where will

Alright, damnit. There was like, this website I used to read.  I don’t remember the name, it probably was just some guy’s first name, and then something to do with movies.  It was geocities, or something, who knows.  Not fancy, didn’t own the domain.  It was pretty okay, it had reviews of various terrible movies.  It is probably long gone; I was skimming it as a preteen.  These movies I had never heard of, not too surprising for a kid, but they also are movies I have spent the rest of my life not noticing/knowing about.

Anyway, I’m on quite a “hey guuurl remember when you were 12 n shit” kick, so I want to find one, ONE movie from this website “”"IRL”"”".  Something today totally reminded me of it–and that movie was, I swear to christ, it was titled something like this:
Chili Con Carne.
Chili Con Carnage.
Chili Con Evil.
Chile Con _____.

The thing is though, it wasn’t that clever of a title.  It could’ve involved Chili, Chile, or really, anything I guess.

I read this review probably within the years of, 1997-1999?  The website had a color scheme of black, and maybe some stars that were so popular as screensavers/backgrounds back then.  It wasn’t ugly, it was actually pretty well put-together.  Anyway, that review, and the ‘movie’, for some reason has stuck with me pretty much my entire life.  Along with a song that is attached to it, that just sounds like somebody saying “Martyr maaartyyyyrrr” in a heavy, sort of lilting Boston or Hispanic-type accent.  This memory is ridiculous.

I think it might’ve been the best day of my life?  I just remember the whole thing so vividly; and yet, as far as I can tell, the movie does not exist.  There is no chili movie in the world.

So, hey, internet, I got a question.  Here is a series of informative search-strings to plug into your Google:
-Chili was involved in this movie, at least to some extent.  I mean the food.  There might’ve been a cook-off?
-The main guy’s name might’ve been Eric, or the guy who ran the website’s name was Eric.  The name Eric is in there.  I bet right now you think you’ve got it, you think I’m totally an idiot that is transposing a memory of that episode of South Park with the chili into a totally different memory, in a totally different media format.  You’re wrong, dick.  Dead wrong.
-Cannibalism was involved, and it might’ve been played for laughs.  But it was the sort of dry laughter that only serves to be further creepifying.  Look guy, I already told you, it isn’t that episode of South Park.  I know, I know, pretty much the same plot, right?  No.  This was a live-action film, starring some thin, dark-headed Latino actor, who had a very eerie sort of mouth.
-The reviewer did not like the movie, but I think conceded it had some interesting ideas or something.
-It was incredibly cheap, and I thiiiink (this is reinforced by the fact I can’t find a single thing noting a movie like this existed, ever) independently released.  I mean probably by the thin, dark-headed Latino who played what may or may not have been a witty cannibal named Eric who ate chili made of people and competed in a cook-off.
-Oh, romance too.  If I recollect, the girl was pretty.
-The review had images, one of the dark-haired Latino lead looking eerie, sort of drained, unhappy, listless, and his mouth was weird.  Probably half open, you know, agape?  The way a mouth naturally hangs if you don’t will it closed.  Another was a pot of chili, closed, that may have been a drawing.  The movie was not animated.  Then, the letters that comprised the title (Probably ‘Chili Con Carne’) were very cartoonish, looking like sort of a children’s title or a circus movie.  That could’ve been the actual design for the title by the film-makers, or something the website used as a banner to the review.

Anyway, this movie, review, website, song has been rolling in my brain for years; probably preventing me from learning math or something, because curiousity about that day in my life just takes up so much room.  I’m hearing this song, it is some sort of ‘punk rock’ that I found on Audiogalaxy (I’ve about given up ever finding this song, because I know so little other than possible shouting of the word “Marttttyyyyr” in a unique way and it was supposed to be punk), and reading the shit out of some film review website.  Reviews of movies I’ll never see, and never had the opportunity to see.  That was me as a kid, but I just want to know why the hell this particular bit of nullingness has remained with me for all these years.  Was the review funny?  Was it my first taste of dark comedy?  Cannibalism, was I not that aware of it yet?  Was it what made me realize I enjoyed obscurity for no reason other than the fact that I could say I saw/read/heard some shit very few other people had seen?

Some synapse fired the hell off while I read that review; was that the exact moment I became a Woman?  I mean, seriously, I should not remember this so vividly.  It wasn’t a dream; I read the review/visited the site many times.

Oh my god, a hat might’ve fit in somewhere, or else I mistook the pot of chili drawing for a hat.  It looked like a derby.  A derby hat full of people that have been made into chili?  I don’t know.

All I know is, some weird-ass crazy thing happened inside my mindgrapes while I was looking at that derby hat of meat.

So here is my beacon,
ATTN ALL PEEPS GOOGLIN BOUT MEMORIES OF CANNIBAL MOVIES ABOUT CHILI:
-Eric
-Latin
-Cannibal
-Chili
-Spooky
-Black humor
-90s
-Made in 80s?
-no earlier than the 70s.
-Not that South Park Episode
-Romance
-Weird
-Obscure
-Cheap
-Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Evil, Chili Con Carnage, Chile Con Carne, Chile Con Evil, Chile Con Carnage.
-derby hats

NOW TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS UP^^

pssssss- the song is not Rusted Root- Martyr, BUT funny enough I had that song accidentally downloaded back then as well.  This song sounded a lot tinnier, a lot more like another favorite song of mine back then….that day…………The Templars, A Clockwork Orange…Horra’ Shoooow

At first I thought it might’ve been the Templars as well, it is not.  Nah, this one is tinny, odd voice, and pretty much the phrase” Martyr, Maaaaartyyyyr” repeated over and over again, with a specific inflection for the last ‘martyr’.  Probably had more than that, but I only paid attention during choruses back then. PuuuuuuuuunXxxXXXROxXxXXX hard2undastand4kids

taranteqq caw

I wish I could wear a mask to work, just like, a regular mask.  Solid black, eye slits, mouth slit.  So I guess a ski mask, technically.  Also, a garbage bag.  I get hit on by creeps way too often.  I don’t mean to sound vain, but that is always how it sounds when a girl complains about being flirted with, but it isn’t like it’s Johnny Depp or anything.  It is just creepy middle-aged dudes.  I’m not interested in you, what makes you think I want to hear anything come out of you other than maybe the gurgle of your own blood?  I’m so beyond tired of hillbilly bleating.

Some asshole actually had the nerve to attempt to pull that “LOOOL U EVER DO ANY MODELLING I THINK UD BE GOOD I’M AN ARTIST HERE IS A PAMPHLET WITH SOME PAINTINGS OF SOME BACKYARDS I’M A REGULAR THOMAS KINKADE LOOOOL U SHOULD MODEL”  Tale as old as time, oldest serial rapist trick in the book.  There I am, completely trapped at work.  Meanwhile, I totally know that if I was just shopping there, or if I was sitting across from him somewhere, or hell, any situation other than being a cashier at a big box store where he gets to feel like he is better than me, that guy would be terrified of approaching me.  He certainly wouldn’t work up the nerve to talk to me.    Again, not vain, but I am attractive enough that I don’t need to scrounge the bottom of the barrel, I can definitely date people I don’t know man my own age and shit?

really, most women can.  I ain’t trying to brag, but take a look at me, then calculate how old you are.  How often do old fucks like you get to put your gnarled up genitals inside of young, fairly attractive women?  never?  awesome.  find someone your own age to creep out.

The only people who hit on me outside of work are people who are honestly at least in my peer group.   Dudes who could concievably see me reacting positively to their advances.  The motherfuckers at work, however, there is no way they are deluded enough that they think a reasonably attractive twenty year old (who looks like, sixteen anyway, making you further creepy) wants anything to do with their upper-middle age ass.  Guys in their fifties and shit.  Be honest with yourself.  It is one thing to look at me, I don’t care about that, but just don’t make me worry you’ll be waiting outside for when I go on break to abduct me or something.  So don’t use my name, don’t try and pull that modelrape trick, and don’t linger around talking to me for way too long.  Quick look at my chest, awkward “have a good evening dont work too hard ha HA”, and go on about your day.  That is fine, I accept that.  Just don’t…try.  It won’t work.  Even if you were the most handsome fellow in town, odds are good that I don’t want anything to do with you at work.  I’m trapped here.  I can’t just say, “hey, fuck you.  what is your deal?  do you have any daughters?  have you ever met a woman before, do you think they like this shit?  how would you feel if I sent my grandfather over to your granddaughter’s high school to hit on her in the middle of class?  would that be alright?”

Then there are the people (always men, again) who use your name.  I don’t wear my nametag anymore because of this shit, but when I did wear it, these people would bellow “HELLO CHELSEA HOW ARE YOU TODAY”  Oh, I’m doing fine, creepass.  What makes you think you have the right to use my name today?  Stop with the power play bullshit.  People use each other’s name to show power over that person.  You know me, I don’t know you.  When in actuality, I have you completely pegged; and you couldn’t guess a single thing about me other than what is plainly within your sight.  Thanks, by the way, for letting me know that you looked at my chest.   I don’t care if you do, but don’t tell me in so many words, ass.   Really, every gal loves that sort of attention.  That is why I wear a giant long-sleeved shirt at work, because I want dudes to stare at my body.  That is my goal. I want to feel nervous about walking to my car, because I’ve made the grand mistake of not being fat and not being ugly and not being a dude.  pardon me, but yeah, I guess that gives you the right to make me feel awkward at work.  Just because I look like a receptacle that you would enjoy placing your genitals inside of to create friction that would further cause you to expel your noxious medical waste, yeah, that means you get to make me feel like I should scar my face up just to be able to continue to work comfortably.  My bad!

If you know nothing about me, period, whether you are handsome, or ugly, or whatever, I am not going to respond well to your flirting.  I don’t believe relationships that start off based on nothing but physical attraction are worth pursuing.  There are a lot of beautiful things and beautiful people in this world, and I value beauty and perfection enough for a thousand people, but I’m not going to give you anything more than a chance to look at me if all you are basing your “attraction” to me on is the fact that I’m qtttt.    That means nothing at all.  If someone wanted to mack on me, their only odds would be to appeal to me as a real human,  not just as some vacuous, sexually appealing cartoon.  If that is all I wanted, acknowledgement that I am pretty enough to have sex with, well I can get that validation anywhere, anytime.  It isn’t at all important to me, because there are lots of opportunities for that sort of acceptance.  As for people who appreciate my every other little stupid thing, that is harder to come by.  As it is for everyone, of course.  This is the same sort of general complaint all women have, I think.

It just boils down to not wanting to be hardflirted with at work by people who must just be trying to make me uncomfortable.  It is one thing to ‘flirt’ with me, as an old guy, a young guy, whatever, it is a whole different scenario when you ruin the rest of my day.

whateverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr this was stupid why do i even write this shit down like it is noteworthy

wear hair

who could imagine a sight so fair/!?!?/

Anyway, the nail polish I’ve been hunting for, and planning an Internet Order for is sold out on the only site it is so far been released to.

It used to be pretty easy to pick up the colors I liked, because it seemed most others didn’t want them.  Reds, corals, pinks, nudes all sold out; now it is all the ~~exotic~~ colors that are gone in a day or so.  Same with all other forms of cosmetic facial/body adornment; things I want are more popular these days.  Back in those heady days of using blush as eyeshadow because no company had released ‘red’ yet, I had no idea that someday all the neon and glittery nail polishes would be sold out the day they arrived.

Holographic, guys.  Holo—–graphic.  I remember lurking the hell out of drugstores, looking for the Sally Hansen Chrome “Nail Makeup”, Magic or whatever it was that was the holographic one (Opal, maybe?), the ones with the gemstoneglimmergimmick…

When I’d finally find some of the chromes, they’d be clearanced; nobody buying, nobody selling.   Seriously, this is all getting to one point:
Sally Hansen, come back out with your awesome mid-to-late-90s-to-very-early-oughts-pre-9/11 nail stuff.  What happened, Sandra?  Why is it just reds, plums, pigmentless ‘brights’, et all now?  Now that the world is ready for readily available chrome nails again, now that we’re whimpering for one more holographic nail polish to come out–and we’re wiling to shell out you know, like, eight dollars for it, now you’ve decided to stick to corals?

You used to be cool, before being cool was considering hep.  Now it is just a collection of safe roses, easy drop salmons, and pah.  Is it post ironic?  Please just make holographic fire-styled nail polishes again.  That was pretty good.

Also, I’ve seen rumors that there is a nail polish line somewhere in Korea that makes a polish that sort of is supposed to look like fur on your nails.
http://nfuohproduct.blogspot.com/

In addition, today I found out that I am totally sensitive to cinnamon fragrance oil.   Sucks, because I really like the smell of cinnamon when mixed with…other fragrances.  I tried using a conditioner with much in the way of cinnamon and I pretty much got hair-patterned rashes all over me.  :_( whatevs, they’re gone now, it was just upon contact.  Just sucks, because I really like cinnamon and the conditioner works so well–although I’ve got it in a few other fragrances, none of which contain cinnamon.  So, I can still enjoy the formula; not the scent, though.

I’m still frustrated as ever, but products really fill the hlole in my slolul
seriously though