sometimes I don't wanna shine

I always decide that after ten o'clock at night is the time to dance madly around the living room for an hour . Mostly because that is when I remember I need to download my forty mp3s before the eMusic account rolls into the next month. I have found more weird indie stuff in the last year than I ever discovered in college, which is ideal as I was not yet developed enough to appreciate it at the time. Regardless, I have been playing all my Beatles and Wings records in succession, because I'm regressing and growing my winter coat. I maintain that Back to the Egg is sorely underappreciated, and Press to Play is weirder than it sounds first time around.

We saw the Trans-Siberian Orchestra last weekend. It was very loud. I liked the parts with fire. I was my magical kind of non-alcoholic hungover so not in the best place for that kind of thing. I was handing out double handfuls of candy to eight hundred poorly-costumed little kids at Annie's house the night before. Several of them held out two separate bags, which I did not understand, but I filled them up anyway. Then I had to go see a band just to prove I wasn't afraid of any of them, and now I never have to go again. Which is good, because my dear friend the singer was trying to take pictures down my shirt. I already gave that one a bruise on his shoulder that lasted three months; I will have no qualms about breaking a bone.

This is the first presidential election I've been able to vote in where my candidate won. I suppose I should rejoice but doubt the world will change magically in four years. I guess I don't have to worry about expatriating immediately, but I think I'll get my passport renewed anyway.

It's been a really long day. I woke up to find Pushkin slinking around the apartment with my toothbrush stuck through his collar, and it's all kind of been like that. I think tonight is Friday because I did laundry and used the mud mask. That was a lack of foresight on my part. I'm supposed to go out with them after work because it's someone's birthday. I have got to quit being social. It isn't really expensive, since all I drink is diet Coke, but it makes me tired and burns brain cells.

I was born a unicorn, I could have sworn you believed in me, then how come all the other unicorns are dead?

Touch of blue leaves blueprints on you

I have had four people ask if these are my real nails. Fifth was going to get a really good look at them JAMMED IN ITS EYES. I guess it's a compliment, but do I look like the kind of girl who will contemplate anything faux other than animal product?

"It's a man bag!"
"It's a man purse!"
"It's a murse!"

I may have found my people.

oh. I made a mini-Sonic run because I hate myself and want to die and ordered diet Coke and onion rings. The lady brought me my drink, noticed my nails, and went off on how she used to work at a Sally Beauty Supply and hates glitter polish because it just WON'T COME OFF. Then she went away for five minutes and came back with my onion rings...and another Coke. She was so distracted by the glitter that I got a free refill.

I have found the mix tape Billsplut made me ten years ago (oh my god I am old)(tucked inside case: "Bowl a Free Game On Us Courtesy of Latin World, Columbia MO, expires 12/31/2000") and need to dig through Mr. Pookie-Head's Bucket o' Parts to find whatever audio cord I used to do mp3 from my tape deck with before it or the tape deck explodes.

"...That sounds like Day Tripper."
"That IS Day Tripper."

pushing the sky

I really could not give less of a rat's ass about football, but I painted my nails black and gold anyway. Because I moved to the land of crazy people, and if I have one more idiot gibber Oooooh, you went to Missouri, ha ha, SHUN! SHUUUUUUUN! then I'm going to go all Hooker Heels Impale on some unsuspecting dipshit. I don't think I'm going to be home tomorrow night or would have to sit there and light all the Jesus candles and point my Moon Kaleidoscope at the screen and shriek every time it looks like the little men are running the wrong way. It worked when they played Kansas last year (the only game I have ever watched in my life).

There was a large, spotted snake in the copy room a few days ago. I saw its little head poking out from under the door and circled the office a few times until I found someone to get rid of it. I could have picked it up and taken it outside myself if it were a little stripy snake, but I don't know what spots mean. Apparently they've gotten up to ten a week in the fall before. And mice. I am not sure why the snakes don't just eat the mice. I think I need to bring in Pushkin, heavy leather gloves, and tongs.

bow-tie and applejack

I had a wonderfully self-aware moment yesterday in which I realized that I can make friends with female coworkers but not with random girls in a social setting. This is because I am involuntarily forced to be in coworkers' presence for hours at a time and am then used to them, whereas strange girls just put my hackles up and I hiss and spit and am quite fierce for the duration. Oh la.

I am tentatively considering an MBA again. This would serve NO practical purpose towards furthering my career, but would make the little voice in my head that sings "loser loser didn't go to grad school" shut up. Do I really want to throw $10k at it to make it go away? MAYBE. Mostly I'm worried about the GMAT after this long. I guess UNO is probably not all that selective, so I could maybe get by with mediocre.

I discovered PaperbackSwap.com. OH NOES.

My mom e-mailed me that she finally filed papers for the divorce and that Dad told her she had to be the one to tell us. WHATEVER.

Did I mention my beautiful purple stamp that says "I AM A UNICORN"? The boy ordered it for my October tribute because I write that on my legs when I'm feeling particularly insecure at work.

I AM A UNICORN

venus and mars

I am still in love with Paul McCartney because he's the only person who's never broken my heart.

every time I see your face

I had to go to the courthouse downtown to pick up a check, and I PARALLEL PARKED! and PARALLEL UNPARKED! and the unparking took just twice as long as the parking! HOORAY!

Now I am home to pet my little black daughter, who is rubbing all over the monitor and probably going to chew through the USB cord to my little pink mp3 player if I don't gently nudge her off the edge of the table. The brat will not keep her collar on. WILL NOT. They are indoor cats, but I would want her to have her tags if she ever escaped like Mimi does at home. There are days when this is the only creature in the world I ever want to see again.

My first board meeting is this week. sigh.

I probably should not wear the Baby Phat jeans. SNRK.

I also decided I needed TIGI Brunette Goddess shampoo. I am starting to be a leetle bit too high maintenance.

misfire

I need $80 Baby Phat jeans with a big gold cat on the leg.

DON'T I?

I has a tired. Pushkin has a noisy. These modes are not compatible. I wish I had a turkey leg or something to stuff in his mouth.

wisdom of the ages

Things I learned at my last job:

1. Keep your shoes on.
2. Do not call anyone "darling."
3. Do not allow dirty old men to call you "Princess," even if you ARE A PRINCESS.
4. Do not sign notes with hearts.
5. Do not cry in the bathroom, because THEY WILL FIND YOU.
6. Do not bring glitter to the office.
7. Sit at the desk at least 51% more than you sit on the floor.
8. Do not keep weapons up your sleeve or in your desk drawer, even if it really is just that bad.

What I have learned at my new job:

DO NOT PROVOKE THE WILD TURKEYS.

all good children go to heaven

I missed my Body Pump class tonight because my ovaries are waging war on my kidneys and upright is the most I can hope to achieve this evening; actually I am making my best efforts at a prone position as soon as possible. I was in software training all day today and could feel my head jerking every three minutes. I need to go to bed at eight-thirty.

ALL I WILL SAY IS - Someday I truly hope I start a job where I don't have to be the emergency accountant.

My arm hurts where I tried to iron it yesterday. TOO BAD ABOUT THAT.

I predict I'm about to go through a phase of trashy Star Wars fanfic novels. Le sigh. K19 comes out to bite me in the butt every few years anyway. I really do need to work harder at attaining my former state of pretentious yuppie. First step: Start listening to NPR again.

ain't no thing like a chicken wing

This is going to be the failblog if I don't kick it up.

I had to attend a Neil Diamond concert last night, because I am sweet-tempered and without vice, and therefore couldn't make someone go alone. It could have been worse; it could have been John Tesh.

My dad keeps telling Mom that she's a bad mother, and I am too old and tired for damage control at this point. I think he told her to move back or he wants a divorce (five years later), so I told her to find a job up here. She and I can get an apartment. WOOOOOOO!

I have chocolate mud mask on my face, and it feels like someone threw a pudding pie at me. SPLUT! as the kids say. Punker is taking adolescent psych this fall; I wonder if we can get retroactive therapy. I will admit that I totally superimposed the Lime Girls on that stage over Neil Diamond.

My child is here. Her tail is in my face. I hope she likes pudding.

can not cope

OH MY GOD I HAVE INTERNET AGAIN THANK YOU.

I could have gone without power for more than twenty-four hours but ONLY IF MY BRAIN HAD A NETWORK CARD.

parsnips

I have to quit looking at all of our old toys on eBay because it makes
me Insane.   I want there to be a Vintage Toy Library where we can go
revisit our youth for, like, $20 a day.  Like an amusement park for
psychologically damaged, regressing eighties children.

blowing in the wind

I would like more than anything in the world to get into Baby with my little pink phone and my pink gym bag with ten pounds of hair product and one change of clothes and drive west to set up a new life in Colorado or wherever she blows the first part. I always hang on to everything until it's rotting in my hands, and I just want to let it go. Let me go.

Medusa on four hours of sleep

It is a damn good thing for some people that they are cute.

the stars, like dust

The Wonder Kitten and her brother HAD NO KIBBLE, and this, of course, is an INTOLERABLE SITUATION. I did not really want to be awake yet, but it is one of the subtle joys of parenthood, I suppose. I think I am going to put in a request for walkies at the lake today rather than the weights class, as all of my internal organs feel like they are coated in a vicious green mucus and are shutting down. Good Morning to You!

Do I go to hell if I spend three hundred dollars on manga but then have the entire collections of Sailormoon, Wedding Peach, and Mermaid Melody?

so maybe I am twelve years old. I-DON'T-CARE.

in which we wallow in self-pity

Yeah, so I was going to do this every day as therapy, or at least a couple times a week. I need to practice the OUTPUT as opposed to the INTAKE so I can become reacquainted with my happy place.

My little sister is probably going to get this fantastic audit job at a CPA firm in Virginia, and my aunt just declined a $150k position at Hitachi. Why did I turn out to be the loser? Because I LISTEN TO OTHER PEOPLE'S MOUTH NOISES INSTEAD OF TO THE VOICES IN MY HEAD. Why do I always have to be the evil one? I have been told I am "cute, like a little kid." Apparently I look twelve years old, sweet, naive, and innocent. FANTASTIC CAMOUFLAGE, only no one ever takes me seriously, and then they are surprised when my blue finally VOMITS.

But...I am lucky not to be dead in a tornado and not to have suffered damage to any of my possessions and to be faced with the prospect of being able to choose between two job offers and to have a family and friends and the Wonder Kitten who love me and to have running water and air conditioning and long hair and green eyes and three screws in my hip because five hundred years ago they would have left me for dead.

oh really?

(21:30:22) kitsplut: oh well. This morning I spent half an hour trying to get Neil Diamond tickets through the Ticketmaster site for the customer service man...he gave me his credit card and left for the morning. It was some stupid presale, and I had to Google for the magic fan club password, and then there were only main floor seats, and Grant wanted upper bowl, and I FEEL LIKE A FAILURE.

(21:30:52) glasstoria: dear god, you have the weirdest job in the world

irony is underwhelming

9/7/2003: "One of my life's lessons is to stop allowing people to control me directly or indirectly merely because they love me. That imposes no obligations on me beyond normal courtesy."

11/16/2003: "I REFUSE TO MOVE TO OMAHA OR DES MOINES."

I would laugh but it's not really funny anymore.