i didnt go shopping.
which is probably better for all those involved.
what i did do is tell damon what things he could buy for me that b had circled in the advertisements. then i had him drop me off at home.
where i awoke b, helped him with some paperword, then went to bed and slept.
i just got up. and im grumpy.
i have not seen my bed since 11 yesterday morning.
in an hour i am to be dragged to kmart, then fred meyers, then michaels, then god-knows-what store to partake of the 'FREE! with mail-in rebate' sales in which b wants something. i would be dragging him along as well, were it not for the whole little work thing to which he is being subjected tomorrow today.
regarding the last post, just forget about it. im not thankful. im not happy. i am bitter, pissed, and generally bah-humbug about the whole thing.
im also in denial; today yesterday was not thanksgiving. it was a day off we all celebrated with a yummy turkey dinner.
and apparently im not the only one in the family with such feelings. my neice devyn said: "its not thanksgiving; its valentines day. happy valentines day."
i didnt even get a valentine. figures.
i dont have any grand plans for thanksgiving today. dinner is scheduled at damons place, and i didnt have to cook a thing.
i did, however, make a chocolate pie and my mothers world-famous peanut butter balls. yumm. im looking forward to those more than the actual turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes.
i am thanful for:
-- a husband who loves me
-- close relationships with my siblings
-- my mom is a hoot
-- hand-made jewelry
-- pedicures
-- free fonts
ok so thats a pretty pathetic list. dont blame me - im depressed.
what are you thankful for?
while in merely her underwear*, i just rubbed down my sister in law with emla cream in her office. good thing she has a lock on her door.
(*i wasnt the one wearing her underwear. she was. i was wearing underwear, but my own. not hers. and under my clothing. which i was also wearing. clothing, that is.)
shes getting tattooed in 6 minutes and needs to be properly numbed.
because of the magic of holidays and black ice, this is friday afternoon.
if i had known sooner, i might have goofed off more.
for the first time in history, fairbanks schools and a few roads are closed because it is too warm.
yesterday it was hanging out around 20°F - which is still a bit warm for thanksgiving. by this morning, it had warmed up to above 40°F and rained. the roads are the slickest ive ever seen in this town.
however, this is what winter is supposed to look like in homer: glaring ice.
alaskans are funny when it comes to driving in the winter. we scoff at ice- and snow-encrusted roads and blaze through anyway. when encountering a low-visibility blizzard, we slow down to the speed limit and curse anyone who drives slower.
looking this morning at the river of black ice where the road used to be, i never once considered staying home. even though i dont have 4 wheel drive. and even though i dont have winter (or all-weather, even) tires.
until i passed a school bus and saw it had on its chains. until i heard that the schools were closed.
im not proud i made it to work with only one fish-tail while numerous others made it into ditches - if i had actually stayed home, i would have enjoyed the day off to a certain extent, but i also would have been defeated by mother nature.
cant let that happen.
they say that if you repeat a word enough it will lose its meaning and lessen its impact.
i dont think i completely believe it.
today seemed to be the morning for pairs of identically dressed people to be jogging in the pitch blackness called 8am.
do the comments open in a pop up or a different page for you?
it seems to have changed overnight for me.
the knuckle on my left thumb has itched relentlessly today.
it looks kind of bruised.
from all my scratching, perhaps?
today is the two month anniversary of melissas death.
two months of crying. two months of swearing multiple times a day. two months feeling lonely. two months feeling so very mortal. two months without her.
in the past week or so, i have spent considerable amount of time in getting a website up for her. damon spent a bunch of time beta testing and vetoing my ideas.
all in all, i am very pleased with the end product (which is not to say that it will never change).
presenting: ThinkofMelissa.com
someone needs to put a stop to all these reality shows before someone goes too far.
oh, too late - someone already did.
[via]
think youre pretty good about spotting photograph hoaxes? take the test and find out.
how can a mother not know which parts of her childs body came from which parent?
i was talking to my mom last night on the phone, and the subject of the kids resemblances came up. i informed her that i embodied more of her body parts than (i think) any of the other children.
my hands: hers. my arms: hers. my hips: hers. my boobs: hers. my long legs: hers. my lips: yup, hers too. she had never looked at my lips close enough to notice, so she claims.
i remember the day i noticed my lips were hers. i was standing with melissa in moms foyer looking at all the pictures of my siblings and their families. upon close inspection i saw that i was the only one who had full lips; all of my brothers and my sister all have skinny chicken lips - like my father. i was enthralled and taunted my sister about her chicken lips for days afterwards.
how could my mother not notice? when i told her about our many matching body parts, she denied it with the sole proof that i (5'8") was taller than she (5'2"). there you have it, we look nothing alike.
sadly enough, i do carry many of my fathers traits. his long torso, his terribly large family nose, his 'even when im wrong im right' bull-headedness, as well as his arguing finess. im not too proud of those, though his arguing skills often comes in handy.
ever bruised your nipple?
hurts like the dickens, doesnt it?
creepy* older man: whos your boyfriend in the picture on your desk? youre sitting on his lap.
me: thats me and my sister
creepy older man: oh - she looks just like you, only younger
me: yeah, shes three years younger
creepy older man: whos her boyfriend in the picture?
me: uh... thats me, left, and my sister, right
creepy older man: i thought that looked like you.
*(he wasnt creepy until he hugged barb. we had just met this to-be volunteer, and he seemed nice, if not a little hard of hearing. until he hugged her. out of the blue. creepy.)
this, omar zabirs portal, is a goregeous website interface done with dhtml and javascript.
soooo pretty.
blogjam has a new feature: vent - the portal of truth.
i think this is a great idea, and a bit simpler than what ive seen before.
with this, its a simple form. i dont have to provide any kind of information to anyone. and i dont have to know the hosts blogging software of choice. though i find the subjects a bit limiting. perhaps an 'other' category would be good, where i could fill in a blank and make my own category.
what if i want to vent about the bitch that killed my sister? i guess i do that enough around here, huh?
i just locked my keys in the car. just prior to this locking, i had started it.
the only other key in existence is currently in b's pocket. his work schedule is quite erratic, yet the dispatcher thinks they will be done in 30-45 minutes.
good thing its full of gas.
do you read the onion? has your enjoyment in its pages been lacking?
look no further! for a limited time, try the bunion!
[via]
i got an email from my mother yesterday at lunch time. thankfully, dana got it first and warned me as i was heading to the thai place with karen. and thankfully, i managed to not read it until i was home.
it was a rough night.
do you or someone you know show signs of blog abuse?
act quickly. there still may be time to get help.
so i finally got to watch donnie darko last night. beth was supposed to come over and see it again, but she chose her sister over me.
it was weird. and good - i think. but definitely weird. it left me feeling.... 'hm.' i loved the main character, and the actor was brilliant. and the score was made even better with all the great 80s soungs.
from sight and sound: "Boiling the plot down to a few lines, or even to the 400-word synopsis that appears elsewhere in this issue, risks making the story's knotty skein of incident sound either trite, ridiculous or incomprehensible."
sometimes i doubt your commitment to sparkle motion.
How to Know It is Winter (part one of something):
when a leftover half of a subway sandwich stays not only cold in your car over night, but in fact freezes to a crunchy mound of vegetable freshness, it is officially winter.
i dont quite understand it, but the sexiest sentence alive is sexy for, at the very least, its use of math.
the day that i get up early enough to actually take a shower, i find the water to be cold.
figures.
these may "make sensitive observers dizzy or sick."
i can see why.
Vanessa Tiegs is an artist of an unusual medium. "My intention... is to create beauty from something that most people would rather avoid."
she uses her menstral blood to create artistic masterpieces. not only that, but she also has a few livejournals.
i wouldnt want to know how she kept the 'paint' looking red.
being a woman, and fully embracing my femininity (well, sometimes) and my cycles, i just have to say one thing:
i wouldnt want to finger-paint in it!
ewww.
[via]
from a male volunteer here at work:
"youve got pretty hair. as far as hair goes. i mean, its nicer than the average hair thats out there."
my success formula, for all of you with just the 'average' hair:
· shower late one evening. do not brush.
· nasty bedhead from sleeping on wet hair.
· wake 5 minutes after the required time to be at work.
· drive like a madman to work.
· run brush through hair quickly once realizing half of it is sticking up.
· ignore it all day and night.
· have puppy root through it, dragging soggy rawhide with her.
· bedhead again.
· wake 5 15 minutes after the required time to be at work.
· drive like a madman to work.
· run brush through grease pit formerly known as hair.
· smoothe grease eavenly through hair.
· pretend its not there.
with my sure-fire, tested and proven method, you will get overwhelming amounts of compliments. i guess.
jish is having this great micro-photography game.
guess what it is.
beth and i went and saw ghost ship last night.
it was pretty good. a few of the 'scary' things were obviously set up, like the clock. the whodunnit part seemed obvious to me. the acting was great - emily browning, the little girl, did fantastic!
but who decided that desmond harrington can act? i didnt believe a single line that came from his mouth.
its really too bad that the few silly lines at the end stuck out so much.
another switch ad: darkside.com/switch
[via mefi]
this or that tuesday:
Art or science museum? i dont heavily enjoy one or the other - but id definitely choose to see some french art over any other museum.
Play or watch sports? watch
Zoo or circus? zoo
Theater: film or live on stage? since this is alaska, and the live theatres arent the best of quality, id have to say i prefer the film theatres.
Rock concert or the symphony? symphony
Movies: see them in a theater or wait for DVD/VHS? the theatre is a fun experience, but there are only a few movies ive felt had to be seen on the big screen.
Board games or computer/video games? board games
Hobbies: crafts (art, cooking, home repair, etc) or collecting (coins, stamps, rocks, etc)? crafts
Watch TV or read a book? book
Eating out: fancy, white-tablecloth restaurant or casual dining? i enjoy both. i do the casual thing more often, because its what b is comfortable with.
i just listed myself on the new blog listing: blogwise.
i need more traffic to this site.
i went with beth to see the ring a few sundays ago. it was pretty good - even considering the storyline jumps and holes, and even considering i watched it on a saturday afternoon.
(saturday afternoons are the worst time to see a movie. the cartoons/family-happy movies are filled with screaming children. and the horror films are filled with teens who would giggle rather than admit any lowly movie would scare them. so they giggle loudly. what was i saying?)
the unanswered questions made it spookier. i cannot recall being scared by any movie - but this one had parts that scared me. for that reason, i declare it a good movie.
however, i cannot stop thinking about it. its scenes replay in my mind when attempting to go to sleep. i am not scared in the darkness of my bedroom; the scenes in my head are not the scary ones. but still they replay. over and over. i have to consciously think of something else so that i can fall asleep.
its probably related to the insomnia ive been suffering the past few days.
the only other movie that ever did this to me is the mothman prophecies - but i at least know why that movie haunted me (i completely believe this 'mothman' was a demon... and i believe demons do exist; hence the freak-outedness).
the reason the ring is sticking with me.... i do not know.
perhaps im just getting old.
i think i felt the ground shaking again around 1am... and then again at 7.50am.
this is crazy activity for these parts.
7.9 earthquake experience:
i was at damons. it rolled for quite a while - reminded me of being on the boat after a bit. other people were scared and determined to 'get under a door' and some such nonsense. i say you dont have to worry about getting into a secure area until things start shaking off the walls. if a tall vase hasnt moved, youre gonna be ok.
throughout the afternoon i felt four distinct aftershocks. big aftershocks, too. i only remember one that i had to actually sit still and determine if the ground was moving or if i was just shaking my leg. the last of the four actually woke me from a nap.
another blogger felt it, too.
my friends response to the dog on the left and the penis poem below:
In the spirit of the poem itself, it is suspected that the dog may have peed on the poem. Those who object to this characterization are invited to prove that the dog has been pixel-trained, and to examine the pixels immediately surrounding the poem for slight discoloration indicative of stains. This should be done without delay before the poem is scrolled off the page by subsequent blog entries, tainting the evidence.
[disclaimer: The author of the post is aware that the poem is only incidentally about a penis and actually has a much deeper meaning.]
[disclaimer: The previous disclaimer contains a pun which will not be readily apparent to anyone who has not read the poem. All are encouraged to read the poem before the dog shreds it.]
i like the idea of helping the austrailian drought by showering with a partner.
but i dont know how effective it would be.
if b and i were to shower often together, i highly doubt we would be done quickly. i suspect that it might take decidedly longer until we were both... finished.
for slightly conciously-known reasons, i adore this poem:
I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking
about you.
Pissing a few moments ago
I looked down at my penis
affectionately.
Knowing it has been inside
you twice today makes me
feel beautiful.
-- Richard Brautigan
rhapsodic.org is a weblog by Valette McLay.
Valette has lived in Alaska all of her life and loves the ocean, her miniature schnauzer Lacey, and being barefoot.
