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Posts Tagged ‘monkey flailing’

 

Now that I have gotten offa my cyberass and have dipped my toes squeamishly into the pool of HTML I feel compelled to re-assemble the whole eye-offending, browser-finicky (?? I am just assuming here…no one has mailed or messaged me to the contrary….I have tried it on other machines and in other formats and find no glaring probs) layout of my site. It looks very trailer-trashy.

*SIGH*

I suppose that I will do so, but not before I finish the whole “Just register your own domain, we’ll host you, shut up!” conversation that Eric and I started. BTW, Eric, thank you for the ‘l33t counsel at three a.m.; on second thought, screw ya, you had nothing better to do at work.

Thanks as well to Caffeine (Mister Cloak and Dagger) and Dirk (*blush*) for patiently answering my techno’tard questions. You guys are the FIRE and I’ll arrange for some oral at a yet-undetermined time and location in the future.

I mean it. No, really. Really.

 
|| August 9, 2000 || 10:33 am || Comments (0) ||

Somebody’s dad died.

This somebody happened to be one of my really close friends. Correct that; one of my really close female friends. The female part deserves italics because I have so few intimate companions that are my gender. I think that I have made my distaste for most females and their way of….well, their way of just being fairly well-known in this format, so I won’t go over it again. Suffice it to say that she is a close friend and that should give anyone reading this post a fairly accurate screencapture of how very nifty a person she really is. She slid under the radar, but not without a few bells and whistles clanging and screeching first.

When she and I first met, there was definite dislike and distrust. At first I just didn’t give a fuck, but after a time, the feeling became very much mutual…I just didn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing it. I eschewed my usual rebuttal of persons that wax my last tolerant nerve (which is very short and tenuously thin)….read that to say LOUD and UNEQUIVOCAL. Instead, I held myself in an aloof and amused posture in her presence. It seems that this was intriguing and exasperating for her and over time our cursory conversations mutated into shared moments and a friendship.

Poof. Just like that. Really.

Funny, I have seen her grow a lot in the three years that I have known her. I have seen her grapple with the concept of not just pantomiming being a strong Southern woman (not so easy, I assure you), but becoming one. She is smart and funny and practical and well-read and pretty and assertive; down here more than anywhere else that packs a whollop. Girls and women like that who are also independent –and comfortable in that independence– are an anomaly. They are seen as a force to be reckoned with. They are hotly pursued so that they can be reckoned with, in a ‘Taming Of The Shrew” sense.

So I have seen her grow into herself in several ways. They all just so happen to be ways that I have come up against in the past, so we have had lots of great conversation over so-so coffee. We perfected the art of the conspiratorial snicker. We tag-teamed lots of rude assholes and reduced them to quivering retail cheese (like that time the jazz connoisseur talked to my breasts the entire time I was trying to help him locate purchases…being the fine compatriot she was, she stepped between us and said, “EXCUSE ME, could you please speak to my breasts now? I know that they are helplessly small, but I assure you that they are just as competent and they are growing a little jealous. Besides, it’s time for her breasts to go on break.”). I have sensed the entire time that I have witnessed this growth that she is relieved to find that there are more “hers” out there. We understand one another on a basic level that others don’t get. It’s been a really great experience.

We have both had ‘trouble’ with our fathers in the past. We have both wrestled with the role that dad has had in forming us as women and allowing that absence to lead us into wretched decisions about sex and compulsions and color swatches. We have both reached that point where there is a “jumping off”; the one where you remember that you are no longer that little girl, where it’s time to shake it off and know your parent on an adult a level as you possibly can. You rebuild and re-learn and find that you are more like them than you have ever dreamed possible. You come to realize that they may or may not have done the best they could with what they had at the time. You move on and make the moments as they come. This is where she and her father were when he died and I know that there is a joy in that for her.

So here we are at a strange impasse. Here is where she leaves me in the dust. Here is where one day (hopefully far removed from now) she will take my hand and lend some wisdom and insight to what I am feeling.

I went to the funeral. I tried to just be a quiet helpful presence. I let her speak uninterrupted. I cleaned up after all of the mourners left, knowing her distaste for all things brillo and tupperware. I then let myself out and came home to my house full of questions and silliness and always-chased crumbs and I rocked all my babies to sleep. Then I let my husband cradle me his arms and do me the same favor.

 
|| August 1, 2000 || 3:41 pm || Comments (0) ||

Read a rather lengthy article on refractory cognizance today.

I did not. I am such a liar!

Today was one of those docile non-days that kind of leisurely run their course. It started out all yucky; the gym was closed due to your basic death in the family, so I was left without the grandiose energy that a quick morning workout gives. Thankfully, Ye Enamoured Toddler was more than agreeable today and not so much like taming a wild hurricane. You know–the usual.

Got word via third party that Daddy-O is returning to the states soon….don’t really know what to make of that. I’m pretty convinced that it won’t alter my life much. Doubt he’ll be involved on any greater level than he is now. It’s a reasonable trade-off. It’ll mean still not being subject to his stringent standards and sideways glances at what he deems to be an awesome waste of potential.

Can you say “HOORAY FOR elizAbeth!!!”, boys and grills?

 
|| July 29, 2000 || 3:54 pm || Comments (0) ||

Hey, just where the hell is everyone? Just where the hell am I?? LOL…somebody post something quasi-entertaining, okay? I am too tired and too busy to this week.

 
|| July 22, 2000 || 4:09 pm || Comments (0) ||

WHY do I have to learn HTML in order to not have an ugly blog? WHY??? That is soooo fucked. I don’t wanna!! Help me, Dirk! HELP.

 
|| July 14, 2000 || 11:24 pm || Comments (0) ||

I am a psycho and Dirky-Wirky is a fraud. And lemons are yellow with a very tart flavor. And I would say also that taxes suck ass, but the fuckers would audit me. HOORAY for salt!

 
|| July 14, 2000 || 10:21 pm || Comments (0) ||

God, how I DO love SpongeBob SquarePants (I write it this way, however incorrectly, because that is the way it tends to sound rolling offa my tongue). Not the character, I mean. The show itself. As a matter of fact, when it all boils down (two cliches in one breath…howzat fer a trick, bawz an’ guhls?*my pathetic attempt at a southern dialect, didja geddit?*), SpongeBob is not one of my favorite characters in the show. He has a groovy name and a voice reminiscent of my sixth-grade art teacher but I feel that is where his appeal ends.

The squirrel in the bubble helmet? The one that plays guitar and has a nasally twang-drawl with a nod towards southern sensibilities? That is one hip fucking cartoon-being.

To clarify, I don’t love this toon in the sense that I schedule my meals around it. I mean it in the sense that if I happen to channelsurf across it, I throw on the skids and laugh my ass off for whatever time remains. Gee holy pepper….I just admitted that shit on the worldwideweb,whoa. Forgive me when I am sane and sober, okay? And NEVER, NO, NEVER mention it at the office parties. Thanks, pal. >:oP

NEXT SUBJECT: This is an uglyass blog. I gotta figure out how to change some things color-wise and font-wise. This is an assault on the senses.

SUBJECT AFTER THAT: I am really trying to lure Dirk Belligerent out here to stomp around. I adore his words. If he DOES in fact show up, be very quiet and don’t make any sudden moves. It doesn’t take much to set the boy off, if ya know what I mean.

Enough for tonight….Love and Rockets.