The Life and Times of Apparently Crazy

It's been a while...

2007-08-02T13:51:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm updating (not that anyone reads). I stopped blogging here when I decided to move back to Hollywood. SO glad that I did. Things have turned around for me ten-fold and I'm much happier again.

After I moved down, I found that the shop that hired me was another joke. Not that it didn't have business, but they swore that a "Toastmaster Toaster Oven" (kid you not, TOASTMASTER) was an autoclave. After I found this out, I packed my shit immediately and figured I'd end up moving back to Northern California.

Instead, the shop I had previously been working at hired me back earlier than expected. I was supposed to go back in March? May? something like that, I can't remember, but I went back the first week that I was in Hollywood.

After April, the APP convention came and went and when I arrived back home, the staff at the shop was informed that they were shutting down.

Within a few days, I'd relocated to another Hollywood shop. Much like "the Morgue", it was completely dead. I kid you not, in 2 weeks of 12 hour shifts, I made a TOTAL of $20. I walked out on them and went to hang out for a couple of weeks at a shop in Pasadena.

I was offered another job (pretty much the dream position for a piercer) at a world-renowned shop in Anaheim... so I took it. Although the commute sort of sucks, I adore the job, so it makes it all worth it.

K - now you're updated (vague, I know, but it's an update). I may or may not continue this particular blog. I do LOVE the name (brings back some really funny memories) but it's been dedicated to "The Morgue" since I started it and it seems a shame to screw with it, despite it's tiny stature.

We'll see, I'm sure.

The Best (and WORST) Survey Ever

2006-11-28T21:08:00.000-08:00

This should aptly be entitled: I was so bored, I couldn't do anything but answer these insane questions, to which you will read half of and laugh, then shake your head and close the page.

It could also be titled: Somewhere near 200 things you really didn't want to know about me. So here goes.

What is your name?: Wouldn't you like to know?
Are you named after anyone?: Fuck no. My mother never wanted a kid to begin with, so why on earth would she name me after someone she loved?
What's your screename?: Apparently Crazy (because I am).
Would you name a child of yours after you?: HELL NO.
If you were born a member of the opposite sex what would your name be?: Um, gee... something else?
If you could switch names with a friend who would it be?: It would have to be the boy's name. It's interesting.
Are there any mispronounciations/typos that ppl do w/ your name constantly?: YES, all the freaking time. No one says my name right, not even the people I've known for years. I've learned to answer to almost anything said to anyone.
Would you drop your last name if you became famous?: I am famous, damn it. Can't you see that? Imbecile.

The Basics
Your gender:: Female
Straight/Gay/Bi:: All of the above. Wanna see?
Single?: I wouldn't call it that.
If not, do you want to be?: Not necessarily.
Birthdate:: Ages upon ages ago, why? Wanna travel back in time?
Your age:: Too fucking old.
Age you act:: 12
Age you wish you were:: 22
Your height:: 5' 10"? Well, before the ankle incident.
Eye color:: Green
Happy with it?: Do I have a reason not to be?
Hair color:: At the moment, Black. Naturally? Red.
Happy with it?: Sure, why not?
Lefty/righty/ambidextrous:: Ambidextrous in most things, right hand dominant though.
Your living arrangement:: What's arranged about it? The fact that my cabinets are immaculate and I don't have rent or mortgage right now thrills me.
Your family:: What about them?
Have any pets?: Several small furry creatures. Some of which, I'm sure were meant to be children that wreak havoc on everything they come into contact with.
Whats your job?: Hole Poker.
Piercings?: Like a seive.
Tattoos?: Enough to give a color printer a run for it's money.
Obsessions?: Too many to count.
Addictions?: Besides sleep? Maybe the computer.
Do you speak another language?: Ja. Oui. Si. Da. Sim. Shall I go on? I say thank you and goodbye in all of those languages, too. And I can order enchiladas like a mother-fucker.
Have a favorite quote?: Faith is believing in something that common sense tells you is wrong. (Note: I personally have none of that garbage - faith, that is)
Do you have a webpage?: Many, why do you ask? Want me to put this there? HA

Deep Thoughts About Life and You in it
Do you live in the moment?: If you want to call it that. Right now is a moment. I think I'm still breathing. Wait, now's another moment. Still got a pulse. Oh - that's not what you meant? Depends on where I am and who I'm with.
Do you consider yourself tolerant of others?: HAHAHA... do you even READ this blog?
Do you have any secrets?: All kinds. Want to hear some? Pffft.
Do you hate yourself?: Not at all, why? Do YOU hate YOURSELF?
Do you like your handwriting?: What does handwriting have to do with anything? I type EVERYTHING.
Do you have any bad habits?: Nooooo.... not ANY. Except my obsessive-compulsive behaviors. Oh yeah, and I like to purchase clothing and makeup and then never wear it.
What is the compliment you get from most people?: If you consider being commented on my OCDs for organization compliments, then sure, that's the most compliments I get. If you mean about my pretty eyes... that's a long shot from the other compliments, but I get that a lot.
If a movie was made about your life, what would it be called?: Holy goddamn shit... she really DID go postal!
What's your biggest fear?: I fear that I will one day completely lose my mind and forget how to use a computer. And a toilet.
Can you sing?: Sadly, I most certainly can. Better than most, actually. No, I'm not just full of myself.
Do you ever pretend to be someone else just to look cool?: Come on, you think there's someone better than me? Pffft.
Are you a loner?: Although I would LIKE to be, there's too many people out there that consider myself my friend to try to pull that one off.
What are your #1 priorities in life?: Besides my family? Um, I guess that would be making money in some form.
If you were another person, would you be friends with you?: I'd be afraid of me. 'Nuff said.
Are you a daredevil?: Although I'd love to say that my broken bones say so, I'm not much of the daredevil unless you get a few drinks in me. Then, if dared, I'll become a devil - and you do NOT want to hear the things that come out of my mouth.
Is there anything you fear or hate about yourself?: I hate the fact that I'm so judgemental over people, but at the same time, it weeds out the ignorant.
Are you passive or agressive?: Depends on the situation. With people in general, Agressive. With men, Passive. VERY passive.
Do you have a journal?: Nooooo. What the fuck do you think you've been reading? A newspaper?
What is your greatest strength and weakness?: Strength - weeding out the ignorant. Weakness - having the heart to tell someone how bad they look/smell/etc.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?: I would have told my boss in 2002/2003 that he's a slimeball and therefore, would have gone for a much-needed surgery instead of laying low when he said I couldn't have the time off for a "pre-existing condition" that I had before starting there.
Do you think you are emotionally strong?: Most of the time, but when I get angry, I tend to flood those emotions into raging fits of crying/screaming/throwing.
Is there anything you regret doing/not doing in life?: Sure, but why would I tell you those things? Am I an open book or something?
Do you think life has been good so far?: Hmph. That's all I can say. I'm better off than this guy, and worse off than the next, so it's not so bad, right?
What is the most important lesson you've learned from life?: Act on your first impulse from time to time. Actually, most of the time. Heh.
What do you like the most about your body?: My big boobies. Actually, just the cleavage they create. And my eyes. Definitely my eyes.
And least?: Probably my thighs. Or that slight chicken gobble thing under my chin. YUCK.
Do you think you are good looking?: Depends on what day it is.
Are you confident?: Very much so.
What is the fictional character you are most like?: I am my own fictional character, aren't you?
Are you perceived wrongly?: All the time. People like judging books by their covers.

Do You...
Smoke?: Never even tried it.
Do drugs?: Again, see above.
Read the newspaper?: Everyday.
Pray?: Only to the gods in my head. And occasionally the aliens to come take me home.
Go to church?: HAHAHAHAHAHA - again, you must not have ever read my blogs.
Talk to strangers who IM you?: Sadly, all the fucking time. Then I call them out for being molesters, predators, and stalkers.
Sleep with stuffed animals?: Hmmm... I think the boy might resent being called that.
Take walks in the rain?: Only if it's warm out. Then, hell no. I'm like a wet cat in the rain.
Talk to people even though you hate them?: Nope, I YELL at people I hate.
Drive?: Fast. And crazy. And offensively.
Like to drive fast?: Noooo, isn't that what I just said?

Would or Have You Ever?
Liked your voice?: Yep, but only singing. I hate hearing it otherwise.
Hurt yourself?: Other than the broken bones? I'm sure I have.
Been out of the country?: Nearly every country, why? Wanna get a passport and hop the next plane with me?
Eaten something that made other people sick?: No, it's usually me that gets the foodborne illnesses.
Been in love?: When have I not been?
Done drugs?: Not a single time in my life. Don't you read anything?
Gone skinny dipping?: Heh. If I said I couldn't remember, would you believe me?
Had a medical emergency?: Repeatedly.
Had surgery?: Hell, I look like Raggedy Ann beneath these pretty clothes.
Ran away from home?: Sadly, no. Not further than a few houses, anyway. Unless you count that time that I moved out for 6 months.
Played strip poker?: Yep. Wanna know who won? Yeah, not gonna tell you... Neener, neener.
Gotten beaten up?: Nope.
Beaten someone up?: A couple of girls. Now before you go bashing, remember, I'm a girl, too... and they shouldn't start something by pulling a knife on someone bigger than them.
Been picked on?: Countless times.
Been on stage?: Many, many, many - innumerable, countless times.
Slept outdoors?: Again, many times. I love the outdoors. As long as there are no mosquitos, that is.
Thought about suicide?: Suicide, to me, is completely selfish. You're only thinking about yourself and not your friends and family. Fuck anyone selfish enough to think that way.
Pulled an all nighter?: You could say that. Does 4 days count? And no, again, read above, I was NOT on drugs. I was either working my ass off or puking my guts up.
If yes, what is your record?: I don't know the hour count exactly, it was 4 freaking days.
Gone one day without food?: Yeah, several actually. I tend to not eat when I don't feel well (and when I get surgeries or get stressed out).
Talked on the phone all night?: Yep, many times. I think almost all of those times were in high school and junior high though.
Slept together with the opposite sex w/o actually having sex?: Many times. Many times more than sleeping together WITH sex.
Slept all day?: A few times.
Killed someone?: Do you really want the answer to this? Come on, you take me for being THAT insane? Pffft.
Made out with a stranger?: Heh. Yep, sure have. What was his name again? LOL Kidding.
Had sex with a stranger?: Sadly, yes on both accounts. And yes, I really DO remember his name. And his name. And her name. And. Yeah, whore, I know. Whatever. You did it, too. Ok, so they weren't "strangers" but I hadn't known them long. Ok? Does that suit you? Again, KIDDING!!!
Thought you're going crazy?: I AM crazy.
Kissed the same sex?: Hell yeah, I have.
Done anything sexual with the same sex?: Whoo, buddy. You do not want to go there. Some kinky ass shit up in here. (NOT kidding)
Been betrayed?: Of course. Sadly, on several occasions.
Had a dream that came true?: More than you know.
Broken the law?: Like Judas Priest.
Met a famous person?: Too many to count.
Have you ever killed an animal by accident?: Not even accidentally.
On purpose?: Not a chance in hell.
Told a secret you swore you wouldn't tell?: Unfortunately, yes. But for other people's safety.
Stolen anything?: In the sixth grade, I stole a pair of dangly earrings and a handful of makeup. I was a bad, bad girl.
Been on radio/tv?: Yes on both accounts. Many times.
Been in a mosh-pit?: Yep. Even been dragged into one when I didn't want to be there.
Had a nervous breakdown?: Back in high school, yes. The counseling center was spastic over it.
Bungee jumped?: Not a chance in hell. What ARE those people thinking? Kill me now???
Had a dream that kept coming back?: From the time I was 8 years old up until a few years ago, one in particular.

Beliefs
Believe in life on other planets?: I have a hard time believing in life on this one.
Miracles?: HA. What's that?
Astrology?: Are you kidding me? The stars are going to align and like a dream, I'll win the lottery? Fuck that.
Magic?: Slight of hand, yes. Magic, no.
God?: You must be kidding. Go back and read that "Faith" quote again.
Satan?: This one's about the same as the one before this... who really believes in these made up fairytales about this dude that no one can see named god and his archnemesis, satan?
Santa?: I am santa, you nit!
Ghosts?: Sadly, yes. Only because I've seen some freaky ass shit in my day.
Luck?: karma.
Love at first sight?: Only because it's happened. How 'bout you?
Yin and yang (that good cant exist w/o bad)?: Whatever.
Witches?: Only the ones with green faces, big warts, and a cauldron. Oh yeah, she has to fly around on a broom, too. Where's my ogre?
Easter bunny?: Suuuuure. A colored-egg laying rabbit that never shows up in my yard. The only Easter Bunny I believe in is the chocolate one that I get to bite the ears off of.
Believe its possible to remain faithful forever?: To a person, or a belief? Hmmm?
Believe theres a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?: Sure. And unicorns frolic in my backyard daily.
Do you wish on stars?: When I was younger, maybe, but come on... a planet circling the Earth with no conscious though? OF COURSE I'll wish on it. Whatever.

Deep Theological Questions
Do you believe in the traditional view of Heaven and Hell?: No, why, do you?
Do you think God has a gender?: There is no god people... just some fictional story that's been passed down and changed through the generations. Good grief! Have some common sense, people... he, she, nor it has ever been seen... doesn't that tell you SOMETHING?!?!?! I don't honestly know - so PROVE it to me!
Do you believe in organized religion?: NO. Emphatically, NO.
Where do you think we go when we die?: Well, if you're buried, then in the ground. Otherwise, on someone's mantle or dresser after we've been put in a small jar/box/or urn.

Friends
Do you have any gay/lesbian friends?: Yes.
Who is your best friend?: Like I'm going to tell you! OK, it's a real tossup as far as friends go... I could go with the old standby, Gunslinger... or perhaps CBL.
Who's the one person that knows most about you?: Other than myself? Gunslinger.
What's the best advice that anyone has ever given to you?: Don't wipe with that!!!!
Your favourite inside joke?: Wouldn't you like to know?
Thing you're picked on most about?: My obsession for organized office/kitchen space.
Who's your longest known friend?: Um... if you mean the best friend of mine that I've known the longest? Gunslinger. Damn, he's pretty important, huh?
Newest?: Propmaster, UHTG, or FE (Oh yeah, if you don't know these names, go back to my first two posts and you'll understand them).
Shyest?: Shyboy. Self-explanitory.
Funniest?: I'd have to say either Propmaster or a guy from online that I chat with constantly. We'll call him LORD. He keeps me in stitches. Did I just say that? Jeez *shaking head*
Sweetest?: Man of Steel
Closest?: Are you asking me to rank my friends?
Weirdest?: Propmaster again. Dude, you just have to see this guy to understand!
Smartest?: Damn it all, I'M the smartest. What ARE you thinking?
Ditziest?: Oh jeez. A girl from up here that's not on my list. She's more of an acquaintance, but she is certainly ditzy.
Friends you miss being close to the most?: Now this is just becoming silly and stupid. If I had to answer, it would be Gunslinger. I miss him.
Last person you talked to online?: Some bitchy girl on eBay that wanted a refund three minutes after paying because SHE didn't read the auction listing. Too bad, lady. If it means negative feedback, so be it. I've already got your money and was charged a listing and a selling fee for it (see, that's the bitch in me talking).
Who do you talk to most online?: LORD
Who are you on the phone with most?: Customers. I HATE the phone.
Who do you trust most?: Nobody. I have no trust. OK, I take that back. I trust Gunslinger and CBL because they've never done me wrong. Yet.
Who listens to your problems?: Who doesn't? You're reading, aren't you?
Who do you fight most with?: Myself. No, ME. No, MEEE!
Who's the nicest?: The Kid
Who's the most outgoing?: Propmaster or CBL
Who's the best singer?: Me. I don't know of anyone else who can really sing.
Who's on your shit-list?: The crazy stalker bitch. I'll keep her out of this journal though. She's enough to drive one set of readers insane, I don't need you guys following.
Have you ever thought of having sex with a friend?: Been there, done that.
Who's your second family?: My Hollywood job. They have to be my second family to put up with me.
Do you always feel understood?: Never.
Who's the loudest friend?: CBL. Give her a couple of beers and away she goes!
Do you trust others easily?: Not a chance in hell.
Who's house were you last in?: I don't like going into other people's homes. I truly don't. I'll chose to sit in the car instead. Probably the real answer would be my mother-in-law's house (nearly a month ago) or CBL's apartment (freaking months ago).
Name one person who's arms you feel safe in:: Me, feel safe? Hmm. Is this a trick question? Are you probing me with your deadly mind-reading lasers again?
Do your friends know you?: Only a few of them really know me.
Friend that lives farthest away:: How far would you consider dead? If you mean alive, Um... currently Japan, I believe. Though she's moving to New Zealand.

Love and All That
Do you consider love a mistake?: Sometimes.
What do you find romantic?: Dimly lit room, low music, you know... mushy crap.
Turn-on?: Sexy eyes.
Turn-off?: The rest of y'all (joking, ya moron).
First kiss?: I think it was your mom. Ok, no seriously, some freaky wanna -be -a- husband -stealing -bitch's boyfriend waaaaay back in junior high. There's a story to that, it just doesn't need to be here.
If someone u had no interest in had interest in dating u how would u feel?: I'd learn how to spell the word "you", because I'm not Prince. If they figured that much out, it depends on who they are and what their motive is. MWAHAHAHA
Do you prefer knowing someone before dating them: Huh? I wasn't paying attention. I just enjoy meaningless sex. What's this "dating" thing???
Have u ever wished it was more socially acceptable 4 a girl 2 ask a guy out: Who gives a rat's ass... what's this, an add-on? Learn to spell. What are you, like eight?
Have you ever been romantically attracted to someone physically unattractive: Yeah, and this one time at band camp....
Do you think the opposite sex finds you good looking?: I don't really give a crap. If I want them? I'll let them know, if they don't want me? Into the trash and onto the next one..
What is best about the opposite sex?: Everything and nothing at all. Yes, at the same time.
What is the worst thing about the opposite sex?: Probably the same thing that's bad about the same sex! *gasp!*
What's the last present someone gave you?: Remember the bit about secrets?
Are you in love?: Um... you don't know me very well, do you? What kind of heartless bitch talks about that? Don't you have to HAVE a heart to be in love? LOL
Do you consider your significant other hot?: Is this with clothing or without? And if it's with, then what's he wearing? Because a padded flannel just doesn't get me all hot and bothered.

Who Was the Last Person...
That haunted you?: What kind of crap question is that?
You wanted to kill?: Stalker bitch. And I swear, if she comes around me, you'll know who did it. Keep reading the papers. I have a feeling it WILL happen. (right)
That you laughed at?: Ghosthunter.
That laughed at you?: I don't recall anyone anytime in the past few years laughing at me. Why? Did you laugh at me?
That turned you on?: Other than the sexy bitches on my myspace page? A whole slew of men. AND women. ;) Wouldn't you like to know?
You went shopping with?: Myself. And prior to that, with ummm... Whiny and Filmstrip.
That broke your heart?: We won't go there.
To disappoint you?: Not gonna answer this one, either.
To ask you out?: Holy crap... there was this creepy guy in Hollywood, CBL will know who I'm talking about. Talk about YUCK! Other than that, I'm not giving away my secrets.
To make you cry?: Myself. I get mad often, and when I'm enraged, the tears flow.
To brighten up your day?: Someone. Everyday.
That you thought about?: Um, again, someone... you just reminded me of him, remember?
You saw a movie with?: Whiny and Filmstrip. They are the BEST movie cuddlers.
You talked to on the phone?: Someone from Macy's.
You talked to through IM/ICQ?: Not gonna tell you that one! Hee hee.
You saw?: I see ghosts right now. Don't you?
You lost?: We don't speak about these things.

Right This Moment...
Are you going out?: It's late evening. I'm not going anywhere. It's freezing anyway, I should be under the covers with my laptop. Thanks again, CBL.
Will it be with your significant other?: It's Tuesday, so most likely.
Or some random person?: Dude, what's with the dating obsession?
What are you wearing right now?: I'm fully clothed, what's it matter? Do you really want those nightmares if I weren't?
Body part you're touching right now:: My head. Smacking it repeatedly.
What are you worried about right now?: Wondering if I'll lose my mind before I reach the end of this dreaded survey.
What book are you reading?: I'm not. I'm on the web, right now. When I'm OFF the web, however, I'm in the middle of two books, both adapted from screenplays, sadly. The Devil Wears Prada... and Snakes on a Plane. WHY OH WHY did it have to be Snakes on a Plane?
What's on your mousepad?: I don't use a mousepad. I have optical mice. Fuck that stinky foam crap.
Use 5 words to describe how you're feeling:: Besides bored? Insane comes to mind. As does tired. And is there a word for wanting to pull all your hair out? Or another word for having to pee?
Are you bored?: Jeezus H. Mother-fucking Christ. Didn't I just answer that.
Are you tired?: AAAAARGHH!!!!
Are you talking to anyone online?: I'm trying my best not to.
Are you talking to anyone on the phone?: Fuck that. a) at this hour? and b) again, I HATE the phone!
Are you lonely or content?: Well, I'd say content, but I'm about to go nuts.
Are you listening to music?: Only the music that's currently accompanying the voices in my head. Morons.

You know, I used to be a mail carrier...

2006-11-24T17:33:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up to a wonderful sight... my PayPal account brimming with Christmas dollars and 10 or so items paid for! Fan-tabulous! I immediately start printing packing slips and postage through the USPS website. I loooooove the USPS website for allowing us to "streamline" things.

I have one small glitch (a customs form that I had to hunt for that took a WHOPPING two minutes to locate). Yeah, I have one global priority package to go out with just one single content... a book that someone just paid over $300 for! WOOHOO!

So, with all of my packages packed and addressed and labeled with postage, I travel to our local Post Office for the miraculous, quick and easy drop-off.

Yet another 40 minutes spent in line at the United States Post Office. When I arrived, I simply wanted to mail my packages. They were pre-addressed and prepaid in a flat-rate mailers, I just needed to drop the damned things off. But who was in front of me?

Old Fart with Hair in Ears: You must be 80 years old, if a day. Is this your first time to the post office? I figure it must be since you had the clerk list EVERY POSSIBLE METHOD of mailing your damn package! When the clerk finally stopped and looked hopefully at you, you then began asking the most inane questions imaginable: Is delivery confirmation the same as certified? Will the recipient be told the package is from me? (I still have no idea what he meant). If I send it next-day-mail will it get there in three days?

Fat Woman with Dirty Feet in Dirtier Sandals: Here’s a tip: have your package packed and addressed prior to getting to the window. You had plenty of time in line. Heck, you probably had plenty of time at home. Indeed, since you are grossly and morbidly obese with the filthiest feet I have ever seen, only exceeded by those black sandals (which I think were originally white), I imagine that you have had nothing but idle time on your hands for the past decade or two, except when eating. Why wait until you get to the window to address your package? Oh? What’s that? You weren’t sure what state Indianapolis is in? Oh. I see. I bet your friends or family in Indianapolis simply toss your package as soon as it arrives at the house. I sure wouldn’t open anything from a fat fleabag like you.

Fat Guy with Dirty Overalls: Passport Application? Where in the hell do you think you are going? We had to stand and watch as you asked the clerk about what every question on the application meant, including County of Residence, and then watch as you started to fill in the form with what appeared to be a black crayon. I mean, seriously, do you really think the U.S. authorities are going to let you leave our country and travel abroad, where foreigners can see you? Our reputation is bad enough. Of course, it is possible that you were with Fat Woman with Dirty Feet, and so think you need the passport for travel to Indianapolis. I’m glad the clerk told you to move your butt and fill out the form elsewhere.

Middle-Age Woman with the Wool Hat: Did you have to look at EVERY damn sheet of stamps in the place? Stamps are used to put on envelopes for mailing. Just ask for a damn roll of stamps and take whatever the clerk feels like giving you (usually American Flag). We are sorry that the post office was out of “Quilts of America” stamps; we understand that your soul pined for these quilt stamps which you did not realize existed until you saw the picture of them in the glass case next to the counter. However, did you have to explain to the clerk why you like quilts? Did you honestly have to tell the story of the quilts your grandmother used to have and passed down to you, or that they were ‘air-looms’ (come on, lady... say it with me, one word... HEIRLOOMS), or that one quilt takes 100 years to make? (I actually doubted that last statement of Middle-Age Woman with Wool Hat; it seems like a long time to make what is essentially a blanket).

Mexican-American Male with Relatives Back Home in Mexico: Jesus, how many money orders do you need? I’ve been standing here for 10 minutes while the clerk prepares money order after money order. THEN we have to wait while you address the dozen or so envelopes to put the money orders in. I guess I enjoyed, to a reasonable degree, how you suddenly could not understand one blessed word of English when the clerk asked you to step aside so the next customer could be waited on. Instead, we all watched as you painstakingly addressed each envelope to your relatives back in the Old Country (using, I think, the same black crayon as Fat Guy with Dirty Overalls).

Well-Dressed Gentleman with Briefcase: One Stamp? You literally stood in line for 30 minutes so you could check the postage on your envelope, only to be told you needed another 20 cents? And you paid with a Twenty? What the hell is going on? Couldn't you go to the machine out front? It takes bills, too!

Pregnant Woman with Hyper Child: keep your damn kid by your side. I do not appreciate your child doing a war dance in front of me, or staring at me like I am the freakiest thing she has ever seen (which rather unnerved me and was a blow to my self-confidence, given some of the people standing in line). I do appreciate that when you reached the window that all you wanted was a Change of Address card, which the clerk pointed out were in a basket on a nearby table. Ah well, at least your child got the opportunity to irritate fellow human beings.

Young Lady in Front of Me: You were pretty good-looking, so I was rather pleased that you were in front of me. I was also impressed, as I’m sure everyone in the post office was, that you are one of the few in this land of ours to have a cellular telephone and that you have friends to talk to on said phone. I wonder, what do your friends really think when you call them out of the blue, due to your being bored standing in line, and ask them ‘what are you doing’?, only to not wait for an answer but to dive right in into a detailed description of your day? Take it from me, no one cares what you had been doing for the past few hours, especially since you appear to lead an utterly shallow, pointless life (ok, good, so you got some damn overpriced coffee at a Starbucks and then went by the cleaners, only to find out they do not open until 10 a.m.). Plus, when you finally get up to the window, and mailed your manila envelope for $2.62, did you really have to pay with a damn credit card? You didn’t have three lousy bucks? Also, don’t you understand the difference between a credit card and a debit card? Is that why you asked the clerk “which is the one with the numbers” (I think she meant that you had to use a PIN number to activate).

Of course, when I got to the window the clerk spent another five minutes trying to convince me to mail one of my packages (the global one with customs tag on the front - listing the contents as ONE BOOK) media mail instead of priority delivery (which would mean a 3 week+ wait for the book instead of 2-3 business days).

Like I just told you a minute ago, lady... I'm just dropping this crap off, it's already paid for and finished... I should be your EASIEST customer of the day, but now I'm really perturbed that you'd even ASK that on a parcel that's not only paid for, but I also just paid YOUR EMPLOYERS, THE GOVERNMENT 30 times what you're trying to switch my package to.

I guess Postal Service training has REALLY gone downhill since I worked there, because this lady barely has the brainpower of a rock, yet she still works there.

Meanwhile, I look back, and all the people in line behind me are glaring at me like I (of all people) am holding things up. Sweet.

Fuck the Postal Service. I'm switchin' to FedEx.

Did the CBL finally go off the deep end?

2006-11-20T19:23:00.000-08:00

If I didn't know better (because I actually emailed and asked her if she personally wrote this), I SWEAR that I would pin this letter posted on Craigslist on her. Either that or myself in a drunken bender, but that doesn't happen with me.

CBL has had her fair share of schmucks roaming through her love life (or is that lust life?) and 9 of 10 are just that, SCHMUCKS. The other is a walking nightmare, I believe.

Anyway, this Craigslist posting sincerely sums it up... and I'm telling you, now that I've showed, her, she probably WILL repost it as her own. Anyone up for a challenge? Must be cute, have a large cock, at LEAST a mid-range 5-figure income (preferably 6-figure) and be willing to eat at the Y daily.

I mean, DAMN.

Date: 2006-10-10, 7:03PM CDT

On a first date:

I probably will not put out, although, upon cessation of said date I will violently rape my "Rabbit" and envision your hands and mouth all over my body. We may discuss this in the future, if I decide you're worthy of more conversation.

In an effort to further my not-putting-out goal, I will not shave and will wear mis-matched socks. Just remember this if you respond to this ad, we go out, and you are having dirty thoughts over dinner. UNSHAVEN/MISMATCHED (just repeat it to yourself. You may be surprised how quickly wood will disappear)

I will engage you in conversation, perhaps shock you with hilarious stories of my past. I may use "big" words, and I refuse to dummy down for anyone.

I will make you laugh, assuming you have a brain and the personality to "get it".

I won't order a salad, nor will I order the most expensive entree. If I am hungry, I will eat.

I may call you the following day. I may not.

On the second date:

I may, in fact, put out. Why? Because I find few people meet/exceed my expectations enough to be granted a second date. I'm not promising I'll shave
(kidding).

We will discuss the ridiculous happenings in both of our worlds since the last time we spoke.

I may ask you to leave following copulation. I may snuggle. The truth is I own a vagina and cannot decide at the present time how I will feel/react after sex.

Yes, I just typed all of that. Now, here's where the prospect pool will thin accordingly...

YOU MUST BE:
of the caucasian persuasion or have a light complexion
funny
loquacious (dunno what that means? You're OUT!)
driven
single (that means not LEGALLY married)
under 38
over 23
not somebody's baby-daddy. Having kids is one thing, but you KNOW that terminology.
drug/disease free (everyone knows you can tell if someone has AIDS by looking)
sarcastic
well-mannered, for appearances
able to leave work at work when necessary. This implies employment
educated (beauty school and diesel college do not count)
NOT AN AUDIO ENGINEER/SINGER-SONG WRITER/OTHER MUSICAL FAILURE
act like a man. If I wanted a questionable fag, I'd date a girl. They smell
better, anyway.

I AM...

Over one-night stands. I'm not in college anymore, and thank God Girls Gone Wild never visited back in my hay-day.

Very comfortable in my skin. Unafraid. Equally unashamed.

Not looking to get married, but over the fuck buddy status.

Able to say "no" and scream "yes".

Calm, collected, logical, rational, politically incorrect, and witty

TOGETHER, WE WILL:
bowl
play trivia
act like raging dickheads in public establishments
giggle at midgets
fornicate regularly
discuss books
drink excessively if the mood strikes (however, alcoholics need not apply)
laugh at others and harder at ourselves
one-up each other

WE WILL NOT:
involve species other than homo-sapiens in our bedroom routine (for clarification, other homo-sapiens MAY possibly be included if so requested).
yell, argue, act like gigantic three-year-olds when we're upset
be dishonest
care what everyone else thinks
do any activity with one another's family more than once a month (less if possible)
act like something doesn't bother us, when it does
throw low-blows in times of frustration
comment on one another's figure negatively

Oh, and just to make sure I don't attract the wrong type of man, here comes what some of you will be dismayed at...

I'm not the healthiest individual, but surprisingly, I'm not a walking heart attack. If you appear to be more than 2.5 months pregnant, don't respond. Just my preference.

I have 28 of my original 32. You should have all that are visible - at the very least 24 of 32. If you don't know what I'm referring to, don't respond. If you know what I am referring to, and you just took the time to "count", you probably should also sit this one out.

I'm short. Or I feel short. I don't care how tall or short you are so long as your girth does not exceed your height and I don't have to look down at your head unless you're visiting the y.

I'm not into anything sexual that involves blood shed or leaves marks. General ass-slapping and hair pulling = perfectly acceptable. Donkey punches, not so much. Yes, I did just type that. Dirty Sanchez is out, as well.

Bring your A-game, bitches.

Chirp, Chirp... CHIRP.

2006-11-14T22:00:00.000-08:00

Yep. That's the freaking sound of crickets. One of the few sounds one might hear at The Morgue.

It certainly lived up to it's name, once again today, when not ONE SINGLE PERSON came through the door. AT ALL. And we received ONE SOLITARY PHONE CALL. And even it happened to be from Cryptkeeper's bandmate, calling about band practice.

Funny enough, Cryptkeeper is back to his old self like he was when WE owned the old shop... "Ugh, I just got really sick all at once... I'm going to get my stuff and go home". And with that, he left. At like 3:30.

That's funny, when WE owned the old shop, it was us, sick or not, that stayed until closing time no matter what. And if one of us got sick, even if we were in two cars, if it was ever bad enough to go home (which on a few occasions, it was), we'd either go lay down in the lounge area or secluded in our rooms so that no one else got sick. We then waited for the other to get off work and take us home.

If it's bad enough to GO home, it's bad enough that we certainly shouldn't be driving.

Apparently, to Cryptkeeper, sheer boredom and lack of business ethics mean that he can go home whenever he pleases (which is what he's been doing pretty much every fucking day). So today when he came up with his miniscule excuse, we just waved goodbye, like we do everyday. Whatever. Hope you "feel better".

Hell, I even got "grumped at" (not griped at, because he's got to say it under his breath or I might leave - heaven forbid) for using the printer for my own personal use (printing a shipping label).

That's funny... since I bought the refill kit and filled the damned thing, I think that I have the right to use every last DROP of that ink in there and don't want to hear a damned thing about it. If he's got a problem with that, he can kiss my rosy pink asscheeks and I'll pack my stuff and go... he can hunt for another piercer. Oh wait, what about that guy in Wisconsin that says he's moving out here? and HAS been saying that for months?... yeah, that's panning out. I'd love to see how THAT works out.

I'm sincerely ready to go file for aid and anything else I can do for a buck. I'm obviously NOT making money at The Morgue.

Pink is the New Bitch

2006-11-08T22:29:00.000-08:00

Today was a day like any other. Completely uneventful at The Morgue.

We arrived at work (yet again) something like an hour and a half late. One day we might make it to work on time. Riiiight. I'll believe it when I see it.

Cryptkeeper was on his way out the door when we came in. The printer/fax was out of ink, he mentioned. I figured he was on his way to get ink. Nope, just left to go run some personal errands. Ahh... I remember the times. It's nice to be the boss.

Anyway, because the printer/fax was out of ink, the other printer in the shop has been shuffled back and forth from the consultation room to the reception area. Today was no exception... the shocker was that I whined about moving the beastly printer and The Kid said, "go sit down, I'll get it for you". I swear, I thought I was hearing incorrectly. The Kid has... *gasp* Manners??? A man in OUR shop has MANNERS?!?!?!

WOW. Completely in awe of The Kid.

The Kid's girlfriend, per usual, showed up about 15 minutes after Cryptkeeper left. She had MiniKid in tow. Mini Kid is a pretty good kid (still waiting for the beams to shoot out of his eyes and strike one of us down because he'd rather devour our brains). Today he went straight to "The dungeon"... the room that Cryptkeeper made up and placed a buttload of toys in for a faux-daycare. Come on... daycare in a tattoo studio? Is that even legal?

Anyway, MiniKid is happily playing with the toys in The Dungeon and mom has to go pick up the other kiddo. I call him DSM - Dark Skinned Marvel. Because although both mom and dad are blonde and light-eyed and have pale skin, this one has super dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair. Hmmm... Milkman, anyone?

We never got to see DSM today though... about halfway to picking him up, The Kid called her to come back because MiniKid was SO happily playing that he, uh, "made a doodie". In his pants... he got up and tried to locate the bathroom among the many closed doors at The Morgue, but it was too late (and far too confusing). He did it before he got the pants down. Poor guy... he was trying to find it, but he's never been in The Dungeon before and got all turned around.

The Kid took him outside so that no one would be offended (we weren't offended, and seeing as how it was just the two of them and myself and Hubby, we understood... we have kids, too). Mom showed back up with a change of clothes and everything in the world was right again. MiniKid went right back to The Dungeon, where he decided that Barbie needed to drive around a while in G.I. Joe's Hummer.

In the meanwhile, during the "poopie incident", I was bored and roaming, hunting for SOMETHING to do... I located a chair that over the past few days has, at some point in time, become quite broken... with the full stem of the chair (which USED to be moveable) jammed down into the base of the chair.

At first, I hunted down some pliers and tried to pull it back out of the base post, but it was just too stuck, so I grabbed a hammer. Easy enough... a couple of quick hits from the other end and it was dislodged. I put the chair back together (the correct way this time) and put the tools away.

Cryptkeeper was shocked and amazed when he saw me sitting on the newly-repaired chair when he got back. "But how?" he asked... when I told him, he just kind of nodded, like he came up with the "plan" and fixed it himself. As he was walking away, he started mumbling something about "not being able to fix it", "was gonna throw it away", "too far gone", and my personal favorite... "A hammer? How the hell did she fix it with a hammer?"

One day I might get him "Common Sense for Dummies". He needs it.

In other shocking news, and the reason for my colorful title today, is the comment that came across my messenger today from someone who knows me...

Now, if you know me... or have seen more than two photos of me (which I doubt will ever be posted here), you will know that my entire wardrobe is pink. OK, so my jeans (mostly) are blue. And I do have a few shirts that aren't pink, but I'd say that 9 out of 10 items in my closet are pink (dark pink, light pink, powder pink, fuchsia, magenta, you get the idea... I wear a LOT of pink).

Surprisingly, I haven't had the time nor felt that I had the effort needed to make my page the correct SHADE of pink, so I haven't bothered. With this comment though, you may see a pink page by the time you read this.

I was actually told this afternoon, quite factually, that girls who wear pink and like pink are "fucking bitches and should be shot for making everyone try to be happy".

Since WHEN have I tried to make anyone happy, damn it?

I ~~may be~~ AM a bitch, so what's your point?!

Oh... the Horror!

2006-11-07T22:05:00.000-08:00

Yeah, nothing really shocking, just bored this evening.

I've been recuperating from being sick, I swear, there's something in my house, or better yet, The Morgue, that's been keeping me sick.

Anyway, I went to work today like a good little girl and promptly sat on my ass for the remainder of the day. Ok, I got up a few times to stretch my legs and walk around a bit, but for the most part did a whole heck of a lot of nothing. As did Hubby.

The Kid was at work today. Apparently this will probably turn into a regular thing, as he was recently laid off from his other full-time job. Awesome, that means I don't have to clean any floors other than my own. Heh. I always like that. I don't like doing floors. Sweeping, Mopping, Scrubbing or otherwise.

During all of my horribly busy time at work, Hubby and Cryptkeeper played a game of "pin the ethernet cable to the wall", which didn't turn out so well. They hit the cord so many times with the staple gun that it didn't work by the time that it got to the other computer in the consultation room. Go figure. It looked as if 5-year olds had tacked it to the wall anyway.

To keep myself from sheer and utter boredom, I decided to get online a while, check my email, read a bit of the news, where I find, to my SHOCK and AMAZEMENT (can you tell that's DRIPPING with sarcasm?) I find that - OH MY GOD... Britney Spears has filed for divorce from Kevin Federline (and his self-proclaimed powername - aka:"K-Fed").

Ha. Stupid little twit should have known better than to marry the second guy she fucked around with AND get pregnant by him, despite the fact that the LAST girlfriend/baby's-mama was STILL pregnant by him as well.

Sorry, but I hope they find a loophole in that "concrete prenuptual agreement" they're all talking about. I mean seriously, he's been living like a rockstar and has gotten used to it, maybe she should pay some spousal support there. And with all of poor little Sean Preston's injuries in his first year of life at the hands of the bleach-blonde dumbass, maybe he should take the kids (goodness knows he's not getting the other ones). That way she can pay some paternal child support, too, especially seeing as she's treated his other kids like royalty, too... they won't know what to do without a Dolce outfit and Chanel sheets for Christmas! Heaven forbid they go without due to daddy's shortcomings.

So, on from there, I peer around the computer to watch the three stooges trying to figure out where exactly the wire had been hit the worst to try and patch it back together. The Kid is practically staring off into space as if he's high... which oddly, he's not. Hubby's up on a folding chair with a pocket knife trying to splice wires. And Cryptkeeper is standing, arms folded, looking at his hands as if he's trying to figure out what tattoo will look good there. They all switch positions slightly, and then turn back around immediately and go right back to what they are doing.

I'm surprised that the chair wasn't folding under Hubby and the other two weren't walking headfirst into one another. Yet. Although the folding chair never ended up eating Hubby's legs, The Kid and Cryptkeeper all of the sudden BOTH instantaneously get an idea and both turn around and nearly smack foreheads.

DUH... you couldn't tell he was a foot from you when you were talking to him?

So The Kid LITERALLY gets sent to his room like a small child being grounded. He sits in the corner quietly and draws until nearly closing time.

In the meanwhile, Cryptkeeper goes outside for a smoke to calm him completely shot nerves from the near-death experience. The Kid's girlfriend shows back up with Mini Kid (actually her son, not his). Mini Kid is sent to "babysit" dad because he's still grounded at this point.

For the past few weeks, The Kid has been TRYING DESPERATELY to get me to pierce his girlfriend, but I kept refusing because she didn't want it. Well, today, while he was in his little cage in the back, she decided that since he'd finally shut up about it, she'd get it done. As long as I didn't say anything.

When he left, he was still clueless. When we went to the piercing room, across the hall from his little prison, he didn't even look up from his drawing and Mini Kid was swingin' the whip at him. OK, so he wasn't beating stepdad, but he may as well have been. Mini Kid is very quiet... and seems evil. I haven't figured it out yet. He's three. Maybe he has to grow into all of that demonic spirit.

After piercing The Kid's girlfriend (my whopping second piercing of the day), I went back to my online news. In local news, amazingly, a man who "ACCIDENTALLY" fatally shot his wife FIVE TIMES had his trial postponed today. Because, supposedly, his counsel (who was appointed in something like April of 2006) didn't "have enough time to go over the facts and evidence surrounding the trial". Holy crap... how long does this have to go before someone wises up and deals with it correctly? C'mon... he was appointed at the time that the shooting happened, why is the judge letting this happen?

Hey, at least we still have the Governator, right?

Bitchin' Camaro

2006-11-04T21:13:00.000-08:00

Driving to work this afternoon, we made a stop and I sat in the car while Hubby went and got what he was after.

While sitting in the new car (a '95 Camaro that hubby did some trading for - I believe he has about $60 into the car), a large truck with some hillbilly dude and his wife pulled up next to us. Immediately, he shot me a look of agreement and grinned, somewhat goofy. I didn't think anything about it until he went into the store, shaking his head in time to the music I was listening to. Sadly, I had been listening to a station that plays whatever the fuck it wants (an no requests) and the song was "You Can Leave Your Hat On" by Joe Cocker.

OK, I get it now... he likes stuff from the 70's and I'm the dork that reminded him of that. I admit, I like the song, but it's better with Tom Jones' version.

Anyway, I tune out again and stare off into space while hillbilly guy comes back out. He throws up some devil horns and turns to his wife, telling her (this time highly audible) something about reliving the 80's in my "bitchin' Camaro".

Holy crap. I'm sitting in a parking lot, rockin' out to (of all things) Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" while dressed in a rock tee shirt and ripped jeans... in my bitchin' Camaro. Awww, fuck. I'm washed up, I'm a throwback to another time. I quickly try to change channels. The next preset is Stevie Ray Vaughn. The next preset has Madonna. And the final preset has some freaking new rock band playing some 80's reject remake. Obviously flustered, I keep switching channels as my face turns BEET red.

Hillbilly dude just laughs and shakes his head while driving off.

Goddamn it. I am now the 80's reject... again, sitting in my bitchin' Camaro. I end up turning to some other channel that I've never heard and listening to commercials until Hubby comes back. I explain to him the situation that just went down and he had to nod and agree.

We're getting old. Driving in our bitchin' Camaro.

Anyway, we get to work this morning, somewhat late (per usual), and Ghosthunter is sitting at the reception computer, which is amazingly online.

Both Cryptkeeper and Ghosthunter are fairly computer illiterate (and that's just surfing the web). During the time that I was off because I was ill, the DSL equipment came in. Thankfully, so did a full color chart that pretty much read "the yellow cable goes into the yellow slot and connects to your computer in the only jack that it will fit into". Seeing as it's CAT5 cable, I guess Cryptkeeper couldn't cram it into the phone jacks.

Amazingly, even with FOUR wires to do this with (all color coded and idiot-proof), he put it together and got online. I'm AMAZED.

He called yesterday morning wondering when I was coming back to work. I figured right then it was because he couldn't get that damned thing hooked up.

Maybe I was wrong about him for once. Or maybe he had his chimpanzee friend, we'll call him Chimp... it's pretty fitting, about the same brain power and vocabulary, hook it up for him without anyone knowing about it. That's sincerely more likely the story.

Anyway, Ghosthunter starts telling us a story "about a girl that used to work at a local shop that used to be her roommate that now hates life and hates everyone and wants to kill everyone from other shops especially her and Cryptkeeper's shop because the girl from the other shop thinks that someone called her little girl retarded when she was a baby and the whole fucking world needs to pay and she's gonna start shit and talk shit and throw shit" Blah, blah, blah... I tuned out her run-on sentence at this point (I don't think she took a breath for a full half-hour) that mentioned about probably a dozen people that I don't even know.

During her huge spiel, Hubby had left to go get lunch. She didn't even notice, either. He walked back in some 25 minutes later with lunch and she was shocked that he came in the door. "I thought you were standing behind me?". Holy crap... at least SOMEONE was enthralled with her story. HER.

Had a few interesting folks come in for jewelry and piercings, too... one of which was pierced at a convention by a local "piercer" who ended up piercing her navel while she was SITTING UP. This girl, on top of that fact, is somewhat overweight and her placement should have been FAR higher than what it was. I'm shocked it's even attempting to heal, too... as you cannot see the upper ball when she STANDS UP. It's THAT far back and low inside her navel. I didn't know what to think.

Although I advised her to take it out and heal it back and then get repierced, she was certain that she could heal it with some soaks (even though the piercing cannot get any oxygen to it to heal it). I sold her a new piece of jewelry for it and sent her on her way with the warning about the piercing. I should add that the warning went right in one ear and flowed out the other, as she said her goodbye's and made sure we knew she'd be back to have three more piercings surrounding her navel done.

Great. I can explain everything I just said all over again... and then tell her that the side navel piercings will never heal with her body stucture and lack of oxygen. It's those customers I just have to shake my head at... no matter what you say to them, THEY must be correct because it's their body. And if I do not do the piercing, they will go back to the other "piercer" and have three more of the same problem.

Cryptkeeper was doing some tattooing on another customer while all of this had been going on and his customer mentioned that he was going to see a band at a bar tonight. Just happens that Cryptkeeper JUST joined this band and would be playing and mentioned it to the customer (who we'll call "Duh" for now). Customer goes on about how awesome the band is and how his friend "Joe Schmoe" just joined the band as their guitarist. That's funny... Cryptkeeper just told him that HE is the new guitarist, not "Joe Schmoe" from another local band. And how his friend, Chimp, is the new drummer.

"Duh" continues to tell him how his friend is great and they're gonna see him tonight. Cryptkeeper keeps going on the tattoo, hurrying to finish since this dumbass just won't get it through his thick, hillbilly skull that his friend didn't make the cut, and that the band he originally was with (and still is with) is playing across town at the same time that they'll be onstage.

Anyway, tattoo ends right when someone walks in the door. Apparently it's the ride for Duh. Funny enough, it's his friend, "Joe Schmoe", who not only is NOT the new guitarist for the band, but isn't the guitarist for the other band that was mentioned (nor is he Joe Schmoe... because the whole shop knows him). Duh and Joe Schmoe, the imposter start talking about the badass tattoo and Imposter Joe says, "all right... know where we're going? We're going to NEW BAND's place" because they're SUCH namedroppers.

*NEW BAND was included instead of the band's name due to the privacy of those mentioned in this blog*

The show is currently going on without a hitch... and without Imposter Joe, or the original Joe Schmoe, and WITH Cryptkeeper.

Funny, but when Ghosthunter called a little while ago, she didn't mention anything about "Duh" showing up, either. Heh.

When will the stupidity end?

Who's Gay??? News at 6!

2006-11-03T22:57:00.000-08:00

Wow... I'm SO shocked.

*insert whiny sarcastic voice, per usual*

First it was Lance Bass, famous N'Sync-er... now, it's DOOGIE HOUSER, MD! Yes, that's right kiddies, Neal Patrick Harris, AKA Doogie Houser, has FINALLY come out and admitted to the world that he, too, is escaping from the closet!

Do you know how many times this has been brought up in coversation in the past 15 years? ESPECIALLY after that fucking Harold and Kumar movie (you know, White Castle?).

Now if only Cryptkeeper would come out of the closet. And the batwinged bride, Ghosthunter. I swear, the only thing keeping these two together is the fear that they would be outed if they weren't recently married.

I think the only thing that they have in common is their love for gruesome, gory movies, and creepy things like bat endoskeletons, dehydrated spiders, and the occasional moonlight trip through the cemetary (I'm sure trying to conjure up some spirit that will lead them to more weed).

I worry that they are not the only ones keeping it under wraps... perhaps some of my coworkers from Hollywood. Like Shyboy or TFT.

*insert gripy, bitchy, medicated blathering here*

Sure, I've heard excuses from Shyboy, but I always wondered. He is just TOO sensitive, TOO nice. Know what I mean? Makes you want to get all cuddly with him. But at the same time, you'd curl up on his belly talking, as if he were your brother... not face to face for the beginning of some fun lovin'.

TFT always worried me. From day one even. He always had to touch, or hug, or brush against body parts as if he were trying to prove that he WASN'T secretly gay. His wife hadn't given any to him in three years, so he boasted about the other married person he was seeing on the side when he finally DID get some. Maybe the wife is closet lez, too. Who knows? Maybe that's the only way that they can cope?

I'm worried about Shyboy though. If he doesn't start getting some soon from SOMEONE, he may just go postal one day. He's awful uptight at times. He's GOT to remove that stick from his ass soon!

Speaking of the Hollywood crew, I wouldn't be the LEAST bit surprised if God'sGift turned out to be hiding the same "dirty little secret". Hell, I feel like I love them all for who they are (read: completely insane), but it would be somewhat humorous if they DID, in fact, come out to everyone.

God'sGift tends to be an overcompensator as it is. I mean jeezus-h-christ... his behavior with one drink may as well be a gallon of booze the way he pretends. C'mon... he drinks nearly every night of the week (or so he lets on), yet he gets "intoxicated" after a freaking Corona? I just don't think so. He's just trying to get attention. Is it only HE that doesn't comprehend that he's acting like an ass or does he really think it's funny?

CBL should beat the fuck outta him. I know she wants to from time to time... she certainly won't sleep with him, despite his pushy attempts.

Fuck those whiny boys. Maybe that'll snap 'em out of it. But highly doubtful.

Excuse Me... I Hate Your Shoes.

2006-10-30T19:23:00.000-08:00

I'm going to completely get off track of my workplace today and enlighten you about something I hate. Actually, for those who know me personally, you will understand that I don't just LOVE shoes in general, I own HUNDREDS of pairs and love to look at them... but the question (and shoes, for that matter) that bother me is as follows.

What's the bastard child of Birkenstocks and jelly shoes?

Crocs. The worst thing to happen to footwear since either Birkenstocks or jelly shoes also happens to be uglier than both combined. They're everywhere. Spreading like a virus. They're made of some engineered, bizarre plastic-like substance poured into a mold. They're incredibly wide foam clogs with holes, they make you look like you have duck feet and people are wearing them with everything. Men, women, their unfortunate kids... people are wearing these things in every shade of the neon rainbow.

Does anyone else hear the four horsemen of the Apocalypse stampeding in our direction?

Apparently these "Crocs" are flying off the freaking shelves all over the country, retailers cannot keep them in stock, and the company itself can barely keep up with demand. I will be sick if I start quoting the numbers, but at $30 bucks a pair the big brains behind Crocs are surely laughing themselves all the way to the bank. They're probably as astonished as I am at the popularity of such a hideous thing. This isn't even something you can avoid by fleeing to Canada, people. I know plenty of people that are there now and Crocs have completely invaded Calgary. Even though this whole sordid mess started in Colorado, I'd argue it's even worse up further up north than it is there. It certainly is further west in California!

So... that's a man. Maybe I missed the memo, but since when do men wear anything in colors like this? Especially shoes! A good litmus test to determine whether you should be wearing shoes in a certain color would be to decide if you would wear a shirt in exactly the same shade. If the answer is no, guys, put down the foam shoes and back away slowly. The guys that work for Cal-Trans wear orange shirts. But that's only because there is a very real danger of them being run over by large-scale construction equipment! This guy took his to a new level and added a "stylish" touch to his baby blue Crocs... steel studs. OOOH, manly. What about the lavender ankle socks? Yeah, no retort to that one... that's because the goofy clogs overshadow it, anyway.

I've heard that Crocs began as boat shoes, and I've also heard people describe them as gardening clogs. No matter which, it does not spell fashion. I'm going to guess that most people who wear Crocs don't own a boat OR a garden, and therefore do not have the need to purchase shoes designed specifically for either. And even assuming they did hours of gardening every week, do people need to be wearing those repugnant shoes everywhere else and bumming the rest of us out? No. The ability to hose them off is not criteria for cool shoes in most situations.

Simply put, I defy anyone to successfully justify footwear that looks like this ----------->

The defense of these monstrosities appears to be threefold:

One
Crocs are comfortable. In fact, I believe the Pavlovian and instantaneous response to anyone questioning the sanity of sporting such horrifying shoes is "But they're soooo comfortable!" Ridiculous. Comfort is no excuse for straight up fugly, and I've even heard people who wear them say that they know how ugly their shoes are but don't care because they're comfortable. This has never been a plausible excuse for any bad fashion, foam-based or not. Comfort simply does not excuse ugly. My Gene Simmons Kiss panties are comfortable too, but that doesn't mean I'm going to wear them out to the goddamn grocery store and force the rest of the world look at me in them.

If you have ever seen an episode of TLC's What Not to Wear, you already know that kind of crap excuse does not fly with Stacy and Clinton. In nearly every episode, you will see some tragically fashion-challenged person thrown to the style wolves by those who love them, standing in front of the three-way mirror and vainly attempting to defend some disgusting outfit by saying it's comfortable. Usually Stacy and Clinton will find either a nicer or more humorous way to say it, but the fact that you're comfortable does not change the fact that you look like shit! I will quote Clinton: "The days of defending ugly, chunky shoes are over." Let them go, folks. Into the nearest landfill where they will surely be waiting to come back into style until at least the next millennium. And they'll be ready too; because God knows those abominations will likely never decompose.

Two
Crocs are so easy; perfect for people on the go. Now, I don't know about the rest of you but I learned to tie my shoes when I was in preschool, and I dare say it was something that could possibly be described as a chore for about a week following. After that, I have not found the task difficult and/or time consuming, nor do I recall ever being in such a hurry to get out the door that tying my damn shoes really held me back.

Laziness has never been a good excuse for anything, ever. And that's really what this boils down to. No one is so busy they must wear such poor excuses for shoes. Donald Trump and Bill Gates probably have a lot more shit going on than we all do, but I'm pretty confident they've both still got the 8 or 10 seconds required to tie their shoes. So just because you've got some errands to run today doesn't mean you don't have the time for actual footwear. Don't even get me started on those girls who go out in PJ pants and slippers... that's a rant for another day. But in both cases, the word for it is simply laziness, and it's not an excuse.

Three
Crocs are trendy and celebrities wear them. What are we, sheep? The last time I did something because it was cool was probably when I was in junior high and splatter paint was all the rage. Need I continue...?

Regardless of what you want me to do, I will anyway.

One of the biggest (no pun intended), unpaid celebrity endorsees of Crocs, the current bane of all decent footwear, is Mario Batali. His favorite pair is mind-numbing safety orange.

If I want to know what type of olive oil would best suit my bruschetta recipe or what to do with leftover marinara, I'll go straight to Mario Batali. If I someday find that I have an enormous belly and need help with the age-old decision whether to buckle my belt over it or under it, Mario would definitely be high on my list of approved and knowledgeable consultants. But as with pop singers who insist on becoming actresses... just because you're good at one thing doesn't mean you rock at everything. Fashion is clearly not this man's area of expertise. I mean seriously, would anyone ask for THIS GUY's idea of which shoes are cool?

I'm no supreme expert on footwear. I do not own a clothing boutique, I DO sell clothing online, however I'm also not waving that in everyone's face to prove that I'm an authority on the subject, nor am I trying to tell you that I'm the ultimate decision maker on what's cool and what's not. But I am an ordinary person who possesses common sense and I know what fucking ugly is when I see it. And in this gal's style manual, Crocs = FUGLY.

For those among us requiring scientific research upon which to base an opinion (and for whom my riveting argument thus far was not enough to convince), I give you this site which has the question of Crocs neatly laid out for you in a colorful and convenient pie chart format. Click it:

For the rest of you already nodding your heads in agreement, I bring you the official I Hate Crocs website... people just serious enough to pay for the domain. You can also find them here on MySpace, should you care to join the fight. Yes kids, I already have.

All I'm saying is...
Unless you are this guy (aka the stuff of my nightmares) and/or Mickey Mouse, you should not be wearing giant, brightly colored foam shoes:

Makeup Tips from Vampires?

2006-10-29T21:17:00.000-08:00

Ghosthunter has an interesting idea of how makeup should look.

You know cateye makeup? Like the 50's style with the little Cleopatra-looking upturned corners? Yeah... apparently she thinks that she's doing this with her makeup. She even tries to give advice on exactly HOW to do cateyes.

I refer to them instead as "Batwings", which hell, if you saw them, you'd say the same.

In order to keep her identity (as well as my own) fairly hidden, I've transformed a few images to show you the difference between traditional cateye makeup and her batwings.

LEFT: This is what a traditional cateye looks like (with today's makeup, that is). A slight upsweep at the corner of the eyelid from the edge of the eye to (at most) halfway to the browline.

Not so bad, right? Especially with the soft edges of the makeup that we have nowadays, right?

RIGHT: Then comes Ghosthunter's version of the cateye. Super dark, opaque shadows, usually dark grey or an offshoot of black starting beneath the eye, rimming the lid, all the way up to a sweeping peak at the edge of the browline. AKA: The batwing. It reminds me of bad witches in horror movies, or terrible makeup for Halloween .

Truthfully, it actually looks worse than the images above show... this is probably the closest that I can come to the look of her makeup without showing you a photo though.

I KNOW that it's just two days to Halloween and everyone's been dressing up for the past week, but this is a year 'round thing... she even got made up like this for her WEDDING. The only time I've seen her without the batwing makeup was once when she was ill and had JUST rolled out of bed.

How on Earth do you politely tell the fashion-unconscious that they look beastly? I just don't know how without completely crushing her or being fired. After all, being the boss's wife has it's perks in that respect.

I suppose it's too bad that it can't be Halloween year 'round for everyone else. That might be fun.

It's Like a Coughdrop For Your Crotch!

2006-10-28T21:12:00.000-07:00

Woohoo! Let's PARTY!

Yeah, right, do I sound like the party type?

Ghosthunter asked us today if we were heading to the Halloween event at a local bar where this "badass" band was playing. I have a friend in this band, and even though he's my friend, I've only seen them play once, and that was because they played at our shop. Yeah, it's THAT good.

I told her that I just don't see myself hanging out in a costume at a bar I hate with a bunch of yokels, the screamy-whiny band, and "RadioWannabe". Yeah, I think THAT'S what I'll start calling her... see the last few entries on the girl who has the radio show that no one listens to. I'm sure we'll be talking more about this one later.

I also let it be known that I had another "party" to attend... one that involves lots of comfort food, folding piles of laundry, and watching horror movies with a 10 and 12 year old. That's MY kind of party. Ok, so it's not, but I've never been one for huge events with people that I can't stand anyway.

Enter The Kid.

The Kid had a very entertaining day at work this afternoon. While spending most of his time on the cell phone, talking to his sister (after she spent about an hour at The Morgue and then left, that is). The Kid and sis were talking about their Halloween party they were having this evening. It seemed that all of six people were going.

The Kid asked Hubby and I if we wanted to go. I claimed, again, that I had other parties to attend this evening. You're reading the end of my party. LOL

Shortly after The Kid asked, his girlfriend showed up, also inviting us. Man... I am just invited-out today. The Kid tried to change the subject, seeing that I was getting a little perturbed with all of this party talk. Hell, I haven't even decided what I want to carve this year for our Jack-o-Lantern, that's just not like me.

The Kid started pressuring girlfriend to get a piercing (much like he did the last two weekends when she visited The Morgue). He is desperate for her to get a navel piercing. He also keeps attempting to pay me for one, but I won't take his money until she decides for herself that she wants a piercing. She did, however, change the subject, querying about piercings a little further South.

After much talk about how they hurt less than most other piercings because of the type of skin and thickness it would be going through, we got on the subject of lubricants. Not like that... YET.

Since I've been on blood pressure medication (a recent change in my life), the medication that I'm taking completely dries me out. My sinuses and eyes feel like I've just gone through a sandstorm, my throat sticks together when I try to swallow, and even my va-jay-jay is drier than a bone (pardon the pun). After speaking of soda and water and the like, THIS is where we turn to KY and other lubricants for the downstairs area.

All of the sudden, girlfriend pipes up and mentions this mint-flavored, tingly sex lube. We perk up our ears a little and cock our heads sideways, like confused puppies looking for a cookie and she says, "It's great, it's just like a coughdrop for your crotch!"

We ALL burst out in laughter... I beg for a pen and paper to write that shit down, knowing that I'll forget. Everyone looks at each other, somewhat uncomfortably, and quiets down. It hasn't been all that long since we've known The Kid and girlfriend. Looks like we'll get to know a LOT about them in a very little time.

When I Was Young...

2006-10-27T20:55:00.000-07:00

When I was young, I never imagined in a million years that not only would I HAVE piercings, but that' I'd BECOME a body piercer.

Nearly 5 years out of my apprenticeship now (I have problems updating other sites and pages... some say 2 1/2, others say 3 1/2ish, but I looked today and realized that my first certificates read 2001), I'm amazed at how far the industry has come and how much I learn each year, too. It's an ongoing process and an ever-changing industry, so I'm always learning something new.

But what have I learned that's new this week?

People can be absolute morons.

Ok, I've ranted some about this in my other blog (the more public one on MySpace for my friends who know me personally), but there are people out there that specifically ask for advice, only to take advice from a 14 yr old that has no piercings or tattoos and knows nothing about medicine. As I said in the other blog, just because your friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-who's-cousin's girlfriend's-best-friend happened to heal her piercing with a piece of dog shit, doesn't mean that it will work for everyone.

Onto other new things I've learned. Piercing is a complete popularity game. It doesn't matter one rat's ass how much you actually know, if you're popular and charge less (a result usually of inferior quality jewelry and piercer's that simply aren't knowlegeable), you'll get more customers. You'll have a lot of pissed off customers because of your jewelry and lack of knowledge, but you'll have more customers overall.

How did I learn this? The local shop that claims it's the "best in Northern California" while their piercings cost them a TOTAL of $ 0.19 each. Their piercings include:

"SCOPE" as their mouthwash (you should actually be using an ANTISEPTIC and not just something to cover their bad breath).
Cheap, Japanese needles that were actually meant for vet care (cheaply made, substandard, grey in color, and sometimes having burrs and barbs).
Horrible "stainless" jewelry (that's NOT of medical grade, NOT vacuum molded, and not annealed. If it costs $ 0.13 or less, it should NOT be put in an initial piercing).
ALCOHOL swabs for cleaning (holy crap, ever hear of Techni-care? It's cheap, goes a long way, and DOESN'T kill of healthy skin cells or burn!).
Non-sterile piercing jewelry - QUOTE: "It's ok if it comes out of the case, it's all new and clean when it comes to us."
Piercing with NOSE BONES. Just say NO. They're evil. Don't even use them if you've got a healed piercing... chances are, it won't be healed anymore after you attempt to take it out the first time.

I know there are TONS of other things I can complain about here. After I got back from the Midwest, I went to work for that motherfucker and ATTEMPTED to turn his business around. He refused to raise the quality, so I left. He STILL owes me a butt-load of money.

We then went into business for ourselves. It took a little over a year to get up to standards with internally threaded jewelry, but the ENTIRE time, we were using 316lvm jewelry (medical grade). Right after we got up to standards, we hit a small speedbump and decided to each go our separate ways to attempt to catch up with bills.

Those bills STILL aren't paid off (hell, this may be where I insert "BANKRUPTCY" here), and I'm back from my wonderful job (that I should have kept) in Hollywood only to be sitting on my ass day in and day out, twiddling my thumbs and playing solitaire on the shop computer at "The Morgue." Hell, if I had internet there, at least I could be making some money while I'm at work, instead, I'm spending to be there. I can HEAR MYSELF going broke.

Pathetic.

As each day passes, I think more and more about moving back to Hollywood, even despite the fact that my family would be up here instead of down there.

Why-oh-why did I move home before the bills were paid? And WHY won't Cryptkeeper get it through his skinny little skull that we're not going anywhere without advertising? Oh... and today, his radio bitch didn't even bother mentioning our shop in her dinky little radio show.

It's not like anyone's listening anyway.

Back to eBaying this evening... at least I'll make a buck or two on THAT.

Yeah, in my spare time.

All About "The Morgue"

2006-10-26T21:58:00.000-07:00

OK, here's the deal, you've read my cast of characters, right? If not, go do so... you'll need it.

"The Morgue", so aptly named because the shop that recently opened that I now work for is deader than a doornail, is a tattooing and body piercing studio. Although most of us working there have been in the business for years, a former employee of ours from our last shop, is now (oddly) our boss.

Cryptkeeper (the boss) doesn't understand that you have to ADVERTISE to get a business off the ground. We've only been open a few weeks, and it's been SO dead, that Hubby and I actually took the day off today. I think we called in an hour or more after the start of the business day. What's the difference? I haven't seen a customer in a week.

I swear, I spend more on gas money in a week than I make in two. I'd be better off moving back to Hollywood. More on that later.

If Cryptkeeper would put a couple of bucks into a radio ad, we'd have more money than the ad costs coming in to make up for it, but apparently his friend "who has a radio show" that's on one time a week for one hour and at SOME point mentions us very briefly (so quick that we've never even caught it). Apparently, that's supposed to be our "advertising".

Funny thing, this "advertising" hasn't brought in one single customer. It probably has something to do with the fact that her show not only sucks donkey balls, but nobody ever listens to it. It's a show that showcases local talent, and although they usually play THREE of the local band's songs in the hour, it's mostly a fucking gab-fest with her talking to the band about ridiculous things like the color of their underwear. Do YOU want to fucking know about that or do you want to hear the music? Whatever. When the station realizes how low the ratings are, they'll cut her anyway, just like everyone else did when she was "promoting" local bands for venues.

Cryptkeeper and his wife, Ghosthunter, tend to gravitate towards listening to gothy and hard (wretched hard) punk and acid thrash-type metal music that you can't even make out ANY words for. Unfortunately, they also don't realize that this frightens customers. They are coming to us for a good tattooing and piercing experience, and as much as our soothing voices and loads of information put them at ease, they're still VERY tense when it comes time for the procedure because of this crashing, screaming, angry music. I just don't understand how they can equate "I eat your face as a sacrifice to the undead" as comforting. To each his own, I suppose.

The Morgue, as of now, is still VERY quiet (insert crickets chirping here), yet we're looking for other artists. We've picked up a stray who we'll call "The Kid". The Kid is a younger guy that was another artist's apprentice for a time. Sadly, for him, the other artist lost his tattooing job and the apprenticeship went out the window. Cryptkeeper is taking him on, despite the fact that he is still working his way out of his own apprenticeship. It's like the blind leading the blind here, with Hubby attempting to perform miracles and break The Kid of his bad habits and teach both of them the correct way to do things.

Cryptkeeper and Ghosthunter sort of let me have my run of the place (for now... or at least until they locate this blog. HA). They know that not only am I the most experienced piercer in the area, but also the fact that I actually ran several studios before kind of helps because I know my way around everything from paperwork to accounting. "I'm not just a piercer, I'm the freaking president". Ok, so that's fucked up. What I really mean is I've done so many professional jobs in the past that piercing sounds like it should only be a hobby for me. Instead of making a six-figure income, I've dropped well back into the low 5-figures just because I enjoy it.

Although I'd love to tell you all of the fucked up things going on at the shop, right now there's not a whole lot of "going on" going on... so I'll tell you about my own OCD. You may get a kick out of it, everyone else thinks I'm nuts and if we're ever robbed, they'll know where to find everything, but every last one of my cabinets and drawers in my piercing room are marked with what is in them. I went so far as to label outside of my room as well. Every dirty area is labeled. Incoming and Outgoing mail is marked. Every shelf in the storage room is marked. Even drawers that have copy paper, office supplies, clipboards, and business cards. Yep, they're ALL labeled. So I'm a bit nutty, at least everyone can find stuff without asking ME. Either way, all this labeling has been keeping me busy with our lack of business.

Hell, even if someone were to attempt to break in and rob us, MY stuff is so spread out that it will take them an hour to get everything. And I'm not even remotely kidding about that. Good luck getting past the break room, too. Yeah, I know you're gonna get snacky and eat my donettes and fat free tuna & crackers. You just watch.

Damn it, you steal my fat free tuna & crackers, I may have to get all twisted on your ass. I'll take that fake sword off the wall and slice you a new one with it. You'd LIKE that, wouldn't you.

Sick fuck.

Damn it. Ran off on a tangent. Fucking ADHD.

Cast of Characters

2006-10-25T23:09:00.000-07:00

You may need to use this little bit of info from time to time... there's a lot of characters in my life. I'm sure there will be many more to come, so here's an index of who is currently roaming through my life. Both "home" and in my second home, Hollywood, CA.

Hollywood Cast:
Gunslinger: My friend from high school, who happens to be a weapons handler and armorer for the movie industry who tends to bring his work home with him daily.

CBL: "Crazy Boss Lady". This is my friend, who also happens to be my boss in Hollywood. She's a bit of a lush (by her own description) and one hell of a sarcastic bitch (again, by her own description). You think I'm sarcastic? I've got NOTHING on her.

Princess: The counter girl at the shop in Hollywood who fell in love and married the Jewish money-machine that's nearly twice her age.

Shyboy: The cute and sweet Hispanic counter boy who now co-manages the shop with Princess.

TFT: The "Touchy Feely Tattooist". Sorry, but this guy gives me the creeps in a strange, but good way. He's just a big, silly dork. Sweet guy, but damn, what the hell... I DON'T want a hug, and get that goofy grin off your face!!!

Dollface: The sweet apprentice tattooist that has a heart of gold (and somehow puts up with TFTs shit everyday).

Man of Steel: The former piercing apprentice who is now the head piercer since I left. Amazingly, he's the first apprentice that I have FULL trust in. Oh yeah, and the fact that he took SIX 8g rings in his scrotum just days before I left gives him some serious huevos en sus cajones!

SBM: The "Studly Boss Man". Although he rarely graced us with his presence at the shop (he was always in the warehouse office), he made it known that HE was the man of the house. Yes, he's got the power and money, but his taste in women? NIL. OK, so they had plastic tits and faces, and they could at LEAST count to 10, but can't they have brains AND beauty?

GodsGift: This is the pretentious, sexually frustrated asshole that also happens to be one of SBMs right-hand-men at the warehouse. He's still a jerk and it gets worse when he gets drunk, which I might add is not only weekly, but sometimes daily.

SM: The wonderfully humorous "Sarcastic Mexican". I'm sure that CBL would probably call him "Sarcastic Bean", and so would he, but I just can't bring myself to do it. He's the other right-hand-man to SBM. Although we didn't talk much (at least to one another), he's great at bashing GodsGift. High 5 for that!

Fancypants: This flamboyantly gay man sells the greatest women's clothing on Melrose Ave. Not only that, but he wears it, too... 'specially when strutting to Madonna blasting on his flashing boombox.

SBP: "Starbucks Psychobilly". This is the super hot guy that came into our shop repeatedly and flirted with me while we talked about psychobilly shows in the area. I nearly threw up when he brought in his cousin, who said "Yeah, I'm thinking about a tattoo, but he's gotta wait until he turns 18". Sheesh. At least I got free coffee.

Propmaster: This is the crazy dreadlocked white boy that wears 6" moonboots and a kilt while working on movie and television production as a propmaster. The man is insane, and an awesome guy, too.

UHTG: "Uber-Hot Tattooed Guy" is one of Propmaster's good friends. We've never met in person, nor spoken on the phone, but we've had some hysterical convo online. Awesome dude. Probably a good thing we never met in person!

FE: "Former Employee" of the shop that randomly contacted me via MySpace one day. It was a complete coincidence... I didn't know him, he didn't know me, and neither of us knew where the other worked/had worked. Who knows WHAT he was looking for, seeing his GF online, I'm sure it was NOT me.

WOWG: "World of Warcraft Girl". This was my female roommate in Hollywood. The reason I call her this? Although she offered to "use the computer anytime", I got home after she did each evening, and even when I'd stay up until 3am, she'd STILL be online from before I got home, playing that damned game.

WOWB: "World of Warcraft Boy". This was WOWGs live-in boyfriend. They had met online and decided to move to California from New York and Michigan? What were they thinking? I guess they complete one another, because when SHE isn't online playing that asinine game, he was.

"Home" Cast:
Hubby: The ever-loving husband that daily puts up with not only my shit, but the kids' and everyone else in the world. He has a bit of social anxiety, and an anger management problem, but in the end, it can be looked past because of all the good things he brings to the world. Hubby has also worked with me at many of the jobs that we've worked. He refused to go to Hollywood though, so I missed him greatly and is the reason I came home.

Cryptkeeper: This is my former employee now-turned boss. I left for three months, and he opened his own shop. Now I'm working for him. He has a fondness for dead things, cemetaries, and horror toys.

Ghosthunter: Cryptkeeper's new wife. They are VERY newly-wed, and she has a fondness for very similar things. She also enjoys hanging out in cemetaries and haunted places looking for ghostly spirits.

PPQ: "Pregnant Prom Queen". No, she's not pregnant now, nor is she in high school, but this is Cryptkeeper's Ex. She's not that prissy prom queen type, she's more of that stupid-cheerleader-who-faked-pregnancy-to-get-her-man type. She LATER got pregnant... then cheated on Cryptkeeper with SEVERAL different men. Including at least one of his friends.

TheKid: The shop's newest addition. He's "sort of" an apprentice, but he had an apprenticeship prior to his coming to us. We may have to break him of some bad habits. I wonder if rolled up newspaper works with him?

Chef: Our friend, the 5-star chef, who happens to LOVE making us dinner. Damn, I need to wash his dishes more often. He makes me want to make him our houseboy so he can make me sinfully delicious food everyday.

Hitler: Hitler would be our "pet name" for my "loving" mother. She strives to make everyone's life around her MISERABLE so that hers feels better. What more does she want? We pay all of her bills, moved in with her to take care of her sorry ass, and try to NEVER set foot in her path (for fear of being turned to stone or taken away on a train). What have we done to deserve this. I might add, thankfully, I'm adopted.

ICHU: Our eldest son. He's 14. The initials stand for "I Can't Hear You". He has VERY selective hearing and will NOT hear rules or instructions. His excuse for everything? Either "I didn't know" or "I couldn't hear you".

Filmstrip: Our middle son. He's 12. He's also one hell of a film buff. He knows everything about every movie. He holds conversations with Gunslinger that no one else can even comprehend. He knows producers, years of film releases and re-releases, names of remakes, movie stars, stand-ins, extras, special effects, and more. I don't know where he learned it all, but he's even got his own IMDB page with his friend. They even make mini horror movies that are online already. I guess if I had to punish him for something, I'd have to take away his video camera and DVD collection.

Whiny: Our youngest son. He's 10. EVERY request is rebutted with a whine. Even if you ask him where he wants to go for dinner, instead of his answer being his favorite restaurant, it's a whine about where he DOESN'T want to go. Want some cheese with that?

Look@Me!: This is CryptKeeper and PPQ's daughter. Technically, since PPQ has pretty much been out of the picture (such a slacker), she should be considered CryptKeeper and GhostHunter's kiddo. Her name (obviously) comes from the fact that with every little thing she does, comes the remark "LOOK AT ME!!!"

Silence: This little boy is cute and sweet, but eerie. Also CryptKeeper and PPQ's child, I've seen nothing but quiet charm from him, but from what I've overheard with former preschool calling nearly everyday, and CryptKeeper having to run and get him, he's apparently pretty destructive. He should become a pro wrestler.

So ends my cast of characters for the time being... I'm certain, as I stated above, that there will be many more to come... but these are the "few" that I deal with daily in my ridiculous world.

My First Meaningless Post

2006-10-25T00:54:00.000-07:00

After much thought and a refreshed memory of blogs-gone-by, I was strangely attracted to rejoining the blogger community and giving my insights on my maniacal and sarcastic views of the world, my work, and my completely insane family to the world beyond my 30 mile radius I like to call home.

This home I speak of, in far Northern California, is the same place that 70% of California's parolees end up, the same place where 14 is the average female age of the loss of virginity, the same place that is on the list being the "meth capital of America", the place where the IQ drops by 20 from anywhere else in California, the place where the school grade point averages around a 2.0 (and parents are beaming and proud of this fact), and also, horridly, the place where most girls, aged 15-19 have had at LEAST one, if not more, children, now sadly being raised by their drunkard parents, who also should never have given birth to any offspring for fear of them being inbred hillbillys.

Once upon a time, I started the first blog of my own under the name of "Apparently Crazy"... as that was what I was so lovingly referred to by a female who stalked me, for whatever insane reason, and figured that she was "just so super" that my husband would leave me for her. Funny bitch, you'll notice in my writings that not only is she not around, and has long since been quite literally "run out of town", but also that my then-hubby is still here, putting up with my shit, and my apparent craziness.

Welcome... if I'm "Apparently Crazy", and you're still here, then you must be, too.