) pounds. Not bad. So that's 68 pounds in the 8 months since surgery. That's so pathetically below the average, but that's life.

When I first had the surgery, I bought myself a good scale to keep track of my loss. Since then, I've been scribbling out the numbers as I lose weight. I've got a nice big scribbled out chunk now! It's also comforting now that I started writing down the numbers weekly to see that yes, I do continue to lose... slowly.

I'm now a 22 pants and a 18/20 top. Thats SUPER nice compared to a 28, right? And for Christmas, my mom bought me some old navy mens PJ pants because they had penguins on them. She accidently bought them in XL though instead of XXL. She felt really bad about it and we were both sure that not only would these not fit, but they wouldn't have another pair with penguins. Damn -- right? Well I tried them on... and they totally fit! They aren't even tight. Wow.

As to fitness. I jogged all the way up the uphill street to my brothers the other day. Now that doesn't SOUND like much to most people, I guess -- but you show me one person in my family who can jog all the way up that hill. I also imagine that I'm much healthier now. They say if you lose just a slight amount of weight, it's great for your heart. Well I imagine that my hearts rather happy with my 80 pound loss. And I can walk to all my classes now -- that makes me feel pretty good.

I still feel so huge though. I'm still morbidly obese, that's a fact. And yeah, I'm still super negative about myself and way too hard on myself about my weight. Though while I'm still "morbidly obese," I've lost 10 of those fucking BMI points. And I think that 80 pounds works out to 25% of my overall weight and 48% of my goal to lose. Yay!

The class suck-up.

I have already spotted the major class suck-up of the semester. Actually, I spotted him 5 minutes into our first class on Monday. You know the type -- they make stupid jokes with the professor and they laugh and smile at him like they have a crush. It seriously gets to the point of a drunken slut hitting on a guy she has a crush on. Everything is funny in their mind and they can [try to] do personal one-on-one "jokes."

I often wonder what the professor thinks of these people. Is he as annoyed as the rest of the class? Does he often wish he could kill him? Does it affect the students grade for the positive or negative? It obviously gets the student instant face recognition -- that's a plus.

This guy even went as far as to ask this question: "This class is being held in room 306, right?" "Yes" "Well then why does the garbage can say 'do not remove from room 305?" Then he proceeded to laugh hysterically at how clever he thought himself to be.


It kinda pissed me off that the professor didn't kill it right there and even responded with a similar joke.


I just can't be that fake. I'm sorry. I'm the person in the corner who shoots the evil looks and cracks on you with the people around me. It's just who I am.

I wonder if he gets a better grade because of the way he acts. Do the professors like people like that?

Write THAT on my tombstone.

It occurs to me that to be remembered in a book of quotations for an insult would be an awesome legacy. It would make me happy and eternally amused with myself.

I'm totally posting about my cat. Eat it.

Aye Matey!
Originally uploaded by SilverBeetle.
Captain Jack is now an official resident of Southeast Housing. I have permission to keep him! Now tell me I'm not the shit. I wanted a cat in southeast and I actually got permission to have one. My lord, I can do anything.

In celebration of this, I opened the blinds and let him look out the window. He has barely left the windowsill since. Not that it helped when I placed his cat bed in the window, but I thought he should be comfy. I'm thinking of making a little sign for people who walk by and see him. Something like: "Yeah, housing knows I'm here - Eat that you jealous bitches!"

Just kidding. Sorta.

In other news, I bought some SoftPaws for him. They're little vinyl sleeves for their claws so they can't destroy the couch or your skin, but you don't have to cut off their cute little toesies. No, I didn't get them in a color. But yes, I so would have. The kitten size only comes in clear. When he gets a little bigger I can choose colors! For Halloween, he will definitely have orange. I'm thinking of getting him blue too. It's only 20 dollars for 40 caps. And I only put them on his front claws. If these things actually stay on for 4 weeks like they claim, I am so recommending them to EVERYONE.

He wasn't a big fan of my clipping his nails and then gluing rubber caps to them, but after I was done -- he didn't even notice they were there. Seriously, I don't think he has any idea that I put anything on him. They are designed to come off naturally when he sheds his outer sheath and they don't interfere with extension and retraction of the claws. (Oh and their totally safe if he swallows one too) And now when he paws at me for attention or when I'm dangling a toy and he grabs it -- it TICKLES. No sharp little points! I love them! Everyone wins -- he's not bothered and neither am I. I'll let yall know how it goes. Oh, and when I get colored ones, you'll obviously get pictures whether you like it or not ;)

Zoloft: Hitting them where it hurts.

Today I was at the Psychiatrists office when I spotted a bottle of antibacterial hand gel. I love some antibacterial hand gel. And this particular bottle was branded with a huge Zoloft logo. Heh.

Zoloft: "OCD? We can help. Go ahead, wash your hands for the thirteenth time -- it's okay. It's not your fault."

You gotta give them this though -- that is target advertising DEFINED. Very clever, Mr. Zoloft. Very clever indeed.


Man, I would LOVE to go to one of those adult entertainment expos. I mean how much fun and laughs have to come from even just an hour there? How do you get into one of these things? And what kind of price are we talking? Can anyone give me some future dates & locations? Who wants to come with me?

Because it's ME

I picked up my paycheck yesterday and deposited it in the bank. I usually just cash them out at work, but I figured I had the time this week to actually put it in the bank. I deposited it at 2:02 PM according to the deposit receipt. The woman was very nice -- she even, oddly enough, gave me a sucker. I can't eat sugar -- would anyone like a green sucker?

Last night, at around 8PM I went to the store. I needed just about everything being that I've been gone for almost a month. I needed food, drink, stuff, and supplies for the new semester. And thats okay -- I just got paid.

Yeah, if you followed that train of thought like I did, you would be wrong -- just like I apparently was. I got an overdraft fee because I spent the money last night and they didn't credit my paycheck to my account until today ( even though I deposited it 4 hours before closing time yesterday).

So... That sucks. A lot. I kinda want to be pissed about it. Do I have a right to be pissed about it?

Why I hate APS: Part 207

I half-heartedly mentioned having to get a lot of paper work from my Psychiatrist the other day. While I was there, I figured I had nothing to lose by asking them to write a real letter to my housing director recommending that I have a cat. Surprisingly, the nurse agreed to do this. It was supposed to be ready for me to pick up yesterday.

At close yesterday, however, she had not written it and told me to call today (Friday). So I called early this afternoon. She still hadn't written it so she told me to call back between 4 and 5. I snuck away from work and called at 4:05 on the dot. She wrote it, but has to get the doctor to sign it. She told me to call back between 5 and 6. Ok. I jump through hoops to get off work early and go ahead and schedule the appointment to meet with the housing director on Monday. I call them at 5:30. They are closed (they close at 5). So I drive down there (I have to pick it up in person because they cannot fax it -- even with my permission and plenty of paperwork giving them my written permission). No one is there.

DAMMIT. What a totally incompetent bitch. They can't ever get ANYTHING right. And now they won't be open this weekend and I have an appointment with the housing director at 8:30 on Monday morning. I also can't cancel the appointment because HIS office is also closed until Monday and I'll be his first appointment. Dammit all. Just dammit all.

I'm transferring all my prescriptions elsewhere as soon as I find a willing doctor and hopefully I won't ever have to deal with them again. They're always rude, they get everything wrong, and they treat you like you are insane .. but not quite insane enough to get an appointment within the next 3 months. I may have issues, but I'm not a drug-addicted lunatic -- you wouldn't know that by the way they treat me though. It's always so stressful when I need them to refill a prescription for me. I can't take it anymore. APS is SHIT.


Sometimes you just get screwed so bad that you have to question who is against you. This happens a lot to my family. My family and Izzy, that is. Once again, I have a wonderful story to illustrate this.

My mom decided to be proactive with the pool this past year. She decided she would get the sand in the filter replaced. Now this needed to be done, but no one was going to die if we waited another year. But she did good -- she decided to have it replaced. So she gets the pool people to come out and replace it. Problem is, our filter is under our deck -- a major pain to work on. The man said that he would not do any work on the filter unless it was moved. Well, we hate the location too so mom decided to have him move it as well. She paid for all of this upfront.

First, they stepped on and broke our airconditioner in the process. That's okay because they paid for someone to come out and repair it. Then the man didn't show up again. Apparently he was somehow injured and so our filter went unhooked and in disrepair for months. This has led to a very messy pool because the filter hasn't been hooked up in months. Mom's been going by the store to get updates though throughout. The woman always tells her that her husband is injured and will be back to work soon. I requested that she let me handle this -- maybe by having the bastard pay someone ELSE to finish the work for him, but mother declined my help.

She went to the store to check on it again recently. She found the store completely cleaned out and vacant with a closed sign in the window. So now we are officially screwed and to make matters worse, she paid for it all in advance.

Some people just deserve to burn in hell as far as I'm concerned. Anyone who royally screws my mother falls into that category. how can a decent person do something like that? How can you accept money for a job, promise to do said job, and then leave with the money and leave the job in worse (infinitly worse condition. When we hired him, we had a perfectly working filter. Now we have nothing) condition than you got it? I hope he really was in the hospital. I wish such bad things on him that I will not publish them in print.

No, China! Nooo!

No, China! Nooo!
Originally uploaded by SilverBeetle.
Sorry, I couldn't resist. Next up: Jack in the microwave. Kidding. Sorta. Maybe.

Jack had two visitors today. Erin stopped by and so did my fake roommate, Steph. They wore him out for me. And now I have babysitters when I need them! Oh and a line on a future sex-toy party... but that's kinda off topic.

These cops suck

There's a speed trap on 565 East just past Research Blvd. Not just ANY speed trap -- this is 6 police cars lined up and picking off the speeders one by one. They have dedicated 6 police cars and at least as many officers that could be out doing something more useful to stopping speeders on a stretch of interstate that I have yet to see a problem on in my 2 years of living here.

Can we say "waste of resources?" Good.

In fact, that's just about the safest stretch of interstate I know of. There's 5 lanes going in each direction, everything is clearly marked, the interstate is not in any disrepair at all. I've never seen a wreck or any problems on it. Sure people speed, but not nearly as bad as elsewhere.

Repeat with me: "waste of resources." Good.

Always Something

This has been a stressful morning. I decided to wake up early and go see an advisor since I'm having no luck with the online registration system. I've already seen the advisor and it didn't get fixed. Then I called her and it didn't get fixed. Then I emailed her and it still didn't get fixed so i decided to go down there and wait to see her in person. That only took 2 hours but now its fixed.

So on the way out, I decide to stop by and see when I'll get my loan check. Short answer: never. Problems lots of problems. Always. Short solution: I need to appeal. Appeal needs proof though. So I need proof that I had surgery in May and proof that I've been seeing a therapist/psychologist. Sounds simple right? Not with MY psychiatrist.

So I drive down there and feel an anxiety attack coming on just being in that building. I ask for a print out of my appointments. All I'm trying to get is a printout showing dates of my appointments (20 appointments last year). They can't give it to me. I'm willing to fill out release forms or whatever they need. They can't give it to me. I've got 2 credit cards, my insurance card, a college photo ID, an Alabama drivers license, AND a US passport. I AM ME. They can't give it to me. They want to know why I need it. It'll take 2 weeks. I need it now -- what the hell is the problem? I get sent to another lady. She sends me to another women deep into the matrix of offices. Anxiety is raising. Lots of paper work. Just so they can give me a paper with 26 dates on. That's all thats on it. It shows what days I met with someone. Doesn't have who I met or anything. All that trouble for a couple of dates.

This is why I can't stand these people. You really can't understand what a pain it is. They treat you like a drug addicted criminal. They won't tell me things that I already know. I asked if I could get some printout of the medications I've been on. That wasn't going to happen. Period. I told her I could write out the prescriptions I've been on right here for you -- I just need it from YOU. No go. I have enough identification to get an apartment in Afghanistan, but these people can't release information to me that I already know. Why not? I'm not a criminal -- these records are as much mine as they are theirs. Why can't I fill out release forms and get my information?

I was so stressed after that little trip that I had to come home to pop some klonopin and pet the cat.

Now I've got to go appeal. Lord help me -- there's always something.

Love. Pass it on.

Today was slow at work. People must have assumed everyone would be closed for New Years. Speaking of, Happy New Year! So all day I was pretty much the only cashier and even then, I still didn't have much to do.

One customer really caught me off guard. I asked him how he was -- as I am programmed to do. He said he was great. He asked how I was, and before I could answer he said I looked great. Now I knew he was just being a nice guy (he was an older gentleman -- the very cheery type) -- but he complimented me a couple of times during the short transaction. Even pointed out a new ring I got for Christmas. And while my cynical mind told me he was full of shit and just being nice, the other part of me brightened up real quick. I found myself a lot happier than I was just moments before.

Wow. A random stranger had just totally turned my day around.

It's nice to remember that we can all have such an impact on each other. Makes me want to go try to turn someone elses day around in return. So here's a reminder -- try to compliment a stranger every once in a while. A real compliment too -- something about their skirt or shoes or hair. We've all had those moments when a stranger tells us we have great eyebrows and it just makes your smile light up.

So pass it on -- there are worse ways to begin the year.

Fabric tummy-tucks

I now own a bit of "shape wear." Or what used to be known as a corset -- except now they don't lace up. I can't remember if this was moms idea or mine. I'm pretty sure it was mine -- but I think she agreed a little too much, if you know what I mean. And when your mother whole heartedly agrees that you need a little tummy control, well anyone with such low self-esteem as myself isn't going to say no.

You know on Pirates of the Caribbean where she was like "I can't breathe?" I feel like that.

I gotta say though: my breasts look absolutely amazing. And sure, my tummy is slightly less of a convex curve (slightly being the key word here), but not by much of a noticeable amount or large percentage. In fact, I'm curious as to if this is even worth it. I'm gonna wear it to work today. If I don't pass out, I'll evaluate it usefulness.

If you're wearing drapey fabric and you want your breasts to look 100% their best though, I'm going to step out and recommend it. Who needs to breath much anyway?

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