Oh Also...

I just finished reading a fan-fucking-tastic book:

I, Lucifer by Glen Duncan.
Read it.

A Poem

So there's beer to drink and
smokes to smoke and the cat walks across
my living room floor.
meow.



so um, yeah.
I got nothin.

ATTENTION PARENTS OF THE WORLD

A friend told me a story last night that made my blood absolutely boil in a goddamned boiling way.

Playground games. "Chase" specifically. A game was played...instigated by one of the girls. A 6 year old girl. At one point "allegedly", her arms were pinned behind her back after she was "caught". One of the mothers chose that moment to actually be a parent and broke everything up, screaming and yelling and probably scaring the hell out of every child involved. Then there were accusations that one of the boys kissed the girl.
GASP!!! HOLY GOD IN HEAVEN HELP US!!! SIX YEAR OLD CHILDREN KISSING???
One child when questioned about the incident had this to say:
"We were only playing a game."

Here's what we don't know.
We don't know whether the girl was a willing participant. Which is entirely possible, especially if say, for example a few things:
-If her TV watching isn't supervised, chances are she's seen programs romanticizing the capture and rescue of women by big strong men.
-How is her home situation? Dad around? Available? Because here's the rub. Most of the time, this girl instigates these games of chase. Is she having issues around healthy male attention? What is going on at home?
These are important things to explore. Now, before you go accusing me of saying "she asked for it" let me say, relax. That doesn't even apply here. At such a young age, red flag behaviors like that need to be watched. So that it doesn't continue into her future. And the boys need to be told that no means no. And according to my friend, they are. Repeatedly. But was she saying no? No one knows. Everyone is just UP THE FUCK IN ARMS about this game, and now probably there will be completely overblown consequences.

But. Besides that.

It's all rather animalistic if you think about it. Children are all about instinct until they get it socialized out of them. So, of course she's going to instigate chase. That's how most species mate. That thought kept running through my head the entire time I listened to this story.
Children are just more animal-like versions of adults. They play like animals. Their play prepares them for adulthood. Just like cats, dogs, lions, tigers and bears oh my.

But parents make sure very early on that the games they play are "appropriate"-which is all well and good, provided your definition of appropriate isn't severely skewed.
Which really brings me to the crux of why this whole thing pissed me off so much.
Sex.

A quick story of my own:
When I was in first grade, I used to play with these two boys. They were nice, they didn't make fun of me and we played Dukes of Hazzard. (note, however that my tv watching was not supervised either. I loved being captured and then rescued. Anytime there was a video game involving a princess being captured I was all over it. Movies? TV? Absolutely fixated on it.) But anyway...It was fun. One time, we had concocted some drama and I can't remember if I had something in my eye, or if I was just pretending to further the plot along... but my friend came up to me to look in my eye to see if he could see anything. Nope. So, we went on playing.

That afternoon, I get pulled aside by my teacher who asks me
"We're you kissing Jimmy on the playground today?"
"N-n-no... we were just playing."
"Well, I saw something different. I saw him kissing you on the playground."

I wracked my brain trying to figure out what the fuck this crazy woman was on about (that's a whole different story) and it hit me that she must have seen him looking in my eye but from an angle that may have looked like we were kissing. I tried to tell her as much, but, I doubt at 6 I was really able to express anything with as much sophistication as that.
The outcome?
I was not allowed to play with Jimmy and the other boy anymore. The only kids who WOULD play with me.
WHY??????
Even if we were kissing, WE WERE FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD!!!!
Yes, please, shame the hell out of us about anything remotely involved in sex or the body. It's a wonder I could take a piss without being ashamed.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking.
"LC, do you know how many kids under 13 are having sex right now?"
Yes. I do. But I'm here to tell you, it's more than likely because their parents and teachers have done a shit-ass job of teaching them about sex, their bodies, respect for themselves and one another, so they start down the path of unhealthy behavior. Not to mention all the sick fucks out there having sex with their own kids. I have to doubt it has anything to do with allowing children to play chase games and be nice to eachother physically. It's like,
"Either, kick the crap out of eachother, or avoid contact all together."

Oh, and God forbid you were seen holding hands with someone.

With all the goddamned smoking and anti-drug ads we see nowadays urging parents to "talk to their kids" you'd think that somewhere in there, someone would say:

"Hey, America? Um, it's 2006. Not 1682. The Puritans died out a long time ago. Perhaps it's time we let their fucked up, repressed, shaming beliefs die with them. How about we celebrate the beauty of sexuality and affection so that girls can start telling good stories about how they lost their virginity. And women can start having orgasms in under 10 minutes. Or start having them at all!!"

Teaching children boundaries about what is appropriate behavior and what isn't is extremely important. But it's equally important to do so without damaging their fragile senses of self.

Fucking people sometimes. GOD!

Mother of God

I forgot what "sitting in it" does to a body.
I woke up this morning with that "feeling". You know, the one that says "my life is completely different thanks to one person." Yeah, a feeling I should have been feeling 3 months ago. Fucking great. That's what I get for putting a bandaid on a wound that probably required some metal pins and 40 stitches.
I'm doing a show right now (the 3rd installment) where letters and emails are collected from people written by and to exes. Man, I have some stuff from this time around...that I wrote...(he's not speaking to me or answering any communication from me) that would put most of the material we have to shame. I forgot to submit it in time however, so, it remains, sadly, in my outbox or unsent in word documents.

In other news, I've gotten requests for more UK stories. The sad facts are that for a lot of it I was traipsing around by myself, keeping to myself. I'm working on the "Buddhism Brought to You by the British" class story... so, that should be coming up soon.

Otherwise, I'm wallowing. One of the L's from the L&L is moving today. It's sad. I'm sad. My cat will be sad as his new and apparently gay cat buddy will be leaving too. There are photos. I don't want to talk about it. So, the name of my home will need to change. Something completely different, as I recall that the name came from the person who I'm wallowing about, so, we can't have that.

My other roommate, the illustrious Dr. Sneed will have to help figure out a new one. I'm going for either:
The Fortress of Solitude or The Phantom Zone. But, that's just me.

In the meantime...time to get cracking on my lines for this show.

Fun Fact: My last 2 serious relationships (including this past one) started right around the start of production for this show. And summarily ended.
Hat Trick anyone?

A Confession

There is a certain amount of obligation one feels after a while to appear "Totally ok." You get hurt enough, you start to pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore so as not to appear weak, or inadequate, or, well, fucking crazy.

After the breakup I made up my mind that I was going to be fine and this was not going to "upset me" as breakups have in the past. For if it does, upset me, that means that I've picked wrong, again, and therefore, failed. And then everyone sees my failure and then starts to "worry" and be "concerned" which makes me feel like an even bigger nutcase. Not that I don't completely and totally appreciate the care and love of my friends... it's that "we're worried" look that worries me.

So, for the past 3 months, I've internalized it all, and well, the official mourning has started...or started right around New Years.

And now I have to sit in it. And try and remember the strong woman who was in that relationship in the first place. Who fought for it, who worked it, and who did her best to remain herself and to not be trapped by someone else's whims.

So, I start now.

Also, almost none of my pictures from my trip turned out so now I just want to take a bat to someone's fucking head.

That is all.

Vegemite: Not Fun Like the Song Would Suggest

So, I'm sitting in the "DVD Room" at the Hostel (which, by the way, smelled like the bottom of a gym bag), with another dude from New Mexico and an Australian girl walks in.
To the guy:
Her: Oh hey! Did you want to try some vegemite now? I'm checkin' out, so I can fix you some before I leave.
Him: Oh yeah! That'd be great!
Me: (Thought bubble) Hey, I've only heard about that stuff in songs... I think I'd like to try some.
Me: (Out loud) Hey, I've only heard about that stuff in songs... do you think it'd be ok if I had some?
Her: (Very excited) Absolutely!!

So, she goes downstairs to bring us some of the fabled Australian delicacy.
"He just smiled and gave me a..."

Her: Here we go! Now, normally, we have this with butter, but there isn't any, so, we'll just put a little on this toast. I love this stuff. I eat it everyday. It's very good for you. It's got all kinds of good things for you in it. It's my absolute favorite. Wait til you taste it. It's like heaven in a tube. (yeah, a tube).

Me: What is it exactly?

Her: It's a yeast extract. But it is so good. Here. (to the guy)

Him: (taking a bite) hmm... this is really good. I'm really enjoying this! Wow. Mmmm!

Her: See? I told you. It's the best. It's the bestest best thing that's ever been the best thing in the world! Oops, I put a little too much on here...I'll make you another one. Ok, get ready for heaven in your face! Here you go.

"He just smiled and gave me a..."
I take a bite and quickly regret everything in my life up until that point. Everything that had possibly contributed to this moment.
"He just smiled and gave me a fucking-liquid-rubber-tires-covered-in-SALTY-oil-and-road-debris-sandwich..."
the taste exploded over my tongue and wouldn't let go. The only saving grace was the bread that mopped up most of the mess in my mouth.

Her: Well? What do you think? Isn't it incredibly incredible???

Me: (Just not having the heart to be honest and tell her that Satan had just taken a dump in my mouth.) Mmm... it's good. Yeah. It's interesting..

I then quickly rolled up the rest of the bread in a ball to cover up the brownish black sludge, popped the whole thing in my mouth, chewed just enough not to choke myself into a heimlich incident and swallowed.

Her: Yeah, most people only put a little on their bread, but I usually just eat it straight from the tube.

Whereupon she squeezed out a dollop of the paste on to her finger and put it in her mouth.

I threw up a little in my mouth. Which was a vast improvement to what was going on in there at the time.

Her: D'you want s'more?

Me: No...thanks, I actually had dinner. So, I'm full. But thanks for sharing with me. Can't wait to tell my mates back home!

Her: You can get it at Australian shops in the US. You should buy some and have them try it! Ok, well, I'm gonna take my favorite snack ever and check out. Nice meeting you both!!


For the next 2 days, everything I ate finished with a hint of exhaust. Seriously. It tastes like everything environmentally unsound about automobiles.

Fun Fact: Vegemite is what's leftover after they brew beer. For those playing along at home, it's the brownish black shit that is left behind. A by-product. Garbage.

Damn you Men at Work. Damn you straight to Hell.

Final Thoughts...

Forgive me, my brain is jetlag salad right now.
I'm home. I go back to work tomorrow.

That said.

I feel...good. Although it feels a little like the day after Christmas. I'd been building up to this trip for such a long time and now it's over...but I think my mom wants to go in the summer. So, I guess it's time to start saving again. This time we're gonna stay in a proper hotel. Thank God.

So, yeah, there's a certain amount of let-down involved here. Nothing big, mind you, just well, now I go back to my regular life. Very unromantic.

I've learned that it's quite easy to get wrapped up in expectations and the effect that can have on a body. So, I suppose that's something to keep an eye on.

I've got a lot of notes written down on what I'd like to write about in the coming weeks, so, look out for it.

In the meantime, I've got to go back to sleep.

LC Has Entered the Country

I'm in Philadelphia awaiting my connection and exhausted. I have so much to tell about the second half of the trip which I will do when I get home and I'm comfortably ensconced in my living room.

Suffice it to say that the last night of my journey was really kick ass. I've drank more Guinness in the last week than I have in my entire life (drank in nearly exclusively) and I've made some new friends.

Manchester. Is. Awesome.

Go there.

Cheers!

Morrissey is From Manchester!!

Yeah, I know. It's pathetic and sad that I did not know that... and I am a horrible music fan.

That said...

Manchester.

I'm staying in a lovely house (read: loovlay) with my own room.

No showers though.
Nope! Proper baths only. Which took some doing as I haven't had a real 'this is to get clean bath' since I was about 7. But, nice nonetheless.
So, yes, boys, there you go. LC in a bath today. I know. Kindly contain yourselves.

Anyhoo... just walking around today and tonight...to see what kind of trouble we can get in to.

Cheers!

My Roommate Smelled Like Rotten Milk and Garbage

Which, I feel bad saying considering she was very nice. But still. Rotten milk. And Garbage.

Yet more thoughts on "The Hostel".

Well, let's see.

a great place to stay if you enjoy the following:

~being stared at by the French staff like you were personally responsible for every wrongdoing in their country.
~Being called a "war-monger" by a gay Brit whom you've only just met.
~Realizing the "under 35 age limit" is complete bullshit when you met are accosted by a 41 year old Italian man who still uses the word "Barbarian" to describe anyone who is not Italian.
~Realizing the "Soda for sale" sign is a complete and bold faced lie.
~the joys of one working shower. In the basement. You are on the 4th floor.
~cold stares from just about everyone.
~absolute elation and the fastest packing EVER when it's time to check the fuck out of Hotel-Substandard.

I realize it was a Hostel. I do. But COME ON. For what they charged, and how scary the other places looked, you'd think there'd be some quality control.

Nope.

I blame the French.

And no, I don't feel bad saying it because no one else around here has a fuckin' problem telling me how they feel about my goddamned people. So, from now on, the next goddamned person who gives me shit about my War mongering country...after I tell them to kindly remember that I have a brother shipping out AGAIN, that if it wasn't for us, these fuckers would all be speaking fucking German.

YEAH! I SAID IT!


Manchester.... please be kind.

This'll Need to be Quick

I am so ready to get the hell out of London and up to Manchester.

I've seen everything I want to see..except for the PERSON I was supposed to see here who apparently has decided not to get in touch with me. Which is awesome, cuz, you know, we'll have plenty of other opportunities to see eahcother again as I fly to London on a completely regular basis. Fucker.

Thank the Lord I'm actually staying with someone in Manchester.

Another observation:
People in London drive like maniacal (sic) DICKHEADS.

I did cross Abbey Road today.
That made me happy.

Day 2

I am waaaay to good of a person.

There was a guy and he was cute, but he was with this group of people from Iowa that I met and there was a girl in that group who looked to be hitting on him first... kind of. But then I did a whole bunch of leg work later only to have her come back and put up a pretty full court press cock block. So, I stood down.

I repeat.

I stood down.

However. Her block doesn't even measure up to the still running hardest core cock block in history:

Her: (to me because I was talking to the guy she'd already peed on) Wait... aren't you MARRIED?
Me: Um, no...
Her: Well, aren't you DIVORCED?
Me: Um, NO.

At which point I promptly left the bar before heads got flown.

Girls are bitches.

Maybe I'll go to Westminster today...

Right Then....

So, I've made it.
I'm at the hostel waiting for my room to be ready. So far this trip has involved nothing but waiting. And running. To catch connecting flights.

But, I'm here. Safe and quite hungry actually. So, I may venture out here in a minute to grab a bite of something.

Interesting to note thus far.
For some reason, Brits refuse to speak at a volume above a whisper so I constantly find myself chanting "What?"

Also, the " key is above the 2.

There is an airlind called "Phucket". You do the math.

I will be back to report more interesting happenings as they...happen.

Buuut, in the meantime, know that I'm here safe.
:)

Pain Pills Please!

OK, so my back is out. A-fucking-gain. I went to my GP about it finally and she sent me to a "Physical Rehabilitation Center". Read: "Building full of people who aren't doctors who can't prescribe pills and if the misdiagnose you could do more harm than good.:

I went last week. The next morning I woke up in excruciating pain. IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PART OF MY BACK. What??

Today, it's the regular "indian burn on the inside" pain and I have called my doctor. I am not sitting for 10 hours on a fucking plane tomorrow... IN COACH while my back spasms and makes me want to punch old people. I want pills.

Physical Therapy. Whatever. I should have taken a page from the ex's book. He went to one of these places for his elbow. Fat lot of good it did him...except to not be covered by his insurance and really do no goodadamned good at all. I blame those assholes in part for the demise of things. If he hadn't been in pain all the time maybe he would have been in a better mood. Dicks.

Aren't there DOCTORS any more who deal with back and joint trouble???

Anyone?
Anyone?

Thought for the day

So, I was lunching with a friend today and we were talking about a date on which I recently went. I haven't seen or heard from the guy since. Which, is actually a good thing considering the following:

1. Everything that came out of his mouth that night was some LOUDLY, ill-delivered witicism in response to something sarcastic I said. Buy ill-delivered, I mean it was very evident the man was trying to impress me with his rapier wit. What I got was a lone butter knife from a garage sale. If he didn't try so damn hard, maybe he would have been funny. But he wasn't.

2. When asked what kind of music he listened to, he responded "Um, Classic Rock..." and then later "I don't really listen to a lot of music."

OK, let's stop right the fuck there.

First.
If you are going to give an intelligent answer to the question, and you do, in fact listen to "Classic Rock", then be fucking specific. What? Beatles? Stones? The Who? Skynard? I mean, who even says that anymore? I'll tell you who. People who only listen to their local "Classic Rock" station on the goddamned radio. That's who. It's like saying "I listen to 'Alternative'". Shut up. Seriously. Stop talking now. You don't listen to music and you frighten me.

Which brings me to the other red, on fucking fire flag in his answer. "I don't really listen to a lot of music". I'm sorry. I cannot trust anyone who doesn't consider music a vital part of his life or as an outlet for expression. I just can't. As Theodore Thomas once said: "Music is the language of the soul." And I'm sorry, you don't know the language to your own soul, then I don't want anything to do with you. As much as I bitch about the constant identity crises I experience on a daily basis, I know my soul.

Also. Anyone who says they listen to "indie rock" can go get punched in the face by the other emo hipsters in Wicker Park.

GOD!

Go to this website:

http://www.josaka.com/Features/2005/Music-Quotes.htm

London Calling...

Wow. 3 days.

I am very excited for this trip and have no idea what will happen. Perhaps some dashing Brit will take a fancy to me and take me on long walks through Hyde Park while we philosphize about the poetry of Lord Byron and his ilk. Then we'll have tea.

Whatever. More than likely the first couple days will invlolve me stumbling around London fighting jetlag and the ensuing hallucinations that may come with it. I'll end up in some pub crying in my Guinness with some old guy named Chester who will regale me with stories about his life as a Sea Captain in Liverpool. Whereupon I will stumble home to my hostel but end up at some slovakian place where I will promptly lose a toe.

awesome.

And Yet Another Gaggle of Nerds...

Ok, so, let's review.
The Nerd Herds: The Short List

Star Wars Nerds
Star Trek Nerds
LOTR Nerds
Comic Book Nerds
RPG Nerds
Anime Nerds

Formidable nerds, all. However, I present you with a nerd group that has flown under the radar for too long.

The Beatle Nerds.

Now, most of my regular readers (all 4 of you) have read my treatise and letter to WXRT lambasting their weekly "Breakfast with the Beatles" program. That alone really does kind of give away my status as a card carrying member of this herd. But I forgot how deep the river of Beatle nerdom runs until this past weekend.

I have signed up for a guitar ensemble class called "The Beatles: The American Releases". I figured, if I can learn to play the Beatles on the guitar, I can learn to play nearly goddamned everything. For those not familiar with their music, and further, those who have never attempted to play their music...I am here to tell you that for a band whose music on the surface sounds relatively simple, they are rigoddamneddiculously difficult. So, Saturday I packed up Ms. Judy (my guitar) and headed on out to the lesson.

Things started out innocently enough. When I arrived, there were already a bunch of folks there talking and laughing and tuning...clearly they had taken classes before. No big deal. But then a joke was made (one that I didn't really hear) and someone calls out...
"HA! Must be Beatles class! Cause ANYTHING can happen in Beatles class!! AHHAAHAHAHHAAHAA!!"

hm.
A little red flag went up in my head. Wait. ANYTHING can happen in Beatles class? Like what? And what about BEATLES class lends itself to out of control hijinks? This is the Beatles, people. Not a Motley Crue show complete with midgets chasing strippers on motorcycles. I mean, jeez, you guys... maybe you should get out a little more. And then a sense of dread washed over me as I began to realize who I might be dealing with here.

We all filed into the tight quarters of the classroom and, after a good 5 minutes of guitar case wrestling and guitar neck knocking, managed to sit down. More warming up. I thought it a good sign that no one was busting out their KICK ASS Beatles licks that establised them as People Who Know How to Play the Beatles. Except me. Yeah, I was that girl. But, hey, I don't know that many tunes to warm up to.
So.
Shut up.

Our instructor walked in and handed out the packets that we'd be using for the class. The chords to "Meet the Beatles" in its entirety. We're learning an entire album. As he handed out the packets, he explained that this was the American Releases class and so this version would differ from the British "Introducing the Beatles". And then he said the major difference was that "I Want to Hold Your Hand" was included on the American LP. And then I heard:
"Well, that's because they generally didn't include the singles on the LP's" and then
"Um, 'Don't Bother Me' is the only George track right?" and then
"This is the verson of I Saw Her Standing There that has Paul's full '1234' count rather than just the '4' he yells in the British release right?"
More odd factoids...each one designed to top the other were tossed about the room.
Holy shit. It was a Beatle trivia pissing contest! HAHAHAHAHAHAH ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IN BEATLES CLASS!!!!!

And then I looked around the room again and realized I was in a room FULL of balls deep Beatle Nerds.
Aging Hippies...guys in graying ponytails, Birkenstocks with homespun socks, women in long skirts and salt and pepper braids and everyone was wearing brown or black- Almost as if to say "I'm embodying the color palatte of the covers of 'Rubber Soul' and 'With the Beatles'.

Oh fuck. Age me 15 more years, keep my hair long and I am just like them.

I should point out that I am the youngest woman in the class. Posible the youngest person, but I don't know how old the guy sitting next to me was. He looked closer to my age.

But these people are not fucking around. When we got to "All My Loving", the instructor called out
"Remember... harmonies where? That's right. Last verse only!"
I thought I knew these songs. But man. They knew background vocals that, unless you've got your 1970's 10 pound headphones on, are nearly invisible to the naked ear.
If there was ever a group of purists, it's the Beatle Nerds. I know this, because, again. I am one. God help me.

When I get back from the UK, I'll return to class.
I'm looking forward to this conversation:
"John's lyrics are so much more profound that Paul's."
"Perhaps, but Paul was the ballad writer."
"Hey, I have 17 uncut versions of 'Yesterday' back at my place. You wanna come over and check 'em out?"
"Was Magical Mystery Tour the most UNDERAPPRECIATED film ever?? You bet!"

Hey, um, Pot? Kettle called last night....

Sad Songs for a Sad Day

Wonderful- Irving Berlin

They say that falling in love is wonderful
It’s wonderful, so they say

And, with a moon up above, it’s wonderful
It’s wonderful, so they tell me

I can’t recall who said it
I know I never read it
I only know they tell me that love is grand
And

The thing that’s known as romance is wonderful, wonderful
In every way, so they say

To leave your house some morning
And, without any warning
You’re stopping people, shouting that love is grand
And

To hold a girl in your arms is wonderful, wonderful
In every way
So they say




Here's That Rainy Day- Music by Jimmy Van Heusen with lyrics by Johnny Burke

Maybe I should have saved
Those left over dreams.
Funny but here's that rainy day.

Here's that rainy day
They told me about.
And I laughed at the thought that it might turn out this way.
Where's that worn out wish
That I threw aside.
After it brought my lover near.

Funny how love becomes a cold rainy day.
Funny that rainy day is here.

You're an Asshole! Here's a Million Dollars!

Ok. once again I have been seduced by the Dark Side of the Force...fucking Reality TV.

Project Runway.

Lest you think me sad, pathetic, and vapid (all points which can be argued), I ask you to stay with me here...

So, last night was another evening on the show where someone gets booted for something. That's what all these games are about. Somebody doesn't measure up, acts like a dickhead, cries, or throws something, and then gets ousted. However, apparently, Project Runway doesn't take integrity and generally being a good person in to account. Nor does it allow the contestants to decide who stays and who goes. They ask them 'what they think', but ultimately it's the judges who decide. So, there's very little strategy involved. Unless you count selling people out, strategy.

Last night there were 4 team captains. After a little "Get Picked Last in Gym Class", they had to come up with a line of clothing with teams they selected. 2 teams got the lowest scores... based on what, I have no idea. It seems up to the arbitrary whims of this pregnant model... or designer- I have no idea what she is except somehow Scandinavian and awfully aryan- and her crack team of other designers... or models...the aforementioned "JUDGES". Anyway, when these 2 captains were questioned here's how it went down. Keep in mind...all team members were on the block. Not just the captains.

Captain 1: was questioned about his design and how it just didn't fit within the perameters of the assignment. His reaction: Arguing, being a total asshole, and then selling out his team. And then rolling his eys the whole time.

Captain 2: was told that his design was too safe. His team was questioned about this and who they would like to see leave and they sold HIM out- one girl saying "I knew that it was too safe and I told him..., but he wouldn't listen to us." The captain then broke in and said "I'd like to comment on that..." Dude gets choked up talking about how amazing his team was and that he told them if things didn't go well that he'd be the one to go as it was his design, his vision, and therefore, ultimately, his responsibility.

So, who do you think they let go? Even after addressing the fact that Captain 1 took no responsibility for the failure of his line?

Fucking captain 2. The one person up there with an ounce of character and integrity.

Here's what. I have about had it up to my eyes with people being rewarded for being douchebags. I don't give a fuck how goddamned talented you are or how remarkable your work is or how revolutionary your fucking vision is. If you are an asshole, your success is empty. EMPTY. Yet, we continue to reward the dickheads. Why? I think on some level we admire the people who don't let their emotions dictate how they behave. For how much easier would it be to feel no remorse for fucking somebody up the ass with a broom handle? How much simpler would life be if we only looked out for #1?
I know I've thunk it.

And captain 2's team knew they fucked him over. As he was leaving with the utmost aplomb and grace, the bitch who "told him so" said:
"I'm not even happy about being able to stay. You are such a good person."
Yes. Yes he is. And isn't it awful to watch someone you fucked, leave, while you succeed all over his face.

Sickening.

I really hope there are others who watch these shows and get as pissed off as I do. It's a reminder to watch for the assholes and not reward them for their shitty SHITTY behavior.

Try and be good to eachother. Please. Maintain your self-worth. The temptation is there. I know. But remember that personal gain is a path to the Dark Side.
As is Reality TV.
sigh.

Ah Bitterness!

Today is a bitter day for LC
happy people can eat my ass times 3.



Wait a second....

No, wait,
it's just PMS.

wonderful.

January 2.

Second day of 06. So begins LC's Self-Actualization Tour 2006.

Hoping for a little more to write about other than angst, breakups, douches, and cats.

Hoping for adventures, excitement, cheese cake or commemorative statuettes of liberty.

T minus 12 Days until the BIG TRIP.

I look forward to any suggestions and or London-Tips.

And away we go....

Happy New Year

He he..
What goes around comes around I suppose.
So, I didn't end up with a date for New Years. Again. This time it was I who was kind of stood up. Ah well. No big thing. The evening turned out to be a fabulous time anyway...

New Year Resolutions:

Curb the Alcohol.
Cut back on the smoking.
Try and give up on the boys. Enough of boys.
Have a fantastic time in London.
Get this workshop I've cooked up going.

Also, I have purchased the Sims. My life as we know it just got that much more pathetic.