Thursday, September 21, 2006

ten things i want right goddamn now

so, i was at work earlier and under the glare of hallogen lights and the stupor of dehydration which seriously can be as bad as the stupor of whatever else creates stupor, which i guess is alcohol or something, and, wait, this run-on has gone on too long and i forgot my original point but anywaysorz, yeah. i was pulling an anti-theft tag off a really unfortunate sweater (who buys sweaters in arizona for cripe's sake?) when i thought, damn. you know what i want? a freakin whopper junior (b/c as big a girl as i am, ain't no way i can ever finish a whopper. never have. nor have i ever finished a dq blizzard or a mcd's flurry. true fastfood junk story.) and possibly some curly fries. but being as the manager on duty was doing reports and rearranging panties (god i hate that word, it's so perverted) and i was running the sales floor, i didn't get the chance to make a run to the BK lounge. but i still want that goddamn burger. in honor of that love lost, here are

10 things i really, totally, 110% want and by want i mean need but i guess i could go another few days without them but jeez, why are you so mean to me cruel world

1. my own tivo.
seriously. okay funny story, my mother loathes, abhors, detests, hates, etc 99.99999% of what's on tv. but she loves everything on hgtv and *gag* has this habit of tivo-ing tonight's leno to watch tomorrow, because even though it airs at 10:30 in the desert, it's still too late to keep up with. uh? anyway, dammit. so i watch studio 60, heroes (well i will when it begins this monday b/c hey, xmen-ish = okay by me), conan, and baseball games for one of my teams when they so choose to appear on my barren desert programming. is that a crime? in the Court of Mother, apparently it is, because she feels compelled to tape a rerun of hgtv 'designed to sell' that she's seen four times that conflicts with a premeire of one of my effing shows, and she says she's tempted to delete my recording (while i'm at work and she's decidedly not) and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT GODDAMMIT. i want my own tivo. and i'm aware i'm totally shallow and a slave to the digital/visual medium. ess tee eff ewe. but seriously, there's so much promising comedy/drama/dramedy/whateveredy this season that there's no room for clive and his crew of home remodelers. what? so i watch hgtv, shut up. i still feel, that being 26 years younger than said remote maiden, i deserve control of the technological device. and so far, studio 60 owns you. shut up. again.

2. a calzone.
this is really a random and new craving, but i'm really rather enamoured of the thought of dough wrapped around ricotta and mozzerella with marinara and oregano, pumped up to whatever degree it takes to blister a tongue after breaking open and gobbling said calorific delicacy. mmmm. cheese.

3. to not have to work every day from friday through next sunday during dual sales.
apparently my manager is hitting the pipe, because he's decided i'm capable of handling a string of friday-saturday-sunday-monday-tuesday-wednesday-thursday-friday-saturday shifts while we're doing some big sales to move all the merch out of the store, and holy crikey, i'm going to throw up my employee white flag here and beg for mercy. or at least a more than 40% discount on that completely adorable magenta bustier which i probably most definitely have no reason for wearing unless i pair it with some jeans, boots, and a few artfully placed barettes and camis. yay, illogical clothing decisions.

4. to be 100 pounds lighter
not only would it make #3 easier (on my feet and probably my confidence and budget) but, really, i'd love to have more than a few stores to shop at for cute clothes in my effing size. shut up, genetics. for every woman in my extended family you've given this heft to, you've at least been compliant with boob sizes. way to ride the short bus with mine. *kicks history in the nuts* ...*and bra manufacturers, for good measure* *no pun intended. i swear. ttly srsly.*

5. i guess saying sheppard's pie is totally not going to help #4
to continue the theme of what i want is totally not helping something else or whatever i forget so shut up i run this blog and you decidedly do not, i want some sheppard's pie. i'm talking the golden glop from my daycare days, a layer of crumbly beef and carrots and onions smothered in mashed potatoes and cheese and oh lord why am i so hungry? oh, right. it's because my diet as of late has consisted of two sandwiches and one diet soda a day and at least 5 hours of scuttling stock-checking retail (at least) and yet i never lose any weight. I HATE YOU UNIVERSE. anyway, maybe i'm just longing for childhood, but it's more probable i'm just lusting after mashed potatoes. 50% irish here, after all. mmm. rooty veggies mashed to a pulp and mixed with cow. who can deny that tastebud trip?

6. some comfortable shoes
here's a relatively sad/stupid/retarded/pointless story- i spent about $75 on crocs, which were not the miracle shoes my feet needed. nay, my friends, the anti-sweat anti-pain shoes made my feet squeak, sweat, and hurt after one day. so i tried some easy spirit dandies in hope of reaching sole and/or arch supported bliss, combined with dr scholl's insoles, and my tootsies (did i just say tootsies? shoot me and/or tire-iron me) hurt after a couple hours with those bastards. the most comfortable thing i've come across? my $3.50 old navy flip flops. go fig. but hell, a size 26 girl working for 8 hours under hallogen running back slacks and button downs is bound to have uncomfy feet and holy hell, would it kill you damn manufacturers to make a shoe for the bigger? we aren't exactly a minority anymore. hell, it ought to be a law, for every 'we serve man-size portions!' applebees/golden corral/burger king/olive garden/whever commercial that there must spring anew a bigger size clothing or larger heft shoe company. i'm not a product of junk but of genetics, but i'm a big girl none the less and we need a damn shoe that fits and supports our fragile arches. slaughter penguins for research if you must, i don't care. just don't tell me about it. and for the record, penguins are hilarious b/c they totally can't fly. hahahaha, suckers. oh wait, i can't fly either. and like the penguin, i am destined to live a life in black and white, coated with blubber. oh joy. and by the way, why is it that as our portions get bigger, women are supposed to be smaller? hey, jackass, we like a burger and fries too. shut up. i'm in no fit mood to argue you on this point save for the fact that no, at least my my ilk are not going to sit idly by. oh no. we're going to buy into your damn burgers and then expect something that fit us. can't have it both ways, puritanicalstripclubgiganticburgertinywaitress america! oh no, indeed. hoy! okay yeah i'm rambling. what. it's 3 in the morning. give me some slack. and a hash brown with coffee.

7. a dozen more IQ points and/or probably another point on my gpa
...i just want to go to grad school so i can do my pedigree, phd-weilding parents, and non-IQ intelligence justice. dammit. linguistics is where it's at. as it stands, a 2.5 isn't exactly that impressive. i have reasons for why it dipped that low, but really, why is a review board going to be that interested if i'm not elle woods? face it, she stole all the ideas and ran with them. we're left with nothing, my friends. an un-pink un-fashionable NOTHING.

8. an 80-gig ipod
oh, no. believe me. i have no logical reason to want to watch movies/tv/whichever on an ipod screen. but, um, i'm so, so, so, soooooooooooooo (x10^infinity) tempted to blow my past month's retail wages on one so i can watch pirates of the caribbean or the office while lounging in bed. i suck. but apple sucks more for rendering my 20 gig non-video black-and-white ipod obsolete even though it's less than two years old. DAMMIT APPLE, STOP EVOLVING, YOU COCKSUCKERS.

9. my own apartment.
again, this is sort of self-explanitory. but i don't even care if i'm sharing with a roommate (actually i'd prefer it-i want someone to bounce dialogue off of and i'm pretty sure i couldn't afford rent for a single person) and, wait, what? yeah, anyway, i need to get the hell out of here. sure, if you're 24 and above and are in grad/law/business/whatever school and/or you have some sort of well-meaning but not well-paying job it's cool to live with your rents/bro/sis/aunt/whoever so long as you can foot the rent but if you're not and can't, the world has nothing to do with you. which sucks. cause i'm totally a case of awesome waiting to be tapped. also, i desire nothing more than to live fetters-free in dc or boston or nyc or ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ARIZONA GODFUCKINGDAMMIT. the end. i think.

10. a hug.
what? bitchy ranters need hugs too. oprah says so. we all need five a day. so cough up the arm wrappage, bitch.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

one scorpion lollipop and nine other stupidities

holy crap, i'm not dead!!! no no, my friends, just working as your local friendly neighborhood prettyful clothes pusher, who then asks you to save 15% by opening a charge account so i can meet my quota, make my boss happy, make his boss happy, and tra la la yeah i know. how the mighty fall. which really has nothing to do with me, as, was never mighty. anyway, i know i've been gone awhile and all three of you have felt such a lack of snarky and/or ten-ish lists in your life. (haha, ten-ish sounds like tennis with a lisp. yeah i know. i'm slipping. shut up.) anyhoooooo, i've been held hostage by work, netflix dvd's, piles of laundry at my own expense, and a slew of random gems (or not-so-gemtastic things) that i've been mulling over for the past few weeks. thus i bring to you this collection:

ten things i feel compelled to comment on at the moment, because seriously, i took a decongestant and i'm going to be up til at least 4 and i'm in no fit state to read so i may as well write, aren't you glad, internet? no? well, shut up then.

1. the scorpion lollipop
this is no joke, folks. and quite honestly, only in effing arizona could you buy this tripe. a lollipop/sucker/tasty delight containing a FUCKING GODDAMN SCORPION in the middle. tootsie rolls and/or charms gum > frigging poisonous bugs with STINGERS. who is selling these tastebud gadgets? i spend my time smashing them off the wall with the joy of cooking (any girl's standard 'throw it at the bug and run away' volume) and/or scooping it up via tupperware and cardboard and plunging it to a watery grave in my toilets' underearth plumbing, and here's this jackass stuffing them into green goo and selling them for over $3 a pop. what the fuck? yes. what the fuck indeed. if i'd known they were selling these bastards in suckerish form, i could have made an easy hundred or two last summer peeling the bastards off my wall and carpet. welcome to the desert. kind of like that jungle song, you're gonna dieeeeee. in any event, this is dumb and disturbing at the same time. and i bet the green part doesn't even taste good. what a bastard.

2. so britney spawned her second baby
...and apparently named it sutton pierce. pierce is okay (it gets my mom's vote b/c she loves pierce brosnan (who shares my birthday, and check it out, i've got parentheses within parentheses! so avant garde...or lazy. whichever.) and um, yeah, i guess i could close the other parenthes...what the fuck is the singular form of parentheses?) and what the fuck is sutton? some sort of ivy league prepsteriffic title?'s better than jailynn or cletus. so, okay. fine. but way to give your kid the same initials as the first kid and only two days before his birthday. but overall, i have to give brit some snaps (or props, or whatever it is white people are allowed to say that doesn't make them look like total asses, i'll stick with just half an ass for now) for not going the pilot inspector or audio science or moxy crimefighter or bluebell madonna route. yeah. i know. i know far too much about frivolous crap. sue me. someday US weekly will want me.

...why do we have middle names anyway? i mean, aside from credit applications or any other legal document type thingey, do we even have reason? waste of ink and paper and breath! boooo! okay yeah. it's official, i pick the stupidest things to rage against.

3. i have deleted this one

...mostly because it's not true anymore, and also because i'm a shrew and if hobag in question figured out i spaketh a harsh word against her, she'd probably punch me in the jaw, and i'm a fan of my face. but at any rate, relive the glory that was this mini-rant with the basic kernel of an idea it once contained:

i swear to jesus on his pogo stick i will cut you. SHUT UP I HATE YOU AND I HOPE YOU DIE YOU WHORELING CUM DUMPSTER DIPSHIT DOUCHERAG.

...the end.

4. the farting preacher
click and pbbbbfffttt along

...i really don't have much to comment on about on this other than the fact that i haven't laughed this hard since i was little and thought madballs and transformers were the epitome of badassery.

5. 9/11 five years later there a reason we have to have a media circus around this? we saw 3,000 people die. live. in front of us. remembering in a day of silence is enough. shut up, made-for-tv movies.

6. there is a cactus in my foot
okay so it's a tiny piece of cactus burr, but honestly, fuck this goddamn desert. you have a splinter? whatever. come talk to the enflamed and hurty ball of my right foot and i'll kick you with it and win. even pins and tweezers and iodine can't win on this one. again, fucking desert.

7. midterm elections
uhh, stuff happened, political in nature, things, etc, the end. yeah. actually i really shamefully admit i have no idea what happened. i'm like an ostritch with its political head in the sand, but replace sand with tablids and head with, uh, okay fine. head is the same appendage in this comparison. i lose. but i'll blame it on my local paper and its complete and utter lack of talent in the editorial/writing/anything department. they could have told me who was scheduled to go to space, take over the planet, or give me ten million dollars, and i wouldn't understand it because it's so riddled in typos and allusions to random 70's tv shows. oh god get me out of here.

8. there's a lack of helium
apparently helium manufacturers are all 'ummmm, we might not have enough lighter-than-air product for your macy's thanksgiving parade or little timmy's birthday party balloons.' i have a question- why is this a problem? helium is on the periodic table of the elements, yes? which means it exists quite naturally, yes? then why the hell is there a shortage? quit snorting it and fill up snoopy, you douchebags.

9. billy bush is an ass.
i have to admit that my #9 spot was originally going to play host to ragweed allergies and/or something else i forgot i deleted, but now that access hollywood is on and i have to listen to billy bush blather, i remember how annoying it was to wake up to him as one half of the morning show on z104 back in the day in dc. gone are the days of 97 and 98 radio, but goddamn gone are not the days of that grating voice and stupid questions. thank god for jeremy piven at the emmy's,though, with the verbal celebrity baby smackdown. and yes, i know my colmun (in my dreams)/blog/rant/list/thingcrapblobetc has demoted itself to celeb gossip countless times, but oh my god, can we kill the billy bush already? or at least give him a severe case of laryngitis or alzheimers or something else? seriously? anybody, give me a disease here. i'm reaching. plus, he's a cousin of dubya. that's reason enough to get him deleted. and if you don't agree with me, congratulations, you get a complimentary kick to the genitals.

10. apparently there's a walmart anti-smear campaign
...and my desert locale is a 'test market' for said campaign, where walmart plans to unleash its 'omg we don't deny anybody health insurance' and 'we're angelic social wonderfulnessmongers!!!' ads. ummm, yeah. does not compute. you're fucking walmart, and kind of like an oracle and 4th hobag, you're fine to visit at 3 am but you can't build a secure lifestyle around it. and i admit that was a really weak metaphore but fuck it, i'm tired and my teeth hurt from sinuses, allergies, and whatever else awaits me in the great wild blue wonderful that isn't so wonderful, IS IT?!

up next, ten shows i plan on watching again and/or giving a chance on my fall tv weigh-in. because i count as much as alynda wheat (my EW hero) or, uh, anybody else. oh god. i'm useless. *watches repeats of leno to hope she's at least more decent and less chinny than that* okay. goodnight. or goodmorning. good part-of-day. the end.

Friday, September 01, 2006

ten reasons the desert is sofa king retarded

uh, wow. so i'm watching the local yokels on nbc in the desert (believe me, it's not exactly your cosmopolitain peacock network) and alice cooper just told me to register my car with the fine state of arizona while he was sitting in a golf cart. i'd say let that digest for a bit but it's really probably not going to because that right there is the grizzle of psa's. fortunately for this bastion of unbridled loathing for almost anything that is, was or will be, it got me thinking:

the desert fucking sucks. no, really. i mean, for cripe's sake not only can i not get any east coast ball games, but our damn local baseball team is terrible and their uniforms are turquoise and purple. ow, you guys, those are my goddamned retinas, so be easy on them with the hideous early 90's color palate. also, we're either 50th or 49th in the totem pole in terms of states giving money to education and the nation's capital for skin cancer. if you haven't been accosted by a panhandler, worked a soul-sucking data entry and/or call center gig or burned your hands on the steering wheel and your ass on the seat, then you have not been here long enough and should really leave before the place infects you. i'm not kidding. get out. why aren't you listening to me? fine. i'll break this out:

10 reasons to avoid the state of arizona like the plague

1. everything is pointy.
if it grows here, it has thorns or spikes or both. we've got a bevy of cactus and yes i know the plural is cacti but that looks dumb and people won't know what i'm talking about. anyway, we've got giant cactus the size of three linebackers ready to impale you with several-inch long daggers should it fall on you (and they do, with no notice), little cactus shaped like paddles which, okay, if you're into that sort of thing but holy god ow, creeping cactus, jumping cactus, jagged aloe vera plants the size of a ginourmous green bonfire, prickly grasses, hell even the fucking lemon trees poke. and we're not talking about easy prickles here either. we're talking 'oh my god it's three days later and i think a shard is still in my skin holy shit i'm going to die of inflammation and how humiliating is that, seriously?' type of spikes. nuke 'em all. and it's not just plants either. don't forget about bobcats, bears, mountain lions, and crazed birds of prey. all pointy with their sharp teeth of the meat-mangling persuasion. and if you think i'm lying, come live out here and i'll laugh at your tombstone later.

2. everything is poisonous.
okay, i should get a pants-shittingly shiny medal of honor or at least a girlscout badge of survival for making it two damn years in the desert without having a (venomous) run-in with a rattlesnake, black widow, brown recluse spider, gila monster, or scorpion. oh i've had run-ins with the fuckers, just thankfully while i was wearing shoes, except for all the times i've woken up and/or just gotten out of the shower and whoopdeefuckingdoo, there's a scorpion on the wall and/or floor and oh my god, die already you asshats. jesus, what are we paying the 4-times-a-year exterminator for? i'm sure it's not to flirt obnoxiously with me, which he does anyway but i'll consider that his tip for getting to spend time with yours truly. but honestly jackass- you missed a spot. and by spot i mean scorpion nest. and if they don't live in nests, i'm not apologizing for being wrong, because i have to deal with them and you don't. the end.

3. if it's not poisonous or sharp, it's just plain stupid.
this could be because the state of arizona cares so little about education that it seriously gives less than freaking any other state to education. yeah we're a red state, what do you expect? in any event, the people here have lounged out in the heat so long that aside from tanning their skin into rawhide and bleaching their hair into something straw would envy, they have fried their brains into puddles of cerebellar goo. this is the state where you hear such gems like "i seen", which as you hopefully know makes me feel like sacrificing a goat or ten to the god of grammar in hopes of cleaning the badness. also, you're likely to hear something like this:

az person #1: so i'm reading maya angelou and--
az person #2: ...who?
az person #1: ...'i know why the caged bird sings', ring a bell?
az person #2: it that painter guy? michaelangeno?
az person #1: ...sure.
az person #2: wait, he sings now?

editor (or lack thereof)'s note, these people were my amusing friends at a job i had some time ago. but it doesn't detract from the fact that arizona illegally depletes people's brain cells. by whole brains at a time, mind you. MIND. hahah yes i meant it.

4. the goddamn 'dry heat'.
well so's a fucking oven, but you don't stick your goshbedanged head in it. to wit, wasn't that how one of the sisters in the virgin suicides offed herself? yup, i'm pretty sure it was a head in the oven. by the way, the book was really good but the movie sucked hardcore. anyway, the heat is by all counts illegal, and anytime it gets above 100 degrees everyone should get free coupons for slurpees and/or a government financed move to the cooler coast, because it's a damn state of emergency when it's 114. jerks. who thought to colonize this place? the spaniards? i'll kill you bastards, all of you. after i have some fritata anyway. mmm. fritata. but yeah. when it's hot enough that you have to carry a separate stick of deoderant in your purse and if you accidentally leave it in your car for 5 minutes it's melted and gooey along with the seat, the styrofoam cup and your cds, well, then, that's just shittastic. but that's not all, we're giving away free heat exhaustion and dehydration packages every hour! oh god shoot me now.

5. mailbox vandals.
seriously- there's a roving band of kids, most likely meth-heads, who take it upon themselves to drive their car into mailboxes. and as a testament to how snappishly smart the good citizens of this state are, NOBODY HAS CAUGHT THEM YET, and they've been at it for two years, leaving car parts on lawns (and by lawn i mean carpet of disgusting brown desert grass and artfully placed boulders) and most probably fingerprints. isn't this mail fraud, or something? gah. not only have they obliterated my mailbox, but they've gone up and down nearly every street in my neighborhood and all the surrounding areas to do the same thing and jesus h christ, if you're going to do something that stupid, at least rob people while you're at it. but not me. i have important, valuable things. god, this state is so fucking idiotic. even the people wrecking things can't get it right.

6. bad drivers.
fuck off, arizona drivers. i say this as a carseat-to-steering wheel child of washington dc, bred on i95 and 66 and the beltway and alexandria and all that stopsigned, yellow-light exhaust-clogged jazz. what this means is i'm well versed in the trappings of rough driving. however, this goddamn desert and its vultures of automobilic transportation are a different breed. we've got the snowbirds (read: old-ish out-of-towners) who have no idea where they're going because blanche lost the directions and harriet can't find them and what street are we turning on to get to tiffany's and nine west? we've got maude and wilbur, the retirees who are so fucking goddamn decrepit that not only do they look like the crypt keeper's older cousins but they can't even fucking hold their head still in their driver's license shots and the guy behind the dmv (oh i'm sorry, in the desert it's the mvd, aka, we're mightily vast dumbfucks) counter shakes his head and almost doesn't give the geezers licenses but he's on break in 5 so what does he care. then we have crystal and amber, the college tards who drive over medians in their pink jeep and then have daddy wire the money for a new one when they have a drunken fender bender with maude while i'm trying to drive home from the movie theater, thank you. oh god you should all be forbidden from *touching* a steering wheel, and i don't care if it's on a go-kart. you all suck with your lane weaving and your median jumping and no turn signals and nascar turn-lane cut offs and your incessant need to drive either 15 or 98 miles an hour. jesus h christ on a pogo stick, i hope you get buried next to the guy from #1 so i can laugh at you all together for perpetuating such four-wheel douchebaggery. by the way, your cars are all ugly. try upgrading to something possibly made in the 90's.

7. there are no seasons.
okay there are two- livable and non. go read #4 again for a refresher on why the summer does not make it okay to live here. ever. and i don't care if you think 70 degrees in the 'winter' is great, because by the time you factor in all this other bullshit it's lame and wintery snowmen are fun. and the only snowman you can make in arizona is out of hostess snowballs, and they only sell the pink kind anway, and who wants a pink snowman? exactly. this state sucks. but i'll admit it is funny to see natives shiver when it dips below 70 degrees and pull on parkas and hats when it gets to 60. dumbfucks, way to break out the earmuffs when it gets to 55.

8. the rate of pay is stoopid.
unless you're an exec and/or have some sort of government job, don't expect to make more than $8 an hour. the end. exactly. there's a reason that rent is so cheap. and i fucking went to college. *throws up financial white flag* jesus, i mean, what? because it's hot you can pay people less? god, what assfuckers. but believe you me, i've had five jobs out here and not one has paid what a college grad should earn. and they wonder why arizona is such a cheap and retarded goddamn state, oh my god city hall i will set rabid howler monkeys to steal your collective spleens for being so cheap.

9. the water is full of calcium.
seriously. i can count on two hands the number of people i've known since coming out here who've fallen prey to kidney stones, gall baldder woes, gall stones, and other random calcifications of body parts that should remain squishy and never something i could skip in a river, such as one would exist here but doesn't because well, it's a fucking desert. honestly, just don't drink the goddamn water. and i hate paying for water, cheap bastard that i am, but even i swing the dollars for bottled water without effing goddamn rocks in it. shut up, sonora desert.

10. theft.
car theft, identity theft, general crap theft, soul theft- we've got them all in spades, yes we do. i think that should be arizona's new tourism grab- 'we're #1! theft.' actually recently we lost out to nevada on car theft and now we're only #2, but did i mention the identity theft, petty theft and theft of will to live? yeah. hence, suckage. not that i believe we have souls anyway but maybe they just left mine out of me and that's why i'm a heartless bastard. you know you love it. and i hope by now you hate arizona. join with me in the circle of hate. we chant like a prayer and/or meditation circle but instead of being all sappy and/or hippie about it, we burn calories via hatred. it's exercise!

okay. that's that. and now it's time to sleep and i swear to jebus on a crutch if i have to work tomorrow someone's tit is getting twisted off. and that's all she wrote. for now.