Since I have nothing really exciting to say today, I'm going to make up a new word.
If you were a slug, and you lost at a game show, it would only add insult to injury if your consolation prize was a year's worth of salt.
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I'm home!
I had a nice weekend with Morgen.
We ate pizza and junk food, he made some yummy penne with Italian sausage and marinara, we watched TV until our brain cells resembled gummy bears, we watched people walking down the street below the apartment and commented on their clothing choices. (I pretended to actually have some sort of fashion sense. Ha Ha! It's fun to pretend).
We watched Pirates Of The Caribbean III on DVD. (Verdict: There's no such thing as a BAD way to watch Johnny Depp, but still... uh... I didn't understand what the hell was going on throughout 90% of the movie. Must watch this a few dozen more times so I can understand.)
Sunday night, right before bedtime, I let the biggest fart of 2008 (so far). It was an awe-inspiring, heart warming moment, and I'm glad Morgen was there to witness it. He tried to mask his appreciation by backing away and muttering something like "Oh, my GOD..." But I know he was proud of me anyway.
Thank you, Morgen, for a lovely weekend. :)
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It's after midnight, so technically it's Monday now. Really, though, it's Sunday night and I'm still at Morgen's. I'm posting this from the laptop in the living room. Morgen's already gone to bed. I plan to be up for another hour or so.
It dawned on me that I have no idea what to post for Manic Monday.
So, let's try this.
The theme word is Rip.
Often the letters RIP are found on tombstones.
So, here is a list of possible things you can engrave on my tombstone after I'm dead.
1. No, you can't have her chocolate now either.
2. Try not to remember her as the person who farted on your sofa.
3. It's too bad she hated sauerkraut.
4. She may also have hated eels.
5. At least she loved cheese.
6. But not cheesy eels with sauerkraut.
7. She only made sense when she wanted to.
8. It would have been nice if you'd bought some autographed squares of her underwear. Instead she died poor and alone. Shame on you.
9. She hated TV commercials about yeast infections.
10. There's a secret compartment in her left kidney which contains $4.75 in quarters.
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I'm spending the weekend with Morgen!
I'm leaving Saturday morning and will probably be back Monday morning. If all goes well, I may be able to post a few things while I'm there. If you don't end up hearing from me, though, here are some possible reasons why:
1) I got in a hideous accident on the way there.
2) A stranger offered me candy at the gas station before I left, and it ended up knocking me out for 18 hours, after which I awoke as a sex slave somewhere in Oklahoma.
3) Morgen and I ate so much pizza that neither of us can quite reach the computer.
4) My cats, desperate to keep me from leaving, tied me down to the floor until I promised to stay home. (Note: It's hard to tie someone down when you don't have opposable thumbs).
5) My ancient computer (see previous post) decided to become bitter and jealous about being replaced, so it hired a hit man to kill me.
6) I stumbled and fell in the middle of the night on my way to the toilet, and am now laying unconscious in the hallway.
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Sorry I've not been online much these past couple days.
There's a good reason, I swear.
And, even though I am exhausted, I plan on sharing it with you right now. (Hugs afterward! And a plethora of carbonated beverages!)
You all know that my computer is old and fussy and slow. You know this because I enjoy complaining about it. :) Well, with every passing day, it becomes more and more apparent that this old technosaur is going to die soon. It freezes up more and more often, it refuses to view some webpages, it freezes up whenever I scroll down a Facebook page or a Yahoo page.
I can't download most new software or plug-ins because I have Windows 98, which is rapidly becoming laughably obsolete.
And yet, I am too poor to buy anything new.
Well, guess what.
I have a VERY nice uncle who is VERY good with computers and has VERY generously offered to build me one of my very own. He's built plenty of them before (even my mom has one he built). When he heard that his own niece was reduced to the embarrassment of using Windows 98, he graciously offered to build me an all-new one. I will have Windows NT and a whole bunch of other stuff. (He says to stay away from Vista, no matter what, so that's why I'm getting NT).
A new computer!
I am excited about that.
Thrilled.
Overjoyed!
The ONLY problem is that now I have to go through my files and decide what stuff I want to save. I have TEN YEARS' worth of pictures and stories and poetry and music compositions and e-mails and memories. I have to go through it all and decide what is important to keep.... and what is ok to let go.
That's harder than you might think.
Those of you who have ever had a computer completely crash dead, losing everything in the process.... you had the devastating experience of not even getting a CHANCE to decide what to save. I feel for you!
Here, though, I find myself in the position of being able to choose what I want to keep.
I've spent hours and hours and hours, going through ancient e-mails from all the way back to 1999.
I am a sentimental person, and I wish I could save it all.
I also have A TON of pictures I've used for making my graphics. Plus I have a ton of pictures I've taken with my cheap lousy little digital camera. Plus there are all the graphics I've made for myself and other people. What do I save? What do I throw away?
I decided to save almost all of the music I wrote, even little fragments of things.
If only I had a CD-burner, I could just save all this stuff on CD. But I don't.
So, here's the plan:
I'm e-mailing the music compositions to my mom, then she's e-mailing it back to me once I get the new computer set up.
The e-mails that I'm saving, I'm forwarding to my g-mail account. I might also be able to save some on floppy disk, provided my floppy drive still works.
The pictures I'm saving will probably go to my Flickr account. I may also sign up for Photobucket.
It's very time consuming, and very emotionally draining, to go through ten years worth of STUFF.
That's what I've been doing for the past couple days.
But I need to take a break now. My brain is the consistency of pop-rocks.
So, let's all have a group hug, and drink something.
Guess what happens when you mix pop-rocks with a carbonated beverage....
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Monday, my mom made me a heart pendant necklace. It's unusual and pretty. I like it.
Tuesday, I wore it when I went to visit her. She noticed, and said:
"Oh, look; you've got your heart on."
Heh.
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If a deaf person drives a forklift backwards in the woods but no one's there to hear it beep, does it still make a sound?
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As most of you probably know, we had an earthquake a few days ago.
I guess the epicenter was down in Illinois somewhere, but it was noticeable all the way up here in Michigan at 5:30 in the morning.
Or so I hear.
Actually, I slept through the whole thing.
If I was to wake up during a "shake, rattle, and roll" experience, I dunno if "earthquake" would be my first thought. We just usually don't GET those here.
Possible alternate explanations I would have considered first:
1) God is doing gymnastics, and He just landed a perfect ten.
2) There's an angry horde of villagers shaking the house because they are tired of me doing naked yoga every afternoon in the driveway.
3) The indigestion fairy is visiting me because I ate all those hot peppers before bedtime.
4) I am slowly being pulled into an alternate universe where politicians actually make sense.
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Today, April 20th, is the one-year anniversary of the day I got injured by a falling 2-liter bottle.
For any of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, you can read the whole thread HERE. Basically I opened the fridge to put something away, and a full 2-liter bottle fell from the top rack. It gouged into my right leg, cap-side first, and created a wound that took nearly half a YEAR to heal. I ended up getting a bad case of cellulitis from it, and had to go to the hospital five times.
The wound itself has been healed up for quite a few months now, but it left me with a big ugly scar. If anyone asks about it, I plan to blame it on monkeys.
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There's a bruise on my right arm about the size of a Ritz cracker. I woke up with it last week and am not entirely sure how it got there. My guess is that I probably bumped against a doorknob in the middle of the night while getting up to pee.
Last Tuesday at band and ABC group, people kept asking me how I got the bruise. I told them the truth, but in retrospect I should've come up with something more exciting.
Like this, for example:
Well, I was driving around listening to NPR, mentally comparing and contrasting the socio-economic situations of Zimbabwe, Argentina, and Indonesia, when suddenly I saw a car with a flat tire at the side of the road. All these monkeys were gathered around the car but none of them knew how to change tires so they just kept flinging their feces at it instead. 
I hate monkeys, so I rolled down my window as I drove by and yelled, "This is why they shouldn't give drivers' licenses to monkeys!" And then I drove off.
Well, later that night, as I was laying in bed trying to sleep, I heard something sneaking through the window and creeping into the bedroom. It was the same group of monkeys; they had tracked me down and were bent on revenge. Some of them ate all my bananas, some tried impregnating my cats, and the rest began pelting me with more feces. Most of the poop just sort of bounced off but one of them was kind of constipated and it hit me really hard in the arm right here, which is how I got this bruise.
Stupid monkeys.
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Today, while daydreaming under the influence of a bacon club chalupa, I realized that the Earth is probably flat, and we should just start poisoning anyone who believes in the--
No, wait!
What I meant to say is, bacon club chalupas are really good.
I am in the process of trying to clone them so I can grow them in my bedroom closet.
So far, the hardest part is keeping the bacon and the chicken separate until the very end, instead of producing some evil half-and-half meat that is a combination of both.
(Backen? Chicon?)
I would have cloned them in the kitchen, except that's where I'm building my Robot Of Supreme Retribution And Vengeance.
I would have cloned them in the bathroom, except that's where I attempt to fold space and time into cute little origami shapes.
The other rooms all had too much cat hair.
So the bedroom closet worked out best.
(Bonus: If you fold a sheet of paper in half, you can say it's an origami chalupa.)
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If you've read Jantics and Jantrails lately, it will come as no surprise to learn that my mind has finally snapped. Really, it was only a matter of time.
Now that the inevitable has happened, here are thirteen things that might be fun to do:
1. Search for road kill and try flying it like a kite (note to self: try small animals first and gradually work my way up to deer)
2. Build a motor home out of pretzels and cheese.
3. See if AA batteries taste the same as C batteries.
4. Write an ensemble piece for xylophone, sandpaper, leaky faucet, and toenail clippers.
5. Explain to random strangers on the street that I'm sorry I can't read their minds today because I lost my magic helmet. (This would make a bad pick-up line at a bar... "Pssst, hey, baby, I got your "magic helmet" right HERE....")
6. Offer to sell autographed squares of my old underwear. (woops, already did this one)
7. Begin referring to my garage as "The Sacred Refuge Of Ancient Dusty Zolthar"
8. Stand in the middle of a crowded street, point up at the sky, and scream "Oh, my god, it's still there! And it's INVISIBLE this time!"
9. Drink more fruit punch and claim that it makes my blood a prettier shade of red.
10. Talk to tires.
11. Invent new high-fiber cereal called "Septic Crunch"
12. Velcro myself to my bed so I will no longer be tempted to get up in the morning.
13. Spontaneously visit friends while wearing nothing but gloves and pineapple rings.
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The temperatures are getting steadily warmer, and I find myself looking uneasily toward the inevitable hell of the approaching summertime. Is it too much to ask for just a little more snow, just one more time, before the miserable solar death rays heat us all into one big pile of crunchy fritters, sizzling in our own sweat?
I miss winter.
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By the way, did these pictures make anyone else think of Calvin and Hobbes?
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1) April showers bring May flowers. Mayflowers bring pilgrims which eventually turn into paranoid colonists that burn witches at the stake, which is why summer is so hot in June.
2) If there's a spider on your windshield, and you turn on the wipers, you will completely smear his previously speck-sized body into an impressive 5-inch arc. Nearby arachnids will shudder in horror as they listen to his dying screams. You will feel a strange mix of guilt and omnipotence.
3) Mafia hit men are WAY more expensive than I previously thought.
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Budding entrepreneur that I am, I have decided to offer all of you an exciting opportunity. For the low, low price of $5.50 (US), you can have an autographed square of an old pair of my underwear. (Suitable for framing!)
The square will be approximately 3 inches, made of very soft, well-worn cotton. It will probably be white, though one or two of them may be pastel colors. I will gladly personalize it for you! Just let me know what you want yours to say!
Why can't we mass-produce cars that run on water, so when it rains, all we have to do is drive around with giant funnels sticking out of our fuel tanks? We could make the cars super-efficient so they could go 50 miles per tablespoon. There should be a urine filter attachment (complete with ladies' adapter).
We could also equip them with an optional time machine feature that plugs into the cigarette lighter, so we could travel back five minutes into the past and make ourselves NOT lock the keys in the car.
Of course, if it was plugged into the cigarette lighter, we wouldn't be able to get to it if we were locked out of the car.
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Okey dokey.
I'm just a wee bit drunk right now, as evidenced by the fact that I just typed the words "okey dokey". (Neither of which are actually words.)
I'm drinking blue raspberry vodka. I drank the first few gulps kinda fast, and it's hitting me like a pumpkin dropped from a 20-story building.
I don't drink that often, so it doesn't take much. Plus I haven't eaten at all today. Don't ask.
As some of you know, I've been in a rotten brokenhearted painful shoot-me-now kind of mood for the past 9 days or so. The actual depressing situation hasn't changed, but I'm starting to be able to cope with it better. This is the first time since that whole thing began, that I've actually drank any alcohol at all, believe it or not.
Wow, I just had to keep trying about 4 times before I could spell the word "alcohol" right.
It is REALLY raining outside. REALLY hard. It's been raining off and on for the past three days, as if I've somehow managed to project my painful mood out into the cosmos.
Bonus! Superpowers!
What I want to know, though, is this: If I can alter the weather by projecting my mood out into the cosmos, why can't I kill people with my mind? Seriously, I'd much rather have THAT superpower. Who do I speak to about this?
I guess that would make me a supervillain, but who the hell cares.
I'm beginning to seriously suspect that evil people have a lot more fun than nice people.
Pardon me while I go refill my drink....
Holy crap, when I got up, there was this AMAZING headrush.
And my lips are numb. And maybe some of my fingers. Not sure about my toes yet, as they seem to have detached themselves and begun spinning in mid-air around my head, not unlike the stars and birds that happen when cartoon characters hit their heads.
I am totally planning on drunk-texting a couple people soon.
I've never done that before. I've received drunk texts but have never sent any.
It's about time I started doing that.
I can cross it off my list of things I wanted to do before I die. Can't remember if it was actually on the list to begin with, but hey. Better safe than sorry.
Dude! Y'wanna know how I just proved I'm a nerd? Do ya? Huh?
I was so amused by my numb lips that I wanted to see what it would be like to play french horn while I was drunk. So I got out my horn and played for a couple minutes.
Bzzzzzzzzzzttttt! Hee! Mozart would be so PROUD!!
I should totally try writing some music when I'm toasted.
I'll leave you all alone now.
BTW, you have NO IDEA how many times I had to stop and fix typos while I was writing this.
Blue raspberry vodka... it's not just for breakfast anymore!
Wait....
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1) Empty Gas Tanks
2) Romance Novels
3) Food Poisoning
4) Unpleasant Smells
5) Insomnia
6) Imminent Death
7) Plugged-Up Toilets
8) Unwashed Armpits
9) ESPN
10) Martha Stewart
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If pizza was prescription only, I bet there would be a lot of addicts out there. Instead of places delivering in 30 minutes or less, there would be shady deals conducted in back alleys smelling vaguely of dumpsters, pepperoni, and garlic.
Doctors would become increasingly reluctant to write the prescriptions, due to pressure from anti-substance abuse groups.
Well-meaning but closed-minded control freaks would stage interventions and programs called "Just Say No To Sauce And Dough!"
Thank god we live in a semi-free country.
We may not get to have pizza with crack and meth on it, but at least we can have sausage and bacon.
I'd rather die from that anyway.
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The aliens brought me back this morning, and I'm still recovering from the jet lag. Apparently there's a few trillion hours of time difference between here and Excedrin Beta. Who knew?
Needless to say, I am exhausted.
On the bright side, I have a suitcase full of crappy tourist trap gifts from all the rest stops along the way. (Apparently the one on Jupiter's third moon is still under construction, which was a bummer because I REALLY had to pee.)
Oh, sure, I could've gone on the spaceship, but lemme tell ya, those alien bathrooms are a MESS. The smell alone could knock over a Plutonian glark-beetle from 80 light-years away.
You'd think, after all these Earth-visits, they would have learned about Lysol.
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As some of you know, this has been a very sad, heartbreaking week for me.
So, the aliens are going to stop by on Monday and take me to Venus, or Alpha Centauri, or Excedrin Beta, or wherever the hell they live. I wasn't really paying attention when they offered. How bad could it be?
They were going to take me away on Sunday, but I said "No, wait, let me at least stick around for Fab's radio show. He's having this Big Honking Duet show (April 6th, 6:00pm EST) with two hours of karaoke. And I'll be singing one of the songs. ("Obsession," by Animotion). I recorded my half of the karaoke weeks ago, long before I asked you guys to take me away. So I'd at least like to stick around and hear how it sounds with Fab's half added in. Then we can go. Ok?"
"Ok," they said. "After your primitive radio humiliation is complete, we will then abduct you as per our contract."
I hope there are hors d'ouvres on the flight.
I also hope their probing tools are broken.
Maybe.
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Summer
Team Sports
Chick Flicks
Speeches
Blood Stains
Elmo
Onions
Migraines
Heartbreak
Heartbreak
Heartbreak
Raw Meat
Barfing
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At this rate, it will be only a short time before my cats discover my blogs, so I think now would be a good time for me to post a few things I've been meaning to tell them.
1. Just because I open a can does NOT mean I am opening a can of cat food. Do not come running excitedly and meowing cutely. This will make me feel slightly guilty, but not guilty enough to actually share my can of chunky soup with you.
2. Use. The. Litter. Box. EVERY time. Please. Dammit.
3. I can TELL who horked up the basketball-size hairball by the color of the fur. Do not try to look innocent when I confront you with this.
4. I love you, and I realize it's a sign of affection when you lick me, but please understand my mixed feelings if you happen to do this right after you've licked your ass.
