Happiness

Happiness is bleaching your hair and dying it pink.

Happiness is the bow-tie pasta at Galaxy Cafe in South Austin.

Happiness is having your errands done in time for lunch/dinner and still have time to eat and then go to school.

Today was as good as any other. I slept in until ten. Got up, went and got my hair done. Had some great laughs and a little serious conversation with my hairstylist. I got done with that, ran the errands I've been putting off all week, and was headed for home sooner than I thought. Oh, what I'd give for a spot of some pasta, cheese, and squash. So I rang up the Galaxy Cafe.
A cute voice on the other end answered the phone, "Galaxy Cafe."
Me, "Hey. Can I place an order for pick-up?"
Her, "Sure, what would you like?"
Me, "The bow-tie pasta, please."
Her, "What kind of dressing would you like with that?"
Me, "Er, well, it isn't a salad, what I'm wanting."
Her, "It comes with a salad."
Me, "Oh yeah. Just ranch or some variety thereof is fine."
Her, "Alright, your total's (seven bucks or something, I can't remember now) and it'll be ready in about ten minutes."

Perfect. I was about ten minutes away. So I pulled up, went inside and paid for my order, left a tip, got some tea, and left. Never checked what was in the bag. Never thought to check what was in the bag.
I get home, salivating by this time, ready for the world's best pasta. I carefully removed the plastic silverware from the bag, the mini paper menu, and finally the prize. But no little box, like a side salad would go in.
I figured out why when I opened the box. It was a salad. Not just any, but one with pesto on it. It doesn't happen very often, but there are people in this world allergic to basil. I happen to be one of them. It's kind of a strange thing. I probably wouldn't fall over dead or have a seizure or something, but it isn't exactly a walk in the park, either. So I came back. At first, the girl said, "Well, that's what we have during the day that has bow-tie pasta in it." She was genuinely not trying to be a twit. She said it like she'd honestly thought by ordering "bow-tie pasta" I wanted the Pesto Pasta Salad. Although she didn't seem to be trying to be a twit, I wanted to call her a twit.
"Well. I would be fine with it, normally. I would totally eat it. If it didn't have pesto on it. I'm allergic to Basil."
She almost looked at me blankly, like she was going to, and caught herself, and if I wasn't staring at her the entire time I would have probably missed this precious moment.
"Let me get my manager for you." She says.
I went back over it with the manager. She asked what it was I was wanting, and I said, "Well, I realized after looking at the menu that you guys don't serve it until after five," and before I could say, "I just want my money back so I can just get a sandwich at school," she asked what it was. And I told her.
She put the order in. It was pretty cool, mainly, because the stuff I wanted was more expensive than what the fuck up was. And I got more tea. For free.
So, I grabbed my computer and set up shop until it was time for class. They have wi-fi. God loves wi-fi.

Scattegories

It is once again weekly update time. I like to try and write more than this, but on the skimpy 13 days of vacation time, I've been achieving absolutely nothing. It's everything I thought it could be.
So I've been reading this thing and have been absolutely astounded by people's stupidity. It's okay. Click the link. It's safe. No naked people at 419 Eater. If you don't believe me, read on and I will ease your mind.

419 is a scam. We've all gotten the e-mails about someone in Nigeria or overseas that has vast amounts of money and they're just begging to give it away. Yeah. Not.Likely. My daddy taught me better than that. He said "If something's too good to be true, it probably is." I will never forget this. I remember reading my first 419 scam e-mail. I scanned it, and just clicked "mark as spam."

What gets me, is people fall for this shit. I'm sure some letters are written quick convincingly. There are many many many different flavors of this scam. Someone's inheriting money and they need to move it out of the country. Someone's dying of AIDS and wants to set up a trust fund so you can take care of their children. More recently, in my gmail of all places, You've won the UK lottery that you never entered. I've never been to the UK. Shit. I've never left the US. I don't even play the Texas lottery. But, apparently, my email address is chosen at random every week. Along with a couple thousand other people, I'm sure.

If I ever know someone personally who falls for this bullshit, I will slap them. All these people are going to do is ask you for a lot of money to push their paperwork through, and when you want your money, there's going to be hang ups. I just can't see how some people could be so stupid.

In other news, I went to Schlitterbahn on Monday. Yes, during my exquisitely long and luxurious vacation I was dowsing off in a water park with rides that give enemas and pretzels that have enough salt to induce sodium poisoning. I loved every minute of it except the part where I freaked out on the soda straws, screamed bloody murder all the way down, forgot to breath, and took a very much not wanted forced breath under water. I'm so quiting smoking if that's what I have to look forward to in my fifties. I'm serious. I'm quitting smoking.
Other than that, it was a much needed break from everything. I took a friend with me that made me eat something like every two hours. Well, he didn't *make* me, but he suggested it. And I nibbled here and there. It's hard to eat while hot and wet and sweaty. We drank enough coffee to kill a whole tribe of small animals, and we walked around Texas State long enough to not have to think about exercising for the rest of the month. It's a nice campus. I'm excited. I'm going to make another trip down there very soon to get enrollment paper work started for next fall.

And tonight I'm going up to where I go to AA meetings, my home group, and I'm going to pick up my 9 year chip. I still can't believe I've been sober this long. When I first got sober, and keep in mind I was pretty fucked up emotionally, mentally, spiritually... I didn't think I was going to last six months. I didn't think I could live that long and not drink. I didn't want to live if I was going to drink. Effectively, I'd decided if AA didn't work I was going to kill myself.
I was 16.
Next month I'm going to turn 26. I finally think it's safe to say I've been sober longer than I drank.

All in all, life is pretty fuckin good.

Making The Grade

So, I put some extra work into my Legal Research class. I brainstormed, I researched, I typed, I turned it in. It's the first ever piece of extra credit I've ever done during my current run in college. I'm getting an A. It's also one of the first few times I've needed extra credit to get an A.
How on earth I managed to get a 95 on the final, I'll never know.
That was the day of no sandwich for me.
I'd gone to the coffee shop to finish putting together my Research Notebook, I'd finished it with enough time to drive to the campus, order a sandwich, eat it, and get into class on time.
I got there and walked into the cafeteria. The kitchen was closed. Ah, but never fear. They have tasty tuna salad sandwiches in the spinning machine. I carefully selected the sandwich. Lined up the hole with the door. Fished two dollars and twenty five cents out of my pocket. Lined up the door with the hole again because the stupid thing does this automated twirly display thing. I put the money in. I reached for the door and pulled. On the message indicated it flashed "Error. Out of Service. Make another selection." So I tried another sandwich door. Ham. I'll eat ham. I'm starving. The indicator flashes "Please insert $2.25"
I already gave you money. Give up the fucking sandwich!

Defeated, I headed for class thirty minutes early.
As I sat down I was chatting with a friend. She was pulling out her books and notes.
"Oh shit. Are we allowed to *have* our books?"
"Oh yeah," She tells me, "It's an open book test. Didn't you know?"
Fuck. Someone remind me to show up to class more often next semester.

I grabbed my notebook and laptop and ran out the door, up the street, to my car and scooted home for my books that I hadn't seen in weeks. Never. Ever. Take an open book test in college without the books. No matter how hard you study. They'll have you do things like complete sentences out of these books you haven't read all term. Anyway, my mad dash home didn't net me another speeding ticket, but it should have. On my way there, I formulated this idea: Grab the books. Make a sandwich. Get out of dodge. So I grabbed my books. Slapped a sandwich together and was on my merry way.

I was on the road about five minutes before picking up the sandwich. I realized I hadn't inspected it before then in my haste. I looked. To my vast sandwichless disappointment, the meat had mold on it. My parents lit out of two a day or two before and took all the fresh lunch meat, it seems. So I wrapped the sad parcel in the napkin and lay it between the seats.
No sandwich for me.

I was thirty minutes late back to class instead of thirty minutes early.

My Mailman, My Mechanic, And Other Nonsense

I can't stand my mailman. I wish I were home when he came by so I could say shitty things to him or stab him in the face. And that's the problem. He comes by so late (after 5 usually) that I don't have the chance to say shitty things to him. Or stab him. And so, the mail goes out from the post office at 11am and again at 4:30 pm. Anything I send doesn't actually go out until the next day because of this. I could take whatever I need mailed to the post office, but on my luck that bastard would come early that day. Plus, what's the point of a mail box with a flag if I'm going to be running things to the post office myself? What the fuck am I paying 42 cents a letter for? Him to go out all weekend and come in Mondays (ooo.. especially Mondays) hung over?

Anything I've ever said bad about my mechanic, I officially take back. Yesterday I was almost at this point, today I'm totally there. Yesterday I took my car to the shop to have the struts done. I drove over there and one of the guys on his crew brought me home. I did all my important stuff that I had to do at my house, took a nap, and woke up to his wife calling saying she would come pick me up. I got the car back, did the errands I had to do, and noticed it was making a strange noise when I went over bumps. I figured it was the new springy things settling. In the evening, I was going for coffee and was going to stop by the cigarette store first. In between my house and the cigarette store are train tracks. I did what I usually do, slowed down to about 25, and bounced over them. My car started making a stranger noise that didn't stop until I did.
I stopped, turned around and drove back towards my house. Strange noise still there. I called the mechanic, even though I knew he'd gone when I picked up the car, in hopes that someone was there. No answer. I decided to come back home. I woke up this morning to him calling me back. He called me back, even though I didn't leave a message. I told him what had happened. Said the noise was like a metallic hum and only happened when I was moving. He said he'd pick it up in thirty minutes so he could drive it into the shop and listen. So, I put my key under the mat and starting in studying more for my final. I got another call about an hour later and his guy said the hub was bad and wanted to know if I wanted them to go ahead and fix it. I said yes and called my dad and let him know. He said the mechanic agreed to be paid on Friday when he comes home.
Sitting in my living room earlier, because it's really really hot outside, I heard my screen door. I peeked out my peep hole and saw a car driving away. I opened the door and the key to the car was hanging on the lever for the screen door. I decided then that I love these guys. My car got fixed. I didn't have to give them any money right now, the picked up the car and dropped it off. He's got to be the most convenient guy in the world.

I'm way too tired to study for this test. I'll probably go to the coffee shop and do it, even though it's a hundred million degrees outside. I just want to drive the car because it drives so nice now. It doesn't feel like it's going to shake apart into a million pieces when I stop at a red light anymore. Plus I need to go get cat food before the cats start planning my unfortunate demise because they had to eat dog food earlier today..

Crunch crunch crunch

It's finally finals week. I took my Family Law final this morning online. I have one left, tomorrow night, at 6pm. Pray for me. It's going to suck. A lot.
Of course, nothing can be worse than the final I took in Ethics last year. It took me three and a half hours. Which doesn't sound like much if you're in graduate school. But then, by the time I reach graduate school or even go on for my Bachelors, I'd like to hope I know most of this shit. I wrote out four essays for that final and answered god remembers how many short answer questions. Around essay number two I had to pee. Around essay number three I had to pee really really bad. I'm sure essay number four was the biggest piece of literary crap ever to have my name signed to it. I was tired, I had to pee (yes, this is for emphasis), and I couldn't put together a string coherent thoughts by then.
But, nevertheless, I am grateful to be in college. Most of it is paid for by the great state of Texas. Tomorrow I will be free for all of 12 days. Let's see how much hell I can achieve on such short notice. I've already got plans for Schlitterbahn. There's also plenty of laying around the house and knitting scheduled.
So I've been studying and doing the things I promised myself I would gradually do over the semester. Of course, I didn't do them. I knew I wouldn't, but I promised anyway. So much for not making promises I can't keep. I figure though it's okay if they're promises to myself.

Oh man. I need to do something mindless.

God loves Republicans

So.. I'm going to steal some material from Bill Maher. During the last stand up of his I watched he remarked that Republicans were more concerned about whether or not teenagers fucked than they were about their education. He was talking about the grand "Abstinence-only" method of "birth control" being taught in school. Apparently, teenage girls are six times more likely to give oral sex, and four times more likely to engage in anal sex.


It is for this reason that God actually loves Republicans. In what I'm about to say know that I in no way advocate sex with underage teenagers, and in saying "teens" I'm referring to the ones 18 and older (or here in Texas 17).


God loves Republicans because the Republicans have made a generation of teenage girls who will FINALLY give head and anal sex because thanks to the "Abstinence Pledge" the vagina is off limits.


And this is what gets me about the Republican party. Well, any politician really. Girls know so little about their body that they think if they don't have vaginal sex it's ok. Well, I'm not saying getting banged in the ass or giving head is bad. But what bad is when I'm talking to a fellow female about sex or birth control, they usually ask me what I use. I have an IUD. What gets me, what's sad, what makes me know in my soul our educational system has lost its priorities in this area is that blank look I get. IUD's have been around since the 1950s. It's probably the second oldest method of birth control. Well, maybe third. Diaphragms, Rhythm Method (if that is a form of birth control), and then IUD. See, the Rhythm Method doesn't work because women know so little about their bodies they're not sure when they ovulate. That's sad. There are countless women out there who don't even know that usually (not always) ovulation occurs a few days before the period. Some women it's two weeks. It depends on the women. They don't know that what sets off a menstrual period is an unfertilized egg that's being passed out of the body.


Am I just going to blame the Republican party? Eh. I could. But I'd rather blame fucking everyone. The Republicans for thinking kids are too irresponsible to know about their bodies and what's available for them to make responsible decisions. The parents for thinking their kids will be taught about 'this stuff' at school. Yeah they'll learn about it at school. But chances are, most of what they listen to is from their friends. No it's not a comfortable subject, but it's so important finding a comfortable way to go about it is imperative. And finally, to the kids themselves who've made little or no effort to find the truth. There's a wealth of information on the internet, books, older people. There are so many resources at their fingertips. But people are so scared. Not just the adults but the kids too.


I want to scream and rip out my hair when I'm talking with someone, about something I would like to think is common knowledge, and they say something like "Wow I never knew that. Glad we had this conversation." Because it should be common knowledge that birth control pills and any other medication that alters the state of a body's hormone system can be very dangerous. Not just to smokers. Not just to women over 35. It should be common knowledge, and bare with me, but it's possible, that women can get pregnant without full on vaginal intercourse. It should be common knowledge that few STDs actually have symptoms and that condoms are effective ways of preventing STDs. It should be common knowledge that you can get these same STDs in your mouth and on your ass. See, what people don't get, is that knowledge is more powerful than what's going on now. "Just don't do it." "Abstinence Pledge." This is all the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard. Teenagers are going to do it. At least equip them with the knowledge of how not to get pregnant (other than "just don't have sex") and how to prevent getting an STD. Ignoring this and keeping on the same path is only going to make things work. Most people's biggest mistakes are because they didn't know.

Here I am again..

At 4:30 in the morning. Bored out of my skull. I promise not to bore you with more current events or anything of a political nature. I'm sitting on my back porch amongst wolf spiders large enough to take off a toe. I'm serious. I saw one the other day that was about four inches long.


So, I signed up for this whole twitter thing. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I keep asking myself, do I really want the entire web knowing what I'm doing off-handedly every moment of every day? Or, whenever I choose to send in an update? On my luck, and according to my good humored nature, I'll be in the throws of orgasm sometime next week, pick up my cell phone and text in something like, "Orgasming rite nao. Can't talk. Legs shaky."


And who ever I'm with will probably slink out of bed, get their cloths on and quietly ask me to leave. And take my goddamn cell phone with me.


I'm guessing I don't get why people think other people care what they might be doing at any given moment. Yes I know. I signed up for it. But mainly, because, if you look to the right, blogger has a widget for it. It's mainly for YOU. Yes. You, sitting there, reading these words on my blog. Because I'm pretty sure you might care when I orgasm or eat a beef and bean burrito or make orange kool-aid.

Other random things to do at this hour include blogging, bugging Hector, and Pogo. Also, knitting. But I like watching TV while I knit and the kids are all sleeping in the living room. I would watch 300 again.. but I get so distracted by the perfect six pack on every one of those men. Mmmm. Hollywood actually did something right, for once. Don't ask me what this movies about. You'll get an answer like "Plot? 300 has plot? Do they talk and stuff?" Because I just pause it and drool.

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Okay, so joking. I've watched that movie backwards and forwards and know exactly what it's about.

So apparently...

I'm a bit behind in the times. I just *barely* read about this whole Michael Vick thing. There are so many links out there, but I chose that one because it sums up my desire for this dude to get thrown in prison and ass raped for ten years. I mean, as weird as this sounds, dog fightings one thing. Yeah, that's cruel, but some of the other things, like throwing water on the dog and electrocuting it because it lost? That more or less takes the cake for sick fuckdom. And apparently his little brother, Marcus Vick isn't much better.


Of course, the NAACP urges the public not to pre-judge Michael Vick, but they seem to have no problem pre-judging on their own terms. You can read more here. Like any public interest group, they seem to be out to serve whatever interest serves them. And that's okay. Just know that when you hear from them. I really think the only reason why even the idea of race is still around is because the NAACP can't resist but step up and make it a white or black issue. I didn't even think of that until my dad mentioned to me what the NAACP was talking about. They served their purpose back in the days of the Civil Rights movements, and in places of the south that are behind in the times, but know I feel as though they're creating the division they once fought so hard to destroy. In other words, it's becoming a race issue because they're making it one. Same with the Lacrosse players at Duke. It was fine. People settle those things out of court ALL the time. White men. Mexicans. But because that girl was black. Because those boys were white. The NAACP made it a race issue. In 2007, this idea is stunning bullshit. They will tell you racism is alive and well. And it is. In backwoods towns where the KKK is still a trendy thing. On the national level it is not until they make it so.

The biggest problem with national interest groups is someone always gets fucked. The Lacrosse players? They got fucked. Anyone with any fame status will now get fucked for even looking at a black women wrong. Women's interest groups fuck men. With these people running around serving their own interests there can be no justice. Do I think those Lacrosse players should have served jail time? Yes I do. I believe any man who rapes a women deserves to spend time in jail. Not just white men of 'status' raping a black women. Or, the other way around. I believe all men of any race or creed deserve to spend time in jail for raping a women of any race or creed. So where's the NAACP when a black man does something wrong? They're standing behind him. Telling us not to pre-judge.

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In other news, I had a great laugh this morning at my laptop and HP. My laptop says it has the capacity for 4 gigs of RAM. The HP website, on the specs for the P/N says it has the capacity for only 2 gigs of RAM. Not that I would ever have need for 4 gigs of RAM.. but hey.. I can dream.