Hungry. Munchy.

Chips! OOh, chips! I like chips. Let’s see…

The copy on the back of my Salsa Verde Doritos:

“Experience that BALLISTIC Doritos (Brand) crunch as it UNLEASHES an explosion of salsa verde heat and intense flavor in your mouth!”

Holy-Jesus-god-almighty, no! The last time anything Balls-y unleashed anything that exploded in my mouth, I bit down really hard and the screaming went on for days.

Never mind; I want Froot Loops.

1. This is the BEST IDEA EVER.
2. I love this painting.
3. I wish this would go faster.
4. I’m getting a little tired of looking at this painting.
5. I have to pee, but I can’t, because I’m painting.
6. For the love of Gods, just let me finish it.
7. I swear, I’m going to devote all my time from now on to actually useful things, just as soon as I’m done painting.
8. I hate this painting.
9. Why did I think I could do art? This is like a weasel seizure on canvas.
10. I HATE THIS FUCKING PAINTING.
11. Oh, good, it’s almost done. Soon I can stop crying.
12. This is actually a pretty good painting.
13. THIS IS THE BEST PAINTING I HAVE EVER MADE.
14. THIS IS THE BEST PAINTING IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD.
15. It’s DONE!
16. I will store it behind the bookshelf.

Corvin and I have been in this apartment since Halloween of last year, and we’ve never questioned that the place feels like it’s connected to a few other dimensions. It’s a generally friendly feeling, though, so it doesn’t bother us.

They — if there is indeed a “they” — have been getting bolder lately. I’ve seen a lot motion or blurry shapes in my peripheral vision since we moved in. Now I can actually see the cats. There seems to be an orange tabby and a dark-brown-and-white calico. They make an appearance every other day or so, and now and then, we can hear someone playing with something in another room.

The cats are only part of it. A weird thing happened this morning, but it seemed so par-for-the-course at the time that I didn’t even think about it that much. We were sleeping in (or trying to; we both have colds and all the nose-music was making it difficult). Finally, Corvin gave up and got out of bed. After he left the bedroom, I heard the light come on. I rolled over, said, “Thank you, but I’m still sleeping,” and turned it back off.

Normally we’d chalk this up to the old (“eccentric,” we call it) wiring in our apartment (it was built in 1941; give it a break), but no — the switch had been moved up. I heard it “click.” That’s how I knew the light was on.

I’m sure I didn’t turn it on. Corvin was already a few feet down the hall; he didn’t do it.

I know that I have a few skeptical readers; you’re welcome to suggest alternate explanations. I’ll pass them along to the cats.

If I did it right, all this should be going out on the FaceBook as well. I’ve had two whole dizzy spells today — one from too much coffee, and one from not enough beer. I take that to mean that my liquid diet is a success.

Content to fascinate and amaze, regular updates. Won’t that be nice? I hate it when people post notices on their sites saying that they’re going to do this-or-that wonderful thing soon. But I think I can safely get up here and give myself a pep talk, since no one else is reading this except my cheering section full of SpamBots. They believe in me!

Oh yeah? Well for what it’s worth, I finally re-did my theme, all by myself, with all my own custom graphics. So there, fucker.

New text!

Of course she hadn’t bothered to try the obvious yet, but when it occurred to her, it seemed simple – silly, even – and entirely worth the effort.

Let’s go back two weeks: steamy hot end-of-summer madness drips through the air. It’s the day before nothing bad happens; she’s busy because she’s getting paid to do all this. Financial worries aren’t. They just aren’t. The bank account is full to bursting. Old friends and acquaintances are coming out of the woodwork, hoping for a piece of that action. Most of them are disappointed; they turn away grumbling that she was never worth a shit anyway, and that’s OK. Life is plenty good enough without worrying about winning everyone’s approval, and wasn’t that the whole problem to begin with? She’s amazed at how smoothly everything goes when that’s no longer an issue. Neener, neener, neener.

She weaves and wavers in and out and through the magixal world: it weaves and wavers with her, supporting her whims and wishes. The negatives are gone; need is minimal. It’s here; it worked, and she’s finally made it: the journey and the destination are the same, but it’s a lot nicer in first class.

DIPLOCHADUS!

AAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

I’d like a word with you about those websites with talking advertisements. Especially the ones that come on after 30 seconds or so, just when you’re getting into what you’re trying to read. First, they scare the hell out of me and I can’t close the website window fast enough. Then I’m annoyed because what I was reading is gone. I’m not clicking your link, not buying your product, and probably won’t even re-load the page because now I’m just pissed off, so your client and all their other advertisers have lost my eyeballs.

That also goes for websites that automatically start off playing music. Any kind of music. I’m already listening to music of my own. I don’t want to hear your music. I will buy whatever it is I was looking for from a quiet website.

Ok, I’ll tell you what… if you want to take your shiny Porsche (and by the way, that’s “Porsh,” not “Por-sha,” not “Portch“) out into Bumble-fuck Nowhere, 3 hours away from Next to Nothing, I suggest you at least bring your Chilton’s along with you and learn how to use a wrench.

‘Cause no, you don’t qualify for the helicopter air-lift rescue squad.

And bring something to eat, too, or you might just have to eat your poodle-dogs.