my long weekend didn't do much for my writing skills

i think google is mad at me. i might have pushed it over the edge when i didn't want to look up the proper meaning of sadist vs. masochist.

google feels threatened that i no longer care about finding out the exact meanings of things and that i can live my life happily ever after with unanswered questions floating around in my head.

you know what google, not everyone needs to search things all the time. so stop letting all that shitty junk mail into my inbox to try and make me pay attention to you, or guess what, i'll boycott your ass. i'll start writing real letters and mailing them to people, through the postal service, to read instead of using blogger. i bet that'll make me really popular, and you'll lose all that potential revenue from the ads on my blog. you know, those little unassuming links in my sidebar that usually talk about bed bugs or chinese thongs (thank god we got rid of that one).

and you know what else, google, if that's even your real name, i'm still kinda mad at you for making me have to be invisible every damn day on gchat. marvin's still stalking me. isn't there a setting somewhere that will let me just be invisible to one person? if not, i suggest you get on that piece because it's getting really old having to go through those two extra steps to open a chat window with b while he's at work.

so guess what i'm going to do now, i'm going to do your job for you, stupid google. i'm going to answer some really important and profound questions that were recently posed to me. because everyone knows that if you post questions on your blog i am obsessively compelled to answer, much like a dictionary with tourette's.

my little becky, who hangs out over at i'll go eat worms, was the latest to test this theory. while we haven't been friends for very long, i can say that her poignant probes into the recesses of my mind are truly astounding. and for that, becky, i made you a special present. and also because you love doggies as much as i do. so before i get to the questions, i want to give you this:



thanks becky, for understanding the ups and downs of being a dog owner, and also for making up your own words all the time. i'll completely understand if you don't like my present, and i may or may not steal it back to put on my blog as well.


and off we go:

13. if you were an animal and you couldn't get that eye goop that gets in your eye corners from everyday living or baby zebra killing would that just totally drive you frickin insane? additionally, would you lick the eyegoop out of your cheetah lovah and cheetah baby's eyes because, you know, appearance may not be everything but eyegoop is juss nast? and would you sit butt to face sistee nine style to flick flys off each other with your tails?

eye goop is quite possibly one of the most disgusting things on this planet. i avoid the ones on monster's face at all costs, and leave them to grow and harden to the size of small pebbles until they either fall off from gravity or b sees them and cleans them for me. so no, i will not in any incarnation have anything ever to do with goop.

14. bonus! what is the name of my favorite freckle?

hairy petunia

15. if you had whiskers would you grow them out or would you keep them at a respectable length? can you tell that i'm watching a nature show while writing questions?

what i am starting to think is that you may have confused me with some other cat loving blogger, because i hate cats and all cat things, including whiskers.

16. don't you hate it when t9 is like being a bastard and keeps putting of instead of me or good instead of home? why can't they fix that?

ok, you definitely have me confused with someone else! how could you, becky?! are all my posts about my smelly dog not enough for you to remember me? i mean, i can see how you might make this mistake, kristine is my friend in real land, outside of blogland, and we do sometimes make cross-references to each other. but since we are in fact separate people, when her kid t9 is being a bastard i really don't give a what because he's not mine and i only see him like once a week.


and that shall now conclude this round of 'questions i answer so i don't have to think of something extraordinarily witty to blog about' for today. i will try to bring the clever/originality sometime soon, but no promises.

from me to you

alright, i'm going to get this out and then drop it: despite the weird tone of my last two posts, i am completely happy (as in not depressed) and not trying to change anything about myself. i've had 29 years to accept that i will always have the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, and that's that. i'm so awkward that even when i was trying to make fun of myself it sounded like i was sad. but thank you to those well-wishers and supporters, i'm here for you guys!

soooooooooo, on a lighter note, the mysteriously modest writer miss.chief has been ever so kind to me for most of my, albeit short, blogging venture. most recently she has supplied me with something to post about today and save all of you from reading another borderline 'does she need a psychological evaluation?' post. and for that miss.chief, i made you a special present. i don't know if i can call it an award because i made it just for you and usually the awards are ones that you pass on to others, but if you did pass it along that would be fun too. behold the magic of paint:

thanks for always getting it, and for never having writer's block.

so the rules of this mini-meme are that i have to answer the five questions that she has written for me. then to pass it on, anyone who wants to be interviewed can write 'interview me' in the comments section. the first five people to do this will get five individual questions from me to post about. so really, this meme is a two-fer. tomorrow i will post the questions and then i'm off the hook til monday.

i'm going to warn you now, i'm in a very chatty mood at the moment.

1. What in the hell does your blog name even mean? (the pearl one)

since i'm exceptionally bad at describing myself (hence the one-liner 'about me'), kristine suggested i use a line from a song i like as my blog title. i usually shy away from discussing what music/movies/tv/etc. i like because you can make a case for or against pretty much everything, and i hate futile arguments. but today i will tell you that the line is from a ryan adams song and goes '...with her father on amphetamines, her mother hides the pearls...' i fucking LOVE me some ryan adams, and that's all i'm going to say about that. (unless someone tells me that it's copyright infringement to use a fragment from a song and then i'll delete this post and deny any connection whatsoever).

2. Has the pancake shirt caused you to vomit yet? Please answer in the form of a question, jeopardy style.

what is, i don't think that's possible. upon receipt of said pancake shirt i promptly washed the cat hairs off so that monster could proceed to cover it with dog hairs and make the shirt feel welcome in my wardrobe. i eat pancakes for dinner sometimes when there's no food left and i'm too lazy to go grocery shopping. pancakes = night off from real cooking, so they make me happy.

3. Have you ever seen the CSI episode where the guys dies from allergies, getting shot with an arrow, drowning, a snake bite, and getting hit in the head with a crowbar but then they have to say he died from a heart attack or something? it's my favorite.

what the...?? i request a new question, that's a rip-off. it's just a yes or no, and therefore leaves me much less opportunity to talk about myself. but anyways, i DID see that ep and it was actually a whole season edited into 43 minutes.

4. Why can humans move their eyes in opposite directions toward their nose but not away from their nose?

actually, some humans can do this. my physics professor in college could do this every day, but i don't think it was intentional. he was big and round and had this cloud-like greyish-whitish beard that connected with his hair and he looked just like santa. we called him professor santa and he really liked it, he would always smile and have this deep, jovial laugh that made you just want to hug him.

5. Don't look this up: what does ROFL mean again?

omg, lol!! i TOTALLY know this one now. it means really old (and) fucking lame. at least that's what i'll say to anyone who uses that crap with me.

i know you want to play now.

and now before i go, it's time for one last teeny weeny present. this one is dedicated to my bestest pal of, holy shit i can't believe it's been that long, 18 years. we go all the way back to mr. stern's math class in seventh grade. thanks kristine, for always being there to help and for always understanding me. this one's for you:

speech therapy

this morning, as i sent my congratulatory 'YAY!' to kristine, via our perpetual scrabble game, for finally being able to present her 50-page MASTERpiece, i began to reminisce about all the many times i've had to present some work of mine in front of a class. now, nothing i have done can even come close to her intense MASTER research, but is more along the lines of trying not to get beat up or thrown in detention in high school.

the scariest assignment was when i had to work with the girl who was goth ahead of her time, back when everyone else was still rocking the lumberjack flannels and kurt cobain was alive. not only did she wear a plastic barbie doll leg with red sharpie on it to look like blood around her neck as a decorative accessory, but she also hated me. i was too scared of her to talk shit about her then, she just hated me because she could, i guess.

after two awkward afternoons at the local library where i spent the time reading the collected works and countless biographies of william blake, while she spent the time drawing pictures of me hanging from a noose (i'm assuming it was me, she got the bangs just right), i pretty much wrote my presentation and figured she could say whatever she wanted to after i talked. well, as it turned out, what she ended up saying was that i stole her speech and that she had nothing left to say. consequently she failed, and spent the rest of our time in high school giving me death looks and kicking my shins from under her desk.

there was also the time that and i got drunk on my free period from the convenient stash of my mom's foster's keg cans and then 40 minutes later was swinging my legs from my history teacher's desk babbling something about jacksonian democracy. kristine sat there burning me up and laughing the whole time because she knew how wasted i was. she got yelled at and i got an A+.

considering that my oratory skills seem to have been somewhat successful in the past, i find myself now wondering if there's a way that i can exploit my natural talent to work for me.

well, maybe there's no need for me to go that far, but at the very least i can spend ten years making this fabulous picture in paint instead of showering like i should be doing.

ps. i had to look up how to spell 'speech' in my scrabble game, just to make sure.

i need to clean my bathtub again anyway

today i was *thisclose* to posting about monster's many stank orifices, complete with a drawing from none other than paint. thank GOD i read kristine's blog before i sat down to spend five hours making a fish skeleton coming out of my dog's butthole.

just take a look at what she gave me!

isn't it the most AMAZING thing you've ever seen?! finally, the truth shall be known, me and susan boyle are going to enjoy a wondrous, lifelong love affair, in which we tell each other how pretty we are (on the inside).

i know, i know, i have to share this masterpiece with some other folks. but hey, we're all friends here, and who am i to deprive someone of the warm embrace that is kristine's love. so thanks k, for brightening my day!! and also for giving me the day off from having to write something that's only borderline witty using my dog as a prompt.

i'll translate if i have to

i'm not sure if it's a matter of my age or my lack of proper training, but i am completely illiterate when it comes to chat/text speak. sure i can send texts and chats, but it will take me about five years for one message because i type the whole entire thing out.

some of the basics are easy and i've picked up on their proper usage; omg, wtf, got it. others however, make me annoyed because i took fucking six years of latin and i was so proficient i could converse with cicero if i wanted to, and yet i still don't know what the fuck 'rofl' means.

the frustrating part about this was that when i received a chat from someone who used this term, my first impulse was to google it. i stopped because i realized that i have no idea what rofl could possibly mean, and the last thing i need is to google some weird porno term and have dirty things pop up on my computer and never ever leave (cause that's what i heard happens when you look up online porn).

so my next move was to email the human dictionary that is kristine for a quick answer:

me: don't burn me up, but i really don't know what 'rofl' means

k: ok, first, tell whoever used it that he/she is a tool. second, it means 'rolling on the floor, laughing'.

that's the dumbest shit i've ever heard. shouldn't all laughter at something written be covered by the all-encompassing 'lol'?

ok, i'm already over it. now i can talk about how much i love microsoft paint.

the amazingly awesome sour sent me this fabulous shirt as a trade for my wack bird shirt.

right away, you can see the sweet sunshine lines i made coming off the shirt, which could be perceived to be stink lines, except that i'm telling you they're not. i can't decide what my favorite part of the shirt is. it could be that the pat of butter melting onto pancake stack's right eye totally looks like a black eye, making him that much more badass. or it could be this:

who's trapped under stack? how did he get stuck there? what was he looking for? so many questions, it's brilliant. so a HUGE THANKS to sour, for spreading her canadian love my way!

i could take pictures and paint things on them all day, but in truth, i'd never become as talented as this. you're welcome for the link. and now, feel free to da mihi multi baccii please.