Yesterday, friends and family of Rob Smith aka Acidman, celebrated his life in true Acidman fashion: they partied in his honor.
There were many, many of us who could not attend so comments on his site were opened for tributes.
Chablis had the great idea of starting an IRC channel for people to come in and celebrate Rob and share stories.
It turned into an absolute laugh riot. The things that were talked about in that room would make a hooker blush.
I learned terms for female body parts that I never knew existed and I can't stop hearing in my head. I think Rob would have loved it!
At around midnight or 1 am, we were amazed that so many of us were still there and shocked at how we all felt like we had known each other for a really long time.
I didn't really know anyone there before or even read their blogs. The only person I actually knew was Jim @ Smoke on the Water.
The reason I met Jim was because of Rob's blog.
Now, I know all these other people and have made these connections, again, because of Gut Rumbles.
So, Rob is gone, but his legacy lives on. We have formed friendships because of what he gave to us...his friendship.
So, the Unusual Suspects are going on my blogroll. They helped turn a really sad occasion into a true celebration!
And if Chablis truly posts the unedited log of that chat, then I was NEVER there!
Chablis, whose great idea started this E-Blogmeet.
Evilicious Blonde, whose site may be too hot for work but she's TOO hot for words!
OG, the dirty "old" man AND the Neanderpundit.
Lisa, who has got to be one of the nicest girls in the blogosphere!
Libby, THE Libby!
This guy, whose name I didn't catch but who was a ton of fun!
Adam, the original horndog and my little pedo-crush!
St. Paul, the man who has been holding Gut Rumbles up and will be taking over to keep the site up and running in Rob's memory. Also, he's my totally legal e-crush.
If I left anyone out, let me know. I'm operating on very little sleep this morning but it was SO worth it!
So, here's to Rob...where ever you are. Thanks for your words that kept us coming back and for the legacy of blogging and friendship that you leave behind.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Let's Talk Poetry
I love poetry. I love weird beautiful, painful, lovely poetry.
I love drunken people like e.e. cummings.
I love Polish/Lithuanian people like Czeslaw Milosz and sad old maid shut-ins like Emily Dickinson.
But I love Rainer Maria Rilke most of all.
I don't know why except that his poetry is simple and complicated all in one rolling form.
His upbringing was kind of fucked up even by today's standards. His mother lost a daughter before Rilke was born so after he was born, his mother called him Sofia and dressed him in girl's clothing until he was five.
Why it took his father 5 years to figure out this wasn't healthy, I don't know but to make up for it, he was very strict on Rilke and sent him to military school to make a man out of him.
Now, these days, that would make a serial killer out of the strongest person but Rilke turned to poetry and for that, we are all thankful.
Rilke became a published poet in 1894 at the age of 19 with Leben Und Lieder.
For the next several years he published regularly, though he would ultimately renounce as juvenile all this material.
Probably one of his most famous collections, Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke writes to a would-be poet, which he wrote from 1903 to 1908, that "nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write."
I believe this goes for everything in your life. No one can make you who you are or make you better or worse. You do that all for yourself.
He learned at the feet of sculpter, Auguste Rodin where, under his influence, Rilke developed the "thing poem" or "Dinggedichte".
"The thing is definite, the art-thing must be still more definite; removed from all accident, reft away from all obscurity, withdrawn from time and given over to space, it has become enduring capable of eternity. The model seems, the art-thing is." (from a letter to Andreas-Salomé, 8 August 1903).
When Rilke told Rodin that he had not been writing lately, Rodin’s advice was to go to the zoo and look at an animal until he truly saw it.
Rilke was known for using animal imagery throughout his poetry. Rilke takes inhuman objects and personifies them in order to convey an emotional sensation to readers.
Let's look at 3 of his thing-poems:
“The Panther�, an early example of Dinggedichte and was a favorite of Rilke because it had shown him “the way to artistic integrity.�
It is an emotional poem that uses the image of a wild animal to convey how man becomes trapped in his own personal prison.
Hopelessness is reflected in line 3, “To him it is as if there are a thousand bars, And beyond those thousand bars, no world.� The panther vision has grown tired of seeing nothing but bars that he can no longer see anything but blurred images. The bars in his vision multiply in his sight and he can only glimpse images without significance or definition beyond his prison.
Beginning in line 5, the panther’s strength while turning in circles, mirrors the potential of man’s inner strength while his will is paralyzed by his own imprisonment.
In lines 9 and 10, hope enters the panther’s eyes. Nature and the power of the panther, also the power of man, reveal itself. The last two lines remind the panther that he is on the wrong side of the bars and again, hopelessness and desperation take hold.
In line 10, the image that enters in could be Rilke himself. The panther sees Rilke but cannot respond and it’s possible that Rilke sees the panther but, also, cannot respond.
Maybe Rilke sees himself as the panther, trapped, uncertain about the quality of life. Possibly, he feels the burden of culture.
Rilke seems to grieve over the animal’s captivity yet he celebrates the power and beauty of the panther.
In The Swan, Rilke uses the swan’s transition from land to water as a metaphor for the act of dying.
In the first 3 lines, “This laboring through what is still undone, as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way�, Rilke uses the metaphor of the swan walking on dry land as “awkward� and “hobbled� as our clumsy laboring through life.
Lines 4 through 6 reveal Rilke’s capacity to understand that letting go of this earth is difficult and often terrifying because we cannot comprehend the truth of no longer existing.
There is a fear of the unknown, common to every human. To die without hesitation goes against human nature. “Is like anxious letting himself fall� is the swan’s reluctance to fall into the water.
The last part of the poem possibly reflects Rilke’s hopefulness that dying will be easy and peaceful. When the swan anxiously enters the water, he is received as if he belonged there. He is majestic and joyful. He transcends from ground to glory.
Rilke uses “The Unicorn� as a metaphor for humanity. A saintly man’s prayers are interrupted by the arrival of a unicorn. The hermit, a man of obvious faith, is stunned by this creature that until now, was believed to be a legend. Rilke writes of the horn -“High on his forehead rose the magic horn, the sign of his uniqueness� as a symbol of what makes this creature so different; so stunning The unicorn represents the convergence of what society knows and what society believes. He harbors memories of humanity that no longer exist. The unicorn is a mythological creature that is not contained within Christianity or other religions. We are simply given to feel, through Rilke’s writing, that out of reconciliation of opposites, a new range of feelings are uncovered.
The theme of animal consciousness, a permanent thread in the design of Rilke’s poetry, can be studied in all three of these poems.
These poems are also examples of Dinggedichte, which Rilke is famous for.
At times it seems we are intruding on the animals; observing them at their most vulnerable.
The use of nonhuman objects to convey human consciousness is not a new concept in poetry. Rilke used it constantly. Nonhuman objects are animated by human metaphors because the reality of the “thing� has nothing to do with the physical. The only way to truly obtain the “thinginess� is to approach the subject with humility and understanding which will reveal a nature so surprising. We just have to trust in the simplicity of the idea.
I love drunken people like e.e. cummings.
I love Polish/Lithuanian people like Czeslaw Milosz and sad old maid shut-ins like Emily Dickinson.
But I love Rainer Maria Rilke most of all.
I don't know why except that his poetry is simple and complicated all in one rolling form.
His upbringing was kind of fucked up even by today's standards. His mother lost a daughter before Rilke was born so after he was born, his mother called him Sofia and dressed him in girl's clothing until he was five.
Why it took his father 5 years to figure out this wasn't healthy, I don't know but to make up for it, he was very strict on Rilke and sent him to military school to make a man out of him.
Now, these days, that would make a serial killer out of the strongest person but Rilke turned to poetry and for that, we are all thankful.
Rilke became a published poet in 1894 at the age of 19 with Leben Und Lieder.
For the next several years he published regularly, though he would ultimately renounce as juvenile all this material.
Probably one of his most famous collections, Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke writes to a would-be poet, which he wrote from 1903 to 1908, that "nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write."
I believe this goes for everything in your life. No one can make you who you are or make you better or worse. You do that all for yourself.
He learned at the feet of sculpter, Auguste Rodin where, under his influence, Rilke developed the "thing poem" or "Dinggedichte".
"The thing is definite, the art-thing must be still more definite; removed from all accident, reft away from all obscurity, withdrawn from time and given over to space, it has become enduring capable of eternity. The model seems, the art-thing is." (from a letter to Andreas-Salomé, 8 August 1903).
When Rilke told Rodin that he had not been writing lately, Rodin’s advice was to go to the zoo and look at an animal until he truly saw it.
Rilke was known for using animal imagery throughout his poetry. Rilke takes inhuman objects and personifies them in order to convey an emotional sensation to readers.
Let's look at 3 of his thing-poems:
The Panther
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold anything else.
It seems to him there are a thousand bars;
and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils lifts, quietly--.
An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
“The Panther�, an early example of Dinggedichte and was a favorite of Rilke because it had shown him “the way to artistic integrity.�
It is an emotional poem that uses the image of a wild animal to convey how man becomes trapped in his own personal prison.
Hopelessness is reflected in line 3, “To him it is as if there are a thousand bars, And beyond those thousand bars, no world.� The panther vision has grown tired of seeing nothing but bars that he can no longer see anything but blurred images. The bars in his vision multiply in his sight and he can only glimpse images without significance or definition beyond his prison.
Beginning in line 5, the panther’s strength while turning in circles, mirrors the potential of man’s inner strength while his will is paralyzed by his own imprisonment.
In lines 9 and 10, hope enters the panther’s eyes. Nature and the power of the panther, also the power of man, reveal itself. The last two lines remind the panther that he is on the wrong side of the bars and again, hopelessness and desperation take hold.
In line 10, the image that enters in could be Rilke himself. The panther sees Rilke but cannot respond and it’s possible that Rilke sees the panther but, also, cannot respond.
Maybe Rilke sees himself as the panther, trapped, uncertain about the quality of life. Possibly, he feels the burden of culture.
Rilke seems to grieve over the animal’s captivity yet he celebrates the power and beauty of the panther.
The Swan
This laboring through what is still undone,
as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way,
is like the akward walking of the swan.
And dying-to let go, no longer feel
the solid ground we stand on every day-
is like anxious letting himself fall
into waters, which receive him gently
and which, as though with reverence and joy,
draw back past him in streams on either side;
while, infinitely silent and aware,
in his full majesty and ever more
indifferent, he condescends to glide.
In The Swan, Rilke uses the swan’s transition from land to water as a metaphor for the act of dying.
In the first 3 lines, “This laboring through what is still undone, as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way�, Rilke uses the metaphor of the swan walking on dry land as “awkward� and “hobbled� as our clumsy laboring through life.
Lines 4 through 6 reveal Rilke’s capacity to understand that letting go of this earth is difficult and often terrifying because we cannot comprehend the truth of no longer existing.
There is a fear of the unknown, common to every human. To die without hesitation goes against human nature. “Is like anxious letting himself fall� is the swan’s reluctance to fall into the water.
The last part of the poem possibly reflects Rilke’s hopefulness that dying will be easy and peaceful. When the swan anxiously enters the water, he is received as if he belonged there. He is majestic and joyful. He transcends from ground to glory.
The Unicorn
The saintly hermit, midway through his prayers
stopped suddenly, and raised his eyes to witness
the unbelievable: for there before him stood
the legendary creature, startling white, that
had approached, soundlessly, pleading with his eyes.
The legs, so delicately shaped, balanced a
body wrought of finest ivory. And as
he moved, his coat shone like reflected moonlight.
High on his forehead rose the magic horn, the sign
of his uniqueness: a tower held upright
by his alert, yet gentle, timid gait.
The mouth of softest tints of rose and grey, when
opened slightly, revealed his gleaming teeth,
whiter than snow. The nostrils quivered faintly:
he sought to quench his thirst, to rest and find repose.
His eyes looked far beyond the saint's enclosure,
reflecting vistas and events long vanished,
and closed the circle of this ancient mystic legend.
Rilke uses “The Unicorn� as a metaphor for humanity. A saintly man’s prayers are interrupted by the arrival of a unicorn. The hermit, a man of obvious faith, is stunned by this creature that until now, was believed to be a legend. Rilke writes of the horn -“High on his forehead rose the magic horn, the sign of his uniqueness� as a symbol of what makes this creature so different; so stunning The unicorn represents the convergence of what society knows and what society believes. He harbors memories of humanity that no longer exist. The unicorn is a mythological creature that is not contained within Christianity or other religions. We are simply given to feel, through Rilke’s writing, that out of reconciliation of opposites, a new range of feelings are uncovered.
The theme of animal consciousness, a permanent thread in the design of Rilke’s poetry, can be studied in all three of these poems.
These poems are also examples of Dinggedichte, which Rilke is famous for.
At times it seems we are intruding on the animals; observing them at their most vulnerable.
The use of nonhuman objects to convey human consciousness is not a new concept in poetry. Rilke used it constantly. Nonhuman objects are animated by human metaphors because the reality of the “thing� has nothing to do with the physical. The only way to truly obtain the “thinginess� is to approach the subject with humility and understanding which will reveal a nature so surprising. We just have to trust in the simplicity of the idea.
Stunned and Deeply Saddened
One of my very favorite bloggers, someone I read everyday and had the good fortune to share an email or two with has died.
I will always remember Rob.
Update:
Read some tributes and goodbyes to Acidman.
Velociman
DaGoddess
Eric
Grouchy Old Cripple
I will always remember Rob.
Update:
Read some tributes and goodbyes to Acidman.
Velociman
DaGoddess
Eric
Grouchy Old Cripple
Saturday, June 24, 2006
All Star Cast
Instead of sitting home and "writing", this afternoon I went out with my sister and brother-in-law in their boat.
It's the Tackle Time tournament here and the goal is to catch the biggest fish.
We've lived on the water all our lives but until last summer, I hadn't been out fishing since I was a young girl.
I don't like to handle bait so my nephew or my brother-in-law have to bait my hook and my casting abilities are rusty.
I don't know all the rod and reel jargon but there is a lot going on when you have to cast your line out.
You have to keep your thumb on the spool once you release the...the thingy while you gracefully arc the rod over your shoulder, releasing enough line but still controlling the amount of line leaving the spool.
I had a really good reel and it had some super fast bearings. I would fling that line out and fail to control the spool causing backlash -or as my brother-in-law called it, professional overrun.
I spent more time trying to work out the backlash than I did actually fishing but finally I got pissed off at myself and decided that I was going to repeatedly cast that son of a bitch out until I got it right. And I did.
I was the first person to catch a fish. It was a large croaker but since there isn't an adult catagory for croakers, we threw it back. I later caught a small gafftop. We threw him back too.
There is something so amazing about sitting in a boat, floating on the water watching the clouds drift by, watching the pelicans dive head first searching for fish.
For a moment life was really peaceful and almost perfect.
Then my nephew turned on the radio and all it would pick up was a station playing a Kenny Rogers song.
The argument started over whether or not Kenny Rogers was called the Silver Fox.
My sister insisted that was his nickname. I said I didn't believe anyone had ever called him that.
My brother-in-law said, "No. Conway Twitty was the Silver Fox."
"What? No way! Conway Twitty had hair as black as shoe polish. No one called him the Silver Fox either!" I said.
We all sat in silence for a few minutes and for some reason I felt like I needed to say, "You know who the Velvet Fog is?"
No, no one knew.
"It's Mel Torme, you idiots!"
"Is that Marisa Tomei's father?" My sister asked.
I blinked a few times, opened my mouth to say something, stopped and opened my mouth again...
"Yes, yes, Marisa Tomei's father is the Velvet Fog."
I went back to watching the pelicans.
It's the Tackle Time tournament here and the goal is to catch the biggest fish.
We've lived on the water all our lives but until last summer, I hadn't been out fishing since I was a young girl.
I don't like to handle bait so my nephew or my brother-in-law have to bait my hook and my casting abilities are rusty.
I don't know all the rod and reel jargon but there is a lot going on when you have to cast your line out.
You have to keep your thumb on the spool once you release the...the thingy while you gracefully arc the rod over your shoulder, releasing enough line but still controlling the amount of line leaving the spool.
I had a really good reel and it had some super fast bearings. I would fling that line out and fail to control the spool causing backlash -or as my brother-in-law called it, professional overrun.
I spent more time trying to work out the backlash than I did actually fishing but finally I got pissed off at myself and decided that I was going to repeatedly cast that son of a bitch out until I got it right. And I did.
I was the first person to catch a fish. It was a large croaker but since there isn't an adult catagory for croakers, we threw it back. I later caught a small gafftop. We threw him back too.
There is something so amazing about sitting in a boat, floating on the water watching the clouds drift by, watching the pelicans dive head first searching for fish.
For a moment life was really peaceful and almost perfect.
Then my nephew turned on the radio and all it would pick up was a station playing a Kenny Rogers song.
The argument started over whether or not Kenny Rogers was called the Silver Fox.
My sister insisted that was his nickname. I said I didn't believe anyone had ever called him that.
My brother-in-law said, "No. Conway Twitty was the Silver Fox."
"What? No way! Conway Twitty had hair as black as shoe polish. No one called him the Silver Fox either!" I said.
We all sat in silence for a few minutes and for some reason I felt like I needed to say, "You know who the Velvet Fog is?"
No, no one knew.
"It's Mel Torme, you idiots!"
"Is that Marisa Tomei's father?" My sister asked.
I blinked a few times, opened my mouth to say something, stopped and opened my mouth again...
"Yes, yes, Marisa Tomei's father is the Velvet Fog."
I went back to watching the pelicans.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Falling Behind
I know I haven't blogged anything of substance in a long time but I'm getting that itch to really write lately so maybe this weekend I'll dedicate a lot of time to writing and try to post something decent.
These last several days have been drama-filled and I got behind on the work I get paid for while dealing with the drama and the entertainment that followed.
So, let this be a warning....
I'm coming back.
These last several days have been drama-filled and I got behind on the work I get paid for while dealing with the drama and the entertainment that followed.
So, let this be a warning....
I'm coming back.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Two Years
I hate being overly-sentimental. I find it tiresome and I'm slightly cynical person but I couldn't let this day go by without a few thoughts.
As hard as it is to believe, my father died on this day two years ago.
Time has gone by so quickly, however, I feel like I just saw him yesterday.
Losing someone close to you is strange. Losing a parent almost seems unnatural.
One day they are here, right here in your life and the next day, they are gone and you really don't know where they went. Is there a heaven? A hell? An afterlife?
My father and I had a tumultuous relationship and there were times when I didn't like him very much but I do know that at no time did he ever stop loving me. Sometimes he didn't show it so well but I know that he did.
There are those five famous stages of grief and the final one is acceptance.
I don't think you can ever accept death. You just get use to the way it feels not having them around.
As hard as it is to believe, my father died on this day two years ago.
Time has gone by so quickly, however, I feel like I just saw him yesterday.
Losing someone close to you is strange. Losing a parent almost seems unnatural.
One day they are here, right here in your life and the next day, they are gone and you really don't know where they went. Is there a heaven? A hell? An afterlife?
My father and I had a tumultuous relationship and there were times when I didn't like him very much but I do know that at no time did he ever stop loving me. Sometimes he didn't show it so well but I know that he did.
There are those five famous stages of grief and the final one is acceptance.
I don't think you can ever accept death. You just get use to the way it feels not having them around.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
I'm SO not proud of this...
I think I just turned into a really bad person. Have you just ever been in one of those moods?
There are 3 brothers that come in a lot. They're all three equally weird.
The middle brother is real chubby, like an 18 yr old baby.
He's 100% baby fat and he giggles at the computer like a retard.
They're pushy and annoying and really starting to get on my nerves. They've been in a LOT these last few weeks.
My coworker and I had the following conversation on IM:
Me: that fucking fat Middle kid just farted
Me: and he goes "scuse me"
Me: there is NO excuse for that
Co-worker: what the fuck is going on back there?
Me: those Smith kids are fucking retards….a whole family of fucking retards
Co-worker: is the youngest a retard too?
Me: which one is the youngest?
Co-worker: the skinny one I thought
Me: oh he seems slightly less retarded
Me: Middle kid seems like the type that would scream like a girl if you pinched him
Co-worker: ha ha... wanna find out?
Me: LOL! kinda
Co-worker: make it look like an accident
Me: I wanna punch him in his belly
Me: and make him cry to his mama
Co-worker: ok you can’t write shit like that if I can’t laugh really really loud!
Me: notice how I'm funnier on the internet?
Me: I'm always funnier via email or IM
Co-worker: I think you're fucking hilarious period!
Co-worker: go pinch his fat ass
Me: DUDE
Me: you said that right as Youngest walked up
Me: I was cracking up in his face!
Co-worker: are their parents here?
Me: no
Co-worker: ok good I might feel kinda bad if they were
Me: hell no
Me: they created these little downies
Co-worker: wow that was mean!
Co-worker: but so funny!
There are 3 brothers that come in a lot. They're all three equally weird.
The middle brother is real chubby, like an 18 yr old baby.
He's 100% baby fat and he giggles at the computer like a retard.
They're pushy and annoying and really starting to get on my nerves. They've been in a LOT these last few weeks.
My coworker and I had the following conversation on IM:
Me: that fucking fat Middle kid just farted
Me: and he goes "scuse me"
Me: there is NO excuse for that
Co-worker: what the fuck is going on back there?
Me: those Smith kids are fucking retards….a whole family of fucking retards
Co-worker: is the youngest a retard too?
Me: which one is the youngest?
Co-worker: the skinny one I thought
Me: oh he seems slightly less retarded
Me: Middle kid seems like the type that would scream like a girl if you pinched him
Co-worker: ha ha... wanna find out?
Me: LOL! kinda
Co-worker: make it look like an accident
Me: I wanna punch him in his belly
Me: and make him cry to his mama
Co-worker: ok you can’t write shit like that if I can’t laugh really really loud!
Me: notice how I'm funnier on the internet?
Me: I'm always funnier via email or IM
Co-worker: I think you're fucking hilarious period!
Co-worker: go pinch his fat ass
Me: DUDE
Me: you said that right as Youngest walked up
Me: I was cracking up in his face!
Co-worker: are their parents here?
Me: no
Co-worker: ok good I might feel kinda bad if they were
Me: hell no
Me: they created these little downies
Co-worker: wow that was mean!
Co-worker: but so funny!
Monday, June 19, 2006
See? I told you so!
I KNEW it! Britney didn't have a stylist for her train wreck interview. This girl is just plain losing it.
From NY Post: "Dateline" staffers were shocked when they showed up with Matt Lauer to interview Spears last week and found the pop star alone in her Malibu manse. "Neither of her publicists, Leslie Sloane Zelnick or Nanci Ryder, showed up," said our source.
Ok...I'm shutting up about Britney Spears now. You'd think I was obsessed or something.
link stolen from Pink Is the New Blog
From NY Post: "Dateline" staffers were shocked when they showed up with Matt Lauer to interview Spears last week and found the pop star alone in her Malibu manse. "Neither of her publicists, Leslie Sloane Zelnick or Nanci Ryder, showed up," said our source.
Ok...I'm shutting up about Britney Spears now. You'd think I was obsessed or something.
link stolen from Pink Is the New Blog
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The Train Wreck
I'm going to celeb blog here for a moment.
I watched part of the Britney Spear's interview with Matt Lauer last night at Lon's house.
Up until the interview, I kind of felt sorry for Brit Brit. She's hounded by the paparrazi all the time, she's under a microscope, she was thrust into the spotlight at a young age and now she's married to the worlds biggest loser...
I felt sorry for her.
Then I saw the interview.
She is a solid mess. 100%.
It's not hormones, it's not the pressure. Her true Louisiana, pwt upbringing is shining through.
Besides the incredibly stupid things she said all night, her appearance was unbelievable.
It wouldn't be that bad if I thought she dressed herself but every famous person has a stylist. That stylist picks out their clothes, decides how their hair will be worn and oversees the application of the makeup.
Was her stylist sick that day? Did the stylist get hit by a bus and Britney was left to dress herself?
Would someone actually ALLOW her to wear a lowcut top with her boobs spilling out while she was 94373943 months pregnant? Would a person not say anything to her about the clownish makeup circa 1985 she was wearing? Why wouldn't someone BRUSH her piss yellow hair? For God sake, give the girl some shampoo and a freaking brush!
What were her people thinking? Not only should they ban her from talking EVER, they should also not allow her to dress herself before she leaves the house.
She is a complete and total mess.
I watched part of the Britney Spear's interview with Matt Lauer last night at Lon's house.
Up until the interview, I kind of felt sorry for Brit Brit. She's hounded by the paparrazi all the time, she's under a microscope, she was thrust into the spotlight at a young age and now she's married to the worlds biggest loser...
I felt sorry for her.
Then I saw the interview.
She is a solid mess. 100%.
It's not hormones, it's not the pressure. Her true Louisiana, pwt upbringing is shining through.
Besides the incredibly stupid things she said all night, her appearance was unbelievable.
It wouldn't be that bad if I thought she dressed herself but every famous person has a stylist. That stylist picks out their clothes, decides how their hair will be worn and oversees the application of the makeup.
Was her stylist sick that day? Did the stylist get hit by a bus and Britney was left to dress herself?
Would someone actually ALLOW her to wear a lowcut top with her boobs spilling out while she was 94373943 months pregnant? Would a person not say anything to her about the clownish makeup circa 1985 she was wearing? Why wouldn't someone BRUSH her piss yellow hair? For God sake, give the girl some shampoo and a freaking brush!
What were her people thinking? Not only should they ban her from talking EVER, they should also not allow her to dress herself before she leaves the house.
She is a complete and total mess.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Short Attention Span Blogging
In lieu of anything remotely interesting....
That's all I got.
- I called in sick on Wednesday with the World's Worst Headache. I slept til 2pm. It was the greatest sleep in the world. Money couldn't buy that kind of sleep. Some people only dream of sleep that good.
- In the last two weeks, I've read 9 books in the Laurell K. Hamilton series. I'm not proud of that fact. I'm simply obsessed.
- What the fuck is wrong with people? I can't tell you how many people, when they need help, come stand BEHIND my chair waiting for me to "sense" their presence. Who stands behind a person to get their attention, especially a person sitting at a desk?
A normal human being stands in front of them, face to face, to ask for help. I've gotten to where I completely ignore someone when they are standing behind me and I put a "friendly" note on the back of my chair that says "I can only help you if I can SEE you." You think anyone reads it? - What is it about Prince that makes all the girls (and a lot of guys) get all funny in their pants? He's approximately the size of a small Hummel figurine and he's really strange. Not Michael Jackson strange, but still strange. He's been around FOREVER now and you would have thought I had outgrown him but he was on Good Morning America today and I was like "Omigod! Prince!!! Eeeeeeek!". Odd behavior, I know. I think he's using Jedi mind tricks on us. These are not the droids we are looking for. Yes, I know who Prince is.
That's all I got.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Eh, Not So Bad
Well, for a "birthday weekend" it wasn't so horrible. I stayed busy Saturday, trying to get things done in time to get home to watch the Astros play.
Sunday was an all sports day. There was so much good sports going on; the French Open, Astros, Clemens playing with the Astros' minor league team and most of all...World Cup Soccer! How exciting is this?
How is it that such a monumental sporting event can occur and we Americans just don't give a shit?
There are countries that riot in the streets and commit suicide over soccer/football games and in the US, we wouldn't know David Beckham if he came over and screwed our mothers. It's a shame really because not only is Beckham hotter than hell, soccer is a great sport.
What makes it exciting for me, though, is to watch the passion of the fans. Their teams are their lives and they will fight to the death for their beloved players.
What do we, as American's die and fight for? Definitely not soccer. Freedom?
Sunday was an all sports day. There was so much good sports going on; the French Open, Astros, Clemens playing with the Astros' minor league team and most of all...World Cup Soccer! How exciting is this?
How is it that such a monumental sporting event can occur and we Americans just don't give a shit?
There are countries that riot in the streets and commit suicide over soccer/football games and in the US, we wouldn't know David Beckham if he came over and screwed our mothers. It's a shame really because not only is Beckham hotter than hell, soccer is a great sport.
What makes it exciting for me, though, is to watch the passion of the fans. Their teams are their lives and they will fight to the death for their beloved players.
What do we, as American's die and fight for? Definitely not soccer. Freedom?
Friday, June 9, 2006
Birthday Blues
I know, I'm early.
My birthday isn't until Monday but I've got the blues.
Caution: Whining Ahead!!!!
I am not looking forward to my birthday but it's not because of my age. I could easily lie about my age so I'm not worried about being34 26.
I guess I still have that childhood birthday fantasy. Birthdays were a big deal in my family. I always had a big birthday party and lots of gifts. Even after I got older, my parents always made the day special for me.
My birthday started going down hill in my mid-twenties. I was dating a guy who was pretty cold-hearted. One year he didn't get me anything and his excuse was "I buy you a lot of stuff during the year."
I was already mentally beaten down by this guy so yeah, it hurt, but I wasn't outraged like I should have been.
Then years later, I was dating someone else who, although he was a good guy, was unimaginative.
His birthday was a few days before mine and one year I planned a trip to San Antonio and we stayed in an amazing hotel. I planned out this great weekend for his birthday and he was floored by it.
On my birthday, he planned....nothing.
We did nothing.
I was depressed. I stayed in bed until 2pm and finally he came in and said "I guess we could go out to eat."
God, I should have known then this shit wasn't going to work out.
So, every year my birthday has been a disappointment. It's my fault really. I have unrealistic expectations, I know.
But it would be nice to be special to SOMEONE even for just one day a year.
One day! Sheesh! That's not asking for much, is it?
My birthday isn't until Monday but I've got the blues.
Caution: Whining Ahead!!!!
I am not looking forward to my birthday but it's not because of my age. I could easily lie about my age so I'm not worried about being
I guess I still have that childhood birthday fantasy. Birthdays were a big deal in my family. I always had a big birthday party and lots of gifts. Even after I got older, my parents always made the day special for me.
My birthday started going down hill in my mid-twenties. I was dating a guy who was pretty cold-hearted. One year he didn't get me anything and his excuse was "I buy you a lot of stuff during the year."
I was already mentally beaten down by this guy so yeah, it hurt, but I wasn't outraged like I should have been.
Then years later, I was dating someone else who, although he was a good guy, was unimaginative.
His birthday was a few days before mine and one year I planned a trip to San Antonio and we stayed in an amazing hotel. I planned out this great weekend for his birthday and he was floored by it.
On my birthday, he planned....nothing.
We did nothing.
I was depressed. I stayed in bed until 2pm and finally he came in and said "I guess we could go out to eat."
God, I should have known then this shit wasn't going to work out.
So, every year my birthday has been a disappointment. It's my fault really. I have unrealistic expectations, I know.
But it would be nice to be special to SOMEONE even for just one day a year.
One day! Sheesh! That's not asking for much, is it?
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
It's The End of the World
As you all know, today is 06-06-06 which, of course, translate to 666. You know, the mark of the beast.
It would be a good idea to get your shit together because the "experts" have declared today to be the last day of civilization.
I've never thought we were very civilized to begin with but whatever, the experts didn't ask me.
What would YOU do if it were your (and everyone else's) last day on Earth?
Me? Well, right now, all I can think about is a really good nap. Nothing sounds better.
If I weren't so sleepy, I guess I'd want to spend the day with my loved ones or some shit like that.
It's not like I can travel Europe in a day or write "The Great American Novel" by midnight.
There is not much a person can do in a day so really, it's not very fair. To really do all the shit you wanted to do before the end of the world, you'd need a little notice and I didn't hear about this 666 crap until the day before yesterday. That's not enough time!!! I'm a planner. I like to have my schedule organized. You know, like: Breakfast at 8. Time with family from 8 - 10. Plagues of locust at 10:30. Floor of the Earth opening at Noon. Mass genocide 2pm until....
Happy 06-06-06, kids. It was nice knowin ya.
It would be a good idea to get your shit together because the "experts" have declared today to be the last day of civilization.
I've never thought we were very civilized to begin with but whatever, the experts didn't ask me.
What would YOU do if it were your (and everyone else's) last day on Earth?
Me? Well, right now, all I can think about is a really good nap. Nothing sounds better.
If I weren't so sleepy, I guess I'd want to spend the day with my loved ones or some shit like that.
It's not like I can travel Europe in a day or write "The Great American Novel" by midnight.
There is not much a person can do in a day so really, it's not very fair. To really do all the shit you wanted to do before the end of the world, you'd need a little notice and I didn't hear about this 666 crap until the day before yesterday. That's not enough time!!! I'm a planner. I like to have my schedule organized. You know, like: Breakfast at 8. Time with family from 8 - 10. Plagues of locust at 10:30. Floor of the Earth opening at Noon. Mass genocide 2pm until....
Happy 06-06-06, kids. It was nice knowin ya.
Monday, June 5, 2006
De Goes Down
Yeah, you perverts, it's not what you think.
De is sick, kids. I think I have a tumor.
Anytime I have some unexplanable illness, I immediately think it's a tumor.
I daydream about what it would be like on my deathbed, saying goodbye to my loved ones, deciding which of my belongings go to whom.
It's not that I want to die but in this topsy-turvy world we live in, one should be prepared for the inevitable.
So, as much as I would love to regale you with more smut from the Skankerella files, I really need to concentrate on my tumor and be a total drama queen.
Don't worry, I'll be blogging on my deathbed. Isn't that what a good blogger would do?
De is sick, kids. I think I have a tumor.
Anytime I have some unexplanable illness, I immediately think it's a tumor.
I daydream about what it would be like on my deathbed, saying goodbye to my loved ones, deciding which of my belongings go to whom.
It's not that I want to die but in this topsy-turvy world we live in, one should be prepared for the inevitable.
So, as much as I would love to regale you with more smut from the Skankerella files, I really need to concentrate on my tumor and be a total drama queen.
Don't worry, I'll be blogging on my deathbed. Isn't that what a good blogger would do?
Thursday, June 1, 2006
Skankerella Gets Wet
You wanted more Skankerella.....
Dear De,
Guys are single-minded creatures most of the time; horny guys are SUPER single-minded.
I don't pretend to know a guys' mind but I can imagine that once he's in a sexual groove, he has a hard time (no pun intended) thinking of anything else.
Remember Hugo? When he and I were dating, it seemed I opened him to a virtual cornucopia of sexual positions and experiences. He didn't like doing it doggy style....until I came along.
I enjoy many sexual positions but nothing is better than the primal act of lovemaking when a hot guy is behind you driving you home with each manly thrust.
I just could not abide by a man who didn't want to do it like that.
Hugo learned quickly how good it could be, however. He learned TOO well.
Hugo had one of those headboards that doubled as a shelve with sliding doors and everything. The night before he put a large plastic cup of water on top of the headboard incase he woke up thirsty.
Your friend, Skankerella woke up a little horny and Hugo was...well...Huge-O. I rolled over and he took me from behind and within a few minutes the bed was shifting like a 9.0 on the Richter Scale.
We didn't think about that large cup of water on the headboard until it came crashing down on top of my head.
Now, my dear, you must understand that the one rule Skankerella has about sex is that you must NOT mess up the hair.
Do what you like to me but leave the hair alone!
But today, my hair was drenched and water ran down my back and shoulders and soaked the pillows.
Did Hugo stop to render aide, you ask?
No! He was in "the zone" and a hurricane whipping through the bedroom couldn't have stopped him.
When Hugo was finally spent, he collapsed on the bed putting his hands on the wet sheets and noticing my soaked, ruined hair at the same time.
"Wow, baby", he exclaimed, "I really put it to you good, didn't I? I've never seen you sweat like that!"
Men!
Kisses,
S
Dear De,
Guys are single-minded creatures most of the time; horny guys are SUPER single-minded.
I don't pretend to know a guys' mind but I can imagine that once he's in a sexual groove, he has a hard time (no pun intended) thinking of anything else.
Remember Hugo? When he and I were dating, it seemed I opened him to a virtual cornucopia of sexual positions and experiences. He didn't like doing it doggy style....until I came along.
I enjoy many sexual positions but nothing is better than the primal act of lovemaking when a hot guy is behind you driving you home with each manly thrust.
I just could not abide by a man who didn't want to do it like that.
Hugo learned quickly how good it could be, however. He learned TOO well.
Hugo had one of those headboards that doubled as a shelve with sliding doors and everything. The night before he put a large plastic cup of water on top of the headboard incase he woke up thirsty.
Your friend, Skankerella woke up a little horny and Hugo was...well...Huge-O. I rolled over and he took me from behind and within a few minutes the bed was shifting like a 9.0 on the Richter Scale.
We didn't think about that large cup of water on the headboard until it came crashing down on top of my head.
Now, my dear, you must understand that the one rule Skankerella has about sex is that you must NOT mess up the hair.
Do what you like to me but leave the hair alone!
But today, my hair was drenched and water ran down my back and shoulders and soaked the pillows.
Did Hugo stop to render aide, you ask?
No! He was in "the zone" and a hurricane whipping through the bedroom couldn't have stopped him.
When Hugo was finally spent, he collapsed on the bed putting his hands on the wet sheets and noticing my soaked, ruined hair at the same time.
"Wow, baby", he exclaimed, "I really put it to you good, didn't I? I've never seen you sweat like that!"
Men!
Kisses,
S
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