( Socio-economic, bold-all-that-apply survey. )

Caldera status:: contemplative

If you just noticed me unfriending you, and it bothers you, post here -- it's screened.

1. If I don't know you, and you add me... I will look at your journal. If I don't return the addition, it may have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my own life being hectic.

2. If I've added you, I find you interesting to read, potentially for the long-term, at that point in time.

3. I really do have a hectic life. I work. I'm married. I have RL friends. Life happens.

Yo assholes. Fucking vote and shit. In California alone, if the people who were living to see the long-term effects of legislation actually bloody well participated, we'd have different results in every election for the past 10+ years.

Stop being morons. Take 10 minutes to vote. Don't let geriatric patients decide the future when they won't see it.

Beat the seniors in voting rates. They're moribund. And hate premarital sex.

You can't trust a generation who's anti-premarital sex!

( I am a sucker for the Interest Collage lemming-jump. )

Ganked from cmpriest: As one viewer put it, Christian Klingons in Finland, a.k.a. the band Lordi, with the live performance of their Eurovision contest-winner "Hard Rock Hallelujah."

Scary. Funny. Bizarre. And obviously meant for a Guitar Hero future.

Please take this survey! In particular, any of you who play trading card games (like Magic, Vs. System, etc.) should take it. It's for my fiance's product, the World of Warcraft trading card game which Upper Deck Entertainment will be releasing later this year.

There are some prizes offered; only the first respondent from any given IP address is eligible.

Thanks!

Best wishes and highest hopes to you NOLA folks. Hope all of you stay okay, and that you have a city to come home to.

[x-posted as comment to her journal in a post from a month or so ago]

( Coming out of the clothes-horse closet. )

1. Small ISBN/marketing/sales/inventory/purchasing clusterfuckery on the day that the catalog is to go to the printer... it should be expected. As usual, I'm sure there is no answer to the seamless transition attempt that will please everyone. At least the messenger (me) didn't get killed.

2. Shower today. Pastels make me cranky. The Aleve I took after eating something wheaty is making me sleepy. I might want to stock up on black, burgundy, brown, forest green, midnight and deep purple dyes if I choose to attempt the kid thing.

3. Saw Sin City. Enjoyed muchly. Reminded me of Thieves' World. Good times.

4. Introduced D. to his local Cuban restaurant. We split a sampler and still had l.o.'s.

5. Off tomorrow.

6. Tomorrow morning, I should be able to get my place into some semblance of order.

7. I'd already typed up a more wordy entry, but my computer's sulking due to abandonment issues in anticipation of my planned absence, so it decided to freeze. Fucker.

Spider in my car, crawling up the left edge of the windshield above me as I'm driving = not good.

I hate psychosomatic post-arthropod-viewing itchiness. The nagging fear that somewhere on your body, there is some creepy-crawly lurking, possibly a biting sort.

That I have two hits from the mosquito army already, one per shin... No, that isn't helping. Not a bit.

Desperately attempting to believe that there is not a baby spider in my tepid coffee. *twitch*

Is there a psychosomatic version of Benadryl? I wants some, I do. Ghaa.

Add some sort of allergic skin reaction around the base of my nose and under the nosepiece of zee glasses... helpmeiaminhell.

Okay, just irritating discomfort. Oh, botheration, anyhow.

EDIT: Dur. Dust. From shelves which have finally returned to me. Bah. More than what I'm used to dealing with. It might be a Benadryl night for me. Ghaa. Should get some anti-inflammatory going, just in case. Meh.

I have started noting a side effect of Broke-Ass Disease: not-eating. When the wallet, it sickens, my appetite has a sympathetic lack-of-desire-for-food.

[Let me just add that smelling Emergen-C in the air -- that, or the chronic rot lingering in the depths of the dysfunctional ventilation system -- well, chalk and rotting peaches helps suppress that gnawing hunger, but the dizzy, it does not dissipate.]

Oh, and the roommate being a constant fixture out in the living room doesn't help, for some reason. Maybe it's my social overload exacerbated by sleep dep, excess caffeine and not-eating, but...

Or maybe I'm just really fucking lazy. I hate preparing food. You know why I don't eat chicken? Work. It takes work. Steak? Marinade, broil, snarf. Soup? Microzap and snarf. Chips and dip? No cooking at all, usually. Straight to the snarfing.

And when I've got broke-ass, I can't get no mo' easy-snarf. *sigh*

So, while my laundry progresses (with aching, painful slowness) at my mother's, I can go to Tarzhay for the necessities (batteries for 'mote, hand soap, more dish scrubbies, cat fud), plus TJ's for the easy-snarf. The fact that she has no real snarfage there, part of the problem. And by the time I get home, I don't care so much about the eating. Or not-eating.

Bottom line: Food is work. Why can't I eat by osmosis?

Last thought: Being a vampire almost sounds appealing, except for that hunting bit. But, you know, "Happy Meals with legs," right? Oh, bother.

Osmosis is much more amenable to sloth anyhow.

( Dude, I am so sheepling like mad. )

If you want to believe my ex, whatever.

There's a whole 'nother side to the story, which I've tried to keep out of the local scene for the purpose of minimizing drama.

For the record, though, I moved out when I was 10 weeks pregnant. Had already scheduled the abortion (with his agreement to the course of action, so it's not like I did it on the sly). Had it the week after I finished up. It took me a month to move in, and a week to move out.

Now, I wish he'd not contact me ever again. I don't want to hear from him for my own reasons, and he has not chosen to respect that.

I am definitely taking NYE off. I have the time available, and, well, I will have two four-day weekends.

Yeah.

Three days of holiday time and one of vacation. Sounds about right to me.

Also, s'pos'd to talk on the phone with another guy with whom I've been corresponding via the personal ad. Works for HP, has an MBA, undergrad in comp sci, left-leaning and politically involved.

On another note, sending stabby thoughts to the desperate, passive-aggressive, no-effort-expending dweeb who sent me a "wink" (which merely says "I'm interested" without demanding any sort of composition of note), followed shortly by a note, followed by a note a couple days later soliciting my response. Considering the string of idiotic events of late, and the fact that his notes had no. fucking. content. of. worth. to which I could respond... The first went unanswered because I couldn't figure out what to say, and his photos made him come off as less than appealing. While his profile did show some good writing, politely bitching about the lack of response -- on a personals site, hello! -- revealed the inner clinging vine, the character that would turn cloying and sappy and spineless. Needy. I guess he doesn't realize that persistence with a stranger comes off as needy, since my profile says, basically, ix-nay on the eedy-nay.

I did send him a reply to the second one 'cause I was PMS-y and irritable (and thus not keeping to the wise rule of ignore-and-they-go-away), though I put politely the list of distracting events in my life of late which made it difficult to respond to his [near-contentless] "efforts"... okay, the last three words weren't in there, just that I felt too brain-fogged to write.

Said I'd write Monday. Oops. It's Wednesday, isn't it?

So, guys, if you ever decide to use a service like that, the rule is, one try. Whatever you do, one try. If you send a "wink" of some sort -- make your profile rich, full of humor and fodder for conversation. And never, ever use anything like "right under your nose" or "Where are you?" or anything else that smacks of petulant "Nice Guy" syndrome. You might think you're a nice guy. Chances are, you come off as a blandly manipulative creep.

And if you actually write a note, give real evidence you read the gal's profile. Ask about some things, share perspectives on others, and leave enough content for her to respond to, between the profile and the note.

In a sense, this goes for girls as well, but the passive-aggressive nice person crap... I've mostly seen it in guys. I think women make slightly different passive-aggressive stupid trying-to-date moves. Yeah.