Here's some randomness
They tell me that "Misery loves company". Is that really true? Because I could always use another friend. I think i'll dump this Loneliness jerk for Misery. Then Misery and I will run away together. We could go to Vegas. We'll get drunk, and Elvis would marry us. Then Misery would fall for some floozy he met in a casino while I was at the all you can eat buffet. I don't think Misery is a one woman man. We'd get divorced shortly after he breaks my heart, then i'll go crawling back to Lonliness like the sap that I am, forever cursing Misery. "Damn you Misery!" *Shakes fist*

Untitled
This is going to be pretty random, but it actually has some meaning behind it. If you need me to explain it later I'll be happy to go through what I was thinking with this.


Happiness should come in an aerosol can…

…Kind of like Easy Cheese. For that matter anything good should be easy to obtain at will or come in an aerosol can. Then there would be colloquial phrases like “I’m gonna go get me some Happy” without referring to drugs of any sort. I mean really, is it possible to overdose on Easy Cheese, much less “Happy”? I think not.

Motivation and creativity should also be in an easy to obtain form perhaps a breakfast cereal? Yes, that’ll start one’s day off nicely.

Sadness and pain can’t be avoided. This explains the infamous can of “Whup-Ass”. One need not have a can opener to unleash its wrath. It’s so simple even your everyday homogenized-by-society imbecile can use it. That goes to say it is very user friendly and guarantees instant gratification. Isn’t that what everyone wants? One needs only to throw said ‘can’ at another to witness their immediate downfall.

Those of us who are smart get up, dust ourselves off, grab some “Happy”, and get on with our lives.

When it comes to Reality, supply is far in excess of demand. I’m sure it’s stored somewhere in a dark warehouse that no one ever sets foot in. It’s in boxes too, heavy ones. Stacked from floor to ceiling. Costly as it is, do you dare walk into that warehouse and risk one of those boxes of reality to come crashing down on you? I have, and let me tell you it’s really hard “getting a grip on reality”. Especially in those big heavy boxes. God forbid you drop it on your toe. Everything has its consequences.

Alas, this is all wonderful fantasy. When you think about it, if all this were true would anything really change? My answer is “No”. Happiness can always be taken away. Stolen by hungry, undeserving abject beasts, or because the cost of aerosol happy increases. Damn that inflation. There will always be those who lack in motivation and creativity. Maybe it’s because they are lactose intolerant, or just don’t eat breakfast. There will always be people that hurt others to make themselves feel better, probably because happiness isn’t really so easy to obtain. As for reality, it will always be something people will deny when they can use it most. Too many are afraid to stand up and “face reality”. I myself am one of them. The truth is reality can ground us so to speak and give us some stronghold when we are lost.

Who is this Teresa girl anyway?
After hearing Teresa Sweat say that merit is adequately measured by her methods and qualifications, I felt that someone needed to write a dissenting opinion. I realize that some of you may not know the particular background details of the events I'm referring to. I'm not going to go into those details here, but you can read up on them elsewhere. Granted, I'm sure she seriously believes that the average working-class person can't see through her chicanery, seeing how her selective memory works. But her perceptions are continually evolving into more and more truculent incarnations. Here, I'm not just talking about evolution in a simply Darwinist sense; I'm also talking about how Teresa hates it when you say that the same poisonous spirit that infects slovenly, footling dorks also pollutes Teresa's thinking. She really hates it when you say that. Try saying it to her sometime, if you have a thick skin and don't mind having Teresa shriek insults at you. I may be opening a Pandora's box by writing this, but she is doing everything in her power to make me have to fight with one hand tied behind my back. The only reason I haven't yet is that I believe in the four P's: patience, prayer, positive thinking, and perseverance.

Does Teresa do research before she reports things, or does she just guess and hope she's right? The reason I ask is that an axiom among Teresa's factotums is that newspapers should report only on items Teresa agrees with. That shouldn't surprise you when you consider that if you are not smart enough to realize this, then you become the victim of your own ignorance. If truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, then she is unwilling to stand up for what is true and right if there is no personal advantage to her in doing so. Or, to express that sentiment without all of the emotionally charged lingo, if, five years ago, I had described a person like Teresa to you and told you that in five years, she'd toss sops to the egos of the money-grubbing, you'd have thought me contumelious. You'd have laughed at me and told me it couldn't happen. So it is useful now to note that, first, it has happened and, second, to try to understand how it happened and how I am not trying to save the world -- I gave up that pursuit a long time ago. But I am trying to preserve the peace.

If we let Teresa diminish our will to live, who's going to protect us? The government? Our parents? Superman? Probably none of the above. That's why it's important to speak up and speak out against Teresa. Some people consider her jibes a necessary evil, but the truth is that I feel that she has insulted everyone with even the slightest moral commitment. Teresa obviously has none, or she wouldn't put political correctness ahead of scientific rigor. Finally, whatever your thoughts or feelings about Teresa Sweat are, I urge you to help me serve on the side of Truth.

Courtesy of : The Complaint Letter Generator

Yes, Yes I know. I promised a REAL entry. It's coming I assure you. Give me at least one more day.

Day of the sacred lasagne
Ha! I've been trying to get to the computer all day... and finally after over 10 hours of waiting, here I am! Ok, so today I went to they youth musical at church. I love youth musical time! It was great, Heidi the choir director, came up with the whole thing herself. It was a pretty neat compilation of scripture mini skits, and praise songs. I laughed I cried, and had a time. My favorite part was the little skits... I'm trying to remember little bits and pieces of them...

In one of the skits, Brian came out with stuff written all over his arms and legs and feet... then Emily asks "What have you done?" and Brian says "I've finally done what the youth pastor has been saying all these years, I engraved the word of god on my heart... well not exactly my heart, but everywhere else!" then Emily says "he said on your HEART... not your EPIDERMIS!"
Brian: "There's no need for swearing!"
Emily: "It Means Skin!"
Brian: "Besides there's plenty of benefits to this, I don't have to memorize all those bible verses, and I can even read the bible in the shower!... Look at this it's flourescent! I dont even have to turn on the light to read my bible!"
Emily: " You got the whole bible tattooed on you!?!"
Brian: " Everything except the geneology stuff, you know so and so begat so and so... and so on..."

It was hilarious... as were all the other skits. Not to mention I got to see all of my friends! Also my friend Amanda Baker had a solo... It kicked major booty! She's usually pretty shy so in chorus she usually gets overlooked, but if Crossman knew how good she was she'd be in show choir no problem. As of now, Amanda is just convinced that Crossman hates her.

When I got home, Mom started her usual bitch-fest... clean this do this... you have to stay and help me do this because i'm an incompotent slob, etc, etc. She started making me wash all the dishes and started getting stuff out to cook. Saying the same old things and pissing Al and I off as usual. Alyssa and I decided that we were sick of her "Crap with onions"... That's all my mother knows how to cook. She is posibly the worst chef EVER! It's always crap with onions, or crap with onions "Mexican Style", or crap with onions on rice, or crap with onions in marinara... Sometimes its crap with garlic. I was so angry at her stupid bossyness, that when she started pulling onions out of the cabinet, I fliped... she left for a moment, and Al and I decided to make some real food. Mom was attempting to make Lasagne, which translates to "Italian crap with onions and noodles". I am a kickass cook, and I took over with Al's help. We started following a set recipe, and going at it and when mom got back she started spouting off about how we were doing it all wrong. I told her that she had no place to talk, and I also told her to "Kiss It!". Then she hit me... and said the next time it would be on the face. She doesnt scare me. Alyssa and I turned out a great lasagne, and mom cant yell about it because she knows its true. She spent the day sulking in the living room, watching tv... now she's in the kitchen cooking more crap, trying to rival me and justify her loss of a day. She just hates to admit that I can do things better, and that we don't need her help to get along. Thats why she always says we do everything wrong. Another triumph for Alyssa and I. Booyaa!

This was like the weirdest dream I've had all week...

I fell asleep listening to the White Stripes last night(this morning)... It must have been about 6 am. I had this totally weird dream that I was going to my gramma's house for the day. Apparently she had to go to my cousin's house to do something, and I was instructed to go to her house to take care of her plants or some weird thing like that. So I'm over at her house, which in my dream, looks like a combination of my house and the lobby of a hotel. I'm standing at the sink in the kitchen type thing and washing my hands when this large African American lady comes in. I turn around to face her, and she says to me "I need a plate! A big plate!". So I say, "Well go get one then!" She turns around and walks through some swingy door things and reaches into a high cabinet and starts fiddling through dishes. Then she turns to me and says "You know your grandmother wants to live in a hospice don't you?" I respond yes... even though I don't know what the hell she's talking about. The lady pretty much left or disappeared after that.

The lady totally weirded me out so I decide to go play around on the computer. I pull up the media player and as soon as it comes up there's a very skinny white chick on it. She looks like a fitness instructor or something, and it appears that she is somewhere outdoors. She addresses me by name through the computer. Then she says "You know your gramma wants to live in a hospice dont you?" again, I say yes. Then the woman says "It's ok... you can make it through everything with hard work!"

Then she pulls a fucking lawnmower out of her pocket! You know like in Mary Poppins where she pulls all that shit out of her bag? It was just like that! With that, she starts mowing the lawn, but it is as if someone hit the fast forward button on her life, because she is mowing at the speed of light, and it looks really funny! She stopps mowing and then starts trimming bushes... It is at this point when I look out of the window adjacent to the computer. She's in the backyard! Now i'm completely freaked and I walk upstairs for a breather, and crawl back down so that she doesn't see me through the computer (For some reason I wasnt worried about her seeing me through the window) I quickly reach up and shut off the media player.

Thinking my troubles are over, I stand up and relax a moment... Then I hear a rattling in the air ducts. All of a sudden the airvent near the celing flys off and hits Alyssa's drumset ( I dont know what that's doing at gramma's) then Britney Spears jumps out of the air vent saying "Shit! I did it again!" when she sees what the vent cover did to Alyssa's drums. I really didn't know how this happened in my dream, because Britney Spears being there had NOTHING to do with my gramma. She just walked up to me and started talking about herself (She seemed really egotistical in my dream, and she said her boobs were fake). We were then interrupted by a phone call from my sister Donna, who asked the question, "You know that nanny wants to go live in a hospice dont you?" "yes" then she just hung up. Britney decided she was leaving and hopped back through the air vent. Then I hear a knock at the door. It's Alyssa. I walk out to let her in, and Dad has brought home a new truck you know the kind that the hispanics across the street drive. Complete with an airbrushed portrait of the truck being watched by the Virgin Mary. He gets out of the truck and I ask him "Daddy, did you know that gramma wants to move into a hospice?"

Then I woke up.

The weird thing about this is that Gramma is in fact losing her mind. There's a history of Alzheimer's in her family. Last year she sent Alyssa a birthday card that said "Alyssa, It's your birthday isnt it?... oh well Happy Birthday... Whatever." That was certainly not gramma-esque. She called here a few days ago and mentioned "Wasn't it someone's birthday last week?" "Alyssa told her that it was mine. Then she asked when dad's birthday was. She couldn't even remember when her son's b-day was. I thought it sad. I mean I only expected so much. She in fact called our house on my birthday... We talked for a while and she didn't even remember then. Poor Gramma. Now i'm thinking that it's best that she go to Michigan. There is a care facility near where she will live. Perhaps it's better that she not live alone.