Not Uncool; Not Dead Either

Two Three Thursdays ago, Grant wrote, "You haven't posted in a week. You're not dead, are you? 'cause that would be uncool."

News of my death has been greatly exaggerated, hence the title of this blog entry.

I have not blogged in more than two weeks. Okay, it may be three weeks now. Well, I have tried and tried and tried to write my next post. And I have failed on all of my attempts. And then it occurred to me why I can't write right now: I have writer's block (how about that, using the same sounding word so close to one another; another sign of writer's block, perhaps).

And I sort of feel bad because I am writing to say that I am not dead – I have always hated reading those posts. Plus, Farah Fawcett died between my last two posts. So did Michael Jackson. So you see, lots of people have died recently, so you would be totally correct in assuming that I have died as well. Though I don't have Farrah's famous nipples or Michael's famous dance moves. I mean, really, how many of us did not want Farrah's hair or to be able to dance like Michael Jackson. I can remember practicing to moon walk for weeks. If I was a productive member of society at the time, I would have been in an office, doing the moon walk, I am sure.

Oh, but back to talking about me. I have writer's block and I am not dead.

I wrote a Twitter message – I mean, even with writer's block, I can type out 140 characters.

Then I read one of the previous paragraphs – I normally just type out stuff and don't even read it, but with writer's block, the process changes. Anyway, I talk about Farah's famous . . . and Michael's famous . . . . What a lack of a real adjective. I mean, of course, if we know about it, you and me, you on the other side of the world, perhaps, me in Georgia. That would sort of define famous.

Part of me just wants to delete this message – like I did the last two messages, but you see, I have writer's block and I am not dead, so I need to place something out there. Having writer's block sort of sucks. I mean, I have been known to write about any damn thing that pops into my head, but this does not really work right now. I can't decide if I have nothing in my mind right now, or that my filter is just working on overdrive. I have not a clue.

Me, I want red hair. I don't have the complexion or the guts to dye my hair red, but I want red hair. I think hair color should be sold with other helpful items, like something that would give me freckles as well.

I was watching a YouTube video, and instead of saying, "Wow, I like that song or voice," I am thinking I would kill for that hair. I can't sing, and so I sometimes fantasize about being able to sing. Or having a magic lasso would also be so cool. Can you imagine red-headed Leesa walking in a car dealership with a magic lasso, asking about the real gas mileage of the cars on the lot? Of going in a GM dealership and asking what kind of car they drive. "Hey, you get employee pricing on your cars, and you drive a Toyota. Don't tell me it is your wife's car. I have a magic lasso."

I have not brought myself to read the comments on my blog either. Well, I read Grant's comment. But that was weeks ago, and I started writing about it, but you see I have writer's block. I guess I should go to Walgreens and see if I can find something to cure my writer's block. I mean, there are drug companies that sell herbs to cure all sorts of things. Hell, they sell mushrooms to cure cancer. Why can't some company deceive us about a cure for writer's block, too? I mean, writer's block is mental, right? I mean, how hard is it to add a few herbs to witch hazel, and sell it as writer's block remover? That's all I ask. Oh, and to have red hair, a superhero lasso, and not to be dead.

Late Night Conversations

When I was growing up, we would spend time with the grandparents. The family was sort of big, so I did not get that much time one-on-one with my grandmother. It wasn't that she did not love me; it was just the numbers did not work in my favor.

Well, after dessert and showers (with an extended family, showers take over an hour for the kids alone), we would watch a little network television. Actually, there were a lot of nature shows on PBS, as I recall. Then people would start going to bed. Interestingly, the parents would go first. Then the kids. Grandmother and me would be the last two up.

We would sit in large comfy chairs for hours, just talking. Now I cannot remember what we talked about, but it was so nice to have her undivided attention. Grandmother would ask questions, listen, and talk about things she remembered when she was growing up.

She had an even voice, and late into the evening, all else would be quiet. To be in a large, comfortable chair, most lights off in the house, just breaking the night with conversation. Those are the things I remember about my grandmother.

Blah Meter

I have been feeling a bit blah lately. You have probably seen it in my "just hit the damned submit button" posts. Yeah, there have been a few of them. I have been feeling blah, but I really was not aware of it. I would say, "I am tired" or "I have too much to do." I am a fairly positive person, so it is hard for me to say, "I feel blah."

And then I thought to myself, I should find other measures, that are not directly related to my blah-ness, that would be an indicator for me. Sure, I might not describe myself as blah, but if I always do something when blah, I could just look for that something. So then I thought, let’s see if I can look at my personal life for signs of the blahs:

Loss of interest in normal daily activities. I am so spastic, that I sometimes looks interest in daily activities, but it does not mean I am blah.
Crying spells for no apparent reason. I always have a reason for crying. Others may not be aware of it, but there is always a reason.
Problems sleeping. I sometimes sleep a lot or a little for no apparent reason. Not a good indicator.
Trouble focusing or concentrating. All the time. I think that has something to do with my brain chemistry.
Difficulty making decisions. I would be a terrible CEO. I can make any sort of decision with little data or understanding of the problem. Sort of like a politician.
Unintentional weight gain or loss. If you intentionally eat a quart of ice cream but don't intend on gaining weight, does that count?
Irritability. Just a part of my personality when I deal with incompetent people.
Being easily annoyed. See above. These signs are starting to piss me off.
Loss of interest in sex. Pass.
Unexplained physical problems, such as back pain or headaches. I am talking about the blahs. I am not crazy.

Well, you know, none of those signs can tip me off to the blahs. So I looked and looked and looked. And you know what is an indicator of the blahs for me, "number of items purchased from Ebay." That is it, plain and simple. It may have been shopping in general years ago, but it has changed.

You know, men are the big hunters, with their guns being some giant penis they point at what they want. Don't say this doesn't make sense. Women, those of us without a chronic penis envy fixation, don't see what is so special about hunting. We may say it is cruelty to animals, but deep down, we don't want to point artificial penises at animals. Just too close to bestiality for my taste.

And shopping in a mall for me is akin to deer hunting. High powered penis-gun just blowing away an unarmed large mammal. Ebay is more like hunting flying animals – squirrels, ducks, quail and the like. It takes either skill or dumb luck to bring those animals down. Same thing with Ebay purchases.

So the next time my Paypal account is overused because of Ebay, I have got me the blahs. I heard alcoholism cures the blahs, though. Or maybe I am confused. You see, I have trouble focusing.

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And listen, I was kidding about bestiality and hunting. I am from Georgia, for gosh sake, where you will see deer fastened to the top of wood-paneled station wagons outside of Wal-Mart when they are in season.

Running into Classmates

I got an email from a high school classmate (let's call her Becky), and it really shocked me a bit. We were in a writing club together in high school. She was a very talented writer, and I was in the club because I wanted the extra credit for senior English. We published a literary journal, and Becky's work was all over the place. I imagine she had 1/6 of the pages in the journal. She wrote poetry, short stories, Haiku, all sorts of things.

Because of our last names, we were in the same homeroom throughout high school, and the only time I really got to know anything about her was in that literary club. You know, when you are in homeroom for only 15 minutes at a time, and there is nothing but disseminating information to people throughout the year. Then, senior year we spent two afternoons a month, sometimes more, working on evaluating writing talent. I always thought I was a bit more objective about evaluations. None of my friends submitted to the magazine, and I didn't even submit (until the advisor made me). Many of the pieces were about teenage angst. Some were raw; most tried doing things that they would be ill-advised to try. Talking about love, death, longing, all from the memory of high-schoolers.

In reading Becky's email, I was surprised to find that she did not do anything with writing. She has her own small company, and she is an artist. She did not graduate college (she dropped out after a year), though she graduated high school with honors. She has studied, but mostly with small seminars and the like.

I have seen her art, and it is beautiful. It looks like a mixture of impressionism and folk art. Not sure how else to explain it. The thing is, she was considered the most talented writer in my high school, and she does something that has nothing to do with writing. I am sure the biggest tramp while I was in high school put her tramping skills to good use. Why not the writer?

I guess part of the reason I don't try to reconnect with people from my high school is because I don't want the carefully crafted image I have of them to change. I thought I knew these people; sort of like some of these writers thought they knew about love, life, and angst. And I knew in which direction their lives were heading. I just don't want to know that the skillful writer became the artist, the tennis star is selling shoes, the brainiac who breeds dogs. Not that they are not worthwhile professions, but they are not my vision for the future.

Temptation

I could not sleep tonight, so I crept into the computer room, logged onto an email account, and found an email I had to reply to. It was someone who asked for my advice, and I don't know if you can tell, but I love giving advice.

The letter and response triggered a memory of mine, a painful memory that I am not sure I have ever explored in my blog. Those of you who have read me for a while know that I am married and I strayed in the marriage. Completely my fault. I was a broken person, and I did not even know it at the time. I wrote about my screw-ups here and here, and if I searched my blog archives, probably a dozen more places. I write because it is cathartic, because it is on my mind, and because I want to be that lighthouse warning others of the rocks hidden below the turbulent waters of sexual gratification.

In most of my missteps, the other guys had been unfaithful many times before me. I "dated" married men because it was cleaner – no messy break-ups, mutual discretion. There was one relationship, however, that was different. I tempted him, again and again, and I enticed him to strayed outside his marriage.

I was the other woman, and I destroyed a marriage. Before me, they were a very loving couple (I knew both of them and wanted what she had). And when I said I destroyed their marriage, I don't mean they divorced. They stayed together, but that beautiful marriage that everyone admired was no more. I remember very clearly that he called me a bitch afterwards – I remember where I was standing, what I was wearing, and what I was thinking (it was not nice or Christian). I think if I was not so wrapped up in my own stuff, I would not have tempted him. We can all say that the two of us were consenting adults; at the end of the day, I tempted someone who made his own bad decision. Had I not practically thrown myself at him, there is no way we would have loved. After all this time, had I the opportunity to undue something (anything in the world), I would wish that I had not pursued that man.

When Bill Clinton was caught lying about not having sexual intercourse with that woman, I could understand that as president, he would have been tempted nearly daily. I mean, you are one of the most powerful men in the world (and power is such a turn-on), and fifty million women are going to throw themselves at you. And I am not naive enough to think Monica was Bill's first dalliance.

I think I will go to sleep now, to what I hope is a dreamless sleep.

Blah Days and Open Windows

I did not post yesterday. The day sort of got away from me, and by the end, I thought to myself, "Eh, I don't want to post."

After I got home yesterday, I took a nap with the windows open. I was asleep for a couple of hours, and I was groggy all night long. Sort of a blah ending to a blah day. But the traffic noise, with people coming home, reminded me of some summer experiences.

Okay, the rest of this post is not work safe (but since it is all text, you can leave now and no one will be the wiser). I was debating whether to write it, but I thought, eh, why not.

My aunt and uncle had a summer house in a small town a couple of hours from where we life. Every summer, we would travel to the house and spend time there. It was for lazy summers. We would bike ride in the mornings, and by 10:00 am, it started getting hot. We would come in for lunch, and lunch took more than an hour to finish. Lots of people making sandwiches and the like, eating potato chips (something we were not allowed to have regularly during the school year), making Kool-Aid.

After lunch, we would watch a soap opera, and then all of us would nap at 1:00. Since there were so many in the house, I would sneak out to the detached garage. There was a one room studio off of the garage, and I would sleep there.

When I was sixteen or so, I would have the window open but lock the door. I had just learned the art of pleasing myself, so I would slip off my shorts and panties and begin to finger myself. I would think of boys I had met that summer, fingering myself and listening to the occasional car race by on the country road nearly outside the window.

I would lick my finger, than let it work itself, slowly at first, and then faster, and I would always end up quivering after an intense orgasm. I don't know if it was listening to the traffic, the thought I might get caught, or just the guilt of a Catholic girl in the summer heat. Whatever it was, I enjoyed those pre-nap rituals.

Afterwards, I would put my panties and shorts back on, and I would unlock the door and drift to sleep. And sometimes I would wake up with the blahs, if I slept too long. But it was summer, and after another bike ride or a stroll through the woods, my head would clear and I would return to my family. And no one knew about my little fingering sessions. In fact, I forgot about them until hearing the sounds of the cars coming home from work yesterday reminded me. The mind can sometimes connect dots that are not normally connected. Traffic and an open window. Who would have thought?

All Twittery Inside

Okay, I finally don't get Twitter. I thought I got it at first. Twitter was like a blog for lazy people; you know, people who could only string together 140 characters at a time. And these twitter people had to have a little more self-involvement than bloggers. I mean, with a blog, there are no instant gratifications.

In Twitter, all you have to do is follow a few people, and every once in a while, someone follows you back just because you followed them. Guess that is the same with some bloggers. I don't totally get this tit-for-tat reasoning, but it is alive and well.

For me, I read tweets when I am bored. And it makes me . . . more bored. Not sure why I am still tweeting, but I am. I am reading more than tweeting, but if you want to follow me on tweeter, please do so. And I have been baffled at some of my recent followers . . . .

Then someone by the name of Gary Vaynerchuk (self-proclaimed description: Wine guy, host of Wine Library TV. Video blogger and Businessman that loves people and the hustle) added me. What interest would a wine guy have in my little life?

And I got a newbie, Dr. Robert Rey, from Beverly Hills, CA. I have convinced myself he is not a plastic surgeon, trolling for middle-aged women in need of boob jobs. On the one hand, I guess I should be flattered that he thinks I have the money to travel all the way across the US in order to get silicone baggies inserted under my breasts. On the other hand, hey, he is dissin' my boobies. Does using "dissin'" make me sound pathetic and uncouth, even for a middle aged woman?

And now I have a band follower, We Shot the Moon. I am not sure if they are a really lame band that plays a lot of Hearts (the card game), or they are delusional marksmen, shooting at the moon without actually hitting anything (we hope). I went to their MySpace page, and I like their music.

I also have a new suspended account, Shelli11Kelly3. Every ten or so subscribers are these suspended accounts. I guess I am lucky enough to get what may be spam accounts. I think Twitter should give a trophy for the account with the most suspended accounts following them. Then perhaps John Mayer would win an award. Oh, other than all of his Grammies.

I started listening to/reading ScriptGirl. I can't tell if she is fake or not, talking about script sales. But it really doesn't matter if it is real. Just that you think it is real.

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I have been trying to write 5 times per week, and I have figured if Tuesday or Thursday is crap, that's okay. Just moving the needle, so to speak.

Memorial Day

Very rarely do I blog on my day off. With blogger's scheduled posts, however, it makes it a bit easier, I suppose.

First, I have seen many links to the following organization this Memorial Day: Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America.

And my first thought is, "Do people know the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran's Day?" Memorial Day is to honor people who died while in military service. Formerly known as Decoration Day, a day established to decorate the graves of fallen Union soldiers (I don't think there were different branches of the military back then), the day was expanded and renamed after World War I to honor all who died while serving in the military. Time did a story on the origin of Memorial Day recently as well.

It seems to me that as Americans, we blur the lines between Memorial Day, Veteran's Day and Patriot Day. Maybe even Independence Day. Who knows? Living near several military communities, I have had to learn a few things:

(1) Soldiers do not equal all people who serve in the military.
There are airmen (men and women in the Air Force), seamen (men and women sailors), marines, soldiers (those in the Army), and coasties (I don't know the real term, but they are known as coasties around here). There are two other uniformed services in the US: United States Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Commissioned Corps, but they are not part of the armed forces (the first 5 mentioned).

(2) Er, oh, crap, I don't know anything else.
I was going to make a list of all of these military things I have learned, and I completely lost my mind. Or at least what I was thinking about.

Also, I am not sure what to say on Memorial Day. I mean, saying "Happy Memorial Day" seems to be inappropriate. It is not solemn enough. All I can suggest is that people take time to remember those who have fallen in all US wars today.

Not So Random Friday Post

I normally, at least for the last dozen or so weeks, have done random Fridays. It is a way to get certain ideas out of my head and onto paper. Ideas that don't deserve an entire post. I don't want to do this today.

This morning, I was reading blogs. And one blog had a cover of Mad Magazine (I never really understood the fascination with Mad Magazine; probably a Y chromosome thing) with a UPC symbol. Well, I made some comment that this symbol reminded me of a sit-com episode where they were trying to decipher the UPC symbol. I thought it was an All in the Family episode, and so I performed a Google search. I got bored before I could confirm this, but I did see Episode 209 of another show that did they did an All in the Family spoof that dealt with APC symbols.

What interested me more than figuring out the sit-com was that we live in a world where so much is online that it is a breeze to research almost anything. I mean, you won't get "the answer", all of the time, but you can get an answer.

When I was in school, we used card catalogs and books. Books and card catalogs don't really allow themselves to link to other resources. Sure, there are cards in the catalog that give a hint of a link, "see XYZ", but they don't directly link to other sources. With the internet, there is so much to link to, and you physically don't really have to touch any source. Your 1s and 0s touch the sources 1s and 0s, and you get an answer.

Another blogger linked to a Madonna video the other day. I often wonder if she did not wear cone's shaped bras, would we think she was more of an important artist.

Of course, I could easily Google Madonna to see 12 little-known-facts about the singer/artist in two minutes. Oh, and I could also see her videos, most of them. If it were still 1978 I would spend several hours in a library, not see any videos and perhaps find some of the same facts. Maybe.

I don't think we fully appreciate this.

Book-Reading Ideas

Those who have been reading my blog for some time know that I love to read. I think a lot of bloggers are readers. I mean, most are would-be authors. Even if they only tell themselves in the darkness of their rooms. And people who want to write generally like reading as well. Some are narcissists and just want to put their "important thoughts" to paper, but most read.

I just finished reading a book, written in the 60s. It took a bit longer to read for a few reasons – (1) I was in the middle of three books and was spending my time divided between the books; (2) the book literally took my breath away as I was reading it – I think I was inhaling the pages (literally, not figuratively). I wish the books were made with better paper; (3) with great literature, I like to really have the words and phrases dance around in my head. I don't mind spending the time on a good book.

There are some great books I have not read. For instance, I want to read Ulysses (James Joyce). The book was written between 1918 and 1920 (it appeared in a periodical; too lazy to look up the name of it). The book is a modern-day Homer's Odyssey. I first was curious about the book after seeing it prominently displayed in Godspell. My favorite part of Godspell is one song. [Robin Lamont sings this song.] When I was younger, I wanted to be part of the 60s (before I really knew that drugs were involved in the 60s). Anyway, even though Ulysses was written so long ago, I envision the book as part of the 60s.

I also wanted to read All the King's Men (Robert Penn Warren). Again, I think of this book as read by people in the 1960s, but it was written in the 40s. Many think the main character was based on Huey P. Long, colorful governor of Louisiana, something the author always denied.

Every time I see a book in a movie, I wonder about the book if I have not read it. Not sure that is normal. Same thing in a bookstore. If I see an interesting cover, I want the book. I have lots of books that I have not read, because I think to myself, "I want to read this," and there is not enough time in the day to read all of the books I want to read.

Well, I really don't want to write today. I want to read.

You've Got Moxie

I was looking up some information on someone I know. She writes for Moxie Post (an independent media production company). But you go to their website, and it is nearly not there.

The first bit of news that they posted is an embedded video clip (courtesy of PETA). I am no marketing person, but this really does not look good. I mean, yeah, the vegan getting out of the pool makes one want to give up meat (get it, male genitalia = meat, she is hot, so it could turn a woman lesb . . . crap, if I have to explain it, maybe it is not that funny.) Oh, and if she looks familar, she is Alicia Silverstone (I got that from the goveg.com site). I don't really know who she is - maybe the daughter in TV's Married . . . with Children. She was in Clueless, The Crush (as the psycho stalker), and Blast from the Past (opposite Brendan Frasier). She was in an aerosmith video, too (thanks, Xmichra).

Fifth Grade: Let's Play Today

There are days that I look outside and I wonder why I ever left fifth grade. I mean, my whole life after fifth grade has been okay, but nothing could top that year.

There were things in fifth grade that were awesome: I had my first boyfriend kiss. I had kissed other boys, but this was a boy that I wore down. At fifth grade, girls were interested in boys and boys were interested in boogers. Well, to be fair, the boy I liked was a complicated lad; he also liked fart jokes that he highlighted with the use of armpit noises.

Another awesome fifth grade fact: I was lead syncer in an all girl band. We mostly rocked to Abba songs, and there was four of us. I was Anni-Frid; Björn and Benny were girls as well. None of the boys would sing with us.

Yet another awesome fifth grade item: no pregnancy scares, no STD scares, barely any kissing. But it was all good.

A final awesome fifth grade tidbit: I could be good at science, and they guys kinda liked it. If I liked frogs, I was Ms. Popular. If I knew the state bird, I was queen of the classroom. Last time I didn't have to hide my candle under a basket.

I don't want to do my work today; I want to go outside and play.

A Closet Geek

Yesterday, I was told that I am a bit of a geek. And my first reaction is, "I am no geek." And then I reflected over my experiences.

When I was in high school, I took a class called "Computer Science." I don't remember much about the class, other than whatever we programmed in the class, I could do more quickly in my head. The first computer program just displayed "Hello World" on the screen. The second one printed the same phrase on a dot matrix printer. I learned about loops and how to use them to perform the same task a number of times. I also learned that I was not very good at computer programming (it was in Basic). There was one other girl in the class, and she understood computers. I am sure she is some executive in a computer-related enterprise by now. The boys in the class were very helpful. I am not sure I finished a program on my own, well, after the first program. And I am using the term program very loosely. About half of the lines of code were comments. Fairly geeky.

In college, I started using a computer as a sophomore for word processing. I knew people who would make computer cards, program and the like, but it did not interest me one bit.

I knew people in the dorms that would watch old tapes of Star Trek. That was not me. I did not get Star Trek, and I never would.

I remember going into chat room – the first one I saw my whole family was huddled around a computer, and I could not keep up with the number of conversations going on simultaneously. I think there is an art to that sort of thing, and I didn't have the talent. Plus I did not have the cash, as it cost $6/minute for access. Prodigy was the name of the service. I was exposed to this geekiness, but I did not enjoy it or really participate in it.

Fast forward to a few years ago, and I started this blog. At first, I just hung out my 20 or so erotic stories and began looking around. I had toyed with the idea of writing more erotic stories, but since I don't write them very often, the blog would be sparse.

And then I started to write.

My blog looked like any other blog, where the person involved did not know much about HTML. After a few months, I wanted to customize my blog. I had to learn about certain HTML elements. I wanted to hyperlink to other blogs, so I had to learn other HTML elements. Seems like I am getting a bit more geeky.

The thing is, I did not want to be a geek. I just needed the skills in order to make my blog look the way I wanted. A geek? Me? Nah. Although I don't mind knowing a thing or two about computers. I just don't want to attend Star Trek conventions. And the cool thing is that there were geeks before there were computers – think about building ham radios.

Can't Sleep

I started writing this early in the morning – about 1:30 AM – and then drifted back off to sleep before I finished it.

I saw the following poem on a blog this morning:

Jean-Paul Sartre
Shopped at KMartre
An early-morning startre
Was good for his heartre

And the only thing I could think is "What wonderful literary artre!"

This weekend I had a few social engagements. I was making small talk with other adults, and there is something I tend to do that I need to change: I wrinkle my nose when people are reading literature I deem unworthy. I don't tell these small-talkers I disdain the literature they choose to read, but they can read it in my face. Damn nose-wrinkle. I guess I could Botox my nose and loose all feelings in my nose, but that seems a bit extreme.

I heard they are doing a remake of Footloose staring Hayden Panettiere and Chace Crawford (okay, it is a rumor). I don't remember much about the movie – except for a shirtless Patrick Swayze (or was it a sweaty Kevin Bacon). I remember the soundtrack more than the movie. Swayze was in Dirty Dancing. Duh, I can't remember my hotties anymore. Speaking of hotties, Hayden Panettiere is that vegan who can't be killed (the show called Heros; I have not been following the show, so who knows, she may even have been destructible by now). A co-worker of mine loves Heros, and I would watch so that we could talk about it. Spending an hour watching a show seems to be time ill spent, if it is only so one could converse with someone else.

I woke up from a dream about Al Qaeda. Apparent, I had special dream powers, and I was dreaming about Al Qaeda missions. It was all so very Cassandra-ish. I reported my dreams to the authorities and they laughed at me. Then the dreams came true and they started hunting me, figuring I was in on the plans. I was all screwed up though, because I was dreaming about India instead of Afghanistan.

Weird dreams. Weird thoughts.

Well, it took me nearly two hours to get to sleep. It is official, no work will I do today. I wish there was a couch in the conference room.

Random Friday #37

Wasting Time
Someone sent me a link that showed some strange architectural structures. I thought they were really cool and all, but I did not want to send them to anyone else because it would look like I did not do any work all day. Son of a gun.

Don't Say Anything Bad about the Kids
Someone at my work is an idiot. There are very few things that you should not say to another human being. Calling someone's kids a brat is one of them. My co-worker does not understand the concept. In her own words, "I don't know why my neighbor won't speak to me. I mentioned in passing that her child is a bit of a brat, and she has not spoken to me since." I don't say bad things about people's spouses because I figure, if they sleep with them, they probably are a bit protective of them. But someone's own children? I think we are programmed to smite people who say stuff about our children. So why in the world would you call a child a brat, even if they are exhibiting brattish tendencies. (Yeah, brattish is probably not a word, but it should be.)

I give children a pass on most things. If they are brats, the parents probably had a bunch to do about it (I learned that from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a ground-breaking film on child-rearing). Also, aren't children trying to figure out the world? I mean, if I found some high schooler peeing in my yard because they were drunk, I might chuckle. I would not turn the hose on them. And if I knew their parents, I might make a remark that I did not need any weed killer in the yard at this time (or is urine a fertilizer, I really don't know). Why complain about kids when adults, after years more training, do stupid stuff all of the time? Oh, yeah, adults can hire lawyers.

Miss California News Conference
I heard a snip-it from the Miss California news conference the other day, and it sounded like a Saturday Night Live skit. Reviewing the clip made it appear moreso like a skit. A poorly worded skit, but a skit nonetheless. And the kicker, she will earn a hell of a lot more than I earn this year.

Slave Leia Appreciation Society
Bonniegrrl said the following on Twitter: "Slave Leia Appreciation Society on Flickr. You're welcome, boys (and girls!) - http://bit.ly/PAyy #starwars"



So I followed the link and saw a bunch of Princess Leahs. And I am sure that the picture above stimulated some men to think about some of these women kissing. Maybe not.

I was mildly disturbed by the use of slave in the Flickr group. Then I was concerned that

Top 10 YouTube Videos
I saw the top 10 YouTube videos. And the only one I have ever seen was the Girlfriend video by Avril Lavigne.

Onion Parody: Treasury Department Issues Recall of All US Dollars
I saw an Onion video on crappy YouTube videos, but it was not as silly/scary as the following one on the Department of the Treasury.

Happy Friday!

Haley's Heros

A long time ago, I would talk about YouTube videos. It was mildly entertaining for me, and boring as hell for everyone else. Sine I write this blog for myself, I was okay with that. Right now, I only really watch a few YouTube videos, unless someone mentions one in a blog or tweet.

The other day, I found a YouTuber (sounds like a vegetable) named Haley G Hoover. She is an 18-year-old high school senior who can write. Many of her videos are high school quality, with ideas that high schoolers have. There is a series of videos, however, that I found really entertaining:

Annoyances and Grammar Fairies (1-5)
More Annoyances (6-10)
Annoyances 11-15
Annoyances 16-20
Annoyances 21-25
Annoyances 26-30

There are a few others that are well-done. It is the writing script, more than anything, that makes her videos good.

She has a bunch of friends who also make videos. I think the common denominator is that they are all about the same age, they read Harry Potter, and they are part of the "in crowd" of YouTube. The rest of the group may be entertaining to teenagers, but they aren't as talented as she is.

I sort of paused, and nearly deleted this blog entry for a couple of reasons: (1) It is boring as hell; see above, and (2) Haley is popular. I have an aversion to anything popular.

I didn't really want to read the Harry Potter books originally because they were popular. Actually, when I read the first one, I thought to myself, "Why is this book so special?" JK Rowling, in my humble opinion, really developed as a writer before our eyes. The forth book was so much better than the first three. I mean, the first three books were good – they had a really good story. But the forth through seventh books - better literature.

And I have seen discussions about who was a better writer, JRR Tolkein or JK Rowling. I mean, I can understand the comparison: they both are known by letters (JK and JRR), not their first and middle names, they both are English, the both started a resurgence in a genre of literature. Lots of similarities. Tolkein was a professor at Oxford, an expert in language. He did real research, and he wrote some wonderful books. He even developed a few languages for his books. The difference I can see is that JK Rowling weaves good stories, but much of what she writes about is borrowed from other people's stories. Well, it doesn't really matter who is a more gifted author. Tolkein will probably never be as popular as Rowling; his work is a bit more work to read.

Now I am just rambling.

If you are inclined, view Haley. I think there is a bit of poetry in her words. I like how she constructs sentences, and how things relate. She had the heart of an author.

All Twittered Out

When I started on Twitter, I had a handful of friends, most of which I know from my blog. Either I knew they tweeted so I started following them, or they followed me which clued me into following them. That brought me up to seven or eight friends.

I also would follow a blogger a while back. She blogged, then she started creating YouTube videos. She was a stripper – er, exotic dancer. Her life was interesting. Ever since I was in college, I began to notice train wrecks; people whose lives seem more interesting than mine because of things they are trying to overcome. A friend-of-a-friend stripped her way through college. Well, that's not entirely accurate. She started stripping because she needed textbook money. And the money was crazy good. So she dropped classes to strip on more nights. Pretty soon she dropped out, was doing drugs, and I lost touch with her. She had some issues – an abusive step-father, and we sort of thought there was a sexual component to their relationship. Just guess work.

Anyway, this stripper reminds me of her, so I started following her and one of her friends.

Then I started adding famous people.

LeVar Burton
Mandy Moore
Ryan Adams
Jamie Candiloro

Okay, some are not that famous.

Then I thought, I am not sure I need LeVar Burton. I am not a rabid Star Trek fan (when I originally wrote this, I wrote "Star Wars"; talk about a non-fan), I just think he is cute. And then I thought should I twitforce (twit-divorce) him? But really, since I added him only a day ago when I was adding a bunch, is it a twitullmant (twit-annulment) because of the duration? Adding twit before another word is nearly as irritating as adding an "I" before a word. Oh, but I did add Wil Wheaton.

Melissa Gilbert
Kirsty Alley
Lucy Lawless
Lili Wilkinson

I have been reading the tweets of Melissa Gilbert. I knew she played Laura Engles on Little House on the Prarie, but I wanted to know a bit more about her, Here is what I found on Wikipedia: When she was 17, Melissa made the television version of the movie, Splendor in the Grass. She lost her virginity to her co-star Cyril O'Reilly on the last day of filming.⁵ And the footnote tells us that this fact was from E! Entertainment "Celebrity Profile:Melissa Gilbert," 1997.

John Green
Stephen Fry
Judith Orloff

Then there are the authors. That makes sense. They write books, songs, stories once phrase at a time. Typing 140 characters would be a bit of a joy. I have still not figured out twitter. But I have tweeted 50 or so times. So I have some experience tweeting. I still don't get it, but I participate in it when I am bored. Or when I want to eavesdrop on celebrities, or faux celebrities. If you are a regular reader and also tweet, let me know in the comments. I would love to eavesdrop on your tweets.

Things Left Unsaid

From what I can tell, Jasmine wrote something last year, an exercise to write down 10 things she wished she could say to people in her life. Lots of people started doing this, and I think Grant's post is the funniest (read: best). I have been toying with the idea of doing something similar – but the difference is that I don't want to say these things. Words can be powerful; they can hurt. And I just don't want to hurt people.

1. You treat your husband like shit; I'd trade husbands straight up.
2. I make fun you when you play the lottery, but when the jackpot gets high, I throw my money away, too.
3. Street vendor, when is the last time you washed your hands?
4. I can tell when you are lying to me. Don't you realize how transparent you are?
5. I want to go back to college.
6. I would like to spend two hours a night and just write for myself.
7. Just once, when I go to the gym, I would like to ditch the workout and catch a movie instead.
8. I bitch about my parents, but after hearing others stories, I really shouldn't complain.
9. I love your children, but they can be real brats sometimes.
10. I could tell you why you are wrong, but that would make me look like a bitch.

I really believe that certain things should remain unsaid.

Last Friday's Lunch

I almost did not tweet on this, and I really don't think writing a post about this will be good for me. You see, I don't want you to think I am a geek. Sure, I have learned a bit about HTML because I blog. But I am not a geek.

Big breath.

Friday at lunch, I saw Star Trek. I did not tell my boss, but I did say that the lunch might go a bit long. I did not particularly want to see Star Trek. I just wanted to rebel a bit, and sneaking out to a movie seemed like a rebellion that was not too terribly risky.

And you know, I did not really want to see the movie. I wanted to watch 17 Again, but amazingly, that movie is nearly done. At least, there was not a showing when I could take "lunch". But after watching it, I was glad I saw it (and probably not for the reasons you would guess).

But before we get into the movie, I want to talk about being bad. When I was in my twenties, I occasionally would leave work and watch movies. Well, I did this twice. I can't remember the movies, but I remember the feeling I had when watching them. I was scared that my boss would find out and fire me. So the entire time I was watching the movie, stealing time from my bosses, I could not enjoy myself.

Well, many years had gone by and I did not steal time from my bosses. I did not want to feel that way ever again, but something reminded me about the experience the other day. And I wondered if I had changed. Having worked for years, I thought perhaps my mindset, my person changed. And I had to know.

Back to the movie. I have not seen a Star Trek movie before, and from what I have read, the only good Star Trek movie is possibly The Wrath of Khan. I don't know if that is true or not, because I don't really care about Star Trek. I can't get through an original episode without yawning, and some of the spin-offs have me confused (Deep Space Nine). I loved "Next Generation", but I had a thing for the captain, the android and the guy with the visor. Plus the episodes were entertaining.

I watched the new Star Trek movie, and I enjoyed myself, but not because of the movie. I liked hearing the audience's reaction to the movie. One of the characters would say something, and then I would hear a geeky gasp, or a clap, or some other reaction. I sat next to a couple (the theater was packed), and the woman made noises that were darned near orgasm noises at one point in the movie.

Me, I had no connection with any of the characters. I mean, one of the characters I recognized as the "In Search Of" narrator – the old Spock character. But I did not see the Price Line guy in the movie, even though there were plenty of aliens he could have bedded.

The reviews of the movie were very positive, and if I was watching the movie without an audience, I might have left. It did little for me. Well, I wonder if I still have that part of me who does not want to get caught taking in a movie during work hours. Could be. I enjoyed myself, mostly because of how Trekkies reacted to the movie. Or is that Trekkers? Some people take Star Trek way too seriously – you will recognize them because they have schematics of the different ships in their rooms, presumably near a package of condoms whose expiration date is was in the last decade. And they can probably tell you the star date for the expiration date as well.

I am working on a new theory about the woman who was making orgasm sounds. Hmmmmm.

Random Friday #36

Texts from Last Night
Delightfully Inappropriate mentioned Texts from Last Night, a site where people can post their drunk while texting texts. The funniest I saw was this text message: "I need to shower the guilt off of my thighs." A funny diversion for when you want to waste time on the Internet. I mean, besides wasting time on reading my stuff.

J-bunnies and Images
I laughed at a bunny quote on Grant's site, was going to share something j-bunny related, but then read Jay's comment and I was a tad disturbed. In Jay's comment, he saw the picture of a hot j-bunny, presumably became aroused, and then thought of Grant? Something is off here. I can't quite place my finger on what is off, but something is off.

Oh, J-Bunny-related thought is back in my head (J-bunny plus something being off). I was at the Jacksonville Zoo (nearest zoo to me is in FL, not GA), I saw a hot Asian couple - looked very European in their dress and both were so attractive. And then she speaks with a completely Georgia accent. My fantasy of sharing her with her husband completely vanished at that point. It was like watching a low-budget movie, shot in Asia, and then dubbed in the US by b-movie-type Atlanta talent.

I don't know why I expected some Asian-type accent, but I did. I felt a bit lookist, a bit racist at the assumption, and it ruined the zoo for me. By talking about j-bunnies, I guess I could grace this post with a gratuitous picture of a j-bunny, but I am a bit lazy today. Head over to Grant's site if you want to see a j-bunny (or read really funny blog entries).

Not Leaving Comments
I read a blog the other day that said, "… the stupid internet was down all damn day." I was about to leave a smart-arse comment (that is a smart ass comment with words spelled with additional us, like colour) about the Internet not really being down all day (there would be a big article in the print media about it, probably suggesting you keep getting your paper the next time the Internet is down). The person's internet connection was down. I did not make the comment because: (1) I did not want to appear like a smart-arse, and (2) I did not want to leave incriminating evidence that I read her blog. For heaven's sake, she wrote the phrase, "poop ear." Reading her was really grating on me.

Perez Hilton
Perez Hilton is a minor celebrity. There was something Miss-America-related in the news, and he was in the middle of it. He got all sorts of press for making a dumb girl look dumb. I know some people will say it was the answer she gave, but because she was thrown and paused and such, I think it was how she answered the question that was off. I thought all of the answers to the Miss America pageant involved world peace in some way or another. If she would have said, "I am in favor of world peace," and did not even talk about marriage in her answer, she would be Miss America. Of course, no one would know who she is. Now, she is second place and can probably broker a career in the public eye. And we still are saying she lost. Hmmmmm.

Things Left Unsaid
From what I can tell, Jasmine wrote something last year, an exercise to write down 10 things she wished she could say to people in her life. Lots of people started doing this, and I think Grant's post is the funniest (read: best). I have been toying with the idea of doing something similar – but the difference is that I don't want to say these things. Words can be powerful; they can hurt. And I just don't want to hurt people.

Well, this has been a long week. I think a bath is in my future.