Enough: Huck the Folidays 2

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.

I've put this off for about two weeks now, but I have fucking had it.

I go to work to ... work. Yes, work, of all things. I have a job to do, I think I do it reasonably well. So when I go to the office, and I work in an office, I am there to work. My job is to be there for my agents and input numbers into spreadsheets for Corp X.

That being said...

There is a reasonable expectation that a work environment will be maintained. Note I didn't say "professional." We're there to work. We have fun, sure, but when it's time to get down to business, we kick ass and take names.

In my world, a work environment DOES NOT INCLUDE CHRISTMAS MUSIC BEING PLAYED OVER THE SPEAKERS.

We've brought it to management. We've got religious objections from both sides (I'm an agnostic who doesn't give two shits; I've got co-workers who say Santa and Frosty aren't part of their holiday). We've got objections all around. And yet...

I've heard at least 10 different versions of "Jingle Bells."

I don't give a fuck if it's a white Christmas.

I don't give a fuck what color Rudolph's nose is or about little drummer boys. The only thing I want roasting on an open fire are the goddamn songs and the Barney Fife fucker who insists we listen to it to "lighten the mood" at the call center.

Give me a fucking break. You want to lighten the mood? Let's start with holiday bonuses and better pay for all parties involved. Mariah Carey sounding like a wounded wildebeast while she sings about being home for the holidays puts most of us in a homicidal rage, not a "light mood" -- unless you consider the fact we'd rather kill with our bare hands instead of with chainsaws and machetes.

But I digress.

If I want to listen to shitty holiday music at work, I'd go back to making $6 an hour and I'd be working at the mall. But gee, that sucked ass and I don't feel the need to work retail ever again.

Am I a "grinch"? To some people, sure. But I believe in giving all year, not just one month of the year. Caring and compassion are a daily part of my life. I believe in being educated instead of following doctrine and dogma; yes, do some research into the origins of Christmas. There's a reason why trees are symbolic and it has nothing to do with wise men or donkeys or babies in mangers. Really.

I don't believe in the commercialism and how people have become brain-washed to believe the bigger and more expensive the present, the more you love someone. How about having love in your life everyday, and telling people you love them? That's going to mean more than anything you can buy in a store. Spending time with family is another constant, assuming you've got family nearby. And family doesn't have to mean blood relatives.

I've got more to say about all of this, but I'm not sure if I want to get into it. I know I don't tonight -- I've got egg nog to drink, a tree to trim and Christmas music to listen to.

Now excuse me while I go kill the shit out of some stuff on the PS2.

The point?

So I should be in bed right now. Or gaming. And I'm doing neither.

I've been wanting to write for about a week now, but have lost whatever passes for inspiration in my world. I never had a muse, so she hasn't left me. Everything has been so ... blah lately.

I can safely blame Corporation X for a good part of it, me for the rest of it. I was so fired up an entry or two ago about playing my game by my rules ... where the fuck did that go? But you reach a point where you get tired of fighting because it's easier to let things take their course. You compromise your principles to take the path of least resistance or, for fuck's sake, office politics. You know the right thing to do, but you don't do the right thing because you don't want to be called into the office or leave in a bad mood. Yet, these things happen anyway.

I've been here before. I'm not as low as I've been; I fucking refuse to let that happen. But the more time passes, I'm questioning myself and what the point is.

Part of it is knowing I'll be 35 next month. I did OK with 30 (aside from the puking, thanks for asking) but I'm hung up with 35 for some reason. Is it because I remember my mom when she was 35? Or because I remember the ex at 35, and how little he felt he had accomplished in life? Mom was pretty cool at 35 for a mom. The ex... 5 years ago, we had been married a year and life was good.

I had hoped to be somewhere else by now. My plan was to work at The Statesman for about 5 years and get back to a big paper. To get out of Idaho. Now, I don't have a reason to leave. My tribe is here and things aren't so bad when you're not lonely. I've got three of the best reasons to stay here, and sadly, none of those reasons are related to the current job. Related to a former job, but I won't bore you with details since you've all heard about how wonderful my man is.

Plans go awry, and I like to think I'm pretty adaptable. That doesn't mean I don't step back and question my life and what the fuck I'm here to do.

It still goes back to self-loathing, in the end. I've become what I despise and I don't know how to break out of it. I spend so much time doing what "they" say I need to do, and it's all I can do to keep up. Do more with less. Babysit, coach, be a shoulder to cry on, laugh, play, discipline, teach ... all of that for a little bit more than what I made chopping veggies and slinging sauce at FP. That was instant gratification. You knew when the customers were happy. When the crew had everything they needed before they needed it, you knew you did your job.

Honestly, I think I'm looking for something I will not find doing what I'm doing. I know this. But I still go because I care. I care when I don't care. What the fuck kind of curse is that? I want to save the good people and give the bad ones a chance, or at least enough rope for them to hang themselves with. I know that if people put forth the effort, they can do the work. But believing in people isn't enough. Wanting to do the right thing isn't enough. Doing what's required of you isn't enough. Yeah, it's old and tiring and fucking frustrating.

At the end of the day, I'm a cog in the machine, the number that Corp X needs to punch in more numbers and track the new numbers after the old numbers were sorted and dispersed into new groups of numbers. I don't feel like a number, not like I did a few months ago. I know my identity and I know my function, and that's what displeases me. I know what we're capable of, and like so many other jobs, I know we're on the cusp of great things. In Monterey, it was Pete. At the Statesman, where to point the finger? PD and Carolyn, for starters. The IPT, Ursula the Sea Witch herself. And now ... ?

There is always something that drives the good people away. In Monterey, I opened the door that four or five of my friends walked through. Boise showed 13 of us the door. JB got bounced, 2 fotogs left, Dusty left, I left and the march continued. And now ... ?

OK, for the drama-prone among you: I am not quitting my job. Not right now. I knew going in this wasn't a career for me. It's a paycheck working with products I love. It was easy money. I need to find the enthusiasm again. I need to be entertained. Then maybe I won't notice the layers of bullshit so much.

And for the emo-prone among you: I picked this song out of my NIN playlist.

Something I Can Never Have
i still recall the taste of your tears.
echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
my favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
scraping through my head 'till i don't want to sleep anymore.

[Chorus:]
you make this all go away.
you make this all go away.
i'm down to just one thing
and i'm starting to scare myself.
you make this all go away.
you make this all go away.
i just want something.
i just want something i can never have.

you always were the one to show me how.
back then i couldn't do the things that i can do now.
this thing is slowly taking me apart.
grey would be the color, if i had a heart.
come on and tell me.

[Chorus]

in this place it seems like such a shame.
though it all looks different now,
i know it's still the same.
everywhere i look you're all i see.
just a fading fucking reminder of who i used to be.
come on and tell me.

you make this all go away.
you make this all go away.
i'm down to just one thing
and i'm starting to scare myself.
you make this all go away.
you make it all go away.
i just want something.
i just want something i can never have.
i just want something i can never have.

And oddly enough, iTunes followed with this song, which was my anthem during the waning months at the IPT:

Every Day Is Exactly The Same
I believe I can see the future
Because I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
Then again, that might have been a dream

I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around
Oh, no.

Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same

I can feel their eyes are watching
In case I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yeah, I still pretend
I can't remember how this got started
But I can tell you exactly how it will end.

Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same

(spoken)
I'm writing on a little piece of paper
I'm hoping someday you might find
Well, I'll hide it behind something
They won't look behind

I am still inside here
A little bit comes bleeding through
I wish this could have been any other way
But I just don't know, I don't know,
What else I can do..

Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same

(chorus repeats)

Every day is the same!

Yeah. iTunes knows its shit. Needless to say, the absence of NIN on the iPod has been rectified.

Don't mind me. I'll get over it. Or something.

meh

Apologies for the lack of bloggings this week. Piss-poor attitude (thanks to Corp X) has taken its toll on me mentally and emotionally. Frankly, all I want to do when I get home is play my game, which is what I've been doing.

I had aspirations of going off on the holiday season. Had the research materials to support my position and then ... meh. In the grand scheme of things, my Christmas rant isn't all that important and will probably piss off a lot of you (not that that's ever stopped me).

So, back to the PS2 I go. Beaten down, but not broken. No, I won't go down without a fight. It takes a better man to break me, and believe me, that ain't the fuckin case right now. The ex, who was a slightly better man, couldn't break me.

Shed a tear and play some Calvinball...

Jacket Watch, Day 5

Holy shit. I got a package. It didn't come FedEx, like the email said, it came USPS.

Mad props to Sherri and the folks at Duluth Trading. This is was above zero is about.

Yes, I have the replacement jacket in time to contend with the snow we've gotten up here.

Our saga has a happy ending. I should write more, but I have gaming to attend to.

Just remember: Calvinball 24-7.

EDIT: Looking at the jacket in the daylight, it is the original item I ordered. The dark blue really looked black. So I guess I'll wait for the replacement to arrive and go from there. I like it enough where I just might pay for the second one and send it to mom.

Retention

As a whole, humans don't remember much. We don't remember a lot of the sensory input we take in.

For example, your body doesn't remember pain. You can remember that it hurt, but you can't recreate the feeling of hitting the pavement at 35 mph, or the first time you punched something solid enough to break bone. Or, you know that fresh cinnamon rolls make you feel all warm and fuzzy, but you can't remember in any great detail what the cinnamon smells like. You have a vague idea, you can recall the sensation, but you can't replicate it. Your mouth might water, but you can't taste it. We need input, we crave it, we thrive on it.

Life's lessons are very similar. You remember that getting drunk and puking all over your car sucks ass, but after a time, you forget. After swearing off drinking, it's a matter of time before you get bombed again and puke all over someone else's car. You can remember that you told yourself to stop snacking late at night and to go to bed earlier, but it's not long before you lapse into old, comfortable habits.

You need a wake-up call.

Once upon a time, I told myself I wouldn't settle. Not in love, not professionally. I still haven't settled in love; I genuinely love Scott more than any other person and can't imagine life without him. And so I'm forced to look at my professional life, or lack thereof.

I have my current job because for the most part, I enjoy the people I work with. I like the fact that at Corp X, I can use my computer of choice. I'm good at it. I know it, I understand it. I can help my agents understand it. That's the part of the job I like. That, and helping identify trends and passing that info along to the mothership.

Lately, the routine has become just that: A routine. Jumping through hoops and passing gates. Where is the time for my agents? Why don't I have enough time for them? Why do I tell them, "I have a meeting, I'm busy"? My job is about them, being there for them. I have become what I despise because I'm settling.

I have allowed myself to get caught up in the bullshit I said I wouldn't be a part of. I've stopped being my own person, being true to myself. And now, something has to give.

So do I fight a war I can't win, or do I droop my shoulders, hang my head and become a mindless drone who goes with the flow? Or do I reject those possibilities and do it my way anyway?

When I thought about writing this, the intent was to bitch about a meeting I had today, to talk about throwing in the towel and how much I detest the weakness I showed today. But the more I wrote, the more the ideas made themselves clear, the anger has turned to determination.

Prior to today, the last person to make me cry was Scott, and he wasn't even there. Enough of the people who read this will figure it out. Frankly, I'm past the point of discussing it. It happened, I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either. I have emotions, I bleed. Above all, I'm me, and if that's not good enough for you, fuck you, fuck your dog, fuck your momma for having you, and fuck everyone who looks like you.

So the anger is still there. With me, it never really goes away. But we're changing the game. I'll still play by the rules I'm forced to, but we're adding my own set.

Now it's about me, and how entertained I am. I'll play your fucking games. I won't like it, but you'll never know that now. At the same time, if you find out, it really doesn't matter. Because in the grand scheme of things, it's not important.

I choose my mood. I choose my attitude. My happiness comes from me. My strength comes from me.

I'm disappointed I forgot that. I carry those beliefs with me everyday, and yet I've allowed them to become buried by so many layers of Corp X bullshit. Enough. I won't forget. I can't forget. Not again, not ever.

Jacket Watch, Day 4

So.

Not a word from FedEx. I'm not surprised by this, more disappointed by the fact they don't have their shit together. And there's no package here, which means the driver fucked up or it was stolen off the porch after he delivered it.

I just got an email saying the replacement shipped. Via FedEx. Sherri had told me it would go out USPS, so I don't know what happened. I beginning to feel a little bit defeated by the whole thing, but that could be my current mood, which will be chronicled in another blog.

Anyway, Chris wanted to know what kind of jacket it was, so here's a pic from the Duluth Trading site (www.duluthtrading.com). The original order was blue. The replacement is black.



Guys grabbed our Grab Jacket by the thousands last year -- it's just got a great knockaround look and feel. We think you'll grab it for the same reasons. Feels like an old friend, protects you mightily against chilly weather, many times better than a sweatshirt. Fends off the cold, windy, drizzly stuff in that "crummy weather zone" of about 30°F to 45°F. Durable 3-ply Supplex® nylon shell is lined with soft, midweight fleece. Drawcord hood is fully fleece lined, to keep your head warm. Drawcord waist snugs to seal out cold drafts. Nylon-lined sleeves for easy off and on. Three pockets outside, three pockets inside -- two inside pockets zip closed for secure storage, and the other is just right for your cell phone. You won't find a better jacket for the money. Machine wash. Imported.

This would be a really nice jacket to have with how cold it's been. *sigh*

Jacket Watch, Day 3

I called the shipper today to let them know that jacket was missing. I spoke with a very nice woman named Sherri who renewed my faith in humanity.

She was polite, fun, efficient... and she said I'd have another jacket (hopefully) by Saturday. Didn't question me when I said FedEx didn't deliver the package as they stated, just wanted to make it right immediately. She even apologized for FedEx -- and agreed with me that getting the new jacket shipped USPS would make any theft or misdirection a federal crime. Sherri was great; I wish there was a way to leave good feedback for her.

I called FedEx later in the afternoon after I ran to the bank. I spoke with Charlotte, who was the most informative person I've encountered so far with FedEx. She said the depot received the notification. The driver was supposed to head up here today, retrieve the package, get it processed and then it would be delivered again. I reiterated that if the package wasn't here, how would the driver pick it up? I asked this question twice. Charlotte helpfully informed me that the driver was the only one who knew where it was delivered and he had to fetch it and make things right. With any luck, I'll hear from this depot tomorrow.

I took the time to explain to Charlotte that if the previous agents hadn't set up false expectations, I wouldn't have needed to call a third time. Give me the information I need; don't chitter with your friends or be so apologetic you forget to tell me important things -- like when I should expect a call or what kind of time frame we're working with here.

This isn't rocket surgery. This is a very simple thing. I want my damn jacket, which is back ordered until Jan. 25 now. Sherri is sending me a black one, though the original order was for a blue one. I can be flexible, I can be reasonable. But don't fuck around. Know your product, know how to support it. Tell your customer that it will take the better part of a week to locate something YOUR COMPANY LOST.

Or go find a job where they don't give a fuck about anything except whether or not the customer was given the correct change.

Three cheers for Sherri.

FedEx... doing the foxtrot tango...

Jacket Watch, Day 2 update

So I decided to play the wait-and-see game. Which is to say, I got involved in a huge-ass game today and didn't make the call. But yeah.

Here's the best part: I got my refund from the catalog folks since the jacket I exchanged for was less than the original order. And still... no jacket.

No jacket, no word from FedEx. I will be speaking to their next level of customer support tomorrow. Guaranteed. And they will locate the fucking jacket.

It's not like this is the world's greatest jacket or anything. It's a nice, warm functional jacket that I will wear all winter, assuming I can ever get it delivered. This is more about the fact my shit is missing and FedEx doesn't give a fuck. It's my shit. I paid for it. And if one of the neighbors grabbed it, then it's war. But it's more fun to take on FedEx. At least for now.

It's about the man trying to keep me down.

Fuckers.

P.S. In light of the temperature drop and SNOW, this would be a nice time for Jen to have her fucking jacket. Ahem.

Jacket Watch, Days 1-2

I didn't expect to hear from FedEx on a Sunday. I better hear from someone today. In fact, I will be calling them in a few hours to find out WTF the problem is. I paid for the fucking jacket. You said you delivered it. It's not here. Why is this so difficult?

With any luck, it will make for another amusing customer service story.

I'm also calling the shipper so they can file a claim -- and explain why they didn't sent it USPS like they did the first time.

If all else fails, we will awaken the tooth.

Off to the game store.

Expectations

I don't shop a lot online. I'm not opposed to it, I'm just more impulsive and would rather have the item in hand instead of waiting for it. Instant gratification, that's me.

I ordered a jacket online a few weeks ago. It wasn't what I really wanted and I needed a different size. I sent it back the next day to exchange it for the one I wanted to begin with. Tuesday, I got an email saying my new jacket was on its way and I'd have it the 28th. Cool. I could live with that.

Today, I checked FedEx's web site to see where the package was. To my surprise, the tracking number indicated it was delivered at 11:45 a.m. Funny. I didn't see a package when I went to get the mail. I looked around, asked the roommates, no package. So I called FedEx.

I don't have high expectations for customer service. I know how we do things at work, and I know why the company gets good marks. The rep I talked to was someone named Farina, and I couldn't understand her. A sense of dread filled my stomach.

I ended up repeating my situation three times. It wasn't a case of her trying to gain agreement with me (something we do at work with our customers to make sure we know what we're trying to troubleshoot), rather, it was that she just didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth.

She launched into this response about how the depot would have to call me and that I would have to wait until they could talk to the driver and find out what happened with my package, that she showed being delivered to the front door at 11:45 a.m.

"Yes, I know it says the package was delivered. I am telling you it's not here and I want to know where it is."
"So you don't have package."
"No, I'm calling because I want to know where my package is."
"It shows it was delivered at 11:45 a.m. to the front door."
"Yes, I know that. I'm calling because IT IS NOT HERE."
"Your name is Jen?"
*sigh*
"OK, well 1125606...."
"What number is that?"
"It is 1-1-2-5-6-0-6 --"
"No, what is the number for??"
"It's your (mumble) number for (mumble)."
"Um, yeah. Usually, if you have information to give your customer, you should let them know that they should get something to write it down on."
"You can write it on whatever you like ma'am."
"Just give me the damn number."

I don't think it's unreasonable to expect the shipping carrier to know where the fuck my package is. It's their job to know. I called FedEx several hours later because they had set up the expectation that I'd be called that afternoon. But Farina was too busy chatting with her co-workers and giggling to do her job properly. The second rep I spoke to was pretty nice. I let her know I had an unfavorable experience and she was apologetic during the whole call. I suppose I should point out that English wasn't Farina's first language, but I think she was from the shallow end of the gene pool to begin with.

But language does bring up an important point. If your job is to talk to customers on the phone, it's my expectation that you'll be able to understand simple requests and give intelligible answers. It's my expectation that, while I'm on the phone with you, you will give me your undivided attention and you will work to resolve my issue. I know that's how I treat my customers. But dog damn... if you can't speak the language, how does that help me? About as much as if I tried to assist someone who didn't speak English.

When I worked at Flying Pie, we had something called "Above zero... and rising." It's the principle that your customer comes in with no expectations, or they expect very little. If you provide exceptional service to begin with, that leaves a lasting impression. It takes very little effort, which is why I can't understand why more people can't do it. It's greeting the customer, smiling, being cheerful... things most of us do anyway. Amazing a little pizza joint in Boise can do something a multi-billion dollar corporation can't.

Keeping with the "Above Zero" theme, I had the pleasure of an emergency dental visit on Wednesday. I had Angry Tooth, the molar with a hole in it that was causing great pain and making me even more unbearable to be around. I went to the dentist for the first time in at least 10 years. I expected a root canal and a HUGE bill. Instead, I got a filling and paid less than $200. The dentist did a great job, her assistant was awesome, and they've got a repeat patient -- all because they exceeded my expectations by providing the same kind of professionalism they give all of their customers.

It's such a simple thing. It's amazing how many people/businesses fuck it up.

Know the difference?

This is an otter:



This is an asshole:



Any questions?

NOT MY GOVERNOR

No apologies

For the record...

I'm a liberal
I'm a gamer
I'm a geek
I'm a Mac user
I'm yonsei
I'm a journalist
I'm impulsive
I'm loyal
I'm me
I'm in love

I believe you shouldn't legislate morality
I believe a woman's body is hers, and hers alone
I believe that you take responsibility for your actions
I believe that if there is a god, she's a loving and just god, not a vengeful one
I believe in conspiracy theories
I believe in a thing called love
I believe in the Bill of Rights
I believe people can change
I believe in myself
I believe in karma

I want my own business
I want financial security
I want to own a house
I want to be healthy
I want to lose weight
I want to finish my degree
I want to live near the ocean
I want another motorcycle
I want to be successful
I want to write a book

I don't like broccoli
I don't like spiders
I don't miss my ex
I don't like people who can't drive
I don't smoke
I don't read the newspaper
I don't like BSU
I don't believe in forgiveness
I don't think Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone
I don't believe we're alone in the universe

I miss my mom
I miss the ocean
I miss my ferrets
I miss snuggling on Sunday mornings
I miss fat pay checks
I miss the Bay Area
I miss good local radio (not the corporate shit)
I miss chillin' at the Post
I miss the thrill of deadline
I miss my family

I wish I was a better dancer
I wish I was neater
I wish there were hours in the day
I wish there was a cure for cancer
I wish there was a cure for AIDS
I wish we were all more tolerant
I wish we were all more patient
I wish I didn't have to fire people
I wish the two-party system worked
I wish I had a million dollars

I'm thankful for down comforters
I'm thankful for electricity
I'm thankful for my family
I'm thankful for my friends
I'm thankful for my education
I'm thankful I can vote
I'm thankful for my health
I'm thankful for the internet
I'm thankful I'm not shy
I'm thankful for hugs

I need challenge
I need balance
I need to take a step back more often
I need a better job
I need to travel more
I need to call my grandma
I need to eat healthier
I need to get more sleep
I need to play my guitar
I need to keep seeing the humor in things

I will not settle
I will not compromise my beliefs
I will vote blue in a red state
I will continue to vote with my wallet
I will read more
I will not shop at Wal-Mart
I will stand up for my employees
I will not be a corporate drone
I will take more photos
I will embrace my creative side
I will be me

I love who I have become
I love Scott
I love Roscoe and Cassie
I love sunsets
I love the way it smells after it rains
I love strawberry ice cream
I love my friends
I love my family
I love the sound and smell of the ocean
I love music
I love being a secret admirer
I love flirting
I love making other people laugh
I love holding hands
I love looking up at the stars
I love chatting with friends across the country
I love writing
I love gaming
I love turkey with gravy and mashed potatoes
I love a good steak
I love Flying Pie
I love sleeping in
I love lamp


And you can quote me. On all of it.

And another thing...

ight now, the Republican candidate for governor is leading. Dude's name is Butch Otter. Yeah. What an image that conjures up.

"Things are looking a little rough for Republicans, a little bit rough for the country," Otter said at a GOP election-night party at the Doubletree Hotel Riverside in Boise. "Idaho is still the reddest of the red states in the union."

A little rough for Republicans? A little rough for the country?

What the fuck is Lesbian Lutra (lutra = Latin for otter...) talking about? Haven't we suffered enough? Fuck him.

And if by "reddest of the red states" he means the most backward and homophobic, he would be correct.

For the record, all of you dipshits who might have voted "yes" on HJR2 -- it does more than ban gay marriage. COHABITATION BY NON-MARRIED FOLKS IS PROHIBITED.

Bet you dumb fuckers didn't read that part, did you.

Stopping now before I get too worked up...

So yeah...

If you didn't vote...

STFU AND DON'T FUCKING COMPLAIN.


Yay America. First female Speaker of the House. Rock on.

Huck the folidays

I like the holidays.

Well.

Hmmmm....

I like family. I like eating. I like presents. Yeah, I'll admit that. (So send me stuff, k?)

I hate the commercialization. And I'm not just talking Christmas. It's all of them. New Year's. Valentine's Day. St. Patrick's Day. Easter. Memorial Day. Independence Day. Labor Day. Halloween. Christmas.

Chuck Fristmas.

Right. Back the truck up. I know. But those of you who know me should know where this is headed. I think. But yes. A rewind is required.

The Halloween party was last weekend. It was great fun. And the best costumes were the ones people made themselves -- I thought Justin's was the best (not just because the party was at his place, or because he grilled meaty treats!) because you knew he spent time on it. Tami's was the most interactive (she was an Etch-A-Sketch); Dawn's cracked me up (she was Operation). And there was Jim, who went as himself -- with a mask that was about 1.5 times bigger than his head. I laughed every time I looked at him. I was a Mac, and Scott was ... a PC. For work, I went as Mario, complete with penciled on mustache and eyebrows. And two plungers. Yeah. Definitely two plungers for the office.

I spent a lot of time looking for costume components, mostly because I had no clue what I was going to be. I hit both Halloween stores in town, and both sucked hard. I didn't go to the Costume Shop because I knew it would be a zoo. And deep down, I wanted to put it together myself. Which I did. Still, I had to look at the stores, just to reaffirm my belief that I could put something together for much less than if I bought something made by slave labor overseas.

But in the process of seeking out costume parts, I was disgusted to see all the shit they peddle for Halloween -- the same holiday the right-wingers despise because they say it's satanic and promotes evil. I think that's a blog for another day. Anyway, knowing this, there was a part of me that was pretty happy about Halloween exploding into this commercialized success because it makes a certain portion of the populace cringe. But I digress.

The capper for me came Halloween night when we were taking the boys home after they went trick or treating with some friends.

If you've been to Boise, you know there are some very nice houses along Warm Springs. They decorate for Halloween and Christmas. And if you want the big-ass candy haul, this is where you go.

But it was about 9 p.m. and most of the folks were done. Except for a few groups that were dragging around some wee ones who should've been in bed hours before. It was enough for us to launch into a whole production about parents who exploit their children for Halloween candy. Or force them to parade around in costumes they want the kids to wear, forgetting that the child should have some input.

[The scene: A parent and child are trick or treating. It's quite late. The child is 5 or 6, and is quite tired.]
Child (in a very tiny, timid voice): Can we go home?
Parent: NO! You get up to that porch and you take that candy from that stranger!
Child: But you said not to take candy from strangers...
Parent: You get up there and get that candy. I did NOT spend all that time in line at the Costume Shop buying you that costume for you NOT to trick or treat until I've gotten my money's worth!
Child: I hate Halloween *sniffle*
Parent: Princesses DO NOT CRY!
Child: I wanted to be a cowboy...
Parent: Dammit, Johnny, you will wear that princess costume and enjoy it!
Child: I wanted to be a cowboy and tend to my herd of free-range, organic cattle...
Parent: Will you get off it?! EVERYONE wants to be a princess!
Child: But I'm a little boy!!
Parent: IT WAS WHAT THEY HAD LEFT!
Child: I hate Halloween

It was all down hill from there.

Retailers start the Christmas push in June or July, or whenever Hallmark puts out the ornaments for that year. Yes, I'm guilty of buying them that early, but they were Star Wars ornaments, OK? I'm a victim of marketing, I know.

There is so much crap out there for you to buy to "get into" the "holiday spirit." Shit for your yard, shit that lights up, shit that plays music, shit for your dog, your cat and your fish; shit for your plants, shit for your car. Shit for your shit. Red and green shit, most of it.

I've always had a problem with Christmas music. I want to hear it, maybe one week out of the year, if that. If the Vandals are playing it, yeah, I can listen just about any time. But they won't play the Vandals holiday songs in public. I don't give a shit about decking halls in October. I'm sure as fuck not going to be holly and jolly at the mall. Fuck the mall.

I tend to buy things for people all year if I have the money. I don't need a holiday to purchase something for someone. I just need the mood to strike and I'm good. I don't need a countdown telling me I have 49 shopping days to Christmas. As I've gotten older, I appreciate the holidays for family and friends, not for how much I can spend on a gift.

I think I've run out of steam on this one, at least for the day. I've got more to say on the topic, but we'll save that for later.

Karma

Karma
Current mood: chipper

Bad shit happens. I don't like it when bad shit happens to good people. That tends to be the case most of the time.

When you're a good person and bad shit happens to you, if you wait long enough, something good will happen -- or something bad will happen if someone has wronged you. Yes, I believe in revenge and think forgiveness is a crock of shit. I'm not going to forgive you if you've wronged me. You can apologize and I'll think about it. I'm not going to seek revenge despite what you may hear. I know you'll get taken care of. Little things like getting fat and not being able to see your penis, or knowing that it's a matter of time before you cheat on her and move onto the next one; that's the stuff worth waiting for.

Karma can be even more satisfying if you see the bad shit coming and you dodge it. When the Spidey sense tingles and you listen -- even if it means slinking off and licking your wounds. It's better than sitting there and getting screwed.

I'm going to be intentionally vague about this because you have to be when you're discussing the Karma Bunny. KB knows who needs the kick in the balls. Silent pleas work better than myspace blogs. I'm also going to be vague because I'm thinking of a few folks who are getting served.

What comes around, goes around. It's that simple. Treat others as you wish to be treated. Reap what you sow. All of that stuff.

Yeah. You got served, bitches.

Big Black

Yup.

..>

Scott introduced me to these guys two years ago.

GEEK!

In addition to being a number in a data base, in real life, I'm an honest to goodness geek. I fix computers. I can set up a wireless network and recommend word processing software. I know how to pull songs off my iPod and how to rip encrypted DVDs.

And I'm a girl.

I've always been a tom-boy. I love sports, which explains the whole becoming a sports writer and sports editor thing. I love to watch sports, play, write about... yeah. I was a jock, but I wasn't a great jock. I was the kid on the college basketball team who got in if we were up big or losing by a ton. I was there because I was supportive and went all out in practice -- knowing that I wouldn't play a lot.

I own dresses, but I don't wear them. I clean up pretty nice and can do the "girlie thing" if needed. The "feminine side" is something shared with a very select few; it's far easier to be one of the guys or the girl gamer.

Yeah, I'm stating the obvious here, at least for the folks who have known me longer than there's been myspace. And there are a couple of you. I bring it up, well, because I know DJ probably needs a blog to read in the morning, and because of the weekend I had.

Saturday... work, game store, Merritt's, movie and some quality time with the man. Finally got him to see "Office Space" -- which does qualify as a geek movie because they work for a tech company. And if you're a cube dweller, there's a certain amount of geekiness that's just there by default.

Sunday... a painting contest at the game store in Nampa. Painting what, you ask? Little pewter miniatures manufactured by Reaper. You supply the primered mini and then you get an hour to paint it. Winner gets $50 in-store credit. Two of my gaming friends were entered, and they get paid to paint minis for other people. They figured one of them would win.

I'm known for painting slow. I take my time with my troop models, characters, big robots (yes, they're called "Warjacks" but it would take too long to explain ). I did pretty well... well enough that I missed first place by a point. Yeah, I should've posted pics of the mini. So not only was I one of two females, but 1) I almost won; 2) I beat my friend Sean, who's really good; 3) I did better than I thought I would; and 4) I've gotten a lot better because I'm painting minis every week. Slowly, mind you.

Monday... at the game store at 11; don't leave until 9:30 p.m. Threw paint on a few characters. Played a league game for Dogs of War and played my challenge board game against Scott in Warmachine. If you understood any of what I just typed, you're a geek too. In the Dogs of War game, I didn't win the scenario, but I killed 2 of Malik's dudes and got my leader 33 XP, which I will use to upgrade his skill set. Malik killed 2 of my guys, but only one has a wound I need to worry about. Against Scott... I lost. Tried a different army list and wasn't prepared for all of the troops he threw at me. Next time, I might bring cavalry and see how his Temple Flame Guard like being run over. And hit by lightning.

Confused? I hope most of you are. Otherwise, there's no hope. You'll have to start hanging with us at the game store on Mondays...

This doesn't even scratch the surface of being a video game geek. I have an Atari 5200 and 7800 in my closet. I have two Rubbermaid bins full of games. I have a Sega Genesis, Sega CD, Sega Master system, Sega Saturn (U.S. and Japanese version), Sega Dreamcast; NES, SNES, N64, GameCube, Nintendo DS; PS2 and tons of games for all of those systems. I'm going to buy Phantasy Star Universe when it comes out on Wednesday and reserve copies of WoW: Burning Crusade (collector's edition) and Final Fantasy XII (collector's edition as well). I RESERVE GAMES BECAUSE I WANT THEM ON THE DAY THEY COME OUT. I DO PRE-ORDERS FOR MY LITTLE ARMY MEN AS WELL.

As if that's not enough...

I worked at one of the game stores at the mall. Which led to a job at the Video Game Trading Post (if you're local and you game, get your ass in there... now!). I learned how to take apart just about everything -- GameBoys, NESs, SNES, Genesises (Genesii???), Xboxes... yeah. I can tell you the difference between S-video, composite and component, though I could do that before working retail.

But here's where being a geek paid off: I met Scott at VGTP in 2001 or 2002. He was one of my customers. And when I became single, he's the only person I wanted to go out with. We've been together ever since.

The funny thing about gamer geeks is they're usually male, and they have to convince their wife or girlfriend that gaming is a good thing. Some of them get into gaming... I know of a few wives who have taken an interest. I was the one to introduce the guys to Warmachine, and between the four of us, we have all of the factions represented. People assume Scott's the one who got me into playing; I think we both take a little bit of pleasure telling folks it was the girlfriend who got things started.

I think I had a better ending planned for this, but I'm tired and fighting a migraine. So I guess I'll turn off iTunes, log off Adium, put away my Bluetooth mouse and put my Powerbook to sleep.

And as I'm drifting off to sleep, I know I'll contemplate a new army list for facing Scott and think about the kind of character I want for Phantasy Star Universe. It's tough work being a geek, yo.

International pissing contest and more

[warning: judgmental content ahead!]

This whole situation with North Korea, their nuke test and the U.S. reaction strike me as ludicrous. Haven't humans learned that bad shit happens when you unleash radiation on other humans?

I know deep down no one will push the button. Or rather, deep down, I hope no one will push the button. Like many military standoffs, it reminds me of a pissing contest. Or better yet, a dick-waving contest. Which brings me to the following System of a Down song. It ran through my head for much of the day.

Cigaro
System Of A Down

My cock is much bigger than yours
My cock can walk right through the door
With the feeling so pure
It's got you screaming back for

cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR

My shit stinks much better than yours,
My shit stinks right down through the floor.
With the feeling so pure,
It's got you coming back for

cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR

Can't you see that I love my cock?
Can't you see that you love my cock?
Can't you see that we love my cock?

We're the regulators that de-regulate
We're the animators that de-animate
We're the propagators of all genocide
Burning through the world's resources, then we turn and hide

cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR

We're the regulators that de-regulate
We're the animators that de-animate

cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR
cool, in denial
We're the cruel regulators smoking
CIGARO CIGARO CIGAR

My cock is much bigger than yours,
My cock can walk right through the door
With a feeling so pure
It's got you screaming back for more!

Seeing the lyrics in print... a little weird. But if you've heard the song, you'll get what I'm talking about.

* * *

Filled up the Civic tonight. Made chit-chat with the clerk at the Maverick. On my way out, another woman came into the store. She was pregnant... maybe 7-8 months along. She came in to buy a Camel hardpack.

Live your life the way you want. If you want to kill yourself, do drugs, fuck up, fine. That's your choice. Crack? Meth? Heroin? I guess everyone has to die of something. But if you're pregnant and you do that shit... I don't get it. You're fucking with YOUR CHILD. If cigarettes cause cancer in just about everything, how can that shit be good for a baby? I mean really. "Oh, it's OK if I smoke a few a day." Who the fuck came up with that shit? Phillip-Morris? Liggett? Does your doctor look like the goddamned Marlboro Man (who, btw, died of cancer).

Adults make choices. Mothers should know better. Yeah, that's me being judgmental.

* * *

Since I'm bitching...

There are some people who don't deserve to be alive. OK, there are lots. I'm not promoting genocide or war on anyone who pissed off Jen (now there's an idea....). I'm thinking of someone specific. Someone who shouldn't be a parent based on how he/she treats his/her offspring.

If you have, in your possession, something your child values, and the child would like it shipped, wouldn't you ship it in a timely manner? Wouldn't you want your child to be happy? And when you finally shipped off the item(s), since you know the child values it, you'd pack up nice and neat and make sure everything got there in one piece, right?

This is where the questionable parenting comes in. Ships it, doesn't give a shit how it arrives. Child is happy package is received, but there's substantial damage. Child is able to repair damage to items, but the emotional damage is done.

What kind of parent does something like that? The kind who needs to slide under a gas truck and taste his/her own blood.

I warned you I was being judgmental tonight. Looks like a tad bitter, too.

Baggage

I've been pretty baggage free for the past year or two now. I'm happier than I've ever been -- not because I've finally been able to buy a house or have a high-paying job, but because I'm being me, I've got a great man in my life and some kick-ass friends.

This Saturday was six years to the day I got married. When I got divorced in 2004, I counted the days until that anniversary. In 2005, I had an idea it was coming. This year, I think it might've been around 3 a.m. when I looked at the date and it registered. It's not even a blip any more.

But here are a few journal entries for historical perspective. The first is from Oct. 10, 2004.

Settling?

Still in a bit of an odd mood tonight. I think there could be hormones involved. Anyway, feeling more introspective than usual and felt the need to inflict this stuff on my audience. I'll try to keep this from getting too .. heavy .. but who knows.

In the course of e-mailing a dear friend tonight, I stumbled across something that I've been avoiding, something I haven't wanted to admit. This might not even be the time to go into it, but I'm thinking about it, and I do need to address it at some point, if only for my mental health and getting closure.

I've glossed over why my marriage didn't work out; I've shared some of my thoughts with one person, maybe two. I don't know the root cause, I don't have the answers. But if there's one thing that getting into a relationship has shown, it's that things weren't quite right in married life. And I'm trying to be diplomatic about this, trying to be ... detached. So we'll see how that goes. We'll play a little game of "compare and contrast." Oh, but how to begin?

Let's start out by saying I believe in marriage. When you get married, it's forever. It's a promise, it's something I took seriously, it's something I wanted to do just once in my life. I'm certain we got married for the right reasons. I don't know that we divorced for the right reasons, but what's done is done. I can't change that, I and I wouldn't go back. Not with what I know now, not with what I've been through and where I am in my life. Hell no.

Somewhere along the way, something changed. Was it because we were comfortable with each other? Took each other for granted? The ex mentioned how "the spark" was gone. Well, the argument against that is the spark is what brings you together; true love keeps you together. Relationships are give and take; they aren't always easy, they aren't always pleasant. But if you really do love someone, you figure out a way to make it work. Yet that only happens if both parties feel that way. One person believing that won't get it done, especially if the other person has given up, or thinks they've found something better. Believe me, I tried. In the end, it was easier to give up. More on that in a bit.

At the beginning of many relationships, the physical stuff takes precedent. It's new, it's exciting (I call it the "ooooh, shiny!" syndrome). The newness wears off. If it was only physical, chances are that when the novelty has worn off, both people will move on. A booty call is a booty call. If there's a deeper connection, then you're looking at something long term, something that could last for months, years, even forever. You need common interests, personalities that get along. You need trust and a willingness to work toward keeping the relationship alive. So where was I going with this, I wonder .. and how can I do this without getting myself in trouble? (not really trouble, I guess .. I'm not writing anything here I wouldn't discuss, it's just that some of this is still a little difficult to talk about. Anyway.)

When the ex and I got together, it was fun, exciting, we spent a ton of time together. The physical stuff, well, yeah, there was a lot of that. He was 32 and I was 26. That really was a lifetime ago. We spent a ton of time together since we worked together and he ended up moving in since (big red warning lights) he was leaving his wife. Marriage was on the rocks from the beginning, he'd been unhappy for a long time, yadda yadda yadda. Awfully familiar, right? Yeah. Maybe I had it coming.

You know, a detailed analysis of my relationship with the ex is going to get boring in a hurry. That, and the fact I've chosen to forget some of the details and other details have faded. I've gotten a pretty good idea of what was missing. I guess it's easier for me to focus on the things that are going well with the current relationship than dredge up ghosts. Yes, I'm still avoiding it. But I think I can still make my point.

I'm a detail person (eh, really?). I can see the big picture, but I have an appreciation of the little things. Case in point: A touch, a look, a smile can convey a feeling like love without even saying those three words. I used to do that with the ex and it was rarely, if ever reciprocated (red flashing lights, anyone?). He wasn't much of a "touch" person. Hugs, holding hands, that was something he really started doing with me. The other stuff, like if I just touched him while we were watching TV or something, he didn't like that. Current situation is very different than with the ex. Communicating without words is a fine and subtle art, and it works a lot better when people aren't shrugging you off or acting like they're annoyed by it. There's a lot to be said for feeling appreciated.

It might not be a great example. It's certainly not one that would hold up in court. But I think it shows a resignation on my part to not do those things with the ex. I wasn't being oppressed, but I wasn't being true to myself. I don't know that I've really been true to myself until recently. I know I haven't been this happy in a long time. I've got a new sense of freedom since .. falling in love. And I'm sorry that sounds trite. But honestly, I'm happy to have found someone I feel comfortable with. I can say crazy (or stupid :-P) things, I can tell horrible jokes, or I can be a geek. I guess with the ex, I started to hold back some things because I didn't want to appear stupid. I don't even know where I'm going with this any more.

Ah. The title of this entry. I do need an editor to keep me on topic. Did I settle? Yes and no.

In the beginning, when things were new, no, there was no settling. I didn't settle on my wedding day. But whenever "the spark" (his word, not mine) faded, then yes, I did. I accepted the routine, I accepted the fact we didn't do certain things or act like other couples; a good friend said that if you saw the two of us in a room, you'd never know we were married. This has been confirmed by at least one other person. All I can say to that is, what the fuck? What happened? Why did we give off that appearance? Oh, non-verbal communication, or lack thereof. It goes deeper than "if you loved me you'd hold my hand" but I could be onto something here. I know what I felt toward him, but I know that if I did those little things -- a hand on his shoulder, whatever -- in a group setting, it made him uncomfortable. What the hell does that say? Yeah, that something was fucked up and neither of us wanted to address it. Now I remember why I haven't taken a closer look at this: Because in my twisted little world, it makes me feel inadequate as a wife and as a female. The rational part of me knows this isn't true, but the visceral part -- and let's not forget my ego -- feels differently. The feeling of rejection rears its ugly head after a long absence. But it adds up, I guess. If he didn't want to do the little things that are so important to me, it shouldn't have been surprising when he told me he didn't love me. Yes, this is the scary shit I write about at 3 a.m. Until now, it had been locked away in the journal I haven't shared with anyone, where I don't even want to read past entries. But here it is. And to once again answer the question, yes I did settle. I settled and I wanted to make it work, thought I could make it work, thought it should work. And in the end, it turns out I'm so much better off today without him. Should I mention yet again how happy I am, or is that starting to get sickening? Cut me some slack; I'm not even to the four-month mark yet. But what used to be the anniversary is Thursday... I'll burn that bridge when I get to it I guess...

I'm not sure what this proved, other than the fact that maybe I really am nuts and you people are too polite to tell me I'm nuts. It did feel good to write this stuff. But maybe i just need to leave it in the past and keep moving forward -- mindful of history, but definitely focused on what each new day brings. I may be nuts, but hell if I haven't turned into an optimist.

Posted: Sun - October 10, 2004 at 03:20 AM

It's really easy for me to say I settled, especially given how the relationship with Scott has progressed. I have gotten more out of our relationship in two years than I did in the nearly four years I was married to dipshit. Amazingly, the anger and the bitterness are more like background noise now, instead of being at the forefront and drowning out everything else in my life. Yes, I admit I'm still a bitter person at times. We all have that capacity. But I choose when to let that out; in the past, I really didn't have a say.

Time for another entry. This one is from Oct. 14, 2004

No, "just friends" doesn't work

Almost two months ago, someone who has become near and dear to me said something I should've taken to heart a lot sooner. Heck, a lot of people said the same thing but I didn't want to hear it. I'm stubborn, not stupid I guess ..

"Let's be friends."

The death knell to many a relationship. You have romantic aspirations and your object of desire doesn't feel the same. Or you're romantically involved and "all of a sudden" your partner isn't in love with you and wants to be "just friends." Guess what? That shit doesn't work. Nope. Not at all. Forget it. If it does, it takes months, even years. Hell, my parents didn't really become friends after their divorce until several years later, and it took a traumatic, life-changing event involving my dad for that to happen. Time has a way of sorting things out I guess. Time lets anger subside, it dulls the pain. Memories fade. With some things.

Nearly four months later, a lot of what I felt has begun to fade. There was a time I wanted to remember all of it; I didn't want to forget what I was feeling so I could prevent it from happening again. But a few things happened and changed that: I realized the only times I thought or talked about the ex, it was negative. I realized he wasn't a friend, and stopped thinking of him as one. Best of all, a wonderful guy became... more than a friend.

I have very strong feelings regarding friendship. I've said that I'm loyal to the point of stupidity, which explains my reluctance to listen to people about being friends with the ex. I'll do whatever is within my means to help you if you need a hand. It's just the way I am. I'm very passionate about my friends and people who are close to me. I can be overly protective. Stubbornness and the fact I don't do things half way... it can be an odd combination at times. Hell, I'm this way with folks I know through the internet (not strangers; I've got a few friends I've known for several years only through e-mail, discussion boards and chatting).

So it shouldn't be any surprise that I took all of this loyalty and passion and figured it would be there for the ex when everything was said and done. After all, he said when the divorce was final, we could hang out and be friends again, right? He said he wanted to stay friends, and well, if you're my friend, you're not going to lie to me, right? Right?

Well fuck that. We know how this story goes.

Lying to me, or a lie by omission are the same thing. Being treated like shit doesn't rate too high in my book, either. Generally being an asshole scores quite low too. So that whole thing about being friends? How about taking a flying fuck through a rolling doughnut? That seems to fit a lot better.

I have no intention of being friends with the ex-person (I can't claim this gem; Scott gets all the credit... heh). Right now, I don't even want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want him in my life. But here I am, on what would've been my fourth wedding anniversary, writing a journal entry about how I basically despise the man who -- just five months ago -- was still the love of my life and my true love.

Sweet Jesus. What. The. Fuck.

It's good to be jaded and cynical again. I was filled with the touchy-feely "must get over this" good vibes for awhile there. Oh, I definitely needed to be there. I needed to shove away the bitterness long enough to know it wouldn't consume me. But now that I'm actually feeling good about life again, hey, it's back. I'm a little rusty, but I think I'll manage. Being back in a newsroom helps with the cynicism. And realizing what a cock wrangler the ex is helps a great deal. I don't want his love, I don't want his friendship. When -- or if -- I want to be friends, I'll let him know.

And it feels good to have *real* friends. I've got a move coming up, and I was surprised to see how many people offered to help. It&..39;s been, "Oh, I've got a truck. I should be able to help that day. Let me know." I've only had one person say he wouldn't be able to help, and that's because he's already helped two friends move. I wasn't going to ask him, but still. These folks stepped up before I mentioned there would be Krispy Kremes that morning and steak and beer that evening. I don't need him or his friendship. It's taken me a long time to realize I don't need him any more. That's actually a big step for me.

Yes, a lot of this goes back to me having someone in my life. Anything I write about that is going to come off sounding trite, and I don't want to diminish it. I know what I feel, I know that it's different than what I felt with the ex. It's hard to explain without making it sound like I made a mistake getting married (I still maintain I didn't) or that I've placed all kinds of unrealistic expectations on my current situation. No and no. I'm in love; what else can I say? Once again getting into complicated territory near 4 a.m. You'd think I'd learn.

Anyway, the point is, no, friends with the ex-person won't work. I don't want it to work, certainly not now. Things are pretty OK in my world right now without him, and I suspect that will continue to be the case. Far more enjoyable to focus positive energy on my guy than put any effort into feeling anything toward the ex. Husband? I was married? Heh.

You were right, and I have the e-mail to prove it. Thanks, babe.

Posted: Thu - October 14, 2004 at 03:59 AM

I don't mention the ex-person a whole lot any more. If I mention him, he's the subject of ridicule, as is often the case when you talk about exes. I haven't seen or spoken to him in about 2 years now, don't have any desire to do so. I don't want to be his friend. And the insecure part of me doesn't want to be reminded of failure, because ultimately, that's what the marriage was. The pain has faded enough where I can make fun of it. And I've had enough good times since then to forget the ones I had when I was married... although typing that sentence reminded me of two trips back to the Bay Area. Those are good memories. But they're fleeting. The best memories from the last trip... those include my mom and grandparents. I've grown more indifferent -- maybe even apathetic -- toward the ex. I don't waste energy despising him. I've actually got faith the Karma Bunny will ki kick him in the balls when the time is right.

More importantly, I don't need labels when it comes to my current relationship. With the marriage, we were always talking about how we were best friends, how he was the love of my life. I don't think that's ever happened with Scott and me. He's so much more to me than a label. It goes without saying that he's my best friend -- he's the one person I share everything with -- good or bad. I don't need to say he's the love of my life or that there will never be another because I'm living my life in a way that should make that obvious. He knows how I feel, I know how he feels. That wasn't always the case when I was married.

So why dredge up 2-year-old journal entries? To bore my audience, of course. Seriously, it's a measuring stick -- I guess I want to see if I've progressed, if I've learned anything. There are just a handful of folks who have been with me through the whole ordeal. About a year after my divorce, a good friend decided it was time to end her marriage. One of her recent blogs is what got me thinking of my old entries because she posted excerpts from her old journal. She's come a long way; she got out of newspapers and now she's trying to decide where she wants to work on her doctorate. It's hard to see the progress when you're engulfed by chaos and don't know which way is up.

I think what this proves, at least to myself, is that time does have a way of taking care of things. And that when you take care of you, things have a way of falling into place. That's the biggest lesson I've taken away from all this.

Anyway, before this gets any longer, and more boring...

Consume hell (with bonus rah-rah BS)

Yeah, I'm a little late posting this... Friday was a late one, and I don't have to be up too early in the morning, so here we go.

I admit that I'm a consumer whore. I like technology, I like getting things like games and CDs the day they're released, that sorta thing. So when I got the email from Gamestop on Thursday telling me that they'd be taking pre-orders for the Nintendo Wii (their new system), I figured it would be a quick trip to the mall on Friday and my system would be reserved before I had to hit the office.

Wrong.

I get there at 10:15, didn't want to seem like too big of a geek by being there when they opened the store. This is the same game store I worked at before I went to VGTP, and a lot of the same folks still work there. My turn at the counter comes, I ask about reserving a Wii (I know, that sounds dirty) and I'm told they're out.

OK. How the fuck do you run out of a reserve?

Apparently, Nintendo is releasing a TINY amount of these consoles into the wild. The assistant manager told me he expects to be getting yelled at all through Christmas. He thought it was dumb, too. I turned around and left, my parting statement: "Nintendo can bite me."

I was all set to spend money. I wanted something I wasn't sure I really wanted, and then they took it away from me -- presumably, so I'd want it more.

Wrong.

Fuck off, Nintendo. You too, Sony, with your $600 PS-fucking-3. If you can't make enough to meet demand, go to hell. Yeah, I'm bitter about this. You need to tell me why it's so worth my while to fight to get your new systems. For starters, PS3 is too god-damned expensive. I don't know enough about the technology to decide if it's worth the price tag. I was going with the Wii because it's $250 and should have some decent games -- like the new Zelda. Which I can purchase for the GameCube.

Walking out of the mall, I felt like I had been had for buying into the hype. I did it with the PS2 and the GameCube. I've still got a working PS2 and the GC hardly gets touched, but I have it for the Sega titles and some cool RPGs.

I don't need either one the day they come out. I don't have an Xbox 360, don't want one. I need a new laptop, which is what I should save my money for.

I may try and reserve a system online, I haven't decided yet. But the truth of the matter is, I play more table top war games than video games these days. Who the hell would've seen that shit coming?

For the record, this is the kind of stuff I play with. Yeah, I painted it. I'm a geek, remember?



Now for your bonus rah-rah bullshit...

This is another scene from Friday, this time, the Corp X lunch room.

The lunch room is for all employees from both projects. Our side of the building doesn't hold functions in the lunch room because well, we don't do that shit. The other side, call them Garden City Communications, uses the lunch room for their shit an awful lot.

Friday was graduation day. We actually had a class graduating from our side, they did too apparently. Their side had the head HR wench and the call center manager. Their trainer presented certificates and made speeches. He talked about how "so and so took 15 calls... and wasn't even nervous! Give up for Cletus Ray Earnhardt! Woooooooo!" He did this with everyone. He sounded like a fucking moron.

And everyone clapped. That's what Garden City Comm does... they clap for everything. "Dale Wayne Andretti just had a customer tell him he doesn't suck!! Give it up! Everybody clap, goddammit!" We can hear it on our side of the building. And we hate it.

So clap. And wear your stupid colors, and keep thinking you're better than us. We know the truth. Your ghetto performance says it all.

Besides, it won't be long before those fuckers are clapping their way out the door. Their turnover is way higher than ours.

Yeah, we all look alike

Had an interesting encounter in the ladies' room on Tuesday.

The cleaning lady's cart was parked by the door. I was washing my hands when this little brosephine pokes her head in and asks me "Is it OK if I go to the bathroom?" I shrugged and said, "I don't care." She walks into a stall and I say "I *don't* clean." She muttered something snotty and I left.

And I was pissed.

Our cleaning lady is Korean. This stupid bitch assumed that, because I was Asian, I was in there cleaning the bathroom. Then she had the nerve to take offense at me throwing attitude at her. This is why I hate people.

I don't assume that because you tall and black that you play basketball. I don't assume that because you've got big boobs and wear short skirts that you're a stripper. I don't assume that because you shave your head that you're a Neo-Nazi. See where this is going?

Then again, maybe I need to assume more. Maybe I need to assume that since you've been convicted of a felony and you deal with personnel matters that you can't be trusted. Or I need to assume that because you drive a Hummer that you've got a tiny penis and you're compensating. I should assume that corporations don't give a fuck about their employees and are out to make tons of money.

Better yet, I should assume the brosephine works for the other project in the building and is way too dumb to work for us. And because of her stupidity, she'll be out of a job soon.

Then we'll see who's out cleaning bathrooms.

Shine

This one just popped into iTunes. I mean, I know it's on the playlist I'm listening to.... add this to the list of things that make me purr. OK, technically, this could be a break-up song. But it's this line: "remember your soul is the one thing/you can't compromise" that I really like. It's a good song.

Yes, still sentimental. Deal.

Shine (iTunes Originals Version)
David Gray

I can see it in your eyes
what I know in my heart is true
that our love it has faded
like the summer run through
and we'll walk down the shoreline
one last time together
feel the wind blow our wanderin' hearts
like a feather
but who knows what's waiting
in the wings of time
dry your eyes
we're gonna go where we can shine

Don't be hiding in sorrow
or clinging to the past
with your beauty so precious
and the season so fast
and hey, no matter how cold the horizon appears
or how far the first night
when I held you near
we're gonna rise from these ashes
like a bird aflame
take my hand
we're gonna go where we can shine
(na na na na na na na na, shine)

And for all that we struggle
for all we pretend
you know, you know, you know it don't come down to nothing
except love in the end
and ours is a road
that is strewn with goodbyes
but as it unfolds
as it all unwinds
remember your soul is the one thing
you can't compromise
step out of the shadow
we're gonna go where we can shine
we're gonna go where we can shine
we're gonna go where we can shine

(and look, and look)
Through the windows of midnight
moonfoam and silver

A-list

Things that make me purr, in the order they're jumping into my brain

Dinner with Scott
Cassie sleeping on my pillow
Roscoe's happy dance
Firefox 2 beta
Fish is still alive!
Warm socks
My new comforter (from Scott's mom )
The ocean
Sunsets
High fives with Mikey
Kat's drawings
Andy's "Not My President" shirt
Kibbee and the spinning beachball
Getting done with work by 7:30!
Fires that melt giant candles
Scott singing songs he's written
Purring cats
Cheap Mexican food
Sleeping in
Staying up late
A.F.I.
Snuggling and napping
Dirty jokes
Roscoe kisses
iTunes
The weekend
Apple fritters
Photography
Painting minis
Fall
Kittens
Full moon
Relaxing
Writing

And just because I don't have enough pictures of him, we'll end on this:


Did you *really* think I didn't have enough pics of Scott? Hah.

Yeah, I'm a sentimental doofus. I'm not ashamed, and won't apologize for it. So there.

Good-byes

When I was an agent taking calls, I had my little circle of friends. We took breaks together, ate lunch together... we generally had similar interests. And when you're an agent taking calls at Corporation X, you often have the misfortune of believing rumors and innuendo instead of taking the time to figure things out for yourself.

Now that I'm a supervisor at Corp X, I have the advantage of being included with some of the socializing with agents, and other supervisors. I've known some of the agents since I was taking calls; some of the newer agents are on my team and I really like them a lot... they're way cool people. It's easy to interact with them and get to know them.

I don't like to use the word clique; there's definitely a group of folks who are very tight-knit and have had a lot of good times together. Since getting to know them better, they're a great bunch of folks; I hate the fact I paid attention to the rumors and the gossip. Anyway, I'm coming to the party pretty late, since I'm the newest supervisor in our part of the project. Or, it feels like I'm late because one of our cornerstones is leaving.

I didn't have this person as a trainer; didn't really start working all that closely with him until I was in a position to mentor agents in training prior to getting a team of my own. But I knew who he was, didn't know a whole lot about him. Now I know that he's the guy that's super fun to talk to, the one with the goofy grin, the dude you can talk to about everything. He's the guy I wish I had gotten to know better because tomorrow is his last day at work. This weekend, he drives back home to Ohio.

I'm torn on this one because I don't know him as well as everyone else. But sitting here, writing this, I've got that hollow feeling in my stomach and in my throat that tells me I'm going to be affected by his departure. Not knowing him as well doesn't change the fact he's a good person; dog knows Corp X needs good people.

Not really sure where else to take this... I'll have to see what the day brings. The one thing I know: Good-byes suck, so I'll keep telling myself that this is just TTFN -- ta-ta for now.

OMG burrito!

Every town needs a 24-hour Mexican restaurant. A real Mexican restaurant. Not Taco Bell. I might give you Taco Cabana, but that's sketchy and the memory is dim on that one since it's been at least 10 years since I was in San Antonio (I'm old, OK??)

Anyway, the discovery of the month is Los Beto's on Fairview in Boise. They're 24 hours and have a great menu -- and the food is plentiful and cheap. I got a carne asada burrito on one of the big-ass tortillas for $3.45. Fuck Taco Bell in the ear.

This wasn't a burrito with a tiny bit of steak and tons of rice and beans. This was tortilla, a TON of steak, guacamole and pico de gallo. Sour cream would've run me a whopping 65 cents. And did I mention it tasted great too?

If I can get my ass over there in the morning, I can get a breakfast burrito for $2.75. Hey Maverick, you and those Tornados can bite me too.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pass out under the weight of the burrito I devoured.

An open letter to the drug-using dipshits

Dear meth-using, no-teeth having, glue-sniffing, crack-pipe hitting, cocaine-abusing alcoholic fucktards,

You substance-abusing assholes are the reason why *I* have to show I.D. and provide my driver's license number when I go into Walgreens to buy cold medicine. I am not going to use my Aleve Cold & Sinus pills to make meth, or break it down into the components for meth. I would just like to be able to breathe at night and not have snot shooting out of my nose all day. I think this is a pretty reasonable expectation. I'd go herbal or homeopathic, but haven't found anything in a decongestant yet.

Since you freaks need to sniff, shoot-up, guzzle anything with any type of stimulant in it, honest folk like me have to put up with being scrutinized because the government is afraid I'm going to take my 2 boxes of cold pills and make illicit drugs with them.

I am not going to make drugs that smell like cat piss, let alone ingest drugs that smell like cat piss and have Drain-o and host of other poisonous shit in them. I'm not in that much of a hurry to lose my teeth and shamble down the streets of Garden City like a methed-out zombie. Fuck that.

And to the government, how much pseudoephedrine do you think I can pull out of those pills? I hate to break it to you, but I don't fall into that popular Asian stereotype of being good at math and science. I fucking hated math and science. I wanted to be an aerospace engineer, then I flunked a math class or two and that dream came crashing back to earth. Me? Then I wanted to be a writer and a photographer -- things I was good at, but definitely fit in with what all the other Asian kids were doing. Cat piss on your stereotypes, bitches. No chem lab in my bathroom, got it? I'm not going to make drugs.

The only stimulants I want are caffeine and that rush you get after ... well, I'm not gonna finish that one since a lot of you know my guy and I don't kiss and tell. But most of you know what I'm talking about. That's it for stimulants for Jen. Caffeine and Scott. Maybe the occasional herbal remedy (but that's a depressant so it doesn't count the same), but that's it. And that's natural. And doesn't smell like cat piss.

The alternative is to stumble around with my head filled with snot, wheezing and shooting gooey projectiles out of my nose. Or, heaven forbid, take a day off because I'm sick and need to get better.

But hey, it's so much fun working when you feel like shit. And are forced to work because you don't have sick days. But that's a Corporation X rant for another day.

Sincerely,
Jen
No. 89628

An open letter to the drug-using dipshits

Dear meth-using, no-teeth having, glue-sniffing, crack-pipe hitting, cocaine-abusing alcoholic fucktards,

You substance-abusing assholes are the reason why *I* have to show I.D. and provide my driver's license number when I go into Walgreens to buy cold medicine. I am not going to use my Aleve Cold & Sinus pills to make meth, or break it down into the components for meth. I would just like to be able to breathe at night and not have snot shooting out of my nose all day. I think this is a pretty reasonable expectation. I'd go herbal or homeopathic, but haven't found anything in a decongestant yet.

Since you freaks need to sniff, shoot-up, guzzle anything with any type of stimulant in it, honest folk like me have to put up with being scrutinized because the government is afraid I'm going to take my 2 boxes of cold pills and make illicit drugs with them.

I am not going to make drugs that smell like cat piss, let alone ingest drugs that smell like cat piss and have Drain-o and host of other poisonous shit in them. I'm not in that much of a hurry to lose my teeth and shamble down the streets of Garden City like a methed-out zombie. Fuck that.

And to the government, how much pseudoephedrine do you think I can pull out of those pills? I hate to break it to you, but I don't fall into that popular Asian stereotype of being good at math and science. I fucking hated math and science. I wanted to be an aerospace engineer, then I flunked a math class or two and that dream came crashing back to earth. Me? Then I wanted to be a writer and a photographer -- things I was good at, but definitely fit in with what all the other Asian kids were doing. Cat piss on your stereotypes, bitches. No chem lab in my bathroom, got it? I'm not going to make drugs.

The only stimulants I want are caffeine and that rush you get after ... well, I'm not gonna finish that one since a lot of you know my guy and I don't kiss and tell. But most of you know what I'm talking about. That's it for stimulants for Jen. Caffeine and Scott. Maybe the occasional herbal remedy (but that's a depressant so it doesn't count the same), but that's it. And that's natural. And doesn't smell like cat piss.

The alternative is to stumble around with my head filled with snot, wheezing and shooting gooey projectiles out of my nose. Or, heaven forbid, take a day off because I'm sick and need to get better.

But hey, it's so much fun working when you feel like shit. And are forced to work because you don't have sick days. But that's a Corporation X rant for another day.

Sincerely,
Jen
No. 89628

Paid to work

Another dispatch from Corporation X...

We have an incredibly high absenteeism rate. It's part of the call center culture. But it's highly distressing to our client -- so much so, that they've instituted incentives to get folks to come to work.

First off, there's the unlimited OT. They want bodies in the seats. I don't blame them. We've been slammed for months and it's good for our agents to get a little bit of time between calls. Not too much, but just enough so they can catch their breath.

You'd think that paying the OT would be enough. But of course, it's not. It's a very simple job -- you come to work, you take some calls, you go home. It's not rocket science and it's not digging ditches. And I can empathize with the motivational drought. I was there. I hated going to work and did what I could to avoid being there. I got put on an attendance plan and was in danger of losing my job. But when those checks started getting to be tiny, I pulled my head out, started making work fun for me and all was good.

Even when shit was so bad that there were three of us closing the queues at night, we came to work and we got shit done. There were no extra incentives, no bonuses. Very few thank-yous.

Anyway. Fast-forward to now, when the client is freaking out and is willing to do just about anything to get agents in there. As a result, we have 3 different ways to win an iPod, cash incentives for performance, a performance-based raise and a contest we rolled out this weekend.

This contest is pretty cool. The pot started with $200 at 8 a.m. A name was drawn, and if the winner was present, they got the money. If not, the pot grew by $25 every hour. The catch was that you had to be working -- not on break, not on an unapproved break or on lunch. One of the n00bs on my team won $325, another gal won $175. Pretty simple, right?

No.

When someone offers you something above and beyond what you normally get, don't bitch about it. Don't tell me how it's unfair you weren't eligible for another incentive program, so you don't care about THE ONE THAT PUTS FREE MONEY ON YOUR PAY CHECK. I guess some people ARE as stupid as they look. Don't complain about how it's not fair you can't win if you're at lunch. Or how you should be able to win, even if your break isn't approved. Shut the fuck up. Seriously.

There was one complaint today that made sense. Chris said he was against the contest because people are paid to be there already. It's a job, you're supposed to show up, plain and simple. I agree. And yet, I found myself rationalizing the reasons why these dipshits need the incentive.

We all know Corp X doesn't pay us shit. The way I see it, if my agents can get some free cash for doing their job, then let them have it. Do I want to see some loud-mouthed loser with a false sense of entitlement win? Hell no. I want my people to be rewarded because most of them -- not all of them -- work hard, do a good job and deserve it.

But really. To bitch about free money. So if you're walking down the street and someone hands you $200, are you going to complain because they're giving you 2 $100 bills instead of a handful of 20s? I mean really. Gratitude, look it up.

Be thankful you have a job. Be thankful you work inside. Be thankful the work is fairly easy. So you get a shitty customer every now and again. They're just customers. Seriously. You'll never meet them in real life. Be polite and professional and move on to the next call.

And above all, show a little gratitude. It's only slightly more difficult than showing up to work as scheduled and doing your job.

An open letter

To the drunk chick with the big tits at the Reef on Thursday....

Dear Drunk Girl With Big Tits (DGWBT),

I know you thought you were really cute when you were dancing in front of the old guy playing guitar. In fact, I'm sure you thought you were really sexy, wiggling your ass and bouncing up and down so your tits flopped all over. However, there are a few things to consider.

1. The too short, too tight shirt really didn't do anything for me. I don't care about your gazongas, nor do I need to see your stomach or your asshat (aka the tattoo above your ass).

2. Yelling and whooping while an old guy plays acoustic guitar reeks of desperation. I think he enjoyed the show you gave him, but he really just wanted to finish his set.

3. Hugging on every guy who comes up the stairs doesn't make you popular. It means you're drunk and will likely fuck anything with a penis. No, this doesn't rule out non-humans.

4. You might be a nice person sober, but while intoxicated, you're nothing but an embarrassment. If you can't hold your liquor -- and that includes being able to hold the glass without spilling -- you need to curb your intake until you learn some control. Oh, but wait. You won't be popular unless you're drinking. My bad.

5. If you want to dance and wiggle for drunks, why not try one of Boise's finer establishments? I hear the Torch 2 is hiring. You'd be a perfect fit.

Thanks!
No. 89628

Numbered days

This may come as a shock to a lot of you.

For the past 34 years, I've been wrong about the person I think I am. You guys know me as Jen. You know me in real life, or we've gamed online or I met you through myspace. We talk every day, in person or online... Yeah. Wow. This is kinda rough.

Fine. I'll just come out and say it.

I'm not Jen. I'm not the name that appears on my birth certificate. I'm 89628.

I work for Corporation X. I supervise 15 other numbers. I don't know their numbers because the computer keeps track of that. But I track their numbers, correct them when their numbers are yellow or red. I return them from break or lunch when their numbers turn orange. I decide when they take break or lunch based on how many other numbers are gone. I track numbers, with the other numbers for Corp X, so we can keep other numbers in the black, because red numbers are bad.

I gather my numbers, when the Big Number Watchers say other numbers are low enough, and discuss their numbers and how they can make them better. Low numbers good in this column, high numbers good in that column. But in several weeks of supervising numbers, I've only been able to meet with them once. That could be why their numbers aren't as good as some of the other numbers' numbers. It adds up if you think about it.

Several of Corp X's administrative functions are in Salt Lake City. A high percentage of numbers there give a percentage of their monetary numbers to a tax-exempt religious entity. I think the more you give, the better number you are. You'll get more in the end and you'll go to a much better place than the people who didn't share their monetary numbers.

Today was my real awakening as a number. Today, I learned that when our numbers turn yellow or red, you have to jump up and find out why and make sure they don't go red or yellow. I was OK with that.... I'm in a position to help the numbers be ... better numbers.

But Corp X... something happened to my monetary numbers. Instead of the expected compensation, it was $21.20 for two weeks' worth of work. I think it's because a Corp X human made a mistake. I mean, a person? Why aren't there computers doing this work? I mean, the human would have clearly seen the forms and paper work my boss submitted -- as he does every pay period -- to pay me my correct wage.

Then again, it's because to that corporate payroll lackey, I'm a number on a spread sheet. The fact that 89628 worked 89 hours on the last pay period... yeah, that adds up to twenty-one fucking dollars and twenty cents. That fucking adds up, right? It's just 89628. It's not my paycheck, says the bean counter. I get my money, I give to the church and I've got my spot in heaven. And if I fuck up, there's church on Sunday to wash away anything that's gone wrong. I'm good. It's payday. Let's load up the Hummer and take the kids to the Wal-Mart.

Fuck being a number. Fuck taking away humanity. I'm thankful my bosses and co-workers are human. I'm thankful they're able to help tide me over until the corrected check shows up.

And by the way: I refuse to treat the people on my team as numbers. They're people with lives and talents who deserve coaching and interaction. I want them to do well, I want them to have the tools they need to do their jobs. Then the numbers will take care of themselves.

But hey, incompetent mega-corp wannabe: Real businesses take care of their people. Real businesses PAY their people on fucking time. Real businesses hold people accountable. Smart businesses value the employee, the people who are out there helping your sorry corporate ass rake in the cash.

You'll never figure that out. That's why you'll always be ghetto performance.

Self-inflicted wounds, Part 2

Remember that pic from a few days ago? You know, the one with no bruising around the pellet hole in my arm? The bruise is quite impressive. And it stands as a great representation of what 380 feet per second can do.

Yeah, I'm smrt.



Scott made a fairly astute observation the other night -- I shouldn't have shot myself in the arm. And there's the argument that I shouldn't have shot myself. My response to that is, you need to know what kind of force you're dealing with. It's the same reason why cops have to shoot themselves with mace.

The arm was a bad spot. I know that now, especially with how big the bruise is, and how prominent it is. But where else? Foot? Thigh? Shin? Fuck the shin. No way.

For the record, I didn't shoot Kibbee. I don't know why everyone was worried that I would. I'm not gonna shoot someone without good reason, I'll tell ya that much. Not with how much that gun hurts.

Out of control

I really shouldn't be allowed to find these sites...

Your Kissing Technique Is: Perfect

Your kissing technique is amazing - and you know it. You have the confidence to make the first move. And you always seem to know what kissing style is going to work best. Sometimes you're passionate, sometimes you're a tease. And you're always amazing!

Are You a Good Kisser?

You Are Elektra

There's really no superhero with more style than you. Because who could beat being sexy assasin ninja?

What Superhero Are You?

Your Life Is Worth...

$987,000

How Much Is Your Life Worth?

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You tend to take more than give in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

Your Aura is Blue

Spiritual and calm, you tend to live a quiet but enriching life. You are very giving of yourself. And it's hard for you to let go of relationships. The purpose of your life: showing love to other people Famous blues include: Angelina Jolie, the Dali Lama, Oprah Careers for you to try: Psychic, Peace Corps Volunteer, Counselor

What Color Is Your Aura?

You Will Die at Age 76

You're pretty average when it comes to how you live... And how you'll die as well.

What Age Will You Die?

You Are 22 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

You Are From Neptune

You are dreamy and mystical, with a natural psychic ability. You love music, poetry, dance, and (most of all) the open sea. Your soul is filled with possibilities, and your heart overflows with compassion. You can be in a room full of friendly people and feel all alone. If you don't get carried away with one idea, your spiritual nature will see you through anything.

What Planet Are You From?

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't? You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you speak your mind and don't hold back. You know you're right, and you can get quite angry about it. A break-up usually comes as a shock to you. You always think things are going well.

Your Love Life Secrets, Revealed

You Are Animal

A complete lunatic, you're operating on 100% animal instincts. You thrive on uncontrolled energy, and you're downright scary. But you sure can beat a good drum. "Kill! Kill!"

The Muppet Personality Test

Jennifer Saoko Ikuta's Aliases

Your movie star name: Pizza Tats Your fashion designer name is Jennifer Venice Your socialite name is Nefferjen Monterey Your fly girl / guy name is J Iku Your detective name is Cat Kennedy Your barfly name is Scott Jagermeister Your soap opera name is Saoko Carquinez Your rock star name is Twix Sperm Your Star Wars name is Jensam Ikusco Your punk rock band name is The Orgasmic Dildo

The Amazing Meganame Generator

Yeah. I'm spent.