Pirate this blog!

My pirate name is:

Bloody Jenny Cash

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. You're musical, and you've got a certain style if not flair. You'll do just fine. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

I specifically told that damned thing that I don't like to fight. Also, the formatting is all fucked up on this thing everyplace I've seen it. Don't have time to mess with it anymore.

Arr!

I'm never watching TPIR again

Drew Carey? Seriously? I can't stand that guy! He's not funny, but he sure thinks he is. That's the worst. I broke up with an otherwise pretty decent person for the same reason. Sure, it came out later that she was a lying manipulator, but at the time I just thought she was extremely unfunny, and her constant attempts to prove otherwise by laughing at her own jokes, ba-dum-bum-style ("HOHhhhhh!"), drove me fucking nuts. It was a break-uppable offense. That's how much funny, or at least understanding funny, means to me.

Which is why I will never watch The Price is Right again. Not that I watched it a whole lot before, but it's off limits now.

But Drew Carey's failure to 'get' funny isn't even the worst thing. No, folks, it's true. There's one thing that trumps unfunny in my book. It's pretty grotesque, but all my sources have confirmed it. Drew Carey supports Republicans. And that, my friends, is virtually unforgivable. There are very few people I know in real life who are Republican-supporters who have managed to stay off my shit list. But they have had to be amazing fucking people in every other respect, or at least be related to me by illegal gay laws, for me to keep talking to them. And then it's only kind of grudgingly. It's like befriending a Death Eater, very nearly. Only they're not killing people. But they are supporting an administration and a party that thinks killing people, so long as they're brown and living above an oil supply, is A-OK. So back to the Death Eater thing.

And there we have it. I refuse to watch shows hosted by Death Eaters. I'm drawing a line. A line I actually drew quite awhile ago, back when I found out Patricia Heaton and Kelsey Grammer were Death Eaters and couldn't look at them the same way again. So, I'm re-drawing the Death Eater line. Zero tolerance from me. I'm trying to protect our country here.

Blog note

Greetings, my lovelies.

I just wanted to let you all know that I will be taking a bit of a blog break over the next week or so. I'm in the middle of moving my household two states away, and this packing shit is kicking my ass. And I suspect that the unpacking, seeing as how it will coincide with starting the new job, will also kick my ass. Just a guess.

So, posting is gonna be light. Or non-existent. But just for a week or so. Or maybe longer, depending on how shit goes.

See you soon!

Oh yeah...any of you have a scanner you love? I'm lookin' to get me one of those, so if you have any recommendations, I'd sure appreciate hearing your advice. I've been a fan of the Epson brand, but I have a tendency to become unnaturally attached to things and thought I might be able to benefit from y'all's perspectives and expertise. I'm lookin' to scan photos and articles, if that helps you tailor your advice.

Thanks!

What I did with my weekend

Wallis Sands State Beach, Rye, NH

For our twelve-year anniversary, MonkeyPants and I went to see the ocean. We figured it might be awhile before we got back there since we're moving out of the state in two weeks. Apparently a gazillion other people were having anniversaries, too. This picture doesn't adequately portray just how many people were at this fucking beach.

The crowd was quite a disappointment after visiting the ocean with my parents in late December when we were the only ones there. Global Warming had given us a beautiful day at the beach in December in northern New England. That time it looked like this:















Those are my parents.

Anyway, there's almost nothing that compares to seeing the ocean and getting a chance to reflect on your own smallness and the world's bigness. I suppose that's scary for some people, but it helps me put things in perspective. Plus, it's cool for two fat chicks from Iowa to be able to look out over something so vast (that doesn't involve corn).

So, happy twelve years, MonkeyPants! Thanks for the ocean!

Dick. I mean Motherfucker.

An afternoon with Photoshop ain't always a happy one.

Friday Weigh In, 7/13/07

Weighed in at 183.2 this morning after having our "free night" a night early. I was 182.8 yesterday, so that's not too much damage. And I was 183.8 last Friday, so that's a loss of .6 this week if we go by today's weight, and a loss of a whole pound if we use yesterday's weight. So, I think I'll use yesterday's weight. 'Cause I fucking can, okay?

And as for our "free night?" Not worth it. Pizza Hut, as it turns out, is much more enjoyable for the people on the teevee than it is in person. We have found that almost every "free night" is a disappointment. It's much better in the anticipation than in reality. I kinda can't believe we used to eat that kind of shit all the time and liked it. It must be part of the fast food addiction or something. Like, when you're in it, you don't notice that everything tastes like shit and makes you feel all bloaty. But after you've been eating food prepared with real, mostly healthy ingredients, you really taste the hollowness of the stuff the corporations prepare for you. Makes you wonder what the hell they're putting in that other shit. I suspect that not all of it is actually food.

Anyway, 214 - 182.8 = 31.2 pounds since January. Yippy skippy, and congratulations to me.

Happy weekend, all!

A little weekend music, 7/13/07

And the iPod shall be called...

Thank you all for your wonderful submissions in the iPod naming game. There were some great suggestions and lots of hand-wringing on my part. It was a tough choice, but I've settled on a winner.

The first suggestion, which came via e-mail, was "Virginia." "Virginia Higgleswiggle," to be exact. But we already have an item named "Virginia" in our collection. It's a handmade, sorta creepy-looking doll that a quilter friend made for me, and we put her in our glovebox for protection on our journeys. I'd take a picture to show y'all, but somehow she ended up in the house, and we packed her already. Maybe in a few weeks.

I liked the suggestion of "Mork" because of the pod reference, but I tried it out and just couldn't bring myself to think of this beautiful creature as a "Mork." Plus, I feel very strongly that this iPod is female (oh, I hope, I hope!), though I haven't had it sexed. For that same reason, "Ishmael" is out. Which is too bad, because Ishmael was one of the only books I actually read as an undergrad on accounta it was one of the only ones I liked. I know the reference was from Moby Dick, but Daniel Quinn's book is so much cooler. Anyway, sorry guys.

I was pretty excited about "Pasha," despite it being derived from a male name. According to Wikipedia, anyway. So I was leaning heavily toward "Pasha" for a significant amount of time. Like at least a day, until MonkeyPants and I were walking into my workplace past a bunch of trees that looked like they had pea pods hanging from them. "Pea Tree," we said. And then we looked at each other and said, "Petrie!" And then she cheated and submitted "Petrie," nearly ensuring that she would win. Very shrewd, that MonkeyPants.

So, "Petrie" it was. For a couple of days. I used the name, but I wasn't really connecting with it. Plus, I thought it was too close to "Petey" (the PDA). But I was willing to let it grow on me, generous host organism that I am.

"Petrie." "I gotta grab Petrie." "Have you seen Petrie?" I tried.

And then one fateful night, which started just like a bunch of other nights, MonkeyPants and I were playing a little Trivial Pursuit. We were deep into an epic battle (being pretty evenly matched in the useless knowledge department but getting shitty questions for pie) when an answer or question with the word "Pip" came up. MP said, "What about 'Pip?'" And I said it was too bad I knew a douchebag nicknamed "Pip" when I was younger. So she said, "What about 'Pippi?'"

I had found it. The Name. Her Name. "Pippi." It feels right.

And if there is any doubt about how cool a name "Pippi" is, let the women at Hoyden About Town explain it.

So, thank you all again for the inspired suggestions. You gave me lots to consider, and I wanted to honor all of you in some way for participating because I appreciate the spirit that each of you brings to GBWI. So, please give a warm welcome to "Pippi Virgina Mork Ishmael Pasha Petrie Longstocking." "Pippi" for short. I couldn't have done it without all of you.

But I'm still not gonna be a circus performer, Amy.

Activism alert - lazy edition

Interested in any of these issues?

Tell Your Representative: Start Bringing the Troops Home
Tell Your Senators: Close Guantanamo
Tell Congress: Save Habeas Corpus, Restore our Constitution
Tell Your Representative: Repeal 'Dont Ask, Don't Tell'
Tell Sen. Obama: Stop Supporting Dirty Coal
Tell Congress: Send Scooter Libby to Guantanamo
Tell Steve Jobs: Unlock the iPhone!
Support Green Energy Legislation
Support Solar Energy in Pennsylvania
Don't Let AT&T Ruin the Internet


If you want to take action on any of these issues, go to ActForChange, the online activism system of Working Assets. Tons of petitions to sign, and you can send letters to your congresspeople with a few clicks. It's activism for the lazy. Right up my alley. I've already told my congresspeople three or four things that are on my mind today, including the fact that I think Dick Cheney ought to be impeached. I also signed the Live Earth Pledge at Al Gore's urging.

Now I need a nap.

Google has a fucked up view of weight

So I added a widget to my Google homepage to track my "moving average" weight. It's called Google15, and their blurb about it reads thusly:

"The Google 15 encourages you to get on the scale every day by calculating a moving average from your daily weight. We then plot this average alongside your daily scale weight and a goal weight that you set--this gives you a better idea of your weight trend by masking most of the day to day noise that variances in water weight introduce."

All well and good, although I'm skeptical of anything that encourages one to get on the scale every day. I mean, I get on the scale every day, and often more than once a day, but I know that's not healthy. I mean, when I'm making decisions about what kind of snack I can eat based on what the scale says at 8pm, that's not right. Rationally I know this. But, as I have found over time, I am not a rational dieter. My overall behavior is pretty sensible and healthy (I am in no way starving myself), but I often have to cycle through some pretty dysfunctional thoughts before settling on that sensible behavior.

Plus, it seems to be calculating the "moving average" over a week's time, giving you today's weight, yesterday's weight, and your weight a week ago. So it seems to me that if you want to filter out the variances in water weight, you should just weigh yourself once a week. Or only "count" it once a week, which is what I already do. And it's what diet experts* recommend.

Anyway, I entered my daily weight over the last week, and because I am three tenths of a pound heavier this week than last, I got the dreaded "Danger! You're heading away from your goal!" message. The goal weight I entered, by the way, was a maintainable and healthy 155 pounds.

But this Danger! message got me wondering about Google's idea about reasonable progress and healthy goal weights. So I added the widget again, put in a goal weight of 95 pounds, and entered my weight for the last two days. I happen to be two pounds lighter today than I was yesterday, on accounta that day to day noise that variances in water weight introduce. I got this message: "Good work! You're on your way to your goal weight." No warning that 95 might not be a sensible goal weight.

Which got me wondering what would happen if I put in a ridiculously low goal weight. Not that I think 95 isn't ridiculous, but I know I live in a culture that thinks that isn't all that unreasonable. Fuckers. Anyway, I entered a goal weight of 42 pounds, and got the Good work! message. WTF? And I forgot to mention that the "submit" button you click after entering your weight says "I'm Feeling Healthy." A healthy 42 pounds.

So, I've determined that the Google15 is an anorexic's dream come true. Something that will encourage every single person, including disordered eaters, to get on the scale every day and tell them that they are making good progress toward even a deathly low weight. How lovely.

Google's description of this revolutionary gadget ends with this gem: "Enter your weight every day and it will give you an early warning if you start to pack on the pounds!"

Message to Google: STFU. Stick to shit you know about.



*I went to WeightWatchers.com to confirm that they recommend a weekly weigh-in (which they do), and I found a link called "Get Your Athlete's Body Back." I thought, "Sweet!" 'Cause I used to be an athlete, and the thing that I hate most about being so overweight is that I don't feel powerful or in charge of my body like I did when I was an athlete. So I was hoping to find some extra special tips for people like me, only to find a picture of a dude with a football and an article about guys who used to be athletes but have put on weight. "The athlete is still there inside you, and you can liberate him," it tells me. And "Men slowly lose muscle mass as the years go by." What about me? My inner athlete is not a dude. But at least it's right about one thing: "Working out with a much younger or stronger guy is a surefire route to frustration, discouragement or even injury." And I can see that. I feel that way about doing most things with men.

The one with all the swearing

I discovered something last night. In July in New Hampshire, birds start chirping at 4:19am. How do I know this? Well, 'cause I was still awake at 4:19 this morning. Not by choice, of course. I was in bed, the lights were out, and I was trying my damnedest to get to sleep, but shit kept popping into my head. None of it was related, but it was all apparently enough to keep my brain churning until 4:56. Here's a sampling of the shit that keeps me awake at night.

First, via PortlyDyke, a person named Jan calls herself a lifelong Democrat but has a surprisingly small heart. She resents that people make her feel that she "owes" illegal immigrants something. I understand that people feel all sorts of ways about sticky issues, but I guess I just can't help but be disappointed when they seem so fucking proud of a stance that actively shits on people who are already under a heaping pile.

When the fuck are the impeachment proceedings going to start? 'Cause it's about goddamned time. Will the Democrats surprise me and put the good and the will of the people ahead of their own political futures? Please? Will they realize before it's too late that those very futures are jeopardized by their inaction? Just please fucking do something.

And related to that, can we get a goddamned candidate for president who inspires me for once? I'm tired of saying, "Well, I guess I'm behind so-and-so." I want to fucking be behind so-and-so and feel good about it. And not be embarrassed to tell other people about it.

Can Dumbledore really be dead? And who the fuck is R.A.B.?

John Travolta is getting on my last fucking nerve lately. He's adamant that there's nothing gay about "Hairspray," despite its underbelly being gay all over. Wev. And he seems to think that Richard Gere and Tom Hanks owe him something because he passed on some roles they ended up totally owning. And he's a fucking Scientologist, which is just too goddamned nutty to be taken seriously.

It is fucking damp in here. We might as well be camping! But at least it's fairly cool. Especially for July. Fucking global warming. Or cooling. Or whatever. But it ain't right. I should quit using so many paper towels. Ed Begley, Jr. rocks. But I bet he's a pain in the ass to live with. That's what I would be like if I had the money and weren't so lazy. I gotta take the recycling out.

I should not have eaten all that shit today.

Mmm...spinach dip.

Hey! Only two more weeks at my job. Rock the fuck on. I hope they don't try to do anything special as a send-off. I hate special send-offs. A handshake and a "Good luck!" will suffice. Shit. They're gonna do something. And since I'm the goddamned secretary, they'll probably make me organize it. Fuckers.

I need to post something tomorrow. It's been nearly a week. I wish I had something really insighful or rageful to contribute to the blogular universe, but all I got's John fucking Travolta. God, I hate him.

Just the type of liberal I am

My Liberal Identity:

You are a Working Class Warrior, also known as a blue-collar Democrat. You believe that the little guy is getting screwed by conservative greed-mongers and corporate criminals, and you’re not going to take it anymore.

Take the quiz at www.fightconservatives.com