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

Yayyyyyy!

My digital camera came yesterday! I almost kissed the ups guy. How often in your life do you get a box that contains (1) one digital camera and (1) one portable bubble machine? Almost never, that's how often. All I have to do now is find $40 for having the usb port put in my 'puter so I can actually upload the thousands (15) pictures I've taken today and the $100 or so so I can host them on this blog, and I'll be the most annoying person on the internet! Yayyyyyyy! So any millionaires out there (or thousandaires, I'm not a snob) go ahead and e-mail me about where you should send the money...I'm waiting...