Home :: About :: Contact :: Archives :: Thumbs

Montly archives

Polling the women

Courtesy of that well respected mag Maxim, a poll asking what every chick secretly asks herself when she first starts dating a guy. How long should a guy wait to fart in front of you? (Any man *not* knowing the answer to this one when we start dating... well, let's just say it's quite possibly a non-coincidence that I'm single. Call me old fashioned.).

• Until he’s my boyfriend: 39%
• Forever, if at all possible: 34%
• At least until dinner’s over: 13%
• Until we live together: 12%

Das good, ya?

The funniest flash game ever (and turn up the volume). I know several of you won't be able to relate at all.

Go on, play here: Das Partyzelt.

Analog Mood Swings

Today will henceforth be known as the day I woke up in a parallel universe. Ever feel like Jewel when she sings: "I love you, I hate you. Leave, don't go away."

That's how it feels today.

Then again she is also the one that sings, "If you want me dear, then just beckon dear, and I will appear. I said you can leave the lights on." I believe I speak for everyone when I say, shamanahamana what? "I said you can leave the lights on." Um..... ok?

Riiiiiiight. So anyway... my day is just all weird and fucked up. I have *somehow* ended up far, far from my nice, cushy little job behind a computer making things pretty. If you find yourself asking, uh, yourself, "Whatever the fuck could you mean my dear Margaret?" I will elaborate -- but only a little (always keep 'em asking for more is what Mr. Deville said, right?).

I have been ever so harshly yanked from my squishy job behind dual monitors and underneath a set of beat thumping, basstastic headphones to instead be placed in the lion's den (read: angry client) alone. "BUT WAIT," you find yourself asking, uh, yourself. "Aren't you a graphic designing, web developing programmer?" Yes indeedy kiddies. That I am. So the fact that I have been chosen to shmooze over a very irritated client, which looks to be our highest grossing client as well, remains a huge mystery to me. And I should hope to you as well.

Or I'm going back to bed.

Actually, I think I'll just do that anyway.

And furthermore, my workplace is very 'casual', meaning I basically wear whatever the fuck I want to wear every day. Not that I ever dress 'down', but I certainly wear capri pants, sandals, and cute little tops. Which, if you're not mistaken, *also* means that I own one and only one "business professional" outfit (hanging in the back of my closet, gathering dust) which I wasted on expected client meeting today. It never happened. Meaning that tomorrow I will be wearing... hopefully more than just my knickers. *le sigh* One can only hope.

Don't get me wrong. Were my job description involving something along the lines of "Account", "Project", or "Management" I would be far more clear about my place in this big fat schmoozefest.

Alas, instructions from the exec team are clear --> "Make them love us because we know you can."

Fuckers.

In other news I bought the most DELISHIOUSLY wondrous conditioning creme for my hair yesterday: Rusks's Ginger something er other 60 second hair revive creme. Like, WOW! It smells amazing and my hair is loving it. Go on, try it. You know you want to!

I'm going to leave you tonight with another of Jewel's mysteries. This one, sung by her, should actually be sung by the imaginary male STALKER she wrote it about. Anyone else find that weird besides me? Bueller? Bueller? We'll talk more tomorrow if I'm able to find my way home from the suburbs.

Friday brunch

Please gorge on the friday feast this week, won't you? Go on... play along.

1. Appetizer: Name a board game you enjoy playing (Scrabble? Monopoly? Trivial Pursuit). What's fun about it? Do you change the rules or go by the book?

I get to cheat a bit on this one (something I *never, ever* do when I play) but I'm all about the card games. Rummy 500 and cribbage are games I can't live without. Must... feed... addiction!

2. Soup: How's the weather been in your area lately? Hot and dry? Wet and muggy? Stormy? Beautiful?

Hot and humid. At least that's what it appears to be when I'm looking at all the sweaty people walking around in it from my air conitioned windowsill or air conditioned office.

3. Salad: Do you consider yourself an emotional person? What types of emotions do you experience most often?

Absolutely, though I rarely show my weakest sides to anyone at all. The biggest problem is that I think I'm walking around with the Sens-O-Matic 3000 GT™ tattooed to my forehead, making it extremely easy for me pick up on others' emotions. A rather cruel and unusual form of punishment courtesy of one Mr. U. Niverse.

4. Main Course: List 3 songs you've been listening to recently. Are these songs from a different category of music than you usually choose, or are you devoted to a certain type of tunes?

1. Jewel - Grey Matter


2. Luscious Jackson - Deep Shag


3. Karsh Kale - Instinct

Shouldn't be a huge surprise - just some random goodness making its way through the air in my head.

5. Dessert: What's on your refrigerator door? Magnets? Your child's drawings? Photos? Calendars?

I confess, I'm one of those magnetic poetry geeks: "love blue water s over three loose birds". Heh.

Holiday

Isn't it *just* like me to buck the system and post a *holiday* skin, not in the 4th of July sense of the word but in the VACATION sense of the word. A typicall shmuck libran thing to do. But I must say, I'm rather enjoying this new European, Cafe Meli Melo feel. Have at it... Click here to change the skin right....... NOW!

So whadya think? Time for a beach skin or what?

Guilt is an asshole

I know, I'm not allowed to call guilt an asshole but I'm doing it anyway! After yesterday's pretty little skin, I decided it was a tad on the dark side and a summer skin was in order.

And just for Steve I made it extra manish.

Click here to go see what all the fuss is about. Skinning is for winners, yo.

Eblaberating

Let's start off by first remarking on the 2 skins that I finished this weekend. I feel so bloody accomplished it's ridiculous. Miss the taste of Europe so I fashioned that Parisian-do to remind myself of the calm feeling I, er, feel when I'm over there. Aaaahhhhhhh.

Second, my big sis Debbie sent me some pictures of her animals. There's a rather adorable one of her kitty, named Junior of course, crawling between the window to chase a fly. Click here to check out some cute animal goodness.

Third, why do I love enumerating lists so much?

Fourth, Harry Connick, Jr. is extremely yummy and I sometimes get the urge to lick him when I listen to his music. Is that abnormal? I've been hanging out with Mr. Connick, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Sinatra quite a bit this weekend. My boys know how to take care.

Fifth, there's the small matter of the Summer Reading Programme™ that needs to be discussed. This is the part where I own up to what will henceforth be known as the "Summer Read Raucous." Where was I? Oh right, Summer Read #6. Summer Read #6 is about halfway complete, but I actually jumped forward and already finished Summer Read #7 - The Five People You Meet In Heaven. No. 6 is slightly laborious to get through, just not my genre, so I picked up No. 7 to distract me through the rough bits (on sister Debbie's recommendation). It was a small book that only took me a few nights to finish. It was... good. It will subtly urge you to reflect and appreciate. I would recommend this book for an afternoon beach read. So there you have it. I'm slightly out of order but will be back on track and on to No. 8 by the end of the week I imagine.

Sixth, holidays can bite me. Each and every one of them.

Seventh, vacation holidays from work don't have to bite me though. They can stop over for a spot of tea and perhaps a crumpet. Those visits are quite welcome in my house..

Eight, it's time for bed because I'm running out of things to enumerate. 'Night.

Peek-a-boo

Will start out tonight's entry with the funniest shit I've heard all... eh, week. The big news in Keira's life is that she's becomming a real-estate agent. As opposted to the imaginary-state agents that were soooooo 20th century. But *who knew* that she would be taught by none other than a fucking dick fryer.

No really, that's his name: Dick. Fryer.

Have a moment, talk amongst yourselves. That is some funny shiznit.

Anyway, as I lounged today - reading, painting my nails, and happily picking up some website messes - I took a few minutes to do one of my absolute *favorite* things. I flop down on my squishy, fluffy bed sideways - on my back - and let my head fall over the side. It does something really great to my spine, allowing it to stretch out. As I laid there, looking out my window enjoying the sheer wonderfulness of a stretched back it occurred to me ya'll might like to see what I saw. So I took a picture. And why wouldn't I?! Sheesh. See for yourselves.

Ahhhhh, isn't it purrrrrty? It was at that moment I turned the camera on myself and took a picture - seeing as how you guys haven't had any new ones of me in so long.

Alright, so it's not the most compromising picture of them all, but at least it's a picture. Show the love.

I'm headed off to bed in a bit, after I force myself to read some more of Summer Read #6. Getting... closer... I can do it! I will be done with this bastard of a book by the end of the week. And then I'm handing it off to Steve cause I know he's gonna love it.

Jeremy Northam is secretly waiting for me

I have to out my dirty little secret. Everyone who knows me knows I'm the woman without a crush - without a crush going on something close to 2 years. But I LIED!!!!!!!!!!!! Jeremy Northam is my crush and he's absolutely delishious - please forgive me for hiding this little secret. I know not what I do.

Of course I've never met the man in person so I can only assume he's wonderful. To be fair, the amount of people I've crushed on has actually been in the negative numbers recently so this is a big step for me. Big. Huge. Monumentous.

Dear Jeremy,

Don't you think it would be lovely if we spent some time together, learning more about each other? If nothing else, we could meet up for some tea and discuss all things non-sensical (Minneapolis and its greenway can be, um, charming). Feel free to contact me whenever the moment (or my extreme beauty and wit) moves you.

Ever and always wanting to lick you,
~M

Greetings from Mars

Who greets someone by shoving their shoulder in to you, like a middle aged hockey playing poser, thus ramming you straight in the wall?

I'm just asking people. There might be.... ooh ooh, wait! I know the answer to this one. It's this guy I work with!

Saying hello to him in the hallways has now become an event - like when you try to walk as far as you can with your eyes closed. Or when you try to slip a banana peel in to the computer of one of the java developers. And then proceeding to say, "Ewwwww, what's that smell emitting from your area? Yuck!" (That joke will just NEVER get old).

I digress.

As for *this* particular fellow, everytime I see him I find myself mentally preparing for what might happen... will it be sailor day when I get a salute? Or are you feeling like a hockey player, wanting to ram me in to the wall like one of your mates (sorry, can't drop the hockey player thing - that just happened this afternoon).

"Um, do you see these 3 1/2 inch heels? I don't *do* physical contact, mmmmkay? Great, glad we have that straight." To reinforce this last little bit I make sure to say something extra sharp and under the table so he gets my point. I do verbal jabbing, just like that other libran indigo goddess. Alas, the fruits of my efforts are usually pointless as he jests, "Ha ha ha, ho ho ho, howwwww's it going Margaret?"

I think he's on to me.

My bitchy, sarcastic plot is spoiled and he has proceeded to the stage of human interaction whereabouts he attempts to one-up his very own childish games with every new greeting. I expect him to sneak up on me and pull my ponytail any day now. Or mayyyyyyyyybe it's just a sales thing. I mean, I've never been a salesman so maybe that's how big corporate deals are snagged? By a strange twist in events where one CEO pulls the ponytail of another VP of sales' curly up-do - and BAM! Microsoft has Google flat on its back in a merger. Word.

Isn't it amazing what people do to entertain themselves in the office? In addition to the book I'm going to make massive amounts of money writing titled No Sex and the City™, I will also be producing an updated version of "Office Space". My version will be MUCH funnier and Stacy Dash gets to play Keira. Oooooh, PROJECT!

*I* would marry her

From the bottom of this week's unnoteables...

Quick, someone get an appointment to have her HEAD examined. And while you're at it schedule her a visit with a day spa to scrub the skank off.

Huh huh, you said...

HER: Dood, you should have gotten your package by now!
ME: I never check my slot anymore these days, but I'm sure that it will just get shoved in. How big is the package?
HER: Oh, about 11 inches.
ME: Because if it's too big they won't be able to stick it in.
HER: What happens when the package is too big for your slot?

Real conversation had last night. It wasn't until AFTER the conversation that I realized what had just happened and laughed myself so silly that my stomach hurt.

Pretentious Meme

Stolen from a lot of people...

1. Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly? Sure, start out with a difficult one why don't you?... Um, GENE!
2. The Great Gatsby or The Sun Also Rises? Robert Redford, I mean Gatsby
3. Count Basie or Duke Ellington? The Duke
4. Cats or dogs? Kittens
5. Matisse or Picasso? Matisse
6. Yeats or Eliot? Yeats
7. Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin? Chaplin
8. Flannery O'Connor or John Updike? Huh huh, Updike
9. To Have and Have Not or Casablanca? Ah crap, foiled!! I have never seen either.
10. Jackson Pollock or Willem de Kooning? Pollock
11. The Who or the Stones? Who
12. Philip Larkin or Sylvia Plath? Sylvia of course
13. Trollope or Dickens? Dickens
14. Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald? At last, Ella!
15. Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy? Tolstoy
16. The Moviegoer or The End of the Affair? Damn, I'm really showing my movie-going virgin-ess. No idea.
17. George Balanchine or Martha Graham? Balan-brilliant!
18. Hot dogs or hamburgers? Weiners.
19. Letterman or Leno? Leno because he's not as cutting.
20. Wilco or Cat Power? Huh?
21. Verdi or Wagner? Wagner
22. Grace Kelly or Marilyn Monroe? Grace, without question
23. Bill Monroe or Johnny Cash? Hear that? It's the sound of the Wagon Train...
24. Kingsley or Martin Amis? Kingsley
25. Robert Mitchum or Marlon Brando? Mitchum
26. Mark Morris or Twyla Tharp? Twyla
27. Vermeer or Rembrandt? Vermeer
28. Tchaikovsky or Chopin? Tchaikovsky, but Chopin's Waltz in C# minor is one of my favorites
29. Red wine or white? Not huge on wine - either or.
30. Noël Coward or Oscar Wilde? Wilde
31. Grosse Pointe Blank or High Fidelity? High Fidelity.
32. Shostakovich or Prokofiev? Come again?
33. Mikhail Baryshnikov or Rudolf Nureyev? Baryshnikov
34. Constable or Turner? Huh?
35. The Searchers or Rio Bravo? Her name is .... and she dances ... la la... sand
36. Comedy or tragedy? Tragedy
37. Fall or spring? Fall
38. Manet or Monet? Monet
39. The Sopranos or The Simpsons? D'oh!
40. Rodgers and Hart or Gershwin and Gershwin? Gershwins
41. Joseph Conrad or Henry James? Mr. James, thank you.
42. Sunset or sunrise? Sunset
43. Johnny Mercer or Cole Porter? Porter seems to be the man of the moment
44. Mac or PC? PC (for now....)
45. New York or Los Angeles? I'm with Sinatra on this one, but to be fair I've never been to LA.
46. Partisan Review or Horizon? Your what hurts?
47. Stax or Motown? Motown
48. Van Gogh or Gauguin? Van Gogh
49. Steely Dan or Elvis Costello? Steely in the hizzy.
50. Reading a blog or reading a magazine? Blog if I've ever seen one.
51. John Gielgud or Laurence Olivier? Olivier (if for no other reason than his name is beautiful)
52. Only the Lonely or Songs for Swingin' Lovers? Only the Lonely
53. Chinatown or Bonnie and Clyde? Bonnie & Clyde
54. Ghost World or Election? What.... everrrrrrr!
55. Minimalism or conceptual art? Minimalism
56. Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny? Bugs
57. Modernism or postmodernism? Modernism
58. Batman or Spider-Man? Batman
59. Emmylou Harris or Lucinda Williams? Lucinda
60. Johnson or Boswell? 'Scuse me?
61. Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf? Austen
62. The Honeymooners or The Dick Van Dyke Show? I prefer books
63. An Eames chair or a Noguchi table? Eames
64. Out of the Past or Double Indemnity? ???
65. The Marriage of Figaro or Don Giovanni? Marriage of Figaro
66. Blue or green? plant green
67. A Midsummer Night's Dream or As You Like It? Midsummer by default
68. Ballet or opera? Ballet
69. Film or live theater? Live theater
70. Acoustic or electric? Acoustic
71. North by Northwest or Vertigo? Again with the movie thing
72. Sargent or Whistler? Whistler
73. V.S. Naipaul or Milan Kundera? no clue
74. The Music Man or Oklahoma? Music Man
75. Sushi, yes or no? For fear of punishment under the laws of my house, I exclude myself from this question
76. The New Yorker under Ross or Shawn? New Yorker
77. Tennessee Williams or Edward Albee? Williams
78. The Portrait of a Lady or The Wings of the Dove? Portrait by default
79. Paul Taylor or Merce Cunningham? No clue
80. Frank Lloyd Wright or Mies van der Rohe? Falling Water of course
81. Diana Krall or Norah Jones? Norah
82. Watercolor or pastel? Watercolors
83. Bus or subway? Walk, fool!
84. Stravinsky or Schoenberg? Stravinsky
85. Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? Crunchy McCrunches-A-Lot
86. Willa Cather or Theodore Dreiser? ?
87. Schubert or Mozart? Mozart
88. The Fifties or the Twenties? 20s
89. Huckleberry Finn or Moby-Dick? Huck and I would sooooo smoke out back together
90. Thomas Mann or James Joyce? Men, eh, Mann
91. Lester Young or Coleman Hawkins? Taking advice
92. Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman? Whitman
93. Abraham Lincoln or Winston Churchill? Lincoln
94. Liz Phair or Aimee Mann? People with the name of Elizabeth are cool.
95. Italian or French cooking? French
96. Bach on piano or harpsichord? FUCK! This one really took me by surprise... I'll say.. piano? No wait, harpsichord. No wait, piano. Yup, piano.
97. Anchovies, yes or no? Have never tried but am willing to do anything once.
98. Short novels or long ones? Depends on the author and the story.
99. Swing or bebop? Swing me 'round again, but not like the way Paul does it
100. "The Last Judgment" or "The Last Supper"? The Last Supper

Who needs furniture anyway? Wait...

So I've been thinking about this whole 'no furniture' thing and I've decided I'm not happy about it. Let's be straight - I've taken inventory and this is what I've come up with:

1 - the most comfortable bed in the history of beds
1 - dresser I hated when I bought it but have grown to love it beyond words; it's so... ME!
1 - coffee table that is sturdy, attractive, and has round corners (that last part is very important - I still manage to give myself bruises from knocking in to its malicious, dagger-like curved edges)
1 - purple chair resembling diaphram with movable table for laptop

And, well, that about covers it. I was actually tossing around the idea of doing the 'pillows' thing in my living room considering I won't entertain (and will most likely by default end up doing it ANYWAY), but with the new Ikea opening only next week I'm finding myself lusting after a real sofa. And *they* had to go FUCK UP the perfect world I created where all sofas are woman-eating bastards. That's right, I just called sofas everywhere bastards. Whatcha gonna do about it? All that stands between me and a furnished house is that little thing called... money.

Dear money,

Why don't you ever come visit me anymore? You play with all the other kids and pick them first for kickball, but not even visiting is truly hurtful *sob*. Soooo... kickball isn't my game. Girl has game in other areas, let me tell you! I can tie a cherry stem in to a knot with my tongue in under 10 seconds, I'm quite attractive, there's no telling where and if my intelligence has boundaries, and I'm too responsible and clean for my own good.

Please stop by this weekend so we can discuss this arrangement face to face. Looking forward to our time together,

~M

PS, I've enclosed some pictures - as a sammpler - of how comfortable our life together would be. Smooch!

Travelocity

.... 'scuse me for a second while I pull up a couch...

Last time I checked I was still a designer and web developer. Yup, all the art books are still on my shelves and there's at least 8 adobe products on my computer.

So what in the f*ck am I doing making ANOTHER client visit on Monday and Tuesday? Not only is this a huge, very important client but I'm doing it alone. Alllllll alone. I'm perfectly happy to sit behind my computer and yet... now I'm going to exotic Kansas in another attempt to win over this client. Huh?

People tell me I'm a shmoozer but I think it's about time I set the record straight. I'm not paid to shmooze, I'm paid to make things pretty And to be honest, I'm not really even paid well enough to be doing that. Hey look, bright shiny things!

Is anyone else confused and disturbed by the weirdness that's my job lately? What's the dealio? Is there money in schmoozing or are pickles not in any way related to cucumbers?

Memetastic

1. Appetizer: If you were a color, which color would you be, and why?

I woulud be the color candlelight casts on the walls of a darkened room. Warm, beautiful, protective, and subtle.

2. Soup: When was the last time you went to the doctor, and what was your reason for going?

About 1.5 years ago I think I had a UTI. This was *also* the time they insisted on bumping up an already inaccurate weight by another 4 lbs. just to "round it off to an even number."

3. Salad: What do you collect?

Music.

4. Main Course: What were you like in high school? Name one thing you miss and one thing you don't miss about those days. (If you're still there, imagine how you'll remember it in the future.)

I was extremely quiet and shy - very much kept to myself. What? You think I always had such a big mouth? One thing I miss about High School... countless hours of my final 2 years in high school were spent playing cards (hearts was a fave), something I don't get the opportunity to do anymore. Something I don't miss? -- in a rather bold and broad statement I'm going to say that high school girls are very kniving and cruel.

5. Dessert: Pretend you're standing in front of your home, with your back towards your home. Describe the view - what can you see? Trees? Cars? A zoo? Wal-Mart?

I live in an apartment in downtown Minneapolis, so if I walk out the front door of the building I see the entrance to the Greenway (like a miniature park in the middle of town with fountains), I see several skyscrapers including the Target Headquarters which have a lovely revolving color thing going on at the top of it, I see the building I work in, and I see lots of trees and a parking lot.

Shocker

Do you really think this information can be at all positive what with Fahrenheit 911 and the upcoming pressure of the election heavily looming like a bully with a baseball bat? I believe I speak for many sensible, upstanding citizens when I say I'm disturbed by the ickiness that is our administration. Tsk tsk.

Übershique

I'm feeling... accomplished this morning. All hail accomplished.

It's time I finally outted one of my little secrets and let you all take a look. Some time ago I acquired a domain - a domain I intended to set up for the sole purpose of having a portfolio, resume, etc. A 'business' domain for a designer if you will. Übershique has a nice ring to it, no? After much mental toiling and a little help from my man Johnny Depp (think in deep with Chocolat) I finished it off late last night. Go have a look (click here) and appreciate the pink, won't you?

Briefly

Things that rule: Chocolate Hostess cupcakes.

Things that REALLY rule: FREE Chocolate Hostess Cupcakes.

Things that suck: packing 3278 books.

Things that really suck: the ridiculousness that's airports.

I'll be back late tomorrow night. Try to not break anything well I'm gone, mmmkay?

I'm gone for 2 seconds and the world has gone to pot

Apparently I've missed some important news over the past 2 days. Let's recap, shall we?

1. Twenty percent of men in Northern Britain iron their underpants (click here for more).

2. When the Olympic torch is being run through your marijuana plantation, it's either time to whip out the zigzags or head for the hills.

3. Adding insult to injury, man who shot self in testicles gets 5 years in jail (click here for more).

4. New Zealand has reserved a spot in outer space for a satellite, has no idea what to do with it. Death ray aimed at Australia still possibility (click here for more).

In the nude

I DO realize I've been slightly remiss the past few days, and indeed even more absent. This weekend I promise to post about all the going's on of one Ms. M. Andrews but for now you'll just have to listen to me ramble about... my singing voice!

So tonight I was driving around for the first time in, oh, ages and realized that my singing voice is.. GONE! Finito. Kaput. Sianara. To be fair I never actually sang in public previous to the past few months. But seriously - who here does NOT sing at the top of their lungs when they're in the car alone? Bueller? Bueller?

That's right people - you do it. I do it. It's a fact of life. And it's also a fact that you're always on tune when you're alone and never in the company of otherers.

So tonight I'm happily singing along to the tune of Christina in my car when I realize its been several months since I've sang much of anything out loud - and I'm now left with a mousie wheeze. How very lame *tear*.

I think it's time I put music back in the shower where the acoustics are in my favor cuz this no singing shit is whack yo. I miss my perfect pitch and strong "ohhhhhhh's". Think the other developers will mind if I start singing at work?

Through the mist of turmoil

Yup, I would have written more last night but seeing as how I was tending to my friend just out of the hospital and spending the rest of the evening in catching up on smut, you may see I was otherwise preoccupied.

I digress.

Summer Read #6 is finished (the incomprehensibly normal Sedaris) and so is Summer Read #8 (a book so guilty I conveniently forgot to mention it here). So to men everywhere, that is, men everywhere with families, I prescribe a healthy dose of Summer Read #6. It was funny 'n all that, but definitely something the unmanicured sex will get on better with. Women, do I have something for you!

If you're looking for a sexy, mindless, smutty, fast, blood-boiling, guilty, lay-in-bed-eating-triple-chocolate-cake sort of read then Summer Read #8 is for you - Jennifer Crusie's Welcome to Temptation. On the recommendation from someone who reads one book every 7-8 years (aka a cycle long enough for her body to have completely regenerated in to a new, able to absorb one new book freakishly deviant and obscure type of humanoid), I picked up this ditty. Let it be known here and now that it turns out Keira never actually read this book as she mistook it for the one other book she read since she was in college. But I won't hold it against her since this guilty pleasure was such a, um, well, guilty pleasure.

Summer Read #9 is a short story on the recommendation from The Guy Who Doesn't Let Anyone Borrow His Books (Except For Me Cuz What Margaret Wants Margaret Gets)™. I'll have to get back to you on the name of it - something about Neon or Zaeon? Or a singing monkey?

Plea for change

I swear someone has put a hit out on me. Between the truly un-roguish throat clearing, the chip crunching, and the radial buttons attacking me from the rear I'm gonna go ballistic people. No really, there's gonna be some feathers flying soon.

Hello people, it's RADIO button.

RADIO! RADIO! RADIO!

*pant, pant*

New face around here

I threw together a quickie skin last night - after receiving several fantastic suggestions I ended up over-ruling them all and doing something ubergirly. It's a shocker, I can understand. Take a moment, tawk amongst yourselves.

After your moment, go ahead and give it a whirl: show me some skin!

Part 1 of ketchup

Wow, look at me being all neglegent around here lately. 'N stuff. Sincerest apologies. Really. Though the break from my normal smart-assed mouth must have been nice, no?

Over the course of the past week I have:

• remembered that airlines, universally, feed nitrousoxide through the air vents to make passengers sleepy - but only until after liftoff
• pondered why when I walk in to a hotel room and immediately finish the 15 second tour, promptly turn my attention to the armoir so I can get shreik and hide eyesore called a TV from my line of sight; go whence from which you came oh foul servant (seriously, who DOES that?!)
• found myself nodding in agreement with my lesser known mental self over the subject matter of: All Morning Show DJs Everywhere Have The Same Radio Voice And A Female Sidekick
• counted my blessings that no one tried to pick me up on the flights; remembered to bring my intimidating persona with me this time; heh
• wondered why Will Smith is so over the top in his movies that I'm starting to think he's a .... robot... ha ha ha, I'm so funny
• actually *craved* a street hot dog; those vendors are evil weiner temptors
• kicked mucho video game and cribbage ass in the hizzouse
• covered myself in sand
• drank so much green tea I'm going to sprout leaves from my ears pretty soon
• decided I need a vacation from anything to do with HTML, CSS, Java, PHP, XHTML, Validation, or Accessibility (Javascript, you're on my list too)
• walked in to a set of glass doors in the foyer at work

... things to think about.

It's gonna be hot here this week... just so you know there *will* be some stripping of the nice-eh-ties.

My bladder has psychosis

Right. So I realized my plan to catch up around here was foiled 2 nights ago as I sat in the emergency room of the local hospital from 4am to 7am. My bladder hangs itself in shame and promises never to pull such a lousy, selfish stunt ever again.

Around 12:30 the other night I went to the bathroom and felt the pangs of a urinary tract infection. Within an hour I was urinating almost straight blood between the time I spent crying and rocking on the shower floor from the sheer amount of pain I was in - that lasted about 3 and a half hours. It just so happened my roommate's family was here visiting and her oldest brother JJ took me to the emergency room at 4am. And it's a good thing too because in my state of Perpetually Irrational and Not To Mention Independent Female Psychosis™ I thought I could wait it out until 8am when my normal doctor's office opened. And by 'it' I'm speaking about the massive hemorraging going on in my bladder.

[MENTAL NOTE TO SELF: kick own ass if ever pull stunt like that again]

One would think that a serious visit to the emergency room at 4am would result in some serious drugs followed by some serious medical attention. It just so happens that after my nurse put us in a room she proceeded back to her station where she shopped for swimming suits online.

No shit.

Two hours, at least 6 doctors, 4 nurses, 1 piece of really fucked up illustrated literature in spanish, a book about Sam the Weiner Man, and urinating a half-cup of blood in to a cup later they prescribed me a couple medications. Apparently that's the all new, non-standard battery of what a woman has to go through to get some treatment. 800 mg of some really fucking awesome painkillers and one hour in a pharmacy later and I was headed out the front door with a whole bag of meds in hand.

Sleep and medication are like, cool 'n stuff. I think I slept a total of 12 out of 15 hours yesterday. Fortunately I have my mother and Keira around to battle said psychosis and they reminded me that trying to go back to work in a sedated state usually warrants a Really Fucking Stupid sticker right on one's forehead. I'm out from work again today.

We'll chat again soon... just as soon as I get ahold of some of these narcotics so I can pass them out to all my friends. Aaaahhhhhhhh...

Goal one of one: shower

Few people know I've been secretly training for the Athens Olympics the past few days - looking to set a new world record in Sound-Sleeping, but let's just say if they test me for drugs my name is Alotta You-Know-What, you know what I'm sayin'?

Sleep is... cool. Especially the kind of sleep where you wake up so tired that you just lay there with your eyes closed because exerting the energy to open them would push you over the edge, and realizing your body hasn't quite figured out you're awake yet so it just lays there all limps and feelingless. Or the kind of sleep where you wake up and there's drool rolling down your cheek, neck, and right in to the black shirt you're wearing.

Today my goal is to shower before 5:00pm. If I can manage to be awake long enough to get my ass in there I'll be set. The fact that I'll probably pass out on my bed, still in my bathrobe, for a minimum of 4 hours after said shower is but a minor detail.

Dear strength,

Remember the old days when we used to hang out for 17 hours a day? Just because sleep and I spend 17 hours a day in bed doesn't mean I don't still care for you. Soon, I will snap out of this drug-induced coma and we will frolic in fields of sunflowers. Doesn't that sound lovely?

Wish you were here,
~M

I'm exhausted... the shower will have to wait. Nighty night.

You puff that here and you're out. Hey, cool gun!

It seems that Minneapolis has hit a new low, my lovelies. Riddle me this...

It is possible for me to *legally* walk through the city with a sawed off shotgun, walk in to most respectable, paying, upscale establishments, park myself next to Suzy Sunshine, and keep that loaded weapon pointed at her and her funtastic family the entire time I gobble my brie and fruit masterpiece. As long as it's concealed under my jacket or hidden in my purse of course. However, now picture me (decked out in something black and form fitting) stationed at a shi-shi joint on the strip. Some guy is really fucking irritating, all up and in my buznASS, and beginning to drool down my shirt. The last thing I need is him incoherently babbling over the top of a hundred other incoherently babbling losers. It is now IL-legal for me to pull out an au-natural cigarette and puff some natural remedy his icky, deserving way.

Just so we're clear, guns are ok. Cigarettes of any kind -- anywhere -- NOT ok. Making sense yet?

Don't get me wrong. I fork over any amount of money and I'm irritated that the smell of cigarette smoke is in the air. But where in the FUCK have the brain cells of our lawmakers gone when we're allowed to conceal and carry *WEAPONS OF DESTRUCTION* but not allowed to carry a pack of cigs?

All that AND this in the local headlines tonight: "Man Gunned Down After Running To Minneapolis Convenience Store For Help".

Anyone else troubled by the state of the FUCKED UP affairs in our homeland besides me?

Blow

On a subject completely unrelated to the movie Blow (which I watched tonight) I'd like to bring to the table this picture of a crop circle. Remind anyone of anything? I"ll tell you what iI saw after the picture....

I'm not really so bothered as to the source of the crop circles - I just think they're beautiful!!! Just.... look at them! BEAUTIFUL! This particular one reminds me of dolphins swimming. Anyone else see that?

Maybe it's placebo effect from the movie? Trippy.

Moving ho

First of all) Everytime I'm walking out of Target downtown -- through the revolving doors - some asshat getting in just before me promptly exits the revolving door and stands there. Just... stands there. Um, HELLO! We're moving here people. I can't even tell you how many times I've had that door all up 'n in my buznass because I can't exit. I'm begging everyone to please learn revolving door etiquette and promptly follow all rules and regulations. Thank you for your bitch-ass cooperation and please exit forward.

Second of all) Since when did the song "Tonight, Tonight" by Smashing Pumpkins turn in to the song "Disarm"? It has come to my disturbed attention they are in fact NOT the same song. But damnit, THEY SHOULD BE!

Third of all) You may now refer to me as m-The-Supercalafragelisticexpialadoshious-Dogg. Not only am I recovering from that incident that landed me in the hospital, but I packed so much even a mafia hitman would have been proud (get it? packed?!!!!). The fruits of my labor:

Steve, Raphael, and B.O.B. will be happy to know that's the entirety of what's being moved on Saturday. Well that and a purple chair, a small rolling table, my bed, 2 dressers, and about 8 duffelbages full of clothes, towels, sheets, and various bits and bobs. I've officially cleaned everything except my room, which because of my rock-star lifestyle means it will *definitely* be waiting until Wednesday or Thursday evening. Even my plants are packed and ready to go. Probably hard to make out in the picture but they're bagged and ready to be smoked, FUCK, I mean moved:

Ho ho ho, what's that Margaret? You cleaned 80% of the apartment spin and spac?! How marvelous! Yes, I am one determined mo-fo when it comes to affairs that hit close to home - um, in this case literally. Not only am I anal retentively packed and organized but cleaning has commenced, climaxed, and now close to whipping out a cigarette to enjoy the high of the whole experience. 'Twill be a lovely week, don't you think?

Any ho's in the hizzy?

My friend works for Luxury Homes. Their email provider gave them a pop email account that reads...

Can't type now, I'm on the floor crying. She's a LUXURY HO!!!!

Need... to... get... out... more...

If only shoes had fonts on them!

This is how I feel right now: ( | )

See that? That's an ass. That's how I feel: like ass. Let's recap, shall we? Landed myself in hospital, slept 95%+ each day for 3 days, completely behind on packing and started to realize how much needs to be done so busted ass the entire weekend to pack up and clean entire apartment, got home from work last night and had shitload more cleaning to do, and today I wore new shoes to work -- which is 'girl' for "My Feet Really Fucking Hurt Right Now And I'm Limping Around The Apartment Like A Turnip."

Seriously men, do you have ANY idea what we women go through just to look nice? The art of the New Shoes is something that can't be taught, it's a very delicate language acquired and passed down through generations of shoe adorning women.

Scenario: Woman 1 meets Woman 2 at party. Woman 1 says to Woman 2, "I *love* your shoes! Where did you get them?!"

What Woman 1 really wants to say is, "The pain you must be feeling in those freakishly cute contraptions must be acute. I empathize with your plight to make the world a prettier place one foot at a time -- someone has to do it. Keep up the good work!"

In other news, I am a font whore. You will be able to reach me at font rehab in the upcoming weeks: The Font Haus. I truly apologize to my family for the embarrassment this must bring to our name.

Adult Entertainment

Tonight is adult entertainment night. Put the kiddies to sleep and join in the fun...

First of all, I was perusing some old activity logs on my website when I found this! What kind of weirdos are you?

Second, if you haven't ever heard the D it's about time you got your head out of your conservative ass and enjoyed the creative genius that is them (particularly if your name is Paul Andrews). Let's remember people, this is ADULT entertainment night --- not for the weak of heart.

Best to start out with Tenacious D's CD: click here

Favorite tracks include 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 18, 19, and 20. They'll rock your fucking socks off.

As you get a little more daring (read under their spell) it's time to move on to their DVD. Chalk full of f*cked up skits and a live concert in the UK they're perhaps even *more* amazing live. Purchase the love here.

Don't go anywhere, we're not through yet. Head on over to the house of ill refute test your paraphernalian mastery. And if you're feeling especially proud of your talents it's time to really put them to the test at the official site for anyone who attended college and skipped class even once.

I'll be back shortly

Happiness is.... getting high off the paint fumes IN YOUR BRAND NEW, SPARKLING, GORGEOUS, PERFECT APARTMENT! Aaaaahhhhhh.

Yesterday I picked up the keys to my new place and brought a huge load of very important Margaret things over. Things like shoes. And Victoria's Secret Lotion.

Positives about moving so far:

• don't have to listen to "the moaner" anymore


• saw wayyyyyy gorgeous guy in the parking ramp yesterday at the new place


• the walk to work is a few xtra blocks, and my thighs are thanking me very much for that

Not so positive things about moving so far:

• the wayyyyyy gorgeous guy saw me totally embarrass myself as I *nearly* dropped an entire laundry basket full of NES console games


• heavy lifting doesn't go with what I'm wearing


• getting high off the paint fumes -- but maybe that's a positive?

I'm going offline tonight and don't know if I'll be back until next week Tuesday or Wednesday. Alternatively, my wireless card will pick up someone's wide-open network and I'll bum off of them until I can get my own. I would count on the latter... you know me ;-).

Pussycat Dolls

I shall call her... Eva.

Go make your own: here.

D'oh!

I'm getting my quota in for tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday. Take the Simpsons Personality Test here. (Last I checked it was farked, so you'll probably have to hit refresh a few times to get it working...)

Is this a shocker to anyone? I'm: