Month: September 2003

Dude, seriously, a nice anti-depressant and long hours of therapy will really help you out. I fear that if you don’t get the professional help you need, they will lock you up and throw away the key.

6 weeks in a see-through box with no food – what’s the point? I hear a big old cry for help, that’s what I hear. I mean, even if you don’t die, and that might very well be your goal, to die in a see-through box suspended above the Thames, what’s the point of having the world be aware that you’re peeing into adult diapers where everyone can SEE you for all that time?

There’s being cool and daring, and then there’s being psychotic. Some would say you’ve already crossed the line. And even if you succeed, people are going to assume that it wasn’t “real,” that you got food, or that there was something in the water you are allowed. That is the only way they should allow you to do this, otherwise it’s a very public suicide. We all get a front row seat to watch your organs shut down.

And another thing – six weeks is too long. We’ll all lose interest long before then. “David who? Oh, the psycho guy who doesn’t need to eat? Ya, call me when he does the ‘no air for six weeks’ trick. That’ll be a good one. Har har har.”

So come down out of the box, and get thee to a therapist. You’re like the kid in the playground who has to keep doing more dangerous stuff just so that the other kids will pay attention to him. “Look at me! I’m going to climb up on the roof of the cafeteria!” It wasn’t cool then, and it isn’t cool now.

Signed,

A concerned American

I thought it was supposed to be sunny this week? How am I supposed to wake up early if it’s dark and overcast? A little help, please?

Thanks to Ross from Localfeeds I may have that not showing up problem licked. No more excuses to feel bad for myself, eh? Well, of course I have plenty of those.

I was struck this afternoon/evening about how I have no friends. No, wait, don’t be posting stuff in the comments about how loved I am…I mean real life people who would call me up and say “dudette, I’m making chicken lo mein, bring a fork” or whatever. We won’t even go into the whole lack of a real social life. I just don’t have people to do things with, other than my son. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s fun, but I think the two of us spending a couple of hours at my office this afternoon was his idea of fun either.

Anyway, instead of just eating whatever Junior is having (pasta pasta pasta) I made myself a cool dinner that *I* wanted. It was amazing, actually. I made Chicken a la Aunt Barbara (chicken thighs sauteed with green peppers in a little grapeseed oil, salt and pepper. That’s it. You can use olive oil, I just prefer grapeseed), garden tomato and feta tossed in a touch of Ken’s Greek dressing, and a few of Junior’s medium shells with a smidge of butter on them. That’s it. And it was PERFECT. I think the secret is to start the chicken and peppers at the same time. Last time I threw them in about halfway through and there wasn’t much of the pepper flavor in the chicken. Tonight I had to force myself to not finish the whole package in one sitting. I can’t wait for dinner tomorrow!

I keep wondering why Blogrolling knows I’ve updated (I ping by hand) and even lists me as recently updated, yet I don’t show up as updated in the blogroll on my page. Something about that really annoys me.

Went grocery shopping. There’s a major Cookie and cracker sale at Shaws. I guess September is cookie and cracker month.

My comment to the priest in Fitchburg who embezzled 250k from the parish: What part of “Thou Shalt Not Steal” doesn’t apply to you?

Oh and as a follow-up to Junior waking up way too early yesterday? Even earlier today. As in before 6am early. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I read Chris’s reply to my maze post about his kids only taking left turns for the first ten minutes in the maze, and I was laughing so hard that Mr. Dump had me read the reply. I told him how much I enjoy Chris’s website, and clicked on the link over, and almost hurt myself reading the Mister Crunchy: I Choose You! article. Anyone who has ever had to suffer through an episode of Pokemon (or heaven forbid, one of the movies) will appreciate this. The whole show requires a suspension of disbelief that lately I just can’t handle. I have lost patience with cartoons that just expect me to say “Okay, that’s not how things happen in real life, but sure, I’ll assume that it can happen just so I won’t turn of the television.” This happened to me last night with Rugrats. Now I know that on a regular basis the plotlines expect you to just say “Ya, okay, whatever” [See: Rugrats in Paris – we need Stu to come fix the big Reptar robot, oh hell, sure, why don’t you take your family AND your neighbor’s families with you, on us. Let’s see, that’s plane tickets to Paris for 7 adults and 6 kids, and then first class accommodations. I hope you have Passports, you leave in the morning.”]

Last night’s Rugrats had all of the above plus two sets of grandparents, an extra wife and daughter (12 adults, 7 kids) hopping on a plane to an island on a whim. When they get there, there’s only one room available. Next thing you know the hotel is having a treasure hunt, and the prize is to be upgraded to the 5-bedroom Presidential suite. Oh, okay. The hotel has a 5 bedroom suite that they’re handing out to the winner, even if it’s just some guy there alone. *sigh* I’m such an adult. Or maybe the writer in me thinks they need to try harder if parents have to watch these shows with their kids. Anyway, go read “I Choose You!” You’ll thank me later.