...there are two versions of the song.
But that DOESN'T explain the Mountain Dew.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, February 17, 2013
What...the...hell?
I would love to build a conspiracy theory around this except for the fact that it means nothing. It's kind of like the FACT (don't tell me 'no') that the taste and appearance of Mountain Dew has been changed, only no-one but me notices. I feel like I'm trapped in a RPing thread on /x/, but I've now found something else different:
The song Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo, is not the same song that it used to be. No, seriously. There are subtle differences from how it really was. I don't know why they would change it, except maybe to take out the "...radio, oleo, radio..." part at the end because nobody found it funny (?). *I* found it funny (I really can't have been the only person on Earth to have noticed this; someone alive and paying attention in the '80s back me up here), but my *point* is that it has been changed...for no reason.
In Other News, I hate my inheritance cat, I may be mortally wounded, and I may have pulled a stitch. :-/ Anyone want a cat?
And no, I AM NOT HIGH ON PAIN PILLS. They really changed the f'ing song. And no, I don't know who 'they' is. Maybe this is all John Titor's fault. He has changed Mountain Dew, given my stupid cat rabies, and changed a song from the '80s to make me sound crazy.
Grr.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
The song Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo, is not the same song that it used to be. No, seriously. There are subtle differences from how it really was. I don't know why they would change it, except maybe to take out the "...radio, oleo, radio..." part at the end because nobody found it funny (?). *I* found it funny (I really can't have been the only person on Earth to have noticed this; someone alive and paying attention in the '80s back me up here), but my *point* is that it has been changed...for no reason.
In Other News, I hate my inheritance cat, I may be mortally wounded, and I may have pulled a stitch. :-/ Anyone want a cat?
And no, I AM NOT HIGH ON PAIN PILLS. They really changed the f'ing song. And no, I don't know who 'they' is. Maybe this is all John Titor's fault. He has changed Mountain Dew, given my stupid cat rabies, and changed a song from the '80s to make me sound crazy.
Grr.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, February 10, 2013
SDC + opiate = dreams
I am having a hard time staying awake. Maybe I did too much yesterday. But every one of my dreams is turning out to be an involved, movie-length event. I have never had anything like this happen before.
See you in a few.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
See you in a few.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Monday, February 04, 2013
Stop, or I will say 'stop' again!
A friend showed this to me (link below). I am more depressed than ever. How do I make this stop?
http://abusesanctuary.blogspot.com/2012/01/narcissists-cause-ptsd-for-their.html?m=1
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
http://abusesanctuary.blogspot.com/2012/01/narcissists-cause-ptsd-for-their.html?m=1
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Saturday, February 02, 2013
So much for friends.
I made the huge mistake of telling someone I thought was a friend what had happened, and I cannot believe it, but she has started treating me as if I have leprosy.
What. The. Fuck.
This just emphasises how correct adversarial philosophies are with respect to 'sharing'. Don't fucking do it. Ever. Even when you are bitterly alone and at your lowest, because the knowledge of how weak and incomplete your fellow man is will leave you nauseous. Some people really are filled with falsity and hate. It is revolting. It is better to not know. Just trust me.
These are the same people who can look at an infant starving to death in Biafra, think 'they should pray more', click off the television, and drive in their luxury sedan to their resplendent church to enjoy their potluck dinner, and not have a moment's thought about whether the baby they saw is even still alive. Great Jell-O mould. Yep.
I am not religious. I am not even philosophically-inclined. I really have no agenda, no...purpose. I really don't believe there is anything but this life, and if there is, it's too fucking complicated for us to even begin to understand, so we should all, to live a happy life, just keep our heads down, do our own work, and not worry about what somebody else is doing.
And I cannot believe that I was stupid enough, pathetic enough, to expect anyone in my life to offer any sympathy, empathy, or commiserate in any form. Boy, have I learnt.
So if I vent, you are here because you want to be. If you don't want to hear it, leave.
And it hurts that I have lost someone whom I considered to be a friend (how wrong I was!). I am already dealing with enough issues in my head with respect to feeling like damaged goods, broken, filthy, and I am scared and more angry with myself and regretful than I can describe. Whatever. I may or may not go into it here. My *point* is that the LAST thing I need is some holier-than-thou bitch, some former fake friend, judging me as if I am all these horrible things and she is so much better. How nothing like this could *ever* happen to her, because she is so perfect.
That's great. I am vacillating between not giving a damn and being deeply wounded. I don't think that I am capable of feeling hate any longer.
I just wish that she would have the dignity to not try to pry any more details out of me. I came to work today to try to finish some crap up before I go on leave, and she turns out to be here too...and immediately starts quizzing me about my medical concerns, my upcoming leave, and so on. I just turned and walked away; I am *done*.
I may be temporarily down, but I am nobody's freak show. Bitch.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
What. The. Fuck.
This just emphasises how correct adversarial philosophies are with respect to 'sharing'. Don't fucking do it. Ever. Even when you are bitterly alone and at your lowest, because the knowledge of how weak and incomplete your fellow man is will leave you nauseous. Some people really are filled with falsity and hate. It is revolting. It is better to not know. Just trust me.
These are the same people who can look at an infant starving to death in Biafra, think 'they should pray more', click off the television, and drive in their luxury sedan to their resplendent church to enjoy their potluck dinner, and not have a moment's thought about whether the baby they saw is even still alive. Great Jell-O mould. Yep.
I am not religious. I am not even philosophically-inclined. I really have no agenda, no...purpose. I really don't believe there is anything but this life, and if there is, it's too fucking complicated for us to even begin to understand, so we should all, to live a happy life, just keep our heads down, do our own work, and not worry about what somebody else is doing.
And I cannot believe that I was stupid enough, pathetic enough, to expect anyone in my life to offer any sympathy, empathy, or commiserate in any form. Boy, have I learnt.
So if I vent, you are here because you want to be. If you don't want to hear it, leave.
And it hurts that I have lost someone whom I considered to be a friend (how wrong I was!). I am already dealing with enough issues in my head with respect to feeling like damaged goods, broken, filthy, and I am scared and more angry with myself and regretful than I can describe. Whatever. I may or may not go into it here. My *point* is that the LAST thing I need is some holier-than-thou bitch, some former fake friend, judging me as if I am all these horrible things and she is so much better. How nothing like this could *ever* happen to her, because she is so perfect.
That's great. I am vacillating between not giving a damn and being deeply wounded. I don't think that I am capable of feeling hate any longer.
I just wish that she would have the dignity to not try to pry any more details out of me. I came to work today to try to finish some crap up before I go on leave, and she turns out to be here too...and immediately starts quizzing me about my medical concerns, my upcoming leave, and so on. I just turned and walked away; I am *done*.
I may be temporarily down, but I am nobody's freak show. Bitch.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, January 27, 2013
From the Air
Good evening.
This is your Captain.
We are about to attempt a crash landing.
Please extinuish all cigarettes.
Place your tray tables in their upright, locked position.
Your Captain says: Put your head on your knees.
Your Captain says: Put your head on your hands.
Captain says: Put your hands on your head.
Put your hands on your hips.
Heh heh.
This is your Captain.
We are going down.
We are all going down, together.
And I said: Uh oh. This is gonna be some day.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
Uh, this is your Captain again.
You know, I've got a funny feeling I've seen this all before.
Why?
'cause I'm a caveman.
Why?
'cause I've got eyes in the back of my head.
Why?
It's the heat.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
Put your hands over your eyes.
Jump out of the plane.
There is no pilot.
You are not alone.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
I have to get on this blog and change the deelybobs on it. I will, swear.
Ok, to sort-of start catching up:
I am engaged in a life-or-death job hunt struggle. Wish me luck.
I was assaulted a few months ago by a total creep. I am not completely ok yet, but I will be.
I miss my mother.
I am having a hard time staying all compartmentalised, which is usually my only coping strategy. I had a meltdown at the beginning if January, but am better now.
All of my cats are ok.
I am struggling with depression and feelings of guilt and worthlessness. Sorry. Just being honest.
I have realised that there is quite a bit I need to change about me. I am working on this. Much of it has to do with having firm, healthy boundaries, and making certain no-one who crosses them remains in my life. I have been reading and listening to a lot about narcissism, sociopathy, and psychopathy to try to make sense of some people.
When I meet with my father and he starts on one of his rants about Mummers, I just want to verbally destroy him, a trait I picked up from him and try my best to quash. I don't go off on him. He is too old. The person who he used to be is gone, as is the person I used to be. There is no purpose served in hurting him. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We will all grow old and die...ideally.
I've learnt a lot about how to ask for help in the past few months; I am not good at this, I never have been. People are more understanding of weaknesses, fears, and errors than I guess I think they are. I think that I do not expect forgiveness for my mistakes.
I love you. Goodnight--
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
This is your Captain.
We are about to attempt a crash landing.
Please extinuish all cigarettes.
Place your tray tables in their upright, locked position.
Your Captain says: Put your head on your knees.
Your Captain says: Put your head on your hands.
Captain says: Put your hands on your head.
Put your hands on your hips.
Heh heh.
This is your Captain.
We are going down.
We are all going down, together.
And I said: Uh oh. This is gonna be some day.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
Uh, this is your Captain again.
You know, I've got a funny feeling I've seen this all before.
Why?
'cause I'm a caveman.
Why?
'cause I've got eyes in the back of my head.
Why?
It's the heat.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
Put your hands over your eyes.
Jump out of the plane.
There is no pilot.
You are not alone.
Standby.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
This is the time.
And this is the record of the time.
I have to get on this blog and change the deelybobs on it. I will, swear.
Ok, to sort-of start catching up:
I am engaged in a life-or-death job hunt struggle. Wish me luck.
I was assaulted a few months ago by a total creep. I am not completely ok yet, but I will be.
I miss my mother.
I am having a hard time staying all compartmentalised, which is usually my only coping strategy. I had a meltdown at the beginning if January, but am better now.
All of my cats are ok.
I am struggling with depression and feelings of guilt and worthlessness. Sorry. Just being honest.
I have realised that there is quite a bit I need to change about me. I am working on this. Much of it has to do with having firm, healthy boundaries, and making certain no-one who crosses them remains in my life. I have been reading and listening to a lot about narcissism, sociopathy, and psychopathy to try to make sense of some people.
When I meet with my father and he starts on one of his rants about Mummers, I just want to verbally destroy him, a trait I picked up from him and try my best to quash. I don't go off on him. He is too old. The person who he used to be is gone, as is the person I used to be. There is no purpose served in hurting him. I have to keep reminding myself of that. We will all grow old and die...ideally.
I've learnt a lot about how to ask for help in the past few months; I am not good at this, I never have been. People are more understanding of weaknesses, fears, and errors than I guess I think they are. I think that I do not expect forgiveness for my mistakes.
I love you. Goodnight--
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Monday, December 31, 2012
ATM Fix Everything!
It's New Year's Eve. Where would I be?

One of my resolutions, yes, is to be a better blogger. And to wreak vengeance upon my brand-new nemesis. Largely, things are good. I have a lot for which to be thankful. And if you are reading this, I love you. I'll try to post more later, but...happy new year. <3
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
One of my resolutions, yes, is to be a better blogger. And to wreak vengeance upon my brand-new nemesis. Largely, things are good. I have a lot for which to be thankful. And if you are reading this, I love you. I'll try to post more later, but...happy new year. <3
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
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