take your dirty hands off my umthondo wisizwe

One day, when I'm bored, unemployed, and looking for a frustrating time, I'll actually agree to jury duty. But until then, Dear County, I'm dodging the draft like it's Vietnam, part 2. Nyah, you'll never catch me alive, see?

Moving on, this was the AMAZING dessert wine I found for Turkey-killin Day. Wine-poached pears? Major hit. And I dislike most wine, and red far more than white, but this even smelled delightful and fruity straight from the bottle. If I actually liked wine, I'd drink it straight, but for now I'll have to settle for cooking with it and having a house that smells like yum.  Amazing. Do recommend. (less than $20/bottle)

In more lately happenings, I broke my contacts Thursday, so now my daily commute looks like this.

But the South African rap i've been listening to makes it allll better. ..in a "wierd, slightly white-trashy but with amazing lyrics/delivery that really grow on you" kind of way. Probably more appealing if you can translate Afrikaans, though. Bonus points if you recognize what (entertaining and also highly recommended) movie they're referencing in the video.

Seven of STD

i joined twitter.

it's like VOLUNTARILY becoming one of the borg.

No, no.  That's wrong.

What it's like, is this. It's like sleeping with someone you're only within twenty feet of because of some pretty serious beer-goggles, but you realize it at the time, and do it anyway. You KNOW it's sleazy and wrong, but you just can't help yourself.

The next three weeks

I am balls-deep in papers. 3 weeks left of classes. 4 exams left. 3 papers left. 2 presentations. 1 peer-workshop. And a partridge on a merry fecking pear tree.

  • Just finished one paper about fairytales being Teh Evil in regards to female gender roles and acculturation.
  •  Now I'm writing one about the business psychology of an ingenious online shoe retailer. Boring? Ha. The dude is 36 now and has sold two businesses (the first when he was 24 to Microsoft, the second at 34 to Amazon) for a total of 1.5 billion. With a B. ...Yeah. Fuck him. >.>
  • After that, there'll be one involving LOTR and..something. I'm still working that one out.
  • But after that paper! Yes! No! Still another paper! Something about films depicting Bobby Sands and the 1981 IRA hungerstrike. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. Hopefully. I'm having trouble getting my hands on a certain film I need to watch and analyze if I want to do the topic I have in mind, and for once, the internet gods are not providing.
Now, on to non-sequiter-y things.

I started this blog when I was half-bedridden and had nothing creative to do. Now I'm back in Uni and mentally exhausted once more. It's nice to stretch the old brain again. I'd forgotten how smart I used to be, once.
Anyway, I don't need an outlet anymore, and I just don't have time to write creatively even if I felt the need. I feel like the best three or four things I wrote on the site were all within the first six months. I've worked a few things out, had my own little therapy sessions via blog, , but ultimately, I'm just way too lazy to update this thing with the kind of *actual* writing I intended. I have a folder of several half-started short fiction pieces that will never be finished. If I don't write something start-to-finish in one go, the muse flips me the bird and drives off.

Sometimes I've wanted to review things here, mainly books, movies, and audiobooks, as they're the only products I consume on a regular basis. But I know who all three of my readers are, and none of you actually share my tastes in these matters, for the most part. So what's the point?

I've considered discussing current events, but the only news that incites me to write is the depressing, frustrating, ragebeast kind of news. And I would rather not fill this space with nothing but negativity. Not to mention it gets me all worked up (in a bad way, perv) to write about the stupidity of the world around me. And there's no shortage of people writing about it anyway.

I recently re-read the list of rules I'd typed up three years ago for a friend's online forum..  Yeah, they were rules, but they were brilliant. I was funny. Really funny, actually. Now? I don't know. I don't feel funny, I feel older. Less joie de vivre. "I could try to be funny.. but fuck it" kinda attitude. And I didn't have to try before...much.

This isn't a cry for help, I'm not complaining. I'm just re-evaluating the reasons why I started this in the first place. And I'm not sure there's enough justification to continue taking up this room in the cloud. But besides that... I'm a busy heffer these days, and this place just isn't a priority. So.. long story short.. I give you permission to stop checking here. I'm not sure I have anything to say.

They keep asking, "But why Ireland?"

Because I'm still a twelve-year old girl reading fantasy books long after I should be asleep, and I miss having this across the street from my* apartment. (The apartment's his, and he's mine, so that makes it my apartment, right? Right?)

And because duhhh, if I just wait long enough the unicorn will totally appear sooner or later. And dragons, because anywhere that looks like that definitely has dragons, too. And I was there. And it was magical. And I want back in, dammit. So stop asking why. It's because IRELAND IS WHERE THEY KEEP THE DRAGONS. Obviously.

interpretive dance


I'll type them here.

You'll pretend they're intelligent and witty. 



But umm, not today, okay? 
So instead, we shall communicate through interpretive dance!

The furball.

Kitchen boredom.

And watching leaves die.

Not interpretive dance, you say? Well I say you're not trying hard enough. Pfft.


brung low by a woman

Earlier today I learned that beyond a shadow of a doubt I am a "supertaster", aka. a person with a lot more tastebuds than the average human. Most supertasters are more sensitive to sweet, salty, bitter, and sour flavours than everyone else, but for me it seems to be just the last two that often overwhelm me while my dining companions make googly eyes at my scrunched face and desperate dive towards the nearest glass of water.

A few hours ago, my decent meal at a mediocre yet overpriced Italian place was ruined by the inclusion of rapini, aka. broccoli rabe, or you know, "bitter broccoli", even though it's not actually broccoli at all. Now, I don't even like broccoli as it is, but shove the word bitter in front of it and I should have known to stay away, right? Right. Only I didn't learn that particularly charming nickname for the green until after my traumatizing meal.

Anyway, as there's no way for me to accurately describe the horrors of having my entire mouth die, I'll cut this long, boring story short :  OH MY GOD WAS THAT THE BITTEREST THING EVER OR WAS THAT THE BITTEREST THING EVER.


Defeated by a vegetable. that's me.


Today my boyfriend touched Bill Clinton's butt.

I have never been more proud in my life.


That is all.

Carry on.

duffman...can't breathe...oh no

sorry, can't talk, too busy making love to the kindle with my eyes.
For someone who has been a hardcore audiobook-ophile for the past five years or so, I have now fallen firmly back in love with reading with my eyes instead of my ears. However, nothing makes doing massive piles of dishes bearable like listening to a great book or podcast while you're up to your elbow in suds. Works for other cleaning, too. Try it, you filthy filthy beast. You know you want to. Oh yeahhh. Giggity.

Downside? I was up to 5am reading last night because the author I'd just found was simply TOO GOOD to put down. (Patricia Briggs. more fantasy than sci-fi, but motherfluffin awesome reads. Read her. READ HER. The Terminator tells you to dooo it, do it nao. ) Somehow, I have a lot more self-control with audiobooks. Yesterday? There was no self-control. Nope, none. Yesterday was reading. Today was napping. Tomorrow will be desperate scrambling to catch up on all the coursework I needed to have gone over today instead of napping. Ahh, reading made me its bitch last night, and I know I shouldn't, but I think I liked it. Kinda.  Except for all the lack of sleep.

Anyway, Patricia Briggs.  DO IT.

in which we live up to our origins

I ordered a Kindle.
Didn't really need one, didn't really want one as it's nice but too much of a niche device for my liking, but e-books are loads cheaper and a lot easier to haul around than all the various novels I'll be covering in the lit class I'm taking this semester. And it'll pay for itself from all the moolah i'll be saving by not buying printed versions. The numbers, I crunched them.


I ordered one.
And so did everyone else, because apparently the Kindle 3 is so much better than the previous versions.
Which I did not know when I clicked "order."

So they're backordered.
Out of stock.
You know, the "for the next several weeks" kind of out-of-stock.
And now, somehow, I am unfeasibly impatient for something I wasn't crazy about in the first place.
But now that I'm getting one, I want it.

Like, yesterday.




I'm a tetch impatient today.
Can you tell?
I bet you couldn't!


magnetized for maximum attraction!

There is something about me that draws the attentions and affections of emo men. And I swear, none of them started out that way when I develop these relationships, and I'm pretty sure I'm not at least the *main* reason why they go all emotionally whiney. I'm not even a minor reason -for the most part. But they all go whiney-emo on me well after we've broken up. If this is what comes from remaining friends/friendly/on good terms with your ex-s, then I might have to reconsider some decisions I've made in my life about being a mature adult. Because seriously? This emo ex-boyfriend stuff is really wearing me down. And since my life is actually in a pretty good place right now, it's also really.... what's a non-70s stoner expression for "harshing my buzz"? Bumming me out? No, that's not much better. Killjoy? Dampening my spirit? No, what they're doing is worse. They're doing the emotional equivalent of popping a squat over my parade.

And I'm not having it.

First there was G, who was always a bit of a brooding-intellectual type when I met him, granted, but now whenever we speak, it's always negative, and often not really intellectual at all. No, where there is ridiculous levels of emo-ness, intellect cannot survive.

The opening of every conversation we've had over the past year and a half has been him harshly chastizing me for not answering his calls. He then proceeds to spend the next hour on the phone making me feel guilty, being intensely negative and/or depressing, and wanting to pick apart the minute details of various dreary and negatively nostalgic topics such as why we never worked out as a couple, why I don't open up to him more, and why he was such a terrible person to me and to a lesser extent, everyone else. Oh, and there was a series of really angry, bitter texts somewhere along the way as well.

Yeah, dude, maybe if you made our conversations less of a to-be-avoided-at-all-costs emo-whinefest, I'd answer the phone every once in a while, mmkay? But actually, he's not my main concern anymore, because I moved on with my life and now he's not speaking to me at all.  Score? I'm not sure. But at least I don't have the aggravation of someone trying to make me feel guilty for finally refusing to help shoulder the weight of his own emotional burdens. 

But now there's T, who's currently the first of my long-time friends to be getting divorced, an especially high honor considering 99% of them aren't married yet. He got married despite her family, his family, and most of their friends knowing (and many even vocally stating) that the marriage was a bad idea. But hey, what do we know? It probably made them feel all the more like star-crossed lovers, destined to be together despite all impediments. Except that didn't really work out for Romeo and Juliet or for T and his high-maintenance bride. Or for any star-crossed lovers, really, now that I think about it. Damn those stars, they have too much time on their hands.

 Anyway, apparently, I was one of the only people to put deep personal reservations aside and simply wish him well instead of trying to convince him to wait or talk him out of it. And for that bit of Being a Good Friend 101, now he feels I'm the only person he can talk to about the collapse of said relationship. And now he calls frequently when he's in the area, voice heavy with emo tears, deep, drawn-out sighs, and melancholy "oh nothing"s when I ask what's wrong.

Last time he was in town, he even saw fit to blame me for his divorce, because "if we were still I wouldn't be getting a divorce." Hahaha. Haha. Ha. Ha. No, if we were still together it would mean a freak-accident had at some point rendered me braindead. Because really? He really is a great guy, but we were -and now are even more- completely, totally wrong for each other. Only, he doesn't see it that way. But at least he knows I'm happily involved and is in too much pain (and hopefully has too much sense) to try to go back almost ten years in time to try to rekindle a fire loooong burned out.

But still. What's with all the guilt being thrown my way? For the first time, in certain respects, I'm happier than I ever thought I'd be, and all of a sudden everyone decides a happy person is the perfect target for their emo-unburdening? Maybe they think someone with extra happy can handle some of their excess sad? I don't get it. And now that T is back in the area, the latest round of calls has already begun. Today's call count? Four. Three of which went unanswered because I may be stupid for putting up with all this, but I'm not THAT stupid.

lag of the avation kind

yes. I'm back in the states, whether I want to be or not, so for the sake of america's feelings, let's assume I want to be. And ye gods, I'd happily forgotten that such a thing as "humidity" existed, and we're not willingly reunited.Speaking of being reunited... I miss him already. :(
And also, the significantly superior weather in dublin.

 But especially him.

proposition h8

I was ashamed to live in a country where a state (a community, a people, a federation)  that cries "equality!" as much as California does could pass it in the first place.

Now, I'm just ashamed to live in a country that took over two years to figure out it was unconstitutional in the first place.

Just because *I* think it's more moral to figure out a moral code for yourself (rationally, as a person who can understand concepts of justice, inequality, harm, protection, differing opinions, hypocrisy,  etc)  instead of parroting whatever outdated and manipulated religious cannon you were taught when you were three doesn't mean I have the right to force my ideas into law, to be inflicted upon everyone else, whether they agree or not.

But if this country ever bans run-on sentences, I'm really gonna have to put my foot down.

shortly blatherings

Still recuperating from an intense week in Froonce. Pics to come soon, hopefully tomorrow, if we don't go to the Dublin Zoo. Possibly after, if I feel up to it and the Boy isn't giving me puppydog eyes (subconsciously) to get into the kitchen (where a good woman belongs anyway) and feed him.

Oh, and today I finally won the insanely silly debate we've been having for months as to whether or not spaghetti is a type of noodle or a type of pasta.

Answer, obviously, is that it's both. Duhh.
Silly boy. Good thing he has me to edumacate him about these things.
On the other hand, he can speak french.

So I guess we're even, him with his growing-up-learning french and vacationing in Basque country, and me with my knowledge of flour and water.
Yeah, totally even.

Or not.

But at least I got to go there. ^^

Which doesn't make us even, but it means I'm catching up. ^_^

you dont tan...

like you tan in the south of France.

Although tanning just across the border on a Spanish beach was almost as nice.

Also, mmmm cheese. And baguettes. Mmmmmmmm.

Did I mention I'm in the south of France?

Why can't you tell? I'm wearing all black and smoking a cigarette while looking effortlessly chic.

Mmkay, all that was a lie.

Except for the part about being in France.

That's just the part you wish was a lie.



amidst the silver lining

In the battle for his love, I am the uncontested winner.

In the battle for his attention, no amount of glances -coy or pleading-, cajoling, wheedling, bargaining, promising, or begging can pry him from the arms of his other lover.

I've told him we should get a pool boy.
Or a tennis pro.
Or a milkman.

Or at least a dog, because I've heard they're good attention-givers.

We'll see.


things that have been distracting me lately:

hellooooo lover. my phototechnolust has been satisfied, and how. 

And then, there was this thing that happened in Newark:

and then, seven miserable hours later, this happened:

and whoops, I've somehow found myself in Dublin for the next three months.

With my sexy new toy.

And my sexy not-so-new toy.

And for now, I'll be posting about my travels on a different, parent-safe blog:

and uploading my photos to flickr:

I hope you'll come visit. <3

WalMart. Yeahhhhh.

Oh. Ye. Gods.

My local WalMart just reached Jerry Springer levels of trash. So, my mother, two other women, and I were all standing in the card aisle, discussing racism, religion, making art from unintentionally artful items, and just generally being the classiest haphazard discussion-group ever to grace the aisles of any Wal-Mart, ever, when we hear the sound of a lot of things falling off shelves all at once in the aisle directly behind us. At first, we thought a shelf or two had crashed to the floor- it was that loud a commotion. But alas, such a simple, innocent cause to the disruption was not to be.

Women- girls, really- were wrecking the store in one loud, angry, massive brawl mere feet from us. Employees rushed to the scene from all areas of the store, which only confused things more as the catty wenches having the fight were ...employeees. Wait, what? Yeahhh.

To be fair, only one was on-shift and in uniform at the time. The other was wearing street clothes, having come into the store on her time off, which somehow makes the whole thing that much sadder. And then it all reached a whole new level of pitifulness once I caught a glimpse of the guy who was apparently the object of mutual wench-affection. Seriously? You'd like to get fired over him? To each their own, I guess, but I've never seen the point of fighting over a significant other. If they're genuinely devoted to being with you, they will tell other people to back off. And if they're not saying that, then you really need to question why not. And I do mean seriously evaluate why this person you're with isn't making it clear to other suitors that they're unavailable. In most cases, it's because they don't really consider themselves unavailable. But enough preachiness, we already know I have very clear ideas about cheating and whatnot.

Yeah. Anyway.

The phrase "stereotypical black people" doesn't even BEGIN to describe this festering armpit of a town. It's sort of hard to get mad at people who stereotype black people when I live in an area where each and every one of those stereotypes is alive and well. Thriving, in fact.

But you know, at least there weren't bits of ripped-out dollarstore weave strewn around the place by the end of the melee, unlike on my first day of high school. Yeahhhh.

Bad Website Design 101, class 1

Things to do if you want your website to piss off as many people as possible:

1. Autoplay sound.
And then, to add insult to ear-injury, embed the player controls at the bottom of your webpage, so that after my eardrums have been decimated by your unexpected aural fuckery, I have to scroll for half of forever to turn off the noise you're inflicting upon me without my consent.

2. @#$%^&*ing autoplay sound.
Seriously, I cannot express how badly this infuriates me. Ugh. Sidenote: Auto-playing video isn't nearly so bad because A. it tends to be at the top of the page and thus easily findable and turn-off-able, and B. the volume for video tends not to be about a hundred decibles too loud compared to whatever else you're listening to. And C. when you've opened 10 tabs at once, and all of a sudden your speakers are blaring, it's a thousand times easier to find the source. ) So, in conclusion. any sound on your webpage that I, the websurfer, don't specifically choose to listen to- is BAD.

3. Have just about everything on your website that an average visitor would want to use/explore require a popup window to run.
Because you think that clearly I don't use Java and Flash enough or have enough windows open already, and my screen isn't nearly cluttered enough for my own good. Why thank you for your concern, now go away. I'm looking at you, recent futile attempts at countertop shopping on DuPoint's convoluted website.

4. Too busy webpages, bad text, overcrowded and unfocused layots. 
Seriously? Is this honestly still happening in 2010? There are so many great free design options for every type of website these days that your ugly monstrosity has no excuse. Also, this might seem revolutionary, but figure out where you want people to look, and have everything else not fight for attention. Oh, and please, for the love of [insert deity here], get a text color and a background that are actually pleasing to the eyes. CONTRAST IS GOOD, MMKAY?

Tangent:-My mother's co-worker runs a neighborhood watch website for our area that's so hideous it honestly makes me feel a little queasy to look at it. Blue Screen of Death-coloured background with black text that's too low in contrast for eyes to focus on properly, bright, unreadably-yellow links scattered everywhere like projectile vomit, and every place you look, the text is a different font and size. Truly, I have seen the dregs of the interwebs, and it looked like that site. Which I'm emphatically NOT going to link, because as much as I'd like you to see it and agree/laugh/gag with me, I'd rather not be responsible for anyone else's fried retinas.  You're welcome.

5. Abuse of Flash.
It's pretty and shiny, but it's also a resource-hog and pretty damn unstable. So only use it when it's really necessary to get the look you want, and even then, it'd be nice if you offered an HTML-only alternative. Although, I suspect that with the bajillions of iTards flocking to browse the internet through their iPhones and iSanitaryPads, (which at least know better than to support flash with their simplified OS), more and more sites are going to have to choose between flashy flash and reaching a bigger audience. And since you only exist on the internet according to your number of pageviews... we'll see how long Adobe can keep Flash relevant without giving it a major, top to bottom overhaul.

6. Something that I forgot.
So more later, in Class 2, once I've accumulated more annoying things to rant about. Next time I might actually include links! So you, too, can join me in my perpetually annoyed state of being. Wooo. I can tell from the state of your pants that you're just as excited as I am.

i had to go back and give this a title because it was messing up the boyfriend's RSS feed. So: Title!

What I've been (cooking) and eating lately: 

Annnnd what everyone else in my house has been eating:

Their loss. ^_~

Also, I've been
A. in a wierd, antisocial funk lately
B. having trouble with blogger, which seems to be fixed now.
C. utterly failing to work out. even a little.
D. busy failing to find a job, and building a photo-blog, of sorts.
E. just not in a mood to write, read, or be read. meh, it happens. I tend to wander away from everything I've started, periodically. I need to. Otherwise I just end up never going back at all. So, it's not you, it's me. I just need some space to re-evaulate my feelings blah blah yadda yadda I'm just too lazy and can't be arsed.

And now that that's over, let's all have a nap.

false accusations

first there is the blind-sided shock at the surrealness of it all.

and when that wears off, then comes the anger.

Whooooosh! Crackle crackle.

That is the sound of nine years of friendship crumbling around me.

You know, I fuck up relationships with people all the time. I'm good at it. Maintaining friendships? Not so good. But at least when I kill a friendship, it's because I did something stupid. Or chronically bad. Or something. But at least *I* did it.  And not because my friend's mother discovers she's missing a piece of jewelry. and because I was last in her house months ago, I must have taken it. And then she shows up at my door. And starts yelling.

Obviously, I don't expect my friend to defend me against his mother. Friends are nice, but parents are ..you know, parents. I did expect him to know or at least presume I was innocent, of course. So when he told me he "didn't know what to think" about the situation, it was like a second blow. My heart broke a little, then.

I don't blame him. I can't blame him. Family is family, after all. And his mother's ring is still missing, as far as I know. I hope she finds it tomorrow. But even if she does, I don't think things will be the same.


"Just being boys" or simply assholes? Someone asplain me the difference.

When there's a rift between a guy's girlfriend and his best friends, Bad Things happen. And besides that, it's just so pathetically cliche. So it's a situation I try desperately to avoid- for my sanity, for his, for the sake of the relationships all around, and because coming between other people is something I never want to do, regardless of who's involved. (Unless it's an orgy. But that's a whole different type of coming between people.)

Anyway, in Serious Relationship #1, I never met his friends because we lived in different areas, and we almost always interacted in my town, not his. So that worked out. Sort of. In SR #2, we generally had the same friends, and it worked out even better.  In SR #3, he's many miles away across the pond, and his friends (who are also his roommates) are people I never see, but who affect me nonetheless.

I've been fighting really hard to not dislike my boyfriend's roommates, but I just lost another battle, and the war effort isn't looking good. As if his nickname being "Nigger Lover" for a while wasn't enough*, after three days of minimal communication time because of his schedule (which is a long time for us, believe me), we finally settle in to a VoIP call. And then his roommates, who know he is talking to me, decide to pull the internet to force him to go play games with them instead.Which he THEN DOES, because he apparently likes to reward assholish behavior. Maybe if I were an asshole*, this would be a desirable quality in a significant other. Maybe I should become an asshole just to take advantage of all the features available in my Significant Other package deal.  Maybe it's like getting a computer capable of running the most sophisticated and intensive gaming software and then never playing more than solitaire on it.

Or maybe it's just boys being boys, being laid-back individuals, being low-stress and go-with-the-flow. The fact that my boyfriend is low-stress, laid-back, and a boy are all features I enjoy. They're some of the reasons why I picked that particular model, you know. So I don't know if I'm completely off-base here or not. Sometimes he tells me things are just culturally very different between our two countries, that things aren't nearly as serious there as they are here. To a certain extent, I know that's true. Americans are generally pretty uptight compared to most other first-world country inhabitants. Or at least, I certainly am.  I also know I'm a rather serious and crotchety person some* of the time.  But come ON. There has to be a line here somewhere, I just can't tell where from my biased perspective.

I told him he was rewarding assholish behaviour, and he told me he didn't have a choice since they were holding him (presumably, the internet connection) hostage. And I'm not even going to get into the fact that now his roommates know they can pull the internet whenever they want and he'll come running. Wonderful.

This bodes well for when the roommates and I eventually meet. And then they'll wonder why I'm so standoffish. And I'll tell them. And they still won't get it. Because apparently I'm the unreasonable one here.

In the mean time, I'm practicing my fake smile.


*I'm tired of the "But we're European, we don't have the same stigmas here because we don't have your racist history blah blah blah" bullshit. And yes, I did flip my shit over that nickname. And no, he still didn't see what the big deal was. *facepalm*


*Okay, a lot of the time. ...Okay, all of the time. Shaddup again.

coherent posts are overrated

It is a good thing for the person you love to love you back, but it is a terrible thing to know the exact mechanics of that love. Because once you see the limits, no matter how close or far to them you are, it's impossible to focus on anything but that point - the point beyond which loving you costs them more than they feel they gain. Once you know that limit, once you realize their love is not boundless and eternal- everything will change.
And it has.

So, my cat bit me in the face shortly after I sliced my thumb. Karma, take two? That'll teach me to joke about 4th trimester abortions. But then I baked chocolate bread today, and everything was once again good. Or at least alright.

I've been living in an enchanted little cloud for a while now, but it's finally popped. Not in a bad, way, just in a "re-awakening to reality" kinda way. I'm a bit more grounded now, It's probably a good thing. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

I liked it up there. =/

Also, jobhunting sux0rs a big one. Hire me dammit,  I'm more competent than half your workforce. (True story.) But also let me have the summer off so I can get some international ass. Kthx.

tiffblogger, OUT!

if you'd forgotten how terrible of a person I am...

Let me remind you.

So, yesterday the Boy and I were discussing the Safe Sex (Because nothing says protection like thirty-two hundred miles between your side of the bed and his.) which led me to the Planned Parenthood and the Wikipedia- which as we all know is like Facebook for knowledge,  it sucks you in and you spend hours of your life bouncing from page to page absorbing random facts you will never be called upon to recite at a party to make yourself seem all cool and esoteric EVEN THOUGH THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SECRETLY HOPING FOR. 

Cruise control for cool, they tell me.

Anyway, so there I was reading up on the Birth control shot, and I come across a section that mentioned that if a woman gives birth from a pregnancy that occurred while on the shot (and in spite of it), then the resulting kid is 80% more likely to die in the first year of life.

I repeated this aloud to the Boy, who went, "Uhh, that's um..." 
"Like an abortion after the fact!" I shouted, completing his sentence for him.

And I laughed. Just a little. Before immediately wanting to punch myself in the face. HARD.
Because holy shit. I am a Bad Person

If there IS a hell - for the record, I'm calling bullshit on the whole idea, but, IF there is one, I just confirmed my one-way ticket.

FYI, you are all morally-suspect individuals for being friends with me.
You're welcome.

In a totally, completely, obviously unrelated sidenote:
Sharp knives are sharp. Especially ones you just sharpened on both a whetstone AND a sharpening steel two minutes prior to using. You can slice through half the tip of your thumb INCLUDING YOUR FINGERNAIL! with them before you realize what's happening.

Also also, karma is a bitch.

lately happenings

 Unrelated picture is unrelated.

1. I've developed an intense loathing for non-injured, non-arthritic people who rave on food blogs about how the only bread they will EVAR!!!1! make is no-knead bread. Because regular bread is just TOO MUCH EFFORT. And too time-consuming. And not worth the effort. Um, okay, crazy people on crack. This is me, backing away slowly.

The crust on no-knead bread is about half an inch thick and pretty terrible to my tastes. And what, kneading dough for 10 fucking minutes or less is too hard for you? Gah. Begone. I have no use for you here. Or anywhere, as a matter of fact. Stop breeding, kthx. Besides, in most recipes, kneading is easy, fast, AND it's pretty theraputic. Try it. TRY ITTTTT. Awesome first bread recipe: Rosemary bread. Sidenote: Using fresh rosemary is a must. DOOOO IT. Just remember to shout my name later when the it's out of the oven and you're having your first fresh, hot, oven-baked breadgasm.

You're welcome.

 This is actually oatmeal-honey bread, but still. I made it. Kneaded it. Fucked up the recipe. And it was STILL DELISHUS.

2. My anniversary with the Boy is coming up. I am très excited. Also, I've found googling accented words is sooo much faster than looking up the appropriate symbol in the character map.  Am I the queen of lazy-brand efficiency? Yes. But I still knead my own bread, dammit.

Nothing says "I love you" like a post-it.

3. My hair is growing back after chopping it off to nothingness two years ago. It also started getting orange-y from the dye + sunlight + other factors too boring to mention to my almost completely male readership. All of which is probably why it's a happy accident that yesterday I inadvertantly dyed it darker brown than intended. Yeah, cause I know this information is vital to your existance. Mmhmm. Totally. Also, the fat. The extra 70lbs or so I've been keeping in my back pocket for emergencies. And sidepockets. And front pockets. And everwhere else. That fat. It must go. I am le tired of it. I got some blue things like these plus this painful thingy. Also possibly this one and maybe even one more. Because overkill never hurt anyone ever. Also because I'm unlikely to do any of them, nevertheless three. Also because anything digital is free if you hang with people with eye-patches and avians.  Anyway. Stay tuned.

 Orange. Dark roots. Blah.
But I'm kinda cute though, no? ^_^

A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.

Yep, I'm keeping him.
The letter was even better. But you don't get to see that part. ^_^

Singles Awareness Day

each breath i take
is a poem
written for you. 

This day a year ago was the first  time in my life where I've been both single on Valentine's day AND happy about it. A relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. I was content with my singleness. I enjoyed it. I wasn't responsible for anyone else's emotional well-being, and I wanted it that way. But also, I still felt ... broken, for lack of a better word. I didn't feel whole, I didn't feel willing or even capable of opening up to someone else. But most importantly, I didn't want to... Love? Trust? No. Do not want. Emphatically. No. Nope, you can't make me.

But then this guy came along and started talking to me, and kept talking to me despite my best efforts to shut him out, and blah blah blah ..... blahblah......  here we are one Valentine's day later and all I can think is that our anniversary  is coming up soon and that i'm still the luckiest girl in the world. And also, holy shit. Life is really, really good. I'm 24 and still not done Uni. I am jobless and beyond broke. I have a few not serious but chronically painful health issues that it appears I'll be stuck with for the rest of my life. The person that means the most to me is thousands of miles away and I don't know when next I'll be able to see him. My cat died. Haagen-Daz stopped making my favorite flavour, and new episodes of House started to feel stale and forced. And all I can think at this moment is holy shit. I am a lucky girl. 

...is that you'll be kind.

sometimes the walls crack
and i  can't help but see you staring back
into the of the dusty little corners of my mind

the flower vines keep getting in
you notice my stone walls are getting thin
and now solace in separation is hard to find

so go ahead and take your look
my heart's been split open like a book
now all that i can hope is that you'll be kind.

this is the sound of your mobile bill rising

Phone rings.
Hmm, that's an unfamiliar country code. Odd.

Me: "Hello?"
Navy friend: "Hey!"

Ah, that explains it.

Me: So, what country are you in today?
Friend: South Africa, and I want you to know, it is beautiful!
Me: And do you know how high my cell phone bill is going to be?
Him: Nooo, I'm calling you, I pay for the call.
Me: It's a cell phone, I get charged either way.
Him: Want me to call your house phone?
Me: I'm not actually home.
Him: Oh.

I then remember how many times we've had this conversation over the past seven years, given his penchant for calling me internationally and talking for hours at a time.

Me: *facepalms in the middle of the store*

The movie tome whose time has come.*

Enough of this, Hollywood. Enough of the cute girl with the asshole boyfriend who is fully aware she's dating a jerk.
She's constantly apologizing for his mistakes, arrogance, meanspiritedness, or violence. She recognizes the generally desirable, non-jerkish qualities of the protagonist, and even wavers in her loyalty to the asshole, but never intervenes more than shouting "stop!" while her boyfriend kicks the protagonist's ass, keys his car, gets him fired, or otherwise messes with him in generally socially unacceptable ways.

Please, enough of this. A good woman- a good girlfriend, friend, or random observer, for that matter, is good enough to do SOMETHING about violent injustice happening in front of their eyes. Even if it's nothing more than calling (or at the very least threatening to call) the cops.

You do not want her, protagonist, and even if you win her over by the end of the movie, which you probably will, she's not worth your time. Unless you don't mind her amicable but useless nature. In which case, I hope the two of you are happy together, but do the world a favour and don't spawn. Adopt.

But only if you must.

*This rant brought to you by Alien Vs. Predator: Requiem, and every other movie and tv show and miniseries and novel that does this exact same $%!ing thing. ARGH. Do not want.

We will help in any way we can!

America says:
If your people are without proper food and water and medical care in the wake of a natural disaster, we will rush to your aid. (As long as the cameras are rolling and the world's eyes are on us.)

And by virtue of silence and inaction, we also say:
If your people are without proper food and water and medical care every day of their lives and there aren't a hundred reporters pointed in every direction, don't hold your breath.When the rest of the world doesn't care enough to put your plight on the front pages day after day and shame us into acting, why should we?

Those who are dying every day from lack of supplies, clean water, and the most basic medical care told me to tell you, America, "What about us?"

So many of the people I see right now getting do-gooder hardons from donating a dollar or two to Haiti are the same people who stare right through the homeless, or step over them like you would a pile of garbage on the street. Why is it so easy to care for faceless people thousands of miles away when you treat those around you in desperate need like they're a piece of bothersome gum on your shoe? Why spend days rallying money for disaster relief in some trendy tropical place when spending an hour at a local soup kitchen is so far below your radar the idea's never even occurred to you?

I swear, I don't understand people.