Thinking with Crit

It's a Fire

2012-01-04T10:52:00.000-08:00

"Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death."
Arthur Schopenhaue

I am on fire with feeling. I am experiencing this day with exposed nerve endings, each brush of kindness setting my heart and mind ablaze. I look outward and feel love for each person I encounter. Harsh words have broken my heart a thousand times and quickened the defenses of that muscle that makes my life so full. I am walking hand in hand with nostalgia, her cold, transparent fingers touching my minds eye with each familiar smell, sight, touch. She doesn't care if her reverie brings about tears or smiles, her only intent to show me the vast stores of her memory.

I am happy to remember, even those moment that brought me pain. I am living each moment of my life. My heart is open, and while it is not the young, feverish thing that it once was, it beats strong and true with a depth I would not have considered possible years ago. Those things I loved, those things I feared, those things I couldn't live without, those things that I never knew I needed have all nourished me.

My skin fits.

I have felt empty a time or two during my life...numb but tormented with the dull ache of dissatisfaction.
I have never been more terrified of anything than that sensation.

I have those doubtful moments when those things that I perceive as wrong in my life reek havoc on my spirit. My mind lays siege to my heart, accusing it of recklessness and weakness...and instead of raging, the very essence of who I am grows quiet and still and listens. It takes the wounded thoughts that plant those seeds of doubt and holds them gently and with compassion. It see's them for what they are, joys turned to fear, trust turned to doubt, and forgives them.
"Be kind to yourself..." This has become my mantra. I realized long ago that my greatest foe was the person who I felt I should be. Today, I love the person I am, flaws and all. I am working towards abandoning expectation and appreciating what is. On bad days, I cry. On good days, I laugh. When I'm angry, I sometimes say too much. I forgive myself. I love myself. I am a human being, bound up in so much skin and heat and I will be what I will be.

Breathe

2012-01-02T19:10:00.000-08:00

I take a breathe and hold it, savoring the warmth burning ever so slightly in my chest as it waits to be released back from which it came. It rushes past half parted lips, and leaves the space it once filled empty.
Long, deep, inhale. Exhale. Again. Again. Again.
Slow and rhythmic. My mind slows to meet this new pace.
Focus on the breath. It is my anchor in a world that was moving much too fast only seconds before. The world. Heart ache. Exuberance. Obligation. Excitement. Responsibility. Curiosity. Pain. Worry.
With this breathe, allow them to ebb out.
That's it, push them gently away. Your mind does not need their company this night. Focus on the breath, let it lead you back to peace.

Meditation has truly changed my life. I know I'm always going on and on about it, but I can't say it enough. I'm far from being some guru on a mountain somewhere eating granola and wearing robes made from the finest hemp, but it gives my overactive mind a much needed time out at the end of the day.

Only Heart

2012-01-02T18:50:00.000-08:00

Is there any feeling that makes the soul feel smaller than that of indifference?

I am learning to be my own best friend, to comfort myself at times when those people that I have allowed into this heart of mine have not tended it in the way that it needs.
Tread cautiously, would be caretaker, this heart is riddled with wounds that will always be sensitive. As I get older, I realize how much more difficult it is to find someone who refuses to allow cynicism and reluctance govern their actions in matters of the heart. Someone who see's the potential in loving fully even if the risk is magnified.
How easy it would be to simply say "No more, I am done with you love. I am done with your risk, your intensity, your battles, your fickleness."
That is not my path. I will rage onward, heart bruised but still beating on my sleeve.

Heavy Heart

2011-07-10T20:02:00.000-07:00

Quiet.
How deafening it can be at times. Generally, I slip into like a warm blanket. I pull it close and allow it to soothe my heart and mind. Tonight, it's like a wool sweater that is way too tight. It smothers me. It leaves me feeling uncomfortable and out of sorts. I try and fill it with music and meditation but I can still feel its presence.
I have been withdrawing inward for reasons that don't exactly add up to me. I sat in my living room earlier today and cried without provocation. This thirtieth birthday thing is fucking with me. It isnt' about the age/mortality thing...age is of no consequence to me. I'm happy that I've fought, tooth and nail, for my place in this world for the last thirty years. My place. There is the real issue. I'm not entirely okay with where I am and what I'm doing at this point in my life. I've never been one for setting limitations on my possibilities or making ridiculous and needless expectations or goals...I believe that my life will take shape daily and needs room for growth. However, I am human, and I had hoped for a smidge more.
I realize now, that it's all of my own doing. I haven't MADE what I want come to fruition. While I have changed some of the things about my life, like my marriage or my perspective on relationships and others,I still feel anchored to my current life by certain obligations.
I want to travel. My blood is on fire with the need of it. Then, fear rears its ugly head. Where will the money come from? What about my family? Friends? My dogs? My bills? The anchor hasn't budged in years and my soul is shackled to it.

I am seeing someone new, that is fantastic. We are indeed kindred spirits...and I am terrified of this. I worry that I will fuck it up. I worry that he will see me, all of me, and run screaming in the opposite direction. I worry about caring too much and appearing foolish. There seems to be something terribly interesting about me...for a little while. Years pass, and I'm left behind like so many childish things, a little more used up and cynical. Things have moved so slowly, like a tiny insect caught in honey. I start to feel things, and I pull back and hide. I am so scarred....and while I have found a path to peace through meditation and confession (in the form of blogging), I still have days, like this one, where I need to be alone and just sort out the bullshit that accumulates in my psyche. Can someone really understand this need without feeling slighted?
So. I sit, in the quiet and let it force my thoughts to come to the forefront. I hope that I am enough....that I will continue to grow and heal. I hope that I will be forgiven for days like this and that someday that I will not feel that forgiveness is necessary.

The Raptors?

2011-05-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

SO
Here I am on yet another "eve of destruction" (remember Y2K anyone?) with one more on the way according to John Cusack, and I can't help but chortle about the willingness of so many cults (and this is most assuredly a cult) to die (or be raptured whatever the heck that implies). I suppose I would be too if my religion bound me so tightly that I really wasn't living at all. Sacrifice is at the root of all religion and I can get on board with that. I've never received anything in this life that I haven't worked for, so of course I would carry that same mentality into working towards my afterlife. You can't make something from nothing (unless you are a Creationist, in which case we were all finger snapped into existence!) and in most instances in order to excel in one area, you have to give, or sacrifice another. We are finite in our ability to focus. Well. Except for Stephen Hawking, and really, what else is he going to do besides focus? (BAZINGA!)
What I take issue with is all the finger pointing and condemnation that always surfaces with every end of the world scenario. With todays rapture, brought to you by the "prophet", Harold Camping, he states that anyone can go to heaven regardless of religion only to go back and say "as long as you believe in the ENTIRE Bible and the teachings of Jesus Christ." Basically negating his previous statement and replacing it with if you aren't Christian, your ass is going to hell. Period. This loving God that I've heard so much about in the last 29 years, is going to have an exclusive VIP party and give the middle finger to the majority of the planet? I'm sorry, but that's a jerk move and the God that I believe in, the one that has it's (because this being transcends gender!) hand in every religion, whose primary purpose is to inspire love and hope is shaking it's head.
I have an excerpt from a favorite book of mine that I just had to share that I think blends nicely with where I'm going with this blog post.

"Religious rituals often develop out mystical experimentation. Some brave scout goes looking for a new path to the divine, has a transcendent experience and returns home a prophet. He or she brings back to the community tales of heaven and maps of how to get there. Then others repeat the words, the works, the prayers, or the acts of this prophet, in order to cross over, too. Sometimes this is successful--sometimes the same familiar combination of syllables and devotional practices repeated generation after generation might carry many people to the other side. Sometimes it doesn't work, though. Inevitably even the most original new ideas will eventually harden into dogma or stop working for everybody...Be very careful not to get too obessessed with the repetition of religious ritual just for it's own sake. ESPECIALLY in this divided world, where the Taliban and the Christain Coalition continue to fight out their international trademark war over who owns the rights to the word God, it may be useful to remember that it is not the tying of the cat to the pole that has ever brought anyone into transcendence, but only the constant desire of an individual seek to experience the eternal compassion of the divine. Flexibility is just as essential for divinity as it is for discipline.

Basically, it's about the search for God and the desire to be more like this being that should motivate us, not the honor of saying "I told you so" to any other religious sect. God doesn't want us to hate one another, or exclude each other from partaking of divine love. The end game for this being is love. It's not about how many feet you wash on Sunday, or how many wafers you eat, or how many snakes you handle, or how many visions you receive, it's about the the quest to be more like God. It's about kindness and love.

I think, on this the eve of my third imminent judgement, I will just continue to be myself who strives to be kind everyday, who loves with an open heart and mind that meditates and feels closer to God than I have at any other point in my life who has no agenda to try and spread any idea except one of love and tolerance.

" The Yogic scriptures say that God responds to the sacred prayers and efforts of human beings in anyway whatsoever that mortals choose to worship-just so long as those prayers are sincere. As one line from the Upanishads suggests " People follow different paths, straight or crooked, according to their temperament, depending on which they consider best, or most appropriate-and all reach You (God), just as rivers enter the ocean.

Another Sunday Night

2011-05-15T19:32:00.000-07:00

Where is my mind? Another late night (or at least it seems late on my new up with the chickens asses at dinner time sleep schedule) and sleep is elusive.
Empathy and I have a love hate relationship.
On the dark days, I feel too much, I feel it all the pain, the disappointment, the confusion of my dear ones. With my heart, large and strong, I take it because I love them all, more than I love my own peace of mind. I am the martyr once more. Take me, cold and dark night, and spare those that have taken up residency in the warm folds of my heart. I go willingly, and with a mind clear and ready to accept the worst that they have to offer.
These lips will never betray the heartsick thoughts you have whispered sacredly into my ears.
I meditate, deep and true, to heal the wounds I have willingly allowed to be inflicted on my own psyche. I am the shaman of my heart, and I will heal it with all of the love and kindness being offered up by others who slip into the stream of semi consciousness that is the meditative mind. I am surrounded by light and feel love pour into me, rebuilding me so that I might once again pass what I find onto you.

Not all days are dark...there are days that all of those that I cherish shine and lift me up. Today, however, was not that day. The sky and the hearts who live under it were a mirror. I held out a light for those who wandered, and watched it flicker but never sputter, beckoning for them to come forward and share their burdens.
I will man the coals of loves light, keeping them warm and bright so that they might offer up their protection for any that may wander close. Come close, aching heart, for my flames were meant to warm you, mind, body, and soul. I am familiar with your path. Give me purpose. Touch my heart, the war torn mess that it is and marvel at its tenacity. It beats still, steady and strong in spite of scars from wounds that should have been fatal. Draw from it a hope that the days will not always be dark, that light is waiting to burst through and that someone loved you enough to listen.

I spy with my little eyes...

2011-03-30T07:10:00.001-07:00

Life is funny in the way that it doesn't give two shits about our "plans". As a matter of fact, it seems as if life takes great pleasure in completely tearing asunder any plans that we make to maintain it. Maintain...helluva word. Not one I'm particularly attached to seeing as how it implies control and limitation. I'm beginning, for the first time in a long time, to see that living a maintained, planned life, is just a futile attempt to create structure in a world that is built around and FOR chaos. I think many of us have adopted this mentality that the world is "manageable". How could we ever be so daft? Shakespeare said it best, all the world is a stage and we are merely actors...who don't have access to the rewrites that our great playwright decides.

I'm tossing aside (or at least, TRYING) the human tendency to compartmentalize my life. I am working on not labeling each of you, and placing you neatly into your assigned space. You stand so much taller when you are simply yourself, a solo entity, and not lumped in with a group, genre, color coded and neatly pressed.
I'm finding that I can enjoy myself more when I'm not always trying to decide if each choice I make will echo throughout my entire life. I'm living for right now, for the moments of happiness that I can find, for the people that I can hold and whisper my story to at this moment, the only one I'm certain of. I am not CARELESS, but I am more conscious of how important taking each opportunity for happiness is.

I hope for a future, but I don't feel that it is inevitable like I once did, that the universe OWED me that opportunity. I take each day, as corny as it may seem, as a gift. I am thankful for this life I have, and for my mind opening just enough to really appreciate the beauty, love, experience, joy, and contentment that even a simple Wednesday can offer.

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Now playing: Alison Krauss - It Doesn't Matter
via FoxyTunes

Remember, remember

2010-11-18T11:29:00.000-08:00

"You know, I seriously think you are the other half of me." He says this with a look of love so deep that I honestly lose my breath for a second, and that deep, fulfilling sense of warmth you feel in your stomach when something amazing has happened creeps up, making me smile with contentment. My life is a fairytale, complete with the intricacies of a great love lost and then found again. As I exhale, I feel our souls slide together a little more, the bond there leaving me reluctant to even blink.
He takes my hand and kisses the palm so tenderly, I begin to doubt that it is really happening.
" I love you so much, Mrs. Cordial. What did I ever did without you?" He leans in and kisses me then and the world stops. I can only hear the beating of our hearts. Faster. In perfect rhythm.
"I love you too, always have, always will, no matter what..." I whisper, because my voice is so thick with emotion I couldn't speak louder. He squeezes me tight, as if he's afraid something with sweep me away.
"No matter what...I like that." He strokes my hair, humming a song we both enjoyed. Sleep takes me.

"I don't want to be there anymore...I haven't for a long time." I don't hear a sound...the words flash on a screen cutting me like thousands of tiny shards of glass. The world is cold now except for my tears, which scald my cheeks as they make their descent. Everything changes. Nothing is safe anymore. I am looking for lights and find them in the people I love and warm myself there before walking on, searching for a new path in all the chaos. His light still shines, but flickers dangerously. With each day, I feel my own light growing, fending off the darkness of long, lonely nights filled with questions and doubt. Someday, the dark will no longer be the enemy. His face will not haunt me there. His smell will not linger on my sheets. His voice will not echo in my ears.
Oh love. How sharp and bright your flame is.

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Now playing: Gladys Knight - Since I Fell for You
via FoxyTunes

: Go Green : Foamy The Squirrel

2010-11-15T09:32:00.000-08:00

A Day In the Life

2010-06-23T09:01:00.000-07:00

"Why do I have to go?" The pleading in her voice made my guts feel as if they were weighted with lead.
"Because we can't take care of you like we used to." I give her another spoonful of pureed chicken and dumplings purposely not making eye contact. My hand is trembling a little, but I don't think she notices.
"You can take care of me. All of you can. You have been. I'll be very quiet." She continues looking at me, eyes that were once mirthful now full of pain and misty with tears. I look at her, her tiny face weathered with the long years of her life, the toothless mouth that had once smiled freely was now puckered into a frown of worry.
"You know we can't. With that hip of yours, your doctor says you need to go someplace more well equipped to deal with your needs." I feel sick as I say it, thinking of every television show, news program or anything else my mind can conjure that reminds me how terrible nursing homes are. I wish I could convince her it wasn't my choice, that I'm just her house staff, that I fought for her to stay. Corporate saw her as a liability, I saw her as a person I had helped live for the last three and a half years. Corporate won.
"Will they be mean to me?" she whispers as I help her get a drink of water through a sippy cup. It's funny how we start off as children, and if we live to old age, we revert back to that. I dab her chin with a napkin.
"They had better not be since we'll be visiting every week." I mean it when I say it, but how long before my words are just so much hot air?
"I'm scared Crit." A tear slips down her cheek. I wipe it away with another napkin. I have no idea what to say, so I just take her hand and give it a squeeze. I think of what old age will be like for me. I'm scared too.

Linda Blair, You Had It Right!

2010-06-16T20:49:00.000-07:00

There are times that I wish I could possess people.
I'm not talking Linda Blair, exorcist, spitting pea soup and jamming my who-ha with a crucifix kind of possession but something a little more subtle.
I wish I could possess my friends and loved one's when I think they're acting like asses, when they vote republican or they admit to watching shows like The Bachelor.
Better yet, I wish I could possess them when I feel like they are being taken advantage of. I wish I could take over their bodies and senses and defend them against threats like cheating lovers with lips dripping with sweet and enticing promises. I wish I could say for them the things that their hearts and their fears of being alone and damn near thirty prevent them from saying.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I spent the better part of the day lending a sympathetic ear to the lamentations (said in true Conan the Barbarian fashion) of a friend of mine who I just know could be happy if she could let go of her sinking ship ex-boyfriend that she keeps hoping will somehow change after 34 years of being an ass. She cried. She stomped her feet. She tugged her hair all because she hoped for the best in another human being and was sorely disappointed.
A vivacious, beautiful, opinionated sass-mouth of a woman becomes a ooey, gooey, invertebrate at the sight of a man who has stolen her time, her money, the majority of her 20's, and her ability to trust with her whole heart. The heart is a cruel, twisted mistress.
She seemed equally dumbfounded at her inability to tell him to fuck off and die (one of her favorite expressions during equally stressful situations). It was while I listened to her relive all of the negatives of 5 years with Mr. I Suck, that I had the notion of wishing I could possess her, drive to his house and not only curse him out, but say all of the things she was afraid to say for fear of burning bridges with a schlomo since she was nearing thirty, and by Kentucky standards, an old maid. I wanted to see his face when he realized she wasn't going to keep waiting around and that he couldn't keep using her as the old stand by. I wanted to use her hand to smack him in the face, literally and figuratively, with all of the resentment, anger and hurt that she's been carrying around for the last year.
While she continued venting, I was a bad friend and drifted off in my own thoughts a bit thinking about all of the other friends I would like to help out through Critty possession. My bestie who has lingered around a lying, slick talking jerk-off who won't even give her the satisfaction of being his "girlfriend" after 2 years of his demanding, egotistical, self absorbed buffoonery even though it obviously hurts her to keep herself open without any promise of a future commitment. Another friend who is scared to talk to men period, needs someone to take over who isn't petrified of social interaction. Come on lady, you have boobies, use their power!
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
I'm scared of clowns, spiders, heights and the thought of someone grabbing my foot from underneath my car at night and had always kind of berated myself for it. Looking at the lives of others, however, I take pride in my ability to communicate effectively with others, including my romantic partner. I don't let fear of someone getting mad at me keep me from saying what is on my mind. I think this comes from my willingness to be myself. I have no facade to maintain, no painted face to keep from cracking, no lie to keep weaving to hold someone close. If you love me, it's really me you love and not some idea that I've invented to draw you in. It isn't until now that I realize how amazing a feat is just to be your unfiltered, unprocessed, chemically un-altered self.

I will keep lending an ear, hoping that my honest opinion remains good enough for those around me. Hell, maybe it'll rub off.

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Now playing: Helen Stellar - Io
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Now playing: Sia - I'm In Here (Piano/Vocal Version)
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My Mom is the Bee's Knee's

2010-05-09T19:29:00.000-07:00

It's Mother's Day and since my own life giver is out on the open roads heading towards TN and farther away than I can go on the day before I go back to work, I thought I would yammer on about her here.
My Mom is awesome and here's why:

1.) She encouraged me to read horror stories. When I was 10 years old she noticed me poking through some of her Stephen King novels for something to do while my sister perfected her New Kids on the Block dance routine and asked me if I knew they were mostly scary stories. My cheeky reply was "Couldn't be any scarier than what Sis is doing." I left with "Christine" tucked under my arm.
This also extended into my writing interests. When writing a short story for the young authors program at school (does anyone else remember that?) she didn't even blink when I proposed my story "Prom Night of Doom:Rise of the Zombies". She proof read it, commended me and nodded knowingly when I won first place for my classroom.

2.) She never expected me to be perfect, but did expect me to live up to my potential. She never placed any pressure for me to be a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief (thank God, cause I am way too pale!) She let me explore my interests, offered advice when she saw me struggle and let me find the path that best suited the life I hoped for.

3.) She sings, dances and laughs daily. So, if your standing near me and I suddenly break out into song, you can thank her for your headache.

4.) She taught me that love knows no color, creed or limits in a town FILLED with small minded individuals.

5.) She taught me that a woman is her husbands partner but that doesn't mean she's a deaf mute. She also taught me how to call bullshit on anything I found suspect.

6.) She is 62 years old and still dresses up for Halloween (see above photo). She also has an elf costume that she breaks out for Christmas Day. Is that cute or what?

I love my Mom for so many other reasons. It's every little sacrifice she made while I was growing. It was for every extra thing she did for me that made me want to excel. I had one helluva a childhood and I have her to thank for every good memory, every lesson learned, my zeal for life, my love for people, all of the good in me is a reflection of the fantastic in her.

My mother and sister. Cute!

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Now playing: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Hysteric
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Now playing: Deftones - Prince
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Now playing: Lady GaGa - Alejandro
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Now playing: Reba McEntire - If I Were a Boy
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Now playing: Reba McEntire - If I Were a Boy
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Now playing: Dommin - My Heart, Your Hands
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It's Me Again, Blogger

2010-03-08T18:03:00.000-08:00

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's an incredibly sporadic blogger!

I'm going to give this a go again, in spite of my recent (and unannounced, sorry about that) sabbatical from the world of online autobiographing (and yes, I did just make that word up). I had lost all desire to write in my free time when I have to do so much of it for my classes (although professionally, I don't get to make up cool words like I do here) but have decided that I've missed all of you wankers enough to make another debut.
I just returned from a business trip that enabled me to visit FL and Disneyland for free, which was a pretty sweet deal. Yeah, I had to push around a 75 year old man in a wheelchair for 8 hours in Sea World, but I got the best ice cream of my entire existence, was able to witness PETA in full on battle mode since I was there the day after the killer whale lived up to it's name (killer, not Tilli, that's kinda weak) and had my picture taken with some kid dressed up like Mickey Mouse. *=-)
How are all of you?
I've missed your shennanigans. I can't wait to peek in on your blogs. I'm such a voyeur.

Avast maties! I'm standing in front of the Tili tank. No one was allowed to be any closer than that.

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Now playing: Florence + The Machine - Between Two Lungs
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: Florence + The Machine - My Boy Builds Coffins
via FoxyTunes

The Unoriginal Halloween Costume Shoppe

2009-10-21T10:23:00.000-07:00

The Unoriginal Halloween Costume Shoppe - watch more funny videos

Halloween is only 10 days away, and to celebrate, I've called into work today (hooooray!)so that I can finish up some homework. I have about 5 different "haunted houses" I want to visit this weekend, so I needed some time to finish up some absolutely necessary assignments for my Comparative Politics class. Boo for writing a case study about why Afghanistan is struggling to establish itself as a democracy (I think it's excessive to ask for 5 pages when it can be aptly summed up by saying "Religious intolerance+archaic belief systems=me hate you long time")
So, instead of doing what I had set out to do (homework) I'm uploading funny Halloween related video's to Blogger and Facebook. God bless you technology!
So enjoy.
P.S.
I apologize for the video if your dressing as a slutty *insert anything here* or the Balloon Boy (or perhaps a slutty version of the Balloon Boy!) Actually, no I'm not. I despise the slutty costumes. Dressing up began as a way to deter spirits from inhabiting your body and wearing a slutty nurse outfit is just asking to go all Exorcist and shit. Actually....I suppose it could be viewed as a form of natural selection. Hmmmmmm.....

I'm Really Just This Damned Nosey

2009-10-14T16:24:00.000-07:00

What a week.
So far I've had to sit at the hospital with a very ill client that I have had the pleasure of assisting for the last 3 years. She has downs syndrome and for those of you familiar with downs, you know that generally people with that diagnosis are always happy, hungry and horny (kind of like my husband on Thanksgiving day I suppose...hmm...I wonder). It's been really hard to watch someone usually so vital fight for her life for reasons I can't (damn you HIPPA!) discuss but am infuriated over. That's not the reason I'm posting, but I thought I would just sort of set the tone for what this post is going to be like. So no references to farting (although I can say the lady in the bed next to my clients seems to be pooping on herself every 5 seconds with a smell so foul you would think you were in a bathroom at a worlds hottest chili convention) , music or any other stuff that I typically like to drone on about.
This is a "I'm sitting in the hospital taking a break from studying" kind of post.

I'm sitting here in the waiting room, since my company wants each client to have an employee with them to advocate if need be while they are in the hospital, watching a plethora of people dealing with sickness, grief, frustration and despair. No I'm not in Disneyland, I'm at UK.
Needless to say, I don't like hospitals (anyone who does is crazzzzzzzy), but I can't help but get wrapped up in the lives of the people that mill in and out during the course of the 8 hours I'm here (even though I really should studying for the 2 gynormous midterms I have tomorrow morning).
So many sad stories...and astounding one's. It's kind of watching an episode of House without the quirky wise cracking doctor (that is my make believe boyfriend much like Jules make believe boyfriend on the Daily Show). So far I've heard the story of a man who has recovered from pneumonia only to be told he has to have open heart surgery (that he will likely not survive) because of the extreme amount of blockage they found.
I've heard the story of a lady who came here with a knee fracture only to be told that she has a blood clot blocking the entire left side of her heart and fluid gathering in her lungs.
Does anyone who goes to the hospital ever get treated for what they came for? I liken it to taking your car to a garage to explore why you have difficulty closing the trunk only to be told by the mechanic that your engine is crapped out and it'll have to replaced. That's just so...life.
So I sit here, vigilant, and perhaps more nosey than I should be. The others in the waiting room are now watching some sort of old regular baptist church program complete with banjo's and voices that can't quite carry a tune. Time to check on my client and her family.
Send positive energy her way if you have any to spare. She's my lil buddy and I don't know if I could stick with this job if she doesn't make it.

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Now playing: Brandi Carlile - Before It Breaks
via FoxyTunes

Critty Is A Rolling Stone

2009-10-10T13:32:00.000-07:00

In one hour I will be at Rupp Arena watching Kings of Leon and their fiery sex light up the stage. Needless to say, I'm stoked.
October is my favorite month out of the year. There are tons of festivals/carnivals/freak shows, live concerts, and the opportunity to wear really cute little jackets and hats without running the risk of heat stroke.
My husband bought a new digital camera for moi. I wanted something a little less technical than my film SLR (which I still adore but admit that it isn't as convenient as digital photography) so he purchased the Nikon L100. It's pretty darned spiffy and I'm looking forward to snapping a few pics of tonight's show to test the 24 optical zoom.
I love live music. Although I prefer shows in a smaller venue (think 1,000 capacity) there's something to be said about being one of the masses at a concert like I'm going to tonight (I think 20,000). The energy of being around so many other people who "get" the kind of music you rock to, well, it's downright refreshing. Sure, it sucks to pay fucking $20 for one beer and wait 30 minutes to release that beer back into the circle of life (or pee it out if your crude), but for some reason I love it (concerts, not pissing in dirty, overstuffed bathrooms). *=-P
I hope everyone's weekend is fantastic!

UPDATE: The show was FANTASTIC! I really enjoyed White Lies, the opening act, which sounded like a really good cross between U2, The Cure and AFI. Even though my right heel is KILLING me (I swear I wore flats...but I guess they were just a little TOO flat) and chose not to drink anything except water during last nights show, I had such a good time dancing and singing along with my girl KC. She came up with a jewel of a quote as we were listening to "Revelry" when she said "I bet he's a vegan. He sounds like a vegan." He was quite thin, as you'll see in the pics I'm posting, so she might be right (although I'm unsure why this thought occurred when it did. So random!)
I would highly recommend catching a KOL show if they come to your neck of the woods. It's well worth the $45.
Here are some pics.

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Now playing: Kings of Leon - Be Somebody
via FoxyTunes

Because I'm So Deliciously Over The Top

2009-10-08T21:22:00.001-07:00

One of my blogger ( I originally type bloger and it made me laugh out loud for real like a juvenile) and right across the road friends, Chanda over at Other Everyday Stuff has appeased my bruised ego by offering me this here lil award
and since it comes with some strings attached (as most things in life do) I'm fulfilling my end of the bargain by making this post. Enjoy your trip fantastic into my odd psyche.

Here are the rules for the Over the Top Award:USE ONLY ONE WORD! It’s not as easy as you might think. Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It’s really hard to use only one-word answers.

1. Where is your cell phone? unknown

2. Your hair? wavy

3. Your mother? fantastic

4. Your father? Funny

5. Your favorite food? Potato’s

6. Your dream last night? Zombie

7. Your favorite drink? Tea

8. Your dream/goal? travel

9. What room are you in? bedroom

10. Your hobby? reading

11. Your fear? clowns

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Uranus

13. Where were you last night? Work

14. Something that you aren’t? rich

15. Muffins? yum

16. Wish list item? Masseuse

17. Where did you grow up? Kentucky

18. Last thing you did? Stretch

19. What are you wearing? thermal

20. Your TV? Dumb

21. Your pets? sleeping

22. Friends? LOVE!

23. Your life? BUSY

24. Your mood? spooky

25. Missing someone? MJ

26. Vehicle? Chevy

27. Something you’re not wearing? socks

28. Your favorite store? Pier1

29. Your favorite color? green

30. When was the last time you laughed? today

31. Last time you cried? today

32. Your best friend? Dan

33. One place that I go to over and over? toilet

34. One person who emails me regularly? bank

35. Favorite place to eat? greek

And to pass this award on to some great fellow bloggers!
Organic Meatbag
Zero Pumpkin
Oh, Rebecca
Scarlett's Walk

KUDOS to ya'll. *=-)
Now, I'm off to scavenge my kitchen for something adult to drink and I'm not talking prune juice! *=-P

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I Am Not Dead (but am planning on being undead soon)

2009-10-07T17:11:00.001-07:00

Greetings fellow blogorino's!
First and foremost, let me say, if you didn't get it from my title, that I am not dead! RAWKING!
However, I've been swamped with school, work and trying to get things lined up for my 7th annual Halloween bash. Most days the only time I'm even online is to check Blackboard (my new arch nemesis by the way.)
Life has been pretty good. I saw the Silversun Pickups in concert with Manchester Orchestra and Cage the Elephant about a week ago (fantastic show in which I was so close to the stage I could practically taste Brian's sweet, sweet, sweat) at my new favorite bar/billiard room. The Saturday before that I saw a band that I'm totally obsessing over, Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun. Imagine if Bjork, Depeche Mode and Hole had a musical baby that wasn't all cracked out.
I'm going to try and stop in more often as I miss all of you MUCHO, but I can't really promise it'll be as often as I'd like. I have time tonight because I left work early due to my busted ass sinuses making me feel like I have Samuel Jackson-esque eye pokeyoutiness (hooray for making up words!)
Thanks to all who gave me awards, I'll be retrieving those shortly. My ego has been appropriately stroked now. *purr, purr*
What are everyone's Halloween plans?
I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT HALLOWEEN I COULD PEE MY PANTS!
I've got my costume lined up, the house decked out (complete with zombies and such) and some tasty "it'll get ya' drunk" drink recipes!
Costumes?
Shin Digs going on in your area?
I love hearing about all that stuff.
Take care lovelies!
Feel free to add me on Facebook if you want to keep in touch more regularly, since I check that on my phone in between classes and work.
Ciao!

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Now playing: Danny Elfman - This is Halloween
via FoxyTunes

Hopping on the Award Band Wagon

2009-09-03T06:19:00.000-07:00

So I've noticed all these nifty awards plastering the "walls" of many of your spaces and I have to admit, I am a bit jealous.
Where are my adoring fans?
My stalkers?
The people that carve my name into their skin while eating their generic brand Dreary-O's?
Is it because I haven't distributed awards myself?
I can "do stuff" to pictures! I can write little things...funny things...occasionally. I'm going to make an award I tell you!...
and I did!

I'm not sure how this whole "award" thing works but I'm going to take the chumps way out, post it here and say "have at you like soccer mom's on the day after Thanksgiving at Wal-Mart, my lovelies!"
Since I am "awards" challenged and have so far only managed to "steal" an award from Meatbag so that I 'm not the most obviously uncool kid on the playground, I don't know the "protocol" for uploading...so here's an award I ~~pulled outta' my ass~~ painstakingly made for all of you, my precious cyborgs.

Amendment:
Since blogging protocol (and my snooping on the blogs of others) says I should choose the people I want to receive this loverly award, here's a list of people I find worthy of my creativity. *=-)

mrsbenedict
HeartNiki
anna
NOTSOMARYPOPPINS
Hillbilly Duhn
Tennyson ee Hemingway
the peach tart
Toripops
Alisa
Louis
controlled chaos
eternally curious
maggie
kenflett
Teen
Dutch Donut girl
inkOBSESSIONdesigns
Erykah:-)
Girl Interrupted
Lana
Rogue
Roxane
Floid
Stefunkc
sabrina
LiLu
Sandy
Kris
Mr London Street
Simon
mysterg
headbitingprincess
Ellie Great
Call Me Cate
Shawna
Mr. Condescending
ERRRRRRRN
Becca
Jules
Toothfairynotes (even though I know you aren't accepting awards, you have an honorable mention!)
Lauralee Tochia
Lora
Courtney
Lisa
mylittlebecky
Jessica Gando
Susan
Hawaii Kawaii
Valerie
Meatbag
Betsy's Closet
Crystal Jigsaw
cybeel
Chanda
Life With Dogs
Bikermomma
Kristal

Ain't I stinker?

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Now playing: Silversun Pickups - Rusted Wheel
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: Silversun Pickups - Rusted Wheel
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: John Mayer - Free Fallin' (Live)
via FoxyTunes

Moo, Cow, Moo.

2009-08-31T10:46:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how one photo of a terribly depressing cow can reflect the current state of the United States economy. Gaunt, infested with parasites and lethargic, divided we fall.
(photo taken on a farm in TN neighboring my sisters home)

It's Monday and I have the plague (which I was told by a friend might be some sort of rebel attack from Russian immigrant hookers...perhaps they cuddled up against the new pillows I picked up from JCPenny prior to my purchasing of them seeing as how I don't make it a point to hang with Russian immigrant hookers daily) so this post is noticeably shorter. I have an online lecture concerning Comparative politics to catch up on before work, so ciao for now!

Looky...

2009-08-28T07:15:00.001-07:00

...just for your information I just had to Google the word "Looky" because I had a "moment" where the word just didn't click with the old thought box. Do you ever do that, see a word, a common word and second guess yourself as to how in the world your supposed to spell it!? It's usually common place words too,like "fart" or "muffin" nothing like "thermodynamics" or "SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS", as a nod to Mary Poppins.
And to think, I was the Spelling Bee champion of my grade school. OH, how the mighty have fallen!

I just wrapped up my first week of my senior year as a psych undergrad major. I'm already hating my statistical/experimental professor. Can you say pretentious? To kick it all, he's probably only 5-6 years older than me. *flips him off accordingly*

Last weekend I made a trip to TN to visit some of mi familia before becoming so consumed by full time work/school. Obviously this is why I've been noticeably (I hope anyway, did you not even miss me!?!?!?!)neglectful of this here blog.

Since I have to write a case study and submit it by noon I'm going to entertain you with photo story of my trip to TN and back. I apologize for the photo quality as I was using the camera on my cell phone. I'm still shopping for a new digital camera.
The hubs looking unbelievably adorable in the new ensemble I bought for him. Awwwwww.

Before driving 3 hours with the windows down and sun roof open. Need I say my hair looked much better at this point? Also notice my cute new hat. Jealous?

Notice the beautiful day? You would have opened the sun roof as well, you know it!

I passed a lot of neato Bikers, but this guy was my favorite. He was listening to Fleetwood Mac on his little biker radio. Awww.

One of my sisters adorable, camera lovin' children. Can you say Russell Crowe complex? I felt like the paparazzi!

I know, this picture is super blurry. This photo is too entertaining to ignore!

On the way back from TN I stopped at the Abraham Lincoln Museum. This is a Volk Life Mask of Honest Abe. I was severely freaked out that his hands are as big as my entire head (and nearly the size of his own!) There was also a pic of me in a union soldiers hat (which was surprisingly fashionable!), but it didn't turn out. BOO.

A really cool piece of student art found in the museum? Look familiar?

I was surrounded by cars with catchy sayings like this. I was told after I began my journey back to KY that Bristol (I had no idea what this was until my sister so kindly informed that it was some sort of racing event) was that weekend. I spent a lot of time behind testosterone fueled males trying to pretend that they too are race car drivers in their wives mini vans. Joy.

Most of the time I was surrounded by jallopy RV's that also quoted racing jargon. Thankfully, I made it home in one piece!

I hope you enjoyed traveling with me. Please notice I always wear a seat belt. It's sure to keep my head juices in place after it explodes from road rage.
Ciao!

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Now playing: The Donnas - All Messed Up
via FoxyTunes

Slugs, Oh The Terror!

2009-08-14T06:04:00.001-07:00

Busy, busy, busy!
I've been working some overtime this week since I'll be starting my senior year of college in a week and will have limited availability. It's times like these that I wish I hadn't lived the life of early 20's fuckery (aka partying myself sick and opting to skip class since I was still drunk at 9 a.m.) and would have already attained my PhD by now. I blame it entirely on the delicious burn of tequila which I hadn't encountered the first time until my freshmen year of college during my first stint away from home. I was a statistic and it's placed a huge bruise on my ego.
Of course, I have a ton of great memories. Nights of alcohol and hormone fueled debauchery that have produced numerous funny pictures and even more funny memories. I made friends at that point that I still count on for good times, tasty drinks and maintaining my youthful demeanor. If only I had been capable of juggling the two I would have had the best of both worlds.
Instead, I'm now in the awkward position of being a "non-traditional" student in her late 20's playing catchup with her education amongst a bunch of sickeningly refreshing group of fresh faced 19 year olds. Thankfully, time hasn't been tough on this mug of mine so I don't stand out like a sore thumb (perhaps I pickled/preserved myself in those early days with all that tequila?)
The weekend is nigh!
Before I go and get ready to work my 13 hour shift I thought I would leave you with a truefuckingstory of last weekend when I went to visit a friend of mine. It might very well be one of those "you had to be there" stories that's going to leave you sitting there scratching your head and wondering why in the heck I decided to chronicle it via this blog. If so, suck it! I thought it was hilarious! And it's my blog, so *insert sticking out of the tongue here*...
Last Saturday I decided to drive to Richmond, KY to visit an old college friend of mine for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant so I go get my tacos de carne asada fix. Since it's THE best restaurant in Richmond, she concurs. While we're partaking of some fantastic salsa and taking in the red and green decor, giant chile peppers hanging from the ceiling and numerous sombrero's that serve as decor, our always sporadic conversation somehow lands on the un-appetizing topic of slugs.
I HATE slugs. I wish they would ALL die terrible, salty deaths. I don't care how "essential they are for the eco system" they're creepy, they're slimy, they leave weird slimy trails and make it so that I'm scared to walk barefoot in the grass at night. EWWW! I have flashes from a movie that I saw in the early 90's during my impressionable youth that has warped me for life titled "Slugs" that only confirms my terror. In it, mutant slugs crave human flesh. The tagline for this gem of an 80's horror flick is "They ooze. They slime. They Kill".

Nuff said.
Needless to say I was anxious to change our dinner conversation to something that didn't make my skin crawl in terror and my stomach clinch in sickness. Of course, my friend decides to continue musing about the eating habits of those creatures that I shall not name, which produced a question that made me laugh loud enough to cause confused (aroused?) glances from the waiters.
I'm sitting, trying to ignore her and focus on anything but the topic of her conversation when she says, while totally sober...
"I wonder what slugs eat. Don't they suck blood or something?"
SHE WAS SERIOUS!
Maybe she saw the same movie I did?
I'm getting her a special ~~helmet~~ hat produced just to emphasize her level of special.

And I'm spent....

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Now playing: Hollywood Undead - Undead
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: KoRn - Dead Bodies Everywhere
via FoxyTunes

Weak Wednesday

2009-08-05T10:01:00.000-07:00

Happy Hump Day ya'll! (I've always wondered who started the whole Hump Day thing and the details on the reasoning behind Wednesday being dubbed so). Like many things in life, it's the details that count!
I'm not feeling particularly creative or thoughtful today, so maybe Wednesday should be titled "Weak Wednesday"? The weekend is still two full days away, I still have three full days of work (if you count WW), and I have yet to win the lottery and become one of "those people" that have golden toilets and Fiji water for my dogs Tiffany bowls. Suck it Wednesday.

In other news, my dogs are incredibly depressed with all this news coverage of possibly shortening the number of days that the USPS (United States Postal Service for those of you that might be drunk or otherwise intoxicated to numb the pain of Weak Wednesday) will deliver mail. The government is considering kicking Saturday off of the list of mail delivery days to try to alleviate some of the 9 BILLION dollars of debt accumulated. Personally, it's not a big deal for moi. I do about 98% of my "mailing" via the internet, including paying bills, shopping, harassing family members I don't get to see that often, you know, the norm.

My dogs, however, are inconsolable. Even though Saturday is dog park day, and they'll get to run about minus their leashes and hump till their hearts content, we usually wait until after the mail runs so they can get a good 3 minutes of barking out of their system. Schedules are important, dear government! Sure, people will be out of jobs, but what about my dogs!?!?! I guess they'll just have to go back to eerily barking at my walls in the middle of the afternoon, much like they do in the middle of the night. I adopted all three of my pooches, so I'm not exactly sure what kind of environment they were raised in. Were they all lab test animals who can now commune with spirits? Do they have PTS? Or do they simply enjoy watching me walk to another room while shrieking much like the banshee's of ancient Irish lore?
Man, that shit freaks me out. Especially if I'm watching "Ghost Hunters" or some other freaky show that I love to saturate whats left of my left temporal lobe with, alone.
Shew. I'm rambling. My soul is sucked into the Weak Wednesday abyss. I think I'll straighten my hair. God bless the maker of the Chi flat iron! It tames my lions mane of locks. I wonder who first thought of ironing their hair for dramatic effect? Maybe it was one of those 50's era housewives who ate some lead paint and while ironing her husbands shirts for the next day of "manly business" and thought "hey...I'll iron my freaking hair. Yeah, that'll be totally hot stuff." Whatever the case may be, it sure does make my hair more manageable and glossy and less like the Cowardly Lion.

Ahhh. Buddy just ate my turkey sandwich. Instead of stopping him, I'll just snap a pic.

Ciao!

P.S.-This has brightened my day, so hopefully it will do the same for you my lil Baby Sasses!

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Now playing: Kings of Leon - Notion
via FoxyTunes

The HeART Of The Matter

2009-08-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

So, I've just finished reading a really good book. Not good, great, titled "Lulu Meets God And Doubts Him". It's a book that I randomly purchased during a book buying frenzy at Half Price Books, probably because I liked the title and because it was on sale. I love that store and could easily drop $500 there and only be getting started, so advanced is my book buying/reading affliction.
I've had the book for well over 5 months and finally got around to reading it a couple of days ago. Contrary to the title, the book has very little to do with "God" but very much to do with the spiritual nature of artists and the fickle nature of the "artistic social scene" in New York. The book paints a very vivid picture of the "hot or not" labels pushed onto "emerging" (other wise known as "newb") artists and the mediums that they use to create the visual representations of their soul (or in some cases, whatever their gallery asks for). I'm going to quote the synopsis since a.) it's late b.) I'm still whacked out on muscle relaxers and finding it hard to focus c.) cause I wanna'.

"In this enjoyably tart art world sendup, winsome, aperçu-spouting Mia McMurray (think Party Girl–era Parker Posey) is a gallerista—one of the invariably decorative young women who act as a gallery's de facto concierge, and "who is always, always watching," as Mia herself puts it. A mysterious portrait by the recently late Jeffrey Finelli (killed by an errant cab in front of Mia's Simon Pryce gallery) gives the novel its winningly clumsy title and sets up its main conflict, between grasping art collectors and representatives of Finelli's estate. Former Mademoiselle and Woman's Day editor Ganek, herself a significant art collector, offers sharply drawn characters and convincingly savvy details. That the book's most important female collector is presented as a loudmouthed and overdressed refugee from Absolutely Fabulous gives a sense of its waspish humor. But Ganek stops short of crude caricature, and Ganek's portraits of the variously sneaky, ridiculous and pretentious art world denizens are tinged with affection and depth. The tone is sophisticated chick lit, and there's a sweet love story threaded in, but what most clearly animates this debut, and sets it apart, is a real sense that art matters."(June)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

The book really struck a chord with moi, as I've been expressing myself on canvas for as long as I can remember. I'm no Pablo Picasso, but I put my whole self into my work and like it enough to not burn it. There's one particular paragraph that so accurately described my art experience that I felt like maybe the author had somehow delved into my mind mush (via alien space craft perhaps?) and written down what she found there. Anyhow, here it is...
" There's something in my eyes when I look at them in the mirror, what is that? Not doubt. More like insecurity. I want to convey an expression of what it's like to be twenty eight, knowing your a grown-up but wondering what you're supposed to be when you grow up. I want to capture what it looks like when you start to realize you have to let go of your dreams. I want the pain of my own artistic yearning to appear there, on the canvas. As I paint, I lose myself in the joy of the work. Later, I'm overcome by an old familiar feeling of faint hope, that maybe I'm capturing something there on the canvas, some essence of what in my mind's eye... God is that you?"
If your into artsy fartsy things or if you looking for a good read while your on the crapper *cough, fellas* I would highly suggest giving "Lulu..." a shot.

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Now playing: AFI - The Leaving Song Pt. 2
via FoxyTunes

Hurricane Soul and Tsunami Thoughts

2009-08-01T07:57:00.000-07:00

“Sometimes what we call love is just a settling of old scores, or a seeking of forbidden pain, or a circuitous path to the kingdom of cruelty, or she may simply have confused lack of capital with heroism while searching for rescue without knowing from what.”- Anne Roiphe

It's Saturday and I'm posting! I've been online quite a bit in the last few days thanks to the previously mentioned back injury Whats on ye olde mind tap? Besides wishing I could trade in my current back for one less riddled with pain, just that far too many of my friends are deeply unhappy with the romantic aspects of their lives. Those friends that I have that are single are either celibate completely and refusing to date or dating assholes whose self absorbed antics traumatize everyone involved.
Attraction. It's a necessity when your looking for someone to share your time with. When I was younger, like others my age, I was attracted by things that simply pleased my eyes. It didn't take long for me to realize that although my eyes might be pleased by the physical features my heart was often left empty and without love. This was when I discovered lust. Deciphering the two can be a trick since as humans we're instinctive and more often than most will admit, primal. There were two sides to this relationship thing. Interesting.
When I was seventeen I met the man I am now married to, Dan. He was the first person I had met that not only did I find physcially stimulating, but intellectually and emotionally as well. I was overcome with this feeling of "togetherness", and felt for the first time that the world truly is a small place if in all of it, I could find someone who "fit" (please supress giggles your juveniles!) me so well. Of course life happened and we took separate paths for quite sometime (about 4 years), often merging briefly during his military leave, but keeping our distance until the military part of his life was behind him. I did a whole lotta' lustin' in that time and discovered that it's really not the sort of lifestyle that makes me happy. This was when I discovered that I was, indeed, a relationship person. When The Hubs came to me after our separation I was surprised. It had been over a year since we had talked. I had just ended a really terrible relationship with a Cajun douche bag and was back to my "primal ways". I was living with the besties at the time in a townhouse that doubled as "Party City" during the brief year we lived there. I'm veering off subject again. When nostalgia takes over, my blogging seems to become quite sporadic. I had always thought about Daniel, but didn't see how we could be "us" again after all the curve balls life had thrown at us. He just showed up at my doorstep during one "girls night" and said "I'm out of the military for good now (after serving 8 long years in the U.S. Navy) I think it's time we were us again." Very Jerry McGuire. And we were.

Over the course of the past 28 years I have met a multitude of people: roommates/dorm mates, co-workers, people you party with, people you pray with, people you shop with, people that I hold close still and people that I'm happy are gone from my life. In those years, I have gained a thorough understanding of what it is that I find attractive in other people. Through the process of trial and error, all of us find what characteristics in other people that we find exciting, soothing, annoying, irresistible, intriguing...etc. Based on that knowledge we connect with those people that believe will add value to our time.
This is where I get frustrated. This is where I shout to the heavens and say "whyyyyyyyyyy is this STILL a problem!?"

Why is it, that people MY age, are so utterly hell bent on CONSISTENTLY choosing people who they a.) Share no common interests with besides the obvious need for food/water/shelter b.) People who closely resembles those who have gone before and not worked out. I'm all for giving everyone " a chance" and not making decisions based on the views of others, but you can't deny the truth in the old saying "where there's smoke there's fire".

I'm not singling anyone out here. I know of a couple of people that are probably thinking "that bitch, I just KNOW she's talking about me", but in truth this is just a very general assessment. The fact that I can think of at least 6 people that this applies to in my social circle, speaks volumes.

As a society, is there SUCH a stigma on being alone that we would compromise ourselves just to be a part of a couple? I know I'm not single and in truth, I haven't been single for an extended amount of time since I was 17 years old, but those times that I was I never felt like I just HAD to be with someone even if I knew that person was bad for me. I've made BAD decisions, but it was never because I was simply scared of being alone.

BE HAPPY! That is the best advice I could give to any of my friends who find themselves ready to reprimand me for this blog because they just KNOW it's about them. Maybe in the movies being a sad sack is considered sexy but in the real world, where we all have problems on our own, it's very rare that a person is going to be drawn to you if your continuously sulking. I'm not saying fake it. Seriously go out and do the things that you enjoy and pretty soon, you'll be happy, with or without someone to hold your hand while you do it.

STOP WAITING! Live your damned life already. Time will not go backwards if when your 50 you realize "hey I should gone on and *insert wish here* instead of holding off until Mr. or Mrs. Right could join.

BE YOURSELF! Even in the beginning. Gals, don't try and pretend like you don't need food even when your out for dinner, and guys if you curse like a sailor, let it be known up front. The purpose of that date is to decide if the person your out with is compatible with YOU not the person you think they would be interested in. The only smart thing I've ever heard Dr. Phil (who I'm quite sure is the Antichrist with a Georgia accent) say is that the reason most marriages are failing these days is because we create these alter ego's in the beginning of relationships that over time become too much to maintain because they are just facades. As you grow comfortable with someone, all those little things that you lied about add up. If you don't like Chinese food, just say "Hey, I think it's gross" instead of picking at your spring rolls and smiling like a cheshire cat because you think it will make you more attractive in the eyes of a potential life partner. It's gonna' look mighty weird down the road, should things work out with that person, if one day you snap and say "I fucking hate Chinese food, can't we just eat something else". NO ONE likes being lied to, even if it's something seemingly insignificant like that. It creates doubt, doubt creates distrust, which leads to fighting, clinginess and just a breakdown of the structure of the relationship.

If your with someone just too keep from "ending up alone", well, I'm of the opinion that you have no right to bitch about how unhappy you are (unless you've been ball gagged and stuck in someone's closet, gotta' have a disclaimer). It's so cliche, but the truth is life is short and the one we're living at this moment will never be repeated, so make it count! Sure, in any relationship your going to have days when you'd rather chew your own leg off than talk one more time about bills, family gatherings, crazy kids (including those of the four legged variety) etc, but at the end of the day you KNOW the only way to make things better is to curl up next to that person and sleep until a better day rolls along a few hours down the line.

Stick to your guns about those "standards" that you have that pertain to motivation and passion, but be a little more flexible when it comes to physical appearance (not EVERYONE can be Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt) or monetary value. Those are precarious things, like building a home on a sand dune. Over time those things can change. I absolutely agree that you have to be attracted to a person sexually if you plan a future with them, but that doesn't always come from eye candy. Sometimes people become attractive because of those things they do to make us feel our best. If someone can make you smile after you've had the day from hell, that's a start. If someone can turn you on simply by looking at you a certain way, that's a damn good start.

I've had a lot on my mind obviously.
I derive happiness by witnessing the happiness of the people I care about (being an empath sometimes sucks balls). Embrace this life, Debbie and Donnie Downers and take it for everything it's worth. Love yourself and when that happens everything else will fall into place. Remember, confidence is the sexiest thing you can wear.

Twisted Sister

2009-07-31T10:58:00.000-07:00

Nope, I'm not talking about that fabulous 80's rock band that brought us such classics as "We're Not Gonna' Take It" and "Burn In Hell", I'm talking about the current condition of my own back.
*cue the ominous music signifying horrible news*
I have somehow, in the midst of my everyday job (which sometimes consists of lifting some of the more elderly people in the MR group home that I work at), re-arranging the garage, walking a Siberian Husky for KC who works all the time so the dog has next to zero manners and tugs my freaking arm out of my socket, working on making a studio space so I can be consistent with my artwork again, and building the better mouse trap (okay, maybe not that but it sounded good), I have twisted multiple muscles in my lower back.
I found this excruciating piece of information out after ski daddling to the nearest UTC (Urgent Treatment Center) after losing an entire night of sleep Wednesday night from back pain and then doubling over in the shower after being assaulted with some pretty hardcore muscle spasms. I'm one of "those" people who treats going to the doctors office much like walking before a German firing squad and has to be near deaths door (or crippled much like I mentioned before) before I'll seek medical attention. Terrible habit, I know, but I'm working on it, so cut me some slack.
I digress.
The mechanics of a doctors office are sadly lacking. I was in the examination room for 3 1/2 hours. I only spent about 15 minutes actually in the presence of other people. I was left in a tiny, sterile room with 3 year old magazines discussing various terri-fucking-fying illnesses and some of those tongue presser thingies for company. You are NOT allowed (according to the blue bloody million signs posted) to talk on your cell phone. Call me crazy, but this doesn't seem like the best way to encourage people to come back. Ostracize, scare, release. Then they take your blood pressure (incorrectly) and marvel that it's high. Hmmm....imagine that? (I nearly bit my sarcastic tongue off, mind you)

I'm just dumbfounded that people who make such insane amounts of money like doctors aren't a tad bit more encouraging and friendly. My doctor wasn't MEAN, he just seemed....dead inside (much like Zombies, but instead of brains they crave insurance)

Maybe it's the hours, maybe it's the number of chronically ill people they provide service to, but it all seemed so bleak. My advice to the clinic? Paint the walls something other than institution white, leave PUZZLE books instead of medical magazines for patients to pre-occupy themselves with. What about a TV? I understand the importance of creating awareness, but for most people, introducing them to new illnesses while waiting to treat their current one, can't exactly be considered the path to enlightenment. ESPECIALLY, if they're sitting, alone, in a strange environment.

I'm sleepy. My thoughts are muddled. Damned pain killers.
*zombie time*

Not All Scary Things Go Bump In The Night

2009-07-29T20:05:00.000-07:00

Another restless night passes me by rather lethargically, leaving me with buckoo amounts of spare time to contemplate the inner workings of myself. Because it is 2:37 a.m., this delving into my inner psyche isn't exactly peachy keen and jelly beans in nature. Tonight's topic?

Fear.

Growing up, my fears were based around whatever movies I had watched, ghost stories that my friends passed on, or getting separated from my family in Wal-Mart and being abducted by some sicko who wanted to harvest my childish body parts for some sicko skin mask or something. I was absolutely terrified by the first Gremlins movie (I swear, I lost at least 3 weeks of sleep my 1st grade year thinking that Spike was lurking somewhere in the shadows of my room). It's funny to think of that now when I watch that movie, that I was ever intimidated by such a crudely made puppet. (The same thing goes for Stephen Kings "Cats Eye") My fears were based on the things in life that I (and most of the general public) didn't understand. Because I was instilled with the thought of "anything is possible", it seemed natural to assume that scary creatures hid in my closet waiting for the very minute that one of my toes slid out from underneath the covers.

Now that I'm older, I fear the things that I know. Cancer, mental illness, abandonment, my dogs breaking their leash and running head first into a car, inability to reproduce, Rush Limbaugh, and nuclear warfare to name a few. These are things that I think about when I've had a bad day and want to punish myself with "what-if" scenario's. I can sleep with my feet out from under the covers now, but sleep is harder to come by as the sands of my hour glass settle at the bottom keeping company those years that had gone ...

I never thought I would miss the days when my biggest concern was some imagined ghoul with a foot fetish stalking me like an overzealous Britney Spears fan *cough, Crocker*, but I do. I know that most would say it is easier to deal with those things we know exist, that we can formulate solutions to, and prevail over those evils. I disagree. As much as I wish it would, being held by someone you love doesn't stop the threat of cancer slowly riddling your body. Turning on the light doesn't stop thousands of women from being told "I'm sorry, your simply not a good candidate for reproduction".

Not all scary things go bump in the night. The things in life that are truly scary are things that we feel we have no control over. Things that we KNOW exist, that we have little or no control over, those are the things that keeps a gal in her mid twenties blogging, instead of sleeping.
Since I'm being neurotic and can't sleep, I think it's only fair that I ask ya'll to spill your guts on what your greatest fear is. Unless...spilling your guts IS your greatest fear. So complex!

I'll Meet Your Anger Management And Raise You One Dropkick To The Face!

2009-07-26T20:51:00.001-07:00

Gather round folkies, and I'll fill you in on a little something about myself that you might not know just from reading my random blogging.
Sometimes, I get angry (okay at least 3 times a week on average). When I say angry I'm not talking about muttering to myself and sulking off into a corner to hold imaginary "I would have said THAT" conversations". I'm talking about honk my horn, wave my fist, I would stomp your guts in if I could, angry.
This is something that has been cultivating since our move to a suburban area where I'm constantly assaulted with mind blowing feats of inconsideration and stupidity, including the harassment letter we received a few weeks ago for having a few sprigs of grass (A.K.A "weeds"" during a particularly busy work week from our lovely neighborhood ~~Nazi's~~ association. You can rest assured that I took no prisoners in my flower bed that day and I murdered those ~~grass sprigs~~ weeds without mercy (imagine a growling lunatic wielding a trowel and you would have a pretty accurate image of yours truly that day)

I know that anger is bad. I know that it hurts me a thousand times more than it hurts the people or things that my anger is targeted towards. I know a life lived with minimal anger is a better life, a more peaceful, centered, joyful life. Up until now, I've been pretty slow to "rile" as we call it here in the South. I have a family tree full of Irish hot heads who didn't know when enough was enough and a family cemetery full of people who died much too young from heart attacks (our low stupidity tolerance is obviously genetic) so I'm willing to work on finding my chi, my zen, my nirvana so that I don't croak by the age of 40.
I vent. I steam. I froth at the mouth when I am passed on the median of the road by someone who is obviously running late for their daily douching (I'm sure you could call ahead, bitchy soccer mom, and they'll watch the extra 2 minutes you gain by passing me illegally). Or if someone gives their cashier at the grocery a hard time for not reading their mind and using the coupons they still have stuffed into their grubby, obviously "malnourished" palms.
Today I'm going to try get in touch with the calmer me, the me before I was poisoned by suburbia's "fast this" "hurry that" "drink the Koooool Aid Critty" "We secretly worship Satan" mentality.
Yoda said it best and since I'm a nerd for even referring to Yoda at all, I'll go the distance and actually quote him just to display how desperately geeky I am..."Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."
You know, for a little green dude living in the a sewer swamp, he was pretty spot on.

Be a Guest In My Hizzouse

2009-07-22T18:15:00.000-07:00

I was invited by the incredibly creative Mr. C (who I have the compelling urge to call Dr. every single time I think of his site) to give ya'll a peek into my little slice of Americana. Since I absolutely LOVE the idea of peeking into all of your homes, seeing as how I'm a nosy little thing, it's only fair that I give all of you lovely bloggers the same kind of ~~eyesore~~ courtesy.

First and foremost...this is where I'm typing from and usually how I simmer down after a long work day.

I try and keep my lil space neat, but my husband see's fit to deposit his change on MY desk instead of his own. I have tried to provide him a basket, a shelf and various other means for holding his crap but he is unwilling to cooperate. *shakes fist grudgingly*
Next you would probably notice that I love books. I have them everywhere. Here is a shelf that I think sums me up pretty nicely.

Please forgive the Twilight novel (although I will not renounce my love for the series, Edward 4 Life) but also notice my copy of Octavia Butler's "Fledgling". Her work is vivid, brutal and fantastic. If you are a vamp enthusiast, prepare for a good read.

I take a nap here.... so that I'm not unbearably grumpy before entertaining guests.

I would invite you to help me pick a dish for dinner from these cookbooks.

The hubs and I love cooking out and we were given the grilling out cookbook by a lady he once worked with who had a recipe published in the book.
Because I try and be at least a little healthy, sometimes, we use the Fat Free Italian cookbook on days when I feel like a beached beluga whale (so pretty often.)

I almost always have baked goods laying about so I'll offer you whatever goody I have whipped up at the time. Here is my favorite, peanut cookies.

Obviously, cat is on the menu for the night. Might I suggest the fat one that belongs to my friend KC? He could easily feed a family of three.

Once we've decided on what we're going to grub on during your visit I'll seat you here...

...and ask what movie you'd like to watch. We have over 350 DVD's to choose from, so take your time. If your lost in the sea of cinema, these are a few that I might suggest;

I'll also be sure to offer you either of these fine adult beverages. We like to support our local breweries and winery's so both of our selections are KY proud and locally manufactured. You can practically taste the bluegrass.

Kentucky Ale

Cabernet Sauvingon from Chrisman Mills Winery

I hope you've enjoyed snooping your way through my home and the plethora of crap I have in it. Keep in mind, if you visit moi and you have allergies, bring your inhaler. We have 4 dogs and a cat living with us (and even though I vacuum and dust daily, life can get pretty hairy)

Tooth Funeral

2009-07-22T14:18:00.000-07:00

Let me start this blog off by saying I have never known (and hopefully never will know) the pain that is a root canal, but recently have helped take care of a friend who is currently living with my husband and I (due to this busted ass economy) who has entered phase 2 of the 3 step root canal process.
I didn't even really know what a root canal consisted of or why it happened until now. If KC wasn't going through the process I probably still wouldn't know that it was a result of a nerve dying in the tooth destined for the root canal and was not a result of poor dental hygiene. She was told her tooth death was most likely the result of blunt force trauma, and since she doesn't play defense for the Steelers, I've made plenty of jokes about taking it easy on the bj's with her man friend.
What I do know, without googling for results, is my friend is thoroughly traumatized.
KC,

who is obviously a pretty young lass, is convinced that she has been disfigured by having an artificial cap on the tooth that needed the root canal.
As her closest friend, I get to hear all of the dramatic monologues, sobbing and excessive staring at the tooth in the mirror. Before this procedure, I would have never considered her an exceptionally vain person. Sure. She looks at every mirror she walks past but I assumed it was to ensure she hadn't joined the ranks of the undead while she slept or some other reasonable excuse. *=-P Now, however, I know without a shadow of doubt that my friend is quite obsessed with appearances.
Don't get me wrong. I don't want to look like Rosie ODonell's long lost twin, I don't go grocery shopping in my pajamas's (at least when I'm sober)and I understand the importance of presenting yourself in a certain way.
What I'm having trouble "getting" is crying over a fucking tooth. A tooth, that you've had corrected with a cap that looks perfectly natural. A tooth that was dead anyway and would have only continued to infect your face and make you uncomfortable.
Because I don't "get" her sadness and made the comment "So, should we have funeral for it? Do you need a shoebox to put the tooth dust in so we can bury it in the back yard?" I had to listen to a full 15 minutes of all out sobbing as we drove down to Richmond, KY to spend the day with Cassie, the friend who completes our trifecta, for her birthday.
You can imagine the level of awkward associate with this.
I pretended I was choking on a piece of gum just so I could disguise my laughter because I had already been told 3 times that it "was not a laughing matter".
I wish I had video taped it so you could understand how incredibly Seinfeld that particular moment of my life was.
As it was happening I thought, I have to blog this. It might not seem as funny to readers since you really had to be there, but I just had to write this down.
I have a friend who is depressed over a tooth.
I actually heard her whisper reverently into her bathroom mirror "It's not the same without you" while staring into her mouth.
Normally I'm a hypersensitive person who is touch with her touchy feely side, however I can't hop on board with the tooth sadness. It actually makes me feel like I've taken crazy pills to even attempt to console her.
We're giving her a place to live until things calm down in her life...and she cries over her tooth. I wonder if this will be one of those things I look back on and laugh about with her later or if she'll hold a grudge until we'll old and gray and drown me in my fiber enriched beverages?
Only time will tell.
Until then, have you told your teeth you loved them today?

Crit Appreciation Day

2009-07-20T08:02:00.001-07:00

As I sit here luxuriating in the glorious splendor that is having a Monday off of work watching vintage horror (Fright Night) I can't help but feel thankful for the FANTASTIC birthday I just celebrated with people I love and always seem to have tons of fun with. Sure, I'm hungover, STILL (even though I haven't had a drink since the wee hours of Sunday morning) and look like someone who's been rode hard and put away wet, I spent WAY too much money shopping, traveling a bit and drinking copious amounts of alcohol with some pretty tasty food tossed in for good measure. However, I leave the weekend with a mind full of wonderful (and a few hazy) memories, mementos and photographs.

On my actual birthday, The Hubs and I decided to make a little trip up to Newport, KY to visit the aquarium. Even though they didn't have their own Aqua Man swimming about distributing his own form of watery justice, they did have a pretty nifty jelly fish display

and a GYNORMOUS alligator snapping turtle that could easily smash a persons face in one bite. I found this last fact fascinating. We spent some time ogling at the only jaws-esque shark in the place and concluded our excursion by meandering about the shops outside of the aquarium, which, much to the Hubster's everlasting joy, included a candy shop.

We opted to try out a new Mediterranean restaurant for dinner that night,Petra's, a cuisine we normally love, but were let down by appetizers still frozen in the middle and shasherma's with loads of fat on the meat *insert gag*. Needless to say, we were not members of the clean plate club that evening.
Later in the night a friend accompanied us to watch the newest installment of the Harry Potter movies at a local Movie Tavern. There is no greater invention than a movie theater and a tavern combined. We ordered a drink titled "The Big Blue Thing Margarita for 2" and slurped our way through what I considered to be one the best Harry Potter movies to date (yes, I've seen, and loved, them all). The only downside to the night was losing a penguin necklace that KC had given me only 5 hours earlier for my birthday. I had been lusting after that thing for months, only to recieve it as a gift and lose it to some theater cleaning person who probably gave it to some slutty 15 year old. GAAAHHHH. Still burns my biscuit.
Friday I spent the night watching True Blood with a friend and co-worker who I have recruited into not only watching the series but also reading the novels. We drank two bottles of wine that night and ended up talking about everything from annoying co-worker to Rush Limbaugh. I can honestly say she is the ONLY friend I have that actually likes the latter. I forgive her because of her keen sense in wine selection and her rapier wit.
Saturday was titled "Crit Appreciation Day" by my friend Paul, pictured here...

He's giving the thumbs down as the third gospel song was sang during karaoke at THE BAR!

This was the day I spent with my friends celebrating that I had survived another year relatively unscathed and only slightly more jaded that the previous year (of course I reached the height of cynicism at the early age of 8). We began the evening dining at my favorite pizza joint, Old Chicago Pizza. We waited an hour to be seated since there were 12 of us only to be separated into separate booths. Lame. We spent the evening shouting back and forth over shoulders and such and passing plates of pizza and appetizers. After we had enough of that, we opted to visit the Collins Eastland Bowling Lane for karaoke night. I had always wanted to sing karaoke but had either been too intoxicated or too sober to sing. Evidently, 9 Bud Lights=1 Critty drunk enough

to sing to a room of rowdy rednecks singing such inspirational numbers as "Go Tell It On The Mountain", "The Heart Don't Lie", various Conway Twitty songs and even Enrique Iglesias. I convinced KC to accompany me and we shook up the place, and made our karaoke debut with Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" and followed it up a little later with MJ's "Billie Jean". We had some trouble out of an older, fatter douchebag Charlie Daniel's look alike slamming our "Billie Jean" performance which he titled "the stupidest thing he had ever seen until he saw our friend taping it and then decided that was the stupidest thing he had ever seen." I have a major qualm with people who take karaoke seriously. I promptly told him I thought he was a pathetic asshole who shouldn't confuse a bowling ally bar with the American Idol showroom and that perhaps he should wait for his ship to sail elsewhere. He did and we were left to sing off key and white people dance in peace and boy did we. Paul ended up singing the theme song to Cheers, Roy sang "Brickhouse" with KC as a back up dancer and there was a group rendition of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'".

So.
I'm back ya'll. I'll be checking out everyone's bloggings since I've been on hiatus throughout the night tonight.

Wasssuuppp?

2009-07-13T06:27:00.001-07:00

Over the weekend, the Hubs and I decided to watch Sacha Baron Cohen's (I wonder if he just threw in that Baron part for comedic value?)newest movie, Bruno, that we will all have to endure hearing endless quotage of for the rest of the year (think Borat's "verrrrryyy niccccee.") The Hubs will probably be leading the band wagon as he was still quoting Borat as were walking to our seats. I'm not sure if it was his way of expressing his excitement over seeing a new film that he could rip off in his daily comedic meanderings, or if he was reassuring himself that even if this film flopped he could still fall back on the various Borat catch phrases he'd memorized ("Do you want to make sexy time?") Keep in mind now, I really enjoyed Borat, but didn't feel as much of a need to incorporate it into my everyday vernacular (but enough to sport a "Glorious Khazikstan" t-shirt.)
I was expecting a theater packed with testosterone, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the ratio of men to women was pretty even (KAPOW! Take that sexism!)
Now I'm not going to give away too much of the movie because it makes me want to do the Mexican hat dance on the face of whoever spoils a movie for moi.
What I will say is, be prepared to see full blown penis action....and talking penis holes. That's all I'm saying.
What I do like is that Sacha seems to always find the most uptight groups of people...stage parents, terrorist groups in the middle east, publicists and celebrities, and then makes a movie out of their ignorance. We laugh because we know it's true. Something that seems so outrageous on the screen, like the recurring extreme racism and prejudice in Borat, is a reality for a lot of people (unfortunately) in the grand ole U.S. of A.. Laughter is a powerful thing and by making movie's like Borat and Bruno, Sacha is letting us know, in his own twisted, hilarious way, the things about the world that he finds lacking and exposing it in such a way that even though your laughing, your also thinking. That's exactly why I think he's a comedic genius.
Best line of the movie occurs after congressman Ron Paul pronounces Bruno a “queer,” the flamboyant fashionHEsta laments, “I couldn’t even shtup Rupaul (sic). How am I going to get famous?"

In other news.
This will probably be my only post this week seeing as how I'm going to take a few days off to celebrate my big 2-8 birthday with my friends and kinfolk.
I plan on indulging in lots of adult beverages and I really don't think ya'll want me posting when I'm all pumped full of Kentucky Ale (best beer around in my opinion!) and rum. My birthday falls on a Thursday this year (woot!) so we'll probably be hitting up a karaoke bar of some sort downtown to add that special kind of magic to the night that only singing off key amongst strangers can do. *=-)

So.
Wrapping up.
Go see Bruno but be prepared from some man sausage.
I've survived another year with minimal scarring.
I will be drinking my pants off after Wednesday of this week.
And last but not least. If I post something even more grammatically incorrect than normal about Sasquatch, ice skating or freakishly strong babies, you'll know I'm having a great birthday.

Ciao!

A Pickle By Any Other Name

2009-07-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about pickles.
Particularly about how they start as one thing...and are twisted and manipulated to be something entirely different to suit the whims of people who don't want a cucumber...they want a pickle. Pickles don't grow in the ground obviously or I would have an entire field, would don some overalls, and you could call me Farmer Crit Scallywag (as I'm sure my pirate split personality persona would surface from sheer frustration at my attempt to cultivated my pickle farm to protect me from meltdown. Scallywag Crit ain't gonna' take no shit from no pickles.
I digress.
Sure, they maintain the shape of a cucumber for the most part, with the addition of pursed out imperfections which I'm sure are a by product of sitting in a jar of vinegar and salt. Once you start the process, that pickle will never again be a true cucumber. The smell has changed. The taste has changed. The same could be said for people.
We begin in this world a cucumber, fresh and cool, warmed by the sun until we are harvested by the world and placed in our individual jars until we're suitable little pickles. The life we live seeps into our pores, changing us forever. The choices we make that we wish we could change are the blemishes that others judge us upon.
Very rarely is a cucumber asked if it wants to be a pickle.
Rarer still are the moments when we ask ourselves who we want to be instead of who the world wants us to be.
In recap.
If cucumbers could think about their conundrum it would blow donkey balls for them. Being a person isn't much better unless you use that noodle of yours to be the person you want to be. AND. Last but not least...Critty is one weird bitch for contemplating the imagined inner workings of the cucumber psyche.

Back When Cartoons Only Required the Clicking of a Pencil

2009-07-07T21:37:00.000-07:00

When did cartoons go the way of the dinosaur?
What ever happened to...

The Snorks...

Jabber Jaws-

The X-Men(the cool 90's version that actually tried to follow the comics)-

Darkwing Duck-

Chip-N-Dale Rescue Rangers-

The Shirt Tails-

The Animaniacs-

The Wuzzles-

Kids these days now have things like Rescue Pets (which my niece LOOOOOOOOOOOOVES to watch with zombie-like attentiveness), Barney the Dinosaur (or has he too gone the way of...er...himself?), Backyardigans and other weirdo cartoons like Pokemon (which is like a freaking seizure of flashing lights, strange Japanese animals and some sort of gambling addiction?)
I mean, it's no wonder so many kids are being diagnosed with ADD/ADHD...I wouldn't be able to contain my rage either if I was being told to watch that especially shitty television programing.
I'm glad that shows like The Simpsons, Family Guy, and American Dad are still around and still employ the use of actual cartoonists instead of someone who is hella good with various online photo editing/creation. There's just something special about knowing at least some artists who still use a pencil rather than a mouse still have a job. I'm not trying to knock computer graphic designing, I've enjoyed such computer animated endeavors as Wally, Finding Nemo...etc. I just think it's a little sad that so few cartoons employ the use of cartoonist and opt for puppets or animals stuffed into odd looking wardrobes.
Ahh. I'm becoming one of those old, crotchety people that shake their fist and say "back in my day!"
Damnit. I was hoping I would hold off on that until I got my first gray hair.
I'm off to walk barefoot, up a hill, backwards, in the snow to get a ice cold Cokey Cola for a nickel at the nearest general store 5 miles away.
(Or watch Boomerang and reminisce about the glory days of animation.)

Damn You, Technology!

2009-07-07T09:06:00.000-07:00

So you might have noticed that I've been trying to be all fancy schmancy and make my blog a little "prettier". You might have also noticed that you couldn't leave me comments and I had complaints that people couldn't "Follow Me" due to my attempt to join the ranks of the Uber Cool Bloggers.
Obviously, my lil non cyborg brain just can't grasp how to make it both pretty AND functional.
So.
Here's my plain jane layout.
Please leave a comment so I know that I've cleaned up my fuckery.
Ciao!

Because it's Monday, thats why!

2009-07-06T21:23:00.000-07:00

Instead of writing, I will express myself creatively via Paint...

This is what my brain has been reduced to at 12:25 a.m..

Sunday, Lazy Sunday

2009-07-05T19:07:00.000-07:00

So I've been peeping around in the blogs that I "Follow" and noticed that most of you out there in internet webitron land are also enjoying the mind numbing benefits of a lazy Sunday (or perhaps by the time your reading this it's already Monday and your thinking of calling in sick like moi?)
I've been feeling all "BLECH" today after standing out in the rain with Cassie and Kaycie to watch the fireworks display in downtown Lexington. Don't get me wrong, it was great spending time with my besties, but not so great to have to wear a sweater (but forget your rain coat) on again off again kind of rainy night when the temp is only about 65.
This is my sad rainy face...

We had a fantastically silly time dining out at our favorite Italian restaurant (Johnny Carrino's), shopping and picture taking to pass the time before the festivities (and showers) commenced (or as KC called it, "a memory in the making" my reply to this was "a memory of the hospital bill I have after I catch my freaking death out here!!)...here's some evidence.

KC showing me her abcess...which resulted in a picture that I warmly refer to as "Vagina Face." (for obvious reasons)

Kaycie hanging out on the street looking like a Bruce Springsteen video reject. *=-)

Hanging out in the car before we decide "it will be better to watch the fireworks at the top of that bridge." Yeah, if better is soaking wet with major THO. *=-P

I was asked to be "good" and all I came up with was the old school kindergarten pose. Ain't I an angel? A big breasted, potty mouthed, beer drinking angel? *=-P

Overall, I enjoyed my Fourth of July. The party I had for my clients was a major success (with lots of full bellies and mega smiles), I have yet to die from my exposure to the elements last night and I saw some pretty nifty pyrotechnics.
Now...only 1 1/2 weeks to my vacation time and birthday shenanigans!

Red, White, and Nostalgic

2009-07-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

As I sit here on the eve of the celebration of my nations independence, I feel perturbed that I still have to work. For the health care field, unless your holiday falls on a day you already have off then your expected to haul your keester into work.
As a staff person at a group home for clients with varying degree's of mental retardation and other physical ailments,for most of the company's employees holiday's just mean extra pay. Being the sentimental sap that I am, however, I always try and make a big "to do" and usually end up getting burned trying to cook outrageously large dinners, complete with festive decor and treats like cupcakes, brownie's, pies,etc.. I love to cook and I suppose that shows not only in my hips, but on the faces of the people who enjoy my food.
Very few people with my company know how to cook well. I don't say this to slam on anyone...it's just me stating a fact. Because most of the clients we care for are their own guardian, without diet restrictions, they can pretty much eat whatever they please and they opt for take out about 80% of the time. There are only a handful of houses that have staff that actually cook regularly, and my house is one of those. I am not a cook, chef or sous chef...I'm just a gal who loves not only eating food but making meals for others so I opt to do most of the cooking on my shift (along with all the other things such as medication disbursement, showers, and community involvement.)
For the first time in 7 years I will be off on July 4th. I was both excited and unsettled by this. Because I consider my clients to be a second family I was concerned that they would not receive the usual celebration to mark the holiday in their home. SO, I planned to have a shin dig today so that I know they're taken care of! Perhaps I'm a glutton for punishment (HA! I say that like I don't know, pfft!) I have 30 cupcakes to make, 30 brownies, cookies, hamburgers, hotdogs, homemade potato salad and coleslaw, fruit to dice, dip to make....all in the space of about 3 hours! I'm feelin' froggy, so I think I can handle it. It'll be worth it to see all those smiles. *=-)

In the midst of mentally preparing myself for the rush of getting things ready for my clients today, I'm feeling pretty nostalgic about July 4ths in my past. Here are some of my memories...good and bad.

1.) My brother almost blowing his face off with some sort of insanely illegal fireworks he picked up in Michigan waaaayyyyyy back in the late 80's. We lived on the side of a freaking mountain (no exaggeration), which happened to be slick with dew the night he was firing off his illegal treasure trove and slipped as, what I like to refer to as The Devil's flatulence it's boom was immense, exploded on the ground next to him. I remember waiting for the smoke to clear and hoping my brother was still alive and then kicking him squarely in the shin for scaring me like that ( I was 5) and then latching onto him like a leech for the rest of the night.) Needless to say, at home now, I stick to sparklers.

2.) Being proper rednecks back in the day, my friends and I (we were around 13) opted to ride in the back of my dads pickup truck on our way home from the fireworks display in a nearby town. My Dad tells us if we get a ticket, we're going to have to pay for it since we were the one's who begged to ride in the back of the truck. While my friend Gail and I are laying down, looking up at the stars racing by and enjoying the warm night air, my Dad pulls over onto the shoulder of the road not far from my parents home. I don't know if it was the combination of all the sugar she had that day or the thought of having to pay for a ticket was so terrifying to her, but my friend Gail lept out of the truck and began running up the side of a nearby hill. I'm sitting there dumbfounded since there obviously wasn't a cop behind us as I watch my friend clamber up a hillside in her July 4th sweats and t-shirt. My Dad, being a pack rat by nature, had stopped to pick up a hubcap he had seen laying on the side of the road. By the time we stopped my friends "getaway" she was about 1/4 of a mile away and shivering like a dog left out in the rain. When we asked her what the heck she was doing she shrugged and said "I felt like runnin', so I did." We still laugh about that.

I have more...but I'm running out of time to write this darn blog. I'm off to bump heads with other pre-fourth of July shoppers to get some last minute essentials.
Happy 4th everyone. Enjoy your adult beverages, pyrotechnics, watermelon and various grilled meats. *=-)

I ♥ Geeks

2009-06-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

...and nerds, dorks and the various other labels associated with people with big, firm, filled to the brim brains. No gook, goo and black stuff for them, they have mathematics to mull over and video games to code!
I married a self proclaimed nerd 3 years ago and have never looked back. He plays Dungeons and Dragons, loves video games and enjoys working mathematics equations (which makes me quiver in terror and delight all at once!) He taught yours truly how to play Magic The Gathering (which I've become quite good at) and we've spent many nights/days just reading in the same room together. My only qualm with him is that he loathes the outdoors, which I love, but I suppose it comes with the territory. You don't get very good internet connection when your hiking and tanning is expressly forbidden when you take the nerd oath (or so he says.) So I'm content to have some things that I do just for me (like being outdoors) and I leave him to his D20's.
Did I mention he played the tuba in band?
*feels all twitterpated*

Here's my nerdy love while gaming...and something has obviously gone amiss.

Now to share a lil something funny since I'm over my middle finger, mediocre Monday blues.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while i porn surfed, weak and weary,
over many a strange and spurious site of 'hot xxx galore'.
While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour,
" 'Tis not possible!", i muttered, "give me back my free hardcore!"
quoth the server, 404."

Yarrgggg.

2009-06-29T20:57:00.000-07:00

I'm having a middle finger, mediocre Monday. Nothing particularly bad has happened to sour my usually jovial mood aside from the fact that it's a freaking Monday. My vacation is tantalizingly close which, so far, has only served to make me as mean as a three legged dog on a hamster wheel.
I've felt the compelling urge to walk around grimacing like a swarthy pirate and maybe throw in a few "Yarrrgggggsss" for people who ask me how my weekend went. This is how I think the conversation would go...

Unsuspecting co-worker" Hey Crit, how'd the BBQ you had this past weekend go" *insert smile and head cocked slightly to the side*
Evil Marauding Pirate Crit- "Yarrrgggg! *insert eye squint and a voice that sounds like I've taken 3 shots of Everclear straight* You be shuttin' your trap wench or you'll be swimming with the fishes, disguarded NKOTB comeback merchandise and the latest Jessica Simpson movie, Yarrgggg!!!"
Unsuspecting co-worker-"Are you okay Crit? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" *insert concerned expression and yet another cockatoo-esque head tilt*
Evil Marauding Pirate Crit-"I be warning ya' and your loose lips have sealed your doom much like that of Lindsay Lohan's acting "credibility" after "I Know Who Killed Me" *insert boot to ass, and manical pirate laughter*

Really though, the BBQ was a success, the birthday girl was happy and I have a nice new tan.

My hatred of dance nightclubs was reinforced after being guilted in attempting to stifle my loathing for the sake of KC and promptly having a panic attack amidst an odd array of arabic men and college Greek goons and really fucking loud rap music. I left that hell hole after only 10 minutes. I'm so ready to return to my hole in the wall, pub type places. Someday I hope to find a place just like Moe's (or maybe start my own?)

Time to end my Debbie Downer tirade. Here's hoping for a better Tuesday and the end of my swarthy pirate alter ego. *=-P

Only Michael Jackson Could Make Red Leather, Sequined Gloves and Zombies Look Cohesive

2009-06-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

As an artist, I can appreciate the level of commitment Michael Jackson had towards his craft. Like most ridiculously creative famous artists, he had his hangups. Hell, we all have our little "things". I remain skeptical that MJ was a child molester. Unusual, yes. Creepy, sorta, but no more so than a relative you don't see often enough for them to recognize your personal boundaries (i.e. cheek pinching, excessive hugging, etc.) I think the man was so ostresized by his iconic status that his social skills became nill. Hanging out with kids was easier, no pressure (or at least I can see why he would have thought that). Generally kids don't scheme, unless conditioned to do so. I just had to get on my soap box there for a minute.
I'm not a fanatic fan and have no plans to find arrangements to be off of work just to go and place flowers on his star in Hollywood nor will I race to touch the vehicle that will carry his body to it's final resting place. I will not get a MJ tattoo. You get it, I'm just another face among millions that is taking the time to remember Michael Jackson the musician. I'm remeniscing of my childhood and all the songs of his that have become intertwined with those memories.
"Thriller" is one of the best songs/videos in the history of pop culture.
"Billy Jean" can make just about anyone's hips gyrate.
Here's to a life well spent, songs well written and one helluva signature dance move.
Rest in piece Michael, sequined gloves will never quite be the same.
*best read when listening to Michael Jackson's "Heaven Can Wait"

In your heaaaaddddd...zombieeeesss.....insert Cranberries song here

2009-06-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

For the last three weeks I've had various dreams all with one central theme....zombie apocalypse.
Although I'm an avid movie goer with a special place in my heart reserved solely for the "horror" genre, I haven't watched zombie cinema that was worth a damn since Shaun of the Dead.
Anyway, my dreams have been pretty flippin' realistic. I've woken up at least once a night since the dreams started even when taking melatonin (which helps combat my insomniac tendencies) with a cold sweat and much elevated heart beat.
It's times like this that I wish I had a gypsy, psychic, dream interpreter-ish friend to ask what the significance is in watching my parents get mauled by zombies or watching myself lop off zombie heads via a motorcycle I wish I had, or lead a group of nomadic survivors from one location to the next while looking for a can of pineapples to complete a zombie cure (or if they're anything like ham, a great way to baste one!) I always knew pineapple was a wonder fruit.

Zombie's have been on my mind (brraaaaiinnnnnsss!!??) so often lately that I actually had an honest to God discussion with a friend of mine on why zombie's are always thought of as brain eaters. That idea didn't come from the zombie that first orginiated in voodoo culture, they were just people that bugged the shit out of their family and friends enough that said family and friends would consult with a bokor (a fancy schmancy term for socerer) to have "annoying persons" light switch" turned off. In other words, they went and got themselves zombiefied ( I can think of several applications where this would be handy in my own everyday life but have yet to meet a bokur in KY suburbia.) And how, pray tell, are said brain dead zombie creatures supposed to get to our brains anyhow? Our skulls are pretty freaking tough...and zombies, well traditional zombies, are pretty fucking stupid. You don't get super powers when you join the ranks of the undead...so how the hell are zombies supposed to be able to just chew thru the human skull? If you don't count "Dawn of the Dead" zombies aren't capable of using power tools (or in that movie operating rifles and sawed off shot guns)....
Ahhh...this is were my thoughts have been as of late. No working on the cure of cancer or writing the great American novel for moi...I've got zombie's on the brain.

In other news, I'm hosting a BBQ for Kaycie's 27th birthday this weekend. She's neurotic enough to want to host the party a week in advance just to bypass July 4th shennanigans. When I say host, I just mean I'm relaying the message to everyone we know. She's the only person I know that plans their own birthday gatherings, her requirements are that specific. The night is going to include going to a new local nightclub, the Bakers 360 lounge in downtown Lex (which is thankfully only about 2 miles away from my house.) The place looks kind of pretentious (whereas I prefer dives, pubs, taverns, things of a more low key nature) but I'll go for the sake of my friend. Yarrrg. I'll be sure to let ya'll know if that went over like a lead balloon or not.
Welp, it's about time I head out and get some festive do dads for the party.
Remember, in case of a zombie apocalypse...*best when listening to Rob Zombie's "Living Dead Girl"*

Madame, You Must Eradicate Your Weeds

2009-06-21T20:03:00.001-07:00

How do everyone! My, my, my what a weekend this has been! (can't you tell by all the exclamation marks?)
My weekend started Friday night with an impromptu invitation and acceptance by yours truly to go and watch a friends husbands friends band play immediately after work. Since I wasn't in the mood to veg out and watch the re-make of Friday the 13th (I'm still nervous to watch it as I've heard quite a few "mediocre" reviews and I'm a die hard horror fan) I slapped on some war paint and commenced to paint the town red with friends (okay, maybe not red, but at least a fuchsia color.) I was told this band was a Tool cover band but soon found out they were a really bad mimic of Clutch and Queens of the Stoneage (both bands I enjoy normally.) The lead singer of the group was trying way too hard to stand out in appearance (I'm assuming because his singing abilities were sub par) and was wearing fishnets on his hands, a weird looking grandma skirt (not a cool kilt like Jonathan Davis from Korn) and some pink and black striped tights that I'm quite certain he picked up from the ladies section at Hot Topic. After about an hour of listening to him scream and strut like a peacock on crystal meth, I bid adieu to my poor friend who's husband was insisting they stay and finish out the performance. I met two other friends at a local tavern to wrap up the stifling humid night with some cold drinks and a long discussion about tattoo's we wish to get in the future.

My friend Jason watching the band and trying not to noticeably cringe. We listen to a lot of live music and this was waaaay on the bottom.

Saturday morning I wake up and check the mail like a good little suburban housewife and find a letter from our neighborhood association. Hmmm....seems interesting so I open it immediately to see why the powers that be of Masterson Station had sent us a letter. It turns out our flower bed "did not meet neighborhood standards" and we had "many weeds that needed to be "eradicated". I look out the window at our bed and do notice a couple of blades of grass poking up through the lava rock but nothing like the botanical garden that is indicated in the letter. When I think of the word "eradicated" I think of ensuing in battle with an unstoppable rebel force and striking them down without mercy. Telling me to "eradicate" my "weeds" just seemed a little dramatic but I suppose it is on the top of the list of "thou shalt not's" for the old turds that run the neighborhood association and have nothing better to do with their time or printer ink. You'll be happy to know I "eradicated" the hell out those weeds and took no prisoners.
Later that night I went in to spend some time with the pooches and drink some tasty adult beverages. For some reason unbeknownst to me my rat terrier/chihuahua mix Peanut and my friends Siberian Husky, Emma (kind of like David and Goliath) get into a UFC style fighting match that took me, my friend KC and 5 full minutes to get them apart. Peanut, who was taking the brunt of the beating since she is so much smaller, went on to latch onto Emma's ass as we were pulling Emma off of her and didn't let go until I picked her up and pried her little mouth off of Emma's furry behind. Upon further inspection after both parties settled down I noticed that Peanut had a gash in her ear and a puncture wound in her cheek. When it comes to my dogs, I'm quite the mother hen so I was pretty distressed to find that my furry, four legged companion was injured. In fact, I started sobbing like a 6 year old who discovered that she/he had only been given clothes on Christmas morning, but managed to Google dog wound care and follow procedures to ensure that her wound would not get infected (it's looking much better today and is healing quite nicely.)

Sunday the hubby and I watched "Year One" with Jack Black and Michael Cera, two actors whose movies usually bring me great satisfaction. Unfortunately, Year One was pretty mediocre with scenes here and there that were funny (usually the ones they used in the trailer.) The best part was a preview for the upcoming rock and sock 'em, blow their brains out, ass kickin' Woody Harrelson movie "ZombieLand".

Well, I'm finally watching Friday the 13th, so I'm off to give it a thumbs up or the finger. Ciao!
*best read when listening to Kings of Leon's "Closer"*

From Where I'm Sitting

2009-06-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

From where I'm sitting I can see two dogs running around like the devil was chasin' 'em with a red hot poker when actually they're just happy to be alive, together and well fed.
From where I'm sitting I watch said dogs chew happily on the foot of another animal (cow hoof) oblivious to how right or wrong it is for them to be entertained/joyful about chewing on the mode of transportation of another creature. I am not immune to the comedies/tragedies of everyday life or how fine a line exists between those two very different realities. I work five days a week for a "better life". I work for the weekends, those two out of 7 of my life when I am rarely expected to be anything other than another person throwing money into the commercial, economic war- machine that is American society. I am corrupted by the very things I enjoy. I make a choice everyday to continue as I am or rebel against this life I've made for myself.
From where I'm sitting I see my lawn freshly mowed by the hand of someone I've never met. My lawn is someone's job. Is this the American dream?
From where I'm sitting I can see a life that is mine, good or bad. I stretch my toes and relish my right to paint them whatever whacky color that comes to mind. Today they are a sultry red, nothing fancy, nothing too funky, but vibrant and alive. Maybe I'll change the color or maybe I'll wait until it's chipped and faded because I tell myself I'm too busy to fix it.
The best part about where I am sitting is that should I choose, I can sit somewhere else.
No wait.
I can stand somewhere else. Because the problem isn't with what I'm seeing but how I'm seeing it. I live a life seen through many angles and am all the better for it.
"Change is inevitable. Except from a vending machine."
*best read when listening to Band of Horses sing "The Funeral". *

Ciao!

That Meredith Brooks Gal Must Have Met Me In the Summertime

2009-06-18T21:52:00.001-07:00

Tonight as I was driving home, singing GNR's "Sweet Child of Mine" with great enthusiasm (as I am quite the rock star within' the confines of my own car) I noticed my first lightning bug of the season. It was then I realized that it is officially summertime in the bluegrass state. I have mixed feelings about the summer. Actually, I'm not a "summer" person. I don't like the stifling heat and humidity that seem to go hand in hand during the summer in Kentucky. I definitely don't like the severe storms (until recently I had a such a fear of storms that I would cower in my bathtub with a flashlight, a bottle of water and my cell phone whenever a tornado watch was issued), or at least storms that could potentially produce winds strong enough to rip my freaking house out of the ground. I despise being hot. I know most people don't relish it, but I loathe being overheated. I become a cranky, foul-mouthed, golum whenever the temperature gets over 85 and I'm forced to be out and about. The only cure is to get me to a large body of water and let me splash around. If I have access to a pool, a lake (maybe one day the ocean?) then I don't mind the hot days.
I'm a moody bitch.
I spend a lot more time out and about at night during the summer. I suppose you could say I'm a summertime vampire.
Just thinking about this time of the year makes me yearn for patios, bbq's, ice cold beers/drinks and good friends. Maybe not at my house so much this year because the cleanup of said get togethers is just too much of a hassle during a hangover. This summer I want to be the annoying person that leaves beer bottles just laying randomly around, without a coaster (I know this is such a "woman" complaint, but how hard is it really to move your fucking beer 2 inches and put it on the huge coaster right in front of you?hmmmmmm!?) for someone else to clean up.
I'm tentatively making plans to visit Chicago for the first time next month. I have a good friend who lives just a few minutes away from downtown and is offering me a free place to stay for a few days. I've passed up the opportunity about 5 times now so evidently the 6th times a charm.
I think I'm going to go and Google things to do on my trip. If ya'll have any ideas, comments or piercing critical insights, lemme know.

Ciao!

Monday's Are Not The Devil After All

2009-06-15T21:59:00.000-07:00

Stop the presses, baton down the hatches, I just participated in something unnatural that I just had to share via this blog.
Are you ready?
Just take a minute to prepare yourself.

I had a good Monday.!!!! I know, it seems like quite an oxymoron but it's true! After my absolutely tragic Friday and a mediocre Saturday followed by a mind numbingly pathetic Sunday spent cleaning, Monday came in just in time to salvage my three day weekend. Don't ya' just love surprises like that?
I finally got some things finished around the house that I've been putting off...well, since we moved in last May. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction now when I walk by our office and see that my old HP desktop has been placed in a nice retirement home (aka closet) and that wiring of the television, X-Box, DVD player, and cable box are now tactfully concealed (why don't we have wireless everything by now anyway?!)
My sister is in Lexington for business and I finally got to show her where I hang my hat (or would be if I had been wearing a hat today). Normally, my husband and I are quite nomadic. Even before our nuptials I moved regularly, every year just like clockwork. My sister hadn't seen my living quarters in over 3 years. She lives in TN, pretty close to Gatlinburg so it's a pretty decent drive for her to head this far "north" (still makes me laugh when she calls me a yankee) especially with a 3 year old and a 11 month old so it's usually just easier for me (who is childless unless you count the four-legged variety) to just visit her. It was strange seeing her without the kids, as I love them like a fat kid loves cake, but it was also nice to get qt time with my lil sis. We went out to eat and laughed about things I hadn't thought of in a long time. It's so rejuvenating to be around people who have known you, good and bad, your entire life. Here' s a picture of sis eating (I'm sure she'd love to know I posted this for all to see.)

Over the weekend I had a really bad experience at Wal-Mart trying to return a set of Phillips Magnavox laptop speakers I had bought a couple of weeks ago that stopped working properly after one day. The customer service associate might as well have been taking my mugshot and accusing me of grand larsony, so "immense" was her customer servicing abilities (please tell me you picked up on the sarcasm!?). So I didn't have my receipt, I know from personal experience (i.e. five years of working for the company) that Wal-Mart will take anything just short of used diapers and that heffer was telling me there was no way they could take back 2 week old speakers? I call bullshit. The didn't even check the box, or my ID. I left feeling frustrated and irritated.
Tonight I took the speakers to a Wal-Mart on the other side of town and had a gift card with the balance of the speakers on it after about 2 seconds. The only question I was asked was if they worked or not (not) and then, click, clack, thank you very much. This was the power of my mysteriously good Monday.
After dropping my exhausted sister back off at her hotel, Dan and I went to watch "The Hangover". What an incredibly funny movie! I'm not one to watch and tell so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's well worth the movie admission.
Now my night is wrapping up with a little DWF (doggie wrestling federation) between Emma (the siberian husky) and Buddy (the minature cattle dog). What better way to go to sleep than with a smile from four legged shenanigans? Oh sweet Monday, thou was kind to me today.

Mrs. Saturday Night Special

2009-06-13T22:43:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday night which is a night of drinks with friends and social gatherings for most. Tonight, for yours truly, it means putting on my sweats, dusting of my Lord of the Rings trilogy (with the Hobbit prequel to begin production next year sometime I just discovered!) and settling in for a night spent avoiding doing laundry, playing with my pups and maybe dipping into my stash of Edy's Fully Loaded Choclate Waffle Cone ice cream (insert zombiesque drooling here.)
Instead of longing to be out and hustling about, knocking back a few brewskies and laughing at the general buffoonery that occurs when large groups of people gather in tiny spaces (i.e. bars) and consume large amounts of alcohol, I am quite happy to be cozied up in my own little piece-o-the-pie and relaxing. Don't get me wrong, I still like drinking (but it's a bit more refined these days) and I adore spending time with friends I don't get to see often enough, but nights like this don't make me restless the way they once did.
I like nights were I can reflect or just zone out and slow down. I am so sick to death with fast this, quick that, one hour there...all the instant gratification and half assed rushing.
Needless to say I'm relishing this time. The only thing I wish I had done was pick up a bottle of wine to help me slip into my slow-down-Saturday-stupor.
Yesterday was a truly shitty Friday. I do assisted living for individuals with varying degree's of mental retardation (and a plethora of other mental conditions) which often times involves cleaning up every bodily fluid imaginable. Yesterday's output was times about a 100.
On top of that my husbands ever so "wonderful" cat, Spookshow Baby, knocked my brand new cell phone into a sink full of dishwater.

Snap.
Crackle.
Pop.
That is the sound a $50 insurance premium being tacked onto my next months phone bill. I am convinced that cat is Hitler re-incarnated.

So tonight is glorious in all of it's boring glory.
Uh oh...Gandalf is about to throw down with Balrog. I gotta' go get my geek on.

Later lovelies!

Music is Food for the Soul

2009-06-11T22:30:00.000-07:00

First and foremost let me start off by saying that I was not gifted with any special musical abilities. I have no idea how to play any instruments other than air guitar, which I rock at. If you laid sheet music in front of me it would be the equivalent of asking me to interpret heiroglyphics, it just ain't gonna' happen. I took the mandatory music classes and fizzled my way through them somehow but playing an instrument just never clicked with me. Most of my friends were "band" kids. I'm now married to a former tuba player. I can only think of two of my friends who are just as musically illiterate as myself and I have alotta friends.
It's not like I'm not drawn to music.
Au contrar.
I'm quite the music fanatic. I can appreciate the musical stylings of just about any genre. I listen to music for about 4 hours on any given day. When I'm in the car, the stereo is on. When I'm on my computer I have music playing (right now I'm listening to an indie artist known as Santigold).
When I'm in the shower I bring my MP3 player docking station in and listen while I soap up. You get it. I realllllllly love music.
Music enables us to express ourselves even if we aren't strumming the guitar or belting out mind melting vocals. A song can unlock a memory, lyrics can drive home a thought we've been tossing around for days, a rhythm can bring us out of a funk thats had us hiding out in our houses for days.
Music feeds our souls. It helps us capture a moment, a mood, a lifetime. Can you imagine a sporting event without ACDC's "Thunderstruck"? A wedding without Frank Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight"? A mosh pit without the Dropkick Murphy's "Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye"?
An 80's dance party without Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me?" It just would not be the same.
It's 1:30 a.m.
What else would I be doing if not listening to music at nearly 2 .m.? Would I be half as inspired if Dave Mathhews Band was not crooning "Love of my Life" to me at this very moment? I think not.

As I age my vision can fade. My sense of taste can dull. My sense of smell is already kaput.
Just spare my ears Father Time. Without them, I do not think I could bare this world.

Snapshots

2009-06-09T08:12:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I worked for Wal-Mart, that superstore conglomerate that makes billions of dollars a year and refuses to provide adequate benefits to it's employees that put up with every degree of stupidity the world has to offer (can you tell I didn't carry many happy memories away from the five years of my life I gave to them?) In spite of leaving with an anxiety disorder and a much lowered opinion of the general public, my time spent there was not all threats and snotty remarks.
The first four years I spent there, I worked in the one hour photo center.As I developed the photo's of others I developed my own love for photography. Like everyone I worked with I became enamoured by the photography process and decided I could do better than the average Joe Camera with a little practice . I bought a Nikon N75 SLR (it uses film and not a memory card) and went about testing my creative ability by taking pictures of anything and everything. I spent many afternoons just driving around snapping pictures that I then took to work and developed and edited in the lab. I loved having free reign during our down time to work on my own photo's. This was the time before the current reich and employees at Wal-Mart had considerably more freedom ( we didn't have a strict dress code, we didn't get fired for being late, and we sure as shit didn't have . My photo's were often used for in store promotions, particularly when I volunteered with the Madison County animal shelter and took photo's of the dogs/cats available for adoption and used those photo's on the labs greeting cards. This helped out the sales of the cards and also helped many dogs/cats find forever homes (before the store got a new manager who didn't like the "clutter" of the promotion and discontinued it, heartless bastard.)
I have had one published photo. I have never sold a print (I've never tried).
I take photo's because I like capturing something brillaint on film. Time machines may not yet exist, but we do have our ways of preserving a point in time, of capturing a moment of time to share for years to come.
I haven't been taking many photo's lately but I hope to change that this summer. Film is hella expensive to develop (you buy the film and process the film unlike it's digital counterpart.) I did have a digital camera for general snapshots but it doesn't touch the picture quality of my SLR even before I dropped and broke it as a drunken casualty of my last Halloween party. If I had about $700 laying around I'm sure I could get a comparable digital SLR (something perhaps to consider in the future but for now is out of the question.) but for now the Nikon will have to do.
Perhaps in a future blog I will post more than 1 or 2 of my photo's to get some feedback. Unfortunately they are all still stored on my old computer and I've been too lackluster and lazy to transfer them to my nifty new laptop. I also have several rolls of negatives I need to have transferred to CD of various trips to New Orleans, pets, portraits I've done for friends and loved ones and even my sisters wedding.
I'm off to dust off my lens and get ta' snapping. Ciao!

The published photo titled "Butterflies Do Dream"

I call this "A Vampires Nightmare"

"Give Mother Earth a Hand"

"Doing the Cha Cha On My Heart"

Looking Back

2009-06-05T22:39:00.000-07:00

Tonight was my ten year high school class reunion and I totally skipped it.
I didn't skip because there wouldn't be anyone there I liked, because several of my good friends from the past (many of whom are still my good friends.)
I didn't skip because I was fearful of not appearing successful or pretty enough in comparison to the rest of our graduating class as I'm quite happy and proud of who I am and where I am at this point in the hopefully long journey of my life.
I didn't skip because it was too far away.
I didn't skip because I hated high school (I was lucky to have lots of good times with lots of really great people over those 4 years.)
I skipped because it didn't feel like something I needed. I know, it sounds odd but it's really the main reason that I'm sitting here typing this blog instead of hanging out with friends at our old stomping grounds.
Sure it would have been nice to see everyone as I'm naturally inquisitive. I'm sure I would have had a good time laughing good heartedly as countless stories of yore were spun about the room in voices I hadn't heard talking together in ten years. When it came down to it, when I asked myself "is this something you want to do?" I felt very nonchalant. If you had asked me 10 years ago if I would attend my ten year reunion I would have emphatically said yes.
I skipped because I know in my heart that the people that are supposed to be in my life are. I think it would have to be exhausting to repeat the same schpill about 30 times tonight. Actually I know it would have been because I have to repeat myself regularly at work. Maybe I sound like a queen "B" or that I'm knocking anyone who enjoys/enjoyed their class reunion. Absolutely not. It's just not "my thing".
I remember so many things. I remember laughing so much during highschool. I remember thinking Steven Estep was a muse sent to inspire a love of English in anyone willing to listen to how passionately he loved Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I remember playing Egyptian rat screw in the library with Jonathan, Penny, Chanda, Gail, Jamie, Jo and whoever else wandered by with nothing particular to do.
I can't imagine being in that building and not seeing the usual suspects. Under 30 people RSVP'ed out of a class of 80 or 90. How strange it would be to not hear those voices but to hear others.
I'm nostalgic tonight and as I drift off to sleep I will wish everyone from the ACHS graduating class of '99 all the best.

A Case of the Monday's.

2009-06-01T21:04:00.000-07:00

I didn't win the lottey tonight even though I thought it would be in the cosmic order of things for my ultimately shitty day to be rectified with millions upon millions of dollars.

It was a long day filled with moments of me asking myself "why am I doing this", "why is this happening", "how did I get here?" . A day that at the end of it you wish you had a jacuzzi, some blackberry wine and an imminent vacation to distract you from the sour feeling in the pit of your stomach and the aches in your muscles.

I work with elderly people daily. It isn't a nursing home, but it is an assisted living program for individuals with various degrees of mental retardation and a plethora of other mental illnesses. Most days, I love what I do. I love that I get the opportunity to help enrich the lives of this incredibly special popuplation of indviduals. I love the people I take care of, I love hearing that all the small things that I do on a daily basis are appreciated and noted. Who doesn't love to have their ego stroked now and again? As human beings it's a driving factor to be "needed". It's motivating to be complimented.

But it's also very human to feel beat down in spite of all of the upsides on days when you feel like an american turned loose on European roadways for the first time. Your doing exactly what you would be doing on most days of your life, but somehow it's all wrong.

It's terrifying to watch people get old and break down. To watch people normally filled with vitality fade away and become husks of their former selves. Someone dear to me that I take care of is just like that....and it plucks at my already super sensitive heart strings.

I need a vacation, some time away to do some living. To paint, to express all of these things that are churning and turning inside of me. To relax and let go of all the baggage I'm carrying around from work. To worry about what it is that I want to do, to put myself first and not feel guilty about that.

I'm tired. I'm emotionally drained. I have a case of the Monday's.

Sometimes we have to just delve into the darker sides of ourselves. Sometimes we have to feel sad, to mourn , to be angry and lost so that we can move forward with a better grasp of our limitations. Without that expression, we stunt our own emotional growth.

Don't be afraid to FEEL! It's when you stop caring, when you stop getting angry and hurt that you can be concerned for yourself.

Just breathe and endure.

“Endurance is nobler than strength and patience than beauty.”- John Ruskin

The Weekend Recap

2009-06-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

It's Monday and I thought what better way to start the day than by reviewing the fun things I partook of during the weekend before the bitter work related nonsense of the average Monday corrupts my memories.
Originally my friend KC and I were supposed to go to the Hell City Tattoo Festival in Columbus, OH with my friend Jason. Life happened and we could not make it so I ended up spending a lot of time getting to know my own "backyard", i.e. the area surrounding my home. I also spent some time in my old stomping grounds of south east KY visiting with my family and acting silly with my young niece and nephew (ages 3 and 11 months).
Last week was a four day work week for most and I was no exception. I might have worked on Monday but I was off on Friday and set off on a three hour road trip to Garrett, KY with my faithful companion and husband being kind enough to drive while I fiddled with the radio, snapped random camera phone photo's with our three dogs in tow. I have seen very few things to rival the natural beauty of Kentucky in the spring time. Having grown up in the bluegrass state I often take for granted the plethora of flora at our disposal but this weekend I was tuned in and my eyes were fixed and ready to drink it all in.
We spent several hours just talking, hugging and laughing with family before making our way back up to Lexington that Friday night.
Saturday we overslept and missed out on the Farmers Market by about 30 minutes. Since we were already downtown we decided to take a stroll and get to know some of the local businesses. I had no idea that most of the shops and restaurants downtown closed around 3 pm (which coincided with the closing of the Farmers Market) so we did a lot of window shopping and general goofing off. That night Daniel and I decided to try out a "new to us" pizza place over in the Hamburg shopping plaza called "Old Chicago". Their claim to fame was the large number of beers they served (over 110 brews with over 30 on tap!), which we didn't get to try out since it was just the two of us and it wasn't fair for one to get to drink while the other just sort of sat around and watched, so we ordered a Chicago style pizza and some soft drinks.
Oh.
My.
God.
That was THE best pizza I have ever had the pleasure of eating! Nice crispy crust (even on the bottom which shocked the bejeebies outta me), fantastic sauce and fresh ingredients came together to create the perfect pizza! I'm dead serious, if your ever in town visiting or if you have an Old Chicago near you that you haven't tried yet, DO IT!
To end the night we bought a bottle of a local vineyards ( Acres of Land) Concord grape wine and settled in for the night watching the CW's "Supernatural" season 3 on DVD ( love that show!)
Sunday was spent outdoors about 90% of the time. KC and I took our dogs to the Masterson Station dog park for a couple of hours and just let them run around while we took the opportunity to get in a little exercise of our own by walking laps around the 6 acre, fenced in park. After dropping off our 4 drooly mouthed furry family members we picked up one slightly less furry Daniel and made our way the Yuko En Japanese friendship garden of Georgetown, KY (which is only about 8 miles away from our home here on the north side of Lexington.) I was expecting something a little more...well more, but thought the concept of the garden was nice (even if the potential was not yet fully realized.) There were lots of fun moments of walking about, communing with mother nature all the usual hippie stuff that helps me center myself.
The weekend was wrapped up with a mini cookout (just some fat free weiners and roasted potatos) while watching the MTV movie awards (just because Andy Samberg was hosting AND they had some pretty cool clips of upcoming movies I was to see.) On a negative note it was revealed what a total douche Eminem really is after a mishap stunt were Sascha Cohen (aka Borat, AKA Ali G, AKA Bruno last night) landed on his lap ass first (minus pants) on Eminem's face. The rapper best known for supposedly having a sense of humor at least when it's at the expense of others, stormed out of the ceremony entourage in tow red faced and cursing. Will the real Slim Shady, please grow up, please grow up?

Well that was my weekend in a nutshell. It might not have been what I had planned, but it was certainly fun! Here's hoping the week goes well.
Ciao!

Toes

2009-05-28T08:24:00.000-07:00

Another night comes and goes and here I sit looking at my toes.

How many miles have I walked in this life of mine? How many more do I have to go? Where will these toes take me? Will they all make it or will there be casualties along the way?

Toes are to our feet what our friends and family are to our soul, those little lifelines that keep you grounded and stable (or at least as stable as one can be in a world as tumultous as this one) without which life would be a wobbly mess.

I've never really thought about how important my toes really are until tonight. Yet another thing taken for granted because they've always been there. I've looked at them and thought "hey that nail polish looks crack-a-lackin" or "not too shabby" but I've never looked at them for the important appendages that they are.

Whether your a foot conesseiur or you want to retch at the sight of them, toes are pretty damned important.

Do something nice for your toes today, because without them you'd be screwed.

&hearts Nostalgia &hearts

2009-05-27T07:25:00.000-07:00

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are being treated". - Mahatma Ghandi

I have been an animal fanatic for about as long as I can remember. Actually, one of my first memories is of my Dad placing me on a Shetland pony he had given to my sister and I as a gift (seeing as how my Dad is also an animal lover, it was a gift for him just about as much as it was for us) and feeling as if everything in the universe had just fallen into place. We all have those moments of clarity, those times when you just know that you are in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. For me, that moment was when I was 3 years old. I would not say it was my calling or that I'm sort of proverbial Dr. Dolittle who goes about carrying on philosophic conversations with chickens and rabbits (which we also raised along with a plethora of other horses, goats, doves, a couple of cows, ducks, several dogs and cats, pigs and even a llama for a short period of time) but I did know that, generally speaking, I just felt more at ease when I was hanging out with the animals than I did with most people. In some ways, this still applies to me today. I'm not saying I don't like people, I'm just saying that if you asked me who it was easier to spend time with 90% of the time I'm going to prefer hanging out with those of the furry persuasion. I'm not a hermit, I'm not a crazy cat lady, I'm just more at ease with something with a cold nose and warm heart.
I wasn't one of those kids who just wanted 15 minutes of cuddle time a day with whatever animal phase I was going through at the moment ( you know the types, kids who just HAVE to have a duck or a puppy, love it for maybe 2 days and then the responsibility falls on Mom and Dad to clean the poop, provide food, water and shelter and ultimately find it an appropriate home) I enjoyed helping my dad at feeding time. At least 2 hours of every evening was spent mucking (shoveling for laymen) out the barn, providing food and water, brushing manes and tails, clipping hooves, and various other activities that were dependent on whatever animal we were currently taking care of.
My parents house became known as a sort of "shelter" or "go-between" for animals that just didn't "work out" (like the 15 minute pets mentioned earlier) for families that thought it seemed "like a good idea at the time" to get that bunny, those ducks, that pony, or that puppy. My Dad never turned anyone away. We provided a safe haven, sometimes for months at a time, until a proper home surfaced for the abandoned furry (feathery) friend.
I miss those days of getting up early and staying up late, walking along side my dad in rubber boots that were at least 3 sizes too big, learning what a immense responsibility it was to care for such a variety and multitude of animals. I miss the smell of horses and sweet feed laced with molasses ( a favorite for any horse with any taste buds), of hearing my Dad laugh as I tried to catch the wily rabbit that wiggled it's way out of it's cage,and riding horses with my sister as fast as we dared to go.

I haven't abandoned my animal loving ways. I currently have 3 dogs and 1 cat that I share my home with. I still get that feeling that all is right with the world when I get nuzzled with a cold nose at the end of a long day. As I'm typing this I have two dogs sleeping peacefully beside me bidding their time until I finish up and take them to the park to romp around with their neighborhood amigos. I look forward to the day when I have a home on a piece of land large enough for me to have horses again and maybe build my own no-kill animal shelter. Until then, I'll keep my memories close and my heart open.
Ciao.

Notable Television Programs This Summer

2009-05-26T09:26:00.001-07:00

I would not consider myself a couch potato by any means but I have to admit there are a couple of shows that are being premiered or returning for this summer that I anticipate greatly. That being said, I thought I'd share the objects of my desire via this new fangled blog. So, on the nights when I'm not out livin' la vida loca this is what I'll be doing.

First and foremost there's the return of Trueblood on HBO. I specifically added HBO to my current cable package JUST so I could watch the debut of this series based on the Charlaine Harris Southern Vampire novels (also referred to as the Sookie Stackhouse novels). I've been a fan of Charlaine's writing for about 5 years now and was super excited to hear that one of my favorite herroines was being brough to life by the wonderful Alan Ball (for those of you not familar with the name, he is the creator of the phenomonal HBO series Six Feet Under). This is NOT Twilight. This is a show for adults and deals with adult themes (i.e. lots of hot, freaky deaky sex). I really suggest those of you that follow the show and haven't read the books to do so. They are fun, interesting and creative. The second season commences on Sunday, June 14th. Be there or be square. *=-P

I don't know if it's the choice of song (Journey's "Don't Stop Believing") or if I'm just slipping, but I'm anxious to see if the new Fox series "Glee" is as hilarious as the commercials would lead us to believe. Maybe it's the fact that my ten year highschool reunion is coming up (which I'm passing on since I procrastinated too long about RSVP'ing thanks to being so insanely busy with classes) and I'm feeling nostalgic, but this quirky highschool dramedy looks promising. I misses the series premiere thanks to work, but will be Huluing it (gotta' love that site!) to see if it met my high expectations.

Well, that really sums up what I'm looking forward to in terms of T.V. viewing for the summer. Sorry if I made it sound like I had a long, winding list. I really prefer reading, but thats for another blog.

Ciao!

Some Things I'm Looking Forward to This Summer

2009-05-25T21:17:00.000-07:00

Before it gets insanely hot, I'd like to spend some time getting in touch with my inner woods-woman. I've only been camping once in my life and that was over 5 years ago. It's one of my favorite (and more foggy) memories thanks to drinking insane amounts of tequila, being with some of my closest friends, and being blissfully free of cell phones/the internet/TV. I've always wanted to go camping at Red River Gorge but am leery after my Dad informed me that it's a snake haven during the warm months. I might want to get in touch with nature but do not claim to be one with all of the creatures found there. In no way, shape or form do I want to share close quarters with an animal of the slithering persuasion. Cumberland Gap seems like a pretty ideal place to camp and being a Cancer I'm naturally drawn to water so it seems pretty perfect to camp out there. The next obstacle to overcome is finding people to go camping with me. Daniel despises the outdoors, Heather Jo is pregnant and not really able to go traipsing out into the woods with me, Cassie prefers luxury hotels with swimming pools and everyone else is sort of up in the air when it comes to the weekend. So, I need volunteers.

This coming weekend is the Hell City Tattoo festival in Columbus, OH. Jason gave an open invitation for tag alongs and I decided to take him up on the offer seeing as how I really enjoy tattoo artistry. We'll get there Saturday May 31st and will be heading back down to KY the following morning. Daniel is a no go, so KC will be hitching a ride as well. It'll be nice to get out of a town for a bit, see some killer artwork and meet some cool artsy peeps.

I'm hoping to catch a few live music shows this summer. Nothing charges me quite like hearing great music live. There's something to be said about being in a really good crowd that really connects with whats being played. I can easily see why so many people strive for rock stardom and why they have so many people tagging along to roady.

Spending time with my family is something that I definitely look forward to doing with the extra free time I have being out of school for the summer. Time waits for no one, and my niece and nephew are growing far too fast for me not to make time to enjoy the time they have left as kids.

In short I'm hoping for a fantastic summer. Your invited to tag along...

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time” John Lubbock

This is interesting

2009-05-25T10:34:00.001-07:00

I've decided that I have entirely too much free time this summer, so I took it upon myself to document my shennanigans via my own personal blog. This is probably the 9th blog I've hosted and I'll hopefully be able to resist the uncontrollable urge to move on to "bigger and better" things.