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| June 08 2005 |
Moving day
I've moved:
www.quellesurprise.com/thepenstopshere
Please update accordingly.
Posted by gabby at 3 : 53 pm | Leave a note {0}
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| | March 28 2005 |
The world owes me a living because of my impeccable, infallible taste
Brittney spears is in the coffee shop this fine afternoon. Okay, it's not really her, but I'm in utter awe that a 40 something woman would want to shove herself into skin-tight pink pants and a horrid, six-sizes-too small denim jacket and think she can take her over-tanned self out into public looking like Brittney and not have it appear somewhere on the internetosphere that I do not approve of her attire. The audacity of some people.
Okay, I'm kicking the cat. The world has kicked me around the past couple of weeks, and instead of becoming a mentally healthy person and taking responsiblity for my actions and emotions, I'm acting like a typical American and instead A) Blaming someone else and B) Judging. Someone else. I have better taste than this 40-year-old Brittney. So therefore I'm just plain better, and this is just a slump. And the world owes me a living because of my impeccable, infallible taste.
I think I may use the above sentence in my newly preened cover letter. Oh yes, it is that time of year again. The temporary job either ends the 4th or 24th of the upcoming month, and I again am losing sleep over the question: "How am I going to pay rent and still drink like a fish?" I have a couple of plans.
First, I'm not going to reveal to the office that my job will be ending next month. I imagine the fourth will roll by, and I could come back to work the fifth. If no one says anything, I'll continue working until the 24th. Then I'll come back the next day, and if there again is no mention, I'm just going to assume I have full-time, permanent employment. Knowing the nature of this company, it just might work. I may even promote myself.
If that fails, I have the bookstore to fall back on. Then there's freelance work that may help me buy a gallon of bourbon a week, granted I'd be cutting down on drinking, but my wasteline could use to miss a couple thousand empty calories a day.
I've also developed a perfectly splendid plan of creating a radio show. I have the use of a friend's studio to clean up the recordings, edit, add music and put it on CD which I may try to solicit to radio stations world-wide, and be a worldd-famous radio syndicate broadcasting from the armpit of America. I think the common U.S. citizen would be very interested in the world perspective of someone who has never lived in a town of larger than 200,000 people. Where county commissioners spend their time counting cows and declaring emergency disaster proclimations over comic book threats.
Other than that, and short of moving to a different continent, I'm embracing this "I'm soon going to be unemployed" attitude with a state of passive-aggressive indifference.
And that is all she wrote, for now. Bye bye internet.
Posted by gabby at 1 : 17 pm | Leave a note {1}
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| | March 22 2005 |
Sunday's Best is the best
One must always pay lip service to good music. For me, it is the reason I get out of bed every aftenoon. It keeps me up late at night, It makes my co workers do that little "Step away slowly, I'm so fearful of you right now" look from the corner of their eye whenever I 'bust-a-move.' Good thing I work alone for the most part. Oh, it also makes my coworkers skittish, because more than likely the night before I was "jammin'" with the speakers on my computer up. to. the. maximum. level. of. loudness. And then when I come in the next day and up-start, the office is startled with the window-shattering "DUNHHHHHHHH," first computer sound coming at zillions of decibles from the corner where resides the silent, yet odd new temporary employee.
When one finds a really neat band on ye olde interweb, regardless of the time stamp of whether this is "so last season," one must pay lip service to said neat band to more parts of the interweb. Here is my purpose today.
Listen to Sunday's Best. Especially the Salt Mines of Santa Monica. Oh, and Love My Friends, Hate My Life is catchy, peppy and oddly close to the attitude I hold about my place in the world.
That is all for now. Stay tuned to political discourse thanks to the catalyst of the new-to-me book DON'T THINK OF AN ELEPHANT!!! For the record, It's way worth the $10.
Posted by gabby at 12 : 30 pm | Leave a note {1}
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| | March 18 2005 |
It's closing time
I did not get drunk yesterday. I had been released from the chains of work at a couple seconds before it was not saint patrick's day and the friends with whom I had made some sort of social engagement were busy in bars outside my 3-block radius or maybe 5-block distance from my place of employment. So instead, I walked home, got in my car and went to a bar that provided peanuts and had a cement floor. All this to grab a friend I lovingly call the capitalist.
The capitalist had spent many hours of saint patricks day consuming beer and eating peanuts with his friends from work, but did not feel the need to be at said bar (that had a horseshoe for a door handle) much longer. I drove him downtown, grabbed beer and headed to the bar, where everyone under the neon flahsing crown was d-r-u-n-k. Even people who laugh at me for being the sot that I am were on their lips.
So the capitalist and I sat down in the crowded place to check out the hot chicks. We questioned whether one's dancing style is indicitave of a person's performance in the "two sheet tango." And I told him the recent story about my third date with a man who sat naked under his blanket on the couch, and as we watched a movie, Garden State, he kept reaching under the covers to "play with, but not PLAY WITH, his ding-a-ling," and how eventually he showed me exactly how that process worked. And no, there was no two sheet tango. For the record.
Anyway, the capitalist and I laughed about how inappropriate nakedness can be on a person's second or third date. He asked why I did not leave the house running and screaming and then we discussed more of the important things in life.
A friend of mine came into the joint, and apparently (I forgot, stupidly) the two don't really like each other. But I capitalized on the friend keeping the capitalist's attention and bolted to the dance floor, where I was reunited with people I haven't seen since god was a wee lad. I soon realized I was alltogether too sober, and needed to remidy that situation, so I went back to the table and sat between the capitalist and my other friend. (Read, I was sitting in the middle of either a pissing match or a dog fight.)
While friend went to get more beer, the Capitalist leans over to me and proceeds to tell me the exact reason he has decided to break my friend's kneecaps. Friend returns. I mouth to friend "just leave," since I entered the bar with the capitalist, and you know, it's rude to kick someone out just becuase of violent tendencies toward another friend's knee caps.
But no, I sat between the two, who would reciprocally whisper "I hate that man," or "he's a liar," or "what's he saying to you..." For fun because I was not drunk and because the two men flanking me were spitting on me, I would move either forward or back, the men would be saying whatever rude thing it was right to the other's face.
Finally the capitalist left, and the crisis was, I thought, averted. Until my friend turns to me and said, "I just have one more thing." I told him no, to respect my friendship with both parties, and keep his thought to himself.
He would deflate, drink some of his beer, look listfully to the dance floor and then puff himself up and beg me to listen to his item of utmost importance regarding how my friend sucked, in his mind.
Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rince repeat, repeat, repeat.
Finally, when he just talked over my begging to shut his trap, he said "don't believe ____ at two o'clock in the morning."
And drunk friend beamed! He beamed because he was finally able to stick the last jab to a man who had left the bar twenty minutes ago, he beamed because I listened to his urine spattering on the cement at a further distance than the Capitalist's. He beamed, and then he passed out drunk on the table. Okay, not really, but that would be the perfect ending.
(*and yes, the ding-a-ling story is, unfortunately, true.)
Posted by gabby at 3 : 52 pm | Leave a note {1}
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| | March 16 2005 |
The ongoing list
Yet another reason for Gabby in '08
WASHINGTON, March 16 - The Senate endorsed oil-drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge today, giving President Bush and others who favor exploration of the Alaska wilderness a major victory.
The 51-to-49 vote was in favor of a budget resolution that assumes revenues of some $5 billion from drilling fees over the next decade, with the federal government and the state of Alaska to split the money.
While this afternoon's vote is not the final word on the issue, it nevertheless made drilling in the wilds of Alaska - an idea favored by the oil industry for decades and fiercely opposed by environmental groups - far more likely than before.
Posted by gabby at 1 : 49 pm | Leave a note {0}
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| | March 09 2005 |
my toy will have to wait
Here's a little something on the state of the world and my current place in it: Dental insurance, good thing. Dental insurance at time of life when wisdom tooth comes out and begins poking the jaw in this very unpleasent manner, priceless. Not having dental insurance at time of said discomfort, bye bye digicam, bye bye schwanky pair of shoes. Hello massive dental bill.
So the doctor, I'm told, will give a queezy and scard-e-cat this drug called valium pre-operation. And this doctor for which I have scheduled an appointment apparently is a pretty neat dude with the cheapest price ticket around. So I guess it's not ALL that bad, but what the shit?
I work full time (at a temporary place) and before that, I was working more than full time. Before that I was going to school to educate myself enough to one day secure employment that offered that little perk called Benefits. And since getting the golden ticket to the real world, I have met more people without health/dental insurance that really palatable. I'd like to tell employers and dentsits alike to take one less vacation a year. To consider her profession as a service to mankind, not a service to self kind. And give uninsured folk, the majority of the population, a slight break.
once again. When I become president, Free healthcare to all!!!!
Thank you, and remember GABBY IN '08!!! (rahhhhhhh, rahhhhhhhhhh woohooo!!)
Posted by gabby at 12 : 50 pm | Leave a note {1}
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| | March 08 2005 |
I'm so sorry...uncle albert
I know no uncle albert, but it's a good song, you have to admit.
Regardless, I am so sorry for the lack of posting. While the digicam is something pretty to look at, it's not moved an inch down my template for far too long. I do hope the interweb can find it in its heart to forgive. Been very busy.
Have date.
Ohhh.
Posted by gabby at 10 : 50 pm | Leave a note {0}
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| | February 21 2005 |
say hello
to my new toy. After hours and hours of research, I think I may have settled:
Posted by gabby at 5 : 22 am | Leave a note {6}
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| | February 17 2005 |
greeting message
Ya'll know my disdain and utter contempt for Web-based hotmail. Yet, I've had this email account since before I realized Wal-Mart had no single shread of decency, so, well...whatever. Anyway, I needed to email something to myself, to take it down to Kinkos and print it out. Read below to gain an understanding of my appreciation for computer stuff; I haven't yet hooked up my computer to my printer, not out of a lack of trying let me tell you.
At any rate, back to said emailing stuff to myself stuff: Hotmail won't let me do that for some reason. And hotmail has been horrible (lately??). So I strategically set up another account on a Web-based email program. And I hate giving out personal information. (my phone number is 376-9921 -- not really, that's my mom's number) So I told said internetospheremailething that my name was Universe Rocker, because well...
And when I logged it my greeting message was:
Hello, Universe
I could get used to that.
Posted by gabby at 2 : 24 pm | Leave a note {4}
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| | February 16 2005 |
chez G33k (except the opposite of that)
Yesterday when I tromped downstairs to the hole I call my workplace, I noticed the evil computer dude was sitting at my tube fiddeling with things. For those of you who have seen The Office, you know the guy I'm talking about. The I'm too cool for school -- literally -- cocky person who thinks your pitiful existence at the bottom of the G33k chain justifies him spitting on you and ignoring any semblance of a sane question you may ask.
"Whatcha doin' with my computer?"
"Very important things," he responds with an ominous, overacted "King Lear" type tone in his voice.
"Like what," (dumb cuss word said under my breath inserted here)
"You've been playing on the internet, haven't you?" (again, Oscars, here he comes)
"RESEARCH. it's RESEARCH!!!"
And actually I don't play on the internet, really. I look at the statistics of all four people who have checked this website in the past month, I check my email, back to the statistics -- just to see...-- back to the email, Oh! It's been ten minutes, has anyone new stumbled across this blog? No, well shit. Maybe somone has written an email. Back and fourth, then I check my email again, and am off to the actual point of research...None of this differs from my playtime on my personal computer, except I have the windows both open and can hit refresh. Oh, and I actually have this page up, because, you know, I'm not at work, and hit the refresh button there to jack up my statistics.
Point being, apparently since I've started using that particular computer at work, It's gotten bogged down with little buggies. Spyware up the wazoo the work computer geek would say, if the work computer geek had a sense of humor...(*) So I have all these programs that have dug their way into the Dell at work like a planter's wart on a child's big toe...(ew). That's how I felt, ew, about the entire encounter. Primarially because I have similar internet "dinking" habits both on and off the clock. So I now am concerned that my lovely mac has a problem.
Here's the part where one can spit on me and not answer my semlance of a sane question because I'm not a g33k. I cannot find "adaware" software that will run on the mac. Every program I've downloaded today from "downloads.com," "removespyware.org," and "clickthislinkyoudumbfuck.net," has not worked. When I double click on the new program on my pretty desktop, my itunes opens for some reason. Now HUH???
(* Please don't think that I am being derogetory to all g33ks. It's just him. Not you honey, or you either)
Posted by gabby at 12 : 23 pm | Leave a note {6}
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Book Club #4 book of the week.