"This is the last straw.
I am moving so far away, that I will be able to brag about it.
I would rather tear out my brain stem,
carry it to the nearest 4-way intersection
and skip rope with it, than go on living where I do now!!!"
I always loved the Ewoks.
I remember the first time I saw Return of the Jedi.
It was in the big theater off Johnson Drive before it had the 20-sum theaters, but it was still the same size.
So the theaters were huge,
and they had these tall ceilings that looked like they were thatched or something.
There were also big lights to the side of the screen that looked like torches when they were dimmed.
So I thought I was in some Ewok hut in the forest or something.
I thought Wickett was the shit. I wanted to be one, for sure.
That must have been before I like boys,
because as soon as I figured out what a hottie Harrison Ford was,
I wanted to be Princess Leia. I am still all about the buns (the hair)
And then Padma, she had the sickest wardrobe of all time in Attack of the Clones. My friend James had bruises because every time she came out, looking so stunning, I would hit him.
So anyway, what I'm trying to say Dan, is that the Jedi Council is good stuff. Motto gratsi. Now I know what those bachelorettes feel like when they get the rose.
I'm gonna need some new outfits.
I WILL NOT FORWARD E-MAIL...
I WILL NOT FORWARD E-MAIL...
I WILL NOT FORWARD E-MAIL...
I WILL NOT...
Have you ever seen an iceburg top to bottom?
Damn, now you know see why the Titanic sank.
This came from a rig manager for Global Marine Drilling in St. Johns, Newfoundland.
They have to tow them away from the path of the rig with ships.
The water was calm and the sun was almost directly overhead, so the diver was able to get into the water and click this pic.
How's that water? Sooo clear.
They estimate the weight at 300, 000, 000 tons. Yep, tons.
I'm not really sure who wrote this, but it sure is funny:
I Like Monkeys
I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately, there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I am in a funk. Can you call it a funk if it's only been 3 days?
Maybe it's the weather. I'm cold.
Maybe it's Aunt Flo. I'm puffy, and kind of ugh, skin is bright and clear though.
thanks for the pic, TP ;)
How do I know?
Well I wore glasses and my hair in a bun for the last 3 days.
I did, however, wear a bra.
Oh yeah, Flo.
I made dinner the last 3 nights in a row. The SAME dinner. It WAS yummy.
Chicken coconut curry with a glass of milk (Ok, 2 nights it was curry, one night it was Tom Yum Gai, same deal).
My parents are in Thailand.
Maybe I am trying to be there with them in spirit or something.
Maybe I just make it really good.
Maybe I just really like spicy, creamy food when Flo is here.
I spent 3 or 4 hours a day on Ebay looking for.. like I'm going to tell you what I'm looking for.
I spent another couple of tired, middle of the night hours just staring at the screen, trying to form coherent thoughts and only half succeeding.
Someone told me I was vapid today. In the dull and listless way yes. In the narcissistic way? Me, naaah.
Someone asked if I was agoraphobic. I said well I used to not be able to wear rabbit, but if it's in a blend, I can handle it now.
like it looks outside.
Please don't rain.
I watch Buffy, I watch Smallville, I watch Real World.
Different day, different shows, same routines.
Wake, coffee, paper, smoke.
Work, geek out, eat, geek out, work, eat, geek, smoke.
Home, pet the cat, eat, tv, play with the kitty, geek.
Go to sleep. Alone. Well except for kitty.
I wonder how many days in a row I can do this. Right now, I guess it's 3. Is it wednesday? or thurs? Hmmm?
Wednesday, yeah, good TV tonight.
I need more sleep. I want to go to sleep right now. Maybe I will just sleep, no eating, no TV. But wait, Survivor's on, and Fear Factor, too I think. Coffee. Mmm, yeah.
"Sorry I haven't called", they say.
I say, "You called? Did I call you?"
Then they say, "What have you been up to?"
I feel like I've already explained it 400 sum times, and I have to stop myself from saying, "Read about it".
"Good, great, life rocks, birthday, trips, I'm moving, you didn't know, yeah, back to Aspen, cool, yeah, stoked, 2 weeks, really, I know we have to hook up before that....."
"Oh yeah" I say, "and you.. How are YOU?"
I care really I do. If I don't ask, just tell me OK. I'm in a funk.
Coming to lose a bit of that personal contact thing. Things are becoming flat and dull. Vapid.
Thanks Mark. You've perceived the 2-dimensionality within the 2-dimension.
Some people don't catch that when you post happy pictures, when you post pictures that make them happy. It's just a cop out. Replace words with pictures. No one will notice. They don't read anyway. They skim. I do.
Click, click, scroll, click, pictures, ooh, happy, click.
And just in time. I leave for Aspen in exactly 2 weeks now.
A little road trip.
A new old environment.
A little lovin, a lot of playing, new worky, old loves, old peeps, old jobs, old mountain.
Snow? Seems to be up in the air.
I have alot of things on my mind lately.
To do lists if you will.
Advice letters to answer. E-mails to return. Friends to catch up with.
Lists, lists, listless. What do I do about it? I spend 2 hours perfecting the links column. Shoddy sucks ass. And editing a template with a 2-button mouse sucks ass. The list was getting a tad long for one Links I like, or Blogs I read. It just wasn't working for me any longer. I was happy to find everything fit in a category of sorts. I didn't have to stick any link at the end, and say other links here.....me no likey, everyone at the party needs their own nametag.
Things I've been meaning to do:
1. Explain why the top left corner says "your city", what a shitty place, or I mean what a great place! Fix that so it says What a shitty place.
2. Fix links, add links, introduce links, say thanks for the link.
3. Ask Tony what he wants to do for his birthday.
4. See if he wants an all-expense paid trip to the middle of nowhere.
5. Find out how many people S. is inviting to the middle of nowhere.
6. Secure accomodations in the middle of nowhere.
7. Update my resume.
8. Draft cover letters.
9. Pack my shit.
10. Ship my shit.
11. Finish building my computer.
12. Copy my files over.
13. Setup my new domain.
14. Say see you later to old and new friends.
That's enough for now I think. Maybe I'll start with any easy one. The link at the top of the page, well. just click on it. Maybe this will be easier than I think. It usually always is.
I'm an audacious and coy pirate princess. Arrrrrrgh!
What is it about islands?
They give me a sense of complete carelessness. Like I feel as if I can do and get away with anything I want to. Eat 2 pounds of lobster, drink Bloody Mary's for breakfast, Mai Tais for lunch, Tequila shots for an afternoon snack, and champagne for dinner, dance in the streets, kiss random boys, dive into the ocean with all my clothes on, sing karaoke, and smile and at every single person who walks by (I said FEEL like, I didn't kiss any; any random ones anyhow. and I didn't smile at everyone, I snarled at quite a few people. I'm a pirate, Arrrgh!). The music is somehow more heavenly, the colors more deeply pigmented, and the tastes are all so sensually intense.
It feels different than going to Las Vegas, different than Mexico. When I am in LV or Mex, I still feel a little bit like I have to keep myself within the parameters of the law. If not to keep myself and my friends safe, but to keep myself safe from the other people out there. I don't get that feeling on an island. It feels like everyone there is there but to experience the same sense of abandon that I am.
Skye says it's the pirate effect. Being at sea, spotting land, and claiming it for your own. You are in a different country, you are nowhere, you are the discoverer, Arrrgh!! No raping and pillaging, ok, a little pillaging, but lots and lots of senseless merrymaking.
Catalina Island was my pirate abode this weekend. I had been to the island before, flown over all it's nooks and crannies, but had never been to Avalon. The Jazztrax festival takes place there 3 weekends in October, and the famous Catalina Casino Ballroom transforms itself into Heaven, and all the world's greatest Jazz players come to wail.
We caught the ferry from Long Beach (my old stomping grounds), and quickly took it over as our pirate ship. Leaving the port, there were barges, barges, barges everywhere you could see. (Seriously now, don’t yell at your grocer when he runs out of bananas, there’s like a 1000 containers full still being unloaded at Hueneme.)
Ahoy, Mateys! I’ve spotted land!
Me, doing my Mother Teresa in Dior glasses impression, with Lady S
We Looooooveeee Chuck.
This is my friend Flik, someone tried to abandon him. The kid’s kept making fun of me for picking him up off the ground. What was I supposed to do? Leave him there? Guess they hadn’t seen Toy Story before. Toy’s have feelings, too. After a while, he was the only one who wanted to hang out with me.
Aaaah, there she is,the Casino.
The inside was like being in a big Kaleidiscope or something.
The acoustics were amazing. At 10,000 square feet it boasts an arched 50 foot domed ceiling that holds five Tiffany chandeliers, rose-colored walls made up of full-length panoramic windows, and an expansive outdoor balcony. In it’s heyday, the Casino held 6000 dancers. The hardwood floor is constructed over layers of foam, pine and cork, all of which is suspended over five feet of air. Yes, it is made for dancing. For some reason, they weren't too excited when we started to dance in the aisles, though. Hmmm?
We were privileged to be in the audience of Gerald Albright on Saturday evening. The man plays the sax like he is making love to a woman. I was getting my groove on, my shake, my swerve, my swoon. I had to grab some air on that circular balcony on more than a couple occasions. It was dreamy and euphoric, I screamed Brava! Autra! And he did. I was aglow.
And then that was it. We joined most the exuberant crowd on the ferry for the ride home. And who was there, but Mr. Albright himself.
He said, “Hello. I’m Gerald Albright” (Now say it again, but Luther Vandrossey, yeah like that)
And I said, “By golly, yes you are” and grinned Chesirelike.
He chatted up Lovely, while I stood speechless and found out he was bringing his saxy self to Santa Barbara the following evening. Not only did we bring Heaven back on the ferry with us, he was coming to my Dionysian woods of all places. He was just lovely, it was all lovely, and I’m a pirate.
My alarm went off at the crack of dawn. I was groggy from watching her half the night. Making sure no one else crept up on her. I knew I had a distinct window of opportunity in which to target her.
I opened her up in my viewfinder. Lay silently in wait for just the right time to attack. One eye on the clock, one eye on the trigger. I will not push the button, waiting…..2 minutes left….I am silent…..30 seconds left…I am stealth…18…with 4 seconds left on the clock, I swooped that dusky blue Pashmina right out from under her.
I am the winner! God it feels good to be a winner!
In the first GHB related death in Ventura County, prosecutors failed to meet the statute of limitations for manslaughter by 12 days, allowing the would be scapegoat to elude reprimand.
In April of 1999, Cal Lutheran student athlete Kyle Hagmann was drinking beer at a bar with friends. Witnesses say he had 12 to 14 beers . Upon returning to his room later that night, roommate, friend, and drug buddy to the alleged victim, Tim Meacham, gave him a couple capfuls of GHB to “help him sleep”. Couple of observations here. I have trouble believing a big athlete like Hagmann had trouble holding down a dozen beers, not to mention having trouble sleeping at this point, unless he was on something else. I also doubt that Meacham poured it down his throat. Test results the next day put his BAC at .14. Low end of the college scale for toxicity.
The mother blames sheriff investigators for allowing Meacham to go free. Not being a parent or legal expert (but a former dumb kid, yes), I hesitate to speculate whether this death should be ruled as an accidental death or manslaughter. I can’t begin to imagine what goes through the mind of a parent who loses a child (Well, actually I can, I had a 3-year old sister die, but clearly that was an accident), I would imagine though, that she wants closure, and is pinning his death on someone else a peaceful method of closure?
Thomas Griffith, a law professor at the University of Southern California, said it was the duty of prosecutors, not police, to ensure that charges were filed within the statute of limitations.
"The police can't be specialists in all areas of law," he said. "The police cannot be expected to know where you draw the line between murder and manslaughter.
I don’t know about you, but even I clearly know the difference between murder and manslaughter. Yes, it is the duty of prosecutors, not police, to ensure that charges were filed within the statute of limitations, but it is also the duty of investigators to work hand and hand with the DA.
Although it seems to be a lack of communication between sheriff’s authorities and the district attorney’s office, Dante Honrico, a chief deputy with the Sheriff’s department, is quick to rebut with, "On this investigation, we and the district attorney were almost holding hands. From the outset, it was a murder investigation, if we were made aware at any time that a manslaughter charge was being considered, we would not be so irresponsible to ignore that."
"There is some finger-pointing here," Honrico said. "I resent that. We did a professional job."
Professional job? Curious it is that, according to Honrico’s timeline, the first contact they had with prosecutors was on Feb. 20, 2002, nearly three years after Hagmann died. Honrico rebuts that the first contact was actually sometime in 2000, although it is not listed on his highly detailed timeline.
“If we were made aware..” Made aware?? By who? You’re the investigators! Who are you waiting for to tell you what to investigate?!? Doesn’t investigating mean that you are gathering facts to tell you what happened, and not, “Let’s decide what happened then figure out how we’re going to prove it”?
They were pursuing a murder case? What would Meacham want to murder his roommate for? Steal his place on the baseball team? Strange also it is then, that they waited 3 years to analyze the liquid that Meacham actually handed over to police (he was also the one to call them), to confirm it’s composite and strength. Strange also, that the Sheriff’s Department was not even in possession of the “evidence”, and had to hunt it down, finding it at the coroner’s office.
Not exactly Law and Order is it?
When I was attending UCSB from 95-97 (and even in the preceding years actually), GHB was as prevalent as nitrous, pot, and mushrooms. People described the effects to me as like alcohol but more intense. Yeah, that's just what I wanted to do, take something to make me even MORE drunk. No thanks.
This year, while attending alcohol education, my instructor told us (well he taught us) how simple GHB was to make, involving record solvent (now off the shelves at Salzer's), and a couple easy steps. One pint of record solvent would produce gallons of the stuff. Apparently a couple teaspoons is all it takes to get a good dose of it, but as it is colorless, odorless, and pretty much tasteless, it would seem to be easy to take too much of it.
I have witnessed many a wasted person on GHB, but if there have only (?) been 70 sum deaths linked to GHB, should it belong in the safe category? Because more people die from alcohol related deaths? Because it said so on the internet? Because it was sold over the counter in the 80s? Of course, none of these things make it safe. Anytime you put something into your body to produce euphoria, it’s dangerous. And anytime you voluntarily ingest such substances, be it alcohol, Ecstasy, or GHB, you voluntarily accept this risk. Anytime a young person with a big, bright future ahead of him dies, it is a tragedy, to be sure, I just don’t see how pinning this on another young person and ruining his life, too, will make you feel any better about it.
Just saw the new movie Secretary and you need to stop whatever it is that your doing and GO, see this movie. I don't want to give it away, in fact you should read nothing else about this movie until you go see it.
Stars the amazing Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader (who looked way adorable, he lost that asshole face he did so well, I didn't even recognize him). The casting was really just marvelous all around. The story was deep, twisted, and sexy, with the characters being vulnerable, yet empowered at the same time.
I can't tell you anymore! So go see it, come back here, and discuss!
I will say that the picture above has something to do with it, I snorted out loud twice, and I think I even came 3 times.
That's Simone up there giving me the birthday whacks. I like this picture because it really shows the belt a moving. 27 Big ones. Boy she's really going to get it on her birthday.