Thursday, December 22, 2005 

Mele Kalikimaka

One year I spent Christmas in Hawaii.

Santa wears shorts there, and his reindeer are dolphins.

But in other news, I'm off SUCKA.

Ok... I'm off TOMORROW. At noon. Which is like, a whole 24 hours away. AAGH!

And, unlike Yankee Bob, today is not an FO day for me. I have work. Lot's of work. Which will spill over to tomorrow... which means I should probably stop being such a lazy ass blogger and sign off.

See you guys on Tuesday!



Wednesday, December 21, 2005 

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To

Ty used an apostrophe correctly today and it pissed me off because I remembered suddenly that I can’t recall if the apostrophe comes before the ‘s’ or after the ‘s’ in the possessor when thethingthatispossessed is singular or plural.


Lots of things piss me off. But I’m not going to list them because I have neither the time nor the patience to point out what an insane bitch I am. These are things that you should just know by now.

(see how I did that? Subtle shifts of blame are a woman’s forte.)



Tuesday, December 20, 2005 

I Dream In Watercolors

and pastels.

I dream of white houses on black lakes underneath black skies illuminated by the biggest, roundest, white moon you've ever seen.

I swam in that lake, breathed water, cried black tears and became invisible.

But before I was invisible I was two. Two women separating and melding in a dance that no one could see. They turned their back, took a phone call, and I was left entranced, by my own image, in a white on white room turned gray by dim lights and shadow play.

I turned on the water but never took a bath.

I put a doll in the microwave and watched it melt while it began to cry, half baby, half doll, I don't know if I was trying to create or destroy.

All I know is this, my dreams are epochs, vibrant plays on your senses, and if they were to visit you, you would wake up breathless.

Last week I received my first rejection letter.

And it's good, very good. I sent my story to a pretty well known publication, I read their fiction and thought I could play with the big boys. I read their guidelines and felt that I was savvy.

They felt otherwise, and still, I'm okay with it.

I'm going to print that email out and tack it to my wall.

I'm going to look at it and one day say, Ha, because one day that story's going to be accepted... somewhere else.

They say every writer has to have a thick skin, a penchant for punishment. Well, if that's not me then I don't know what is.

So I applied to a writers conference.

I sent in a synopsis of my book. I included a writing sample.

And I got accepted.

Not only did I get accepted, but he sent back preliminary criticism. It was good. Very good. I need to have someone look at this book and rip it to shreds. I need someone who doesn't compliment me, or like me, or give a crap about me to turn around and say, "I love it. I like how x and y is formatted... but, Z could be better, and frankly, Y sucks ass."

I need someone to point me in the right direction, because, frankly, after this book is finished I will never have another original idea in my head at all. When I tilt my head sideways you will hear a tinkering of bells. Empty empty empty.

Unless I start finding authors, stealing their ideas, and then killing them. That would be sweet!

And FYI,

The dog has been named. Isatai. Comanche medicine chief with the famous last words of :

The Great Spirit has at last taken pity on the People. He will make us strong in war and we shall drive the white men away. The buffalo shall come back everywhere, so that there shall be feasting and plenty in the lodges. The Great Spirit has taught me strong medicine which will turn away the white man's bullets.

I'm calling him Izzy for short, in the hope that will give him a fighting chance against stupidity.


Monday, December 19, 2005 

I Had The Morning Off

To tend to my headache.

Massive headache, for days now.

I quit smoking.

And bought a dog.

Now I spend every waking moment contemplating throwing up.

Dog arrives friday.

and I don't do well under constant contemplation and second guessing.



Friday, December 16, 2005 

Last Night I Watched Porn

Ok. It wasn't exactly porn, it was HBO.... same thing. Which reminds me, why don't I own any porn? WTF is up with that? Oh yeah, I used to date a lot of loser uptight men, "OMG! Terra goes to porn shops!! Must put a stop to that."

Bah. Boring.

I wish there were a way to find out, in the VERY beginning, how uptight vs. how crazy a guy is. Like, does he hate talking dirty? If you ask him his fantasy over the phone will he go quiet and suddenly say, "You know, I'll just talk to you later" while you're left on the other side thinking, "FUCK! Not again!"

Boring ass losers. Wait... was my point? Oh yeah, I own no porn. Fuck.

So I channel surfed over to HBO (they always have porn on) and found Cathouse.

For those of you that don't know, Cathouse is reality television filmed at the Bunny Ranch over in Reno.


And I learned something last night, well, actually I learned two things.

The first is that I could never be a whore, these girls have to sleep with some pretty ugly guys. Like, YUCK. Gag. And, they act pretty enthusiastic throughout the whole thing. Even during the interviews afterwards! I kept thinking, "wow! They either really liked it, or they're the best fucking actresses I've ever seen."


But the second thing I learned was by far the most interesting. A woman came over to teach the girls new positions, to liven things up, WOW they're customers, etc, and this woman got into the wierdest most interesting poses that I have ever seen.

First things first, man this girl was LIMBER.

In one pose she stood up, bent down to touch her toes, then pushed her back up against the wall and forced her head and shoulders through her legs thus allowing her to grab the guys legs as he, umm, well, you know.

What was that?

Did I try it?

Well, I kinda had to. It's like when Count Dracula sings on Sesame Street, you just have to sing right along.

FYI, I can do it, sorta, but I also can't breathe while doing it, which I'm sure takes some of the pleasure away from the whole situation.

Plus, when I was doing it, you could see the curve in my back and upper stomach separating me from my lower body, meanwhile the whore on television just folded in on herself like a lawn chair.

Second position? (and yes, for the record I did try that one too with the same results as before)

Laying down on your back you put your legs back, all the way back, and hook them behind your OWN shoulders.

Totally thrusts your butt way up in the air.

All the whores on tv were laughing (so was I) but apparently it hits your g-spot w/out fail.


Um. Yeah. So this has been your weekly sex education class (way better than that shit you learn in school), and now I have to go.

I have to... stretch.


Thursday, December 15, 2005 


Cleavage since 1993


Wednesday, December 14, 2005 

These Are a Few of my Favorite Things

It's winter, I'm wearing a pink turtle neck and sipping hot tea.

I'm also fucking BUSY!!! Busy busy busy, but... this tea feels good sliding down my throat and also, I heard some good news today. So I'm all happy, and I've got that butt wiggling kinda happiness inside of me, so... here's a list of some of those things that, without fail, make me happy

  • a warm blanket wrapped around me in the winter
  • Arrested Development (that's my GREAT fucking news, Showtime is thinking about picking it up!!! YAY)
  • my kitty pushing his head into my neck
  • When Fry yells at Meat Wad on Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Man that show is cracked.
  • the way my sister laughs when I hug her
  • Watching someone fall.
  • Scrubs... scrubs scrubs scrubs, is back on in JANUARY!!!
  • Losing at a game.. wait. NO! I fucking hate that.
  • That moment in Elf when he get's hit by a taxi.
  • When a guy kisses me on the forehead. I don't know why, but even when guys I HATE do this, I kinda melt. wtf? grr. I hate that I like that.
  • Steve Martin in The Jerk
  • Warm Hot Scalding showers. mmmm.

dammit. now I want to go home and take a shower. fuck. ok, back to work.


Monday, December 12, 2005 

You Make Me Laugh

I'd like to see you naked
Before your clothes go out of style

You're so impossible

You make me laugh
You make me cry
You make me roll around the floor until I die
God only knows, the reason why
You make me laugh
You make me cry

Ha, sorry. Had a post in mind, then came up with this title to go along with the post, which OF COURSE, sent me into a full rendition of this song.

Which I love.

Cuz it's crazy.

And I'm crazy.

So, yeah, I like this song. No, NO. I love this song. I'm always laughing. ALWAYS! I think I've told you before, but, whatever! I'm going to tell you again. Try to fucking stop me!!!! I once got dumped for always laughing at stuff.

Oh. Heh. And cussing.

BUT, the final straw was when I took him to this wedding.

That was SUPER boring.

Not slightly, or mildly, but super, UBER boring!!! I thought I was going to stab my eyes out with the sporks.


So I looked at my table, looking for something to do, when I noticed, on my plate, some black olives, a slice of questionable looking meat, some tomatoe slices, and a dinner roll.

Faster than you can say, supercalafrajabafdkjlkfja, well. Faster than you can SPELL that at any rate, I had made a tiny little puppet with eyes, mouth and tongue.

Against my wishes, the puppet started talking to my date. Who got into a fight with the dinner roll, and then, THEN, picked up the wedding favor (which was a bell) and called me stupid, blaming it on the party favor.

I pointed out that party favors don't have mouths, and therefore can't insult anyone, to which he responded, "Well neither do dinner rolls."



My dinner roll CLEARLY had a mouth.

It's called, "evolution."

ya fucking moron.


Friday, December 09, 2005 

Tonight, The Vacuum Get's It

Dear Terra,

This is your vacuum. You might be wondering, "why is my vacuum writing me a note? And when did my vacuum learn how to read?"

What typical fucking questions from a close minded slave driver such as yourself.

For the record, I DON'T like being forcefed garbage! Also, I am NOT your savior! In fact, I am afraid of spiders too. So stop sucking them up. When they crawl around inside of me I get a little freaked out.

Vacuums have feelings too okay?

By the way, how about when you're done using me, you ask what TV show I'd like to watch for a try? You selfish elitist bitch.

Do you REALLY think I like living in your dusty closet? I feel like Harry Potter!

Then, you have the fucking audacity to get pissed because my wheel fell off? And my wiring's faulty? And I make this weird screaming sound? Well, HELLO? It's because you work me so fucking hard!!! Those goddamned fucking cats of yours are PIGS!

So now, after two years of faithful fucking service, you're just going to replace me?

Did nothing between us mean anything? I can't believe you can just toss me out like this... like, like some piece of common garbage.

Well, let me tell you something Terra! There's only one piece of garbage in this relationship, and it's not ME!


The Bitter (soon to be dead) Ex-Vacuum


Thursday, December 08, 2005 

News is Funny so I go HA HA / Oh, and a Little Bit O HNT Thrown in the Mix

If I were Saddam I would also tell the court to go to hell. Then I would stand up and say, "All you American pigs can suck my big Iraq cock, for a fee!"

At this point I would probably unzip my pants and wave it around just to show everyone that I was not ashamed of my big Iraq cock.

When you are a dictator you have to show your penis. That's just how these things go.


If I were Scott Stapp though, I would NOT get into a fight with 311 cuz who wants to say they got the shit kicked out of them by 311?

I mean, what does 311 really do beside sing some songs and smoke some pot?

Plus, the best part is how stupid gay ass Scotty Stappy boy stood up, with his hands on his hips and said, 311. I am ready to fight.


Fan fucking tabulous.

Actually. If I were girly scotty stepp I WOULD do that all the time.

Just for laughs.

hee hee.

Sorry, as scotty stapp I'm required to laugh like a girl and get my ass kicked by stoners.


Maybe some of you have heard about this, I don't know. But this week 25 officers from the San Francisco PD were suspended due to some video they had made.

Last night I kept hearing about it on the previews for the news, but they never would say what these videos were about. I kept thinking that they were video of PO's getting lap dances from girls they had 'supposedly' pulled over.

These types of videos, for the record, do exist. I know a girl that was in one.

Back to my point, so at ten O'clock the news story comes on, and the SF mayor, Gavin, is all pissed off and righteous about the DISPICABLE spoof movies.

Then they showed the clip.

It was an officer talking about how he really wanted to be transferred out of his district because it was filled with crazy people (at this point you get a shot of the car he's driving and a black homeless man is running up to it, signaling for help).

The officer is talking about how these crazy people run up to the car as he runs over the homeless man.

Then you get a close up of the dead homeless mans body.

Gavin was all pissy talking about the racist comments in this video, and other stuff that I didn't hear, because I was too busy LAUGHING!



damn. Those guys should be on comedy central.


In other news, check out the Petshop Boys on my castpost. mmm. Winter.


Wednesday, December 07, 2005 

Blast From the Past

I keep getting this e-mail from kodak:
Dear Terra,

Buy our shit or your pictures get it.


The finance people at the place where you freeload your ugly ass
aka, kodak

I'll be honest.

I never really paid attention to this email. I mean, fuck it. I probably don't want those pics anyway.

You hear that kodak? FUCK YOU! Take my pics and torture them in the ringer. HOO HAW I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!


Oh. Wait. Maybe I do.

So I logged in to check what the fuck I even had in there. Which is when I saw this picture.

Oh yeah. August 2004.

And all of a sudden I had this rush back to the person I was when this picture was taken.

We were sitting on my front porch, my hair was in complete fucking shambles, and it seems to me that we had slept in and were now soaking in the sun. Wasting the day away until it was time to get up, complete chores, go about our bizness.

I hate all pictures taken of me.

I confiscated the camera, but I had no idea how to work the damn thing, and so he convinced me that no pictures were taken.

I looked at him suspiciously. I fucking HATE people taking pics of me. But, since I was so digital camera stupid at the time, I finally chose to believe him.

Flash forward two weeks.

We're in the car for a long road trip, which I don't want to be on. For a week I've been thinking about breaking up whatever the fuck it is that we are doing.

Which is why I wanted to break it off.

If you don't know what you're doing, or even what kind of relationship you're in, then chances are you're doing NOTHING, and in no relationship at all.

In the car he hands me the camera and states that I'm official camera man. I'm flipping with the controls trying to figure out how to work the monster when I spot pics of pretty girls.

that's right.

pretty GIRLS. As in plural.

Now what the fuck am I doing in this damn car? I was so pissed.


Well. It's not like I hadn't given some guy my number just two nights before. And technically we weren't exclusive. So was I really pissed? No. I just thought he should've had enough class to take the pics off his camera instead of leaving them for me to find.

Twice later that day I sneak peaks at the girls trying to figure out if they're his cousins, but if they are they're not any of the cousins I've met.


I'm dating, or not dating, a slut.


Finally, later that day, he takes the camera from me and starts cycling through them, providing narratives for everything I've taken and everything he's taken.

When he get's to the girls he says loudly, "Oh! Who are these pretty girls?"

"Um. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No. I assume they're friends of yours."

"Terra. These are pics of you."


And they were. Hah. What a funny/sweet memory.

That guy's a really good friend of mine now, but we are definitely not those people any more, and until right right now, I forgot we ever were.

PS, have you checked out my castpost? the song changes tomorrow.


Tuesday, December 06, 2005 

say hello to my little friend

little being an objective term.

Tommy weighs twelve pounds and today he got in trouble for tilting his mouth upwards and leaning under his food bag like he expected me to just funnel the food straight into his mouth.

fat asshole.

so i told him to sit.

fat smart asshole knows commands.



for instance, if he hears commands, such as 'no', 'down', or 'out', but none of the commands include his name and/or you're not looking directly at him, then he knows he's safe. This comes in handy if you're someone like me, who treats all stupid things like dogs.

i use short barking commands until people shut the fuck up and do what i say.

i think he knows about fifteen seperate commands that he actually obeys.


because he knows his mom is a vicious psycho and he lives in constant fear.

this is how smart my kitty is (ok. even mad at him i think he's the best darn thing since automatic rifles), when he lived outside he used to go with me on my daily walks. that's right. he was always within ten feet of me, and people used to shake their heads, "crazy fucking cat thinks he's a dog."


I wish.

if he were a dog i would train him to kill on command.

anyway, today the fat bastard refused to sit. then he knocked his head into the water bowl and spilt it everywhere. this was right before he, mistakenly, concluded that the food should skip the bowl and fall right into his open mouth.

which is when fat ass got in trouble.

stupid stupid fat ass.

so then, while being fed, he was told, "no" and made to sit, wait, and in general, behave.

except he got all confused.

this was something new. he's never given the command, 'wait', especially not during feeding time.

so he got all nervous.

he heard the word no, he knew he was in trouble, except not WHY he was in trouble.

at first i stared at his nervous bundle of fur crouched anxiously near the food, you could tell he wanted to eat but was afraid, "oh shit. if i eat mom'll kill me."

i told myself, that's OK! he was bad! he knocked food and water all over my damn floor, he's gained two fucking pounds in the last six months AND i can HEAR him when he eats! he shoves his head in the bowl and does an excellent imitation of an ethiopian child complete with swollen belly.

he deserved to get punished!

but then he looked around, all twitchy. you could tell he wanted to be good but didn't know how. there have never been rules at feeding time. so then I had to go pick him up, take him to his food and pet him while he ate.

today's mantra? i don't feel bad i don't feel bad i don't...

i'm so fucking soft that i'm going to have to cut a stranger to regain my rep.


Monday, December 05, 2005 

Monday monday

cue: the mommas and the poppas, california dreamin, on such a winter's day...

it's monday and i'm cold.

it's monday and i'm fucking freezing.

even now.

even in the office, for hours and hours, my hands are still like ice.

if you were here i would place my freezing hands on your neck just to watch you jump.

i'm going to go get green tea, in the guise of being healthy, i'm also going to warm my insides up.

but not my heart.

my heart stays nice cold and black like always.

it's monday and i have no mad chronicles to post and nothing planned for ty's site.

nothing nothing.

i blame this on all the drinking i did several years ago but blacked out.

last night my friend said to me, "remember when i drove robert's car to work?"

me- "no"

him- "yeah, and then i went to pick up lunch but bought the wrong lunch and so O had to drive back because i refused to drive that pos back there?"

me- "oh yeah"

him- "don't say yes when you don't remember! oh. i know why you don't remember, you got wasted that night and we had to call robert to come get you."

this conversation then led to all the times i had gotten myself too drunk to drive home, and here's why this conversation strikes me as funny.

i don't remember drinking that much.

in fact, i don't remember robert EVER having to come pick me up. not even once.

also, according to J, there were many times that he ran into me around town when i was completely wasted.


where the fuck was i?


apparently i did lots of cool stuff but have no memory of any of it.

it's monday and i'm going a bit senile.


Friday, December 02, 2005 

Snow Sharks

Today I was presented with a real quandary.

Do I, or do I NOT, like Dire Straights?


I dunno. Some of their songs suck ass. Luckily I put on some Tom Petty and forgot about the whole Dire Straights thing.


What can I say, I'm feeling a little 90's today.

In other news. I'm on a diet. Which means,



i will forgo food for beer

i will mow down a small child for beer

i will smile in your general direction and let you touch my hair for beer. i won't do much more than that though, unless you're hot. i have a germ phobia, which rules out most possibilities of sluttiness. even for beer. and trust me when i say not a day goes by that i don't regret this.




Thursday, December 01, 2005 


In the white and pink bathroom of my very first 'mine and mine alone' apartment, I lost my camera phone virginity.

How did you lose yours?