I really can't stand the place I live. So get this. The land lord has decided he wants to redo the kitchen. Granite countertops, new sink, new cabinets, the whole motherfucker. I think the only thing he isn't touching is the damn floor. He says the whole thing should only take one week. Well, if you believe that load of crap, I've got several bridges to sell you. It's going to take forever, and I'll be pretty much out of a kitchen in the meantime. I'm having enough damn trouble paying the rent and for school, I can't afford over a week of eating out. Now, I'm hearing that construction workers will have full access from 8am-5pm Monday through Sunday. WTF? Jenny said I could choose to add a locking dorrknob to my bedroom door, but that I would have to give a key to her and Josh. Seriously? I don't have a copy of their bedroom door key. They say, "Oh, we need a key because we're leasing it, and in case of emergencies". I guess if there's an emergency in their room, I'll just call 911 and wait for someone to break down the door. Good times.

  Ok, so we just had a guy come to the house to install cable (yay, DVR!).  When he went up to the attic to deal with wires, he found some hidden treasure!  My housemates and I are the proud owners of three dusty, grime-covered pornos on VHS.  We've got "The Best of Sahara, Vol. 1" ( a true cinematic classic), "Too Hot" (a soul-searching drama which dares to ask the question, 'Do people like titties?'), and my personal favorite, "Virgin Pacific Rim Job" (a musical, family-fun romp filled with holiday cheer), featuring the Sushi Girls.  Gosh, where to start? 

  The vids are sitting on the kitchen counter right now until the other housemates come home to the joy waiting for them.  I can't wait!

  My sister led me to this one.  It's so damn true!

  And now, some interesting animated music videos for a band called "The Real Tuesday Weld"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETyOwymflXc&feature=channel_page
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgOQuLKeX7g&feature=channel_pagehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfPxLH1cO-g&feature=channel_page
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIhrR3u45vQ&feature=channel_page

  Ok, let's see...  Where to start?  On Friday I went to see ol' Crickett at her new place.  She and Jason and I watched a show called "Steak Paradise" (yum), went shopping at Smart and Final (found a bucket of Lawry's seasoning salt and something like an entire shoulder of beef for around $47), rode up and down in a scary old elevator, and ate burgers from a place famous for its unnaturally red-orange chicken.  I also scratched chowyunsmut's kitty, Charlotte, into kitty bliss.  We had fun.

  On Saturday I hung out for most of the day until I headed out to the Brokehaus bbq.  Much tasty meat was had (Larry can cook one hell of a steak).  We talked, laughed, ate, shot each other with water pistols, ate, watched (but mostly heard) fireworks, ate some more, and after that we ate even more.  I ended up crashing there for the night, and got to watch Andrew and Heather's new kitty Chester terrorize his kitty housemates.  I also got to stub my toes on the kitties' water bowl while trying to make my way back to the couch after turning off the lights, and sleep in my clothes which were redolent with smoke (these were not so much fun).  

  The next morning I received a call from my mom.  She told me that my grandpa had fallen down the day before and had hit his head.  She was calling me from the hospital in Camarillo.  I asked, 'Is he ok?' She replied, 'No.'  Then she had to go before she could give me any more information, leaving me uncomfortably hanging.  She only called me back with the rest of the sad story while we (Andrew, Heather, Jennifer and I) were all watching Oceans Twelve on tv (I now blame Brad Pitt for all of this).

  Apparently on the morning of the fourth, my grandfather fell and hit his head and back.  He said that his back hurt a little, but he refused to go to the hospital.  He spent the day with grandma doing some of his favorite things, including volunteering with the church and hospital.  He and grandma sat together and watched the fireworks, but then he collapsed back in the house.  At the hospital, the doctor told my mom and grandma that there was heavy intracraniel hemorraging, and that there was no hope.  He was already brain dead.  The ventilator was disconnected which was in accordance with his wishes, but he kept going until around 6:30pm on Sunday.  Mom and grandma sat with him, playing some classical music (his favorite) and simply talking.  He went peacefully and without pain.

  Since mom was staying in Camarillo to help grandma, I was stranded momentarily at Brokehaus.  Andrew agreed to give me a ride home, though he complained about it (the callous sumbitch [I kid]).  For the last couple of days I've been keeping the home fires burning, trying to keep everyone involved up to date, still trying to pack up all of my stuff.  The house is still torn up with workmen everyday, not everything works, there's dust everywhere, and I'm starting to feel right stabbity.

  This goddamn post has actually taken me three days to get down.  I hope things get better fast.

 

   Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last.  That's right, I'm no longer employed at Target the soul-sucking retail behemoth.  I've got way too much stuff left to do to waste any more time there.  I've still got to move, get financial aid, and figure out how I'm getting to and from ground control every monday.  Busy, busy, busy.

Ok, so for random reasons (including the fact that I'm watching dvds of MacGyver) I wanted to know if I could purchase a geiger counter on amazon.com.  Turns out you can!  I have no idea what I'd do with it, other than just wander around and check stuff for radiation.  Anyway, the page for the counter I was looking at linked me to another product- Uranium ore.  You can buy uranium fucking ore on amazon!  Not really enough to do anything dangerous, and you'd also need to process it.  Basically, by the time you'd collected enough ore and the equipment to process all of it, the FBI would already be knocking on your door.  But back to the point; the coolest thing about the page is undoubtably the comments.  Check them out!  http://www.amazon.com/Uranium-Ore/dp/B000796XXM/ref=tag_dpp_lp_edpp_img_in

  So, who's going to get me that geiger counter?  The uranium ore would be great to test it.  I cound walk all over ground control checking for deadly sources of radiation, wouldn't that be fun?  Didn't I tell you my next post would be better?

  You guys know me.  I love jokes, even non-PC ones, and I try not to take anything too seriously.  At the same time, I have my standards.  There are just some things I won't countenance.  Last night at Ground Control, something bothered me, and I'd like to talk about it.  Don't worry, nobody offended me or hurt my feelings or anything like that.  It was a song which was sung that bugged me.  No, it wasn't Howard's crazy song, I liked that.  It was something else.  It was "I Don't Like Mondays" by the Boomtown Rats.

  Let me make one thing clear which I feel we all can agree on.  Callously profiting from someone else's pain and suffering is despicable.  It's the kind of thing that Fred Phelps and his "church" are guilty of, and they are well hated by practically everyone.

  'But wait!' you cry, 'I agree with what you say, and Fred Phelps can certainly suck rotting pig taint, but what does this have to do with a song?  "I don't like mondays" is a crazy punk-like song, and it sounds like that delightful cartoon cat Garfield.  Admittedly, the song is lacking in lasagna-based lyrics, and the tune is annoyingly likely to get stuck in your head, but why are you hating on it so?'

  The song, however, has nothing whatsoever to do with cartoon cats, delightful or otherwise.  It's based on the story of Brenda Ann Spencer (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brenda_Ann_Spencer).  On January 29th, 1979 in San Diego California,  a sixteen-year-old Brenda Ann took a rifle and opened fire on an elementary school situated across the street from her house.  She wounded eight children and a police officer, and killed the principal and head custodian (both of whom were trying to protect the children when they were shot).  When she was taken down by police, and they demanded to know why she had done something so hideous, she shrugged and said, 'I don't like mondays. This livens up the day."  She had no outward remorse at all.  This was the inspiration for the song.  Brenda is currently serving her 25 to life term in a womens' prison in Chino.  She's been turned down for parole four times, and the next hearing is in August 2009.

  What Brenda did caused unbelievable amounts of anguish for many people, and the song did nothing to alleviate that.  On the contrary, the lyrics treat the matter almost cavalierly.  No money made by the song has ever, to my knowledge, gone to the victims or their families or to any program to deal with or prevent school violence.  And yet, the song goes on, blithely sung by such artists as Tori Amos and Bon Jovi.  And most people mindlessly enjoy it, unaware of its origins.  The size of cajones it has to take to carelessly write or sing a song about a school shooting has got to be close to the size of VW bugs.  The size of brain or heart to do such a thing is more comparable to that of a flyspeck.

  I'm sorry.  I hate to bring everyone down, but listening to the song honestly makes me feel sick, and I figured you might want to know why.  Anyway, I promise my next post will be much more high-spirited.  I'm just feeling a bit morose at the moment.

  Just thought I'd link to a video and clean out some of my picture files.  Pray enjoy them.

</div>
I like this one and the one of Head Over Heels done by the same guy.  Check it out.

This first pic is for theraevyn .  This is the pic that makes me think of Sadie.


And now the rest.
 








Gotta go to work.  Will post more later.

  Hey, sorry it took me a while to post again, I've been busy.  The headline refers to how I've been feeling since Friday, when I received a call from Moorpark College to notify me that I've been accepted into their EATM program, http://mcweb.moorparkcollege.edu/~eatm/.  This is the third year I've applied and I actually got in.  I'm still dazed because of the huge change this will have on my life.  By August, I will have had to learn how to drive, get a car, get my own place out there (no student housing), and be ready to take on a huge amount of responsibilities, as animals don't understand "days off".  I've also got to figure out where all the money's coming from, since the program is too demanding for people to have jobs.  This huge thing comes right on the heels of a rather traumatic time I've been having since January (no details, I don't air dirty laundry online.  Any further info can be gotten from your local Kate).  Anyway, if you see me looking rather staggered, that's why.

  Have you ever had a dream featuring someone you know acting like a jerk?  And then when you wake up, you really want to see them to call them on their shit?  "Hey, asshole.  I told you not to eat that pancake batter forklift with chopsticks, but you just wouldn't listen.  Now leprechauns and squid-faced Bill Cosby will never trust me with fine washables again." 

  Anyway, it's time for your annual LJ health scare. 
  Think about it.  About Canadian hockey player balls, and what you can do to help.

  Enjoy this one, guys.  http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/06b666ae72/gobstopper-trailer

  And here's the making of.  http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/cf085a7f40/behind-the-scenes-of-gobstopper

  I'm glad to see ol' Christopher Lloyd is finding stuff to do with his time.  But now I can't stop watching this other video.  The song is so damn addictive.  Read the sidebar thing, there's actually an interesting story behind the video.  I wonder who the weatherman is.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIEOZCcaXzE&feature=PlayList&p=D02D295318FAAEC1&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=3

  Sometimes, I see things that give me great pain and leave me utterly confused, lying in a pool of my own fluids, unsure of who and where I am.  Here's one from me to you:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDDHHrt6l4w

Let me know what you think after you awaken from the nightmare.

http://www.reptilesupershow.com/
 
  It looks so awesome.  I'm working on the details right now.

  That I have the greatest sister ever!  I'd like to give her a shout-out here in LJ land where she goes by the name of imhannigan .  She heard that I was feeling blue last week, so she went out of her way to send me what is now my new favorite t-shirt, http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20582283 as a surprise.  Gaze upon the awesomeness.  It's from the same place that made my cool, much-admired octo-purse.  I am now seeking to have the shirt surgically attached to my skin so that it is always with me.

  So, I just wanted to make sure that everyone is aware that I have the greatest sister anyone could have, but not anyone can have her but me...  And my brother, but he doesn't count.

  So, Meg, this one's for you:

  Want so much.

  http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3871736601/

  Could you guys do me a couple of favors?  As I have mentioned before, (I can't remember when, but I did) I've adopted a soldier overseas.  It's my job to send over a couple of letters and a care package every month.  However, I run out of things to write about rather quickly, and like everyone else, I run low on cash.  Could you guys help out a bit?  All I need you to do is toss a couple of things to me here and there to send him in the care packages, and maybe a short note or two as well.  Here's a list of the things most requested by the soldiers http://soldiersangelsforum.com/index.php?name=Content&pa=showpage&pid=1  You could also just go to soldiersangels.org and find other ways to help our men and women serving overseas, as well as their families at home. 

  In the meantime, I need one of these at my work, for the customers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD0PvlytTNs

 theraevyn !  It was great seeing you two at work the other day.  I'm sorry you feel cruddy, Nico, but I hope to see you on Monday.  Anyway, I promise not to tell anyone what you guys were doing in the toy department, or what you proceeded to do in the infants' department.  What happened there is just between you, me, and the Center for Disease Control ;). 

  So, a few days ago I'm getting dressed and my rotty-mix Gigi jumps up on my bed.  She wants to play, so she crouches and mock-growls.  I kind of tussle around with her, when she reaches out a giant paw and gets me right in the eye.  Yowch!  For the rest of the day, if you look closely you can see some faint scratches around my eye.  They're two light red lines running down from about an inch above my eyebrow, stopping, and then taking up again under my eye.  I noticed that the customers didn't bother me as much as they normally do.  They probably took one look at the scars and said, "Damn.  That chick looks hardcore.  Maybe I should actually spend five seconds looking for stuff myself instead of asking stupid questions."  I honestly wished it were more fierce, like maybe three or four crimson red lines left by a wolverine or something, but it got the job done.  Unfortunately, by the next day the scratches had disappeared, leaving only a tiny red cut under my eye (wow, what a hardcore memento to leave me with).  Oh, well. 

  I gots 3 intensely gay videos for you guys to watch.  The first one has already been seen numerous times by the Ground Control crew.  The other two ought to be.
1.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sqv8UJc72SU
2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmuDebV5JJU
3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELaLrS-KDJo

  Tell me what you think.  I've been lacking feedback over here!

  My frustration level is pretty damn high right now.  I'm struggling to apply to two schools right now, I'm trying to re-enroll at SMC, I overdrew my account again, and I'm in desperate need of a new job.  My head is about to asplode, and then tonight, for the second time in my life, some asshole propositioned me believing me to be a prostitute.  ATTENTION MEN OF THE WORLD:  This is not the kind of attention I wish to receive from you!!!  I'm standing at a public bus stop, I'm wearing khakies and a red t-shirt, I'm clearly looking for the bus, I'm tired-looking and overweight, and NOT TWENTY FEET AWAY FROM ME IS A REAL PROSTITUTE!  She's nowhere close enough to me for anyone to think we're working together, she's wearing fuck-me boots, a miniskirt and a corset top, her hair and makeup are all done up, she's doing all of the things a prostitute should do to advertise, but you're gonna motion for me to get in your car?!  Sir, are you aware that the laws of this country prohibit the legally blind from driving?  It's true!

  I'm going to chill out and eat some s'mores.  I've got to go to dumb old work tomorrow.  And again I say, GOD DAMNIT!!!