anagram of brat

April Fools Day sounds like a great day to give up caffeine. At least the stuff by way of coffee and soda - chocolate and Prince of Wales tea is a bit much to ask right now. Still considering how much coffee and soda I knock back, that's a severe reduction in my whole being one with the caffeinated cosmos thing. I'm also not fool enough to think this will be a permanent take (I do love my coffee and Pepsi so so much) but I should be able to get through a month without it, right? (...right?) We'll see where we are on May 1.

Oh god what am I doing?


Naw, seriously, it'll be okay. Gonna have a nice bottle of Wild Cherry Pepsi at D&D tonight, and that'll be it. This will be good for me. Really. (Right?)

~~

PILLOWY MOUNDS OF MASHED POTATOES

Dear 222 Elm St,

Oh, baby, how is it you are still on the market after two and a half years? You are large, beautiful, historic and $400K cheaper than your original asking price. I realize it's a nasty market, but I am surprised that you're still out there. I would have thought that at least some horrible person with no appreciation for your multitudinous charms would have snapped you up and unceremoniously gutted and restructured you into ghastly condos by now, like every other nearby house that once had your stature and magnificence. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy you haven't been. But I'm also saddened to know that no one's done the equivalent of fall madly in love with you and sweep you off to a wonderful happy life... or whatever passes for such if you're real estate. Believe me, I'd have you in a heartbeat if money were no object. I can just see the fabulous salons and soirées I'd throw deep within your cavernous Victorian era rooms. But one thing I wasn't gifted with in this lifetime is insane wealth, nor the power to generate anything like it. Ah, if only I had been, I'd willingly spend a lifetime curled in the embrace of your delicious curved window seats contemplating the comings and goings of Elm Street from your graceful apertures.

Some small part of my mind would love to think that maybe you're waiting... waiting to find the special person or people that will walk through your fiendishly elegant double doors and be enveloped by you, that you will do everything but whisper "Welcome Home" in their ears. An even smaller part of my brain that likes to believe in utterly impossible things entertains the fancy that just maybe the person you are waiting for is me. Who knows, maybe if I'd gotten my shit together and dared to dream and do a little harder when I first noticed you were available... but playing what if never got anyone anywhere, did it?

I do hope someday soon you'll find those perfect people to fill your rooms with joy and sorrow and purpose and just plain old life again. And I will always love you from afar, for you are a bloody fantastic grande dame of a house and if I gotta have one pipe dream (one that I'll publicly admit to anyway) I'm glad its you.

Love always,

Me

Being reminded of the Dance of Joy inevitably reminds me of The Mamushka.



It may be time to watch both those movies again... I guess as proof that once upon a time Hollywood could take a TV series, make a movie from it, and NOT have it be made from complete fail?




( It occurred to me that I have officially been The Bottled Goose for exactly a year. )

Ooh, bread's done. Gotta go.

It's really quite amazing what will have me on the floor howling with laughter some days, especially days like this one where I'm starting to hallucinate my ativan bottle as a big bag of plain M&Ms. Today it's the fact that you can add vuvuzela to any youtube video by clicking the football.

HELLO LADIES. LOOK AT YOUR MAN. NOW BACK TO BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

*dead*

i think this calls for a vuvuzela/World Cup gif party. Post if you've got em.

(hattip to _kyri)

I think a good portion of today is going to be spent meditating on the sage words of the Rolling Stones. While part of my brain is trying really hard to pipe up with bits and pieces from "Sympathy for the Devil" (which is a meditation for another day), I'm actually planning to be mostly focusing on "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Especially the bit about "If you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need."

Yeah, it's the needs vs wants thing again. But yeah, today especially I want to see what I need to do to get myself taken care of - financially, emotionally, medically - and trying to shy away from the attitude that everything will fix itself once the finances stop being stupid (it won't, seeing as the finances and the health are intertwined). Also need to pretty much focus on getting my big girl panties on and taking care of business on a few fronts, but also to cut myself the appropriate slack if I don't have the spoons to get it all tied up today cause beating myself up about things isn't going to help get it done any faster. Process, not quick fix. Need to remember that. Also have to try to stay positive about fixing my own mess and keeping on top of it. Being responsible for myself isn't a bad thing. Really. It's honestly not the worst thing in the world to have to be the kind of princess that gets her own ass down from the tower. Sitting in it being pissed at other princesses being pretty and helpless and getting rescued and taken care of without having to do a blessed thing isn't getting me out of the tower any faster. And I can hate those other princesses just as hard when I get on the ground, you know?

I found myself thinking about my second planned tattoo yesterday on the way back from Boston and being a little sad that I didn't manage to get it when I wanted to. I was supposed to get it done when I came home, when I returned to the Valley, kind of bracketing my experience of self-imposed exile and return. Thing is, when I did get back I wasn't actually ready. I'm still not ready now, I don't feel like the "This" in This too shall pass" has actually passed yet. I'm still working through shit and putting to bed other shit and now there's this money crap that needs to be dealt with and ugh. I'm still... transitional. I'm still going to get it, but definitely once things settle out and down and I have a handle, direction and place in life again. That could be this fall. That could be this time next year. That could be the fall after that. I don't know. We'll see.

Also thinking of doing a big list of 100 things I want to accomplish in the next 10 years, just as a sort of eye towards finally developing some long term planning skills. Not exactly a bucket list, but yeah. Where do I want to be at age 41.5? What do I want to have done by then? Ten years becomes shorter and shorter of a space of time as you get older... but I definitely want to feel a lot better about how I spent my 30s than I did and still do about my 20s, which in a lot of ways feel very... squandered. I know, the more I talk to people about that the more I realize everyone kinda feels that way unless you're one of those people that did manage to miraculously Get It young, but that's less common than they'd have you believe. Wish I'd known that sooner, though knowing what I'm like, I doubt that would make me feel any less behind in the game of life. (Not the game of lice. Typos are fun.)

I started my last musing on this with a quote from The Princess Bride, Wesley's last spoken line. Inigo Montoya's realizing that now that he's accomplished the goal he spent twenty years of his life focusing on, he has no idea what's next. I can relate to that pretty hardcore right now... and I'm realizing oddly enough, that I'm at the right age for that sort of thing, not behind the game. Hell, to draw out the paralell, Inigo is exactly 31 in the movie. I don't know. I don't feel like I accomplished anything gigantic, like avenging my father's murder, but there's still that sense of one book closing and another opening, and being in charge, for once, of how the story goes from here. I guess I'm still waiting for a signpost, or someone to suggest piracy to me as a life direction, or something, but as the last of the ex-relationship BS gets laid to rest bit by bit (and I'm still not completely through that either) I admit, it's kinda nice to have a wide open compass available to me. Once I get my damn feet under me enough to pick a direction and walk, anyway.

Which is kinda my goal for today. Well working towards that anyway. Wish me luck.

You know... the fact that there was actually an earthquake in Taiwan on the same day as boobquake does not prove whether or not God exists. However if God does exist? He/she/it be TROLLING.

Speaking of troll-lololol... I have this stuck in my head and have all damn day:



...damn, nice to know the 70s were lol-tastically awful in the Soviet Union too. D:

trying to escape a full nelson via crotch kick (and failing): scraped up left wrist, knee and elbow, damaged window plastic, and a nasty omg OW blood blister/bruise on the left middle toe, ergo probable limp through rest of tomorrow.

Wrestling with your boyfriend cause he's being an asshat: PRICELESS.

*shakes head* They say love hurts, but I gotta tell you, after two+ years of the kind of relationship-related drama that makes semi-compelling Lifetime miniseries, I'd much rather the kind of hurt that comes from two grown ass adults forgetting momentarily that they aren't twelve anymore and that single knees get cranky when all 225 pounds of your own weight and some of the other person's lands on them. :D Seriously, a year and two months in, and I love this man more every day. When I don't want to duct tape him to the ceiling and tickle him until he cries, that is.

NO I DID NOT MEAN THAT IN A KINKY WAY (for once) YOU PERVERSE GUTTERMONKEYS maybe a little.

Happy one of these days I will kill you in your sleep Valentine's Day, cell23.