The Secret to Beautiful Skin For a Couple Weeks Anyway

I have eczema. I also have in my possession a powerful prescription steroid-laden salve. It's expensive, so I try not to use said steroid-laden salve except for skin emergencies. Like, say, after I spend a week camping and baking the hell out of myself.

Apply steroid-laden salve, and look like a normal human being the next day. It's magical. My skin has a fabulous soft texture for about a week after one of these emergency treatments, but it's been a few weeks since I applied the salve and my skin is still soft and dewy.

The only explanation I can think of is that I haven't eaten any crap (fried, sugared, whatever) for weeks. AND I've been faithfully taking my fish oil pills (shut up, I saw a model who ate nothing but fish and had perfect skin...plus it's good for the heart). I think the combination of the two has been good for my skin.

I feel pretty.

It's Like Sunday, But It's Not

I had some odd dreams last night...which I don't remember very well and won't bore you with. Suffice it to say, the South Park guys and Mel Gibson were involved.

By the way, I tend to believe that when you're drunk you say the same things you believe when you're sober--only louder. (Unless you're a guy trying to get a girl to sleep with you. And then you're just a damned liar. But I digress.)

I can also say with all honesty that this drunken outburst of Mr. Gibson's has done nothing to change my opinion of him. I already thought he was an anti-Semitic jackass.

Good News, Bad News

The good news is, your diet has been successful. The bad news is, you need to buy new jeans because yours are sagging.

The good news is, you have two days off in a row. The bad news is, all you want to do is take a nap.

The good news is, you're going out of town in a couple weeks. The bad news is, you need to get off your lazy ass and buy new tires first.

The good news is, your e-mail account wasn't hacked after all. The bad news is, AOL just sucks eggs.

How Odd

I'm at work right now, and I am extraordinarily tired. Must be because of the bad dream I had about somebody with a weird nickname calling and waking me up at 2:00 a.m. to talk about waiting for a cab in a crack neighborhood for an hour.

I hope he didn't get stabbed in the face.

If I Had a Gun

I'd shoot the hood of the car whose alarm or panic button or whatever has been going off for 5 minutes. I am so not in the mood.

Of course, that probably wouldn't disable the annoying beeping noise. But it would make me feel better.
_____

I have to work this afternoon. I don't wanna. I don't wanna! Idontwanna!!!

Goddamnit, why don't temper tantrums work anymore??
_____

It appears one of my e-mail accounts has been hacked. None most of you know about, but one I borrow from my parents. The master account seems to have been hacked, which in turn leads the rest of them to be effed. This annoys me greatly. GREATLY.

Drunken Bikers Everywhere

Not the kind you're thinking of. The Lance Armstrong kind. Lance himself, too, actually.

(click to enlarge)

That's right, it's RAGBRAI time--the annual drunken bike ride across Iowa, and they're heading this way.

Tomorrow will suck beyond all reason. Because I have to work. Sober.

Mixed Bag

The good news is, I've decided to post a picture of myself online.

The bad news is, I don't think I'll do that until Christmas.

Yes, I amuse myself immensely.
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I was going to avoid blogging about a certain South Park creator in hopes of not getting a restraining order issued against me, but I thought you might like to read an actual conversation I had the other day. Mostly because I have nothing else to blog about right now.

Ex-hsbf: [co-worker B] was pretty excited when she heard you say there would be pot in the hotel room.

Me: Yeah, that's why I made sure to tell her I was joking. So she wouldn't show up with her bong.

Co-worker A: Wouldn't surprise me if she did anyway.

(Drugs are bad, mm'kay? The conversation turned to how I won't date potheads.)

Ex-hsbf: What about Matt Stone?

Me: (sadly) Yeah, that's the only reason I can't marry Matt Stone.

Co-worker A: Because he's a stoner?

Me: Yeah, can't marry a stoner.

Ex-hsbf: Just fuck him.

Me: Yep. And he is rich, so I could use him for awhile. Okay, I'd date Matt Stone.

Ex-hsbf: No kidding.
_____

Seriously, though, I'm not obsessed. Really.

Wake Up, Bitch, You're My New Best Friend!

One would think I'd have seen this movie about 8 years ago. It has everything. Dale Earnhardt, Matt Stone, Trey Parker, Matt Stone's ass, Matt Stone tonguing everybody in sight (including Trey Parker in a scene best described as "horrifying"), and of course...Matt Stone's ass. (It has Trey's ass, too, but I've always been a Matt girl and now I feel even more justified. Sorry, Trey. Like you're reading this.)

But for one reason or another, I kept putting it off and never got around to seeing it. Well, thanks to a friend of mine buying me a copy after we talked about my Matt Stone obsession ($6.99 at Best Buy, get one for yourself!), I have finally seen it.

Hilarious. Anyone who likes Trey and Matt will be rolling. You even get a little taste of Trey doing Mr. Garrison and Cartman voices as an extra bonus.

And I had been leaning towards this decision re: Matt's hair...the Jewfro circa 1998/1999 was the best one. Then beginning around Oscar time (pink dress), it started getting smaller and not as good...until it finally disappeared completely. I mentioned that I like the short hair, and I do. But I'm kinda missing the 98/99 fro. Back in the good old days when everyone else thought Trey was so cute and I had Matt to myself. Sigh.

Yep, I waited all day to be able to sign in to post this. And you waited all day (or maybe even 2 by the time you read this) to read this. Suckas.

/Matt Stone blogging.

Anywho, watch BASEketball if you like South Park or sophomoric humor. Or just want to see Bob Costas exclaim about his hard nipples.

You Vs. The World

Some blogs are very difficult to read. The political nutjob ones, sure. But I'm more talking about the drama queens...the ones where the writer complains about how everyone in the world is a jerk except for themselves, and how empowered they are not to take any heed of the criticisms the whole world throws in their face.

Well, I think if the whole world--or even just most of it--is truly against you, then maybe the problem isn't the world. Maybe the problem is YOU.

My former sister-in-law was disowned by her entire family, one by one. First one parent, then the other, then an aunt, then a grandmother...she kept moving from one to the next and they'd kick her out in turn. When my brother met her, she'd run out of relatives and friends and was living at the YWCA. Now to me, this was a big red flag. But to my brother, it was a reason to try to save her.

Ask me how that turned out. Better yet, ask her second husband. Or her barely-escaped almost-third husband. Ask her friends, if she had any.

Anyway, the point being, some people are just unable to get along. Not all of them are misunderstood geniuses who march to a different drummer.

Some of them are just assholes who don't care to change.

So they live a miserable life, trying to make other people as miserable as they are themselves, getting angry that their kids don't visit until they finally die.

They're dead and the world goes on, forgetting all about them. Who won the fight?

On The Other Hand

Not that any of you are paying attention (all 3 of you), but I complained about a big store overhaul that was supposed to happen on my vacation but didn't. It's actually not so bad being here for it after all.

My boss does the basic changes we're supposed to do, then he doesn't like it and we alter it. So it's not as jacked-up as I envisioned. We did one section this afternoon and I think it looks pretty good.

In other work-related news...the co-worker I've vaguely mentioned lately is leaving us. Yay, team!

Hotter

From spam: Women in their 30s are hotter! Old enough to know how to please men in bed!

Can't argue that. Everyone should get one. :-p

Got my first birthday card of the year a few days ago. It came from my insurer, so they must have typed a "7" where the "9" goes in their database. So the reminder of my impending 32nd birthday was a nice balance to the co-worker who guessed I was 25 earlier in the day.

Me at 5:00--"Haha, I'm not so old."

Me at 6:35--"Damnit, I'm so old."

Oh, well, at least I'm not two months away from 42. :-D

Pirates, Dead Man's Chest And So On

I'm going to have to respectfully disagree with Trey Givens and say I liked the movie.

It was a little too jam-packed with action, maybe, but it certainly made the time fly. Lots of throw-back references to the first movie, but we've all seen it, so we all got the jokes. Nothing wrong with that.

And it ended in a way that makes me anticipate the third installment. Nothing wrong with that, either.

It was fun times. Maybe not quite as much as the first, but I think that's only because the novelty wore off. I recommend it...just make sure you get the small pop like I did so you're not going to the bathroom at a critical juncture like my companion did.

Latina est gaudium!

So, not taking any summer classes and being a bit geekish and a bit wary of the undertaking of Latin, I bought an introductory Latin text and workbook to start on over the summer. I figured it would be helpful to get a head start before the real thing in the fall. Turns out, I bought the actual textbook and workbook required for the class for the first two semesters. Suhweet. And the text was only $21.95. Suhweeter. I should have been a Classics major and saved $9000 on book expenses.

And I figured it out and I can finish 4 semesters of Latin and all of my graduation requirements for both of my degrees by December, 2008. I will have to take classes next summer, but will be able to save some surplus of that sweet, sweet financial aid money to put towards summer tuition and expenses. Since I got f'ed on the summer financial aid this year, I know to plan for the same next year.

I actually might finish this thing.
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Completely unrelated, worked today with the person I mentioned yesterday. All effing day, heard all about how (s)he didn't do what people said (s)he did that I can't talk about because it involves government agencies with weaponry if you know what I mean, and all day long I just wanted to say, "Shut the eff up, you did too do it."

Just to see his/her reaction.

And because after all his/her histrionics, I do think (s)he did it.

I'm just glad most of it happened while I was on vacation. Wasn't me!
_____

Eff, eff, effity, eff. Effers.

Methinks the Lady Doth Protest Too Much

Sometimes people don't know when to shut up for their own good, and what should have been a simple plea of not guilty turns into what looks like a major theatrical presentation.

(And no, I am not talking about myself. My theatrics are for entertainment purposes only.)

Work drama, gotta hate it.

Tweak, Tweak

New design. If you see something odd, let me know so I can ignore it or fix it depending on my mood.

That's right. Friday night, redesigning the blog. I'm a crazy girl. Who has to work bright and early tomorrow morning. So I'm off to bed now. That's right. I'm crazy. You can't stop me. Don't even try.

Sidenote: Why didn't anyone tell me Trey Parker got married?! If my boyfriend Matt Stone gets married, I expect to be told, damnit. So I can grieve properly. Trey was like a fire drill, and all of you failed.

Side-sidenote: Click on that link and look at the short hair. Don't get me wrong, I was digging on Matt when he had the Jewfro, but I think the short hair is his look.

Outgoing Mail

Dear Customer Who Complained To My Boss About Me and My Co-worker Not Helping You Enough For No Other Reason Than We Did Not Blink Our Eyes and Wiggle Our Noses and Magically Produce the Exact Shirt You Imagined Existed:

You are: someone who spent $12 on a shirt and kept the store manager from doing what he would rather be doing (making pretty recruitment signs on the computer) for 10 minutes. You are also someone who kept me calling other places of business looking for your imagined shirt for 5 minutes, then walked off in a huff when I was unsuccessful, which I felt terminated our relationship and my need to help you, since you said you were leaving and walked towards the door.

My co-worker and I are: people who have worked at the store for almost a year, actually try to find projects to keep busy, are very knowledgeable about our store's inventory, and employees who are expected to perform other tasks besides following you around the store.

My co-worker is: someone who was performing one of those tasks when you came to check out, thus causing you to wait for about 2 whole seconds. Okay, maybe 3 seconds. At the most.

I am: someone who works weekends, works holidays, works Finals Week (no small thing, I assure you), volunteers to work busy times, often substitutes for people who need time off, someone who has gotten maximum raises on all my performance reviews, someone who has been trusted with a key to the store since October? November? even though I wasn't a manager and there were employees who'd been there for years who didn't have a key, a cashier who has single-handedly rung up $10,000-plus in sales in a single day several times--without a single mistake or cash error, someone who suggestive sells things that don't move very well, and someone who generally entertains my boss by sassing him.

My boss is: someone who likes us more than he likes you and who forgot you existed 5 minutes after you left the store. Trust me on this. I tested it.

Thanks and shop again (somewhere else with your 12 bucks),

Me

Mailbag

So you read someone's blog and think it's awesome and want to write to the blog author. What should you do so that you don't make a bad impression?

1. Check your e-mail address. Does it reference in a positive way a mass murderer or otherwise scary person? Maybe you should e-mail from a different account. HitlerRox@ISP.net or GangRapr69@ISP.net is going to give a lot of people pause.

2. Start out slow. Sure, you want to be closefriends with this person whose writing has touched you, but you may not want to mention how it makes you touch yourself until you build a rapport. Remember that even though you think you know the blogger, they don't know you. You may know what kind of underwear your blogger wears, but they don't even know your name. You have to make introductions.

3. Keep your criticism to yourself. Constructive as it may be, most criticism coming from a complete stranger will not be taken well. "I love your blog and I've never commented before and you don't know who I am, but it drives me crazy that you end sentences in prepositions." Yeah, well, bugger off then. This is not to be confused with giving your opinion about a blog post topic...but some bloggers don't welcome debate, either, so know your audience.

4. Ask before sending pictures or other files. A stranger sending an attachment? Swiftly going into the delete file. If you visited a place you think will be of interest to the blogger, offer your awesome pictures but don't just send them without asking.

5. Don't flip out if the blogger doesn't answer you right away or even at all, Stan. Some bloggers are too busy, get too much mail, or simply are too wary to engage a stranger in private conversation. What you see on a blog is not necessarily the real personality of the person, and they may just prefer to interact "in public".

Now, let's say you read a blog and the writer really makes you mad. How should you express yourself properly?

1. Don't do anything illegal. Threatening the blogger's family? Not a great idea.

2. If you actually want to try to "get through" to the blogger, keep it civil. Keep it clean. Keep on topic.

3. If you can't keep to numbers 1 or 2, just click the little "X" up there in the top right corner and don't go back to the offending blog. Get on with life. Easy-peasy.

Work Sucks

My first day back at work after my vacation was today, and it sucked. Work in general sucks. I don't understand why one of you won't keep me in the manner to which I think I should be accustomed, expecting nothing in return but the occasional thank you note. Come to think of it, you all suck. Selfish bastards, keeping your money for yourselves. That's the problem with Republicans. Keeping their money away from people like me who want to do nothing in return.

I'm kidding. Mostly.

Work wasn't too bad, but I was disappointed to see that the major project that was supposed to happen when I was gone has not happened. So I'll get to help with it. Bleh. It's not a fun project, because if it was, I'd be all about it. It's a crappy moving heavy things around project, directed by people with very little design sense.

I'm not the Queen of Retail, but I can tell you when a product comes in whether it will sell or not with pretty good accuracy. I can also tell you that two gold sweatshirts next to each other does not a balanced display make. (And that a casual button-down shirt that costs $70 will never sell until it hits the 50% off rack, but that's a post for another day.)

In summary, I'm not lazy and I wouldn't mind rearranging the store if it was going to look better. But I don't think it will. That's why I wish it was done while I was gone.

And as a bonus, I will tell you that white kids clothes are really cute, but they won't sell to anyone who has kids. They're white. On kids. White. On kids.

I'm Nothing If Not Loyal

Sigh. Look at those lips.

Happy birthday, Richie. I've loved you for 20 years, and remain--as always--ready to be your whore. Call me.

Bonus Day

Since I got home a day earlier than planned, I suppose I could have worked today. But really, sitting in my pajamas and watching The Goonies and Sixteen Candles while eating pizza and fudge was really the better plan.

An Observation

If the commenting system to your blog goes down and that causes your blood pressure to go up and you don't actually pay for the service or have to fix it, you may need to make some friends in the real world.

Just sayin'. To no one in particular. That you know of.

/Vacation

I am showered and scrubbed within an inch of my life and thoroughly moisturized...camping experience done for another year.

I wasn't planning to make the final leg of my trip home today, but here I am. In my apartment, bags waiting to be unpacked. The good guest room is in use at my parents' and I just really wanted my own bed.

Good trip. The new freckle breeding program was a complete success, and the melanoma/sarcoma/etc advancement program is progressing on schedule. Despite comments to the contrary, there was no sex in my tent. That I am aware of. I did leave it unattended for most of the time.

There was ATVing, boating, waterskiing, watertubing, swimming, marshmallow supervision, alcohol imbibing, parade watching, firework watching, eating things I never eat the other 51 weeks of the year, and so on. Much poker was played, and much candy was won.

I met the brother of a cousin's husband. I like this particular cousin's husband a lot. Not in a husband-stealing way, but in a he's a genuinely nice guy who says nice things about my dad kind of way. The brother is my age, and looks just like the cousin's husband, but he's pretty shy, so I didn't really talk to him much. After he left, the cousin's husband was talking about him. It seemed like a sales pitch.

"He's a great guy, great job, likes kids, blahblah, honest, blahblahblah, own house, blahblah, ready to settle down, blahblah, good with cars, blahbittyblah."

Normally, I would have been interested, but he looks just like the cousin's husband. And I hate to say it, but the cousin's husband has sired some truly hideous children. So his uglychildren genes must be dominant over my cousin's cutechildren genes. And I can't risk having my cutechildren genes polluted by uglychildren genes. You think I'm kidding, but people always react badly when they see pictures of the kids.

Anyway, here's a picture from the parade. Guess which state I was in.

(click to enlarge)

Frigging cheeseheads.

To close, I will tell you a totally true story that surprised no one and filled most of the original listeners with pride...a cousin's girlfriend came out to the cabin last weekend, but not before getting herself hopelessly lost. She finally gave up and stopped at a bar for help. She figured it was a shot in the dark, but went in and asked the bartenders if they knew where the [my last name] cabin was.

They did.