Random observation

How come microwave carts have wheels? Who moves around their microwave? It has to be pugged in anyway so it's not exactly highly mobile. Do any of you know anyone who actually has reason to wheel around their microwave?

World's Longest Yard Sale

This Thursday to Sunday is the Worlds Longest Yard Sale (takes place every year). This always happens just before my family's yearly vacation to Florida. It's made up of "everything from antiques, collectibles, furniture, dishwares, fresh garden produce, homemade jams and jellies, food vendors, live entertainment and more." There are literally thousands of yard sales. I really want to go, but again this year I cannot. It runs Thursday to Sunday -- I've got a final on Friday and have to work this weekend.

It starts in Gadsden Alabama and winds its way through Tennessee, Kentucky, and ends in Cincinnati Ohio. What a fun trip it would be! I'd love to take two or three days and meander through all the junk and treasures and crafts. I bet I'd have to save up money though -- I mean there's no point in doing it if you don't intend to buy anything, right? Unless you had a reason to be driving to Ohio -- then this would just be entertainment on the way.

Anyone want to join me next year? We can start on August 2 (2007) here in Huntsville or we can start at the very beginning in Gadsden and make our way up to Cincinnati. While we're in Cinnci, I want to stop at the museum -- I've been there before but didn't spend as much time as I'd have liked.

Oh Oh -- what if we made it a yard sale AND museum adventure? We could start or end each day with a museum! Actually, I could map out lots of great things to see along the route and make it a 4 day adventure -- but instead of mindlessly driving from place to place -- it would be yard sale hopping the whole way! And at each new town, I could take a pic of me and the town sign or something. Man, this sounds like an awesome idea. I could document the whole thing in a big flickr gallery -- the towns I see and all the cool STUFF. Who's with me?

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

Holy shit, yall! I'm actually going to graduate next year! They're finally gonna let me out -- and give me a degree and everything. I'm either gonna be out next Summer or next Fall. I think summer, but I doubt the classes I need to finish will be offered in the summer, so probably fall. And that's a year away, right -- but that's only 3 semesters. DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN IN COLLEGE -- three semesters is so doable.

I actually did not realize this until just now when I was checking up on my Fall tuition costs. I'm fucking ecstatic right now.

I live on my own in my OWN PERFECTLY AWESOME apartment -- I've got the easiest job on the planet -- I've got my cat -- my DREAM CAR -- and a graduation date in sight. I've also lost over a hundred pounds and discovered that I am an excellent cook.

Nice. We're finally gettin' somewhere.

Oh and I picked up a book at the bookstore today to read on the beach. Stiff by Mary Roach. I know, morbid -- but I've been wanting to read it. I read a chapter from the middle of the book while I was in the store -- to make sure I'd like it -- and I had to make myself put it down. I had to leave it in the trunk of the car so I won't read it. This week is for studying for finals -- book is for the beach. I'm also going to finish up Marley & Me. I loaned it to my sister forever ago and she hasn't given it back yet. I was going to get Freakonomics thinking that I hadn't read it all -- but when I flipped through it in the store I realized that I had. Wow, that book must be printed on thick stock because it looks a LOT longer than it really is. Oh and someone made off with my copy of Screwtape Letters and gave me a phone number that doesn't work. Fucker. That was a special edition print too -- bought it when I worked at BN because I like the book so much I wanted to have a nice shelf copy. That's the last time I loan out a book -- it had my favorite bookmark in it too.

I know -- you didn't know I could read, did you?

Extreme Makeover Wedding

I'm watching this show -- Extreme Makeovers. They take these (ugly) people and totally make them over -- every plastic surgery you could thing of -- hair - clothes - they make them work out hard core -- new teeth -- all of it. If something can be made better, they do it. They take ugly people and make the gorgeous. Fascinating show.

This episode is a wedding -- it's a couple getting made over completely -- they won't see each other again until their wedding -- when they look TOTALLY different. I know we're all cynical and going WTF -- but yall, it made me cry. They look so good! And their faces! Can you imagine? They look great -- and they're totally bawling at the alter because they not only havn't seen each other for 2 months -- but they also look GORGEOUS.

That guy was not very attractive before -- now he's down right hot. She looks great too! Damn! They are going to have such good sex when they finally get away from their families. I've never seen a guy makeover that was so well done. He was downright ugly before -- and now he's gorgeous. Damn. He could be a model now -- seriously. He looks like his super hot older brother or something.

I hope it works out for them. I mean that's a huge change -- they left their ugly fiance 2 months ago and now they're married to these super hot people. Damn -- that's so weird! They seem super sweet though -- and they look so in love! Awwwwwww!


Do you ever just amuse yourself with something you say? I do. I feel blessed to have this capacity. Man, I wish I could have a clone.

But if your clone becomes your best friend -- can you consider that having a life? Cause I should think me and the clone could play board games and just make each other laugh for hours. Would that be wrong? How much does a clone run? And not one of those baby-clones -- I'm talking a "multiplicity" clone.

I wonder what I would name her...

Busy busy busy

I've had no time these past few days! Running around and napping/sleeping in between ;) Still wanna sleep -- still got stuff to do. Last night I was up writing a program until 8am -- and I still didn't get to test it! I kept getting stack over-flow and I was too delusional to fix it. I figured maybe it would work in the school lab. I went to sleep -- woke up and went to school. Didn't work in the lab.

Teacher said that was part of the program -- she wanted us to have a "real-life" experience -- uhuh. She said I needed to reset the stack and make it bigger. Uhuh. I spent an hour googling trying to find some nice copy-paste solution. Didn't work. I ended up just changing the damn thing to use the heap. Then I had TEN minutes to pick up my paycheck and get it in the bank. Bills gotta be paid.

The whole week has been like this.

Next week is the end of the semester -- last final is on Friday. Then work weekend then Florida! With the fam! The C family in a small room for a whole week! Woo! We still do the family vacation every year even though we struggle so hard to get along. Me and my sisters just can't do it. My brother used to always call us the "golden girls" -- asshole. I used to think it was them, but hell -- I guess I'm part of the problem too because I can't carry on a conversation with either of them. This of course stresses us -- and in particular, me -- out. It also stresses mom out. Our vacation is very stressful. I know, it makes no sense.

I'm doing ok -- not particularly spiraling depressed. But I feel a tad on the bad side physically and man I'd love to lay in bed all day. I'm also very lightheaded lately -- slow movements LOL. And of course, I'm very stressed -- always. In fact, I have a billion ulcers in my mouth at the moment -- I'll be happy when this summer is over -- and the vacation is going well (hopefully).

Still LOVING living alone -- I love this apartment. LOVE IT. There's just no way to say it better -- this was such a wonderful decision.

And man I'm looking forward to Christmas. I know that's like 5 months away -- but I know where I'm gonna put the tree and I'm gonna get white icicle lights to put in the window. I'm not sure about presents -- I know I'm not going to have money to buy great elaborate presents, and I don't want to give everyone just "stuff." I thought about doing portraits -- like a family portrait for Tim & Heidi -- and something for mom -- probably me & her -- you know stuff like that. But man that really would take all these 5 months and would they like them? See that's the thing -- I HATE when I spend tons of money and time and they don't even like them. The year I did stained glass? I swore I'd NEVER do that again. But Heidi would love a family portrait. And Hell, I'd love a portrait of me and mom for me! My sisters are too hard to shop for.

Oh and October too! October is my favorite month, you know. Jacks B-day is in October and Halloween! I LOVE halloween! This year I'll DEF have to carve pumpkins -- and I bet I'll get trick-or-treaters too.

I can't wait for fall. The hot months are killing me. You work up a sweat just walking to the car. I want fall! Layered clothes! I'm gonna have such cute clothes this fall. I'll dish out some money to get a really snazzy little everyday jacket. Last week when mom came up to visit, we did a lot of shopping. Ross had this gorgeous suit that was a just-above-the knee skirt and a long jacket -- gorgeously tailored -- and it was a chocolate brown with pin stripes. That's so my style. I don't know if I can peg myself as having a "style" but I bet others would disagree. However dark brown, tailored, pin-stripes, and long jackets are so my style. And it fit like a dream -- I looked so skinny! I wish I had enough extra money to buy it -- I don't need a suit, or a jacket -- but I'd love to get it anyway.

*sigh* I should get to bed -- up super early for work in the morning.

Here's a truck stop instead of Saint Peter's

I feel overwhelmed and I don't know why. Fear. Anxiety. Failure. Isolation. Distance. I just feel like there's a weight above me -- crushing down on me when I try to sleep -- when I stand still. Not so much a dark cloud as a thickness -- that looms above me and makes it pointless to even try.

I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears -- sweetest dreams of you.

Over my shoulder a piano falls... crashing to the ground.

Now where's the breaking through? The bending spoons? Flowers in full bloom? And answers from the great beyond? Stick with the rhythm, people, it's a classic AND YOU'RE FUCKING IT UP.

The spoons are plastic and I'm tired.


First, NCIC certification classes are even more boring than you would think. My hips are kinda sore from sitting with my legs crossed all day. Seriously. I guess I'll get used to it -- and hey, I totally got paid to go.

Now on to important news: I have finally downloaded skype -- I know, I'm late to the train. But I have no one to call! I did a test call so I know it works. If any of you want to hear my charming southern accent, give me a ring -- the sign on is the same as my AIM: OffbeatCynic No stalkers, please.

Bath time rambles

I can't seem to remember the last time I gave Jack a bath. Is it time for another? I try to give him a bath every month or so -- less actually -- hes an indoor cat -- that's probably over kill. I just don't want him to be stinky. Today I was scrubbing his water fountain (so it won't get algae) and it occurred to me that maybe it's time to be scrubbing the cat too. I looked through the archives here and can't find mention of his last bath. Did I actually not POST about it? Strange.

Even if it's not time, I think I'll give him and bath and clean the apartment well. Maybe then I'll feel better about myself -- less of a lazy failure at life :)

Man I've been down this week -- feeling sick too -- not too sick, just sick enough to feel slightly crappy but not sick enough to use the excuse of being sick. And finals are next week so naturally that sucks. Wednesday we've all been called into work for a "employee meeting." T just called me and informed me that thats what it is. until now I thought that I was just being called in to get lectured because they think I'm incompetent. Fucking asshole sent out a memo about the mistakes we've been making -- only this particular memo only listed 3 of MY mistakes. A whole office memo to point out that Karen missed an alarm stating that tech hall dropped .3 degrees. I still don't think I even missed it -- if I did, I've fully entered denial and think that maintenance just didn't respond appropriately but I've no way to prove that I did my part of the job. Also someone's car got towed and they decided to blame that on me. So everything else is going wrong -- why not go and lose my job TOO.

Naturally, as always, I was over reacting. Everyones getting called in to go over some things. Part of it is spurred by asshole's memo to the entire department about my very small fuck-up (which EVERYONE has mentioned to me making me want to die or kill someone, not sure which -- it's like the fucking TPS reports. Did you get the memo?) Though the REAL reason we're having this meeting is because one of the other dispatchers fucked up BIG time. See we run people who get pulled over through the FBIs database to see if they're bad criminal types or just an idiot -- then we get back a report of what was found in the database. Naturally, this being a computer system, it's not perfect. Sometimes it'll send back warrants on someone with a similar last name, or the same birthday or something -- so you have to read and make sure that this is the correct person, right? Well, this guy claims that no one ever told him that could happen...

So the other night, someone was pulled over on campus for some lame traffic violation -- probably super lame -- and they kinda got arrested because he kinda didn't take the time to read the name of the person the warrant came back for. Uhuh. So basically, he had someone handcuffed, read their rights, thrown in the back of a police car and totally arrested -- because he didn't read the name on the warrant. Now the department's probably gonna get sued because you can't just go around arresting people for no reason.

Well, I actually kinda found it funny -- then again, I wasn't involved...

So thats why we have to all come in on a Wednesday night to "go over" some things. I can't believe I thought it was because I missed the fact that Tech Hall just dropped .3 degrees and I didn't call a MOD. They make such a big fucking deal about THAT when this guys going around having students arrested for no reason? So wrong. I didn't see an office memo about THAT.


Gotta go to FBI school tomorrow and Thursday. It's in decatur -- and apparently I actually have to take a test at the end. I figure this is going to be like driving school, only 4 times as long. I'll let you know.

The end of a semester in school always sucks so THAT's stress. Family vacation coming up -- do I even need to mention that that's causing stress? Didn't think so. Putting any of my family together in a small location for more than a hour or 2 is ALWAYS trouble. Yet we still take family vacations... At least I'll get a tan. And I won't be so fat this year either. I'm so taking a camera so I can have pics of my new smaller cuter butt on the beach.

Oh, and I still wish I could just stay in bed all week. Literally -- all week. No school -- no work -- no employee meetings -- no grades - no people - no bills - no homework -- no programs - no "life" - no relationships (or lack-there-of) -- just a soft bed, nice cool air-conditioning, and the cat.

Oh yeah, I was going to give him a bath wasn't I? Man, talk about distracted.


Does it still have that cinnamon/sugar toasty goodness if it's made with whole grain bread, splenda, and brummle & browns fake butter yogurt spread?

My mom used to make me cinnamon sugar toast in the mornings before school and I thought it was the most awesome thing ever. Cause my mom rocked like that.


I have now officially been fingerprinted by an officer of the law. By next week, these prints will be entered into the national FBI database. So in the future, if my fingerprints ever show up at a crime scene – I’ll know! Or if I get decapitated, or my face gets smashed in – they can still identify the body. Isn’t that awesome?

It really is fascinating how these smudges on a page go into a national database of millions of similar smudges, which can quickly be searched for comparisons. Twenty years from now, someone can take a smudge from a bottle of water in my refrigerator, run it through said database and pull up my records. That’s fascinating. I already know this from general knowledge and the plethora of Law & Order spin-offs – but somehow it seems so much more magical than the real experience. They’re just black smudges on a white card – they look like fingerprints. They don’t look like something that is unique to me – something that can stand up to comparison to millions of others.

I wish I had a scanner with me so I could keep my fingerprint card…


I want to go fishing. Alabama has some of the best freshwater fishing in the world. And it’s an activity I would enjoy (given that I am thoroughly coated in mosquito repellant at all times said fishing is to occur). My brother took me fishing once – it was awesome. He didn’t even make me bait my own hook – though he did make me hold the fish I caught…

Anyway, I don’t have a rod & reel or even know what the hell I’m doing. Anyone want to go fishing? Preferably someone who has the equipment and some experience – though experience is just sitting there with a string in the water, I’d assume. Alabama fishing licenses aren’t too pricey.

I wonder how much a rod & reel would cost? For some reason, right now, I’m on a I-want-to-go-fishing kick, which is strange for someone who’s only been fishing once in her life (not by choice – just no one ever took me). It just seems like it would be so nice – just sitting by the lake waiting to catch a gigantic fish. And there are some great lakes that aren’t to far away – it’s not at all unfeasible that I could drive out to a lake and spend about 2 hours or so sitting there in a comfy chair reading a book and waiting on a 50lb bass to bite.

Hell, I’m an adult – once you have the equipment, fishing is free. I’ve got a car – I just need a rod, reel, a comfy chair and some instructions.

Who’s with me? Anyone wanna come?

2 Things after watching a news update on the Israel/Lebenon mess

1. If enemies of my country were flying over and dropping pamplets warning me to get out and at least 25 miles from the border, my ass is out -- immediatly. They were showing what looked like college-age kids picking them up and laughing. Not a laughing matter, folks. Get your ass out. Anyone left behind is a moron. Let the armies handle that shit.

2. I love how army equipment and such is designed for morons to use quick and fast without reading the manual. They just showed a tank drive by with a big ass arrow on the side. “---> FRONT” “---> GUN” LOL I know it’s not funny, but it kinda is. Sadly you need to be able to glance at the thing having never seen it before in a field of smoke and debris and know that that is the front. Sad but true. Billions of dollars of sophisticated military equipment labeled so a retard could figure it out.


Note: I should not have allowed myself to watch X-Files at 3AM. The ghost of that dead chick is so gonna be in my bedroom later --
I just know it.

Another Note: I should not have read all those articles about Effexor withdrawal.

Rant: Why my nurse is a moron.

As I mentioned before, I'm currently switching from Effexor to Paxil (because I don't like Effexor, and also it's too fucking expensive). I'm doing this with with the school nurse because even with insurance, I can't afford a 30 dollar co-pay every 2 weeks to see the asshole psychiatrist who always makes me feel like shit. K, now you're caught up.

So I went in today -- as I have done every 2 weeks to switch the meds again. She asks me how I'm doing. I tell her that I'm very lethargic -- I'd like to stay in bed 24 hours a day. Yes, I'm sleepy a lot of the time -- but even if I'm not -- bed is nice, you know? I told her I could easily sleep all day and still wake up tired. Anyone whos had any experience or knowledge at all about depression knows that this is a VERY common thing.

So naturally, considering she's treating me for my well documented clinical depression and switching the meds that have stayed my hand from killing myself these past few years, you'd think she'd know that -- right? Oh no my friend, you are very wrong. She thinks I have sleep apnea. But lets not get into that just yet.

Starting tomorrow I will not be taking any Effexor anymore. YAY! ...kinda. I've been taking 150 (that's half of what I started at -- and 150 is also the max regular dose, to give you perspective here). She says that Effexor doesn't have any withdrawal symptoms other than return of the original depression or whatever. That's why I'm writing this post. I want them to read this post at her trial -- where my family is suing her because I went crazy and killed myself for no good reason. I've known people who have come off Effexor. I've read the horror stories -- my first psychiatrist blatantly spelled it out for me before she even put me on it (I was desperate). It's also known that some people can never stop taking Effexor - ever -- its written on the fucking bottle. Feel free to look it up for yourself -- the info is freely available (GOD BLESS THE INTERNET). I also know from personal experience that starting effexor and withdrawing from cymbalta was hell. And after surgery when I bottomed out on withdrawals from it -- well that sucked a lot. But according to the nurse there is no such thing so I can just flat out stop taking it. Ok.

I just want someone to know that that's what I'm doing. I feel like I should be checked up on -- because I know what it can be like... There's a reason i've been paying 200 dollars a month for the stuff. Your brain just doesn't work right without it -- well not YOUR brain -- MY brain. Of course I won't be checked up on -- I could go missing and no one would notice until I didn't show up for work... and then they wouldn't try to figure out where I was till the next weekend when I missed work again. If they even tried.

Now then -- what was that about sleep apnea? She thinks that MUST be it. Because I want to stay in bed all day -- that means I have sleep apnea. She says it doesn't matter what she does with my meds -- nothing will help because I'm not getting rest at night. She wants me to have a sleep apnea study done ASAP. I told her that I was fine last month and I had documented depression long before any trouble with sleep. She says I probably just now developed it.

So she's telling me that in these past two weeks, I've developed sleep apnea. You know -- AFTER I've lost half my body mass. Cause thats the way it usually works, you know -- lose tons of weight and get sleep apnea. And of course thats the only possibility -- not the psych meds you're guinea-pigging me with or the well documented previously-existing depression. Yeah.

And to defend her diagnosis, she listed off symptoms of depression that I DIDNT have. One of them was wanting to eat a lot. I told her I've been wanting to eat everything -- constantly. She said that my weight didn't reflect that and accused me of lying. MY WEIGHT DOESN'T REFLECT IT BECAUSE THEY CUT OUT MY INTESTINES AND JUST BECAUSE I WANT TO EAT TWO TUBS OF ICING DOESNT MEAN I'LL ALLOW MYSELF TO.

I'm supposed to call insurance to see if they cover a sleep apnea study and then call them to set up an appointment. I'm not going to go spend the night sleeping in a hospital with a bunch of wires all over me. I think this is the most bullshit diagnosis ever -- shes not even a DOCTOR. You can't just randomly assign people problems -- especially when they fit much more clearly with a known diagnosis. Hey yall, I'm fat -- make up some wild diagnosis for that for me -- i mean give me bullshit diagnoses I can USE here.

Anyway. Goodbye Effexor. I hope I don't have a splitting headache tomorrow...


I just tried to do a hand stand. The good news: I didn't break any bones!

Perhaps I should weight-lift a bit before attempting this again. Or maybe work on my gracefulness. Yeah -- the gracefulness might help. Or maybe lose even more weight or something. Or maybe it was a stupid idea altogether.

I did manage a very ungraceful flip though. Thats worth some points, right?

10 reasons why today is a good day even though I just spent 41 dollars on gas for my car.

1. It was gas for my DREAM CAR.

2. I have air conditioning (in both the car and the apartment).

3. Last night I realized that I've lost even more weight.

4. Jack is the coolest cat ever.

5. I get to come home to my apartment -- my wonderful, peaceful, comfy, and clean very own apartment. Life just doesn't suck nearly as much since I moved here.

6. A new Kevin Spacey movie came in the mail today. Movie Night!

7. I'm having a good hair day.

8. I had to fess up and ask the stupidest question ever in class... only it turned out to be the smartest best most perceptive question ever -- cause I rock.

9. All my bills for the month & rent for next month are paid & I even got to treat myself to some new tops.

10. Tel called me her "new pal." & I got a shoutout from m too.

Birthday Paintings

My little neighbors birthday is tomorrow. She wanted me to paint her a picture of dolphins -- I like to paint, so here we go:

Then it wouldn't have been fair to paint her something and not paint her even younger sister anything -- especially since they're leaving for Arizona next week. Littlest neighbor requested pink flowers:

And both are signed on the back as from Karen & Jack ;)

I have a problem, I think.

So I was at work today -- morning shift -- AKA bored as fuck, when these two guys come in to contest a parking ticket. They're nicely dressed and obviously intelligent guys -- from Haiti but speak better English than some people I know who are from here. Naturally, I can't do anything to help them with their ticket -- but as a person who has received lots of her own tickets, I joked with them and was pretty square about what would happen if they ignored it and the fact that they're going to have to pay it - there's really no getting out of it. Did I mention I was bored and therefore chatty? Then he started griping about the parking situation at South East which led to general griping about South East -- and we all know that the University screwed me many a time while I lived there so I was happy to swap stories.

I also think I sold him on the fact that moving to an apartment was a much better idea. We talked for at least 30 minutes about apartments and which ones were good and which ones were bad and they were very interested in getting one here where I live (they were cousins -- one lives in South East and the other is about to move here from New Jersy). So naturally being way too nice of a person, I offered to let them see mine. So they were gonna stop by around 4 with an apartment guide so I could show them which apartments I had toured on my own apartment hunt.

Come 4:30 I hear a knock at the door. It's the Haiti guys. I let them in and show off all the closet space and they had loads of questions about how I liked it here and the crime rate and all the deposits I had to put down and such -- plus they were enjoying playing with Jack. Cool.

So they're getting ready to leave when he spots my netflix on top of the TV and asks me about it. I reveal how much I love movies and so does he -- so we got to talking about what was in theaters and I said I wanted to see Superman & Pirates and that I was going to -- just hadn't yet. So he asked if he could go with me. I said sure. He asked if I wanted to go tonight -- and it's not like I had anything to do -- and it was his cousins last day in town (he flys out in the morning) so we decided to go see pirates tonight. And I offered to cook dinner in the mean time.

I made Chicken Alfredo with garlic bread -- it was super yummy and one of the guys favorite dish -- cause I'm that cool right? But while I was cooking, I mentioned that I was out of tea (the only thing besides milk and water that I keep around to drink) so they immediately went to the store and brought back TWO gallons of my favorite tea (I told them which to get) AND roses.

Isn't that sweet?

Dinner was lovely -- lots of great conversation -- and I am turning out to be quite an excellent cook. We also know how much I like to talk -- a lot. And how open I am. See -- this is where I have the problem. Apparently being a super sweet person means I'm flirting. This is the THIRD time this has happened very recently. WHY CAN'T I JUST BE AN UBBER COOL PERSON? No offense, but I have no interest in either of these guys -- I was just hanging out. I thought. (I'll explain the other two in a bit).

Anyway, he was telling me about this girl he had been seeing that totally snubbed him and of course I had mentioned that I was single and the cousin asks me what I'd say if the other guy asked me out.

Oh shit -- this conversation just took a bad turn.

I brushed it off with a joke about how he can't set up dates for his cousin -- and then they kinda brought the issue right back up. I think I managed to play it off with some mention that my father would probably shoot him with a shotgun if I dated him.

Then we went to the movie -- they bought my ticket -- cool, after all -- I made them a great dinner. But on the way home -- they're being way too sweet. And he's wanting to know when he can see me again -- and they're discussing places he should take me. Now I'm totally cool with hanging out with the guy -- he seems really awesome. But I have no interest in more. I think the roses were the first sign I should have seen.

I gave him my email (not my phone) and we decided that maybe next weekend we could do something.

So the question now is -- what the hell do I do? Did I lead him on? THERE WERE TWO OF THEM -- it wasn't in any way shape or form a date. I like movies and I like to cook and I love to chat my little heart out. I'm a sweet person -- that doesn't mean I'm flirting -- does it?

What was that? You want to know about the other two recent instances? K. I actually had an argument over IM with a guy (the same exact one from the "Nasty" post) about whether or not I was flirting with him. I swear I wasn't. Apparently being a nice, chatty, and way-to-open person means I'm flirting. I thought I didn't know how to flirt -- apparently I don't know how to talk normally.

The other? I'm actually about to take a restraining order out on this one. No, I'm not exaggerating. Remember the guy who used to always harass me about JAck when I lived in South East? he said he was miserable -- yeah, the crazy one. Well he shows up at the police station the other day. He talks for a bit -- I give him the "I just answer the phone" speech and he asks me to hang out with him. I can't, I'm kinda at work until 11:30 (thats PM). So then what happens? Guess whos standing at my car at 11:30? Uhuh -- cat freak. He wants to come home with me and see the cat. Umm no. But I'm a fucking sucker so I took a walk around campus with the guy before going home -- without giving him a phone number or any way to contact me at all. Hint hint.

Then he shows up at the station again the next weekend. I tell him that I'm just not interested. He trys to convince me that I am. I'm not. End of that.

Today he CALLS the police station. "Do you know who this is?" "No" "This is _____ - blah blah blah cat - blah blah blah walk 2 weeks ago" "Do you have an emergency?" "No, I just wanted to see you." I told him he can't use a 911 line like this and that I was busy at work. Guess whos standing by my car when I get off work? YOU GUESSED IT! Ugh. He's starting to scare me a bit. I'm seriously going to take out a restraining order if he doesn't fuck off. I had to watch to make sure he didn't follow me home today.

And what do I do about the Haiti guy that bought me the pretty roses? I don't mind hanging out with him -- he likes movies and board games! But I REALLY don't want to date him -- or see him "like that."

And what the hell is my problem here? Why am I having this problem? White college guys still won't give me a second glance. Dammit. I'm afraid to have him back over -- I don't want to give him the wrong idea. Apparently dinner was the wrong idea? It's not like I went shopping -- I cooked something I already had here!

Help me. Need advice. Oh and how many pounds do I have to lose before I get the cute white guys in my Java class to accept my movie and lunch offers?

Memo to Old Navy:

To: Old Navy
From: Silver Beetle
Subject: Your Womens Line
Date: 7/15/2006

As a long-term customer of your many stores, I would like to thank you. The clothes you provide are good quality, stylish, and the prices are great. I am especially fond of your clearance practices which allow your customers to get a pair of pants for less than 4 dollars. I would also like to commend you on your sleep attire. From cute pajama pants to sexy-yet-casual slips, I would happily sleep in your merchandise every night. I am, however, sorry to say that do find fault with some of your clothing and accessory selections. As a loyal customer, I feel it is in everyone's best interest if they are brought to your attention. In that spirit, I humbly present the following facts for your consideration:

1. "Extra long" tops only look good on the extra skinny. Anyone who wears a medium or more would like their shirts to end sometime before they hit their knees.

2. "Racer-backs" are totally awesome -- but are impractical in practice. As are halter-tops. There is no bra in existence that can be worn with these and remain hidden. And while some of your customers may go braless, the vast majority benefit from and should be encouraged to wear bras when they leave the house.

3. Anyone who wears a Extra-Extra-Small (XXS) "Tiny-Fit" should be encouraged to seek medical help. You are not helping by providing them with stylish clothing options to wear while they're being force-fed in anorexia-rehab.

4. When most women are selecting a new purse or handbag, the number of human children that can fit inside said bag is not one of their considerations. When we sneak a drink into the movies, we usually only carry one -- not an entire case.

5. Websites should not be written or coded such that an entire segment of the population is unable to view them. As a programmer, I sympathize with the desire to only accept clients within certain parameters, but those of us who attended school for such things have been taught that this is a completely unfeasible fantasy. You might want to pass that along to your website designers.

People from the past.

Today I had 2 odd encounters with people I haven't seen in years. Both out of nowhere -- both on the same day. First, my old neighbor who I totally crushed on IMed me. Haven't heard from him in like 2 years. We didn't talk much - he was at work and I needed to go pick up my paycheck.

After picking up the paycheck (MONEY!) I headed over to Target. I turned down one aisle and came face to face with another guy I used to know. EEK. I turned around and walked away slowly. Thankfully I've lost a hundred pounds and dyed my hair pink since I last saw him. I think that aided in my narrow get-away.

I just think that's so odd to come in contact with 2 people from my past in the same day. It wouldn't be if I was a social butterfly who lived here my entire life -- but I'm not and I haven't.

Now if only the person from my "past" who I wish would show up would just pop in...

Keyboard short-cuts = good with his fingers...

I have figured out a new way to meet guys. Go to the computer lab -- spot a cute guy -- and pretend like you have no fucking clue what you are doing.

I got the hottest guy to help me for an hour today. Seriously -- and I only needed him for like 10 minutes -- but my god he was so cute I totally pretended to need more help. Was that wrong? He's a programmer by trade. You wouldn't think that would be hot -- but I'm so surprised how hot that actually is. And he was so quick with his fingers and the keyboard shortcuts -- he knew shortcuts I never imagined. I mean seriously -- he never used the mouse. And dude, I must be way more of a geek than I thought I was -- cause that was hot. And he kneeled right there with his face right over my shoulder -- telling me things I already knew, but I didn't point that out cause then he might have gone away.

I have met the cutest guys in that Java class! Usually, all the guys are totally lame -- but man, this Java class rocks. But they've all got girlfriends dammit! The hottie I had lunch with has a girl (who always calls when we're talking and he tells her that he's "in class" ...even if he's in a restaurant with me) -- and this hottie in the lab has a girl too. Dammit.

I tell you what though -- I never imagined that forgetting how to set a class path could be so great. And then he had to help me with my packages. And he smelled so good. And the computer skills!

Great computer skills have now officially made the "perfect guy traits" list.

Can I minor in Java or something?

Another post about the cat. I know, I need a life.

Remember how I bought Jack a water fountain because he discovered that if he continuously head-butted his last water-feeder, it would flood the carpet? Well now hes knocking this one over and flooding the kitchen. He's done it 3 times.

So I can't give him a bowl of water. I can't use a water dispenser. And I can't use a water fountain. How the fuck am I supposed to give the little shit water? He better get over this cause I paid 30 dollars for that water fountain.

Maybe I can use duck tape...

On an unrelated note, I think I'm heading towards OCD on cleaning the apartment. Is that bad or good? I already did the dishes so after I wash clothes, dust, vacuum, and scrub everything -- it's movie night. Another Kevin Spacey movie came in the mail today! *claps*

Non-PC Numbers

You know, I try to tell people that white people are the minority in Birmingham where I lived until I was 20. I always find it hilarious when African Americans mention that they're the minority (this is said even in Birmingham). And for some reason, people just never believe me when I say it. Well, my friends, I can now officially tell you to shut the fuck up and spit official numbers at you. Here's the racial makeup of the city as of the 2000 Census -- and it's only become more skewed since then:
The racial makeup of the city is 73.46% Black or African American, 24.07% White, 0.17% Native American, 0.80% Asian, 0.04% Pacific Islander, 0.62% from other races, and 0.83% from two or more races. 1.55% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.
Oh and that Hispanic/Latino # is horribly off. 99% of them are illegal and therefore not counted in the census. Did I mention that it's also in the top 10 most dangerous cities in the nation? Uhuh. I rest my case.

Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could possibly expect me to be able to live normally without psychiatric medications.

Yesterday, I was a having a lovely conversation with a man on Instant Messenger. This man was trying to convince me that I was positively gorgeous (flickr photos). Nice convo, really. So then I asked him ok honestly, how about the before picture? This was referring to the pictures on flickr that show a side-by-side of how much weight I’ve lost. Now mind you this is a man who has told me repeatedly that he actually LIKES over weight women (lots of men tell me this – apparently I need to be reminded that when I got on the scale this morning, it was a tad higher than 130. They can’t pay me a compliment with out adding that addendum). So how did he rate my before shot?

He said and I quote: “Nasty.”

Jesus Christ. Yes I said “honestly” but what happened to tact? NASTY? Are you serious? He was. He didn’t deny it – he meant it. And you know, it’s not that he said it – it’s that he felt it. He said I looked nasty. Just because the photo is over a year old, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a photo of me. A photo of exactly how I looked for years. He’s calling ME nasty.

And it seriously made me cry.

How do people expect me to be able to cope with public situations? How am I supposed to NOT have social anxiety disorder? Why do you all get so upset when I’m so down on myself and ask repeatedly if I look okay? How do you expect me to like myself when for years, the general public has seen me as “nasty.” And don’t even act like this is an isolated incident. Remember the lady in Target who out of nowhere pleaded with me not to have gastric bypass surgery (which wasn’t a consideration in my mind back then) just because I looked exactly like her daughter who died from it? How about the psychiatrist that said the solution to my problems started with a diet doctor and a skin specialist and jotted down some numbers for me to call? Do you know how many years I’ve been mocked for my weight? People are mean and just because I’m overly paranoid about it – doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen repeatedly.

Of course I hate new people. Of course going to the store gives me an anxiety attack. No fucking wonder there have been times where I feared I would become one of those people who never leave their apartment.

So next time some one goes off on me for being so down on myself, they need to sit there and ponder the fact that it’s not my fault that strangers give me panic attacks – I’ve been through a lot of shit, OK. And people telling me I look “nasty” isn’t helping. I don’t care if you say I’m gorgeous NOW – that’s still ME. That person is ME. What if I gain the weight back? What then? And am I gorgeous as in – if I lost another 30lbs?

Honestly, people have been trying to convince me for years that someone will love me as I am for who I am – but I’m starting to think that that’s apparently just impossible.

Sorry, I’m fat – apparently I’m just not good enough to walk to Earth. But at least I risked my life to have my intestines cut up so that you could find me more socially acceptable.

Jesus Christ this is why Klonopin exists – please give me some. Please.

Oh and PS: While I'm ranting off -- My father whos never accepted me as is because I'm not pretty enough and because I don't have a penis - was supposed to visit AGAIN yesterday. Thanks for showing up like you promised, dad.


Scratch resistant, oder proof, stain proof and nearly indestructible!

The preceding has been a paid advertisement for the Nicer Dicer.

Why are infomercials so soothing? Is it just the hour of the day? Is it the familiar setups? Is it the way everything always ends up so perfect? All the positive language? All the happy people? Maybe the screen transitions and stuck in the 80s-to-90s graphics? Maybe it's all the adjectives -- features come in couplets and pairs. Maybe its the multi-functionality everything takes on -- or perhaps the promise of something quick easy and healthy to feed your smiling perfectly happy family in the morning.

There's something peaceful about it -- even when they're shouting the wondrous features. Something that makes me content and relaxed. They should bottle infomercials.


Dad was supposed to visit again today (at least that's what he told mom yesterday -- that he was going to stop in on his way to Nashville and buy me dinner). Why I actually expected him to, I have no idea. Everyone who honestly believes that I'm really a pessimist take note -- I only pretend to be. Mom wishes she could come visit but she can't afford it (gas). So I feel bad.

If I was a true pessimist, I'd have given up on life all together by now. But I hold hope for things I fear will never happen. Without hope, what's the point in continuing on?

Did you all go see fireworks last night? I did. I like fire -- and big booms that echo off the buildings around you. I like the ones that swirl up into the air and leave a corkscrew comet trail behind them. And the ones that split into tons of little fireworks -- one big shot that separates into at least 30 smaller flower explosions. And the ones that radiate a ring of sparks around them. Oh and the ones that don't do a flower, but a clutter of sparks that randomly wiz around -- like fireflies or a physics animation showing the behavior of electrons. I might just like them all.

Growing up we always shot our own. We'd have like 20 or 30 dollars and drive out to one of the fireworks trailers and buy bags and bags of all our favorites. We never waited till midnight -- it was like opening present on Christmas: "Please can't we just shoot ONE." We did this every 4th and New Years Eve. Of course it's very dangerous -- I don't argue that. But isn't that part of the fun? My brother caught my jacket on fire one year. A whistlin' dixie blew up in moms hand. Dad got shot with a bottle rocket. It's all in good fun ;)

This year I watched from the mall parking deck. It rained -- so I got plenty soaked -- but at least they shot the fireworks anyway.

Minus 10 Inches

I couldn't sleep so I was just laying in bed thinking about things -- things like the fact that I might be homeless and schooless in a few months... and the fact that mom hasn't found a job yet which means shes gonna have to sell her house and move to ____. That's a blank because there's no where. Perhaps she could have moved in with my brother before they decided to sell their brand new gorgeous house because they couldn't afford it. Money sucks.

Since sleep was off the table, I decided to get up and measure to see how much size I've lost (I've done this semi-monthly since right before I had the surgery). You know, nothing is better for the ego than measuring your fat rolls with a measuring tape. What's the ideal waist size? Twenty something? HA -- yeah...

So I measure all the places and write down the new numbers in my little book... and see that I've really not lost anything in 2 months so I do a happy dance. (That was sarcasm, in case you didn't catch it). So I flip around to see what I was before the surgery and I move the measurer to that number.

Holy shit. 10 inches is a LOT. I was so excited that I immediately took a picture to post here. See --->

10 inches in the hips and also 10 inches across my chest (something like 7.5 in the belly, if you're wondering). I cringe that I was that big. I cringe because I'm big now -- so I'm absolutely ashamed that I was even bigger. *cringe*

PS: I was excited so I took a picture. Please ignore the "I just got out of bed at 3AM to measure my fat rolls" look. Yes, those are my PJs. I like them. Never say you don't know what I look like when I wake up.

On describing the new toy

"It's like this little ball made of fur. It's very soft. It's like a little rabbit tail :)

Oh wait.

Damn. I bet it IS a rabbit tail."

Fuzzy Butt

Jack has discovered that he can get on top of the refrigerator. The first night he discovered the wondrous pleasures of the feather duster I kept up there. But now that I've removed that to a drawer, he's figured out that he can hang over the edge and paw at the shiny magnets. Pawing at the shiny magnets makes things fall to the floor. Naturally, this gives him great satisfaction.

The neighbors still come to visit him. He loves being so adored. And yesterday, as I was cleaning up the shattered remains of a light-bulb (yep, you guess it -- Jack broke it when he knocked over the lamp... again), she said that she felt sorry for me. Uhoh. Nothing that follows that sentence from the mouth of a child is ever good. It usually comes right before a simple innocent observation -- something like "why are you bigger than everyone else?" (Yes, that happened to me.) So I braced myself and tried to hide the expectant cringe when I asked her why. Do you know what she said?

"Because you have to come home from work everyday and clean up all the stuff Jack broke."

HA! I laughed (as I used the pliers to attempt to remove the light-bulbs remaining base). That's so true. But I like the little fucker. Everyone says he'll grow out of this destructive phase -- the one that breaks my lamps and clears off the tables and counter tops every night -- that has already broken an entire set of glasses since we've lived here -- that climbs into my craft bag at night and eats my paintbrushes. But some of the devilishness amuses me to no end. Two days ago when I woke up and pulled back the shower curtain, I found Jacks toys -- all of them -- in the bath tub. Clever. And I love how he purrs constantly. And last night -- for a few brief moments -- I tricked him into curling up in my arms in bed so I could hold his purring fuzzy form like a teddy bear. It melted my heart.

I like Jack. And on the bright side -- rather than living alone and jumping at every single creak from the upstairs neighbor -- I now hear things shatter on a regular nightly basis and just ignore it. It's good for me.

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