I’m flaky–I’ll write about anything
Ah, Jonestown, mind if I just hang out here a bit? See, I think a certain blogger has brought a sister swarm down on himself over at my own blog, so I’m hiding from…er, tactfully avoiding…the situation.
Look, can we talk?
To tell the truth, I’m a little freaked out about this whole Jonestown thing. It’s like, what if, say, the 60 Minutes cast was having a party and then somebody invited Phoebe from Friends? And they were all talking about important, serious stuff like global warming and…you know… some other stuff, and then Phoebe started talking about how she got hepatitis when a pimp spit in her mouth? (NOT that that happened to me. I’m just saying. I mean, it happened to Phoebe, and I am not Phoebe, and I don’t know any pimps. Seriously. I saw a pimp once, downtown in St. Louis, but that’s the extent of my relations with pimps. And maybe he was a pimp, and maybe he was just a guy walking by in a purple suit and big red hat? Not that there’s anything wrong with a purple suit and a red hat, mind you. I mean, if that’s what you’re wearing today, then that’s cool. Well, cool in a tacky sort of way….)
Anyway, one time, I took a quiz on the Internet called “Which Friend are you?” I was Phoebe. And later I was riding in a car with my friend, and I told her I took that quiz, and BEFORE I could even say which Friend I was, she started laughing (cackling might be a more apt description, and I’m sure Rush Limbaugh and Joe Scarborough would agree) and said, “Oh, you are SO Phoebe.”
Only here’s the problem– these are the kinds of things peops are talking about here at Jonestown:
- U.S. Drug Policy
- Fraudulent Chain Mail
- The War in Iraq
And here are the things I blogged about recently:
- My feet (which SOME PEOPLE ridiculed)
- Pink Grapefruit Margaritas (good with Xanax)
- Sea monkeys giving me the finger (and don’t think I didn’t give them the finger right back. Enjoy that splash of tequila, you little effers. Or shall we just call you FLOATERS now?)
- My kid calling another kid on the school bus “Drunken Hobo” (which was kind of a serious post in that it made me realize just how wrong it is for me to assign unflattering nicknames to my neighbors like “Vampire Lady” for the woman who hardly ever comes outside, and “Dead Man Walking” for the one who shaved his head, and “Snake” for the redneck guy I hate, and “Dog Boy” for the one who got drunk or wasted or high on gas fumes or whatever and chased my car, and “Man Boob” for the guy with the huge man boobs propped up by his massive belly, without which he would need some serious 24 Hour Playtex support….)
- Talking chimps (they know more about getting a job than I do)
- Naked people and clowns (if you find that intriguing, you are effing creepy)
- Hummers (the kind you drive)
- Ale and how much I like it (Scotch ale in particular)
- One time, on the old blog, I wrote about my underwear for three days in a row
And then there was the series of articles I did about Second Life, including how I went into someone’s virtua house and squatted in the bathtub naked because I didn’t know how to make my avatar sit down yet. Then when I was going to leave the house, I realized I didn’t know how to put my clothes back on yet. I had to draw them from scratch. That was before I learned how to go to yard sales and get free clothing.
So, you can see that these are very different things, and we are functioning at very different levels in the Blogosphere (I’ll try to use that term whenever I can just for you, Emperor.) Or the peops at Jonestown are functioning. I am sort of existing, a step up from a stuffed animal. But with better shoes (of course, SOME PEOPLE have been known to ridicule my choices in footwear, too. WTF?).
Truthfully, I’m just really boring. Every day, I get up, and it’s the same old thing. Here, see for yourself.
5:30 am: Woke up. Cursed alarm clock.
5:32 am: Searched for slippers in the dark. Cursed right one, then left one.
5:35 am: New coffeemaker functional. No need to curse it.
5:45 am: Shower. Cursed ugly, cracked shower wall. Cursed Lowe’s for making new shower wall thingy prohibitively expensive. Cursed Be$tBuy because they just suck. Don’t ever buy a dryer from those vultures.
6:00 am: Cursed trash for not taking itself out.
6:05 am: Saw Dead Man Walking taking out his trash. Cursed self for wearing robe outside with ankle boots. Oh, so effing funny, Dead Man Walking. Cursed him. Go me!
6:06 am: Vampire Lady next door makes rare appearance in doorway. Maybe not vampire? Held fingers up in sign of a cross anyway, just in case.
6:10 am: Cursed wardrobe. Clothes all strictly winter or summer; no in-between clothes. Wtf?
6:20 am: Good hair day. No need to curse it.
6:30 am: Woke up Jedi. Cursed me. WTF with the attitudes?
7:00 am: Found jacket covered in cat hair. Cursed Cat One and Cat Two.
And that’s just before I got out the door, whereupon, I went out into the world and found more things to curse: American government (the class; not that the actual government doesn’t suck), American history, sophomores, juniors, high schools in general, banana peels left in the trash all weekend, people who stink up public restrooms, low-fat provolone because it tastes like crap, plastic forks and their stupid little tines that snap off and stick in your throat, copy machines, learning objectives, teenage drivers, pricks in SUV’s, teen pricks in SUV’s, the grocery store that only puts the beer on sale that some people suspect is really just dog piss although it is made by a very famous brewery in S_ L____….
As you can see, it was a very busy, yet tedious day with no intellectual stimulation and just lots of cursing….
In fact, just now, I went out to get the mail, and it was all bills, so I had to curse it, and then I saw Dead Man Walking, and he grinned at me, so I cursed him again.