Fun Inventions for killing Roaches

Viceland - DEATH TO ROACHES - The Age of Machines

Die, you hated, nasty things.

Dial-up Internet Rules

NOT!

Good Lord, this dial-up access I have while my Earthlink DSL account shifts to my new phone number is driving me crazy. I forgot how slow and sluggish this way moves; I nearly dread checking my email...nothing like slogging through 101 slow uploading spam emails (and one from a cousin) to make guy's night. Freaking hours to upload a simple page like the Chicagoist.

According to my Earthlink Order Status Page, it should only be another two or 3 days, then: DSL freedom! Oh Glorious DSL...*breaks into a rousing chorus of Cinderella's "Don't Know What You Got (Till It's Gone)"*

Cinderella rawks.

Dong Resin link again.

dong resin's joint >> Unhonesty >> December 19, 2004

I love way Dong thinks and writes. He can take the Rubics Cube of life and make some colors match up (or some sort of better metaphor should be inserted here...ow...not there. HERE!).

Enjoy.

The Algonquin Hotel gets an update

New Spin for the Round Table

But, would Mrs Parker approve of that $10,000 martini?

Merry [insert celebrated Holiday] To You!

My parents visited last Saturday, bringing a truckload of food. And a freaking TV. I now have a TV with a screen larger than a postcard. Yeah, baby! Two of my aunts and my mom sent baskets of food, my cupboards are now longer bare; soups, cookies, Mac and Cheese, potatoes, fruits, Three Muskateers, and pudding...PUDDING, do you realize I haven't had pudding in da house in YEARS! When yooz po' yo jes buy de necessities.

And then my parents got kidnapped and replaced by these two humans that wanted to watch the Steelers vs. Giants game. WTF? My parents NEVER watched sports EVER. But, because Big Ben is from our hometown, they caught NFL fever. It was fun: mom cooked meal and hanging out in my new living room watching a football game. A fine afternoon. Then an hour or so walk around my new neighborhood (chilly day), and then more hanging out. A nice visit. Much better when not in the grip of anxiety attacks like years past.

And this week I got to buy myself a gift: a new car battery. I figured after having called these guys twice this week, it may be time. $108 bye-bye.

Uh-oh, almost midnight. I'd better get to bed so I don't scare off Santa. Good night.

My Toilet's Happier Than Your Toilet

I dropped a Paxil, and it bounced off the sink into the toilet.

Damn.

The Move is Done!

Thank God.

Saturday morning/afternoon, the Z-Boys Moving Company helped me move the last of my crap to the Rogers Park apartment. Them boys work hard for the low price of a meal at Captain Nemo's...yummy. After they left, I just had a bunch of little odds and ends that took two trips in the Little Red Zipper (um, my car); the last of which consisted of me, fed up with all the moving, just shoving and cramming everything into the trunk (except Lil' Lilly who rode up front in the carrier, only crying out once, the brave grrrl). Last box in: 6:00 p.m.; roughly an 8 hour day. Wheew.

Then Sunday 12th, I worked 9:30-8= long ass fuggin' day. But the Assistant Store Manager gave me a Blockbuster free movie card for my efforts. Which I passed off to C.P. and L.Y. because I never rent from Blockbuster. If I ever rented, I'd go here.

So almost a week and the new place still looks as if someone inhaled my Andersonville apartment, then sneezed it out here. Boxes and bags everywhere; I've already moved my sofa/TV setting twice and still dislike it; my front door is blocked by plywood and mirrors; my plants share the same space as my drying dishes, my bed has moved twice; CDs, tapes and books piled in three different spots; and the cat food appears to be the main focus of the hallway.

But it's all mine, until The Man come to evict me for non-payment of rent, or I get beat to death.

Make it stop, please

So, if you remember, my apartment is in a building with a Asian restaurant. For a while there, my apartment smelled up Asian food every other day. That doesn't happen anymore (did he stop cooking?).

Now: around 10:30 p.m. or so this humming/rattling sound starts up. It sounds like the cooling fan to a refrigerator is loosing and rubbing up against the other side of my kitchen wall. It hum/rattles for about twenty minutes, stops, then starts up again after five minutes. This goes on all night, but stops during the day. What the Hell?

Make it stop, Please. I need sleep.

Check out this cool car commercial

Weird "ghost" image get captured on film during the filming of a commercial.

Here's the link.

Another great place disappears

This can probably still be labeled "rumor." Apparently one of the best places in Athens, Ohio to drink cheap beer, see great shows, and ogle hot hippie/punk chicks is closing up: The Union.

Here is how I received the news, emailed by a friend to a friend to a friend (reprinted without permission):

Subject: impending doom

well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the people got a right to know, and so.... the upstairs of the Union is closing. yeah, I know. No, it's true. unless some kinda miracle happens quick. Landlady Couladis had been charging 900 bucks a month, but apparently spurred on by her greedy evil children is upping it a bit, to the unfriendly tune of $2700 a month. different options have been bandied about, I'm told, but this seems to be the unacceptable solution that has stuck. it appears that this will be concluded by February. Although I got nothing right now, I will selfishly cling to the hope that it ain't over 'till it becomes apartments. all I know is if this is allowed to stand I'm leaving the country. any advice on how to make a Greek an offer that cant be refused?
tonight the deadly snakes will be playing the first wake. you are all invited, nay! summoned to the New Year's Eve Wake as well. Soldier on.

Tis a sad thing.

Where (not quite) everybody knew my name

Home to many a lovely (albeit blurry) memory of youth. "Where's the After-hours?"

(Image stolen from here)

Sometimes this just sums it up. (I like this font; it speaks to me, ya Yob) 

I am the King...

of Procrastination!

Still moving. Lots of floor showing in the Andersonville apartment, but still a ways to go before Full Evacuation. That's why I am diddling around on the Internet. I need to switch my DSL account over to the new place; I am dreading the possible two weeks without connection. TWO WEEKS! I'll be crawling on the floor like a junkie screaming for a link.

At least my friends from Zelienoplemusic.com are going to help me out with the large stuff.

Okay, am off.

Beginning to move

Moving sucks.

Only took two loads over to the new place on Sunday. Two kids watched me unload for a little, one asked the other, "Who's that?" "Some white boy moving in." (They were black, maybe 8 or 9). Car parked in front of mine had some gang graffiti carved into the driver door. Later, through my kitchen window, I saw to kids pull another kid off his bike, said some words, then all 3 walked off together. As I drove around the corner to go home, three detectives were arresting some one.

Welcome to the neighborhood. Did I make the biggest mistake???

Okay, off to pack more.

One reason I didn't get straight A's

Check out #5.

Probably due to Halloween, Bar saturation, and Meigs County Gold.

CNN.com - Albany tops party school list, again - Aug 16, 2004

Happy (?) Thanksgiving!

I'll Manifest Destiny you for that Wishbone, punk!

dong resin's joint >> Predictable yet necessary >> November 25, 2004

The Walkmen video makes my day

Yay.

This has probably been out forever, but for those of us without MTV/VH1/Much Music etc. seeing this today made me happy. Video for "Little House of Savage." (via Real.com)

Now I want to play Capture the Flag in a foggy forest tonight with all my old chums.

I did this too

I ran across this article about the tunnels of New York. And it reminded me of the "Tunneling" we did at school my last quarter. I had to retake a History of Journalism class the summer quarter of 1994 because I skipped too many classes or dropped the class the first time or something (don't remember). Anyway, that last summer quarter, I shared an apartment/house with some British students who were slumming about before a cross-country Holiday; their last American Hurrah before returning home to London, England and/or University. (Hi Jane, Judy and Paul!)

Anyway, after many drunken sweaty summer nights as I only had one class, and they had none(?), we made a discovery into the Underbelly of the University. There's not much to do in Athens during the summer, but hit the bars (Tony's, O'Hooleys, The Union; or, maybe Casa Nueva, The Pub, The C.I. or The Cat's Eye). As it turned out, some of their British cohorts lived in Bryan Hall. In the basement "rec. room," through a easily-pick-the-lock-door in the kitchen (which I don't think anyone ever used as the ping-pong table was covered in dust as well as the fridge) one could access the utility tunnel network under the entire University.

I think our longest "tunneling run" let us out somewhere on South Green by either the tennis courts or maybe on Morton Hill. (I apologize: booze and years don't help with accurate reporting)

Here's the article that inspired this post/memory:
The Village Voice: Features: Subterranean Homesick Blues by Amy Braunschweiger

(maybe sometime I'll post about "Roofing" in Athens.)

The Hometown Hero

Letterman's just starting and look who one of the guests are: Pittsburgh Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger. He's from my hometown, put us right on the map and representing well as far as I hear; he's quite the pigskin thrower, no? His parents go to my parent's church....oooh, six degrees of separation?

I hope he comes across well tonight, even though he went to a loser University. hee hee.

I'll have one of each, thanks.

I love my Chuck All-Stars. I don't give a crap if these guys report that Chuck's aren't hip/hep anymore, punks. I feel good in these babies. I actually view people more positively more quickly if I see they are wearing Converse, especially Black Classic All-stars High Tops.

I'm a shallow, naughty, wanna-be punk rocker... "Touch me, I'm sick." (really, with no fashion sense at all)

ConverseGallery.com: cool short films inspired by cool shoes.

Still Alive and on the move

Literally.

Nothing is signed on paper, but it looks as though I am leaving my safe haven of Andersonville and moving into the Wilds of Roger's Park. I am touch worried about this, but I was given an offer I couldn't refuse: a one-bedroom for $200 or so less than the going rate in the rest of the Complex. Apparently, my new landlord wants me the hell out of this apartment so he can begin tearing it down. This discount is cool (still more than I can afford...but), but the speed at which this is all happening has taken my breath away a little. I think he wants me out, ideally, by December First.

That's not going to happen. But I'll try.

Parking is going to totally suck up there. The neighborhood is totally sketchy compared to here. But I'll have more than one room, more windows, possible nice neighbors, closer to my friends, and a tiny bit shorter commute to work. This could turn out well. Next stop: New Job!

Due to the holidays and my work schedule, I have to skip two weeks of meetings with my Primary. Hopefully, I'll meet with them both on December 9th. Hopefully, my new address won't disqualify me for this location; I don't want to start over at another office. Nicely, though, I think the meds are starting to work. I've only had maybe two anxiety attacks in the past couple of weeks, and don't think about off-ing myself all the time. Whoo-hoo!

Off to bed, packing begins!

Like a breath of fresh air

After a long day at work, The Walkmen play on Letterman. The best!

I can hardly contain myself

Hot chicks, booze, bawls-out rawk and roll. Too. Much. Fun.

AC/DShe - the first ever ALL GIRL AC/DC TRIBUTE!!! Don't forget it!

We lost the next 4 years by a field goal

Hunter S. Thompson, briefly, on The Presidential Race and Football.

ESPN.com: Page 2 - The pain of losing

Coach! Call a Challenge.

Exposed!

Found out! Discovered!

My Cube Has Three Sides is no longer anonymous. Due to my naiviety of the ways and means of links and such, people I know now know this place. I am not sure how I completely feel about this. My first reaction (common pattern my whole life) was one of "flight." Delete the blog, smash The Cube, hide. But then I realized a part of me probably wanted to get "caught." So, here I am: caught. Now what?

The people who are in on the discovery have been great: nice, reassuring, concerned, loving. It's good to feel you've got Back-up. I regret that I've taken things/people for granted and am going to try and fix that. Maybe this is a beginning. I need to fight my fear of committed relationships. And I don't mean in the dating sense, more like allowing myself to trust my friends to be friends. My Primary and I, through a couple of discussions, came to a possible conclusion that some of my misery is from projecting my bad/judgmental/self-criticizing/etc thoughts onto people before they are even given a chance to come up with thoughts on their own. I don't think that's described too well, but you get the jist of the matter.

So, in conclusion, My Cube will continue to show at least Three Sides in the future, but differently. Differently how? Not sure. Wait and see.

(after the shock of being discovered and my friends showing up in my Sitemeter listings, the next person to hit here came about from a Google search words of Salma Heyak Naked Breasts. Awesome. And I mean both that they showed up here and the thought of Salma Heyak's Naked Breasts=Awesome!)

Music to my ears (sort of)

You supply the words, it'll bring the singers.

Let them sing it for you

"I've got a bad feeling about this, kid"

Work went by pretty fast today. Lots of people doing the shopping thing. Apparently, November 7th is "let's talk a long time and finally buy some rugs" day. This rug is for my kitchen, this is for under my coffee table. Will this red clash with this rug? This is in the foyer.

I am amazed they don't smell my apathy.

Actually, my mood is bottoming out. I can barely type this. Tired. Chest tight. I want to, but am unable to, cry.

The past two days at work, I've had a consistent bad feeling, like my 6th sense knows something bad is coming. Lurking on the horizon. I've made a couple of little mistakes at work, I think. A cash return a little past the 90 day mark. Endorsing the wrong side of a gift certificate. Little things that really probably wouldn't matter in any other job, company, or store; but, when you think your boss is trying to get you to leave, weigh on you heavier than the fucking world.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, kid," Han Solo would say, and the Falcon would get sucked into a Death Star or the floor would drop or the door would open and two dozen Storm Troopers would bust in lasers blazing. But their Movie Heroes, they always get out alive, on top. I'm a weak mortal man. I could end up in a shelter, the gutter, an asylum. There is no one to shout "Cut, print," then saunter off to a trailer full of champagne and steak and friends.

This feels like the Beginning of The End. The Neverending End?

I doubled my meds yesterday, but feel twice as bad today. (sounds like a Suicidal Tendencies album name, no?)

Surprise, surprise!

As you can tell from the time of this current post and the last one, I wussed out on going to the Helmet show at the Empty Bottle tonight. Why? Because I am beat tired for some unknown reason, my mood shifted pretty low yesterday and today, I'm broke, and, hmm, let's see, oh yeah: because I am a scaredy, stupid, wussie, piece of crap!

Man, I am so sick of myself. And I can't picture it getting better anytime soon. An eternity of self-hatred and loathing, self-disappointment, missed opportunities, financial near-ruin.

I'm one of these. Only not smart, precocious and in New York (but lonely!). I read the article just today before work and a lot of it seemed pretty accurate to me/for me. But it may just be my mind reaching out for a scapegoat or sorts.

Okay. Off to bed before I talk myself into tears. My meds double, starting tomorrow.

My first Saturday at work

Well, so, that's working on a Saturday. Huh, whatever.

You see, at work there is this whole friendly competitive thing about which weekend day is cooler, busier, etc.
"Sunday people are cool."
"No way, man, Saturday people are cooler." (um, anyway, had to be there.)

So, today was my first Saturday, and I expected all crazy, busy, pulling hair out long lines lotsa sales type of day that "those Saturday people" keep talking about: "yeah, it's crazy, we work hard and fast." Um, no it resembled a slightly busy Sunday. Possibly a slow day today? Or my Saturday crew sources are a bunch of wimps?

At least the day went by sort of quickly. And apparently the quantity of attractive females shopping is higher on Saturdays; that was a plus. Oooh, another plus: I get to go back tomorrow!!! Oh yeah, baby. Good times.

(yes, I am bored with my job, and, no, I'm not impressed with this post either.)

Different Day, Same Shite

I have to work on a Saturday. I never work on Saturdays. The F-boss works on Saturdays. I am not looking forward to this.

And then I work on Sunday: my first "double."

I'm a dead-broke whore; I need the money.

"To die unsung would really bring you down"

Holy Flashback!
I'm clicking around, checking out who's playing town this weekend, and Helmet is playing the Empty Bottle this Saturday! Sweet.

I haven't thought about these guys for years. I used to borrow their first two CDs from my housemate Andy R. all the time back at school. We'd throw them in and pound big-gulp sized cups of coffee and bounce around the room, or I'd suck down Rolling Rocks and then head out for the night to Tony's or O'Hooley's. I think we were living on off-campus on First Street at the time--me, Andy R. and Andy D.

It'd be great to hear Unsung live.

Might have to try to make this night.

November 2, 2004: Black Tuesday :-(

Time to up the Anti-depressants! DAMN! This is NOT what I wanted to see first thing in the morning; or ever, really.

A sad and rainy day, alcohol consumption will rise, emigration skyrockets, more global hatred directed to U.S., more lay-offs, higher poverty levels, higher illiteracy rates, four more years of Republican finger-up-the-ass self-serving double-speak, Texas forced out of Republic.

Pray for a coup. Let the Revolution Begin!

(okay, I have to go cry for a little bit now, then see my shrink)

I (might have) Voted

Sadly, I mailed in my Rock the Vote registration thingy in late, so I needed to do one of them Provisional Votes thingies.

This morning I actually got up nearly two hours early (*groan*). I wanted to make sure I had enough time allowed for finding Polling Place, parking, Provisional weirdness, punch out the vote and still make it to work by 10:00 a.m. Drank some coffee, showered, clothed for work, and realized an anxiety attack was slowly creeping up on me. Damn! I didn't have time for this shit now!

So I popped a Clonazepam, a whole one, and jumped for the car.

"we were just outside of Barstow, when...": I got to the Polling place (4950 North Ashland Ave.), some (possible) retirement center/home/community center, don't know, not sure, I was on the run now, parked right on the corner, slipped across the wet sidewalk, through the door, past the fountain/pond/(goldfish?), down a hall, another hall, into a room, go through motions of looking up my name in the books, shit! am I precinct 30 or 32?!?!?!? 30, cool. Name not in book, ask for Provisional Vote, fill out paper work, note people in charge here don't really seem completely on top of things here, hand in forms, keep pink copy, grab ballot/chad filled paper, jump in line.

Waitwaitwaitchewfingernailscheckoutcutewomaninballcapwaitwait: my turn!

Go to cubicle, line up holes with red knobs, and punch Kerry, Obama, and.... then the Clonazepam kicks in and: Everything. Slows. Down.

Breeeeaaath. Vote. Hand in card. "so I need to call someone within 48 hours? Cool."

Head off to work: Clonazepam+Rainy Grey Day+These Cocteau Twins Albums = a lovely drive to work.

Tomorrow, I need to figure out who to call so my first-time-since-1988-vote freaking counts and more time with my shrink (yippiee)

J-E-T-S, Jets Jets Jets!

Yay.

Monday brought me much pleasure in not only being able to watch a New York Jets game, but to also see them stomp the terra and smoosh Miami.

New York Jets=41
Miami Dolphins=14

Feel free to buy me Jets paraphanelia!

Sunday, 10:30 p.m. untitled

Friday night was pretty cool. Zelienople played a good set. They pulled a pretty decent crowd this time and a few people (strangers included!) nodded their head along with the tunes. I hung in the back of the floor with D.H. and R. talking smack and joking around, hands in pockets for most of Zelienople's set because I wasn't sure I wanted to mix the Paxil with booze (and I'm broke); however, about two songs from the end I broke down and bought an Old Style. I ended up having two since Mike offered to buy me another (Zelienople's drummer)...that's right, rock stars buying me beer...I am a Cewebrity (HAHAHAHA--yeah! Right!--HAHAHHAHAH).

Then home.

Saturday the 30th. Happy Halloween. Boo. I semi-planned to go to a party at the bands guitarist's house, but ended up blowing it off to stay home (who am I kidding, I boycott Halloween every year; I do not like Halloween). Watched Monster's, Inc on TV, surfed the net, and basically zoned/moped. I think the Paxil wears off or runs out late in the day, so come around 9:00 p.m. I get emotionally down again. Then again, for all I know, I haven't been on it long enough for it to even work and all this is psycho-somatic (spelling?), tricks of my own mind. In any event Monster's Inc, was cute and funny. I'm glad I watched it.

Meeting tomorrow with my Primary at C4 at 2:00 p.m. Then I'm planning to drop off my new month-to-month lease/Rent at O'Flahirety Builders office. Maybe find out their time table on the destruction of my apartment. See how soon I really need to move. Half of me wants to move now, the other half would love to forego the need to move until spring. We shall see.

Co-worker today, asked if I wanted to move into his place. Turns out he is getting a divorce. Nice guy, but:

• I don't want to live in Evanston.
• I don't really want a roommate.
• I am not a great roommate.
• His apartment is weirdly shaped and the bedroom is small.
• If I move out of Chicago, I don't think I'd qualify for the C4 program.

On the other hand, it would only be $450 a month and close drive to work. Still.....

At least tomorrow one Monday Night Football, I'll get to watch The New York Jets play. I rarely ever get to watch them play. Yay!

Don't forget your Friday plans!

You know, you're going to The Empty Bottle to see Zelienople at their Record Release Party! Check them out.

(Optional, but appreciated actions: dancing to their set, buying them a beer, or purchasing one of their two albums.)

Only Highlight of the Day

Co-worker telling about some friend of her that goes to University of Georgia. His name is Jim. Jim is kind of a hippie. Last year, Jim decided to grow out his beard really long. His new nickname: Osama Jim Laden.

Ha ha ha, a Redneck Terrorist.

"Nobody told me there'd be days like these,"

but we've all had them.
Greg the Boyfriend: ramblings again.

A sweet read.

I (heart) punk chicks

I don't really follow the runways or what the kids are wearing these days, but: Thank God for this fashion (back to the) future! Get all these fucking pink and orange shirts off, retch! (I need to get a job outside of the North Shore).

Growing up in a smallish town, there weren't too many of the black-clad youths running around. A few, but mostly cool skater boys, and only a couple of grrrls (but this was pre-grrrl era). Ah, but there were two cuties: Jennifer P. and Jenni F. Mostly, though, I had to live out my Punk Rock Girlfriend fantasies through Sid and Nancy and The Slaves of New York-type novels.

Um, oh, I guess I still live them out that way, you know, being slightly agoraphobic and all.

I want to eat them up like french vanilla ice cream

They're sweet, smart, hott, and in the Voice: The Gilmore Girls. I can't believe five years have gone by and they haven't fallen in love with me. One of the best shows on TV in a long time, since Felicity.

(So I like some chick shows, off me! Shut up!)

The Village Voice: Machine Age: TV: The Sunshine Girls by Joy Press

Looking for a "release" this weekend?

Go see these nice guys at this cool place.

It's their Record Release party!

I got drugs!

That's right, ladies and gentleman, The ol' Three Sided Cube got a handful of drugs today. Whoo-hoo. What? Oh, I'm sorry, not fun drugs you want me to share with you. I got a little Paxil and a little Clonazepam.

I went to C4 this morning and met with the Psychiatrist, who seems pretty cool. The meeting was only supposed to be 30 minutes long (damn fund cutting!), but I think ours went for like an hour or so. I think the fellow-nutter scheduled behind me did show or something. I'm glad because 30 minutes is WAY too short of a time for an initial meeting with a Dr. in order to figure out how far gone one is and what type/amount of medication to start off on. But, hey, when I'm suckling off the teat of a free-ish clinic, I ain't complaining.

"Luckily" my condition is actually a touch, smidgen, dollop of a few different things (depression, agoraphobia, social phobia, general anxiety disorder, panic attacks) rather than one big pile of mental crappola; she thought maybe the treatment of the Depression and Anxiety would clear up a lot of the other problems.

That is, if I understand all this correctly.

One thing that sucks is the scheduling nightmare this is turning into. My work schedule is random, and the C4 Crew is only on a couple of days each. So, I have to a) hope work schedule coordinates naturally or b) hope to catch the new Assistant Store Manager in a good and giving mood to work some scheduling compromise because I'd rather rather they continue to think I am weird, not mental and seeking help. (okay, not sure where I am going with this paragraph, so we'll move on)

The other thing that has potential Suckage: the side effects. This medication, the stuff that is supposed to help with my anxiety, stomach sickness, panic attacks etc. can cause anxiety, stomach sickness, sweats, dizzyness, yawning and about thirty other unpleasantries. Like rubbing sand on your arm to get off the dirt (okay, not the best analogy, I told you my writing skills either have rigor mortise or have decomposed entirely).

I foresee much Pepto Bismol in my future. Isn't Pink the current Black anyway; my stomach shall be in fashion, I'll just need to swallow a Neighborhoodie and an 80's heavy metal T-shirt= total hipness.

I've been home about three hours now, and I haven't taken anything. For some unknown reason, I am hesitant/nervous about starting down this "road to recovery." Maybe for one thing, the Dr. so was so adamant about telling me NO BEER with meds. This bothers me only for the fact that I got a 30 pack for cheap on clearance at Jewel last night, and I hate to waste.

Gotta call momma, then get ready for work. Later.

The next step to recovery

(Sometimes I wish I had a definite number of steps, like 12 or something).

Tomorrow morning I meet a shrink to discuss what (if any) medications my benefit me. I kind of look forward to this. Maybe a little pill will eventually snap me out of this unending sadness and hopelessness. I think the "upswing" I've been on is starting to falter. I keep (again) having these bleak thoughts, I seriously can't see an end to this confusion, depression, and current bad situation. Everything spins and circles around each other and I can't seem to focus enough to fix one.

I wonder should I tell the Dr. I think my primary counselor is attractive? Is this really going to be a problem?

Then off to work for the night shift. Got to remember to tape Gilmore Girls!

Ugg, off to bed.

The Mantra is a lie (but you knew that)

So, as any of you who work in Retail Hell know, the mantra drummed into your head (your Being, your soul) is "the customer is always right." I have noticed many times in the past (phhft! most times) that when the manager du jour refers to this, myself and my fellow associates usually either laugh or begin protesting in earnest, depending on the context/situation. Because as we know, my service comrades, the customer is not always right; sometimes they are not only wrong, but downright absurd ("you're right, lady, that seven year old hand-blown glass should have survived a five foot fall; therefore, we'll replace it for free immediately").

On the way to work today, I realized the mantra's meaning can be construed as insulting to associates. It implies that the customer is always right, and the associate is always wrong. Thanks, oh ruling management, thanks. You really stroke my bruised and bloody self-esteem.

To add further "dignity" to my life I spent fifteen minutes today at work using masking tape to gather red lint off a black comforter today. And it was my idea to do it.

You're so vain. I bet you think this post is about you.

Successful Google Vanity Search!

Someone linked to a few of my posts (at least, their Bot did). But whatevers cool. Here's the link to my listing. The site seems pretty cool, I'll give a good perusing later. I realize I only got picked up because those posts included links to Amazon book pages, but still kind of a thrill to get picked up.

Oh meoooow, Lilly is working up into an amazing fit of the Night Frenzies. It is time for bed.

Still looking for the end after all these years

I still like The Cure. Maybe I'm still full of teen angst, or high school sorrow, or college artsy yearning, or, like, whatever. Here is a link (via Realplayer) to their latest video Alt.end; a creepy, dreamy, surreal little thing. Just the way I like it.

Woody, Round Table (Or, The Round Table and a Woody)

The New York Times > Books > Sunday Book Review > Woody Allen: I Appreciate George S. Kaufman.

Just a link to an fun article by Woody Allen talking about his early influence by George Kaufman, a member of The Algonquin Round Table.

(Hi, Dorothy!)

(Ignore this Post)

For it has nothing to do with Britney Spears licking Cheerios off the bare breasts of Salma Hayek naked while drinking sexy pints of Guinness. For this post won't make you sit erect thinking about the potential risks of a four hour boner after O-D-ing on Viagra or Rogaine (thicker pubes? Stiffer Afro?).

Nay, fair and just reader. This post is a note for myself.

D.M.B.S.=82481.

My first Google search hit

I am (sadly) excited. Early this morning, while I slept, not one, but TWO people clicked into my little niche of The Web via their Google search. The keywords (for both): "Lunar Park" and "Ellis."

My first appearance in Google, as far as I know. Oh no. Does this mean I just shot-the-wad and used up my entire "15 minutes of fame"?

In any event, it's nice to know others are searching for information about Mr. Bret Easton Ellis' upcoming possible autobigraphical/fiction novel. If the rumors turn true, it should prove a fun read (as usual).

If life situation doesn't come about, I'm already planning on skipping a couple of meals to buy it the week it's released.

The end (apparently) is nigh

My neighbor left a voicemail informing me that the building has indeed been sold. The new owners are O'Flaughrty (spelling sooo wrong) something O'Other. And that they are "writing up the letters." The future is dark for this building and the apartment house to the west of it. The owners are, of course, planning on razing both lots and rebuild. Gee, maybe condos? Because, you know, Chicago could sure use more condos! They go well with the other five that are going/have gone up in the few blocks between me and Western Ave. alone, much less the rest of Andersonville area.

Man, I hate not having money. And floundering, flopping in worthless, meaningless jobs. I need to pull it together, man. I'm 33: This drama should've been figured out and resolved--what?-- seven or eight years ago? In some respects, I am better of now compared to then; but the majority of my current life situation seems comparable to someone way younger than me. I seem to have missed or not yet hit some important milestones. I focus too heavily on the failing aspects of my life, true, but not too much is moving along in the positive.

Hell, I can't even focus and bear down to write a coherent and interesting Blog post. Just more shotgun splatter thoughts.

In summary: I am broke, unsatisfied with my job, mentally unstable, filled with regret, probably suffering from some form of arrested development, hate on condos because I'll never afford one, am lonely yet alienate myself from friends, am horny, and am disgusted with how far my writing skills have decomposed.

Any questions?

Okay, we'll just put this here for now

Keeping my eye on the Prize



[Ed. Note--oops, this pic was supposed to be edited into here.]

Just to let you know

You are Rare and Beautiful like a Rainbow at Night.

Monday's accomplishments:

My eyelids are drooping heavily as I type (delete-mistype-delete-retype) this post. Long day, but no too bad of a day. Feels good when planned events unfold just as planned for the most part.

I didn't make my 7:00 a.m. wake up call. The snooze button seduced me twenty times or so, begged me to spank it over and over again until around 10:00. Woke up with a headache, but struggled out of bed, pet Lilly a bit, and reheated the coffee that brewing then stewing since 7:25 a.m. (mmm. tasty Chock Full o' Nuts--New York Classic, SOHO Morning Blend*).

But I did check out The Reader for apartments and made a list. Then realized it was Monday, and they upload on Tuesdays. Doh!

Trash still towering in can. Leaning, leaning, leaning.

Blew through my daily blogs ("give us, this day, our daily blog. Forgive their not posting as they forgive us for our not posting...").

And made it to C4 way the hell early. I spent the next twenty minutes or so reading the latest Details magazine and listening to one guy snore LOUDLY and another guy just breath HEAVY. What is up with that? A large proportion of the men there breath loud and heavily, real phlegmy stuff, wheezy. Side effects? 3 pack-a-day smokers? My lungs are quiet as a church mouse in comparison.

My turn finally came. And I met my Primary counselor, J.F. And the worst thing happened: she's kind of HOT. Well tanned or olive skinned, brunette hair she plays with, my height, full lips. Great!*enthusiasm* and Great! *sarcasm* I get ultra-shy and nervous in the outside world much less when attempting to unload fears or speak about personal things. Being surprised by the prettiness of this Grad Student on top of the Fear-of-the-Unknown of starting counseling plus not knowing what I am supposed to say or do resulted in a rather disjointed, erratic, shotgunlike splatter talk from me. I couldn't stay focused on what I was saying. I'm supposed to lead this meeting and ended up at one point asking her to "please ask a question" because I kept ending up babbling and repeating myself, or exaggerating (then apologizing for exaggerating), or completely losing my train of thought and fading out.

I definitely need time to get a handle on this. Or switch Primaries and ask her out ha ha ha.

So I leave there and head up to Evanston, and I apply for that part time job. The same guy worked the Reader's Services Desk who was there last time I applied for a job (um, never got called, Screwheads!). He didn't recognize me.

Then on to McDonald's. Yay, I ate a meal before a nightshift, woo-hoo! Let's hear it for a non-anorexic day!

And work: the more fun group of ladies worked tonight. Barely any customers= no cash. Boo.

Then home where I turned on, but ignored the Tampa Bay/St. Louis Monday Night Football game. And: no beer, just tea.


[*Ed. note--that's right, put New York on about anything, and I'll be inclined to like it or try it or want to like it. (I knew I should have taken a right at Cleveland, not that left. Damn)]

Eurotrash Caught on Video!

Anal is the new Black?

Not for Eurotrash. Her "Bugger me" reading at WYSIWYG.

Hee hee...bums.

Yeah, yeah, it's from May, butt I just found it.

What I'm (slowly) reading update.

I used to cruise through books. I loved to read as a kid, losing myself in some cool adventure from a wide range of genres: The Hobbit, The Hardy Boys, etc. I mean I still do, but never seem to find the time or concentration. Plus, I've noticed over the past few years, I don't retain my reading too well. In through the eyes and out my ass, apparently. No sticking around. I often wonder if this is due to my increasing hermit-ization. And the fact that it is near impossible to finish any sort of conversation in retail. You have to speak in 45 second blurts before the next customer pops up. After work, you suggest? I don't really hang with friends very well, much less co-workers. In any event, I think those two factors and depression and anxiety have eaten away at my retention ability. Or maybe I'm full of crap.

Anyway, even if it's one of my magazines (The New Yorker, New York, Details, or Andy Warhol's Interview Magazine), it takes me along time to read a book. But here is the latest one:Shopping in Space: Essays on America's Blank Generation Fiction by Elizabeth Young and Graham Caveney. I'm about three chapters in, and that's taken me about a month, no lie.

So far, it's a fun and informative in-depth look at Bret Easton Ellis' Less Than Zero. Check it out if you like 80's "brat pack" writers. I'd go into it more, but I'm sleepy and wouldn't do the book the justice it deserves.

Maybe I'll get out of the Bell Jar yet

So, tomorrow might be a busy day (for me, that is; normal people would find this working this schedule, well, normal).

1. I'm shooting for a 7:30 a.m. wake up (to try get into and maintain the habit).
2. Enjoy a cup of coffee.
3. Take out the trash (before it starts spilling over this time).
4. Scan my favorite Blogs (I live life through them!).
5. Look for and make some sort of lists of currently available apartments that look "promising" for my price range.
6. Actually eat a real lunch.
7. Go C4 for my first meeting with a psych intern for evaluation. I'm a little nervous about this one. I have to come in with goals and "lead the meeting." Not only am I not 100% about what this means, but I don't really like "leading" much of any type of meetings. One of the reasons I'm a part time associate now. I guess just sitting down and saying, "make me normal and stop being sad all the time" doesn't qualify as leading the meeting. Maybe leading off discussion, but not really a clear-cut itinerary. Cripes, I'm a little worried about showing up unprepared and getting "fired" from this program. Will it never end?!?!?
8. Okay, then. After the meeting, I would like to apply for a part time gig at the Evanston Public Library. What's that you ask? Didn't I do that yesterday? Nah, of course not because I'm an idiot. Somehow I rationalized not leaving the apartment (again) and did laundry instead. Idiot! (but with clean, new sheets on the bed...mmmm *snuggle*).
9. Then, drive to work area, where I'll grab a bite at McDonald's (so cheap! so yummy! So healt--what a minute) before sludging into work at 5:00 p.m.
10. Home to catch the last bit of Monday Night Football and a Guinness (But I'll probably fall asleep on my too-short loveseat halfway through the pint).

Let's see what we, in fact, accomplish tomorrow, shall we?

Oh, yeah, the Boss handed me an envelope on Friday on her way out. Full of dread, I opened it. Dated October 14, it merely informed me that some mucky-muck in Corporate received my Request for Transfer Form and Resume, that it was passed to the direct hiring mucky-muck of the Mailroom, and they would be in contact with me (me=schmucky-schmuck). I gave the Boss my application on September 26. Did it really take this long for them to get it? Did the beeyatch delay sending it in? Furthermore, Boss"lady" never mentioned or showed me what her "recommendation" said. She write one? She said she planned on writing one, but when 7/8 of everything she says is a lie...*sigh* this doesn't look good.

Errrrrr, okay, fingers crossed. It's all good, right? (<-----my attempt at optimism).

Tah-tah-for-now.

(Ed note--we find it funny that Blogger's Spell Check device doesn't recognize the word, or variations of the word, "Blog").

I (freaking) Heart New York!

The Big Apple

Historical trivia and places and phrases about my favorite city.

Informative and fun, fahgeddaboudit!

Good stinky morning (noon) again

Icky!
Ever since the Sun Rises Cafe moved into Taste Of Heaven's former location, my apartment often reeks of Asian food. I think when they first moved in, they only doled out sushi or cold food, but then, about a month ago, they started cooking stuff. Our spaces are connected by the basement/laundry room and the smell must filter through there. Or seep through the very walls or floor. Don't get me wrong, I like Asian food, just not morning, noon, and evening in my own place of Sanctuary.

I haven't eaten there yet as I am broke and my neighbor told me they were "a bit pricey."

Wish me luck (please), I am going to apply (again) for a part-time position here! I'd love to work in a library. My application/resume has been floating around (rotting) in the files of Skokie Public Library, Lincolnwood Public Library, Evanston Public Library and the Chicago Public Library for years. Checking their sites is a near daily habit. Damnit, people! Hire me already and put me out of my misery. I like people, media, and keeping shit in order! I'm a calm, calming, fun person to work with--AAAAAARRRGH.

Okay, all cool now. Ranting/minor freak-out temporarily suspended. Here's my inspiration for wanting to be a Librarian (tee hee). Seriously, if you can hook me up, please let me know (envision me on knees, hands held together, pleading).

Time to Re-tweak the old Resume.

Random, spontaneous numbered list of things I like (random, incomplete)

1. Alone time.
2. Sex Pistols.
3. Wearing sweaters.
4. Sleeping late in a cool room under warm sheets.
5. Staring into the fire.
6. A pint of Guinness.
7. The third kiss.
8. Compact cars.
9. My Chuck Taylors.
10. Lilly (when she's not screaming at me).
11. My parents (still married, yay! A rarity today)
12. Gilmore Girls.
13. Felicity.
14. Friends (and Friends).
15. Pearl Jam.
16. Soundgarden.
17. Sinead O'Connor.
18. Ani DiFranco.
19. The Dead Kennedys.
20. The White Stripes.
21. The Walkmen.
22. The Rapture.
23. Monster Magnet.
24. A clean windshield.
25. French Vanilla yogurt and ice cream.
26. Mountain Dew and Coke.
27. Little Debbie's Oatmeal Cream Pies.
28. Big screen TVs.
29. Orange and Tomato juice (separately).
30. FEAR.
31. Bret Easton Ellis novels.
32. Donna Tartt novels.
33. New York City.
34. Days off.
35. Pay Days.
36. Coffee all ready in the morning (God bless the timer).
37. No traffic.
38. Making someone else and yourself laugh at the same time.
39. Laughing so hard nothing comes out.
40. Saying "awesome" in the most ironic way.
41. When my plants don't die.
42. Lilly's Ray Charles impersonation with a string in her mouth.
43. Flirting and being flirted with.
44. Wearing wool socks on a cold night, on the couch, reading.
45. Beck's.
46. Paying the bills early.
47. Microwave popcorn.
48. Coupling.
49. Coping.
50. Cuddling.
51. Chilling.
52. Playstation2 football games.
53. Observation deck of the Empire State Building.
54. The Spring Lounge.
55. The New Yorker.
56. Andy Warhol's Interview Magazine.
57. Latina Porn.
58. Scarves.
59. Cheap frozen pizza.
60. Looooooong warm showers (solo or with a partner!).
61. A good sexy cologne.
62. The natural good looks of a woman.
63. The ol' WWW.
64. People watching.
65. Ohio University/Athens, Ohio.
66. Making a sale over $500.
67. Bright, sunny days around 77 degrees with just a hint of a breeze.
68. Tina Fey
69. Seeing a great band live and losing myself in the moment.
70. reconnecting with my former self (if only but for a minute).
71. A tasty ham or roast beef sandwich.
72. Browsing for hours in a book or record store.

Wish I was Pluperfect

Voice Literary Supplement: Eyes Wide Shut (Village Voice)

This book, Hip: The History sounds like a fun read. Probably be one of the next books I pick up when I eventually get to the point affording stuff like rent, food, gasoline, etc. Ah, Poverty, how you keep me down and illiterate. Any Hot Sugar Mommas wanna take care of me before my mind turns to zombie poo? No?

Okay, actually getting ready for work now. The night shift on a Friday night. Slow, slow, slow and full of needy, whiny Chicago North Shore eccentrics.

Good times. Good times.

I fully back this new trend, if it really is the new trend.

New York Post Online Edition: business.
I am so sick of reality TV. I used to watch Fear Factor, but then it suddenly jumped the shark. Or maybe I just got bored with it. I mean, how many times can watching pretty people jump for pennants and gag/dry heave while eating goat balls or squid puke or fresh skunk asshole soup.

I watched The Apprentice season one. It was entertaining, and cool that Bill was a Chicagoan. But season two so did not catch my attention. Trumpy is so arrogant, and enough with the "this is the best, these are the biggest, the world finest" speeches; they are worn-out and only make me think you are a sad and lonely individual. Rich as a muthafucka, but sad; it just get old listening to him after a (short) while.

Big Brother I watched because the people were at least likeable for the most part. I guess I just don't like the Suits and Yuppies that seem to populate the first two mentioned shows. The games on Big Brother are funny (Let's make a giant margarita!) and you get to know the people as people a bit better. I like the winner Drew, he seemed cool (actually, he reminded me ALOT of my cousin C.A. who also went to Miami University of Ohio--Booooo! Go Bobcats!). And the fact the ladies wear bikini tops and shorty-shorts often totally helps out (Diana--Hottness!).

Yeah. Give me C.S.I.: New York or Lost anyday. I like the darkness and cold colors used in the New York series. Kicks Las Vegas and Miami anyday (David Caruso: please, either leave your sunglasses on or off! Sheesh, irritating!).

Aiiight, enough ranting about something so inconsequential in life. I gotta get ready for work *sigh.*

Love and Cheeseburgers

Though only about 52% sure, I think one of the servers at the McDonald's I eat at nearly every day (a meal for under $4! Yay!) has a crush on me; or, maybe she gets a little giggly and smiles with her eyes to all the customers.

Either way, it's usually one of the only highlights of my day at work.

Clever idea

take a peek:
Here's how to catch those jackasses decapitating people in Iraq

(and keep your ass off Death Row, yo!)

A brief list of the mornings Ups and Downs

This emotional roller coaster took place roughly between the hours of 9:00 and 10:30 a.m. Buckle up for safety!

1. 9:00. Wake up, look to alarm, realize I have twenty minutes to get ready for work. Panic=down.
2. Lilly is really loud and REALLY wants attention this morning. "Got no time, baby."=down.
3. As I sit to make the turn onto Lincoln Ave. from Foster, I see a CTA bus driver waiting at the stop across the street. Dancing. Dancing well. Like to Scat/jazz or something on his Ipod. And snapping his fingers. Smile=up.
4. Remember dream last night which starred my last two girl friends. The overwhelming feeling recalled is regret and yearning. Dreams that leave crummy feeling residue=bad. Dreams with ex-girlfriends that keep all their clothes on= double down.
5. Hit stretch of Lincoln Ave. that is lined with trees. Notice leaves are changing. Pretty colors=up.
6. Remember that fall is my favorite season (and spring). Love the crisp smell, cool temps (sweaters!). Fall=up.
7. Changing of seasons always brings nostalgic feelings and memories of school. Missing school (still? wtf?!?)= down.
8. Get to work two minutes early= up.
9. Both the Store Manager and Assistant Store Manager are at corporate meetings= Double Ups!
10. J.S.'s hair is down with snug pants= up.
11. Find out J.S. has a boyfriend= down.
12. But they broke up last week= hmmm. up and down.
13. I have to work in the slowest department= even.
14. First customer of the day's breath smells like rotting salami= down.

Okay, the ride is over, please exit the car on your right. Make sure all your belongings are on you.

[Ed note-if this had been an actual amusement park ride, your money would have been refunded. Sorry.]

I found my old editor!

While at Ohio University, I worked for the Post's entertainment section. The paper's Editor-in-Chief (Derrick?) dated one of the other editors (red hair?). Red-head and Andy were co-editors for the entertainment section.

Everything moved along peachey. I wrote album reviews (No Doubt, Ziggy Marley and the Wailers, Blues Traveler), local club previews (first ever comedy night at the Nickelodeon) and band interviews (Stuart Hall?, bassist for Shudder to Think). Until. One late night, while editing copy Andy and Red-head screamingly disagreed over something. End result being Derrick fired Andy, or maybe he just treated him like a dick until he quit. I don't remember exactly.

So, Andy started his own independent tabloid size newspaper: InsideOut Magazine (now defunct as far as I can tell). And asked me to join him as a writer, then editor, then I got demoted for my lack of management skills (holy premonition, Batman!!!). Covered regional bands, music scene, art happenings, human interest features, my personal narratives, etc. I think we distrubuted to more than a few colleges/coffeehouses around the state. Pretty good start-up magazine, looking back: "edgy" writing, graphics similar to Raygun Magazine, and excellent keg parties.

I Googled him and found this old interview. I liked him and he impressed me with his knowledge, ambition, confidence and deadly wit. Big jovial laugh. Happy to see he's doing something cool, I knew he would. Enjoy:

Critic Doctor (Herb Kane) interviews Anderson Jones, a columnist and critic from E! Online

Like I don't spend enough time online

ManiaTV! - Live Internet Television

It's like AtomFilms and MTV2 all mixed up and stuff. Good streaming quality, too. None of that rebuffer, skippy sound, blocky visual like other streaming media.

That's right, punks, I don't have cable. I am a slave to the Networks. The only music videos I view are what get played at un-godly hours on the shared Channel 28. Korean, Polish, Chinese, Spanish, Bollywood, and MTV2. Channel 28 is an ethnic stew. It's cool, some of those Korean game shows crack me up!

T-minus 9 hours

Okay, (again) I must get to bed. Now. Dammit.

In roughly nine hours, I am meeting a Doc for my first C4 meetings with possible drug prescribing going on. The ol'' nerves haven't kicked in as of yet. Typically, my nervous body sets in right about the time I need to leave the apartment. So I predict panic attack around 9:00 a.m. today.

Awesome!

The strange thing is: except for Thursday, I have been in a relatively "good" mood. Almost normal. Making jokes with co-workers, goofing around, chatting up customers in a overall cheerful way, etc. Of course, I didn't respond to any of my friends email or phone calls, look for an apartment, look for a job, or otherwise leave the apartment either, so maybe we'll call this a wash.

In any event, let's hope the doc shows up, so don't have a repeat of the last appointment.

Bloody Hell, this blog even bores me!

Ta-ta-for-now.

You may not give me the time of day,

but I've got the time of day for you!

Dadgumit! Another slept through, wasted day.

Next it'll throw ironic keg parties, host blog readings, and not return my calls after sex

Okay. I. Know.

My writing has gone flat and empty. A rubbery balloon with only a whisper of air left in it *poof*. But, really, I am working on it. Getting those old muscles warmed up, stretched and back in shape. That is one of the main reasons My Cube Has Three Sides came into existence: to return to the writing I used to love. The act of writing, the results, the effects (chicks, man, chicks dig writers*) of writing. That little ego boost when someone not only reads your piece, but actually comes around and tells you they liked your piece (um, I mean article).

I realize it's going to be a long, long road ahead to even get back to where I started; therefore, this feels like a slap in the face! It's similar to the phrase "a monkey could do this job" (I've always hated that line--fuck you, then hire one!). Not only telling me a robot/monkey could write a Blog better than me, but going on ahead and proving it. Ouch :-)

It's pretty funny, though, reads like a snarky teenager. It should prove interesting to pop in every few weeks or so to see how well it's Learning. (link found on Cewebrity)

Okay, off to bed. Working the day shift tomorrow, then drinks after to celebrate a co-worker's (E.M.) promotion to Design Helper/Trainee/Indentured Servant and transfer to another store. I not a big fan of this co-worker (she's a bit bossy and moody, a deadly combination), but could use a couple of drinky-poos after all this shit that's been going down the past few months. We meeting at Champ's (whoo-hoo, suburban mall resturant/bar where the waiters are like used-car salesman: "are you sure you don't want to upgrade to the cheesy fries for a mere $1.50 extra?!?!?). Oh, I'm sorry Champps (two "p"s. WTF?. Lame-os).

Aiight, goodnight.


[*Ed note--I think only one, maybe two chicks dug D.M. "back in the day" of his writing period.]

"Can't you hear me?" I'm typing on the board!

Wasted another day at Crap&Blahblah. Luckily, F spent the whole day downstairs in her office. Only had to physically be in presence for about three seconds when I handed in some poor fool's application; if they only knew. That occurred around 4:00-ish, only had two hours left, and felt relatively better at that point.

Unluckily: I felt fine going into work and the first half hour or so, and then suddenly !bam! Panic attack/anxiety attack. Hot sweaty palms, sweaty legs, tight-tight chest, short breathes only, need to lay down in fetal position, urge to release bowels, foggy thinking with A.D.D., and the yearning to rush out the front door and never return.

I think this went on for about two hours, maybe more. There weren't too many customers today at all, so I didn't have to deal with that madness: keeping it together is hard enough without the added test of smiling and "going out of your way" to help some Rich-helpless-needy North Shore-ian. It took me forever to go through the Receiver (list of shit that came on the truck today), especially, since my demotion, this isn't my freaking job anymore! But, because I like the manager (S.R.) of the department I covered today, I did this job willingly (and I needed the distraction from previously mentioned Panic Attack) and even put out missing merchandise (Popcorn!) and stocked some selves (Canisters!) and barrels that were low (Frothers!). Finally, it ended enough (just a slight roiling of the guts) that I could make conversation and/or chat up the customers.

I even tried a small attempt to flirt with J.S., who looked pretty today. She wore her hair almost all the way out, instead of tied back like usual. If therapy works (if it ever freaking starts), I may ask J.S. out for a drink or something. If/when this happens, and if she says yes, this will be the first date in a VERY long time. I have been too fucked up to get fucked. (And that's fucked up in the un-fun mental way, not the fun way.) And I'm not even saying I think it'd come to that (sex), just that I've been too out of my head to even think about starting any type of relationship. And I don't even know to just what extent I like J.S. I mean she's cool at work in the sense that we share some of the same attitudes, she's seems real not a"phony." She's Italian, got the Roman nose, longish blondish hair (that I like when she wears it out, especially when she straightens it), an easy laugh, deepish voice, a kickin' bod, and reminds me (looks-wise) of my friend L.C. who moved to Seattle three years ago and miss.

Oh yeah, my flirt attempt? She laughed at whatever I said and then told me I was "a riot." *sigh* always the Jerry Lewis, never the Brad Pitt. *groan* now that I cut my hair shorter, I even look like Lewis' picture on his IMDB listing. "Hey Layyyydies!" Maybe I should move to France. He's considered le hott-ness there, no?

But anyway.

Thank God for The Walkmen's Bows&Arrows. The song "The Rat:" best. song. ever.

"Around the world in a day"

I am obsessed with checking my sitemeter account graphs and charts. I know you're out there and peeking in on My Cube Has Three Sides. You're shy, you're quiet: that's cool. Me, too.

Apparently, I am viewed often in Middle USA, Westside USA, and Singapore area (I'm sure this is coming across like Matt Dillion's "we're huge in Belgium" but, anyway). Hello to whomever you are.

My sleep cycle is suddenly completely messed up. As you can see, it is around 2:00 a.m. now. This would be fine if, say, I had a social life or had something productive going on. But, no, I am just zoning out on the TV, getting annoyed at Lilly (whine-meow, whine-meow), and clicking around on the 'net. The results of which will be me sleeping in way too late tomorrow and repeating the same old pattern (am off again, only got 30 hours this week, please send money). I need to spend my days getting a new job, but I can't think anymore. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore. I don't want to get another job that's just another job. I need to figure out what actually interests me. This "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up" is fine when you're 18 or 25 or so, but 33?

Damn, dude, get it together!

I sent in my October Rent check on September 30th. I haven't heard back from my landlord either way, so I am assuming the month-to-month agreement he mentioned to myself and my neighbor is holding true.

To briefly explain: building is being sold, current landlord "doesn't know who the new owners are," building sale keeps getting delayed (supposed to close mid-July, then September 28th), current landlord says month-to-month okay--then, tells me to hold rent. (Screw that! No rent means new or current landlord can kick me out with 15 days notice or some crap.) Neighbor and I just went ahead and sent in October Rent and hoped for the best.

Wanted: new apartment, new job, a girlfriend.

At the very least, I need to hold on to this Part time Sales Associate position at Coffin&Betrayal long enough to get/not get the Mailroom Assistant position at Corporate I applied for a week ago. And guess what? I have no idea if my Transfer/application for the job even got faxed up to HQ because F is to do it; and, we know how dependable she is. She said she would recommend me, inform the higher-ups that I can start immediately, and fax the application that day (September 30th?). Um-hmm. Okay, sure, I totally believe you, right? In the 4 minutes this conversation took place, she hiked up her pants and tucked in her shirt like six times. What the Hell does that body language supposed to tell me? Luckily, she didn't have That Look on her face. When she's lying or really uncomfortable with the bad news she has to tell you, she gets this weird look on her face: slight flushing of cheeks near the nose, and this wide-eyed stare straight in your eyes look.

The fact I have to depend on this women for a recommendation frustrates and saddens me.

Okay, must go to bed--Tony Danza's late night talk show is on (He has a late night talk show?!!?!?), a good sign that it's time to go to bed. Good night.

Testing--frickin' one, two, three

trying to tweak my template and nothing is saving. this is just a test to see if everything is down.

"...even a loser gets lucky sometimes."

Spent the morning/afternoon at M.C.'s playing Spider-Man 2

Ended the day playing Madden NFL 2003 against D.H. It was a grueling defensive battle on the Gridiron with many a turnover and barely-made-it First Downs, punctuated with numerous "Oh shits." End result: His Steelers 6 at my Raiders 7.

Good game. Good times.

Of course, in reality, this is the best team in the nation. (Just to let you know.)

Nothing on TV but MTV2

Why am I still awake? I'm not doing anything productive, watching anything cool, reading something, or playing with the cat. I'm just zoning out at my computer desk staring across the room at the TV.

Oh, wow, that My Chemical Romance song "I'm not okay (I promise)" was pretty freaking intense, whoa!

Alright, I'm going to bed. I want to get up early to drink some coffee, do the dishes and otherwise be normal for a bit before I head over to M.C.'s place for some Playstation2 and Xbox action. Das right, punk, I'm in my thirties and still playing the video games. I like the Splinter Cell. And the NCAA Football and the Madden Football Never said I play well, but me like-y dem.

I think M.C. and D.H. like to play some SSX Snowboarding game, which not only do I suck at, but I get a little bored playing after like twenty minutes. Bonus points for tricky-styley this and thats with the wacky psychedelic colors in the background and all, sorry--yawn.

Okay, off to bed, some lame Rap song just came on MTV2. Signing off, yo! Keepitreal, yo! (hoo-boy, I am whiter than Elmer's Glue).

When, oh Lord, when?

With quick breath, I am awaiting this site to open up: Welcome to Bret Easton Ellis Online. I can't even remember how long I've been checking in on this site (two years, maybe three, maybe since 1989; it's all a blur), only to have my hopes dashed by inactivity. And then, they tease me with the "opening July/August 2004" line. Aaaargh. When one has no life, one lives through the eyes of Clay, Sean, Paul, and Lauren.

I am going to have to depend on Google and this guy for all my Ellis information. And, so far, Notanexit is a great place to check out. I am impressed with the layout, consistency of new information, the fact a "mole" sends him emails about Ellis' new book (possibly/probably entitled Lunar Park), and the newly installed discussion board. It's always nice to find people with a similar interest.

"The better you look, the more you'll see."--Victor Ward.

Yeah, yeah, lame pic, but I'm learning over here!

So artsy, yet crafty. Enigmatic, geeky, sultry, pouty and weary. Singing: "Keep your eye on the prize..."

In summary (according to Henry):

Gimme Gimme Gimme

gimme gimme gimme. i need some more. gimme gimme gimme. don't ask what for. sitting here, i'm a loaded gun waiting to go off. i've got nothing to do but shoot my mouth off. gimme gimme gimme. i need some more. gimme gimme gimme. don't ask what for. you know i'm gonna go out. get something for my head. if i keep on doing this, i'm gonna end up dead. gimme gimme gimme. i need some more. gimme gimme gimme. don't ask what for. i know the world's got problems. i've got problems of my own. not the kind that can't be solved with an atom bomb. gimme gimme gimme. i need some more. gimme gimme gimme. don't ask what for.

The always explosively expressive and entertaining Black Flag (via Lyricstime and Plyrics)

Sadly, my life is more TV Party or Six Pack than Slip It In *sigh.*

I need to find affordable housing

Can you help me find a HUGE studio, that allows a cat, is cheap as all get out ($550 or less), heat included, utilities included would be sweet, easy street parking or garage included, laundry room near apartment or washer/dryer included in unit, an outside deck, big southern window exposure, DSL ready, cool/nice neighbors (hott strippers or nymphos), reliable landlords not known for neglect or stealing security deposits and keep everything in working clean order, and in one of these nice neighborhoods.

Why are you laughing? Why do you keep saying, "good luck, sucker"?
I don't need this abuse, man, I really don't.

Stop laughing, please.

When a door closes, a window opens.

So I make it to the C4 office ten minutes early. It is a beautiful day, all sunny with a little breeze. Parking space only half a block away. By God, there is nearly a spring in my step as I head past the park and into the office. No smelly people in the office (except the guy ahead of me in line who reeeeeeeeeks of pot). My turn, I'm up.

"Hi, I'm here to see L.E. for a 1 o'clock."

One receptionist glances uneasily at the other, then: "L.E. isn't coming in today."

"That's cool, I'll see you on the 11th."

Buzz-kill. Sort of.

Oh well, it gave me time to go to CarX and get a new muffler and oil change. $271.00 down the tube, but at least the tube drives a lot quieter.

Gilmore Girls lingo: "wink-winkers"= free stuff you get from a friend at their job. Hee hee. Okay, Rory's back.

Today is the day

So this is Step One. In an hour, I shall be sitting in an office, "checking in." Hopefully L.E. (the crisis worker I talked to last time) will give me some information. My next scheduled appointment, an actual "intake" meeting, isn't until October 11, but L.E. wanted me to see him today to "check in" (a.k.a. make sure I didn't off myself in the long time between last time and the 11th).

This probably won't take too long. Nothing has changed between time. Still stressed the Hell out about apartment/job/life/money/loneliness. I have been in a little better mood, still shitty mind you, but better. I think it's because I had an event or something to look forward to. It's been a while since I had something positive upcoming. Let's hope this doesn't turn out like my past experiences: get excited about "something," that "something" happens, and there is just either a minor let-down or a major disappointment.

Another reason I may be in a better mood is I applied for a lowly job at Corporate Headquarters. Lowly job probably pays crap, but it'll be more crap than I make now + health benefits. AND I won't have to work with evil F-Boss anymore. Wish me luck, eh?

Okay, I need to get ready for my appointment; psych myself up to leave the apartment.

Should have seen that coming...

And of course on the way to work my muffler starts to die. A slow and loud death, reeking of carbon in the cabin. And of course I won't be able to do anything about it for a couple of days. And of course when I do, it'll put the serious hurt on me financially. Ah, sweet crap icing on the poopcake.

Let's sum up this Year of Our Lord 2004, shall we?

• Stopped smoking April 26th, 2003...effectively plummets me further into already suffering depression and anxiety...but I suppose that whole able to breath, taste food, and live longer stuff should cheer me up.
• Began to really avoid friends. Agoraphobic in my vaguely windowless apartment.
• Apartment got burglarized.
• One of my plants died.
• Got demoted at work (HUGE pay cut).
• Lost my Health Insurance.
• Building got sold. I might be on month-to-month basis, or I might be out on my ass in a week or so.
• A mouse in the house. Lilly (my kitty) caught it, then lost it. If she catches it again, I'll probably wake up tomorrow with it being offered to me. Bloody. In my face. In bed.

Tomorrow, after cleaning bloody mouse hair off my face and pillow, I am to meet with someone here. This will be my first scheduled appointment. Last time (last Monday) wasn't scheduled, it just happened. I woke up after all these years of depression and suicidal thoughts (nothing truly planned, just fantasies "ah, wouldn't it be lovely to end this annoying pain?") with all this apartment/job/helplessness/anger/sadness/anxiety/all-around shit, and...started bawling. Big heaving sobs. I didn't think it would stop. I called my Dad in Ohio, continuing to blubber. He made me promise to finally call someone for help.

Luckily, about four days earlier, I had asked my friend (who works here) for his doctors information. I think I knew the bottom was near. So, I called this Dr. ____ and they referred me to C4 who asked me to come in: "Ask for a Crisis worker." Hopefully, tomorrow will be the beginning of the end. Or maybe the beginning.

Fingers crossed...we'll see.

Odd timing

So I check my Yahoo Fantasy Football Team (lost this week...aaargh), then pop over to My Yahoo as I am thinking of my boss...and lookey here what Yahoo's Word of the Day is.

Something is in the air.

Damn, gonna be late.

*Sigh*

Another Monday, another day underemployed and underpaid at a company that is all "we're a family, we're committed to you" unless you work for my boss...F...that evil, backstabbing, thieving, self-serving, two-faced, pear-shaped, bitter, barren, sorority-girl giggling, and 35 other adjectives I am either too tired or too angry to think up right now (more later I am sure)...asshole.

The company in general is probably fine, more people I've met are pretty cool, my co-workers and others; but this manager and the assistant store manager who (THANK GOD) got promoted out of our store are just insensitive, patronizing, and, luckily, see through in there intents and lies. You may not be able to do anything about it (like the time I asked her why none of my Overtime was showing up on my checks), but it is at least nice to now when she's lying to you.

(the O.T. wasn't showing up because she erased it from our time card worksheets before faxing them to Corporate...Bitch) And, of course, I chose the wrong battle. I took issue up with HR/Audit, got my O.T. paid in retro, and a few months later found myself demoted.

Needless to say: I am disgruntled and looking for a new job. Email me with opportunities!

Shit! Gonna be late for work. Later.

It's got a beat I can dance to (or: Put my tail between my legs)

So creepy, yet such a sweet sounding song...I don't know who did this, or how I stumbled upon it; though, I am glad I did.

It's 2:05 a.m: Do you know what you're doing?

This could get ugly. This could go nowhere. And those would be better places than where I am now.