It Always Ends Up This Way

Why did the AI people lip sync the group sing a long last night? That was annoying. And distracting. If they're not good enough to sing a medley live they need to all be booted and a do-over needs to happen. Are they going to lip sync on their tour? The tour I'll never ever buy a ticket for so it doesn't really matter if they phone it in. Yeah.

Also...Matt in the bottom three? What the fuck? Do I really need to sit with my 'berry at the ready to text in my votes every week? Yes. Really. Now that I'm on AT&T, I see no reason to not sit there and text in my votes for my favorites. So I do. And the one week I don't, Matt is in the bottom three. Goddamn!

Wow. I'm seriously sitting here rambling about American Idol. And texting. Am I Andrea Button? Am I aging in reverse? Shall I buy myself a My Little Pony to play with? Damn!

I love the song "Cover of the Rolling Stone" way more than I probably should. I will not apologize for this.

I also enjoy listening to the music and bands that my parents liked when they were younger. Like The Who and The Stones and The Doors and other bands that start with The. And also CCR. And, when I can tolerate it, Bob Dylan. I like to listen and try to think about what they were like when they were hanging out and chillin' with their friends and stuff. And that makes me happy. To think about my parents like that. It just does.

I've recently come to the realization that I need to stop believing I am a shy person. I'm not. I don't even get that anxious before meeting a huge group of new people. I may not warm up and walk up and talk to everyone immediately, for I am still me. But I talk openly and freely when in a crowd and I'm comfortable doing so. Unless I get that vibe. The vibe I can't explain...but I know the vibe when I'm around it. And I'll shut down tight and you won't get a peep outta me. So if you meet me and I'm not very chatty? It's your fault for putting off the vibe.

For the past who knows how long, I've been a huge whiny mess. To the point where I have sent some crazy emails to some of my friends, posted crazy rambling on Flickr, and even kinda started having some of my old paranoid beliefs that those closest to me are trying to set me up so they can humiliate and hurt me in a big huge way. And this was all because I was having some stupid feelings about my importance and my needs not being met by those that should take my needs in serious consideration. But then one of those people, once they actually heard me say what my need was and how it was affecting me, sprung into action. And, because I'm apparently way more simple than I ever imagined, I feel a lot better. And it kinda showed me that I need to stop believing that people are reading my mind. If I need things, I need to speak up. Stop worrying that I'm bothering people. Because it's not how life works. And that's not what just happened. So....yeah.

I shall now enjoy the fact that I'm not being overly whiny and dance. This is how this post ends.

Always One Foot On The Ground

Every time I see that Coke commercial where they're talking about the secret recipe being known by two men and two men only and all of the bad, sad things that would happen if one of them died....well...I get concerned. I do. What if this is true? They need a better plan. They need to have something in place to make sure that the recipe will live on. Because I need Coke dammit. And they don't need to announce to the world that only two dudes have this shit either. Some rogue Pepsi fan could get a wild hair and decide to go on a mad Coke cooker gettin' rid of spree. And then what? Where does that leave me? Where does that leave the world?!?!?

But then the commercial ends and I kinda settle down.

An Acute Fear Of Flying Couldn't Keep Her Away

So, I went to see Watchmen over the weekend. I've not read the graphic novel but I am doing so now. And I only mention this because everybody else is and I think it's a requirement that everyone mention Watchmen this week. So there you go. I've met the requirement.

I wasn't going to mention the giant blue penis, but I think I will. Because last night as I'm reading the book I take note that his penis is smaller in the book and his balls are present. In the movie, it was just giant blue penis and no blue balls. And I'm only spelling this out so I could use the phrase blue balls.

After Chuck was over I turned my TV over to see what was going on with Dancing With The Stars. The band seemed different. And that prevented me from enjoying anything else that was going on. Because I was too concerned with the way the band sounded and how I wasn't enjoying it.

I bought a shirt the other day. It's a nice shirt. Very pretty. Kinda girly. I was going to wear it today. Until I put it on. I then instantly realized that I have no idea how to wear this shirt. And it's not one of those twisty tie around type shirts either that get all sorts of confusing. But it has elastic around the bottom and then some ruffly frilly part after that. So, do I pull it all the way down? Do I bunch it up? None of it looks right. Who does this? What is wrong with me? I can't figure out a shirt! Come on!

There was a woman at the post office today pulled over to the side in her car with the blinker on waiting for a spot to come open. This, naturally, made me believe I was going to have trouble finding a spot. But no. There were a lot of free spots. Lots of them. It was not raining. So, clearly she has a injury or something that made her need a closer spot, right? Nope. No broken leg. No sling. Nothing. Just a big case of lazy.

Scapegoat. Not escape goat. Make a note.

I saw a commercial yesterday for Vagisil or something of the sort. And they said something about how it helps the burning and itching go away. So you can rejoin your life. Erm...women with itchy crotches have to remove themselves from society until that shit goes away? What the fuck is this? I've seen men everywhere scratchin' their junk. Readjusting the balls. Switching sides. Just, full on scratching. But according to Vagisil women who have a minor itch need to keep that shit at home. Weird.

This was all very disjointed. Welcome to my brain.

When She Asks For Something, Boy, She Means It

I'm now a BlackBerry person. And I'm sure the novelty and fun will wear off soon enough, but this morning as I'm sitting at the Starbucks drive thru and I noticed my little red light start flashing indicating I just received a new message...well...I got a stiffy. Getting my email anywhere I am? Dudes...I suspected I'd love it...I just didn't know how much. Even though it was just some junk mail telling me about shoes I can't afford. It could have been important, though! It could have been an opportunity of a lifetime! A prince from Nigeria wanting to give me money! Or links to porn! In my car! At the drive thru!!!

!!!

Yeah. It'll wear off.

But, my main purpose for reporting this has yet to be mentioned. Oh, I know. Excitement builds...

In getting the 'berry, I changed service providers. I ported my number over which left me with the one that had originally been the ex-husband's number at my current provider. I just called them to cancel. Now...they did their thing that they have to do to maybe keep some of my dollars in their pockets and gave me ideas and suggestions as to why I would want to keep that line of service. And I knew they'd keep handing me ideas until they wore me down and I said "Fine! I'll keep it. Just stop talking!"

But they misunderestimated me. Oh yes. I instead pulled this line on them:

"Ya know...this line was my ex-husband's and I just really don't want anything to do with it anymore" as I then laugh and cackle like the crazy bitter woman I truly am not. I should be nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for this one! Why? Because the salespitch promptly ended and I was given the date my service would turn off.

So, there's a handy tip on how to handle salespeople that won't shut it. The ex-spouse card! Sure it's phony and manipulative...but so are they. So there.