Eye Deerunk

I had four beers and a Mike's Hard Lemonade so far tonight.  Apparently that's all I need to get shitey nowadays.  FBM! (That's "fine by me" for everyone other than MJ).

So much has happened in the past couple weeks that I'm not sure where to begin.  The rundown of things you should probably know:

1. The Mighty Cale's parents moved to San Diego.  For some strange reason they just HAD to take Cale with them.  It's only
been like a week and I already miss my buddy like crazy.  I'm seriously considering moving to Cali.

2. I lost something that I will miss very, very much.  

3. I think I'm finally over my hatred for Jackson.  I went to my parents' house last Thursday to celebrate my dad's birthday. It was the first time in 20 years that I didn't dread going there.

4. My mom made me cry. Again. She's such a biyatch.

5. I'm typing with one eye open.

6. My six monthiversary at Minnow is next week. The place blows. I'm not going to actively look for a new gig, but please let me know if you hear of any openings in your company. My background is sales, ops, and planning.

7. Uh oh. I gotta go...my monitor is too bright to keep typing...

Fat Princess

This may be the funniest shit I've ever heard:

Frantic and fun, Fat Princess pits two hordes of players against each other in comic medieval battle royale. Your goal is to rescue your beloved princess from the enemy dungeon. There’s a catch though: your adversary has been stuffing her with food to fatten her up and it’s going to take most of your army working together to carry her back across the battlefield.

Check out IGN's review.  My favorite part:

When you start a game, each team's base will have their opponent's princess inside. All the enemies that are assaulting your base will be trying to get in and get their fair lady out. Now, you can kill these guys if you like, but your best defense is to go outside of your stronghold and find pieces of cake and other dessert items. You'll then bring these snacks to the opponent's princess, force her to eat them, and watch her get fatter. Big gals are heavy and that means your opponents are going to have in groups to carry her fat ass back home.

A giant saint I ain't

Dear Jeremy Shockey,

I thought it would happen. I wanted it to happen. Now I know it wasn't meant to be.

All I wanted you to do was beat me up during sex. That's it!!! What kind of world do we live in when a girl can't get donkeypunched by a pro-football player every now and then? Don't you have any morals?

You disgust me. Don't even try to contact me now...if I'm gonna fuck a Saint it's going to be Reggie Bush. Would you mind forwarding him my email address? Thanks. Douche.

Bite me (not in the fun way),

Thighs

My biggest fear...

I think I figured out what my biggest fear is, outside of letting loose a never-ending fart.

I'm afraid I'll hurt my children.

I don't blame my mom for shit anymore. Blaming her doesn't erase the past, so why bother? All that matters to me now is that our relationship is the healthiest it's ever been.

That being said, I am deathly afraid I'm going to mindfuck my kids. My mom did it to me, my grandmother did it to her, my great-grandmother did it to both of them. I don't see how the line of batshit crazy matriarchs is going to stop with me.

Is simply WANTING to be a good mom enough? Gosh, I don't know if I ever thought about this...is my mom a good mom? What does being a "good mom" even mean?

Maybe the line of crazy will end if I don't have a daughter. That's it! Universe, I'd like to put two sons on layaway please. Names: Peter and Jack McGee. Please hold for 43,800 hours.

Sigh. I need to work through this one a bit...

SM stands for...

Seattle Mariners!

I decided to take one more baseball trip this summer. I'm off to Seattle the fourth weekend of August to see Janeypants, the Janeypant Family, and cross off Safeco Field from my ballpark hit list.

When I come back I will not be taking another vacation until I pay off my credit card debt. Or at least not until I book another flight somewhere. Whichever comes first.

The Dark Knight

Holy fucking shit Batman, The Dark Knight is one hell of a movie.

I don't have much to say except go see it. Comic fan or not, you won't be disappointed. It's the most chilling thriller I've ever seen.

When the movie ends and you find yourself wanting more, go to your local comic shop or bookstore and pick up Batman: Year One and Batman: The Long Halloween. I'm rereading them both this weekend.

Wow. I think I'm still in shock. Phenomenal.

Good-bye Auntie D

Man I love summer Fridays...

I stopped taking Zoloft three weeks ago. I asked my doctor to wean me off it back in January and since my dosage wasn't all that high to begin with (50mgs) it didn't take very long to be done.

The scariest part about mental illness for me was not knowing what to believe. Imagine not being able to trust a thought or a feeling because you knew it would change one violent mood swing later. I'm not sure when anticipating mood swings became a means to survive them, but like all bad habits, I kept doing it when it was no longer necessary. At that point it became a self-fulfilling prophecy; the stress of waiting for a mood swing to hit inevitably caused one to occur. It was a vicious cycle, one that I couldn't fix because I wasn't aware I was doing it. Until now of course.

This is why I will always be a therapy pom-pom. Therapy makes you aware. With awareness comes understanding; with understanding comes acceptance. If you are open to it, therapy will save your life. It did mine.

Back in 2005, the only thing I was aware of was that I couldn't stop crying. I cried every day for a year and a half. I didn't know why, nor did I know if I could stop. The tears finally ended when I went to counseling and on medication.

I am forever grateful to Shizza for helping me find Cee. We had an instant connection. Even when I stopped going to her back in November I still felt she was in my life, helping me find my way.

Did I ever explain why I stopped going to therapy? A big reason was because I left Company. It's not like Company was the cause of all my problems; I just knew that staying in therapy during that time would be like pouring salt into a wound. I needed to recoup, rejuvenate, and reassure myself I can go it alone. Obviously this was a great decision; I feel stronger and more aware than ever before.

It was also nice to know that I can always go back to therapy if I needed. In fact, I saw Cee last night. Therapy Thursdays are back in session, at least for July. Life is grand (pinky swear), it's just that well, the ironic part to all this is now that I'm off the Zoloft I went back to crying again.

The day after I stopped taking my meds, the tears started. I don't cry as much as I used to, but I am quick to tear up. And you know what? I love it. I'm not afraid to cry anymore! I am happy to say that I trust my feelings enough now to know that if I need to cry, I should cry. I am a sensitive person; crying helps cleanse my soul.

And the best part...this time around I know WHY I'm crying. I'm crying because I'm blessed, I'm grateful, I'm hopeful, I'm happy, I'm frustrated, I'm agitated, I'm annoyed, I'm confused, I'm everything. I'm crying because I cry, end of story.

So after two years, I am happy and proud to say good-bye Auntie D. She was there when I needed her, but that time has passed. Tears or no tears, there isn't a cure for being me.

Ikea Aneboda Series dressers

I love putting things together. I don't know which part I like more, creating something or following the directions to create it. Either way, if you need something built my service charge is a six pack and a pizza. I do have two conditions, though.

First, you can't sit and watch me build it. No, I don't hump the pieces into place or anything, I just go stupid when I have an audience.

Second, if you need me to assemble a dresser GO FUCK YOURSELF. Sincerely.

My dad and I went to Ikea Friday night. I bought a desk, chair, and two dressers. The desk and chair, easy peasy. The dressers? The dressers are what I assume its like to bang a virgin. You gather the tools you need, lay out a gameplan, do the ground work, create a solid foundation, and then right when she's ready for you, BAM...nothing fits in the hole.

For the one hour it took to build each dresser, more than half of that time was spent getting the goddamn drawers in. I couldn't get the metal pull thingies (technical name) to slide into the sides of the drawers. When I finally got them in, lo and behold, the screws weren't long enough to catch. Then dresser 2's handle screw holes weren't deep enough, so while the handles are attached to the drawer, they are just loose enough to bother the shit out of me for all of eternity. The added bonus: I tore the crap out of my hands from twisting the screwdriver to death. Go me.

The bright side is I'm finished. My bedroom looks good, Maczine is loving her new ride, and I can now put all my undies in proper drawers instead of those corny wicker baskets that I impulsively bought at Home Depot a while back.

I also now know to never, ever, EVER buy drawered-furniture that "Requires Assembly." It just ain't worth the frustration...or the blue balls.

And speaking of movies...

The Taking of Pelham 1, 2, 3 is one of my all time favorites. I was hooked the minute the opening credits started.

Unfortunately, the remake is slated for next summer.

If you love me you will rent the original (if you can find it) and boycott the new one. You won't be missing much, fucking John Travolta's in it.

Ugh. Blow me.

My DVD Collection

I'm in the process of cleaning out Delilah. I lot of crap builds up after five years!

When I was a kid I was the Queen of VHS. I loved owning videos. I recorded a ton of movies off HBO and bought as many tapes as my minimum wage salary could afford. Definitely my first big obsession. In fact, the longest recurring fight I had with my dad was when he'd record over one of my movies. Seriously. It got so bad I'd write "D.T.O." (Don't Tape Over) on the ones I really wanted, but he'd ignore the note and do it anyways. Then I got smart and pulled out the little plastic square pin as prevention, but the bastard would actually duct tape the hole so that you could still record. OY. I can't believe how fucking retarded this sounds 17 years later, but man did it bother me back then.

I'm not sure when I stopped collecting videos, although I have a sneaky suspicion it was around the time I met my old friend marijuana. Sure the Little Mermaid made me happy, but pot got me high. It helped heal the wounds from my battles with the VHS Nazi (and other slightly more traumatic things).

The first DVD I ever watched was Jurassic Park. One of my college roommate's owned it. Wait, is that right? 2000? Wow...seems both recent and not.

Anyhoo, I never got big into buying DVDs. Hell, I don't even own some of my favorite movies. Most of the ones I do have were gifts from Santa or borrowed/stolen from friends. As a result, my DVD collection is pretty manic. I wonder why....

TV Shows:

All of the Family Guy DVDs
Adventures of Pete and Pete Vol. 1-2
Firefly
Little Britain
Pee-Wee's Playhouse
Star Wars Clone Wars
Three Spongebob DVDs
Three Powerpuff Girls DVDs
Batman the Animated Series Vol. 1-2
The Muppet Show Vol. 1
Spawn (updated animation)
Hellboy (animated)

Movies:

Spaceballs
Star Wars 4-6
Indy 1-3
Shaun of the Dead
Silence of the Lambs
Wet Hot American Summer
Bridget Jones' Diary
Rio Bravo
Requiem for a Dream
Grease
Big Trouble in Little China
Spidey 1 and 2
Reservoir Dogs
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Seven Swords
Agatha Christie's Poirot Murder in Mesopotamia
Godzilla
Godzilla vs. Mothra
Gozilla's Revenge
Terror of Mechagodzilla

If I turn gay...

blame Woody Allen.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Am I a successful woman?

My gut answer is no. But why? How do I even define success and being a woman? I think I may have posted about this before, but I feel the need to revisit after a conversation I had with Jules. She said the cutest thing the other night: she'll know when she's successful for a few reasons, one of them being when she finally owns a boat. I love that!

My definition of WOMAN (outside of the obvious boobs and valentina) is someone who:

1. supports herself
2. wears high heels
3. eats sushi
4. gets manicures and pedicures
5. understands the stock market
6. can do "boy" push-ups and pull-ups
7. can fluently speak Italian or Greek

My definition of SUCCESS is:

1. supporting myself
2. marrying the person I love
3. raising a family
4. owning a home
5. driving a Dick Tracy car (I heart those)
6. not worrying about money
7. loving my job

I support myself. I eat sushi on a regular basis. I recently got a manicure and pedicure. I wear high heels at weddings. I guess that's about it...

Oh fuck it. I am DEFINITELY a successful woman. Why? Because I say so.

Peep this.

I have a new favorite television show.  Once again it's new to me, but not new to everyone else.  Well, everyone else in the UK anyways.

Peep Show

Funniest fucking show I've seen, oh, ever.  I will be quoting from it for the rest of eternity.  Check out this clip either at home or with your office door closed and headphones on:



Unfortunately the first season is the only one available in the Region 1 DVD format, but this show is so hysterical that I'm going to buy a multi-region DVD player.  

Rage mentioned I can get one for like $50, so I thought I'd check Amazon real quick.  I searched "region 2 dvd player." Sounds fine, right?  Yeah well I didn't realize I was still in the "Movies & TV" category.  The first hit:



I wonder which part is region 2...