Black Friday

I just changed my new myspace blog backround to this. I was going to opt for this, or even this, but my first choice fit the layout of my blog better, and matched my previous layout's colors, so I'm happy with it. What would I do without good ol' Deviantart????

Katie and Sex made my day today. What with Katie's kind remarks as to how thankful she is for me, and Sex promising hugs and a beer or ten, (although I'll have to pass on a beer, quit drinking. Had to, it's like crack to me!) I'm all giddy with Thanksgiving delight. And then of course the icing on the Cornucopian Cake was movie night with Mysty on Monday. I wore my gum forcefield suit, and we sat WAAAAAAAAAAAAY in the back, so if any gum chucking was going to take place, WE were gonna be the ones to blame. But alas, Mysty and I were the only ones in the theatre to see Zack and Miri Make a Porno, and one other porn lovin fellow, so our hopes were safe in knowing we wouldn't be getting arrested that night. Zack and Miri was great fun to watch and Justin Long as an ambiguously gay guy was like, THEEEEE sexiest fucking thing I've seen since Sex's ass on her myspace default and/or Mysty on Monday night. Mysty's beauty takes my fucking breath away, and I just never know what the fuck to do when she starts petting my hair or caressing my inner thigh. I get all geekfest on her and start talking like Farmer Ted from Sixteen Candles. Hopefully the "situation'll come on line". But yes, Mysty is stunning, and her sporting her hot pink leggings and combat boots combo doesn't help one fucking bit. She's muh little miss sunshine.

Well, nothin' says lovin' like playing co-op mode on Guitar Hero World Tour with your 9 year old daughter. She's currently obsessed with Tool's "Schism", which is an awesome fucking song, but hubby is kinda "if-fy" about allowing Carmen's absorbent little 9 year old mind processing the contreversy that is Tool. She took the liberty of looking up the definition of what "schism" meant, and she's like "huh"? So I had to explain to her in 9 year old terms what that meant from my cloudy perspective of it all. I did some research on Tool last night and was kinda annoyed at how they treat their fanbase, but at the same time mesmerized. The lyrics for "Schism" are very profound, as most lyrics for any song belted out by Maynard Keenan are. I kinda dig his other band Perfect Circle, but more than anything Tool is what does it for me. My dad's been an avid fan since 1980-whatchamahoozit, but I didn't really start digging most of their shit till the last few years.

Prison Sex, which I recently discovered is about child abuse, was banned from MTV supposedly after only a few airings, which kinda pisses me off too, because, fuck yeah it's offensive, but at the same time, it's putting sensitive subjects out on the table for people to look at and dissect and consider. More than anything, it's the lyrics that hit home for me:

It took so long to remember just what happened.
I was so young and vestal then,
you know it hurt me,
but I'm breathing so I guess I'm still alive
even if signs seem to tell me otherwise.
I've got my hands bound,my head down , my eyes closed,and my throat wide open.

Do unto others what has been done to you

I'm treading water,
I need to sleep a while.
My lamb and martyre, you look so precious.
Won't you come a bit closer,
close enough so I can smell you.
I need you to feel this,
I can't stand to burn too long.
Released in this sodomy.
For one sweet moment I am whole.

Do unto you now what has been done to me.

You're breathing so I guess you're still alive
even if signs seem to tell me otherwise.
Won't you come just a bit closer,
close enough so I can smell you.
I need you to feel this.
I need this to make me whole.
There's release in this sodomy.
For I am your witness that
blood and flesh can be trusted.
And only this one holy medium brings me piece of mind.

Got your hands bound, your head down,
your eyes closed.
You look so precious now.

I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this
shit blood and cum on my hands.

I've come round full circle.
My lamb and martyr, this will be over soon.
You look so precious.

Oddly enough, I spent the last 5 hours of my night writing a very private piece, kind of speaking from the perspective of one of my characters, which wound up becoming very personal and too close to home for me. I had decided to do some Tool research before I hit the pillow after I was done writing, and I kind've made me sneer with ironic derision at the ache of it all. After I read the lyrics for Prison Sex, which I had heard in so long, I felt such a deep connection with what I had written last night. It just kinda tore me to pieces inside, and so I've kept it festering within.

The line that struck the most prominent of chords within?

"I have found some kind of temporary insanity in this".

Maybe I'll have the balls to post what I've wrote sometime soon. Maybe not. I dunno. We'll see.

But uh, yeah. Back to the matter at hand....

"Black Friday"?

Went with my sister in law again this year. She invited me last year, which was my first experience with a facet of humanity that I have compared to Magneto's experience of losing his family in Poland, in the first 3 minutes of X-men 2, which can be viewable right fucking here.

I'm NOT fucking kidding.

THAT'S exactly what it was like at Walmart at 4:00 in the fucking a.m. For those of you that don't know what it's like to be exposed to the madness that is Black Friday, you absolutely MUST try it at least once.

I was squeezed through a vagina fashioned of human hands, shoulders and arms, while being vortexed through the doors of America's Favorite Supermarket, clutching for any last remnants of my sister in law's gloves as we were tore away from one another in humanity's desperation to get their grubby little paws on the last 42 inch flat screen television (for only $698.00. if you act NOW!!!) I entered the building much like that of a newborn, with the same dumbfounded look on my face as I was greeted by Walmart employees looks of disgust and contempt for us humans altogether, retorting ""Walk!! Don't run!!"

I was just as nearly as disgusted as these disgruntled employees, walking around in a daze, not knowing where I was going or what I was even doing for the next 10 minutes or so, while Kristi, (my sister in law) led my rookie ass around, showing me of shortcuts, rites of passage through the masonistic temple that is Walmart. She knew of secret bricks to slide out of place, and bookshelves that rotate if you sang in the correct inflection of hymn, all of which spelled out "Power, greed, and value!!".

I was amazed at Kristi's dexterity, although I shouldn't have been. She's been doing this faithfully for 12 fucking years know. Talk about a devout!!

And we fully intend on doing it all again next year....and the year after that and the year after that. I go for the jest of humanity. Such a good laugh for one's soul!!!

The Farting Cat

Happy Thanksgiving evra'boday.

I "should" be....

I should be folding laundry, watching the final episode of True Blood.

I should be thinking about what I'm thankful for.

I should be typing away with fevered fury all the longings and temptations of my lowly and humble minotaur character that I've created for my own that came to me in the night after raping my own god-damned muse.

I should be taking my herbal supplements regularly.

I should be dusting, sweeping, mopping and performing spectacular oral sex on my husband regularly.

I should be jotting down all the wonderful introspective that came to me in the night after I raped my other muse in regards to the "Beautiful" book that I'm going to write about my mother.

I should be telling my friends like Katie and Mysty and Tina and other such anonymous entities that I want to make a "Beautiful" book pt. 2 in regards to all the beauty that they put forth on this plane of existence.

I should be at the Filipino store, buying Lumpia wrappers to better prepare for the Thanksgiving meal our families are about to share tomarrow.

I should be taking a fucking shower.

I should also be off this fucking blog, and still not giggling that Satan is in my heart right now, making me want to tell the people I hate, "Fuck You". (He also made not want to work today or for 12 consecutive years in a row.) I have only myself to blame for wanting to stay up late and have sex all night long.

But instead I sit here, collecting blog dust.

I'm gonna go brush my teeth.

Here's a gem to share with the group:

(Rudyard Kipling excerpt)

In the Neolithic Age

Then I stripped them, scalp from skull, and my hunting dogs fed full
And the teeth I threaded neatly on a throng,
And I wiped my mouth and said,
"It is well that they are dead,
"For I know my work is right and theirs were wrong."

But my Totem saw the shame;
from his ridgepole-shrine he came,
And he told me in a vision of the night:_
"There are nine and sixty ways of contructing tribal lays,
"And every single one of them is right!"

Satan is in our hearts

I LOVE the Pick of Destiny. I LOVE Tenacious D. I LOVE Jack Black.

The Perfect Drug

It's what my writing is to me.

Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails says it best in the song "The Perfect Drug".


I got my head, but my head is unraveling
can't keep control, can't keep track of where it's traveling

I got my heart but my heart is no good
and you're the only one that's understood

I come along but I don't know where you're taking me
I shouldn't go but you're reaching, dragging, shaking me

Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
the more I give to you, the more I DIE!!!!!!

And I want you and I want you and I want you and I want you

You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug

You make me hard, when I'm all soft inside
I see the truth, when I'm all stupid eyed

The arrow goes straight through my heart
without you everything just falls apart

My blood wants to say hello to you
my feelings want to get inside of you

My soul is so afraid to realize how very little there is left of me

and I want you and I want you and I want you and I want you!

You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug you are the perfect drug, the drug

The perfect drug take me,

if you want take me,
if you want take me,
if you want take me,

if you want
without you everything falls apart

without you, it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces
without you, without you everything falls apart

without you, it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces
it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces

it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces without you,
without you everything falls apart

Without you, it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces

Spud gunz, Starbucks, and Dream Country....

Current mood: manic PANIC!!!!!


So like, currently?

Snookms is outside shooting a home-made spud gun. Made of pvc pipe and couplings. I can smell the delicious pvc cement from here. Just heard a big DUWOOOOB!! which Brian is making fun of me about for impersonating as I type. Fukken douch(e)baggery.

Also nursing a Chocolate Truffle Mocha that I got from the Starbucks inside Barnes & Noble in one hand, and a Jones Co. Candy Cane flavoured soda in the other. Oh how I love the packaging for them sodas. I'm thinking of submitting Snookms' "Happy Holidays" underwear Christmas special photo that I took last year to them. Wouldn't you love to see this as you take sips of your Egg Nogg flavoured soda on a warm Christmas Night??



I know I would.....

Sandman Series number 3 Dream Country is waiting patiently for me to read on my bed, as I had to settle for volume 4 in the series last week. The B&N Snookms took us to last week didn't have Dream Country (which is volume number 3) in stock, so Season of Mists it was. Beautifully written, btw....Dream has to venture to Hell yet again, in search of a lost and forgotten love, and gorgeous Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Fallen Angel, has taken it upon himself(themself?) to surrender the keys to the Gates of Hell to Good Ol' Morpheus. THAT'S the reason I was on the whole "A Heav'n of Hell and a Hell of Heav'n" kick. Such a marvelous fucking piece of literature.

So far, my favorite intro into the story has got to be Steve Erickson's perspective on Neil's prose.

Here is but a mere sample for your reading pleasure:

I'm writing this on the fine edge of that blade that's consciousness on one side and dream on the other, that thin silver horizon where you hover right before falling asleep, and right before comepletely waking. Neil Gaiman lives here all the damn time. He scribbles his stories and sends them out from the thin silver horizon whose bridge the rest of us traverse just twice a day. Gaiman is the troll who lives beneath the bridge; he exhales into word ballons the visions that flash only fleetingly across our gaze and then are gone with the next memory. Dreams of what we've loved and lost, dreams that are more vivid than our lives, dreams that tell you they aren't dreams, from which come the questions that trouble and entrall and finally free our spirits,if were' brave enough for the answers. Gaiman's ideas, in other words, of a good time.

....How I would secrete gold persimmons from my vaginal glands to get a fucking review like that in regards to the blather that is my writing one day. The sighs are an endless bunch here, so I will cease the bullshit musings.

In the beginning of Dream Country, this writer, whom is suffering major writer's block makes a deal with this infamous novelist and gets this "muse" in female form, and everytime he rapes her, he is embued with the ability to belt out a great work in progress, continually making millions contingent upon whenever this douch(e) fuck decides his weenie needs a party. So this "muse" of sorts finally summons the courage to call upon her higher power for help, only to discover that she is bound by the ridiculous law of the land to continue to serve this slave driver of an ass as muse for eternity. Alas she calls upon "Oneiros" as a last resort, remembering once that they were lovers in a previous life, and "Oneiros" who is Dream, has the ability to transcend the laws of many dimensions that most inhabitants would be otherwise bound to....

Morpheus...Dream....Sandman....Oneiros....they are one in the same, no?? Kinda reminds me of the way Tolkien used to give each of his characters 20 different names depending on where the main characters in each chapter hail from. I like the ideal though, as you get to use all the cool names for characters you thought you were gonna have to trash evidently. Like Aragorn is Strider, and Gandalf is....is SOMEBODY else, I can't fukkin remember. And Gollum was/is Smeagol. I dunno. It's just cool and all.

At least the last volume, Sandman series number 11, Endless Nights is now available for my reading pleasure. Hopefully I get my grubby little paws on it before someone else does. It usually only takes me 2-3 days to finish reading these graphic novels, so it's usually costing me 20 bucks a week to keep this habit. I tell you what though, it's far better than any DRUG I've smoked. Yee-haw.

I must venture back to reality now. There is a potato cannon sitting outside with my name on it.


Currently reading :
Dream Country (The Sandman, Vol. 3)
By Neil Gaiman
Release date: 1991-09-24

P to the S....

I know I've just been copying and pasting what I've written on my Myspace blog to here lately, But honestly? I just really don't fucking have much to say these days. I'm at a loss fer words, yo.

This bitch gotz plenty to say though. The workings of a fucking writing genious. Has the future all laid out for themself and doesn't even know it. Yer cluelessly awesome Jess and I hope you don't mind that I'm sharing with everyone else just how much of a badass you are. Maybe I should ask first? Just give me the word and I'll have it down ASAP, mmkay?

For Erica...

What MY life looks like?

Hmmm....



Most days I'm the Brunette, but there are days that I settle for the role of the Blonde.

Escapism

Current mood: jabberwocky


My forearms hurt.

From playing this. And this. But mostly this.

These are all examples provided on GHWT done on expert mode, and I, of course, can only play on hard. Expert is way the fuck harder than hard, so I would have my ass handed to me on a giant Corelle brand platter if I ever even tried to venture to expert mode on any Guitar Hero game. But yes, I've managed to plop myself into the fascist world of escapism once again.

One cannot complain too much, as I've been here many a time before, and while I can secretly inwardly giggle when Mysty truthfully expels the myth that matters like "WOW' (World of Warcrack) and other such nuances indeed AREN'T a form of escapism, that fact of the matter is that it's true. It gives you a sense of accomplishment in a realm one would otherwise have been tossed aside as a fucking loser of sorts.

I sit idly by in my pajamas that I've donned for the 4th day in a row now, trying hard to argue this point within myself internally, but all that's succeeded in doing so is that my clothes are now crying tears of desperation, my shiny new black tee with a silver skull emblem, once a thing of newness and beauty, is now sad and forlorn, worn with the wear and tear of being ate, slept and shit in.

My dreads have managed to manifest themselves by now. Before they needed prompting, the picking of scaly barnacles. But yesterday they spoke to me. They say they no longer need me nor my incessant picking rituals. They can get by just fine on their own now. They sing on a song all their own now, much like the "horns" on that of "Treeman". After a well turned night of my ridiculous "off the herbal meds" bickering over finances and our lack thereof, Snookms and I both had the pleasure of watching this documentary. I felt I could relate to this sweet man on so many levels. I would have elected to have just become a full fledged tree. I think I may have been sexy as one, no?

Even in my currently uberly depressed state, I can still say with deep and profound conviction that there is still so much beauty in the world that lay before me. It feels unattainable, a stretch, if you will. And I sit like an idle God, watching this snowglobe of pleasantries, unwilling to do a god-damned thing to reach out and "touch someone".

I feel alone.

I feel afraid.

And I feel okay with this.

Maybe things will work out the way I've always hoped and dreamed.

Maybe not.

I'm utterly complacent with this notion, but something vexes within, crying that this shouldn't be right. If I could only touch this small and weakened creature right now.

If only I could see her again.

I might be not okay with not being okay then.

And that would be okay.


Currently reading :
Where Is God When It Hurts? : A Comforting, Healing Guide For Coping With Hard Times
By Philip Yancey

Ville Valo

I now know why some serial killers desire eating the flesh of their victims.....I would make a butt steak of this guy and freeze his testicles for dessert.

HIM - Rebell yell

EVEN SEXIER. *purrrrrrr*

Dancing With Myself - Billy Idol

Schweaty Schexiness. Woot.

stuck in the sound - toy boy

Awesome song to play on GHWT. (Guitar Hero World Tour)

Sha-sha-sha-shaaaaaaake.

Something I threw in my memoir

"Yammering"


Yes. It's 3 a.m. and I'm yammering.
I have nothing to write or say, but just feel a dire need to secrete my hyroglyphic juices everywhere.
Huh. Actually, it's only 11:30 p.m.
But to me, it's 3:00 in the a.m.
Anytime that it's nighttime
and the house is quiet
and there is no one awake but me
It must always be 3 in the morning.
So there.
There has been so much taking place in my life in the past few weeks that I feel as though life is speeding right past me
and I have not yet the time to embrace each moment
to caress and savour it's wonderful taste
in my metaphorical mouth
long enough to remember it
and store it in my memory for future use
I feel as though I'm on the shoulder of the interstate
some State Road out there
with a thousand times upon a thousand
of cars
vehicles
in their transience
they see me only for a moment
and then passing me by as the sun's early rays
hit the street's rough and blackened pavement
leading back to the sun's horizon to the east
where darkness and unknowing await
for me
they beckon like blankets
fluffy white blankets
that envelop you in dreary slumber,
that sweet 6 a.m airport morning slumber
that only the scent of coffee grounds could subdue
so you wink away the early blue hints of sunlight
and plop you're slumber-drunken head down
you know all too well what sleep will do
yet you succumb
because it's simple
it offers a complication that you don't have to be responsible to
and in dreaming
you don't have to dream
you can just be
a sunbeam of light
forever floating
amongst the waves of the Pacific
floating in and out of harmoniac conscience
and so these blankets of unawares
call out to me
I resist stronger each day
and they are dissapointed
but they know one day
that soon I will return
even if just for a "holiday"
but there they are
that unabated feeling of always being there
I don't want them to always be there
I want them to grow tired of me and leave me
like all else who have attempted to climb my difficult peaks
they realize the beauty that awaits them is unattainable
so they turn around and climb back down
there is no point in climbing to the top
if that's not where my beauty can be found
No
it has been tucked away
in a cave
far south from here
only to be seen
on special occasion
when you'd least expect
maybe on some dreary day
when the rains have flooded the gorge
and seduced the raging rivers
with pressures umimaginable
then, maybe then
you might spot it
floating it's way up north
past the orchards
yes, that was never my true beauty
it's not the kind of beauty
that most will find beautiful
it is one of appreciation
one to have grown on another
it's not outrightly discovered
at first glance
and claimed and staked
it has to reveal itself time and time again
only to be devalued by most
and the only I treasure
are the precious few
whom can spot my beauty
from straightaway
and forever encapsulate it
in the palm of their hands
so that they cannot and will not
let me go
because I am exotic to them
but not to all
and to all a good night
otherwise
it hides
protects itself
in a deep little realm
all it's own
where beauty is no longer beauty
night no longer night,
and day no longer day
life
is now death
what was once considered repulsive to the outside law
is held as treasure here
worth it's weight in silver
because gold is no longer valuable in this kingdom
This is where I play
this is my realm
of dying beauty
where each event held tragic
has a ticket
all it's own
that none could so ever afford
The price you ask?
"You could never afford me",
replies my blackened darkness
My blackened trees I do water
with the tears of my anguish
they are nurtured
in my torture
they grow night by night
and the creatures
come out with prowess
ravenous lavenders
light up the nocturne
making for themselves
an impure glow
they feast upon the pure
and digest it's harvest
leaving behind an emptiness
as it mushrooms into sorrow
an eternity of endurance
stretched far beyond the limits of any imagination
the moon chats with me
each night
we bench ourselves
in the midnight
sitting idly
in our park
the hills are our slides
the hills of life
the "ups"
and the "downs"
make us say "wee"
our swing
the mood swing
with each push of destiny
we gain considerable altitude
only to come sailing downward
into a threshold of ire
and keep on the downstroke
downtrodden
until life itself
has pushed us back up
just to wait again
for the incessantly necessary need
to downward spiral
into the abyss
of depression
and repression
preparing me
for my plight
but I revel
in this treasure
I take delight
in the dark affairs
who else to care so?
God is the moon and the raven-trees
He is in the very air I breathe
each word I speak
I have spaken unto thee
he caresses me even in my dark place
He takes my hand with joy
and secretly tells me
that he "wishes they were all more like me"
this IS my dark place, mind you!
and where dark realms reside
you have your way
with words
even if it is in playtime with God
So I take his giant hand in mine
stripened by my artistic fancy
and plant for him one of my own
he smiles at me
his God-smile
his nod of approval
as I nudge him further
down my path
and walk amongst my garden of black sunflowers
which I have named Moonflowers
we walk the pathway
of hooves and death
he giggles at my gothic fleet
pawing at my shoulder,
"Good riddance"
but yet, I witness his grin once more
I show him a thing or two
about how he could have done this on earth had he had the chance
I remind him of me
and what I was named on his earth
and you know what he says to me?
he shows me my name in his heaven
not on earth
but here in heaven
my prowess no longer needed
for I am a star
shining darkly
and I hear in my ears
clearly resounding
"Blessed are the meek.....
......for theirs is the kingdom of heaven"
andso
therein
I am
shining darkly
for him to see
and that's all that ever matters
for me
for eternity
I have been given my place
and I am not sad about my place
nor bothered
nor uncomfortable
for he knows me
and puts forth those very desires in the first place
even if he IS a purple and black striped Minotaur wearing nothing but an iron black sceptre and a green leafy loincloth.

Boredom is my own worst enemy

I haven't written too much. Edited my memoir. Sent out a few "queries". But I've lost the fever. Maybe it'll burn back soon. Til then I've got writer's block, dishwasher's block, sex block, and laundry folding block.

Well, "Ewoh Nairb", thanks for the heads up about the Zack & Miri flick. Wish I could say the same, but not 5 minutes into the movie and 1 of 3 teenage cuntflaps managed to fling gum on my arm. Aside from these douch(e)bags, Mysty and I were the only other human beings in the theater, so we knew it was them. I looked down at my arm where the gum had hit it's target and about puked. There was a small pool of drool on it, and staring at it wasn't going to get me any calmer. The rebel in Mysty confronted the 3 goons, asking "Did one of you just throw gum at us?" And then, "Cause if you did, I'll have you thrown out." A bunch of teenage bullshit spewed forth from their cocksucking wordholes, denying the whole thing, but throwing at blasphemies all at once, so I had the Hulk shakes and was ready to smash something. I called them the douch(e)bags that they were, and Mysty said she didn't mind going to jail tonight, but I didn't think that was neccessary, so Mysty and I just tried to enjoy the movie.

The more I kept thinking about it, the more Hulk smash I became, so I just knew that before the night was over Mysty and I would indeed end up in jail for pounding 3 little 16 year olds. So I told Mysty I was going to the bathroom and came back with the manager. He was very understanding and kind, and confronted the 3 douch(e)bags and again we're met with neck rolls and trash talk. So I told her that if she cussed at me again she was going to get 4 acrossed the forehead, emphasizing with my fist. She told me "Fuck you" and I told her to "Come here, and I will", and that's when the manager stepped in between us. Mysty had came over by that time and was ready to punch a bitch in the neck, so we decided to just leave.

The manager not only refunded Mysty's money (she paid, what a gent!!) but also gave us 2 tickets each to come back anytime, with a formal apology and called the kids assholes. All in all not a bad night, but everytime I remember that little pool of teenage drool sitting on my arm, I wanna puke in some tin foil and eat it.

Art saves

My beautiful Mysty, yet again. She's so fucking creative. I heart boot fetish.

*sigh*

Going to see the new Kevin Smith flick with her tonight, Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Can't wait!!!!

More funnies to share with the group

Other people that are in agreeance that I suck.

Click here for a link to douchebag heaven.

Anyone know of someone who lives in the New Orleans area??

Actually, it IS rather funny.

Awhile back I posted a blog, albeit a short, quaint and cozy one, of my view of what the world thought of me. Just today, I was greeted by one who feels the same. Kinda gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling all over, y'know???

You can't help but giggle.

"The mind is it's own place, and in itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n".

A quote I stole from Seasons of Mist, volume 4 in the Sandman series hearing Harlan Ellison suck off Neil's writing prose. :D

And then....

"God's not looking for ability. He's looking for availability." -Joel Osteen.

I just got done reading that in one of Joel Osteen's books: "Become a Better You".

As I read that ingenious statement yesterday while taking a shit, I thought long and hard about the definition of "avail-a-bility".

Usually when I am trying to form my own opinion of what a word means in my OWN definition and how it connects to the personal world around me that I have managed to fashion for myself, I try to break a word up into syllables and focus on each syllable as a word all on it's own (when possible). I then take turns with each individual word and piece each definition together until I begin to make sense of the equation and how it all fits into my own calculated realm of nonsense.

Now comes the fun part....

I bust out THE DICTIONARY. I usually have to make sure I've got plenty of time on my hands once I break this baby out, because, like I read in one of Sex's blogs awhile back (critique series number 3, last paragraph. Yes I stalk the bitch, GET OVER IT), getting the dictionary out can be risky business for a busy body. Once you find a definition for ONE word, you quickly find yourself looking up another word. And then it leads to a trail of millions of other words, and the next thing you know you're keeled over in your computer chair, nose deep in a cocaine heap of syntax addiction.

Alas, knowledge is power. And words the great almighty sword of Victor & Destiny.

So, like, back to the word AVAIL. There's a really cool punk band called AVAIL.This is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word AVAILABLE. Group it with the word ABILITY, and you have a whle new word with a completely different ambience added to it.

The word AVAIL is defined as: to be of use, help, or worth. Ironically enough, the word AVAILABILITY is not available in my dictionary, but of course, "AVAILABLE" is. It is described as follows: 1. that can be used 2. that can be gotten or had, handy.

Incidentally, the word AVANT-GARDE is one word directly beneath AVAILABLE and again, as Sex speaks of, the word addiction begins.

AVANT-GARDE is defined as: (to MY spectacularly schitzophrenic delight!) the leaders in new movements, especially in the arts; vangaurd.

So then of course I go on a mad hunt for the dictionary's definition of VANGUARD. (Keep in mind I already have a pretty good sense of what most of these words mean, but there is just something very appeasingly profound about discovering them in print.)

Solace is found as I pinpoint the meaning of VANGUARD- 1. The part of the army which goes ahaead of the main body. 2. Leading position or person in a movement.

I also note VAN GOGH available for my definitive pleasure and quickly skim over the word, being defined as simply, "painter", before I return to my search at the beginning of the dictionary yet again, where AVANT-GARDE was previously discovered.

I stare at my new pretty word while experiencing feeling of completion, a sense of deep connection. I rest with this word in my mental psyche, making it one with myself, letting it roll off my tongue a few times, saying it aloud:

AVANT-GARDE, AVANT-GARDE, AVANT-GARDE.

Somehow my schitzophrenically challenged wavelength of mentality tells me,

"This is an important word".

It is spiritually highlighted in my mind, kind of in the same way that "Frank the Bunny Rabbit" would highlight and relay important information to Donnie in the movie Donnie Darko. (A must-fucking-see film for any who eat, drink, and breathe sci-fi fantasy with profound meaning and intelligence.)

My mind races like this everyday.

EVERY FUCKING DAY.

On a good day, I'll take all this riff-raff and BLOG it, or recite it longhand style in one of my BAH-ZILLION journals I keep lying around my abode. On a bad day it'll just stay bottled up inside of me with nowhere for it to spill except into what later becomes my ostentaciously annoying manic/irritable modes. I'll flail about on a mad rampage of cleaning and self-mutilative/destructive frenzy.

This fever will typically burn within me for the next week or so; at least til I crash and burn from utter exhaustion and lack of sleep, so that I am no good to/for anyone or anything. The whole universe has to be put on hold until further notice until I can recuperate from my arduous journey.

There are times that my mind races so fast that it can feel like my orbital cortex is on fire, and I want nothing more than to douse my frontal lobes into a cooler of steaming dry ice.

I will keep feeling my forehead, making sure there are no beads of sweat trickling down.

But alas, my hand always returns to me dry.

So here I am.

I've become sexually involved with my new word, avant-garde, and invited AVAIL and ABILITY to come and indulge in a foursome with me and my new word of the day.

Anyone got some Valium?

P. to the S.:

Joel Osteen reminds me of Stephen Moyer, a.k.a. "Bill Compton" from HBO's new T.V. show "True Blood".



Not only does he resemble him in appearance, but in personality profile, body language, and verbal socialization style.

Bill Compton is WAY THE FUCK sexier than ol' "Joelie" though:



"We vampires don't like for our weaknesses to be made public knowledge".

Questions from Kathulhu Fhtagn

Full name: Rachel Jean Buttnugget

Nicknames: Hugh Jackman, Diarrehea Deliverer, Tumbleweed, Rach-dawg

Nicknames you wish you had but no one gave to you: The Fonze, Jabberwocky, Black Death.

Birthday: August 1

Favorite holiday: Halloween, Christmas

Favorite band: Joy Division, Cold War Kids, Human Abstract (before A.J. Minette pussed out as lead guitarist)

Favorite movie: Aw geeze. I can never just pick one....Donnie Darko, Story of Us, The Fountain, Amelie...(this list ALWAYS changes)

Favorite book: Soulforge, Getting Through the Day, Origin (The Story of Wolverine), Neil Gaiman's Sandman series (so far!! only read the first 2 volumes but FUCK am I in LOOOOOOOOVE)

Favorite pick up line: "Did you fart? Because you just blew me away." (I stole that bitch from Katie)

Favorite underwear: The 45 dollar pair that I bought from Victoria's Secret for my birthday. (Those are also THE LAST pair of underwear I've bought for myself, and that came equipped with a 30 dollar gift card. Oh, and keep in mind that my birthday is in FUCKING August.)

If you could only listen to 3 albums, not including mix cd's, for the rest of your life what would they be?: The Best of Bjork, Neon Bible by Arcade Fire, and Lady Sings the Blues by Billie Holiday.

Do you know the difference between "How ya doin'?" and "How you doin'?": What the fuck?

If you're male, how ya doin'?: GREAT!

If you're female, how you doin'?: I need to put deodorant on. ASAP.

If I(Kathulhu) was an ice cream flavor, what flavor would I(Kathulhu) be?: Supreme Dictator Flavoured Ice Cream

Now what about you?: Jamocha

When people say "And those people know who they are." are they talking about you?: Doubtful.

Do you think there is such thing as coincidence?: Yep.

Fate?: Yep.

Accidents?: Yup.

Jebus?: I'm going to name my next pet Jebus. Jebus Christmas.

Weirdest place you've ever "done it": My mom and dad's bathroom floor. (sorry mom) My brother's bunk bed (sorry Eric) On top of a toilet (sorry Snookms)

Weirdest place you've ever been naked: In a school bathroom. When I went to W.E.C. (an alternative school) this one hot guy that I barely knew pissed me off with something really "rich" that had spewed forth from his wordhole, so I yelled "Suck my pussy!". He then returned the insult saying "Alright. Girl's bathroom. Right now." I couldn't puss out, so I said okay, started unzipping my pants right there in the hallway, beckoned for him to follow me to the bathroom (which he did), kicked the stall door open, dropped my pants & underwear to the ground, opened my legs....and then he just stood there like a fukken douche bag. What an asshole, right? I never felt like a bigger dipshit in my life, standing there in naked expectancy.

And now the questionaire invented by the famous Bernard Jebonlondefaeux.

What is your favorite curse word?: Fuck. Mutherfuck. Assfuck. Jesus Fucking Christ.

What sound or noise do you love?: Snookms and/or the spawn laughing at my funnies.

What sound or noise do you hate?: Me queefing while I'm getting my ass tapped from behind.

What turns you on, gets you going, gets you pumped, what turns you on?(it's not sexual ya big perv): I'll have to agree with Katie when she says "good muzak". Hearing Snookms pull off an awesome riff on the "git-fiddle" does it to me pretty good too.

What turns you off?: Bologna breath and a false sense of pride.

What career would you like to have other than your own?: Therapist. Heart Surgeon. Renegade Wizard.

What career would you hate to have?: The guy/gal that has to mop up basketball player sweat and drool offa the gym floor. That job looks like it fucking BLOWS.

And finally, if heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive?: Thanks alot bitch. Now can I have my socks back??

Proposition 8 and saying "yes" or "no"...

So I've heard that they've banned gay marriage in some states.

This is really sad.

Who the fuck are we to do decide, to dictate who is valid and who is not?

Just when I thought humanity was taking a step further in relinquishing the fear that was once instilled in me to be very afraid of ourselves, it comes back full force to kick me in the ass once again.

I'm not going to lie and say that I never thought being gay was "wrong".

I've only actually come to the exclusive conclusion that being homosexual is something that isn't our place to judge until just recently.

I was shrouded in a cloud of oppression and darkness and guilt for many years.

As a child, I was taught that my admiration for a woman was something to be hidden away, and later on, in my teenage years, something to feel guilty about. I walked down the school halls with my head in shame whenever I felt attracted to the beauty of any woman, and grew up the rest of my years feeling like a fucking pervert for not being able to "make" myself not be more "wholesome", like most "everyone else".

I've been to therapy now for a few years, sorting out the slush pile that was my disconnected emotions. So many things were put together within me, yet they never added up to make any sort of an equation that I could ever make sense of.

I lived most of my life in fear, fear of being rejected, fear of being alone, fear of being eternally deemed wrong.

It's not until this year that I've come to the conclusion that there is only one difference in each of us as these entities of life, prodding about in these mad human suits:

There are those of us that are going to walk the walk and take a chance of living to their fullest potential,

and then there are those that won't.

Plain and simple.

There is no good or bad, no black or white, no up or down, nor hot or cold.

Just people who make choices everyday that have no right to judge what choices others have made.

I grew up my whole life thinking that being gay was bad, wrong, something to be afraid of letting your children be. Not because of some shit my parents were trying to preach down my throat, but because of society and it's reaction to those who don't fit the "standard". If anything, my parents taught me that as a society, we have all FAILED miserably in fitting a standard, and that no one is any better or higher up on the totem pole than anyone else. But alas, once I got to the outside world, as much as I tried to live to that decree, it just didn't fucking work. This ideal that my parents lived up to was more like a "pretend world" that my family lived in, when it was safe to be ourselves behind closed doors.

I really fucking hope, pray, that all of this will eventually wash away and that the message Jesus was trying to spread around when he was here on Earth will prevail, and that is "Love one another, as I have loved you". It says it right there, plain and simple, with the introduction of that statement being "But ABOVE all these things".....

As Obama president, this is the message that I hope will continue to spread and be educated to the peoples of the world.

Even if he DOESN'T live up to our hopes and dreams of what he promises, fails miserably and our economy falls further than it ever has before, one thing will have struck a chord with me, as with many....

When I was a kid, I walked around with the notion that we were all humans and loved one another and that love was the most important thing. The first time I heard the word "prejudice" I was introduced to a world I would never in any of my wildest dreams as a child think humanity could be capable of. I lost so much innocence in my youth, being introduced to the true meaning of prejudice when I saw the bodies of millions be piled up one after another in the Holocaust. I lost much of my faith and heart in what I thought was a safe world. Humanity became a very dangerous word to me. It was equated with "prejudice" for a very long time...

Seeing as many people supporting Obama as an acceptable candidate for leading the country that once kept people as slaves restored my hope in humankind.

Over the years, people have taken a beautiful message of unconditional love and acceptance, and twisted it around to their own ends, using it as a tool to manipulate/control others with threats of fear and divide.

My parents always advocated a message of unconditional love all throughout my life. It's society that made me believe that being different was wrong. I hid myself away for so long, and asked, SCREAMED into my pillow at nights, "Why God, did you make things this way, if it's so wrong?"

The answer I came back with was that HE didn't make this, WE did.

The ones that judge, the ones that continue to "shadowbox" with a part of themselves that they choose not to accept for whatever reason, the unforgiving, the ignorant. Self hatred and ignorance is what keeps us divided.

Not God.

None of us are any better than the other, but this is what these kinds of things generate:

Segration. Division. Ultimate defeat.

Someday, in whatever paradise one has fashioned and deemed for themselves a paradise, we will ALL be able to walk hand in hand, free of judgement, free of fear, free from laws and doctorates that dictate our every step. I hope I don't have to wait until I die to get a taste of this, but if death is where I shall finally be in paradise, well then that's where it shall be.....

LOVE wouldn't cause people to hurt and question, like this. Or this.

The love I know of would be angered that these people are feeling so hurt and rejected. I feel these people's pains. Hurt. Rejection.

True love would welcome all, with open arms.

That's the Jesus I know. That's the Jesus I talk to everyday.

Ignorance is bliss

November 5, 2008

12:27 a.m.

(This was originally drafted in paper and purple crayola marker)

Barack Obama just got elected president.

I am STILL in awe of it all.

Very much so.

I have NEVER found myself giving as much of a shit about an election as this one.

Initially, I didn't.

As soon as Hilary had dropped out of the "race", I quickly lost interest. I acknowledged who Obama was, later discovered who McCain was, and dismissed the election with a wave of a hand until "futher notice".

When talk of this "Palin" character entered the "arena", my ears pricked up. (The only reason being, I SHIT you not, that she shared the same name as the son of one of one of my all time favorite characters from the Dragonlance Novels.) When I discovered that this particular character was a a WOMAN, and that she resembled comedian actress Tina Fey with RIDICULOUS similiarity, I was again, becoming somewhat engaged.

By then I had made up my mind that McCain was a pretty much a dipshit and Palin was going to be drug down to dipshit hell right along with him. I had remembered a friend of mine, (whom was/is Anti-Obama) had posted a bulletin on Myspace of a picture of the electorial candidates standing together in a moment of silence, all supposed to be paying homage to the U.S. Flag. Only OBAMA hadn't put his hand over his heart while the others pledged allegiance. The point of the bulletin was to mock Obama's devotion to our country, and I can only remember thinking quietly and humbly to myself, "Now THAT'S standing up for what you believe in." I wasn't "out of the closet" quite yet with how I felt about Obama just then, but THAT right there had me caring more about an election FAR MORE than I had EVER cared about one in my 32 years of living. I even remember sending a reply to the friend that had sent the bulletin, in "jest", inquiring, "Are you SURE you wanna vote this guy for president?"

For as long as I can remember, I've always had this uncanny ability to place myself on the "middle ground" whenever it came to conflicting ideals. Don't know if it's got to do with all the arguments my parent would constantly bring my brothers & I into the middle of, or if it's because I was just used to not voicing my need/wants/opinions, or WHAT....BUT!! I was able to endure weeks of not only SOME of my Anti-Obama pal, but my husband as well, endlessly recruit potential "followers", or at least spout off all the reasons they were Pro-McCain.

*edit* Only Mysty and Snookms were supportive of what I chose, even though they didn't agree with my choice. It's the some of the others that I had a hard time breathing around...*end edit*

This was kind of good for me in a way though, as it gave me perspective on BOTH sides of the table that I would have NEVER otherwise gained had I chose to hop on the "Obama Wagon" from the get-go.

So as excrucuiating as it sometimes was to silenty endure what sometimes sounded to me like sheer ignorance and hatred, I was able to filter through these "follies" and actually hear the "needs" of the "people".

And I think, more than anything, people are just afraid of change.

I never DID vote. Came close to it twice, but decided agaist it for personal reasons.

(I'm ambiguously schizophrenic! NEH!!)

But the more I thought about the reality of it all, the more comfortable I felt with the notion that "God's Will" would be done, no matter WHO became president.

I just kept coming back to the thought that no matter WHAT these guys promised (much like those school presidential elections of far fetched promising) that once one got into office, it was never going to be about fullfiling pipe dreams anyway. It's all going to come down to who's going to be elected as puppet, and who shall then, those puppet masters controlling said puppet, indeed be?

But as I watched tonight, 11:00 p.m. finally struck, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride for Obama, and also a pang of regret as well, for, days earlier, telling my friend Katie that "to have to choose between McCain and Obama was like trying to decide which smells better, poop or puke? That they BOTH sucked."

And at the time, that's what I truly felt. But now that I've got poop in one hand, and puke in the other, at least I'm realizing that the smell of shit NEVER goes away, no matter HOW MUCH you try to wash it off.

My daughter and 2 sons had a fake eleciton at school today.(yesterday actually, but remeber I originally penned this bitch in purple crayola marker last night.)

Carmen voted McCain.

So did Mike Jr. (the autistic one).

David went against popular demand and chose NOT to vote altogether. (I guess he shared my first impression of both candidates at hand, and all without ANY of my my opinion being voiced out loud).

Snookms and I are VERY proud of each of them and what they chose.

For it wasn't that they decided to please ME, or dad, or what was popular demand, but because it's what THEY believed was right in the moment.

Halloween Pictures

Halloween was great fun. Snookms' sister, Kristi, got hitched last night too, so I have pictures of that as well.

Here's the bottom half of my costume:



My 3 kiddos. Carmen's Batgirl, Mike Jr.'s the skeleton, and David's Master Chief, or as I teasingly call him "Master Queef", from the Halo games:



I only trust myself to take pictures, otherwise I manage to come out looking like far more of a douche than I'd like to be construed as:



My "goofy" faces aren't as goofy as I'd like for them to be. They're more of the "douche-baggish" calibur:



I'll just stick to the serious look.



Meh...



Last face shot, I PROMISE.



Now for Snookms:



Okay, I lied. One more face shot:



And muh bloooooody leggins':





Tha "Jr.":



More of Master Queef:



And Batgirl:



NOW back to Snookms:



My favorite pic of him:



Not really sure WHAT he was fer Halloween....



But he was fucking SEXY, that's all I know:



How would you like to have THIS between your legs every night?



More of my bloody legs and bootstraps:



Oik!



And then, the "whole" me:



(Try not to barf inside your mouth too much)

And then, Kristi's awesome wedding cake. It was so breathtakingly beautiful...I fucking ADORE the cake topper!!



Nothing better than a Halloween wedding:



I loved the edible daisies:



And then the beautiful Bride:



And that's all.

Hope everyone had a Happy Halloween!!