bump death

soupy sales
my grandmother
and now maybe morrissey
What a crummy week!
~really a terrible year, 2bh w/o lol

If anyone is interested in making a student documentary about awkward times, get in contact with me, because new science is coming in suggesting that I will be having the most awkward time in history for the next few days.

I could not even begin to beguine how over-the-top awkward this is all going to be.  Honestly, recoiling-style uncomfortable.  If there is one trait each and every person I spend time with shares, it is the ability to turn every situation into stony silence or just screams.  One thousand screams, two thousand saucer eyes.  I’m glad I can shirk pretty well.

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 :_(

how weak

I quit my job.  Well, gave the two weeks notice.  How nice for business here in the United States that we have to give them notice we’re leaving, but at any point the worker can be told to clean out their desk out by some dingus half-a-tax-bracket above them.

Either way, I look forward to being unemployed again.  Everyday I was getting closer and closer to either an aneurysm or a spree killing.  Little from column A, little from column B.

I just want to sleep for weeks after this, and completely, totally withdraw from having to interact with people.   The idea of spending an entire day without being obligated to speak to someone is getting me HIGHA N HIIIGHA

I would be so adaptable for hermit life.

The Prince song known as “Anna Stesia” is great, until the last part where it starts to be about God, I guess.  Such a strange transmogrification, it starts off with me interpreting it as like, sexy, right?  Loneliness, “”"night-time”"”", hints of ”””’unnatural sexuality”””’, but then there is a brief breakdown about ‘learnin how to love the right way’ where I’m still like, oh yeah, this is totally about doing it but maybe with like, affection which is unlike prince’s character in this song in general….BUT THEN
all boys and girls love god
all boys and girls love god
all boys and girls love god
I’M WILD 4 JESUS

I got no specific beef with Prince, I think his juxtaposition of religious imagery vs. seXxXxxystuff is interesting, but this song just makes it a little too closely linked.  I guess maybe the girl, Anna Stesia, is supposed to be some sort of Witness who pretends to be about to do him and then starts going on about Jesus?  That I can buy.

Then again, anyone could.

HEYOOOOOOOOAHHHH

man i am obsessing over napping right now, and just doing whatever without having to look in to the cold, dead sow-eyes of my fellow hoosiers

quittin work
loungin it
lets do this
~~

im starting a juggalo band SO SHUT UP

I’m a man with a plan buildin canals all day
I’m a crazy dog eatin sandwiches out of the trash bay
I’m a tiny mouse walkin around on a silver tray
at a fancy buffet
HEY
you know what i’d say
to see such a thing in the U.S.A
give that mouse a sandwich make his day less gray
HEY
We’re the literary reference to a novel we probably never read clan~
i am William Faulkner
AKA the big Willy 2 Fuckner
OH SO YOU’VE HEARD
WORD IS THE FURY SOUND IS THE WORD
FURY IS THE SOUND I’M DOWN WITH THE CLO-O-OWN

that went in a few directions all of which im incredibly pleased with GET ME DOCTOR DRE ON THE HORN, PICKLES

never at

I think I don’t hate people, as much as I don’t understand some specific things people seem to do and like, and I get frustrated at that.  It is more frustration at not “getting it”, the whole of “”"”it”"”"”, than it is actual hate.  I think, at least–if not it would be a lot of hate.

I’ve been trying to just be happier, and it is pretty alright.  I’m still bored, though.  I’ll just try sleeping more.

Today I accidentally had to speak to some neighborhood lady.   Taffy wasn’t using her li’l trainin’ pupp’ pads, so I took her outside for a second to see if she’d do so out there.   Kill two birds with one stone, because I want her to start going outside anyway.   So I just open the door, dog on leash, I’m in pajamas (lounge clothes, really, so nothing crazy embarassing–just not something I neccesarily want people trying to talk to me while I’m wearing them) and there is a car parked on the road, near our mailbox.  Some lady is trudging out and walking towards the middle-area of our and the neighbor’s yards, where a cable line has been awaiting burial for…months, maybe, now.  Completely and totally Not Our Thing, but this lady had came to us before to gripe about it…or something, we didn’t answer the door, she left a message crying about the cable line.  We are renting this place, the lawncare is provided, so the beef was that the lawn people couldn’t mow around the cable.  As true as that may be, which it is completely true (the cable had caution tape all around it ((pps thanks cable company for just leaving an unplanted wire just hanging around a house, what the hell)) and we certainly weren’t going to mess with it, nor should anyone else feel obligated to), and we were in agreement that the cable company should be called.

Therefore, lady (she’s like, what do you call it, the President of the Gladys Kravitz Association?) called the cable company, they eventually get out, and now the line is buried, and the surrounding area completely mowed.  They had just mowed around it before.  Everything is fine, UNTIL–
i have to speak to another person, while I’m just trying to relax and get my dog to poop on the grass without incident

She is trudging up, just says “Oh, it looks like they made it out” cool lady don’t worry about formalities like introducing yourself or saying hello or anything, you being at my home now you don’t have to worry about being polite, no you are not intruding in on my loungetime at all

Then, I being as clever as I am and having put together right away who she was and why she was talking about some stupid thing at me says “oh yeah i guess they did” and then I just silently encourage taffy to please go outside oh for the love of god just do it because i want this woman to feel awkward enough about this whole encounter that she just leaves and never looks back

but no taffy just eats grass and stands with her head proud in the breeze, cone and all~~my dog is the opposite of the sort of dog people write epitaphs for

anyway, the lady and me are standing quite a few feet apart, just not talking.  she’s looking at…whatever that massive electric box thing is that it in front of people’s homes and businesses, and she says something about “oh you’ve got tons of _____” and I’m just like, “what is that”
she’s like “oh, it is like little field mice.  that is why there are so many tunnels and a hole oh they have a nest there i guess” and i just say plain as day, “disgusting.”  the fact of the matter is, we live in a perfectly nice condo, and i don’t care to hear about whatever fauna may be on the outskirts of it.  As long as I never, ever see a mouse inside of this house, they can have a stuckey’s out there for all i care

and I don’t think I will, because our home is not uhhhh squalid or old.

meanwhile, some other bitch comes out of her house and says “EX-X-CUSE ME IS YOUR GARAGE DOOR OPENING” just out into the air like that

I look over at her but I’m more concerned about how quickly I can get out of this situation that is now rapidly spiralling into a Social Gathering

the original lady (O.L. Gladys)  says “ohh well i live all the way over on the other side of–” and the other one interrupts at this point “I know where you live and i know who you are” and i’m now stooped over petting taffy and pretending to be preoccupied with some grass or something she was sniffing, like i’m all curious about the World of Nature, Right Outside of My Home!

and the O.L. says “hmm have you checked your circuit breaker”

Meanwhile, I’m thinking, what the hell does this have to do with anything at all, interrupting cow of a neighbor?  if your garage door isn’t opening, the lady who runs the like, compliance committee for this shitty condominium neighborhood isn’t going to be able to fix it?  what does she have to do with that?  she has nothing to do with your garage,  you figure it out.  also, whether her door is opening or not has no bearing on your door’s current state.  Do you think they’re all on the same…garage door circuit or something?  They aren’t.  That is not how electricity or your home or a neighborhood or anything, anything at all works.

instead of saying any of this i am just staring quite intently at a piece of land with my stupid dog in tow
then the O.L. says “hmm would you like a flash light i may have one in my car” and the other interrupting lady says “YES that would be great” STILL like this random woman is obligated to assist her and her garage issues.  maybe the life of a busybody is harder than I thought.

Anyway, I took that opportunity to scuttle back into my house, with the O.L. halfway in her car and the interrupting lady busy feeling important.

that is the story i guess but i thought it was pretty funny how i just went back inside without having much at all in the way of a conversation with that woman, or the other one

It isn’t that I don’t like neighbors, and I don’t want to have a combative or unfriendly relationship with them at all, but I really never “got” the whole “neighborly” thing.   I should just force myself into friendships with people because they live near me?  That doesn’t mean much, at all.  It would be a ‘friendship’ of convenience, and I just don’t think friends are all that convenient as it is.

Besides, I’d much prefer neighbors who are polite, but stick to themselves.  My next-door neighbors are like that, they are occasionally out at the same time as we are, and we sometimes wave at one another, sometimes not.  We, as they used to say, ‘get along’.  It’s no big “OH NEEEIGHBORS lets talk about THINGS and borrow MAIL and watch each other’s DOGS on VACATIONS”  it is more like, “hey, I trust that if my car was getting broken into and you saw it, you’d call the police.  I’d do the same for you, but I do not think either of us should be running around trying to save the neighbor’s car ourselves, you know. also, don’t ask me about my life and i will not ask you about yours. we do not share our names, and we go on about our business, politely.”  That is the perfect neighbor.

anyway long story short if you want to speak with me you have to just so happen to be coming out of your car at the same time i am with my dog outside, or else i just won’t answer the door

p.s. i don’t care about the mouse thing, whatever the hell you were talking about, unless you are going to gas them or something i don’t know, so don’t bother telling me.  you came here to nose around and make sure the cable was buried, it was, so just start heading back.   also, you didn’t have to stop and get out of the car to see that.  i noticed when i just drove by the house earlier today soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
never bother me again, neighbor woman

also interrupting woman what the hell is your deal
what if that lady was talking to me about something important and here you come interrupting us to gripe about something nobody has anything to do with

that is like if I just go lurking around when I see you hillbilly’s outside eating Hotted Dogs and smoking Rolled Tabaccos and I just start complaining that my car isn’t really awesome

what can you do about it? what could me or that neighborhood gladys possibly do about your Current Problems?  just stay inside, christ.

now I’m all itchy because she grossed me out, talking about mice.  I didn’t tell you that my dog has to poop, did I?  so shut up.  no one here is talking about gross stuff.  Don’t come to my house, say something about a buried cable like it was my problem all along and it just finally got fixed (note : it was the cable company’s problem, not yours and definitely not mine, either) and then tell me about some gross stuff happening near by.  I’m just trying to relax, lady.  Not have to take a boiling hot shower out of fear that some small field mouse touched my hand somehow, tenderly.

i already boil myself after going outside for fear of tiny, imperceptible insect invasion

so
thanxX jerk

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.

str8 hail

So my dog is going in for her spaying surgery tomorrow, and I am nervous!~!~!

I don’t want her to die, and I just get the feeling she might.  I mean, it is in a barn, technically.  Sort of, I guess, not so much, BUT, they also work on farm animals.  Cows and the like.  Seems like a professional outlet UNTIL.-.–.-…~~city confidential

So I worry there will be a mix-up with the tranquilizers and they’ll end up overdosing her.  Or just a routine mess-up that kills her.  She’ll probably be fine though, logic just dictates that.  It is something all vets perform, probably a lot, so no big deal.

It is also going to cost me a lot of money.  Ehhhhhhhh.  I wish I could just do it myself.  I’ve been grooming her myself, just let me rent a scalpel, one of those Elizabethan collars, and some anti-bleeding powder, I’ll

GIT ”GRRRR”’ DONE

or dun
whatevs

I came up with a pretty clever punword, but I’m afraid to tell anyone for fear that they’ll use it themselves for something that gets famous or important, and I’ll be wearing a sandwich board and a barrel w/ suspenders for a shirt in a year’s time, telling teenage girls that I was the one who really came up with that damn word and that i’ll buy them some Malibu flavored rum if they’d only tell me that I’m clever and then punch me in the stomach as hard as you can girls come on

I was so excited about Netflix for about a month, but now I’ve had the same copy of Motel Hell/Deranged out for the past uhhhh month

Motel Hell was alright, Deranged was alright.  Deranged actually was better, just because the corpses used were pretty good.  I think probably not realistic, but I don’t like realism.  The less realistic, the better.  I like dreamy, totally false, impossible-looking things.  Fantastical, I suppose.  Claymation, real props, that sort of thing.  LOOOOOL H8N CGI s0oo0ooOOo00 2006

i still fight the good fights

MIA was on Real Time, and her opinion on some large civil war in her “country of origin”, which really seemed to be moreso her country of ethnic background, because wikipedia tells me that she was born in the UK (soooo) was ehhh

to be fair, what should I care what MIA has to say unless it is about where I can score some weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds

which by the way i haven’t came anywhere near having in over a year
mostly because i have not had friends since then and i think i seem very ” upstanding citizen ” at work so no one under the age of 40 would think im cool enough not to be a narc or a evangelist or something :_(

they are probably right to think that , i’m like doris day when i am there

ahhggghhhh i am sooo B~O~R~E~D

thrill kill kult might’ve broken up
n o  o n e  k n o w s . . . . .

some lady in my lane at work the other day had a retarded son that at first I thought was normal
then he started talking
and I was like ahhhh, that explains the eyebrows

he was like, 40
she was probably 60 or so
I can’t imagine a worse thing, then to be taking care of some large child who is sort of incapable of gratitude until you are dead……………………..i’d be all like, “doc get this thing OUTTA me!” and then it’d be settled.  Or, I’d just Kennedy it.  Put them in a nice facility somewhere, never to bring down the rest of us at vacations.  You know you’d always have to dumb down vacations, too.  You could never tour a museum, it would always have to revolve around childthings.  Disney, amusement parks…it would definitely blow, in large and small ways.  I talk too much about how much I’d hate to have a mentally disabled child, it really seems either dickish, or I’m trying to talk fate out of giving me one by threatening to treat it really badly.  I’ve pretty much said that a lot, one of my favorite gags when the subject of having a retarded kid comes up (which it does often wthhhhh) is to say “I’ll just keep getting rid of them until you give up the lesson, god.” and i look up at the sky and make a gunpoint

I think you “”"Get The Picture!!!”

it usually gets a laugh

but yeah if there is a god i am deeeefinitely having a disabled kid  :__(

anyway, her son was disabled, but she was a bitch!

It came to the end of her transaction and when she swiped her card and the terminal asked her (briefly, it defaults to English) if she wanted Spanish or English, she sezzz:
“There is only one language.  This is still Uhmerca.”

Meanwhile, her son is squealing about a football shaped thermos and her methy daughter, baby in tow, keeps saying “Why come” about cheez-its or something

I’m like, lady. come on.  don’t even.  what makes you think:
1) i want to hear your words/participate in a conversation/be aware of your opinion on anything outside of cordiality?  I don’t drop shit like that at strangers.  I don’t tell your twangy ass that I wish we could salt the Earth that bore you and yours, and never speak of that region of UMERCA again, right?  I don’t suggest that maybe you should’ve stopped breeding after the first one came out so shit, correct?  I don’t say anything like that, because I live in a society.
2) what you are speaking barely registers as English, and you know it, but you revel in your regional speech, or else…you wouldn’t do it.  I imagine we were born in around the same area, yes?  I don’t speak like you, my family doesn’t speak with you, and no one I really interact with on a substantial level in this area speaks like you.  I know it isn’t impossible, you just think you’re all the more ‘real’ for it, don’t you?  Get out.
3) Have you ever been outside of this much vaunted America of yours?  Had you ever been, I trust that you’d understand how difficult it is to be in a country where the primary language is not your native tongue–the language you’ve used since birth.  Even if a Spanish-speaking immigrant comes to this country with years and years of English language study under their belt, they’re STILL going to be more comfortable using Spanish–just as you or I would be more comfortable using English in France, even if we spoke French well enough to get by as citizens there, we’d still be so grateful to get the chance to fully understand what was coming up on a screen over there.  Do you get that?  Does it make sense?  How does it hurt you, to make others more comfortable in alien situations?  I certainly hope you don’t consider yourself a religious person.  Who would Jesus insist speak exclusively AHNNGLISH?
4) You have no idea who I am.  For all you know, I am Chilean.  Or my husband’s Mexican.  I didn’t say much to you; maybe Spanish is my primary language?  What should that matter?  What made you so certain that you had a anglo-confidante, a sympathetic ear,  in me?  I suppose I am pretty obviously Caucasian, but even still–there are plenty of people in Latin America, or shit, in Spain, who look just like me.  Even if you knew for a fact that I was nothing but a Northern European cur, that still doesn’t mean you get to have a shitty opinion stew with me.

I am weak though, I said nothing. Nothing at all.  I just let my face fall, gave her a receipt, and told her to have a nice day.  There is no changing people, and the cashier at her local area Walmart isn’t going to make her rethink her position on the Spanish language being available as an option at bank machines, nothing would.

I just don’t like people, and I probably never will.  Someday I’ll just have a nice little world, all to myself, with a mate who agrees with me on this sort of thing or at least humors me and pretends to, and some kids that will be forced to agree with me all the time or else they don’t get to have xboxes, and we’ll live out in the woods, declare ourselves a sovereign nation.  We’ll call it Groovy Gritch, and the teens will make out there, but when the FBI storms the place, the teens, they will be gone.  Scattered like dreams, like dust in the w i n d . . .

yeah thats it, the ticket is right there, the ticket 2 riIide

i’d probably be a lot happier in a place where most people at least wouldn’t think i was a witch if they had any idea what sorts of things I agreed with

So Indiana is more or less o-u-t

ho hum, that milwaukee move is either going to be SOON or MUCH LATER or NEVER, it all depends on the job decisions of another guy, who is indecisive

my grandmother, uncles, and dad all are technically going to be canadian citizens in a matter of months or something

My grandma was forced to renounce her Canadian citizenship as a kid, while Canada was doing that thing where you had to not be Canadian anymore in order to become an American, or something…anyway, they are reinstating hers, and offering citizenship to her children as well.  Not her grandchildren though.  SharXxxxxxXXx

i think i’d really like canada
or anywhere
I really should’ve never been in such a hurry to leave london
I mean for real I had the chance to uhhhhh totally live the rest of my life there

my dad had a job that was in no danger of not being around, and he was quite comfortable, and everything there was just so much better than it is here.

why did I bother coming back, what is here for me that I couldn’t find anywhere else, in more quantity and with more quality?

i came back for my friends, and to finish high school.  for what?  what has all of that gotten me?  I haven’t spoken to any of those friends in shit, maybe a year?  All those precious people that I had to leave one of the most ____ cities in the world for?  The people who I couldn’t stand to look at months after graduation?  The ones I still liked, where are they?  I don’t know, haven’t bothered to look.

And school, who gives a shit. I could’ve gone to a community college over there, started off on a path of doing some lame bullshit.  I could’ve worked at the Asda for christsakes, pretty much directly what I’m doing, just in a more fun, awesome, full-of-things place.

whatever.  we have to live with every stupid little decision we make, and as far as they go, coming back the united states to finish my senior year of high school hardly ranks up there with unwed teenage mother sooooo

well now i’m just angry and tired

all that griping tuckered me out

i’m pretty excited about ______
it is sure to be awesome

I really need to return Motel Hell/Deranged.
I am expected an assortment of Things in the mail, that is always nice.

I get paid in like, another week.  That will be Nice.
I found someone on Soulseek with a whole bunch of old Hammer Film soundtracks.  That is NIce.
Oh yeah, best of all, the soundtrack to Vengeance of She.  Now I want to see the movie; although I’m sure it sort of blows, in ways that I find acceptable, but blowage none-the-less.  NICe.
I have tomorrow off.  NICE.
I have wanted a root beer all day, but I haven’t had root beer in years.  Maybe I’ll get some root beer tomorrow, after I drop Taffy off.  Maybe I’ll go all the way to Sonic, and try one of their million different drinks.  I like drinks.  I wish I had some way of just stocking my entire home with drink and drink accessories.  yeah

that is

the

d r e a m
c’est une reve
into the grave

luod borud

bored~~
i’m just waiting until virtual reality theme parks i guess:
http://www.viktorviktoriashop.com/theshop/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=198&products_id=1236

http://irregularchoice.co.uk/images/index.php?album=collections%2Fss09%2Fladies

http://www.flickr.com/photos/32470324@N08/3448286393/

http://boxerfanatic700.livejournal.com/4946.html

and a million people bother me in a million insubstantial ways

sherman is another okay name for a kid, maybe a middle name.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYnCsCuGMsY

if i ever had a kid, he’d most certainly, and I’m sure I’ve said this a million times, they won’t be allowed anywhere near a camera until they are officially cool.

kids are pretty cool i think , just tol (thinkin out loud)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lALc5KSz8uQ
awww man look at thiiiis look at thiiiiis—
what sort of weird draconian school insists children opens their milks?
YOU CAN’T HAVE ANY PUDDING
also that kid has no idea what mr belvedere is , and I hope he never does.

you know the guy at work who was moderately cute that i may have mentioned in this blog is pretty much totally alright , he’s got the qt half moon eyelid thing.  feh , but i’ll never say anything because i am an absolute chicken and i just don’t know if i’d want to bother with some ‘get to know you’ relationship thing–i’d feel obligated to always look super put-together at work, anyway, which as of right now I can just do whatever and schlomo about in oversized clown clothes and mascara.  we do smile at each other though. :_____)  what does it matter, i’m sure he’d just end up being a Dude who likes Songs and Drinking, and would think I was weird–not too weird to have sex with, but just weird enough to not want to have a future with.  i’m too picky, probably.  that is how people end up spinsters.   rather that than a sad, trapped person who gets stuck with kids who are just like some guy who she only marginally liked.  boring, oafish children born from a boorboarorc.  that is just the way i’ve always been, it’s got to be perfect (~*~*~*~*~*~*waoh , itsmagic whenim withyou~*~*~*~**~) or i don’t want it at all.  WHAREVVEESSS

BESIDES, THEN MY FRIEND ANTHONY WAS LIKE WAaaaAAAAHHHOOOH I’M WATCHIN RANDOMS+))) SHUT UP YOU OLD BAT ((((!!!!!!

I got very angry with a  rude old lady today.

We have to cover breaks and lunches for everyone at the front end, as cashiers, so I had to cover the door greeters three times today.  Which blows, as you may very well guess.    Mind, that we’ve never been trained (as a group, or as far as I know, on an individual basis) for any of these positions other than the one we’re at–and were hired for–cashier.

The assumption, I suppose, is that the other main front-end gigs (in my time here, I’ve done three other people’s jobs, see, given them breaks :door greeter, fitting room/phonebank, and “sales associate”/restocker) are pretty simple, and if you are capable of cashiering, you are capable of doing any of them.  True as that may be, it doesn’t really work so well when you don’t even know what that job includes.  The only thing I’d ever observed door greeters doing is pulling carts up from the back area, making them easier for customers to get to, and handling return merchandise.

Apparently, they’re also supposed to wipe down carts.  My theory is this is a recent thing, due to the ~swine flu~, which I suppose should actually be a fear for the Walmart audience; ancient, malnutrition’d group that they are.

Soz there I iz, relieving some easily 70+ old lady of her post–which as far as I know, is standing there, occasionally moving carts up, and putting stickers on items people are returning.  So, I do just that–quite pleasantly, might I add.  Just today someone told me I was “probably the nicest cashier they ever had”, but then they had to ruin it by saying “and very beautiful, too”.  Okay, it isn’t ruining it, at all, but I would like to think that my politeness has it’s own merits, and it wasn’t just an in for some guy to try and get some–in some vague, impossible way.  Either way, thank you guy, for not being entirely creepy about it.  I hope I was really nice enough to remark upon, and it wasn’t just some line.

ok now what i really need complimented is my inability to write a cohesive thought without turning into five thoughts–or not complimented ~WHATEVER, MY FRIEND ANTHONY——————————-

So, I am very pleasant, people like me, and everyone is having a Good Day.

The old bag comes back to the entrance, and she sits down at the bench across from where I am standing, with the carts, et cetera, and drinks her coffee.  I’m not giving this situation much, if any thought.  Door greeting is total busywork, she’s just some old lady drinking coffee, and people are all responding to my politeness in kind.  All in all, pretty alright.

So, fifteen minutes later, she gets up and trots over to me, and I say (very cheerfully, as I am fitfully so at work, especially when interacting with these former deep sea gods) “are you ready for me to get out of your way?”, sort of a nice, deferential thing, right?  Like, “aw shucks ya old bitch, you do this better than me, because you have ‘life experience’.  be it as it may that your life experience has led you here, working well into your senility years, so I take your ‘experience’ with ‘decision making’ with a grain of salt, you still are old, so I am nice.”

I say that, and she’s all grimacing, some weird, manic face that was either a snarl or smile.  Snile.  Senile.  She says, “WELL, YOU COULD HELP ME WIPE DOWN THE CARTS, SINCE IT IS PART OF YOUR JOB, INSTEAD OF TALKING ON THE PHONE”

Daaaaaaamn, Fern.  What kind of 1800s Appalachian Mountain name is that, anyway?  So, daaaaamn, Fern.  Did they run out of pretty plants by the time your mom mistook you for some other hillmongoloid’s skittering afterbirth?  First thing that comes to the mind, I suppose.  It is fitting, being that a fern is a plant no one much cares for, just tolerates, that just refuses to die.

Then, more nerve, you think you can just start walking away after delivering that miscarriage of dementia right at my feet.  You actually just start walking away.  You don’t just accuse someone of something, then leave.  I don’t think you’d have the nerve to do that to a man of any age, or a woman over 30.  Trust baby, I’m the one you should be shamefully laying palms for.
So, not being one to leave someone thinking they’ve “got me”, I tell you what really happened:

“Well, I didn’t know that wiping the carts was a requirement, I wasn’t trained to door greet.  Also, I certainly was not talking on my phone.”  Verbatim, and yeah it isn’t as ~^tuff^~ as I would’ve liked to have been, but its really hard to temper myself without just sanitizing the emotion completely.

Then, you start walking back towards me, pantomiming someone looking at a phone.  Which, yeah, I guess I did look at my phone to check the time.  Didn’t really try to hide it, either.  I don’t wear a watch, and I carry my phone and wallet in my hands.  I don’t have big enough pockets for my wallet, and my phone just makes an ugly bulge, so I hold it–and no one has ever had a problem with that.  I’d check my phone’s time in front of a customer; to me, there is no shame in that.  It’s the time, for the love of christ.  Should I be in a sensory deprivation tank?  I’m certainly not going to put my important things down on the dirty, nasty, sticky floor of a massive, busy retailer just so some old bitch can make ABSOLUTELY SURE that I’m not talking on my phone.

So she pantomimes this, and I say to her right away, “No, I was checking the time.  Don’t wear a watch.”  probably still smiling, because I just cannot be rude.  That is why I’m so hateful on the internet haha

And she gives me like a, “OH CAUGHT BAD GIRL” look and says “you weren’t checking MY time”, which I’m really still not sure about the meaning of.

I think she was saying that she didn’t appreciate me checking what time it was on Earth, because in some worm-eaten mind, that could possibly be seen as a slight against the amount of time she took to drink her coffee?  I don’t attach ethical implications to non-ethics based actions; such as taking a look at the time.  Meanwhile, ugh.

This woman, just made me want to throw up.  Eventually, I just smiled and shrugged and left myself.  There was going to be no winning with her, and I had an actual job to do.  One that requires one or two mindgrapes more than hers, and pays one or two dimes more.  Really, if anything, I’m her superior–even in the job.   Door greeters never take over for cashiers, cashiers take over for them.  Sooo, one of us is trusted with cash and assumed to be capable enough to do any of the other jobs nearby, and one is old people who sit just jowl it up over by the doors for four hours, tops.

Either way, no one, but no one, accuses me of something I didn’t do.

My mother accused me of stealing a bracelet of hers for probably three years.  It’d come up every few months, and she’d be pissy with me for weeks at a time for this completely ridiculous transgression, that never happened.  She’d say shit like, “Maybe you gave it to a friend”, knowing full well that I’d never just given a friend some thing, it’d have to be concurrent with a birthday or something.  I definitely wouldn’t give one of my friends my mother’s bracelet–I would’ve assumed the woman who bore me knew my character well enough to figure that.  She didn’t, probably still doesn’t.  Anyway, three years later, she finds the bracelet in some jewelry box of hers or something, and never apologizes for the years of tension–all based on a superstition.

This wife of Lot accuses me of something I didn’t do, something that I wouldn’t do (and while this lady doesn’t know me from her biological father, the assumption that I’m the kind of person who is both rude and stupid enough to be talking on my phone during work hours, in front of customers, in front of co-workers, enrages me) and then when I defend myself against her ridiculous accusations, SHE gets indignant.  Like I’M the one out of line.

What if I just said I thought she stole something, like that coffee she was suckling?  I didn’t see her pay for it, for all I know, she stole it.  She did look a little nervous when she was drinking it, like maybe she knew what she did was wrong.  I have just as much reason to believe she stole that as she did to believe I was talking on my phone like some sort of sassy, gum-popping archetypical “teen” from the heady days of her …older youth.  I suppose me and Mamie Van Doren got together later that day and raced muscle cars with Daddy-O and Rat Phink. I had a scarf around my head, how irreverent!  Then we went and saw Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs, and I actually did sort of enjoy myself.  Sounds like an alright day, Mamie was good people.

That archetype exists much the same way as the thieving, piss-poor elderly crackpot who assumes the world is obligated to aid her–including, but not limited to, providing her with free coffee.  So, Fern, you stole that coffee.  Case closed, could not possibly convince me otherwise.  If you tried to do so (which you wouldn’t be able to, because all your life I’m sure you have been quite passive-confrontational, you’ll drop some shit on a person, but you don’t like to stick around to have to talk about it, do you–because you can’t defend your positions, because you aren’t that clever), I would just give you a knowing smirk and tell you that you better not have been drinking MY coffee, or some other incomprehensible, insulting garble.

So, yeah, that old lady made me angry.

2000 words worth of angry

She seriously sucked though

and I feel unfulfilled because I didn’t really get to rip into her; being a decent human being and all, I’m not going to actually be that mean to some old lady.  For all I know, she may really be losing her mind.

SHUT UP OLD LADY I’M ANTHONY NOW

krzysztof komedy

I’m so bored!  I’m just in complete stasis!  This is an exclamatory statement!  Dang!

Uggghgghhhh it is just so boring to just be working, boring, boring, boring.  I was less bored when I didn’t work, just lounged around the house constantly.  Somehow, it felt like I had more going on then.  Now I have some cash, sure, that isn’t bad.  I can more or less sate my every whim and fancy, when the mood strikes me, but for what?  What is my ultimate goal?  Ehh, whatever will be, will be.  The future’s not ours to see, que sera, sera!  Doris Day, what DIDN’T your mother tell you?

My dog lost like, maybe two baby teeth at once?  It looked really creepy; like a small segment of a jaw–something you’d find inside of an owl pellet.  Eugh.  Her mouth bled a little, but she didn’t make a single noise.  So, I guess it isn’t painful.  That is also what the internet said.

i am bored
I’d look into starting classes (loooool how many times do i say this) but for real this time, but see, I don’t want to bother, because the odds are good I’ll be moving soon enough.  Sometime probably in the middle of whatever semester I started.  So, is it more clever to just stay working, save up some money, and start college courses when I get to Wisconsin?  Probably.

There is some guy at work who is cute-ish and near my age, seemingly, and while we’ve exchanged one or two prolonged glances and one ‘hey’, I just didn’t conversation-start.  Even though I had such the opportunity, it wasa situation that would’ve made a normal person ask a question or something.   I’m awkward, I’m weird, and I just never feel natural–so, as with what seems like all opportunities I have outside of snarking, smiling pleasantly, and looking at my shoes, I just passed it up.    Somebody sets the pins up, and I walk out of the bowling alley, get into my car, and drive into the desert to sleep.  Que sera, sera!  I’m in no urgent rush to meet anyone, make any new friends, anything of that nature.  One quality I’ve always had, and will probably have all of my life, is a lack of dependency on intimate relationships with other living things.  I don’t need to be close to anyone, I am more than happy to smile, exchange a couple of small-talks, and be about my way, thoughts a-brewin’, rage a-stewin’.   I really can thrive with absolute zero contact with other people.   This is a quality I think will carry me far in prison.

Solitary confinement, for example, I’d do things just to get myself put in there.  I enjoy being alone in my mind, daydreaming, scheming, thinking, quipping, riffing, whatever.  I could entertain myself forever.  Not to say I’d prefer that to having….a friend, or something, I just don’t think it is that important.  This is also one of those things I feel I have in common with men, moreso than women.  Seems to me women really do enjoy all that strong, interconnected social interaction.  I don’t really want people to know what I’m like, to know what I’m doing, to know what my “deal” is, I wouldn’t tell my co-workers about everyday situations in my life.  As a matter of fact, when certain “everybody talk about ‘this aspect of your life’ now~” conversations begin, I just let lies dribble out if I feel like it would be more strange for me to contribute nothing to the conversation.  It just happens, one minute everyone is just talking about how they would handle/how their parents handled screaming children, the next minute I’m telling a completely fictitious story about a fictitious child that I am related to, and how their fictitious mother handled it.  Why did I do it?  It just happens, I want to be natural, and I want people to feel like I am part of their group.  I like the people I work with, I don’t want them to think I’m weird, and without situational discussion anecdotes.  I may have a few, but I also just don’t feel like letting them into my real world.  What is the deal?  I’m weird.  Yet, with some people I’ve known, people I’ve known just as little about, I’m a complete open book.  I think when people can see me, could see me everyday, I don’t want them to know what I’m really like.  So much power in knowing what a person is, I wouldn’t let just anyone into my world like that.  Only people remotely, people who couldn’t write a letter to the editor about me.  I told some baptist who gave me a pamphlet all marked up for Jesus that I was Jewish.  I told him I appreciated the thought, and that I certainly welcomed the gesture, but that I was Jewish.  All of it was just a lie, a weird, niceity lie.  I’m not Jewish, I don’t “appreciate the thought” (that I’m either some sort of sub-literate who had somehow gone my entire life in America without ever once hearing about this Jesus guy, and now you, guy at Walmart, are educating me about Hiiiiim), and I really don’t welcome the gesture, my workplace is not the place for you to sell me your particular brand of worship.  Baptist especially; what makes you think I’m picking up what you’re putting down?  You never see Catholics do this, or Lutherans, or Jews, or any other particular religious denomination; except Baptists, Mormons, and apparently Hare Krishnas?  I’ve never seen one.

Before I even know I’m lying to him, I’m lying.   I’m saying I’m Jewish, I’m being considerate about his ‘message’, whatever.  Afterwards I’m asking myself why, and how, why is so natural for you to just start bullshitting?  Why bother?  Couldn’t you have just taken his stupid pamphlet, and let it go?  I couldn’t, though–the thought didn’t even enter my mind before I was saying, “Thanks, but I’m Jewish.”  What is the deal?  Whatever.  I just don’t want every hillbilly within a forty mile radius who manages to find his/her way into the nearest Walmart to be able to gurgle out information concerning me.  Hmmm…  And another thing; I think my empathy neurons, assorted synapses and such, instead of firing solo, fire alongside some sort of hate recepticon–because when I feel bad for something, I feel at the very least a little bit of disgust as well.

enough already

I want to know specifically who you are.
~~ty!~!~!~

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