Next weekend, Dec 4th, 5th, and 6th, I will be at Respectables and the Lounge raffling off drink tabs, Howleys gift certificates and $100 worth of Longhorn gift cards to benefit Home Safe for Christmas(a home for abused and sexually mistreated children.) Tickets will be $1. If you have toys or homemade jewelry you would like to bring in exchange for a raffle ticket, it would be my pleasure to take them. Please tell a friend so we can make this an event to remember. I will post exact times next week.

to the tune of Velvet Underground | Shiny Shiny Shiny Boots Of Leather

shiny shiny shiny vamps in meadows
sleeping girlchild in the dark
he comes in pale, your tv, dont adjust it
box office hit from teenage angst



Seemed appropiate,today.


And I had to share this:







I think theyre adorable but its cheaper to buy a real one, poop and all.

I've finally picked my wedding vows. I hope for it to go something like this:

The Impressive Clergyman: Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam... And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...So tweasure your wuv...
US: Skip to the end!
The Impressive Clergyman: Have you the wing?
US: YES!
The Impressive Clergyman: You wuv her?
Christian: yes.
The Impressive Clergyman: Do you wuv him?
Me: Yes
The Impressive Clergyman: Kiss her!


I think it would work better in spanish.

El Clérigo Impresionante: Mawage. Mawage es bwings de wot nosotros tooday de togeder. Mawage, ese awangment de bwessed, ese wifin de dweam un dweam... Y wuv, wuv de tru, hace fowow usted foweva. tweasure ..So su wuv...
EEUU: ¡Sáltese al fin!
El Clérigo Impresionante: ¿Le tiene el ala?
EEUU: ¡SI!
El Clérigo Impresionante: ¿Le hace wuv ella?
Cristiano: sí. El Clérigo Impresionante: ¿Le hace wuv él?
Mí: Sí
El Clérigo Impresionante: ¡Bésel

Christian proposed! We're getting married in October! More information when details are worked out. Weeeee!

So my lovely roommate, alias Takiki-Mrs. Baker if you're nasty- was telling me about this great game that she downloaded from http://funstuff.com/ and how she wanted to show it to me. She said it was called something direct and to the point, like "The Wedding Planner"-similar to Diner Dash- and I said I'd be there to check it out in a moment. As I approached some time later, I heard the sounds of rapid fire machine guns and the caterwalling of genuine male anguish. Through the door, I asked her, "What is it you said you're playing, again? Because from here it sounds more like 'The Wedding Planner-A Bunt cake in Baghdad."

I amuse myself...

Apparently her gamer husband was just playing Halo on X-box. I was saddened. The idea of a New York bred bleach blond in three inch stiletto heels trying to deliver a six tiered Tangerine Chiffon Cake in dry desert conditions while dodging suicide Jihad bombers, camel spiders,and a guy named "Dirty Faiyaz" with a pension for Sorbet, seemed like a rather good plot for a CPU based game module to me. But, you know, that just me....

Everyone wants to be unique and to be heard;to be thought of as special and interesting. If they did not, blogging would not exist. Nor music or poetry or art in any other form. What aspect of ourselves is so alone that we require this? It has just been on my mind alot, lately. I think I just want proof of my own existence...or validity. Or maybe I just want to think of myself as an intellectual and blathering on mindlessly in prose form grants me some sembalance of that. Who the hell knows. I think too much. And not about things that matter;rhetorical things...absract things...shiny things...well,especially shiny things.

Changing directions, if I may, perhaps I was the last to hear of this but apparently they are opening up a Hogwarts Academy/Harry Potter theme park at Islands of Adventure in Orlando, Florida this year. ( I was told March, projectedly) Even though I try to avoid pop culture histeria and let my own tastes and impulses drive me towards what I want to read and experience, I am fascinated by this. I mean, this has to be a hell of an undertaking! Even though I enjoyed the movies I still haven't read the books-I'm on an Anne Bishop/ Terry Brooks kick right now, if you must know. I'll get to Potter eventually.
Still, a theme park of this magnitude is pretty snazzy. I do not know if I want to be anywhere near it for the first couple of years it is open but still pretty snazzy. You'll have too knock twelve year olds out of the way like a 49er line backer just to get through the door but if you make it in, I see potential. You'll more than likely have gum in your hair and a pair of someones eles fake Potter spectacles shoved down you pants but hey, all the better (Well unless the kid is still attached to them. That would be BAD.

In work news, I was waiting on a table today and after they ordered I came back with their salads. As I approached, I noticed that they were in the middle of prayer. I was raised strict southern Pentecostal so this was not a big deal, but it lasted for an unusually long time. Meanwhile, I'm standing there with wilting field greens and the Italian dressing is seperating.
Respectfully, I go to make fresh salads and give them a moment to wrap it up. Five minutes or so later they seem available so I go to get the new salads and return. Once again they are back in prayer, this time for a prayer request they had received for an ailing neighbor and so forth. They figured they had time to kill so they were using it to talk to God. Time management is key...
So, I stand there with the salads again. Accept this time, I decide to set up a tray at the table next to them so they can just grab the salads when they're done. This seems well received but I notice then that the hostess has ben watching everything from the front desk. She seems amused so I walked up and asked her; "What the hell ever happened to seperation of church and steak?"

I also had a lady leave me a really nice tip today before dinner. Before walking out the door, however, she said to me, "I wanted you to have it, you look slow."
Now, "Slow" in this sentence can mean many things. Obviously she realized I was analyzing it because I cocked my head at her like a cocker spaniel and blinked a few times. Not exactly a pose for the brilliant and the astute. I was not helping my case. I just smiled dumbly, thanked her again, and pouted in the kitchen. I'm thinking she ment that business was slow, but still. I did forget to straighten my hair, today. The Shakah Kahn fro I was sporting might have convinced her I was part of the equal oppertunity hiring policy at Longhorn. I hope they get the tax credit for me this year. I like pizztha...

This is why I wash my veggies first...



'Veggie Love': PETA's Banned Super Bowl Ad

Color Therapy, or Chromotherapy, is pretty self explanatory by definition, I suppose, but I have become pretty fascinated with it. The psychology and the science behind it all is rather quite interesting...to me. But then I fight constant urges to hug trees and dance naked in fields of lavender so it's hard for me to figure out what is useful knowledge to other people and what is possibly just mundane and quirky at best.

Look, all you need to know is that I decided that you all need to know...all of this. I'm not sure what that might materalize to look like in text form but it could be fun. Or, a nice way to kill ten minutes. You made it this far, stay for the cheese. It's Gouda. Dutch import. You'll like it.

Anyway, basic points, here. I'll be breif. Or atleast breif for me. Jesus, RELAX, I said there was cheese!


Since the beginning of time there has been color and color can, in certain ways, heal. This is no new news. Egyptians built healing temples of light four thousand years ago, bathing patients in specific colors of light to produce different effects. Research shows that a blindfolded person will experience physiological reactions under different colored rays. Pretty wicked.

Your attraction to a sepcific color, often granted the covetted Crayoloa title as your "favorite" color, often can depict something in your life that you're missing or in need of. Adding it to your wardrobe or to your enviroment can sometimes help change the energies around you and urge you to make a positive change in the right direction.
This is why someones favorite color may change periodically through ones lifetime. As things fall into place you may crave the next step. I myself have gone from purple to red within the last couple of years. If you're suddenly drawn to a color more than usual, try to read up on its connotations online. You may be suprised at what it may indicate.

For example-

If this picture makes you excited:








You might be feeling a little rejected or unnoticed. Red is a powerful "look at me!" color. It is also associated with the root chakra which indicates sexual desire. So possibly, you may just crave red bcause you have a high labido and are very much interested in getting laid,::wiggles eyebrows::


Black and grey are for invisibility and blending in. Maybe you've been too notced lately and would rather hide in the chaos of it all.

Greens are for social interaction and the beginning of new things.

Orange is known for creating creative energies. Writers and artist could consider this as a focal color during meditation and brainstorming.

Pink conveys compassion and tenderness. People wearing pink tend to seem more approachable and easier to communicate with than say someone in brown.

It goes on and on.

If any of this tickles your fancy you can find more information at:

http://healing.about.com/cs/colortherapy/a/aa_colortherapy.htm

If not, I owe you cheese.

Every God fearing woman on this great green earth knows that there is only one way to deal with pure unpasteurized evil. And even though Izzy wasn't exactly Catcholic she was hoping that they would be willing to overlook it, just this once, in light of her very unusual situation. Etherway, she had quickly decided that it was a very nice cathedral and she was growing increasingly fond of their choices in decorium lighting. Father Kirken had already agreed to speak with her on the matter at hand so she panned the inside of the entrance for him. She hoped against hope that this all went pleasantly so that afterwards there could be an evening of tea and the dispatching of the unholy. Then she wondered briefly if priests liked Biscotti.
When Father Kirken finally did appear he looked every bit his part, though younger than she had presumed he should be for the task that lay before them. Gesturing slightly, he took her by the shoulder and led her further down the large foyer,pausing nearest the last row of pews as if hoping to seperate them as much as possible from those who had come to light candles at the alter.
"I'm sorry, Sister," He began quietly," but did I understand that you have come to ask me to excorcise your fish?"
Kirken had an accent she couldn't quite peg down. Scottish, maybe? Irish? That seemed appopriate. "Yes, Father. Angel Fish, if you can believe it. They are quite badly behaved to be certain. A small vial of holly water would do the trick, perhaps?"
"You think these fish are evil? That they are possessed by demons or evil spirits?"
It was British, she decided. Definitely British. "They told me to worship..." She looked from side to side then whispered dramatically in two syllables, "Sa-tan." As the preist nodded slowly, Izzy pointed down towards the dark Spanish tiles beneath her feet to further emphasize of whom she was speaking. Then, remembering where she was, she hastily crossed herself. The Virgin Mary depicted in the bright red and yellow stained glass mural above her looked down at her approvingly.
"Does anything else talk to you or leave you criptic messages that only you can see? Washers, Dryers, Microwave Ovens?"
Izzy blinked slowly at him.
"Are you on any new experimental medications or have you begun changing Anti-Depressants?"
Blink...blink...
"Do you have any superpowers or unusual abilites beyond that of mere mortals?"
Blink....
"Do you have entities under your feezer that worship you as their God?"
Izzy snorted loudly then glared at him," Well,that's quite enough of that. If I wanted to be analyzed I would have called my daughter."
"Sorry," Kirken crossed his arms and had the common decency to look emberassed. "Maybe if I came over and saw it for myself I could be more helpful."
"Maybe..." She looked doubtful, " But, entites in my freezer?"
"I had that one in '98' " He confessed mildly.
"Oh..." Said Izzy.

Why is it when a gaggle of girls get together they all feel the inexplicable urge to groom one of them? Bonding or sabatoge I ask you? Exactment! Now help me get these scrunchies of pastel evil out of my shiny new gellicious pompador...

When I watched this last debate tonight, I could not take my eyes off of Mr. Mc Cain. He makes me want to do the anamatronic dance of Republican redirection to the tune of, "Its a Small World Afterall." I know he can not help it. Vietnam...torture...touchy subject as it were. But,Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto! Ha!

If Styx had written Mc Cain's final speech of the evening, it would have read, and I quote:

You're wondering who I am -- machine or mannequin
With parts made in Japan, I am the mod-ren man

I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain I.B.M.
So if you see me acting strangely, don't be surprised
I'm just a man who needed someone, and somewhere to hide
To keep me alive-just keep me alive
Somewhere to hide to keep me alive

I'm not a robot without emotions-I'm not what you see
I've come to help you with your problems, so we can be free
I'm not a hero, I'm not a saviour, forget what you know
I'm just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control
Beyond my control-we all need control
I need control-we all need control

I am the modren man, who hides behind a mask
So no one else can see my true identity

</absurdity>

Don't get me wrong, Obama does't do it for me either. I want to pluck his eyebows in a socially polite manner while asking him poinant PC questions about the major diffrences between Christianity and Islam, but that may just be me...

I dreamed last night that I was a waitress with undisclosed super powers and that when caught off guard or threatened I turned into a plate of steamy mashed potatos (Extra butter, hold the salt) I'd like someone to analyze THAT one.

I keep getting calls on my Metro PCS cell from an elementary school in Port Saint Lucy. Apparently my child "Akilla" (seriously) has not been to school in 72 days. Every evening at six o'clock EST, I receive a complimentary automated lecture from a passive agressive female goody goody informing me of this.

"HELLO, HAPPY MANATEE FAMILY!" At this point I would just like to interject that I am not particularly "happy" nor a Manatee. "THIS IS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR CHILD "akilla" HAS NOT BEEN TO SCHOOL IN....."

You get the picture. Every day they call. I tried to call them back to tell them that Christian is relitively positive that we do not have children but its a phone tree run by other passive agressive automated women. So... the battle ensues.

I would mildly kind of sort of like to find the woman they are trying to reach, though. She has a doctor's appoinment tomorrow at noon, shes late on her rent, they are auctioning off her U-STORE IT possessions, and her kid may or may not be MIA in an underground prostitution ring run by out of work Chucky Cheese anamatronic Chipmunks in protest of Republicans for Mc Cain. That last bit is mostly pure theory on my part but I have my sources.

As for those of you who have inquired about Becky, she is still chilling like a villain on Amoxicilan or....something. She will be for sell soon. Its a soft market so I'm waiting for it to er---harden? On related news Viagra is way up!!!

Oh, and ah yes! The third vollume of Snail Trails is in the works. I'm flattered you read my late night short fictions my poor bored little fan base. Even though few of of you actually comment...::cough cough:: I adore you.

I am mildly dislexic. I must remind myself that the magnet on my friends refrigerator says, "I'm a beautiful breastfed baby" and not, "I'm a beautiful bastard baby..." there's a major difference in adjectives there.

A few of us got bored late Monday night and went to Super Target to mill around aimlessly like middleclass cattle and we found this:





Allow me to introduce the Playmobil Roman Arena (TM). You can now feed Christians to the lions in the comfort of your very own home! (Sorry, Christians sold seperately)

There was also, this:




Prepare your child for life on minimum wage with this realistic play set! And if your three, most of this is really actually pretty edible...

And by the by, am I the only one who thinks that the main spokesman for EXSTENZE looks like Kyle Mc Laughlin of Twin Peaks fame? It is good to see he is still finding work.

ExtenZe, for those of you who do not stay up until 4am, is a male enhancement product. If you don't know what that means, the infomercial is helpful enough to tell you that it enhances "a certain part of the male body." And if you are still too thick to get it, no pun intended, the infomercial is helpful enough to say that it's "you know, male enhancement?" They're to classy to say penis. Fun word that. Penis....penis penis penis....ha!!!


I told my boss that he needed to let me go home early today because I needed to take off my pants. That'll get a reaction. Well, I mean, they fit yesterday and they're part of my uniform but today was not a tight jeans kinda of day. I couldnt freaking breath. I was affixiating. And unless your the lead singer of INXS thats not a good time. Thought I'd share.

For those of you who are not familiar with Shin Chan, I thought I would give you a free sampling. Before Robot Chicken and Family Guy, there was this little Adult Swim gem.

Snail Trails Volume II


I now own in its full entirity all three seasons of "Forever Knight." I will watch them all one by one and eat Keebler caramel toffee cookies while I will giggle like a pre-teen at Garraint Wyn Davies' rougish vampire good looks. This could take a while. So heres volume II of "Snail Trails" until I can drag myself back. Enjoy. Or don't. Its just here for the free web space. Dont believe it when it tells you its not that kind of girl.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sighing once again at her wet pets' new found literacy, Izzy releived the phone book from its temporary occupation as professional doorstop and settled into the pillow free corner of her new Rooms- To- Go intrest free couch. Glaring at the aquarium in silent warning, she ran her finger through the local pet store listings, smiling when she came across the one she was looking for.

The twenty four hour specialty tropical fish store at the corner of Dawn and Brick was known for two things;competitive prices and twenty four hour tank friendly customer service, and with a name like; "Sleeping with the Fishes" they were just bound to be good. Dialing their number with piss and vindiction, she waited patiently for someone to pick up the line and provide her with the answer to her new found situation. It turned out to be a matter they were quite obviously not qualified to handle.

"What do you mean they are usually quite pleasant!?" Izzy stared at the phone as if it had attempted to lovingly tongue her left ear; "Surely you do not find this sort of behavior to be morally acceptable!"

As the manager bumbled and quickly assured her that this had never really happened before, she moaned irritably and hung up. Grabbing the bridge of her nose to stop her newly forming tension headache from spreading, she did the only other thing she could think to do. She called Rudy...

Rudy Pinatazzio hitched his pants up slightly higher and adjusted his belt, sniffing slightly as he cocked his head down to get a better look at the peaceful water treading villians in question. He was not an expert, per se', but he did own several large tanks in his private home bellow and he guessed that did make him a bit of an afficianado, of sorts. Exhaling through his nose he scratched his balding spot absently and squinted;

"Angels, eh? I've not really ever felt a need to deal with them myself. Looks like you must have gone and really pissed them off, though, if you think they went through the effort of learning how to write and all that. Funny, too. I guess mine are just too busy to pick up a constructive hobby."

Izzy blinked slowly and reconsidered her choice of pet advisor; "But this is unusual, wouldn't you say? Shouldn't I be concerned? Shouldn't I tell someone? Maybe, somone..." She gestured with frustration as she searched for the right word; "Well,someone....official?"

"You could." Rudy adjusted his pants, again and put his hands in his pockets; "I don't know who handles this sort of thing but you can call around, I guess. But me? I think you should just be greatful that they're reaching out. Maybe they just need you to undestand their perspective a little."

Apparenty, the fish agreed. When she returned from her weekly grocery store run later that night there was a new message waiting for her. In a spreading patch of blue green algae in the far right hand corner , the same slow fish scawl declared cheerily;" Worship Satan!"



Stay Tuned.....

Snail Trails Volume I


I had EZ Mac and cereal for dinner tonight. If you don't like the beginning of my new short story, blame this strange new exciting nutritional combination. It's going to be big ! Sadly, I haven't found anything online discussing wether or not cheese powder and Honey Bunches of Oats are actually creatively condusive. You're part of the testing process, honestly. Smile guinea piggy! Doom doom doom, doom doomy doom....

And now for our feature presentation.



______________________SNAIL TRAILS



Izzie was very proud of her White Blushing Angel fish. They had been the last thing her daughter,Mitsy,had bought for her just before heading out cross country for her first semester of college in California. She supposed now, in hindsight, that for Mitsy it had all just been a rather good natured attempt at making her mother feel better about the sudden emptiness in her two bedroom Boca condo. But for Izzy, the new additions were simply very good listeners. And she had a good bit to say about everything. Especially right now...

She would have expected this sort of behavior from quite a good many people that she knew, and intentionally avoided, but never had she thought to one day have to suffer the abuse of spoiled tropical freshwater fish. Well yes, and one Ghost shrimp, but he could not have possibly been in on this, he just was not the type.

Izzy clucked her tongue and shook her finger at the offending brood;"Now, here here,what has brought all of this about? " She shook her head and tutted beneath her breath, taking the small container of fish food from the black metal work tank stand as if she were snatching a sweet from a screaming obstinent child;"There will be no more of this until we can come to an understanding, agreed?"

The Angels tagged and darted and generally ignored her. Discouraged, she flipped off their light switch and sighed deeply;"I will give you some alone time to think it over. I just hope when I come back you will be a little more receptive to reason."

As she began to shuffle away, afternoon sunlight filtered in through the Primrose patterened living room curtains; its patronizing rays reflecting off the dark tank glass to bring their aquian message of hate back into full relief within the algae it had been engraved. And though the spelling was rather poor and it was all quite obviously written entirely backwards, one could not miss its ill intent. It said, rather frankly; "Go to hell."

To be continued....

For those of you who were not already in the know.....

Fun does not, on any occassion, involve letting the kitten into the bedroom while your significant other is still trying to sleep. Yes, even if they DID agree to it in their half dazed state of breif incoherent conciousness. Yes,even if it WAS making pitiful mewing noises at the door. Yes, even if it WAS lonely because its last remaining playmate was taken off to the Vet to get its balls "delicately"annilated in effort to keep it from spawning with any sense of enthusiasm.

Because ,if one was to let the Bonzai Kitten of Stealth Ninja Doom III, Jr., Esquire, into the bedroom, it would more than likely, almost certainly, attack all the pink parts and dangly bits you'd very much rather were just left alone.

That said, there is absolutely nothing quite like waking up to the peculiar sensation of cat claws sinking into your cold exposed buttocks. Coffee, now has a worthy adversary.

Thank you, that is all.

E.

I want this cat so that I can name it MurderFace and bring it to visit all the lonely retirees at the Century Village home for wayward seniors. Or as I like to call them, "the Raging Centurians." Yes, I know it sounds more like an olympic football team but these competitors don't get much further than shuffleboard theese days. There is a mean game of Bingo in the atrium every Sunday though if you want to grab a card...

On the way down I-95 this afternoon, I noticed that there was a rather portly fellow sitting in the back of the pickup truck ahead of us and he was obviously cuddling, what apeared to be, a double door Frigidaire. A few minutes later I realized that it was not, in fact, a portly fellow but rather a very unfortunate looking middle-aged woman, instead. We will call her, "Ingrid".


As "Ingrid" gritted her teeth and held on for dear life, the man in the driver's seat just kept smiling and waving to her as the tail gate came unhinged and flapped merrily up and down with the South Florida wind current. We will call him, "Eddy." I can't help but wonder how the hell "Eddy" convinced "Ingrid" to get back there. He should have atleast roped her in. But no, it must have all seemed much cheaper than a divorce.


But dont blame,"Eddy." "Ingrid," had been spending all of his hard earned cash, from working the third shift at Mobile, on mentholated Skoal chewing tobacoo and expensive vampire midget cheerleader porn. In truth, it was way past time for her to "hug the frige".( That's the backwoods version of " sleeping with the fishes" just so you know.)

Blogging is always about having something to say and having an internet connection so one may eventually happen merrily around to a forum and say it. For the last couple of months I have had neither. However, I do plan to overcompensate for this slight oversight by spinning a few dark lurid and sultry tales about all sorts of various wild things and others. I hear there's a werecow or two....maybe even a water vole. It's all very good stuff. You'll just have to hold out and see.

But first, there is the matter of my birth. It happened, I have the documentation to prove it, but I have not yet established what one is to do for the 27th reconfirmation of ones own continued existence. I think there may be cake, though. With real icing. And ...ice cream. Definitely ice cream. With sprinkles.....

But anyway, let's face it. A birthday is nothing more than the egotistical festivities inacted by one to celebrate the fact that through either genius, sloth, or amazingly good fortune, they have not yet managed to kick the bucket or buy the perverbial farm. That is all fine and good. But when you find yourself approaching thirty, Chucky Cheese seems so very painfully 80's retro. So what the hell do you people bloody do these days? The clown cancelled and the pet-a- pony has hoove and mouth disease. I need answers.