When they fired the first shot, I held on to some small hope you'd survive.  But when the second shot was fired, it was all over.  And now I am here, alone, mourning the loss, trying to put on a brave face.  But I am weak. 

I will always love you.  Always.  And I know that someday in the future, I will see you again.

I know it's wrong, but I can't take the grief or the loneliness anymore. This one was always good to me.  They're reasonably attractive.  They were always my second choice.  And even though it's over, and you won't be back this time, it still feels like cheating.  It is a band-aid: a half-hearted attempt to still find some happiness when my world has come to an end....  

So I hope you will forgive me when I slip into that little black number and let them make me scream like you used to.

Marty, Patty, Jamie, Panda, Mad Dog, Zach... I will always love you.  But I'm going to be a Pens fan for the rest of the offseason.  I hope you understand.  I just can't go on without hockey.  They'll never be like you. 

I'll see you in October, my beloved Devils...

dear mom,
ur such a skank, u need protection when u go fuck urself! 
PWNED! 
please drive me to GameStop. 
happy mother's day. kthxbye.
Timmy


Deer Mama
I dun't want to cher you wit enywon.  Hapy Mudder's Day!
Luv,
Cletus Jr.

Dear Mother,
I have enclosed the receipt, because I understand you can write these off as a business expense. 
Happy Mother's Day!  Please keep warm out there!
Unfortunately yours,
Anna

*Special thanks to Wink for posting the image in a bulletin!*

*This is meant to be funny.  It is entirely vulgar.  You have been warned.*


I am sick and tired of "targeted marketing."

Every time I log on to this page it's trying to sell me a dating service or a diet pill or wrinkle cream or teeth whitening.  So basicly, these motherfuckers think I'm a fat, old broad, with bad teeth, who can't get a man.  And if I am a fat, old broad, the internet is the only hope I have of meeting a man, because "I'm not going to find one in the bars or at the supermarket."

No wonder there are so many morose motherfuckers on these sites.  People keep trying to paint over the Michaelangelo or Renoir they already are!  Ok, I admit, there are a bunch of Picasso & Dali people out there.  Their shit is fucked up.  But COME ON.   Admit it.  When you're drunk and it's dark, we're ALL Jenna Jameson.

I admit, I have been remarkably blessed.  I have the stubborn-gonna-live-just-to-piss-you-off gene and the I-love-food-too-much-to-live-on-exlax gene and the HUGE-tracks-of-land gene. It generally means I'm not wrinkly, so I don't look old, I'm not overly thin, but my boobs make my gut look *teeny*.  And I can fuck like a tiger because I have suppressed rage.. and I'm too poor to buy new batteries for my vibrator.

And, bitch please.  "You won't meet anyone at a bar or a supermarket."  I met my most recent boyfriend in a market and he works in a bar.  Fuck you.  Do what you love and the people who love the same things and who will probably love you will be right there with you. Save your fucking money.  Because you'll need it for the beer.  Because Ron Jeremy is no Adonis.  He's more like Bacchus.  But he can fuck like a tiger.  And isn't that what counts?  This is why guys end up with homely chicks.  They listen, they suck dick better, and you can take them out to DINNER.  Come on Paris.  You remember DINNER, don't you? 

Hot chicks are high maintenance.  They're on a diet (*BARF*).  They won't suck your dick because cum has calories.  They're constantly getting offers from other guys who probably make more money than you and spent it on penis enhancement surgery.  And they spend all their time on being pretty, so they are boring as FUCK to talk to.  Oh yeah, and they generally can't or don't know how to have an orgasm.

HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO HAVE AN ORGASM?  Who are you girls dating?  You won't suck his knob so he won't push your button, and you're stuck with CAPTAIN PLUG & RUN.  Date a nerd for the love of orgasms!  They play with controller buttons all the time!  They read about how to have good sex because they aren't so full of themselves they think they just are!  And you don't have to feel bad about bossing them around to tell them where you want to be touched!  Every woman should say "Oh God!" in the good way in bed... and at a shoe sale.  We have the gift of multiples.  But you must train young padawans!

Old, fat girls with bad teeth have lived and loved and know how to enjoy it all.  Maybe they should have ads for cheeseburgers, books, and vibrators.  Then maybe there wouldn't be so many morose motherfuckers on the internet.

It's one of those lazy Sundays where I know I won't feel like being productive until it's time to go to bed, and I really do have to go to bed tonight at a decent time because it's Customer Appreciation Week at work. 

I kind of wish I could say Employee Appreciation Week came afterward, but it doesn't.  Just more unwanted professional butt sex.

Thanks to my employer not withholding enough, (feelin' the love...) on top of everything else I'm paying, I owe the feds $123.  I haven't done my state taxes yet to find out if I got burned there.  I'm definitely not going to NC now and I'm probably not doing much of anything for a while. 

I already received one "bail-out" this year, and I swore I would take care of everything else.  Now I just need to find a way.  Because submissive sugar daddies who like doing my laundry don't exist. *Grabs her bootstraps and braces for what happens when she bends over...*

I'm pretty perturbed that my sinuses decided to throw a fit.  It's a really warm weekend AND I had it off.  This is the kind of weekend I would pack full of hiking and housecleaning and partying (if I weren't broke.) 

Instead, here I am again, sitting on my ass.  I did a little reading last night ( I was handed 2 books, one a loaner and the other a gift.)  But the sporadic ability to breathe also makes it hard to focus.  Today during a good breathing period, I ventured out with the recycling.  I just finally cleared out the old Finn Brothers page and my art page and put in my delete requests, although I realized one may have to wait because I can't access the email address anymore!  (That's what happens when you neglect a page for a while and use that address as a spam-catcher.)  At least I'm making a little progress on simplifying my life.

I'll spend the weekend in a Benadryl-induced haze, since apparently the Universe has decided that I need to take my "me" time immediately.  I've been thinking I needed some, but I would never have made the time.  Sometimes infirmities have their advantages.

I can't enjoy that bottle of pinot noir yet, but I can go take a long, hot shower, give myself a manicure and a pedicure, and curl up with a book.  Wednesday is pay day.  I can go back to being a socialite then.  Broken plays Thursday night.

Right now, I need to go close the window and see if the shower will help open up my sinuses again...

March.  Derived from Mars, God of War.
How appropriate that my thoughts should turn toward the desert.  As little bits of green and explosions of warmth begin their assault on the barren landscape, I can't help but think of those thousands of miles away, doing something similar.  The little bits of green plastic and the GI Joe jeep that ran through the sand of my childhood are now real people.

Katy Perry had sent out a MySpace bulletin with the extended version of her "Thinking of You" video.  The video is about trying to move on after losing someone you love to war.  I suppose that is really what turned my thoughts.  I downloaded the short version on iTunes the day my friend's brother was killed.

Today I also found the new Queensryche single, "If I Were King," from the new album American Soldier.  The album is due for release at the end of the month.  The album is a tribute to those who have served, through their own words - Geoff Tate conducted interviews, starting with his own father, finding common threads through multiple generations of battle.

I have friends and family in the reserves, or who served.  And I know people who have lost family and friends to war, either through casualty or mental breakdowns.  

I knew someone who was a POW.
I know someone who woke up in a foxhole with his whole squad dead on top of him.

I'm not a soldier.  I will go into a situation and fix it.  I will survive having all kinds of shit thrown at me.  I can come up with a plan of attack.  I can shoot a gun.  But I will never be so insanely strong as the men and women who have chosen to defend our country.

I hope to see more of you home soon.  Until then, blessed be.

So the market has dropped below 7000, which pretty much means a depression is imminent.  I'm pretty used to being depressed by now, so it's nothing new to me.  But I'm giving serious thought to abandoning this ship and going back to weather this the old fashioned way.  I'm pretty fed up with the entitlement zombies here, and things don't seem to ever get better. 

My rent went up in January, and I started making payments again on my debt.  The owners had said the managers would be "re-evaluated" in the spring, and I have been holding out hope for a raise for a while now, snce I took on additional responsibilities last summer.  But the additional strain on my bank account means I either need to find a roommate, a second job, or a new job, if I don't leave entirely.

While I love the house in Mountain Top, it would mean having absolutely no social life for a while.  That is what tends to keep me here.  In State College, most of the time I can go out and someone I know is out, even if I don't make plans.  I don't have to worry about driving.  I'm really awful at keeping in touch with people too, and it would take a little while to get the house into the 21st century. 

I don't think anything major will happen until after June.  I want to have my birthday here, with an oh-so-appropriate 1935 theme, followed by the Callsign: Cougar bar tour (According to Urban Dictionary, 35 is the threshold for Cougar-dom.)



Let's see where the chaos takes us...

I went to see 'Coraline' last night with the friend I made up when I was 15 who just happens to exist.  When we left the theater, there were roses in the driveway, one flattened, the other simply flattened by it's own weight and wilting. Frozen, as it was extremely cold.  We didn't see them when we went in, but they seemed like they had been there a while.  It was as if the movie had followed us out to the car.  I had started the day on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so if I had been alone, I probably would have just thought I had lapsed into full-blown crazy.

If I see flying terriers, I'll let you know.

I've been scribbling down bits of ideas for this story I have had in my head for a while centering around someone's nickname and misunderstandings.  I hope it turns out as funny as I think it is.  Life keeps throwing characters at me.  I'm not sure what form to write it all out as: is it a play script, a screenplay, or a novel?  I'm picturing it as scenes, so it should probably steer more towards the former than the latter.

Since this idea has been in my head for a while and hasn't died, I obviously need to see it to completion.  I'm afraid to publish any of it online though, because if it is as good as I think it might be, I don't want it stolen.

I need to go rent some mob movies next week....

"Slowly we watch the degradation of the civilization
The rise and fall of all we are
Stands before us

This place is evil
Is there an answer?
This world is vile
We are the answer"


She knew what was coming.  She called out to him, hoping he could save her.  He didn't hurry.  He thought she would always be there for him.  there would always be later...

"No more broken promises
Our shattered hearts will heal
No more broken promises
No more (no more)"

The circles grew darker.  The days seemed endless, but really they faded in brilliance as she faded in life.  She couldn't live without him.  Only he had what she needed to survive this. She cried, softly at first, and then harder as the pain swept through her.  He wouldn't make it. Tomorrow would never come.

"Contest the lies
We cannot be so blind
Hear their cries
The wait 'til daylight dies"

When he arrived, it was too late.  He cradled her glittering body in his arms, a shell of the brilliance that once was.  There is no later.  There is no tomorrow.  Darkness finally descended as Daylight dies...

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I'm a smartass.  You all know that.  But I have some new LOLs up on icanhasceeseburger.

http://mine.icanhascheezburger.com/pictures-by-jedeyenight/lolz

Vote.  Love them.  Make them your wallpaper.

Lyrics to Wish I Didn't by Bassboosa :

Wish I didn't miss you

Wish I didn't want to kiss you

Wish I didn't

But I do

I was so busy concealing

How I was really feeling

I lost my way



Misery will miss you

And when she kisses you

I hope you don't recall

All the times when you were with me

Lay in bed and said you'd love me

Did it all mean nothing at all



Don't want better than nothing

Don't want something I have to cling to

Wish I didn't wish I was with you

Wish I didn't but I do

Wish I didn't but I do miss you

Did you just want to use me

Were you scared to lose me

If you told me the truth

Wish I didn't wish I was with you

Wish I didn't but I do



Just make believe

Not meant to be

I knew you'd leave

Wish I hadn't lived my life

As though existence

Was through resistance to you

I'll turn my back on you

I'll cut the cord

Close the book

Shut the door

We're just two words

On the final page

The end



Wish I never knew you

Wish I didn't want to hurt you

Wish I didn't but I do

Now I spend my nights crying

Hoping that your lying

How dare you



What you gonna do when i'm there at your door

What you gonna do when i'm down on your floor

What you gonna do when i'm asking for more

What you gonna do, what you gonna do

What you gonna do when i'm down on my knees

What you gonna do when i'm begging you please

Dont leave

I found this band looking for a version of "Wicked Game."  This song immediately reached out and grabbed me, and became all the more relevant after a conversation I had last night.

Somewhere along the line, I got huge.

Don't worry, I'm not pushing an acai berry diet.  I just realised nothing was fitting right, I had to buy bigger bras, etc.  I felt tired and run down all the time.  So I decided it was time to start making some changes.

Part of my problem is my job.  I'm around food ALL the time, but the hectic pace and up and down hours means I'm not eating, not eating at regular intervals, or I'm eating crap because I'm too tired when I get home to cook.  I used to love to cook.

I haven't been doing a lot of things the way I used to.  I used to walk more, even in the snow.  I don't run as many errands. Instead of being a couch potato, I became a computer potato. I decided to work on straightening out my apartment, but I let myself get bogged down in that and didn't let myself get out.  

I knew I needed to start making changes, so I picked up groceries last night before I left work.  Some veggies and juice, a filter for my Brita, some snacks.  I'm not done by a long shot, but I've started restocking my kitchen so I don't feel like I have to eat crap.

I finally let stir craziness take over today and went out to Target to do some shopping.  It felt really good just to go out and DO something.  I found a lot of stuff on sale, including some new undies and shirts, and a cheap pair of combat boots.  Fishnets were on clearance for $3. I made the investment in a couple of bigger bras.  Picked up some yummy-smelling hair and body stuff, because I was feeling really unattractive. And as part of my personal commitment to change, I bought a scale.

When I got home, I unwrapped and tared the scale and jumped on it out of curiousity.  I haven't been on a scale in a couple of years.  It read 180 lbs.  And I was angry.  I had deluded myself into thinking I was around 165, which was bad enough.  I have gained 60 lbs since college, and I can't even say it's baby weight.  

I always told myself I didn't need to be one of "those" people who watched the numbers on the scale all the time.  After all, it's about fitness, not weight, right?  And muscle weighs more than fat... BULLSHIT.  Numbers motivate me at work, and apparently they are going to motivate me at home too.

So don't take it personally if I skip the beer or turn down the cookies.  I don't hate you.  I hate my ass.

And in this time when we are being asked to commit to change, I do as I have always done.  I lead by example.  And hopefully, it will help others.

We, as children, run from our parents.  And over time, whether we are aware of it or not, that means we kind of run TOWARDS our grandparents - the thing our parents ran from.  Every generation seems to find some reason to jump back a generation to learn something.  As we enter uncertain economic times and search for answers to environmental and health issues, I have to ask, WWGD?  What would Grandma/Grandpa do?

Grant you, I am the youngest by a substantial margin, so my parents are nearly as old as some people's grandparents.  My grandparents raised my mother through the tail end of the depression and through World War II.  As I look at the way we've outsourced our lives to corporations, I remember the vast gardens they grew and how I could be entertained for ages without the aid of technology, running around their property or making mudpies in the garage.

In trying to make time to do more, It seems like we have taken on more things that made our lives more complicated, and the need to make time for things just snowballed into an endless list of "laters."  No wonder everyone has anxiety.

As our dollars grow more limited, and we are forced to make everything go farther, perhaps it's time to look at our past to help take a step into the future.  They grew their own veggies, canning and freezing the excess they couldn't eat immediately.  If they bought something from the store, they reused or recycled pretty much every package (The Cool-Whip containers were for storage, not 'Redneck salad bowls.')  Everything had an alternate use, and seeing that as a kid I think trained my mind to be more creative with what I had.

Even my own mother continued this trend.  I remember I would get scraped up out playing, and out would come the mercurchrome bottle.  I remember her drawing a rabbit on a injury I got one Easter. (I'm kind of surprised I don't have any tattoos considering how fond of this I was.)  Now, we slap a fairy band-aid on it and keep going.  It's fun, but it lacks a sense of ritual or a personal touch.

They say necessity is the mother of invention.  I say creativity is taking what you have and making it infinitely cooler than what you don't.

I think we've forgotten that technology was put here to help us, not control us.  We've forgotten how to truly take care of ourselves, entrusting our health and wellbeing to corporations.  And most of all, we've forgotten how to ask "How much is this really costing me?" Maybe now is a good time to ask that question again.

I caught a segment on the Weather Channel about a book by Barbara Kingsolver and her family that was about their year of only eating locally or self-grown foods.  Her husband contributed information on scientific aspects, as well as how much oil goes into commercial farming.  Agriculture is right behind transportation in oil consumption.  

"If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce, we would reduce our country’s oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week." --Steven L. Kopp, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle  

It is time to think creatively, with an eye to costs both environmental and financial.  What goes into your body and your home is more than merely the object in front of you.  We rarely remember the disposable object.  What we remember is the joy of discovery, creation, and love.