Halloween Carvings

2007





2008



2009

The New Phone

As most of you know, my 1st Gen iPhone finally died. It was a combination of things really. The toilet episode, lots of droping, etc. but the final straw was when I bought a cheap, non-namebrand charger on sale. I brought it home, plugged my phone in and the screen ran this horrible series of varying blackness. It did this for 10 minutes before it finally settled down into sheer blackness.

I tried restarting it, a hard shut down, re-syncing it with the computer. I called Apple, I searched on-line, I called my Dad. Nothing helped, nothing was bringing my baby back. I went to bed hoping in vain that I'd wake up the next morning and my sweet little phone would magically be better. I'd touch the home key and the screen would light my life back up with it's warm mechanical glow.

No such luck. Two weeks later and I still can't get so much as a sizzle out of it.

So I got a new phone. I looked around for a while first, checked out the other non-iPhone options out there. But lets face it, it's impossible to go back to a normal phone after the iPhone. So after doing my due diligence I bought a new iPhone, got a new plan and waited for it to arrive in the mail.

I loved my 1st Gen like a child, I still have it tucked away in my desk. I can't get rid of it, I probably won't ever. But this new phone the 3Gs is AMAZING. It's everything I want and 100 times more. I can't think of a single thing that I want that it can't do.

I need to tell if a table is level - there's the app.
I'm having trouble falling asleep - there's an app.
I really want to play Scrabble - app.
I need to make a grocery list - app.
I wonder what phase the moon is in - app.
I'd like some Mistletoe - app.

I'm not even kidding. I have all of these apps.

This phone is my Holy Grail, it's the Hall to my Oats, the Aladdin to my Jasmine, the Fred Bird to my Ozzy Smith, the pop to my tart.

So yeah, I'll always love my first, but this is a different kind of love, a new love that transcends time and space.

At least until the next iPhone release.

It's Fucking October!!!!!!!!!!

Finally! Finally! Finally! I have a deep and abiding love for October, the weather, the cider, the leaves changing, but mostly it's Halloween bitches!

I love Halloween. I have no way to form coherent sentences about how fantastic, amazing, and fabby I think it is.

As I told a group of friends recently:

Halloween is by far the most fun holiday, you get to put horrible, repulsive things out all over your yard and your house, talk about severed body parts and blood without being judged, watch terrible movies, get sick on candy, AND dress like a dirty pirate hooker.

I get most excited about pumpkin carving. I'm slightly obsessed with it. I've done it every year since I've been on my own. Mom was never a big one for the mess it caused so we always just drew faces on pumpkins instead (which totally sucked 'cause I can't draw a straight line to save my life).

The first couple of years were rough, I didn't do very detailed work and usually ended up cutting my pumpkin to shreds. I've gotten MUCH better since I moved into my own house and bought a lot of practice pumpkins.

I'll probably update later with pictures of previous years because I'm way too proud of them.

Happy October everyone!

Male Validation

So I've finally caved. I've joined the ranks of reality show junkies.

My drug of choice?



I love that train wreck. I've managed to avoid Survivor, Big Brother, The Bachelor, etc., but give me fat girls with emotional baggage and I'm all over that shit like white on rice.

What absolutely makes this show for me has to be the non-repentant need for male validation and approval. All of these girls are so desperate for positive male attention that at the first smile from Luke they're instantly in love, crying, and proclaiming on camera to millions of people that their self-esteem has never been so high.

Really, this is what us fat girls are bringing to the table in relationships, co-dependence, inferiority complexes and complex carbohydrates (did anyone see those waffles on the last episode, damn they looked delicious and I don't even like breakfast)?

The young one, Mel Something Or Other, was the one I was rooting for. She was the most tragic mess. I really felt for her and wanted her to do well. Except for the fact that "doing well" in this competition meant winning the affection of the most herpes infested, dirt bag, male chauvinist pig I've seen on acceptable and politically correct TV. When she left she assured us that she grew in experience and self-esteem and that this was not the end, she would get her happy ending.

Girlfriend better settle for paying a male erotic masseur if she's thinking a man is going to solve all her problems. At least that way she can be guaranteed an orgasm and a back rub.

Then there's the "I love you" girl, (Kirsten, Kristian, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it starts with a K) this chick was bug-nuts. There aren't any words for how obsessive, stalkerish, and desperate this woman was. She scared me, a lot. Now she's gone too.

So what's left to look forward too you ask? Well the three thinnest girls and the biggest hoe. Shocker.

All I can think when I see the King of the Douche Bags kiss another girl is, "No God NO! HERPES HERPES HERPES, protect yo' self! Get some dental dams or something. Do not kiss that man, Lord knows where his tongue has been in the last 30 minutes, down at least three or four girls throats, and I saw the way that he looked at that horse on his romantic date with the big hoe.

You can't fool me Luke, you can't fool me.



So Luke and some cute, blond chubby girl are on a date. He comments on the view and she agrees that it's beautiful. Then he says, "I was talking about about you." The cute blond looks like a deer in the headlights. How in the world can she be so pleased and shocked by the most overused, pointless, gag-inducing phrase man has ever uttered? If anyone EVER said that to me and was serious about it I'd be sick. Literally, I'd try to hold it in, but I make no promises. The only way to react to something that ridiculous and snark worthy is to puke right in the guys face.

Then on this very same date Luke talks to cute blond chubby girl about family and kids. She figures she will work and not stay home with them. He condescendingly asks her how she thinks the child care arrangements will work out with both of them working. Uh, hello asshole, if a woman wants to work, let her and child care is not just her problem it's your's too you chauvinist wanker. Please DIAF.

Cute blond chubby girl goes home too.

I hate this dude.

I met Abe Lincoln . . .

and my camera died before I could get a picture with him.

I'm obsessed with Abe, I love him. No seriously, it's a sickness. I'm crazy about him. I read books about him, watch any movies, tv shows, or YouTube videos that so much as mention him.

I think he's the hottest thing ever. I want his babies. If only he weren't dead. I'm sure he would have chosen me over that royal bitch he married.

In college there was a very tall boy that I had a few Communications classes with and he looked enough like Abra-hankin' Lankin' for me to develop a severe and embarrassing crush. I would talk about him to my roommate constantly, how dreamy he was, how I'd stare at the back of his head during Mass Media classes, anxiously await our public speaking days to hear his voice.

I didn't care about him as person. I had absolutely no interest in getting to know him. I just liked to stare. It's really a good thing too, 'cause he was terminally stupid.

I am 110% positive that my real Abe was the smartest, most amazing man in the entire world. Oh Abe, how I wish my camera would have held on for just a few more minutes. All I got was this picture of my soul mate playing Bago:



*drool*

Little quirks

I'll listen to the same song over and over and over again until I know every single word to it.

I don't like my foods to touch each other.

I only eat one food at a time and turn my plate in a circle as I go from one food to the next.

I only like eating the broken tortilla chips.

I bite my nails.

I'm rigid with my morning routine and it never varies.

I like Taylor Swift (judge me, I deserve it).

I put off everything except homework. I always get that done as far in advance as possible.

I don't deal well the stress of fixing someone else's mistakes, or my own for that matter.

I'm adept at dealing with unexpected stress.

I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the hand with a sharpened spork than cry in front of someone.

I love going to the car wash and wish I could afford to wash my car every week.

I hate my eyes.

I have an awesome corporate "phone voice."

Physically Ill

Everyone who knows me knows how attached I get to inanimate objects. When I get something I hold on to it - FOREVER.

Those porcelain dolls I collected, until a bunch of daycare kids chopped all their hair off and wrote on their faces, making them completely worthless: packed away with special care and stored in my attic.

Those Barbie plastic figures that I got from McDonalds in the early 90's - still got 'em.

All of the save-able flowers that CG (Current Guy) has ever given me - around my home and in my keepsake box.

T-shirts from Middle School - organized by year in my spare closet.

So when I dropped my 1st Gen iPhone in the toilet last night I saw my life flash before my eyes.

If any of my high school friends are reading this you'll remember my sick attachment to my Razor phone. I kept that phone until some asshole stole it and made prank calls to everyone in my phone book. Even then, after I got it back I couldn't part with it, I finally gave it to a cousin who used it until a few months ago.

For two years that iPhone has been my life. I've used it for everything and even when I had no reception (which, although I hate to admit it, was pretty often) I carried it around like a security blanket. I have over 200 pictures on it, tons of music, texts from friends, singing voicemails, email that I only check over the phone.

I'm heartbroken, completely devastated. I know most of my information can be salvaged and there's even a slim chance that my phone will start working again after I give it a few days to dry out.

I'm literally sick just thinking about it. I don't want another 1st Gen, I want MY 1st Gen! *pout*

So I'm praying to the god of technology to save me from myself and from paying $190 for a new phone.