I don't care if this song gives you nightmares.

I've had this one stuck in my head all afternoon.

A long time ago I wrote this thing about my tooth and how it is like Iraq.

And then my Friedman unit passed and I realized I never gave you an update. The troops My toof was withdrawn -- yanked out back in September, at the end of the second FU.

And since then everything has been fine, except occasionally I still get a little twang of pain in my sinus there, but since it's no longer got a tooth to pressurize around, it's totally nothing much -- like 2 seconds of PINCH and then it's gone.

So, Democrats in Congress, take note: withdraw the troops. It might suck for Iraqis on occasion but everything will go back to normal and you'll be able to sleep more soundly at night.

girliebacchanal asked,


Get your own valentinr

*mwah*

Guilt	What is yours?	Explain yourself
Culinary:	Chef Boyardee Mini Ravioli	Comfort food from my childhood. Haven't had it in years but would gladly eat it right now if it were offered.
Literary:	Stephen King	He's really good at characters, so even if the story sucks (I'm looking at you, Tommyknockers!) there's something reedemable in every novel.
Audiovisual:	True crime procedurals	Forensic Files, Cold Case Files, American Justice, the Investigators -- I've seen every freakin' case at least 20 times. I learn new things about science & investigations every day.
Musical:	TOOL	Maynard James Keenan has the voice of an angel. It hits me right in my lizard brain.
Celebrity:	Britney Spears	Her entire life is a train wreck. I cannot look away.

Now I tag:-

ryssa raychoo harkalark girliebacchanal and scarykarrey


to complete this same Quiz, Its HERE.

But mine kinda looks like boobs:

Get your own spectral analysis from Area 23®

Last night I went to check Night at the Museum at the still newish Cerrito Theater. Mostly because I need some Big Dumb Fun after the Seriously Serious turn my life has taken this week, and also because I kinda like Ben Stiller. I have pretty much enjoyed everything I've seen that he's been in, sometimes against my better judgment.

So anyway, the movie was kinda cute and fluffy and definitely nothing to write home about. It was just what I needed to zone out and stop overthinking everything like a neurotic freakazon.

The only real reaction the movie itself produced in me was this: There should be a new Oscar category. And that category should be "Best Example of Proper Use of Owen Wilson". I think most directors get this right, anymore, but there was a brief period where someone decided that Owen should be a leading man, and...he just isn't. Owen Wilson is a goddamn great big dork and he works best when he's being played to his strengths. Minus Man? Ugh. Anything he's done with Wes Anderson? Perfect. It was to my great pleasure that I discovered last night that Shawn Levy totally knows how to use Owen Wilson.

He's great as a diorama cowboy in Night at the Museum. Totally made the movie, for me.

Does somebody, anybody who reads this have a copy of Libertine by Silkworm? If so, is there a way you could copy it for me?

It is absolutely my fave of theirs, and it's not available for love or money (I offered up my love but I was sneered at!)

c0n4n? DJ? Anybody? Please?

EDIT: Nevermind! I found out how to get a copy! It is winging its merry way to me from europe as we speak!

I spent most of the morning on BART listening to Uncle Tupelo, which had the net effect of making me miss Missouri. Which I had really thought was impossible, but apparently I am getting soft and mushy in my old age. But "New Madrid"? How can I not love that song? It's all about earthquakes and Browning's prediction that the Big One would hit the New Madrid fault on December 1, 1990. (For those of you not versed in Missouri lore, New Madrid is not pronounced like the city in Spain, but rather "MAD-rid". Much like Versailles (Ver-SALES), MO and Cairo (Kay-ro), IL.)

I remember exactly where I was that night. Mississippi Nights seeing Dead Milkmen play with Social Distortion. I kid you not, that was the billing. The only reason I remember this is it was the first night that Misty was going to sleep over at my house, and her mom was having a shit fit about her not being at home on "earthquake night". As if she would be safer in her attic room where her parents could keep an eye on her. Also, we were going out with boys, which her parents didn't know about. I am nothing if not a filthy enabler. Ok, enough of my misty watercolor 16-year old meeeemrieees!

The rest of the morning was spent listening to Afghan Whigs, who always sound just like sex to me. Possibly because I used to have a raging crush on Greg Dulli. He used to be soooo fine. click here for evidence. And now he's 45 and bloaty, and has not aged well. And I am so fucking shallow it hurts.

My tooth? Is Iraq. Check it:

Back in February 2006, I went in with a tooth that was angry and feeling some pain. (American consciousness after 9/11)
Dentist said "D'oh, it's cracked. You need a root canal." (Bomb something! Anything!)

So I said OK, and the next month I went in for a root canal. They hooked me up with the laffin' gas, so I was in the chair and I was feeling fine, like cherry wine, hoes in control, etc. (Greeted as liberators!) We're almost done with the procedure when hottie dentist gets up and very calmly says "I can't finish this procedure. I'm giving you the name of a specialist who is a few floors down from here, and you'll need to go to him to get this finished." At this point I am still high as a kite so I'm like "Sure, why not! Why?" And he proceeds to tell me that he's broken one of those teeny tiny files (or burs, as they call them) off inside my root passageway, and he can't get it out. (Uh ohes! Insurgency!)

(I must stress now that this happens ALL THE TIME (I looked it up on the intertubes) so don't go telling me I can sue or nothin, cuz it's quite common. My body just FREAKS OUT at the thought of ANY foreign material putting out feelers into its airspace, so this has everything to do with my overactive immune system and nothing the dentist did or didn't do. Have you seen those files? Still think it doesn't happen all the time?)

So I get up, still high on the nitrous, and proceed to go downstairs, where CrazyEnglishEndodontist gets out his supersonic cleany machiney and starts going to town trying to get that file out of my tooth. Except, he can't, either. He says "Nine and a half time times out of ten this will prove no further problem, so I'm going to finish the root canal and fill you up with some inert material. Your dentist can put the crown on." And I'm all like "Whee!"

Except, a few months later, it sort of feels like somone has bashed me in the face with a ball peen hammer. And coincidentally, right in that toothal area, too. I call, CrazyEnglishEndodontist is out of the towns on vacation, and so my dentists hook me up with some vicodin and speak sternly into the phone at the office of CEE. Once he's back in town, he tells me "Come in immediately, don't take any vicodin(!!), and we'll take a look." He xrays. He pokes (ow!). He prods (OW, MOTHERFUCKER, THAT HURTS!) and he says "Well, everything looks normal but you obviously have some pain, so I'm going to do this root canal again just in case we missed some bacteria at the end of your other roots. I really don't think it's the file that is the problem." So he does (SURGE!). And things go back to normal, for a time.

Except, cue to one Friedman later (around nowish). I get the flu at the end of December, and suddenly my face? Is on fire with the agony again. It fades in and out according to levels of sinus pressure, so it's manageable. So I wait till my Friedman-unit level appointment for a checkup on how things are going (today) and does an xray (still normal) and pokes (ow!). And prods (owish!). and has me grind my teeth together (OW, MOTHERFUCKER!). And NOW? He thinks it's the file. However, we must succeed in Iraqwith my tooth, so he's giving me YET ANOTHER Friedman to decide whether or not I want the thing pulled (troop withdrawal). Which I do. But he wants to see if it heals. News flash: Not gonna. And now that he had me grind them together, my whole face hurts again.

We must withdraw our tooth immediately.

Happened right on cue yesterday at 2pm sharp. Spent about 2 hours crying at work, 15 of which were in the bathroom away from prying eyes. I swear everyone at this job must think I'm a basketcase; I've cried here in public more times than anywhere else I've worked. At least here it's never actually been about work. Rage yes, crying jags, no.

Went home, made dinner, finished a knit commission, watched some television, and talked to an equally exhausted & punchy friend (online, natch!). Devil got home from fail.safe just as I was going to bed, so it was an evening free of face-time of any kind. I'm hoping that it will have recharged me enough to deal with the weekend, but I'm starting to doubt it. Skipping the party I had planned for tonight and trying to hone in on G & N's viewing of Pan's Labyrinth sounds more doable, but even the one extra person that is N might be a little too much for me to deal with right now.

Had to get up earlier than usual today to attend two extra-super long meetings about new benefits info and the new tech director telling us how things are going to be, still haven't got enough caffeine in my system. Maybe if I ever wake up, I will post more.

I find myself with a free night this week! Here's a list of things I am going to do:


Go to the gym and bust my ass until I can barely stand
Go home
Cook dinner
Put on PJs
Turn on TiVo
Watch TV while knitting
Snuggle with cats
Read a little bit more of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Sleep

I may also:
Talk to Devin (assuming he's home for any time in which I am awake)
Play one of the eight (EIGHT!) new video games I have purchased or recieved as gifts in the past six weeks and have not played ANY of because of my newfound desire to be around people!

And then tomorrow, the social stuff starts again.


Last night I had a loverly dinner with Nic & Dan at Walzwerk(if you like German foods, even a little bit, I highly recommend!). and then we went to Encore to bust Dan's karaoke cherry. Encore was D-E-D, so we got to sing a billion times. There was a girl there with an UH-MAZE-ING voice, who kept picking the most ick songs. I was a little bit intimidated by her until she got up to do "Love is a Battlefield", and forgot all the words, so she asked me to come help her out. Then we made best friends forever and the evening was saved, or something!

At the end of the night I made everybody get up and sing "Hello Goodbye" with me and then Devil and I managed to get on one of the last trains home. We were feeling very accomplished about this, but then managed to fall asleep and miss our stop, and there were no more trains. We got a cab from del Norte and then sweet sweet zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. But not enough. Gimme more.

List of other, non-inclusive things I can't blog about:


health problems
gender issues
politics
religion
toweling of capybaras
where i'm not going this week
panama

I'm having a mini crash from all the social, I think.

Wait, I need to reformulate that sentence so I don't sound like a Zune ad.

I'm having a mini crash from all the social ACTIVITY. Today so far I have had two mood swings, and a mini meltdown. And I have people to see, people. Post lunch, I feel better, but I don't know when I'm going to get a reprieve. Odds are, if you expect me to be somewhere this weekend, you may be disappointed, because I may have one of those nights where I stay home on my couch and cry.

I had a great time at the Noc last night and I may make it a sometimes Tuesday thing, except I already have this long standing Tuesday knitting thing that I'm supposed to be doing that I haven't done in months and monthseses. And I should be working out. It's all very complicated.

I just realized that if I went to the gym and worked out after work sometime this week, I may be able to stretch the social activity into the end of the month without being committed, or even crying a little.

You might be able to tell by the tenor and random babbling of this post that I am tired. So I am just going to end it all right here. Woe is me, etc. Zzzz.

My new motto is: If you smell like pee, don't sit next to me!

Also, I'm 33 years old as of today, and I'm still getting requests from 23-year old boys to wank to my picture on the internet*!
THAT MEANS I WIN!

In other news: I like to think of myself as a pretty self-aware person. Which means that I am pretty much totally aware that my natural tendencies trend towards hermitism and domestication. So I am completely alarmed!! when I look at my schedule for the rest of this month. I am full up on the social engagements literally until February. Almost every single night is booked till then. It is all very exciting and new right now, but I know that at some point I am going to crash. Hard. Especially since wintertimes is the times when I have the least amount of energy in my energy cycle.

I guess what I am trying to say is: PREPARE FOR THE CRYING JAG!!!
 
And if you're reading this, 6:30 @ the Noc Noc, losers. I want beers and wines and birthday worship.


*Dude, why ask permission? You're just going to do it anyway, and I'd really rather not know about it! Also, in the immortal words of Pee Shy, you were six years old when I went to the prom! I'm not sure if that's hot or just DIRTY.

A few weeks ago I was asked, in a vulnerable moment, kindly and sincerely if I could do someone a favor. That favor involved not blogging about something.


And for the past few weeks? ALL I HAVE WANTED TO DO IS BLOG ABOUT IT. I mean, seriously. I PROMISED, pinky swore and said "no problem, I haven't blogged or written in my LJ in two years, I don't really write for public consumption anymore. I promise I will not do it."

And ever since then, in every single waking moment, I have been consumed about the idea of blogging about it. Absolutely cannot stop. Possessed by the notion, if you will. This is just one in a cavalcade of reasons that I am, in fact, a complete and utter total fucking asshole.

Thanks for playing.

I haven't posted in TWO WHOLE YEARS. But I'm posting now.
Mostly just to show off my birthday party pictures. Hooray.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/51035676122@N01/sets/72157594464662604/

Ch-ch-ch-check it out. See what you were there for, or what you missed!
Laugh at cryptic commentary! Nurse your hangover. Or am I the only one who needs to do that.

Thanks to those who came, and to those who didn't...you missed out! WHEE!

So if you are local to me and you haven't received it, check out the Evite I sent out:

CLICK HERE.

And like, come make an ass out of yourself with me. I was going to do this on Thursday night, and then have a party at my place on Saturday. But then I realized that S, R, & D had tickets to see Utah Phillips, which I specifically didn't want to go to so I could plan a birthday something, which I can't do for that night, since they wouldn't be there. In other words, I didn't plan this out right. So karaoke on Saturday. If we're still raring to party after that we can al go back to my house and cuddle.

Happy Fun time Meme.


The Rules
1.) On your current playlist, hit shuffle and pick the first thirty songs on the list.
2.) Write down one (or two ^_^ ) lines of the song. try to avoid putting the song title in the line.
3.) Have your friends comment and see if they know the songs. (NO CHEATING!)
4.) When someone guesses correctly, strike out the line and list the correct name of the song next to it. (Title AND artist have to be correctly guessed.)

MY RULES:

You don't have to guess both correctly. I think this'll be hard enough without it but I welcome you to prove me wrong and will be delighted if you do and then you can come over and lie on the floor and listen to my records and talk about boys/girls and we'll paint our fingernails. I did throw a few gimmes in just for fun, cuz for some reason the first 30 songs that came up on my playlist were half instrumental, so I had to hunt for songs I knew. I have 40G. Sue me. :)

( Click here when you are prepared! )