Sapped

I don't know what's wrong with me. Last night Issy came over and we popped in our exercise tape. Now, I can bend, hit, and kick with the best of them, but last night lifting my leg seemed to take so much effort. Halfway through our second workout I pooped out completely. I wasn't that tired when we started, it was all of a sudden like. Kicking one minute, face down on the floor the next.

I have my body conditioning class tonight, I hope I can make it all the way through. I don't think I'm getting sick. I'm drinking water, eating right. I don't get it.

I've been listening to a lot of old music lately. Tool, Mother Love Bone, The Smithereens, White Zombie, The Smiths, the Cure, and so on. I think enough time has passed that I can listen to these songs with joy and not have some past memory come out and bite me in the ass. It's nice.

Thank You Very Much

I'm so glad that there is now research into what I've been saying about kids all along.

I've told people this world is raising spoiled brats. I've told my family how raising a child to think his shit doesn't stink isn't a good thing for the future. I've had many conversations about the way college students act today compared to years ago, and now I finally have proof!

HA! I wasn't just talking out of my ass, huh? I wasn't just being a little anti-social or bitchy. I have a valid point.

Now we just need a study to tell the parents of these narcissistic teens it's their fault.

Lost on Lost

I watch Lost, the TV show. I have since it began. I was a bit disappointed with last night's episode. They said three major questions would be answered. What they didn't say was once the questions were answered they'd leave 20 more questions in their wake. I know the director likes to answer questions in his own sweet time, so I'm just going to sit back and wait and NOT speculate.

But last night there was something that just pissed me off. Jack, our hero, is in a cage. A group of people he believed to be kidnapped and dead/wounded show up looking clean and healthy. A woman, I think her name is Cindy, comes up to the cage.
"Jack?"
Now, Jack is surprised to see these people. He's even more surprised to learn that they are now a part of the "others." He screams, "What are you doing here?" and gets very agitated. Very.

That's not what pissed me off. What pissed me off is this Cindy bitch keeps looking at Jack like "Why are you angry? I mean, you're locked in this cage, filthy, you've been lied to, tortured, and psychologically fucked with. What could you possibly be mad about, Jack?"

I don't care how crazy you are, how brainwashed you've been, how drugged-up or burnt-out you have become, if you walk up and find a man locked in a cage you're going to understand why that man might be in a bad mood. Not stare at him with a look of hurt confusion.

Boo to you Mr. Lost-director-guy. Boooooooo! You've taken a great show and ruined it by too many damn plot twists, too many unexplained things, and too many unanswered questions. To throw in horrible logic (bad acting?) is too much. Stop it before Lost gets canceled all together.

It's February 21

Today is my husband's birthday.

Happy Birthday Sweet Cheeks!

"Things Happen"

Here is another article on the incredible dumbasses that climbed Mount Hood. I think this settles, once and for all, the debate about the IQ of people who climb mountains. And I quote, "It's kind of a point of pride you might say for a lot of climbers - that you can take care of yourself out there."

Well, obviously you DIDN'T! Someone had to come up there and get you. Where is that pride now, asshole? How proud are you going to be when you get a bill for your own damn rescue? Pride? Pride! That's call arrogance, boy. Look it up, you'll find your picture.

In other news: The Big Labowski is tonight's movie for first year grad students. You couldn't pay me any amount of money to sit through this big ol' piece of shit again. With this movie there are two camps - the one's who love it, and the one's who hate it. I would be a part of the latter.

The only movie worse than this is "Feeling Minnesota." And it's close, folks, it really is, on which movie sucks worse. I guess I was too damn smart to appreciate the humor because 3/4 of the people who do like it are idiots (not you, Matto). The only thing about this movie that's any good, and the one reason it's better than Feeling Minn., is John Torturo. "Do not fuck with the Jesus." There, that's the only quote I'll admit knowing from this steaming piece of poo. He was great, but he alone was not worth the movie price or the 2+ hours of my life wasted watching it.

Good day.

I Guess It Needs to Be Said

Okay, obviously a few people can't learn from other's mistakes. So, just for you retards out there who can't put two and two together - It's not a good idea to go climbing Mount Hood in the winter!

I know, those three other climbers who tried and died have nothing on you, right? They only had, what, 34 years of experience between them? Amateurs! The dumbasses stuck on the mountain now have a wonderful excuse for their stupidity, I'm sure. I mean, let's look at the pros, shall we?

* It's less crowded in the winter
* It's cold as hell
* Winds from the summit can reach about 60 - 70 mph
* Storms can form in mere seconds
* The landscape is unpredictable
* Overnight temps can reach the -20's
* Rescue attempts are more difficult

That just sounds like a perfect vacation right there, doesn't it?

It's A Small World

Hello everyone, I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day. I did. My husband is the best.

When I lived in Savannah, Georgia, I worked for a fabulous catering company. There were two kinds of employees at this company, the regulars and the temps. We regulars (about 6 of us) worked almost every party. If we had a large party we brought in the temps. The temps were students or others who only needed pocket money.

One of these temps was named Simone. Simone was a very pretty girl, she had boobs that wouldn't quit. She was very uninhibited and full of spunk. It was fun working with her one night, but anything more than that and she would exhaust you with her vibrancy. Nothing was too good or too bad for her. She kind of disappeared right before I moved back to St. Louis. For the longest time no one knew what happened to her.

Then the other night I'm watching Cat House II. This is a reality series on HBO about the Bunny Ranch, one of the USA's most famous brothels. When a man comes to the bunny ranch he can pick a girl from the line-up. So here I am watching this when one of the girls catches my eye. It's Simone! In all her glory, I might add. I have to say her journey to the Bunny Ranch must have been a bad one, she looked like she took a beating with the fugly stick on the way. Then she tripped and fell into a puddle of premature aging. Her hair was stringy and she just looked run down.

Thankfully I was spared watching Simone have a "party" with a patron. I don't think I could have watched that. I don't want to see any of my friends in those positions.

I betcha she's still full of spunk - OH!

Woo!

I have found the answer to my unhappiness. Having discovered this secret I intend to be happy for the rest of my life. The world has aligned overnight. The stars again shine brightly. The harmony of the universe is mine to discover. The birds sign for me, the animals come to my tranquil pool to drink. I shall never cry again, for Peace, true and rare, has come to my heart.

What has inspired such a change in my universe? Dark Chocolate M&M's!

Ooooooooooooooooooooo, they are so good.

Memories

This weekend I was reminded of something I did a long time ago. My sister was dating this guy, we'll call him Bastard, who bought her a dog. King was a keeshound, a.k.a a big furry ball of stupid. He was soooo sweet and a good dog, but he was dumb as dirt.

I, however, managed to teach King a trick. I taught him to roll over on his back - when you told him to "Come here!"

The first time he did it when my sister told him to "Come here!" was a moment I will never forget. "Come here, King. No, come here! Coooooome here. Come here! Why does he keep rolling over?"

Bwa-ha-ha! He did it until the day he died. God, how I loved that dog.

Anna Nicole Smith 1968 - 2007

I'm saying this RIGHT NOW. Anna Nicole Smith will be forever compared to Marilyn Monroe now.

The sad life, the trouble with men, the weight fluctuation, the courts, her son's death, and now her death. Was it a suicide? A murder? Conspiracy?

The whole catastrophe with her second husband (that old guy with all the money), the questions about the daddy of her baby girl. Oh yes, let's all face it, the press is going to chew on this for YEARS!

So before you hear it elsewhere, Anna Nicole Smith/Marilyn Monroe. Get used to it.

****Anna Nicole will NEVER reach the bombshell/star status Marilyn did. Let's face it, no one can beat Marilyn when it comes to her legacy. The sad circumstances of their lives and deaths are in the same ballpark is all I'm saying.

I'm Not Close to Happy, But I Can See It From Here.

Yesterday my cousin from Kentucky came to town. He's a regional manager and was checking up on one of his crews. Yesterday was also his birthday so he spent it with us here in St. Louis.

I had a wonderful time, and I really needed it. It was very therapeutic to show my cousin my home, my friends, and my city. Issy and I took him on a tour of the brewery (the horses were out, it was very cool to see them and be able to pet the dalmatians), had lunch at Growlers, and then met my sister and husband for dinner at Blueberry Hill. We drank, we ate, we talked. Birthday Boy has such a great personality, is super intelligent, and a perfect gentleman. Why is he single? I'll never get it.

Telling Birthday boy about my life and showing him a few things I've created made me feel a lot better about myself. Maybe I'm not so worthless after all. Looking at my situation through BB's eyes allowed me to see things from a different perspective. I felt a little stirring in my chest right next to my heart - I think it was pride.

I've also decided that I am cutting all my hair off. Well, not ALL of it, I'm not that brave, but I think I'll get a bob and, shocker, bangs! I haven't had bangs since I was 8 and my mother cut my hair. I don't know when I'll do it or where I'll go to have it done, but I am tired of the long hair. We'll see.

I also have an article in the next issue of "Weddings with Style." I was paid for it, too! My first REAL published work (I don't count the poetry websites as being published, some of those things accept ANYTHING). This makes me very happy. Now I can actually add a magazine to my submission letters. Woo-hoo!

I Like Being Naked

I'm watching the Oprah show (I love Tivo) and the guests are older women who posed nude for the Dove campaighn. Some of these women described it as a freeing experience. Duh! I've posed nude (that thud would be my father passing out) and I love it. It's so organic. There aren't any secrets when you're naked, the only communication you can convey is with your eyes.

I like being naked. Let me just say I do not like being cold and naked, that's no fun. But if the weather is nice I don't mind stripping down. I like the feel of air on my skin. I like the feel of anything on my skin, really. It's very relaxing to be naked between the sheets when I take a nap. In my photo shoots I like the lines of my body, I'm so pale I create a great contrast to just about everything. You add shadows to the mix and I have some pretty photos. I don't know why more women don't pose naked.

There isn't anything dirty about a naked body. Oh, there can be! But it can be beautiful, too. Just as scars, tattoos, and moles give us character, our body is one of a kind. It's who we are. We should not be ashamed.

More naked photos, ladies!

Pity, Party of One

Still in the dumps. I can't seem to climb out of them.

Hubby is doing really well. We haven't had a video game issue since the whole "Me or the Games" conversation. It's been nice, the only good thing I have going right now, I feel. Issy is doing well, we are sticking to our work-out regime. I hate it, but it's good for me.

Other than that I have nothing to look forward to. I see my future spun out before me as a carpet of gray. The same endless shit every day until I take my last breath. This is how I feel and I hate it, but it is confirmed at least 10 times a day - same old shit. I'm bored. I'm tired. I don't want to be here anymore.

So I am going to stay in this hole and try to figure this shit out.

Where's my Spoon?

One of my favorite movies is "Shawshank Redemption." I just love that film. One of my favorite lines is when Morgan Freeman comments on Andy's escape:

"I guess after Tommy was killed, Andy decided he had been here just about long enough."

That is how I feel today. I think I have been in St. Louis just about long enough. Someone made the comment the other day that people in New York are pretty. "All of them, from CEO's to bums on the street, are good looking. Not like here. Here in the Midwest every one's ugly."

I'd have to agree with that. We're fat, lazy, angry, and ugly. Our Midwest uniforms are (insert favorite sports team) sweatshirts and old jeans. Our favorite sport is drinking. And eating. We have more all-you-can-eat restaurants than Paris Hilton has condoms. And the weather sucks balls.

I'm sick of this place. I'm sick of driving down the same streets, seeing the same stupid-ass kids run into those streets, and dodging the same stupid-ass kids so I don't ruin my car. I'm sick of the same old shit day-in and day-out on the news. I'm sick of my job and all the careless assholes I work for (okay, some of them are really nice, but not enough to make me stay).

I was born into a military family. As such, we moved a lot. I like to move, it keeps life interesting. You get to see other places, meet other people, discover other customs. I've been in St. Louis a total of 17 years. I'm done. I know what to expect on any given day because this city never changes. I know who I am going to encounter every day because people don't change.

Mardi Gras is coming up and I am going to be surrounded by the same drunk schmucks that I am surrounded by EVERY year. I'll see the same guys pissing in the same streets spilling their drinks on the same girls who shout the same shit every year.

Summer in St. Louis - an endless barrage of baseball shit and, if it rains, flooding. More construction, more endless lines of traffic, more heat, no change. The same people will say the same shit (Hot enough fer ya?) at the same time of the same day.

Want to do something in St. Louis? Well, it's the same shit you do every year because nothing new and exciting ever comes to St. Louis. Only some call it "tradition." I call it boring as hell. If you want to have 5 kids and live in an environment that caters to those 5 kids than by all means move to St. Louis.

If you want to have an exciting life full of endless opportunities to further your education, enjoy your family, and live, then stay the hell away from here.

St. Louis is sucking the life out of me. If I don't dig myself out soon it may kill me.

Out of My Mind

Be back soon!

I'm in a funk today. I don't really want to be at work because I'm typing a document, a long document, that is as dry as dust. That and it has a lot of symbols I have to hunt down. I hate this.

I'm not feeling jazzed about the weekend even though the Superbowl is on. It's going to be cold and crappy.

Not much else to say.

Me Want!

I collect skulls. I like them. I'm not so much of a whole skeleton fan, I tend to stick to the skull. Here is my next purchase.

Many people have asked, "why skulls?" I find them to be very beautiful. The skull houses the brain, something no living human can do without (except lawyers and traffic cops), and therefore I believe the essence of a person remains in the skull after they die. I'm not the only one as many cultures take, clean, and display skulls of their loved ones.

Their form is beautiful - the thin mouth and jaw, the roundness of the skull, the teeth or holes where teeth were - a silent testament to who that person was. I like the smoothness of the surface. To me they are not a reminder that death is eminent, but rather a symbol of how we shall remain forever. We are gone, our skulls prove we existed.

I do not have any REAL skulls, one can get arrested trying to buy those for private use. At the least I'd end up on some FBI "watch" list. Besides, I don't want just any skull. If my parents wouldn't mind I'd keep them on the mantle after they pass on. (Just so you know, they mind.)
I plan on keeping my pets skulls, but at this time they are still using them. Nope, my skulls are decorative, often replicas of famous skulls - the crystal skull, the tribal skull, so on.

I'd love to have a replica of the Omega Skull, but them babies cost a pretty penny.

If anyone has a skull they don't want anymore give me a jingle.

Sufferin'

The joy of ego.

Last night in my body conditioning class we started the session with walking/running around. The Nazi Bitch likes to do this every once in a while to get our heart rates up. We start with walking, then add bending, turning, and jumping. In this class there are a small group of girls who can't be more than 20-22 years old. They start doing cartwheels.

There is no way in hell I'm going to let a bunch of skinny, perky-tit 20-somethings show me up when it comes to cartwheels. I didn't do 14 years of backyard gymnastics for nothing. So I roll my 5'10" frame down the length of the classroom just to show them how it's done. They oooo'd and aaaah'd appropriately. It felt good, I haven't done cartwheels in ages.

This morning I felt why. Arms, shoulders, legs, knees, everything but my damn torso is sore. Climbing up the stairs this morning was a lesson in moderation. And pain. Thanks to the ungodly amount of crunches we did my stomach is sore, too. Me and Issy are going to work out again tonight. That will be a study in pathetic. Issy - prepare to laugh.

Don't think I've given up. Once I can move without screaming I'm going to be back out in the yard and picking up where I left off. Maybe I can convince my husband to install a stripper pole in the back yard. That way I could brush up on my spinning and twirling.