In A Word, U Were Sex

Have you ever visited a porn clippie site and then searched your own name just in case? Yes? No? Maybe? Let's say you did...were you relieved when you didn't show up or slightly insulted? Not that this could ever be something I'd have to be concerned with....I was just...you know...curious. Having conversation. Nevermind...

So, here's something I realized today. Now..I know the contents of my 'pod. I know full and damned well that "Jessie's Girl" is on there. And I know full and damned well that I listen to it. And that I sing along with it. And that I air guitar along with it. In my car, you know. Or my desk. And all this time I thought I was perfectly in control of this singing and air guitaring.

Until I walked into the pet food store this afternoon.

It came on just as I rounded a corner. And my hand immediately went to my thigh and I started to strum. And then sing. "Jessie is a friend..." and then I was caught by a dude. And then I realized....I'm powerless against Rick Springfield and his catchy, catchy song about loving his friend's girl. And his use of the word "moot." I had to literally FIGHT myself to not continue singing and air guitaring. And this knowledge made me way more smiley and giggley than one should be while walking around by oneself carrying a bag of dog food. It makes people nervous...

Let The Good Times Roll

I reluctantly got out of my nice warm bed this morning after listening to my dogs whine for about 10 minutes and quickly decided to have a nice day. Despite the fact that I could still feel the sad in my head, I was going to make today a good one. Then I found a bug in my Fruity Pebbles.

So, fuck it. Wednesday sucks too.

My neighbors all suck. With their spitting all over the place. With their letting their dogs shit all over the sidewalk and the landing and anywhere they damn please. And then the others who step in it and then spread it all around. And their being too lazy to bend over and pick up the restaurant menus that fall off of their door as they open it and they let it lay there and lay there and lay there. And their smoking and leaving their butts on the ground. I blame all of them. Every last fucking one of them for me having to find an alternate plan for breakfast. They are to blame for putting the bug in my goddamn Fruity Pebbles.

For the past 21 days my dog has had to wear a cone on his head. And I'm so fucking tired of that cone and his frustration with the cone and his taking out his frustration of the cone on my walls, my furniture, my legs, and my Beagle that I told him yesterday that if he hit me with that cone one more time I was going to shove it up his ass. He smiled, walked over to the couch, and banged into every cushion with it. He's a smart ass.

If I catch my Beagle licking my couch cushions one more time I'm going to tie her tongue in a knot. It's gotten to that point.

I had planned to go to DC for the inauguration. But instead finances and other adult crap got in the way so my friend and I decided that we'd not do it. We'd stay home and be mature. So, that's what we did. And as I watched the crowds yesterday being all happy and jubilant and smiling and waving their flags and being all pleasant and happy and ready for change....I got pissed! I shoulda been there! I like the feeling of being around that many people that are happy and jubilant and smiling and all that other crap. But noooooooo. I was stuck here with my disgusting neighbors and my irritating dogs and I listened to happy smiley people on TV talk about how they just had to be there...to be part of history.

Dammit...I wanted to be part of history. So I scowled and I was surly and I dwelled and I marinated myself in my already sad state of mind and I was just....I was a real bitch yesterday. Until around 11:30 when it hit me...

Fuck you people who were in DC standing around being happy and jubilant and waving your flags and being smug for being part of history. You know why? 'Cause I was a part of it, too. We all were! You didn't have to be there to be a part of it. We were part of it by taking part of the process. By watching the news. By researching the candidates. By voting. By going to rallies. By watching the returns come in. By talking to other people about it. By watching CNN all day in the comfort of your home as Obama was sworn in. I'm alive. I live in America. I'm part of this, too. I didn't have to be irresponsible with my finances and my dogs in order to do that. I'm an Amercian. Yesterday belongs to us all. Not just the happy flag wavers that stood in the cold. They just have a better story to tell the grandkids....

That Changed This Little Boy's Brain

I am about to ramble off some thoughts that may not be cohesive or make much sense. They will also be fairly ironic as I'm feeling hormonal and overly sensitive at the moment, which doesn't usually lead to many rational or reasonable thoughts.

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine yesterday, subject not important, that lead to the statement that I sound like a fairly high number of husbands in the world. That sitcoms show wives the way they do because that's how most wives are. That most husbands could be happier if their wives could be more rational thinking. And that most husbands find a way to be okay with their situation even though it sucks.

This makes me never ever want to be a wife again. And it makes me sad. I don't want to believe that somebody who is living with me, who's happiness is so very important to me, is learning to be OK with whatever crap and/or abuse I send their way and that they think it all sucks. What kind of life is that? For both people? I don't want to be seen as some shrewish harpy who is sucking someone's life. Their happiness. I want to add to it. I want to enhance it. And I want the same in return, ya know?

So, am I naive? Am I never going to be happy because I expect total happiness? Am I really a fairy tale believing romantic that hides under sarcasm and faux cynicism?

Or, am I just wanting a higher standard of living for myself because I believe that all persons can be more truly happy. And that I want that happy? I mean, I'm not sitting here thinking that people are perfect and that there won't be times that you look at your significant other and think "you know what...I'd like for them to shut their face for a bit." That's gonna happen. But the daily being OK with sitcom level nagging and crap? No. Not acceptable to me. It never will be.

And if that means I'm going to walk the world alone and never have somebody here to hug me when I need it or tell me about their day and ask me about mine as we cook dinner and then later giggle in the dark about whatever crappy TV show we watched, then...so be it. Because I don't think I should have to live a life with somebody who's made their peace that life with me is just "OK." And that makes me so sad it hurts.

And that's my hormone fueled thoughts on that.

Grow Apple Trees And Honey Bees

Look What I Found In My Box!
Originally uploaded by Andrea With A Camera

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'Cause I'm Better Than The Rest Of The Men

So, I was going to sit down and type out my thoughts on how weird I am finding Flickr and some of its inhabitants to be these days, but I decided not to. Just know it's very fascinating over there if you just sit back, pay a bit of attention, talk to a few people, and treat it like that party you attend where you decide to not partake of any alcohol and you let all the events unfurl around you as you take it all in. Flickr can be kinda like that. Fascinating!

But, instead I just gotta gripe about this damn Superstars of Dance show. I'll be honest here...I was pissed off at this show before I ever watched two minutes of it. Seriously. And I watched it anyway. But...really...how can you honestly judge different styles and cultures of dance against one another? That shit ain't right. The South Africans have a completely different style and flow from the Irish group. You can't honestly sit there are judge them against each other. You can't! I'm sorry. That's my stance.

And the Americans are just younger, trying to be cool, versions of Shields and Yarnell with a few dance moves thrown in so we don't realize they all graduated from the Julliard School of Mimery. Seriously, I was watching them last night and all I could think of was "Yeah, I really liked that episode of the Muppet Show, too." Seriously? For the first half they did a hybrid of the robot and mimery. GAH! I guess I should be thankful they didn't decide to mix in a bit of the Mummenschanz skits to creep everybody out.

But I loved Australia dude. Mr. "I hope this show brings the world todgether. With dance!" The only thing that could have made that moment any more special to me would be if he'd used jazz hands when he said it. Seriously. How much do I love hearing a dude ask for world peace via the power of dance?!?!?

My last point will be in regards to the judges....what the hell guys? Seriously? Could you be any more generic and bland? Could you be more confusing with your standards of judging*? What is going on there? "That didn't move me very much, I give you an eight." But then..."OH! You moved me to feel emotions and memories of love...I give you an eight!!" What? What just happened there? An eight is good...and bad? I can't keep up. Stupid dance shows should not leave me confused.

Tonight I'll watch American Idol and gripe about the producers rewarding jackasses who showed up simply to get their douchey face on TV. I'm not a huge fan of that part. Sure some people are and it brings in the ratings, but I think it sucks. Clearly their parents let them get by with a lifetime of jackass douchery and now they're on TV showing off and being proud of themselves for showing the nation just how far you can get by being a jackassed douche**. And sure I'm kind of a jackass for preferring to see the seriously deluded people who honestly thought they had beautiful singing voices get their dreams smashed on national TV, but I'm not asking any one to put my douchey face on TV am I? No. So there.

*I need to stop watching Friends reruns, clearly.

**Yes, yes, I know. I could reference any and all reality shows for doing just that. But on those shows, most of the people are douchey jackasses. On American Idol some honestly talented people get the shaft over the ratings boosting jackholes. That shit ain't right.

++Seriously? How many times did I say that? Am I knocking off Weekend Update and not realizing it? Is this my version of "Really?" I'm no better than the Shields and Mummen mime/dance group! I'm some weird SNL/Grey's Anatomy beast. I apologize...

And Did It Ever Get You Far

Have you seen that commercial for that gum, Extra I believe, that apparently is a perfectly acceptable substitute for cake and / or cookies? Seriously? If I'm staring in the face of a chocolate cake they expect me to believe I can pop a slice o'gum in my mouth and think "Oh, man...this is awesome. I'm so glad I didn't waste my time on that cake" as I walk on smiling about how smart and satisfied I am? Have these marketers ever had cake? I cannot believe people story board this shit out with a straight face. Have you ever put a piece of gum in your mouth and had your eyes roll back into your head as if you're a Great White that just snagged a seal out of mid air? Because cake can do that for me. I grab that cake and I roll around with it like a croc with a gazelle. I death roll the hell outta some cake. Gum? I scoff at thee!

Commercials are ridiculous.

I like stating the obvious.

While we're on the subject of commercials, has the marketing team really performed their job sucessfully if I simply remember the commercial? Is that really all they are going for? Not sales? Just, remembrance? Because sure I get the free credit report dot com jingles stuck in my head for hours, but I've never visted the site. Am I a victory in their head? Because I sing some jingle? Then I come here and blog about it? Is this their business plan? Maybe I could start my own business if this is all it takes...