cut clarsh

I am a little miffed right now.

I’ve gone through a lot of trouble ((happiness is the reward of industry and labor)) and a lot of allaying of others, and for what ((and dancing is a waste of time))?

I played the heqqq out of this game, and I just remembered it a few days ago:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_Warrior_Monsters

it was so awesome, I loved it the best, really.  it mixed my favorite elements of Creatures, the P.F. Magic games, and Pokemon.  Which were, of course, amateur genetic research and making animals fight each other.
There was some browser-based game which was almost even better.  It was a false world, you got to pick herbivore, carnivore, and I think omnivore, and then different mouths–different legs–different torsos.  See how it works in the fake environment,  eat/fight/breed with other people’s creations, and it was just really fun.  You could follow your animal’s lineage, see how they’re active in the world.  I was always a carnivore, pretty much everyone was.  It was pretty obvious that it was the way to go as far as game’s world went.  Also, they had awesome mouths.  It was actually probably most like Spore.  Spore was alright, too.  I wish someone would make a game like those, but not nearly as cutesy-rendered.  One of the old SimSeries had a cover that I loved, but the game itself apparently wasn’t exactly what I would want; the cover certainly looked that way.    Reading about it now, it might actually be more suited to what I want.  It doesn’t look very interactive, though.  More like plug in the traits of your new plant or animal, see how it does.  I want to follow it around and make it bite stuff.
I’m still pissed, though.

If I had a game where I controlled a giant eye with a mouth on a stalk I wouldn’t feel this way, because I would just make it destroy every other animal.  Or maybe a crocodile with a gazelle’s legs.  Or a flying velociraptor, or a big herd of those one dinosaurs from Lost World.

again gnaturally

Now, today’s mysterious search string:
“if i had my druthers james whitcomb riley”

Which is a series of words that were all used in my jock jam earlier blog, ‘plate japes’

Hmmm~~ the plot thiqqins

then again it could just be a coincidence, someone wanting to find out if james whitcomb riley ever used the phrase “if i had my druthers”

spoilers!!!!!
he probably did at least once or twice

I killed one (01) spider today, and one (01) gnat.

If I told you in confidence, online journal, this weird thing, would you tell all the other blogs?  I could not handle that.
The situation is as follows-this same time last year, I was hounded by small, pudgy-bodied gnats, that I could’ve sworn only wanted me.   My dad had a few swats at the air in his office, but his office is right next to my room.  When I’m downstairs, there is the occasional incredibly fast gnat, just darting around my face.  If it is my father and I both, no gnat to be seen, all day.  It’s certainly not an epidemic, or an -and I swear to god it’s taking every bit of togetherness I have to just not start screaming and clawing at myself to type this word out, to think of it, to know it-an infestation.   Just one gnat a day, really.  Sometimes none, sometimes two.  Always the same kind.   When it happens, I try and just breathe very shallowly, not taking in too much air, until I get a good read on where it is–because of this phobia I have, really, the only one I have, of insects getting inside of me.  The only things ever to really give me the wooooorst creeps in movies or books, is insects in or around people’s entry points.  Or open wounds.  Or EYES GODDAMNIT

Yeah, tiny little bugs are the worst, because they can be anywhere, and you’ve probably sometime  inadvertently eaten one.  The idea of that makes me want to never even smell food.  Peanut butter was one of my favorite things, but the second I heard that freaking insect allowance like, 80 percent locust hearts or whatever, I don’t even want to smell it from the jar.   Every little grain, teeny tiny bit of non-smoothness, it’s just another cricket’s exospine.  The smooth bits, that is just finely pureed insectinside goo.

ahghghgggghhh

when I see people eating outside, or drinking out of non-covered beverages, I can’t help but start to think about what insects might be hovering around their mouths that they don’t even know about.  Or the flies that landed on their flesh, moisture, and vegetable sandwich before they started eating it, and where those flies had been before.

Inside of kitchens, restaurant kitchens, the kitchens of home’s that I’ve never been to, and just general food service areas,  just think about all the different possible parasite contamination points.  I’m more or less over it, really.   All it takes to remind me of this ridiculous fear is one gnat, an ant, a spider, anything.  Then everything turns red, images flit around me, people eating spiders, eating lobsters, seaspiders, giving birth to ants or ant-headed babies, someone says, “What?  I couldn’t hear you.” and a roach comes shooting out of their ear, somebody breathes in too deeply and finds themselves with a  botfly in their nose,  an animal evacuates it’s bowels; nothing left but parasites, it’s deathtime, and the body bloats with more and more and more of them.

A tiny baby has a tiny cut that a tiny gnat is laying eggs in
circle of life ? ? ?

ahhhghgghghhghghhghg seriously I’m shirked away from my own monitor right now, I’d rather watch a million uh, things other people find really gross, than see one insect anywhere near a human being, or things a human would at some point try and eat.

It’s not even the usual suspects that gross me out so much, like scorpions.  Scorpions, I’m okay with.  They walk around on hot sand all day, just hang out, and we keep to ourselves.  A scorpion has no interest in getting anywhere near me, and I’ll never run into one, because I don’t hang out near hot, dry, and sandy places.  So scorpions, go on, get yours.  What’s it to me?

It’s gnats, and flies, those living goddamn cloud formation bastards that come around in the spring and hover directly in front of your point B.  It’s butterflies, and moths, anything that I can’t gauge a pattern of behavior in.  What is your motivation, you fuzzy, powdery weirdo insect?  Just because one of you is more colorful, I’m not falling for it.  It’s ever tiny, insubstantial thing that I just can’t keep an eye on.  It’s spiders, oh god, is it spiders.  Roly-poly bugs, those ones that leave dry husks (FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST), dragonflies, but scorpions…Scorpions are alrriiiiight.

If we ever terraform our moon, our another planet’s, or Mars, or anywhere, and they say, “The only animal life will be humans.”  I will say yes, yes, a thousand times yes to you, NASA.  Thank you.

Or even, “We’re testing a new hyper-bubble house that is stark white, sterile, and maintains a temperature more or less too cold for the average insect to survive in.  You will be provided with a suitable cardigan, and food that has been sprayed thoroughly with cleaning solution.”  I accept your terms, Mr. President.

so basically what I’m getting at is that I would really like to never see a gnat again :_)

even though it’s just three or four a week, tops, it still makes me worry that I’m dying, organs failing, they can smell it, they’re just waiting me out…tell me it’s not true

i sound so crazy like this is some all-consuming thought of mine.  it’s just that when i get to thinking about it, this is the direction it all goes in.  Let me have this one phobia, alright internet
just
this
once

maybe I should stop updating this blog at 4:30 a.m.. . . ….

seriously though one time a butterfly flew out of some shrub and directly into my diaphragm and was fluttering,  just beating against me.  It could’ve been a hummingbird, since i actually felt it thumping across me.  Then, one time even earlier than that (the butterfly incident as it is henceforth termed took place when I was around 11 or 12) I brought a moth back to life after killing it.

oh my god
what if they think i’m their queen
a queen that hates her own people
What am I
t o  d o . . . .
yeah it’s 4:40 now :_(

remind me

to never, ever, ever, ever read youtube comments.  ever.

even on the most innocuous videos.

my heart will stop, my hands will shake, and i will do nothing the rest of the night but write fifty versions of the same response that will translate best into a primal scream in the middle of a murky swamp, surrounded by goblins.

I’ve been so calm lately, I’ve just been staying away as well I can from politics.  People tell me all the time, well, people in Europe are racist, stupid, and _____ as well.  I do believe all that, I do, I’m not that naive.  Of course not every idiot soccer hooligan in the UK has some studied opinion about immigration, I don’t expect him to.  I don’t expect our racing fan drunks to, either.

The main thing that separates our drooling classes is this: anti-intellectualism.

Overseas, there isn’t some grand movement to be proud of not being all that ‘book smart’.  None that I’m aware of, at least.  Granted, I’m not nearly as entrenched in European politics as I am United States’ politics and politicians, but the way I see it, someone as pointedly reveling in their ignorance as Sarah Palin, Bobby Jindal, or Mike Huckabee would be an absolute joke anywhere else…well, anywhere else in a first-world nation as we are.  Do you think actually believing you performed an exorcism in college, and then TALKING about it publicly, would fly in the UK?  France?  Denmark?  Japan?  Okay, maybe Japan.  They’d probably just think it was hot, and have a comic worked up the next day of Bobby Jindal with massive tits having sex with a demon as the plot.

Why do we collectively have such a hard-on for country ‘wisdom’, platitudes, and the most basal sort of “common sense”?  I’m not interested in the common thoughts of common people, because get this; smart people can think them as well, AND they can expand upon them with further thought.  Now I am no genius, but I’m smarter than the most average of the average, and I accept that people smarter than me get to make decisions, and have more power–especially in specific fields.  I want my doctor more educated than me about medical issues, I want my lawyer smarter than me when it comes to legal matters, and I want my representatives smarter than me when it comes to pretty much everything.  I want them to be more thoughtful, more studied, more rational.  Certainly not the same as me, and certainly not less.  I don’t get all blustery about someone being unashamedly smarter than me.  Hell, I am a huge fan of Christopher Hitchens, and he is the most elitist, better-than-you seeming dick alive.  I accept egos, as long as they have a reason to exist.  If you are smarter than me, feel free to know it.

I have respect for quite a few conservatives and Republicans of the past.   George Will (smarter than me, except when he is arguing against ‘blue jeans’), Pat Buchanan (if you can believe it), Eisenhower I’m a big fan of, the first George Bush did an alright job with a few things, none of them fucked up too badly during the Cold War (although the rewriting of history to suggest that Reagan single-handedly ended it irritates me quite a bit, he certainly did help the process of Russia’s progression along), and really…up until Bush, they at least didn’t seem to mind allowing debate, and just general cleverness within their ranks.  It isn’t their party, it isn’t their political ideology, it is who they’ve had to get swooning for them over the years.

I couldn’t identify exactly when it begun, but I’d say sometime in the late 80s and early 90s, you know, back in those fatted Clinton years where people had a lot of free time and minor things they could quibble over, when the evangelical movement really became relevant, and ‘hit the scene’.  Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, James Dobson…after they became popular among the…people who buy that shit, they were courted, in part, by both parties.  The Republicans won out in the end, given that the Democrats only engaged on a very weak and very misguided “wah wah ban violent video games wah wah RAP MUSIC!!!” level.  The Republicans were willing to go all the way with them.  Abortion?  Murder!  Homos?  Worse than abortion!

Of course, had anyone at that time actually cracked open the New Testament and skimmed the Sermon on the Mount, I think we’d currently have legislation banning divorce, since that was his real big deal at the time.  Also, evangelicals would own nothing, and never proselytize.  They’d also be concerned with the conditions of the absolute dregs of society, like prisoners.  You know, the ones who’s state-controlled murders they don’t care about?  Kill something that is arguably not alive, Heaven forbid.  Kill something that you could not deny the humanity of, well, as long as it is during a war or they have been charged guilty of a crime, go right ahead.

Instead, easy targets were lined up in the crosshairs.  I will go off on a tangeant about this, but rest assured that I think the actual teachings and philosophy of Jesus had a beautiful (if sometimes disagreeable to me, personally) message, but it has been completely mistranslated by large swaths of believers.  The ones that do get it, really get it, don’t have much of a voice.  I mean, who is asking the opinion of some monk who has no worldly possessions and lives in the middle of a barren desert his opinion on gay marriage?  Instead, we’ll take the word of a man with capped teeth, a gold-and-diamond-encrusted crucifix swaying overtop his Armani suit, and a pomade-soaked hairdo what he thinks about gays in the military.

He is truly the arbiter of Christ, and the abattoir of modern values, right?

Even though the monk would probably agree with the evangelical, at least his opinion would have some …meat.  He would actually be living it, fully living it.  Really, to me, it doesn’t matter what opinion is held by a religious group or person.  It really shouldn’t matter in terms of government policy, either.  If the only justification you feel your argument needs can be found in the pages of a book that not everyone agrees is proof of some sort of higher source of judgment, than you have no justification at all, really.  Being a person with no faith means I don’t have to get nervous every time someone says “God is Pro-Life”, it means nothing to me.   It would be like if I went around always saying, “Gorgons are Pro-Choice”, and thinking that it just ended whatever argument could’ve been made against me.

Anyway, they got that “base” all riled up over the years, talking about outlawing abortion, privisos in the constitution concerning gay marriage, and just over-all made a point of acting like America was a nation strictly made up of fundamentalist Christians.  They curried the votes, they got their man in, that man being Bush the 2nd.

And what came from it for the Evangelicals?  A couple namedrops here, a few deferences to Jesus there, degradation of the privacy rights of the citizenry at large, lapsed intelligence that resulted massive attack on American soil (because at that time our intelligence agencies were trying to crackdown on brothels, so I suppose they did almost get that), and a war or two.

Nothing about abortion.
Nothing about gay marriage.
Nothing they wanted.
Bush turned out not to be their man, but another base’s man entirely.  That base being the neo-conservative movement, which since it’s inception has been absolutely OBSESSED with the Middle East.  From Israel to Iraq, they wanted footholds, and they wanted them bad.  They got what they wanted, business got what it wanted, but what of the “real, red-blooded Christian Americans” who came out in droves to vote for Bush?
They were disillusioned, the ones clever enough to see through the ruse.

So, they’ve been looking for someone to really do it, do all the little things they’ve waited so long to see happen.

Palin and Huckabee represent this group entirely, and they’re hanging their hats on them completely.  I don’t think they really know how small and self-limiting their tent really is…the “”"base”"”" of the Republican party, that is.   You must meet all these qualifications:
-Christian
-Red Blooded
-Not Gay
-Think Abortion is Murder, seriously, Murder.  Not even just an ethical question of, “gee, when is a zygote really alive…maybe when it can survive out of the womb, you shouldn’t be able to abort it because that is just sort of unsavory” That I can buy, that I could live with.  Sustainability, well okay, we can give that some real argument–but third trimester abortions are already more or less unheard of.  No, you’ve got to think it is murder, always, murder–because someone interpreted some biblical quote to say that God gave you ‘life’ the second you were …thought of, more or less.
-A big fan of war.
-A massive fan of guns, and by extension, the Constitution and other ‘founding documents’ of the US.  Not the parts about civil liberties or seperation of Church and State, though.  Just the part about the guns.  Definitely don’t address the fact that most of our founding fathers were fairly progressive men for their time, especially with regards to religion.   The whole ‘Deist’ thing was more or less an early beard for Agnostic, or otherwise suspicious of traditional monotheism.
-Ejaculate on command when freedom, ‘the troops’, or 9/11 is mentioned.
-Be from “Real America” and resent the coasts and the ‘elites’ within them.
-Don’t think too hard, just go with your gut.  If you do think, don’t talk about it, you elitist prick.

I hope the Republican Party makes a recovery, really, I do.   We need to have two parties, at least, in this country.  We can’t just have the Democratic Party and then some Southern, Jesus-Based Novelty Party which consistently garners a strong 30 percent.

Now, if the absolute mad-dogs of the Evangelical movement want to split off and make their own party, go ahead. Carrie Nation that shit up, guys.  See how far you go.   Let the real political ideologies battle it out. You’d be an interesting footnote in a chapter about turn-of-the-millennium America because, no matter how long you stand in front of it and whine, you can’t stop a torrent, and you can’t stop progress.

If you could, it wouldn’t really be progress–it would be a quick blip as well.

Look around you, just look at the world outside of this country.  Look where they are.  Do you think their populations are all looking towards us, pining away for what we have, and moreso, what you want us to become?  I can tell you there really isn’t any large movement in country’s that have a public option for healthcare to go back to the privately-held American system–of that you can be sure.  Reforms, absolutely, as it isn’t a perfect system…but no one wants to trade government “bureaucrats” that they can vote out of office if they disagree with back for unknown insurance company’s bureaucrats who exist only to make money and have no real reason to give a shit whether you like what they’re doing or not, because you have  absolutely NO control over their fates or their power.  You can’t vote for a new insurance policy over at Anthem or Blue Cross, you can’t vote to have the CEO ousted in favor of a guy more likely to insure you or charge less.

Besides, I think nothing about Jesus is more obvious than the fact that he thought everyone should be given the chance to be healed.  Really, that was one of his big deals.  Along with giving up all material goods, eating pork, and giving a shit about poor people.

Your cause is a self-defeating cause, what you work to slow is inevitable.

I don’t know how it feels, maybe someday the youth of tomorrow will be all for something I just think is ridiculous.  It could happen, like, if in the year 2058 people start worshiping figurines of Be-tittied Bobby Jindals from Japan, and carrying hand-held robots that whip them on command, then maybe I will think things have gone too far.

maybe!

or maybe i will totally be okay with that.  I guess you never know.

Alls I’m saying is, let the right one in during the 2012 primary.  The part of me that just wants to continue to see Democrats dominate the political landscape says make it Palin, make it so.

The part of me that actually wants to see this country succeed in the long-term, and wants to see people really start moving away from the crazier aspects of militant right-wingers says, make it…whoever is currently in the party who isn’t a crackpot, and who is a contender for 2012.  There are a few, they just aren’t sexy enough to hear about.  It is better for a country to have two distinct parties with the chance to maintain power, not just a small group of vocal crazies, a small group of unheard from reasonable conservatives, a smaller group of actual liberal politicians, and a large group of “centrists” who just shuffle around and wait for a lobbyist to tell them how to vote.

So many little things, I don’t know where it begins.  That Evangelical thing is on the outs, though, and that is a very good sign.  Debate can be had across the political spectrum, but not if one party insists that invoking God will end all discussion.

If you want to know my ultimate end-game, my big fantasy for government, it is this: Robots.  I want robots, programmed to make the most reasonable and rational decisions, to lead our nations.   If they turn on us, so be it.  They came to that conclusion using their more powerful robominds, so it had to be the right one for the future of mankind.  Which is what they’d be programmed to protect.  They will all be designed in the likeness of Isaac Asimov.  It will be a glorious new age.

Anne Pliska is a really wonderful perfume, I guess.

thousand property

I’m so happy to think that someday I won’t have to think about other people, ever again.  Someday I will be away from the rabble and their constant din, and if that means I have to be alone –completely apart from others– forever, I’d gladly accept that.

I never used to hate people, not the way I do now, I thought they were generally fine enough.  Working among the ‘folks’ lets you see exactly what sort of collective they are.  There are some that are kind and courteous, and I wish them the absolute best in their lives; I just don’t care to know of them, but best of luck, really.  I want to be alone.  I want my career to involve not one other person.

Or if it does, I want them to be deaf, mute, paralyzed, gone.  What do you call the person who applies the lifecosmetic to the dead, before they are displayed?  I’ll take it.

I know there are people I could enjoy, somewhere, and I know I’ll meet them, someday.  I just wonder if it is even worth the bother to look for company, ever.  I had friends, what good did it do me?   I’m happy where I am, if people think I am odd for being so young and so uninterested in friendship, so be it.  Rather, I’d prefer to be thought strange and left alone, than bothered constantly by ‘friends’.

There were beautiful things written, felt, expressed in all manner of ways; not for me, never by me.  I can appreciate them, but only at their surfaces.  I see how it happens, I just don’t see what the trouble is worth–for what?  Some guy with a hat, some girl with a face?

I guess more or less, I’d much rather be alone than settle for a group of people to hang around with, with whom I’d have little in common.  I do think people would be surprised by how solitary I am.  I know it is very odd, but it’s better this way, I believe.  I’ll never just shrug and accept a behatted guy or some facegirl as a friend, just because it seems like the Thing a young person should do.

a list of celebrities people have said i look like:
-disney princess (sleeping beauty specific)
-amy adams
-taylor swift
-”that girl from married with children” (i’ve got to imagine they meant christina applegate, or else katie segal and……………………i do not believe that, no)
-taylor sprietler (this one was really odd as she seems…totally unknown but the woman must like that soap opera)
-a doll

a list of celebrities i really look like:
-a paper bag covered in white out, with a cheap, frizzy blonde wig on top and googly eyes with dead spiders for eyelashes
-the paper bag is pretty accurate imho

Someone tried to scam me at the register, they paid for a candy with a 50 dollar bill (not that odd, a lot of people come around to break such bills) but then wanted me to change out a stack of 1s for his 50.  I told him I couldn’t do that, and he got a little beligerant.   I just kept counting out his money, handed him his change, and told him customer service could that for him.  He was all like, “alright well where are they” like, “oh now you are the irate customer who has been wronged!”.  When he got there, apparently they busted him for something (i assume the 1s had counterfeits, or eles he was trying to doublecount or something) and told him to just leave.  They came around to check my till, the 50 was legit, as I knew it was, then they were even checking back the tapes.  I felt pretty chuffed.  What a dick, though.  What a con, asshole, you’ll get a whole what…50 bucks out of the matter?  How about you just get a job?  I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself or getting arrested for anything less than…christ, a grand?  that isn’t even a lot, I’d have to be pretty sure I wouldn’t get caught.

Anyway, the thing that irritates me is they just ask them to leave.  Some other woman is a known grift/shoplifter, and she is still allowed in the store.  Give me one ounce of power over that sort of thing, and this store could be assured they’d never have to worry about loss prevention again.  I have no qualms about calling someone out on that sort of thing.  By the way, we are a massive, massive, (largest retail chain on Earth, I believe) store, that brings in massive amounts of money.  If we’re missing out on one hillbilly’s food stamp issuances, so be it.  Just tell her, and tell him, that they are no longer allowed in this store, and they will be escorted out if seen inside again.  Like they have any large networks with which to share this grand injustice with.  Who gives a shit?  Stop allowing yourselves to be victims.  All the managers and slightly-higher-up cashiers do, though.  We have people who work here who are absolutely, monstrously slacking.   Not that it is any business of mine as a low-level employee, screw them at every chance if you like, I say–I just know that if I were given a position of authority…anywhere, it would be a pretty tight ship.  So many people just seem to be afraid to say anything to others.  If I knew I’d have no repercussions other than to be seen as a dick,  so what?   Here, I reveal that I would be a real douchebag to work for.

Not a douche, I just wouldn’t let thieves and cons continue to shop in a store if I had the opportunity to stop them.  Maybe corporate has some policy about not banning customers.  Seems ridiculous.  Why continue to allow yourself to be fucked about?

Same with these ‘price checks’ we do.  Some asshole gets in line, wants to compare prices with shops that are nowhere near our competition–shops in totally different sectors than us.

Discounters, bulk retailers, specialty retailers, et cetera.  Those prices, those places, are not…comparable to ours, therefore, I do not believe we should allow them to change our prices to reflect the ones they see in ads for those shops.  For instance, The Dollar Tree.  People will come here, get some soda, and say “UHHH DOLLAR TREE HAS IT FOR A DOLLAR”.  “Hey cool story brah maybe you should go there instead of here so you can get eeevveeerything for a dollar, ps, the dollar tree is a totally different type of place than the one you are currently shopping at, and odds are good the soda that is a dollar there is not the same soda you are purchasing–or it is an odd batch, or it is nearing expiry, or it is just off-brand, but whatever, whatever, whatever”

Oh, and the most annoying is Aldi.  You know why Aldi is cheaper, goons?  Aldi is cheaper because you bring your own bags, you pack your own shit–you pretty much eliminate a person’s entire paycheck by shopping there.  Aldi doesn’t have to pay as many people, and they don’t have to purchase as many bags, soooo yeah, the prices reflect that.  See though, that is a totally different business model and pricing ladder, so not really in the same league.  You want discounted prices such as the type you’ll find at Aldi?  You should have to go there, and put up with the inconveniences that your thriftiness earns you.    By the way, business for which I work, why can’t we have baggers?  I hate the big box retailers for this, all of them are alike in this respect.  Just hire two or three more people for every shift, and have them rotate around helping large orders with packing up their bags–like legitimate groceries do.

Better idea, get rid of what is the absolutely redundant position of “door greeter”, and hire people on for the same amount of money as “bag couriers” or something.  Maybe they can even double as “door greeters”, in the way that they watch the door for theft when not bagging.  The rest of the ‘door greeters’ responsibilities are stupid, and archaic.  This isn’t Rancher Smorkey’s Old Timey Feed ‘n’ Seed, so cut all the Mayberry aw-shucks bullshit.  Modern up, maybe you can mask your unethical corporate behavior that way.

If I did not actively despise the company I work for, I would tell someone how stupid I think these policies are.

elevator tan

Oh my god why is some old perfume that I am only marginally interested in sampling like, at least eighty dollars for a 3.3 EDP, with no smaller options for less than say–fifty?

I really just want to try it; the notes sound good, I love the specific shade of pink she really seemed to have created, Mae West’s influence in any spectrum is just totally killer, all the reviews indicate it invokes 1930s glamour, which interests me because I have no idea what that would smell like (faint idea of 50s glamour and all, but anything pre-’55 I’d be more or less lost as to what is “glamourous” or even popular for fragrance) and that Elsa Schiaparelli seems like alright people–good, solid folk.  The kind of person I would say “Oh, awesome” if I heard that someone had met her.  Too bad she’s long dead, though. Anyway, Shocking is too expensive for a perfume that was reintroduced in the 1990s: I’m not looking for a vintage bottle (not without testing the notes, at least), I’d be happy to test the rerelease and see if I liked it or not.  I’m keeping an eye out, watch out world, I may purchase a sample of a thing sometime

I’m also angry!  So angry!

I’m cashiering, doing my thing, and I’ve got this old bag who just has a mountain of sacks on the carousel, where items go to be bagged and then, by the customer, put back into their cart.    She’s not making any moves to put stuff back in her cart as the transaction goes on, but I just assume she’s one of those people who waits until they’ve paid to move all of their stuff back into the cart.  It is stupid, but I know that shopping can be a terrifying, exotic venture for some people so I just let it go.    Anyway, mountain of stuff.  Ridiculous-looking, huge, obviously unwieldy piles of her items, bagged, ready to be taken away from my lane, right?

No.  She slides her credit card, finishes that all up, I hand her the receipt, I wait for her to start moving some of her stuff THEN SUDDENLY DROOPY DOG ENTERS THE FRAY:
“oh, you don’t load them?”

Attn: World
Re: The most certain way to make me angry
Body: Sound like a goddamn baby.

There is one noise in this world that absolutely cuts right through me, and it is adult men and women making with that pathetic, pitiful voice.  I despise people who hunt down pity, who actually want people to feel sorry for them, and use their ‘disadvantage’ (real or feigned ((almost always goddamn feigned))) to their advantage.  Seriously, you want to make me mad, in a totally non-playful, absolutely disgusted way?  Sound like you’re in urgent need of my most tender care.  “Ooooh you don’t bag them ahbloobloobloo”

I only ever want to hear such desperate, craven need for help in an adult human’s voice when you are drowning in mud.  Then, you can go ahead and be so pathetic, or pitiful, so on-the-verge of tears.

When it is just some dumb shit like you are an entitled little cooz who couldn’t possibly comprehend a world where somebody who has been working all day doesn’t bend at the knee to aid you (where aid is completely unneccesary by the way, you being a woman who at your oldest is 55, who managed by some magical grace to get the items INTO your cart).  You know, lady, it totally would’ve been one thing had you just said, “Oh, can I have a little help getting this into my cart?”  I still would’ve rolled my eyes inwardly because honestly, if you are too weak to lift things, you shouldn’t purchase them, maybe.  Call Meals on Wheels, your laziness isn’t my problem, and I don’t get paid to aid the elderly.  But I’ll do it, and I’ll probably feel bad, and I will be as friendly as ever with you.

It is the way you said it.  I’m glad I was kind of a bitch.

“No, not traditionally.”  with a purposeful, confused grimace on my face–making clear that what you are asking is something that the average, everyday, decent person does not bother me with.
“Oh reeeaaally well–”
“but if you want me to, I’ll help you.” specifying that what I am doing is indeed helping you, and is in fact, not an obligation on my part–not at all, not one bit.  Not a part of my job, in any capacity.  I do it for people who ask, or for old women who are clearly impaired, but just some dumb old skank who is lazy, whiny, and entitled to it?  Absolutely not, not without you having to ask me.  You’ll have to embarass yourself in front of everyone be seeming so needy to get the great reward of not having to lift your arms above your waist.

The reason I don’t jump to do this shit?  Because I have dignity.  Number one, I’m not Hopskip the Fetchgirl.  I’m here to do very few things, really.  Make sure all of your items get scanned properly, make sure that they are in bags that will not break and are sorted properly, and make sure you pay.  Other than that, it is on you.  I do extraneous things, of course, because contrary to what my every blog seems to revolve around, I do like people, and generally get along (at least for the short amount of time I interact with them) with most everyone.  I like to see the items they buy, the way they speak to each other, and I like to make people happy.  Well, make polite people happy.  They have it coming to them.

In addition, I have self-respect, so I don’t really project such…piteous behavior on to others.  I assume everyone has the same level of dignity that I do, and they wouldn’t want to be seen getting help from someone else on simple tasks, and more or less, they’d want to handle their business…by themselves.  I’d be ashamed if I had to ask someone for help; you seem to think you shouldn’t even have to ask!

Then you go on to say that “(i’ve) never been to one that didn’t load before”.  Oh, really?  Never, huh?  Did you just step out of a atomic shelter, because baby, ain’t nobody been helping anybody since 1980.  I don’ think bagboys really exist anymore, not here in the United States.  I’ve worked at this place for almost half of a year now, and I’ve never, ever, ever seen a cashier load up a cart for an ABLE-BODIED person.  Unless you have some hidden lobster hands, which you don’t, because you got the shit in there in the first place, there is no reason for me to assume you need help.  Silly me,  I should’ve smelled your weakness; recognized you as a member of our little human group that needed to be left to the lions.

Honestly, one thousand times I could just say this: I cannot even begin to explain how much I hate the sound of a serious, whining tone, if the person is over 14.  There are so many people in this world who want to be the victim, and play the poor sap for everyone’s “awww”s and “ohh poor dear”s.   Shameless.  This is just one minute example.  If you could hear the tone in this bird’s voice, you’d totally get it.

If you want someone to do something for you, just say it.  Don’t be passive aggressive, don’t beat around the bush, don’t cry for it, just ask.  If they don’t want to do it, then alright.  You shouldn’t try to manipulate people’s weak spots emotionally, especially for dumb little things like “help with your groceries”.  If you can’t get what you want through reason, suggestion, and neccesity, then you don’t deserve to get it–whatever it is.   If you have to play weak, whatever it is you want should just be given to the next person.  Weakness is not a good thing, no one should be okay with being seen as pathetic.

That is all, I guess.  Droopy Dog people just make me wish I were some sort of…wizard.
A wizard
of foz

liggetari cafeterii

why did no one ever tell me that the word “lame” is offensive to people who are all disabled ‘n’ shit?

That just seems a little silly.  The word “lame” is never much used in a medical context anymore, I mean, I’ve yet to hear someone actually refer to another person as “lame”, in the sense that they have been crippled.

Idiot also used to be used as a medical term, just pretty much meaning simple-minded, or even profoundly retarded.  Either way, it is a word most of us feel comfortable saying.  It is a personal decision, of course, and I try to be respectful with my speech (thus the use of the word “lame” in the first place, really), but I think I’m just going to go ahead and continue to say this one.  I mean, seriously.

What about hobbled?  Can we say that someone is hobbling themselves, or an argument or point is ‘hobbled’?  Off-center, maybe?  I mean, some people are quite desperately asymmetrical, and I certainly wouldn’t want them to think I think them any less human than I.  Feeble still cool?

I do all the other considerate things, with regards to speech and discriminatory language, but I am really going to have to draw the line at lame.  What about lame duck?  What sort of word would possibly replace the glorious catch-all that is ‘lame’?

Faggy?  Gay?  Shit?  Retarded?  All much less…polite choices, to say the least.  When I run through the thought, “would I say this if a person that this word could be used to describe was standing right next to me?” and I definitely would still say lame in front of a person on crutches.   Wouldn’t even hardly notice.  I might not say “crippled” as a negative, but I sure as hell would say lame.  What an antiquated word to be used to describe an actual medical problem–I wouldn’t worry about it.

I mean, I can even “get” spastic, or spaz.  A little; the slightest bit.  Maybe I’m just not that sensitive to the problems of the disabled.

I suppose you could say they
fall
on
deaf
ears.

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD

following schemes

I know that someday I’ll control something.  I wish I wasn’t so frustrated; it all stems from feeling so powerless and weak–in almost every sense.  I’m emotionally strong, intellectually adequate, but none of that matters, really.  I’m missing something, and I just don’t know what it is.  I might never know, and I might just grow out of this feeling; maybe it is just a temporary thing, and once I start doing something new, have any sort of stimuli outside of whatever it is I have now, maybe I’ll calm down.   Maybe I’ll stop with all this anger…I know there isn’t anything wrong with me.  There is no medical condition that just causes short-fuses and rage, right?  If there was, I’d probably exhibit no other symptom.  I don’t go off on crying jags, I don’t go through manic phases, and I’m never depressed (in that clinical sense, of course).  I’m just very, very easy to anger–and when I do get angry, I can’t help but seethe and seethe with the most violent and hateful thoughts.   Just a regular tinderbox; but luckily, I suppose, I’m powerless.    I think, had I the fortune of being born male, I would’ve been a very strong, respected figure.   My anger would mean something, my revulsion would be beardstroked over, pondered, given consideration.  Maybe for the simple animal fact that I would have physical brute to back up any little blip of anger I felt.

Then again, in the masculine world, the odds are much better that your anger will actually get you…I don’t know, beaten up?  If you go around starting fights as a dude, it is fairly likely that at least once you’ll have that anger just beaten out of you.  You’d learn to keep it tempered.

I don’t keep it tempered, but I also don’t express it.  I’d alienate absolutely everyone I know if I let it be known how stupid-angry I get over things I couldn’t even possibly begin to control.  That’s just it, maybe.  I want so much to just choke it out, to make people see.  I never will though, I just don’t have “it”.  I know how much the “folks” of the United States would hate me, if they knew what sort of person I was, I know how much the people I ring out everyday would despise me; what sort of enemy they’d see me as.  I can’t help but do it myself, to one up them, I suppose, before they get the chance to know me–I know them, right?

Maybe not.  Logically, thinking, I know I can’t be so angry, there is nothing to be angry about, there are decent people on this Earth, people who would agree with me, and people who wouldn’t but wouldn’t hate me, either.

I really think it is a shame I became politically aware during Bush’s tenure.  He really polarized this country, to the point that as a young person I felt that my entire family and I were just unwelcome citizens, persona non grata.  There was just so much of that, everywhere I looked it just seemed like another issue was coming up that was treated like Jesus himself deigned it righteous, and that those who disagreed could either “love it or leave it”, or were just unpatriotic.  They made this bed, this bed that I’m seizuring with rage on, this where I feel like I am supposed to hate America, because they loved it.  Where I couldn’t possibly believe in God, because they used him to justify their ridiculousness and hate.   Where banners, ribbons and flags all make me shudder inwardly.  I know most of this country is completely apolitical; absolutely not interested.  I know that “my party” won–this time.  It just makes me sick to think I’m living in a country where the same people who made me feel completely, completely, completely unwelcome in my own country, now think they still have the right to do it still, even when “we” won.

Why do I give them all such power?  Why do I let their hate make me feel so much?  I don’t want to, it is very unhealthy.  I want to be mellow again, I just can’t be.  Every single day, I’m just so angry.  I don’t want to be.  I want to care about people, I want to be fair, I want to care about this country, I’d absolutely love to believe in something, but I can’t.  They took it away from me, and made it only for them, a representation of so much more insidious bullshit.   Why did I ever, and why do I still, let them define me and those like myself–which are, by and large, looking to be more and more a majority in this country?  Why have I let some increasingly marginalized group of radicals take anything away from me?

I want them to know how failed their movement was, I want Dobson to continue to admit the loss of the culture wars to reason and humanity, and I want those same people who so egged on people just like me, my grandfather, my grandmother, my mom and dad–making me feel so reviled, that my entire family would be considered wretched–I want them to ‘love it or leave it’.  I don’t know.  I wonder if it is more than this; it just seems so surface.  I just get so angry, so hateful.  I really don’t want to–I don’t enjoy the feeling, I don’t enjoy the thoughts, because there are plenty of fine, upstanding people who consider themselves Christian, patriotic, or even Republican in general.  They aren’t all bad people, it would be naive to think so.  It just seemed like nary a one of them was around from 2001-2007, when I was made to feel like I lived in a country that was going backwards in time, with absolutely no representation, none, for people who thought as I did.

I can’t help but think it is more than that, though.  I’ve felt that way for a long time, why would I just suddenly in the past year have uncontrollable fits of rage over something I’ve been aware of for years?

Maybe I do have some disorder.   I just couldn’t possibly guess which one would fit.  I mean, they all have auxiliary bits that don’t concern me.  Mood swings, kleptomania, depression, impulsive behavior.  It isn’t impulsive, I know when I’m going to get angry, I can see it coming, and I don’t really act on it, ever.  Totally out of fear of being noticably over-the-top though.  Like, I know I would feel better to hit something, or scream, or any of those basic sort of “eRrrrggghhhh im raaaggiiiingggg” things people do, but I can’t.  Partly, because it is just very unbecoming for a young lady to scream or hit a pillow or something, two, because screaming would make me hoarse and feel awkward (even if I was totally alone, I never, ever scream–not once in my life) and hitting stuff may very well backfire and hurt my hands, and finally, because it would really feel like I lost control at that point.

As long as I can keep it all in my mind, just inane, over-the-top fantasy that slowly drains me of my ragenergy with none the wiser, I’m still controlling it.

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

prity kity

attn: me
re: a thing you are going to make fun of
body:  some women crying about how pink represents femininity and how it is infantalizing and how blah blahblah
basic outline : bitches upset because some company that specializes in bath products and fragranced accoutrement has some ad-copy that suggests that WOMYYYN love pink and red lipstick and beautiful hair and OF COURSE all of this is just tools of the patriarchy meant to tell the world of our sexual availability henceforth known as lower groin propositions

being that it is of course that the mouth is the face’s vagina, and red symbolizes HEAT which symbolizes f-f-f-f-fuckin  which of course means patriarchal duties derelict in their attention 2 da struggle of all ladies out there

of all the things to care about, i think ””””’the pink menace””””” and the stranglehold (???) it has over women (???) is about the least important ever

I’ve never felt societal pressure to be anything other than hygenic.  The rest is just stuff I’ve decided to add.  I don’t care if women get encouraged to behave a certain way, I don’t care if men get encouraged to behave a certain way.  No one is stoning anyone in the public square for not liking the color pink, and no one is barred from voting because they don’t wear their hair “pretty”.  So stop crying, and lather up.   While you might be culturally told to behave, look, or feel a certain way, that is certainly not something you can’t resist–if you so choose.  As many fat, frumpy, plain-jane hags as I see milling about this world, I know that the pressure isn’t that great to be beautiful.  lold

flitflitflit anyway shut up ladies , the color pink is not the enemy, nor has it ever been.   Concern yourself with more important things; maybe things that don’t even directly concern the bevagina’d.   Other groups have it a lot worse, and have a lot more urgent need for representation than the blanket group “women”, and the great color-representation monster that haunts us from birth.  We fight proudly alongside the jealous who rage against green, the Communists resisting red, the men who battle blue, the cowardly sniffling at yellow, and the drawn-out hyperbole that destroysusrfsihjrallllllllolddnot2nice2ry2talkincodeifuveg0tth@ner5e

action toad

Women with bird-like faces are the most likely to be bitches.  Squawk! Squawk!  Those were marked 3.40, not 3.60!  Squawk!  I’d just give these silly cows twenty cents out of my own pocket if I could, and if it meant they’d shut up and just accept whatever price was shown.  Unless there is a major price discrepancy, I –along with all the other people on Earth with a little self-respect– wouldn’t quibble.   Also, price matching.  Attention sows; if the price is so much better at Marsh, go there.  I’ll drive you there myself, and regale you with tales of how my family would be ashamed to be the kind of people who have bird faces, no money, and a poor disposition.  For then you know your genes might as well just kaputz guuuurl

Mousy, plain women will not make eye contact with you, but they’ll say “hello” deferentially.  Might as well be pushing up their glasses and calling me sir.  In this reference, I am Peppermint Patty.  I am not gay, but both the Female and Male variations of The Gays seem to catch my groove easily.  Easier than you breeeeeders at least l00o00ol

The generously-assed will pay with a check.  Old people are given a pass on this one, because they are old and stuck in their ways.   If you want twenty over on your check for fourteen dollars, I’d like to just take your check and scribble across it “DEBIT CARD? y/n :0)”

The bank gives them out for free.  Why do you not have one?  Please explain, hillbilly.

Two people in as many days have told me I look like a china doll.  I am okay with this.  Very okay!  smiiilez

My hands are all torn up from cashiering and my new puppy, and it hurts to use the hand sanitizer, or any of my lotions.  Wah, wah.

Taffy is adorable, and she is as sassy as any pup could be.  A real fusserton.

I am about to just pass out.  I want my first paycheck, and I want my schedule to be concrete.  They keep jerking me around with the schedule, I have a handwritten one that I was told to go off of for the first three weeks, and it has only been around two weeks.  Near three though, so I can understand if I’d shown up on the electronic one by now.  Apparently I am on one mysterious and fake electronic schedule only my supervisors received, and I’m not at all present on the one posted in the employee break area.  Some guy who must be a superior to my superior gave a long explanation to my lady that she didn’t repeat, that explained the error.  All I know is, this is hardly any fault of mine–and this management group really ought to get it’s act together.  I was hired part-time, given a full-time schedule at first: it took three days to actually get it changed to what I was hired for.  I was told to use that schedule, and it has all the dates from three weeks then on filled out.  Now I’m being told this electric bullshit, and just ugh.

I hope no one just googles various key phrases I might’ve used in this journal in conjunction with…other phrases they might’ve noted.  Really though, I’m sure none of them “”"”"get”"”"”" that I am sort of clever.  I think some customers get turned off by my use of ‘words’.  I told some woman that someone had ””absconded”” with my pen, and she just looked at me.  I totally understand, it is a stupid word and it was my fault for using it, like I’m some sort of Dickensian school marm.

I get the same look when I use the word partition, though.  Which is awful.

Whatevs b@bii i dnt need nufin~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

have a hollyjolly one, online journal/”"”"blog”"”"”