No One Appreciates My Art

Since moving to New Town, I've had to adjust to a whole new set of radio stations. Not that it's difficult or anything. They pretty much play the same crap you hear everywhere else. But I did manage to find a country station that plays old cowboy songs and Country and Western from back when it was called "Country and Western." A preponderance of Willie doesn't hurt either.

However, no one in my family appreciates this. If it doesn't have that fictional, synthesized quality, or a stomach pounding bass, they just aren't interested.

I tried to get the girls to sing "Tryin' to Love Two Women (Is Like a Ball and Chain) the other day, but they'd have none of it and begged me to turn it down before any of their friends heard.

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I have another class project due tonight. Upon it's completion, I will have simultaneously fulfilled a promise I never thought I'd be able to, and shocked my class who (amazingly) considers me to be a rather quiet person who does not draw needless attention to herself.

Update: I will post a picture of the project as soon as I get it back.

Just 4 Jim (NSFW)

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Diet is going well, don't you think?

A Quiet Evening

I just got home from class. I hate still lives. And charcoal. Really, I'm just not good at drawing, and that sucks. I resignedly put my crappy picture up for critique every class, and I'm running out of ways to say "Yeah, I screwed up, but I'm so much improved!!!!"

Anyway, I've eaten a salad and I'm debating whether I should start my next project. I can finish it tomorrow, but if I at least started it tonight, I might get ahead for friggin' once.

However, Jethro is sitting all alone with his laptop, meticulously scouring the internet for some very specific pornography to send Corin in Iraq, at Cornin's request. There is no sacrifice Jethro wouldn't make for his friend; no titty he'd fail to scrutinize, no $3.99 per month subscription he wouldn't at least consider purchasing. Perhaps I should go help him bear this unspeakable burden.

Decisions......

Actually, Corin has requested porn containing large, natural bosoms and Asians. I'm thinking Jeth and I could save a little money here. I know this is conceited, but you don't get better than mine for cartoonishly large, unfake boobies, and Jethro is pretty. So so pretty. A wig and some lipstick and we could have an Asian/huge tittied lesbian encounter, provided Jethro was able to tuck in properly, and the lighting was suitably dim. Corin would never know. And even if he did, he'd probably just curse our names and beat off anyway. I hear soldiers in Iraq aren't too picky, which is a good thing. Maybe now they'll let me start cybersexing them again.

Fun at the Office

We need patients.

Political Dabbling

It's like watching a mangy white hen try to peck her little black chick to death and the little black chick feebly scratching at her eyes.

I do not agree with Obama on any of his main issues, so obviously will not be voting for him. But he is one hell of a likeable candidate. You almost feel as if you could ask him nicely not to steal your money. And I think he's black. Bonus.

AGIBs

I was listening to one of the artistically gifted, but intellectually bereft (or AGIBs for short) tell a story about a near escape he had with members of law enforcement. At first I thought it was a story about an apartment dog, which turned out not to be the case. But that was the only reason I began listening. I'd never heard anyone refer to a dog who lived in an apartment as an "apartment dog." The entire story was liberally peppered with both "dog" and "fool," including this gem of a sentence, "Yeah and my girl she was pissed off, dog cuz I was supposed be in court the next day, fool."

I guess it was better than "like" and "whatever."


And I was right. They are all high. When we have our breaks, if they're not in the parking lot smoking weed, they're dipping. One of my classmates told me about the massive bloody nose he experienced after snorting some coke while suffering a sinus infection. I try to keep my angelic face on so I won't be forced to say something like, "No, man. Pot makes me sleepy." Or some other witty excuse from my unused '80s repertoire.

No Big Brother Today

If you haven't caught Mr. Ezra Levant's excoriation of the Canadian Human Rights Commission to which he was ingloriously summoned by a complaint from one, Syed Soharwardy, for publishing the Danish cartoons of Islam's Pedophile Prophet, you really should. (Start at the last one.)

The fact that Mr. Levant has been brought before this "Human Rights" Commission is disgusting. But it's almost worth it simply for the exposure it gives to the false liberalism and soft fascism of Institutional Political Correctness.

H/T: Jim Treacher

"Seventeen year olds nowadays are crazy. They're up for anything. They even like it when you go ass to mouth." - Clerks II

Well maybe not 17 year olds, but one 25 year old classmate of mine. I'll call him Joe. He's into group sex. I thought you only got into group sex when you were too old to have decent regular sex. Or if you were ugly and had to compromise in order to get laid.

The guy is cute in an everyday kind of way. Nothing spectacular or anything, but certainly not repulsive. And he's smart. But he'll double up with another dude on some chick.

I'm always shocked when I find out someone I know, however briefly, is engaged in sex acts I have only seen in 15 second clips on the internet.

Now every time I see him I'm going to wonder if his balls have slapped another guy's face, or if he's kissed a girl who's just gone ass to mouth.

Lo! Who is that, striding out of the wasteland! It is Zelda, hands clutching a sharpened screwdriver...

I have come to the conclusion that it is time for Jethro and me to part ways.

While we sleep.

He snores. It's getting worse. If the sleep apnea doesn't kill him, there is a very good chance I might. You know you're on a very bad track when you are waked by a particularly loud reverberation and think you're being logical as you weigh out the reasons why choking him to death is a good idea, and whether or not you should dig the grave first.

Last night was another straw. Since he snores, he doesn't fall into a deep sleep. This makes him prone to sleep activity. Last night he was pawing my face and throat and muttering to himself. When I woke up screaming, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP TOUCHING ME!!!" he informed me haughtily that he was just trying to help me.

I'm thinking that, given our deep sexual commitment, separate twins and a nice, thick, carpeted screen between them would not necessarily be a throwback to 1950s prudery.

Musings

Snow falls in Baghdad. IT'S GLOBAL WARMING!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!

If you you bother to read the article, note the excessively cheesy James Joyce reference and apology - further proving my suspicion that journalists are just writers who are having trouble selling their works of hack.

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Classes are going. I'll be very happy when I'm done with the drawing portion. I have no hand- eye coordination. I seem to have a fabulous grasp of the concept of graphic design, however. But just when I was congratulating myself on that fact and feeling slightly superior to everyone else in the room, I came to the conclusion that everyone else in the room was high. And they're still better at drawing.

Why does God see fit to bless these peasants with such gifts?

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And if you do nothing else the rest of the weekend, watch this: Swiped from Jim Treacher at Blowing Smoke.

We are staying put this weekend, thank goodness. I don't think I could handle one more trip back to Houston. I like my own bed, dustmites and all.

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I did not watch the GOP debate last night, being in class the whole time, but I hear Mr. Thompson cleaned up. Good for him. I think he might sweep the South. I certainly hope so. Huckabee's evangelicals are getting on my nerves, but they don't begin to compare to Ron Paul's psychos. How alarming is it when the candidate's supporters are scarier than the candidate?

I realize the slightly more conservative (cough...Michelle Malkin...cough) are jumping all over Thompson for not skewering McCain on issues such as immigration and campaign finance reform. I would have thought much less of him if he had. McCain could be a very valuable ally if he wins the nomination, and McCain should be given the utmost respect by Republicans and Democrats alike, even when you disagree. He has earned that in spades.

The Usual

I haven't read the article yet, but I did like the headline: "Moderate drinking and exercising may lower risk of heart disease." I do hope they mean at the same time. I can see myself enjoying the clinic exercise bicycle so much more.

So classes are interesting, but I'm just as bad as I feared. I sincerely hope they can do something with me. However, I seem to have gone overboard on the humility and can't seem to stop apologizing for my lack of talent. I think I have a decent amount of skill when it comes to concept, but making my hands execute that concept is like trying to escape from a cement coffin. It's always been a struggle to make my hands do what my brain is telling them. It's what keeps me from being a good musician as opposed to a just a strummer or a plucker. Luckily I can type and when the situation calls for it, write, otherwise I'd have no creative gifts whatsoever. And then all I'd have is boobs and I'd have to work out and become a stripper, or find some other profession that utilizes breasts. Nipple piercing model maybe (NSFW)?

Regardless, I'm going to learn as much as I can. It's amazing how much more focused I am now than when I was in school a decade ago. I really wasn't ready, which should have been obvious given that my first thought upon entering any class was how many absences the prof would let me get away with. But as with anything, you're ususally the last person to figure this out.

The Drive Home

I got a handsome high school boy to talk to me last night at a McDonald's in Flatonio, TX. He was so cute. I think it was just because he was nice, but I'm hoping it was because I was wearing my special shirt. We commiserated over McDonald's decision to replace the medium fries with the small fries on the dollar value menu.

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I start my first class this evening. I'm actually nervous. I have been thrown straight into Drawing I and I can't draw anything freehand. I was the worst picture maker in my entire 7th grade class. I am hoping against hope that abstract has not gone out of style yet.

Wish me luck.

I am working on a difficult blog post regarding Transcendentalism and Objectivism. No one will enjoy reading it, but I am thoroughly enjoying writing it.

Schtuff

So I'm back to just the sniffles after a wild crescendo of illness, the zenith being a head somewhere around 6 lbs full of a thick snot pudding, I wanted to shoot myself just to relieve the pressure.

But it's better now. I took the antibiotics and they seem to be doing the trick.

I'm headed for orientation tonight. It will be interesting to see if my pride can withstand an environment related to a subject of which I am almost completely ignorant. I don't like being the dumbest one in the room. It remains to be seen if I can muster the humility to actually learn something, pride being somewhat of an Achille's heel for me. Better work on that for the new year. The housekeeping got far away from me while I was sick, so I have that to work on that too. Squelching pride and housekeeping. Dull business.

On the upside, though, I'm very happy to have the kids back. I missed them. Even though I had the option to make as much noise as I wanted (and I tried, but very little sound escaped from my battered vocal chords) while in certain compromising positions, life seemed very two-dimensional.

Oh, and Jethro and I visited a sex toy shop the night before we left for Houston to pick up the girls. I'm shy about that kind of thing in public, so I referred to Jethro as "Don" and he to me as "Kelly" and we pretended we were going to a bachelor/bachelorette party for two people named "Jethro" and "Zelda."

And boy oh boy were Jethro and Zelda going to have fun.

In fact, Jethro and Zelda had so much fun, they only managed to open the vibrator package part way before they said, "screw it" and had regular old sex.

But I hope this vibrator lasts longer.

The Year In Retrospect And A Brief Anecdote

It's been quite a year for us, this 2007 - a red-letter year in so many respects. Jethro ditched his widow-maker of a boss in a unexpectedly timely manner. That in and of itself makes the year worthy of note. But on top of that, we bought our own business, moved cities, and renovated our tiny monstrosity of a home. It will definitely stand out for many years to come for all the wonderful things that came out of it.

And yet I'd trade every good thing in an instant to erase the one bad thing.

Jethro and I went to the cemetery to visit Charles again on Christmas Eve. There were so many things we needed to do that day, but that just seemed to be the most important. And am I ever glad we did. His mom and fiance had gone the day before and put up a wreath and an ornament which the wind had blown down and strewn all over. Jeth and I collected it all and put it back. I found some Christmas ribbon in the car and tied everything down so the wind couldn't knock it over again. I felt better knowing that his grave would be the way his mom and his girl wanted it for Christmas. It's funny the comfort we take in such small things.

Ah well. I don't love ending the year with such a somber post, but I must remember our friend. He is definitely worth it. I'll make up for it with a funny story about him, or actually just involving him. It's mostly about a large girl who was another friend of ours.

I'll call her Tina, and I'll say it again. She was large.

When we were in college, Tina used to throw these crazy parties. We'd fill a Rubbermaid trashcan (designated solely for that purpose) with Trashcan Punch, buy a few cases of beer, and have some fun. We had several awesome parties there including one where we watched the Rockets sweep the Magic in the '95 NBA Finals, loaded 20 people, a keg, and a couple of brooms into the back of someone's pick-up......but I digress.

Tina's apartment complex was in a shady part of town, and not terribly well kept. But it did have a swimming pool. And swimming pools have a bad habit of luring in drunken young college chicks. And drunken young college chicks have a bad habit of removing their clothing, once succumbing to the lure.

On this particular occasion, being a chaste and virtuous maiden, I had passed out in a pool chair after having only removed my top.

When I came to, I found myself alone except for Tina who was happily cavorting in the pool all by herself. Since it was her apartment complex, she was afforded the luxury of a swimsuit, and so had not felt the need to return with the others. Apparently I was chopped liver. No one had bothered to wake me up to go get dry.

I had misplaced my glasses as was usual for me at these parties, but had enough clarity to realize that I was pretty drunk and all alone with a 300 lb. girl who was similarly inebriated. I was pretty sure, should she start to drown, that I could not save her. And I wanted to save her. I liked her a lot, and her parties were great.

"Tina!" I called. "Come backatha party! I need nonother drink. Drinkiepoo. Y'know. Drink."

"But I'm having fun out here," Tina said, floatily. "Tell the others to come back!"

It took a minute or two for this to sink in, but I was pretty sure by the time I thought of a good reply, I could go back to the party and bring a few more people out.

"'Kay, Tina. I'll bre righ-back," I shouted as soberly as I could. "Shtay by th' pool shteps an' I'll go bring 'um back here."

I wobbled back to the party where I procured the help of Charles and tall, skinny girl named Kara. Charles, having lost his own glasses (he wore glasses back then), let Kara lead the way. We chatted merrily, if not coherently, until we got to the pool.

Suddenly, without warning, Kara stopped short and flung her arms out. Charles and I were nearly clotheslined.

"Stop," Kara said in a low voice. "Y'all turn around right now."

Frightened, we obeyed.

"Tina! Tina, sweetie!" Kara chirped in her most endearing southern twang. "You might want to put your swimsuit back on now, honey!"

"But I'm free! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" sang Tina as she splashed joyfully through the white water of her own wake.

Charles and I clawed at each other for a minute in a mutual frenzy of horror and mirth, and immediately congratulated ourselves not only on having lost our eyewear, but on having need for it in the first place.

I don't remember much after that. I think Tina ended up putting back on her swimsuit, but not before someone called out an order to "man the harpoooooons!" which I thought was very rude. I do know that not once did Charles so much as squint in her direction - a temptation that surprisingly few were able to resist.

Just one of many strange, fond memories...

The Recipe For Zelda

3 parts Success2 parts Flirtation1 part Devilry Splash of Class Limit yourself to one serving. This cocktail is strong!

What's" the Recipe for Your Personality?

Emo Post

Life is so unfair. For Christmas, one of Jethro's sisters asked to take the girls to Florida to swim with dolphins at some dolphin swimming place.

The plan was that we would leave the girls with the in-laws Christmas day night, drive back to New Town, spend the whole week nekkid (except for when we were at the clinic), put on some clothes for the weekend and party, then finally drive back to Houston on New Year's Eve to pick up the kids.

It was going to be fantastic.

But I am still sick. Feverishly, bloody sinusly, ear infectiously, swollen neck glandsedly sick.

So I am sitting here shivering and glowering, feeling like a two-year old who hasn't gotten her way. I would stamp my feet if I thought it would make me feel any better. But it won't. It would just make my head ache more.

Good bye, cruel world.

The Magic 8 Ball

It was a nice Christmas. No major dramatics (miraculous for a family consisting of 12 females and 2 sperm donors), just the heartfelt observation that we could use some men in the family. Jethro cannot carry the load by himself. Every time we leave my family's estrogen plantation, I see just a few more gray hairs on his head. It's already driven my stepfather to insanity.

I am still not feeling well. I was doing better yesterday, but seem to have had a relapse. I have the energy for one funny story, but then I'm spent.

Gwennie and Emma had themselves a great Christmas and got a pretty nice haul. One of Gwennie's presents was a Magic 8 ball. It was a last minute present because Emma was getting a high school musical poster, and Gwennie's Pokemon poster hadn't come in yet. They have to have an even number of presents. Be quiet, they just do.

Anyway, Gwennie had left her Battleship game all over the floor and I asked her to pick it up. The third time I asked, I didn't ask nicely. She snatched up her game in a manic huff and nearly threw it at me.

"What is your problem?" I asked, nonplussed.

Tears formed in her eyes. Real, legitimate tears.

"My family doesn't love me," she said simply.

"What on earth would give you that impression?"

"I asked my Magic 8 ball if I like pie and it said "yes." Then I asked it if my family really loved me and it said, "no." Her voice broke.

"Oh my god. I'm going to smash that thing into pieces. Gwennie. Look at me. You can't ask a piece of plastic important questions like that. It's just a game. You're only supposed to ask it questions like, 'Should I wear my red shirt today?' You know, things that don't really matter. You know I love you. I love you and Emma more than anything in the world. The day I had you was the happiest day of my life."

She brightened considerably.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you, Gwennie?" I asked seriously.

"Yes. I feel much better now that I know it's just a game."

A mischievous look came into her eyes. She shook up her Magic 8 Ball and asked, "Am I going to get presents next year?"

She turned it over and read: "Outlook not good."

She frowned a little and said, "I'll ask it again."

She turned over the 8 ball and read: "All signs point to no."

She sighed. "I'll ask it one more time."

Once more she asked the question and shook up her 8 ball: "My reply is no."

She looked at it for a second, then said cheerfully: "Well, that's it for today."

Merry Christmas

I know it's a little late, but I had to say it. Now I'm going to bed.

G'night.

Got Tagged

Still feel like shit, but I was fortunately tagged, so I don't have to do any great thinking.

I guess I must post the rules so here they are:

1) Link to the person who tagged you. That would be Sohos.
2) Share Christmas facts about yourself.
3) Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
4) Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.


1. Wrapping or gift bags? Wrapping. I like difficulty.

2. Real or artificial tree? I prefer a real tree, but have had an artificial one until this year. The artificial one actually broke at the base the first year we got it and we've jerry-rigged it for seven years now. Last year if fell over three times, so we decided it's time had come and gone.

3. When do you put up the tree? Whenever we get the chance, but not until the beginning of December.

4. When do you take the tree down? Again, whenever we get a chance. I once left it up until February.

5. Do you like eggnog? Oh yes. But definitely with rum in it.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? A Barbie Dream House. We'd just finished with the Best Christmas Ever in the way of loot, when I looked over and saw this strangled look of delight on one of my sister's faces. My dad had pulled off a sheet exposing a brand-new Barbie dream house. We were really into Barbie, but never expected the dream house for even a second.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yep. Two actually. Gwennie broke Mary and Jesus last year with a yo yo, I think, and I was quite peeved.

8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Haven't really received a bad one. I've liked, or at least appreciated them all.

9. Mail or email Christmas cards? I ought to mail them, but I never do. This year I emailed them.

10. Favorite Christmas movie? A Christmas Story. "FRA-GI-LE. Must be Italian." Cracks me up every time.

11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I always say I'm going to start early, but I always end up starting after Thanksgiving.

12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Marie Callenders Razzleberry pie

13. Clear lights or colored? Colored

14. Favorite Christmas song? Fairytale of New York by The Pogues and Merry Christmas from the Family by Robert Earl Keen

15. Travel at Christmas or stay at home? I usually go to my parents' house.

16. Can you name all of Santas reindeer? Yes, thanks to Gene Autry, the Christmas Cowboy.

17. Angel or star on the top of your tree? It's a nativity tree topper that should have a star over it, but it broke. Gwennie again.

18. Open your presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? The adults open theirs' in the evening, but we make the kids suffer until morning.

19. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Lunatics on the road.

20. What do you leave for Santa? Cookies and milk for Santa, carrots for the reindeer.

21. Least favorite holiday song? Let It Snow. It's just cruel to play it in Texas.

22. Do you decorate your tree with any specific theme or color? Nah.

23. Favorite ornament? A silver martini glass. It's just cool looking.

Anyone who wants to do it is more than welcome, but I'm specifically tagging Angi and Jeanette to be answered at their leisure.

What A Night

I'm going to try to explain the night I had last night, but I was feverish, so there is a good chance this post will make no sense.

Nope. I changed my mind. I don't feel well, so I'm just going to sum it up.

A skunk set off our smoke alarm.