This just in: Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was indeed, right, when he claimed that Bush was at fault for Hurricane Katrina. Our sources tell us that while on a secret visit to Venezuela, Bush was overcome by a severe stomach infirmity, resulting in what is now known as the "Fart Heard Round the World."

Oh My!

Everybody's FUH-REAKING OUT! Rumors have been going around Atlanta today that there will be no gas by tomorrow. Rush hour was insaine! People lined up at the pumps all the way out into the middle of the road blocking traffic. The gov'na just called a state of emergency on gas prices because gas stations are hiking up the prices, so it freezes the prices where they are. I got my mom's gas this morning for $2.80 a gallon, by two p.m. it was all over but the crying. Some places have kept it reasonable, but the closer you get to downtown ATL, the higher the prices- $3.99-$4.99 a gallon. They even said one place was at 6 a gallon.

I've heard this discussion before today, and now more so today- that it is the Republican's fault, and the Iraq war's fault, and big business' fault that gas is so high. Wake up people! It's the EPA. It's panty waisted tree huggers! It's the state laws regulating what type of gas we can and cannot sell in each state- which in turn, makes it harder on our own refineries to use our own natural resources. I'm getting carried away here on the big picture, back to the immediate. (and might go back to the big picture at a later date) A few pipelines from the Gulf to the S.Eastern states are temporarily out of order. We get our gas from other parts of the Eastern seaboard as well. We're not going to run out of gas. And, the local government has done what it should have, and loosened the restrictions on the type of gas we can sell in Georgia, so therefore we can now get gas from other places we normally wouldn't be able to. Sensationalism at its height.

That being said, I am very broken hearted about the state of our gulf coast. I watched some scenes of a highway overpass, where there were 1000+ people stranded in the 90 degree heat without water, food, or shade even. Little babies, a lethargic 3 year old. It's really really sad, and uncomfortable and life-threatening for these people. My heart goes out to them.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot- If anybody needs to refinance your home loan check out the comment from my aug.24 entry. Assholes...........

There's so much that I want to write about but haven't had time. Work and play is kicking my ass. It took all day yesterday to recover from the weekend. This weekend I'll get some sleep before my shifts. The personal life's got a spark back in it too, and all I'm going to say about that is that I'm a happy happy girl.
Well I've got some things to do today which will have me wandering around atlanta by bus and on foot. Maybe I'll find something to write about in it all. Gotta Go!

I've been a bit negligent with the writing lately, mainly due to the new job and hanging with new people. It's been fun. The jello wrestling wasn't anything to write home about, except that my girl jennifer rocked the house! I was so proud of her. My new jeans are ruined! Cherry jello splashed all over them. (Note to self: Never sit front row at a jello wrestling match) Well, not much else to say, so I'll leave you with this picture (don't remember where I got it):

What an energizing evening! I’ve gotten a good bit of writing done, the blog has done wonders for my writer’s block. I’ve been listening to all kinds of groovy music, Charlie Barnet is on right now, love that horn playing!

I went digging through a book of Irish poems that I got when I was in Derry a couple years ago. This is a poem from one of my favorite poets, Nigel McLoughlin. I never get sick of reading this poem, it’s a soothing one for me.

Song For No Voices

All the words I loved are gone,
Leaving me, mouth stopped,
With this slack tongue,
My jaw locked with rigor.
There are things left unsaid,
Of course there always are,
On one side or the other.

But I remember how my
Outstretched arm would circle
The nape of your neck,
Your head lolling forward,
Full of sleep. The sweat
On the curls below your jaw,
A breast-brush on my thumb
That timed your breathing.

I remember feeling the foetus stir
Beneath your skin, under my limp
Hanging hand, how your turning
Legs encircled mine, hot tears
On my cheek and warm kisses.
It’s these things I’m willing you
To remember, willing you to forget.

What’s left to say? I left
Too quick, too quick, my love,
Like the turn of a kiss; left you
To batten down your grief with nails;
Give sorrow to the warm wood and
Tell our child, that I never knew,
I never knew.

-Nigel McLoughlin

I just love this one. I can empathize with 'things left unsaid', 'hot tears and warm kisses', the memories, the grief. Poetry is one of the many reasons why I love life.

Well, I’m back from my weekend of duty at Camp Drunkass. I can’t really think of anything too interesting to say about it all, didn’t do too bad moneywise. We will be hosting a ladies jello wrestling event this coming Thursday, I think it will be really funny. I’m a bit ambiguos about how I feel about it, on the one hand I think ‘ah, it’s just entertainment’ and on the other hand I have to agree with my coworker Carla when she said that “It’s degrading.” I see her point, fifty or so drunk men staring at half naked chicks in jello isn’t anything to be celebrated. My other co-worker Jennifer decided to sign up, and she said she’s got conflicting ideas about it too, that her inner feminist is speaking to her about it. I entertained the idea of signing up, I’m actually pretty good at wreslting and getting drunk and rowdy, but my luck, I would be up against some haas that could kick my ass with her pinky finger. If I did it, I would want to win (a girl’s gotta have her pride), but the prospect of having no footing really doesn’t appeal to me. So, probably no, but I’ll be a spectator.

"Still tipsy from last night...."

Oh yeah, still the same night. A delightful evening full of great company and wonderful music.

So, I got my job back, and rocked the house today. Did kick-ass sales and got a one up on the boss’ scale.

WooHah and Yeeaah C’mon.

Deleted Original Last Line
(Stupid drunken ramblings suck, since I am the editor, I get to veto certain items. Lesson learned.)

"Why get married and make one man miserable when I can stay single and make thousands miserable?" -Carrie Snow

USS Cyclops and Cap'n Worley

When I was right out of high school I worked at a Waffle House in Dacula, Georgia. Among all the counties and cities that are now considered “Metro Atlanta”, Dacula is still pretty rural and out in the boonies. I was still a stoner at the time, and a third-shift worker (9pm-7am). Behind the Waffle House is this old graveyard, and my co-workers and I would go back there during work, and at other times too. I rambled back there occasionally before work to smoke a joint. The graves are very old- 18th and 19th century with a few modern graves of long family lines. I was completely floored (and probably stoned- seeing as it is still one of my top 20 creepiest experiences) when I saw a monument to the U.S.S. Cyclops, a military ship lost in the Bermuda Triangle in WWI.

Thinking about it lately, and curious about it all, I looked up some info on the ship. This is a short history of the ship, found at the Dictionary of American Naval Fighting Ships:

“With American entry into World War I, Cyclops was commissioned 1 May l917, Lieutenant Commander G. W. Worley in command. She joined a convoy for St. Nazaire, France, in June 1917, returning to the east coast in July. Except for a voyage to Halifax, Nova Scotia, she served along the east coast until 9 January 1918 when she was assigned to Naval Overseas Transportation Service. She then sailed to Brazilian waters to fuel British ships in the south Atlantic, receiving the thanks of the State Department and Commander-in-Chief, Pacific. She put to sea from Rio de Janiero 16 February 1918 and after touching at Barbados on 3 and 4 March, was never heard from again. Her loss with all 306 crew and passengers, without a trace, is one of the sea's unsolved mysteries.”

Now, upon further inquiry, I saw what the Bermuda-Triangle.Org has to say on the matter. These articles are not for the faint of the historical heart, and I have to say that I skipped forward a bunch during my reading. What pulls me in though, is the theory of that the ship captain, Worley, was a German supporter; and one of the passengers, Alfred Louis Moreau Gottschalk, was a German supporter also- and he (purportedly) had contacts in Argentina and Brazil who were German spies. So maybe it was one big set-up, brought about by their connections in the area.

The bottom line is that it still remains a mystery. There isn’t and never was any proof of a mid-sea disaster. There was no distress signal, and no debris nor survivors to substantiate any mutiny theories. And the Navy still maintains that:

“Since her departure [Barbados] there has been no
trace of the vessel. The disappearance of this ship has
been one of the most baffling mysteries in the annals of
the Navy, all attempts to locate her having proved unsuc--
cessful. Many theories have been advanced, but none that
satisfactorily accounts for her disappearance. There were
no enemy submarines in the western Atlantic at that time,
and in December 1918 every effort was made to obtain
from German sources regarding the disappearance of the
vessel. Information was requested from all attachés in Europe
with the result that is is definite that neither German U-boats
or German mines came into the question.”
-Navy's Statement

Is the Bermuda Triangle a real phenomena, or did we have some really crafty traitors in our midst in WWI? Who Knows? And what about all the other Bermuda Triangle claims?

And furthermore who in Dacula, Georgia had a family member lost on board? Why is there a monument to this ship in the middle of bumblef**k Georgia?

I’m writing this as the thunder rolls around my house, and I implore you to put the Twilight Zone theme-song in your head……..

She said "NUDE......."

“There are few nudities so objectionable as the naked truth.”
–Agnes Repplier

Laughter, Hope

My best friend introduced me to the Happy Bunny cartoons. They've been the new editions to my collection of rude T-shirts. I love on-the-edge-humor mainly because I love seeing the reactions from people. I once passed around a Sacred Heart of Jesus picture with caption "Even Jesus Hates You..." at a redneck bar I worked at, and boy did these God-fearing (drunkard/junkie) Southerners get pissed off! Their reactions made me laugh even harder. Anyways, while browsing some blogs, I came across Little Miss Pissy Pants' blog and she had a Happy Bunny quiz posted in her links.

Here's my result:



you are the "you suck, and that's sad"
happy bunny. you're truthful, but can be a bit
brutal.


which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


It's pretty right on.



I’ve decided that I will try to move earlier than planned (Jan. 2006). I want a new life NOW. Since I don’t have the funds now, it’ll be a couple months time (and no spending in between) to just get the basics I need for a move. I know that problems follow you, but I see the move as extra incentive for me to start implementing all the changes I envision for myself. I am so dissatisfied with my current state of being, and habits, and acquaintances (not talking about my friends-you know who you are and know I love you). I hate being in limbo. Between schools. Between Jobs (newest job is over- that’s a record for me only 12 hours on the job). There’s so much that I long to do for myself, but I always get lazy or procrastinate or talk myself out of it. Like quitting smoking. Start Exercising. I see this bright and shining life that is just in reach for me, and I know implicitly that I will never get there if I don’t take action.

Who do I want to be? I want to be a financially independent and secure woman. I want toned arms and toned abs. I want to be able to run more than 2 yards without losing my breath. I want to throw wonderful dinner parties in my elegant and eclectic but comfortable home. I want to be that aunt/friend/daughter/woman who always sends you a card on your birthday and other special occasions. I want to make more good choices in my life and be a valuable member of my family/friends/community. I want to be successful in my career endeavors- to be a theatre techie and history buff. I want to be surrounded by down-to-earth, intelligent, dignified, honest, fun, open-minded, quirky, happy and engaging people. I want a whole library of Bollywood films along with a room filled with full bookshelves. I want to laugh more. Shop more. Cook more. Dance more.

I’ll get there. No matter how long it takes, or how many times I catch myself being lazy. Hope always gives me something to smile about.

The Lion Ate Per Albert etc.

It wasn’t til I reached my 20’s that I learned to really appreciate having an Irish mom. I love her accent, her quirks, her superstitions, her sense of humor, I love it all! Her road rage is absolutely hysterical “Ye shite ye!” she’d yell at the guy who cut her off. There are certain things we can never do in our household because of bad luck, like killing a spider and putting a brand new pair of shoes on the kitchen table. And if there’s bird shit on your car than you shouldn’t clean it off because it’s a sign of good luck. One time when my mother was out, I woke up to a bird flying around the house. It had come in through the pipe behind the clothes dryer. I openend up all the doors and windows and chased it around with a broom. At one point I looked around and saw that there was bird shit everywhere. I called her to tell her about it, and she was like “All over me good furniture!?! Clean it up!” I replied “I can’t mom, it’s good luck.” You could be bleeding to death and she wouldn’t let you inside “Not on me good carpet!”

This morning, my mom and I were talking about our very spoiled cat spotty. She said “Spotty’s got a sore ear.” I looked at her and smiled and she goes “You don’t believe me? She does!” I said “It’s always the ear.” We went into fits of laughter remembering how when my niece was a baby, and my brother would mention how she was screaming and crying or throwing a fit, and my mother would say it’s because the baby had an ear infection. The words ‘ear infection’ came to be code for ‘temper tantrum.’ My brother would call up and say “She’s having an ear infection again.” With us, now that we’re older, all of our problems stem from smoking. “Mom, my toe hurts.” “It’s because you smoke too much.” Anyways, mom decided it was time for spotty to have her nails clipped. She said “We need to clip her nails.” Then while giggling she yells “Hey Bob!, Come in here and clip spotty’s nails, Lisa said she’d hold her for you.” I imagined myself being a scratching post, and gave her a ‘gee thanks’ look, and she laughed some more. Being the good daughter that I am, I did it. It’s hard to be mad at her with her sly Irish charm.

MMMMMMNN...BEER.......

Going to a friend's show tonight. It should be fun. Gonna get my drink on.
Yo sere muy borracha, Muchas Gracias.

time is on my side

My new boss didn’t put me on the schedule this week, I’m raging, but what can I do? I’m wanting to go somewhere else but there aren’t many places to bartend around here. So I’m thinking I’ll wait it out. In the meantime, I’ve become obsessed with the blogsphere, and have been using most of my free time to check out blogs, and look for ways I can customize mine. We’ll see what happens.

Something I've found that really lifts my spirits when I need it, is to read an old novel. Like "The Secret Garden" and "Jane Eyre." My good moods have been a norm for me recently, so I can't explain why I've been on this Jane Austen kick. I just love her writing. As of right now, in “Pride and Prejudice”, Mr.Darcy just gave Elizabeth his letter explaining the rumors about him. It’s getting juicy (I say as I rub my hands together). Her stories really make me smile. It’s light-hearted and effortless reading, which makes me fall in love with the characters, and brings out the romantic in me. Ahh, Love.
Well, 19th century warped sense of propriety love, but Love none the less.

20 cent books

Today I went to the thrift store where I did my community service. I saw Bea, one of my favorite people. She is a retired nurse and Vietnam Vet, who works part time for the store (a branch of a local non-profit organization). Bea is a very funny, loving, but stern woman. She loves animals, and as stated by herself, will bludgeon anyone who abuses an animal. I was lucky enough to get on her good side, near the beginning of my court-ordered 280 hours stay at the store. So was this guy named Sean. Often times, especially on a Saturday, Bea would let us sit back in the loading area with her and talk in between the sporadic junk drop-offs. One of the other community service workers would come back there and she’d say “Go Sweep The Floors!” or something similar. She could be really scary. I loved listening to all her stories. Among these were stories of when she was a nurse in Vietnam. She was a multiple-amputee nurse during the war. Among her patients were Max Cleland, and according to her (heard from the other men in his unit at the time) the whole “he picked up a dropped grenade” story is bunk. That the true story is along the lines of fratricide, apparently he was a real prick. Anyways, I really enjoyed seeing her today. And seeing her big smile as she said “Hey Kid!”

At the store I bought a bunch of books, ten for two dollars! I’ve run out of horror novels to read, so that was my mission. I found six, and the other four were picked because I had recognized the titles and figured it was about time I read them. Just a few minutes ago I was digging through the covers of these books to see if anything struck my interest. One of the stories, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by Harriet Beecher Stowe, I bought because I’ve heard people throwing around phrases like “he’s an uncle tom.” I don’t technically know who ‘Uncle Tom’ was or what the book is really about. I’ve heard some praise and criticism, and thought I’d figure it out for myself. In Stowe’s introduction, a passage really kind of jolted me, and speaks of the ignorance of people even when they think they are well-meaning:

“When an enlightened and Christianized community shall have, on the shores of Africa, laws, language, and literature, drawn from among us, may then the scenes of the house of bondage be to them like the remembrance of Egypt to the Israelite,-a motive of thankfulness to Him who hath redeemed them!”

Stowe was pro-colonial, and to say the very least about the subject, we all know that some huge mistakes were made by the Western world in regards to colonialism in Africa and the Caribbean. It should be interesting to read this having a 21st Century perspective on both American and International politics and history. I find great irony in the fact that one of the other books I bought today is “Cry The Beloved Country” by Alan Paton. This book speaks of the 'desperation of South Africa' under apartheid.
Hmmnn. How bout them apples.

Whirlwind Experience

I find myself not wanting to write about this, but the subject is demanding it of me.

While at work Saturday night, some ghosts of my past came in. They never ordered a drink, but stood at bar talking to somebody and giving me the evil eye. One of my biggest fears came to the fore, and made me realize that this fear was not so irrational.

I knew that there would come a time in the future that I would run into my ex-boyfriend’s friends, and I feared that I would be an object of their wrath because I was the last “bad” thing to happen to him before he died. I saw the possibility of their transferring their grief into an anger towards me. Also I feared that they would feel I didn’t care or didn’t have the right to grieve because, after all, I “broke his heart” and shattered his dreams of being a father (even though we were both at fault for the disintegration of our relationship). We’re not supposed to care about what others think, but it is different when you are dealing with the subject of love, a biological father, death, and adoption. These are very real issues with me, ones that I have carried within me for almost three years now, and are issues that I am slowly coming to terms with. This is THE sensitive spot with me, so when I saw them I was a ball of nerves.

My stomach was in knots, I had a lump in my throat, my tears were begging to be released, and my head was reeling with memories of Steve, shock at seeing his friends, greater shock that they were staring at me hatefully, self-defense, self-reliance, justification, fear. After some intense inner-dialogue, I came to a peaceful conclusion that I have made my peace with Steve. I believe that he knows it, I believe that he watches over our son, and that I do not have to justify my love, my grief, or my actions to anyone. Furthermore, if these people do not have the maturity to see that I was just as much devastated as they were with the loss; and if they lack strength, honesty, humility, and compassion, than I need not worry about the whims of their faulty characters.

I feel good because I remained strong and composed, and let the peace in my spirit take ahold of me. There is no greater satisfaction than knowing who you are, and allowing this knowledge to guide you through life.

"GET AWAY! GET AWAY!

"Roses are red, Violets are blue, One is dead, and so are you."
-My Bloody Valentine

"I'll tell you now, this town is cursed...

"One man was found alive....I was the man found........on valentines day ..........he cut out their hearts.................inside was a note.....never to hold a Valentine's dance again..........You'll be sorry you didn't listen to me."
-My Bloody Valentine

I'm watching this movie now, just got off of work. It was slow as molases. My consolation prize is a hot-ass boss, and hot sound-man. Yeeaahh C'mon.

"If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning."
-Catherine Aird

I went to the denstist today and was pleasantly surprised. My heart skipped a beat when the dentist came in. He's Hot! and around my age, and has spikey hair. WooHoo! He can give me a root canal any day. Which is what I actually need. AAAAHHHH! I thankfully got some painkillers. We haven't set a date for the wedding yet.....

I've been looking up some blogs of Atlanta folks. I found Suezette's blog. She's a pretty funny chick. Her Aug.4 entry (part 2) is a good one. Personally, I think Jesus would have taken the bling too.

Oh Lordy

I’m feeling a little out of place with myself. I feel like maybe I’ve lost some time, as if in January someone lifted me up by the back of my shirt and transplanted me here in August. Putting things in perspective though, I’ve actually gained time. I just completed all the requirements for my first degree, an A.A. in History. Phew.

I’m not going to get a real job until I move to my new school in January, so it’s still the bartender/bar-rat lifestyle for a little longer. For now, it’s no more ‘what is due tomorrow?’ and ‘I really should be studying’ for me. I am looking forward to sleeping in and not having sleep-dep from keeping up with two full-time responsibilities. And the staying up late (like I am now) because I feel like it, and not because there aren’t enough hours in a day.

I’ve started at a new bar this week. I worked my first night last night, and so far, the locals seem pretty tame. There seems to be a more ‘buisnessman-collegekid-lusher’ atmosphere than the ‘redneck-biker-pusherman-icehead’ atmosphere. Hopefully I’m right.

I just finished watching “Rory O’Shea Was Here”, Dir. By Damion O’Donnell. It’s a pretty good flick. It runs you through the gamut of emotions. I like the story, it is funny and heartwarming . I also just caught a good Washington Times headline about a man paying his fine in pennies. They say that the judge “upstaged” him, but I think using the CoinStar machine doesn’t qualify as judicial revenge, I think the guy had the upper hand here. You Show ‘Em!

hmmmmn

Saddam Hussein will be prosecuted soon. The Telegraph tells us about it.........
Does the WHY actually matter more than the 143 (in 1982, among other massacres) dead by his whim?

Racism

The DMV and I are not on speaking terms right now, seeing as I broke the law a few years ago. I’ve had to resort to public transport which, in Atlanta, isn’t all that great anyways. This has occasionally put me in a position to where I have felt the sting of racism. I’ve had a bus driver insist I needed a rail transfer, whereas I was going to get off the bus before it got to the station. ("No, thank you. No, thank you. No.") The bus drivers also have their bi-annual “Pass a White Girl Day.” Yeah a hooker disguised as a college student, I mean, damn. Why else would I be standing at a bus stop on the side of the road? (and no, they weren’t buses that said “Laredo Garage”) I’ve also caught flack from my co-passengers, which usually isn’t more than the bad attitude they woke up with.Yesterday’s experience stands up as one of the top ten for me.

I was hung over from the Bushmills I drank the night before, and trying my best to hold back my motion sickness. In walks a group of guys who are about my age, are dressed well, and generally pretty good-looking. One was being silly, and I suspected they had been drinking. One of the guys, who sat behind me, started going “Daaammnnn. Oooooooh, Snow White. What’s up snowflake, hey baby, what’s up baby, hey baby. Look at that snow white skin…..” I turned to give him the famous Lisa Look, and my wrath didn’t register in his thick skull. He rambled some more and then leaned in closer to me and said “Oh. She ain’t talking to us blah blah blah.” I replied, “I’m hung over.” He kept going on, so I turned again and said “Look man, I don’t feel like talking.” He goes with arms flailing, “Sheeeit! FUCK IT! FUCK IT!” I was thankful when they got off the bus because for the rest of the ride he was saying shit like “you tell ‘em snow.” Uncomfortable.

I hate men that are that stupid. What makes a guy think that he is going to get ANYWHERE with a woman through whistling and hey-babying? I refuse to believe that there are many women out there who do (happily) respond. Then back to the racism thing. I know that there are times when every one of us lets our pre-concieved notions take over, and both knowingly and unknowingly make racist judgements or statements. (like the bus driver who assumed I didn’t know the MARTA status-quo) Shit happens. I am opposed to those who throw around race as if it were not the serious issue that it is. Whether its with politicians and disgruntled employees throwing the race-card, or some drunken man with a hurt ego.