disgruntled post

I'd like to take this quick opportunity to mention that Blogger is a dick!!!

As I'm sure you can see, I'm in the process of trying to retemplate my blog and for some unknown reason, Blogger can't translate what I'm telling it to do via the Designer to the live version.

So I hope Blogger's happy getting the last laugh here while I think about pulling my blog off of this site.

The Definition of Irony

I am failing left and right lately for something to write about.

I know that I want to write, that I have stories to tell and yarns to spin and journeys to go on but nothing seems to be bubbling to the surface.  I often find myself wondering if JK Rowling had to deal with shit like this (yes, JK Rowling, bitches!  Cuz I don't get a fuck.  She's awesome!  Suck it).  How do you get through it?  It's not even writer's block anymore.  It's just a complete and utter lack of inspiration.  Do you just write until something makes sense?  What if you don't know where to start?  

Cuz that's kinda like... where I am right now.

I could probably come up with a couple of characters... the story would be set here in Pittsburgh... but plot?  Action?  Exposition?  Oh God and a climax???  Forget it.  I'm fucked.

When have you ever heard of a set driven story?

Bah.

Earlier tonight, I put out on Twitter that I could use a couple of ideas.  Twitter, in all it's infinite creativity, came back to me with:

A sword fighting Eskimo who has a cross to bear with a woman he could never have and an insatiable love of Doctor Who.

That's REALLY specific, guys!  I'm not even sure that Eskimos know what a sword is let alone a magic blue box.  I love my followers but Christ, in order to make that work, I need to go to a few improv classes first and study up on how to build and igloo and cook with blubber and choreography a fight sequence in there, maybe with a whale or fish or seal...

Can Eskimos even kill seals?  Are they endangered or something?

My head hurts.

I wish this was hyperbole.

Maybe that's a genre I need to start focusing more on... hyperbole can be a genre right?  To hell with it, if I say that it's a genre, it's a genre.

Something will come of it.

Meantime, Jason X just came on STARZ.  You know, the one where Jason Voorhees gets chryogenically frozen at the Crystal Lake Research Center and then gets thawed out sometime in the future and starts killing everyone again?  Apparently hockey in this movie was rules out in 2024.  Pretty lame.

You realize that some fucking asshole had to write this plot, pitch it to a movie distribution house who bought it and then convinced some plastic LA dickhead that it would make a shit load of money and to give them the money to hire a director, crew and etc to get the thing produced.

And I can't even think of something quality to write.

This is horseshit.

#GnealsBigAdventure

Public Service Announcement: I have no life.

My mom, @omgitsjensmom on twitter, and Dad went out of town this weekend. While they were away, they asked me and my boyfriend, @omgitsjensbf on twitter, to look after their fish. Nevermind he and I live on the North Side and they live out in Westmoreland County...

So, after I got off work tonight at 11pm, my boyfriend and I took a drive out to my parents house to feed the fish. Literally, to JUST feed the fish...

When we got there, one was pretty dead and the rest weren't eating. I suspect they were mourning the loss of their fallen comrade but who knows. They're fish.

Since we had just driven 45 minutes to feed my mom's fish (literally to JUST feed the fish), I looked around the house for food to steal for myself... I'm their kid after all, I'm entitled to eat their food! But, since they're gone for a week, they had pretty much gone through everything and Old Mother Hubbard's Cupboard was bare. I found some potatoes and A1 sauce but that was about it.

Not to be deterred from being a complete ass to my mother, I opted to take something else... or rather kidnap.

My mother sort of has this thing for garden gnomes. She collects them, she names them and she keeps them all around the house. There's dozens of them and all their names start with N because she thinks things like Gned the Gnome is hilarious. She has Steelers gnomes, David the Gnome look a likes, gnomes with a hat, gnomes with no hat, gnomes with shovels, gnomes with buckets, gnomes that are planters... its fucking ridiculous.

So I took the prize of the collections: Gneal. Named after James Neal of the Pittsburgh Penguins because... he's a Pens Gnome.

I went back out to the car smirking at how clever I was. Originally, I was planning on just keeping him at my house until my folks came to pick him up so they can enjoy the 45 minute drive to the North Side and back.

However, once we got back on 376, I had an epiphany.  Why just hold him hostage when I can rub in Mom's face how much more fun he has living with me than he does living with her???!!

So begins Gneals Big Adventure.

Gneal the Gnome in the Squirrel Hill Tunnels

Wednesday is pretty much going to be the big day for Gneal.  He's coming with me to yoga, he's probably going to be seen in and around Market Square, his presence has been requested by @lvallana to come see her at the Zoo.  We may go to the Inclines and Station Square too... if you'd like to meet us, shoot me an email or a message on Twitter and we'll figure out a way to make it happen!

All the pictures will be posted.

Oh... I have a Blog... Whoops

Hi.

I'm pissed.

I haven't written anything worth reading in... God, what's it been... eons? So to those of you that are actual, faithful readers, I apologize. I appreciate your loyalty to my blog and I'm glad you're reading these words now. But this is a Bitch Post. Pure and simple.

I'm just over an hour into my day and I'm already totally over it.

I went to bed last night totally looking forward to getting my hair done this morning. If you're a woman, you understand this: You make an appointment in good faith, you look forward to looking better and feeling better about yourself; and, depending on how long you've had the appointment, you anticipate it! It's also next to impossible for me to schedule an appointment because of my work schedule.

So when I woke up at 10am to get dressed and catch my bus to downtown to make my 11:30 appointment at Sognatore, I was really pissed to find that I had a missed call and voicemail saying my stylist had called in sick today.

Ok she's sick. Shit happens but are you kidding me? I have to wait at least 2 more weeks to figure out what my schedule is and even to see if I even have the money to get my hair done.

I'm forever frustrated.

So I decide, hey ok so I have all this time to myself now. Maybe I can make a noon class at Amazing Yoga on the South Side. I get dressed, get my stuff together and get ready to head out the door...

Only Monty, my dog, had better ideas. When he saw me put on my shoes, he bolted... outside. So I had to run after him... and after him... and he ran past me and up the stairs... and then cowered into a corner like I was going to kill him and all I wanted to do was lock him up so he didn't destroy the house while I was gone!

After catching him, I went outside and immediately realized I had forgotten my water bottle and also wanted to grab an umbrella just in case. So I turned around and went BACK inside. Grabbed my water bottle and grabbed my umbrella off of the hat rack... which caused 1 coat and 100 hats to fall to the floor. So I picked them all up, put them back on the rack and tried to head out the door again.

I actually got to the sidewalk this time... SUCCESS!!!

I walked to my bus stop and half a block away, I saw a big blue PAT bus zoom by. It was 11:02 exactly. Impossible that my bus would have actually been on time on the day that I need it to be late.

I got to the bus stop and stood there with 2 crackheads for about 15 seconds before they asked me if I was waiting on the 16. Of course, I answered that I was and they shook their head. "Man you just missed it man. He zoomed on by like he was in a hurry."

Considering the source, I opted to stand and wait for a few more minutes. The 15 came by so I knew they were right, a Crackhead would know the bus schedule better than I did so I shouldn't have second guessed them. In a fit and refusing to leave because I was so mad, I watched them get on the 15 and speed off. When the next 13 came by I rolled my eyes and started trying to cross the Brighton Road to walk back home.

But not before a 3rd crackhead came by with a shopping cart stopped by to say, "How you doin baby?" I was the only female in he immediate area so I assumed he was talking to me and I didn't look up. So he said it again, "How you doin baby?"

At that point, I really knew it was time to go.

On the walk back to my house, my phone dinged at me telling me that I got an email.

It was from a man named Sam Parente.

At first I thought it was spam but I opened the email and read it. It was actually a very nice email complimenting me on my blog and inviting me to an event for the new Planet Smoothie and X Shadyside on 9/22.

I'm not gonna lie, a few nice words about my blog from a complete stranger totally made my day.

It doesn't take a lot for me.

Anyway, with the inspiration from Sam Parente, I opted to come home and write a blog entry. So thank you, Sam, for getting me writing about my day today. It's an hour later and I feel a lot better.

Moral of the story: if you have the opportunity to say something nice to someone today, do it. You don't know what they're going through and you might just turn it around for them in the space of the 5 seconds it takes to compliment them.

I'm not spell checking this. I'm not rereading it to revise it or make it "flow better." Fuck it!

Read This Article Now!!!!

This article is everything I've ever preached to anyone. This advice is some of the best you will ever get.  Do yourself a favor and take 5 minutes to read it.
TNW: The Top 5 Regrets People Have on their Death Beds.
So good!!  xoxox

What a Bum

I thought I was the source of my unproductivity.  Clearly I was wrong... He would later curl up in my lap for a snooze and make me feel guilty for needing to get up.

Complete bum.

I haven't blogged for a while so here's what I'm thinking about at midnight.

I think I must be an ass... Organized religion not only scares the shit out of me but... Well really kind of turns me off.

When deeply religious people want to do something nice for me, I automatically assume its because they want to go to heaven... Not because they're just nice or good people but because they're preprogrammed to help thy neighbor.  It makes me not trust them... If they're just being nice to me to get on some invisible man's good side, who knows what else they're up to.

That's on me. 

But what isn't on me is the hoity toity, holier than thou attitude. I work on Sundays so no I don't go to church.  Even if I didn't work, I'd probably sleep in because that's what sane people do.  Sane people don't wake up at 6am on Sunday morning to make a 7, 8 or 9am mass time... Or whatever time.

But what I do respect about devoutly religious people is the avid belief in something that's never been proven. There's a piece of me that's kind of envious of that. I wish I could capture that kind of passion and follow it blindly on just faith alone. But I just can't and then I start feeling guilty for being so judgmental.

But then I remember people make fun of me for believing in astrology and that sort of goes away.