seriously. what am i doing?

Things I do when I get totally stressed out?

Okay, so I've posted about the procrastination problem. So yes, if that was your answer, it is indeed the overarching theme. Last week it was specifically looking for a rehearsal dinner necklace, which begat a search for my 'every day' necklace. Sigh. Hours wasted. Though at least it ended in CBF buying me an awesome and totally unneccesary necklace. I love CBF.

Not only though do I procrastinate with work, but coupled with stress I have a spending problem. Especially when I don't really have money to be spending on actually buying things. The wedding is pushing me into the red, and I can't stop myself from spending money. Like, "hey, I don't have it anyway, might as well see how close I can go to actually having a negative number in my bank account!" So all three factors of stress, procrastination, and not having money are really a massive force of behaviour to deal with.

Tonight? It's buying albums on iTunes. It began with looking for singles that I wanted to buy. One of which is Howie Day's "Collide." The problem is that he has an exclusive album on iTunes where the song, Collide, which I wanted to buy also has an acoustic version which you can only get with the album. So then I listened a little and was about to buy it. Then I decided not to because it seemed too mainstream for me. For some reason, I have real disdain currently for 'mainstream' radio songs.

Then I was like, well if I'm going to buy an album I should buy an album I've been thinking about for awhile. Especially since I couldn't think of just one song that I wanted. So I then spent like 20 minutes between two Cure albums. They both had 18 songs, they both had like the 6 major songs that I wanted. There were like 3 differences.

Difficult. Time Consuming Choices.

Sigh.

At least I have a kicking new Cure album.

losing it

Okay, so there is one reason why I'm not jealous of iPod people. I've actually been warning CBF about not using is iPod on the subway to NY when he gets there because I've been reading reports about so many thefts.

If anyone stole my minidisc player I'd be like, "watch out, it skips when you walk!" If someone steals your iPod that's some serious fucking damage there. I mean that shit is like your baby, if you have it stolen you chase after it. If you're being chased and you drop it? You better run back and pick that bad boy up.

Fuck personal health, replacement costs are a bitch.

hey fucker!

You! Yes YOU! And no, I don't mean to partially quote a Ben Lee album.

When you're like 11 and on the metro for vacation with 5 of your other buddies on the metro in the middle of the day simmer down!

Not only that, but I fucking hope someone steals your damn iPod mini. No one your age should have a fucking iPod mini.

Not only are you too young to have one, you and your badly behaved friends are fucking annoying.

Why are you wearing pirate hats that look like you bought them on Pirates of the Carribean at Disneyland?

Also? You might think you look punk wearing your aviator glasses on the metro, but you look a fucking fool.

Finally? Learn the rules of metro. You're being loud and rambuncious on the metro, such as your tool of a friend using the higher bar to do one-armed pull-ups is embarassing. Not. Cool.

Why are there so many tourists going to Smithsonian at noon?

Why does a fucking 11 year-old have an iPod?

the more things change...wait, they don't

Once a procrastinator. ALWAYS a procrastinator. I think I fully have Stretch's support on this one. I don't know how I always end up this way, but I'm looking forward to the end of the semester.

And a break in the summer from school work. It'll be awesome.

Now I just have to decide which actual classes I am going to take. I've signed up for multiple, and all, or many sound interesting so I just need to whittle the choices down.

What's really odd about this sudden burst of blogging is how I've been rather inactive lately, and now that I should be typing about anything but this blog, I'm all about posting suddenly.

How sweet things stay the same.

more fun porn findings!

This is actually getting to be fun. I mean obviously not being at work this late...especially since I'll miss the beginning of AI but whatever.

‘Watcha Gonna Do when they Cum all Over you?’What Police Themes in Male Erotic Video Reveal …

Looking for my penis: The eroticized Asian in gay video porn

A Star Is Porn: Corpulence, Comedy, and the Homosocial Cult of Adult Film Star Ron Jeremy (who I secretly think is totally fascinating)

The Joy Fuck Club: Prolegomenon to an Asian American Porno Practice

Sex pigs: why porn is like sausage, or the truth is that--behind the scenes--porn is not very sexy.

WHEN JILL JACKS IN Queer women and the Net

Okay...and because it is google scholar, there are lots of actual studies.

It's the small things though. The small things.

gay male porn searches

So...part of the literature search I'm doing for my final paper has to do with gay male porn.

In an ironic twist, B., had no qualms about the shoes for her bridesmaids' whatsoever. It a not so suprising leap, both B's sister and the groom's sister did. We all had to wear the same shoes. This is a problem because

a) I have massive feet, which is direct opposition to Shortie's midget feet. Like seriously? You see her shoes and you're like, are those owned by small people? Teeny, tiny, teeny people! Okay, so that's referencing Kirstie Alley's show, which? Sometimes fucking brilliant and hilarious. Finding shoes that fit my feet is a difficult task. Usually department stores don't carry my size, and only fucking Payless carries my shoe size. And usually in really ugly styles too, but I do with what I can. And. Online stores, but that takes thought into buying your shoes. And a massive amount of time.

So. Limiting.

b) I'm pretty tall, so I refused to have a high heel. There's a picture of B, her sister, and I right before we're about to go to a nice dinner and I'm wearing, like, 3 inch heels TOPS, maybe less, and I'm fucking towering, towering!, over both of them. It's a pretty horrible picture, and I expressed that under no fucking means was I going to be that person in the wedding photos. This I believe was more of an issue/sticking point because it was more limiting for the ladies.

There was a flurry of emails. B.'s sister wanted one type, Groom's sis wanted another. We were all supposed to find ones, and forward them. We'd almost decide, and then either sister would be like, well what about these?

In the beginning I wanted closed-toe, just because I have weird toes too. What? So would you with massive feet.

So at one point though, B's sister sent out shoes that I didn't really like, I have forgotten at this point why...oh, the heel. Totally forgot. So to diffuse the situation, because these are dangerous times people, I decided to use a little levity in why I couldn't wear them.

I actually found an out. In formal I wear size 12, and so I was all, "well you know since I'm a Saskatchewan they won't fit my feet..."

Which, when I told CBF, he busted out laughing. He pointed out that I probably meant Sasquatch. Yeah. Of course I then felt totally embarassed.

First google finding in google scholar with gay and pornography?

Saskatchewan Law Review, 1993

Awesome. It's come back to haunt me.

caffeine count

Yesterday's caffeine count was rather high. I mean if I'm composing entries about Coffeemate? There must be a certain amount added. Which, and it could be due to the amount of stress, but I woke up with about 5 hours of sleep, and before my alarm went off. Weird. Which of course I then slept through. You can't waste those 5 minutes when you're just getting them.

So, yesterday:

2 cups of crappy office coffee...well there might have been a third in there

2 diet mountain dews...totally guzzled before class too

1 large mug of strong coffee at 11 p.m.

Oh. And 2 Silver Bullets when I first got home to try and combat that fabu panic attack, which? Well founded I find out.

Awesome.

Don't judge the Silver Bullet lifestyle. They're still left-over from when Stretch was visiting, and sometimes? It's all we can afford. It's a band-aid.

I need a cigarette.

emotion and no sleep are no good

It turns out that a lack of sleep might aid you in having a panic attack.

I pretty much had my first full on panic attack tonight, which, I'm suprised a little that it took this long. I might have had near panic attacks, but this is I think the first full on one...which I might still be in the midst of slightly.

I think it started with clearly the general stress of ending the semester and oversleeping today and finding my boss in my office as I walked in late, talking on the phone as if he owned the place. It was more than a little scary. I figured that he was there in case I came in and wanted to listen to the conference call that I was missing.

When awesome big boss man of the place was like, I'm sure this makes sense somehow...seeing as I was seated across from him, my personal big boss man was all, my phone isn't working.

Makes sense. Except potentially not because there is another whole office that he can use where two part-time people share it, and they weren't going to be coming in. He probably felt I was closest and...didn't care. Another co-worker afterwards was all, what was BBM doing in your office? I thought you quit, or you know...getting fired. I thought we were going to have to do an intervention and I went to C's office and she wasn't there either. I was like, well, thanks for watching my back, and no, I don't think I'll be getting fired.

I don't really want to go into detail of what spurned everything, but let's just say that's not really how you want to start your Monday morning.

how you know...

that you've had way, way, way, way too much strong coffee at too quickly late at night?

You're dancing around your apartment, okay, studio, to your iTunes library because it's filled at least half full with electronic music, in your socks, enjoying the slide on the parkay floor.

I know. Parkay sucks.

And I should totally be fucking doing my reading, but I'm MUCH too wired right now.

Shite.

does coffeemate scare anyone else?

Junior year I was introduced to Coffeemate creamer by CBF's family. I went home with him for Thanksgiving, and for the first time to his house. [And on a side note, this past weekend it felt like we were dating the most since we made out.] Digression. Anyway, in the morning there was the good coffee and then there was this liquid hazelnut creamer. I clearly had seen that nasty powdered shit that doesn't have any flavouring previously. I had never seen coffeemate creamer in a carton that looked like milk was supposed to come out of it. I added some to my coffee and a relationship was born.

It was fucking amazing. Granted I had been drinking dining hall coffee and on the rare occassion the goodness that IS Dunkin' Donuts. But this was still the time where most friends, okay, CBF who I essentially lived with Junior year, didn't have his car and so getting off campus was difficult. I was absolutely delighted that this creamer made my coffee taste like it had actually come from DD's.

Okay. So I was a little stupid because at first I thought it was his mother's mad coffee making skills. He pointed out it was the creamer. I was enamored. I was convinced this would make all my coffee in college that much better when I was up late at night and couldn't get off campus. Clearly, I had to get to the grocery store to get it, and well, I never did.

I even introduced my mother to the creamer that spring break when I was visiting. She still damns me for introducing it to her. Previously she was just adding milk. We were talking on the phone at some point recently and she was annoyed because she was all, I can't believe they didn't have the mocha flavoured creamer! They had run out! What was she going to put into her coffee!?!?! I pointed out that it was because it was Stater Bros., which is the sub-par supermarket. And that, you know, she could add milk. There was this HUGE fight between Albertson's which is the far superior supermarket and it's workers because they wanted health insurance or something. It turned into about a year-long debacle before it was resolved. My mom wanted to support them, and so was going to Stater's which it's worker lovingly refer to as Slaver Bros.

I'm not a morning person whatsoever, and so I don't have time to make coffee in the morning. My coffee maker that CBF got me doesn't have fancy adjustments to make coffee so it's ready for you in the morning and so I usually vie for the nasty free coffee at work. This past year with work and grad school I've started making coffee at night to keep me awake for all the work I have to do. Last semster was especially ugly. The coffee even was really ugly. I mean I was making fucking sludge.

There were grinds in the coffee.

The coffee was so bitter it would hurt my mouth and stomach.

The only thing that slightly helped was my lovely Coffeemate, and even then I still had to guzzle it in order to consume it.

The scary part? Sometimes I still fell asleep.

It's gotten to that point in the semester where I'm making coffee at night again. Stronger each day in fact. It's also time to whip out the CM again, because I want it to be able to go down somewhat enjoyably. The problem is that I bought creamer ages ago. From Giant no less.

The Giant where you can buy overdue food. The Giant where the lights outside don't really light up. It's abso-fucking-lutely ghetto but it seems closer than Safeway, and less of a hassle than going to the Social Safeway. If I had to gander when I bought the creamer, I would say earliest, February. Beginning of.

The creamer? It's still good. All three of them. One I know I must have bought in January. One is even good until June 1st. The others are good until mid-may. So hey. If the bottle stamp says it, it must be true. I'm adding that shit to my coffee.

The question? What the fuck is in the creamer that it can be 'good' for months? It's like the fucking twinkie of the liquid world, and that really scares me.

bourbon and the l

So...this past season of the L word, and it's really going to hurt me more than it will hurt the people at the show, has been, well...blah. Some episodes have been pretty good, and there have still been some enjoyable jems of songs.

And then? There's fucking Betty. The plethora of scenes where Betty and 'ezgirl,' who is the lead singer of Betty and music composer this season, ruin a scene with the fucking background music and noises. It grates to no end. You know what else grates? The fact that she obviously has no fucking talent in that she recycles her theme song different ways for each episode. If it's crap to begin with, why do you want to continue with it? Like the the theme song sung in french during one of the dream sequences, or in spanish during the Spanish titled episode? It's heavy-handed and unimaginative. It sounds like crap, and the lyrics are crap.

If some of the storylines are going to be contrived, long-winded, and boring, then keep with the awesome music. It makes time go by much more quickly. Plus, when there is so much fucking distracting background noise it takes you out of the episode. Case in point, Jenny's sitting on the steps explaining to Carmen that she lost her job because she 'outed' herself, and can you imagine what might be playing in the background? If you guessed a voice, most likely Ms. Ziff's herself, chanting 'lesbian' over and over again, you'd win some cash. Or you know, just in case while watching a sex scene, you didn't actually quite get that these characters were having sex and you know, enjoying themselves, we'll add some moaning.

I hate you Betty. I don't care that you're hometown products. You fucking suck. Especially you Elizabeth Ziff. Yes. That's right. I'm not going to address you by your fucking 'composer' name. Oh? And why do you all keep on popping up in throwaway cameos post your actual appearance performing in the episode. Which sucked. Though, when Miss Foxy Brown Herself was singing with you all, it was pretty cool. Most likely because it wasn't your song.

Things that make slow episodes go by much more quickly? Bourbon. I love bourbon. I mean I've been a vodka girl from the get go, and I'll never leave the vodka. But pretty much any time I drink bourbon it's a fucking ecstatic buzz. I don't know how that happens. So Shortie came by yesterday to catch up on all the 'lost' episodes that I've fast-forwarded through because I was bored with them. Bourbon makes the episodes go by much quicker. As does company who you can commiserate with about the awfulness that is the music and slightly the season.

You know what else The Bourbon can do? Plot and Plan. The action? Shortie's friends with the people who work at Lambda Rising, which I coincidentally learned today was around back in the beginning of the day when GLAAD was first beginning, and the workers stood outside Lambda and begged for donations. That's pretty cool. I'm in love with GLAAD and totally want to work there in a kick ass position. I digress. The plan? We're going to place a petition by the cash register to Boot Betty and mail it to Ms. Ilene Chaiken herself. Or, you know, Showtime.

Action people. We're not going to just sit at home and complain about how awful it is!

Though...if they, and by they I mean Ms. 'I'm too Hollywood and so I broke up with my partner and quelle fucking suprise since I essentially wrote it into the script for my alter-ego' Chaiken, find out...would they have the power to take away my Showtime, and my L word? Because I know I'm not strong enough to live without them.

It's like having a coke habit (because as Ms. Houston says, crack is wack, so don't be trying that crack), you're addicted, you know it, and you don't necessarily even enjoy it that much anymore, but you have to have it. Even when I'm fast-forwarding through, I know that if I wasn't at least seeing it I'd be going through withdrawal. It's a slippery slope people.

A Fucking. Slippery. Slope.

Sign the petition people.

jinx?

I guess mentioning that my blog was dead, led it to be dead.

Damn you! Blogger!

Today? Not so good. Too much empathy for a friend going through a very, stressful slash rough spot. Stressed me out. One of my traits that I hate about myself. Can't I just listen and advice without actually feeling stress and sometimes ill with worry about that person? Empathy is overrated sometimes.

not dead yet

I could be talking about this blog.

I could also be talking about my beautiful, wonderful, and well...dead-ish computer.

The backlight to my wonderful PowerBook blew this weekend. We're talking about a 6 month old computer. We're also talking about serious fucking crunch time in term time. The term ends at the beginning of May and I have a massive amount of writing to do until then and my laptop is going to be gone for two weeks.

At least that's what the dickwad at the Genius Bar told me. He was so fucking flippant that I wanted to slap him. Plus he was helping me and this other girl at the same time. It's like dude, I know you might be trying to show off, but I think it would indeed more expedient if you were to one of us at once rather than doing both of us at the same time. He also didn't seem to really care that my computer backlight blew.

He tried to do the reset move, and then realized that my screen still wasn't showing. His very serious and professional assessment? "Your backlight is blown." No. Fucking. Kidding. I know! He seemed flummoxed. He then had the audacity to look at my computer and ask if I dropped it.

Hello!?! McFly!!! I still have the cushioning styrofoam on the inside and there are no scratches. I treat that computer better than I would a newborn baby. There are Rules Dammit! for everyone, plus me, in getting near my computer and using it as well. I was a little indignant in my response and he looked like he didn't believe me. Dickwad.

He then asked if I bought it from them. "Yes." Did you buy it from this store? "Yes!" Fix my damn computer! It's Apple's fault. Not mine.

Then Genius Bar Boy was all, so, you know that your computer is going to be blank when you get it back right? You're going to be okay with that? What?!? No! I was so pissed. I was like, um, I have my songs and my school documents and Office and everything. He was like, okay so you'll probably want to back that up. Of course to the tune of 50 dollars. Sons of fucking bitches.

Dear Apple,

I love you. I do. You're pretty. You're ususally reliable, and I did pay an arm and a leg to get extra insurance this past weekend. Thanks for those extra $245...it better be worth it. But seriously? Charging for backing up data? Assholish. Hiring dickwads who think they're all that? You might want to cut back on that.
Thanks.

Your concerned customer,

Karen