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| News Tips from Ema-Li Shitty Shane Stuff I Hate And there's so much of it! The Accident a photographic memoir of the breaking of my spine A tribute to Attention Deficit Disorder The Roommates from Hell A Few Good Emails Contact Me I may even respond! |
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| ...and how many of you bastards have bothered to sign my guestbook? |
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| Diary Entry 12/29/05: Last night I had a dream that Ian proposed to me and I beat him to a bloody pulp. Then I ran away and set up camp inside a Zales diamond outlet, only to appear months later, looking like a concentration camp victim. Ian then announced that he was thrilled to have me back and welcomed my acceptance to his proposal with open arms. I think maybe I should discuss that one with my therapist. Diary Entry 12/28/05: The flight went embarrassingly well. Why did I ever get so scared about sharing close proximity with other people? Breathing in their stinking breath, inhaling all their germs into my unprotected lungs. Listening to their babies crying and their belching attempts at releiving their own nausea. Oh, now I remember why I hate flyging. Diary Entry 12/22/05: Today is a big mouth day. Whenever I get nervous, such as when I'm anticipating a plane trip, I can't help blurting embarrassing and inappropriate personal details. It's like some survival instinct. As though my body senses the impending mid-flight death by shock, my subconscious seems to think the solution would be to make as many "friends" as possible before the flight. As though attempting to stock up on potential funeral attendees. However, the attempts of my subconscious mind to make new friends are even worse than my conscious attempts. Somehow, in trying to bear my soul, I've been announcing things like how my nipples rings are healing well after being stretched, or that my ferrets hemmorhoids are a cause for concern. I doubt somehow, that anyone privy to this information is apt to be attending my funeral any time soon, let alone giving a eulogie on how witty and charming I was. Diary Entry 12/16/05: I work really far away. The traffic in Portland, Oregon, is appalling. It takes me one hour to get to work and a good 45 minutes to get back. The traffic isn't usually quite as bad in the evenings. Tonight, as I left the office, I noticed a twinge that signaled the slight need to pee. But I figured, it's only 45 minutes, I'll be fine. Forgetting, of course, that I had just finished chugging a liter of water to get the broccolli taste out of my mouth. And, of course, that whenever you're in a hurry in Portland, no one else is. Today was national stop your car and look at what that guy is getting pulled over for day. There were 2 guys pulled over in 2 different places along the drive home, and every body on the freeway had to slow to a crawl. I'm thinking about Niagara Falls and how I will be able to get the pee smell out of my upholstery if I can't make it home. And all I'm seeing is brakelights and potholes. Diary Entry 10/7/05: The other day my poor ferret Minnie was sleeping in some fleece pajama pants I had carelessly left on the floor, but I didn't know she was in there. So I picked them up and shook them the way you do to get wrinkles out before you hang things, and she came flying out of one of the leg holes and cartwheeling through the air. Then, later that day, I heard the other ferret, Strudel, rustling around behind the bed and playfully did a belly flop on the bed to scare her. Little did I know, the poor abused Minnie had decided to sleep in my bed under the covers. So I felt this little thing under my belly kicking me and probably thinking "Oh shit the end is near!" She was ok. It was really pretty funny. Diary Entry 9/28/05: I must say that geocities sucks. Every time these poeple make any changes to anything on their site, it screws up something completely unrelated. In this case they have done something to where the font does not show up correctly when I preview my saved changes so I can't tell if things are lined up correctly or not. Oh the price I pay for a free website. Diary Entry 9/10/05: Woohoo, it's been a long time since I've updated this. I'm getting to be such a slacker. Actually I haven't had internet access for upwards of 6 months. Big news, have moved out of house with scary white trash Jerry Springer roommates! Actually, I currently reside in a little town in Oregon known as Beaverton. Beaverton, in the Beaver State. And we even have a golden beaver on our state flag! This state really digs the beav, apparently. Diary Entry 1/15/05: Yeah it's been awhile since I updated this page, quit your bitching. Anyway, on the 5th of January I found some of my mail post dated December 8th sitting on my roommate's desk in his library, not in my room or even on the counter where I could find it. Diary Entry 10/13/04: I found the mailbox key this morning. I'm keeping it in my purse from now on. It's not like they bother to check the mail anyway, so as long as I get it for them every day they'll never notice that I am the sole key holder now. I AM THE KEYMASTER!!! ARE YOU THE GATEKEEPER??? K got that out of my system now. Diary Entry 10/5/04: Not long after my harddrive farted out, my roommates lost the key to our mailbox. Now Sean holds custody of the only key and likes to play king of the mountain and not let anyone else check the mail. Meanwhile, he refuses to check the mail more than once a week. Soon after that, our internet access was shut off. Because he didn't pay the bill. Oh, he denied it when I asked him, but it took him just a little to long to think of a cover story. Anyway the internet is up and running again now, although I still do not have access to my mail. Which, incidentally, they've been opening anyway. Not regularly really, just 2 bills. But still. You open one, it's a mistake, you open 2, it's pretty damn obvious you intended to do it. Diary Entry 8/26/04: In case I haven't mentioned it, one of my harddrives farted out and went down with all my digital pictures. Now, imagine that every picture you'd taken in the past 3 years you'd scanned because you didn't have enough room for the hard copies. Then imagine that every single picture of your children ( my weasels) was destroyed, lost forever, unless you could front the $300 fee to retrieve the data from your shitty Seagate harddrive. So please folks, please, if you or anyone you know is willing to barter enough to cover even just half the price of data recovery, please please please let me know. Diary Entry 7/16/04: Ode to a Sunburn- Oh, how I love my sunburn. I put no sunscreen on cause I like to peel it when I'm down and I'll miss it when it's gone. Diary Entry 7/13/04: Today I got to watch the vet declaw a cat. It's a really gruesome process, I don't suggest anyone have their cat declawed. Apparently it actually does involve the removal of the tip of the toe from the last knuckle, the process unfortunately creating a sound much like someone biting into an apple. Anyway, I started kinda playing with the disembodied toes, making them dance around on the operating table and such. I even joked that I was going to make a necklace out of them, which illicited a giggle from the vet. Of course in retrospect, I really wish I had kept one of the toes in a jar or something as a souvenier from my first really nasty surgery. (Since I didn't want to keep anything from the abcess surgery) Perhaps tomorrow morning I'll go see if there are any toes left in the trash. Diary Entry 7/8/04: It's come to my attention that it has become hip to pretend you don't like television. If you honestly don't, fine, whatever. I guess I believe you. But personally, I'm not ashamed to admit I love t.v. I wasn't raised by t.v., like some roommates' children I won't mention, but that's mainly because we only had 5 channels growing up. I'm really into DirectTV. Probably the only good thing about my current residence. One of my favorite shows currently is Dead Like Me. Nothing like treading the fine line between tragedy and humour. Diary Entry 7/7/04: I'd like to quote a good friend of mine to justify all the lapses in updates on this page: "Anger is my muse. When I am dissatisfied, words seem to spring directly into my fingers, which fly at clustered QWERTY's, irrespective of the existence of an actual keyboard underneath them. The topic is wholly irrelevant. There's no end to the things that anger me, and I've not said all there is to say about any one of them." Anyway, I'm not angry today because of my new rock ass job at an animal clinic, not to be confused with an enema clinic. Diary Entry 7/3/04: All I can say is read the updates on the Roommates from Hell page. Holy fuck. Diary Entry 6/25/04: I just got my first brazilian wax, which I have to admit was quite painful, but not nearly as bad as I thought. Not as bad as crushing your spine or having your nipples peirced, but definitely worse than acupuncture or having blood drawn. On the other hand, because it was so painful, I got this weird rush of adrenaline and was all crazy happy and smiling afterwards. Until I came home and accidentally walked onto the set of Jerry Springer. Diary Entry 6/24/04: So of course when I came home and went into the living room today, my roommates were having some weird emotional discussion in lowered voices and everything. And when I walked in theY just stopped talking. Didn't make any attempt to make the situation less awkward. In fact, the husband looked quite peeved at my presence. Great. Diary Entry 6/23/04: Check out today's update to the Roommates from Hell page. I just hope they can keep it together long enough for me to move out before they get a divorce and he has to sell the house and I have to move into a cardboard box. Diary Entry 6/3/04: In case you noticed, yes I actually edited my hatepage. Just one entry, where I apparently got the story wrong. Sorry Lisa, I didn't know your name and your guestbook log was cut short anyway, so it took awhile for me to realize. "IRREGARDLESS", (hee hee -Barbara's favorite word) I still hate Ben. I stand firm in my belief that a boric acid enema would be more pleasant than he is, etc. etc. I think everybody gets the idea. On a lighter note, I'm actually much less hateful at the moment, not towards Sgt. Fudd, but in general. You see, I've been laid off from my soul sucking job at the collections department and received a small severance check. So I've been sitting around all week realizing just how fantastic it is to do nothing at all. It's pretty sweet. Diary Entry 4/21/04: For those of you who don't know, I'm pleased to announce that my roommates have been out of town for almost a week now, and they left me $50 to watch after their dog, Leaky. So I figured with them away it'd be the perfect time to get my blood pressure checked and relax. So I made an appointment to go in 4/21 and took the day off from work. Now it is 5:20 in the morning. Why am I up, you ask? So glad you did. Well, about 15 minutes ago I heard persistent barking coming from upstairs. So I climbed out of bed to go wound Leaky for disturbing my slumber, but when I opened the door at the top of the stairs a smell hit me so hard I actually retched. Leaky had apparently filled up his kennel with liquid shit, which is ironic considering the amount of time I spent earlier last night trying to get him to shit outside. So naturally I let him out and he literally tracked shit the lenght of the house, his paws were so slippery he actually slipped on the hardwood. But luckily, the sturdy white carpet had some grip to it. Then I had to drag his giant kennel to the garage, gagging the entire time. I tried to tie a dryer sheet inside a towel over my nose, but it kept slipping. Now my stomach is all weak from gagging so hard, and I wake up in a few hours to clean shit. So much for my relaxing day. This is worth so much more than $50. Diary Entry 3/25/04: Do you ever just feel surly for no good reason? Some days, when I get off work, I just wanna punch somebody in the mouth. Only the pain of getting my ass whooped afterwards would undoubtedly put a damper on my perfectly pissy mood. Plus, when I think of punching somebody in the mouth, I imagine it being soft and squishy, like punching someone in the stomach. The only kind of people who's mouths are soft and squishy are the kind of people I don't feel like punching. Anyway, for those of you who don't know yet, the doctors say I have high blood pressure. (Like you couldn't tell just by reading my Hate Page) So no more caffeine, salty foods, spicey peppers, etc. And I've undergone this ongoing battle to retain custody of my birth control prescription, which is apparently harmful to people with high blood pressure such as myself. Suck. Diary Entry 2/5/04: After a mere 14 days of dieting, I've lost 9 pounds. I rock. I wish I still had the "before" pictures, but this asshole jacked my harddrive. More on that later. But yeah, I'm my own hero. So I had a pint of Ben and Jerry's brownie melt swirl or whatever it's called. When I remember what it's called I'm going to write it down. It's even better than Phish Phood. Rawk. Diary Entry 1/23/04: Today as I was leaving a Walmart a man jumped in front of me and asked me to contribute to "Colorado's Cancer Kids". Being that he was dressed like a hippie and didn't appear to have bathed in awhile, I didn't feel like taking the time to make sure he had a legitimate cause and wasn't just begging for cash to buy pot. I also have only $150 in the bank right now, so contributing to a bunch of dying kids I don't know isn't very high on my list. Nevermind that Cancer and AIDS are the 2 most well-funded fields of scientific study and financial aid for medical help in the country. So naturally, when this filthy hippie stepped in my path I shook my head and avoided eye contact. So the fucking guy snapped. He shouted "Yeah thanks! You have a nice day!!!" sarcastically as I walked away, grumbling. I should have continued walking to my car calmly, gotten the tire iron out of my trunk, and walked back and cracked him upside the head with it. Then I would have shouted "WHERE'S THE I'M A FUCKING MONEY-GRUBBING HIPPIE WHO GOT MY ASS BEAT FUND?!!" But the chances of picking a fight with a guy pretending to collect money for cancer kids and having the public around me NOT kick my ass for it are slim to none. Although I do still have $150 in my bank to go buy a high powered paintball gun and shoot his ass from my car window when he leaves his post for the day. Diary Entry 1/14/04: It has occured to me that despite my myriad of interests, I only have a few types of friends reflecting only a select group of interests. Mostly computer people and car people. I know a few animal people, but I don't think I've ever met another person as full of useless biological facts as myself. Anyway, I happened upon the website for the Denver stock show and I thought it'd be fun to play cowboy for a day and walk around inspecting various cattle and horses as though I actually planned to make a purchase. Not only were all my friends and even distant acquaintances turned off by the idea of parading amongst aisles of foul smelling beasts of burden, but they were so bored by the subject that they refused to let me make any further suggestions on the matter. Sigh. Gone are the days when I could wake up on weekend morning and drive to the country and ride horses till the sun sets, and sometimes in the light of a full moon, only to come home sore and exhausted and filthy and sleep like I've never slept before. Diary Entry 1/5/04: This morning I woke up in a bad mood. For one thing, I had a bad dream. For another, it was a breezey - 8 degrees farenheit outside. But mostly, because I woke up to hear voices from my clock radio doggin on my man, Steve Irwin. Now you won't find a lot of current events on this page, but this is one that I feel necessary to comment on. First of all, any comparison to Michael Jackson is sickening and completely irrelevant. For one thing, Steve Irwin is just a parent. My parents let me eat cockroaches and poisonous berries off the house plants. They also bonked my head on the doorframes whenever they carried me around the house. Parents are just people, and they make mistakes like everyone else. However, let's remember that the croc hunter understands crocodiles better than most any of the blithering slack jawed idiots who saw his stunt on tv. Now, personally, I wouldn't let my cat, Charleston, around a baby unsupervised, because I know how dangerous he is. But I can tell when he's going to attack. Obviously, Steve Irwin has at least this kind of a relationship with these large reptiles, since he feeds them by hand almost daily. The arguement stands that you've seen Steve's bloopers on TV, where he gets bitten by crocs and snakes and such. Similarly, I've had car accidents. Usually when I'm going slow enough to not think it's important to pay attention. I've never had a car accident when I felt it would be truly dangerous (nothing over 30 mph) and you can bet your ass I wouldn't have a car accident if my baby were in the back seat. Now, as a celebrity icon, yes, Steve was using poor judgement in what EVERYBODY ELSE would think about his parenting skills. But how come nobody freaks out when my roommates GIVE a bottle of Armor-All car interior polish with the spray gun turned on to their then one year old daughter and let her run around unsupervised with it? Diary Entry 12/28/03: I just got in from visiting my parents in Houston. Upon my return home, I realized the need to dedicate an entire page to bitch about my roommates, lest I spend my entire waking life bitching about them out loud. This way it's written down for all to enjoy and I can go about my life. I am, however, going to bitch about my gramma. There comes a time in a person's life when they become an absolute waste of human organs. This woman can't hear very well, so people don't usually talk directly to her because they have to shout. So to compensate, my gramma sees people's mouths moving and says "WHAAATTT?" in the most Abraham Simpson-esque tone imaginable. Then, people have to give a one word description of their entire conversation, even though they weren't talking to her in the first place. And usually, because my gramma's brain has apparently lost any value whatsoever, her response is something along the lines of "where are we?" or "where are we going?" even if it has nothing to do with the conversation at hand AND she's already been told less than 5 minutes ago. All this might be tolerable if she was a nice person, but she's not happy unless everyone else is miserable. So my mom and I went to the mall while I was visiting. As we were sneaking out the door my gramma hollered "Where are you going?" My mom and I cringed, but admitted we were going to the mall. So of course she said she wanted to come. We said, ok but this is a really big mall and we want to do a lot of shopping so we'll get you a wheelchair. To which my gramma replied "I'm not going to have you wheel me around in no damn chair I'll walk!" So we spent 3 hours walking THROUGH THE FOODCOURT. fini Diary Entry 11/15/03: Well my computer was broken for awhile there, but thanks to some irresponsible spending I know have a computer that should be up to date till the next millenium. And as of today, I have the car of my dreams. I still can't believe I got it. I'll probably be living off of ramen noodles for the next 6 years of my life, but I have the car I've always wanted. Pictures coming soon. Diary Entry 10/9/03: I came home on my lunch break today to find Strudel had dug all the litter out of her litter box and then peed in it. So there was this nice little puddle in her litter box that was quite pungent. So, being in a hurry, I dumped a box of baking soda into her litter box. Suddenly Strudel came flying across her cage and stuck her head under the box. I saw it in slow motion. She tilted her head to the side so that one eye was staring directly up into the oncoming baking soda. She even opened it extra wide as if to say, please, pour some baking soda in my eye. There was nothing I could do to stop it. So I watched helplessly as a pile of baking soda dumped into her eyeball and it slammed shut and gushed tears. To make matters worse, I hugged her and tried to wiper her eye for her, and she licked my cheek. So not only am I the worst ferret mom ever, but they love me unconditionally so I feel really guilty. Diary Entry 10/7/03: I used to think that my parents were the only parents who caused lifelong psychological damage to their children. (Mostly by dropping me on my head and stuff like that). But the other day, with the help of some water cooler discussions I disspelled my beliefs. Some coworkers and I were discussing scarring memories from Halloween growing up. One coworker, who remains nameless, was forced by her mother to turn out all the lights in the house, then bunker down with the rest of the family in the basement for the night until the trick-or-treaters stopped coming. Wow. Yet another coworker, who we'll call Sally, could only go trick-or-treating if she dressed up as a character from the bible. So one year, she created her own costume by duct taping branches from the shrubbery in her yard to a red sweater. She then went about her Halloween festivities proclaiming that she was the burning bush. I laughed my ass off. Diary Entry 9/18/03: At work yesterday I was walking out of the bathroom, adjusting my bra in that way that makes them bounce, and there was a guy walking up the stairs looking over his shoulder. Apparently he was so distracted by what I was doing that he tripped and fell UP the stairs. I laughed my ass off. Today, however, I was the butt of the joke. I was standing in front of the water cooler, filling my cup and a coworker walked up. I dropped the cup which landed such that the water in it shot straight up and out, right into my face. So I refilled my cup, dried off and went about business. The very next time I went to refill my cup, I dropped it again. This time when it landed it launched water straight up my skirt, much to the amusement of my fellow employees. Diary Entry 9/6/03: Yesterday on my way home from the DMV I decided to stop by the tattoo parlor. I was just going to stop by, maybe discuss the pros and cons of peircings with this friend of a friend who works there. But he wasn't there. So I was just hanging out with the tattoo parlor crew, a couple colourful people who worked there and a small group of guys egging each other on. I consulted their opinion on nipple peircings, and, as it turned out, I ended up with an audience cheer me on. I got the first one done and my exact words were, "Whew, that really hurt." Everybody was cheering and telling me to do the other one, so I had it done. As he was doing it I spewed forth a fountain of obscenities I didn't even know I knew. Then I fainted. It was pretty embarrassing. Any machismo I may have earned by getting something so delicate peirced was automatically nullified by my fainting. Diary Entry 8/14/03: Didn't have to work overtime today. And I didn't get jumped in the parking lot. However, I was standing outside on my break, socializing with the smokers, when a bee started buzzing around me. At first I put up my fists and pretended to box with it, but then it singled me out and chased me literally all around the porch in circles while I punched and kicked at it. Finally I ran inside, leaving my coworkers unbothered by the bee and with tears of laughter streaming down their faces. Diary Entry 8/13/03: Today I caused a massive meltdown at my office. My computer froze up and I tried to apply some of my rudimentary knowledge of basic Unix to fix the problem. When that didn't work, I pushed all the keys in frustration. Then I heard shouts from everyone in the office saying that their screens had locked up. My boss walked up to me and told me that it was me who had caused the office-wide freeze. Initially pleased, my outlook changed after an hour of people standing around not being able to get the computers up and running again. The owners of the company even came down to help. Rumors circulated that we were going to have to work overtime tomorrow. I was beginning to fear that I'd get jumped in the parking lot after work. Diary Entry 8/8/03: Haven't done any entries in here in awhile. I'm still pissed that I had so much trouble getting the top ten down there to line up. And since I'm lazy I tend to give up on things that frustrate me and are less than perfect. Too bad this philosophy doesn't extend to relationships. Diary Entry 6/10/03: Happy Birthday to me Happy Birthday to me etc etc. Diary Entry 6/9/03: Top Ten Reasons I'm Cranky Today 1. Roommates fed my honey baked ham to their one year old and, in condolensces, offered me leftover bologna! 2. Had to battle for hot water in the shower again this morning. I lost. 3. Ferret started rattling in her cage at 7 this morning. 4. Baby started screaming at 5 this morning. 5. Poured spoiled milk on my cereal. Felt compelled to smell curds despite better judgement. Spent the next 2 minutes dry heaving. 6. Had to wear damp underwear because dryer was not done drying. 7. Pending age celebration day. 8. Woke up alone again this morning. 9. Recently quit smoking. 10. PMS Diary Entry 4/28/03: I fell down the stairs today. I was carrying an 8 oz glass of milk and my toe got caught in a hole in the seam of my skirt. I fell from the third step from the top all the way to the bottom. There is now milk on both walls, the carpet, and the ceiling. I'm just thankful I wasn't in the mood for Hawaiian punch. Best of all, my roommate was in the garage and heard the tremendous rumbling of my body flopping down the stairs. As an added bonus, I left my bedroom door open and Minerva (the weasel) ran INSIDE the wall in our unfinished home theatre room. This is on my lunch break. I had 20 minutes to get back to work. Luckily Minnie quickly became dissappointed that I wasn't playing hide and seek and came looking for me. I threw my clothes in the dryer and enjoyed the funk of dry milk all day. Diary Entry 4/19/03: I am currently sitting in front of my computer at 1 am eating cheerios and drinking Bacardi Vanilla Rum. I must be the biggest loser on the planet. I actually got stood up twice in one weekend. By 2 different guys . Both of which pretty much insisted they wanted to hang out with me. So yeah, I'm feeling great about myself right now. Diary Entry 4/6/03: Yesterday lightning struck within 10 feet of me. It was by far one of the coolest things I've ever seen. I will be excited about that for weeks to come. When lightning hits, a splash of sparks flies up like a bomb going off in the water. It's absolutely incredible, I was still all happy about it today, too. Then my ex-boyfriend called me to make sure I wasn't getting on with my life like a normal person (big no-no because misery loves company) and to let me know that his best friend hates me and that he'll hate me as well if I do anything to remedy the situation. How sweet. Diary Entry 3/30/03: One of my roommates is sick. If she had a cold or strep throat or meningitis I wouldn't be too concerned. But she has the flu. The kind where you throw up everything you ever ate and then some. The kind where you're so exhausted from puking the best you can do is roll over and try and hit the trash can. Or better yet you set up camp in the bathtub. Personally, I would rather find blood in my stool than throw up. And I would rather die than throw up and still not feel better. So, naturally, I'm running around the house with a can of Lysol disinfectant, spraying everything in sight. I even sprayed my clothes. I've washed my hands with antibacterial soap so many times I think I've scared all the natural moisture out of them. I have also prepared an army of vitamins for a counter attack. Hopefully, this fortress will not be penetrated. Diary Entry 3/1/03: For those of you who don't yet know, I had a freak sledding accident which crushed one of my vertebrae on January 18. (See the Accident) I've been wearing a body brace since then and can only take it off to shower. This morning I made a greivous mistake. As I was preparing to shower, I removed my brace and stood naked in front of the mirror. Except for shedding a few pounds, I looked the same from the front. "I must be healing well," I thought. Then I turned around and looked over my shoulder to inspect my back. The phrase "curiosity killed the cat" comes to mind. My exact words as I laid eyes on my crooked spine for the first time were "GAH! GROSS!" I don't know what I expected to see, but certainly not the smashed bone poking away from the rest of my spine in a hideous manner. If others had seen me, they might have gagged. Seeing skin protruding around grotesquely broken bones is never nice, but I think broken spines take the cake for revolting injuries. The moral? If you're ever injured enough that the sight of your mutilated body makes other people cry, don't chance a peak for yourself. |
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| Below is a picture of me last Christmas modeling the latest in bunny wear. This pic was taken just by the spot where my dear mother found what she thought was a rock and kept trying to get me to pick it up. Turns out it was frozen dog crap. Needless to say, I did NOT pick it up. |
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