Dear, dear Mission101. I am terribly sorry for the complete radio silence on my end, but life has been so busy. As a result, there are a lot of things to update you on. Exciting things. Life changing things! Good things.


( And here we go. )

I'm looking around me, and counting all the indentions in the carpet where furniture sat for years on end. It's all gone now, towed off to a little house with one bedroom, one bathroom, one of just about everything. It's a little house, but it's all one person really needs. Maybe more. I've always believed in living within your means and needs, and that is what I'm doing. Tomorrow, I'm moving out on my own. Tonight, spending my last night in my (most lived in) childhood home. Everything's stripped bare; naked. Empty. Blank.

There's supposed to be a paragraph in here about all the wonderful, heart warming memories I had here. And while there are quite a few, the only thing that sticks out in my head is that I'm officially "grown up". There's no going back from here, just trudging forward into adulthood. Career. Marriage. Kids. Retirement. Death. None of these things guaranteed, besides the last, but are the expected timeline for the average person.

Really, I'm a very happy person. I'm secretly hoping for some kind of rebirth, some way to find myself again. I've become this muted version of who I used to be, and  I find her quite boring. Maybe the freedom of only having ME to worry about will do me good. Maybe I'll be able to figure out what I'm really here for. Maybe all the silence will drive me crazy.

I wanted to do something fun my last night here, but instead I'm just camped out on the floor with a few blankets and pillows. The room feels foreign without all my stuff, it doesn't feel like "my" space anymore. Maybe that's for the best. Secretly, I'm really scared to go to sleep in a house without anyone else in it. I don't think I've ever done that before... at least, not on a regular basis. There's just something very base and animal-like when it comes to things like that; you feel like in the off-chance that "something" were to happen, you at least have back up. You're not alone. May this be a lesson in self-reliance, may I come out of it stronger and more independent. Everyone needs to learn how to live by themselves, with themselves. And not become a hermit in the process? Fingers crossed.

Despite that, I'm terribly excited. Truly, I'm happy. But I still can't help but feel like the best thing to do right now is let myself cry and feel tiny and insignificant, just to let the feeling stay here. I also want to crawl in bed with my mom. I also want to just get in my car and GO to the house, just get it over with and bypass this evening. I also want to call someone, anyone, just to hear a voice.

Instead, I think what's best to do is to get a solid 8 hours of sleep, and prepare myself for a rather Big Day.

So mature.

Alcoholism and crooked pinkie fingers.

That's about it.

X-POSTED TO THE MISSION 101 COMMUNITY

Oh hi, Mission 101! Long time no see.

Sadly, I've accomplised very little. Thankfully I have lots of time left to get things done, so I'm not too worried. Most importantly, there are updates on goals previously accomplished and what-not.

So it goes, my friends. So it goes.

( I title all my entries with Cat Power lyrics. What's with that? )

1.   Regardless, I am still the Majesty Snowbird.9:53 AM Feb 27th from web
     
2. Either I got very drunk or foiled a cupcake upheaval in my sleep.9:51 AM Feb 27th from web
     
3. Just woke up. Not sure why I am under my piano, but my hands are still sticky and I am surrounded by cupcake wrappers.9:50 AM Feb 27th from web
     
4. Sticky banjo makes such interesting new noises. Perfect to underscore the banoffee pie crisis and the uprising of the poppyseed scones.9:29 PM Feb 26th from web
     
5. Always, always the banjo.9:23 PM Feb 26th from web
     
6. Snocone made the banjo sticky.9:23 PM Feb 26th from web 

  I can't make the numbers go away, so just pretend they're not there.

Oh, FakeSufjan...

My day starts with a search for the plunger.

Woke up nice and early so I could get the dog to the groomer's. He's filthy, and I haven't the patience to bathe his neurotic ass (best to leave these things to the professionals. And they clean up his "sanitaries" so nicely!). I throw on my robe and head for the bathroom to begin my daily rituals. I have come to recognize a closed toilet lid as a harbinger of certain doom; and that is what I found before me. Anticipating the worst, I grab a tissue and open the toilet lid with it. Honestly, who just blows up the toilet like this and LEAVES IT THERE? My parents, obviously. And with my mastery of deducing such mysteries, I've determined it was my mother. Or, someone's toddler broke into my house and just ransacked the poor toilet. On top of the various... leavings... there is about half a roll of toilet paper. Easily.

This is the part where I tell you about an irrational fear of mine: I am TERRIFIED that one day, one fine day, I am going to flush a toilet and the water is just going to say "FUUUUUCK HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO WORK", and jetison into my face. Full force. Excrement... everywhere. I will have to shave my head, and bathe in gasoline to get the filth off.

I honestly think this might happen someday.

This is why when- in my most silly moment of the day so far- I attempted to flush the toilet, I almost flipped a shit (no pun intended). You see, I had just woke up after about 3 hours of uneasy sleep so I wasn't exactly all there. Up, up the water goes. Up, up go everything living in the toilet. I slowly back out of the bathroom and just close the door. I wait. Go back in and... yup, flooded the bathroom. Not too badly, but enough to set me into full-on RAGE MODE. I stomped and screamed and cursed and kicked at walls and was just an all around terrifying tornado of frustration and HATE SO MUCH HATE IN MY BODY. WHO DOES THIS? Who just shits in a toilet, clogs it up, closes and lid and LEAVES? I guess if we can't see it, it's not there.  I'm starting to think the older my parents get, the more they regress to their former selves. Toddlers, retarded and thoughtless. Actually, I take that back: I know plenty of toddlers who are far more well behaved than the pigs that I live with. I'm starting to think they do things like this just to spite me, just to drive me insane. And I tell you this; it's working.

I walked away from the bathroom, then. I got dressed, and I took my dog to the groomer's. Didn't brush my teeth, wash my face. Just threw on some clothes, grabbed my dog and left. Stopped at a gas station so I could pee (I needed to pee SO BAD). I came home, I cleaned up the kitchen that gets destroyed EVERY MORNING. Grabbed the mop, and made my way to the bathroom. Turned up my music nice and loud, so as to disctract at least one of my senses.

Is it SO HARD to grab a plunger?

Admitedly, that's what I should have done instead of trying to flush the damn thing. I figure that was just my silly hope getting in the way; "Please. Please, just flush away. I don't want to start my morning this way.".

At least the bathroom is nice and clean, now.

I keep telling myself that, next time this happens, I just need to leave it. I just need to leave the house all together. Spend the entire day AWAY from here. Come home when I know The Pigs should be home for a few hours. See if they cleaned up their mess. And if they haven't, just go stay at a hotel for an evening or something. I'll never do that. I'll just keep cleaning it, and making my pointless plea of, "Hey guysss... clean up your mess, please, it's not fair to me..."

HEY CRISTIN, NOBODY CARES. BECAUSE YOU'RE A DOOR MAT.

It's raining like crazy here. Thunder, ligthning. All that jazz. It's not weird having the dog pacing the kitchen, going "oh god oh god oh god". He doesn't really do that, only in my head... lots of things seem to only happen in my head these days. I have a normal family, relationship and job in my head.  I have a rewarding life. The people who I'm supposed to love and care about don't drive me mad, or frustrate me and piss me off. I'm sick of feeling so much animosity towards everyone I know. I don't ask for much. I just want somebody to ask me every once in a while, "Hey, how was your day?" before launching into a huge pity party that I'm supposed to handle for them.  Hi, I'm here. I'm not your fucking therapist. Excuse me while I quietly go insane, and you ignore it. GOOD JOB. GOOD FRIENDS.

Something normal and easy would be really nice right about now. Or, I'd like somebody to just shoot me in the face. Maybe a complete personality rehaul is in order; evolve into a totally different person, scare away all of the assholes who I seem to attract. Become a completely insincere human being, and leave any kind of empathy in the dust. Become utterly shallow.

Oh my god, I got this mascara today, and it makes my eyelashes LIKE SO BIG. Your ass is so HUGE in those pants! I can't associate with you anymore, because you just WHINE all the time and it makes me feel WEEEIIIRDD. I don't time to deal with your problems, I only have time for ME. Hope there's someone out there who will treat me like the piece of meat that I totally am! Buy me lots of jewelry and cars and a big house and botox and new tits, and I can sleep around with whoever I want!

WOW LIFE IS SO GREAT!

Let the record show that I detest telephones.

Today was a long, long day. My morning started with a phone call from a potential employer, requesting that I schedule a second interview with them. They'd like to have me come in and pick my schedule, have a parking pass made, get to know the facility. I'm very happy about all of this, I really am. I'm sick of being home all the time, and I'm suck of suckling the teat of unemployment benefits. Just makes me feel useless. I'm a firm believer in earning your money, working for it- REALLY working. Not just holding out your hand and hoping without any kind of contribution to the mix. You are owed nothing in this life, this I know.
 

The day also began with the most horrid pain in my back I have ever experienced. The mattress is shot. First paycheck; new mattress, new hair style. Priorities, I tell you.


That happened. Had breakfast with mom, which was surprisingly pleasant. Phone rings yet again, mom picks it up- and I can hear my sister screaming, crying hysterically. My sister is a very emotion driven creature, she's prone to complete spazz-outs, so I'm not too alarmed. Then I hear, "There's blood everywhere! I'm a terrible mother!", and she hangs up. My mother, the charming creature she is, just gives the phone a perplexed look and grumbles a bit of German. Phone rings again. My sister- saying she's "calmer" now- informs mom that the baby fell and lost one of her newly emerged top front teeth.
 

“Put it in a glass of milk!”

“It's just laying on the carpet..!”

“Call her doctor!”

“SHE'S RUINED.”
 

So, my niece had her first trip to the dentist. She handled the entire ordeal quite well, and left the majority of tears and insanity to her mother. What a trooper. There was no real damage to her mouth, other than a missing tooth. Her permanent tooth is already in line and ready to come when the time arrives, so the staff wasn't too concerned. I was sad that mom and sis both went on and on about how awkward she's going to look for the next few years. Reminding people that all that really matters is happiness and health didn't seem to do much good, it got me dirty looks. Even dirtier looks/words came with my utterance of, “I think one of the great things about kids is that they get away with missing teeth. I think it's cute.”. Went over like a lead balloon, I tell you. I don't understand how I became so oblivious to what makes people attractive in a family like this. Truly, I think the major drama all came from, “Goodness! She'll look so odd.”. But she's so beautiful... strange.
 

Let the smoke clear after that one, and mom pulled herself together to go out into the world; to make unnecessary purchases, and acquire items she already possesses. It's always a joy to have the house to myself... I chose this golden opportunity to do laundry in peace and quiet. Took the dog for a walk. Very nice. Phone rings again. It's mother, at the JC Penny outlet. Her car battery died. So I abandon my work, and scamper off to collect her. She insists that her shopping day is far from complete, and we make the drive to Target so that she may peruse the Easter wares. I reminded her of the box in the attic, full of Easter things we haven't seen in years. She just fumed at me for a bit, that was the most I got out of her. Got to Target; automatic doors were not functioning. The woman in front of us... literally... she just... clawed her way into the building. She prised the door open just enough to fit her body through. The desperation... the drive... the futility of it all... the perfectly functional “normal” door directly to her left. She was so determined to feel some kind of satisfaction from the door put there for HER convenience... she determined to make it to the See Spot Saves section. It was almost admirable. Almost. Mostly, it was just sad. I wept.
 

Rest of the Target Experience was uneventful. Swimsuits were purchased for infants. Easter sundries were procured. Jolly jolly, happy happy.
 

Then mother's awful mouth opened, and demanded more applesauce. “I want McDonalds!” I keep thinking to myself that, really, life with mother is only preparing me for my own motherhood. I'm so experienced with dragging a whining, needy little asshole around, I will be an old pro when the time comes. But God help me, I will NOT raise my children to become such bloated, nasty little midget beasties as my mother is.
 

Seriously, though. Mutti is a nice Mutti. Sometimes.
 

Off we go to the nearest McDonalds, which, in any self-respecting city, was right around the corner. Mother gets her quarter pounder, fries, soda. I got nothing. Trust me, I got a stiff talking to about all that. This food is bad for you mother, I'm watching my weight mother, it doesn't taste good mother, I have better things to spend my money on mother. Secretly, I was happy for it; I didn't have to make dinner! Huzzah and hooray. That's when the crazy little Asian manager lady started screeching at her minions, and my mother made such wonderful color commentary... It's really just so wonderful, that I completely wiped it from my memory. So sad that I cannot share. I just shrunk down in my booth and tried to look like I was, perhaps, some poor soul some random senial creature chose to torture on this particular day, in this particular McDonalds. I hope that the other patrons felt relieved that I took on the traditional burden that day. You're welcome, collective assholes of the world.
 

Dragged mother home. Collected the step-father. Returned to the fallen car at JC Penny's, got it moving again. Made a trip to the auto-parts store, installed a new battery.
 

So it goes.
 

Now, I'm just sprawled out on the floor because I'm so frightened of the mattress in the other room. It hurts me so, but I must sleep on it. Perhaps I could sleep on the floor... but I'd probably just make my back worse. Honestly, it feels like someone is driving nails into my spine while punching at the meatier places. Not my kidneys, please, sir. I need a good rub-down, but there's nobody around to con into it. Shame. I'm such a lovely and charming person when I'm not in pain.
 

Maybe I'll stay up and make postcards for my friends tonight. Everyone is moving away from here... joinng the other people I have driven away the the SHEER FORCE OF MY AWESOMENESS... I'm glad Pal Joey and Osama can be in closer proximity, so that they may talk about my lesbianism as a pair. They need postcards about that. I've got friends scattered everywhere, but none where I need them right now.
 

Sing me to sleep, sing me sleep

I don't want to wake up on my own anymore
 

If I just keep typing, it will keep me distracted. I'm imaging that somebody cares about all of this, and is reading with such rapt attention, and care to detail, and seeing everything in between the lines. Does that ever really happen for anyone? Or do we just float on, being mysteries? I'm so tired of that. There's really not much to me, you'd think I would be more transparent to people. She's like cellophane, I tell you.

 

I don't think I've ever been sung to sleep. I bet it's nice. Unless it's like... Pandora... or Sting... in that case, I imagine it would be pretty distressing. Plenty of CDs and pirated MP3s have “sung” me to sleep, I guess. Even an ancient Walkmen cassette player! I found that poor, battered thing in the attic yesterday. I thought about taking it to the park with me, but was concerned that the hooligan hipsters would jump me, and beat me for being to sadly technology impaired. Anyway; what would really be nice right now, is for Sam Beam to appear in the corner and sing to me with his magical guitar of happiness (what other kind of guitar would he use?). It's be awkward. But his beard would negate any weird feelings in the room, and all would be sleepy and comfortable and nice. Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.
 

Figured out where I want to get my tattoo. Ribcage seems like the right place. Still working out what I want it to say, but I know I want a swallow carrying a banner. Maybe a cherry blossom. Maybe just words... maybe just a tree... my concern here is that I will become one of those tattoo'd ladies. My only future will be in trapeze swinging. I kids... I'm not keen on covering all of my skin with ink, though. I just want a little something that will be a visual reminder of good things. Things that inspire me, make me happy.
 

Obviously, I need Ben Gibbard's face... scowling up at me. Always judging! Always moon-faced, and hungering for the flesh of his fellow man.
 

But enough philosophy.
 

I should sleep. Another busy day of unemployment awaits!

Despite being unemployed, things are being accomplished.

There was a little while there when things were looking very bleak. I got crazy depressed, and was on my way towards one of those really bad places that I sometimes visit so that I may cause unnecessary damage to myself. Makes me feel better. Then I discovered that my sense of worth will NOT be determined by my job-- I need a job. I do. One of the unfortunate parts of being a big kid is that money will keep your head constantly pushed under the surface. But I'm still breathing... SOMEHOW.

I am not my job. I am not the money I make. I am more. I have a clear vision of my future, and I know it will be a struggle... but I want to make it work. I'm not afraid anymore.

Now I dance.

Lots of stuff to explore here...
( Read more... )

SO! Fear not, my unemployed companions of Mission101. There is a way out. You don't have to be hopeless, because you're better than that. Chin up!

Besides being one more day closer to death? Nothing.

I killed Marlon Brando.

My parents took me Steak & Shake, which I HATE. I told them of my loathing. I warned them. They let me have cheesy fries, and a shake. We discussed movies, and how much they loved Marlon Brando. I told them that I would kill him.

We left.

We sat in our old Crown Victoria and turned on NPR.

The first segment was entirely about the death of Marlon Brando, who had died just an hour ago.

I didn't even have to be in the same part of the world as he was to kill him. My rage and annoyance and will... that was all it took.

My parents have feared me since then.

CELEBRITY DEATH GET

Today, Writer's Block asks us...

What celebrity do you think looks like you? What celebrity do other people say you look like?

When I worked at Target, some guy told me I looked like Rachel Leigh Cook. Specifically, I resembled her in the film 'She's All That'.

"You know. Before she was hot."

Charming.

I haven't seen the movie myself, so I couldn't say how accurate this all is. The only role I remember Rachel Leigh Cook in would be the lead in 'Josie and the Pussycats', which I only saw because I love Rosario Dawson and Paulo Costanzo. She was cute! But, of course, that must have been after she was 'hot'.

Oy.

To better help me understand who I look like-- because this is a VERY VERY IMPORTANT THING-- I looked to Google once again for answers and comfort. I found MyHeritage, and their handy-dandy "who the fuck I look like?" gadget.

My results?

MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Family tree template - Family tree software


Yup, Rachel's there. She's kinda cute. Natalie Imbruglia's in there, too, and she's awesome.

GOOD GOD, I'M SO HAPPY I DID THIS. THIS COMPLETELY VALIDATES MY EXISTENCE.

Blog + Unemployment = FAIL

So, I saw this Writer's Block option a few days ago, and couldn't get my head around it. My relationship is a deal? There are ways to break that deal? What? I always felt that my relationship was more than that, deeper. Apparently I was wrong! Thanks, LiveJournal! After consulting with Google, I found a list of things that should terrify me.

TOP TWENTY RELATIONSHIP DEALBREAKERS, ACCORDING TO THE INTERWEBS

1. No Prime Time: He’s always busy on Friday and Saturday nights.
I am perfectly accepting of this. I know that his weekend job is very important. In fact, I have so much fun helping him find good corners in bad neighborhoods, fantastic fishnets for uncomfortable shoes, and ass-less chaps. We both enjoy this so much, why would I hinder it?!

2. Nothing in Common: He’s a sports enthusiast, you live for the ballet, and there’s no middle ground.
There are some things we just don't see eye to eye on. For instance, my affinity for cooking large amounts of meth in my basement, and his preference towards growing weed in a spare closet. The money is quite obviously in my field! But he keeps insisting that vices should lean more towards the natural, herbal route. Fucking hippie!

3. Family Matters: He always has major family obligations or faces significant issues in his family, such as interpersonal strife, mental illness, disease, a disability, or a disorder.
Really, I'm the one with the family issues! I come from a mob/nazi background. See, dad's folks came from Italy-- they make their living as loan sharks and arms dealers. My mother's folks are straight out of Germany; they dispose of people they see as "impure", and a threat to their ideal lifestyle. Boy, holidays sure are awkward! I bet he must feel pretty tense about meeting my family, being a filthy disgusting gypsy and all. Oh well!

4. Religious Differences: Can you face the possibility of compromising or converting? Can you agree on how to raise children, if desired?
What a silly thing to be worried about! The only reason we're together is because he's as staunch of a Conservative Christian as I am! But we both voted for Obama, because we believe in a better tomorrow.

5. Politics: You fundamentally disagree on candidates and ideology.
I'm Colbert, and he's Stewart. When we get together, you bet your ass it's some kinda sexy. And violent. Lots of bloodshed in this department.

6. Obsessions: He’s a workaholic, an incessant trainer, a fanatical enthusiast, and these obsessions take up all his time and mental energy.
I understand and accept the Sufjan Stevens obsession, and I know that if he cheats on me... Stevens is the one I'm gonna have to take down. I will make a chalice from his skull. If he somehow live through it, I bet he'll cry and write an album about it. Either way, I win.

7. Bad Habits: He is a slave to cigarettes, drinks excessively, smokes pot regularly, or abuses harder street drugs or prescription medication.
Keeping dead cats in spare closets kinda bothers me, but at least he keeps them organized (by sex, color and state of decomposition).

8. History of Bad Habits: A man “in recovery” could relapse.
It used to be dead cats AND dogs! And Republicans.

9. Loner: He has no close friends from home, work, college, high school, team sports, or even the bar scene.
I kinda get the idea that, maybe, all the dead cats have something to do with this matter... it's hard explaining that to people when they come over for a visit, and they find you elbows deep in a cat's anus. Excuses like, "I'm just looking for my keys" aren't working anymore.

10. Jealous: If he doesn’t trust you, particularly around other men, it often means that he doesn’t trust himself.
I think he's just jealous of my large collection of socks. Princess Today, Goddess Tomorrow...

11. Rude: He’s impolite to strangers, co-workers, friends, family, or people in the service industry. 
I once saw him kick an elderly couple down a escalator that was going up. They were left, tumbling, for hours. He just stood there and screamed, "Do something OOOOLD MAAAAAN". How rude.

12. Poor Hygiene: He has bad breath, body odor, or other forms of poor hygiene.
Again, a lot of this can be traced back to the mass of dead cats he wallows with. Have you smelled 10 gallons of cat urine? I rest my case.

13. Unhealthy: He doesn’t take care of himself and is often ill or tired.
You know, dead animals carry many diseases. And the environments in which he finds these cats are hardly sanitary. He can't help it.

14. Unemployed or Underemployed: He doesn’t work very often, very hard, or at all.
Boy, if people paid you to collect dead cats and grow weed, he'd be rolling in it! But now he just rolls in dead cats and weed. 

15. Idle Rich: He’s a trust fund baby who seems to have no responsibilities and lacks a value system.
Even if this were the case, I think he'd still be very dedicated to his goal of finding SOME monetary value in his collection of departed cats.

16. Values: He has moral standards you can’t abide, such his views on abortion or whether a woman should leave the workforce to raise children.
I respect his morality more than anything else! He's the picture of moral purity!

17. Lost: He doesn’t know his purpose or have any direction.
He's never lost. He only moves in a north-west direction.... honestly, that is the only direction he moves in. It's a wonder he's made it this far in live. How many times has he circled the globe just to get home? On a daily basis, thanks for asking.

18. Boring: Your mind wanders when it’s his turn to speak.
Things are rarely ever boring. Especially when he talks, because it's usually in tongues unknown to this world, and I have to bust out the purifying salts and holy water. Sexy!

19. Aesthetically Unpleasing: You find him physically unattractive.
What's not to love about a blonde covered in cat entrails and urine? It's his smile that really melts my heart, though!

20. Hothead: He has a short fuse and possibly a “chip on his shoulder.”
I've never seen him angry! That makes everything above all the more terrifying, though.



Hm.  I've got some thinking to do about.... stuff....

It's high time I had a sit-down with my Papillion, Jerry, about his many and varied neurosis. So today, because the unemployed rarely have anything better to do I'm guessing, I sat Jerry down on his favorite chair in the living room and we had a brief tete-a-tete.

Pictures provided,  so that you may look upon the true face of insanity.





Jerry: Why are we in here. We shouldn't be in here. Mom's going to kill us. NOBODY COMES IN TO THIS ROOM. WHY ARE WE HERE. I REALLY LIKE THIS CHAIR.

Cristin: Jesus. You sound just like Woody Allen.

Jerry: WHO? What are you doing. Why are you talking. NOT SO LOUD.

Cristin: Why are you always so... you? I mean, everything terrifies you.

Jerry: Man, I came from some BAD TIMES. My youth wasn't exactly-- DON'T TOUCH ME-- great.

Cristin: I know you were abused, but we've had you for about four years now. Nobody here hurts you. We walk on eggshells to make you comfortable. You have food, water, you're walked every day...

Jerry: You think I WANT this?! Everything scares me! Those shoes you have, the green ones with the little heels? Scared of 'em. These curtains behind me? If they were to move, I would shit myself and go running out of this room.

Cristin: Yeah, that's happened before.

Jerry: Remember when I was sitting on your bed, and you threw an empty pop can into your trashcan--

Cristin: Just let it go, man.

Jerry: -- and it was SO LOUD and I popped up and I jumped off of your bed, and in mid-air a little turd just FLEW out of my ass?! You scared the shit out of me! Literally! I was SO embarrassed.

Cristin: That was hilarious. And it was easily cleaned.

Jerry: I almost had a coronary!

Cristin: I don't get it, though. You try to act so tough around other, larger dogs. You growl and jump at them.

Jerry: I'm just trying to protect my nuts, man. It's a dog thing. We're visual creatures.

Cristin: You have no balls.

Jerry:  ... I what?

Cristin:  You're neutered. No balls.

Jerry: ... then what am I always licking?

Cristin: Well, you have your little peen. Then... just blank. Blank nothingness. Twig, no berries. Shave and a hair cut... no bits.

Jerry:  ..... D:<



Cristin: Hey, I didn't personally do that. You came to us that way.

Jerry: You wonder why I'm crazy?! It's you humans! You do crazy shit to us! You remove my manhood. You put me in stuuuupid sweaters. I have FUR, okay?! That sweater makes me so nervous.

Cristin: But you look so cute...!

Jerry: YOUR FACE IS CUTE.

Cristin:  Aw. Thanks.

Jerry: I am going to shit all over this chair.

Cristin: Go for it.

Jerry: Oh, I'll do it. Not out of fear, but out of spite. You'll see! I---


Then the doorbell rang and he simultaneously shit and pissed himself, went tearing out of the room screaming "OH GOD".

I'm glad we had this talk.

Major set-back in my goals...

It's not every day that you are laid off from a job you had for, roughly, a month. I was informed off this only after I worked an entire shift; 200 of my co-workers and I had our badges taken, and were escorted out of the building. I sat in my car in the garage and quietly ripped out a good chunk of my hair, then drove home. For two days I was just shocked, wide-eyed and confused. And today I spent the majority of the day crying and beefing up my resume. Doing the ol' job search on the interwebs, calling temp agencies and searching for decent independent health insurance. I could file for unemployment if I so desire, but... I'd feel like such a drain on society.

Yesterday, while I was still in that state of shock, I created a fairly decent cure-all for "The Grumps". Because yes yes yes, I was indeed grumpy. Didn't know what to think or feel about my entire situation, but I was grumpy.

What do I do when I am grumpy? I bake, of course.

I bake things like this:



"Just cupcakes?" No no. No ordinary cupcakes. These cupcakes have a secret.



Sunshine cupcakes. Happiness in a little paper liner. Bright, cheerful. You can't help but to smile at them, and diligently think of ways to make your resume look a little more interesting.

Everything's going to be alright.

So, to all of you who might be having a hard time of it, I share my rainbow baked goods with you. I hope they can make you smile.

Short and sweet, but progress is being made. :3

Water and crafts and Guitar Hero-- Oh my!

Also, pictures of my BABY!

( Clickums )

Doing good! Bigger, better accomplishments to come soon I promise. I just need a little more time to work on them. Cheers!

This is all regarding the Disney film Snow Buddies.

Not that I've seen one of the "Buddy" movies since the original, but this kinda made me cry this morning:

"Disney imported 25-30 under-aged golden retriever puppies into Vancouver, Canada for the filming of the movie. Many of the puppies contracted the highly contagious parvovirus, against which puppies are usually vaccinated at 8 weeks of age. At least 15 puppies showed signs of the illness, including parasitic infections of giardia and coccidia, and all thirty were removed from the set. Three were euthanized. After the enforced removal of the first set of puppies, Disney hired 28 older puppies to continue filming. These puppies were also exposed to the virus, increasing the death toll. At least five puppies are reported to have died during the making of the movie."

DISNEY KILLS PUPPIES.

It doesn't get much more evil than that.

When the End Times come, we can all blame Disney.

Seriously, where were the animal's trainers? The breeders? Someone with a functioning brain and half a heart? Anyone with a base knowledge of common things that will kill your puppy should have been on this shit like stink on an ape. It it a HIGHLY contagious virus, it is a painful and destructive virus. Without prompt and pretty intense treatment, the animal WILL die. Imagine your last days being spent shitting blood, not holding down food, barely being able to function. All that, and you're being forced to make a fucking Disney movie?! DIRECT TO DVD DISNEY MOVIE? That's what these poor animals endured, talk about dignity, eh? Where was PETA? We never hear about this bullshit, but I have to suffer through SEA KITTENS? Fuck you, PETA. You don't care about fair and equal treatment of animals. That movie set was contaminated... ushering in more dogs was a disgusting and horrible absence of thought on somebody's part. Shame on them. Shame on Disney. Shame on whoever was overseeing that set so that the "No animals were harmed during the making of this film" tag could be slapped onto the end of the credits. It's a sad fact that most every movie featuring more than one animal is generally as appalling as this one; but this is just disgusting... This is STILL happening. These animals were exposed to (and some succumbed to) a virus that slowly and painfully destroys them from the inside out. And if they do survive? What a horrible experience. Days in quarantine, days of intense veterinary intervention. And no guarantee that they pull through. And it needs to be pointed out, people need to have their noses rubbed in it. Would we allow this to happen to children? No, only animals.

If I ever become a masked crusader, my arch enemies will quite obviously be Disney and PETA. Best comic book ever. But the movie franchise would suck.

OBVIOUSLYYYYYY

Progress! Achievement unlocked. +15 HP and +35 MP (Bonus Character unlocked - HUNTER S. THOMPSON)

Details under the cut, including a great picture of yours truly in a blanket fort, channeling Marie Antoinette and Hunter S. Thompson at the same time.

Yes, it can be done.


( BAD CRAZINESS... )

1. Get a new job. Fulltime. Benefits. Better pay. It's time to move on from a place that continously shits on you.

Thus, one of my many goals was accomplished. The very first one on the list, too!

This was one of my most important goals. You see, my previous job was slowly but surely destroying me mentally, physically and spiritually. I learned a lot, and I met so many lovely people; but ultimately, the place was toxic. Simply put, I am not equipped for emergency veterinary care. Honestly I'm not meant for the medical world PERIOD, because I'm too much of a weenie.

There was something about, everyday, seeing so many animals in pain. Most of them ultimately succumbing to their illness or trauma. The misery of the animals, paired with that of their owners... sometimes NOT paired with that of their owners, which is oftentimes worse... it ate away at my heart every single day. I have a deep respect for all forms of life. I love animals, I love people. If it lives, it's worth the effort and time. However, I just can't tolerate undue suffering... so many of the cases I saw could have ended so much better had the animal's owners been a little more attentive and compassionate. Also, so many more animals could have survived had the facility I worked at been more compassionate towards their clients; no, not everyone has $4,000 dollars sitting around to save their pet's life. Yes, it's okay to seek another opinion. No, your only option is NOT euthanasia.

There are so many tales I could tell of my time there. Some happy, some painful. In the end, I'm glad I worked there and I'm fortunate to have learned so much.

I'm just better equipped for office work at this time in my life. I'll be doing general office work now; data entry, file/mail clerk. That crap. Also... corporate casual! No more scrubs! ELATION.

Also, I really needed more hours and benefits. Living without health insurance hasn't been so good for me.

Time to start looking into apartments.

I recently joined the Mission101 project.

Essentially, you are given 1,001 days to complete 101 tasks. Far more difficult than simply ONE New Years resolution, and all-together far more life changing. These are my long term goals, my silly goals, my fanciful goals, my serious goals. This is what I want for myself in the next couple years.

Tasks will not be completed in any specific order, but they will be documented here if possible.

Finally, I have a use for the blog.

(If it's a hyperlink, it's been completed and entries logging progress are linked to in the Mission101 community. :3)

( The chaotic and beautiful list... )