A short: Garden of Ashes and Rock

Is this younger generation so callous that you just say ‘I love you’ with such abandon? Have you no point of reference? Have you even felt that chest-gripping, intoxicating, beautiful thing that is falling in love? Can you describe it? Has it ever taken you to the moon and back? Did you pray to the gods for this magnificent gift? Has your breath caught at the very thought of someone else? When your mind drifts to their lips, do the butterflies begin to flutter?

There is nothing so awesome of that first realization of love. The air smells cleaner. The sky is the clearest blue. The birds sing in harmony. It is so much more beautiful when the object of that love feels the same way about you.

Have you ever felt that feeling, that confidence, only to learn that the love you feel is one-sided? All those words, all that sharing, all the bonding… all of it an illusion? Who can do that to another person? Who can so righteously cause that amount of pain? This lie leads to that lie to that lie to the nightmare you gaze upon today. Eventually the realization sets in that this was worse than a game. This was you being of no greater use than a hammer to a nail. You are defeated. The wound left behind will never fully heal. The hole will never be gone. New doubt has been born and that is what will flourish in this garden of ashes and rock.

/fin

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

“Stranger in My House” – Tamia

Mm, mm oh

I don’t understand
You look just like the man
In the picture by our bed
The suspense is pounding and clouding up my head
I’m checking your clothes
And you wear the same size shoe
You sleep in his spot and your driving his car
But I don’t know just who you are

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out
There’s no way you can say who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do (you do)
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

Now show who you are
Don’t see your shadow around when you walk
Your leaving no kisses
Goodbye with no words
If these walls could talk
They would have nothing to tell

So what could it be
Is there someone imitating me
Could she be taking my place
Look me in the face
And tell me that I am wrong when I say

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out
There is no way you can say who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do (you do)
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a

Stranger in my house

Pop quiz
Tell me where we first kissed
Tell me where my spot is
Tell me if I like it, love it
Or could it be
That the stranger is me
Have I changed so drastically
Is it I want more then me
And you remain the same

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out

It took a while to figure out
You can’t be who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

Woo

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out

It took a while to figure out
You can’t be who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

A Small Note on Foul Language

Oh, Obscenities, how I love thee. Let me count the ways.

I use obscenities a lot here on ye ol’ Fabulously Jinxed. I have often told people that I’m crude and my writing is not for the faint of heart (or eyeballs). I have received email from concerned netizens who tell me that my writing would be so much better without the foul language1. I do not, however, carry that language to places that do not appreciate and/or adore it. I try to be respectful of the safe places people have where they’re not overwhelmed with low-class mutterings such as those I prefer. When I venture into such places, I will temper my writing and become less, um, colorful to satisfy the establishment rules. I do not, however, ever camouflage a fine curse word with such characters as @, # or *. This is even more lazy than the obscenities I love to throw down.

Here’s the thing, there really are other words to substitute for the undesirable words. For instance, I have seen sh*t because the writer is either loathe to be seen in the company of such language or because the site forbids it. Why bother to put in one little asterisk? Why not search for a better, less offensive word? For instance, instead of <em>shit</em>, maybe “crap” or “poo” or even “monkey excrement”. The camouflaging is cheap and, quite frankly, lazy.

“Lazy, Jennyjinx? Why aren’t you the lazy one with all your obscene and disgusting language?”

When I say “fuck” on my blog, it’s like I’m in my house saying the word. I use it like it’s my job. I have variations such as: fuck a duck in a truck, fuckity fuck, fuckola and just plain HOLY FUCK. Around the more sensitive and polite folk that I happen to know and who happen to venture into my home I may instead use: flippin’, flappin’ chicken wings and Holy Shinola. These are my attempts at keeping it clean. Honestly, it’s not that cute when a three year-old child flings an f-bomb, so I’ve always been a little careful around Lil’lady and her Holier-Than-Thou grandmother2. Instead of “son-of-a-bitch” I say “son-of-a-cockroach” and such similarly ridiculous little phrases that eliminate the words I want, but allow the meaning of them shine through. Do I really need them? Probably not. But I wouldn’t be myself without them and I just love making up my own off-the-wall phrases and words. It’s part of my charm.

I’m sorry. Did someone tell you I was a lady? You should smack them for lying to you because that shit is not true.

Back to the point I was trying to make. There are many people that are genuinely offended and appalled at such brazen and lazy language. That’s fine. Guess what else I have in my arsenal? A thesaurus! Can you believe that nonsense3? I do happen to know quite a few words that will get my point across just as strongly as those ever-lovin’ f-bombs, but sometimes I can’t grasp them4 and when I’m on my own turf I don’t really need them. I do find them when I’m on someone else’s turf, though, if I’m given enough time. Considering how many people I’ve offended without having used the “naughty” words I’m pretty sure I can get some kind of point across too. As such you will never see me masking my curses with # or * or %%, because I will find another word to replace them altogether.

I honestly can’t stand those lame attempts to write the curse without actually writing it. “Look here! I know a cuss word, but I’m too genteel to use it. Ha!” Then why the fuck even bring it up? If you can’t or won’t use the word, why even type a small part of it? Search deep into your vast language resources and find something else to replace it altogether. Is that how you say them when you speak? “Oh, sh-exclamation point-teh!”5 “F-asterisk percent sign-K you!”6 Really? Somehow I doubt that.

Ok, so you really don’t want anyone googling you and finding out that you use “that” kind of language. I get that. I can even empathize with and respect that. But you’re not hiding shit behind a little asterisk and an exclamation point. Most people over 13 know what the hell you’re trying to say without actually saying it. They are not fooled in the least little bit. They know you’re hiding something deep and ugly. Why else would you be using any part of those words to begin with? If you want to take the high road and leave us foul-mouthed fuckheads down in the gutters where we belong, then just don’t use the bad words. Do like everyone in my life has ever told me: develop your vocabulary. And then run with it.

I mean, d-word, that s-word is kinda f-word lame. Dontcha think? Just sayin’ g-word it.

A challenge to all mah peeps:

Please tell me the different and unusual ways you cuss without actually doing it. And don’t be lame either. Getting a bigger vocabulary was already mentioned. Please do get creative and give those poor asterisks abusers some fine ideas7.

Popularity: 7% [?]


Sphere: Related Content

  1. These usually give me much enjoyment and I sometimes post them. []
  2. Also known as Millie, who is the bane of my very existence. []
  3. See? I could have said “shit”, but chose a more family-friendly word instead. []
  4. FMS kind of made me stupid. []
  5. Translation: Oh, shit! []
  6. Translation: Fuck you! []
  7. And me too as I love to say new an interesting variations on my old favorites []

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

And Now My Job

I was up in the air about whether I would discuss my workplace. I didn’t know if I wanted that much about me out there. Sure I discuss my kids every so often and I’ll throw in a post about school here and there, but usually I try to remain slightly mysterious. An enigma even. But when I go to work and observe what’s happening I think to myself “Holy shitballs!1There’s a lot of material here.” And there is a ridiculous amount. If only I could put into words…

First let me start by saying that I “wait” tables, but don’t call me a “waitress”. I’m a server. A cheap prostitute, if you will. I make nice with strangers for a few extra dollars in my pocket. Previous to Lil’lady that was my profession for about 13 years. Now I’m back at it. It’s actually what I’m good at and what I know how to do. The restaurant where I work is a decent place, but not because of the customers. They pretty much suck ass. My employer and his management staff are just top-notch people. They do a lot for our community in the way of giving back and treat most of the employees2 with the utmost dignity and respect. I actually like working there.

So, anyway, I’ve decided to regale you all with tales from behind-the-scenes and on the floor. People annoy the shit out of me and since I can’t tell them to shove it, I’ll just tell the stories. It’ll be downright therapeutic for me (and maybe make you wonder about your favorite eating establishment– which will make me laugh and giggle). You might think that this can’t be the least bit interesting considering my over-the-top rants about politics (which are fewer now because I recently overdosed on the subject and just can’t feel the passion right now), but you’ll soon come ’round to my way of thinking.

In our restaurant, which is pretty big, we have tables and booths. The difference between the two is the chairs at tables can be adjusted and booths are bolted to the floor. Most of our booths seat 4 + people (up to 8), but we do have a few 2 tops3. The 2 tops are incredibly small and really don’t hold much and the booths aren’t very wide. They’re good for single diners or a couple of kids eating just appetizers. Still, our hostesses will seat anyone there and then we, the servers, have to make sure they don’t have one thing sitting on their table that they’re not using4.

So, one day I’m in a section full of these 2top booths. The hostess seats me and I go greet my sorry couple. The lady was very large. She was literally stuffed into this booth– her butt was hanging off the edge of her seat and her boobs were sitting on to of the table. She didn’t look the slightest bit comfortable. She wasn’t very pleasant when I greeted them.

She grunted her order to me without so much as looking in my direction. When she ordered her steak I said “Medium is hot pink in the center, is that ok?” She whipped her head around and glared at me.

“Medium, medium, MEDIUM“, she growled, her face turning red (I’m not really sure if she could even breathe in that booth). It’s my job to help prevent recooks and one way I do that is to make sure everyone knows what at what temperature they’re ordering their meat. I explained that to her. She turned her head and looked away– refusing to speak to me further.

She was like that throughout her meal. When she wanted more tea, she wiggled her glass. When she wanted more bread, she practically threw the basket at me. Her husband was no help either. He just shrugged his shoulders at me and went about eating.

Then I saw her talking to a manager. What the hell was she going on about? I did everything right, made sure she was as comfortable as I could possibly make her without greasing her down with butter and somehow managed to not dump a gallon of tea on her head. I walked up to the table and asked what the problem was.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she hissed. So, I hunted down my manager to see what she was going on about.

“She’s pissed because she got sat at that booth,” he told me. “She doesn’t think that should even be allowed in the restaurant and she’s pissed because no one asked her if she wanted a table. She told me she couldn’t even enjoy her meal because she can’t even move in that booth.”

“Really? Why the hell didn’t she ask for a bigger table? What the fuck? She was pissy with me the whole time and it’s not even my fault.” I was almost mad. But then I laughed. I’m pretty sure if my boobs were sitting on top of the table and my ass was hanging over the side of my seat I would ask to be put somewhere else. Apparently, this woman wanted a psychic seater5 who would just assume she wouldn’t be offended if she was offered a bigger seat. We did have a good laugh at her pride and stupidity, though. And, no, she didn’t get a free meal.

So, because this woman was too proud to ask for something else when she eyeballed the table, she sat for a good hour stuffed into her seat, unable to enjoy her meal, and undoubtedly ended up some indigestion when she went home. And I got to be abused for an hour and ended up with a shitty tip.

Moral of the story: If you can’t fit in the table your hostess initially takes you to, ask for something else. You know if your ass and boobs will fit into that space. If you find yourself unable to breathe and properly digest your food, ask for a bigger table. Save yourself the humiliation of being stuffed in there to begin with. Otherwise you will be miserable and we will laugh at your expense (the price of pride and all that).

Popularity: 4% [?]


Sphere: Related Content

  1. ”Holy Shitballs” being something I picked up from Schad and which most of my immediate coworkers have picked up from me. []
  2. Some employees are straight fuckwits and deserve much scorn and abuse. []
  3. Holds only two people. []
  4. Prebussing is a must! []
  5. Our seaters aren’t allowed to ask overweight guests if they’d like a bigger table because it might offend the guest. They are to assume they want to be treated like most thin people in their seating. []

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Can I getta clue?

Guess what? My “official” blogging career is officially 4 years old!1 Woot! Take that!2

Does that make me a “real” blogger now? Have I earned my wings? Am I there yet, people?

Recently I read yet another post from someone that thought they knew what a blog should be and what it shouldn’t be. This person, er, I mean, blogger must be one of those that doesn’t venture far from one particular type of blog and thus has NO FUCKING CLUE to what else is available for consumption in Ye Ole Blogovia. I love it when the blogging isolationists offer up their own vision of what blogging should be. Gods love ‘em. Except they irritate the shit out of me.

Anyway, what the fuck have I been up to lately? Not a whole lot, actually. I work (outside the home) 4 days a week, go to school 2 full days (more than 5 hours at a time, yo) and then do other shit that I kind of have to do. It’s a sad, sad state of affairs when real life interferes with time spent on the Interwebs, dontcha think? Honestly, folks, this is getting ridiculous.

Luckily for me I have a new thing going on which will require I be online at least once a day. Isn’t that the most bomb-diggity news? What do you mean you don’t care and that you’ve gotten over your addiction to me? C’mon, people, work with me here! I’ll actually be able to do some web traveling. That’s awesome in the most awesome way. I think.

P.S.
I’m not making any promises because, as most of my regular readers know, I can’t possibly keep any promises I make. Not because I don’t care, but because I forget. Oops. That’s just me though.

One last plea: People, stop telling other people what the fuck should be on their own damned blogs. For real. If you don’t like personal stuff on blogs that you think should be political or you CAN’T FLIPPIN’ STAND blogs about, well, blogging3 then move along. ‘K? Just sayin’… That shit is irritating.

Peace, love and lollipops!

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

80% Approval Rating

I tweeted this, but thought it bore repeating with a little more detail.

I hear McCain supporters applaud Sarah Palin’s approval rating as a reason why they are happy she’s on the ticket. “Alaska is so big! And she’s got an 80% approval rating. How can that be bad?”

I hear McCain supporters applaud Sarah Palin’s approval rating as a reason why they are happy she’s on the ticket. “Alaska is so big! And she’s got an 80% approval rating. How can that be bad?”

Here’s a breakdown you can give your friends and family living under this delusion:

The number of people who voted in Alaska’s gubernatorial race: 206, 232
The margin of Palin’s victory: 48.3% to 40.9%
The approximate number of votes Palin received (based on the above numbers): 99,610

Number if 80% of all Alaskan voters1 like Palin : 164,985.6

The population of Akron, OH in 2007: 207, 934

The population of Cleveland, OH in 2007 (does not include greater metropolitan area, which consists of suburbs not governed by Cleveland’s mayor): 438,042

The population of Columbus, OH (also does not include greater metro area): 747,755

Total population of Three Ohio cities: 1,393,731

Population of Alaska in 2006: 670,053

So, when someone tells you that Palin has an amazing approval rating let them know that less than 200,000 people agree with that assessment. Alaska is the largest state by land mass in the U.S. But when the number of voters is broken down, well, would Palin fare so well in a state with larger numbers of registered voters? If less than 200K people agree with her policies, why should we be happy about her approval rating?

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

I Got a Present

Monique was a darling and convinced me to give her my actual home address. At first I was leery and then decided why not? So I did. Guess what? She sent me goodies!!

Behold:

Goodies from TX

There’s a smiley magnet (I seriously love the smilies), a little Texas magnet complete with a gun that reads “We don’t dial 911″ and a Bullshit bag. What’s it say on the bag, you ask?

Disposable
Bullshit Bag
Seals BS IN

>DIRECTIONS:

  1. OPEN BAG BEFORE OPENING MOUTH
  2. TUCK OPEN BAG BENEATH CHIN
  3. START “TALKING”, LET THE B.S. FLOW
  4. WHEN FULL, SEAL BAD AND DISPOSE OF.

Warning:

Do not attempt to dispose of your BS through any government agency since they produce more bullshit than they can dispose of themselves. We suggest that you send it to the major networks in return for all they send out each day.

So a big Ohio “Thankee” to Monique for the most awesome of Texas goodies. But, um, can you please send me the ammo for that gun? I’ve got some beetles to take care of. :)

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

The Early Bird is Flippin’ Tired

I am so tired. I can’t even tell you properly. Today is the second day in a row that I was up at 6 am. If you know me at all, you know that I hate getting up before 9 am. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a morning person1. Anyway, between kids (ok, just one) getting on my last nerve and my husband getting on all the other nerves it’s a wonder I’m even able to function today. Seriously, I’m looking at tropical island destinations and wondering how long it will take me to swim there.

In school news, I started classes yesterday. Math was my very first course of the semester and I have the same professor that I had last semester. It’s seriously teh suhweet. Except for the part where we have to take a test every Wednesday. I also have to write my very first C++ program/code thing2 and read 3 chapters in my ethics class so I can write 2 paragraphs for each discussion on our WebCT (there are 5 discussions listed- not including the obligatory “Introduction” thread). I have yet to meet my Hon. Coll. teacher. I’m sure I’ll have to write a 10 page report by next week. Wheee!!!! Am I getting smart yet? Because, um, I certainly don’t feel like it.

In other news, you can see a PUMA live and in charge here. No, seriously, watch the video when you get the chance. The woman (Cristi I-don’t-Care-What-Her-Last-Name-Is) starts off by saying that Obama was registered in a Muslim madrassa, then she says that he was registered as a Muslim and she has a report from a Congressional investigator. When Chris Matthews asks for proof and dogs her a little, she switches it up and insists that she actually said “former” Congressional investigator. Mwahaha!! Seriously, watch it if only for proof of the way she changes her story every so slightly every single time Matthews prods her. It’s hilariously representative of what the PUMAs have been doing for months.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Holidays gone

It’s funny comparing Pagans from metropolitan areas to “country” Pagans. In the cities there is almost a guaranteed anonymity so they’re free to “come out of the broom closet”. They don’t have to worry about repercussions of any sort. They can have Pagan Pride festivals and fight to have a Yule Log burning right beside a Nativity Scene and Menorah. They know that most people will be accepting if not all together understanding of their beliefs.

Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way for the country folk. They have to hide their jewelry and clothes the curtains when they celebrate holidays. That doesn’t mean that the government will come down on them–unless they have children. Then their religious beliefs could come under intense scrutiny and their kids could be taken away. Neglect they call it. Also, the neighbors are likely to vandalize a country Pagan’s home, who gets no help from the local police department. It’s sad that this happens in this country in this day and age, but it does happen.

The city dwellers don’t understand what the country folk are so worried about (unless they started out country and moved to get away from the closed minds). They’re used to the more intellectual and free thinking crowds that swarm the cities. They’re used to the conversations they have on the grounds of the University. They can’t imagine someone coming right out and calling them “Evil” and telling them that they’re going to hell. 2005 and that still happens….sigh Let’s move on.

———————————————————————–
Christians do not regularly fear for their safety and that of their family because of their religious beliefs. They do not have to worry about losing their jobs because they wear their religious jewelry. They don’t have to fight to keep custody of their children because they take them to church. Pagans, on the other hand, are fighting battles like this everyday. Though we are becoming more and more recognized we’re also becoming more and more hated (because the zealous right is starting to take us seriously).

I personally have not problem saying “Merry Christmas” to anyone. Where I live is a Conservative Christian area and it’s pretty much expected that if you’re alive in this town then you’re Christian. There aren’t even any Jewish Temples in the entire county. I’m glad that I have that time off of work and that my daughter doesn’t have to go to school for two weeks at that time. I know that Christmas is a usurped holiday, that Christ wasn’t born on that day. Pagans celebrated the return of the sun for thousands of years and the Christians wanted something just as important to put in it’s place when they took over power and went about converting the masses.

(Note: “Winter solstice is a celebration of the birth of the sun and Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the son.” See a correlation here?)

There are countless examples and theories about that, but I don’t bother my Christian neighbors with that. I use that time to do my own thing. Christmas is a special holiday to me insomuch as I enjoy the company of family, the fellowship, food and, of course, presents. If they want to celebrate it for religious reasons, more power to them. I celebrate for secular reasons and enjoy the federal holiday off.

And to those Christians who feel persecuted because someone said “Happy Holidays” to you instead of “Merry Christmas” I say “GET OVER YOURSELF!”

Glad tidings and Blessings.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.