Monday, February 27, 2006

Fuck off, I'm busy.

I need a blogging break. Work is extremely hectic this week, what with deadlines and more freelance stuff than I know what to do with. It's feast or famine, and I'm entering a week of more feast than I bargained for.

THEREFORE: Activities on this blog will be in a state of suspended animation for a few days.

Check back Thursday or Friday. I'll have something to bitch about then. Believe me.

Saturday, February 25, 2006


"Well now, Barn..."

Blatantly ripped off

This came from Post Secret and I just thought it would be the perfect way to sign off for the weekend.

Come on. We ALL enjoy this.

Friday, February 24, 2006

When are the Bore-ympics over?

I'm just wondering a few things today.

* Are the Olympics over soon? Two weeks in a row without "My Name is Earl" and "The Office." I'm not sure how much more I can take.

*Does anyone have a positive tale to tell about car alarms?

*Has anyone ever farted from nervousness while walking down the aisle on their wedding day? No, it didn't happen to me, but I confess the fear was 'pon me.

*Do I look fat in these jeans? (Please don't say yes in the comments thinking it's funny. It'll just make you look like an asshole.)

*If the primary reason I don't eat meat is because of factory farming...why does the idea of eating venison gross me out too?

*Does pregnancy feel like a 9 month hangover? It sure sounds like it, and frankly, I'm not sure I'll ever want to put myself through that.

Hmmm. I guess that's all. God I'm bored.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

The opposite of me.

Inspired by the anonymous commenter who thought he'd stumbled into a lesbian chatroom by mistake. People, I am straight. But...Just look at this gorgeous woman. Perfection.

Yep... I'd switch.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Things that DON'T suck.

With mad props to Kristen, on whose blog I found this picture.

I submit: spring training and the return of baseball.

This is a thing that does not suck. Just so you all know that I am not just a hater.

April 11 cannot come quickly enough for me. Silly rabbit.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Things that still suck

Last I checked, and in no particular order:

*Jessica Simpson (and, indeed, her ilk)
*Mesclun Greens
*First day back at work after a 3-day weekend
*Bode Miller
*Flared trousers
*Art Rock
*What currently passes as "country music" on the radio
*Rent increases
*Movies about old cartoons or sitcoms
*Jim Carey
*Reality TV
*Donald Trump
*Doctoral students who can't read directions, hit a deadline, spell, or use correct grammar
*Current women's shoe styles
*College week on "Jeopardy!"
*Hair bands
*Bernie & Phyll commercials (Bostonians will know what I mean. God! Those's like a rake across a chalk board.)
*Yankee Fans
*The NBA
*Dominoe's Pizza
*Any weird pizza where new places are found to put cheese. Enough, already!
*Brussels sprouts
*Natural disasters
*The Religious Right

Oh, there's more. I just have to get back to work now.

EDIT: By "Hair bands" I don't mean things you use to keep your hair under control and out of your face. I mean those gawdawful bands from the 80's, with big, stupid hair, and whose music was the rough equivalent of aural laxatives. Just diabolically bad. Thanks, Lucy, for pointing out my ambiguity.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Off to Maine for the weekend.

Let's talk for a moment about body hair, shall we?

I have talked about this somewhere else, probably in the comments of some other blog. I suspect it was Fatmammycat's, but I'm all over the place some days, so it could easily have been someplace else.

The thing is...I've recently discovered what a "Brazilian" is, in reference to body hair removal in the pubic region. And at first my reaction was just "OUCH" and "Can you IMAGINE what it must be like when the hair grows BACK?"

But the more I think about it, the more incensed I get. Right now, for some inexplicable reason, it's on the brain and I am FURIOUS.

Now, gentlemen, I must say this: Any man who is turned on by women with absolutely NO body hair in the pubic region is a sick, perverted, pedophile. End of story. Afraid of grown-up women, are you? You want a little, prepubescent girl, don't you, you sick fuck. Don't deny it, you disgusting freak. You should be ashamed of yourself.

That is all on THAT subject.

Anyway, as the title of this post says, I'm off the Maine for the weekend. About 20 minutes outside of Portland (the second best city in the world) is pure countryside. Woods, fields, farms, peace and quiet. That's where I'll be. There will be no posts - not surprising, since I rarely post on the weekends anyway - and no commenting on other posts. I shall be drunk, and incommunicado.

I don't know why I feel the need to post an absence message here. Christ, this isn't WORK or anything.

EDIT: But before I go, have a look at this! Fook'n grrrrreeeaaat.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Cut the shit, you pretentious fucking yuppie.

I am SICK TO DEATH of people saddling their kids with stupid, pretentious names, which, far from giving the child a sense of individuality or distinction, more often earns them regular schoolyard beatings. We are looking at an entire generation of little boys called stupid shit like "Kayden" and "Brayen" and "Zander" (Gott im Himmel help you, Zander, I can't.), and little girls called "McKenna" and "Kaylee" and "Brianna."

Jesus Christ. These poor kids will grow up to be as affected and neurotic as their fuckbag, yuppie parents. I hear them on the streets of Cambridge, doing their "parenting," trying to reason with their screaming, spoiled little "geniuses," and it makes me cringe.

I hate that fucking word, "Parenting."

There's that one on the bus, who tries to impress us all with the LOUD conversation with his 6 year old, (no doubt named "Tyler" or "Landon" or some shit) about high mathematical concepts and logic. The kid says something precocious and the father agrees, looking around to see if we're all listening. The cunt.

Or those birkenstock wearing asshats, trying to validate little "Kylie's" feelings on the street in Harvard Square, when she's screaming that she wants ice cream, and won't budge until they agree that they're finished in the arts collective, they can go to Toscanini's and get some.

Hey, I am not saying all boys should be named after an archangel or girls after Jane Austen characters. I have an unusual name myself. (NO, my real name ISN'T ANDRASTE - my parents were NOT tree-huggers with an interest in Celtic mythology - I just need a pseudonym so I don't get fired for blogging.) But I'll tell you this, my real name is not even remotely pretentious, it's just a bit ethnic, and it was tough enough going in school, being the only one. You should hear the telemarketers try to pronounce it. Even though the spelling is PHONETIC, for Chrissakes.

Please pass the flask. I'm in a mood.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

One stop shopping

This video has:

Flying monkeys

That about covers my daily recommended allowances of all three.


What's everybody reading?

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Too busy to blog today.

Much, much too busy to come up with anything to blog about today. Just this small piece that makes me smile. This year,
Jerry Remy, one of my most favorite people in the entire world, will be inducted into the Red Sox Hall of Fame. Good for the RemDawg.

That's it, that's all I got for today.


Monday, February 13, 2006

I'm not even supposed to BE here.

I was soooooo expecting to have the day off today. Last year, after a Sunday blizzard, even though the snow had stopped by Monday, the school was closed. Because I didn't check the web site, I didn't know it and came in, so I got some pretty good brownie points by being at my desk, even if only for a couple of hours... But this year, same situation, with the exception of me actually LOOKING for the school closing announcement on line and on the weather emergency hotline, no go this time. The school is open, I am here, and I'm not entirely sure it's the best thing for anyone concerned.

You see, fully expecting that I wasn't going to have to come in, this little rabbit spent Sunday stewing herself in a magnum of cheap red wine, while watching "Local Hero" for the eleventy-billionth time. I still cry when Mac has to leave Ferness...

If you were Mac, would you go back to Houston? Fuck that. I said to the spouse, 'wouldn't you be selling the Porsche right about now, and buying a one way ticket back to Scotland?' It'd be one thing if Mac was going back to someplace livable, but Houston? Jesus Christ. I'd kill myself. I would rather live in the poorest fishing village on the edge of the North Fucking Sea than anywhere near Houston-soulless-Texas. And THAT'S pretty much all I'll say about Texas here. (Though they say Austin is nice...)

That's just got to be one of the saddest movie endings of all time.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Nor'easter comin' in!

I will not abide any whining about winter in New England. No sir, I won't hear it. This has been the MILDEST winter I've seen in years, and though it's cold out now, it's not NEARLY as bad as some coddled whiners might make it sound. Jesus Christ, people, just wear insulated boots, layer your clothes, wear gloves. It's not that bad.

Generally, in a NORMAL New England winter, we've had enough snow and cold and dark by mid-February, even this little snowshoe hare gets a little sick of it and wants to go back to my summer coat. BUT we haven't had much of that stuff at all.

So it is with great pleasure and excitement that I'm looking forward to the Nor'easter that's supposedly on its way this weekend. Bring it on! Snow, crazy gusts of wind, ice, cold, and more snow, and more gusts of wind, and lovely winter goodness.

I have a stock of this in the house:

And this:

And this:

Will I leave the house? DOUBT IT.

Bring it, bitch.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Random Thursday.

* Okay guys, enough with the rioting. You made your point. You didn't like the cartoon. We get it. Sheesh. I see tons of crap I don't like every single day of my life, and I don't go burning shit up. Don't you people have jobs?

* The world is full of people who expect the world to revolve around them. I deal with them every day. Some of them are the doctoral students with whom I work, some of them are in line behind me at Dunkin' Donuts, some of them are in positions of high political power, or shooting their wives and children because their internet porn business failed. Here's how it works: The world does not revolve around you, you self-centered fuckwad, it revolves around lunch. Get over it.

* UPS? Adam Hersh Auctions? Still, really, fuck you.

* I can't believe House slept with Stacy and then sent her back to her husband. I think it was that embarrassing scene in the stairwell that did it.

* Has anyone else seen that billboard for the Sox that features Trot Nixon high fiving some fans? One of those kids, it turns out, was killed by a drunk driver on the day of the Red Sox World Series Celebration Parade back in '04. That's just...I don't know...dayam.

* Is there ANYTHING more ghoulish than a rock band having a reality TV type show to audition for the job to replace their dead lead singer? I don't think so. Gah. Fucking awful.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Adam Hersh Auctions SUCKS - avoid at all costs, unless you like being RIPPED OFF

I have seen the face of pure EVIL...or at least dealt with it over the internet. The face of pure evil is Adam Hersh Auctions, an internet based print and poster company. They are without doubt the most ridiculous bunch of scam artists and rip-off kings of the internet, is Adam Hersh Auctions.

I am sorry I ever heard of Adam Hersh Auctions or dealt with them in any way.

I want this post to come up whenever anyone Googles them, so Adam Hersh Auctions will be repeated throughout this post, ad nauseum, so that Adam Hersh Auctions will be exposed for the lying, cheating, scumbag cunts that they are.

1. Adam Hersh Auctions does not answer e-mails, but only sends canned, automated e-mails to purchasers, that don't answer specific questions or concerns.

2. Adam Hersh Auctions, much of the time, I am convinced, does not send the merchandise for which they are paid, even though they charge shipping costs that are unreasonably inflated. (34.99 PLUS mandatory 'insurance' on a 9.99 print? From NY to Boston? Are you fucking kidding me?)

3. Adam Hersh Auctions uses negative feedback as retaliation when people get so frustrated that they finally end up leaving the negative feedback that Adam Hersh Auctions deserves.

4. Even after you file a complaint through Paypal, and win your refund, Adam Hersh Auctions will repeatedly contact you for money that YOU DO NOT OWE TO Adam Hersh Auctions, and threaten you with collection agencies. ...THE FUCK???!!!

5. Don't believe me? Look at the complaints in the petitions below. I'm not making this shit up.

Once again, Adam Hersh Auctions is the WORST internet auction company ever.

C'MON GANG!! Let's get Adam Hersh Auctions banned from ebay! Sign the petitions!

EDIT: I actually have an anonymous commenter to thank for the petition links. For once, you faceless, nameless people, whom I would otherwise berate for not even MAKING UP a're okay. Thanks.

Very busy today, more later

Monday, February 06, 2006

I am of two minds

I have mixed feelings about this fucking asshole being dead.

On the one hand, he's no longer in the gene pool and should there be a hell, he's in it now. So that's good.

On the other hand, if he'd lived and had the chance to explain his motives and show us a little more of his diseased outlook, it would have satisfied a lot of sick curiosity. And allowed us to ridicule him a bit as some big, mean bastard in his cell block made him his 'bitch.' How I would have enjoyed knowing that.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Drink UP!

Why...yes, as a matter of fact, I WILL need roughly the amount of a small keg of booze this afternoon. It's been a very, very stressful week. And due to several readers referencing Stella in the comments of earlier posts, I've got Stella on the brain. Looks like that'll have to be the rocktail du jour.

Ever have one of those weeks where a whole bunch of little tiny annoyances add up to ONE MAJOR PERSECUTION COMPLEX? Like the whole world's 'ginst ya? Hey, I'm not whining, I'll get over it, but JESUS CHRIST ON A MOTORBIKE AND MARY IN A SIDECAR it's been a shitty one.

Without going into too much agonizing detail, UPS sucks. You know what brown can do for me? I'll fucking tell you. Deliver the goddamn package, you assclowns. That's pretty much all I ask. And yet...this package I was supposed to get Tuesday? NOT FUCKING HERE. What can brown do for you, indeed. Brown can have a complaint system that does not require me to know the street address of the shipping facility, and the name, birthdate, and blood type of the warehouse worker who packed and shipped my stuff. Brown can tell me something useful in the tracking system, other than that there's nothing they can do for me. Brown can fuck off and die of their own stinking, mind-boggling incompetence, the cretinous fucking morons.

Wow. Suddenly I'm overcome with a feeling of peace. THAT was cathartic.

Superbowl? Who cares? I smell baseball on the wind. Spring training. Pitchers and catchers reporting soon. BRING IT.

Happy weekend. I'm off to get pished.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Sit the fuck down, already.


One of these days, some wee germy is going to get you, because your immune system has been so weakened by you not touching anything without an antibacterial wipe nearby, and you will be wiped out of the population. We call it natural selection round our way.


Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Because my post of earlier today was mawkish

Rabbit in a time bubble

A friend and I were recently discussing this phenomenon, and anyone out there who is a younger sibling in a large family is welcome to chime in and let me know if you find this to be true as well.

Do your older siblings see you as being in a time warp? Still a child, or sullen teen, with the same tastes, likes, dislikes, attitudes, capabilities, that you had when you were 11? As though you have never grown up, changed, developed different tastes, likes, dislikes, attitudes, capabilities? As the same person you were when they left home? As though that last vision of you as the truck with their school necessities, furniture, clothes, books, etc., backed down the driveway for the drive to college is the picture of you they have now?

I am the youngest in a family of seven children. Most my childhood memories related to my older siblings are of seeing them go to school, move away, get on with their lives, while I was still having my developing years at home, until it was time for me to go away to school and build my own life. My oldest brother went to college when I was six, and the rest left in a steady stream every few years or so, until my last few years at home, it was just me, my mother and grandmother in the house.

My older siblings, I think, also like to think of me as the stereotypical "spoiled youngest" of the family, which may have been true when I was little, but doesn't really bear out now. I mean, for Chrissakes, I've been independent, working, paying my own rent, with only the occasional loans or help from anyone since the age of 19. (Sure, once in a while I've needed a loan to pay security deposits or first/last months rent on new apartments, or the occasional tuition bill, paid back immediately upon receipt of a student loan or in installments on the bigger amounts.) But I've also laid out the occasional loan to one of my siblings, when I was flush from a summer spent working two jobs, or having received a profit sharing check from some retail job or something... I really feel that though I've been one of America's working poor, I've relied on very little help from anyone, and worked pretty damn hard to enjoy life in an expensive urban locale.

I've lived at least 2 hours away from any sibling or other family member since the age of 18, in my first year of college, carving out a life for myself in Boston, where I am the only representative of my formidable family, except for one cousin, whom I never see. (We move in very different circles and he's a good 5-6 years older than me anyway...)

Anyway, I just think it's an interesting phenomenon that even though I've been at the business of growing up and developing, to them, I'm STILL 11. To them, I've never outgrown Star Wars, my obsession with Pete Townshend, wanting to be a S.W.A.T. cop, wanting to be a rock star, keg parties, etc., etc, etc.

Well, I have. And the little obsessions I have now? I'll out grow those, too. Pay attention. Tomorrow, I'll be a totally different "little shit" from the one you think you know.


And now for something completely different: My second Bluntcogs strip is up. Go and look and tell me it's funny, or I'll glass you.