Flippy - I Rant, You Read

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

mid-afternoon

Pull The Plug On Me - Me ‘n’ Dodger Dirt

I cannot believe that Terri Schiavo is going to have to continue on living, without having an actual life.  I’ve made my wishes known to both my mom and to Leigh-Ann that if that happens to me, pull the plug as soon as it’s clear I’m not going to recover.  In fact, if just pulling the plug doesn’t work, please take me to a vet to have me “humanely euthanized”.  I don’t know why we’re allowed to make these important decisions for our pets, but not for ourselves.  I do not want to live if there isn’t any quality to my life.  And by quality, I mean talking, eating, reading, surfing the net.  I don’t mean blinking or smiling or moving a limb.

Did any of you see the ER episode with Cynthia Nixon?  Can you imagine anything worse than being fully aware of everything around you (and feeling pain!), but not being able to move or communicate with anyone?  If that happens to me, I want whatever risky measure is possible to attempt to reverse the damage.  I don’t want to be trapped in a body that is still peeing, pooping and growing unwanted hairs, if I can’t do anything about it.

Hey, has anyone ever used the internet successfully for posting their will?  Is it considered legal and binding?  Well, if anything happens to me, give Leigh-Ann the house and whatever else she wants.  Cremate me and scatter my ashes in various fun or pretty locales.  I especially want a little sprinkle of me to go on the infield at Dodger Stadium.  Me ‘n’ Dodger Dirt…reunited for the last time.  Don’t tell anyone when you do it though because if I was on the Dodgers, I would think it was pretty gross to play baseball on my ashes.  With what’s left, I want to be a part of one of those purple smiley face fireworks;  if it’s good enough for Hunter S. Thompson, it’s good enough for me.  Oh, and he didn’t say anything about smiley face fireworks.  No surprise.

Oh, and make sure to Photoshop any pictures of me that are used.  I don’t want to be remembered as a shiny forehead.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

late at night

I’m Hip-Mo-Tized - Tricia Kean’s Cleavage Winked At Me Today

I swear I was just minding my own business, watching the news, trying to keep abreast (heh) of the flooding situation at our front door when Tricia Kean’s breasts jumped out of her top.  Imagine my surprise.  Seriously, I don’t recall her ever dressing like that before—she’s supposed to be our attractive, yet non-threatening consumer affairs reporter.  This anchor position has had an augmenting effect on her appearance, I guess.  Anyway, I suddenly noticed myself staring at her breasts.  I don’t even particularly care about breasts, much less Tricia Kean’s, but I was mesmerized.  Hey, how embarrassing would it be if she read this?  Local Las Vegas lesbian notices Tricia Kean’s breasts.  Update at 11.

And seriously, could it just stop raining?  RIGHT.  NOW.  Our street keeps flooding, our back yard is a lake, our kitchen window that was already leaking in one spot sprung a leak in a second spot, and we suddenly have a leak in the garage wall.  It needs to end soon or we’ll either be washed away by the rapids in front of the house or the house will get soggy and collapse.

Did you know that you can have doughnuts or pizza or KFC (or refrigerators!)  delivered to someone in the Philippines?  It’s so cool.  It’s just like going online and ordering Papa John’s to be delivered from a block away, but in.the.PHILIPPINES!  Anyway, check it out Pinas Gift.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

late at night

More Happy Hetero Love

LOOGOOTEE, Ind.—A man shot and killed his estranged wife, his two children and his wife’s boyfriend Sunday, then killed himself…

On that note:  A parental warning on tonight’s episode of The Simpson’s.  They’re goddamned cartoon characters.  Stupid fucking Parents Television Council.

Remember - Gay Marriage = Bad

late morning

Kindred Spirit - Hilary Liftin

I just started reading “Candy and Me (A Love Story)”  and it SPEAKS to me.  No, like seriously, I mean it.  Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved candy.  All kinds.  Chocolate.  Fruity.  Hard.  Soft.  Gummi.  Sweet.  Sour.  You get the point.  I didn’t consume (nor want to) nearly the sugar volume of Hilary Liftin, but my joy was no less great.  I remember getting in trouble when I was little because my cousin brought me some gummi worms & pacifiers home from Germany (before gummi anything was popular here), and I ate them too quickly.  I had a big bag of them and apparently they were supposed to last me a while.  But, they were so very very good.  Even now, I’m not big on anything lasting too long.  Life is short, eat candy.

I’m also generally not happy with just your average candy.  For instance, Life Savers bore me, but find me some weird Japanese candy that has to be ordered from Japan with outrageous shipping prices and I crave it.  Hershey bars?  Zzzz.  I need Coffee Crisp from Canada or Cadbury oddities from the UK.  I always notice when new stuff shows up at the store.  Naturally, I get hooked on something when it’s a “Limited Edition”, never to be seen again—hear me calling, Dark Chocolate Kit Kat?

Saturday, February 19, 2005

late afternoon

I’m Cranky

*  I have Harriet and am out of sorts.
*  The tube feedin’ cat just threw up all over the bathroom…and probably all over Leigh-Ann too.
*  It’s STILL raining.
*  I have a free sweatshirt waiting for me at the Santa Fe, but I don’t feel like going there and getting it
*  This goes with the above - I don’t feel like going there because I’m going to end up smelling like I smoked five hundred packs of cigarettes.
*  I don’t smoke.  I hate the smell of smoke.  I hate just about any strong smell.
*  I need the sun back.  Now.  Not late next week, but now.
*  Hormones are stupid.