Hey, kids! Do you like the rock'n roll?*

I'm having a good day. This afternoon I dyed one of my favorite little strappy t-shirts, and my knitted flapper hat, and about 120 feet of plain cotton yarn bright red, except I made the yarn be a little variegated by skeining it and tying it off every few inches. And while it was soaking, I sat on the porch and played with the sweet boy kitty. And this morning I laid around in bed and played with my sweet girl kitty. And I'm just having a good day. Mmmmmmm. Except the "bright red" turned out to be more of a hot, hot, hot reddy pinky orange. I guess the packet said "poppy" on it, so I think I got the color they meant. I followed the instructions as exactly as I ever do. I still like the color, so that's good. I'm blocking the hat on my head right now! Whoopee. The only kinda bad thing is mom's friend Rosemary found out this weekend that her dad, a really great guy who survived prostate cancer and is her touchstone and has been diagnosed with a brain tumor and was given six months to live about two weeks ago, is probably going to die within the next week or so. She's understandably bummed. He and her mom have come to live with her until the end, and hospice has been visiting. It's pretty sucky. We're going out to take them breakfast tomorrow morning, so I'm hitting the sack early tonite so I can act human. That poor gal. I'm sure hoping she'll be strong enough to take this. He is such a good person, and I know he's ready to go, but she's nowaynohow ready to let him go. And her and her mom get along not at all, so he's worried about who's going to take care of his wife when he goes. I feel so for them and have no idea what to do or how to help or anything.
Anyway, I'm not exactly looking forward to tomorrow, but I feel like it's a good thing to do.
*where the hell does this phrase come from? I've been saying it for years, and I get a strong sense of David Letterman being the source, but I really have no idea. Please, if I have any readers at all, someone know where those words come from, and if you know, e-mail me and let me know, lest I die!

I'm a little behind...

and a lot up front! Harr, harrrrr, har! Ummm, I haven't posted a lot the last few days. I got about 15 books from the library Monday and have been rabidly reading for days. And actually, I have a great big ass, too. Tee hee.
I'm making slow, painful progress on the shapely tank, I've just started the increases after the waist and am contemplating where to stop the variegated and start the solid white. I'm really excited about it, but I'm losing my steam all the same. I was sitting there deciding whether to do the increased by knitting in front and back of a stitch or doing a make-one, and I started thinking, 'ohh, my feet are cold, maybe I should start those socks.....or I could work on the afgan...mmmm....Dad's hands look cold...I should finish his mitts.' So pathetic. Anyhoo, I'm doing really well, if you discount the extreme moodiness and the blinding flashes of murderous rage and the momentary depths of suicidal depression, and the entire sloughs of despond...no, I really am doing okay. Not that I'm completely kidding about all that other stuff, but I'm pretty good all the same.

Everybody is talking about you.

Find out what they're saying here. It's called Googlism and it uses Google to compile a list of statements that have been made about people with your name. Try it out! Selections from mine are below. Of course, I ran a couple of friends through, too. My favorites from theirs:

Jessica is not a substitute for counseling.
Kathey is new to the organic produce aisle.
Mary is looking to hire hundreds of monsters.
Mac is an old hound that can't hunt.

And there are so many more. Feel free to put your favorites in the comments for this post if I missed them.

kellye is:

• convinced that she single handedly saved hip
• one and so is my daughter chloe
• leading the red team
  
• 5 months pregnant with a baby boy
• easier
• honored to have been selected to play country legend patsy cline
• sales manager for broadband ip
  
• a true treasure hunter & expert at finding bargains on good used books
  
• shy
• actively pursuing her christian music
• better than the last one
  
• definitly my most treasured friend
in demand as a performer and for public appearances
• the great niece of country western singer johnny cash and a former miss america
• currently the vice president
• my daughter and partner in ministry
• getting some dinner guests this evening
• there and tells charles that they have to prep the patients
• a soulful balladeer with a deep rich r & b sound

The sick part is that there are so few people named "Kellye" that I already know who most of those are referring to due to having Googled my name about a dozen times. Most of them are from Kellye Cash or Kellye Gray. On the bright side, at least I have some. I tried to Googlize my mom, Bonnye, and there wasn't even one statement.
You can also Googlize a what, where or when. Here's a when for my birthday. Fun stuff. Thanks to Sonja of Whimworks and Jen of Monkeyknits and Alison of Brainylady whose blogs I found it in.

VINDICATION!

At any cost! I drank a bottle and a half of Gallo Shiraz tonite. And we had two bottles. And my mom drank the other half. And now she is writhing drunkenly in her bed, calling for my help occasionally to make it to the crapper for diarreha or vomits, and she has said to me:

• I've never been this drunk before!
Twenty-four times.

• I feel so sick!
Seventeen times.

• Why do I feel so sick?
Seven times.

• I think I'll die!
Twice.

• I'm almost sixty!
Once.

• I want to be your friend, but not this bad.
Twice.

• How do you live like this?
Once.

My dad had to get his own dinner, since I "went to bed" when she got offensively drunk. And then I had to get up and make sure he got dinner and make sure the cats got their ear mite meds, and make sure I got dinner, and help her throw up and make it to the toilet, and take Immodium. Yum!
Keep tuned for the morning after! She's lined up for a doozy, and she'll be sick all day if I'm any judge. And it's not yet nine! I may still decide to get drunk, in which case she's in for a long morning of getting herself taken care of all on her own, just like I do. In fact, I think I may go get a six-pack. Mmmmm. Justification.

Tink! Tink! Tink! TINK! Tink!

I just figured out short rows!
Da da da da SHORT ROWS!
I just figured out short rows, because I'm really smart!
Oh, yeah, and I'm knitting the shapely tank for the tank-along over there in the sidebar, that lovely pink button, go check it out! I haven't posted anything to the tank-along blog, since I haven't really done anything special with my tank. I can't wait to finish it, or at least get significantly done so I can post tho, and show off with pictures. There are a lot of knitters on there much, much more experienced than I, so I'm tickled to be included and eager to show off how much I can do so far. Heeee.

I've got a counter now

so I know I'm not the only person on Earth who looks at my blog. Oh, good blog news: mom is springing for the new computer, so lots of superfun pictures are soon to be uploading. Yaayyyy. Also, if you are actually reading my blog (I'm blushing!) you should join Myspace because the other half of my severely bi-polar, borderline-personality-disorder blog meat is there, and you have to belong to see it. And, if you ask me to, we can be friends. And I'm really vain and I want you to read every slippery word that comes slithering out of my brain. Even though I may not know you.
Ehhmmmmghhhh. Okay. Now that the creepy blogger-stalking-readers-who-may-or-not-be-there portion of our post is over, I have to tell that I just went on an amazing bike ride. I ride a huge (really, huge. it weighs 50 lbs.) old one-speed beach cruiser with giant knobby sidewalls and huge sweeping handlebars...I'm in love with this bike. And I used it as my sole means of transportation in Austin for two years. That's right, I'm hardcore. Phhhhptt. Anyhoo, one of the cool things about riding a gigantic heavy one-speed bike in Austin is that after a short training period (during which you cry every time you get on the bike for a month) you can power up and down crazy hills using only the immense, scary muscles in your legs. Honestly. There's a small group of people who fear and worship my enormous calves. Being home again, tho, is weird for bike riding because all the land for about 100 square miles is flat as a plate. Which is cool cause you don't have to go up any hills, but sucks because you can't coast down any hills. But today the wind was blowing like crazy and I was exausted from not riding at all for about two months, and forcing my way past the wind was tiring and exilharating. And turning around and riding home with the wind at my back was even better.

I invented everything

and other people keep getting credit! It's enough to make me sick! For instance, I invented those creepy Japanese body pillows with the velcro-together arms on them so they can hug you. I invented that when I was 7 years old, fer chrissake! And I've been telling people to do this for months. You know I did, too. I sent out probably a dozen e-mails telling people how insanely funny it was. You probably got one and didn't even bother to do it. You probably didn't even read it. And you could have been my witness!
Actually, I came up with it as a sort of a Better Off Dead way of staving off thoughts of doom. I ended up on AltaVista Babelfish on some ridiculous web crawl and I was bawly sad, and I wrote this pathetic, overdone suicide note making fun of how dramatic I was feeling, then I translated it into about a thousand languages and back to English and coughed up a lung laughing about how funny it was. And then I wrote you an e-mail about it. I did too. And somebody else is getting all the credit.
Anyhoo, this is what I put in this time: "Goodbye, cruel world, for no longer will I bow to your useless constraints or hateful punishments!" and after it was translated from English to Japanese to English to Chinese to English to Korean to English to French to English to German to English to Italian to English to Portugese to English to Spanish to English, this is what it said: "If, already the world, that one he is cruel and that one not to arrest the method with the work and the nine joints, this one hates with l interior von Bestrafung dell'ordine, that is useless for you," Ahhhh. The original note went on at greater length and included the phrase, "as if you care! Go fuck yourselves! Love, -kel" Which I reccomend you try, as that's the part that translated so hilarious that I quacked like a duck. Also, you should do this.

linkage mess up

I came back to link all the yarn and pattern refrences from that previous post, and found out that Peaches & Creme yarn from Elmore-Pisgah Incorporated has almost no web presence at all. I found one website, cottonclouds.com that sells some of their yarn, but not all. Anyway, the color I have (that zebra yarn) is called #149 Dalmation and it's variegated white, grey, black. Now I'm worried. I can't remember exactly where I got it, and no one seems to carry it, and I have only 2 skeins and need at least 8 for my tank top. Eeeek. I think I got it at (shame, oh, the shame) Wal Mart, but they don't even have the crafts section on their website, and I couldn't find it on Joann or Hancock or Hobby Lobby either. Weaaaahh!

I hate that phrase,

"cheer up," I don't know why I even use it. It suggests that depression is an attitude problem, rather than an organic brain disease curable only by heavy clinical use of thorazine. Which I have self-diagnosed myself to need. I figure, it'll turn me into a zombie, but I'll be a really calm, carefree zombie.
Why don't you ever get spam about thorazine? I get three spams a day (regardless of the fact that I don't have the pertinent organ) about "She'll thank you for it!" and "Vi@gr*@! cheap and legal from Canada," but no one ever spams me about how licensed doctors, American psychiatrists are willing to diagnose me via e-mail and write me prescriptions that cheerful and helpful Canadian pharmacists are thrilled to fill and mail to me, eh? Why do you think that is? Because I have a good spam filter?

being online is cheering me up

You may wonder why Wil Wheaton is a "thing I dig"? here's why. I like it when people are silly and flawed and fun and human and freely admit it. It's something I'm working on myself, so I won't be so fucking sad all the time. Of course, I'm not working very hard, because that would be too easy. Also, speaking of cheer, you should go see Mighty Girl cause she rocks. P.S. I was on an internet diet for about 4 days and some of my friends all e-mailed me and were nice to me, totally fucking up my "I'll probably get back on in about a week and have nothing but spam to answer and be even more bummed out" groove. P.P.S. I hate being honest, and I hate telling people what I'm feeling, so if you want to know what this blog feels like when I'm depressed, get an Epilady and detail your bikini area. And it's possible I'm the only person in the world who reads it. Yayyy!

I've dissapeared...

and I know not when I'll become coporeal once again...obviously, I didn't come back the next day and link all that, but I really will...sometime...maybe soon. I bet you already guessed I didn't replace the floor OR deliver my resume around. I'm taking some personal time away from the hecticisim of the online (or otherwise) connections. I'm having a really hard time right this minute, but I started (finally) riding my bike again, and I'm reading a lot and knitting...maybe I'll be okay. Tomorrow I'm gonna (weather permitting) spend a few hours in the sun and try to work up the gumption to call a few friends...we'll see. Here are the various things I'm filled with: rage 23%, hopelessness 56%, apathy 45%, resentment 66%, lucious cream filling, 12%, various alterative substances, 18%. Not meant to add up to 100...

A pretty good day

I slept till 2 in the afternoon, then woke up to play with the cats, surf the 'net and read until I cooked dinner. Also worked about 7 inches of my afgan (pictures to come soon if I don't turn 'tard again and delete them) and at least thought about finishing the second of my Broad Street mittens. And printed out some directions for socks. Mmmmm. Socks. I can't wait. I've never knitted a proper sock yet, so this should be good. I also printed out a great tank top pattern, we'll see if I get to do it in the zebra yarn I bought. I swear I'll come back tomorrow and link all the yarns and patterns in this post tomorrow. Anyway, a good day. I'm probably getting up early and hungover tomorrow to either take my resume around town or replace part of the floor in my bathroom, both of which I already knew were overdue and which my mom reminded me were overdue today. Despite which, today was gorgeous. La!

Arrrgghhhaaaahhhhhh! Stab me in the face!

I'm sooo MR. So here's how my day went. Mom and I went to the local computer store (run by her best friend's brother, Skeeter. God I love rural Texas. His real name is Jesse cause he's named after his dad, Ed.) to find out about putting in the usb port, which would end up running about $40 installed, and to see about updating windows because we're still running '98 and it's starting to fall apart. And Skeeter has said before that our 'pewter is about too old to work on (4 1/2 yrs), and mom is sick of pouring money into it, so we end up talking about a new one, which he's going to give us a great deal on, it has a 256 Whatchamacallit and an AMD Thingywhoosie and he'll charge us $600 for the whole thing, we bring in our backups and programs and old computer and he'll switch the whole thing over, 90 days, same as cash. But because of all the hospital stuff and not knowing for sure that dad's gonna be okey dokey, we want to think about it for a few days, so he says, if you've got your camera right here, why don't you just use my computer to put the pictures on disk, save you some trouble. So I hook it up to the usb cable, get the program going, and because I'm used to a trackball and he's got a mouse, my finger stutters and I delete all 37 pictures from the camera memory card before the program was open even 30 seconds. I'm sick. There were some really cute ones of me, and let's be honest, I'm about as photogenic as a stomach pump, so that's never gonna happen again. I'm gonna go cry my big, MR sobs now.

Do I seem like a guy to you?

Because I apparently am. Please, please, please go take this test and then let me know if the results were correct or not? Please? Because I've taken it twice, the first time it was 74% positive I was a dude, and the second time (I purposefully put it out of my mind and waited until I ran across it accidentally, three months later) it was 86% positive I was a dude. Rest assured, I have performed a thourough naked search of myself, and I am most definitely a girl. A slightly freaked out, kind of insulted girl. I mean, I'm a tomboy. I'm a little butch. Okay. I know I'm boyishly charming. But 86%? I'm gonna have that put on a t-shirt. "Kiss Me! I'm 86% Boy!" It seems so unfair to have to be mostly boy when I can't do any of the really cool boy things, like shoot pool without being a danger to myself and others, or pee standing up, or get a bj. I keep checking just to make sure I'm not growing a peen.

Now with yiffing! Yayyyyy!

I wanted the Web Fire Escape so bad, but after I got it, I realized that all two people who read me probably don't have to worry about needing it, so I started having evil thoughts. I thought, the only solutions is for my fire escape to go somewhere so bad that just rolling your mouse over it would give you chlamidya. Like if it was a real, physical fire escape on your building and you were using it to escape a fire, you'd get one foot out there and see all the shit-flinging-monkey-on-kitten porn and pull your leg right back in. 'No, I'm fine, I'll just stay in here where it's nice and warm.' I'm still looking around for just such a place, but I think I found something real nice for the meantime. Just take some penicillin, click on the "evil fire escape" button over there and brace yourself, Margaret. I'll be changing it whenever the mood strikes me, hopefully to something worse every time. All the past masters will end up in the "wtf?" section of the links, way down there, which is pretty much turning into the "weird smut" section, I guess. Enjoy!

Now with comments! Yayyyy!

I was poking around Blogger and found a list of places you can put a comments faculty on your blog, and now I have one, courtesy of Nik Martin at Comment This!. I'm still working out a kink or two with getting it to look right and what not, but I'm really happy with it so far. You know, the last hour or so. He asks that you send him a couple bucks if you like it, so I guess the nice man will be getting some of my beer money. Now, all I need are some readers and some comments and I'll be on the road!

truth in advertising

I love it when people, especially people online, tell you exactly what you're going to get, and are being completely truthful. For instance, this site claims to be a "family site" and that's exactly what they are. I found it thanks to Mighty Girl.

I'm not a slut, I'm a GENIUS!

And the proof is right here. And here is why. Yep. I was genetically destined to be really, really, really, really, really...smart. And I am. Ask anybody.

Here's something weird...

that I found through (i think) Dave Barry's Blog and I can't decide if I like it or not. It seems a little weird, and I'll have to do some research to find out who this kid's dad is as he seems to know a lot of these people, but he panders his kid around New York, thrusting him into the arms of celebrities and taking his picture. My favorite is P-Diddy, on the fourth album page. Check it out. Oh, and thanks to Fark I got to read another story about a parents' group proving their point (they're stupid) with a story and/or picture from The Onion. Here's an account, with some links, of the first one.

Oh, I went to do the

Friday Five, but the site runs exeptionally slow and they haven't had any questions up for several weeks, and the questions this week are about your job, which I don't have and feel bitter about since I ran out of money, and I'm in a bad mood, which I might have mentioned, so I'm instituting my own list of interesting and inquisitive questions. I put the answers to the real Friday five on her message board as "kellye.zebra" if you're interested. It doesn't really run that slow, just when you try to type.
1....What's the meaning of life?
*Ha, ha, ha.

2. How do you cope with minor dissapointment?
*By emotionally attacking those around me.

3. Why are you so gloomy and depressed when thousands of people all over the world are in worse conditions than you and are still happy?
*Because I am smarter than they are.

4. Then why don't you drink a lot and take lots of drugs so you can be dumb and happy?
*I'm working on it. It's taking longer than I thought.

5. What's the most disturbing thing you've thrown up in the last two months?
*Blood. Or vanilla ice cream. I'm still deciding which was worse. If I can go farther back than two months, it's a tie between any dish with rice and any dish with spaghetti. Urrrrgghhhh. That's nasty.

suspending posting a few days

until I feel less like sticking a knife in everyone I see and twisting it. I'm in a pretty damn bad mood, and I've already put up a couple of morose, abusive posts on my Myspace blog, so I'll leave well enough alone until I recover. Anything interesting will go up in a bland, linked post or the sidebar, check back soon!

Happy Easter, ya'll!

My Easter present to all of you is to direct you to this site about peeps, and this one, so that you never doubt the fact that, even though peeps are disgusting, there is a good reason that they make 824 qintillion of them every year. Also, please, please do not click here unless you have already lost all hope. Seriously, yo, it's evil.

Dad's home now

The test showed his arteries and what not to be completely healthy, so he's just wired wrong. They started him on the medication Monday, and he'll take it for the forseeable future. We got home yesterday afternoon sometime between 3 and 4 and are all exausted, tho dad is understandably much more so. He's supposed to rest until Monday, go see his regular doctor to get cleared for work, then see the cardiologist in Victoria in six weeks to follow up. I feel positive that he'll be fine from now on, my mom thinks that's retarded, everything's back to normal.

Jessica just turned me on

...to Shinola. I know what you were thinking. Evil, nasty child. Shame on you. Shame, shame, shame!
Though I haven't seen them yet, she has picked the bass player, Hunter to be my new fantasy boyfriend/future husband. I think on the basis of the tough-looking tattoo across his chest. We'll see what it says, then decide. She didn't say so, but I think she thinks he's the only one who's not too soft for me. God knows what that girl thinks I do with boys, but she always seems to pick me sort of dirty, tough, derrick-worker types who look like ex-cons. Or maybe she just has a hard time getting a lock on my type (mostly dirty, tough, derrick-worker types who look like ex-cons. A few pensive, greasy skinny guys, and for some reason I appear to get it up for receding hairlines. Who knew?). Or it could be that she's serious and picked the one I could actually get (no offense to Hunter, but really, I'm no catch, and he looks easy). But really, I look at boys like dogs chase cars. I get all heated up about picking one out and pursuing it, but dammned if I know what I'd do with one if I caught it. I mean, I know what to do. Mmmmm, I know what to do allright. It's just what you're supposed to do with them when you're not doing that.
She's taking the lead singer, TJ, of course, but I'm not sure I don't want his brother Kyle. Of course, there's still Travis, and Steve, who is falling out of favor since I "met" him on a friends server that shall remain nameless (at least in this post). He is perfectly nice and funny, and still just as cute, it's just the, "oh, a real person with his own personality and needs, as opposed to whatever thoughts I put in his head" turn off.
Of course, Jess knows Shinola, and wants me to come see them and meet them, so I'll only enjoy them a short time, for the same reason. And I'm sure that before long I'll meet Travis at Nick & Vick's or somewhere, so that one is looking pale, too. I guess I'm going back to my old fantasy boyfriend, TV's Danny Masterson. Oh, well, we only broke up because he was hurt by my constantly seeing other people. So if you know him, don't tell him about Hunter, and tell him to keep the hell away from Austin so I don't have to start fantasy dating again.
Anyhow, I was listening to Shinola online mere seconds after she said the name, and you should be too, if you like rockabilly at all, cause these boys do it right and look good while doin' it.

Okay, you got me

Thundercats was really my favorite cartoon. I liked Transformers, I liked Moncheechees, but c'mon, "Thunder...Thunder...THUNDERCATS!!! HOOOOOO!"
You bet your ass. Cheetarah rules.
Anyhoo, exciting day today. My dad went out on a cable service call a little after 2 this afternoon, and around 3:30 his boss drove up in our driveway, which is not that odd since they've worked together 23 years and went to school together before that. But my dad's been having these weird little "episodes" the last week and feeling puny, and my mom and I (who almost never agree about anything) were both having creepy feelings about it and trying to get him to to the dr. before the weekend. But he hates to make a fuss, so he just decided to see how he felt on Monday and make an appointment then. So his boss pulls up in the driveway, and as soon as I saw his truck, before I could even see his face, I said, "Mom, I'm gonna go change, we have to go to the hospital." So mom is totally confused, thinking I need the hospital, when Dick (his real name) knocks on the door. It took a while to sort her out. I just knew. I knew he was going to be fine, but I knew he was in the ER. So Dick tells us that dad was working in Edna, a tiny town about 20 miles away, when he started to feel faint again like he did twice already this week, and about the time he started to loose consiousness, another co-worker who lives in Edna drove up to see if dad needed any help with the job. So Ken (the co-worker) sees my dad sitting in the shade of his truck, trying to get a drink of water and bright red and sweating buckets and unable to breathe, and talks him into the truck and calls Dick to tell him they're going to the hospital.
It was scary (he was admitted with a heart rate of 228 beats a minute, and they had to give him medication to make it slow down, which slowed it too far, so they had to give him medication to speed it up), and he feels like shit, but they're keeping him overnight to watch him and are going to do the dreaded cardiac catheterization, where they put a camera up your groin to look inside your heart. Which means we get a nifty 3"x5" picture of my dad's heart beating from the inside, and also that if these episodes are caused by something horrible like a blockage or anuyrism or clot, they can fix it, and if not we'll know he's just wired wrong and he'll take medication every day to guard against it happening again. As long as my mom doesn't kill a doctor first. She just hates all medical personnel. My mom is a fairly decent person, but she turns into an ass anytime there's a doctor or nurse around. Which is why I'm home right now, as I was afraid if I stayed overnight with them we would, one way or another, have two of our family in hospital beds.

I object!

I feel I was wrongly denied my rightful place as a fraudulent, malicious panderer on the 8th level of hell! I demand a recount!

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Very High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Extreme
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test