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April 18th, 2008

I've Been Unfaithful

For about four years, I was true to my real love - Bree Van De Kamp.

But then circumstances came between us. A labor action separated us and turned us into long distance lovers for what seemed like an endless about of time.

I tried to be true while we were apart, but then a friend, who knew I was lonely at night, introduced me to Number 6, and for the past few months that's where I committed my passion.

But this week Bree came back, and the first time I gazed into her eyes, I realized how fickle and wrong I had been.

I rediscovered my desperate love for Bree and know that she will always be my housewife, even if she'll never free the centurians.

I'm sorry, Bree.

I'll never love another again.

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Wow, I'm Confused

So, Yale University says that the miscarriage art piece thing everyone was talking about yesterday was a hoax.

But, Aliza Shvarts, the artist, says that Yale is lying.

Shvarts reiterated Thursday that she repeatedly used a needleless syringe to insert semen into herself. At the end of her menstrual cycle, she took abortifacient herbs to induce bleeding, she said. She said she does not know whether or not she was ever pregnant. "No one can say with 100-percent certainty that anything in the piece did or did not happen," Shvarts said, "because the nature of the piece is that it did not consist of certainties."

Hello In There

I'm doing sales copy this week for a company that will teach you how to build a home care business. These businesses provide people who help the elderly live in their homes with as much independence as possible. For once, I sorta feel good about a product I'm selling.

That said, as part of the process I've had to research the statistics on aging, and how hospitals are discharging people more and more quickly and how few older people live near their families and it's fucking breaking my heart.

Anyway, it just reminded me of a song I haven't heard in a long time, called "Hello In There" by John Prine.


We had an apartment in the city,
Me and Loretta liked living there.
Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown,
A life of their own left us alone.
John and Linda live in Omaha,
And Joe is somewhere on the road.
We lost Davy in the Korean war,
And I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore.

Chorus:
Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger,
And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day.
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."

Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more,
She sits and stares through the back door screen.
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen.
Someday I'll go and call up Rudy,
We worked together at the factory.
But what could I say if asks "What's new?"
"Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do."

Repeat Chorus:

So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes,
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello."

No Porn! No Peace

In which South Park imagines what perves would do to get off if the Internet suddenly no longer existed.

I have no idea if this clip is considered work safe or not. It's no more and no less than you would expect from South Park.

The Destroyer

I know get where these attacks of paranoia come from.

Luckily, since I started meds they happen less and less often, but when they do they are so fucking weird.

When Rome Girl went off to Italy she'd just found out that her bank card had expired and we hadn't gotten the new card in the mail yet. So I sent her off with a lot of cash in hand.

Yesterday, the bank card finally arrived, so I went to La Poste this morning to send it off.

As I was preparing to go, this wave of fear/heebie jeebies swept over me.

Did Rome Girl give me the right address?

What if I get mugged on the way to La Poste?

What if someone steals the letter after I mail it?

What if I somehow lose the card on the way to La Poste?

What if the postal people can't read my writing and the letter gets lost in the mail?

What if someone steals that entire bag of mail?

What if La Poste is on strike for the next week or so and Rome Girl ends up starving?

What if they do something to the letter at customs that wrecks the card?

And so on and so on and so on.

Luckily, after months of therapy and meds I can now recognize the intrusive thoughts for what they are and they no longer debilitate me. I was able to get to La Poste (though I was terrified of everyone on the the street. Why exactly was that one dude looking at me? Why motherfucker? Why????)

And while I could not stop the thoughts, I knew they were crazy. I also knew I could not stop them, but also didn't give into them. I knew I was stronger than they are. And, I guess, realizing when your thoughts are crazy is the first step towards not being crazy.

Still, it's so fucking weird.

Sometimes I Love My Job

Particularly when it allows me to get paid to write "Real men want nookie from the wookie."

Not even vaguely safe for work picture that I'm sure will be killed by Photobucket at some point in the day.Collapse )

Fuck You Microsoft

Have any of the rest of you gotten a client to send you one of these new .docx files?

It's how Word for Vista saves as default - and it can not be opened by anyone who does not have Word for Vista.

Instead, you have to go to the Microsoft site and download the Microsoft Viewer Service Pack - which is a 38 meg file that takes 20 minutes to install.

Then, once you do that, just try to open the motherfucking document.

You'll then be told that there are two other "updated service packs" you need to install before you can open the document.

Then, once you have the document open, you can't work with it. Instead you have to copy and paste the entire fucking thing into a regular word file - which scrambles most of the formatting!

Fuck you Ballamar!

Fuck you Gates!

Burn in hell!

It's Kosher!

Who doesn't want Penis For Passover?

If you think this link is work safe, you don't deserve to be employed.

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