slicing up eyeballs i want you to know

So I worked on Pandora's Not Sock (aka The Hat) and almost finished her. Then I decided she wasn't wide enough. So I frogged her. So I decided to make fingerless mitts with The Yarn. After working up patterns, I finished the first one, to have The Man Who Lives in the House tell me he hated them and that I needed to make The Hat out of The Yarn again. So I redesigned Pandora's Not Sock to be wider, but I decided she was too wide, so I frogged her. Then I redesigned her and knit a few inches, and decided she wasn't wide enough, so I frogged her. So I went back to my first redesign, where she is now:But I am pretty sure I will run out of The Yarn and she will be too wide again, so she'll be frogged again.

there's a lonely soul out on the crossroads

You know, probably nobody has ever noticed that the majority of my blog post titles come from song lyrics. Mostly lyrics from songs by the greatest band that ever walked the face of the earth.

Just sayin'.

You know how sometimes you hit that one major decision-making point in your life where you need to put up or shut up?

I'm at a crossroads, with a variety of things going on in my life right now, and I need to make many decisions. I think I know what I need to do. I'm going to put off some of the major decisions, which probably makes me a coward, but I just need to put my life on an even keel before I add more stress and upheaval to it.

My non-Pandora's Sock Project is coming along nicely. It's some kind of Noro wool, I have no idea what kind. Someone wonderful I once worked with at an evil empire telecommunications company that "outsourced" both of us rather than claim to have laid us off, even though both of us ended up unemployed at the end of 2001, imagine that gave it to me. There's no band and no information and she gave it to me long before we were "outsourced" so I haven't a clue what ilk of Noro it is or what color schema. I don't even know if I'll have enough yarn to finish the project, which is why I am not telling you what it is.

sweet melissa

...isn't so sweet.

Melissa hates me.

Twice now, Melissa has given me a FALSE email address. She claims she will send me something wonderful for cramps and I want to take her up on her offer but two different email addresses have failed.

In case you don't REALLY hate me, Melissa, email me at and then insert here the sign above the number 2 on your computer keyboard and then insert the sign below the > on the keyboard com.

it's time for a stuart smalley moment.

But first...

Thanks to Melissa for her offer, but Melissa, your email address doesn't work.

Last night, my friend and I did a one week review of The Rewind Experiment. According to my friend, it is working. I am already less negative. I don't see it, but then again, that's a negative statement. My friend is willing to forge ahead out of caring for me. So despite backsliding, we're moving on.

I have also come to the realization that Crazy Lady has never accepted me, and I have gotten through my anger at her about that. I think I have gone through the seven stages of grief on that. It's sad, but I have to accept that she never has and never will accept me for me.

So I met another friend for breakfast this morning, and we talked about self-esteem issues. This friend also has self esteem problems and says there is an aspect of self back talk, where one self-consciously berates oneself. It was very true!

And I started a new knitting project, because Pandora's Sock wasn't going to work. But the yarn was screaming for something else. It'll hopefully be done in a day or so...

So, for the Stuart Smalley quote, in "Stuart Saves His Family":

"But today, I've decided to take a risk, and wear a new sweater. It was sent to me by a recovering sex addict, Melissa D., who knitted it herself; she said it gave her something to do with her hands."

is the music calling for a river of blood?

Well, the new Nano, or "Pandora," as she is called, is a hit, and the blood is still flowing, so the Clash lyrics are apropos.

I have no chocolate in my house.

I am far too lazy to like, drive to the store and buy some.

Dragon knitter has offered to send some. I'll take you up on that offer.

This isn't an affliction I can like, tell my boss. "Hey, I feel like crap because dear Auntie Flo has come to town. Gonna bail on that meeting today." As it is, the whole telecommuting deal lets me looks like crap and doesn't care that I have no makeup and am chowing down on cashews and bagel crisps and vegan gluten free organic rice cakes and such during the meetings. I just lay in bed, my phone on mute, moaning in pain, with two Thermacare pads on, praying for death to come soon. And that's just because of what was going on in the meeting...(hahaha)

When I started this job, so did someone else who is a couple of years older than I am. Within a month, all three of the non-menopausal women at work were on the same cycle. I feel like I'm in high school, playing women's lacrosse again.

for this is all a dream a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago.

There we were, on Saturday night, at Trixie and Wawa's neighborhood chili cookout, actually having a good time socializing with some of their neighbors, and The Man Who Lives in the House was speaking!, when I KNEW I had to leave IMMEDIATELY.

Yep, boys and girls, the d & c I had two years ago to stave off the six week long hemmorhages has come to an end. I knew that morning it was impending. I went to Walgreen's and stocked up. There I was in my fat yoga pants, unshowered for four days, broken out, bloated despite the diuretics I'm on, an ancient college student government t-shirt, a do-rag, tevas with the damn toe wrapped up, and a basket filled with econmony packs of extra long maxi pads with wings, super ultra plus tampons, Midol, variety packs of tampons, chocolate ice cream, choclate bars, chocolate syrup, chocolate cake mix, chocolate frosting, etc. The woman at the cash register said, "Are you having a good day today?" and as I looked at her balefully as I unloaded my basket o' goodies, looked down and said, "Oh. Clearly you aren't." Lowers her voice to a stage whisper. "I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

I had to laugh.

So here I am, on day...three, still bleeding worse than a stuck pig. I have cramps so bad I can't breathe. My face looks like a 13 year old's. I have a massive migraine.

Why do men want sex when we're in this state? Could I be more disgusting right now? How come The Man didn't want to touch me LAST week? Why does he want me NOW? Forbidden fruit?

I did buy myself a treat yesterday. It's the cutest little thing ever. Now I need to knit it a sock, because buying the iPod socks seemed silly.

The Man bought himself a new computer, the brand new dual processor G5 PowerMac to replace his dual processor G4 PowerMac, and then decided he's going to return it and exchange it for a 20" flat panel G5 iMac. Despite the fact that he's been waiting for two years for the dual processor G5s to come out and they came out last Wednesday. I'll never understand.

oooh! presents!

The luscious knitting diva gifted me with Halloween gifts. Yay! I took a before picture, because the wrapping was so cute:So I mailed that picture to myself after I took and sent the after picture, which has NOT arrived yet. You'll have to wait until later until you see the after picture. If it ever comes, that is...

Thanks, dreamy angela!

By the way, I had a long, long, LONG talk with my friend (the one from last weekend). We worked things out. We're also trying an experiment. Every time I say something negative about myself, I am forced to restate it in a positive light. It's been 24 hours since the two of us began this experiment. It's been quite trying, frustrating, and hair-pulling on my part, and, I believe, amusing on the part of my friend, who is not letting me get away with ANYTHING. I have never realized how incredibly negative I am in every aspect of my life. I gave up at about 4 PM but started back up with encouragement from some other people, who think the experiment is fun to watch, if nothing else.

The Man Who Lives in the House? He's concerned that I'm going to become like his junior high school teacher who was angry and bitter and had a nervous breakdown and went away to a mental institution and came back with a permasmile a la The Joker and was still angry and bitter but smiled about it and he was positive she was going to knife him to death in his bed at night while he was asleep.

He's so supportive.

sick! you are all just fucking sick and twisted!

That's why I love you so. "Eating human flesh?" I don't even know how we degenerated into that. I am not quite sure how much worse we can go. Therefore, I shall endeavor to find another story for you to begin.

I am proud to consider you my friends.

in the continuing saga of tammy and paul...

I am reposting the story in its current incarnation. Let's continue.

I'm surprised that you don't know Tammy and Paul, recently released after 37 years behind bars for deep-frying and eating their entire extended family.

With grits.

Of course this caused all kinds of heartburn and 37 years ago there were few of the new drugs available. So they cleaned up the dishes and went to the store in search of some Maloxx. Later witnesses would tell the jury how the couple casually discussed how salty the dish was and complaining about how to use the leftovers while picking out a lovely head of lettuce.

they were only discovered when a finger was found in the grease they ahd thoughtfully put out for the grease recyclers

At first it was assumed that this finger was planted by disgruntled Wendy's customers, hoping to score $50 worth of free chili, however further research revealed that in fact Wendy's restaurants had not yet been established, and the investigator, who was psychic, was seeing visions of future lawsuits.

At least, that's what the so-called "psychic investigator" claimed. He was really a con-artist, running a scam on innocent fast-food restaurants, finding future fault with something minor (usually something he himself planted on the scene)and then bribing restaurant owners and managers to not report on the findings. So when Joe the Phony Psychic Inspector planted a roach nest in the kitchen for future growth and turned around to leave, he was rather like the Psychic Inspector Who Cried Roach.

However, come to find out that Joe is really Paul's cousin. Paul called Joe in to take the heat off of him and Tammy. Paul and Tammy have now applied for a job on the "Praise the Lord" network. Watch your PBS channels.

paul has decided to channel jim baker, but tammy refuses to wear all that eyeliner. so we are unsure exactly which televangelist she's going to be. this may take some time.

Of course Paul and Tammy's recent discovery of "faith" was part of the reason they were paroled in the first place. It has been 37 years and their marriage is still going strong. There was a time there when they were considering seeing other people but neither is admitting that they strayed. This all seemed kosher until Marvin from Memphis came out on the Easter broadcast and explained how he first met Paul...in the shower.

in Sing-Sing. The audience reaction to this revelation was interesting.

Formerly thought of as a "gays are evil" type of church community, suddenly the audience was embracing Marvin and Paul as a bonafide "couple." Turns out, the audience was composed of "ex" homosexuals.

as they were celebrating their "togetherness" and "individuality" a faction from Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition stormed the place, and there was machine gun fire, and flames, and screaming

and the social cockroaches shall inherit the earth.

SKPixie put it best, I'm a social cockroach. Thanks.

Jon Udell's blog has an entry about blog spam today. He says, "One definition of social software, Clay Shirky has said, is stuff that gets spammed. It was inevitable that what happened to email would also happen to blog comments and blog search."

But when I turned on the word verification, it seems to have cut way back on my spam...

you see?

Enough of you feel the way I do in similar situations. Thanks for making me feel like I'm not alone.

I've been pulling a couple of all-nighters on a work project. It's helping my state of mind. I'm back in Atlanta now and the paint job from hell is over with! The Man has done wondrous things about the house. And to pick up from Rabbitch, my current playlist:

The Cramps: Can Your Pussy Do the Dog?
Chet Baker: Look For the Silver Lining
Ben Folds Five: Song for the Dumped
L7: Let's Lynch the Landlord
The Clash: White Riot
The Pixies: Alec Eiffel
Dead Kennedys: Hellnation
Deftones: Hexagram
Husker Du: Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill
Johann Sebastian Bach: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring
Benny Goodman: Sing, Sing, Sing (Live at Carnegie Hall, 1938)
Bob Marley: Redemption Song

Knitting content again when I have time to knit.

clarification.

Obviously, I am a white woman. And I was unclear in my drunken ranting post.

I have found that, for the most part, women tend to dislike me at social gatherings. Not all women, mind you. Those who do like me are cool (hence, those of you who happen to read my blog and are my friends and can see something in me that the majority of women in the world apparently cannot).

Now, I have noticed that this problem of immediate dislike has only ever come from Caucasian women. Why? I have no idea. So I tend to be off in a corner and if I find someone to talk to, it's like, the token woman of color who might also be at the gathering, and we always hit it off.

I did say in the previous post that those white women I got along with were oddballish enough to be like me. Maybe not entirely like me, but enough that they didn't look at me and judge me as lacking upon first glance.

I don't have this problem with men. I don't have this problem with women of color. I have this problem with white women. Not all white women, but really, only with white women.

The other night, the white women were the ones physically turning their backs to me.

I am more hurt by my friend, who knew how I felt going into the party, and left me anyway. I held my friend to a higher standard, because this person had prior knowledge to what my problems might be, and because I believe it was a bad thing to do.

If you bring someone to a party/event, to which you yourself invited them to, who knows nobody else there, do you immediately ditch them? No. You bring them around, make sure they're included in the conversation, and occasionally check up on them to ensure that they are not sitting alone, miserable for two hours, while your other friends are treating them like a pariah. If said friend had told you beforehand that this was a fear of theirs, you especially wouldn't do this. This is how my friend hurt me.

If you had a significant other who brought a friend who knew nobody, and you may not particularly care for this friend but you knew that this person knew nobody there, and your significant other left, would you then proceed to ignore the friend and tell everyone that it's your significant other's friend and exclude the person from every conversation? Make it clear when the friend could hear that they were not part of the "in crowd"? Make it clear that you were to be the center of every conversation and for others not to include this person, who knows nobody else there, and is noticeably not participating in conversation? This is another way my friend hurt me.

I am reminded, after an instant message conversation with someone last night, that even though my world seems to be blowing up in my face, other people's worlds are doing the same as well. My thoughts go out to you, R. I love you, and I hope you work things out, whatever way they get worked out. I'm here for you, and so is my shotgun.

i have needs, too.

I feel a little bit better this morning. I spoke with two (white women) friends who said I had value in society. Hockey mom's meme on Googling your name + needs and typing the top ten responses nets some interesting and quirky) results.

1. Rebecca needs enlightenment!
2. Rebecca needs just one good, meaty, dramatic role, and the chances of her skyrocketing into fame will increase tenfold.
3. Rebecca needs a family that will provide her love and support.
4. Rebecca needs the receipts from each chapter's recruitment chairs.
5. Rebecca needs the committee's input to complete the Teacher's Guide.
6. Rebecca needs a very specific kind of learning environment.
7. Rebecca needs to get out and find a boyfriend.
8. Rebecca needs an adoptive family that will be nurturing and experienced in parenting a child with Rebecca's needs.
9. Rebecca needs her food to be soft, or cut into small pieces, so that it is easy to chew.
10. Rebecca needs to meet with the water quality team soon.

despite all my rage, i am still just a rat in a cage

OK.

For the sake of fairness in reporting, let me begin by saying that I am fairly majorly drunk at this moment in time.

And I expected to still be at work.

Instead, I am shivering in my apartment with no heat and no blankets, crying my eyes out.

How did this happen?

I know that many of you are oddballs. That's what makes you all my friends. I may have never met some of you in person, but we click, in some way. Those I have met in peron, I formed a deep and close bond with.

That saying, I have a lifelong problem of making friends with, as I was finally able to articulate tonight to another friend who does not fall into this category, white women.

Those white women who are my friends are oddballish enough to not have very many white women friends of their own, unless they are others of their ilk.

So here I am in DC.

I had a fucking shitty day. I am stressed to the max on a number of issues. Work, a possible work issue, a major work project due on oh, say, Tuesday. A meeting for which I wasn't prepared. I felt so guilty about my lack of preparation that I admitted it to my boss (The General). Who didn't much care. But I did. And then there's the whole Man Who Lives in the House thing. And a couple of people whom I thought were my friends blew me off today. And my toe now has a yeast infection. Yes, that will soon spread. (To guess where? Lovely. Already starting.) And my GI problems aren't any better with Cipro, which causes GI problems. Lovelier. Test results are in line with issues. I don't even know when I'll be back in DC again, and I haven't prepared myself to like, leave yet. This means I'll be at work tomorrow. My apartment room is a mess but I have no furniture here and no way to rectify that situation.

So after badgering and an evil plot by some to force me to leave work early, I did so and attended a happy hour in honor of a shelter. I was "invited" out of pity by a "friend" who, after I had told this friend I was exceedingly shy (I am) and I had trouble making friends with women, because they basically hated me (they do), left me to my own accord. Where I floundered for about an hour until The Man called and then I came back and floundered for possibly an hour more.

Nobody talked to me.

I tried to get into conversations, I was shot down.

I killed the conversations.

I was miserable.

I was noticing that these white women hated me.

I was about to cry and leave.

I tripped over a black woman, who became my new best friend in the world. Black women do not fall nto the category of "people who hate Rebecca." And suddenly, I was a worthy person again.

And then I left my new best friend, whom I had just met, and followed my original peeps to some other places where I was treated like a pariah, but this time in the sense of "Why are you opening your mouth to speak, Rebecca? Your words have no value."

So here I am, shivering and drunk and crying, wondering why I am such a lousy, anti-social person. And why peopoe don't like me.

I tried.

i just want to say...

Who the fuck are Tammy and Paul Powell?

Let's make up a story about Tammy and Paul, shall we? Post in the comments.

thanks for the quiz, colette!

except when I've had blue hair before, it looked weird with my skintones. I need warm tones with my skin. The personality fits, though.

Your Hair Should Be Blue

Wild, brilliant, and out of control. You're a risk taker with an eye to the future.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

spamusement

spam has nothing to do with this post, except now they're posting to my OLD entries, as if my new entries weren't fucking enough!

Oh, yeah, and I passed my one year blogiversary on Blogger without notice. It was like two months ago or something. I had a blog on Typepad that nobody read so technically I've been blogging for longer than a year but we'll pretend I started with this blog. Not that anyone reads this except the fucking spammers and by the way what is all that about Saudi Arabia anyway?

This morning saw me back at the podiatrist for a followup. It was supposed to show that the growth-thingy in my tow had shrunken. Toe, I mean. Wow, did I really write "tow"? Huh. How homophonic of me.

Anyway I was thinking the growth-thumb-like thing had grown but anyway I went and was prepared to be told it had gotten better despite the pain having gotten worse. The doctor looked at it and said, "WOW! It's grown and looks seriously ugly! That's nasty!" Which made me feel ever so much better. So I had about 80 shots of novacaine injected into my big toe/tow and he removed the thing to find that the reason it hadn't shrunkened was because there were like four giant pieces of townail underneath it irritating it and it would have never shrunk. So now I feel better despite the minor surgery and the tow that I cannot feel at all.

But it's rather nice to be ambulatory again.

too much anger trapped inside

So, I've been depressed over the whole argument with The Man. That and the toe thing and the Cipro (thank you dragon knitter, I knew about the gastro problems, and yes, naturally it happened to me) is knocking me out on a weekend I need to work.

I'm hoping it's a good thing that when I go to change my bandage, it's all icky and gross. That's drainage, right?

If he had called me, maybe I would have said yes, read me them. But he calledme to yell at me about the test results, when he didn't have a right to open them in the first place. He opened them because they came in the mail. I could have waited a week to read them.

what the fuck.

so The Man called me to read me some medical test results I have been expecting.

Did he even ask me if he could open the envelope? No.

Would I have said he could open the envelope? Why, no.

It's called privacy. Now he's mad because I was terse with him and I am seriously pissed off with him.

life sucks.

1. My toe is worse. The infection has spread. Some kind of strep. I am now on Cipro. My toe is purple. It fucking hurts like a mother fucker.

2. I tried, really, I tried. I tried to do the right thing. All I did was get someone else in trouble. This person didn't deserve to get in trouble. It is likely my fault, nonetheless. I am pretty sure this person hates me now. I try to be ethical, and even when something I want comes along, when I think the people are behaving unethically, I try to steer them in an ethical direction. In this case it had a benefit of doing something good for someone else. That someone else then got in trouble. I am sure it's my fault. I just stood out in the rain for 30 minutes in penance. All it did was get me wet and cold.

spamalot

Ok, I guess I expect the occasional spam comment every once in awhile. Behold our friend Donald:

Hi, My name is Donald you have a great blog here! I'm definitely going to bookmark you! I have a circuit board assembly work at home
site. It pretty much covers circuit board assembly work at home
related stuff.

Come and check it out if you get time :-)

But what's up with this comment?

Anonymous said...
Saudi blocks blogger.com
Posted: 5 October 2005 By: Jemima Kiss Email: jemima@journalism.co.uk Authorities in Saudi Arabia blocked access to blogger.com this week, according to press freedom group Reporters Sans Frontieres .
Find out how you can buy and sell anything, like things related to music on interest free credit and pay back whenever you want! Exchange FREE ads on any topic, like music!

I mean, at least stick to a single topic!

I went to the podiatrist and he performed painful surgery and minor miracles and I am in more pain now but he fixed it, I think. I am to soak my toe in a solution of epson salt and vinegar until I turn into a pickle and report back.

here comes the pain again, i had my feet on solid ground

You know when you get that one minor inconvenience that just, like, kills you?

I have a massively infected ingrown toenail. My right big toe is purple and white. If I accidentally touch it lightly against something, I get lightheaded, I'm in so much pain. This happens to me quite often on this one toenail, and The Man Who Lives in the House usually performs major surgery while he shakes his head sadly in disbelief that I can somehow manage to get myself in such a state (as if it's my fault). However, I just hit DC for two weeks.

So, last night, while NOT watching "House, M.D." because of baseball season (withdrawal, anyone?) and while watching "Law and Order: Something Comes After the Colon," I did what The Man would have done in my situation. I soaked my toe in nail polish remover, removed as much of the infected area as I could without passing out (and not as much as The Man would have) and put a bandage on it.

I'm such a wuss. The sight of blood makes me ill.

It feels better this morning. Then again, I haven't gotten out of bed yet.

evil incarnate

I have a theory.

My theory is that all famous Rebeccas, whether celebrities or characters in literature or film, are evil.

As yet, my theory has yet to be disproven.

Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm? Conniving little bitch. Becky Sharpe? Manipulative. Becky Thatcher? Slut. Becca on Life Goes On? Secretly plotting to kill Corky.

Today, my theory was strengthened when I read of the woman who is my new idol for evilness, Rebecca Loos.

I think that all that needs to be said here is: "The poor boar."

Oh, and the Donald in the comments, it's the second time he's posted. He really wants me to build circuits at home. If he only knew how I tripped over them with what The Man Who Lives in the House leaves laying about...