The pollution is making a shadow like smoke on my wall. It’s kind of pretty, actually.

My boyfriend (Tad) got a new job somewhat near mine, so we’ll be able to have lunch together again. I’m very excited about that. Sickeningly excited, some of my friends think. Oh, well. Don’t be jealous of our love, haters. In fact – lick it. LICK IT UP!

Some of y’all might like this web site shopping/bookmarking thing called Stylehive. I like it well enough, but then I realize that I’m not that good at window shopping – not even online. So much stuff is not in my size, or out of my price range… I don’t like to torture myself, sometimes. But go look. I think you’ll like it.

I’ve been working like crazy, when all I really want to do is play World of Warcraft with my kids. (I’m a little bit better than Stan’s dad on South Park, though.) I’ve been trying out new characters. My latest is a troll with hair like that chick from the Big Country video. They have good hairstyles on that game. I might print one out and take it to my stylist. Just kidding, ha ha.

Personally, I think Kirstie Alley is pretty attractive. But, apparently, some people don’t. [Second link via.]

I don’t know, man… I don’t care if you don’t find fat chicks attractive. Not everyone can find everyone else attractive, I know. But, seriously, when I see straight men rushing to verbally bash fat women, it sounds exactly the same as straight men accusing others of being gay. It’s like a big race to prove that fat women don’t turn you on, or that sex with other men doesn’t turn you on. And my question becomes: What are these straight men afraid of? Who is going to force them to have sex with Kirstie Alley, or to get it on with another man?

At the same time, when I see women (especially fat ones) bashing other fat women? I just think they’re sad, self-hating bitches whose mothers hate them. Because they think that the most powerful weapon in the world is catty comments, and they’re rushing to use that weapon against others before it gets used against them (again).

I think the men and women who hate Kirstie Alley for weaing the bikini should all couple up and marry each other. Then, they should all jump off a cliff and die. Holding hands, if they want, so that they don’t die alone.



I stole a copy of Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage from my friend Rose’s house. Every time I pick up a book by Munro, I think, “Oh, man, this is gonna just be some flat stories about a chick who gets molested and then convinces herself she likes it, all set in the Canadian wilderness of 1933…” but then I start reading and get completely engrossed. The very first story of this one (same title as book) was so very good, and I can’t wait to read the rest. Munro is the master. You can not deny.

I’ve been lending/giving out a lot of books lately, and that always makes me happy because if I don’t give away a few more soon, I’m gonna have to buy another bookshelf.

Remind me to call the exterminator, y’all, by the way, because I saw ANOTHER EFFING SILVERFISH today. Day Two of the Silverfish Diet: Total freaking success, because I couldn’t even eat breakfast after that. (This one was the color of dust. I won’t tell you where I found it, because it’ll make you cry.)

(It was at the foot of my bed.) (Sorry.)

Also, some wasps made a wasp house on my house. I think that’s what it is. It looks like a mud battery pack with a hole in one end. I almost knocked it down with the broom, but then I was scared wasps would fly out of it and kill me.

Also, right after that, a stupid grasshopper was on the bricks near by. Normally I hate grasshoppers more than anything on earth, because they are minions of Satan, but this time I thought that maybe the grasshopper was there to eat the wasps. So I didn’t do anything. I just went inside. And prayed.

The other night (last bug thing, I swear), my kids were freaking out a little over a big-ass spider that showed up in their room. I’m not scared of spiders at all. They can walk on my hands and I wouldn’t care. I felt bad, then, that I had to kill this one. But it was scaring my kids, so you know. I had to use my son’s toy sword to knock it off the ceiling. I apologized, then smashed it fast as possible into the ground. Poor thing. My son was upset that I’d used his shoe. The things parents go through…

So. Calling the exterminator, ASAP.

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Posted in domestic, insects, pop culture, venting on 11/09/2006 10:39 pm

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