Personal Perestróĭka

sister nattering

We’re watching Cops and they are doing a sting on prostitutes and these are some fo the WORST hookers I’ve ever seen! They are wearing like sweat pants and oversized men’s t-shirts. I need to know what city this is so I can warn everyone to never go looking for a hooker there. Man, it’s bad, I can’t even tell you how bad it is. One is actually carrying a lunch bag. For purse? I’m not sure. Although these are $20 hookers and is there such a thing as a good $20 whore?

Man, I really want the charm bracelet on this page. Though maybe I’d settle for the Monkey with Valium charm. In fact, now I kind of just want a t-shirt that says “Monkey with Valium.” I’ll get right on that after I make my “Hot for Teacher” shirt and, uh, learn to silk screen. Or get a good houseboy who can do it. Or perhaps own a massive media empire in which I just employ dozens of people to do things like that for me. Then I could have like a custom-made Hippo with Klonopin belt buckle or something.

My feet are cold. Presumably because it’s actually below 80°F? It’s 77°F. Heh. Miss Rhi, remember when I used to mock you for saying below 70°F was cold? Let’s talk again this winter. I may have to eat my words.

I was fucking around in Photoshop today:

Yeah. I’m not going to explain it, and really isn’t it just better not knowing and imagining?

I also lost a ridiculous amout of time to reading Go Fug Yourself today.

Which isn’t to say I wasn’t productive, cause I was, but there’s always more I could be doing than reading stupid things on the intarwebs, ya know?

I wish I had a pretty, pretty icon with a fancy, fancy cupcake on it. Mmmmmm, cupcakes. And I can’t believe I didn’t post about the pecan pie cupcakes with buttercream frosting we had when K’s mom was here. It was like cupcake heaven. I would get a t-shirt that said “cupcake” but that has some blechy connotations. Maybe a “cupcake with valium” t-shirt? No. Seems too much Valley of the Dolls or something.

Dear crawly, flighty, creepy things that bite,

Please stop biting me. I do not know why I am so delicious, but I wish you’d think otherwise. I am about to lose my mind from the itching.

No love,

jj

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Last night I dreamt that Nashville was off I-5, an exit between Seattle and Olympia. In the dream I was telling someone how weird it was that I’d literally made that drive over a thousand times and had never bothered to take the exit.

I also dreamt I had bacon, but I couldn’t eat it because there was giant, somewhat sentient cockroach crawling on it. My brain is fired for that one. *shudder*

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I’m wondering if I should start compiling the non-Rules based dating advice I get from my friends as some of it cracks me up and surely needs to go in a book or something. The most recent gem: “It doesn’t matter what you wear now, I mean, he’s seen you naked.” Excellent.

K and I are watching Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Wow, this show is gay. Like, in the insanely campy way. I hope the generation of actual children who watched this when it aired came out a little more off kilter than previous generations. That’d be cool.

So I was on the phone with Indie Rock Boy tonight and he had to go buy masking tape. So he stayed on the phone with me during his journey through the store and stopped in the greeting card aisle and read me ridiculous cards before he went to find tape. Is that not the cutest thing ever? EVER? You know it is, don’t front.

I have BBQ sauce on my shirt. It didn’t even get there until after I was done eating. How tragic is that? TRAGIC.

I got four packs of Camel Lights for $8 tonight. I’m just saying that to taunt the Seattle people. Ha ha.

And finally you will all be surprised to learn that I have yet another mosquito bite. I wish I had been keeping track since the beginning. I must be on something like 65 million bites since I moved to Tennessee. Is it winter yet?

I’m making naissa stay up and watch Boondock Saints with me. Man, it’s actually been awhile since I watched it. This is seriously the best movie ever made. How much do I love this movie? HOW MUCH!?!?! So much. Words can not express.

Connor: Well, “Name one thing you’re gonna need this stupid fucking rope for.”
Murphy: That was way easier than I thought it would be.
Connor: Aye.
Murphy: On TV you always have that guy that jumps over the sofa…
Connor: And then you’ve got to shoot at him for ten fucking minutes.
Murphy: We’re good.
Connor: Yes, we are.

Pee Ess, joyfulgirl41, I still love you more than anyone in the world. Oddly, this movie always makes me think of you and LOVE you. You’re my best girl. We can be Connor and Murphy when we grow up.

You know that cracked-out, Dadaist spam you sometimes get where it’s like “Still sanitize her from ruffian related to guardian angel, write a love letter to her over lover with line dancer from tornado.spider from daydreams, and paycheck for laugh and drink all night with for tripod.Sometimes tenor behind graduated cylinder wakes up, but wedding dress over rattlesnake always borrow money from scooby snack inside!” (and isn’t that really kind of motherfucking poetic?) and you know it probably has a virus or worm or something attached to it but your email program already stripped everything off it so it’s just random insane text in your inbox? Right? And you know how it always comes from a name, presumably in hopes you’ll think ti’s from a real person, or perhaps even someone you know?

Well I just got that random-ass spam from my mom’s name mispelled by one letter, addressed to my old boss’s name in an alternate spelling. It’s clearly a coincidence but it’s weird, yanno?

Yeah, I should sleep, you’re right. But there’s crap piled all over my bed that I’d have to go move to do that.

ETA: Okay, I’ve re-read the insano spam quoted above and I’ve decided it’s my horoscope for the week. I mean, really, how different is it from Brezny, right? Now to trouble out what it means exactly.

Back from east Tennessee. Saw Steve Earle. Saw Cory Branan. Saw Lucero. Saw Todd Snider. Saw Scott Miller. And like a bunch of other people. Hung out all day with the Crack Twins, SA, K and Jamie-girl. The misses Bee and Dee were also in effect. It was pretty much the best day ever. It only drizzled, didn’t really rain, didn’t get sunburned or bug bitten! Huzzah! The drive home was awful, including heavy rain combined with wind so bad I actually had to pull over and wait it out.

Am now home with K-girl and J-girl watching Demon Hunter which is TERRIBLE though enjoyably so.

Okay, why am I clicking links about JonBenet Ramsey? Clearly I am not above morbid curiosity. I am, however, kind fo disgusted with myself. I can’t decide if I want to rant about the media or about parents who would turn their children into that kind of “beauty queen” or about the killer and the crap-ass coverage of that. So I’ll do none, and turn a blind eye to the whole thing. Ick.

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Things with Indie Rock Boy continue apace. I will not bore you with the girlish squeeing or the giddy and surely boring details. At least not right now.

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Hey you, yeah, you! Tell me something good about your week so far. Little thing, big thing, anything, just spill!

I’m sitting in the living room at nearly 3 am eating a popsicle. It’s not even hot. In fact it’s nearly chilly in here. I can’t sleep. I kept hearing this sound like someone was walking around the house. I laid in bed and listened to the entirety of Red Headed Stranger on head phones and still wide awake and hearing weird noises from the living room. So I got up and… nothing. It’s the A/C or the house settling or something. Surely this popsicle will calm me into sleeping, right? *sigh* Damn it.

I saw a huge stick bug walking on my back porch railing today. It looked just like the one Mr. Blakeney had in Master and Commmander.

I guess I could do some writing or something, since I’m awake. WAH. I want to be asleep.