cinemajunky

Look, I understand that I hurt your wittle fweelings in some forum or another. Hell, I probably called you out for the mouth-breathing retard you are. I can't really apologize since you chose not to sign in when you posted your silly little comment on my blog which I promptly deleted since it had absolutely nothing to do with my post. I'm sorry you can't afford your own place and have to lash out at others, projecting your situation on them (living with mommy and daddy while they sexually abuse you - perhaps you should seek some help with that as it may be less reality than it is sick fantasy on your part).

Next time, grow a set of balls and sign in before you decide to comment on my post. It's not like I'm going to track you down and beat you with your own mouse cord or anything.

Talked to the loan officer lady and she said I would be approved for ballpark $170k FHA loan. Thanks to the two programs I will be in by next week, I'll have the $25k down payment and we can start signing paperwork!! Now, we just need to cross fingers and toes that no one attempts to outbid me. They would need to beat my down payment, which would be hard but not impossible.

This time next month, I could be moving in to my new house. My house. My own home.
Yeay!

Because I'm fucking boring, bitches! And so are you. I really don't understand why anyone, outside of a very few really important people whose every second is filled with wonder and awe, would need to keep everyone updated on the minutiae of their daily effing lives. I mean, I've seen some of these Twitter entries and it's akin to "Went to store for milk. Why am I always out of milk whenever I want cereal?" Really? That's what passes for interesting nowadays? I think it's a symptom of when our obsession with new technology bypasses our wisdom of what's for the best - no one needs to know how many times you thought you should be doing something other than what you were currently doing.
Maybe I'm wrong and I just don't understand the whole point of Twitter. If that's the case, I'd welcome any enlightenment.

I would ask it where it is hiding God.

Or it might be his half-sister, I'm not really sure. Reading the comments she's left on his myspace photos confuses me as to what she actually is to him. This chic comments on a picture of my niece with the most inane drivel that I've ever read and I want to go to Maine and kick her in the shins. I want to completely ban her from even looking at a picture of my niece and nephew let alone comment on it. Her comments are in the way of "OMG! myz babiez! I <3 u cliff!! dey luk jus liek u!" and I just want to strangle this person for being 30-something years old and typing like a retarded 13-year old. He's got an old picture of him with some coworkers at work and she's got some uber creepy comment about him looking good.
James' family was doing the "I've got dad's hands" and I had to giggle about the whole "wow, genetics!" thing, but I understand that it was just normal family bonding. Going back to the comments, this chic regularly states that my niece Stephanie looks more like Clifton than she does her mom, Chrissy. This statement is 100% impossible. Beyond being a generally awesome good guy, Clifton is only Stephanie's father by marriage as my sister became pregnant with her at 13 and didn't get married until she was 18. Therefore, she is an even greater idiot for repeatedly making a comparison that really should not be made in good taste.

That being said, I also dislike James' mother-in-law and, by proxy, his wife. I played snoop a few weeks ago and found the mother-in-law's page and it was so incredibly ridiculous. (I just spent upwards of 2hrs searching for it, getting sidetracked with various other pages along the way, but that in no way detracts from the ridiculousness that I remember, so nyah!)

Something funny that I found in my search:
Man writes profanity on wife, wife bites man
Judge cites 42 Beatles lyrics in man's sentencing
Jealous Husband shoots wife's computer
Six Year Old Urged to Confess to Being a Career Criminal

3:10AM New Year's Day, Richard Eugene Heiser passed away. For months, he had been complaining about a stomach problem and, when my aunt got him to go to the doctor, he was told that he had a tumor in his stomach. Over the following days, the biopsy told them it was cancerous and had spread to his lymph nodes, but was still operable. When they went to operate last week at Georgetown University, the doctors found that the tumor in his stomach was covering 80% of his stomach. About 4 nights ago, he was transferred to the Oncology Ward at Frederick Memorial Hospital. He received Last Rites 2 nights ago surrounded his family and friends. He was in an intense amount of pain and is now freed from it. My aunt is doing as well as can be expected and is heading home to sleep.
Stauffer Family Funeral Home will be handling the funeral and I think the service will be held at Transfiguration with the gathering at Braddock Mountain Inn. I'll know more later today.

The other day, I was watching tv when a Tide commercial came on showing a huge specialized rig with laundry service (outward facing washers and dryers). The voice over said that Tide knows people are happier in clean clothes and that's why they took their truck to New Orleans and California to help out with Katrina and the fire survivors. In the commercial, they showed Tide employees handing back bags of clean clothes to grateful people against a backdrop of destruction. At the end, the voice over said that we could buy retro Tide t-shirts from Tide.com to help out the victims of the fire......and then they tacked on the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

Ok, folks, here's where kelly the bitch steps out and rants.
Hurricane Katrina came through in 2005. It's 2007. Two years and more than 15 billion dollars later, why are we still hearing about this? First off, that whole fiasco was one of the dumbest and most mismanaged thing that I have ever heard of; the city and state government did nothing to prevent the disaster and the federal government got blamed. Folks, it wasn't Bush's job to save those people; that job belonged to all the little local political officers and they failed big time. The city failed to enforce their mandatory evacuation by making sure that the public buses were free and available to collect people and dump them off in predesignated safe places. The city continued to fail to evacuate people after the levees broke and what could have been an orderly evacuation turned into a unorganized rescue mission. Once the damage was done, the local government had all but fled. Martial law had to be declared because the police simply were not doing their job. Crime skyrocketed because, instead of banding together as a community, the city's remaining population started looting everything they could get their hands on. In a city without electricity or even clean running water, what on God's green earth would you do with a stolen television set??
After taking all that flak for failing to prevent a natural disaster, I understand why Bush scrambled to get the National Guard in there. Thanks to the president, order was finally restored - rescue missions started being better coordinated, food and water were provided as shelters were set up, and billions of dollars ($10.5 after the initial vote to be exact) from Congress started flowing in to help rebuild. So why in the hell is Kanye frickin' West allowed to go and make an ass out of himself on national television by saying that Bush doesn't care about black people? Despite how inappropriate that whole thing was, it was pure slander and has no basis in fact.
Let's move beyond the whole Bush factor since my rant is with New Orleans and not the president (that's a rant for another time). Since my point is that, after two years, we should not have to hear anything more about Hurricane Katrina, I'm going to stop discussing the event itself. Let's pretend that we're in a perfect world and that the response to Hurricane Katrina was the same as the response to the fire in California - everyone was evacuated in time and the sole tragedy was the loss of property and material goods.
Okay, so after the water receded and the damage was assessed, billions of dollars in federal aid and charity came rushing into Louisiana. The state saw money like it never had before and people all around the world gave with so much generosity. So....why does New Orleans still look like a 3rd world country? With all that money, I'd expect to see New Orleans transform into a shiny jewel of technologically sound architecture. I expect new levees that could withstand God Himself and buildings that come with features which make them impervious to floods and high wind hurricanes. It would seem that the birthplace of the blues just isn't good at managing money.... Huh, imagine that.
If you go to DC or Baltimore, it's unfortunate, but you can find homeless people sitting on the sidewalks begging for money. Remember my previous post where I said I have a bad habit of giving until there's nothing left? That also applies to beggars. I can't avoid eye contact and I almost always return home poor. So New Orleans makes me feel like what I've given them isn't enough - they're the beggar who looks at the dollar I've given them and still continues to hold out their hand. In fact, not only does their hand demand more, but then they call me a racist for not wanting to give more because only racists would give just one dollar instead of five. The New Orleans beggar follows me to the ATM, telling me a sob story about how they didn't want to leave their home and then it took the government a whole week to rescue them from their bad decision. While waiting in the ATM line, the New Orleans beggar insults the others waiting in line for being insensitive to the plight of their fellow man and guilts them into giving it a "donation" too. All the money that the New Orleans beggar gets, it fritters away on things that do not remedy its situation. It does not buy shelter, it does not buy food or water - why waste money on things that it can beg off of the generosity of others?
Truth be told, I don't think the survivors of Hurricane Katrina were entitled to one red cent. The whole thing about giving people money is ridiculous. In my opinion, the money should have gone to rebuilding the city and emergency aid during the construction. Temporary housing should have been built with survival in mind, not comfort. These people are adults, it's time to make them take responsibility for their own lives. They chose to live in an area prone to natural disaster, they chose to stay in that area when the local government told them to evacuate, they chose how they spent the money they were given - it's time to take responsibility for their choices.
Once the money was gathered, there should have been some thought as to how it was spent. In a perfect world, this is how it should have worked:
1. Money is spent to construct temporary housing for the survivors. Food, water, clothes, and heat are all donated to support these hostel style buildings (multiple floor buildings, a central hall with standard size rooms and doors that lock, school type bathrooms with stalls, showers, and sinks on either end of the hall - one for men, one for women). The first floors would be dedicated to processing areas, a police headquarters, a first aid center, and a large cafeteria. Identification is required to enter the shelters and the population would be monitored closely by a police force which keeps order (should the survivor not have proof of identification, the survivor's file is marked in some way so that identification can be restored by the proper authorities). This building does not support permanent living, but should remain on the outskirts of the city ready for all emergency evacuation situations. While not in use, the buildings could be used as a temporary shelter for the homeless and can host a variety of classes to help them improve their situation which would all be considered state funded charity.
2. Volunteers pour in from all over to help rebuild - they need living necessities such as food and shelter. These necessities can be provided in the temporary shelters so no extra expense is needed in their case. Instead, money is spent on building materials for reconstruction - every volunteer gets a basic package of tools specific to the job they are assigned.
3. "Incentives" are set aside to help survivors leave the temporary shelter. If the survivors decide to stay and help rebuild, they would receive a payment equal to a standard rate according to their trade. People who were previously electricians or construction workers could get paid for lending their expertise and, in effect, continue their employment. These people could stay in the temporary shelter for as long as needed until the city's reconstruction is complete. They would also receive special recognition alongside the volunteers for their help.
For those who wish to leave the city to stay with relatives or to just continue life in an area not prone to natural disasters, a small amount of money would be provided on a case to case basis. For example, money would be given to provide for gas and food if a family of four were to drive to another city while a different amount of money would be given to a family of two wanting to fly to another state. In order to obtain the travel "incentive", the receiver would have to provide identification along with signing a contract which detailed the receiver's plan for evacuation of the city after which point they would be required to leave the temporary shelter. Should a receiver renege on the plan in any act of deception, their actions would have consequences completely independent of the city. They would not be entitled to any further money or aid - no exceptions.
4. Prisons would not be located in areas prone to natural disaster thereby alleviating the need to evacuate potentially dangerous persons. If, for some reason, a prison were to be extremely needed, it should be architecturally resistant to the effects of the natural disaster so that evacuation would not be required for inmates' safety. All persons found looting or in the commission of any other criminal act would be immediately detained by the police and put on trial, The court system would continue to function - the law doesn't disappear just because some buildings were knocked down.
5. Before the damage is fixed, insurance companies should be allowed in to assess the damage to personal property. Once the city is mostly rebuilt and safe to repopulate, insurance would be paid out so that the survivors could begin working to rebuild their homes and businesses. A certain amount of the donations would be set aside and, once again, rationed out on a case by case basis. There would be an application process which would include an architect visiting the residence and assessing the need. Should the survivors wish to vacate the residence without rebuilding, they would be given the option to sell their property to the government at a reasonable rate determined by a realtor. Should someone else wish to purchase it, the property would once again go for a reasonable rate and a reduced incentive paid for reconstruction.

Ideally, politicians who fail to react appropriately in response to the disaster should be required to vacate their office and elections should be held to find their replacements. Replacement officials should outline their strategy for dealing with such disasters.
In the end, we would have a stronger city, a stronger community, and a definite evacuation plan in the case of emergency.

x-posted to myspace

What is it with the guys in my life coming over to my apartment and telling me that they're going to replace my tv for a bigger one?
Coworker came over, took one look at the tv in my living room and then proclaimed that he would bring over a spare tv that he owned that just so happened to be a bit larger than mine. 
Then The Boy came over and said basically the same thing, but he followed through, dropping off a big square hulk of a television set.

I don't get it.  My television set was the first bit of electronic gadgetry that I bought after leaving my aunt and uncle's house.  It's the first purchase I made as an adult.  For the longest time, it sat in the corner of my room playing background noise as I played video games and typed papers.  It finally got some attention when I became addicted to my original NES and the series called "Charm" over one winter break.  But beyond beng mindless entertainment, it was sort of a rite of passage.  It was the first major financial decision that I had made on my own.  More importantly, it was the first decision that had permanent results.  
I was 18 when I bought that television.  Now, at 24, it sits in a corner of my living room, waiting for me to decide what to do with it.  I don't want it in the bedroom - something about being surrounded by televisions disturbs me.  I could put it in the bathroom, but I'd rather not keep a remote in close proximity to where people handle their feces.  I've got a "reading nook" between the stair cases, but I haven't set that area up yet and it would sort of defeat the purpose of a "reading nook".  Almost a year in my apartment and I still haven't unpacked everything yet.  So sad.

Backtracking a bit, my sister got her own tv when she got her own room and I got my computer when I graduated high school and went to college.  My sister's tv was a huge bit of sibling rivalry, but I thought I had finally won the battle when I got my own computer..... until my sister got a laptop.  We're in our 20s now and we're still doing the competition thing, but something that was said a long while back has always stuck with me.  It illustrates the difference between my sister and I so clearly.
My sister's tv was nothing to be jealous over except for the fact that she had one while I did not.  Her tv was small and playing video games on it was near impossible because words appeared blurry and unreadable.  We were plowing through Kingdom Hearts one day when, annoyed with the illegible dialogue, I mentioned to my sister that she could save up and buy a bigger television.  She shrugged and said that my aunt and uncle were going to buy her a bigger one soon.  I was thrown by how nonchalantly she could spend others' money on herself.  I've never been one to borrow, but I give what I have without a moment's thought - I'm like my mom in that respect and it's one of my greatest flaws since it leaves me perpetually broke.  Whenever requesting a particularlly expensive gift for a birthday or Christmas, I had the habit of compromising myself into a cheaper gift that I didn't actually want.  A jukebox style cd-changer stereo system quickly became an off-brand on-sale 3-disc cd-changer stereo system that broke after one move.  My DS went from a requested birthday gift to a gift that I gave myself.  I feel weird asking people to spend large sums of money on me when I know that I wouldn't do it for them should the tables be turned.
But not so for my sister.  Don't misunderstand me now, I am in no way the saint while she plays the sinner.  I'm quite the material possessions hoarder, spending frivilously on DVDs and gaming systems when I could've bought and paid for my car several times over or gotten myself out of the credit hole I've dug over the years.  Meanwhile, my sister has impeccable credit because she simply has no burning desire for anything she owns.  Her things are just that - things.  She can take or leave them because they are not her and have no bearing on whether she exists or not.

Somehow, I think she'd handle the television issue differently.  Maybe it wouldn't even be an issue for her. hm.

 

Friggin' Christian movies and the scars they leave! =P
When I was a kid, they showed us some movie akin to "Left Behind" where all of the righteous people are zapped up to Heaven while all the undecided are left to fend for themselves with the sinful Nazi-like regime that rises in place after the Rapture.  For the most part, people still go through the motions of going to work and grocery shopping except with tiny differences - mostly barcode tattoos on the back of their necks or on their wrists replacing credit cards and, if I'm not mistaken, a reddened sky and random heads on pikes lining the streets.  The whole movie centers around a few survivors, the 'undecided', who stumble about all wide-eyed surprised by this new world despite everyone else going about business as usual.

So, what brought this rant on?..... oh yeah!  Driving to work, I hit every red light from my house to the office, but the road was eerily devoid of the normal traffic that I encounter on Sundays.  I slipped into the parking lot at 8:03am, muttering about stupid lights when I noticed that my car was the only one in the lot.  Stepping into the office, the only light on was the safety one above my desk.  K's on vacation, but T should be here.... After I signed onto the phone (with a minute to spare), there was a distinct lack of early morning phone calls - not that I'm complaining!  I called Little Boss to find out what was going on, but only got her voice mail.  I know there are some people over in the other office because they keep sending emails.  And, of course, the technicians are still out there calling in.  So what gives?  Did everyone ascend?  Should I start considering where I will put this tattoo barcode so I can buy my lunch at Roy Roger's later today?  Maybe I should rent that movie again so I can figure out how to avoid getting my head speared on a pike because I'm sure there's some trick or something to keep it attached.

No internet at home.  Going on 1 month now.  Am I completely buggered by it?  Not really.  

One of the few sites not killed by work's firewall, I've been obsessing over ViolentAcres.com
While my own childhood never reached the level of Hell her's was, I can relate and it sends a cold chill down my spine to read about someone else getting abused.  V's right, abused children really can't see past their own abuse to recognize it in others.  Beyond that, as an adult now, I think I'm overly sensitive when it comes to seeing the signs in children around me - so much that I constantly have to remind myself that not everyone goes through what I and my sisters went through.
I'm not really all that comfortable around children and I tend to judge parents a bit harshly when it comes to how they interact with their children.  The whole reason I've taken to the CF (Child Free) idea is simply that I don't think I'll ever be capable of providing a stable home and emotional suport for a growing child.  If I can't manage my own life at times, how can I expect to be there for someone that needs me 100% of the time?  Related, I don't approve of other adults spawning without consequence, all attempts at parenting being half-assed or nonexistent.  And we as society are just supposed to accept their children's inappropriate behaviour as if it's okay simply because they're children.  Fuck that.  Asshole children grow up to be asshole adults and there are already too many of those running around. 

Anyhoo, to read some of VA, read one of my favorites so far - http://www.violentacres.com/archives/193/what-would-happen-if-you-bought-25-bottles-of-nyquil
This one had me giggling for at least a few minutes.

Me: What's your fix code?
Tech: 29##
Me: No, that's your tech number.  I need your fix code.
Tech: One Alpha.
Me: No, that's your job number.  I need your fix code.
Tech: What's that?
Me: Fix code. Resolution Code.
Tech: I don't know what that means. No one has ever asked me for that before.
Me: is this your first day?
Tech: No.
Me: First time doing trouble calls?
Tech: No.
Me: And no one has ever asked you for a fix code before?
Tech: No.
Me: I can't close a trouble call out without a fix code.
Tech: Let me call my supervisor.



You've got to be kidding me.....

Our dispatch merged with another and we take their overflow calls.  This should make our job a piece of cake since we're only responsible for contractors at this point.  However, the "main" dispatch group that was originally Comcast is a bunch of slackers.  Only a handful of them actually follow procedure and know how to troubleshoot.  The rest have no clue and they're forever frustrating our poor technicians who took us for granted.
Today, I had one of the stupidhead dispatchers call me on my inside line to ask me why I didn't call a customer to verify Not Home.  I noted the account that the technician had tagged a brown door, leaving my initials on the account as per policy.  The dispatcher not only did not read the notes on the work order, he never read the notes on the account and then he just about accused the technician of lying except for the fact that he hadn't thought to ask the customer if he had a brown door.  All he had to do was verify door color.  If brown, reschedule. If not brown, verify address and technician goes back.
Ugh.  A month or so ago, we cleaned house on two of our largest contractor dispatch groups because they sucked.  I'm waiting for them to clean house on our in-house dispatch group.  Maybe even the rumor of such a thing happening would be enough to shake a few people out and make the rest stop slacking off so much.

At 9:53PM on July 3rd, my nephew Ethan Edward Tripp was born.  I am now an aunt twice over. =)

In related news, I frickin rock.  I am the center of all things awesome.

Reading through some of the communities, I realized that I can be a bit mean in the forums and such.  I want to say that I try to be fair, but I think I like playing Devil's Advocate a bit too much.  I also have high expectations when it comes to customer service because I've had soooooo many jobs and I know it's not that hard to buckle down and do well despite constant surrounding suckage.  I understand the need to vent through ranting - that's my favored form of venting and I can make just about anyone laugh as I describe the situation, building up to the suck.
I can see how people would think I'm a troll.  I have all the characteristics of a troll in that I antagonize and instigate.  However, I will always respond to a well-thought out response with an equally well-thought out response.  I only give snark when I receive snark/stupid. =P
If you've come here to decide whether or not to take me seriously (except in the cases when I'm deliberately not being serious), you can find my normal blog at http://www.myspace.com/digitalcookies
It's not really any different from this one except that I actually update that one.

heh, I don't mind people coming to my Live Journal to read my silly little rants anymore than I care if they read them on Myspace.  However, if you're not going to be nice, at least have the guts to post using your own LJ handle so I can decide whether or not you're worthy of a return comment. 

Also, if you're going to be mean, at least make it creative.  Telling me to go kill myself because you disagree with what I've typed isn't very noteworthy and I'd rather not keep it around as it makes my little spot look like a  target for 5th grade retards.

All right, kiddies?  Thanks! =)

as soon as I laid down today, the phone started ringing.  first, my dad, then Brennan who was interrupted by a missed call from my sister reminding me to wish my niece a happy birthday.... seriously guys...leave me alone during the day from Friday to Tuesday. dont call me.

anyhoo, so I was talking with my dad for about 45 minutes during which time, I told him that I was letting Chrissy (my youngest sister) have all the motherhood fun since it really wasn't for me.  I can do the aunt thing, but not the mommy thing.  my dad seemed okay with it, claiming that I might feel that way now but there's always the chance of an "accident"..... he seemed sort of shocked when I told him there was always abortions and adoption.  with my genetics, why would I want to breed another damaged child?  and, if I did ever want children, why not adopt?  my dad said something about the myriad of African children that need homes..... this pisses me off.  I'm not African, I'm American.  if I'm going to adopt a kid, I'm going to adopt an American.  there are plenty of kids in America that need homes and I feel it's more appropriate to take care of home before looking overseas.
screw that trendy bullshit, I don't need a kid to make me whole.

cute she died

in a way, I'm glad she killed herself, thats not to say I hated her but what good can come from being a societal parasite intent upon world destruction at the hands of a Twinkie? I mean, comeon! Twinkies!!! Frickin' snackcake doom!

and this isn't just all random chaos either, I mean...she had a frickin' plan. jotted it down in notebooks notebooks always on her. when they entered her living domain, they found notebooks strewn about in stacks on coffee tables lacking coffee, in cupboards without cups, and even in the bathroom. apparently she had given up hope of ever writing the one great poem thats in all of us and just started scrawling profanity verses on the wall. verses that meant nothing to no one not even her but she wasn't no one or anyone for that matter and thats why I can't say I'm sad shes gone but I know she'll never leave the inside of me because I trapped her before she left. yes, I know what you're thinking but just because she killed herself doesn't mean I need to let her die....

happiness is knowing that you will indeed die

but the fact is, we as Americans race toward our own demise, welcoming death with both open arms and clenched fists. Do not, no, do NOT go quietly into that darkness - our mantra unending forever and ever Amen. Instead go kicking, screaming, biting, scratching, clawing, punching, twisting from the grasp we cannot escape but still seek to elude for just a little while longer with our triple heart bypass and stomach staples, 40+ hour work week with take home assignments - We no longer remember our offspring, but instead have pictures of their long ago likenesses which we share gleefully as trophies of our perfect lives.

We are a nation of insomniacs, wide-eyed zombies in the blue glow of safety television internet pornography prostituting our wake-less-ness to advertising pumped directly into our veins. Like heroin addicts, we deny our addiction while secretly awaiting our next fix.

When my grandfather died, he said he loved me. Then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

I write for YOU

and the he's of my poem coalesce into one HE, the almighty YOU of the written language whom I ply with innocent words, striving to make sense out of the chaos, in turn only creating more-chaos-less-chaos phenomenal words that bite you and refuse to let go, gnawing their teeth into your flesh to leave a burning red dental impression that fades before the cops arrive.

this is my almighty Fuck YOU Why Dont You Just Leave Me Love Me Come Back At 2AM Screaming My Name And Waking The Neighbors poem We never dance on the roof anymore with bodies pressed close together to escape the rain and the December cold but someone said it was March now. I cry alot in March, but no tears have come so maybe I think I dont believe the hype - could it still be October? the same month you drunkenly wept I FUCKING LOVE YOU scrawled it out on my car paint with your house key when I kicked you out never to return but you were back in my bed come morning I always forgave you.

new world me

and what was left was me with my fist in the air, one finger saluting the generation that thought to bring me down and no its not the middle but the index pointing validation that yes, I am number one and no, there is not a damn thing you can do about it.

I am your bastard child grown fruit to fruition seed to a sapling I am the mighty tree from your loins and you better believe I'm not gonna let you forget it 'cause I'm still breathing even while you're on your knees repenting the act that brought me here mama. Come give your little girl a hug while I blow the world away with a two cent dollar store plastic gun marked FAKE just like me.

No I'm not a teenager anymore, but I still got that angsty air that comes with growing up quiet, knuckles to knees with a smile to please, this ain't grade school anymore papa. I'm screaming at the world telling them what you did and why I'm not scared of them anymore 'cause theres only so many ways a girl can get fucked before she starts to like it.

she was so ready for it

Cold night shiver me lonely sitting on the hood of his old gray Chevy

radio plays Mexicali tunes and I'm smokin Tijuana singin' d'ya wanna take me home tonight? hey babe, could ya would ya take me home tonight? I said, I wanna go out tonight. this body here itchin' beggin' needin' that one and only kinda penetrating glare you got goin', make me beg another FUCK ME!, I'm lonely. cowboy verses under the hood, windows steamin' both of us SCREAMin' 'cause we don't wanna die alone tonight. no, we don't wanna grow old tonight. each thrust another mile ran to escape the minutehand.

I used to be a pretty prolific poet and I'm not really sure why I'm not anymore.... so, in order to kick start my creativity, I'm going to use my livejournal as a medium to post some of my old works.... feel free to skim and ignore, I don't really mind.... truth be told, this really isn't for any of you so much as it's for me. =P

Babylon must fall

and the people 'round here act like it's just another day
just another day when our empire crumbles
and I can't see the sense in holding my breath
waiting for his fist to finally land another hardcore I love you
I never wanted to love you this way.

Needy, he calls me needy as I lie
bleeding on the floor, asking him to change the channel
I always cry when those commercials for starving children play
and so it plays and so I cry, nothing changes
but our empire crumbles just a little more
and the neighbors all whisper I told ya so
I'm just a 5 buck bet as the paramedics carry me out
with that hungry kid behind my eyelids
betraying a past of same ol' same ol'
I never wanted to tell you I was this accustomed.

Another dry gasp when the doctor touches bare skin
naked under a sheet of paper, exposed in a semi-private room
lie back, cold shiver - he doesn't understand
and I remember my empire pacing in the hall
Can't blame the residents for the ruin in Waiting Room 3.
Empires fall all the time, mine just takes a bit longer
He said he'd never let me go.

Ladies and Gentlemen..... Rock and Roll, Red Bull Style.

so I work 4 10's, or four ten hour overnight shifts at work, which is nice because I have a cushy shift differential ("shiff-diff") and originally thought I wouldn't have much work to do beyond normal work order routing. wrong-o, but that's a story for another post....

At the end of my shift, my brain is mush.  hence this gem.....

normal shift - Friday 11pm-Saturday 10am, Saturday 11pm-Sunday 10am, Sunday 9:30pm-Monday 8:30am, Monday 11pm-10am (yes, that's right, 4 10's)

SuperBowl Sunday is coming up.... I don't watch football since the idea kind of eludes me.  boss wants extra shifts for that day.  little bosses are worried because coworker can't come in until late on Sunday.  little bosses ask me if I could stay late, I nod and mumble some reply between having my eyes glaze over and my mouth go slack-jawed.  Last night, I got this wonderful email from little boss reminding me that I volunteered for a SuperBowl Sunday shift..... now, mushy brain and all, Im pretty sure I did not "volunteer" for this so-called "shift" so much as offer to stay late to cover for a coworker..... but me being a shifty eyes McGee, I took a peek at what I'll call "Sunday Money Shift".......

Option 1: shift that occurs in the middle of my already scheduled shift (translation: no money)
Option 2: shift that occurs at the end of my already scheduled shift giving me only a few hours overtime (translation: mo' money)
Option 3: shift that occurs between two of my already scheduled shifts (translation: ka-ching! overtime, baby!)

the way this shift would work is:
Saturday11pm-Sunday10am(normal shift)   10hr
Sunday11am-Sunday8pm(SBS shift)   8hr
Sunday9:30pm-Monday8:30am(normal shift)  10hr
Monday11pm-Sunday10am(normal shift)  10hr

yes, 38hours straight (with a small break on Monday).  this is my KungFu, rock n roll Red Bull style.