I have problems, I just know it.

The latest addition to my Stable of Fantasy Dudes: Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

 First off, I know that a lot of people get Jeffrey here and Javier Bardem mixed up. I did the first time I saw a preview for Eat Pray Love, but that was just a glance. The picture below is from a blog where the girl writing was basically saying that she can't tell a difference between the two of them, even when concentrating.

 Um... Really? Because I could name SEVERAL.

 Well, let's just take a look.

Aside from their eyes being different colors, and their noses, eyebrows, lips, jawlines, and hairlines being completely different... Oh, wait.

You could make a case for Jeffrey looking like Jeremy Piven, I guess, but that's not something I like thinking about because... Eww. Seriously.

Anyway... I first ran across him when I saw Watchmen and absolutely fell in love. I know that the Comedian was a total asshole but God was he sexy. Something about him made me giggle like an excited schoolgirl. I texted my friend Pinkie when I left the movie theatre and told her she had to check it out, because not only was it an awesome movie but there's also a drool-worthy actor in it. What can I say? I was excited.

Admittedly, I didn't think about him much after that. I did when The Losers came out, but I didn't see it. Still haven't. I didn't have the time, I was trying to get ready to move. I don't have a good excuse now.

Nope. No good excuse. Jesus, what's WRONG with me!?

 Aww... Dimples! I love dimples. I think they're so cute.

 Oh, yes...

Most of what I know about him is surprisingly unimpressive. He played the dad on Supernatural, although you'd think those two guys playing the lead characters would look better had they really been his sons. Neither of them would even pass for his nephew- stuff like that bothers me and I know it's stupid but when you can REALLY tell they're not related... Anyway. I saw ONE episode while I was in high school, and I won my reputation as a freak when I stated plainly, when asked which guy I thought was cuter by an over-eager classmate who'd been trying to get me to watch it because I'm "really good with all that stuff"; "Well, I thought their dad was a lot better-looking." And that was the first time I ever heard "daddy issues" thrown my way.

The other night, I ran across a video on YouTube of him on Craig Ferguson's show and I ended up watching ALL OF THEM. I was trying to stay up cos I had to drive my mom and my stepdad to the airport at 4 AM and it was great to have found something that kept my interest enough to keep my ass awake.

Well, I went to the Red Box in front of Walgreens today and rented The Losers, since I was returning a DVD to Netflix (Johnny Suede, this old Brad Pitt movie with Nick Cave playing an albino rock star named Freak Storm. Oh my GOD it was such a bad movie but it was fun.) and I won't be getting another until probably Saturday.

I think I may need to rent it again. It was fucking AWESOME but I don't think I paid enough attention to it because I can't remember what exactly was going on the whole time. I was distracted for a number of reasons, but I loved it and think I may want to own it.

In any case, you know that you've got a problem when you can't watch a movie with a dude you're attracted to without, as soon as he appears onscreen, you saying out loud, "Hey, baby..." and then proceeding to halfway zone out through the whole thing. Maybe I've just been a little too involved with myself lately.

A rant.

 You know, I've spent the last couple of years trying my damnedest to believe that most people are basically good, and every time I turn around, there's some bitch knocking me down.

Maybe I'm being overly emotional because I'm hormonal and my period started today (FINALLY, I've only been anticipating it for three weeks now!), maybe I'm projecting my own body issues on it, but an article by Maura Kelly of Marie Claire made me so angry I couldn't see straight.

 Basically, the rundown is that she thinks that fat people are disgusting and they shouldn't be shown as happy and in love on TV (the whole thing got started when she was directed to an article on Mike and Molly, a new show about an overweight couple who met at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting) because it may show people that fatties are humans, too. And then when her article started being met with a little vitriol, she pasted on some sorry-ass apology saying that she didn't intend to hurt anyone's feelings and that she was anorexic once, so she knows how it feels.

 No. You don't know how it feels, you judgmental cunt. You CHOSE anorexia. You CHOSE to become a 70-pound stick woman. Sure, you may have lost control towards the end, but that was a lifestyle choice that you made.

 Am I going to sit here and tell you that I don't think being overweight is my fault? No. I'm overweight because I don't exercise. I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I wonder why I'm so lazy when I don't even LIKE feeling lazy. But the fact that major publications are putting this shit out into the world and not just the little Internet Trolls that you'd expect it from? That makes me ill.

 This is the comment I posted after creating an account, so that I could post it:

Well, I guess I'm just a horrible, disgusting person because I'm overweight and I come from a predominantly horrible, disgusting family. People like Maura Kelly ought to be a little less judgmental and a little more open-minded, especially when they write for MAJOR MAGAZINES. How did BS like this slip past an editor? It's hearing/seeing/reading things like this that gradually made me hate myself more and more until I felt like, hey, there's no point in trying anymore, nobody's ever going to love me anyway. Why should I bother trying to get healthy? I'm not worth it inside or out, because as Ms. Kelly here has so eloquently written (note the sarcasm dripping from every word), no overweight person can possibly have anything good about them because they're all fatties and fatties are gross. How can anyone be so cruel as to think that people of all shapes and sizes don't deserve to be publicly loved and appreciated? And that flip little comment about her "plump" friends didn't help her case, cos I'm sure that her definition of "plump" is probably anything over a size 2. I will admit that I can change things about myself, but I'm high-risk for ovarian cysts and that could cause me to gain weight in the future. Will I still be a bad person then, Maura? I'm sorry. I guess I'll just go die in a ditch somewhere and spare the rest of the world the sight of me. Because, hey, 225 lbs is terrible, even though I'm 5'11" and my normal weight range is 165-170 lbs. I'll probably never get below a size 10, lest I become a little emaciated stick woman like you, at which point I hope one of my friends loves me enough to give me an intervention because that isn't something I want for myself.

 I mean it, too. One of my friends better shove the biggest, greasiest, cheesiest cheeseburger down my fucking throat if I ever become an anorexic. That's what a true friend would do. Not lie and tell me I look great when all my Goddamned hair is falling out and my skin turns yellow. I certainly would do it for them.

Of course, maybe I shouldn't be surprised, especially when this bitch also wrote an article a while back about how awful gray hair is. She went gray by the time she was thirty so OF COURSE she had to color it! She looked so OLD! And she also wrote another short piece about chubby actors like Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and Seth Rogen titled something like, "Huggable? Yes. But hot? Not so much." I don't know about you, but I think Seth Rogen is adorable and I'd much rather be with a sweet chubby guy that treated me right than some well-built dickhead that treated me like dog shit.

But this is the sort of thing that's really made me hate myself over the years. Not just because I weigh more than I should, I've made my peace with that and I'm working on it. It's because this bias, this hatred gets indoctrinated into younger people, and then they start treating anyone that doesn't in this little box, one that represents such a small number of people, like they're less. Like they don't deserve respect, just as a human being. I certainly don't agree with excusing unhealthy lifestyles when people start to complain about the consequences (pot, meet kettle, right?) but some people can be overweight AND perfectly healthy. So really, when you say that simply watching a fat person walk across a room disgusts you, you may be tearing down someone who's more healthy than you are.

In all seriousness, though, thanks, Maura. Thank you for confirming what I've always imagined was true, that whenever I go in public, there's some skinny cunt somewhere that's grossed out by my very existence and who's making fun of me, regardless of the fact I've done nothing to deserve it. Thanks for reminding me that most people think I, and other fat people, don't deserve love because we aren't like you. That nobody will ever accept me as I am and that I have to change everything because I'm not "normal".

Fuck off.

Okay... End angry bitch rant. I'm gonna go eat some fucking ice cream because I'm hungry and I don't fucking care anymore. I like ice cream. Deal with it.

UPDATE: I'm sure nobody cares but I removed the link to the post. Mostly so I wouldn't go back, get angry, and feed the trolls.

New look! Oh, and some other stuff.

I like this a lot more. It's easier to see everything.

It was my mom's birthday today, so I spent a lot of time in the living room this evening, but I've finally gotten some time to myself. And I'm tired so I might actually get to bed at a reasonable hour. Or at least not nearly 4 AM.

Today was otherwise pretty blah. I did an online application for Kohl's that IMMEDIATELY got rejected. I'm tired of these eat-shit-and-die messages that you get when your application in rejected, like the fact that it's worded in nice language makes it better. This is the fifth time it's happened. I heard a rumour that if you have a degree or a professional license then some companies won't consider you because that means you'll leave them sooner. I guess that's true, because it's not like I can't put clothes on racks, you know?

But I have a new potential client, a cashier I talked to at Wal-Mart. So there's that.

Anyway, I don't have anything else to say. Later.

How many times am I gonna do something this stupid?

I totally fucked up today.

I went in for an interview at CVS, and when asked how long I was planning to stay there, I stupidly said, "Probably about six months." I mean, who goes to fucking CVS Pharmacy intending to stay there for the rest of their lives? I figured I would have a week's worth of training, tops, bum around there and save some money up, and quit when I found something better. But they were looking for something a bit more long-term, so I was just told upfront that I wasn't going to get the job. Which I honestly appreciate because I've been jerked around by almost every place I've interviewed at.

When my mom asked me how things went, I told her and she told me I'd screwed up. My dad chewed me out for a good twenty minutes. I feel so stupid. I should have just lied. But I wasn't thinking and instead of licking this guy's asshole and telling him what he wanted to hear, I was honest.

I'm so fucking tired of this shit. Sure, I don't apply for every job that pops up online, but I apply for what I think I'm qualified for. I'm tired of both my parents bitching at me because I can't find a job. I've really been trying, but there are things I just can't do. And if I have to go back to Publix I'll fucking end up killing myself, I just know it. I wanted to when I worked there before. There are few things in the world that I can't handle, and being treated like I'm stupid or unworthy of basic human respect, and I got both in spades when I was just a cashier. People assume that because you're running a register you must be a Goddamned idiot, but that was my first job and I was fucking SEVENTEEN. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

It's just like when I was working at Trade Secret and when I was in cosmetology school. Everyone seems to assume that you become a hairdresser because you're too fucking stupid to do anything else, and that isn't true for most of us. There are only a handful that I've known that were in school with me because they couldn't hack community college, or their rich mommies and daddies were threatening to cut them off. I wanted to do something I could be artistic with. But I was in for a rude awakening because most of the time you end up doing the same three haircuts on EVERYBODY. Seriously, I can do a long-layered cut in my sleep.

Today didn't start off too great, either. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I had terrible cramps and my stomach was upset, so I only got about three or four hours of sleep before my mom woke me up to... well, just to make me get up. She wakes up at 4 AM so she doesn't understand that not everybody is on her whacked-out, old person sleep schedule. I don't think my mom is old, but she's on the same time clock as retirees living in Boca Raton. And she worked from home today, which I HATE because I don't get five minutes to myself when she's at home.

Sorry, I know this is a total pity-party but I had a really shitty day.

Gaahhh...

Stress. It fucking BLOWS.

Today, I spent my day out of the house (our AC is out AGAIN, damn it!) and followed up on a few applications. It went alright- I got leads from Victoria's Secret and Fusion, the salon I interviewed at a week and a half ago. But I'm a bit confused about Toys R Us. I went in to ask to speak with someone about an interview, and I left my name and number. The customer service girl made a note that I had come in rather than just call.

The confusing part? When I checked my email a few hours later, I had gotten a message from the website basically telling me my application had been rejected. So I don't know what's up with that. I don't really want to work in a damn toy store with a bunch of screaming kids running around all day, but I'm tired of being yelled at for being unemployed even though I AM trying.

Anyway...

In other news, I got Sin City in the mail from Netflix today, but since it's hotter than the seventh circle of Hell in my room, I couldn't sit there long enough to watch it. Hopefully the repair guy will show up tomorrow and I can enjoy myself properly, later, though, because it's obviously a late night sort of movie. Besides, I can't watch a gory movie like that when I feel all puky and gross. I might actually throw up.

So instead, while my mom and my stepdad were out with friends, I ate pizza and watched Kick-Ass in the living room. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But then I got to thinking, and I remembered that Aaron Johnson, the angel-faced 20-year-old that played Kick-Ass, is engaged to a woman 23 years older than he is and they're expecting a baby. I feel kinda bad for him in a way, because as happy as he thinks he is now, he's not going to enjoy his life the way someone his age should. He's only two weeks shy of being EXACTLY one year younger than me. Sometimes I feel a million years old, and sometimes I feel so stupid and inexperienced that I can't imagine having kids anytime soon.

And yet three of my friends have either married or had kids or both since graduating high school. Greenie was the first. She found out she was pregnant about two months after I moved away in 2007. Her son is just over two years old now. And then another friend of ours decided, after only about six months of dating, she and her boyfriend were ready to have a baby together. Her daughter is almost two. And now Pinkie is going to have a baby in a few short months. With a convicted felon.

The only one I'm worried about at this point in Pinkie. I hate, HATE her boyfriend. I tried to get along with him, tried to be nice, and all he did was treat her like shit so now I don't care. I hope the cops catch up with him and he gets murdered in prison, or better yet, becomes some lifer's permanent bitch. He thinks that all we do when we talk is bitch about him. Conceited. And this asshole thinks that I am the immature one.

I can't even get my best friend on the phone to talk to her. To see how she's doing, to talk about the fact that I'm having a hard time right now too. But nobody fucking cares. I've spent my life listening to everyone else's problems and being the best friend that I could, but as soon as I need somebody everyone fucking disappears. It's tiring because when I'm sitting in my room alone feeling like I need to have a good screaming fit but I can't because everyone else is home, all I can think about is the fact that if I were to try and tell someone about it, no matter who it was, I would see one of three things happen:

1. I would be told I was being dramatic and I needed to get over it
2. my problems would be laughed off because for some reason my thoughts and feelings mean nothing
3. my calls would be ignored completely

I don't understand it. Why doesn't my life matter? I care what happens to other people, why don't they care what happens to me? I know I don't have much going on right now, but I've got a lot of psychological stuff I'm trying to deal with and I could use some help.

I know I'm getting upset about something that happens to a lot of people. I can't help it.

Last post for a few days!

I've been having such a week.

I've felt like shit for days because I PMS for about two weeks, and on Sunday, genius me, I kicked my bed frame and cracked my pinky toe. So I've been limping since then. I wasn't even doing it out of anger, I was just getting up there to sit and read a damn book.

Anyway... I spent my day today getting ready for my trip to Orlando. My mom went to a work-related event at Epcot and the company was given 700 free tickets to Disney World. My brother and I have six between us, since nobody else will be using them. So tomorrow, we're driving down and making use of the time we have before we have jobs and can't make trips like that anymore.

My stepsister and her husband and their two small children have been here since Saturday, and it's been a little hectic. So when I finally, FINALLY had a few minutes of peace and quiet while everyone else was out, I popped in my Sherlock Holmes DVD for a Robert Downey Jr. fix.

I kind of half-walked, half-limped to the kitchen (I didn't have any athletic tape on my toes for a few hours, to let the skin breathe, making walking a bit more painful than it's been), made myself some lunch, and stretched out on my bed for maximum RDJ enjoyment.

That's right. I think he's hot. I don't care that he's short, either- in all my fantasies he's like 6'5".

And for the first time in four days, I had an orgasm, while half-listening to some rather brilliant back-and-forth between Holmes and Hotson*. Now, four days without masturbating is a LONG time for me, since I usually do it two or three times a day, but I just haven't felt like it. My sex drive sometimes plummets while I'm all hormonal and shit, and sometimes it doesn't. This time it did.

Of course, the sound of small children running around outside my room didn't exactly put me in the mood. That'll kill the moment for sure.

So my first self-love session in days lasted all of about two minutes, but it was good. I feel better despite the cramps I'm already getting. I'll feel even better in a week or so when my period is over, but for right now I'm okay.

The only really shitty part of today was when my stepdad yelled at me. I hadn't even stepped out of the shower yet- I was giving my legs the final once-over to make sure I hadn't missed any huge patches of hair- and he stood at the door of the bathroom to berate me for a simple mistake. Last week, my mom came home and announced that the car tags had come in, and one was left in the window that said "2003 Toyota", and guess what? I DRIVE A 2003 TOYOTA. I didn't think about the fact that I just replaced my tag in May (two weeks early!), or that it was a Florida tag instead of a Georgia one, I just slapped the sticker on my car and went about my day. Well, apparently it was for my stepdad's car and instead of calmly asking me for the card back he saw fit to call me stupid (not in those words, but still) and I am getting REALLY sick of being treated like an idiot. I don't know how my mom deals with it- he treats her like she can't make a decision for herself and if she disagrees with him suddenly she's stupid, but if my brother or I say ANYTHING that sounds even remotely disrespectful, he flies off the handle.

On one such occasion, he came into my room while I was trying to watch a movie I'd received from Netflix that day, and basically lectured me for twenty minutes about how I'm wasting my life and blah blah blah and how it's "unthinkable" that someone my age has never had a boyfriend and bullshit bullshit BULLSHIT. It's my Goddamned choice to not just go out and find any dumbass that'll have me. I'm willing to wait for what I want, and while I don't want Prince Fucking Charming I do have a few standards that HAVE to be met, like:

1. They can't be stupid. Like, I can forgive someone who's a bit goofy, but if you're just an out-and-out moron then we won't have anything to talk about.

2. It sounds ridiculously shallow, but he has to be at least two or three inches taller than me. This is because I am tall (5' 11") and I want to feel small. Unless it's a woman, then I could really give a shit.

3. I don't care if he's a bit overweight, or not really, really, ridiculously good-looking. Just so long as he isn't the Human Blob (already had that after me, don't care to have it again) or, you know... looks like he went bobbing for French fries at some point or something.

And of course, there are the other minor details of what I like and what I don't. But believe it or not, I have met a man or two that fit every description and they're either married or just plain uninterested. So it may be a while before I meet someone, and like I said, I'm willing to wait.

It's killing me a tiny bit inside every day, but I'll wait.

And with that, I'll sign off because there's more laundry to be done and it's getting late! See ya!


* Hotson is Watson played by Jude Law. Their joke, not mine. it totally works, though.


UPDATE: I spent a ton of money I didn't have to spend, but I had a great time in Orlando, last night's hormone-fueled meltdown notwithstanding. I got presents for my mom (birthday AND Christmas!), a really cool coffee mug and an awesome Alice in Wonderland top that just looks like a nice top you could buy in a department store. I think I'll make her a pair of earrings to wear with it.

The only bad thing? I can barely walk. I really pushed it yesterday and I'm paying for it. My brother was going too fast for me at the end of the day and I was moving like a zombie in fast-forward. And then I had to drive home today, so now my toes feel like someone smashed them with a sledgehammer. Being at Disneyworld and trying to get on and off some of the rides was so difficult, because I didn't have my glasses- I can see fine without them but my depth perception is so bad. Sure, it makes for a more interesting ride (seriously, have you ever ridden a roller coaster and screamed because you thought part of the ride was going to hit you in the face?) but it's not something you want to deal with in your day-to-day life.

Also, what kind of moron takes a four-year-old on the motherfucking Tower of Terror? I heard so many screaming kids in that building that my ears are STILL ringing.

When I'm not so tired I'm going cross-eyed I'll write more. Later!

I shouldn't be left alone with my thoughts. Really.

Earlier today, while finishing up my computer desk (I FINALLY got that part that was missing when we bought the damned thing), I got to thinking.

My parents are flawed, but ultimately wonderful people. Both have been pretty accepting of the way I've lived my life, because they've seen so many other kids (friends of mine included- both Pinkie and Greenie got pregnant young as well as a couple of others) screw up royally and I haven't fallen into any of those traps. The only thing I do that pisses either of them off is I'm a total homebody and beyond working, I don't really care much about having a life. I go to movies on occasion, usually alone, and I love hanging out in bookstores. But aside from that? I like reading, watching stuff, and indulging in the various hobbies I've picked up over the years in order to keep myself sane. It makes me happy.

Let's say that I, as I fantasize about nearly constantly, start seeing an older man. I don't think they'd like it too much. I'm not sure why, because hopefully I would find someone that treated me well, unlike these little shits I grew up with that weren't taught to respect women, but I can't imagine it going over well. It's like, "Hi, I'm your daughter in her early twenties, and I'm dating this wonderful guy in his early thirties. Oh, you didn't even know I was into guys? That's probably because I never talked about stuff like that with you. It's awkward. Don't give me that look, it is! Oh, yeah, I'm sure you would've loved to know your daughter was checking out a thirty-six-year-old kiwi at that Flight of the Conchords meet-and-greet! You really wanna have this conversation? Okay! Guess what? I mostly was staring at his ass! Yeah, over other people's heads! The one time being tall actually paid off!"

I can't even bring myself to think about what my dad would say. I know my stepdad wouldn't keep his mouth shut if you held a gun to his head, so I can run through a decent simulation of that, but my biological dad? That, I can't even think about.

As much as they annoy the living shit out of me, and as much as I value being my own person, I wouldn't be able to take my family's disapproval. I want them to be proud of me. There are a lot of times when, especially with my mom, I feel like I'm a source of embarrassment on some level. I'm not like my mom's friends' kids in any way. They're predominantly A-students and straight-laced to the point of being boring, and I'm a B-student at best (I had a few subjects I excelled in and I was pretty shit at everything else) and I'm artistic, both in personality and appearance. I'm not a "go-getter". At ALL.

Even if it was a normal, healthy, loving relationship, I feel like it would probably kill my mom on the inside if I dated a man more than five years my senior. And that, in turn, would kill me on the inside because it's what I want and I don't want to disappoint anybody.

It's not so much that I'm afraid of being judged- I get that all the time so I'm used to it- but I can't stand the thought of seeing that look of, "Where in God's name did I fuck up to make this shit happen?" on my mom's face. She's told me that she doesn't really care if I ever have kids (which I hope is true because I'm not entirely sure I want them, and if I do ever raise children they'll be adopted, or stepchildren) and she's been accepting of so many things I've done. I mean, how many parents actually say you did the right thing when you tell them you want to go to beauty school? Most people just see it as a last resort or something you do when you're too dumb to do anything else, but both my parents were incredibly supportive. And once she got used to the idea, she relented and said that while she didn't like that I had a tattoo (I have a Vegvisir*, a kind of Viking compass, on my left shoulder), at least it wasn't huge. I want more of them, but I don't want to be covered in ink. Side note- my next, when I can afford it, will be a flock of Ralph Steadman-style bats on my wrist, a la Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas cos it's one of my favorite movies (and books!) and I'm sort of obsessed with bats. And octopi, and birds, and mechanical stuff, and jewelry that looks like plants. But that's another blog post.

Sorry, got a little off-topic there.

Anyway... I guess I won't know what's going to happen until it happens. But that won't stop me from worrying about it.

* Here are pictures: 

The text roughly translates to "Whoever this character will not get lost in the storm or being outside and find their way as the young unknown, however" which is HORRIBLY translated. I would have written it as "Sá sem klæðist þessu starfi, skulu aldrei vera glataður í hvaða stormur", or, "Whoever wears this character shall never be lost in any storm".


Yes. I'm an Icelandic geek. Sue me.