Quandaries and Conundrums - Not Quite Preferred List, but getting there...
Current mood: uncomfortable
Category: MySpace

I'm having a MySpace identity crisis.

Those of you who know me, read my blogs and bulletins on a regualr basis, etc... well, you know I have a problem with people over the age of 18 who make their profiles private.  Given the fact that you have chosen to join a "social networking site" your profile should be viewable to whoever is curious, right?  You are here because you want to connect with new people, re-connect with old friends and aquaintences, get yourself out there... be it your career choice, your artwork, your writing, your day to day life... much as I have done.

I have had people tell me they have made their MySpace profile private for various reasons, including "stalker issues" and for those I still advocate the use of that happy little button called "BLOCK USER".  I've learned to use it, and I use it quite well.

However...

There comes a point in time when even an adult MySpace user has to "grow up" and take responsibility for who they represent themselves to be online.

My time, apparently, is now.

I've already taken the first steps... I've set up a preferred list for my blogs and will be using it in the near future... be warned if you haven't already requested access... the time is coming that I will post a blog that you won't be able to read.

As of today I've also made changes to my profile... a full re-working of it is in the works, but for now, pictures are set to "Friends Only" and if you were aware of the fact that I used to jokingly represent my college major as "drinking", I have changed that as well.

Why?

I have never made an effort to hide who I am to anyone who was curious enough to come looking, but I find my role in my small community changing.  I have written two minor stories for the newspaper that I work for in the past several weeks, and as luck(?) has it, this week I got saddled with an assignment that is not exactly minor when it comes to the big picture. 

For the past two nights I have attended meetings that have had me rubbing elbows with some very influential members of the community.  People who are involved with local government and beyond.  People who have clout in the professional world.  People who are learning my name and learning that I represent a local publication. 

People who are intelligent enough to know what resources the internet has to offer and come looking.

I mentioned in a previous blog that a friend of mine had joined MySpace and subsequently deleted her profile because of her decision to start looking for a new job.  I know that having a MySpace profile could put me at risk for a whole new world of scrutiny that I hadn't even considered up until I realized that I'm suddenly becoming a "professional". (Professional being a relative term here in BFE, and my referring to it as BFE could even cause an uproar in certain circles)

My point, my friends, is this:

At what point does my internet identity become a problem for who I am in reality?

While there are many of you who would argue that there is a degree of seperation between our internet personas and who we are "In Real Life", myself included, I am also well aware of the fact that MySpace profiles are no laughing matter when taken into consideration for things such as employment.

Many a sad soul has lost their job or even the opportunity for gainful employment, simply because of what they choose to include in their MySpace profile.  Up until recently, I didn't really care, didn't think that what my profile contains had any levity in the matter.

Except... people in Delta County, better known to me as BFE Colorado... are showing up on MySpace in numbers.  Random browsing of members within a 50 mile radius of the zip code 81416 proves my point.  Hell... I even stumbled across my ex-brother-in-lawish person earlier today just by plugging in his real name to the MySpace search engine (his profile is private, by the way).

When I first joined MySpace, there were something in the range of 20-some-thousand users.  That was back in 2005, and my only intention then was making my writing accessible and reconnecting with people. 

Today, however, MySpace is becoming an entirely differently ball game.

What would you do, in my shoes?

10:59 PM - 34 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

Tidbits
Current mood: busy
Category: Writing and Poetry

I am heading off to work my last shift at the liquor store in less than an hour, but somehow I motivated myself to work on some long overdue unpacking today and found something tucked away in a box that I thought I would share.

Written circa somewhere between 1996 and 2000, it's just a poem torn out of an old notebook, but it reminded me just how far I've come between then and now.

Falling From Grace
Standing over the sink
Dishpan hands hovering
She pauses
One mindless act giving cause
For thoughts to stray
Automatic movements
Her habitual routine interrupted
By the loss of rhythm
She stares blindly into the suds
Trying to recall
Just when it was
That she forgot her identity
And donned a different costume
With this new part that she plays
No longer the same person
Empty of excitement
Scared of disenchantment
Not wanting to break away
She's gone astray



The things that I find when I least expect them....

Next blog will probably be Preferred List only.  Let me know if you haven't yet been added to the list.

2:16 PM - 27 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Liquor Store Lament
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Next Saturday night will be my official swan song at the liquor store. 

After seven months straight of six day work weeks and busting my ass for minimum wage, I'm throwing in the towel and saying "sianora" to the headache. 

I've been in customer service for some seventeen odd years now (in some way, shape, or form), and it never ceases to amaze me what an absolutely THANKLESS JOB it can be.  You see, it doesn't matter to most people that you are serving them, so long as you are serving them with a smile and kissing their ass in the process.  It doesn't matter how many times you have smiled and kissed ass, either.  The minute that your disposition is something less than giggles and fairy farts when dealing with the general public, not only is it noticed, but it is brought to the attention of your BOSS.

Two weeks ago, I worked my happy Saturday night shift in immense pain. 

I was not all giggles and fairy farts that night, I'm sorry to say.  My spine had twisted itself into something resembling a freak trapezoid, and trying to slug full cases of beer to customers who parked unreasonable distances away from the drive up window was a less than pleasant experience.  Nay... service with a smile was not in my repertoire that evening.  Service with a painful grimace and a few unintelligible grunts, yes, but alas, that was all I was capable of.

I am only human, after all.

Go figure.

In any event, a sixty dollar visit to my chiropractor later that week remedied the situation. You know it was bad when you get in your car after having your spine re-aligned and you have to readjust your rear view mirror in order to be able to see. 

However, my pain was obviously not noticed or sympathized with.  Oh no.  I was referred to as "less than pleasant" by several regular customers, apparently. 

I am terribly sorry to have inconvenienced the local drunks who visit me on Saturday nights with unfailing regularity with my own personal pain.  How unbelievably rude of me not to smile as I heaved that 30 pack of cheap beer out the window to the asshole who managed to leave a five foot gap between me and his beat up pick up truck.  How thoughtless of me not to appreciate being hit on by the sleazy redneck who thought that complimenting me on my choice of dress might get him a discount.  How ignorant of me to forget to give the carload full of screaming kids in the backseat of the mini-van lollipops for enduring their shrieking while I waited on their mother who talked on her cell phone the entire time that I waited on her.

Tonight, however, I was all smiles, even as a man who had no business stepping foot in the store stumbled drunkenly into a display full of shooters and almost knocked it headlong into a cooler.  I grinned from ear to ear at the asshat who was too impatient for me to close out the sale on my register before I bagged his booze.  I even had a pleasant conversation with the drunken town cripple in the wheelchair, who only a few short weeks ago scared the living bejeezus out of me after I had closed the store for the evening and I had to call the cops.

Because, you see, after next weekend, I won't have to do any of it ever again.

I will never understand how it has come to be in our capitalist pig society that the most labor intensive and difficult jobs (i.e. public relations) are often the ones that only pay minimum wage.  Having sat on both sides of the fence, I am at least human enough to recognize the fact that someone is have a less than good day but they still have to come to work and earn a paycheck.

It may be unrealistic of me to think that I will never work in some line of customer service that pays for shit again, but at least I know how to be sympathetic, smile, and tell whoever is waiting on me to have a better day when I am on the customer side of the counter.


Have I added you to my Preferred List yet? Blogs like this one are becoming risky business for me to leave public.  Let me know if you would like to be added to the list.

10:00 AM - 40 Comments - 31 Kudos - Add Comment

El Snarko De Facto
Current mood: annoyed
Category: MySpace

Been a while since I've felt the urge to post a blog here.

Been a while since I've felt the urge to be on MySpace, period, at least for anything other than to update my status and post the occasional bulletin and reply to the occasional message or comment on the occasional blog.

I feel like I owe everyone an explanation, starting with my reasons for boycotting MySpace to begin with.  You see, I don't like censure.  There is this little thing called freedom.... freedom of speech, for example.  I haven't taken too kindly to MySpace's new measures to insure the "safety of its users".  As far as I'm concerned, if I click on a link that someone has posted, I have enough common sense to know that I am in fact leaving MySpace, and I know damn well not to give up my user name and password if the website that I land on asks for it.

I don't appreciate not being able to post a link without MySpace deeming it "naughty" and not letting a person figure that out for themselves.  As far as I'm concerned, if you don't know how to protect yourself on the internet, you shouldn't own a computer in the fucking first place.

Are people really that stupid? 

Unfortunately, I am learning that some indeed are. 

Unfortunately, my new occupations at both the local paper and the local liqour store have created new conundrums of their own for me being on MySpace as well. 

You see, everything snarky and entertaining that has happened in my life that is blog-worthy lately... I have to be extra special careful due to the new and intimidating circumstances in my MySpace sphere of influence.  I'm actually finding that people here in BFE use MySpace.  Not the least of which being some new people on my friends list, a few of whom actually work (or used to, in Amanda's case) with me.  (Chris, you know I don't mean any offense to you... I know you enjoy my blogs, and I know you would thoroughly appreciate some of what I haven't been able to post) 

Which brings me to a point.

I would love to start blogging again here on MySpace.

However, there are a few things that I'm going to have to do in order to feel comfortable doing so.

Much as I hate to censure my readers, few as they may be since I've abandoned frequenting MySpace like I used to do, I'm going to have to ask those of you who want to see the especially controversial stuff (meaning anything that I have to say about my work life and personal antics in general lately) to join my preferred list.  Unfortunately, I can't just post as friends only with some of my brain puke lately, for fear of offending people.

You might be saying, "Who the fuck cares?  Just do it!"

If I were in my early twenties again, I would.  However, I am 32.  I am actually on track in a career path that has taken me ages to find, much less enjoy and appreciate.  I happen to know some influential local people since taking my job at the newspaper, and by influential, I don't just mean people in high places.

Rather than start from scratch with a new profile and blogging identity, I want to keep the profile that I have, friends, readers, and all, until I can decide what to do about blogging freely elsewhere.

I've been exploring my options with other networking sites, as some of you already know.  Thus far, I'm discovering that MySpace's infamous popularity has made it a fixture.  While I don't agree with the censure and sudden Orwellian attributes that make it a less than gratifying place to be, I do recognize the fact that I've made a lot of friends here, and so I can't give it up completely.

Here's the deal...

Not all of my blogs going forward are going to be "Preferred List" only, but I can guarantee that a fair amount, at least in the near future, are going to have to be, until I can figure out a way to adjust my writing style to accommodate my personal privacy issues.

If you are at all interested in being able to read them, send me a message or leave me a comment here.  Last I checked, I can add you by user name, and if that isn't the case any more, I'll be sure to let those of you who want to be on the preferred list know.

I hate to have to do this, given what MySpace has done to its users in recent months, but I think it is necessary.

If I don't write something snarky and offensive soon, I'm going to go off the deep end.

And for the record, my Muse actually agrees with me on this one.

10:59 PM - 38 Comments - 29 Kudos - Add Comment

And I Thought I’d Been Involved In a Dysfunctional Relationship!
Current mood: disgusted
Category: Romance and Relationships

Woman Sits On Boyfriend’s Toilet For Two Years

Um....

Yeah....

The only thing that I have to say is thank GOD that these two didn’t reproduce themselves...

Oh...

Wait...

She’s been on the toilet for two years.  Apparently sex wasn’t on either of their minds.

Seriously...

How in the BLOODY HELL does this sort of thing happen in this day and age?

You would have thought after a day or so the boyfriend would have AT LEAST gotten concerned.

But TWO EFFING YEARS?

Really?

I’m apalled, disgusted, and lots of other words that probably don’t exist in any language, so why even bother to begin to express them....

Thank whatever higher power that there may be for a little thing called natural selection.

’Nuff said.

Currently listening : Tantric By Tantric Release date: 13 February, 2001

7:57 PM - 22 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

Attack of the Drunken Town Cripple
Current mood: still kinda freaked
Category: still kinda freaked Jobs, Work, Careers

So I just got home from my usual Saturday night working at the liquor store and I've already got almost a full bottle of beer gone.

I'm still shaking, but I think with another beer, I'll be okay.

What has me all freaked out and high on adrenalin at this late hour? 

Well, let me start from the beginning.

A couple of weeks ago, town police officers apprehended a Hispanic male in the parking lot of the liquor store where I work.  This was also on a Saturday night, but it was about forty-five minutes after I'd locked up and gone home.  Apparently, this guy had a warrant or some-such suspicious stuff on his record, and my friendly neighborhood officers put him in the back of the squad car.  The squad car from which once you are in the backseat, you can't get out.

Well, this guy did get out of the back of said squad car, and they still aren't sure how it occurred.  The reasonable explanation was that someone let him out when the officers were busy making their report and calling in, but who knows for sure?  Anyway, he got away, and the result of that was a reverse 911 call that went out around midnight warning residents that the guy had escaped, lock your doors, etc etc etc.  Of course, I don't have a land-line, so I was clueless about this chain of events until my Almost-Mom called me up frantic the next morning thinking that I had been held up in the liquor store and that the guy had gotten away.

The very next Saturday, as I pulled my usual shift, my friendly neighborhood officers pulled up to the drive-thru window to make sure that business was running smoothly and no suspicious activity was afoot.  No, it had been a quiet night.  I had the usual customers in and out, and although one guy in particular can be quite scary at times (I think he forgets to take his medication), for the most part, I can handle myself. 

One of the officers who had that fateful Saturday shift the previous week is the husband of a former co-worker, and a friend of mine.  He told me that earlier in the week, another suspicious vehicle was reported parked in the liquor store parking lot, and if I saw anything funny, to let them know.  That made me nervous, and I asked them to swing by the store about the time I would be locking up, which they were only too happy to do. 

For a few weeks, everything has been quiet.  If my friend is on duty, he tries to check in and make sure all is well in Liquor-store Land, and I'm grateful for that.  I handle large amounts of cash and I man the store by myself.  Ten o'clock closing time is pretty late for this sleepy little Colorado town, even on a weekend.  You just never know what could happen.

You just never know...

Tonight, as per usual, the last hour or so of my shift was dead.  I stocked the beer cooler and vacuumed the carpet, and didn't even put up my closed signs until a few minutes after closing time. 

There are several things that I do when I close.  The first thing that I do is to turn off all of the outside lights.  The light on the drive up and the front door lights are turned off, and immediately afterwards I lock the front door and put the closed sign in the front window.  I then turn off the neon sign that blares "OPEN" in bright orange lettering. 

From there, I go to the drive up window.  First I shut and lock the screen, then the window itself, and I turn the open sign in this window so that it reads "Closed" to anyone pulling up.  A bar is then placed behind where the window slides open as further protection from break in, and then the entire window gets covered with a wooden board that locks into place, while lastly, the motion sensor for the alarm system is plugged in.  Yeah... no one is getting into the store without a fight, that's for damn sure.

By now, it is about 10 minutes or so past the hour.  I pull out the drawer, close out the computer, and start counting money.  I have at least 1500 bucks out on the counter in front of me, and after I'd finally got to finish counting it, it was more like 2 grand, but anyway....

As I'm standing there counting stacks of twenties and fifties, the motion sensor in the drive-up goes off.  No big deal, I'm used to people driving through the alley way after closing time.  They see that I'm closed and probably go to the bar instead.  This night should be no different, right?

Wrong.

Someone starts knocking on the window.

WTF?

I can't see who it is, I've got the window covered and the lights are out because it's after 10 o'clock and I'm CLOSED!  C - L - O - S - E - D!!!!!  That's what the sign says, and it's all dark and shut up.  Go the fuck away. 

The knocking continues, and now I'm starting to get nervous.  Who in the hell in their right mind continues to knock on a drive-thru window of a store that is obviously closed?  Well, I don't know, but I sure as hell don't care to find out.  The window stays covered, and I continue to count my cash and figure up my drawer. 

The knocking stops.

Only to start again at the front door. 

Except, there isn't anyone there. 

That's right... there is knocking going on alright, but I don't see anyone standing there, and now I'm completely freaked out.  I check the phone book quickly for the number for the local PD, and discover that after 5 all the calls are either routed through city of Delta or you have to call 911.  I call Rhonda instead, hoping that her husband is on duty and she can call him and have him come save the day. 

Luck has it that he isn't on duty and he answers the phone...

And about the time that he does, I get my first and only glimpse of the mysterious knocker on my door... a disembodied hand.

At this point, I am getting hysterical.  "I've got someone knocking on my door, I'm closed, and all's I can see is a hand...."

I am convinced that there is someone with a gun waiting to jump me the minute that I go to the door to see who is trying to get in so desperately.

"Stay right where you are," he tells me, and puts Rhonda on the phone with me while he calls someone who is on duty and gets them en route to the store.

Suddenly, the head of an old woman appears in the doorway, as I'm explaining to Rhonda what is happening.  She must be able to hear me talking.

"I'm in a wheelchair," she says through the glass.  "That's why you can't see me." 

She proceeds to tell me her name and asks me to let her in.  I tell her no, that I am closed.  She asks what time it is, I tell her, and she asks if I can't make an exception for her, just this once.  She "knows" the owner.  Yeah, a lot of people claim that, but I only work one night a week, and I'm not exactly inclined to believe the word of a woman I've never seen before in my life.

I feel bad for the old lady in the wheelchair, but even if I am of a mind to let her in after scaring the living beJeezus out of me, my drawer is already closed for the night.  No can do.

And thankfully, at about this time, my friendly neighborhood officers pull up to the front of the store to save the day.

It takes me all of a few minutes to put two and two together.  This is the lady that I have been warned about by my liquor store co-workers.  She's got a reputation for being a mean old lady who likes to get her booze on.  And apparently, the law in this town is just as familiar with her. 

I don't know what happened after I spoke with the officers who came to rescue me from the crippled old lady in the wheelchair, but by the time I lock up, both she and they are gone from the front of the store.

And now I have a blog out of it, and after three beers, I'm definitely not shaking any more.

But I think that it may be time to quit my Saturday night job at the liquor store.  I think that I've had all the excitement that seven bucks an hour can provide.

11:45 PM - 35 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

Anger Management, Lady Marie™ Style!
Current mood: JUST PLAIN MEAN!
Category: JUST PLAIN MEAN! Web, HTML, Tech

We've all gotten them... the lovely little emails from those crafy Nigerian con artists who think that they are going to pull a fast one on some unsuspecting, hard-up, lonely lady who might be looking for love.

Earlier this week, I found the following message in my inbox:

---------------------------ORIGINAL MESSAGE---------------------------
From: zunlunti
Sent: 2/5/2008 10:36:19 PM

My Direct email: Sadickx5@yahoo.com

Dear,

How are you Madam? Doing great i guess? .Well i must apologize if my short message might offend you in any way,but i am just trying to explore my feelings that i can not contend any longer in my heart. I have nursed this feelings for too long although we have not melt before and i believe a friendship can start within a day if you will accept to build it up.

I sincerely write you because I really in need your assistance to help and assist me in what belongs to me which i inherited from my Late Father and to go into a serious relationship with you. Are you Married or Single? What is your exact age and Location now?

I am Mr Sadick Zulunti, I have no kids & still single, I'm the Only Son of Late Dr. mohammad Zulunti. My father was an international diamond business merchant. It is a pity that my both parents was killed by the Rebel due to the war in the northern part of my Country Sierra Leone where i came from. I can not disclose this matter to any man of my kind because i have the fear that i might be betrayed or cheated at the long run of helping me .

I was so special before my fathers eye and he made me his next of kin to all his wealth's. Before the death of My late father , he deposited a trunk box contains (Diamonds and other family Valuables) that worst thousand in dollar in the Storage Security Company here in Africa where i am now. It is because of this Treasure Diamonds and Valuables that i am contacting you and to have a serious relationship with you.

But i have contacted the Company, and all arrangements has been made to carry out this Box of consignment to any where of my choice as long as i can have a reliable person or trusty to receive it and stand as my next of kin.

But before any forge ahead, i will like to know you better, talk with you, know what you do for a living, know if you have any dates or seriously relationship at present, and what are your hobbies.
Kindly send me an email to my given email address with you phone number. I hope we can have a good start and it will be better we talk about ourselves before talking about my inheritance which you and i will benefit and have a great life together in future.

My aim is to sell part of my diamonds in your country and to further my Masters Degree and have a happy family with you.
For more Information.......Please contact me immediately through my personnel phone number and email address and tell me a little bit about yourself and send some photos too.
Tel: +221 77 700 3516
Email: sadickx5@yahoo.com

Thanks for your anticipation assistance and the time to go through my proposal..

Mr Sadick

I snapped.  My reply was neither eloquent or witty, but damn did it ever feel good to get it out of my system.

Lady Marie--'s response:

You must think that I was born yesterday, came down in the last rain storm, or that my brain isn't firing on all cylinders.

What makes you idiots think that people are going to respond to this bullshit and give over their bank account numbers to perfect strangers who do not have a grasp on the English language.

Perhaps if I was a desperate lonely woman looking for a rich foriegn man, I would be inclined to persue your ignorance.

However, I know that you are a sleazy Nigerian cock sucking con artist with nothing better to do with your time than to sit in front of your computer and try to take advantage of people with less than average intelligence, because let's face it, only a mentally handicapped person would think that there was one shred of truth to the message you just sent me.

Burn in hell you cock sucking, cum guzzling, duck stuffing, horse's ass.

Oh, and have a nice day.

:D



I feel so much better now.

10:29 PM - 36 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

The Power of the Weird Compels You! UPDATED WITH PICS!
Current mood: weird
Category: Games

Oh, but it has been forever and a day since I felt up to answering the challenges of a tag blog! 

I still don't know if I'm exactly up for it, but what the heck... I'm not doing anything else besides avoiding that sink full of dishes and preparing my 2007 income tax return.

The things I do in the name of procastination.

I have my friend April to thank for this one.  Thanks, April!

Rules are, list ten weird things about yourself and then tag ten people... well, I'll compile the list, but you can all feel free to tag yourselves and blog or don't appropriately.  Goodness knows I'm the last person who should be demanding blogs of my friends and readers these days!

So yes, I am weird, and I admit it. 

Ten things that make me weird:

10.  I enjoy reading fanfiction.  I also enjoy making fun of it.  If you really want a good laugh, go to GodAwful.net.  Granted, not all the fanfiction you will find on the internet is x-rated and horrible... as a matter of fact, I've found some excellent stuff in the Potterverse that is as G-rated as they make 'em, not to mention other top notch stuff for shows like Stargate SG-1 and Firefly.  Those of you who share my ElfQuest obsession know that I have also dabbled in the art of writing fanfiction, even though I have a bad habit of not finishing anything that I start. 

Yes, I enjoy fanfiction.  That makes me weird.

9.  I have new neighbors, and it makes me uncomfortable.  For two years, I lived in the apartment above the real estate office where I worked.  The closest neighbors were businesses, and after 5 o'clock, I was free to be as loud as I wanted.  Hell, I could have held raves every weekend and no one would have cared.  Now, though, as you all know, I have moved into a house.  For two months, all was quiet.  The house to the right of me was for sale and vaccant.  The house to the left of me was obviously vaccant, but its story was a mystery.

Two weeks ago, in addition to being visited by the Religion Fairy, the Neighbor Fairy also graced me with abundance.  Both houses on both sides of me magically sprouted residents.  On one side, I have acquired spies, who peek out of their windows to see what time I get home at night and what time I leave for work in the morning.  On the other, I have vouyers who obviously have not grasped the concept of curtains in the bathroom, if you catch my meaning.

Despite the fact that I'm an extrovert on the internet, I enjoy my "Real Life" privacy.  Somehow, I think that those days are gone...

8.  In case you haven't noticed, I am visited by magical beings such as the "Religion Fairy" and the "Neighbor Fairy" on a regular basis.  I have, in past blogs, talked about visits from the "Roommate Fairy" and the "Butt-Flu Fairy", and no doubt have yet to meet some new and interesting Fairy friends.  Such as the "Income Tax Fairy" who I am currently avoiding by writing this blog.

7.  I still believe that the Boogeyman is alive and well and he was living in my closet.  Unfortunately, the closets in my new house do not have locking doors... so I've banished him to the basement which is securely locked with a padlock.  He has taken up residence with the dragon that I recently acquired to take care of my religous solicitation problem, and I understand that they have become the best of friends. 

6.  No, I'm "not quite right" as my coworkers have so fondly informed me.  Upon discovering that I had more of a mess in my new job than I knew what to do with, I created a box.  That box was filled with horrors the likes of which I don't have time to deal with.  The box also has a label.  It says:

I will update this blog with a picture of said box tomorrow, and just so you know, I do enjoy the fact that people in this town who have walked into the office and seen it find it hilarious.  It's wonderful to know that my insanity is entertaining.

UPDATED:

BEHOLD THE BOX OF FILING HORROR!

5.  As long as we are on the subject of work, and pictures of the insane things that I do, let's talk about my sign that I put on the door when I have to leave to go to the Post Office.  You see, in the office where I work, often times I am the only one manning the fort, and part of my job is the daily procurement of the mail.  If I have to leave to run said errand, I post a sign on the door.  It reads:

I will update this blog with another picture tomorrow, as proof of my insanity.  One of my coworkers enjoyed it so much, she took a picture and it has been emailed to the Tonight Show.  You can meet three of my coworkers here, here, and here.  Send them a friend invite and a message.  Tell them I said howdy.

UPDATED:

BEHOLD THE GONE POSTAL SIGN!

4.  I am feeling my age.  Not so weird, I suppose, but when you consider the things that send me into a mind-numbing tailspin of Nostalgic Fury, such as Alysia's latest blog, then you will start to fathom the obscure weird workings of my mind.  The songs that she has listed take me back to the days of high school dances and roller skating parties with my Girl Scout troop.

3.  Yes, I was a Girl Scout from the first grade until every other girl in my troops lost interest, and I still have the badge covered sashes and vests to prove it.

2.  Name that '80s one-hit wonder and I'd be willing to bet that I know all of the lyrics by heart.  Try me.

1.  I'm weird enough that you are still reading this.  That has to count for something.

Go forth and blog your weirdness, my friends, and then let me know so I can point and laugh and feel better about myself.

8:00 PM - 44 Comments - 30 Kudos - Add Comment

Words Of Wisdom For My Musical Friends
Current mood: cantankerous
Category: Music

Follow the links!  Clickety Click!

As quoted on my main MySpace profile page, I know some pretty interesting (and talented) aspiring musicians. 

For example, there is Jeri Cross.  I haven't talked to her in a couple of years, and her Garage Band page isn't exactly up to date, but if I know this chick, she's still working hard at her craft.  One of these days, I'll have some updated information to share with any of you who might be interested.

Then of course there is the infamous Brother Joel, who can be found on MySpace here.  As he so eloquently reminded me the other day, I was there when it all began, back when he was wailing on an acoustic guitar and making up songs about Ramen noodles on the spot to entertain my roommates and I.  Back then, I  lived in an old building in Mill Village, Pennsylvania, that had once been a cheese factory.  From these humble beginnings, Joel has gone on to mastermind such bands as System System and his latest endeavor, Simple Engine.

Lastly, but not leastly, there is Tom Andersen, my favorite MySpace Guitar Wizard.  His band, Pscience, is currently on indefinite hiatus, but Tom has been keeping busy moonlighting with another band, and working on his solo projects, which are always a treat to the ears.

All three of my wonderful musician friends have amazing potential.  In this lovely day and age of the interweb, they have the opportunity to find (or carve out) their own niche in the music world.

With this in mind, I have found some enlightening examples of album covers that they could learn a thing or two from.  Such as what NOT to do when they finally get around to releasing those long awaited first CD's.

For instance:



I'm pretty sure even the sweetest cream would go sour when worn by ladies over the age of 65 as evening gowns on an album cover.  A picture is worth a thousand words.  This picture screams "PLEASE DON'T LISTEN TO ME!!!!!" two hundred times in rapid succession.




Perhaps Orion would have been better off being aborted.




If you want people to assume that your music is about demonic ferrets, this is definitely the way to go!




Do not hire Kitty from That 70's Show to pose for your cover.  Please.  Just don't.




Unflattering close-ups make even the most attractive people ugly.  Well, not in poor Ken's case.  My only request would be that he wear a bag over his head on his next album cover.




If I EVER catch any of you releasing an album cover similar to this one, I don't care how long we've been friends... I will disown you on the spot!  I will then proceed to go on a year-long drinking spree to make sure that all traces of ever knowing you are obliterated from my memory.  Capiche?




I' ll tell you what's next... a long, lonely, drug addicted spiral downward, at the end of which you are found dead and bloated on the toilet, (not unlike Elvis and the woman pictured in the album above this one) by your landlord while attempting to collect last month's rent.




The only thing that could top this one is the fat naked guy and a dead male pig, and the album would be titled Homobeastionecrophilia.  For the love of humanity, JUST DON'T!


I love my musical friends.

This has been a public service announcement, brought to you by the number 7, the letter Q, and the @ symbol.

Until next time, kiddos!

10:59 PM - 32 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

I Need Your Religion Like I Need Another Hole In My Head
Current mood: annoyed
Category: Life

Ah.... Saturday morning!

Cup of tea?  Check!
Internet connection?  Check!
Warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers?  Check and Check!

The cell phone is shut off and I'm more than happy to sip my tea, surf the web, and relax the day away until it is time to go to work and sling booze to the local boozaholics. 

Ah.... Saturday morning.... quiet... restful....

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

What the....?

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

There is someone at my door?  Now who could that be?  I certainly haven't invited anyone over to share the blissful sanctity of my Saturday morning...

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

Alright, damn it... I'm coming!

There is a man at my door, nicely dressed, well-groomed, and wearing an expensive looking trench coat.  He smiles as I open the door.

"Good morning!"  he says.  "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It is shaping up to be, yes," I reply warily, taking a slug from my warm cup of tea and eying the suspicious looking bundle of literature in his hand.

"We're in the neighborhood today sharing some information," he begins, and he extends the literature towards me.  "Would you like to take a look at it?"

"Not really, thanks,"  I stare down at the tracts like he has grown another hand and try to shut the door.  At the top of the stack is the infamous "Watchtower", calling card of pushy Jehovah's Witnesses everywhere.

Lovely.  My one and only Saturday morning of the week has to be ruined by the Religion Fairy.

"If you'll just take it, I'll be on my way.  I don't mean to interrupt if you're busy," he waves the leaflets at me as I give him a death glare.

"Fine, if it will get you off my porch, thank you!" I yank the pamphlets from his hand and slam the door in his face.  My trash bin accepts his offering and it runneth over.

Lovely.

Now I've got to take out the trash.

I settle back into my chair, content to let the trash wait until later, and resume my web surfing. 

A peaceful hour passes. 

I make myself a fresh cup of tea and check my email.

BAM BAM BAMMITY BAM!

What the...?

BAM BAM BAMMITY BAM!

I'm not even dressed yet, for pete's sake!

BAM BAM BAMMITY BAM!

Alright, damn it!  I'm coming!

Two clean-cut young men in black pants and white shirts now grace my doorstep.  I know where this is going...

"Good morning, ma'am!" the blond one exclaims as I open the door.  "How are you today?"

"Not as good as I was a few minutes ago," I reply coldly.

"We're here today to talk to you about the Book of Mormon," the other one begins.

"No, you're not," I cut him off.  "I don't feel like having visitors right now.  Please leave."

"But..." the first one tries, however, I am no longer in a hospitable mood.  My Saturday morning has been effectively ruined.

"No buts!  I asked you to leave. I'm not interested in the book of Mormon, and if you don't get off of my porch, I will happily call the police,"  I fix them both with a glare only a heathen who has not accepted their faith could bestow, hoping they can see the demons dancing naked among the flames in my eyes.

"Yes ma'am!" they both nod gravely.  "Have a good day, and God Bless You!"

"I don't need the blessings of your false idea of God, thanks!" I shut the door and stalk back into the living room. 

I never had this problem at the apartment.  Not once in two whole years did anyone ever have the balls to knock on my door and ruin my Saturday with their religious witnessing bullshit.  Now that I'm renting a house, I've discovered a whole new world of people in this town, all of them wanting to cram their God and their beliefs down my throat on one of the two days of the week that I can sit at home and enjoy my morning, pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and all.

I'll be having none of it, thank you.

Next Saturday, I'm answering the door naked.

10:59 PM - 68 Comments - 47 Kudos - Add Comment