It is hot.

MKD says it is 50 degrees, so it is not like it is summer and I should not think it so. But I am dying in the apartment. Perhaps it was the shower we just took, or perhaps it was the jogging pants I recently shed…but I still remain hot. It is funny to think that I am the same person that was sporting long johns just a few weeks ago under everything I wore. Has my body finally acclimated itself to the changing seasons? Come on, Old Man Winter…bring it. I am ready. But just in case, I have my long underwear at hand, which I lovingly call my “second skin.”

To the inventor of long underwear, I salute you.

[Oh and thanks to MKD's brother for passing the clothing on to her. The extra crotch room is nice. When I was a kid, I used to complain to my mother that the tight girl pants she would buy for me would "squish my wiener."]

Tidbits related to music

Latest song obsession: “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight” by The Postal Service.

I had never liked Mariah Carey, period. It was not until she had her breakdown and then came back with her new album recently, that I am seeing her in a different light. She can really sing well and I have a deeper respect for her. The song, “We Belong Together” has been the only song of hers that I really enjoy, ever. Hopefully, it will be the last one because I am not that kind of girl who is a Mariah Carey fan.
I was recently given access to a stolen music library times four (i.e., pirated music passed on to a friend, passed on to another friend, passed on to me). When I have time, I will have to go through the 30 GB and copy what I want and do not have. Free music = happy me.

I am going to see one of Mary Prankster’s farewell shows at the end of this month. “Tempest” is a song MKD constantly serenades me with.

I was listening to a “classic rock” station the other day and a Nirvana song came on. Am I really that old? I shudder to think when the music I listened to growing up will be on the “oldies” station.

Unrequited life

MKD and I were watching something on space the other night—a topic that I find extremely fascinating. After I was finished expressing my wonderment, she asked me why I did not go into that field if I am so enthralled with it. There are many reasons, including the fact that I am not that good at math and science. Plus, there are so many real world issues that get in the way of the things you enjoy (e.g., money, time, etc.).

So I got to thinking about my dreams and the things I wish I could do with my life and came up with a few (aside from anything involving space):

• I really would like to be able to draw well. I am a decent artist, but I cannot draw to the ability I would like to. If I could, I would go into the graphic novel industry or some other creative medium that combines art with writing.


• I have always loved playing pool. It would be an honor to meet Allison Fisher (aka "Duchess of Doom") and miraculously win a game. Although, I am sure MKD would want me to meet Jeanette Lee (aka "Black Widow") instead.


• If I did not have emetophobia, I would have gone into a field where I help people medically. I would also participate in “Doctors Without Borders.”


• I wish I could play piano well. I took lessons when I was in high school, but never made it past being a novice.


• I love animals and envy that my cousin is a vet (but I would specialize in herpetology). I would enjoy working with animals more than I do with people.

All this dreaming and wishing led me to recall an absolutely dreadful song by Skee-lo back in 1995. Here is the main chorus you might recognize:

“I wish I was little bit taller,
I wish I was a baller,
I wish I had a girl who looked good
I would call her
I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat
And a six-four impala”


Stupid brain.

“These are a few of my favorite things…”

One word that I have been favoring as of late is “fuck.” It is such a great word as long as you are not some freaky goody two-shoes who uses words like “poopy” instead of “shit,” and goes to confession for using “damn” in extreme cases.

“Fuck” is appropriate for all sorts of situations in my life. Its uses range from conveying something really good and amazing to something really horrible that makes me want to bash my brains in. Nevertheless, it is the manner and intonation in which it is spoken that really drives the usage of the word home. One-syllable words are easy to get out and absorb. Plus, this particular word seems to be more deviant and naughty than other commonly used curse words like “son of a bitch (or variations)” and “shit.” “Fuck” is really one of those multifarious words that I can apply to almost any situation and use in every uttered sentence.

[The juxtaposition of “The Sound of Music” title and the topic of the blog is highly amusing to my twisted being. Fuck yeah!]

“Why you little…!”

Well, the little fucker finally did something really bad. I woke up this morning to find that Angus chewed through my cell phone charger cord. Actually, he chewed the damn cord into six distinct pieces. I am very surprised he did not hurt himself in the process. So I cat proofed the apartment further and coated all the visible cords with Blair’s Sudden Death Sauce (it came with free skull key chains which definitely influenced my purchasing decision of the assortment of hot sauces to choose from). I dare the little turd to chew on a cord now.

“You know what really grinds my gears…”

My cell phone stays on vibrate 99.9% of the time. It is not due to masturbatory purposes (as some of you thought), but due to the fact that I do not want my cell phone ring to disturb the silence with piercing ring tones or cause annoyance to those around me. Call me considerate. But many other people do not feel this way and put their cell phone ringer to the highest volume possible. Not only does the phone blare horrible tunes, but the person takes for-ever to answer it. The cell phone cannot be that far from your person. Fuck, it might even be in your damn pocket, but yet it takes the completion of whatever atrocious song for you to answer the call and put everyone within ear range out of their misery.

My rant stems from annoyance with gentleman I work with. His office is right next to mine and he gets calls all the freaking time. I think his job is basically talking on the phone all day and taking a lot of business trips. He has like a ba-gillion ring tones, as I have not heard one repeated to date. But the all-time best (and by best I mean worst) was a rap version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” For fuck’s sake! First of all…a rap version, and second…Christmas tunes now???

[On a side note: I am irritated with Wal-Mart for starting the trend of shoving “Christmas” (note the use of the non-PC term) down our throats after Halloween instead of Thanksgiving this year, thereby causing all the other retailers to follow suit so they do not lose sales. Bastards.]

[On a second side note: I am disappointed in MS Word recognizing “Wal-Mart” as a word and not flagging it as misspelled. Oh, but “Wal-mart” is incorrect, so some fuck out there made sure MS Word would get the correct spelling, hyphenation, capitalization, and all that shit.]

The Evolution of Phone Usage

I really do not like talking on the phone. If I do, I want the conversation to last only a few minutes. An ideal conversation for me would be, “Hello? Yup, see you there at 8. Bye!” I would much rather talk to someone face-to-face than over the phone. But I do make exceptions for the people that live far away from me and need to catch up with me over the phone as opposed to in person. But if I can email them, I would much rather do that route. Is this where technology has taken me???

I did not always used to be this way. In fact, I remember a time when I spent a great deal of my day voluntarily on the phone. In middle school, I had a mental list of people that I would call EVERY night (what a sad adolescent I was). Then in high school, it was mostly with some significant other or with friends talking about the significant other. College was a little different since I had a job that required talking on the phone the whole time.

But the pinnacle of my lifetime phone usage was when I met MKD and we maintained a long distance relationship by talking on the phone for 8 hours a day. Now that we live together, there are no more long distance charges to worry about (thankfully…as I think I could have bought a small island in the Caribbean).

Currently, my cell phone has so many unused minutes every month. It primarily gets used for social/business events and in case of emergencies. My home phone is bombarded with telemarketers, so I let the machine pick up any calls I get there.

Is this progression to the extinction of my phone usage due to increasing age or due to the ease of interacting with a machine rather than verbal stimuli? I may never know. But if you want to get a hold of me, email me, text me, or send me a psychic message. If you call me, don’t be surprised if you get my voicemail.