Unashamed, and not the first time.
There are two hours of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" ahead of me. Bliss.

I survived my Pap Smear. When I had my first one (18 years old), performed by a female doctor, I was traumatized so badly by the way she treated me that I couldn't get another one until I was 24. I could have had six years of cancer growing inside me, and because of that fucking whore, I would probably have died. You know what I mean. So now, I can only have my Paps done by male doctors. They are infinitely more gentle than the female doctors because the females figure, "I go through this just like you, so shut the hell up and scootch on down, you dumb bitch." Really. That's what female doctors are like. I will NEVER go to another one as long as I live. Male doctors/male gynecologists are not to be feared as perverse. They care more. Just because they can't internalize what you're going through doesn't mean they don't care, which is the opposite of female doctors. They don't give a damn about you at all. Don't be fooled.

Help is here.
A lot of people are looking at my site after they enter queries for Sims downloads into Yahoo/Google; so, to help, I have added a link for all of you guys so you don't feel ripped off by coming to my site. Everything you are looking for I have downloaded from the link above.

Of course, if you enter "puppet porn" or "virtual pimp" into a search engine, you'll get my pita also.

Does it hurt to be you?
I can not stand the people I work with. They're all morons. There was an ex-coworker who came in to shoot the shit after her appointment; found out she's pregnant. There is a history of twins and triplets on her husband's side, so what does the Bitch say to her? "Oh, girl, you might have three or four or even five kids at once!" Fuck me running. I wonder where the Bitch received her MD in Obstetrics. She's so stupid, it hurts to listen to her.

Two things happened to me this weekend that were rather nice:

Indica ate chicken out of my hand
Leo kissed me for the first time in a long time

Both events were nice. Hopefully I'll be seeing Leo after work today. He wanted to hang out last night but didn't feel up to it. There was a Mardi Gras party downtown on Saturday and at 2:00 a.m., the police turned into Nazis and started pepper spraying and beating everyone who seemed to be out of line. Fucking Gestapo pigs. So Sunday afternoon, Leo calls and says that he was at Lovejoy's and was helping them shout down (taking the trash to the dumpster in the alley) and a pig told him to not go outside or else he'd be arrested. What the fuck? And then there must have been so much pepper spray in the air that his eyes were puffy and swollen shut that morning. The only kind of good pig is a dead one. They don't do any good any other way.

It's Sunday. All day long.
But I do have options (I'm really into listmaking these days):

Go to Whole Foods to buy the cat some food
Get the Caddy washed
Lay on the couch and watch VH-1 all day

Tough choices. If you all need something to do, join my clique. It's fun.

I am in love.
Wanna know who with? Him. Wanna know why? Watch the fucking show.

Search me!
Latest query that brought up one web page (mine):

The Sims+Eddie+Vedder+skins

or something like that. That is so incredibly specific, and I think it is riotously funny that I was the only thing that came up. If that person clicks back to me, please go here. All the crap you need for your little Sims is here. Eddie Vedder, Chris Cornell, and Kurt Cobain are in Sim form, as well as many, MANY others.

Beer of the day:
Delirium Tremens from the Huyghe Brewery in Melle/Ghent, Beligum. 8.5% vol. It first enters the mouth as one flavor, and then instantly changes into a polar opposite flavor. And then it goes away, no rancid beer aftertaste. Oh, it is good. There are two kinds of Delirium, Tremens and one other (I got this one, Leo got the other and didn't seem too impressed by it). There are pink elephants, strutting green lizards, and dragons on the opaque gray-speckled bottle. I like bringing home singles from Whole Foods and Central Market to taste. This is the first one that my dad has tried and has liked. He didn't care for the chocolate beer at all, nor did he like the cherry beer. The peach belgian was the best of all, and I intend on buying that again. I just wish it wasn't so expensive. The peach belgian and Delirium beers both come in standard 12 ounce size and champagne bottle (750 ounce) sizes.

Well, no Cavalier. Duh. The whole $88 thing was a big scam to get the suckers on the lot. The $88 down was legit, but it was $88 for the first three months, then they jack up the price according to credit history, trade-in, etc. So I am sticking with the Caddy, and no, I am not disappointed. I will have it cleansed and detailed tomorrow.

Leo and I went to this big-ass electronics sale downtown that also turned out to be a big bust. But we were nicely lubricated by margaritas from Taco Cabana, so it was all good. We didn't buy anything because it was like being in the back of some guy's van who is fencing stolen goods from Walmart. Weak. He and I then went and rented a P.A. for his show tonight and I went home, where I am now online and drinking a beer. I also have a headache, and word has it there is Tranxene in the house somewhere. Time to design crap for future use. Corel Draw 8, I hate you. You're useless and you suck. But you're all I have and you will have to do.

Looking forward to the future.
Well, at least until Saturday when I get my Cavalier. I don't even have to wash the Cadillac. Sweet. I sure don't want to wash that big fucker. Here's the deal:

1. Cadillac gets appraised by Chevy dealer (Tom)
2. Credit gets approved (naturally)
3. I pick out Cavalier that speaks to me
4. Tom decides value of Caddy
5. Value of Caddy minus my lease on Caddy = either what Tom will tack on to final price of Cavalier or the downpayment on Cavalier (more than likely I will tack on the balance to the final price of the Cavalier). Tom also pays remainder of lease on Caddy. Super sweet.
6. I sign the papers and put some cashola down
7. I drive away in my brand new car.

Oh, yeah. I need to start being practical. Also, if I do indeed get this car this weekend, I am putting my two weeks in at work on Monday and will be gone in three. I'll take my computer and clothes up to SLC and get set up there until the house sells, which I hope is soon. I really need to start being creative before I dry up and blow away.

Life sucks and you know it.
Yesterday sucked ass. Too much work, entirely too much banal prattle in my ear, and too many things being asked of me at the same time. I had a little mind snap and was asked to leave the premises, but this was before my immediate supervisor blasted me with a terrible lie ("I've seen you reading magazines at your desk."). I promptly called her to her face that she was a liar, that what she said was a total lie, and that I couldn't believe she'd tell me such a lie. Bitch. I went home and cracked the 100-proof Smirnoff and started drinking. Yes, I cope with stress in a very childish way. But it works. I swore I was going to be fired, but hey-- unemployment checks and unlimited time on the Internet is a whole lot better than being stuck in that dead-ass job. I'm entirely overqualified to be mired in that shit. Today was a little better. My I.S. pretty much avoided me and I avoided her. Did I mention that she's a bitch? Then she calls me today at 4:15 and says, "I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but we need to work this out." Fuck. I still had an assload of work to do, and her talk, that she said wouldn't take up that much of my time, lasted 20 minutes. I had my physical today. Unfortunately, the fearful Dr. F refused to do my Pap and breast exam because he was "uncomfortable" doing it. Fuck that, Dr. Primary Care Provider! Jerk! I mean, how unprofessional is that. Now I have to wait until the Monday afternoon to have a female doctor Pap me. Damn it. I don't like female doctors. They're always acting like they have to overcompensate in their medical actions because they're women, so they act like total bitches. My last two Paps were done by men, and I would prefer that Dr. F would have just done it and gotten it over with. I may have to go to the Big Boss (who, unfortunately again, is a female) and tell her about this. Dr. F didn't have a problem doing a Pap on my mom and a rectal on my dad today, but I make him uncomfortable? Whatever.

I just realized there are a lot of "un" words in this entry. I've had sort of an un-week. But Saturday... I think I'll be getting the Cavalier for sure. Rock. I hope I see one I like. I also think I'll be getting a 2000/2001 model. Double rock. This will be my official first "new" car, not just a car that's new to me.

Felis Oddimus.
Have you ever seen a cat look bored? Indy is roaming around the house like a little furry zombie, not sure where to go and not sure what to do whenever she gets there. She's my volleyball cat.

Titus comes on in 15. That show is my new favorite, but it is so un-PC (one reason why I like it so much), but if it keeps on going the way they're going, they'll get cancelled before they know it. But Stacy Keach is so funny and evil! Rotten old fart. Gotta love him.

I am drinking a Belgian beer made from cherries. It's not as good as it sounds. The peach is much, MUCH better.

Kind of like the end of the Earth.
I was in bed last night, listening to the X-Files and, for some reason, my brain started wandering. I was having thoughts about the vastness of the Internet, and how big it is, and how big it can potentially be, if it will ever run out of room, and what would happen if that happened. So I beome paranoid about my claim on the Net. I hate it when I do that. Will the Pitas.com site run out of space? Then what? Diaryland? Don't make me laugh. I am sure I could eventually use Blogger, and there is space on Envy.nu and Stas.net, but still... how is this space possible? It's like the Universe -- so much space that we don't know exactly how much and for how long. I think about that too, the end of the world as we know it (no singing). I feel that I will be around to see it, and I don't want to. This is just one of my irrational fears. I'm also already tired of this layout since I drew up a new one this weekend that I think is really sweet. I also want to get fonts to unzip, multiple fonts that already exist that I need to get rid of... I am having the intense need to be creative, but I just don't have the time right now. I have to finish these fucking boring articles, I have to sleep and work. I can't wait to get to Salt Lake so I will have some time to be myself. Right now, I don't really feel like I'm living up to my full personal potential. I feel like I'm on hold until I've moved.

Imagine the Possibilities.
I am considering buying a webcam. I am never naked in front of my computer; I'm always cold in my house. Besides, I don't want to be another one of those girls who has a naked webcam site. How trite. My credibility as a serious writer would be shot to shit. I am a serious writer, by the way. Today, my concentration level was just about Zero. I could not move faster than a turtle on a quaalude. Remarkably, I got my work completed. I don't know how that happened. All I want to do now is cuddle up with Mr. 100-Proof and watch the X-files, but I have to finish this stupid shit for my mom's boss. I found out that this man, born in Austria, was a part of the Hitler Youth back in its heyday. The punchline-- he's Jewish. Oi! I could not believe that. And he's so fucking boring. There is a very real chance that I might be trading in the Cadilla for a Cavalier this weekend. I love my Caddy, I love being a Cadillac owner, but I need to be practical. I want a Cavalier coupe, either silver, midnight blue, or emerald green. I will either go with a dealership in town that is having a deal where they will take over the lease on your current car, and for $88 down and $88/mo, you can "drive home in a fabulous new or pre-owned Chevrolet!" We'll see.

Preparing for the week at hand.
Time for my Sunday night ritual: record Futurama, the Simpsons, and X-Files. Tonight, I get a two-fer. Rock.

No clues.
I was typing up a new article earlier, and as I was about to save it, Word shut down. The cursor was on "file" and I'd gone down to "save as" and it stopped. This was about 2 hours ago and I think I am ready to start up again. That shit pisses me off. This article is about snakes in Texas. I am in hell.

Where's my brain??
I can't believe I forgot to mention dinner with Leo at the Ranch 616 on Friday night. I utterly suck. That is one of my favorite places to eat, and I had been wanting to take him there for months. We finally made it and had a wonderful meal:

appetizer:
Fried frog legs (6) with poblano mashed potatoes

he had:
Texas ribeye with chicken enchiladas

she had:
Sugar cured grilled quail (2) with poblano mashed potatoes and borracho beans

dessert:
Key-lime pie and coffee

libations:
Margaritas on the rocks with Hornitos and Cointreau (2)

The Ranch 616 will be missed when I leave. My friend Suzee (from the movie) was there -- she and I might have to go downtown for drinks and debauchery before I leave.

Short and Simple.
Happy birthday, Mom.

Funny.
This should answer a burning question.

There is also this. Tread lightly.

No more armadillos.
I told my mom I'd key in some text for her old boss; I thought there were 4 articles. Turns out there are 15, and they're needed by Tuesday night. Fuck me running. And the articles are so fucking boring! Camels and armadillos and other Texas shit. Suck. Now $150 for doing this doesn't seem so great. Oh well. I need to go golfing.

If I had a tumor, I'd name it Veronica.
Bitch.

I was moving at about half speed today. Didn't get all of my work finished, either. I'm going to a gallery opening tonight; my friend Pete is curator and Steve will be there (he invited me). He's sorry to see me go, but hey-- shit happens, right?

I hate Valentine's Day.
Fuck today. What was I doing three years ago tonight? Hanging out at my old apartment (well, my neighbor's apartment) with my neighbor and friend, snorting crystal meth, smoking mass amounts of grass, and drinking Jagermeister. I out-drank, out-smoked, and out-snorted both of those guys. I would give anything to be doing that right now because I wouldn't have to feel anything. End of fucking story.

Stop the DEA.
My ass is killing me. Don't let the DEA think they have the power to outlaw hemp and hemp products (it's a FDA thing, duh). They are socially maladjusted losers. Hemp shampoo makes your hair pretty! Hemp hammocks are comfy as hell! Hemp jewelry is pretty! Screw the DEA!! They're insane! And if this is slander, so be it. It's still the truth, and I am protected by the 1st amendment. So bite me.

Too much fun.
Everyone, do as I say. Go sell your soul (and buy mine while you're at it) and have a lot of fun. Unless you're a young-and-jaded type and can't fathom ANYTHING on the internet being fun... you can all bite my shiny metal ass.

What is she up to now?
I just sold my soul for... well, nothing really. Just thought it would be fun. We'll see what happens.

New search query:
Someone looked up (in Yahoo) "cough medicine with codeine" and got my pita. I love it.

New Outlook.
I don't mind driving in this asshole town now that I have Portishead, Chris Cornell, Beck, Days of the New, and Cypress Hill to listen to while I am in traffic. That fucking bitch will not stop singing and humming during work. We were making fun of her and she didn't care because she's "praying to God" and doesn't care what we think. Shit. Tomorrow is one of my least favorite days on the calendar, but I still have something to give to Leo. I hope he likes it. I wish I was hungry. I wish I could have a Greyhound for lunch (vodka and grapefruit juice) but that would not be a good idea. Tonight will be a drinkin' night.

What a day.
I was ultra-productive today:
1. Did my laundry
2. Painted my nails (color: "Blind Date")
3. Played about 5 rounds of golf ("Hot Shots 2")
4. Gave the land monster a new sandbox

And I'm again, not dreading going to work tomorrow. The increase to 150 mgs has done wonders. I need to go to Hobby Lobby.

Jesus. It's only up to $300.00.
I only need one credit card to buy this. Which one shall I use? God, does he look fruity in this picture.

My spiritual advisor is drunk and disorderly.
My name is Roger the Shrubber. I arrange and design shrubberies.

It's 9:07 and I am suffering from a serious case of cabin fever, but I can't go out because I've had some of the sauce already. I was playing with my Sims but my game decided to stop before I was finished so I relented. And there was much rejoicing.

I can not wait to get out of this jerkwater burg.

It's after 5:00; I can change to hard liquor.
I'm just about finished getting all of my crap packed for the storage shed. I donated a box of unmentionables to Safe Place, a women's crisis center. Won't they have fun going through that. Saw Leo for lunch; that was nice. He seemed to be in a good mood. I bought a Philips cd boom-box for myself at Wallyworld on the way home. My old stereo crapped out on me a long time ago, so the only time I can listen to my cd's is on my cd-rom, and that is getting old. I feel like I've been productive today; tomorrow is laundry. The house went on the market today. I wonder how long before this place is sold. I hope it's not too long, this town is really pissing me off. I will miss Leo. He'll pretty much be the only person I will miss. Everyone else can kiss my ass.

Shit-click.
Feel the need for speed. My best time was 80 wpm with no mistakes.

Find your medieval personality. I am a Dreamer-Minstrel.

What has it accomplished tonight?
Exactly nothing. I guess Mr. Upper doesn't even want to email me anymore. He got tired of his game and has moved on. Still watching "Fight Club", still sipping on the same tired screwdriver for the past hour. I think I want to go find some fun.