don’t make me shoot you!

i think the lack of daylight is starting to take its toll on my brain and put me in a mood. so take that, and add in some major issues at work, some stupid kid with a gun and you end up with me this week.

i don't normally like talking about this, but the people who know me well enough, or long enough, know two things about me that have really shapped who i am: one, i was involved in a major school shooting where i was held captive and two, i have pretty severe ADHD. try being a hyperactive that has to stay still! it's torture!


everytime something like this happens it drags up a lot of ugliness that lives inside me and i just have a hard time coping. one of the hardest things for me to take are people who think they are somehow experts on the subject weighing in with their opinions, which they like to present as facts, backed up by faulty arguements.

when they give these opinions, you might notice that they like to blame things--video games, movies, guns, drugs, etc. all easy targets. but if you want to know my opinion (and seeing as how i have more experience than 99% of people on the subject, i'd call it an expert opinion), i think they are all just full of shit.

you have children dealing with mental illness and little to no coping skills. you have parents who don't know how to fix them, if they even try. you have peers who are often cruel. you have a society that glorifies violence and values money over all else. there are just so many parts to the puzzle that come into play.

so unless you've staired down a gun and somehow looked past it to have a conversation with one of these kids, then i don't want to hear your opinion on why he did it. it wasn't one reason. it was many--anger, sadness, confusion, loneliness and pain. the problem is not simple and things are not to blame.

glamour, glitter, fashion and fame...

last night i made my first appearance as JEM. i loved it!

firstly, because for me JEM was right up there with GI JOE and Transformers when it comes to my favortie 80s cartoons. girls didn't have a lot of fun action-y cartoons about them. and she was way better than that piece of crap she-ra.

second, because i have decided pink hair really suits me. why doesn't hair naturally come in pink? it's so pretty!

oh if only i had my own super computer that could make me into a beutified, rock goddess hologram! if only.

my husband is a slut...in my dreams

if you have, or have ever had a significant other, then chances are you've had the dream. the one where you catch y'r S.O.(B.) doing naughty things with someone else. after which, of course, you have to be a little pissed at them for cheating (even if you see nothing wrong with that dream you had of your own involving scarlett johansen's fun bags).

my dream last night involved my husband cheating on me with a friend i haven't seen in years. in real life this would never happen. one, my husband isn't the cheating type. two, my friend is now living in d.c. three, she also happily married. four, to a girl. but these things didn't stop me from hating him a little this morning as i kissed him goodbye. (how dare you, you dirty dream-whore!)

i hope tonight the saga continues where it left off and i get to dream kick his ass. the only problem with dream kicking people's asses is that it never works. you throw a punch that is about as effective as alcohol-free cold medicine or you go to give him a chuck-norris-style roundhouse to the face and realize you can't move y'r legs. my only hope is that i'll be able to use my dream super powers to pick him up, fly high into the sky and drop him on his fat head.

monkeys are good people

right now there is an austrian case that is getting a lot of media attention. why? because they want to declare a chimp a person to protect him, if something were to happen to the shelter where he lives. now, to most of us this seems crazy, because we think of people as humans. duh! but in fact, most people don't realize that in the western world a corporation is also legally people.

so i say, if target gets to be people, let poor hiasl be people too. just look at his cute little face!

i win!

i spent the last week with my pops, which was nice. i missed him. but if the visit were any longer i would have had to call him out. (i know, it's not right to call y'r daddy out, but when have i ever cared what's right.) all week i had to listen to b.s. like, "you should get up to make breakfast for your husband before he goes to work." (my husband is an artist, who works from home. AND...sorry husband...makes half what i do.) and "you shouldn't make him iron his own shirts." (pops must be going senile he has had to iron his own shirts his whole life.)

by the end of the visit i had had it with his 1960s ideals. i was offended that his last words to me before leaving weren't, "i love you" or "thanks for the hospitality", but "take care of your husband". and i was a little pissed off, that is, until i remembered that my relationship has lasted longer that both of his marriages. oooh burned!

flat stanley is coming!

i got some very exciting news this morning that flat stanley will be coming to visit me! i can't wait to show him around boston.

america. f*ck yeah!

i've heard a lot of pissing and moaning about immigration lately. immigration has always been an issue, especially in TUSA (TUSA because i feel like "The" is really part of the name, not just united states but The United States. thank you very much.)

in the short history of our country, which immigrants we were against has always changed depending on who was coming in at the time, italians, irish, etc. these days it's the mexicans, or dirty mesicans as they are more commonly known, that need to get the fuck out.

the common argument, usually by european-americans (or cracker-ass crackers) is that these wet-backs need to go back where they came from. the only problem is, while this reasoning may have worked with italians, germans, chinese or even african-americans (in that case, igonoring the fact that we brought them here ourselves.), mexicans actually are americans. some of them actually coming from texas, arizona, california, etc. because all of those places, way up to wyoming (but who wants to live there anyway) were once mexico. so "go back where you came from" is actually what many of them are doing.

now a lot of my friends still living in california (except the ones that are mexicans) are going to complain about this. i can hear them now. "you don't live here anymore, what do you know." let me tell you what i know. i live in a city, founded two hundred years before mexico stopped being mexico, with very few mexicans at all. this is not the way to live. you cannot get a decent plate of tacos anywhere and it takes literally 6 months to get your house resided. have you ever heard of the big dig? that started when reagan was in office and is still going on now. you know why? no mexicans. and don't get me started on the $3 avocados.

so my point is, stop telling mexicans to go back where they came from. this is where they came from. and this is where you want them to be. because sure without them some whitey could do the job, but trust me, the mexican can do it better.

now some of you, maybe the mexicans, are going to say, "hey what about high paying jobs, why can't mexicans do those?" mexicans CAN do those, but the guy hiring for the position, he's going to hire his college roommate's son. and all his friends are white males, so y're screwed. and if you do happen to have a white friend who gets you one of those high-paying/high power jobs, you'll only be used to keep his own ass out of hot water. sorry.

now what is a gringo to do in these times? i think it's time we immigrate to mexico. vamos a la playa, mang!

let’s go to the moOOOoovies! let’s go see the staAAaars!

so i was talking to jesse yesterday about the movie i was fixin to go see. he responds by saying, it's not a "theatre movie". and that was when it really sank in, some people just don't know what's good for them.

don't get my wrong, i love my netflix, but when i see a movie on dvd, good or bad, it always feels like settling.

for me going to the movies is always better. you have the popped corn with real butter (if you know where to go) and the ungodly amount of soda pop. you have the dark theatre to hold hands during the scary bits of scary movies. or to keep people from noticing when the pop goes flying out your nose during funny bits of funny movies.

and then there is the whole pack animal element. it's great to be in a room filled with laughter and to really laugh. a chortle is always better than a chuckle. and thrillers so thrilling you can feel the electricity generated by your neighbors, even the one that stepped on y'r toe on his 3rd trip to the bathroom. and there's that euphoria that causes everyone to break out in applause when the good guy wins or anytime christopher walken pops up on screen.

and even at bad movies, like spiderman 3, when you see people get up and walk out. amen! you think, but you stay. wanting to say that you survived the pain and are somehow better than them for it.

what it comes down to is, being at the movies is one of the few times when i really, fully enjoy being around people. the rest of the time get the fuck away from me.

dear bicyclists,

you can run red lights to your heart's content. (don't we all?) you can swerve hither and thither with no regard to hand signals. hand signals are gay anyway. i don't blame you. but stay the fuck off the sidewalk! you see that little lane there with the picture of the bike in it? that means you, nuts for brains. if you are going to break the law at least don't be a dick about it. when you come across people using the sidewalk for things like, say, walking (weighed down with bags of groceries, perhaps, perhaps not. it doesn't matter), at least have the decency to hop the curb. don't expect them to jump into bushes next to that pile of dog shit (another blog). i don't want to hear your bullshit little horn. and if i hear "on your left" one more time, i'm going to ball my fist and raise it neck level.

regards,

Q

p.s. your mama

i'm a millionaire!

this is what i plan to say wednesday night. or let's be honest, thursday morning because i'll be too busy celebrating my independence from the former evil empire with fireworks and our friend cool keith to play on the internets.

sunday i had a dream that i won the lottery. i took that as a sign that i should shell out the $20 for the super duper raffle ticket. it has a real name, but i'm not going to look it up. apparently though, the thing is a total flop and they've only sold about 1/3 or so tickets. your loss is my gain!

oh and btw, i also had a dream that we were hit by some pandemic disease that caused people to go wacko and try to hack me with butcher knives. i tried hacking them back, but this did nothing. i was, however, able to ward them off with polkadots. before i bore you too much with my dream talk, my point is, i sure hope i have time to spend my lotto winnings before the pandemic strikes.

my life, paralleled by pauline the chicken

because i think i'd be thrown out of my bookclub for recommending a picture book, i have to tell everyone about it here--everyone meaning the 3 people that may read my blog and the millions of people living in my imagination.

i'm just going to skip the why of why i was reading books in the children's section of barnes & nobel, because that would take too long to explain. but i was. that is how i came across the book, My Life as a Chicken.

it tells the story of pauline poulet, who escapes from the routine life of a layer with a shitty boss who is just out to get fat, overcomes swoopy hoots and foxes and pirate cats to find a happy place where she can belong (and not be eaten).

i totally relate! and i hope that one day i too will find myself living happily ever after in a small petting zoo.

i've decided i'm going to stay teen! so what if i'm in my 30s! i'm totally teen! like fur sure!

here are the tips for avoiding pregnancy from stay teen dot com with my commentary. because you know i always have to say something.

Thinking "it won't happen to me" is stupid; if you don't protect yourself, it probably will. Sex is serious. Make a plan.

yes, be careful! sex can happen to anyone! even people who aren't serious!

Just because you think "everyone is doing it," doesn't mean they are. Some are, some aren't — and some are lying.

true! i'm totally NOT doing it. and i'm not lying.

There are a lot of good reasons to say "no, not yet." Protecting your feelings is one of them.

not true. protecting your feelings is a lame reason. a good reason would be, a) you don't want to get knocked up. 2) he don't take care of his other baby. c) he's irish.

You're in charge of your own life - don't let anyone pressure you into having sex.

yeah y're not the boss of me. i don't care if the bible tells me i'm only supposed to stop having sex with my husband to pray. i have more shit to do than just pray. i'm sorry.

You can always say "no" — even if you've said "yes" before.

of course i can. i'm a girl. that's what we do.

Carrying a condom is just being smart — it doesn't mean you're pushy or easy.

or how about you just keep them next to y'r bed. because good luck finding y'r purse when you need it.


If you think birth control "ruins the mood," consider what a pregnancy test will do to it.

birth control doesn't ruin the mood. unless it makes you throw up. then yeah, it's a total mood killer!


If you're drunk or high, you can't make good decisions about sex. Don't do something you might not remember or might really regret.

yeah, don't do it if y'r drunk. he's just gonna have whiskey dick.


Sex won't make him yours, and a baby won't make him stay.

a baby won't make me stay either.

Not ready to be someone's father? It's simple: Use protection every time or don't have sex.

wow. that really made me think. i didn't know it was possible for me to be someone's father. dang yo!

the sinning

so there is a website that is getting a lot of buzz.  it's a site where people can go and confess their sins. when i first found out about it, it brought back the excitement of chatting with the godbot.  i'm a very nosey person so i thought reading everyone's sins would be a lot of fun.  it really was at first, but then after a few entries man this shit gets depressing!  i think the baby jesus was trying to teach me a lesson. you can check it out yourself, but i warned you.

http://ivescrewedup.com/

beans and chicken and collard greens and corn bread and corn bread

saturdee we went out for a special treat at magnolias. i had a deep fried avocado for starts followed up with chicken fried steak with collard greens and mashed potatoes (red and sweet), and some sweet tea. this is one of the only places in town where i have been able to get "real" sweet tea, not ice tea with sugar in it or something that started off as a powder. and they were out of sweet tea when i asked so they brewed some up fresh for me. for a minute i thought maybe i had died and gone to heaven. then i remembered, i'm a cunt.

keith lockhart keep y'r jacket on

there is one thing that really bugs me about the boston pops and that is the way they promote keith lockhart as hip and urban. but i'm not fooled, you hear me BSO?! i can see that behind the facade of a people's conductor is a band nerd that was never really comfortable around people who were too pretty or athletically gifted. i imagine that on the mornings before his scheduled photo shoots he stands before his bathroom mirror and gives himself an affirmation or two or five. they probably sound a lot like mine in my twenties when i was single and about to head out of the house.

i am pretty.
people like me.
i am not the nerd i used to be.
everyday in every way, i am getting better and better.

i don't think i've seen an image of keith lockhart that wasn't that same faux-casual you see in senior high school pictures, sears catalogs and those wedding albums, where the bride really wanted formal group shots, but wants to pretend they happened naturally. his jacket is always thrown jauntily over his shoulder. and if the shot needs a little something more, why not get rid of the jacket entirely and try leather pants instead.

maybe he could take a cue from our friend mickey mouse in fantasia? both are equally flamboyant, but mickey has that extra zing. that little something that says, motherf*ckers i could conduct the g.d. universe if i feel like it.

shots of our friendly, neighborhood conductor mr. lockhart courtesy of www.keithlockhart.com.

itchy itchy scratchy scratchy ooh i got one on my backy

last night while watching lost in my tv illuminated living room, i got the itches. i saw something on my arm in the dark, so of course i start picking at it. i thought it might be a bit of chocolate from the burnt cookies my husband made, but whatever it was, it wasn't budging. i pulled at the sucker then went into the brightly lit hallway to investigate. i screamed and dropped it. i was a live and wriggly tick! it landed on my shirt and i screamed again. i flicked it off and began disrobing on my way to the bathroom. i called for my husband to help me thoroughly search for any friends and family that might have also moved in. we found no more ticks, but i kept checking all night just to be sure. i still itch.

of all the time i spent in the tick infested johnson grass of rural texas and arkansas, i never would have guessed i would have got my first bloodsucker from a museum in massachusetts. although, i would like to blame that creepy big baby at the de cordova, it more likely came from one of the trees i couldn't resist climbing under or just maybe one of Ria Brodell's sodmonsters, but we'll never know.

am i a lesbian? OR how i got dildoed by a girl

for most of you this will be TMI, but if you are my friend then you are used to it. you have been warned.

i have been in pain for the last 6-8 months. a couple of months ago, i decided to stop ignoring it and talk to my doctor about it. she poked and proded then recommended a pelvic ultrasound. which brings us up to yesterday...

i was told to arrive for the ultrasound an hour early so that i could drink 1/2 my daily water intake in about 30 minutes time. apparently, if you aren't knocked up, you have to drink a lot of water so the sound waves will travel better or some junk. so anyhoo. 40 oz of water later, i go in to the exam room.

i lay on the table and lift my dress as instructed by the tech (radiologist or whatever she is officially called). she lubes up the wand and rubs it over my belly like you see on tv and takes the pictures. next she wipes me off and says "okay go empty your bladder so we can do the vaginal ultrasound." i gulp and thank god she just asked me to pee, because i prolly would have wet myself out of shock.

i come back into the room. she leaves so i can remove my panties. (oh the irony.) i get back up on the table and she comes back in. feet in the stirrups, dress back up she takes out "the wand" and rolls a condom down on the thing. the wand isn't friendly looking. they should really take a cue from the sex toy industry and put a smiley face or cute little bunny ears on the sucker. and it may lack girth but the thing is as long as my forearm and i was very afraid i would be hearing the words "take it all in" soon.

instead she says, "you're going to feel some pressure" as she shoves the thing up my fagina and starts taking pictures again. it felt very gay--even if she was 100% professional and kept her eyes off the prize, the fact is, call it what you want but the woman was dildoing me. all i kept thinking about was how doctors used to use vibrators to treat women with melancholy. future people are going to look back at us and laugh, "oh my god they were totally dildoing women to look at their ovaries!"

and just like a real date, they won't be calling me until next week.

doppelgangers

while in italy i saw a bunch of italian versions of people i knew. one of the doubles was of my good friend daxi and i decided this time i would take his picture because he was on the phone and wouldn't notice anyway. and if he did notice me i would just pretend to be taking a picture of the duomo or battistero.

here is my friend and his heavier italian double.



i think there is a resemblence, but i wonder what dax or other people would think. i bet that since i look a lot different in my own mind than in real life, then it is possible that other people look different in my mind too.

and p.s. friends, if you ever see my doppelganger then take her picture, so i can see too!

viva italia

i just returned from my birthiversary trip to italy. (in case you are wondering, a birthiversary is what happens when you get married on y'r birthday.) i sent a message to my jess'ca and she said that i needed to post it for my blog. she's my wifee so i do what she says. she knows everything. so here it is...private bits edited out and with minor grammatical changes.


most of our trip was spent in firenze (florence). we also did some time in pisa and sienna. instead of going to another country, it felt more like i went to another time. everyone looked the same-ish. everywhere, every person spoke english, so it didn't feel foreign. and unlike say, in costa rica, you really couldn't spot the locals from the americans--unless they were fat and you knew they were one of ours. occasionally, italians, most likely also tourists would come up and start conversations with us that we couldn't understand. apparently, they couldn't see a difference either. so basically it felt the same, the only difference being the architecture and art were all 500 years old and beautiful. beautiful. beautiful.

the medici, assholes that they may have been, really knew how to live. their palace (palazzo piti) and garden (boboli) was one of my favorite days of the trip.

the uffizi was also incredible. i can't believe i saw so many masterpieces in a number of minutes. it's like bam! bam! bam! all the ninja turtles right after another. wow that's beautiful! oh its a michelangelo. gee that's really nice; oh it's rafael. etc.

my mouth opened uncontrollably when i saw the real david. even from far away he is stunning. not stunning hot, just jaw-dropping awesome. it's like the difference between a large-format darkroom print and a picture on y'r camera phone. it's the details that set michelangelo's shit apart. i could see david's veins from like 100 feet away. and btw, isn't he supposed to be jewish?!

all that sad, the food was not what i expected. i love to eat. i love italian food even. but all the restaurants served the same shit. it's not like just having pasta everyday. it was the pasta dishes were all the same, meat dishes all the same and salads all the same. you want a sammich? it's ham, cheese and salami. those are the only options. just no variety. my favorite find was this turkish wrap joint that never had any customers except for us. that shit was delicous. the meat was rotisseried and spicy and it had a yummy sauce. good stuff. i did develop an addiction to gellati and have been having withdrawals. i'm hoping the pina colada i get later today will act as my methadone.

the weather was perfect and the trip was absolutely lovely. i'd do it again, but i have so many other places to see first, that might be many years from now.

ciao darlings!


here we are smooching in the giardino bardini with central firenze in the background.

You mean all I need is a notebook?

I was really trying hard to work on my OCD. I hit up the B&N psychology aisle and found one book that looked decent and bought it. So far it has not been money well-spent. I did, however, also find a workbook for adults with ADHD (same aisle). Now, this book, I like! I haven't gotten very far and I haven't followed the directions very well (Why would I, I have ADD?) but I'm a fan. The chapters are really short and break things down even further in small digestible bits. The book advised me to do two things so far--get a notebook and a calendar and write everything down in them and nowhere else. I've been working with a calendar for a few years and I think it is a must. The notebook thing I've never tried but it sounds swell. Firstly, because I forget everything. (You would too if your mind thought it needed to have an opinion on every feeling, person, sound, smell and object around you all at the same time.) Second, because I know I will forget, I end up using post-its and notepads and miscellaneous scrap pages to make notes and lose them. I'm very hopeful that if I can stick with this it might actually help me, even if it is a tiny and obvious idea. I also think if I can manage my ADHD a little better, I would be more productive, less stressed and less likely to obsess. YAY!

i'm taking over the whole alphabet!

most people know i have ADHD. i'm not ashamed to admit it, in fact, i kind of brag about it. i'm high energy, i'm a great multi-tasker, i have a million different thoughts a day and as much as this can sometimes leave me feeling very scatterbrained and drained at the end of a day, i love it.


something i don't usually admit to people is that i have OCD. this is something i don't talk about even with my close friends. the problem is i feel like i've been working so hard to keep it a secret that i'm not even dealing with the problem myself.

every year around my birthday i think of the things i want to change in my life and start to work on them. this year i have decided to make dealing with my OCD one of my priorities. i did this sometime ago and was successful for a couple of years, but after a stressful period it came back again and has slowly progressed to the point i'm at now, which is the worst it has ever been. i feel like in order to really change i need to stop hiding the fact that i have a problem so i can deal with it. so there you have it.

just a tip

if you ever have plans to go visit someone's home and you are ill--it doesn't matter if it is a holiday or dinner party or what have you--DO NOT GO. call them and tell them you are sick. do not just show up without warning and expect them to happily accept your illness as they would a hostess gift. cancelling the day before may be inconvenient, but not nearly as inconvenient as a week with the flu and having to miss work during quarter end.

it's kosher for passover!

so i'm eating some tasty sushi for fish friday along with some creme cheese that tells me that it is "kosher for passover". so what makes me wonder is, is it ever NOT kosher? it's cheese! what could they be doing to it, for it to not be kosher? making it from camel milk? slicing in with a bloodied blade they just used to slaughter a cow? not that i ever keep kosher, i'm shiksa all the way, i'm just curious about what my cream cheese would have to do to be unfit? if you know tell me, because i'm very curious.

i was stabbed last night!

he says it was an accident, but i knew it was only a matter of time before that dirty whore stabbed me. he is brown people and you know how the brown people are always threating to cut you. plus, when someone gets killed or stabbed or shot it's always the husband--everyone who watches tv knows that.

lucky for me i have tough, ferretty skin, dull knives and super powers of invincibility. so instead of a gash, i have what looks like a teeny-tiny faerie hicky on my side. but you know, just in case, if i turn up dead next time, you know who did it. el indio estupido!

look at him. you can see him plotting evils against me.

sometimes you need to take a good hard look at y'rself

so, the other day i made an exciting discovery. one of my heroes, john kennedy (puppeteer, not president) has a show on activity tv, which is part of comcast's on-demand programming. i had to watch every episode--each containing some kind of fuzzy fabric, googley eyes, an 8 year old kid with better acting abilities than poor john, and in the end an awesome puppet. i wanted to tell everyone! then i realized, no one cares.

people over the age of 8 who like puppets are weird. or people who have ferrets, or people who wear fuzzy hats with bear ears, or people who play papier mache, or people who answer to mOnster, or people who put capital letters in the middle of words, weird.

i've always known that i was weird, but i have always seen myself as different from (i.e. better than) the other freaks you see in the world. you know, like the cowboy who plays guitar in his underpants, or the lady that takes her cat for walks in a stroller, or people who attend renaissance faires in period garb. but the enjoyment i got out of watching those little puppet shows made me realize something. i might just be that weird.

in case you were wondering...

no. no, i do not have a problem maintaining an erection. i also do not think i need a larger penis. i do not know how the word could have gotten out that i am somehow unhappy with my penis, but i sure am getting a lot of email about improving it's size and function. so i just wanted to set the record straight. carry on.

meat? fuggitaboutit

this is a friendly reminder to my Catholics and other Lent observers. no matter how tasty that bacon looks this morning, don't do it. those sun chips in the afternoon, that's a no-no too. this is Lent people. abstain abstain abstain. and when your mind turns on you and says, what's wrong with a little meat. you shut it up with images of the Lord, not the one suffering on the cross, the little jew boy suffering at the dinner table because joseph never let them have tasty pork chops and applesauce or lobster ravioli.



here is what appears to be an image of the little lord jesus saying to one of his goyfriends, "i'll trade you these for some of that bacon."

theraflu, why are you ew?

my husband has been making me theraflu with honey at night and it really helps me to go to bed at 9, which is about 3 hours before my bedtime. 10 hours of sleep feels awesome. it's like every day is the weekend.

last night i finished off the last pack of liquid sleepytime goodness. and the thought of staying up all night tonight with my head full of shit did not appeal to me. so today at lunch i stopped by the walgreens across from the office. the one next to the cab stand, so i was really risking my life for this stuff. that's how good it is!

anyhoo. i see that now they have about 98 million types of theraflu and i decide i should go with the one that promises to get all this shit out my chest. i whip some up after lunch to take the chill off, because it is colder than a witch's tit outside, and to make my body stop aching like an 80 year old woman. it smells of orange and looks about the color of tang, my favorite childhood drink. i take a sip and nearly vomit. this is not how i imagined i would be getting the shit out my chest. why can't it just taste like the other theraflu? it tastes nothing like orange, the best way i could describe what i am tasting is. wait let me taste it again to be sure. yes, the best way to describe the flavor is burnt, rubber shoe soles. that is so wrong!

Attack of the Mooninites: or the Err Error

so yesterday i was a little flipped out. one of my usual T stops (sullivan sq) called in the bomb squad, blew some "electronic device" to smitherines and thoroughly fucked the commute for thousands of people. (but not mine because i happened to catch the 87 bus, instead of the 86 bus.)

as the day went on, more and more of these devices popped up around the city, i started getting a little nervous. is it a hoax, is it someone's practice run, is it just some fruit loop?
then just as i'm leaving work i hear the source is really just a promotion for my beloved aqua teen hunger force (number one in the hood, g.) and that they have been there for weeks. so then i worry how something that looks like a bomb can be in all these key locations for weeks and NOT be seen?!

now everyone is outraged that the source of all this panic was just some marketing campaign. we have all these politicians yelling and screaming for someones head. the word hoax was uttered about 108 million times.

then i see what all the fuss is about. this my friends, this, is not a bomb. it is also not a hoax because that would imply it was meant to look like a bomb. and if you look at this and the first thing that comes to mind is a bomb, then you really, really should seek counseling.

sometimes a girl actually needs a trip to texas

i want some boots. not the sexy black to the knee boots, i have plenty of those. i want some boots with a good ol' boy name like justin or tony lama.

i went to 2 different "western" shops in boston, but they were nothing like the western shops of my youth. there wasn't any feed or baby chicks anywhere to be found. one had a couple of nancys behind the counter (they may know leather, but not boots). the other had a couple of hipsters (the people, not the waders). both only had a few boots for women, and they were the fancy inlaid boots like W wears. no thanks. that's like getting a luxury SUV. so i live in the city, but i still want some that i could actually kick shit in (for the times i walk across the common and the mounted cops leave piles on the former cow paths), or at least walk in the mud if i wanted. we do have mud. and one day one of those handsome cabbie horses might get loose and i'll be prepared.

my resolutions

these are my resolutions. i'm posting them here so i don't forget. i'm very forgetful.

get my drivers license again
volunteer more regularly
keep a journal
keep losing weight until i can fit into my favorite jeans
be better at setting up playdates with my friends
get rid of more stuff i don't need
get organized
stop being such a cunt all the time