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You Have Reached The End Of The Internet
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[19 Jul 2006|10:26am] |
I think I'm undergoing some sort of metamorphosis and will emerge the other side as a tapeworm. A grey tapeworm. With bleached hair and bad eyes and an attitude.
....at which point I will clearly become famous and get people to be my lackeys so that I can throw Macallan bottles at them when I'm feeling low. We always have to find the silver lining.
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[11 Jun 2006|11:22pm] |
Perfect ending to a shitty day.
Some complete genital wart, after fighting with his babymama about rumors that she'd been sleeping around, threw his 9-month-old son out of their car window, then picked the baby up by his legs and bashed his head against the car hood hard enough to leave a dent, then drove off with the child--who was still alive at that point--and chucked him into a canal.
Then this subhuman drove back to pick up his (ex?)-girlfriend and drove her to the canal to show her where he'd thrown the baby, and then left her there.
He subsequently gave himself up to police but is pleading not guilty to first-degree murder plus a host of other charges.
Look, I don't like kids. Not liking 'em and not wanting to have any does not in fact mean I wish to see all children foully murdered, as this baby was. Don't fucking make any more human lives if you don't have any respect for them, okay?
This was in Florida, so he might fry. Let's hope.
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[22 Apr 2006|08:17pm] |
My roommates and I discussing the finer things in life:
"Whose turn is it to get toilet paper?"
"I don't know."
"I think it's actually my turn."
"Could be."
"Yeah, 'cause last time you bought that nature shit at Whole Foods, and it was really rough."
"Dude, you used to play rugby, and you're telling me you can't handle toilet paper unless it's fluffy like a cloud?"
"Fuck you. If I'm going to wipe my ass with it, it'd better have quilty fairies or a fucking huggy bear."
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[31 Mar 2006|11:53pm] |
Not only did I come to work a full hour earlier than I should have, but I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THIS FOR 45 MINUTES.
AUGH.
It went sort of like this:
ZOLOFT: Iiiiiit's five AM! Wakey wakey!
ME: Fuck off.
ZOLOFT: Nope! Now that you're awake, you're gonna stay that way!
ME: Fuck off. *rolls over and thinks non-awake thoughts* *has limited success*
ALARM: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP 6:30 BEEP
ME: You can fuck off too. *snooze button*
ALARM: NO REALLY BEEP BEEP BEEP
ME: Bah. *crawls out of bed, looks at coffin-hair, snickers, wonders if there's anything at all that can be done with it, decides not to bother until I've figured out what the hell I'm wearing*
MY CLOTHES: *are unhelpful*
MY CONTACTS: *do not want to go in*
MY WATCH: *is a lying whore*
This morning I glanced at the watch and saw 8 and thought 9. This is interesting. I wonder if my brain is trying vaguely to prepare me for Daylight Savings by being a swotty bitch and doing it for practice two days early.
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[19 Feb 2006|11:38pm] |
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I've missed you, hatred. In so many ways the physiological manifestations of your presence are so much like those of love it's amusing and appalling at the same time. That unbidden spasm of the diaphragm; that shudder in the breath, that feeling of heat emanating from one's hilar region. It's not at all unpleasant, and it does keep one warm in the dead of winter, and makes one feel alive again.
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[19 Jan 2006|06:05pm] |
Piss off, disease. I'm tired of you. You've had a nice long run in the theater of the nasopharyngeal junction: don't even think of going off-broadway down to the bronchi, okay? I repeat, piss off. I bet you're viral. I just bet you're viral, you bastard. Even if I COULD get hold of anything bacteriostatic you would laugh it to scorn.
On the other hand take that, everyone who touches the 400 page binders I copied yesterday AHAHAHAHAHA GERM WARFARE. If I have to be at work because all my limbs are still attached and I am still capable of answering the phone (albeit in a Ruthvenian croak that sounds rather like rusty nails on slate), I am damn well going to share the joy with those who dictate my presence.
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[27 Oct 2005|12:01am] |
Dear co-worker,
If you continue to play that Aretha Franklin song that goes
AH
JUST WANNA LETCHOO KNOW
IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW
AH AH AH
AH AH AH
AH AH AH AH THINK YOU'RE WONDERFUL
over a thump thump thump drum & bass rhythm with a bit of synth in the upper registers,
I will crush your trachea with an extra-large Sparco(TM) binder clip.
Thank you,
Me.
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[05 Oct 2005|11:44pm] |
There was a time when I turned a kind and impartial eye to several of the subtypes of LJer who now make me wish to put on protective clothing and fire up the woodchipper. I can't figure out what exactly has happened to make me change my mind, but that it has changed I'm completely unable to deny.
Ah well. Of the day's annoyances, these: THE GODSCURSED EMAIL SERVER GOT PUDDING IN IT THE VERY MOMENT WHEN I NEEDED TO SEND OVER A .PSD TO THE PRINTING COMPANY FOR A RUSH ORDER AND ARGH IT SEIZES UP EVERYTHING IN NETSCAPE AND I HAVE REBOOTED LIKE SIX TIMES AND WISH TO SHOOT MY COMPUTER; the breakroom is out of tea and I can't be arsed to make coffee (there's chamomile tea, which I have never had and don't intend to start now, and that's IT); I can't seem to make myself actually knuckle down and DO anything other than start working on a project and then get interrupted by the GODDAMNED TELEPHONES; I got no sleep last night which was my own idiot fault; and I am a WHINY EMO BITCH.
That last one? That's really startin' to annoy me.
Okay, whiny emo bitchitude concluded. We now return you to your regularly scheduled LJ wank.
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[04 Sep 2005|11:28pm] |
Somebody posed this on an advice/questions-answered community I occasionally read:
What happens when you get water in your ear? Can it get to your brain?
...
Now, okay, molten lead? Yes. That can easily get to your brain, because it will happily burn through the labyrinthine canal and all those delicate wiggly bits of bone and cartilage and membrane that make up your typical human ear assembly, and punch its way through thin bits of the skull into the actual cranial vault. Poison? No, unless it's acid or strong alkali of some sort. But water?
I really don't understand how people can be this ignorant of basic human biology.
Oh wait, yeah I can. Because they aren't ever taught it in schools any more because it might offend Jehovah, and they damn well aren't taught it by their parents who are likewise staunchly agin the concept of offending Jehovah in any way shape or form. (Yes, folks! It's my biweekly I HATE ORGANIZED RELIGION rant! You see how I cleverly disguised it by pretending to despair at the stupidity of LJ users, but then segued neatly into I HATE ORGANIZED RELIGION CAUSE IT FOSTERS IGNORANCE AND PLAINLY ERRONEOUS BELIEFS REGARDING HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY? My lack of God, I'm smooth.)
But I'm phonin' this one in, people. I'm just not motivated enough to get really vitriolic. Idiocy is rampant: idiocy is reinforced and supported by relics of an outmoded and obsolete belief system which has nonetheless acted as a strong form of brainwashing and indoctrination over several thousand years' worth of generations. Go stab your brains with Q-Tips to let all the water out and learn some goddamned science.
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[09 Aug 2005|07:56pm] |
Yes, I've developed kittens, and I've named them because I am an idiot and don't know what's good for me, and they are so painfully adorable it's hard to believe. They both have basic tabby brindling, but one of them (Arienrhod) is mostly Siamese-coloured with blue points and huge pitiless blue eyes, whereas the other one (Riddle) is sort of smoky black-grey all over, with yellowy-green eyes. They weigh nothing. They're about eight inches long from nose-tip to base of tail. They were handshy as hell when I met them, but it took about two minutes for them to climb into my lap and start making a noise like a malfunctioning air conditioner and whacking my hands with their skulls. Both of them appear to be female. I've no idea how old they are, or where they came from, or anything.
I was walking back to the flat last night and as I fumbled for keys I noticed that I was being stared at by a pair of little faces, under the metal mesh security door. They'd obviously slithered in underneath the door, since the inner front door was open and allowed them into the hall. And they were tiny. And silent. And I just went awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
I didn't want to invite them in. I really didn't. But they followed me up the stairs and they were so...damn...cute and all I could do was to say "ah, fuck it," and open the can of mackerel fillets that's been sitting in my fridge for a couple months waiting to be of some use.
This morning before I went to work I sat down and had a good look at them, and both of them clambered into my lap and purred and purred and purred and do I need this in my life? Do I? Christ.
Aaaaaaaand tomorrow I'm gonna have to take 'em to the pound. Argh. I'm hoping that kittens are more adoptable than stray dogs, because the thought of these two being euthanized makes me hurt.
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[27 Jul 2005|02:47am] |
I HEART MY JOB.
I HEART EVERYBODY IN RESEARCH SCIENCE.
BY "HEART" I mean of course "desire unspeakable and possibly tentacular fates to come to them and OMG maybe they'll have to change the toner in the copier themselves OMG and make OMG sure OMG they OMG get the RIGHT FUCKING TONER OMG or I might have to tell them OMG they broke the fucking copier again and OMG it's not gonna be fixed until the copier guy gets here OMG which may not OMG be until THIS AFTERNOON."
*smiles beatifically*
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[17 Jul 2005|07:15pm] |
So I only went to one non-work website all day (yeah okay so it was the Elsevier ScienceDirect site for Forensic Science International). And I got work done, and didn't kill anyone, and even got the boss to sign certain things that were needing signamatures.
But why, I ask you lot: why is it that, even though back in fucking 2002 when I took the job I explained that I was in no way good on the phones--through admin staff coming and going, through three different, no, FOUR different secretaries to my boss--that I am STILL THE FUCKING FRONT LINE ON THE GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING WANKSTAIN PURPLE LIVID DRIPPING SYPHILITIC TELEPHONES?
Have I got "I hate answering phones! And I suck at it! I have the phone manner of a pissed-off underpaid editorial assistant tasked with copying binders and relaying phone calls that no fucker wants to take! I represent the Division horribly! I sound like your fucking mother-in-law on the phone! Make me your point of contact!" written on my face? Because if so I wanna sue YSL for false advertising. They get rid of my undereye circles, but not my erroneous facial tattoos.
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[19 Jun 2005|01:09am] |
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Off to Indiana until the 17th of July! Adieu!
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[15 Jun 2005|02:04pm] |
Had a lot of fun yesterday being underestimated. I love that. It's hilarious to watch their faces fall when they realize that yes, not only am I aware that they're patronizing assholes, but I am also cleverer than they are, and I can not only spell "vivisepulture" but also define it and use it in a sentence. Despite the penis.
"You work where?"
"Department of Epidemiology and Prevention."
"Department of what now?"
"Ep-i-de-mi-ol-o-gy and pre-ven-tion."
"What's an epomology?"
"Epidemiology. Study of disease incidence and transmission. As in "epidemic."
*narrowed eyes* "You made that up."
"Right. I made it up. I also made up "usufruct" and "xanthophyll" and "chlorpromazine." *serious nod*
"Are you....makin' fun of me?"
"Perish the thought, kind sir."
God, it's fun.
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[02 Jun 2005|07:26pm] |
I'm a Satanist. Philosophical rather than religious. You might have twigged that already. For the benefit of those of you not conversant with modern LaVeyian satanism, this does not mean I engage in ridiculous pageantry, sacrifice black goats, or consume the Host from the labia of a red-haired virgin. It merely means that I'm a secular humanist with better one-liners: there is no god directing my behaviour, nor am I answerable, in the end, to anyone but myself. I am fully responsible for my happiness or misery, success or failure, decisions or waffling. I am quite happily out for myself, but since my pleasure is increased by the happiness of my friends, I have been known to do 'em favours now and again. I got nothin', Ma, to live up to, and that suits me down to the spike heels.
Nevertheless, as any sentient being in a fairly ordered society must, I have developed two major rules by which I live, and I wish others would take these same rules to heart. They are:
1) Don't do anything really fucking stupid.
2) Don't get caught.
It may appear on first viewing that the second countermands the first, but in fact if you do something that is fucking stupid, getting caught is going to be the least of your problems. The cutoff between "stupid" and "fucking stupid" is basically between "wearing sexy shoes even though you know you'll have to walk quite a long way" and "drinking an entire bottle of JD and then borrowing someone's car." Another decent example is the difference between "forgetting your cell phone on a road trip" and "walking into the ghetto in five-inch heels and a tiny sundress with hundred-dollar bills poking out of your bag." You do something that falls on the "fucking stupid" side of that line, such as eating things from street vendors or letting someone else park your car, and you deserve exactly what you get, because it's your fault the consequences occurred. Had you made a smarter decision, you wouldn't be hurting. Other examples of "fucking stupid" include sending emails to your coworkers from your work account describing how much you hate your boss; lending your debit card to someone and telling them your PIN; mixing pills and booze when you're not damn sure of what the effects of either will be; having unprotected sex; getting bollocksed in the company of people you don't know and trust very very deeply; obnoxiously aggressive driving; reproducing when you do not have the wherewithal to support your offspring; believing that everything will turn out all right if you just shut your eyes and hope; doing something illegal without seriously considering the consequences and making definite plans that cover every eventuality; and sleeping in non-gas-permeable contact lenses.
The "don't get caught" rule is somewhat parallel to the "don't commit illegal actions unless you've seriously thought about it and understood the ramifications thereof" bit. I have nothing against illegal actions on principle, having engaged in them myself; however, when you do something like smoking weed in full sight of a cop, you fucking deserve what you get. Similarly, cunts who speed and then expect to be let off their ticket because OMG they have a BABY in the car deserve to get the full legal punishment. Theft annoys me simply because most of the time it isn't well-thought-out. If I really need something and cannot afford to purchase it or borrow it, and the person or organization who owns it is more than capable of replacing the object without serious interruption to their normal activity, and if there is little to no chance that the disappearance of the object can be traced to me, I have no problem with theft. However, since these conditions almost never occur concurrently, I don't steal things. I'm amoral, but I'm also practical. Practicality acts as an extremely effective "moral code." Do I need that last drink? Do I need to say something obnoxious to someone? Do I need to lie? If there's an easier way that doesn't involve things I shouldn't be doing because of their dangerous consequences, I'll take it.
What I don't get is why more people can't fit their heads around this. Fucking think before you act or speak, or in some cases dress. Just think for a moment, just try and project what the consequences of your action or speech or outfit might be, and then with that in mind decide if you really need to do, say or wear whatever-it-is
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[11 May 2005|12:49am] |
Whoever is trying to tell me something via dreams...you can stop now, all right? Not cool. NOT BLOODY COOL. D'you have any idea what it's like to wake up at four in the morning feeling as if your skull has been lined with dog fur, and grasp frantically at the back of your head to make sure that your hair hasn't actually grown back as it had in your boot-camp treasure-hunt dream featuring Mr. Ashman the dead sexy high school teacher with an iron-grey Roman general's haircut and a spray of pockmarks across his cheekbones, the one who always made you think of the one poor bastard in The Persian Boy who said "No, lad, the world goes on, but the gods alone know where"? Do you?
D'you know what it's like to revisit, night after night, the skeleton of the house you lived in two residences ago, only the plaster's been stripped from the walls to reveal wheeled partitions and graffiti-scarred reinforced concrete that smells dank and green like the depths of the Fort Howard mortar emplacements at midsummer? To have to hide a litter of big fucking black Norway rats from your father, and to discover said litter (full-grown) hiding inside your closet and eating your only decent formal suit?
At least they haven't started knitting my intestines into body bags for the blind and dead, but I'm still thinking of sacrificing something to Lord Morpheus and asking him to ease the fuck off for a couple days. I don't need my brain to do full cache-file dumps on me when I'm trying to get some bleeding rest.
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[02 May 2005|10:42pm] |
A cornfed All-American 100% Born Again Living In The Truth Of Our Lord Jesus Christ sort, etc, etc, came out with this gem, which I am not making up:
I prefer brainwashed. My brain is washed by the blood of Jesus!
From anyone else, I would applaud the trolldom, and wonder if they write for Landover Baptist; but for all I can see, this git actually believes the above statement.
Let us set aside the staggering ignorance revealed here, and go straight for the first sentence, where he is explaining that he prefers the term "brainwashed" to several others, such as "deluded," to describe his own mental state. He actually wants to be called "brainwashed."
He exhibits the sort of meta-Stockholm-syndrome I've noted in other fervent monotheists. Granted, the Big Three monotheistic religions all incorporate the concept of humanity being weak and sinful and unworthy and requiring divine intervention to be worth anything at all, with which I utterly disagree. It's inculcated into these people at an early age that they themselves are bad, and that bad things that happen to them are all their fault, and that they can never achieve anything on their own without the help of the deity. And somehow they flip this around to suggest that this is a positive thing.
Think of it this way. If someone comes to you and says "My dad says I'm bad and naughty and dumb and will never amount to anything without him bossing me around," you think, "My, that's some tasty emotional abuse." If someone comes to you and says "The Bible says I'm sinful and unworthy and can never achieve salvation without God's grace," you go "Oh, right, yeah, I forgot." Are we getting it, people?
The Big Three's god is (to me) an abusive absentee parent. And this guy wants to be brainwashed by him.
I have this lovely mental image of him sitting in a dentist's chair while his cranial vault is removed with a reciprocating Stryker saw and nasty communion wine is sloshed over his exposed brain.
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[25 Mar 2005|11:16am] |
Fuck, what ever would we have done without the internets, I ask you? I'd have to live entirely in my own head, instead of in this delightful interstice between worlds that is born of random neuronal firings and electric impulses, and is shared by people and things across the globe. Yeah, the web may be full of idiot fangirls and goatse.cx and people drinking gallons of milk until they projectile-vomit and bad porn, but hell, it's also got some sweet little corners where those like me may find ease.
Cheers to the worthwhile side of the web.
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[30 Jan 2005|05:39pm] |
One: The nation's new education secretary can fuck off and leave Arkansas lesbian sugar farmers alone, and two: when you mean "color printer," do not say "color copier," as the two machines are ENTIRELY FUCKING DISPARATE. One cannot "copy" on a "printer," unless one has a "really fucking expensive printer that is better than anything our department has."
Thanks. Now go away and let me mentally write the first chapter of what looks like a long Sleepy Hollow angstfic, okay? Otherwise I will throw my executive squeezy brain at you.
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[23 Jan 2005|09:58am] |
I didn't know it was snowing until someone on LJ told me so. And there's a window behind me.
Can I just turn in my letter of resignation from the human race now, or should I give my two weeks' notice?
In other news, went to church last night, for the first time since I was a very young and impressionable boy.
I have a lot to say about it, which I will save for a less hectic time of day, but there is one thing I feel I must share with you:
Jesus tastes like really rather good Auslasen.
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