The Lotion and the Basket

You're Civic Duty!!!!!!!!

2005-11-08T10:33:00.000-08:00

Vote today!

It's what millions of people died for.

And alos, it's the only day you can get on the grounds of an elementary school without having to dress up as a food service worker ;)

A Well of My Own...

2005-10-10T10:42:00.000-07:00

Holy moly, people. There's something so weird about paraylsis when it comes to this blog. I love NOTHING MORE than to connect with you guys. (Well, that's not true. I love doingthe tuck dance. I feel so pretty. I also really enjoy poking Catherine with a stick. And cooking a nice souffle.) But sometimes, somehow, I get into ruts where I can't bring myself to update. I look at my comments (even the weird SPAM ones and the strange people who can't figure out how not to triple-post!) and read all my favorite blogs and I think of entries to compose. Sometimes I even read them out loud to Catherine, but she always tells me I'm a shitty writer and I shoul quit and then I get really frantic like when everything is slowed down adn whirring really loud in my ears like an ocean and I start screaming and pulling my shirt out like I have boobs and then Precious starts barking adn Catherine starts screaming and oh boy! Must we three be a sight. I call these tantrums my Googlies. Whenever I feel a Googly coming on, I try to lock myself in the closet because I don't want to hurt Catherine or Precious or myself, but sometimes it's impossible. That bitch does it on purpose, too. I know she does. Christ, who am I kidding? I'll never kill Catherine. I'm a failure. But I ACCEPT that :)

OOh, speaking of Christ. I saw the best movie on Netflix. The Passion of the Christ! So gory and really kind of sexy. That Jim guy with the name I can't spell is dishy. And he sure knows how to take a flogging. Catherine could learn sommethign from him.

LOL.

But aside from the weird paraloysis thing, the real reason I haven't written is that... Me and Catherine have been searching for a new house to buy!

I know.

IJ know.

Well, Catherine hasn't really been looking, but I have to admit it that she's coming with me. So it's like we're looking together. Alos, I've been telling allt he real estate people that I have a wife named Catherine. Makes me a better candidate. Gosh, you should see me. It's really funny. I get all butched up. I wear a suit and take out my earrings and make-up. I even untuck and sometimes put a sock in there so I'm real hung! (It makes me feel like that guy from Led Zeeplin! "Been a long time since I rock and rolled. Hoo-way!")

Now that I've done it twice (but it's been a LONG Time since teh first time and I was SUCH a different man. No, literally.) Let me tell you soemthing about house hunting. It is not easy to find something. But for me, it's triply hard, because not only do I Have a dog. But I need a place with a basement not directly built into granite, because I need to DIG the WELL. I must have spent 8 weekends in a row goingto open houses. The free cookies the real estate people always cook to make the houses more homey-feeling were starting to SHOW ON MY HIPS, too! Let me tell you. (There was one particularly real estate agent who makes the BEST oatmeal-molasses cookies [no, i will NOT tell you who it is, FBI-holes. YOu can't fool me that easily, so don't even try to email me and find out!!!]. I used to go to her open houses just to eat a few, but eventually she caught on and stopped letting me in. (I'm going to find that bitch and force feed her her own cookies until she explodes! I'll do it too. I'm just that mad.)

But why are you so mad, Jame? You might ask...

Well.

I finally found a house!!! It was the cutest little thing with white shutters perfect for peering with my NIGHT VISION GOGGLES out of, and a great litle backyard with a koi pond! plus there was the best basement witht he softest foundation. I swear I could have hired a handful of those Mexican cuties from outsid e the HOME DEPOT and have Catherine's new home dug and rock-lined in two weeks!

My agent showed me the place ("No, Catherine is at her book club and can't come today either. Shoot." Hee hee.) on a Monday, the day it went on the market. The couple was great nad I shook hands with the husband forcefully, pretending I was gripping my DEATH STICK in pprepartation for a flaying, and I even talked about baseball game scores for our local team (shut up, FBI. I could be talking about a minor league OR major league team!!! Face!) that I had boned up on. The house took my breath away. I went home and immediately sat down and wrote the most heartfelt letter I could. I talke dabout how my wife and I were planning on having a baby and we would have loved NOTHING MORE than to raise our children in that house that the y had so lovingly made bueatiful during their time there. And then I wrote my bid on the bottom of the paper. It was 5,000 dollars OVER their asking price. I wrote my bicycle over and dropped it into the mailbox.

Well, woudln't you know, sometimes, dear readers, taking the BULL BY THE HORNS works! Because the next day, my agent called me and said that they had accepted my offer! They weren't even going to wait until teh open house. It was mine. I was SOOOOOOOOOO happy. I even bought a cake at the store (vanilla with strawberries, yum!) and bucketed some down to Catherine (not like she needs it, ha ha. She's fat.) and watched my DVD of Season Five of Buffy and was SOOOOOO happy.

The escrow period started (what is Escrow? I'm STILL not sure! Ha) and I had begun the long process of packing things up and taking things to Good will. I even had a garage sale where I netted 600 dolalrs! (I sold a Constance McMiller skin purse for 5 dollars! Sad to see it go but as a book I read said, "Clutter of the House is Clutter of the Mind!")

We were a week away from the end of the escrow period and I'd designed the interior f my new house on paper with samples and paint chips pasted on, like a big beatufiul collage. My house was going to so beautfiul. And it was going to be MINE!!!

And then I got a call from my agent. The couple was pulling out. They'd decided they loved the house too much to leave and that was that.

If I told you I lay in bed for five days straight would you believe me?

Well, you shouldn't, because it's been eight days. And I'm still lying in bed. (Laptops are amazing things.) Catherine is very very hungry so I suppose I'll have to get up to feed her soon (Precious has a Sharper IMage time-release food feeder I bought her for Yom Kippur last year. Oh yeah, Precious is jewish. Don't know why but I thought it would be funny to make her jewish!). But when, when will the pain end?!

I guess it's a good sign that I decide to blog, and that I've been having a lot of fantasties about killing the couple with a chain saw (not my usual M.O.!), but I'm still beyond depressed.

So, tkae it from me, people. House hunting is hell.

my skin is melting

2005-07-20T12:12:00.000-07:00

oh dear god in all that is holy and all the religions that won't accept me for who i truly am i just have to say can it get any motherfucking HOTTER IN THIS BITCH?

the sun is trying to be my boyfriend. the sun will not get off my ass, my face, my hair. i have hot hair and it is not a good time. i got stuck in traffic the other day on my bike (THANKS, DMV, for NOTHING.) and everybody was honking at me and catcalling ("Nice skirt, asshole!" I can HEAR you, you know, when you shout. I can hear you with my HEART.). And I'm only so strong, so I did what I always do.

I allowed one tear. And it burned my skin. My tears were made out of sunbeams, which only sounds pretty until you put sun on your face, because the sun is the HOTTEST THING IN THE WORLD AND IS CURRENTLY STALKING ME.

Every morning, it's back again, chasing me around the house from one end to the other. i try to stay in the shade becasue i hate it when my makeup runs, but there it is again, chasing me.

i've been thinking a lot about blogging, relationships, my garden (my dead, dead, dead garden. deader than the girl in my well. KIDDING! Catherine says hi, and that she loved the ladyfinger recipie one of you sent in).

how will we take blogging to the next level? i am a serial killer (allegedly), so i like pushing buttons, getting intimate with someone who'd like nothing to do with me, forcing myself on complete strangers, ripping their skin off with sewing tools, buring their discarded limbs and wearing their hair as a knit bikini. That's just me. I know who I am and I'm comfortable with it. But now that we have this communication thing going, you and i, with my blog and your eyeballs (which are completely useless to me, by the way. fuck your eyeballs. they roll all over the place and creep me out. UGH! Why do they have to be so round and stare-y?).

what the fuck was i talking about?

WHAT IS IT SO GOD DAMN HOT? I can't even eat anything because the thought of turning on a stove or an oven makes me puke. Even the microwave feels like it's cooking my balls. My girl balls. Jesus. I just told you about my girl balls, which I swore I'd never do but it's so fucking hot that I can't take it anymore. Do you know there are ants all over my house? Ants! And they crawl on me in my sleep, I just know it. I woke up the other morning because THE SUN was FUCKING ME IN THE ASS and there was a dead ant in my eye goo, in the corner of my eye.

It's one thing to be so hot there's sweat inside my ears. It's another thing entirely to know that ants were trying to tuck themselves into your eyelids while you were sleeping. I mean, can my life BE any grosser???/

ants and this stupid blog that i think about all the time because when i don't update you guys think:

1. I'm ignoring you.
2. I'm outside your window about to kill you.

And the truth is i think i'm losing my mind because the heat has boiled it in a way i'll never recover from.

girl balls
they are small
and pretty in pink
like molly ringwald
but so much better
like her lips
and that sneer she gives so well
like scarlett johannnseesnn
and that shot of her ass
at the beginning of lost in translation
girl balls
keep your secrets
they hide away
when everyone's looking
but come out
just for you
and say
you
are
perfect.

Sigh.
I'm in such a mood.
I'm thinking about going back to school. I don't know what for. Maybe I'll be a DJ. Oh, man. I'd be a sweet DJ! I'd call myself DJ Skin Rip.

Except all of my equipment wouuld melt. MELT. in this HEAT.

do you ever sometimes think this is all bullshit and you and i never existed and we're all a fabrication of one speck of dirt in the eye goo of a careless man who forgot to put us away when he was done and now we're all mutations of this perfection we'll never achieve because there's no hope for any of us anymore? we're just going to fling ourselves at each other until we can't breathe anymore and our hearts explode in our chest.

iPod.
why do you play
with my heart?
When I wish
to hear the perfect song
for this perfect moment
when i'm being so awesomely profound
why do you play
Joss Stone?

currently reading: HOW TO KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING HOT. (It's a work in progress)

Summertime BLues

2005-06-11T15:36:00.000-07:00

Sorry everybody. I didn't mean to worry you guys. I'm fine. Precious is fine -- she got a new haircut and looks so kute! Even Catherine is fine. I bought her a pretty summer dress from a thrift store, but she said that thrift clothes smell like poor people and she is a Senator's daughter and is used to only the finest. But then she did put it on and I caught her twirling around singing, "I Feel Pretty!" I really think bitch is starting to lose it.

I've been great. It relaly seems like the last month has been a flurry of celebrity news, worrying so much about Michael Jacksonn and poor Katie Holmes (as much of a captive as Catherine, these days!) and La Lohan, that I'm barely paying attention to my job or my real work or eluding the FBI. Although my kneecap clutch purse is coming along nicely :)

I just wanted to pop in and leteveryone know I'm OK. Me and Precious are off to see MR. and MRS> SMITH! It opened last night and I'm just dying to see if the fireworks off screen made it to the big screen. I certainly hope so. I know everyone speaks of Spring Fever but I've got the ants in the pants big time. I need a MAN! (Leave your email on my comments section if yu're interested! I'm a great cook and REALLY open to trying new things.)

Create a Cool Day!

"Flesh chunks found in Iowa water lines"

2005-04-26T22:09:00.000-07:00

Shit.

CARROLL, Iowa (AP) - City officials are perplexed over the discovery of mysterious chunks of flesh that have been clogging up city water lines. A month ago, city officials sent a hunk of meaty-fatty tissue to the Iowa Department of Natural Resources for identification.

Lesson: If you're going to make Chinese Children Salad, and you accidentally cook too much of the first ingredient, the garbage disposal doesn't work as good as you think it would.

Lesson learned. Sorry, Iowa. Last time I try to have a dinner party. God. I can't do anything wright. I thought it'd be nice to have some people over. Catherine's been working on her solo album, and I think she needs some feedback from someone other than me (she thinks I'm too critical. I'm SORRY if I have an OPINION.)

But this guest is allergic to onions, and that guest is allergic to shellfish, and this other one doesn't like wheat and I'm like, "You all get people. Deal with it." My house, my rules.

I mean, come on. I don't go to your house and complain that your pillowcases aren't made of woven cheerleader hair (oh, soooooo good.) No, I don't. I bring my own pillow. If you have such picky needs, BRING YOUR OWN FOOD.

Jeeeez.

[thankxxs to Stacy for the link. I'll have to go "visit" her now, as she thinks she's figured out where I live.]

Silicone Breasts - Transvestite Transformation (NSFW!!!!! :) )

2005-04-25T15:17:00.000-07:00

Anyone want to loan me somemoney?

God I'm Pretty!!!

2005-04-18T11:18:00.000-07:00

Who wouldn't fuck me?

Viewer MAil!

2005-04-07T16:47:00.000-07:00

Tiffany writes:

why cant i find a picture of jame doing his little tuck trick????

From: Jame Gumb
To: Tiffany W----- <------@b---e.com>
Date: Tue, 5 Apr 2005 10:31:00 -0700
Subject: Re: jame gumb help!

Just like any other celebrity who doesn't want her sex tape leaked to the internet, I try and stop any public display of my tucking before it gets into the wrong hands.

One time the scientologists found a still shot and I couldn't get them off my jock for weeks. You understand.

Are you a great big fat person?

-BB

Undelivered Mail Returned to Sender

This is the Firewall at -----.com.----.com.

I'm sorry to inform you that the message below could not be delivered.
When delivery was attempted, the following error was returned.

<----@b---e.com>: host ] said: 554 5.1.0 Sender
Denied (in reply to MAIL FROM command)

Final-Recipient: rfc822;
Action: failed
Status: 5.0.0
Diagnostic-Code:
Sender Denied (in reply to MAIL FROM command)

Why does that always HAPPEN TO ME?!?!

Hey, I saw a great website. it really makes me chuckle, and then think. Did you know some trees are fake?

We go all day looking at people and deciding who they are in an instant (female, gullible, size 16). But then you look closer (guess who Netflixed Jude "Mr. Gumb" Law's latest??? ;-)] ) and you see that what you saw sometimes has more to it. Like a cell phone tower.

That reminds me. Time to check Precious for bugs again. Not fleas. FBI.

Laters. CACD, bitches.

Butterflies Should Be Free

2005-04-01T09:49:00.000-08:00

I threw her down the prettiest skirt I've ever made -- a patchwork A-line that skims her hips. Catherine's lost a lot of weight since we first met what feels like a lifetime ago -- three lifetimes ago, gosh, I think a few Presidents ago -- but she's still got a handful of saddlebags that make her look like Grimace whenever I make her something cut on the bias (flesh is a tricky fabric; the hang can be so unforgiving). It fit her like a hand glove. The hem fell just below her knees, covering the criss-cross of our scabby memories together, all the years when she was an American Girl and I was trying to be an American Girl.

I let her do her own hair with the lotion, for old time's sake. She pulled it back in defiance, knowing I prefer her to keep it down. Oh, that girl. She breaks my heart with her obstinance. She loves to make me flinch in pain and I love her for keeping my emotions so raw, so visceral, so immediate for all these years.

All these years! I went over my Catherine Journal the other day, and it's hard to believe how fast the time passed.

April, 1995: Catherine flings a dirt clod at my face. Some gets in my eye. I wail and scream until she begs me to let her help me. It's the first time I let her come close enough to touch me. She's almost pretty, but then she gets the dirt out of my eye and I see she looks too much like me to be pretty. I am hideous. I poke myself with the stick that night to remind myself how much my life can hurt.

March, 1998: I discover Catherine has been digging a hole inside her well using the edge of the flip-flops I gave her to keep her from catching the well's athlete's foot. There's a fungus among us, and it ain't mold spores.

September, 2001: Never have I been more grateful to have Precious and Catherine. I spent the night in the well last night. Catherine let her spoon me. When I held her hand against mine and began comparing the sizes ("You've got mannish hands, Catherine," I said to her), she told me to get out. She's got some serious body issues, that one. At a time like this, you can't think about the future. You can only be in the now.

--

This is harder than I thought it would be. I need to stop transcribing. I only have two other entries in that Catherine journal anyway. I write for shit when it's private. I need you to see what I feel or it's not really being alive. I need your comments, your lifeblood, to keep me going, to motivate me to get out of bed, peek in that well, put the lotion in the basket and breathe in, breathe out.

I have you now. This means it's time to let Catherine go. She's been the you substitute for so long, because I didn't trust you, wasn't sure you'd stick around. I have abandonment issues (thanks, DAD), and because of that I needed to keep someone in a hole in my floor, to ensure I'd never be alone again.

But your words and your thoughts and your opinions are better than Catherine. Sometimes you aren't hateful, unlike Catherine, who reminds me constantly that I'm a murderer and a thief and a serial killer. I mean, G_D. I get it. I kill. I also do a lot of other things, too, Catherine.

This is the last time I'm going to talk about her like this, so I'm just going to say it right here so that it's out there and I don't have to keep it inside anymore. I really, really think I'm fucking hot. And I don't understand why she ignores me some days. It's like, I feed her, I hose her, I clean out her bucket. I let her touch Precious when she's bored. I got her fucking NETFLIX, for fuck's sake, and it's like... she's just not the same girl she used to be.

We don't sleep in the same room anymore. And she's so annoying all the time. It used to be her wails and screams were like music to my ears, but now they just remind me of my failures, my insecurities, my past rejections. I haven't killed her yet, and I think that means I'm unable to. She's morphed into a human being down there, like a butterfly from one of my cocoons, she has emerged. She used to be a body larvae, something I was going to slice down the middle and inspect, but now that she's munched through that crunchy cave that incubated her metamorphosis, and slid her wet legs out and flapped her gooey wings until they dried... I have to let her fly from that well. And she will do it in the pretty patchwork skin skirt I made for her.

Her legs are weak as they try to climb the bone ladder I toss down. We laugh about that. "I used to hate my thighs," she says. "And now they barely work." We're both wiping tears, not talking about them, letting them drip silently to the bottom of the well of our past.

the well of our past...

I watch the top of her head as she gets closer. When she got here she was a fake blond, but now the brown is back and it's filled with dust and I even see a cobweb near the crown. I reach out to touch it, but pull my hand back, unsure of our new relationship's rules. She's not IN my well now. She's climbing out of it. She's going to be the girl NOT in my well, and I have to be okay with that.

There will be other Catherines. You might be the new Catherine. I might be the new Catherine. But Catherine can't be the new Catherine because she's the old Catherine. (sidenote: I hate that whole blank is the new blank thing. It just isn't any funny anymore. Cheese is the new cracker. What does that even mean? How can twelve be the new eleven? (side sidenote to self: cancel Netflix. not worth the painful memories.)) )

"It looks different from up here," she says. "I didn't know you had so many plants."

"I got them a few years ago," I say.

"The renovations I heard you do look great."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. The kitchen looks phenomenal."

"Thanks. That's your blood, mixed in that paint."

"I know. It looks just like the blueprints, the archway -- oh, wow. Look at that skylight."

"Yeah, that was a lot of work."

"I know it was. Hey, mister."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me out of the well."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, mister?"

"Yeah?"

"How old am I?"

"Thirty-four."

It was quiet then, until Precious yipped at her feet. Catherine wipes her eyes and looks at me with one last questioning look -- this is the last time she needs my permission, the last time she's going to ask if it's okay, the last time she pleads with her eyebrows and her eyes up and her mouth like that.

I nod yes, and Catherine kicks Precious in the gut.

"I won't miss that fucking dog," she says as Precious pees on my Mexican Hair Ottoman.

I let her out in the middle of the night so I don't have to face the day without her. I let her out so I can cry myself to sleep and try to pretend I never met that woman, the woman who changed my life with her passion for life.

I will miss many things about her, but I won't miss that god damn screechy hick-ass voice of hers. Good lord, it makes the spine twist in agony with the way it shouts and wails.

My well is empty. My heart is full.

Create a Cool Life, Catherine.

Create a Cool Life.

A_p_R_i_L F00lz!

SUckers. I'd never let Catherine out of the well. Then I'd have to shut down my blog. And you can take my blog when you pry it from my cold, dead, QWERTY-loving fingers.

I got you, didn't I?

I'm awesome.

[special thanks to Catherine, who suggested I let her out of the well, giving me the insipriation for this HILARIOUS entry. I think I deserve a diarist award. Or a bloggy. South By Southwest? Give me something. I'm amazing.]

Beam Me UP

2005-03-30T16:28:00.000-08:00

Why didn't anyone tell me that Cadet Third Class Wesley Crusher had a blog??? So do I! Fate? Destiny? Super-squeeeeeeeeee!

I wonder if he likes boys.

But to less dishy matters: Has anyone returned my possessions? NO. Last night I made the stupid mistake of telling Catherine about the burglary of my things, and she laughed and told me she was glad and maybe now without Mannequin I'll finally stop making clothes and wake up that I'm a "nothing" and a "big fat honkin' zero." It was my fault for even telling bitchface in the first place, but it still made me even madder. But I after I got out my grandpa's old fishing rod and practiced casting into the well -- Catherine has learned to hide under her cot, but it still makes me giggle -- I felt better. But what really brought me down off "the ledge" was making the most yummy summer sqaush soup. After eating my soup and watching my fav celebrity news show, The Insider (where is Pat O'Brien? I miss him.), I took out my Eleanor Lurman spinal comb and gave Precious a bee-yootiful new hair doo! Would you like to see it? Too bad, because here it comes! Hee.

Doesn't she look fabulous? Please tell her in the comments -- she lurves reading them too!

And please tell me if you can tell I've been working out.

CACD! (That means "Create a cool day!")

So Disappointed In Humanity

2005-03-29T18:07:00.000-08:00

Alright, jokers. Who stole Mannequin and GumbBoy?

You see?! All that's left is the wood frame I kept him on. And in front, right by the gate? GumbBoy is gone, too. It's really not funny. In fact, it's so not funny that I'm going to KILL CATHERINE if I don't get my stuff back. See. You want to show me the ugliness of the world? I'll show it right back. I'll show it right back all over Catherine's f***ing face!!!

Gah. Sorry, but I'm just so heartbroken about this. I had a great weekend working on my fingernail hoodie and then celebrating my sixth favorite holiday, Easter. I even poked Catherine unconscious with a stick and hid Easter eggs in the well for her to find when she woke up. She really enjoyed the hunt, even though she only found three before she got cranky and gave up. I didn't even give it the hose when it started crying, that's how in the spirit I was. Then last night I met a new friend online adn we chatted for HOURS and he seems really nice and we might even meet! I woke up feeling so great and happy and hopeful... and then when I went out to get the paper (I'm not going to tell you which paper it is, FBI, so don't even ask!) I immediately noticed that my gate was open and Mannequin and GumbBoy were gone!

So look. If you return MY PROPERTY to me, I won't ask any questions. I won't even wait up tonight, hiding in teh bushes with my DEATHSTICK to catch the perpetrators. I'll go to sleep and in the morning everything will be returned and Catherine will live (for now) and I won't have to go on thinking this world is a terrible place full of mean, mean people who just want to take and take and take and contribute NOTHING to make this world a better place. People who want to PUNISH and SHAME ME for trying to share a little of MY LIFE which is valid and GOOD!

A**holes.

Food For Thought

2005-03-25T09:17:00.000-08:00

I'm on my way to work, so I don't have lots of time, but I just read how someone suggested in my comments that the relationship between Catherine and me isn't working out. I asked Catherine what she thought about that, but she just made a very rude gesture and went back to sleep on the wellfloor. I hate to say it, but think maybe it's true. Sometimes, when we've been fighting or it refuses to put things in the basket (breakfast dishes, lotion, books I get for her from the library, you name it), I think back on that night when she agreed to help me get that couch into my van (such a great ruse!) and I secretly wish she'd refused. Sure, I'd been stalking her for months and so I'd probably have had to kill her on the spot, but at least then my well would be open for others to find their way into it. Maybe my emotional "well" has been taken up by one for so long that it's missed out on so many more that could've made my well even brighter. Does that make sense?

Dear commenter. I think what you're saying is: It's like when Marissa had to let Ryan go (I'm talking about The O.C. here, natch) so she could let others (that rocker girl!) into her emotional well. The thing is, if Marissa had never let Ryan go, maybe she never would have found her way back to him? Maybe if I let Catherine go, she'll come back to me???? Intense.

Wow. Now I have so much to think about this weekend. I'm expecting a new shipment of Peruvian Poo Moths, so my dance card is getting full! Oops, my bus is coming so I have to "motor." Have you ever had Cream of Wheat? It's sooooo good.

Create a cool day!

Ring Ring Ring

2005-03-22T10:37:00.000-08:00

I saw the funniest movie the other day. It's called The Ring and I put it in my Netflix queue because the girls at work were talking about it one day in the lunchroom. They shut up when I came in to fix my Cup O' Noodles, but I heard enough to make me want to watch it. I lurve fiddling with my Netflix queue! I put The Ring in front of the Freaks and Geeks complete series (sooooooo good, soooooo true) and after the fantastic DB Sweeney ice skating film The Cutting Edge.

Well, The Ring is billed as a horror film, and I can understand why people find it scary, but to me it was hilarious. What I didn't know until the main character herself found out, is that the movie is about a girl who lives in a well! OMG! I KNOW!!! But the great part is that she finds a way to come back to life through a scary (it really is creepy) video about flies and hairbrushing and horses and cliff-diving. Throughout the movie I kept laughing and laughing and Catherine finally asked what movie was I watching and could she watch too if it was so "dag-gone funny." (You can take the girl out of the South...) So I dangled the small TV (Precious's TV) into the well so it could watch. It didn't think the movie was funny at all. It cried and cried and really ruined the ending of the movie for me by cheering for Samara, the girl in the well, when she popped out of the TV and killed the boyfriend. "Get her!!!" it yelled until I unplugged the TV and played Tom Petty at volume 10 in lieu of the hose (she hates Tom Petty for some reason. Said it corresponds with a "bad memory.")

But then after the movie was finished and Full Moon Fever was blasting and Precious was yapping and I had to do the tuck and dance in front of the mirror to calm myself down, I started to feel bad, which happens a lot when Catherine gets sad. It's why I keep referring to her as "Her" instead of "it," as someone pointed out in my commments. (KEep commenting! I lurve it!!! You guys are so funny. Would you fuck me? I would.) I have to admit, Catherine's long-range attempt to humanize herself in my eyes has been somewhat of a success. So she was crying and trying to crab-walk up the well like Samara, but she kept falling back down, and the sucker I am I walked to the corner store and bought her a toy and a snack. When I presented Catherine with the box of Green Hostess Snoballs and the Pepsi she stopped crying and actually thanked me. But then when I gave her the toy -- a fake police gun and badge -- she started crying again. Girls are nuts.

Ooh, after watching a craft show on HGTV I decided to undertake a new project. It's a fingernail hoodie! Wish me luck.

Create a cool day!

Mi Casa y Soo Casa

2005-03-19T12:34:00.000-08:00

So, I know I'm taking a risk here, both emotionally and in terms of the FBI being able to track me down, but I'm really so proud of my house that I want to share it with you, my deer readers:

Isn't it darling? I took the photo from inside the bus as it picked me up on my way to work. I screamed for the driver to stop the bus and then took the picture with my brand new CAMERAPHGONE! It's sooooooo awesome. It's a Nokia, which I heard is made by the Finnish. I once captured a Finnish girl named Avka, but she wouldn't stop crying so I poked her unalive with a stick. But anyway. The bus driver was pretty freaked out but I got my photo so I don't care. I had to look up on the internet how to use this thing called Bluetooth to send my cameraphone photo through the air into my computer. I tried to explain the whole process to Catherine as I did it, but she claimed she wasn't interested and tried to convince me that it was her birthday. I asked her how old she was and she told me "Seven," and then said she missed her mommy. She's so funny sometimes. :)

Anyway, my house! What do you think??? (You can leave a COMMENT if you want. But please don't be meaen, or I'll track you down and you'll get the hose again! Just kidding. Or not!!!!!!!!!!!)

I'm not going to tell you how I bought the house or how long ago, but escrow and real estate stuff is sooooooooo hard and boring. I'm also not going to worry that you can tell it's raining in my HOMETOWN because it rains LOTS OF PLACE, Mr. Smartypants, and also, I NEVER SAID WHAT DAY I TOOK THE PHOTO. So put away your weather.com page, FBI. You can't find me!

Isn't it cute! Here are my favorite parts of the outside, not in order, because I don't want to play favorites:

1) My gate. I had a Bart Simpson Halloween decoration strung to it until someone wrote "Freak" on it recently and I had to take it down. I don't think Bart Simpson is a freak. He's just a little cartoon boy. But I like my gate because it keeps Precious from running away and also it designates "This is my space." I like those clear definitions in my life. I don't get them enough. The world is SOOOO complicated. "Are you my boyfriend?" "Is my job secure?" "Am I ever going to let Catherine out of the well." My gate is solid and doesn't ask hard questions. Does that make sense?

2) My plant! I named my plant "GumbBoy" after my boyfriend. But unlike the real GumbBoy, he doesn't scream when I tell him what I'm wearing.

3) My tulips! (I just went outside to get inspiration to write about them, and saw that they are dead. I'm saddened beyond words...)

4) My little white chair. I like to sit on the chair while I'm thinking, enjoying a nice glass of Merlot. I don't care what that fat ugly man said in "Sideways". I love Merlot!

5) My American flag. God Bless our Troops.

6) And finally, even though I said I wasn't going to rank them, this is my favoritest thing of the whole front of my house. MY MANNEQUIN! Can you see him? He's just to your left of the door. See! Now the coolest thing about my mannequin is that he just appeared one day? I know. It sounds crazy. (And I know crazy! :p) But one day I came from the shoe store to find him laying in my front yard all battered and bruised and unwanted. I gave him to Catherine as a friend, but Catherine kept calling him "Daddy" and it was really starting to freak me out, so I decided to use him as a welcoming vision for any friends who might come over, and also as a model to display my designs! RIGHT NOw (oops, I hit the Caps Lock by mistkae) Mannequin is wearing a 40's style swim cap with a blue demin eveningwear bikini with matching sarong to cover those problem areas. Do you like it? You can use the comments to let me know. I'm becoming a totall whore for feedback.

Anyway, that's my house! I hope you like it. And I hope you get inspiration to make wherever you life look nice and reflect who you are. (I wish Catherine would take some pride in her well.)

Okay, time to buy some new tulips! (See, I'm feeling less sad already.)

Create a cool day!

Recipe For a Heartbreak

2005-03-11T17:58:00.000-08:00

Ooh, I'm tired today. I have a lot I should be doing, so I thought I'd come over here and write on my Blog because it's my new favorite thing in the world, what with all the sadness going on in everything that's not my little corner of the internet. ;-)

Let's see... I tried the pumpkin muffin recipe someone was kind enough to leave in my comments (Thanks for commenting! SWAK!!!). They were really good. They were so good, in fact, that I wanted to share them with someone. That's when i got a little sad about not having someone special in my life. I mean, I've got Catherine, sure, but she's more special ed than special-special, and whenever I try to really share my feelings with her, she always finds a way to turn it back to being all about her. "I'M trapped in a well. I want someone to save ME. I'm SCARED." Shit like that. She's so selfish. I literally listen to her problems all day long. When does it get to be my turn to feel?

That's another reason I love this blog, although, I must confess I'm approaching this new incarnation with a bit of hesitancy. When I was updating my journal all the time, I kind of started a bit of a relationship. Okay, I fell in love. Hard. He was young and I was younger (emotionally) and in the end it just wasn't meant to be because I couldn't technically leave the house and once he found out I may or may not have allegedly had something to do with numerous kidnappings and/or murders, he freaked out.

And who wouldn't get freaked out, when love is that strong? I should post some of our IM's here some day, I swear. If they weren't so important to me (I'm sorry, but sometimes the comments threads can get really mean and personal, and I couldn't handle it if someone made fun of the way I love), I'd do it. When GumbBoy (that's what I call him) and I would chat at three in the morning about our favorite concerts we've been to, and we found out we were both almost at the same Sting concert in different cities, but like, one day after the next on Sting's tour schedule? That's how we knew it was fate. We were in love and I loved him and he loved me and when I sent flowers to his work he said it was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for him. Then WHY has he since MOVED and quit his JOB and told people to tell me he's TERRIFIED of my voice?

I just push people away, I guess. I love too much, too hard, too good. I make people realize their own insecurities, and when that happens, they just... can't deal with it anymore. I get it. Lord knows I do it with Catherine. I've even done it with Precious. Sometimes when she looks at me with those eyes, the ones that say, "You feed me and you take care of me and without you I'd die," I just... sometimes I have to get the hose again, you know?

Sigh.

Anyway, the pumpkin muffins were delicious, but they reminded me of how GumbBoy crumbled my heart like so much cake mix, and I found myself weeping. I tried to document it in my (PRIVATE! (FRIENDS-ONLY)) grief blog, but there's one person on there who I haven't taken off my friends list and he loves to make fun of me whenever I get real. So I wrote on my mirror in lipstick "EVERYBODY HATES YOU." And then I held Precious up to the mirror to make her read it but dammit if she can't read. so I took the muffins to my next door neighbor, Marcia (not my other neighbor, Loudy McNoisy), and asked if she'd like to share some chai and a little bit of a game I like to call "Your Memory, Mine."

Marcia's funny. She's always trembling when we sit together, like she's doing a Precious impression. And she keeps one hand on her cell phone. I'm always like, "Co-dependent much, Marica?" And then I laugh, and a few seconds later she gets it, and she laughs even harder like she's trying to show me how much she gets it even though I think maybe she didn't get it at all. She also eats so quickly. In like, thirty seconds the muffin is gone and then I feel like she's just watching me eat and talk for two hours. Oh, well. This is the dance we do to be good neighbors, I guess.

I'm almost finished with the hair poncho I was knitting. Did i talk about this already? Gosh, I'm in a meloncholy mood. Maybe there's something good on television to keep my mind off GumbBoy. I WON'T call him again tonight. It twists my stomach in knots to hear him cry like he does.

Dammit. Catherine just knocked something over in the well trying to climb out. Must be six 'o clock!

Laters.

Girls Girls Girls

2005-03-06T21:44:00.000-08:00

Wow. How great is The L Word? Seriously. Showtime should be proud of itself.

Even Catherine had to admit it sounded interesting. (She "had" to because I dropped syrup down onto her until she admitted it.)

I hate Sunday nights because in a few short hours the work week starts all over again. The girls down at the office make it tolerable, but boy, I'm pretty cranky come Monday afternoon. Just don't ask me to fax anything after five... or I might poke your eyes out with a letter opener. ;P

I don't really have much to say. The L Word is over and I can't afford TiVo (between Catherine and Precious's upkeep, I feel like I have two children. Naughty children, but they do fill my life) so there's nothing good to watch. Catherine is asleep and she's scream-snoring which I don't want to interrupt. Maybe I'll go for a walk. There's nothing like a brisk walk before bedtime.

I don't know how to end this. I wish I had a signature sign-off other than Create A Cool Day?

Or do y'all like that? "Create A Cool Day!"

Email me!

2005-03-04T15:25:00.000-08:00

You Are Ichabod Crane From "Sleepy Hollow."

You're a deep thinker - most times logically. You're a bit of a neat freak and a wuss (hey, you do faint a lot!) but you do have the ability to overcome your fears and come out stronger in the end. And you never lose your head over things. (Gufaw gufaw!)

Take The Johnny Depp Quiz!

I'd Put Sarah In My Well Any Day

2005-03-04T15:07:00.000-08:00

I'm really stoked that I got to write a recap for TVoP. They might hate everybody and are mean little shitheads, but I love the recaps for 24 (Damn my nail-biting New Year's Resolution!), and I think some of them are funny. Some of them. Others I'm like, "Go outside, loser. Then tell me what it's like out there. I miss vacations!" LOL.

Anyhoo, that's what I did last week with my spare time. Oh, and I've been working on a hair poncho. It's almost finished. I'm really happy with it and I'll put up pictures as soon as someone buys me a digital camera off my wishlist.

Does anyone have a good recipe for pumpkin muffins? I've just got a craving and the last time I made them they came out tasting like scones.

The other day I was walking down the street and someone shouted, "Freak!" and I was like, "That's not very nice." I didn't say that, but I really thought it. I was going to say something, but by the time I thought of what I should say, the light had turned green and the guy was gone. So I picked up my flesh bag, threw back my shoulders and headed home with my head held high. Then I let a rat go in the well to watch Catherine scream. Dammit, that girl is funny. I'm gonna miss her one day when I finally get bored enough to kill her. I wonder if I'll still be blogging then. (*fingers crossed!*)

Secret: I wrote my recap naked. See if you can tell.

My tulips are finally starting to bloom in the front yard. I'm really proud of them. I was going to cut some to put on the table with dinner last night but then I thought, "I really kill enough for three people. Shouldn't I let one thing live?" I think a lot of deep thoughts. I'm glad I have this space for them as proof. I'm really happy you're out there, reading me, validating my life. What would I do with all these thoughts without blogs? What did people do before the internet when they thought of something random and had nobody to talk to? No wonder my dad used to get drunk and call us mistakes. He must have been so bored.

Dustin Hoffman Beat Me To It

2005-03-03T09:37:00.000-08:00

I don't know. Call me crazy but I think he looks hot.

Segway revs new models

2005-03-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

I have a morning ritual before I go to work: I exfoliate, feed Precious, check on my newly cacooned Screeching Thai Sand Moths, hose down the well, make a mug of Nescafe, and then I sit down to read my various bookmarked online sites. I like to talk to Catherine and fill her in on various news tidbits about Lindsay Lohan or whatnot.

Well, this morning I jokingly told her that I was thinking of buying her one of the new Segways so she could ride around the well in a circle. But then she told me she didn't know what a Segway was and I realized she's been down in the well so long she's missed a lot of stuff that's been going on in the world. That made me oddly sad, so I threw darts at her until it was time for me to go catch my bus.

He's Gonna Loser Liver

2005-03-01T10:20:00.000-08:00

Did you guys read CNN today? [link]

"What's true about serial killers is that they're basically losers. In their own mind, they have never distinguished themselves in the way they'd like to."

Uh, you're basically ShUt Up!

"Almost all of them have a very large need for control or power," said Eric Hickey, a criminal psychologist at California State University-Fresno who wrote the book "Serial Murderers and Their Victims."

"It makes them feel like they're the big man in the community."

Many serial killers share other similarities: dysfunctional backgrounds, feelings of abandonment and rejection, and a desire for recognition, experts said.

Hey, tha'ts not why I kill. That's why I blog. Get it right, Mr. Criminologist McPsychologiststein.

[thanks to me for the link]

Get it? Well, Catherine?

2005-02-28T18:14:00.000-08:00

Today Catherine asked me if I'd stop pelting her with rocks. After I said no, one of the rocks went right into her mouth while she was crying. She almost swallowed it. It was so funny.

Once I stopped laughing, she shouted, "Are you going to write that on your stupid new blog?"

Well, Catherine, I do believe I will.

test. test. fuck me.

2005-02-28T17:55:00.000-08:00

testing. fuck me.