To some, it may seem as though I’ve already failed in my mission to post once per day for the entire month of October. But when you only wake up at 8pm, when does the day really end? I will probably go to bed sometime around 1pm or 2pm tomorrow. I won’t be held down by the man on this one. As far as I’m concerned, the date does its incrementing at sunrise. That’s the point when I generally begin to feel awkward about still being awake. Give me a break, anyway. Why should the date change at midnight? Mid. Night. Middle. of the Night. Let the night end before you do the switcheroo, at least. It’s all just because this world is sun-centric. Why should that be so? Damned daystar gives me a rash. With the ozone being in the state it’s in, shouldn’t we start organizing our lives based around the hours when the bloody thing is out of sight? Either way… noon might be the middle of the day proper, but it just doesn’t make sense for it to be the middle of the 24-hour day. It makes more sense to put the divider between day and night. Or night and day — there is no reason that the day needs to be considered to come first — damned sun-centric planet. So it should go at sunrise or sunset. Not that that doesn’t become complicated, what with sunrise and sunset and the length of the day vs. the night changing all the goddamn time, but that fucks with noon and midnight as well. I appreciate the fuckupperly in the winter, as a matter of fact. The bright part of the day is the part in which I am expected to be useful and productive. In the winter, that length of time is minimal. Doin’ shit… I don’t like it. In other news, I don’t know what I’m rambling about, as usual. Best get back to CD liner note text layouts. Yarg. Yeah, I’m still putting that shit off, and my deadline is Thursday, October 2nd, 2008. And yet, the work is not overdue. See what I mean? The day is clearly not over.
In other other news, I have exactly 29 drafts sitting in WordPress. Maybe I should just set them all to autopublish? Most of them are me complaining about Comcast, seems like (didn’t get published because Comcast was fucking up, FYI). It would get me a lot of AdSense cents and through the month…. Is that cheating?
NaBloPoMo, eh? Should be unnecessary for me, but obviously I became a lazy ass somewhere along the way. But check that shit. November 2001: 75 blog entries. I’m sure there’s been a month where I exceeded that, but I’ve lost an awful lot of my archives over the years. Sure, a lot of my old entries weren’t much longer than Twitter posts, but at least they were something.
So I’mma do this shit anyway. It’s pathetic. It’s the pussy version of NaNoWriMo, but I’ll do it.
Word-count of all previous novels ever written by me (combined), BTW: 0.
I don’t know about anyone else… but I’ve been online since I was a preteen (early 90s), and while from moment to moment there are definitely things I keep private (direct message worthy, if you will), it seems strange that the entire world wouldn’t or shouldn’t know exactly what I’m doing from moment to moment. None of it is anything I’d want to hide, in any case (whether or not I’d feel the need to share it unasked — I’m generally too lazy, otherwise). It wouldn’t really bother me if the majority of my private life was publicized. I’ve learned from an early age to own all of my bits and bytes. They are essentially ME. I’m a database of information just as much as I’m a collection of atoms. I’m gonna have to keep rights to the atoms, but the data is all public domain!
Saying all of that, I’m also not sure why anyone is interested. If so much information is available to absolutely everyone, who the hell cares about little ‘ol me? There is so much more information available about everyone, but we’ve still got only 24 hours in a day. I think this is why people continue to latch onto “celebrities”. If we were to divide our attention there could never be any overlap, and no collective experience. And when it comes down to things, humans are social animals. If our experiences don’t match up to some degree, the only possible result is chaos. So we form clusters. Something something bees bees bees blah blah I forget what I was writing. Wine drinking continues. Why the fuck are you clustering around a drunk… even if there are only a few of you. Is it the sweet sweet smell of fermented grapes?
Just finished watching the new Mythbusters’ episode. That was one excellent dissection of moan hoax myths, but this is still the ultimate argument when it comes to NASA conspiracy theorists:
Damn… that video makes me so fucking gleeful every time I see it…
Does anyone ever catch Target: Women with Sarah Haskins on Current? She’s consistently annoying. I just got linked to (by this story on TimeOut Chicago’s site: Online Gambling: Sarah Haskins tries to make her own luck by Steve Heisler) one I’d forgotten about, and had to rant about it. Here, watch this shit:
Personally, if I can kick my period the hell out of my life, I’m going to do it (and have in the past, probably will again). I’ve considered the physical and philosophical arguments on both sides — in my case, they don’t really know what it does to your body, but it might decrease your chances of some cancer, and I have *never* bought the “natural is better and healthier” argument for anything, so just because my body naturally produces a river of blood every month doesn’t mean I should or will deal with it. It does it for a purpose (reproduction) that I’ve chosen to have nothing to do with for now, so I think I’m fine without the side effects, as well.
I’m fine with my decision, so… boo to all of you who might disagree. It’s your body, you do what you want with it. I’ll do what I want with mine. That’s not my issue with any of this though…
The thing that pisses *me* off about these commercials is the fact that these birth control pills are absolutely NO different from the pills that are already out there. The pharmaceutical companies have just discovered that now that their patents have expired, they can either lose a lot of money when the generic versions come out (in some cases they’ve been out for a while), or find novel uses for their existing drugs that they can get approved by the FDA and use to sell their pills at full price for a while longer. All they have to do is sell several packs of birth control pills together as one pack, and skip the sugar pills altogether, or replace them with one week of a lower dose of hormone.
(By the way, Sarah… see the title of this entry. This is why the pills are marketed the way they are. They’re just advertising the novel use they presented to the FDA in order to get their patent, durr.)
Here’s a tip for those of you who might want to try Seasonale (three times one month of 0.15 mg levonorgestrel and 0.03 mg ethinyl estradiol plus one month with three weeks of the same shit and a week of placebos) but don’t want to pay full price… all you need to do is take a generic version of Nordette (there are several available) for three weeks, and immediately start a new pack. They have exactly the same levels of exactly the same hormones. This is exactly what I have done.
As Seasonique (same as Seasonale, but the last week of the first three months is replaced by seven 0.01 mg ethinyl estradiol pills), I’m too lazy to seek out a substitute for the fourth week of pills in the first three months of , and don’t know if an exact generic exists, but I would imagine you could manage the same thing by finding the lowest dose ethinyl estradiol only pill available out there (might not be FDA approved as birth control, but I will assume a 0.01 mg pill exists for something, since estrogen is used for things other than birth control — a doctor could figure this out).
You can pretty much do the same thing with any birth control pill — just skip the placebos. Probably works with the patch or Nuvaring as well. But don’t tell Duramed that I told you, and definitely don’t share this information with your doctor for evaluation. Those poor drug companies need their money.
Either way, Sarah Haskins, if drug companies can claim that their birth control pills are able to accomplish something other than birth control (and they sure can — personally, I’m not sure why they don’t advertise that they can make your tits bigger, because that’s definitely the effect they have on me, in addition to causing me not to be a weepy freakface), why shouldn’t they? Some people take birth control pills, even though they’re not sexually active. Because guess what… birth control pills are not all about birth control. Sometimes they’re about acne control. Sometimes they’re about crazy control.
And maybe you’re not forgetful, and won’t forget to take your pill on a daily basis. I not particularly, either (but I certainly don’t blame anyone that is — it’s hard to remember to take pills at exactly the same time daily if you have an erratic schedule). However, I also take medication that makes me nauseous and messes with my digestive system. I’ve used NuvaRing because I’m not confident that the pill will be metabolized completely or properly. Especially not if I puke the damned thing up.
So all in all, the only argument I have against any of this BS is the one she didn’t make. Which is more or less the same reason I get irritated every time I see this chick on TV. See, I’m also a sarcastic, dry-humoured bitch, but I make a point of knowing way the hell too much about anything I rant about before doing so. I don’t just say whatever random crap comes to mind.
I was wearing a floufy skirt yesterday, and it was a wee bit windy. I thought to myself, “man, it would be pretty lame if the wind blew my skirt up”. And then, I remembered that I have absolutely no problem being seen in a bikini. Same damn thing. Same shape, same colour… slightly different fabric (sometimes). The context might have made it a bit embarrassing. Mortifying, though. No. You see, I was wearing underwear! Oh my stars! And underwear is MEANT to be seen. That’s my theory, anyway. So calm the fuck down. It’s meant to keep your naughty bits in place, but it’s also meant to keep them under wrap. If you’re seeing underwear, you’re NOT seeing naughty bits. I recently found a website devoted to the art and practice of catching brief glimpses of women’s bras. It had multiple posts expounding upon strategy and technique (I can’t find the site again, but here’s the general idea: be a creepy fuck and make shifty glances out of the corner of your eye when ladies are bending over, as if they won’t notice). WTF? It’s not hard to see bra. Bra is everywhere. They design bra straps with the fact that they’re going to be visible in mind these days (on account of people are tacky — all walking around with their visible bra straps and dumbass flip flops). What you really want to see is nipple. And you DON’T see nipple, because of the abundance of bra. Just like you don’t see vag because of the abundance of panty.
What the hell, if I’m going to make a post like this and be inundated by asshole traffic, I might as well throw the words Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears in here. Hoy. Have those three learned the purpose of underwear yet? (All signs from a random scroll-through of The Superficial point to no). Also, here… this is what you were actually looking for, Google perv: P-Line World.
I don’t know why oap isn’t a bona fide word by now. I bet you’ve all used the word at least once in the past 24 hours (unless you’re the sort of internetter who hasn’t seen another living being in the last 24 hours)…
oap (interjection): acknowledging a minor minor mistake; a word that I use 17 times a day, and hear coming out of other peoples’ mouths almost as often but that isn’t in the dictionary because one says it only when trying not to be noticed, and thus no one notices it as a word; minuscule form of oops, used when an oops might otherwise be appropriate, but you’re too busy concentrating on being an oaf to come up with anything much more than a random embarrassed grunt of a noise (possible origin of the word — a combination of oaf and oops?); an exclamation similar to eep, but much less urgent and sans any actual shock or fear, or for that matter, an exclamatory tone of voice; the proper, polite vocalization upon almost (but not quite) running into someone in an office hallway or grocery store
This is a post about something that drives me insane. Aren’t they all posts about somethings that drive me insane? I’m posting this mainly to ensure that you, dear reader, go mad with me.
Have you ever noticed that people often insert an extra “is” into sentences containing wording similar to “the thing is that”? Well, they do. Almost every time. “The thing is is that”. I wouldn’t even say that the “that” is totally necessary, but the double “is” is infuriating.
Look. I think it’s perfectly legitimate, if you’re resurrected, to adopt a new (re)birthday on the date you became one of the undead. But if you’re going to do so, as far as I’m concerned, you forfeit your original birthday.
So what’ll it be, Jesus? Christmas, or Easter? You can’t have both. I know you’re just in it for the extra presents (everyone knows that people with birthdays near Christmas get stiffed), but fucking shit — whether you came back from the dead or not in the first place (and you didn’t, because that’s impossible — but supposing you might have), you’re dead as a doornail now. Considering this, you probably don’t merit even one birthday party a year.
I really don’t think that it’s fair that your worm-eaten ass gets to inconvenience those of us that choose not to form deep personal relationships with corpses (seriously, people, that’s pretty morbid) by closing down everything but IHOP multiple times per year. All I got to do today was sit around and stew about my ruined weekend plans.
Could you bastards at least arrange to hold your borrowed pagan fertility festival on the same day each year? For those of use who aren’t Christians (or at least, for me), it’s pretty easy to lose track of the precise date, on account of it holds absolutely no meaning whatsoever.
Yeah, that’s not really relevant to this post at all, but I’m obligated to say some such lameass thing whenever I eat this candy, and Sean ain’t here to hear it (and as if there’s every anything relevant to anything in this space to begin with). Nips hard candy. Hard Nips. Who the fuck named these. Alls I know is they’re going to rip the molars out of my jaw one of these days.
And.
Yeah, so I disappear for months at a time now and then. It’s just what I do. Check the archives. Those gaps can be blamed 50/50 on sleeping on floors and having no internet access, or super mental bouts of depression (also, catastrophic data loss). I haven’t been sleeping on floors lately, BTW. But I figured… it’s freakin’ March and shit, lady. Snap the fuck out of it. The last time I posted anything here was November. Pretty bad.
I also blame Twitter, in part, because now I can complain about anything instantly, and get it out of my system before it becomes a full-fledged rant that I need to blather on about later. And having a job, and having no ability to post blog entries on the bus, which is where most of the annoyances in my life occur (thank fucking Jebus that puffy coat season is almost over). Those all get written down on paper. And I can’t read half of them later, so they’re just lost. I think I’ve also written approximately 7642 drafts (25 in actuality, at least 3 of which are about how much Comcast sucks) but I just haven’t had an attention span to match that of a goldfish since fall.
Meh to all of this. I’ll be sure to post something more interesting in another four months or so. I’m going to make chili now. And repot some plants. And clean the bathroom. And drink some beer. And most importantly, get off of my damned ass. I hate computers.