dusty auditioning for "i am legend"

halliburton: as evil as possible

What the hell is wrong with people?

Enraged? I am, too.

Take 25 seconds and do something about it.

it's the day when my people wear candles on their heads, and i am serious about that stabbing thing

So it's been brought to my attention by, um, all of you that I haven't written anything in several moons. Sorry. So as a kind of apology, here's a picture that has been making me snort all day:

Yeah, that's fucking awesome right there.

So here's what's been up. School. Work. New dog. Speeding ticket. Going to England next month (for school -- 10-day residency just like what I did in August in Jersey, except it's January in England).

School -- going well. Getting some good "real" writing done.

Work -- fortunately, the writers' strike hasn't yet affected my ability to bring home the partially dehydrogenated bacon substitute. (I think I got an email from one of you asking what in the hell it is I do -- I create closed captions for television.) And on a related note, how about the bunch of new HD channels that sprang, Greek-god-like, out of fucking nowhere, yesterday. All of a sudden I'm seeing my Law & Order SVU repeats in high definiton, which is exactly how Mariska Hargitay should be viewed. AND Discovery is now airing its regular lineup in HD in addition to the other HD channel it has. Which to me means one thing: Mike Rowe. In high definition. Mmm. Yes and yes. Today was our holiday party, one of two yearly catered events during which they try to kill me via buffet. Why does everything have to have green peppers in it? Are they a food group or something? I really have the most obnoxious food allergies. Today was also St. Lucia Day. If you don't have any idea what that is, it's okay. That just means you are not Swedish. As my friend Meadow explained to the table of Very Confused Coworkers, "it's the day where her people wear candles on their heads." Yeah, pretty much it. It also involves getting up with the sun, which is when I go to bed, so to you, St. Lucia, I say: perform a miracle where dawn happens at 3:00 PM and we'll talk.

New dog! Dusty is fucking awesome. She's like a furry toddler. Who eats people. I walk her when I get home from work (which is a little before midnight) and we go past a bar at the top of the hill and I have discovered something. Drunk old guys in parking lots leave you the fuck alone if you're holding the leash of a snarling creature. I need her with me all the time.

This is her.

I got her from a coworker. Her owner passed away, and so I saw this flyer with pictures of this sad-looking doggie...posted right behind my desk. And in the kitchen. It was like she was looking at me all day, saying "Mommy! Come get me! Take me home!" So I did. And she's absolutely a wonderful dog. She's attached to my hip and extremely protective and very sensitive to my moods. Granted, I pretty much just have the three: angry, laughing, and asleep. The other night we were playing and she got really wound up -- she started spinning like a top. So I collapsed in a kind of stage fall and she freaked the hell out. She ran over and pounced on me and started crying and licking me and whapping me in some kind of berserk doggie CPR. It would have been funny if only she weren't completely terrified. So no more Jim Carrey moves for me.

Speeding ticket -- I was NOT!

England -- very excited. But if one more person tells me that it's cold in England in the winter, I will fucking stab you in the taint. I live in Pittsburgh, where we have things called seasons. Therefore, I own sweaters. Also, I'm pretty sure there are buildings in England with which I will shield myself from rain and/or snow. And I am serious about that stabbing thing. Also stab-worthy: telling me that things in England are expensive, that I should take food with me, and telling me to go "swing by" every single corner of the country. You know, since it IS a vacation, not an assload of graduate credits. So serious about the stabbing. So serious.

i'm an abortion survivor: another exciting installment in the hit series "why i'm like this"

So this will truly make sense only to those of you who are fans of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." (And if you own a tv and have the ability to laugh, you should be.) For those of you who are not, here's some quick background info that you will find helpful. Suspecting that Frank is in fact his biological father, Charlie confronts him. Frank admits to impregnating Charlie's mom but says she had an abortion, so therefore he can't be his dad. Charlie questions his mother about the abortion, and she tells him that Frank did, in fact, knock her up, and that she did, in fact, have an abortion. It just "didn't take." Cut to Charlie screaming at Frank, "I'm an abortion survivor, dad!"

I know the recap sucked. This is why you should watch the show.

My mother and I were watching random videos on On Demand. We'd just rocked out to ACDC (insert obvious joke here) and then we saw a video for a band called Dying Fetus. How can you say no to Dying Fetus? Here's what they sound like. Imagine Satan. Now imagine he's just eaten a really big extra-spicy bean burrito from Taco Bell that was somewhat past its prime. Now imagine it's El Diablo's third trip to the bathroom, and last week he had a coupon for some recycled toilet paper. Because even Satan understands the importance of recycling. He killed the last roll of Charmin long ago and now his asshole looks like one of the stalactites of fire above his head. Imagine what you'd be hearing in Satan's downstairs hallway right about then. Multiply that by "extremely lame" and you've got the vocals down. Also, Satan is angry because he can't play guitar after all. Or bass.

Proof.

So we kept making dead fetus jokes and then my mom all of a sudden busts out with "I'm an abortion survivor!" I high-fived her.

Cut to like an hour later and I'm on the phone telling JK about it, and Mom's in the next room cracking up. Literally doubled over laughing. Then she screams "You're an abortion survivor, Amanda!"

Even later, we're in the kitchen, and I'm telling her about a donation system that Planned Parenthood has where people's donations are multiplied by the number of morons outside the clinic every day. (That link is to the PP of western Pennsylvania, but most PPs have this program, from what I've seen.) Which is fucking ingenius. And we're laughing about it and I said that the next time I see one of those obnoxious "Smile! Your mother chose life!" signs, I'd tell them that no, in fact, she did not. It just didn't take. And mom goes, "Well, for me she did, but my twin..."

"Hand me the scissors! I'm gonna stab this fetus in the eyeballs!"
"Damn, that baby is UGLY! I can't be having no ugly babies."
"Hey, hand me that coin. Call it in the air! Who's getting flushed??"

And so on. I'm pretty sure they'd be sad my mom chose life. Which fills me with a warm, happy feeling. Like Christmas morning, but with 25% more abortion jokes.

dear wonderful friends and cherished network of internet-based stalkers

I'm sorry I haven't written anything here in so long. But I have been doing some other writing, so at least we know I haven't sustained a serious brain injury.

Everything is okay, I've just been really busy. And I have a large collection of ridiculous observations and rants to share with you soon, I promise.

I saw a commercial for a hydroponic "garden" growing system recently. Just a preview of the profound musings you all have to look forward to!

Peace, love, and hydroponic growing systems to you all.

they forgot "less tolerant of complete fools"

According to OkCupid's new personality award thingies, I am...

more aggressive
more ambitious
more artistic
more literary
more desiring of sex
more trusting
more well-mannered

and

less dorky
less indie
less desiring of love

...which to me seems like a frighteningly accurate assessment of my life and personality via funny little pictures. If by "trusting" you mean "more likely to be able to take most people out if they get out of hand" and by "well-mannered" you mean "more likely to fucking kill you if you don't acknowledge that it was me letting you into traffic and not your superior driving skills, you brain-damaged asshole."

Some douchebag wrote in to the paper whining about people swearing. Really? Swearing is the problem that gets you so bothered that you feel the need to write in to the paper to combat the problem? Not global warming, our unjustified war with Iraq, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Kim Jong Il both being crazier than Bobby Trendy on crystal meth, and Steely McBeam still at large? It's not AIDS or world hunger or female circumcision or terrorism or Toby Keith fans? The entire world running out of oil and yet having no feasible solution to meet our insatiable need for power and they still let Britney Spears out in public?

Swearing, huh? Yeah, I get it. I can see in a world where Osama bin Laden is still chilling out somewhere with time to Clairol his chin pubes, you'd really be upset about my frequent use of the word "cunt." Because somewhere in a concentration camp in North Korea, someone whose second cousin was rumored to have complained about the weather had his fingernails ripped out right as I stubbed my toe and said "fuck." Clearly, something needs to be done about me and what I've done to the world.

the other night, she said "twat" at the dinner table

So I bought one of those Magic Eraser things to scrub the scum off our shower grout. Those things actually work, which is kind of amazing. Because that type of product almost never works. But that's not what I wanted to tell you.

No, I wanted to tell you all that my mother has finally given up trying to clean up my mouth. After about 25 years. I'm glad she didn't reach the official quartercentennial under the delusion that eventually I won't sound like a truck-driving sailor who just smashed his thumb in a door. Or, you know, her.

On the Magic Eraser package, it says not to use on your skin, because it "may cause abrasion." I'd fucking hope that my skin wouldn't be able to hold up to something I'd use to clean up mildew. Something would be extremely wrong with the makeup of my epidermis if it had the relative toughness of, say, a triceratops.

Me: May cause abrasion. Damn. I was gonna use it on my taint.
Mom: Turn it into a 'twas.

Thank you and goodnight.