405 Posts November 29, 2005

I was just over visiting The Queen of Ass, who I love dearly, and congratulating her on her 500th post.

It made me want to know how many posts I have written, and I checked, and it’s 405.

So, only 95 more to go (94 after this one, I guess, don’t ask me, I study Creative Writing and not math for a reason) and I will have 500 posts.

I’m not sure how truly exciting that is, but I’m choosing to make it exciting. Of course, at the rate I’ve been posting these last few months, it’ll take me a freaking year to get to 500, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know. That is, if I remember to check.

Have a pleasant day.

I hate IE November 29, 2005

Here’s another reason for you to switch from Internet Explorer to Firefox. It will prevent me from having to figure out why my posts don’t start appearing until the end of my sidebar, but only in IE, not in Firefox.

What did I do? Any suggestions? Help! Anybody! It was probably whatever I did when I put the sloganizer in at the top.

Let me know if you’re using another browser besides IE and this problem is happening for you.

It doesn’t happen for me, but I suppose you are the all important here, not me.

I’m Captain Jack!!! November 27, 2005

I haven’t done a stupid internet quiz in a while. I should be doing homework, as there’s only three weeks left in the semester, but I’m acting like there’s six. There’s not. There’s three. And I’m fucked.

Oh, and yes, I’m aware that this looks all screwy and is messing with my look. I’m trying to make it smaller, but I don’t know what I’m doing. Just hang on a minute, damnit. Oh look! I figured it out! I took out a tag, but I don’t know what or how I managed to fix it. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you, because it looks fine to you now as you’re looking at it. But when I first put this into this post, the picture was on the side of the results, which were leaking out all over the side to the right there and looking particularly messy and annoying. But I fixed it. Yeah me. I wish I knew how.

You scored as Captain Jack Sparrow. Roguish,quick-witted, and incredibly lucky, Jack Sparrow is a pirate who sometimes ends up being a hero, against his better judgement. Captain Jack looks out for #1, but he can be counted on (usually) to do the right thing. He has an incredibly persuasive tongue, a mind that borders on genius or insanity, and an incredible talent for getting into trouble and getting out of it. Maybe its brains, maybe its genius, or maybe its just plain luck. Or maybe a mixture of all three.

Captain Jack Sparrow		92%
Maximus		88%
James Bond, Agent 007		79%
The Amazing Spider-Man		75%
Batman, the Dark Knight		67%
Indiana Jones		67%
William Wallace		63%
Lara Croft		54%
Neo, the "One"		50%
The Terminator		46%
El Zorro		29%

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

And oh, hell, is or is not Captain Jack so damn sexy you just have to squirm around in your chair looking at that picture?

I don’t want to be Captain Jack. I just want Captain Jack. Or maybe I should say I don’t want to be Captain Jack. I want to do Captain Jack. Or maybe I should shut up now.

With a little help… November 27, 2005

from my friend ZZ of ZardozZ Open Web, I was able to figure out how to have my sloganizer appear above where my posts begin.

If you haven’t ever visited Open Web before, please click on the above link. It’s a great site, with a group blogging feel. You earn points for participating by submitting posts or posting in the forums. They have a great forum that’s just getting off the ground for blogging support, where hopefully people who don’t know what they’re doing (me) can beg for answers from people who do (ZZ). You also earn points for playing games, which is pretty much where I earned all my points before ZZ separated things up so that there are Arcade points and General Site Points.

So, anyway, go there. You’ll like it. You have to register to really participate (there were a lot of spamming problems, creeps), but it’s free and easy. And fun! I’d really like to see it get off the ground in a big way because ZZ and company have been working so hard on it.

It’s from the same fine people who bring you ZardozZ News & Satire, a great blog you’ve surely come across, and you may even already be a member of the OpenRing. If you’re not, you should submit your blog url there. It’s just more ways to expose your blog to a wider audience, without having to go the traffic exchange route.

So, anywhoo, click on all the links I’ve made in this post, and join everything I’ve told you to join. Go on. Do it. Right now. I’ll be here when you get back.

Right after I eat a bunch of brownies, which, although made by my 8 year old son, smell delicious and have just come out of the oven.

Pull up your pants, girl November 26, 2005

There is nothing more icky, as far as I’m concerned, than when, as is the case with this chick sitting at the table next to my easy chair at Starbuck’s, a young girl, perhaps sixteen or so, sits down and her low-rise sweatpants get pulled down so that I, along with the portly gentleman who sat down opposite me to read the paper but now is so distracted he can do nothing but drool and stare, can see her thong almost in it’s entirety. I shit you not. Okay, fine, a little peek here and there, maybe that’s erotic to some people, but this is so bad that I want to lean over and say to the girl, “You know, honey, the only thing saving you from plumber’s butt is the flimsy thing you probably call underwear that descends from your lower back into your ass crack. Pull up your fucking pants, you cheap whore.”

But I won’t. Because that would ruin the show for the portly gentleman.

There’s no way she’s not aware of the fact that everyone can see her thong. When my low rise pants descend too low, I can feel the rush of cold air on my upper ass, and I yank them up and rue the fact I forgot to put on a belt. She cannot NOT know that her ass is hanging out of her pants. Believe me, the “underwear” is certainly not substantial enough to keep her ass warm. Yuck. I would take a picture, but the portly gentleman might get a little freaked out by that, so unless he gets up and leaves, there will be no picture of this girl’s underwear for you.

Viki Babbles’ SuprGlu Page on SuprGlu November 26, 2005

Viki Babbles’ SuprGlu Page on SuprGlu

Here’s something new for you all, although it seems quite pointless, in a way. It’s just more crap slogging up the blogosphere. But, I kind of like it because feeds from all the different places I write (well, not all) and/or contribute are fed into one page.

It’s just another silly thing for me to waste time on. I’m sure there’s some great application for this, but I don’t know what it is.

What I do know is that I came to Starbuck’s to work, but when I got here, I was delighted/dismayed to discover that because I’m sitting in the corner, by the window, I’m able to get our town’s wireless internet connection (that’s right-my backwards-ass Mayberry town has installed a wireless network along the train tracks, and it’s accessible from pretty much anywhere in the downtown/uptown area, except Starbuck’s when you sit in the far northwest corner, but when you’re in the far north east corner, you can get it) (I lost my train of thought, what was I saying?). Okay, I think I’ve got it. I came here to get some work done, but now I’m fucking around on the internet, which is the whole reason I left home to work in the first place, so that I wouldn’t get sucked into fucking around on the internet.

The other thing I think I was going to say is that when I ordered my Grande Non-Fat half-peppermint, half-vanilla latte, I forgot to say decaf, and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to have a freaking HEART ATTACK in about five minutes. I might need to go run around the block eight times. I’ve got the shakes, for christ’s sake. Plus, I had run out of one of my medications meant to regulate my heartbeat yesterday, and forgot to pick up the refill, so I didn’t take it last night before bed, so now I’m all freaked out and wondering if I should take it now, and again tonight, but I’m worried that that will cause my blood pressure to drop suddenly, which will also kill me. I could take a xanax to counteract the jitteriness that this caffeine overload is going to cause, but then I’ll be sleepy, and that won’t work either. Compound that with the absolutely insane and disgusting amount of vodka I have consumed in the last few days, and it’s all just a recipe for a trip to the ER. Fuck-o-rama.

See, caffeine makes me goofy. I’m typing really fast, too, only you can’t tell that from where you’re sitting, although I think it would be funny if my posts were published as typed, as I type them, you know, kind of like instant messaging, only instant blogging and I honestly have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m talking about right now. And can you tell me why 90% of the people who work in Starbuck’s are loud and obnoxious? Is it because they’re constantly knocking back espresso? Do you think that’s it? Because, my god, I’m ready to get up and say, excuse me, I’m having a caffeine-induced heart-attack/panic attack/spaz attack over here can you fucking keep it down? We don’t care about your plans for the evening. Just shut up shut up shut up!

My right foot, which I have folded under me in order to be comfortable, has fallen asleep, and I’m afraid to pull it out from under my left leg, where it is folded, to allow the blood to again circulate through its veins, because it will be so very painful with all those pins and those needles and what not and I’m just not up for that, plus, I will feel then the need to stand up to allow the blood to flow better, but oh my god the older man in sweatpants and a sweatshirt and his wife with the somewhat unruly, clearly not brushed yet today hair is wearing a hat that says “Proud Liberal New York Jew.” What the fuck is that all about anyway?

Why don’t they serve booze at Starbuck’s? It would make my life so much easier and more convenient. Of course, then I wouldn’t have made the mistake of not asking for decaf, because vodka doesn’t have caffeine in it, nor does tonic and somebody please tell me to shut the fuck up!

Good god.

AlterNet: America’s Stay-at-Home Feminists November 24, 2005

AlterNet: America’s Stay-at-Home Feminists

I want to scream some things at this article. But I don’t have time right now because I have to go make a few sidedishes for Thanksgiving dinner. And make sure all the laundry is done so everyone, including my husband, who just returned from a week’s vacation deer hunting, has something to wear to dinner today. And make sure everyone has had breakfast. And make some beds because we’re having a couple cousins sleep over tonight. And yes, my husband is still in bed and probably will stay there for at least another hour or two.

There’s idealistic feminist goals meant to further the roles of women in making society better, and then there’s reality: if I want my children to grow up to be decent, intelligent, hard-working, generally good people, I’d better have my ass at home as much as possible. What this woman fails to realize is that most of us moms choose to stay home with our children not simply because we can afford it, or because child-care is expensive, but because WE WANT TO. We don’t want to leave the raising of our children to some skinny Polish nanny. And while we might hate the housework (so we hire a cleaning lady), and there are certainly times when we don’t feel challenged intellectually, and it might annoy us that our husbands don’t do shit around the house, some of us actually feel superior because we DID figure out that money and status don’t make us better people.

And if you want us to think about the rest of society, and how selfish we are because we are choosing to take ourselves out of that society to take care of our children, most of us are going to say, “Fuck you.” There’s no more important role in society than raising the next generation, and raising them right, and doing it ourselves.

I have more to say on this, but like I said, I’ve got some chores to do.

More: Okay, so I have a little more to say. I realize I might be sounding a little defensive here-Methinks I do protest too much? The writer of this article makes it sound like all women who stay home have these little, unfulfilled lives. I don’t have a little unfulfilled life. I started off feeling that way when I first got married and my children were babies, I did. I can admit that freely. However, I took steps to change all that. I began volunteering, which while it certainly doesn’t bring in a lick of money, makes me feel good. Then I went back to graduate school. And while I have to do my damndest to make sure that going to school doesn’t negatively affect my children or my husband or my home life (and I certainly fail a lot), when I am finished, and my children are older and more independent, and need me less, THEN I can enter back into the work force, and when I do it, I won’t be slaving away at some high-status, high-paying job. No, I’ll be a writer, and a teacher.

Social change doesn’t happen overnight. Nor does it happen even in 30 years. In order to affect the kind of social change the writer of this article is talking about, there has to be an overwhelming change in the basic biology of human beings, of men and women. Most women find it difficult to watch someone else raise our children because WE’RE WOMEN. We birthed these babies. It is up to US to make sure they turn out well. We can teach our girls to have self-respect and to strive to always improve themselves. We can teach our boys to respect women. And hopefully, they will teach the same things to their children. And in fifty years, a hundred years, things will be different.

If all of us white, heterosexual educated elite women left our children behind with a nanny and stayed in the workforce, and committed ourselves to this because we think it will create social change, eventually, unfortunately, we will just become men with boobs.

Too bad nobody’s buying November 22, 2005

My blog is worth $16,936.20.
How much is your blog worth?

Yeah, 2nd post in 30 minutes, wanna make something of it? November 22, 2005

Remember what I said about the extreme gastrointestinal distress? Well, it began with the first bite. But no, I’m not sitting on the toilet writing this. I’m trying to put it off until I finish at least one piece.

And what the hell-do they deep-fry the crust of this shit before they put the cheese on and bake it? Because it is greasy as HELL, man. I have little greasy spots all over the keys of my keyboard. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean off.

Oh, nasty. I just sneezed while I was still chewing a bite of this nasty-ass, greasy as hell fucking pizza, and now I have half-chewed pizza in my sinus cavities. Oh, God, someone, make this stop. I’m being punished for the comment about the starving children in Africa not having a Pizza Hut from which to order, is that it?

Why oh why did I order this crap? I mean, I have a Lou Malnati’s carryout place not three blocks from my house. Lou Malnati’s, people! If you’ve never had Lou Malnati’s, and you don’t have one near you, I think you can order it from Lou Malnati’s.com, and they’ll send you a half-baked pizza all frozen and packaged in dry-ice and shit, and you will LOVE IT COMPLETELY. That is, unless you’re some fool who thinks Pizza Hut is good pizza. Because, you know what? Pizza Hut is only good pizza if you live, say, in Florida, where they don’t know how to make good pizza. Or Kansas. Or some other godforsaken place. Well, Florida is not godforsaken. I love Florida. I live for Florida. But when I’m in Florida, the only pizza option I have is Pizza Hut. Unless, of course, I get smart and have a couple of Lou Malnati’s pizzas shipped down to the condo and time them to arrive while I’m there. THAT is a brilliant idea! I’m going to have to do that. But back to you. YOU need to go order yourself some good Chicago pizza. I’d recommend sausage, and maybe spinach if you like spinach on your pizza. It makes you feel like you’re eating something healthy, unlike the shit sitting on my plate and lodged in my sinuses.

Viki Babbles, To Hell with the Rest November 21, 2005

That’s what my sloganizer (see below) says right now. That is, right now as I’m writing this, not necessarily right now as you’re reading. I have no idea what it says right now as you’re reading. I have no way of knowing that, I mean, HELLOWWWW??? What the hell do you want from me? Do you think I can see into the future? Do you think I can predict what time you’ll be visiting and what random slogan will appear on my sloganizer when you drop by? What the hell? You’re giving me way more credit than I’m due.

I did make someone cry at the reading at which I read last night. She may have been drunk, as she hugged me after telling me I made her cry, and I barely know her and don’t generally welcome hugs from somewhat random strangers, but I still choose to count this as my first made-’em-cry moment. Any time I can make a drunk girl cry, it’s a GOOD TIME.

What the hell am I talking about?

I’ll tell you something-I think I have developed an allergy to the plastic used in the underwire of some of my bras, because by the time it’s gotten to be 10:48 p.m., like it is right now, it is all I can do not to rake my fingernails repeatedly over the skin under my boobs. I’ll tell you something else-a few minutes ago, it seemed like a good idea to put several pieces of leftover Pizza Hut pizza in the oven, to fuel me as I work on some homework. But right now, all I want to do is say “FUCK HOMEWORK! HOMEWORK IS STUPID!!” and go to bed. But what shall I do with the leftover pizza half-reheated in the oven? Throw it out? I mean, it IS pizza hut, for christs sake. It’s not like it’s actual edible food or anything. It’s not like I’m taking any food out of some starving child’s mouth in Africa or something, I mean, they probably don’t even HAVE Pizza Hut. Of course, there’s more than a few starving children in this country, but by the time that pizza reheats and I take to the streets to find a starving child to feed it to, I’ll be hungry and I won’t feel like sharing anymore. The thing is, if I eat this leftover pizza hut pizza, I will probably wake up in the middle of the night with some extreme gastrointestinal distress and spend the rest of the night on the toilet, hitting myself in the thigh as punishment for eating pizza hut.

Do you see the conundrum I am presented with here? What to do?

My back hurts. I don’t know why.

My husband, who’s off hunting deer up in Wisconsin, hasn’t shot anything yet. I don’t even like venison, but if the man takes a week off of work (he’s a union man, so doesn’t get paid vacations-taking a week off is missing a paycheck), he’d better fill the freezer with some meat that I can make him throw away in a year before he goes deer hunting again.

Damn, when’s that pizza going to be done?