Deaf Fuckers & Their Dogs

After an agonizingly long, snowy (for Western Washington) winter, we had our second day of spring today. Yes, this is only the second beautiful, sunny day we have had. Tonight it's lovely and the frogs are croaking. I'd love to hear them and enjoy the silence. Maybe open a window for some fresh air.

EXCEPT EVEN WITH THE WINDOWS CLOSED, SOME FUCKER'S BARKING DOG IS INTRUDING ON THE PLEASANTNESS OF THE EVENING. For a fucking hour or so. What the fuck is wrong with these shitholes who let their dogs yap ceaselessly? I'm seriously about ready to get in my car and find the source, pull up to their house and lay on the horn until someone comes out. And just keep laying on it, staring at them, and BARKING madly at them out my window.

Get the picture you inconsiderate festering fuckheads?

DVD Cases

How the film industry makes up for money they lose to piracy: by making their discs impossible to extract from their cases and super-breakable. I know! Let's get people to buy their favorite movies and television shows at least TWICE! How? By impaling each one on little plastic rosebuds with kung-fu grip strength. When they enthusiastically try to remove them, they bend, crack and/or break! AWESOME!

Fuckers.

Ding Dongs & Better Desserts

My birthday was on Tuesday so I've allowed myself a few disgusting treats, namely chocolate susans (those white cookies from Safeway with turd-swirls of chocolate frosting on top) and a box of Hostess ding dongs. Oh, and some Russian Caravan tea sweetened with sugar (I normally try to steer clear of caffeine and, lately, simple sugars).

Aside from the normal guilt (and discomfort up-to/including migraines) I get from eating total crap, I feel horrid about buying SHITTY desserts. I mean, if I'm going to splurge I really would prefer to get really high-quality desserts. There are a number of good bakeries in town, two of which SOMETIMES have Pain au chocolat. The problem is they only have it in the morning, are closed before dinnertime, AND MY WILLPOWER IS AT ITS LOWEST WHILE MY DESIRE IS AT ITS PEAK AT NIGHT.

Pastries and warm bread and chocolate aren't things I want to schedule in advance into the loathsome morning (not that I don't enjoy eating those things in the morning, I just don't *crave* them then / am thoroughly capable of resisting them at a time of day when swallowing food sometimes makes me want to vomit). I want doughy, gooey, sweet, melty and chewy deliciousness AT NIGHT. When I'm in bed with my girlfriend watching overwrought BBC dramas. When it's dark out with no light to distract me from the flavors in my mouth. When I'm setting the stage for my favorite part of the day: the time when I SLEEP.

Sigh. Food is the *only* thing that makes me wish we lived in Manhattan. Seriously.

Hairy Socks

Screech!

Nothing sucks harder than discovering AFTER you've donned socks AND shoes that there's a long hair inside your sock. And it's wrapping around your toes like a tight strand of twine, or simply wedged in your toe cleavage and sharply cutting into your tender flesh each time you take a motherfucking STEP.

Pain and irritation (and anything I have to BEND OVER to remedy) are things I bitch about often.

Motherfucking Phone Books

I get so fucking sick of seeing those yellow pieces of shit and those extraneous other weird off-brand bullshit phone books, assloads of new ones every year, stacking up in the fucking house, wrapped in plastic laying in your yard, blah blah blah. I want to stick those fuckers right up some advertiligious buttfuckers ass. We should be able to opt out of getting those things or press littering charges against them or SOMETHING. They should have a kiosk or something for people to pick them up IF THEY WANT THEM. If, you know, they're living in a world without the internet.

I'm ready to go crazy and find all the stupid phone books lurking in our house, taking up space, gathering dust, wasting paper and just go shrieking out of the house throwing them around, ripping them up, freaking the fuck out.

I'm so sick of being a garbage receptacle/processor in my home. SICK of it. Waste of my time, waste of my space, calling card to robbers that we're not home when you toss them onto our porch . . . I don't want your yellow fucking pages foisted upon me.

I should wipe my ass with a page of telephone book every day and mail it to the fucking shitholes. Oh! You didn't ASK me to RSVP my feces to you? TOO FUCKING BAD. When you quit, so will I.

Fucking Tampon Wrappers!

Natracare organics: do you sit around and laugh at how fucking impossible it is to get the plastic wrapper off your fucking organic cotton tampons? Or are you so totally fucking stoned like most hippies that you think you're doing us all a favor, giving us a puzzle to contemplate while blood drips down our thighs? Around and around and around you spin the tampon, attempting to determine where the wrapper begins . . . or is it where the wrapper ends? Wow, that's deep!

Seriously fuckers -- your natural pussy pellets need a more practical wrapping, not this endless line of yellow with no way to figure out where to try to unpeel the little fuckers. I stood in my bathroom scratching my nail against the plastic trying to find the place to start ripping it off until I fucking screamed. If I could have brained myself into oblivion with your stupidly-packaged product, I would have.

Absolute crock of shit.

PMS

Having an EXTREMELY difficult time with PMS today. I don't want to look at anyone or hear anyone or be bothered by anyone or anything.

MY COMPUTERS ARE MOVING SO SLOWLY. I want to throw things, rip my hair out, and just freak out. Total tantrum welling up in me and just hugely irritable energy.

Everything my body needs to do is driving me nuts/feels like a major interruption. Oh, you need to PEE again? Fucking stupid body, interrupting me. Hungry now, are we? I'll shove some food down your throat, asshole body. Label itching my side needs to be scratched makes me want to shred my skin and rip the shirt to bits.

I've been working on one thing for three days now and I am so fucking sick of it and want to SCREAM. But I want it to be better, not totally half-assed. I know it won't be perfect, but yeah. And every. little. PROCESS involved is taking so much time.

When I forget something and need to go into another room to get it so I can do whatever I'm trying to do, I want to scream and throw things.

So yeah -- PMS means wanting to scream and throw things a lot.

Silencio, Por Favor

I've been up for an hour.

The feeling I have right now of not wanting to talk or interact or look at anyone or listen to their sounds is absolutely painful. I can feel it in my crotch, like screaming tension.

Jesus, send me some fucking medication. I wish I didn't feel this way. But even more than that I naturally, intuitively wish I could cushion and hide myself from the stimuli when it's driving me fucking insane.

I know if I went for a brisk walk/got some exercise I'd feel better BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW. I just want still, quiet peace.

Since I went off the pill a year ago I've gradually gotten to a state where I feel like I have pms ALL THE TIME. I suspect I have a hormone problem that involves too much testosterone and too little estrogen. God I want my estrogen back. Pleeeeeeeeeease.

Giant Tortillas

I hate giant so-called "burrito" gauge tortillas. I wish I could enforce a no-giant-tortillas-in-the-house rule. EVER. There are a plethora of tortilla sizes to choose from at the store, and the only one that should ever gain entrance into our house is the small/mediumish taco-sized tortillas. NO MORE GIANT TORTILLAS EVER! GAHHHHH!

One problem with giant tortillas is they are impossible to fully, uniformly heat unless you possess a fucking half-stovetop-sized GRIDDLE. Or if you're one of those crazy people who heats tortillas in the OVEN (or an even crazier person who will happily eat a stiff, fridge-cold tortilla). I am a stovetop tortilla-warmer, preferring to warm mine to toasty pliability in a skillet. I detest seeing a giant tortilla outsizing a frying pan, crinkling up around the edges, not getting HOT around the edges. God almighty, spare me that torture. What if I were to try to make a quesadilla? What then? Then cheese wouldn't properly melt around the outside!! Thank god I'm lactose intolerant, otherwise I would REALLY be screaming.

Giant tortillas also ruin my ability to guiltlessly overeat. If you do fill one of those monster tortillas with meat, legumes and vegetables, you know you have before you an entire meal encapsulated in ONE tortilla; you can't fool yourself into thinking you've only had half or one-fourth a portion. If you go back for a second and/or third helping of filling shrouded by giant tortilla, you KNOW you're a gluttonous hog and there's no excuse for it except for your own greedy appetite. With small tortillas you feel totally legit starting out with two or three, then going back for two or three more. Twice. Or three times. And you can tell yourself that THEY WERE REALLY SMALL TORTILLAS!

Lame Ageist McCain Jokes

I am SO WEARY of the "John McCain is so old!" jokes. They're fucking stupid, repetitive, offensive, and useless. I can get behind some of the old pope jokes or acknowledging anyone who's clearly on death's doorstep and looks similar to a doddering corpse, but frankly? I don't view John McCain as ancient so the jokes are lost on me plus there are five billion more interesting jokes to be made about McCain. I don't want to hear the Barbara Walters jokes, either.

I turned off Craig Ferguson the other night because he made an old McCain joke about how he didn't want to have to sit next to him at dinner and feel obligated to cut his food into little pieces for him. Not that Ferguson is worse than the others, I just reached my limit and felt an immense tiredness upon hearing that and couldn't stand to look at his face anymore. Seriously, it's not at all funny. It's stupid and immensely insulting to a huge population of people who are trying to enjoy a time in their lives when many people have much to celebrate and offer the world. Instead of being honored they are met multiple times a day with dismissive, disrespectful, nastily stereotyped messages that they are somehow overstaying their welcome in the world and are silly, incompetent retards to think they have anything to offer society besides being the butt of stale jokes told by unimaginative, juvenile minds to be absorbed by youth-obsessed, elder-hating idiots.

I am not saying I "honor" John McCain or think because he's older he or anyone his age should automatically be praised and worshiped -- I don't -- he's just an example. The whole thing makes me want to make a list of people who've made part of their livings yukking it up making fun of old people JUST because they're old(er) and when they get to be retirement age, harassing the fuck out of them. Hey, you worthless piece of shit! You're over sixty-five now! Fuck off and die!

The way I was raised no one ever got those stupid black balloons for anyone's fortieth birthday. I was taught to celebrate aging and to keep living and working as long as possible. I was never taught to think of older people as targets for discrimination, humiliation, or idiotic assumptions regarding their abilities, fitness, adaptability, attractiveness, etc. I was taught that your value INCREASES with age. Instead everywhere I look we're all being told our worth diminishes with every passing year. It's fucking sickening and I wish people would knock it off. I refuse to accept that being older automatically turns you into a joke.

I'm guessing part of our problem is how mobile and wealthy we are so that it's easy for us to throw away older people into retirement communities, snowbird states, and nursing homes and rarely, if ever, visit and interact with them. We've segregated and dehumanized them. Or maybe it reflects a growing resentment of how much money we are spending/losing taking care of them now that they live longer? Or is it simply because we're a nation of stupid assholes?

Fucking Napster!!

Help request to Napster:

"I don't know what version you changed things, but after years I suddenly can't figure out how to burn a cd. It used to be I just dragged the songs into the window at the bottom, but now? It says to "drag and drop the tracks you want to burn onto "Burn a CD" in your library. I SEE NOTHING OF THE SORT IN MY LIBRARY OR ANYWHERE. WTF????? So frustrating. While I'm griping, might I mention that clicking on the $ to buy a track on the top tracks thing rarely allows me to buy a track? Lameness. I also find it annoying that I buy music all the time, yet am treated as substandard because I'm not a "member". That chaps my hide. I want to pay for individual tracks & own them. Case closed. How does that make me a less valuable customer? Whatever. Just tell me how to burn my cd's.

Oh dear lord: why do the two buttons at the bottom of this form say "Absenden" and "Cancel"? WHAT THE HELL IS ABSENDEN?????"

I have a show tomorrow and want to burn a mix right now but will probably have to wait a week before they write back with some completely useless piece of non-advice. FUCKERS!!

Honkers

Grrrr . . . I fucking hate people who can't haul their lazy asses out of a car to knock on someone's door rather than whizzing up and HONKING so everyone in the neighborhood has to hear them. What the fuck?

One of our neighbors (not even the bad neighbors, but people we generally hear little enough from) has what I imagine is a cranky ex-wife who always honks when she pulls into their driveway. My theory is that she's a fucking bitch who resents sharing custody or something and rather than parking her cunt car and getting out to knock like a civil human being, she decides to disrupt everyone with her impatient beeping. Bitch, get the fuck out of your car! It's not that fucking hard!

It's not like her car will be stolen if she leaves it running for a minute in the driveway, nor is it blocking anyone. Also, she does it regardless of the weather so it's not that she's avoiding rain or cold or anything. It can be a beautiful starry summer night and she still won't get her bitch ass out of the car.

The only excuse for it I can imagine is if she is handicapped. But I don't think she is.

People at the Gym

I could bitch incessantly about people at the gym and how much I dislike them. Today I'll limit my bitching about gymgoers to one thing: LIGHTING.

Our gym has two levels, with banks of gigantic skylights above the top level, which tends to be a quieter area with stretch mats and fewer machines. It is extremely well lit by daylight alone, and totally unnecessary to add obnoxious fluorescent lights during daylight hours. Most of us will turn the lights out when we go up there if they happen to be on.

Except for a few mentally imbalanced and totally inconsiderate people who insist upon flipping the lights on NO MATTER WHAT, and will even bitch at people who turn them off. There's one old guy who feels that way about the lights; he MUST have them on, apparently so he can read (a normal human with normal eyesight could easily read by the natural light). The "funny" part is that he selects the machine in the darkest corner rather than one of the scads of well-lit machines, or machines downstairs where the lights are always on. What the fuck?

Today I turned the lights out when I went up there; no one was up there at the time, but eventually about six of us were happily using the facilities without the artificial lights. Until some crazy ass bitch wearing dangly earrings came up and flipped on the lights. What FOR? WHY??????

She proceeded to spray disinfectant all over her machine of choice BEFORE she ever got on it, in the process spraying Delia who was on the machine right next to her. My guess is she is OCD and turned the lights on so she could more carefully inspect her cootie-covered machine. Either that or she's just a dumb ass. I seriously don't understand people who are afraid to sit down on equipment at the gym. Maybe if it were a grimy gym I could sympathize, but I think it's downright bizarre how germ-phobic some people are.

I'm still not sure why I didn't just get up and turn the lights back off, or "confront" her about it. I know it's not because I'm normal and normal people don't get in confrontations about things like that. I was partly afraid that she might have an actual mental problem. I also didn't want everyone to think/know I'm an asshole. I was also not sure what I would do if I turned the lights back off, and she went over there and turned them right back on; would we just keep going back and forth, faster and faster, like in cartoons? I didn't have the energy to think of what my next strategic move would be. Or maybe I just enjoyed staring at her fat ass and sending evil vibes to her while I was on the rowing machine behind her; it made the time pass so quickly, staring at her and pondering what made her tick.

I wish the gym would adopt a policy of conserving energy during daylight hours, and post a note to keep the lights off up there. I was going to write a suggestion, but they got rid of the suggestion box. Lucky for them.

Silence - I'd rip out my ovaries to get some

I don't know what my problem is this afternoon, but I don't. Want. To hear. ANY SOUNDS. I feel really hypersensitive to noises right now. The door knocking back and forth in the frame because of the wind circulating through the house. The sound of Delia's music in her office to accompany her shows. The fucking CROW cawing incessantly outside my window. The sound of cars driving over gravel. The hum of planes. The grating noise of a computer thinking.

I think I can even hear myself blinking, I'm feeling that tender.

God grant me a fucking padded cell already.

Seriously, I feel horrible about being so irritable; it makes me act like an asshole. I dream, though, of having a custom-built home with super-insulated walls and floor/ceilings with my office and one other room, at least, totally soundproof so I can FUCKING CONCENTRATE. I don't want to hear people I don't want to hear machines I don't want to hear birds I just want to have my mind to myself.

The funny part is that other times I really love noise, especially the noise I make myself. I actually *love* hearing crows and cars and computer noise and music. SOMETIMES. While others? I wish we had an underground bomb shelter where no noise could penetrate and no one would find me.

Fucking Apple

I just installed the new iTunes and now it won't recognize my iPod nano. What a fucking piece of shit -- I cannot STAND wasting time researching how to get shit to start working properly. Bugs the FUCK out of me. All I want to do is put some podcasts on my nano and instead? WASTE OF FUCKING TIME.

Fuckers.

Keys, Motherfucker???

Where are the motherfucking keys?????

I feel like I'm TRAPPED in the house because my girlfriend insists upon hiding the keys in her pockets or baggage or whatever rather than putting them on the table, the same table I manage to set them upon whenever I'm done with them. Well, I almost always put them on the same table, but if not . . . on one of two other tables, conveniently located for key-finding.

She's doing a private show right now so I have to sit here, WAITING, while she makes money. I can't even feel right about hoping her customer hurries up because that would mean less money. I'm *so* tempted, though, to burst into the chatroom and interrupt them both to ask WHERE ARE THE MOTHERFUCKING KEYS????

Rake on Gravel = Fingernails on Chalkboard

It's almost 9:30, nearly dark out . . . I opened the window to get some fresh air and what do I hear? The scraping of gravel with a metal-tined instrument of auditory torture. RIGHT OUTSIDE OUR HOUSE.

The lady up the hill from us must have hired some boy to smooth out her gravel driveway which is right in front of our driveway which is where we turn around. So I actually feel sort of badly, like I should go out there and offer to help or pay for the labor or something since we are part of why it gets UNsmooth.

But fuck, I am so not in the mood to talk to anybody right now or smile or any of that nonsense. Plus I can never remember her god-damned name (she's really nice, though, our neighbor responsible for the crazed raking).

From Gwyn

Here's an excellent rant from Gwyn.

Chatty Gym-Goers

Yak, yak yak, giggle, teeheehee.

Who are these assholes who go to the gym and spend the entire time bullshitting? I wish the gym would have a couple hours of quiet time on their schedule when they DON'T blast stupid music over their stereo system and people are discouraged from yacking. I just want to hear the sounds of the equipment and the songs on my iPod, thank you. NOT the stupid bitch with the high-pitched voice chattering on and ON and fucking on. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

Seriously, if she can still talk while she's supposedly doing cardio then she must not be working hard enough.

What are they WAITING for??

It really annoys me when ebay sellers refuse to leave feedback for me, the buyer, until after I've left THEM feedback. I find it very hostile and annoying that after I've done my job of paying for their items that they seem to think I am also obligated to leave them positive feedback before they will leave any for me. It's actually really threatening because basically they're letting you know that if you complain about the items they've sold you or how long it takes to ship them, that they won't leave positive feedback for you even though you've already held up your end of the bargain.

I know I'm a total dork for taking ebay feedback so seriously.