Apparently I like to procrastinate...

I think I must start every single post on here with "I need to write more". Whatev. I write when I write.

Get over it. I'm a busy lady.

I'm a commuter. I take public transportation to work every day, by choice. I could drive but the bus is cheaper, less stressful and better for the environment. Not to mention that L.A. has way to many cars on the freeway and one less always helps.

I used to drive but when I got to work I wanted to kill someone. Everyone drives like a lunatic and after having a near death experience nearly every morning, and every evening, I was becoming a little ball of stress. My job offers to pay half of our commuting costs if we take public transit so I thought "Why not?" At least now when I get home I don't want to hit something.

I've been taking the bus now steadily for about 6 months. There are a few things I see happen on the bus that just amaze me on a daily basis. Maybe it's because I hail from NYC where public transit is the fastest way to get around. Maybe it's because I'm not a total numbskull and have a pretty good common sense arsenal. Or maybe it's because everyone else is a self involved assmunch who thinks the world revolves around them.

I constantly see people get on the bus and have no idea where they are going. They think the bus is going downtown when it's not or vice versa. Then when the bus makes a right instead of a left, and they realize they are royally screwed, they start screaming at the bus driver as if she purposefully decided to just then change the route to screw with them. It couldn't be their own fault! *GASP* Never! It couldn't be that they didn't read the sign when the bus pulled up, which clearly stated the direction the bus was going in.

Nope. It was that bitch bus driver out to get them.

Cell phones. People love to talk on them in public places...loudly. It's as if they think that once they get on the phone they have to increase their volume level exponentially. This little cellphone with its advanced technology and highly capable microphone are not nearly enough to transmit their voice. No, they have to YELL. The whole bus needs to hear about their UTI or their baby daddy drama. We all need to know you are having a party this weekend and we should call Jackie at 818-673-2353 for all the info. I feel like these people must think they are in a plastic bubble where no one else can hear how loud they are.

I recently read a story about an Amtrak train that has designated 'no cell phone' cars. A woman decided to blatantly violate that rule and was eventually escorted off the train because she REFUSED to stop talking on her cell phone. She had been talking loudly for 18 hours and then got violent and nasty when passengers asked her to stop. 18 HOURS!! I don't like to be on the phone for longer than 5 minutes, let alone 18 hours. What the hell do you have to say?

She must really hate herself and not be able to be alone with her thoughts, in silence, for any period of time. The phone must distract her from her Taco Bell filled ass, her miserable marriage and her shitty job.

No responsibility.

Then there are the people who get on the bus and completely forget the bus costs money. No, really. They get on the bus, go sit down, rifle through their belongings to find their $1 to then pay for the ride they've already halfway taken.

When I am waiting at the bus stop, I pull out my bus pass and have it ready. It's either in my hand or in my pocket so when I get on I can show it and go sit down. How do people not do this? Really? How do you not have your $1 in your hand or your pocket? You know it isn't free. I see you take the bus every day and yet every day you don't have your money ready.

It's irresponsible and you look like a fucking tool. Stop it.

Whew. Back to work.

I'm so easily distract.....oooo something shiny!

I am utterly unproductive today.

So far, while at work, I have been distracted by the following:

*Email
*Twitter
*Facebook
*Text message
*Email again
*Swagbucks
*Get Fit Sisters blog
*Free sample site
*Email again
*Twitter
*Clean Eating blog
*Email
*Twitter
*Twitter
*was that a text message?
*Email
*Blogger

Friday's do not allow me to concentrate on anything. I'm dying to get out of here and start my weekend of relaxing and forgetting about work. Only to have Monday roll around and start the vicious cycle over again.

I know, I know. I need to update my blog more. I'm trying people! I am out of the house at work from 6am-6pm. When I get home I work out, eat dinner and have about 2 hours to veg out and then off to bed. I feel like I have no time anymore!!

On the weekends its just pure laziness on my part.

Though this weekend is a bit busy. Tonight we're doing an open mic show at the South Bay LGBT Center. If you're in the L.A. area, come check us out. We're pretty good, just sayin.

Tomorrow I've got to get in a good workout and then my girl is treating me to a pedicure. She has been helping me by being my drill sergeant in regards to eating right and exercising. With her help I have done so good this week!! I get tonight off from working out and tomorrow I get my treat. She's going to treat me to something once a week.

Get your mind out of the gutter. Though I'll probably get some of that too. :)

Sunday I'm going to a free yoga class with the SoCal Gals meetup group. If you haven't checked out www.meetup.com then do it. When we first moved to L.A. I joined some groups on meetup.com and have met some amazing women through the events. It's a lot of fun and doesn't cost anything to join. There is seriously a group for just about anything.

Though Paula still thinks I'll never find a LGBT D&D group for her. I swear there has to be one!

I've been paper journaling more in the hopes that it will get my song writing flow going. The only thing I am journaling about though is food and my journey on this new strict regimen.

Ok back to work. I have a huge file I have to go through that is going to take me way more than today to finish. Time to start procrastinating and start doing.

ooo I have a new Tweet!

I am Jack's random stream of consciousness blog post

I'm having a weird day. I feel weird. I feel gross and all things unpleasant.

I felt amazing this weekend. On Saturday after my workout, I felt STRONG. I came home, showered, got dressed and felt beautiful as I gallivanted around town running errands. Yesterday I felt content. Relaxed. I felt sexy and strong.

Today...I don't feel any of those good feelings. I feel sad that I'm not in a loud, rock band and that I don't have that outlet to release anger and energy. I feel sad that even if I was in a band that I doubt I'd have the time or energy to rehearse and write.

I've been promising P that I'd write new material for months now. I start to write and then it just stops. I can write these blog posts, sure, but this isn't the same. I think I need to start journaling daily in a paper journal. Maybe it will help start the flow of creative juices.

Some days I want to be sing pop. Other days I wish I was in a metal or hardcore band. Most days I just miss Radio Drama. but only the last lineup. It was perfect.

I'm upset at my weight. I've been trying to lose this same amount of weight for over 2 years. It just won't budge. I fluctuate between these two sizes and can't seem to shake anymore. I lose 10-20lbs and then gain it all back. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Obviously whatever I think I know is bullshit and doesn't work.

I should be working right now. Instead I'm writing this.

I have a friend who is a trainer and works me out to the point of dropping once a week. The rest of the week I'm on my own. I walk to the bus in the morning, sit all the way to work, sit all day at work, sit on the bus all the way home, walk home from the bus stop and plop my ass down and sit some more. Maybe its the light.

Its so dark out when I get home. I think my brain thinks its bedtime. Its starting to get lighter. Maybe that will help. I love the dark......but miss the light. Does that make sense?

I want to give her everything but have nothing to give. I wish I could be more for her...and for me.

Little by little.

I need to find my motivation again. My creativity. My passion. I need my darkness.

I think I feel too old.

Aging is for suckers.

Truly Yours, Pretentious Douche

I really hate people who have email signatures. Now, I'm not talking about professional email signatures. On my professional email, I have a signature with my name, title, business address, phone number and logo. Those signatures serve a purpose.

I'm talking about people with email signatures on their personal email. The ones with quotes like "Be The Change You Want To See In The World" and "Carpe Diem" or "anyothercompletelyoverusedquote".

I especially hate when someone has an email signature when they REPLY to an email. If you write back and forth 10 times, then that is 10 times you have to see that God forsaken quote. If they have a stupid animated picture of a cat waving its paw at you then you might as well just shoot me in the face.

I once knew someone who had an email signature that was simply:

Cheers,

Pretentious Douche*

*names have been changed to protect the douchebags

Really? You had to have that as a set email signature? You couldn't take the 3 seconds it takes to type that and just manually type it out when you email someone? Was it that complex? Was your time just too valuable?

I just don't understand. I feel that these people must think they are so profound and so deep with their quotes. That they're the first person to think of using it this way. Or that maybe people will think they are so cool and that they'll be known for their ironic quote or witty catchphrase sign off.

Please. Get off your high horse. Or Gandhi.

I think these people should be forced to self medicate or go through extensive therapy. Obviously something is missing in their lives.

Maybe its love. Maybe its some deep seeded daddy issues.

Maybe they just need more cat food.

I'm a grownup?

I've never felt like a grownup. Since I've been one anyways.

When I was younger I always felt like a grownup. I always felt 17 going on 45. I was always more comfortable with people older than me. People my age always seemed so immature. I rarely dated anyone my age. Even as I got older, so did my choices in friends. In my late teens and early twenties, my closest friends were all well over 30. I was never a crazy party girl and I preferred more grown up get togethers. Now in my late twenties and getting ready to approach 30 myself, all of my friends are already well into their thirties and more. I just feel more comfortable there.

However, that has a downside. That I always feel like the child. Though I feel more mature than those my age, I feel very immature now and then with my older friends. There are times conversations will be had and I won't understand the topic because it was before my time or I won't get the reference. It may involve things I haven't experienced yet. So I get a laugh and a smile and someone saying "Oh you're so young". But I don't feel young.

I don't feel that my life will feel any different when I'm 30. I've always felt that age anyways. I think I was born in the wrong decade.

A close friend once told me I had an old soul. I like to think that has a beauty to it.

I always feel like I'm asking permission with my older coworkers or friends. Though sometimes I feel awkward when I have to give direction to those older than me. Trying to maintain that respect but be assertive. Does that even make sense?

When I was 18 I moved out in the middle of my senior year and got my own apartment. I felt too independent. When I was 20 I moved to New York where I knew no one. Now at 28 I feel I've found my home in Los Angeles and a career. It is so weird to feel like I have a career. I've never had that before. I've always had "jobs" and always excelled in the business side of things.

I never finished my college degree because I couldn't figure out what I wanted. My creative side wanted my art degree. My rational side wanted more money. My musical side wanted me to never go back to college and to focus on singing. My rational side wanted stability. It wanted health insurance. It wanted "stuff".

I've now realized that all of my jobs have ended up in managerial positions dealing with the business and marketing end of things. That is where I've excelled. That has helped me decide to go back to school and finish my degree in business. Its what I'm good at.

I haven't played in a band in 9 months. I think I'm too old.

My wisdom teeth were not wise enough

I'm 28 years old and had all 4 of my wisdom teeth removed 7 days ago. Why? Because I'm crazy and an idiot at the same time.

When I was 18 I was told by a dentist that my wisdom teeth were growing in horizontally instead of vertically and I needed to get them removed by a surgeon right away. Did I mention I was 18? That means I was invincible, knew more than any dentist and had important things to do. I just graduated high school and was setting off on a road trip to college. I had no time for things like this. Not to mention I didn't have insurance and I never told my parents. They would have marched my butt right into the surgeons chair otherwise. So, I ignored the warning.

A few years ago I started to get horrible pain whenever I ate on the right side of my mouth. Pain that should have forced me to start dropping pounds since there were so many foods I could now no longer eat. Some how I found a way to still shove that food in my mouth, thus no weight loss. I didn't have insurance so I couldn't afford to go to the dentist. I assumed it was a cavity, since I'd never had one, and just figured I'd take care of it eventually.

Two years ago my girlfriend was tired of hearing me complain day after day, and seeing me in constant agony, so she took me to a dentist for an emergency appointment. The good news was, no cavity. The bad news, my wisdom teeth did grow in crooked and one of them, on the painful side, was growing in horizontally and tearing at the roots of my molars. Ouchies.

He also said I needed to see a surgeon right away. Still no insurance so I left with an xray of my screwed up teeth and went back to normal.

I recently got a real job with grown up things like insurance. First thing I did the day my insurance cards came in the mail was go to the dentist. It had gotten worse, since it's been 10 years, and now they would have to remove small pieces of my jawbone as well. Good news is I still don't have any cavities. Do I get an award or something? A month later, I had the surgery. That was 7 days ago.

After the surgery I was hopped up on pain medication so I was wheeled out to the car in a wheelchair, since my legs wouldn't work, and plopped down in the seat next to my loving girlfriend. She informs me that for the next hour, I told her I couldn't feel my tongue (I was touching my chin while I told her this important information) and I made her touch it to ensure it was still in my mouth. I also refused to put my hand down. I got in the car and raised my hand in the air. She put my hands in my lap but I raised it again and told her, "It's more comfortable like this." I also said the phrase "Oh man" about 1,000 times. At some point in the car ride I started crying because I swore there was something in my mouth that was trying to go down my throat and cut off my breathing. The whole time she held my hand and put up with my craziness. She's a keeper that one.

Throughout the next few days, my face swelled up like a squirrel with cheeks full of acorns. My girl's favorite question to me over these days was, "What are you hiding in those cheeks?" Everyday she told me how cute and beautiful I was, even though I know I looked like I was morbidly obese and this was the future of my face if I didn't stop eating so much crap. I recommend this surgery for kick starting any weight loss plan.

I now look like I got punched in the face because of a giant bruise on the side of my jaw. But the swelling is going down. Now I just look fat. I've caught up on a lot of reading, TV and video games. Very important stuff I had been putting off. Not to mention the fact that my girlfriend showed how devoted she is to me in sickness and in health. Did I mention she's a keeper? Putting a ring on that finger as soon as some heterosexual judge gives me the go ahead.

All in all, I'm glad I did the grown up thing. It probably would have been better to do it at 18 but too late now. I've been out of work for the last week and am praying I still have a desk when I go back. I've learned Vicodin makes me terribly sleepy and that I really like jello. Like, whoa. And I learned that doctors are smarter than 18 year olds.

Who knew?

A New Year...and new shit.

Today is the first day of 2011 and I planned on spending it on my couch, watching TV and vegging out. I had all of my wisdom teeth removed 3 days ago and have been recuperating with books and TV. Not a bad way to end the year.

Here I am, sitting on my couch talking on the phone with my mother and getting ready to start writing a blog about the new year, when all of a sudden I hear what sounds like rushing water. It sounded like someone was dumping buckets of water out the window upstairs. I get up and walk into the bathroom to look out the window and I see my toilet overflowing water all over my floor. It takes me a second to realize this is happening because this makes no sense to me since I've done absolutely nothing to necessitate a clogged toilet. NOTHING.

I run down to my building managers apartment to tell her and ask her to call a plumber asap. I go back to my apartment and the water is still gushing everywhere. Not only is it water, but its shit water. There is shit water and chunks of black hair (I am a redhead and my girlfriend is a blond) all over my floor and coming out of my toilet. I want to vomit.

My building manager goes to the upstairs apartment and the neighbors apartment to see if they are also having an issue and none of them are. This supposedly means it originated from my apartment which I tell him is completely impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. There is no possible way that this happened here. I'd be happy to admit it if it was.

Now the water is still gushing out because my building manager can't get it to stop. It has now spread to the carpet in our bedroom. Equally awesome.

I have to wait until a plumber can get here to fix this which could take up to two hours. I'm so furious and disgusted that this is how I get to spend my first day of the new year.

They say that whatever you do on the first day of the year is the theme for what you'll be doing all year long. My plan was to relax and start writing and have the tone for 2011 be stress free and creative.

Guess 2011 is going to be full of shit.

Hello blog, my old friend.

Well its been quite a few months since I've ranted on anything. I was doing good there for awhile. Then I decided to pack all of my belongings and my loved one into my car and move across the country. No really, I did that.

Now I'm writing from sunny Southern California. I have been quite distracted since I discovered podcasting and have been doing one weekly. Its hilarious, I won't lie.

Anywho, on to the good stuff. I have something to talk about and it involves icky girly things. If you are a boy and want to stop reading now, I totally will understand.

I recently read an article in Curve magazine about periods and I also discovered quite a few books on the subject. This has fascinated me enough to the point of wanting to write about it.

Lets start at the beginning...the way beginning. I was 10 years old and thought I was dying. I already had boobs and was the only girl in 4th grade wearing a bra. It was not a cool thing to have then and I hated my boobs. All the boys would snap my bra strap and I was horribly embarrassed. I would wear baggy shirts to try to hide the fact that I was wearing a white cotton bra underneath but nothing worked. Then to top my puberty sundae, I got my period one weekend afternoon at home. I came out of the bathroom screaming to my mother that I thought I was dying. My mother responded to my ever so common dramatics by telling me there were things in the bathroom to use under the cabinet. That was my lesson.

I sat on the floor of my bathroom attempting to discern the pictorial diagrams that accompany a box of Always maxi-pads and figure out how to attach them to my underwear. Then I experienced the joy of feeling like I was wearing a diaper. So begins the lovely journey of being a woman.

Now I realize this may paint my mother as an un-motherly brat but I can assure you she was not. She actually had went over the menstrual cycle with me about a year prior via my encyclopedia set. Not what I anticipated using it for when my parents bought it for me. That was a great birds and bees lesson full of lovely pictures of genitalia which scarred me for life. Maybe that should have been my first clue that I was a lesbian.

So now I was not just the only girl in my class to wear a bra but I'm pretty sure I was the only one on my period. To this day, I have yet to meet anyone who started as early as I did. I was pretty tomboyish around 4th-5th grade but my mother insisted I carry a little yellow purse to school. Again, the only girl who had a purse. To make it even more obvious, when I would ask to use the bathroom during class I would have to make sure I brought my purse with me. In 4th grade, that raises a lot of questions because why would you need to bring anything with you to the bathroom. It was a very traumatic time for me.

Now in my late twenties, I continue to get my monthly period like clockwork. Every 28 days, thar she blows. A monthly reminder that my eggs are being wasted because I don't want children. Every time the cramps start, the bloating begins and I start to cry at commercials I am punished for not wanting to use my eggs to procreate. I really wish this was optional.

I wish that I could decide not to have my period, just as I can decide I don't want to add a friend on Facebook. I wish each month I'd get an email saying "Your period would like to come and visit you. Accept or Ignore". Then I could happily click on Ignore and move on with my day. 1, 2, 3.

But I do not have that luxury. Sure I could go on birth control and then only get my period once or twice a year but I refuse to do that for a multitude of reasons. A) I do not need birth control as it is biologically impossible for my girlfriend to impregnate me. If by some miracle of life she did impregnate me, I'm pretty sure I'd be rich because I would be a world marvel. I would totally have a kid if it was a miracle of science like that. B) I do not want to put unnecessary chemicals into my body if I don't need to. If it was a matter of life or death and the only way to survive was to take birth control, then I'd do it. But to take it just so I can not have a period is a little ridiculous.

I'm sure when I go into menopause I will yearn for the days of a period and natural estrogen. But we won't know until that happens.

For now, I get to watch awesome commercials of birth control and feminine products during television programs that are in my demographic. I get to watch the women in these commercials frolic in fields of daisy's because they are on birth control. Or I get to see women dancing around in their underwear because they finally found the best tampon. Because some man who runs these companies thinks that is what will make women buy their products. Some dude in a suit, sitting in an office, says "I know if I was a woman, I would totally connect to this random ethnically diverse woman running and giggling and want to wear the same tampon she does." Do these guys really think that works? Do they think that their birth control or tampon will make me feel more connected to my womanhood? Let me in that board room. I'll make a commercial of some woman whining in agony because of cramps and balling at touching commercials for Rice Krispies. I will show a woman bitching about the price of these necessary products and that she has to go through this every month. Have you seen the price of pads or tampons? These dudes make a fortune off of us. Half of the worlds population HAS to buy these products. I can only imagine their vast menstrual cycle fortunes.

For now, I just have to suck it up and deal with it, as do we all. But I can say that the advertising and product world would be quite a different place if it was men who had their periods. I bet they would have found a cure for this by now. However, the worlds population would probably die out. Silly boys.

Cleanliness is Godliness

Now that you have watched the video...lets discuss.

"No one likes a bath tissue that leaves pieces behind." Who has pieces of toilet paper left all over their bum? No, really. Who? I would love to meet these people. I have a lot of questions.

I have been wiping my own ass for well over 26 years. I'll say my parents must have done it for the first year of my life. This has never happened to me. Not once.

Now, my girlfriend states that this must be a mans problem. Because, you know, they're hairy. This could be true. But seriously, that's gross. If I was a man and was getting bits of toilet paper stuck to my ass hair, I would grab my Norelco shaver and manscape away. I just assume that if I was a man, I would use a fancy Norelco shaver. They look nice. I would also be a metro sexual if I was a man.

But back to the subject, there is no way that I would let this continue on.

Now what I am dying to know is, did Charmin get complaints about this? Did people write into Charmin complaining of toilet paper bits stuck to their bottoms?

Dear Charmin,

I love your product so much but I wish you would address this one issue. I constantly get toilet paper pieces stuck in my hairy butt. I constantly have to pick them out while backing up against the mirror. It is such a hassle! Any way you can invent a toilet paper that doesn't leave behind bits? That would be super-d-duper.

Love,

Harry Butts

I would love to read their mail. I work at a newspaper and the mail we get at times is just fantastic. I can only imagine the kind of people who write into the toilet paper company. Hey Charmin, I smell a Facebook fan page of Charmin letter gems in the works. That would be some great publicity.

I understand their point is that its "thicker" it seems. That it doesn't break down as quickly as say, the cheap-o one-ply toilet paper. I get that. But there are so many other ways to market this product other than remnants left in your hairy bear butt. These commercials just gross me out. They are not cute or funny. Its just gross. Hairy butts full of toilet paper pieces? Definitely gross. Nothing appealing about it.

My bottom line (no pun intended) is that if you have enough butt hair to necessitate needing a toilet paper that will leave behind fewer pieces....grab a razor. Get that manscape under control. Hell, if you have that much hair you could probably make a design. I like lightening bolts.

Whoever sees you naked will appreciate this. I guarantee it.

16 and Pregnant. There's a shocker.

This show is like a horrible car accident. I can't stop watching. My girlfriend and I happened across this show one day while finding nothing else to watch and we were entranced.

Every time we watch this show I find us yelling at the TV. Lets not kid ourselves, I yell at our TV a lot. But this show brings out a lot more yelling than usual.

Lets start with the new season that premiered on MTV the other night. This episode completely featured a teenage girl named Jenelle.

Jenelle was dating some boy who was a former model and surprise, surprise she got pregnant. Her boyfriend was a real gem who had no job, no income and a drinking problem. He also continuously told her she was a "piece of crap" among many other compliments.

And of course this girl just kept going back for more like a fat kid at an all you can eat buffet. And again, SURPRISE, when he suddenly wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

Her mom, while not the greatest communicator, did try to get across to her that her boyfriend was a piece of garbage. But Jenelle being the worldly soul that she is, didn't believe her. Until her friends said the same exact thing and then suddenly Jenelle decided to end it. But knowing her type, I am sure they'll get back together.

Anywho, skip ahead, skip ahead, skip ahead...Jenelle has this little baby. Immediately after having the baby, and I mean days, she starts going out every night. Her poor mother is the one getting up every few hours to take care of the baby. She is the one making the bottles and changing the diapers. But its the martyr Jenelle complaining about how tough it is and how tired she is. Tired from what?! Holding the kid? Complaining? Please enlighten me about what is sooooo hard for you.

Jenelle admits once to the camera that "I thought being a mom would be easy. But I was thinking about when he is older and doing the fun stuff."

Really?! Are you that dense that you thought it would just be a piece of cake?! Bet you are rethinking that whole "you-don't-have-to-wear-a-condom-its-totally-cool" thing that got you into this predicament in the first place aren't you?!

I am no prude. And I also don't think kids should be taught abstinence, but safe sex. I was young once too and I had sex. With a boy *shudders*. However, I never was so irresponsible as to not use protection. How do you agree to that KNOWING what the consequences are? Pregnancy is the BEST case scenario there. You're lucky you didn't get something with an outcome of death or pus filled sores on your chichi.

Anyways, *stepping off the soap box*, back to Jenelle. She loves to threaten her mom, saying, as soon as she's 18 she'll leave and never let her see the baby again. DO IT! I'd love to see her try and make it on her own with that baby without her mom doing all the hard work for her. That kid would be dead in a week. I'd bet money on it. She's the mom you read about who would leave her kid in the car so she could go shopping. Or prop him up with some pillows all night while she goes out clubbing. "I gave my baby just a little whisky and now he'll be out for hours. Woo Hoo!!"

And guess what Jenelle? That loser douche bag boyfriend of yours is going to be a part of your life forever. Like it or not, he has rights to that kid if he wants to use them. Ah young love.

Do the world a favor kid. Give your little one to a family that will actually appreciate him and take care of him. A family that would give and do anything for their child. This way you can have your precious social life back. Then get your tubes tied and use a condom...just to be safe.

You will NEVER get a good night's sleep!

I love the show Medium. LOVE it. It is by far one of my favorite TV shows. Have you seen it? Its great.

There is one thing about the show that gets a little annoying. Now, keep in mind the show has been on for 6 seasons.

Every single episode, Allison (played by Patricia Arquette), wakes up from a dream very abruptly in the middle of the night. Every time this happens, her husband Joe (played by Jake Weber) is startled that this happens. He is always astonished that she wakes up like this and at many times complains how he can't get a good night sleep. Really Joe? Really!!??

A classic Joe quote:

Allison Dubois: I just had a weird dream...
Joe Dubois: Of course you did. It's a day ending in "Y".

Oh shut it Joe, you condescending schmuck. You knew she was psychic when you married her.

Your wife is a psychic who has psychic dreams that wake her up suddenly every single night and still you aren't surprised when it happens? You act like its the very first time this has happened and still bitch and complain. SHE HAS PSYCHIC DREAMS!! Get over it. Go sleep on the couch if its so bothersome. Wear earplugs so you don't hear her wake up!

The other constant irritation in this show is how no one ever believes her. She has a psychic vision. She tells her husband. She tells her boss, the District Attorney (played by Miguel Sandoval). No one ever believes her.

They tell her things like, "That can't be right." or "You must be mistaken." They say "I'm sorry Allison but I just don't see how that's possible."

HOW DO YOU NOT BELIEVE HER?!

At the end of every single episode she ends up being right. There have only been a handful of times she's been a little off. Her dreams always lead up to the bad guy. They always lead to the solving of the crime. You think since this happens once a week their logic would dictate that if they believe her at first, their solve rate would go up. But no.

It seems that in order to make for what they deem good TV, they have to not believe her and go round and round and round until finally they circle back to Allison's dream and what she dreamt comes true.

UGH! Its so frustrating.

Every week I find myself screaming at the TV. When Allison wakes up in the middle of the night I yell at Joe saying "SHE'S PSYCHIC GOD DAMNIT!."

I wish they would just believe her right off the bat. Poor Allison. She must just sigh to herself constantly and think, "Here we go again."

I should write for TV.

Don't mess with my Tinkerbell jammie jams!

Can someone please explain this phenomenon to me? And how it became a phenomenon?

That'd be wonderful.

How in the world, did it become acceptable to wear pajamas in public? And not just any pajamas either. But brightly colored, cartoon clad pajamas at that.

I just don't get it. Is it just me?

Its happening everywhere. I cannot go into one store without seeing several people shopping in their hot pink, tazmanian devil print pajamas. Everytime I see someone wearing pajamas in public, the first thing I think of is "Is it that hard to put on pants?"

Do people think it looks good? Have they no shame? It looks like a lazy, sloppy mess. There has to be someone out there who agrees with this sentiment.

If I am lounging around my house in my pajamas, and suddenly need to go somewhere, it seriously takes me 30 seconds to put on a pair of pants and a shirt. ITS NOT ROCKET SCIENCE! ITS PANTS!!!!!

I don't want to see what you sleep in.
I don't want to see how low your boobs sag because you didn't take the time to put your bra back on either.
I don't want to see your flannel, plaid pajama bottoms on underneath your fur coat.
I don't want to see words written across your ass because you're "sexy" or "pink" or whatever word your cheerleading squad pals have designated as the new "it" ass word.
I don't want to see your panty lined, cellulite marked thighs underneath your too tight, neon green, terrycloth pajama pants that is holding your muffin top in perfect proportion.

I don't need those intimate details of your life. Put on pants and look like you're trying. Have you just given up? Your life is so hectic and crazy that pants are just too much? That step just takes energy that you don't have left? Give me a break. Or some freaking pants!

Do you go to work in your pajamas? Job interviews? Next people will be getting married in their pajamas. This is a world I don't want to live in.

YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS IN YOUR MICKEY MOUSE FLEECE PANTS!!! And don't say "but look how cute they are?" because YOU'RE WRONG!! You are lazy, nuff said. You just woke up in your pajamas, decided it would be easier to just wear them all day and then fall asleep in the same clothes. This way you don't have to make any rash decisions about matching or clothing options and you can just lounge around in your own sleepy filth all day long. You probably didn't brush your teeth either. Gross. Just gross.

If people want to wear pajamas in public then they should be forced to wear a sign that says "I give up." That way it points out what everyone is already thinking.

Ah, the fine art of conversation. What an art it can be.

Have you ever spoken with someone who constantly uses a phrase or wording that hits you like nails on a chalkboard? Like Bobby Brown hitting Whitney?

I've compiled here the top 3 that drive me absolutely crazy! Once you read this I guarantee, you will not only notice people doing or saying these on a daily basis but you'll probably think of even more. If for any reason you notice that you do any of these, please stop. Just stop. For the love of God, stop!!

#1. The "who the hell is Bob" conversation.

I have spoken to a few people who do this constantly. They'll be telling a story to either myself or sometimes a total stranger and it will go like this...
"This one time, Bob and I went to this show and saw the most amazing band."
"Oh my god, Bob tells the funniest jokes!"
"Oh, well Bob's just not into that so we don't do that."
The whole time this person is telling the story, the only thing I can think is, "WHO THE HELL IS BOB?!?!"
At least introduce your conversation topic friend in the beginning with , "my uncle Bob" or "my friend Bob" or "my goldfish Bob". Don't assume that anyone knows who the hell Bob is.

Then, during the rest of the conversation, the person you are speaking to will at least know who this mystery person is and be able to follow along.

I once yelled at someone who did this after meeting them for the very first time. They did this for about 30 minutes like I knew who this "Bob" or who anyone else in their life was for that matter.

Any number of names can, of course, be substituted for Bob. There is no limit to the annoying factor.

#2. The "5 days ago, no 4, no 5, maybe 3, no definitely 5" conversation.

Have you ever had someone tell you a story like this...

"I went to the best restaurant on vacation. We went at around 6 o'clock. Wait, maybe it was 7. No definitely 6 because I got out of the hotel around 5. No, no, no 7 definitely. "

OH MY GOD WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?!?!

I cannot STAND when someone does this. Who cares?! What difference does it matter what time it was or how many days ago it was or where the moon was in the night sky?! Why feel the need to be so detailed. Just tell the freaking story already!! People just love to hear themselves talk most of the time. I think it makes them feel important to tell redundant details. Who knows?

#3. The "120%" conversation

"I will give you 120% don't you worry"

No you won't. No you will not. How on Earth could you give 120%. Its not possible to give more than a hundred.
It makes no difference and you sound like an idiot. Bad talker. Shush.

These are only the top 3. The possibilities are endless and there are absolutely a thousand more that irk me.

I am positive you have a top 3 of your own so lets hear them.

Just leave Bob out of it.

Paper or Plastic?

Currently, I work part time in a supermarket and notice all kinds of ridiculousness that I'd like to point out here.

If you go to a supermarket..please don't do these things. Its really fucking annoying to us and makes our jobs harder and more difficult when it should be mindless work.

*When stepping up to the checkout line, do not under any circumstances, unload all of your groceries and then run away to just get something "real quick" that you forgot. It holds up our line, pisses other customers off and then we have to sit there and get bitched at by them about it.

*If you do the above thing, don't get all pissy when you come back 10 minutes later and find that your groceries have been packed back in your basket or cart and set aside so we may ring other customers who were waiting while you took your prima donna time finding your item all the way on the other side of the store.

*Do not yell at the checkout person/cashier EVER. Who the fuck do you think you are? We get paid barely minimum wage and you think we are gonna sit there and take your shit? How is that fair? It is not MY personal fault that we don't take your stupid expired coupon from another store in Lithuania. It is not MY personal fault that you brought me an item with no fucking barcode and now we BOTH have to wait while someone goes and gets it for us. Trust me, I don't want to sit there while you berate me either. We don't get paid enough to deal with your shit and your drama so don't take out your bad day or your bad haircut out on us. You are no better than me just because I work in a grocery store.

*If you bring your own bags to bag your groceries give them to us FIRST! Do not unload your entire cartful of groceries then get all pissed off that someone bagged them in plastic or paper and not your fancy bags from Whole Foods or whereverthehellelse you bought them. Be thankful we helped bag your groceries at all. Or be helpful and hand them to us first so we don't have to get yelled at by you and then unbag everything and do it again.

*When you take your cart outside to put your groceries in your car...put the cart away!! Don't put it BEHIND someones car or in front of someones car or next to someones car door. Walk your lazy ass the 10 feet to the spot where the carts go and put it back. I love going out to my car after a day of being berated by assholes and finding a cart blocking my car door or directly behind my car so when I back up I hit the cart. Awesome.

*Do not make ridiculous negative comments to the cashier about them. I love hearing people complain about my tattoos or telling me "you know that's permanent" or "Why would such a pretty girl do that to herself". Its permanent!? Holy shit I thought it was washable!! I know what I'm doing. Shut your mouth, pay for your groceries, and leave. I don't need YOU, a total stranger to me, telling me how horrible I am for getting a tattoo and a lip piercing. Shut it. Keep your comments to yourself.

*Don't ask for tomorrows sale price today. We can't do it. There's a reason its TOMORROWS sale price and not todays. Don't be bitchy when we can't either. There's no reason for it and being bitchy only makes us NOT want to help you even more.

Now that I'm all irate that's all I can do for now. But trust me...there WILL be a part 2 on this topic.

Until next time...

Freaks In Uniform

I'm about to spill a secret that the lesbian community doesn't want you to know. I may even get my membership card revoked for this.

I don't have a very eloquent way with words so I'm just going to spit it out. Here goes....lesbians wear a uniform. That's right! I said it! WHAT!?!

The lesbian uniform changes every year. We can spot each other a mile away once we see the universal uniform is being proudly worn. Ever meet a girl you aren't quite sure really IS a lesbian? Well with the knowledge of the uniform, now you'll know!

I don't know when the uniform started or even who started it. All I know, is that its alive and well. Its not usually a full uniform per say, but really an article of clothing or accessory. Some lesbians try to stray from the uniform because they don't want to conform or be grouped in. But they all give in eventually at some point during the year.

I've discovered the uniform usually changes around Pride when we all gather in masses. Then we can properly discern what is the current years uniform. Very handy to know in time for summer clothes shopping.

A few years ago it was the classic shoe, Chuck Taylors. Lesbians from all over the world were wearing their Chucks everywhere they went. We were all wearing the same shoes at every occasion or event.

Last year it was another piece of classic fashion, the Polo shirt. I myself have a pair of Chucks and multiple Polo's. I'm not fooling anyone. The Polo comes in a variety of colors and styles. As do Chucks. You can imagine the mix-matching possibilities that plagued our everyday lives!

I should also note that the uniform never stops being THE uniform. We get a new piece every year but that doesn't mean the old pieces no longer apply. They just aren't as prevalent I guess you could say.

Now for this years uniform choice. For 2009 we have not one, but TWO, uniform pieces. Oooo la la!

This year the first piece we have is the striped shirt. Any type of shirts and any color or variety of stripes will work. As long as the stripes are prevalent, you will easily be spotted and identified as a lesbian. No need to worry about type of fabric or width of stripes!

Our second piece this year is the key clip. Its more of an accessory. It is the clip, which very closely resembles a mountain climbing clip, that you can attach your keys too and then hook onto your belt loops. So convenient for keeping our keys where we need them, looking fashionable AND jingling whenever a lesbian is getting close to you. Its kind of like our own little beacon system. We're very clever, what can I say?

So don't go telling anyone I told you. Its very hard for me to get a new membership card. I have to take the test again and everything!

But remember ladies, get out those striped shirts and key clips and jingle the night away. You'll look good doing it. *wink*

Until next time...