Shh, Ghost Whisperer is on.

Mary Murphy needs to be put down. The woman screeches louder than my inner child during church. Not that I've been to church in a while. But I have spent hours theorizing and puzzling sitting on the picnic table in the backyard. And that's where it counts.
I apologize for the listyness of my posts as of late. I've sifted through dense, heavy matter for months and years, and can no longer make sweeping points and thematic texts. I feel like skimming the surface, occasionally touching down but mostly flying.
My cat just took a swing at my roommate's cat---HHHHSSSS. Cats are slightly unearthly. I await excitedly for the OE to arrive with my white people Chinese food, and lament over my cable-less-ness. Friends is unfunny, always. The damn remake 90210 commercials are starting to brainwash me to the point where I actually kinda want to see the damn show.

This is my new house:
I heart it. It needs a little work, but I don't mind.
So cute.

I met my friends out on Wednesday at Maudie's, a Tex-Mex place on S. Lamar. After getting lost around Annie Street and then choosing to stay lost to aw over the sweet houses, I came late and just before the tail pieces of Dolly blew in some hot rain. The noise it made on the tin roof sounded like what I imagine leaving sounds like. In a good way. A ready way. The power went out and we switched from frozens to beer, sweating and laughing til it returned an hour later.

That rain brought out the frogs. Toads, rather. They looked too much like the frogs I picked out of a jar of formaldehyde yesterday for my biology class to dissect, all looking upward at me through covered eyes, arms and legs akimbo. About half of them (the kids) bailed after a scissors was required to cut through the sternum, but the remaining ones enfused their pull towards a career in doctoring by examining structures and seeing how things work.

Anyway.

If you can watch all of this video featuring a woman wearing what appears to be a Hefty bag and singing her own "hit" "song," "Hairdresser," I'll give you $10.

What the hell, Charmin?

What the hell, Charmin? Am I supposed to think a post-shit bear would be wiping his entire bear ass and getting bits of TP stuck to it? And am I supposed to worry about this happening to me and hence buy Charmin to avoid this embarrassing situation? Gah. Just horrible and ineffective. These commercials make me physically uncomfortable.

watch dis

Awesome Stop Motion Wall Animation - Watch more free videos

have done essentially nothing all day, except realize how much clothes I have that I don't wear. C's cleared some of her stuff out prior to her Israel move, so I feel inspired to get going on my own packing. two weeks to go.

cause Momma said so

Recent thoughts

1. People with Wii's: don't sue Nintendo for busting your new fancy tv's because you can't hold on to your gamepiece. Just hold on tighter.

2. If the amount of documentation, paperwork, and frustration needed to travel abroad were necessary to get married and people could travel as easily as they could get married, we'd all be a lot better off. Think about it.

3. Wipeout--you piss me off. You're a horrible excuse for an American version of MXC which should never have been touched. On MXC, the games are clever and funny, the contestants are authentic and casually-dressed (and arranged in ironic teams, such as the Organ Donors vs. the Recovering Addicts), and the commentary is rapid-fire English innuendo-laden frivolity that fits seamlessly with Japanese-inspired behavioral hilarity. You just have an impossible, uninspired obstacle course and idiotic contestants with no soul. The play-by-play is unnecessary at best and insulting at worst. Jim Henson, I'm especially disappointed in you.
See the difference?


4. Not to sound self-righteous, but there may just be an 8th circle of hell for those of us who peruse celebrity gossip with the zeal that Rachel Ray attacks her food. There are a lot more important things going on. I'm not saying I'm an expert on these things, but I did say "wow" a few times while Crissy explained the conflict between Palestine and Israel to me, and what might happen if she moves there soon given the US's pendulum swing back to being a non-war country. In a related story, we're running out of land to grow food for all of us on. If we keep going like this, we're gonna be cutting into more rainforest and opening a big can of land ownership issues, in addition to the already-present concern of oxygen supply. 2/3rds of the world's violent conflicts are over land issues. Lot of politics involved. Seems like we have an awful lot of dance/talent/singing/whore competitions going on media-wise (watching my non-cable tv, it seems that way)...

5. I found a sweet little house in L-town for me and honey. Less than 3 weeks til I move...

6. The question of mercy--Does Susan Atkins, killer of pregnant actress Sharon Tate and others in 1969 under the possible brainwashing of Charlie Manson, deserve early release after 37 years in prison, longer than any other female prisoner? She has a few months to live, brain cancer, one leg amputated and the other paralyzed. It costs an awful lot to house a prisoner--1.4 mil so far. Nephew of victim Jason Sebring said, "To sum up these murders in terms of cost efficiency trivializes the victims' lives, and the lifelong impact on the victims' families...there's discussion of dying with dignity.... the notion of dying with dignity is not determined by circumstance, but determined by choice," he told the panel. "Mrs. Atkins should die with dignity while serving out her sentence. My uncle died with dignity in the worst possible situation." It's a tough question. What do you think?

7. Baseball, I hate thee. You are pre-empting my Simpsons. They're playing the first season.

I kissed a girl first.

Dear Katy Perry,

Who do you think you are? May I introduce you to Jill Sobule, 1995? Jerk.



I met Jill, at a club I waitressed at in DFW. She's a button. She kissed me too...on the cheek.

I'm not here to make friends.

the mantra of reality television...


Speaking of reality tv, I'm watching the finale of Hell's Kitchen right now, and I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed Petrozza didn't win. I'm not a regular watcher per se, but I know enough about it to doubt that Kristina, who just graduated, can run a restaurant. I wanted LouRoss to win anyway, but the whole show is so ridiculous and profanity-laden. Kristina's camera confession scene (which came after a dizzying array of suspense-building camera shots for about 45 seconds and a commercial break) consisted of screaming "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!" I have to wonder--don't these people realize their grandmas and childhood friends and pastors' wives see all this? I cuss like a sailor, but I try not to be filmed on national television doing it.

Speaking of not making friends, I must vent for just a minute--I've been taking Krav Maga for the last couple weeks, and most of the time I love it. If you haven't heard of it, it's Israeli combat/self-defense. It kicks my ass, my muscles burn, and I leave with my hair soaked and feeling like an old lady. But a tough old lady. Today, I had to pair up with this dykeadelic chick who was, to her credit, a badass. She was however uncoordinated as all hell, and tried to blame my punching for it. I was "doing something weird." Uh huh. I admit I don't always give 100% and I joke around some, but I do work hard. So anyway, we're learning defensive moves and blocks tonight, and she starts blocking my punches with more force than I'm punching with--the point is to defend, you don't have to do it really hard. Plus this is a beginner class. It's essentially non-contact, but sometimes we kinda get physical. So anyway, my forearms are getting bruised like peaches but she doesn't give a shit. Then--she hit me in the face. We were adding combination moves and were supposed to be giving it like 50%--not full on war. I'm tough too, so it wasn't a big deal. Then she did it again. No apology, no oops. The third time she popped me right in the mouth, and I stepped up, towering over her, and said quietly, "Do that again and I'll hit you back. A lot harder." Her sweaty pale face with its set expression of rarrrr fell. I stepped back and put my hands up, ready, but she just stood there. I could see she had been rattled, unnerved. The instructor called us together, gave us a few last tips, and dismissed us, and Blondie hightailed it out of there like her ass was on fire. I resisted the temptation to yell after her, "Yeah you better run, you little bitch!"

I'm a word whore.

But not like a whore whore, cause I won't go home with just any book. More like a high-class literary call girl. I'll cut the booknerd speech short. I'll just tell you about my Half Price Books shopping trip.

I got these:
Light in August--William Faulkner, 1932.
Gods, Graves, and Scholars--C.W. Ceram, 1951.
The Quest for Meaning--William Cooney, 2000.
Dreaming Southern--Linda Bruckheimer, 1999.
Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates--Tom Robbins, 2000.
Media and Society--Michael O'Shaunghnessy and Jane Stadler, 2005.
Vanishings--Library of Curious and Unusual Facts.
Women in 19th Century Europe--Fiona Macdonald, 1999.
Total Cost: $25.18.

Conversation overhead:
"Hey honey, remember your monkey dream? Here's a book that you can look that up in."
Grunt.
"What 'bout Ringer?"
"There's stuff in thar 'bout dogs, too. Look up 'dog.' Under D."
"Oh, it's alphabetical?"

I pulled out my phone to text this to myself for later retrieval. Next the tanktopped, hairy-backed man said to his wife who was parked in front of the astronomy section, "Here, honey, you wanna summon up some spirits?" I let out a half-giggle when she replied, "No, no thank you." I mean, I was standing right there in the religion section across from her, looking at a reject book called, "What's Right, What's Wrong, What's the Difference?" Then her voice kinda changed, and she went on, "I have enough personal demons in my life..." Uncomfortable, I went to a different section.

Filled with book lust, I returned home, trying to choose where to start when another lover (tv) tempted me with a klru documentary--Secrets of the Dead, Battle for the Bible, about the political and religious bloodshed involved in translating versions of the Bible and the roots of modern day religion. I always like it when themes emerge--the reading of stories, my own faith questions, the value attached to objects and texts, our current political climate in the Middle East and religion's place in war.

1380's--the Roman Catholic Church was England and vice-versa. Rituals and readings were performed mindlessly, as they were performed in an ancient language no one really understood. Attempts to translate, publish, or read the Bible in English was heresy, and punishable by death by fire. Forty years prior the Black Plague had wiped out half the population, so obviously that was an act of God. John Whitcliff began a revolution with his Lollards (aka Mutterers) with his message that people could read the bible themselves and the pope was not in fact the sole authority. His followers continued to pass along the banned English version Whitcliff published even after he died--the English church dug up his body and burned it for heresy.

The rest of the story is filled with rebellion, exile, betrayal, divorce-seeking kings, bloodthirsty queens, attempted compromises between Episcopals, Catholics, and Protestants, new bibles and versions, etc, eventually spreading to the new colonies on our side of the ocean, branching out into the many denominations that exist today. According to the Belief-o-matic, I am New Age or neo-Pagan, but I'm not sure if I understood all the questions 100%.
If you're interested:

funny

I have sitemeter--look to your right. It tells me who (sort of), where, and why my blog is being viewed. You can search by referring pages, and I saw this morning that if one was to google "mouthful of pee," my blog comes up. And a lot of other interesting sites, most pornographic.

I just thought that was funny.

A conversation with Josh, of the Iowa Student Loan Liquidity Group

Josh: This is Josh, may I help you?
Me: Hi Josh, hey I'm getting hassled to start paying my student loans already and I just graduated a month ago. Can you people give a girl a break?
Josh: Hm, ok, let's see what's going on there.
*typical identity and account verification process*
Josh: well it seems that you have a consolidated loan.
Me: Uh huh?
Josh: So when you consolidated loans, you forewent the grace period of 6 months post graduation.
Me: I did?
Josh: Yes, I'm afraid so.
Me: I forewent it?
Josh: It's foregone.
Me: Damn. Well, here's the situation, Josh: I have a buttload of money coming to me later this month, but right now I'm making 10 smackers an hour for 10 to 25 hours a week.
Josh: Ooch.
Jen: Yah. I just finished my masters last month, and I have a big girl job, but I'm not starting until Aug. 3 or 4. And I'm moving. And I have another job, like for 3 weeks, a summer job, in July for this company _________________. So like I said, a buttload of money, but none right now.
Josh: I see. And are you receiving any government assistance?
Me: I wish.
Josh: Ha ha. Ok. Let me put you on hold while I run some numbers and see what kind of assistance we can offer.

* seven minutes of hold music, during which I again lament the stupidity of the bunion commercial. "Do you have a bunion?" "Would you even know if you did?" "A bunion is a painful, bony bump on the foot." Well then, yes, I think I would know if I did in fact have a bunion. The painful boniness would give it away.*

Josh: Thanks for being so patient. It looks like we can do a governmental hardship deference for 4 months, but then you'd have to call back again then to change the program...."
Me: Yeah, I just can't pay this month. Next month, totally.
Josh: Ok. We could also put the account into forebearance for a month and you can start payments after that.
Me: Let's do that then.
Josh: Ok, let me just read this statement to you...
*statement read*
Me: Neato.
Josh: is there anything else I can help you with today?
Me: Paying off that loan would really help.
Josh: Ha ha, oken then. Have a nice day.


Dry bastard, that Josh.

In the meantime, I work 2-5 hours a day for $10 an hour about 5 days out of the week, leaving me plenty of time to think, plan, pack, clean, write, watch, swim, hike, laugh, growl, shop, smoke, nap, talk, and so on. If you're in my same boat, I will try to periodically recommend a random movie suitable for lazy afternoon viewing. Today: Ghostbusters 2. Surprisingly awesomely. Seriously. Sigourney Weaver is more manly and less hot than in the 1st one, but she attempts to make up for it in her bathtub scene. Bill Murray is my hero. Half-way convincing special effects be damned, this movie has psycho-reactive goo, Peter McNicol with the best accent ever, and some Wilson Pickett. I'll stop here before you start thinking I'm obsessed.