Friday, September 29, 2006


I have several nieces and nephews. Most of them are grown adults. One is married. Another is a parent. I took care of most them very often as they were growing up. Lots of my friends have kids. I like most of the kids most of the time. I'm not their parents so I do not have to pretend they are perfect little angels, and not sometimes annoying little shits. It is pretty neat to watch them turn into individual people, and see what they learn and how they learn it. I am a sucker for Girl Scout cookies, wrapping paper, and any other thing the PTA has them hawk. I go to preschool graduations, dance recitals, and school plays. I do not have kids of my own. I am 99.9% sure I do not want kids of my own. I have ended more than one really amazing relationship because of this fact. My house is not child proof, my car is not child proof, my life is not child proof, and I am definitely not child proof.

I hate breeders. These are aggressively reproductive individuals. Those who demand to know why I have no children, why I want no children, as if this topic is any of their deranged business. Those who bring their children to places utterly inappropriate for children, and then are shocked that their children’s antics are not found charming and adorable. They complain when there are not accommodations available for their children at these venues. They complain about the risqué subject matter of my conversation when they plop their kid next to me at 9 PM in a fancy restaurant. . They bring their kids to my house and let them slam my glass doors on my entertainment center, rifle my china cabinet, and attempt to asphyxiate my cat, and get huffy with me when I tell their demon spawn my kitty does not want to play with them.

Truly, I believe it is not my place to discipline anyone’s children, and I really like children. It is the parents that piss me off. Children do what they can get away with; they are children after all. That is why the alleged adults who are responsible for them have to teach them no means no, we are not able to touch, play with, break, eat, or otherwise fold spindle and mutilate anything we please whenever we please. Parents do their children a great disservice by not providing their kids with boundaries and consequences for unacceptable behavior. Why the hell do people care if their kids like them? Seriously lady, if your four year old is your best friend, you need some help. It is not your job to be your kids buddy. It is your job to make them feel loved, and safe, and to teach them to function in the world. They can like you when they grow up and realize the fact you told them freaking no once in awhile was good for them. The fact you made them and their siblings figure out who gets to play with what when on their own so they could learn to successfully negotiate and handle conflict. The fact that you made one dinner, and tough shit if it they hate peas so they could learn to be flexible, try new things, and realize that the world does not cater to their whims.

I am utterly stunned by the behavior of some children. I have seen and heard children call they mothers fucking bitches, and hit them. I have seen children tell their fathers to go fuck themselves. Are you kidding me? What on earth possesses someone to tolerate anyone, especially a child you are supposed to be raising, to treat him or her like that? When did abusive behavior become acceptable? Please do not tell me they learn it from TV. First of all TV is PRETEND. Second of all, if your child watches television and then behaves badly in an attempt to ape the behavior on TV, why dontcha do something radical like talk to your kid? Maybe play with your kid, or do something besides plop them in front of the TV so you do not have to deal with them. I get that being a parent is a very tough job, that is just one of the many reasons I do not wish to become a parent. However, if you are a parent, being a parent has to be your priority. Yes, it is important to do things for yourself as well. But, you need to be there for your kids. You need to be sure they can feed themselves, and dress themselves, and read, and write, and do math. You need to make sure they are learning to cope productively, you need to make sure they are learning to be a good friend, and recognize people who are good friends. You need to grow up.

Thursday, September 28, 2006


I’ve always had what can best be described as freakish sleeping habits. Over the years this has been a source of great amusement to my family, friends, and a boyfriend or two. I have been assured time and again that I do indeed NOT snore, but that I do talk a blue streak. Apparently whatever I am discussing cracks me up since I laugh a lot in my sleep too, allegedly. When I was a kid I used to sleep walk, but evidently outgrew it when I was a teenager. I used to wake up in the strangest places within the house. Often I would be in my siblings’ rooms. Oh, the horror! What greater indignity for them than to suffer hideous little sister cooties in their sleep? Sometimes I would be in my grandparents’ rooms, sometimes my parents'. Sometimes I would be under the kitchen table with the dog who enjoyed my unexpected company much more than my older siblings. Most often though, I awoke in the only bathroom in the house usually because I was in the pathway to the "throne", or somebody wanted to use the tub. There’s a theory about this. In cold weather it is the warmest room, since it is a small room with its own heat register in front of which I was regularly found sleeping. The tub is cast iron and on hot summer nights, snuggling up in the tub was a cool and refreshing treat.

I’ve never needed an alarm clock. As a child, I never had a bedtime. It seemed to my parents no matter how late I stayed up bouncing off the walls, or how early I went to bed, sometimes mid sentence, I always woke up in time to go where I had to go in the morning. This is a facet of the freakish sleeping I still endure. No matter how restless a night I have, or how little sleep I get, I always am up in time for work, or whatever else I have planned to do. I have an alarm clock now, but I use it mainly to see how much time has elapsed to since I woke up the last time. Sometimes I sleep for hours at a time. Sometimes, I sleep like a "normal person" and go to sleep and stay asleep all night. Usually I wake up a lot. I do not know why. I am not hot, or cold, or hungry, or thirsty, I do need to empty my bladder, I am not being robbed, nor is the house on fire. I just seem to frequently wake up for no apparent reason. Usually I go back to sleep pretty easily, but sometimes, like tonight, no. I am so freaking tired, yet wide-awake. I have done laundry. I have caulked. I have done dishes. I have looked at a bunch of blogs. I have watched NYPD Blue and X-Files reruns. I have read news. I have read Vanity Fair articles. Still, I am not able to sleep. I moved back to the house I grew up in a few months ago. It is in a relatively suburban area. It’s quiet and peaceful. People are friendly. I mow the lawn. When I moved out on my own a long time ago, I moved to the city. I slept pretty well there. All kinds of things were always going on, sirens, traffic, music, people doing God knows what. Now, I lie awake at night and hear crickets. Fucking nature!

Monday, September 25, 2006

Back in Action

Whoa, I was one miserable puppy for the past week. I am allergic to lots of stuff. Most of which I have built up a tolerance for, or like so much, I happily suffer, like my cat, and shrimp, and milk. Other stuff is not worth the trouble like red wine, some antibiotics, and cashmere sweaters. Whenever there is a change in the weather, I get stuffy. Circumstances converged last Monday to give me the sinus headache from hell combined with what felt like the flu, a cold, and food poisoning all wrapped up in one. Oh, joy!

Mad Props to
Tylenol, photo from their official site.

Last Monday, I was cleaning in my house. This is a herculean task as I am cleaning out several decades of my parents, belongings, scrubbing and defenestrating like a mad woman, and generally having a grand old time being a new home owner. Me, not the home, being new at this. Man I loves me some contractors. They love me too because I love hardware stores and supply houses as much as them. Also, I do not say thingy as much anymore. I make them the "I told you so" deal. Sometimes I want to do something, they think I am nuts, and I say, "Well, this is what I want, and if it sucks, then I have to pay you more money to fix it and do it how you said everybody else does it anyway, and you can say "I told you so!" and I'll write you another check." So far, they have said a lot, like "Ooh, you we're right, this is cool." and "Hey, how did you know this would come out so good?" but nobody said "I told you so!" I've been feeling all spiffy with myself since I actually seem to have a knack for this home improvement stuff which is good since I inherited almost every tool imaginable from my Dad.

So I think I got sick from all the dust I was kicking up in the basement, combined with the wood cleaners and fillers, the sanding, the priming,and the painting, as well as the horrible rain and drastic change in temperature the past week, not to mention I am getting old, and I think my warranty has expired.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Geek Advice

I like to read The Hollywood Machine's (THM) blog. It is funny, smart, wise-assed, immature, insightful, and informative. Also I feel a kindred spirit with him since I too suffer from some sort of work related impulse control and am relieved to know I am not the only one.

He recently posted a funny, kind, and honest plug for his friend's book. The friend is a former Golden Gloves fighter and wrote a book that was critically well received. I wrote THM a comment about it, and also attempted to take the opportunity to pick his geek brain about blogging. This guy cracks me up.

Lana Wood wrote...

1)Oh come on now, you know when us women aren't impressed about the Golden Gloves and the book he tells them that he was your roommate in college to seal the deal. :o) Really, how many people really know THE Hollywood Machine?

2) Are you ever going to finish the story about the Standard? I hope this is not another one of your meaningless sex stories. You have an awful lot of sex for an alleged geek. Just saying...

3) Do you know if there is any way I can quickly learn HTML?

4) Hypothetically speaking, if one were to start a blog, can one selectively delete comments from mental midgets etc? Can you recommend a way I can, hypothetically figure this stuff out?

5) Why am I asking these questions of some strange man on the internet? My friends will point and laugh if I discuss this with them. They will think I have lost my last marble for wanting to write like this. They will not get it. Please do not say I need new friends. Everybody has secrets, this is one of mine. Also, you crack me up.

THM Wrote...


Hello, my dear.
It's early, eh? Here are my responses:

1. The Hollywood Machine has had about 700 readers per day for a couple of months now. A drop in the bucket by "waiterrant" standards, but, obviously more than a few. Actually, I owe a large portion of my readership to 'The Waiter' and I'm very grateful for it because I really don't enjoy writing in a vacuum. Some people don't mind it, but that's not me. In the REAL world, I have very few friends, but they are exceptional people.

2. I might finish my story about The Standard. And, no, it's not a pointless sex story. Maybe that's why I didn't finish it. Just kidding. And, yes, I do have a lot of sex for a geek. But geeks are "in" now, haven't you heard? Or maybe they're "out" already. I'm not sure anymore. I'll check with Paris Hilton. Or her dog.

3. Learning HTML for blog purposes is sort of a waste of time. You should sign up with Blogger, first, where everything is pretty much done for you. Then, as you want to change bits and pieces of the blog to include things like picture headers, links to other blogs (like The Hollywood Machine, for example), you can do so at a nice, even pace. Learning HTML 'fast' is not advisable. It will puff up your cheeks like a chipmunk and make your eyelids feel like they've got mini-barbells on them. Your forehead will get crinkled lines it it from all the frustration. Don't do it. But the most common things that you would want to do with HTML are fairly easy to learn.

4. Another good reason to use Blogger. You can have comments set to "Screen, first." You can even have them emailed to you for approval. That way you don't have to deal with a bunch of mud-sligging which can be detrimental to the writing process at times. You can also disable comments completely. It's a good option, sometimes, especially if you're overly sensitive. That's part of the reason I disabled comments for so long. Stuff like that can take the wind out of your sails. But now I enabled comments because my balls are firm and healthy and have a nice rosy glow to them. I'm more interactive with people, in general, and less of an 'island', if you will. I decided to take the good with the bad as far as comments went. Both can help, actually.

5. You are asking these questions to a strange man on the Internet because, clearly, you are attracted to The Hollywood Machine--I mean, me--and my salacioius and warped mind. Don't feel shy about it. It's only natural to like The Hollywood Machine--I mean, me. He's sensitive, yet, manly at the same time. He can cut a video of your birthday party that will make people squeal with delight. And, then, he'll lay you down in the bed and make YOU squeal with delight. That meant penetration by the way. Or the rapid tongue thing. Or both.

6. Whoops, there is no "6."

7. Thanks for writing in.

8. I'm gonna get some coffee from Starbucks.

9. Whoops! Starbucks isn't open right now.

10. Damnit.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

The Wrong Men For Me

I decided to try to meet somebody on Craigslist. Big mistake. I should have tried the local crack house instead. Here are some examples of the respondents to my ad on craigslist:

The guy whose e-mail name was extremely suggestive of a sexual proclivity I do not endeavor to explore. But the funny thing is he was offended I was not interested, and told me I was a freak!

The men who will be divorced in a few months. Have an estranged wife. Or a frigid wife. Give me a fucking break you mental midgets. As if... I do not understand married men who want side action. Of all the men I have ever met who were stepping out, or trying to do so, on their wives, I have been stunned they got one woman’s attention, not to mention that of a mistress. And where the hell do these men get the money for the side action anyway? Surely you must placate both your wife and mistress to make the arrangement worth their while.

The men who swing both ways, and want me to bring friends, and hope we attracted to the same type of man. Where in my ad did I say we would be having sex anyway? I think bisexuals are selfish and/or in denial. I won’t even let anybody borrow my CD’s, kiss my ass thinking I will have a polyamorous relationship. Three’s a crowd.

Plushies. Ok, I am creeped out by anyone wearing a costume or mask that obscures their face, ESPECIALLY if they do it to get off. I also find clowns and Santa to be utterly creepy, just in case you were wondering.

Guys who are sending obvious form letters. They say all kinds of bullshit about themselves, like they are very giving, and enjoy long walks in the sand, and have all kinds of interests, lots of stuff, lots of money. They never refer to anything in my ad, or ask anything about me. My penultimate favorites are the ones who just happen to mention the alleged length of their penis. Seriously, size does matter, but not the way men think.

Speaking of penises, cock shots. What is the deal with cock shots? Do any men ever have any success with this approach? What form of viral infectious herpasyphilaids do these guys get from the women who actually are lured by this ploy? And I hope they never borrow my stapler or other stuff at work.

I also like men who tell me they are successful and attractive. Both very subjective things. If you make three hundred grand a year selling drugs to preschoolers and your Mommy thinks you have cute dimples you are not successful and attractive.

Alleged men from alleged foreign countries. As well as men who will be in my area for a week or so. Yeah, right. I especially love when they send me photos of themselves that are of minor celebrities, or even better, from a clothing catalog. Fucking morons. Where in my ad did I state that duplicity gets me hot? Surely you jest.

Men who correct my spelling, grammar, and content. Apparently some women get off on the whole negativity and condescension thing. Me, not so much.

Men who are the polar opposite of what I put in my ad. To be fair and honest, I know to never say never, especially when it comes to men, but I am also a grown woman. I know what does and does not work for me, and why. Everyone has things they definitely like, and definitely dislike. There are things about me that are deal breakers for some men. That is ok, we are all entitled to our feelings and needs.

I love the men who pump me for information while refusing to provide any about themselves. It is like pulling teeth for them to tell you anything. Men who play hard to get don’t get any.

Even less alluring than the aloof, information hoarder, is the freak show who e-mails you several times a day, all excited, and as the day wears on becomes increasingly agitated and insulting because you have not responded. I realize I am some kind of idiot freak to have a job, and a life, and all, and therefore not spend my days and nights chained to my computer hoping for e-mail from such a paragon of manliness.

So, I gave up on craigslist. I wonder if there are any nice guys at the bookstore...

Thursday, September 14, 2006


I decided to try to meet somebody on Craigslist. Big mistake. I should have tried the local crack house instead. More later...

Here's my final ad:

I am a really nice, interesting, decent, educated, fun, and smart person. I am sure there is some man somewhere who fits that description too. It is not like I am looking for a unicorn. If you are creep, or want a fuck buddy, or want a Barbie doll, please do not waste your time or mine by sending me an e-mail. If you actually think you might like to meet someone worthwhile, with our clothes on, and talk about something besides your penis, keep reading.

When I’m not at Home Depot, trying to convince my cat I am not his slave, or reading the demented ramblings of strangers on the internet, I like to hang out with my friends who are for the most part boring as hell, oops, I mean married and have kids. I strive not to bother them with the details of my life of sleeping late, going where I want when I want, seeing movies that aren’t rated G, listening to music with suggestive lyrics, swearing, drinking, etcetera... If you have previously intelligent and interesting friends who now constantly share glorious tales of Barney, soccer practice, and the intrigue of the parent teacher association, or you enjoy home improvement, or music, or having fun in general, we have a lot in common. I'm interested in a lot of things and never stop learning. Recently I have developed a fascination for blogs, good ones with correct spelling and discernable sentence structure. I am spending the summer working on the house I just bought, and boy does it need a LOT of work. I am going to be busy ripping things apart and cleaning, and sucking up to contractors for the foreseeable future. Luckily I love this stuff, and am actually having a lot of fun.

Statistically speaking: I’m college educated, in my mid thirties, single, childless, a non-smoker, a Virgo, if you are into that stuff, medium length brown wavy hair, dark brown eyes, Caucasian, short (5’4"), fat, and definitely not ugly, actually kinda sexy and undeniably pretty. I’m not an alcoholic, a drug addict, or a skank. I consider myself to be a recovering Catholic, and am interested in meeting someone who is similarly disdainful of organized religion, yet also at peace with the religion in which he was raised. I like men who are funny and intelligent, especially at the same time.

When it comes to you, be fun, have a job, have a life, don't be a jerk. I am looking for someone in their mid thirties to early forties, in the neighborhood of 6’ tall give or take an inch or two, no wife, no soon to be ex wife, no girlfriend, no overly attached fuck buddy, no current romatic entanglement, no kids, no drugs, non smoking, no drinking problem. Interested? You should be. Drop me a line, include the same kind of info I have given you here, and I’ll write back. I will not waste my time responding to mental midgets, form letters, or men who "wanna get 2gether 2nite" telling me "ur sexy, i licked ur post" and "u writ gud." People, please, have a little dignity. Ignorance, sexual depravity, condescension, and rude comments about my fat ass will get you nowhere fast.

Magic 8 Ball

I have a Magic 8 Ball. I refer to it as the executive decision making device, mostly because it pisses people who take themselves too seriously off immensely.

Picture of Magic Ball 8 from Wikipedia.

I ask the magic 8 ball all kinds of stuff.
  • Will I ever meet somebody I want to marry? (You may rely on it.)
  • Should I change careers? (Signs point to yes.)
  • Is this a good plumber? (Yes definitely.)
  • Should I start dating younger men? (As I see it yes.)
  • Should I start dating shorter men, meaning lower my minimum height requirement {5'10"}, not men shorter than me {5'4"}? (Outlook good)
  • Magic 8 Ball, should I get a boob job? (Reply hazy try again.) (Outlook good.)
  • Magic 8 ball, how about an eye job? (As I see it yes) Ok, that just cracks me up. Get it, "eye job", "as I see it"?
  • Is it wrong to think Keanu Reeves is delicious? (You may rely on it) - Not sure if this means he is not delicious, or that I am wrong to objectify him. If it is wrong I don't want to be right.
  • Should I get a new job in my current career for now? (Outlook good.)
  • Will I find a job that does not suck ass, on a hot day? (Concentrate and ask again.) (Signs point to yes.)
  • Is porn really as funny as I think it is? (Outlook not so good.)
  • Ok then you humorless fuck, is porn as boring as I think it is? (Signs point to yes)
  • Will I ever finish renovating my house? (Concentrate and ask again.) (Yes.)
  • Will anybody GOOD every love me again? (Ask again later)
  • Seriously, really, where the fuck do all these fucktards come from, and how do they find me? For clarity, will anybody GOOD every love me, and by good I mean, I notice they love me and l LIKE it! (Yes definitely.)
  • Should I get a creative commons license, or something before I spill much more of my guts? (Yes definitely.)

Magic 8 Ball, you rock!

Monday, September 11, 2006


I am biting the bullet and beginning this blog to get my writing muscles back in shape. I am not sure what I will write about. I don't think I will have a theme. I think I will probably just write about whatever happens to be on my mind at the time I decide to write. I have never kept a journal, so this is a new type of thing for me. I realized I have spent a lot of time this summer writing responses to various blogs I like to read, and posting rants on craigslist, and writing my friends e-mail about what I am up to these days. I have missed writing. I have not done it for a long time, and I feel rusty, and terrified, and exhilarated to be making a commitment to myself to get writing again. For so long my life was such an unending clusterfuck I did not have time to have a cohesive thought, never mind write one down. Now circumstances have shifted, and I have made a lot of choices that have changed my life forever. I feel strong, and like I have kicked a lot of ass and taken a lot of names. I am ready to take a leap of faith in myself and my place in the universe and do something that feeds my soul. Welcome to my world, enjoy the ride.

I've noticed a lot of blogs have closed comments. For now, I welcome all commentary as I need all the help I can get here or by e-mail.