Take car. Go to Mum's. Kill Phil. Grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint and wait for all of this to blow over.

Damn it. Just... damn it. At least August is ending. Turns out I'm allergic to Chantix in a scary, could-become-anaphylactic way, so I'm toughing out withdrawals for the millionth time. God, I'd love a cigarette. Disgusting taste, nasty smell, I don't care- I want a damn cigarette or twelve. Thank God for benzos. I had funny stuff to tell y'all, but the withdrawals are eating my head and i can't remember now. Oh, yeah: The Maus has bought the Marvel Universe. I damn near cried when the email came this morning. value my job, but certain things DO NOT belong together. Should NEVER be associated. EVER. They dilute and pollute both separate identities. Friggin' horrifying.

Jenny, I got your number...Jenny, don't change your number... I wanna make you mine!

LOOOOOOOOOONG RANT TIME!:

Sorry, y'all, but you may have noticed I haven't been writing much lately, of any variety (I started the McGee blog at the end of a regular McGee reading-binge and just haven't had the gumption for critical re-reading, which sucks- I'm not great at criticism, but I'm not terrible either, and I undertook the new blog knowing what I wanted to do with it. I found an interesting book of letters between John D. and Dan Rowan (of "Laugh-In") with some good background for the- Ya know what? I despise calling it criticism. If I were a good writer, with balls enough to FINISH anything, much less submit it, I might feel differently, but I'm not. I'm a giant wuss, and I'm terrified of really embarking on any real writing project- where my heart lives, where the blood flows deep red- fullscale. (I'm ridonkulously proud of a few Halloween outfits I've made [hey-ya, Janek: Marvin the Martian? That shit rocked!] because they're all I have to prove ANY true creativity in the past... what, 5, 10, 12, years? No, I gotta say, anyone who doesn't think my Wonder Woman and Mrs. Lovett outfits didn't rock can kiss my grits. They truly were impressive, particularly for being done by hand). So, tangent aside, I've marked The Most Important Bio To Date of John D. on my Amazon list. I love the idea of having a Really Comprehensive McGee Site, I like fooling in Photoshop with the pretty page I built, and I'm very proud of myself for researching how to be minimally competent in a new page language I'd never been aware of before. Especially since I tend to SUCK at any spoken language- "Como te llamas?" sounds lame in even a faint Southern accent, and let's not even get into "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?" Not that I've had much chance to USE that particular phrase, I'm just sayin'.... Anyway, I very badly want to get up, to get up offa that thang, and get some damn content up. I've got a half-draft saved recapping the 1st McGee book, but I don't wanna just post the Cliffs Notes version- no matter how in-depth- they're not anywhere near what my backwhen profs woulda called my "potential." What very little I think I'm capable of, with or without some fancypants research trip to (BOOOOOOOOO!!!) UF, I'm just putting off potential failure- on the Internet, oooh, how awful (yeah, people SEE it, but it doesn't make the New York Times- and, shoot, word is the Grey Lady might fail before too much longer. Damn shame). Yep, I'm an egotistical cow, but I've read critical sites- books and movies- that SUCK, and I get the butt-itch; just like I do with Ben Stiller movies; and die a little inside thinking how desperately I don't wanna be that guy. Or girl. Or woman, if we have to be feministy about terminology. So tonight I"m just urping up the verbiage. If you care, here's a long update on What's In Jenny's Brain (I dunno why you'd care, but SOMEBODY's giving me page hits, and it ain't just my mama, cuz the page count doesn't do repeats, and the new, too-fancy header crashes that elderly CPU (Sorry, Mommy!)- so if you're out there and give a shit, here's my current "BLARGHHH!" Pls excuse the messiness. :)

I am RILLY annoyed with my new apartment complex. Yar, I know, I was madly in love widdem, but right now I just feel pissy. Just in general. I wish I'd MADE them give me the 3 bedroom apt, for the space, WE NEED IT, but wahhhhh! I couldn't excuse that for just one person within their income limitations. More important-and more currently- the neighbors upstairs (whom I've never seen, and am terrified to confront in case they're scary) have been doing what I SWEAR ON THE BIBLE sounds just exactly like bowling for the last few nights, til 3 or 4 or 5 AM- NO joke, I can describe it at length (and have, this week, to travel agents at work when the computer's taking too long or to GS people when I do something stoopid and have to explain why: I'm not normally dumb, I'm just sleep depped!). So today I mentioned it to one of the new, older (yeah, "older," she mighta been Dan's age, at most. Oooooh, 46!! God, I HATE being grown up!) ladies in the apt office, and she immejutly called the guy- I was mad impressed by her promptness- and, holy cow, she reamed him, with commentary to follow ("After all I've done for him! He seems so nice! I just can't believe he'd be so inconsiderate! I've raised my daughters in apartments and they know better than that! They live in fear of stepping too hard, and they're 22 and 15!" I tell ya, I believed her. She was scary like when my mama gets lecturey). She's totally my new hero (at least 'til I get busted for something and go all, "Screw authority figures, I hate her!" Let's hope it takes a while. She was great). Turns out the neighbors are supposedly packing to move (yeah, that ain't what it SOUNDED like). But hey, if they're gone at least I can sleep again, at least 'til new peeps move in, even if it is weird and lumpy "WHATWASTHATNOISE?!!"sleep when Dan's away. I felt kinda guilty about the lady reaming the guy- we're very, very lucky to live over young dudes who seem not to give a damn when Micah decides he NEEDS to watch a movie in full theatre style surround sound- wait, my bad, we don't have the back-wall woofers, so it's not really "surround" sound- or when I get beery and decide Dan's son (great kid, BTW), needs a stereo Edumacation in some of the History of Rock and Roll: why the Rolling Stones' early years are important, with references to the "Dirty White Boys," the British Invasion (actually, I left some vital stuff out there, come to think of it), the Sexual Revolution, the POTC movies and Johnny Depp's inspiration and the nuclear 'splosion/cockroaches-and-Keith-Richards jokes (with pictorial examples), and why George Harrison was the best Beatle, period, particularly post-Beatles and not just cause he was the cute spiritual one- and, damn, I forgot the whole "Layla," Clapton, Derek-and-the-Dominoes-and-Cream part. Thank God I did, poor Sam might have jumped over the balcony. Yeah, I was kinda on a roll. A loud one. ANYWAY.... We're loudish, but the boys downstairs seem to be college-stoner-types- and one has AMAZING daytime babymama dramas in the parking lot including airborne car seats (Thank goodness, without the baby- that mess was ENTHRALLING) so hey, I say we're even.

On top of that, I got off work late today (but booked 4G's on the overtime call, hey-hey-hey!) and had to nearly KILL MYSELF, sans car insurance, in rush hour traffic, to get to the Verizon store up the road (and got a sweet, accomodating rep who tried really hard to get me a similar new number- he did get 2 digits in common, yay - and told me to call or text him anytime- thank God for hooters, cause I have had SO many bad Verizon store rep experiences, and that's all I can think of that coulda changed my luck) to change to an Orlando phone number today, no matter WHAT, after 2 years of living down here, after having the same Tallahassee number for... shoot, I don't even know. Since 2002 or -3. All because of the frickin' security gate here, which hasn't worked since we moved in (YAY!). They finally fixed the damn entry gate so it'll close at 7 PM as of tonight (DAMN!), so if you don't have a gatecard you have to use the keycode to call the resident (Remember: officially, I'm the only person who lives here. Adding either of the guys (even Dan, even minus the money to his real, legal family he supports, and that income- even Micah's and my God-only-knows-WHAT-you'll-get commision (but my job calls it incentive) to the lease would get us thrown out cuz we collectively make too much money (SAY WHAAAA?!? We're HORRIFICALLY broke collectively, and on the verge of bankruptcy, individually. TOO MUCH MONEY? Damn, we must be rolling in green for this joint!) to get to keep the place. The gate won't take an out-of-area-code number, and with Dan working 2 jobs, me working daytimes, and Micah working whenever he's scheduled (or just up and called in to do deals), plus his awesome girlfriend randomly stopping by, one gate key just won't do... but of course, I'm the "only person who lives here," so I had to change my number to stay safe. I dunno if extra peeps would really cause problems, but I'll be darned if I wanna find out. It's SO annoying, cause I have to let everyone on God's green earth know the new number- when you've had the same one for 6 or 7 years, that's no joke. Friends, family, work, doctors, ALL the places I do business with... ARGH. Nice thing is, the student loan Nazis can't find me for a while- they shouldn't be calling, anyway, but I don't have the energy to bust out a proper legal cease-and-desist on 'em like I should've done a couple of years ago. That's what the "Ignore" button is for, anyway....
.... The button on my beautiful new phone, that is- did I tell y'all about that? I got the enV Touch (I had a regular, original enV last time) after playing with the various touch phones at the Verizon store (and OHMYGAWD, some pree-vert had tried the web browsers by looking up porn sites, and the staff left it on there! Maybe they didn't know?) and ARGH, I am in lurve with my phone. Feel cheesy about it cause it's been so heavily advertised, but it really does ezactly what I want- it's got a touchy-feely front that does the cool horizontal-or-vertical view thing like the fancypants iPhone, then flips open to a proper button-pokey qwerty keyboard for texting and whatnot. And, best of all, when my new-every-two discounts kicked in, the sucker was gonna cost me 50 bucks, so I waited, cause it was rent week, and the next week they dropped the prices and it was FREE. Hey-o! I was a very happy bunny. Still am, cause oh, I woulda been so pissed... like wasting 50 bucks on that moron endocrinologist- I'm still not over that one.

So... yeah. That's the here and now, for now.

workin' for that Yankee dollar

You know, pineapple rum and Orange Coke (don't argue with the nomenclature, I'm Southern) do NOT mix well. I tried it blendered with cantaloupe and... um... that green kind of melon (?), but that's basically a waste of likker. Does get your fiber in, though.

I'm freakin' exhausted. Slept 'til noon today, been crashing at like 7 every night. We've had 5 or 6 new offers drop at work in the past week, and the calls have been balls-out back to back every day. I wouldn't mind so much except that your talk time counts against your sales, and nearly every call has been modifying existing bookings, which doesn't help my numbers one bit. Argh!

There's family drama going on too, but I won't get into that here- it's just annoying that August is always the dog days of my year, and this isn't shaping up to be any exception.

Time goes by... so slowly

Oh, jeez, i just quoted frickin' Madonna. Sorry, it's early, and my iPod has a weird affinity for "Hung Up"- every time I restart the shuffle, that song comes up within the first ten, so it gets in my head a lot. Waiting to do a double whammy of doc appointments today. Hoping to actually be told something besides the medical-lingo version of, "Huh. Well, there's something wrong.. come back and give me more money in a month!" No, my nice shrink doesn't do that- as I've said before, he's the best doc I've ever had of any kind. Just nervous about the endocrinologist- she's an unknown quantity, and specialists so far haven't given me much but heartburn over my bank balance. Speaking of which... no, let's not. Don't wanna think about it. :0

"It would be one kind of penance. And there are never enough kinds. Not for him. Not for me. And certainly not enough for you, my friend."

Guess what? I'm starting another page, one about John D MacDonald's Travis McGee novels. They're great reads, cover twenty years of Florida history, include bazillions of broads and bodies and adventures, and I really haven't found any good web pages on them. The Wikipedia entry isn't bad at all, and does have links to all the books, and there's this other, older page I kinda like, and quite a lot of blogs referencing the books, but nothing that's truly comprehensive. So I'm gonna tackle it this summer.

"When a woman ceases to alter the fashion of her hair, you guess that she has passed the crisis of her experience."

Yep, dyein' my hair again... second time today. It came out ok, but it was exactly the same light brown-with-a-little-green that my eyes are and... no. Just, NO. So I'm workin' on it.

(Later) Oh. Huh. My bro calls it "Leelu Dallas Multipass red," and... it's not quite, but close. Put it this way, my eyebrows are too dark. Whoops!



It's actually closer to this, except darker on the bottom layers, which makes it look like I get outdoors a lot more than I really do:



and 5 minutes of dye on my brows was enough to lighten them the necessary tiny bit, so yay.

"A man would prefer to come home to an unmade bed and a happy woman than to a neatly made bed and an angry woman."

I got the house! Well, I only got the 2 bedroom, not the 3, but it's way cheaper and prettier than where we are now. Yay!

“They say it is better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable, but how about a compromise like moderately rich and just moody?”

Guess what? It's entirely possible that I'm not bipolar! Yes, a depressive paininthebutt, but not necessarily bipo! The blood tests found that a bunch of my hormones are way outta whack, which could explain the awfulness I've been dealing with the last coupla years, on top of the low b12 that made me think I was going blind, so now... I get to see another doctor. Whee!








Of course, it's after five and I haven't yet heard about the new apartment, but my fingers are still crossed. :)

Ew, it's all sticky!

Warning: totally random post.

Admittedly, I'm More Girl than I used to be (and trying to accept that that's okay, and maybe not entirely my fault), but I don't sweat like this unless it's August, or I'm doing major physical labor. Our air conditioner's been M-O-O-N spells dead since last night, and it's 85 degrees in here. The repair guy just finished fixing the thing, so I'm on the floor under the vent waiting for it to have some effect.

My mom and sisters are coming down to the Famous Expensive Place I work for at the end of the month again- I got the room booked yesterday. It'll be fun, but I hope I can keep up with them. It's not the speed they move at (I'm faster by myself), but they don't believe in stopping for naps, and I totally do.

Speaking of stamina, I'm to see my nice shrink on Tuesday, cause my meds are pissing me off. I've been trying to make a coherent list of concerns, like Responsible Patients are sposed to do, and no matter how I re-write it, I keep coming to the same conclusion: the drugs help, but maybe I'm just an irritable asshole by nature, and we can't fix that (at least, not if I take genetic examples into consideration). It really sucks when your brainstew is off enough so that researching ways to maybe adjust it makes you hyperventilate. Then again, you try reading about GABA receptors and whatnot when you just wanna know what to try next and see how you feel. Sometimes I wish beer were the answer. :)

Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler

Dear Lord. Longest day EVAR at work. You know The Two Bobs in "Office Space?" Yeah, they've been visiting us this week. I'd be less freaked out if I hadn't TWICE been speaking with someone when they got the word it was time to go. And one of 'em was my boss. Scary.... They say they're done (for now), but I think it'll take a minute for any of us to exhale, especially given the way business isn't going right now. And I'ma shoot someone if the tv doesn't quit mentioning "the economy" while it tries to sell me stuff. Blargh. I'm gonna go eat another cookie.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

It's dreadfully embarrassing, but I've somehow become a way-late-in-the-day "Watchmen" fangurl. It's probably because I've had so many comic book boys for friends and boyfriends- I tend to smile indulgently on their obsessions without actually paying much attention (ME? Not doing research?!? GASP!) until I inadventently join in (Yay, Doctor Who!). I've only recently realized that the Alan Moore interest sparked by "From Hell," "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," "V for Vendetta," the new "Watchmen" movie, adds up to some cool shit I've never bothered to read up on, which is just not like me. I liked every one of those movies except "LXG," which was so wrong on SO MANY LEVELS- I know opinions on Wold Newton stories in general are divided- I'm still not too pleased with my beloved R.A. Heinlein's attempt to bring it all back home, but I love, love, love Kim Newton's "Anno Dracula" for the name dropping and world building and... okay, I'll stop. Point is, fantasy fans are what they are, no matter which genre name/discipline/denomination they're willing to admit to, and I feel like a doofus. I was blown away by "Watchmen," reading it preparatory to seeing the movie. I don't have much to say critically (this is why I wasn't a successful English major. "Gah!" and "Sweet!" don't make particularly incisive commentary). Seriously, though.... DUDE, I liked the book, and I'm not as pleased with the movie as I wanted to be. It's like a slideshow of someone's vacation- it LOOKS right, it LOOKS like what they told you, but... it's got no balls (yes, Ozymandias, I'm lookin' at you...), no oomph. It does NOT help that I've developed a weird thing for Mr. Scary Anti-Hero of 1985, the Comedian (I dreamed he was macking on me at my granny's funeral- weird). I've become consumed by this visual world, and ever more irritated that the moving version is so... wrong in some ways, and boring in others. Ach. I'm a giant weirdo, and es que obvio que I'll have to move past this latest obsession, cause I can't be the Silk Spectre for Halloween (I look dreadful in yellow), and even if I were, people'd think it was about the movie rather than the book, which would be highly irritating. *sigh* Read the book, y'all- there's cool related stuff on the web: an Alan Moore interview here, some really interesting conspiracy-theory type stuff , even theses on this world. It rocks, way more than the damn economy news does- yet it still fits in with what's happening now.

Good stuff.

Put the lime in the coconut, then you'll feel better

Ya know, I can go five years without seeing a doc, and then everything comes down at once. ALL I WANTED was new contacts, and now I find out that a weird blind spot in your vision can mean anything from a viral infection to syphilis to multiple sclerosis to cancer. Yay! I get nine blood tests, a vomitously expensive MRI tomorrow night, and possibly a spinal tap. The neuro yesterday cost 50 bucks, was sooooo snippy, and didn't tell me a damn thing I didn't know from Googling over the weekend. (When will I get a job that pays me just to do research? I'm good at it). I am wigging out, with fear of the results, worry about the money, you name it. No biggie, it's most likely one of the stupid reasons like a B-12 deficiency, but I can't help being scared. I'll let y'all know. Well, unless it's syphilis- it's bad enough having the neuro say, "Well, it's not like you're a virgin, are you?" (Judgey, much?) and my brother faking 18th-century-British-gentlemens' accents and offering to watch "This is Spinal Tap" with me without you goofballs laughing ("Syphilis? What? Nobody's had that since Al Capone! Did she date a geriatric?" etc). Gah. I wish I'd just get squashed by a bus already- it's cheaper.

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take...

You know that feeling like when you've had a toothache for so long you don't remember what it feels like not to have it, and then it stops and you're like, "Oh my God, it's so... quiet." That's basically where I am. Weird, shocking... but such a relief.

Hello, Clarice...

If my shrink weren't married, I'd propose to him. Just kidding, but I really do feel a little better about things now. We're doubling the dose on the generic to see if that will equal the brand's effect, and he kicked me samples of Obscenely Expensive Drug A to get me through until the generic upgrade kicks in. Maybe now I can have a nonMorrissey birthday. Yay!

Side note: If you happen to sew, and happen to think making your own dressmakers' dummy is a good idea, you're right- but be prepared. Seeing your own torso modelled in true-to-life size and proportion is... off putting. And stuffing the thing feels extreeeeeeemely Buffalo Bill-ish. I kept thinking, "He's making himself a girl suit out of real girls" the whole time. Yeesh.

Can I buy you a fish sandwich?

You know what I despise about finding out for sure I'm mentally off? It was bad enough to spend first half of my life "gifted" and the second half "crazy," but now I'm terrified I might not ever get better. I'm horribly upset 'cause the generic meds aren't working at all ($5 copay vs $100 for brand), and the contrast between feeling almost normal a few weeks ago and this terrible now is awful, insulting, like poking the kid in the Special Helmet with a pointy stick. I see the doc Monday, but in the meantime, I can't make it through a full day at work, hate everything and almost everyone, and am constantly... well.... I know what I think and feel minute-to-minute, but I can't tell what's really me and what's the meds. I am sick of feeling like this when I have people who need me to be at least vaguely normal.

On a funnier, even weirder note, I'm getting hit on a lot lately- like, five propositions this week. It's mad flattering, considering I have 30 more lbs to lose to get back to my fighting weight, but kinda infuriating 'cause I feel so bad and apparently look pretty nice. Men are bizarre.

she's lost control again

Wow. Complete meltdown this morning. The meds are helpful, but having a level-er head gets you thinking too much sometimes. Halloween was good- talked with my shrink, went to a party- but the rest of the weekend has been eh. Without a project to work on I had too much time to squirrel. So now I'm making a new pair of running pants. Exciting life, huh?

Good times, bad times

Another awake-before-the-sun day. Good news: that request to split my workday 4 + 4 finally got approved for the next month, 'til our shifts change. Yay! With 4 hours between to take a nap, I can finally start getting more than 20 hours a week done again. Getting caught up on bills before Christmas would = a happy Jenny.

I've been kinda bummed about finishing the Lovett outfit (end-of-project blues?), so am trying to choose the next big Thing To Make. I've got a pattern for a sorta retro, June-Cleaver-at-a-cocktail-party dress that I'm thinking of trying. It's fairly complicated, but it would be super cute if it comes out well. Might even do for the Xmas party at work. Just need to pick a color! **

** (7 PM update) Word is they've canceled the work Xmas party ('cause of the damn economy), so I guess the June Cleaver dress would be semi-pointless. Poo. Back to the drawing board.

'Scuse me while I whip this out

Just got into politics with me ma. Damn it, I hate talking about "issues"! She's pretty conservative, I'm pretty liberal, and it's just so much better not to go there and make everybody uncomfortable. I feel really guilty, which is stupid cuz I think what I think. I tend to have trouble openly disagreeing with people, no matter how peaceable the conversation is. Today has been a very bad side effect day, which doesn't help. Good things, too, though: I had a fantastic dinner last night- Dan made bacon-wrapped shrimp and nice little steaks- and I've got just a little more work on the Lovett skirt and I'll be all done- yay, surf 'n'turf and halloween costumes!

D'you know what I'd like to do, Mr. Todd?

The Mrs. Lovett costume is finally almost done. YAY!! Between tonight and tomorrow, it should be good to go. Did a test run with the makeup a few days ago, and... well, I'll post pics when it's done, you'll see. It's not terrible.



I'm trying a new perfume sample today- this scent's insanely frickin' expensive, but really beautiful. "Untitled" by Strange Invisible Perfumes (it was originally called "Lady Day," but apparently Miss Billie's estate disapproved). It smells of gardenias and, faintly, oranges, and it's very subtle- not one where you sniff the bottle and get prowlygrowly- it creeps up on you, you start thinking, "wow, God, what is that? Oh, it's me!" Very nice one. Too expensive to buy a bottle, so I'm glad not to love it too much, but... really a nice scent.

Feed your head

Huh. After all this time, I may have lucked out on shr- er, mental health professionals. A sensible one who asks for your full history and doesn't just shove a new brand of anti-d's at you is rare, from what I've seen. Still need to see what the bloodwork says, but I'm feeling much, much better about the possibility I can get my head level again long-term.

Going to the park tomorrow. Maybe to the AK, definitely to Halloween Horror Nights. Not a great idea given what a wuss I am, but I've wanted to go for years, and working it last year was not the same thing as going. So it's on.