Alright, I really don't know how to feel about this shit right here

Do I laugh? Do I cry? Fuck, man...well, at least they know they're narcissistic assholes.

And knowing is half the battle...

But you know what's almost worse? Watching them. At least they've got the courage of their convictions, even if they are a bunch of tightly-wound cunts. Speaking of which, they're British! Fucking BRITISH! Well how do ya like that madness? I had such high regard for our brothers and sisters across the pond. I guess it just goes to show - MTV is ruining the world.

On a happier note, rehearsals are going well. =) I feel like such a lame ass for not really having all my lines memorized. I've got a total of like...24 lines - I'm just thanking gawd that I'm not Ashley. Stupid work...*grumble*...interferring with line memorizing..ing...

But in all honesty the show is going really really well. This is the first show where I'm not worried if it's all going to come together or not. Which might actually come back to bite me in the arse - as in past years, when crunch time comes around, fear helps to move everyone's arse in the same cohesive motion. But we're already so close to that cohesive state...

Our water droplets are still kinda runny, but they will soon connect and expand, and then they will swell until we are this BADASS HUGE drop of super-talented water.

...yeah.that.made.more.sense.in.my.head...

Fuck me, is it really 1:15 am? dammmnnnnnit

<3 x 3 to my big D

Okay, I don't get up on a soap box about much, but this is just insane.

There is a bill. A bill that is currently on the block of consideration for the state of Missouri. A bill that would, in essence, tax morality. You know what, no...I can't do this justice, lemme just copy and paste this for ya - Matt Bartle has done a good enough job laying it out.

And I quote...

"SB 32 - This act regulates sexually oriented businesses.


SECTION 64.2540 - This section defines numerous terms associated with sexually oriented businesses. The term "sexually oriented business" includes adult arcades, adult bookstores, adult novelty stores, adult video stores, adult cabarets, adult motels, adult motion picture theaters, adult theaters, escort agencies, nude model studios, and sexual encounter centers. An employee of a sexually oriented business must be 21 years of age as well as the person applying for the business's license.


SECTION 67.2542 - This section requires sexually oriented businesses to pay a $5 admission tax for each person entering a sexually oriented business. The businesses shall pay the tax to the Department of Revenue and the money will be deposited into the "State Schools Money Fund"."

Oh..and it goes on...

However, I don't want to spoil it all for you, here's the link to the whole big fat mess

So yeah, the next time Joe Schmo America wants to get his jollies from, oh say, Priscilla's - he's gonna have to shell out $5 just to get into the place. As if they're not overpriced already! It's just ridiculous...I'm honestly without words as to how dumbfounded I am about this whole thing.

However, there is hope - hopefully - maybe...there is a link to a petition. What good it'll do, I have no idea. But here's hoping... \m/

Petition

Damn the man.

Recent phone conversation:

me: Hey mom, what's going on?

mom: Oh, I'm fine, everything's good. Did you get my message about the newspaper article?

me: Yeah, I did. Thanks for that, we'll get on it.

mom: I saw some nice plates at Target the other day, are you guys doing okay on plates?

me: Oh yeah, we've got more than we need, but thanks.

*silence*

mom: You know, honey - your father and I know a really good therapist. I've been to her quite a few times myself, and...well...she's there if you ever need her...you know, in case there are problems..with...your marriage. We can schedule you in some weekend...

*silence*

me: ...thanks...

mom: Oh, that's fine honey. Just let me know, oh..and let me know how that recipie turns out. I've always had problems with getting the rice not to burn.
----

Is it just my mom, or do all moms somehow manage to paraphrase their own personal problems into a question that's directly related to you? It's that "coat" phenomenon...

"I'm cold honey, so you better put on a coat."

Sheeeeesh

Okay...

I was at the grocery store today, admiring the banannas, when this nasty, blue-haired, moth-ball smellin' old biddy ran smack dab into the back of me with her cart. It hurt a little bit, but not bad. I turned to her and said, "Excuse me"...and you know what she said to me?

NOTHING.

Absolutely nothing. Not a word. She just looked at me like the whole thing was my fault. Like, how dare I not grow eyes out the back of my head, just so I can move out of her majesty's way whenever she too would like to admire the banannas.

A part of me immediately thought "Oh, she's old...let it go."

Another part thought "Yeah, old enough to KNOW better..."

*I was about to grab one of those flimsy plastic bags to suffocate her with, but I didn't get the chance due to the psychotic deer that had broken into the Hy-Vee produce section. I ducked just in time to see it kick the ever-living-crap out of dear old biddy blue-hair.

I got a little of her blood on me, but I also stole her purse - so it's all good.

Thanks psycho deer.



*please see here for deer story to make sense

If "con" is the opposite of "pro," then isn't Congress the opposite of progress?

Or did we just fucking blow your mind?!?!



hoooooo Jon Stewart, why are you so good to me?

I read this today...

"The way I see it, there are three reasons never to be unhappy.

First, you were born. This in itself is a remarkable achievement. Did you know that each time your father ejaculated (and frankly he did quite a lot) he produced roughly 25 million spermatozoa - enough to repopulate Britain every two days or so? For you to have been born, not only did you have to be among the few batches of sperm that had even a theoretical chance of prospering - in itself quite a long shot - but you then had to win a race against 24,999,999 or so other wriggling contenders, all rushing to swim the English Channel of your mother's vagina in order to be the first ashore at the fertile egg of Boulogne, as it were. Being born was easily the most remarkable achievement of your whole life. And think: You could just as easily been a flatworm.

Second, you are alive. For the tiniest moment in the span of eternity you have the miraculous privilege to exist. For endless aeons you did not. Soon you will cease to be once more. That you are able to sit here right now in this one never-to-be-repeated moment, reading this book, eating bonbons, dreaming about hot sex with that scrumptious person from accounts, speculatively sniffing your armpits, doing whatever you are doing - just existing - is really wondrous beyond belief.

Third, you have plenty to eat, you live in a time of peace, and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree" will never be number one again."

...as much as this makes me smile (and it does quite a bit) I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt (anger? resentment? embarrassment?) at that last statement - minus the food thing, of course. Mind you, I believe this book (notes from a small island by Bill Bryson) was written in the mid to late nineties, and I don't remember being quite as pissed off at the world in 1997, so maybe it was partly true at that time. And he was also writing about Britain, so maybe it was totally true. (Fuckin' Brits...god I love 'em)

...2 and a half out of 3 ain't bad...

Wait, yeah it is. damn.

I wish I had a better excuse as to why I've been away for so long, but I don't. Not really. I mean, I do have excuses, but none that are fit to print. I guess I've been busy doing a whole lot of other things...though nothing seems to come to mind. Well, no - that's not exactly true either. Here's what's been up...

Both the "Big D" and I have been lucky enough to be cast in "Streetcar Named Desire" - curtain goes up late February. Our evenings have been taken up with rehearsals, memorizing and other monkey-doings. I've been away from the theater so damn long that I'd almost forgotten just how therapeutic it can be. I suppose being someone else for a couple of hours helps you appreciate who you get to be the rest of the time.

Actually, yeah - I do know why I've been away. Last time I was here I didn't have so hot a time. It's funny how bullshit can seep its way into your life - both in real time and electronically. I wonder if they have a virus protection for that...hmmm. Regardless, too much crap went down for my taste, so I left. Probably not the bravest of things to do, as I left behind quite a few people whom I miss...quite a bit. And I could get back on as the person they know, but then that would require more cohones than I currently have. I never claimed to be brave - just pretty. heh

But Poe is singing to me now, and my fingers seem to be working, so all can't be that bad.

I've got this notion in the back of my mind, eating away slowly at my grey brain matter - I'd like to write. A book. A real, honest to Barnes&Noble book. I've got some ideas, actually - I've got more than enough ideas. I think that's the problem. Too many notions and plots playing musical chairs in my head. I just need to get them on paper or napkins or just something - get them out long enough so they can make some sense. Let 'em breathe..kinda like wine, only without the tannins. D's been very supportive, extremely so. We're thinking of a children's book - I'd do the writing and he'd illustrate it - a very cool idea that's got me very excited. =) I think the only problem now is that my plotline has been in my head so damn long that it's no longer sounding interesting.

You know how you can hear a joke 35 times in a row and it's funny, but on that 36'th time it's suddenly lost all it's gusto? Yeah. That's the bump in my road at the moment. Gah, I just need to keep at it - keep writing it till I like it.

So what if I'm 72 when it finally gets published? Just as long as it gets done before I die. Speaking of which, I really ought to quit smoking...

Laters

Days seem to be going by quicker and slower all at the same time. And you'd think that in some way that'd be nice - but it's not. It's like, they go by slow enough that everything feels like it's dragging, but then it's going by quick enough that you don't have time to get everything done that you want...so you're stuck. In a rut. With a mutt..whose got a helluva gut...and he's called you a slut...wait...what?

It's funny, really. How long I've owned a journal I was too afraid to write it - the concept of someone reading it forced me to write what I thought would sound good, rather than what I was honestly feeling. It's funny, a live journal, where the sole purpose is to keep a journal that people will read, actually gets me off my bum and writing - less afraid of what people will think.

It's funny.

Right - so I'm still feelin' this out - ummmmmmmgoulet

I really truly wish I had more to say here...but I don't. I'm just checking out my colors and whatnot.

More to come...