Notes on The Duel 2 and my crappy legs

First off, my legs. I have been limping for weeks on a shin-splinty right leg, only to completely dislocate my left knee last weekend in Baltimore. My ankles are weirdly swollen, there's a bunch of bruising on my knee (I didn't fall on it), and it's not getting better. I lent my crutches to a friend and I think that I haven't reclaimed them because that would mean I should use them. I wrap them in neoprene, I take illicit Motrin (thinning my blood to the consistency of acetone, no doubt), and I fret.

Oh yeah, I also do improv, run a few standup shows (running back and forth to the stage 20-odd times), take lots of stairs, and generally behave like an idiot, apparently.

But I don't want to be injured.

Crap.

In the meantime....the Duel 2!

1 - Mark is at least 37 and is kicking ass. I'd do him.
2 - Could Evan be more irritating? And surprisingly doughy?
3 - What's the deal with Katie? Is she sedated? Medicated? Or just menopausal?
4 - Ruthie is cute but a mite creepy.
5 - If someone else uses "myself" improperly again, it's on. It's on.
6 - Evan is a moron.
7 - The 'tribal' opening is bizarre, vaguely offensive in several ways (mostly because half the girls look bored, half the guys lurve being fake warriors.)
8 - Davis's cast picture makes it look like he has boobies.
9 - Yes, I read the cast bios. Shut up.
10 - What the hell kind of a name is Diem?
11 - Ha ha Evan's in the duel!
12 - Shut up.
13 - What the hell kind of a name is Brittni?
14 - Why do they keep letting Eric back on the show? Last time he had freaking arrythmia. Srsly?
15 - Did I just type "Srsly?'
16 - STOP SAYING MYSELF
17 - Shut up Evan.
18 - What the hell kind of a name is Landon?
19 - Srsly?
20 - I need some sleep.

A heart full of rock salt.

Oooh! Blogging about my feelings! It's rare these days, I'm too busy ignoring them.

So I was having a minor meltdown tonight (complete and inefficient overload in many areas of life, some of which I thought were reasonably under control.) Hosting, a couple of cocktails and some pleasant chat about butt sex kept me going for awhile, until I came home and started shaking uncontrollably like my neighbor's adorable sweatered Chihuahua. Well, I was having an attack of the feelings (source confidential at this time, thank you), and it was a mighty one. And once I had a couple of traumatic/thereapeutic/crushing conversations, I laid on the sofa, watching my legs cramp and my knees twitch under my heavy opaque tights. Tights removed, i flipped on the TV and fell upon Kill Bill part 2 (one of my top five favorite movies of all time, the others being Caddyshack, All that Jazz and a few others that do not include Indiana Jones). Michael Madsen (hot! in that beat-up way I adore) plugs Uma Thurman (hot!) in the chest with a double barrel's worth of shells filled with rock salt.

So that's how I felt.

I enjoyed the rest of the movie. I especially enjoy the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Trick.

I made 2 psychotic-looking lamb-shaped cakes, a large and fragile cheese paschka, several kulichi (except the little ones were burned), and 4/5 of the recipe of Ambrosia Salad (sour cream withheld until the day of service). Now I will nap, then pack for my trip, go back to my office and get my flash drive, and I'm outta here.

A heart full of rock salt.

Christos Voskres, yo.

Dreams are for people who sleep.

It is horrifying to wake up at a rather advanced age and realize you don't have a life's dream.

Watching too much fair-to-middling reality TV will bring this home.

I wish I was blissfully ignorant enough to think that I could just pick up and 'make it' in New York, Las Vegas, LA, wherever.

Unfortunately, all I see are broken plans and downsides and struggle and unanswered phone calls and three-AM sweats.

What, I say, the fuck?

What I need

A bungalow with a deck on a breezy desert island, convenient to seafood and Internet access. And big thick towels.

or

A cabin in the woods with a crazy well-stocked kitchen, a wood burning fire that I know how to operate, and Internet access. And flannel.

Trust me on a few things.

I am a big moron. Or maybe, I can just be a big moron.

I should not eat so much buttered popcorn.

Sports bras, even swell comfy red ones, can give you a uniboob.

The No Yarn till 2009 resolution seems to be working.

Facebook can be fun and can be incredibly lame.

I would like to coat some candied peel in chocolate, but it has to wait until the peels dry.

Honestly, I don't like candied peel, but it makes a swell gift.

Rats.

bucket of truth

my stomach is sore
i am sipping lime snapple
i am still on crutches
i have actual work to do
i am out of cup o soup
i had two tiny bags of potato chips and one last cup o soup for lunch
my mom is in recovery room doing relatively swell

and...

i am wearing a baggy pink sweater over said boob-framing blouse.

meh.

i require more cup o soup. now.

the bucket of barf list

my stomach is bleeding
i didn't sleep until 430 AM
i had weird dreams about getting remarried, then hanging out with the supreme court justices for lunch
i am on crutches today
my office is about 60 degrees
i have a raging headache but can't really take anything for it
i am running dangerously low on cup o soup
my mom is in the hospital awaiting major surgery
and...
my stupid brand-new blouse is bra-revealing.

feh.

can't be bothered to post properly

click here

Mistress of the Obvious

"You seem a little depressed."

- my shrink

Good thing all that learnin' didn't go to waste.

You know, I'm not really an inept asshole.

Seriously. I'd rant some more but there'd be no stopping me at this point.

There are about three people in the world that I do not want to tell to go fuck themselves, either directly, indirectly or rather gently. The sentiment, however, would be the same.

Here's some balloons. You know what? I fucking hate balloons. There, a concrete reason to garner disapproval. Whisper, whisper, that bitch hates pretty pretty balloons! Damn!



I really hate Florida too: (from Slashdot, which I do not hate)

"In an attempt to defy the newly approved state science standards, Florida Senator Rhonda Storms has proposed a bill that would allow teachers to contradict the teaching of evolution. Her bill states that 'Every public school teacher in the state's K-12 school system shall have the affirmative right and freedom to objectively present scientific information relevant to the full range of scientific views regarding biological and chemical evolution in connection with teaching any prescribed curriculum regarding chemical or biological origins.' The bill's main focus is on protecting teachers who want to adopt alternative teaching plans from sanction, and to allow teachers the freedom to teach whatever they wish, even if it is in opposition to current standards."

You know who else I hate? "Margaret P. Jones", the highly successful stone cold liar. If I tell colorful tales of fiction about my 'past' will I get a book deal and an interview in the Times? Fuck you.

huh?

I

am






BORED!

Write a wise saying and your name will live forever.
- Anonymous

Now that's what I call fitness!

This morning I sweated out six whiskeys, freshly-fried chicken fingers, potato skins, frustration, rage and a pound of tears.

Look out for my new workout program, "Sweating to the Uglies" where I set a fast-paced, many-repped, heavy-lifting workout to hardcore death metal and Black Flag. Think Henry Rollins in a Richard Simmons violet tank-top.

Or don't.

Of course, it is now 3 PM and I have had 2 sugar cookies and some tofu for lunch.

Blah.

tick tick huh?

I don't care which way the freaking clock goes, Daylight Savings Time always throws me off. It's more irritating than jet lag because there's no vacation involved.

I'm so moving to Indiana.

Okay, okay....

Thanks to my 'anonymous' and non-anonymous friends and family. We at the editorial desk here had a bit of a meltdown due to the inability to eat, drink and clot blood. The bruises are fading, soup has been taken and things will shape up just fine.

In the meantime, here's a picture of a strange looking kitty:

Readers? What readers?

I seriously mean this.

Fuck it.

Honestly I don't care anymore. I just don't.

Are my expectations of people just too high?

People's expectations of me are fucked.

I will not be taken advantage of any longer.

If a vein falls in the forest....

does anyone give a flying fuck?

I am not great right now. Just wanted to let my one reader know that.

And if you do happen to see me do not fold, spindle, mutilate feed or armwrestle me.

What I said yesterday

Same holds true today.

I'm going to join the circus.

The hell with everything.

Sleep, schmeep

Is it me? Or am I becoming a major bummer? Please, let me know. Seriously.