Holy Christmas...

So, I woke up today at my regular time and started getting stuff done so I could be at work by 11 instead of noon, since we were going in to work early today, it being the eve and all. And around 10 I started getting my e-mail knocked out preperatory to putting on my uniform. When one of my co-workers calls to find out why I'm an hour late to work. And I was all, "No, it's still an hour till I have to be there." Which turned out to be wrong. Apparently someone told me over two weeks ago that we were all coming in at 9am today, but it never got written down and the schedule that my boss left for me three days ago (a week or so after the alleged "we told you" incident) had my regular noon time on it. Which wouldn't be upsetting, but that's exactly how my last incompetent boss managed to fire me from my last job...by changing the schedule, not telling me or writing it down, and then writing me up on it.

Long story short, I was in a bad mood when I was driving to work this morning. Then it started sleeting. The evil, sadistic weathermen have been threatening us with snow for Christmas, but it never, ever snows here, so, whatever. But sleet, that's right up our alley. So I park in the sleet and start slogging over to the store to go to work, late, for the most annoying demo ever on the ickiest, coldest day of the year. And everyone is going to be harried and trying to find a turkey and pushing me down and kicking me when I offer them some delicious cheese dip. And, I may have mentioned, it was sleeting. The tiniest possible sleets, with razor-sharp needles sticking out of their little spherical evil hearts. Which contain "Kellye-eye-finder" type radar. Did I mention I was in a bad mood?

Then all the precious little teenagers that work at the store start wandering by and going, "OMG, it's snowing! Go look, it's snowing! Yayy!" and I spent about an hour replying, "Have you ever seen snow? I have. Is it still doing what it was doing at ten, with the little razor-radar balls hitting the ground at Mach 2 and bouncing higher than your head? That's not snow. You're an idiot. Have yourself sterilized and then put out your eyes. Merry Christmas!" Then I fell for it and went outside to look. Razor-lazer-radar sleet. Then I did as just above for another hour, then I went outside to look again. Total lack of any precipitation. Then an actual adult, respected and valued co-worker came over and said, "Go look outside, it's really snowing!" and she was really excited, so after making her say it really was really really snowing actual real snow, about six times, I went to look, and it really was.

Drifty, flurry-y real snow, really snowing down on the ground. And it started to stick. And it started to get colder. And now my whole town is gently slumbering under about three inches of snow and I'm starting to worry that Dennis Quaid fell through a glass roof and we're all going to freeze to death in the library, if the wolves don't get us first. Oh, wait, that's The Day After Tomorrow. Yeah, probably in the morning the sun will come out and the snow will melt and by afternoon I'll be wearing shorts and a tank top. Please?

Please, please, Santa...

bring me this!

Hey, nice rack!

Meatball sandwich

So, both our computers bit the big burrito yesterday and have been taken to the Computer Urgent Care center. The only thing they have in common is having been taken to the same Computer Urgent Care center last week, and now neither of them will turn on, and it's very annoying and I'm writing this at the Library. Ick. Not that I don't think it's a wonderful thing for the library to offer internet access, and everyone should use it who doesn't have two perfectly good (till last week) computers at which they can type in their nightgown and no one looks at them funny. Anyway, everything else is okay, except my evil grandma (I have two, one is good and one is evil...okay, mentally ill and unable to control her good-evil axis) had a seisure and went in the hospital and had two more seizures and they're trying to get her put in a home, which is where she has needed to be for the last 20 years. Phil, I'll write you soon, I haven't forgotten about you, just let me get over some of this static. Feel free to write until I do, tho.

Still okay, despite intermittent storms.

We haven't had more flooding, which is a-okay in my books. We had some high wind last night, which screwed a lot of people's roofs and trees, but not ours. My county ended up having 22 inches of rain this past Sunday, which would have been disruptive for me if my parents didn't always have enough food and bottled water on hand to sustain them for several days, if not a week or two.

Almost everyone at the little farm is okay, though they did have the only tree they've had to plant in the last five years twisted out by the winds last night,and they had one baby goat die and one goat break his leg during the "goat evacuation" Sunday afternoon. The broken-legged goat looks to do okay, though he might loose the bottom half of the broken (back) leg, and the baby goat died after being brought to shelter inside the house shortly after the rains began. If I haven't mentioned it before, the farm is open to donations, and if you e-mail me about it, I'll turn you over to the proprietors' computer-savvy son. He'll help them accept any donation (no matter how small or large--$5 buys enough produce or feed to satisfy any of their animals for a day or more) to subsidize their farm of mini and pygmy animals for petting-zoo and hospice uses. They lost their llamas to the heat (as I think I mentioned in the summer) and aren't planning to adopt more for that reason, but have pygmy goats, miniature donkeys, pygmy cattle (you haven't lived till you've stood next to a brama bull that stands shorter than your shoulder at his head) and several head of abandoned pot-bellied pigs they've adopted, all of which they use for petting zoos for schools and therapy for hospice (the farm mommy is a hospice nurse) and nursing homes. They've also got two (soon to be three!) head of Gigantos (I think is how you spell it?) Donkeys, which look just like regular or miniature donkeys (down to the cross-mark on their back) but whose adult withers stand above my head at 5'2". I love it. Everything at this farm is either smaller or larger than you expect (except their Fallow Deer, which are exactly the right size except one of them is snow white), and it is the perfect therapy for a hard day. You just need to pet a donkey, and you don't even know it. They stood in two-foot high water for three days, and their only reaction when it went down was to rejoice in dry ground!

The next saddest thing after having all your personal possessions ruined by rainwater is being dry but knowing which of your fellow townspeople are home from evacuation shelters by seeing who has a fresh pile of sodden carpet and furniture in front of their house, and guessing how high the water went in their homes by looking at the watermarks on the bookcases. Lots of businesses and homes had water inside, and some people didn't get back to their property until today, when the sun came out and it stopped raining upstream long enough for our creeks and rivers to drain downcountry and uncover the roads. About 3,000 people lost power for 1 to 8 hours, and there was plenty of intermittent power loss from Sunday to Tuesday. My dad's a Cable Technician who worked 13 hours on Sunday, first fixing cable, then after the local answering service lost power, answering emergency calls for electric or phone customers or people who needed evacuation.

Lots of cars got ruined in the engine or interior or both, and Highway 59 was closed for quite a while because people's vehicles (even big trucks) were stalling out whilst driving on it, and having to be towed to safety. In fact, a lot of buildings that got water inside them wouldn't have, except for vehicles driving past too fast on their streets and causing wakes that forced the water over their foundations and thresholds, most of which was caused by townspeople driving past as looky-loos or rescue personnel. That sucks, in case you didn't know. The only thing worse than having to have your stalled car towed to safety is having the tow truck swamp a small business driving too fast on the way to you.

The lucky part is that, being a small rural community near the coast, there were plenty of huge tractors and boats of all descriptions to rescue everyone who needed rescuing, so there were really no casualties. There were lots of Weather Channel videos of the rescues playing on www.weather.com yesterday, but my link from the previous post doesn't go to them now, and I don't know enough about internet stuff to link them independently, but rest assured that huge cultivators whose tires have hubs higher than a man's head were used to rescue flood victims and we had plenty of motor- and air-boats, too. And in case I didn't mention it, our entirely Volunteer Fire Department rocks, and saved everyone who needed it.

Because our town is quartered by 59 and 71, and because everyone who got kicked off 59 had to go up 71 to get back on track, and because I live right on 71 (71 Business or "Mechanic Street" in town), I got to watch most of the boats go back and forth down our street from the point where they pick up the refugees and drop them off for distribution to shelters to the point where they put the boats back in, so I got to see a damn-huge lot of boats. I saw at least 3 Texas Wildlife boats (or three of the same one) and a hell of a lot (or several hells of the same lot) of local Volunteer Fire Station boats from all over the county, and plenty of local volunteer boats. And I wasn't on the porch the whole time, as I was also busy filling our tubs with water for flushing toilets and washing, and locating our kerosene lanterns, so I surely missed many boats. Plus I happened to be on the porch when the National Guard arrived. It wasn't as exciting as you might suppose, given that a number of people I personally knew were homeless and waiting to be evacuated.

And the town already had planned a Community Thanksgiving to accommodate several thousand, since the one last year went off so well. We're going. Last year (no disaster) they had something like 3,000 people in our community of 11,000, and this year they were planning for quite a bit more, which is likely good. Several religious and benevolent organizations are also feeding for free anyone who feels thankful tomorrow, and accepting any donations toward their likely larger audience, which is also very likely going to be useful. We've donated to several just driving around town on errands that got put off till today.

Several even smaller towns near here were totally incapacitated by the flood, with almost total city populations being evacuated and no people being re-admitted to their houses until today. I hate that this had to happen the weekend before Thanksgiving. I really do feel for my local fellow-residents and hope they all come to the Community Thanksgiving Dinner. I hope you're all sending kind thoughts to this general area, as the whole thing pretty much got slammed.

In my own news, I didn't get to work for two days starting Sunday, but I was only scheduled for the one, and I got to make it up yesterday on a scheduled day off, which puts me at a personal even keel. I was really incredibly lucky both in my home staying dry and in losing no real days of work. And since I started drinking mass amounts of beer every time it started raining, I was happy to have a couple days off unexpectedly. I was planning for total evacuation, and hoping to pass off my inebriation as anxiety. It completly backfired Monday evening, in case you were wondering. It started raining at 7pm, stopped at around 10pm and left me totally hungover but committed to a demo at noon on Tuesday. It went great. I do my best customer-interface whilst hanging on to my "Basic Decent Composure" with both hands and one foot.

And, despite my aversion to organized religion, I have got to give props to our local churches who turned out to house the 250+ members of the community who found themselves temporarily(?) de-homed. They rocked (as I've mentioned before). I got a chance to thank some of them, and some of the Red Cross workers, at my job today. The Red Cross workers were at the grocery store to pick up general supplies (mostly donated by the grocery company and local organizations and charities) and required pharmaceuticals for our refugees. Amongst the religious, I only got to thank the local Mennonites, because the Methodists and etc. don't wear a uniform. I think next time I do a demo (this weekend) I'll just thank everyone for pitching in, since I'm as likely to hit an aid-worker as I am a victim, and I think everyone should to be thanked for their composure.

In other news, our area is trying to get declared a disaster area, since you can't get flood insurance very easily when you live below sea-level in a flood plain near the coast (or when everything in your house is demolished by huge, unexpected rainstorms totally unprecedented in your area), but FIMA is saying the total loss isn't a high enough dollar amount. So I'm urging all my neighbors to photo and inventory their huge piles of discarded flood-damaged property and submit them to the total. I know if this community pulls together, we can have ourselves declared a Total Disaster Area and get the government to help us recoup. For possibly the last time ever, if this administration gets its way. This is the worst flood this area has sustained in living memory, and it might be a lot longer than that under the Bushies...ya know?

Anyway, Happy Turkey day, think of something you're thankful for. I'm thankful for not getting flooded out of my house or car, for having a loving family and friends that care about me, for having a job, and for moving back to Austin soon...Even though I know at least one of my friends in Austin had 1-3 inches of water in her home day before yesterday. The only upside is that Arizona and New Mexico got a lot of rain, too, and they actually needed it...

Flood update...

We're still okay here. Every time the news runs someone else of our family or friends calls to see if we're okay or evacuated or what. It's funny, when the phone rings there's a very good chance it will be someone saying, "I saw El Campo on the news! Are you drowned?" It ended up raining about 18 inches yesterday, or as they said charmingly on The Weather Channel, "About an inch an hour." For what it's worth, you can go here to watch some videos of the flooding. When I was a kid we lived in the part of town the videos mostly show, and there's an older lady in the "Residents forced to flee" report who was our next-door-but-one neighbor back then. It hasn't ever rained this bad in living memory around here. We've had floods before, but this is ridiculous. There were a couple of articles about the whole deal in the Houston Chronicle yesterday and today, but you have to have a subsription to look at their archives, so I guess the cheap bastards won't be getting any additional hits from me.

I wish I'd taken pictures. They closed highway 59 because it was so far underwater cars kept stalling out and having to be towed to safety. Three different churches (including the local Mennonite community, who have enough sense to live on what passes for high ground around here) are sheltering more than 250 people until the water goes down enough for them to get back to their homes, and god knows how many more people are staying with family or friends.

We went out to the mini farm today to try to help, but the water hadn't drained off enough to start cleanup and they'd already assessed what damage they could and made sure all the animals were accounted for, so we made coffee and commisserated. Flooding sucks. In case you didn't know. But, it could have been so much worse. Hell, it still could. Send dry thoughts.

Yayyy! Boats!!!

So when I woke up this morning at 9, it had rained 16 inches since I went to bed. And I'm not going to work today, because most of town is underwater and my boss figures, probably correctly, that anyone who makes it into the grocery store might be less than concerned about being handed an attractive two-oz. food sample. And we're currently in no danger of being flooded because our house is on relitively high ground and is on two-foot pilings anyway. And it isn't really going to stop raining for at least 36 more hours. So the upside is, that if the water gets up to the front door, beefy firemen in boats will come save me. The other upside is that I get to stay at home all day, knitting and watching the Weather Channel. The downside is that the only book in the house I haven't read is one I snatched off the shelf at the library the other day while there with the kiddo, and it turns out it's a Reconstruction-era wholesome Christian romance novel that takes place in Montana. So it looks like I'm re-reading "Me Talk Pretty One Day" again. Please bear with me if I call you and perform an entire essay. David Sedaris is just so fucking funny.

The saddest thing that has happened to me in days.

So, the light in the breakroom where I work is on a motion sensor that turns the light off when the room is empty and turns it back on when someone walks in. So I go in there today to eat lunch and I'm sitting on the couch trying to ignore the other six people in there, all eating and vapidly watching Fear Factor. You know, since H.R. 666 went through, requiring that there be an episode of Fear Factor playing on at least one channel in every market at any given time, so that I am always in danger of seeing some dude eat an elephant cock while jumping out of a helicopter with his head in a box of rats. On fire. Or whatever. God, I hate that show.

Anyway, so everyone's watching it and drooling onto their sippy cups and I'm hunched over my food like a guy doing 15-25 upstate for pedophilia, trying to will myself deaf and blind, when suddenly the lights go out. There's 7 people in the room, and the stultifying effects of that damn show convinced the motion detector that the room was empty. Then we all kind of looked back and forth at each other, and the lights came back on, and some chick changed the channel.

Total Bemusement Now Achieved

I wonder what I should do next. Last night as I drifted off to sleep I had this great idea for (another)ancilliary blog; title, format, skin, content, everything. I remember having the idea and thinking what a phenomenal lot of cool funness it would be, and now I can't remember any of the specifics. Oh, well. Here are some pictures of my cat wearing a tutu:





If you knew her, you'd understand why I've been locking my bedroom door, nights, since I took these. I made the tutu for the munchkin I sit on, but she won't wear it, so I'm reduced to putting it on the cat to satisfy my crafty needs. Maybe I'll send it to Bella, that might be cool. Everybody likes to see a pink pittbull in a tutu.

Still having a hard time with this whole, "Apparently a majority of Americans think that having Duck-face remain our religio-dynastic monarch is a really good idea" thing. I'm thinking of turning to pharmaceuticals to dull my pain, except that would make me a terrorist or something, so I guess I'll just stick to beer. I've been working a lot and haven't really had the time to get it up to blog, but I'll be better soon, I promise. Maybe in the next few days I'll even be able to wind myself up to a huge juggernaut of a linked-up photo-intensive post about all the cool stuff I've been neglecting to mention to you, my adoring public. I could never have done all this without you!

Cuteness Therapy

I'm so sick and disgusted over the whole election. I'm dissapointed, I'm disillusioned, I'm disgruntled, and I'm totally shocked that I let myself get as hopeful and excited as I did. I totally thought everything was going to be okay, which, as my friends will tell you, is totally unlike me. Anyway, I can't talk about this anymore today, but here's a picture that includes: my mom (awwww!), the munchkin I sit for (awwwwwwwwww!) and a baby miniature donkey (awwwwwwwwwwww!).



Try to enjoy the cuteness, and if you get too upset about the 100% probability that we're all about to be anally raped by the new old regime, put a cold towel on your head and look at the picture again.

P.S. Look how high that kid climbed up on the gate! She's got no fear at all. There were fallow deer on the other side of the fence that she wanted to pet, and she wasn't buying that they were shy. I guess she thought they maybe just couldn't hear her yelling "C'mere, Deeeeeeeeer! C'oh here Wight Now!" for half an hour at the top of her voice. Deer are crazy, I don't know why they wouldn't come to her.

I Did It!

Did you? Now it's just anxiously awaiting intelligence of whether it even counted. Or rather, whether they counted it. There was a rumor going around in town that if you vote straight Democratic ticket in Texas, your ballot mysteriously counts as a vote for every Democrat except Kerry and that Bush gets your vote for pres, but I doubt that that's really true. Or at least I don't want to think about it if it is. Anyway, I had to vote each section individually because I wanted to make a pretty pattern on the scantron...not really, I really thought about it, and I even read about the candidates and voted my consience. Like I said, now we see if they use the input we citizens so kindly gave them, or just have a kegger at the Skull and Bones and decide by spinning the bottle.

Oh, p.s. my job is great, and everyone is nice, and the second day was better than the first, and I only freaked out a little tiny bit and my boss saved me and rubbed my back.

new posty goodness

I've done my new job orientation yesterday and I like my boss tolerably well and I start on Monday (with a tiny second orientation on Saturday). I'm working for the company that does those demos for HEB, I'm going to be a demo lady. It pays way better than the truckstop/smokehouse job and I have 5 co-workers instead of 80, one manager instead of 6, and a much higher degree of autonomy. Plus I'll be getting a larger raise sooner if I do a good job and there's several chances for advancement in the next months that would get me more hours, more responsibilty and recognition, and most importantly, higher pay. Our town's new, enormous HEB is opening on Monday, so that's what the orientation of Saturday is about. We get a sneak peek at the new store so we know where everything is on Monday. I'm actually kind of excited about the grand opening, in a sick, corporate kind of way.

Oh, here's photos of Hallowigs:

First of all...

I got the better job for sure and I start Wednesday, so I'm happy. And I start Wednesday, but I don't work again after that until at least Monday, so I'm thrilled to have All Hallows off. Yayy! Even if this job sucks as much as the one I'm working now (not likely--I love 98% of the people I work with, but the work is too hard for my old body and I hate the customers 79% of the time), I still make $1.50 more an hour! Yayyy!

Anyhoo, I put Hallowig pictures up on the Hallowig-along and I'll be putting finished pictures here, as soon as I take them. In the meantime, click on the Hallowig-along button in the sidebar under "knitting" and "knit-alongs" and it will take you to a page where you can see my current in-progress pictures.

In other news, my friend Kathey (who I've been horribly neglectful of whilst I've been doing work stuff) is having her birthday today (the 24th) and has just bought a house and found a lump in her armpit, so please, please send her your most positive energy for a healthful and happy conclusion to both events (I'm not including her birthday as an event, as she's gotten through those before with no help. You might send her psychic Birthday Love, tho.) She's such a love, if you knew her you'd feel as blessed as I do.

I rock.

If only I really was a drunken, wastrel pirate with a speech impediment. Then I could truly be happy! I haven't heard about the better job yet but I know I will. I'm excited about it and going to work in the meantime is only as depressing and painful as I let it be. Which is unfortunately pretty damn depressing and painful, but at least I know that the problem is really me. Hee hee.

Tomorrow I'm posting pictures of my Hallowigs to here and the wig-along for everyone to see, but while I was taking pictures of them and getting all fired up and knitting on them some I realized that I somehow skipped three decreases all at the same marker on the black wig. I don't know how many times I have to say it, people. Don't knit drunk, I tell you. In related news, I trimmed my hair the other night. Anyway, picture picture picture, bitch bitch bitch. Thanks for listening.
Good night.

p.s. Kathey, I'm writing you a letter tomorrow also. I would do it tonite but I'm really sleepy and I have tomorrow off, and I'm so excited about getting some good sleep and maybe being in a good mood tomorrow that I have to go do it! Loves ya! Talk to you tomorrow!

I'm in a terrible mood

and I just want to be left alone. I might hear about getting a better job this week, or I might not. Either way, I had a terrible day today and I'd rather just sleep. G'night.

Goodbye, cruel world

When the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, etcetera, etcetera. I'm really only joking, but it's how I feel today. Plus it would just be so pathetically funny to write your doing-myself-in note on your blog. Just think about it. If somebody told you that they heard someone wrote the final letter on their blog and then really did it, you would laugh and say, "That's sad." Then you would laugh some more.

Thinking further about the title and first line here, I'd like to start a movement to change the official "stereotypical suicidal melodromatic saying" from "goodbye cruel world" to "screw you guys, I'm going home." I think it says more about our current culture and apathy. That's all for today. I thought I got a better job, but they just called to tell me they hired someone else. I hate my job and it sucks and I hate everyone who works there and I smell like barbecue on my day off and I hate everything, so, screw you guys, I'm going home.

Vote or not?

The crazy guys that started up hotornot.com have got all het up about the election coming up and desperately want you to vote. They don't care who you vote for or why, they just want you to do it, and they want you to do it so bad they'll give you money for it! You can enter a sweepstakes to win two hundred thousand dollars by clicking right here and when you do, I'll be entered to win one hundred thousand dollars for telling you about it, then you can tell some people to enter and when they do you'll be entered to win one hundred thou. It's a win-win. Do it. Doitdoitdoitdoit. Do it. You know you want to vote. You know you want an ass-load of money.

Please just take this post and slit my throat with it.

I worked from 12:30 to 8:30 today, completely non-stop. I ended up not taking a break at all (my fault--I should have forced the issue like everyone else had to, but I couldn't see making that kind of fuss for 20 minutes of sitting in the back rubbing my feet and weeping.) and I never stood still unless I was taking an order or waiting for a workstation so I could fill an order. The people I work with are nicer and nicer as they warm up to me and I had a good time talking to them when I could (mostly out of the corners of our mouths as we stood working at adjacent tables for 30 seconds or a minute) and I like working a lot better when I'm constantly busy than when I have long stretches when I'm idle. So it's kind of okay. And that's all I have to say today.

Also, I started another Hallowig where I'm cabling the knit ridges. This one is red. I started one about a week ago that's black and has plain ridges and is about an inch and a half shorter than reccomended because it's for my mom and she's really tiny. The red one is for my friend who really needs a Hallowig right now. Maybe it won't suck too much and I'll finish both of them and post some silly pictures. Love you guys, please stick with me until I get over this starting work shit and start posting again.

Not talking about my job today

It's still kind of weird to me to even have a job after so long, and it's really kind of frustrating to talk about it. It isn't terribly hard or challenging, and I've done jobs way harder, whether we're talking mentally or physically. And almost (I'd say 98.6% of about 80 people) everyone is being really nice and understanding and helpful, and I'm not the only new kid, so my mistakes aren't in the spotlight so much. But I'm totally out of shape and condition, so standing for 8 hours is killing me, and I know I'll get stronger almost immediately, but when I hit the wall I want to quit.

Oh, I guess I am talking about my job today. I just keep telling myself, "You can do this. This is nothing, you can totally do this. There are people here who can do this who are waaaaayy less smart and resourceful than you. And someone still might call you back for a better job..." I'm off tomorrow, and I plan to drink all day so I won't be hungover on Sunday when I work again. I'm actually too tired and sore to drink tonite, if you can believe it. I mean, really.

I wrote a really long, really positive upbeat post about the job day before yesterday, but when I clicked 'save as draft' my computer re-started and Jesus erased that post because He hates lies and the lying liars that tell them. Or something like that, I'm watching The 700 Club because my feet really hurt and I want to press them up against the screen when that blond lady starts healing people. Maybe if she mentions my screaming, melting feet I'll turn Baptist or something. Okay, okay, really this is just what comes on after Whose Line is it Anyway? and I'm too lazy to get up and find the clicker.

Okay, post over, I'm going to take a hot bath and read my book. G'nite!

Doing physical labor for money sucks, as an economical system.

I would much rather be paid for my "potential" than my actual output. Everyone's always telling me how much "potential" I have, but I'm only getting paid slightly more than minimum wage (and about $3/hr less than my last real job) to do the hardest work I've done since the last Christmas I worked gift-retail. And everyone keeps telling me it's going to get harder. Friday will be harder. October will be harder, the holidays will be immeasureably harder. At least 98% of the people I work with don't suck. Today.
In other news, do you automatically die when your feet melt and your legs fall off, because that's pretty much what I think is going to happen soon. Jesus. Working for a living. Totally overrated.

P.S. I ran into my manager about 10 minutes after I clocked out today, in the grocery store. She was buying groceries for tomorrow and I was buying 18 LoneStar tallboys in a big fucking hurry. Hurray for job security!

Guess who's gainfully employed as of today?

It wasn't George W., either. I start Wednesday. It's just a little throwaway convienence store/deli counter job, making shit wages, but the important part is, there are actual wages involved. You know, besides like, the wages of sin and everything. I'm so excited about and focused on getting my first paycheck, I think I'll be the best employee they've ever had. I went to the thrift this afternoon and bought a bunch of ugly polo shirts so I can meet the dress code and so if I get anything ucky on them I can just throw them away. It was bag sale day, so there's another big bonus!

I had to sign a confidentiality agreement today saying I wouldn't give away any proprietary information about their customers or vendors or procedures or organization, so I guess any work-related blogging will have to be maddeningly vague. Maddening to me, anyway. I've worked in retail a looooong time and I know how to bitch about work without telling tales out of school, but it's kind of funny to have this paper I signed hanging over my head.

It's like Girls Gone Wild in 1800's Japan!

When I first ran across these woodblock pictures that's what I thought, because they appeared all to have the same sort of "naughty maids on the master's day in town" ethos to the composition, sort of all rumpled satin and open-mouthed kissing. Then I surfed onto the first guy with a mister the size of his neck being fondled by a geisha. Or the "get into the most uncomfortable posture ever and I'll finger you" pictures. Whoo.

It's called Shunga! It even sounds dirty. Even really famous wonderful woodblock artists like Hiroshige who you thought only did well-respected seasonal landscapes did them, and upon further research I find they were common as, well, as Playboy magazines today!

Hooray for olden-days Japanese pornography! Hooray for skinny pale Japanese guys with funny hair cuts and ridiculously massive rods diddling skinny pale Japanese ladies holding odd household objects! Hooray for 37 disturbing shades of vulvas! Hooray for everyone's kimono being monstrously askew!

I have triumphed over my camera!

I have triumphed over my computer! I have triumphed over my stomach virus! I feel victorious, well, non-pukirific, and smart! Also, here are some photos:

Shapely Tank is vanquished!

    

Here are the promised pictures of the kid:

 
And here are some pictures of my lovely, even-tempered, angelic adorable cat, because this is, after all, a knitting blog:

     
  

More news later, I have to go put in a second job app for today!

I've been quite ill the last few days

and I'm not quite up to a full blog post yet but I'd like you all to know I'm not dead. Yet. Actually, I'm sure I won't die because I finally quit puking and having explosive toilet explosions. I'm lots better today and I'm sure I'll be completely cured tomorrow, perfectly capable of being amusing. Thanks for you patience. ;0)

Arrrrrrrrrrr!

Tomorrow be International Talk Like a Pirate Day! I keeps forgettin' an' then I remembers an' I'm happy all over again. I gets a tingly feeling inside like when I tortures someone or plunders somethin'.

Anyway, here's a survey you should go take, thanks to Addie:


You Are A Pirate!


What Type Of Swashbuckler Are You?
brought to you by Maddog Varuka & Dawg Brown

There's girl and boy pictures for each result! Yayyy, boobies. Oh, and go visit my pirate alter-ego on Myspace: The dastardly, deadly, devious (and drop-dead gorgeous--hey, this is a fantasyland pretend identity) Cap'n Musketball Miranda! Scourge of the Sea! Dog of the Deep! Raider of the Fridge!

Anyway, computer and camera are still not getting along and it's all I can do to not bash in the CPU with the camera and hang myself with the USB cord. Mom pointed out that the computer is actually hers, so if I did that she'd be quite upset. That helped.

So I drank a lot of whiskey last night, can you guess what happened this morning? That's right, the munchkin came over for about 30 minutes. April, the teenaged biological mom, was watching her today and got called in to sign some papers for her new job, and by the time she dropped the kid off here she had her throwing a fit. Which I hate. As soon as April left I put her in time out and explained to her that I understood she was unhappy and disappointed, but that if she continued to have a fit we would have NO FUN, while if she would calm down and play nice we would have LOTS of fun and when April came back she'd be jealous and miserable, and also that my poor dad was in the room too and couldn't watch tv until she quit being such a butt. Guess what happened. That's right, we had a blast. She wanted to watch part of a movie so I sent her over to the bookcase to pick one out and she picked Return of the Jedi in deference to my dad (and because she has a major bone for Yoda, who is on the box), and then proceeded to make dad play Barbie Slut Fight (a real game that any child under the age of 9 will spontaneously begin playing the moment you give them a Barbie, even Amish children instinctively know how to do it) until she decided to torment my cat (she's not mean to her, the cat just hates children of any stripe and Sierra looooooves her and follows her around and pets her the wrong way and wants to put her face on her and kiss her). Then April came back and was kind of dissapointed because the kiddo was calm and happy and likely to stay that way all day.

Anyway, go talk like a pirate. The website even has hilarious pirate pick-up lines which I guarantee will work on me.

Babysitting Drama plus Ebay News plus Software Drama =

So, I finished my Shapely Tank, and I managed to catch a photo of the kiddo with pants on her head, and I also got a pic of her (she's two, mind you, and can't read yet) fallen asleep for her nap with a book across her chest, and I can't post any of them here because my computer has decided not to recognize my camera. I've posted many a picture from this same camera before, mind you, but now the computer can't find it (even when I go to "settings" "control panel" "new hardware" and ascertain that the computer can indeed find my camera.)

Never mind, I already cried today over it, there are much better things to cry over, like the various Hurricanes and Tropical Storms that have and are still wreaking havoc across my part of the world. To which I say, come stay at my house, we know when to evacuate and will be going to Austin, not Houston. Really. E-mail me and I'll tell you where to call to get in touch with me. Really.

But my picture thing is still getting me down. I really want to post a picture of Panty-Head with Pants (not panties) on her Head. Just captured today, and totally useless as long as I'm having this problem. She was awesome today, btw. We walked 4 blocks to the hardware store, bought the wrong plunger (how can you buy the wrong plunger? Ask my mom), watched the huge earth-moving equipment building the parking lot for our new grocery store, and walked 4 blocks home, and she was as good as a two-year-old can be. Why would I undertake that kind of walk with a toddler, you ask? Because I asked her if she'd like to go with me or stay home with my mom (my mom is always her preference) and she said go with me, and I asked her if she'd like to walk or go in the car (we walk two blocks to the park every day she's with me because I said so, just like why she does the arm-over-arm monkey bars every day we go to the park--because I'm living my junior-high humiliations through her and obliterating them by the work she does with me to assure she'll never submit to them) and she goes, "I go wi' Ke'ye and WAK, no CAW!"

It took us approximately 1.5 hours to walk 4 blocks, buy the wrong plunger, watch the backhoe and bulldozer and dump truck and flattener and walk back, with all the usual stops at the lawn mower store and the boat store (on the way, we had to walk by them and she fricking loves any kind of specialized equipment) and I loved every minute. Fault me, go ahead. I'm the strictest child-raising-advocate you can find and I fricking LOVED it.

Until I got back and realized we got the wrong plunger. And then there was diarrhea. Yep. And she usually goes home around 4 o'clock, but she didn't go home till 8 tonite. I was ready to fall down. Yet I still knitted her baby doll a hat ("This ma babu, she gost no HAT!") and gave her a bath (After the squirts episode: mom loved spraying her with the movable shower head, I loved getting all the poop off her and we all hated being in proximity to the toilet that hadn't been PROPERLY plunged because I bought the wrong plunger. I wonder what distracted me?) and discussed the movie version of "Horton Hears a Who" with her. Anyway, I'm most proud of finishing my Shapely Tank last night and not putting the munchkin in a dog kennel (I've got one) at 5:30 this evening (shortly after the bath).

Oh, and by the way, my shoes got a bid today and 39 people have looked at them and I really appreciate anything y'all have done to get those stats for me.

New pandering capitalist content!

Hey, this isn't a real entry, I'm just letting everyone know that I've sold my soul to Ebay and am trying to get rid of some shoes, and if that goes well (or frankly, even if it doesn't) I'll be liquidating more stuff that's perfectly good, yet needs to get the hell out of my house so I don't have to move it when I move. And it wouldn't hurt if I made a couple cool bucks on it, either. Luckily everything I own came from a thrift store, swap meet or bulky garbage day (not entirely true, some stuff was given to me as gifts), so I can pretty much put anything on with no reserve and if it sells for any amount of money at all I'm making something off it.

Anyway, I have to go babysit now, the munchkin just got here and there's only so long I feel comfortable letting her eat breakfast in front of The Lion King and still getting paid for it.

New Job Search News; Depressing, Doleful Dreck

So I put in two job applications today, each one at a place where there were two openings I qualified for. And I came within an eyelash of putting in an app for a busboy job. But I haven't sunk quite that low, though. Then I went by my babysittee's mom's work to find out if I was working for her tomorrow and found out her idiot of a 19 year old daughter went in cold to an on-the-spot job fair yesterday and got a job as an assistant manager starting Monday. They called her back today to tell her. I could have died. I still might. Here I am, completely not an imbecilic moron, and she gets a job right out of the bag and I'm wandering around, mumbling and stranded, living in a house made out of copies of my resume begging for busboy jobs. Okay, okay, I've only been looking for two days, but come on, that's a little depressing, isn't it? Plus, she's totally square. I mean, she's shaped like a shoebox. There's her head, then her neck, then a shoebox going down longways with arms and legs at the corners. And these ridiculous blow-up-doll-style tits that an 11 year old would be ashamed of. Plus I might have mentioned that she's dumb enough that drooling retards at the state school pat her on the head and try to give her helpful advice.

Okay, okay, I'm done venting. Please ignore all that bile up there, I only meant it mostly. I'm good, I'm great, I'm getting a job. I feel really positive about three or four of the apps I've put in, I'm sure I'm getting called by Monday. All I have to do is wait it out and try hard. I can do this!

Job Search Sucks, Return to Alcoholic Haze Considered

I went on my first job interview in almost six years yesterday and I nearly crapped my pants. It was so weird. I'm not even used to talking to people who haven't bought me liquor. I'm guessing this means I maybe didn't do as well as I could have, but I've got some experience now, I'm not going in blind anymore. So that's good.

In other news, we're about to be creamed by a hurricane in about 12 hours and there isn't a weatherman in the world who will admit it. They're all, "It's going to come in between New Orleans and Jacksonville. (Hurricane Ivan moves westward at approximately 300 mph on the radar map behind him) This hurricane will definitely not go any more west at all, ever. (Hurrican Ivan zeroes in on Houston) It will especially not go anywhere near Texas, or Kellye Fry or her stuff. (Hurricane Ivan makes an obscene gesture directly into the camera)" Liars. Dirty liars. Ivan's coming to dinner, for sure. We haven't had one hit us in a while, it's totally time.

We went to get batteries and bottled water and candy and beer yesterday, and bread. For some reason whenever we have heavy weather around here the first thing everyone thinks of is buying bread. I'm not joking. If there's a severe thunderstorm warning on the 5 o'clock news, the bread isle at the supermarket will be completely denuded by 6:15. I know, I've been trying to figure it out since I was five. "So when Hurricane Ivan gets here, we'll just make him a sandwich and he'll spare our house."

And I was bad and didn't go get a job today, but it rained cats and dogs all morning and afternoon, and I woke up with a crick in my back from sleeping on my tummy in the bowl of my mattress. Plus I was a little hungover and I wanted to sit on the couch all day in my jammies and color. Shut up. You have a job. Anyway, it was a pretty good day. I made potato soup for dinner and it was really good. Plus if our house gets blown off this weekend I might not have to get a job at all! I can just live off Red Cross or something. Go live with Jimmy Carter. Yay! I love peanuts!

Oh, yeah

My free webstat thingie, their servers crashed and ate dirt and killed everything, so I have no more webstats. If they end up finding the data and reinstating their service, I might go back with them, but I'm too disheartened to try to start over with someone new. That was part of why I wasn't posting for a while, because when the site crashed the code in my template that let them read my visitor info went hooonutty and my blog could only publish from the top down to where the code was, and it reads down the template like: background, title, headline, sidebar top to bottom, posts top to bottom. And the webstat code was right below the "e-mail me!" part of the sidebar, so I had no blog for like two days and I knew what the general problem was but not which tags were actually causing it, and I didn't have the energy to find it, but then I tried to check my stats and got a huge "you've been buttfucked" error message and ran over to the template and fixed it. The other part of the problem was that Blogger wasn't always publishing my posts when I clicked "Publish Post," it was sometimes deleting them because of some problem, probably with my crappy internet provider.

In other news, I still need a job even though I applied for two jobs in two days. < sigh > This is so hard. But I really do have to get focused and do it. I have to cut the lawn tomorrow and do some sorting of boxes of crap, then Monday I'm applying for out of town jobs in the morning and driving around and applying for any job I see a sign for here in town. Send me good thoughts. You know, or a check. I'm not particular.

Readership!

I was going crazy with pride and joy when regualar and not-so-regular readers started commenting on my posts, and now it's only going to get worse.
I've had two (2) e-mails in the last week from people who read my blog and want me to post more. How fucking cool is that? I mean, I'm no Wil Wheaton, but actual people (one of which I don't know at all, one of which is my best friend) are actually reading and want to hear more! Next, I take over the WORLD!!! Mwwwwwaaahhhaaaaahhaaaa*choke*cough*hack

Anyhow, Hooray! for everyone who reads my demented ramblings and double Hooray! Hooray! for everyone who gives me feedback of any kind. (Comments still rock my world, and I actually do check for them pretty often and always respond with gratitude to the poster if they leave any way for me to.) Maybe once I get a job there can even be contests and prizes and fun things like that! Thanks a million to anyone and everyone who drops in and reads me, I appreciate it like crazy.

Oh. My. God.

I. Must. Knit. This.


Actually, many, many, many of them. You just wait, sister. Heee hee hee.

Panty-Head Saves the Day!

So, my mom just found out that the pain in her low back isn't a kidney infection, it's a herniated disk. So the doctor gave her 10 days of muscle relaxers to try to get it out of spasm so they can take some films for comparison to her other films from when the bones in her neck went all hooey. No, this story doesn't end with me taking several of them and feeling terrific.

So, the Dodge place in Wharton called to say a part she had ordered was in, and I had the munchkin for the day, so mom was going to drive over and pick it up herself. She's on day 6 of muscle relaxers, so I was "helping" her find her keys. Okay, she was pacing back and forth and getting in my way while I looked for her keys, then she'd bump into me and go, "What was I doing?" with this look on her face like she was trying to remember who I was. Then she found her keys, picked them up, dropped them and paced off to the other end of the house. Two seconds after the keys left her hand we had this conversation:

Me: "Mom, what are you doing now?!" (frustrated and shrill)

Her: "I'm LOOKING for my KEYS!!!" (more frustrated and more shrill)

Me: "THESE fucking keys that you just had in your FUCKING hand before you went to fucking PSYCHO PILL LAND!?!"

Her: "I guess so?"

So I put the bambino in the car seat and drove her, obviously. And she's halving the dosage because I told her if she loses her glasses one more time I'm putting her in the home with the lowest rating I can find, wherever will take her for only her SSI check.

Shut up, you didn't have to help her "find" her glasses 25 times yesterday. That's right, I fucking counted.

Anyway, that's not even what this story is about. That's just why I was driving 15 minutes down the highway with a highly irritable 2 year old and a cranky, drugged older person. And the kiddo was starting to have a serious fit strapped in back there and I was doing the quasar-fast eye back-and-forth thing you do with a kid throwing a fit when you're about to crash the godddam car because your mom won't STOP FUCKING SINGING.

And here is the point of my story: I threw the kid's daypack in the backseat and had her pull out her just-in-case pair of emergency panties and put them on her head like a hat, and we started calling her Panty-Head and telling stories (and yes, even singing songs) about Panty-Head and she was laughing and I was laughing and mom was laughing and no one had to die in a firey car crash of death.

The End! Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about how this evening a Pineapple saved the lives of several young women who angered me...

Am I Political or Not?

The folks at hotornot.com have come up with a novel idea: to take their power over their particular demographic and use it for good, instead of evil. Specifically, they're encouraging people to vote by asking them to pledge to do it, then entering them in a sweepstakes for $100,000. Once you enter there's even a link to Rock the Vote where you can fill out and print a voter registration form if you need to register to vote or change any information. I changed my address, since I've moved since the last time I voted and would like to not drive to Austin on election day, and I added a political party affiliation. I wasn't going to because I've already missed the opportunity to participate in any primaries and stuff, but I decided to go ahead and do it in case it makes them "really" count your vote or something. If you want to choose a party but, like me are too lazy to figure out which one is appropriate, you can use this questionnaire to figure it out. Oh, c'mon. You're reading a blog, you obviously love questionnaires and surveys. Just do it!

I'm a bad girl...

I was supposed to put in three applications for work today and I only did one. Online. So even though I put on my interview clothes and sweated all over them, I might as well have filled it out in my undies. Which maybe wouldn't have gone over as well when I went to the grocery store later, but whatever.
And tomorrow, I'll be driving to Wharton (15 minutes away) to put in four more apps, so that might be cool. They are for mostly menial positions, a housekeeper at a motel and a receptionist at an old folk's home and such (today's was at a new truck stop here in town) but I'm hoping for some good solid work/pay for a few months.

I've been knitting a lot lately, too. I finished one armhole trim on the Shapely Tank and the one strip of my afgan. Whooot! Only nine more to go! I cast on two that are alike to knit at the same time. And I learned to cable! Yayyy! I knit this hat for my mom months ago:



But as you can see it makes a better yamulka than a hat, so I'm going to take the cable strip I've been knitting and make it long enough to attach on to the lower edge and maybe cast back on and do some ribbing and it will be a good winter hat, cover her ears and stay on and whatnot. I swear I'm going to post pictures of all this knitting stuff, tomorrow. Jeez I hope no prospective employers read this, I'm beginning to realize that the blog is many things, and among them a comprehensive record of my inability to follow through on a deadline. Every post is all, "I swear I'm going to post pictures soon," or a description or whatever, then I don't do it for two weeks. Anyway, I might soon work at Buc-ee's (yes, that is a beaver) or maybe HEB (they just built a new store in town and are having a job fair Friday at a church. Makes me kind of uneasy. But they have great benefits?) or one of my other prospects, so I'm happy.
Course, I'm drinkin' whiskey, so maybe that's why I'm happy. You can never tell with me. Hee!

And another thing...

Oh, and here's the photo of the bathroom floor about near done:



And here's a photo of the bathroom floor about near done with the toilet re-seated--I didn't do that part, the plumbers did, but I was kind of waiting on them before I did any more. Yayy! Near bathroom finishment! Hoorah!



And here's a photo of a silly little dog who doesn't like me to take her picture:

Blogging Bore Bears Brunt of Bestial Bonks

Sorry, I just wanted an alliterative headline. So, I took off another weekend to go loaf around Austin, but I swear it's the last time. This month. By which I mean August, because Ozzmodiar rocked the pants off Houston. Everything was exactly right, the sound was perfect and they were so on it hurt, such a good show I was mesmerized, but there was almost no one there. Including you, Matthew. You're in serious trouble, bro. Run. Hide. Weep.

And they're playing the Rhythm Room again September 30th, opening for Hairy Apes BMX, who are so well known around Austin that I've actually heard of them, and I'm really excited to see Ozzmodiar that good again with a decent crowd.

Ozzmodiar weekend!

Ozzmodiar is playing Houston tomorrow and I'm going to see them, which is extra-awesome because my friend Matthew from there is going to go too and see them for the first time, and he knows Jess and they haven't seen each other in forever. Yayyy! Plus around 5 or 6 pm they're going to be on KTRU and do two songs. Listen!! Listen!! Or I'll kick you in the nads. Then sometime after ten they'll be at Rhythm Room. You better show. I won't buy you a beer, but I will drink yours while you're in the can. And I'll be nice to you until I get drunk.

So, I've been disgusting lately and I pledge to stop

Because, frankly, a normal period after 4 months of irregularity of the worst kind, kind of heals you, man. So I'm totally happy, completely sloshed, and about to go chase raccoons off of my carport. Hey, fuck you, it isn't your carport.

I've finished a huge amount of the bathroom, but he picture I have to give you is a week old. My favorite thing about pictures of the floor is that there's always a huge jumbled mishmash of tools somewhere in each one. Yes, I really am that messy and disjointed, and yes, I do still have all of my fingers, but that amazes me every time I unplug the saw. So here it is, the floor and the new parts of the tub surround frame:

Ta daaaaaahhh! Tomorrow I'll post a picture of the floor done within an inch of the doorjamb and the tubsurround done. So there!

So I'm having my first normal period in 4 months,

and that should be enough to chase you all away. But I actually am, and I'm really happy about it, although physically I've seldom been more miserable. Avid readers will remember that I've been having some "lady trouble" consisting of (upsetting phrase warning) weird bleeding patterns that led me to rashly state I was having my uterus removed at the earliest convienence, as I had forgotten that this neccesitated surgery, which I won't undergo for freaky reasons of my own. Or for that matter, going to see the "lady" doctor, which I'm almost as averse to as I am to sharks. So I'm (upsetting phrase warning) totally stoked that I'm having a normal (for me) period this time. Well, slightly on the "uncomfortable" end of normal-for-me, anyway. Usually when I have cramps, they make my....my female area?...my...aw, hell, my vulva hurt like the dickens, and I had two days of the near-worst cramps I've ever had (which pale in comparison to some my friends have told me about) before I ever started, followed by two more days of cramps while the whole process took effect. For my sensitive readers, let's just say that a whole box of "Wounded Knee" size tampons have gone to meet their maker. And it's given no sign of stopping yet. But I will put up with anything to not have to consider getting fixed. So I'm happy. Plus the cramping stopped, so I no longer feel like my vulva is about to fall off. Yaaayyyy!

Spanking hot new floor photo

Yayyy! I can't wait until it's done! I've got everything I need to finish it, I just have to get in there and do it. I'm making templates to cut the rest of the Pergo floor planks tonite, until I get too drunk, and then tomorrow I'm putting them all in (everything that's down now is glued in place), gluing them together, putting down the quarter-round trim, facing the tub surround and trimming that up, and TA-DA! I'm done. Mom called the plumber and asked him to come re-seat the toilet Friday or Monday, so I've got to at least have the trim down on the window wall by then. I'm so excited I could spit! Yayy!

Uhhhhhhhhhgggg, the Olympics.

I'm so tired of it. I was so tired of it before it even started. I hate all people in multicolored, flag-themed spandex. I wish they only staged them every 40 years. Except then there'd be even more hype. I mean, I know a lot of people love it, and I know they must have a good reason, but I can't fathom it. I don't hate people who like the Olympics, I just can't stand the thing itself.

Earlier I was situationally forced to watch Synchronized Diving. Synchronized. Diving. Did you know that a mistake made in a Synchronized Diving event doesn't count against the team if they both make the same error at the same time? Cause I do, now. I can never un-know it and that spot in my brain is forever used up.

Even the events I don't find completely unsufferable make me insane. I hate all swimming events. They drive me up the wall. I get so tired watching them. And the way the fans yell encouragement just when the contestant's head is above water. That is so cute I just want to disembowel myself.

I can't stand field and track. I think I could get behind the foot races if something was chasing them. "The Gold, Silver and Tinfoil medals go to Ghana, Zimbabwe and U.S.A., unfortunately the French contestant was devoured by the cougar." So even if you don't win a medal, you can say, "Hey, I was faster than that guy. Hey, can I have his shoes? Oh, excuse me, shoe."

Here's the other thing I can't stand: In gymnastics, everybody loves the floor excersizes. To the point that I heard my godmother the other day talking about how the uneven bars were soooo boring. Because she wanted to see all of the fucking-cunt-waving-a-streamer-on-a-stick game. As if the streamer bitch could ever even think about doing the uneven bars.

I think they should be restricted to the original games played in ancient Greece. The only thing I do like about the Olympics is the whole sentiment of "let us put aside our differences and come together as people to compete athletically, leaving our national quarrels and differences outside the arena. I like the idea of ancient peoples leaving their grudges outside and then coming in and throwing javelins around. You know, just like we do today.

I mean, please. I think I'll come up with my own Olympics Drinking Game, tho. Something along the lines of, Every time someone says, "He(she) stuck the landing!" you lock yourself in your bathroom with a twelve pack and a cube of hash.

meat cushion

As if anyone bothered to read this blog (I know some people do, thanks for your imput, sorry) much less read my Myspace blog, they might be a little concerned that I've been duplicating entries for the both of them lately. But if you read both you'll know that I've: A) been ill recently and B) gone back to the second-oldest profession, babysitting. Both of which cut down on my middle-of-the-day-between-naps blogging time. So you're lucky I have the time to think of one, much less copy-paste it to both.

So, yesterday I babysat. Which is something I do sometimes to support my crack-cocaine-and-snuff-films habit. The kid is two, she is recently potty-trained and pre-verbal, and she's a fucking annoy-o-matic machine that does not require coins to dispense. Aw, shut up, you know I feel all the mushy hormonal feelings for her. Whatever, I like to smell her hair, I feel all swoopy when she hugs me, just in a detached, cynical way. My ovaries never throb when I'm near her because (and this is key) I have to take care of her. And take responsibility for her actions when she's with me and when she's not, because I take a hand in raising her and I want her to be a good person. Or at least better than me.

Additionally, I was seriously hungover when she arrived. Usually when she shows up, I have been awake for about an hour, have spent some quality time with my cat, have gotten dressed and have brushed the applicable parts of my anatomy, have had some coffee and have gone to the can. So yesterday morning, when she arrived, I was hungover, sick and still asleep. So I wake up snorting snot, with my head pounding, naked sprawled on the bed in my room (which NO ONE is allowed to enter, ever, without my permission because right now I live with my folks) to see my mom and the sit-ee standing over me wanting to know where I keep my copy of the Lion King. And I managed not to say a bad word. I said, "I'm getting up right now. I'm finding Lion King as we speak." And I sat up and wound the sheet around me as they left, and I sat on my cat. Who is 11 and not that good-natured. Then I got dressed, and (head still pounding, snot still snorting) staggered from my room with my hair in a tornado and my teeth pretending they had just been unearthed from the ruins of the Titanic, to find the Lion King. And get a cup of fucking coffee. And take a shit. Which I did not ever manage to do in the 7 hours she was there. Other things I didn't manage to do which would have been advisable after drinking 2 24-oz beers and several shots: drink a gallon of water; eat food; go to rehab. We watched Brother Bear 4 times and Babe once. I cried every time Kenai chose to (spoiler alert!) remain a bear and when the Boss said, "That'll do, pig, that'll do" and when the piglets were nursing and their mom got taken away, and when the sheep told Rex the password. I cried every time the music swelled meaningfully or a significant look was passed in the commmercials we watched while Brother Bear was rewinding. I was a horrible babysitter for once, and we barely went to the park for only an hour, and I sweated pure alcohol the whole time. Then, instead of playing in the yard with the ball or the sprinkler or the bubble machine, or going to the miniature donkey and goats farm or the library or the indoor mini-golf-course-and-soda-fountain, we watched Brother Bear one more time while I slept fitfully on the couch. With the screendoor locked. The only alternative was to chase her out into the street.

Although I must say, she went to the bathroom twice all by herself without prompting, and she ate without my help, beyond actually preparing the food, and she was very chill about my need to lie down no matter what activity we were attempting. She did only a very short stint of jumping-up-and-down-while-screaming, and she was respectful of my boundaries after I farted on her for sitting on me and put her in a 5 minute time out for yelling in my face. Possibly the fact that I kind of fainted after putting her in time out helped.

So, today was better. Exept I'm getting drunk again, but there is no chance I'll have to babysit tomorrow, only a pretty certain chance I'll be working with power tools all day. Yessss!

Watch out...

Here's a creepy poem/prose item I found packed away with some art supplies from the last time I moved (a year and a half or so ago):

Momma always said, "It's no extra trouble" to indicate that you should stay for whatever was happening when you dropped by, or "Since I've already gone to the trouble..." when things didn't turn out as planned but one might as well take advantage of the preparations.

As though things inherently hold a particular amount of trouble, which begets a finite amount of benefit, which must be used up.

But make no mistake, I will put you to extra trouble, from which you'll find no way of making the best of things.

The way of your voice, and the way of my listening to it, set off loud and insistent songs of words in my head to which you'll never listen.

No amount of trouble will translate my intentions, my thoughts, my understanding to your crowded brain. Oh, but there will be trouble.

I've crawled through snakes and stones to find you, but you are not the snakes, or the stones, nor are you at their center.

You are no nearer, though I can still hear your voice through the clanging response of my mind, of my heart, of my body.

Here I sit. Snake, stone, me, snake, stone, wondering if it was you I craved, or the answering echo of my incommunicable thoughts that sounds every time you open your mouth.

Perhaps I never even wanted you, but since I've gone to the trouble already...it's no extra trouble to plague you, anyway.

I'm sick

No, not like that, I mean I'm physically ill. Okay, you're right, I'm sick in the head also. But that's not what this post is about. Since about Sunday I've been sort of run down and sniffly and my throat is a little swollen and tender. It doesn't hurt to swallow, at least not yet. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I think it's not serious like strep or anything. The shittiest part is that when I get up in the morning, I feel just bad enough to lay in bed all day, but no worse. Not bad enough to sleep all day, not bad enough to baby myself and demand to be waited upon, not bad enough to guzzle sprite and sherbet and nyquil. Then I take a theraflu and I feel good enough to be up, but no better. Not good enough to work or have fun or interact with anyone not sick. Just good enough to sit on the couch all day and drink warm things and lots of water. I can't fucking stand it. Although I've been reading a lot and I'm within 6 inches of finishing my Shapely Tank. Yayyyy! I nearly cried with relief when I got to the underarm bindoffs. I'm not having a hard time with the pattern like lots of people on the Shapely-along, I'm just fucking tired of this damn shirt. I should have taken it with me on my many vacations this summer and it would be done by now. I could have been wearing it all this time! Dammit. But, I'm really excited about finishing it and hitting Knitty's Techniques with Theresa to use her instructions on mattress stitch finishing. I know, it's pathetic to be excited about sewing something up. And that's really the part I'm excited about, I mean, I'm excited about wearing it and putting up pictures of it done and everything, but mostly I can't wait to do the mattress stitch perfectly and watch the seams vanish and...oh, hell. If you are a dork like me, you already understand, and if you aren't you never will. Anyway, that's my post for today. Sorry I've been so lax in posting, I swear I'll do better. Kisses!

I drove into Houston tonite to see Ozzmodiar and they rocked. They played at the Rythm Room on Washington Ave. and you should have been there. Really, you should have. There weren't near enough people. I really enjoyed the show and, despite the self-critiques each member gave themselves afterwards, they really did do well. Plus, as the 'groupie' who had travelled the farthest to see them play, I got to operate the video camera.

Hey, speaking of me driving an hour and a half to see them, what happened to the Houstonian friends I called to meet me there? You guys suck! (Does not apply to the members of the myspace group I messaged last night...just the personal friends I called and told the address, phone number and website of the club, and Ozzmodiar's website to download music from, plus leaving my number in case they needed a ride.)

Anyway, I had to go because I've never seen them in Houston, plus yesterday was the birthday of my favorite member, who has been my best friend for these past many years. She needed cookies and a hand-made birthday card. She just did. I also bought her a beer, but right after that I ran out of money and she bought me a beer, so that didn't work so well. Anyway, it was a great night, there was no traffic and the directions I printed out from Rhythm Room's website were perfect. I even managed to reverse them successfully. Yayy! I had a great night.

Here's a photo from my floor building session I forgot to include last time. Sometimes hours of manual labor in a small, airless room can make you feel funny.

I worked on the floor again yesterday. I found out when I got home that someone gave mom 5 boxes of Pergo floating floor, so I get to sand the bathroom floor and put that down. So there will be more pictures, of course. And lots of beer. I was going to work on it today, but mom wanted to go waste the whole day at the mall picking out a new flatscreen, $250, 27" tv. I guess putting roofies in her food is working.

I fixed the gaps around the pipes with expandable foam insulation, which is a lot of fun. If you don't belive me, ask Rob Cockerham. I didn't have enough left to make anything much, but I formed it into a sort of an egg shape and saved it for when inspiration strikes. Oh, yeah, and I got it all over me, because that is what I do. I think I look a little like a zombie in this picture:

I'm back

I was away being kidnapped for my own good in Austin for two really unexpected weeks. (Who really expects to be kidnapped, tho?) Anyway, I was having too much fun to blog. Plus I was using someone else's computer and that creeps me out. Because I'm neurotic. It's a whole different computer, man. Ick. Anyway, here I am back and you've got to read this recent article by Paul Ford. More later. I've been working on the floor, so, more exciting pictures of...the floor.

I'm prob'ly gonna die...

Oh, my, God!




When I moved home over a year ago now, I was presented with the front three rooms in my parents' house:  a bedroom, an extraneous "Living area" and an extra bathroom.  The house has a living room/dining room combo, a kitchen, bathroom, back hall, laundry room and two bedrooms besides.  They rent.  The town has 10,000 people at a generous estimate.  The folks think they're getting robbed for rent, and I bet you pay more in car insurance.  Small towns. 
 
Anyway, about me dying.  When I first moved in, my mom explained that the toilet in 'my' bathroom was non-functional because of the amusing tendancy old houses have of shifting and letting the toilet leak, which rots the wood floor under the toilet, which allows the toilet to lean alarmingly when you sit it, which allows it to leak more, which will most likely end in the non-amusing tableau of you, drunk off your ass, sitting under your house with a toilet in your lap.  Didn't happen to me, but could have if I hadn't been so vigilant.  (In this case vigilance consists of piling millions of lightweight but bulky items on the toilet in an effort to conceal it from my drunk self...it worked.)  Anyway, mom kept putting it in upbeat terms, letting me know that the two of us could easily replace the 3 foot square of wood flooring in question and have the toilet reseated and make it functional again.  And I'm a reasonable girl, I've built things before, so I thought, what the hell?  We could do it. 
But we didn't.  And we didn't and didn't and didn't.  It started to have the feel of one of those fairy tale quests, something you've always meant to do, but haven't.  Then I got a babysitting job for tomorrow, and I haven't drank or smoked or (here's the really important part) slept for about a week, and I'm wanting to go to Austin with my babysitting money, and mom kept saying, "Maybe we'll do it this weekend."  So I did it today.  That's right, I replaced floor.  It took me all damn day (since I apparently don't sleep anymore, I got up at 9am because I was bored.)--about 12 hours, minus however long it took me to go to the library and the hardware store and the grocery store (I got beer, because, dammit, people who replace floors get beer) and the lumber yard and the hardware store and the lumber yard.  I took multiple breaks to keep from plunging the cordless screwdriver into my pumping heart, and I took an hour break to read a few chapters of Eats, Shoots and Leaves (I'm still laughing--read this book, you'll love it) and eat dinner, and I'm done.  Okay, tomorrow sometime I have to snug up the boards and screw them to the floor joists (shut up), but I tore an enormous hole in the floor of my house at approximately 10am today and it is now completely covered up.  I rock.  Pictures are eminent, as soon as I stop weeping...I pulled every muscle I own.  Apparently there is a difference between "working" and "not working" and now I know what it is.

If you love God...

do NOT go visit The Brick Testament and especially not the naughty bits. (They've got an "N" for nudity or "S" for sex marker) The site is apparently staged and shot by this athiest who would like to destroy the faith of all true Christians by simply showing them what the Bible actually says. Check it out. Who knew that Legoman sex could be soooooo hot? Okay, yeah, me. Sorry.

My CafePress store is back up and running...

Here, so run go look at my weird designs. Or somthing. Yayyy! I took it down a while back because I hated all the designs and I wasn't making any money, and I'd foolishly started paying for a premium site after my first (and only) sale. And I thought I deleted all the designs and I was too lazy to make more or re-make those, so I wasn't hurrying to put it back up. Good thing they kept sending me e-mails about their new items, or I'd never have logged in on a whim and seen all my stuff still sitting there...anyway, it'll get more interesting when I get around to going down to the library to use the scanner and put some of my actual hand-drawn stuff in, rather than just crap I made on some imaging software...also, ignore my horrible banner at the top for now...I haven't figured out Ability Draw yet. Enjoy! P.S. once you've had your fill of my stuff, wander around. There's a lot of dreck, but I've found some seriously cute stuff on there I've sworn to buy if I ever sell anything...

Martha Stewart is my bitch.

That's right, it's a Martha Stewart prison joke. Months and months too late, and in poor taste as well. Take it, bitch, take it all. You know you love it.

Phhhhhhtt. Sorry. Anyway, the reason Martha's my bitch is this:
   
   
   

So basically, I rock. I'm a domestic goddess and no one can resist my insanely good cooking. Oh, yeah, Martha? Here's two upside-down cakes I've made recently:
   

Old-fashioned, even, with poundcake cake from scratch and made in a skillet my great-great-grandma brought from Illinois in a covered wagon. And fresh pineapple, cherries, and peaches. Okay, okay, the fruit was canned. But the rest of it is true! So, Martha, what you got?

Go like this: Weeeeee!

Weeeeee!

Rarrrrrrrrggghhhggghhh!

        
I knitted a yeti finger puppet, that's right, and I'll do it again if I have to! Don't make me do it! Don't make me! Why are you prejudiced against yeti?
Yes, as you can tell, I'm fooling around and goofing off and not knitting anything I said I would. I'm knitting finger puppets and swatches of new patterns, and weird stuffed cats, basically just being a dork. I promise I'm going to finish the tank this week, though and cast on either Bella's thing or Jessica's...so, pictures soon of authorized projects, or else no ice cream for a week!

Knitting Rock-Along news

My tiny candy pink knit jolly roger is up! It's the last picture at the bottom of the page, the link is over there in the sidebar under knitting, under "knit-alongs." The page explains exactly what a rock-along is and there are super cool pictures of what everyone else did. I'm going to get going on the project for my niece Bella soon so that can go up, as well. I can't tell exactly what it is, cause it's a secret, but it includes a rock-along design, a pocket, and an ultra special secret-secret component too secret to name here. Also, the new Knitty is out! Yayyy! And you will want to see it, because everyone has rocked and rolled and produced the sexiest designs they can stand, including the designer from White Lies Design, and remember, Knitty designs are free! I can't wait to point Jess here so she can pick out the pattern for her super secret surprise bikini or halter top, 'cause I think there'll be one there she'll like.

And now, totally negating my rock-along wannabe coolness, shots of my latest project, the dread knitted kitty from Woolworks:

Don't worry, I'm heading right over to Knitty and making myself a corset or something.