Almost as smart as some douchebag Wal-Mart employee circa 1996.

So I'm a clean freak about bathrooms. I mean I let the bathroom get pretty filthy, but when I clean it I clean the holy shit out of it, and I clean the tub last because then I can just do it while I'm in the shower and when I finish bathing the whole bathroom's clean.

I'm pretty sure this makes me a cleaning freak rather than a clean freak but whatever.

So the shower curtain has gotten so gross that although I'm pretty sure it used to be clear I couldn't swear to it, so I put vinegar in a spray bottle and took it in the shower with me. It didn't work, of course, so I added dish soap to the mix. (And at this point I wondered if maybe it wasn't too smart. Like the kid that Babbles worked with who mixed bleach and ammonia to clean the floor and inadvertently made mustard gas.)

But it fucking worked like a charm. Cleaned that scum right up. And I had the entire thing sparkling clean before I realized that the floor of the tub had gotten really slick. Like, REALLY slick. And so had all the other surfaces I guess, because shampoo bottles started falling off of the ledge and onto my toes. Turns out the vinegarsoap had turned the scum into a sort of slick chemical sludge that sticks to any surface it splashes onto.

So I'm naked, feet sliding around in gray goo, creeped out because the shower curtain is so clean that I can now see my neighbor's house through the open bathroom door and dining room window, cursing my battered toes, reeking of vinegar, and I realize that maybe I'm not the total badass I sort of suspected I was.

(sigh.)

Anyway, it's clean now. Whatever.

I'd rather be doing anything than my paper(s)

hence the influx of (bad) posts by moi.


GET THAT MOTHERFUCKING SNAKE OFF THIS MOTHERFUCKING BABY!!

seriously, though, cheapest nanny ever.




my favorite part is that the parents (or best older siblings ever, seriously don't tell mom and dad what they did) who filmed it can afford a video camera, but can't afford baby pants.

Spring Homework Death Camp

I'm chained to my desk until I can fill up 35-40 pages of drivel for my classes next week. But no worries, for those of you who'd like to know what it's like, now you can play along at home!

Just hit play on my youtube playlist, which is what I'm listening to, and imagine yourself in great misery. Now we're twinsies!!

Cleaning out my spam email...

... means deleting such gems as

Dunkelburg (swear to god)---------gun her good gun her well

Coy Osborn -------------Ice cheep replica watches

Solomon Rich -------------Enlarge your machine size

Estela Bruno --------------Enlarge your instrument length

Mabel Poe --------------Enlarge your arm length

Brock Mayfield ------------ No test, No class, buy yourself bacheelor degree

Komi Sarkenko -------------The giant rose from my boxers

Cristal --------------- Blow her away with this (I opened it hoping to see
a gun, no dice)

wsmmrii ----------------why won't you answer my calls?



I'm impressed with the names; they're fantastic. Now if only my inbox were as interesting.

Shikari

so there's a road I am forced to take every morning when I drop my daughter off at preschool - everyone driving in has to share the same piece of road with the folks leaving. And normally I don't care . . . whatever, we're all jockeying for the same space, so we're all gonna have to wait at some point in time.
Today, however, there was some big fucking hold up, a hitch in the get-a-long (as they say in SD).
Some big white semi-looking truck is backing up, by which I mean remaining stationary in the middle of the road, holding up traffic going in and going out. At first I was upset. (I'm not above a little road rage in the morning)
But then I see the guy in the front, directing the truck backing up. He's got jeans and desert boots on, like your average construction "dude", but he's got some suspenders holding up his Lee jeans, and as he only weighs a buck ten, they look a little silly.
But not as silly as the pith helmet he's got on his head. That's right, a khaki, canvas-covered pith helmet. This guy doesn't give a shit if he's holding up a couple of station wagons and SUV's - he's on fucking Safari.

Curious to see if this was the fashion come-back of the year (urban sombrero anyone?) I did a little googling, and came across this guy. Creepy looking AND willing, wanting, waiting to tell you all about something you couldn't care less about. He even has business cards.

All I know is that traffic never does what I tell it to, and I have no business cards.
Perhaps my lack of pith helmet is to blame.

The way things were

I've never been one to seek out an episode of South Park, but if one's on I don't run the other way either. Because, let's face it, the show is funny and has been for a long time--a rare accomplishment.

I'm certainly not in love with the show. Mr. Hankey was stupid. Towelie is boring. And if I hear another fucking musical number . . . Hackneyed much?

But I have liked this season's treatment of two of the most painful cinematic experiences of my young life.

I was a little heartened when a friend of mine said he didn't recognize Cartman's turn as Jaime Escalante/Edward James Olmos in a recent episode. I was just happy that my friend had been spared, unlike the schoolchildren of USD 489, repeated viewings of that Stand and Deliver movie.

Our teachers and administrators probably thought that because we had a diverse school population and were pretty crappy students districtwide, that this movie would really inspire us. The thing is, I've known many teachers--worked closely with them, lived with them, spoken to them outside of the classroom--and they actually believe stuff like that works. The punchline of course, is that from 3rd grade on, if a movie was playing in school it was Stand and Deliver, Johnny.

In another episode Cartman and Kyle contract HIV and Cartman gets all Ryan White on us.

I only watched the made for tv Ryan White Story once. When I was in fourth grade. And it terrified me.

I wasn't scared of AIDS or anything. This movie kind of with my head because it opened up a whole new world of ways adults could to be unrelentingly stupid, mean, and annoying. To a child who already believed the world was a dark, forbidding, and irritating place to begin with, a movie about a kid who gets AIDS from his medicine and then gets treated like garbage until he dies was just too beyond the pale.

Around this time I also became obsessed with Mississippi Burning. I think I just had a real hard kink for people causing other people unspeakable misery.

And speaking of misery. Here's a clip.

Coming Soon: Movie Review

Caddyshack

fucking sucks.

I'll edit this post into a longer review if I can get through an entire screening without falling asleep (hopefully third time's the charm).

SoDak Rulz

I don't know how ya'll do it 'round these parts, but here's a little story of some legislation done in the LoDak style:

A House Concurrent Resolution was submitted in February 2008 to give one Martha Smith, an 80 year old woman, the hide of a mountain lion she recently killed from her back porch. You see, she came outside to find her dog in a standoff with the catamount, called 911 to deal with the problem, but upon being told that a "conservation officer" was not available currently, she grabbed her .22 caliber rifle and "taking steady aim" killed the cat.
When asked why she kept a loaded gun in the house she responded, "What good's a gun if it's not loaded?"

The legislature wants to give her the hide "to enjoy for a while" before donating it to a local museum, because she has "the spirit of the pioneers who tamed this prairie wilderness" and is someone who "will rise up and do what needs to be done."

to which locals have responded with mixed results:

-- "Good on you South Dakota!"

-- " May I remind you that Bill Janklow (ex-governor) has killed more people (drunk driving) than Mountain Lions."

--"The legislature must have decided that the Mountain Lion was Pro-Choice, somehow."

I take issue that I had to learn about this on my own time, and was never introduced to this kind of lawmaking in Lawst School.

Now all we need is a name.

I'm joining a band. A REAL band. At least, I think that's what will happen if I call this bradsterd.

But seriously, who has some drums they want to get rid of? I have an attic that's either going to be Moronica's future bedroom or my drum rock-the-fuck-out room so I'm going to need some drums ASAP. And when I get good we can all start a band. I mean if time and motivation and proximity to one another aren't issues.

Those bastards at the cable company...

...took away my cable this afternoon. Apparently they did an audit of what customers where paying, and compared it with what services customers were receiving. Fucking assholes.

Life no longer has meaning.

"life drawing" party. my house. this weekend.

I always find the best stuff in the "Artists" community on Craigslist. This gentleman is offering up his services, and although he's not as eloquent (or as saucy) as this guy, he IS willing to get naked and that is something:

Model for Hire * Modeling (Kansas City)

To be fair, the other guy might have gotten naked too, probably without approval, but I imagine it being more of the scrawny, furiously-masturbating kind of naked rather than the dopey furry half-blind naked that this guy is proposing. And does he kind of look familiar to anyone else?

A few things

Last weekend I reformatted my computer back to factory settings; while I was deleting all the stupid programs Dell pre-installs, I accidentally removed Wordperfect, my word processing program.

So now I have to type up my research papers using Final Draft Pro. Which is fine, except now my thesis reads like a Quentin Tarintino knock-off.

And, at school (where I'm currently at), it's tour week for next year's class.

I'm not sure what's worse, hearing my stupid classmates trying to explain how the school works, or hearing the stupid questions the new fuckfaces ask. I'd type out some examples, but then I'd get all riled up and ruin my day.

Also, if I hear one more person tell me how much better a.v.e.'s blog is than this I'm gonna... I don't know, probably just call moronica and bitch about it.

whatever.

Plus it's always easy to find hookers and drugs.

Today I found myself standing in a parking lot with a half dozen half-tards and miscreants, freezing, wet, hands numb, ass numb, halfheartedly making small talk when one of them says,

"Why the hell do you work in that dump?" When I just stare at him he says, "I mean in that fucking shithole slum. Oh, you live there too? What for?! Just a bunch of thugs."

OK, I'm not sure if it's agoraphobia or racism or the fact that that local news reports almost exclusively on the crime that occurs in poor/black/inner-city neighborhoods, but I get a lot of this and it really pisses me off. I love my neighborhood. It's diverse, it's close to a lot of really great restaurants and museums and cool eclectic houses and businesses and everything's open late. The people here look out for each other in a way unlike any other place I've ever lived, and they're fiercely proud of their neighborhoods. And it's NOT a slum, goddamnit.

Although, I just remembered that when Bars and Babbles stayed here one time we all woke up in the middle of the night because there were like 15 or 16 gunshots REALLY close. So maybe my point is invalid. Speaking of invalid - Babbles and Gal, have you guys seen the new courtroom-format Lewis Black show on Comedy Central? It has sort-of-funny assholes pretending to be lollers. Much like this blog.

Anyway, I was tired and cranky and I had cold wet feet inside my boots, but I swallowed my pride and told the guy that I didn't blame him for feeling that way because old white guys from the suburbs always get a little antsy in the city.

He was unimpressed with my magnanimity.

A special post for a special commenter!

So I lifted LOLLost from Jezebel's website. Blarging is hard, and much like Myrtle's vagina I can't always find fresh new filler. (Yeah!) Here's the fruit of a couple minutes of my hard labor in lieu of an apology.

Things I don't like (that aren't commenters)

I don't know if you people have much to do with libraries but I, in a shamefully cliched way, spend a lot of time in them. I go there for fun. I go there to work. I sulk there and socialize there and I occasionally drink there.

I mean. I drink there often. But sometimes I go there for that purpose--to sip away my drinking hours that would otherwise be sipped away at a bar or with friends.

Guess what I don't do? Sleep there.

I can't fucking stand people who sleep in the library. I'm not talking about the crashed-out, head on book, drool on page, hand still on crappy cup of coffee 'cause I've been working on this fucking paper for three days straight instead of all semester like I was supposed to kind of library sleeper. I'm talking about the people who just flop out for a good nap in the middle of library primetime.

Is there anything more inelegant? More uncouth? Just plain grosser than these hideous hideous people.

Now look. I'm the last person who would ever accuse me of couthness or elegance. This afternoon I was trying to remember if it was early January or late January the last time I washed my one pair of jeans that I wear everyday (and after a while, I kind of felt like it didn't matter because fuck if I'm going to wash them today, ya know?)

But something about these library sleepers gets on my fightin side. I'm not sure what it is and I don't care. I just don't like it.

Actually. I might be projecting some of my feelings about sleep onto them. Don't get me wrong. I still totally hate these people. But it would be dishonest not to admit that I have some hangups about sleep. But hangups--somnial and otherwise--are for another post.

You asked for it, Anonymous.

Motherfucking LOLLost! I mean you didn't ask for THIS because no one would ask for this, but this is what you get. Read (can you even call it reading?) 'em and weep.






...

Oh, there's more.























And now I'm going to resume drinking/procrastinating.