Can't Stop Messing With The Danger Zone

Good Lord, I need to get laid. I'm starting to worry that I'm going to wake up one morning and find my clitoris* laying on the floor, the victim of a tragic onanistic accident, or even worse, rubbed clean off like a pencil eraser.

If only JJ had the proper equipment, I could stop searching for the perfect mate (or lay) and settle down. *sigh*

* Sorry to my readers who don't want to read in gory detail about my no-no zone. But did you know there isn't a decent synonym for clitoris? I'm not about to call it my "pink jelly bean".

What Floor?

From 2004:



From CNN today:

'Space elevator' would take humans into orbit
By Mike Steere
For CNN

LONDON, England (CNN) -- A new space race is officially under way, and this one should have the sci-fi geeks salivating.

The project is a "space elevator," and some experts now believe that the concept is well within the bounds of possibility -- maybe even within our lifetimes.

A conference discussing developments in space elevator concepts is being held in Japan in November, and hundreds of engineers and scientists from Asia, Europe and the Americas are working to design the only lift that will take you directly to the one hundred-thousandth floor....A cable anchored to the Earth's surface, reaching tens of thousands of kilometers into space, balanced with a counterweight attached at the other end is the basic design for the elevator.

It is thought that inertia -- the physics theory stating that matter retains its velocity along a straight line so long as it is not acted upon by an external force -- will cause the cable to stay stretched taut, allowing the elevator to sit in geostationary orbit.

The cable would extend into the sky, eventually reaching a satellite docking station orbiting in space.

The response to the story from a CNN reader - and so clearly, one of those Williamsburg NIMBYs - made me laugh out loud: "I just think that it'll be a waste of time, resources, and money. It'll be a maintenance nightmare." (Italics mine.)

Um, yeah, I'm sure that's the biggest problem with this project. Also, this isn't a "new" project as CNN says...see here.

Bodily Malfeasance and Rascality

My internal organs seem to be feeling a bit under the weather these days, but in spite of the surely unhealthy amounts of radiation with which I have allowed medical professionals to bombard them, they have kept the source of their displeasure hidden.

Judy and Wendy helpfully suggested that perhaps I am constipated or have gas (neither of which is the case, thank you very much). We also ruled out the chance of an ectopic pregnancy with two at-home pregnancy kits, one of which was a total fail since the control line never appeared. (Let this be a lesson to you: buy the name-brand pregnancy tests, not the el cheapo Target kind.) I was already absolutely certain I wasn't with child considering 1) a lack of sex in the past couple of months and b) a pretty regular menstrual cycle, thanks to the Pill (even though I was late by a few days this month despite that, which I think points to my ovaries as the angry internal culprit in my medical saga).

I look forward to figuring out what the hell is wrong with me and getting it cured. In the meantime, if you see me shifting around in my chair and massaging my abdomen and lower back, it's because I feel like my kidneys are growing horns and stabbing me from the inside.

The Sum of These Days Is My Life

Me: Wendy, I'm kind of freaking out. Ever since I got back from DC, I've been getting really OCD. I can't stop washing my dishes.

Wendy: [laughs] I think you're fine. Wait. Clean ones?

Me: No, but now that you've planted that idea, probably. It's just that at first I needed to wash the dishes every day, and then a few times a day, and now I have to wash every single dish as soon as I'm done using it. Is that normal?

Wendy: [looking around house, which is still fairly dirty despite my "OCD"] Uh, I think you'll be fine. I thought you were going to say something horrible was happening with you. I don't really think your cleaning is excessive yet.

Me: When I was washing my dishes from dinner, I was sort of afraid I was going crazy. And then I thought, maybe this is what adults are like. Maybe this is what adults are SUPPOSED to be like. And somehow that made me way sadder than the idea that I was crazy.

EARTHQUAKE!

Well, that was a surprise. It happened right as I was finishing up my last post.

Apparently it was a 5.8 (felt bigger than that) centered in Pomona. We already felt a few aftershocks as well.

I can't get through to anyone on my cell, but emailed the fam to let them know I'm okay. I should probably go home and check on the kittens; they are assuredly terrified.

With Friends Like These

Well, that's not very WWJD if you ask me.

Hulk Smash!

Then Hulk engage in rough sexual congress with you!

I am in the throes of PMS, which means I am totally angry, hungry, and horny. Those are not three great tastes that go great together, by the way.

I needed to go to Target tonight and since I was already in Alhambra, I thought I'd stop by the Target there. BIG MISTAKE. Whoever designed their parking is either a complete masochist or flunked all their urban planning classes. That is one fucked up parking lot. After driving in circles for ten straight minutes, I left in a fury before I popped a blood vessel or burned the store to the ground (a threat I shouted out the window as I drove by the entrance of the store, startling several shoppers).

By the time I got back to Pasadena, I was somewhat calmer and managed to park and enter the Target there without any tears or violence. However, not being able to find the paper towels that were on sale enraged me, as did my momentary belief that Target had suddenly stopped carrying Equal.*

Then there was this hot guy I kept bumping into in the store, until I was a seething pool of sexual energy and had half a mind to accost him in Electronics. (Cleanup in aisle 6, cleanup in aisle 9.) Lucky for him, my attention was distracted by the fact that The Notebook, which was supposed to be on sale for $10, was actually $13. I think this is when my skin turned green and my pants shredded around my massive thighs.

I managed to leave the store without killing or sexually assaulting anyone, but to soothe the savage beast within, I had to stop for a Neapolitan shake at In-N-Out. Mmmmmm...it's like the opposite of gamma rays. I highly recommend bringing me one of these if you think you might upset me this week.

* I actually did harbor a belief that perhaps Target had stopped carrying Equal for some sort of moral reason when I couldn't find it next to the other sweeteners in the store. A few weeks ago, Jenny told me Equal was originally developed as a neurotoxin to kill ants. I'm still not sure if I believe this (or if I care, since it tastes AWESOME) but I was pretty panicky when I thought I'd have to settle for Splenda instead.

WTF?

I'm not sure I even want to know the reasoning behind this.

I See You, Baby

Oh, technology, how you've ruined the days of anonymous stalking.

Remember the advent of *69? What I liked best was how it made it possible to return calls to people who didn't even want to talk to you in the first place.

Now you can see who checks out your MySpace page. Okay, I admit I don't know how to do this one, but honestly, I don't use MySpace that much. Seeing who visits your blog is also incredibly easy...she said ominously.

Yeah, there are ISPs and IP addresses I don't recognize that show up in Sitemeter. There are also some that I recognize because they're the usual suspects who love me and my insane ramblings. (Hi, Leila, Corazon, and Michael!) And then there are people who would never admit they blog-stalk me but I know they do, thanks to the wonders of the interwebs.

Just a little friendly reminder that nothing you do online is private anymore.

(Yes, this is directed at ONE PARTICULAR PERSON. Is that too passive-aggressive?)

Like Sand In My Bathing Suit

So the phone rang last night while I was not in the best of moods, mainly because I driving around halfway lost in pursuit of a late dinner. It was a little before 10 o'clock, not too late to call me (especially on a Friday night) but it was an unfamiliar number and I thought for half a second it might be somebody to whom I recently gave my digits. I was a bit cross at that, thinking it takes either really big balls or a complete lack of game to call a girl on a Friday night to follow up on flirtation.

Anyhow, I needn't have worried about that scenario, as it turned out it was the last guy I dated, calling out of the blue just to irritate the hell out of me. The conversation was abrupt, since, as I mentioned, I wasn't really in the mood to be talking, and also because I was seriously feeling creeped out by him calling me.

We dated VERY briefly earlier this year, and while it started off very intensely and enjoyably, I sort of hit a brick wall when I went into a dark depression around Martha's birthday. I asked repeatedly for some space in order to collect myself and hopefully salvage the budding relationship, but the dude just did NOT understand the concept. He kept calling and emailing, accused me of cheating, and just generally went kind of psycho. (He also did something really stupid around this point which proved that he was immature and idiotic, so ultimately, it was easier just to dump him than try to deal with him in addition to my general emotional malaise.)

After the break-up, he showed up at my door unannounced (he lives like two hours away), called repeatedly (and drunkenly), emailed me some unpleasantness, and then followed up a few weeks later with an apology letter. Quite frankly, I didn't want anything to do with him after the first nutjob stunt of arriving at my home when I wasn't expecting him. So the latest call was just another in a long series of annoyances from this guy.

Look, I realize I am irresistible to the opposite sex. I realize I engender dangerous passions. But having dated this guy for less than two months and broken up almost four months ago, wouldn't you agree that it's time he got over it and moved on? Sheesh.

At Least I Can Still Laugh

So I was in ANOTHER car accident tonight. No. Effing. Joke.

It wasn't as bad as the last one, but I don't really want to talk about it right now.

Let's just say I was feeling kind of crabby until I read this quote, referencing upcoming changes to Guitar Hero, which struck me as hilarious:

"I certainly think it takes the edge off 'Rock Band'," said Mike Hickey, an analyst with Janco Partners. "What's 'Rock Band' going to do now, add a flute and banjo?"

I, for one, totally think Rock Band should.

The Hunter

I can't even bear to have the video on my page, but here is "Pastor" John Hagee - the man whose endorsement John McCain sought and is proud to have - talking about how GOD SENT HITLER.

Sick. Sick. Sick. This man and his poison turn my stomach.

Look With Your Eyes, Not With Your Machine

Dear TSA:

I don't want to be virtually nude.

Or riddled with tumors.

Please keep your skivvy-seeking waves away from me!

Modestly,
City Elf

I Am Psychokinetic!

I can control the weather with my mind! Or my prayers!

The temperature today dropped markedly. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

So instead of telling you the theme letter for the day, I'm going to beam it DIRECTLY INTO YOUR MIND. Sweet!