Thursday, January 19, 2006

I have a headache; so you get a list.

...The motherfucker refuses to go away, too. This headache feels like all the initial agony of snorting crosstops without the subsequent blood and itching.
I feel cheated.
Did you ever wonder who invented the idea of snorting things, just as a passing thought?
So you get a bunch of teenage cave guys sitting around bored and one says something like 'You know, man, you ever think how a good sneeze is like, you know, blowing wad, almost?' (there are people who think this, too. gaaah.)
So after the other teenage cave guys get done telling him what a fag he is they all start trying to sneeze and they agree out of teenage cave peer anxiety. 5000 years later someone says 'Dude. If it's this good when you use your finger, maybe it's better when you use a stick.' And the rest of them all tell him he's a fag, and then go out looking for sticks. Sticks, rocks, pinecones, all leads to refined heroin. Evolution has been set in motion; its' course is inevitable.
Although by the time I was in my partying prime, it was
'Dude, check it; Pats' out.'
'No way. Wait, he is. Fuckin Pat, you're bagged, dude.'
'Piss on him! Piss on him!'
'No wait, stick this up under his nose, dude! Make him sneeze!'
'No, fuck, geeze! He pissed himself, man...oh nasty!'

That works, by the way.

Thinking about this lead me to an interesting realization: lots of fabrics have this effect on me. What the hell is my problem; I swear...
and so 1. TOILLE DE JOIE
Jesus Christ I hate this shit. It's little vignettes of happy peasants and rural scenes in one color on a contrasting background. And it just looks like a dogs ass. People seem to lose all sense of dignity when confronted with this fabric; you see entire rooms done in the shit and it's supposed to look very 'FRONSHHH' and chic. Red toille is popular now; an entire room done in red toille looks like an abbatoir. Hows that for french?
2. Wool. This was the nasty stuff they made our school uniforms out of. It smelt like dog and it felt like wearing burlap. What a fucked up thing to do to a little kid.
3. Heavy upholstery orlon weave with a shine. GEAHHHHHHHH! BLEAAAH! EEEEGH! I can't even touch the stuff. Its hot and slidey and rippy and pilly. GAAAAAAH.
4. Early American furniture from the 1940's. It was brown. and yellow. Everything wood was turned; everything upholstered had a little skirt and a bow. Including the lampshade, perched atop a rusty milk can turned into a lamp. Along with a braided rug and a coffee table made to resemble a cobblers bench-rendering it unuseable for coffee or anything else since they had a downward slope of about 40 degrees- you have the charming, Early American ambience of a room full of squatty Native American Michelin men in frumpy dresses looking for a place to set down their coffee. Add to this the fact that in the 1940's most people didn't have upholstery vacs and DID smoke, and you have a fatal attack of asthma waiting to happen. By the time I came along in the 1960's this stuff, no matter whos' home it was in, was uniformly god-horrid; reeking of stale cooking, cigarette smoke and crusted with filth. gheeeegh.
5. Plastic clothes. I mean real clothes made out of plastic, like nylon and ban-lon and polyester. When they came back into fashion in the 90's I predicted a national outbreak of yeast infections; and I was right.
6. Trashed up homes and yards with kids. I hate this. You want to live like this; fine, don't inflict it on children. And don't live near me unless you want, say, a ten-pound bag of ancient freezerburnt halibut in your foundation vent. Or my cat box contents dumped underneath your bedroom window in the deep weeds where I know you'll never find it because you haven't put blade to grass since 1967. (Neither of these people had children, by the way. Why should I add to some poor kids' problems?)
7. Chronic lateness. These fice always know exactly what they're doing and they invariably think it's one of their endearing little quirks. it makes me want to go out with a baseball bat and bash out all the windows on their car.
8. Art where the peoples eyes lOOk out right at you. I'm sure the artist thinks this gives the image a lot of impact. No, its just creepy. I was brought up in a home filled with pictures of Jesus and the Pope and Mary and they were all watching you as you sat on the pot or put on your underpants. And most of them were inviting you to explore the inner workings of their chestal parts by holding open their ribcages to show you their hearts STUCK FULL OF THORNS AND ON FIRE WITH THE BLOOD DRIPPING ALL DOWN AND SHIT. See, thats just unneccessary. The eyeballs were more than enough, thanks.
9. Those phony graveyards with all the little white crosses and a sign saying 'Cemetary of the Innocent'. Every year some dutch fuck puts one of these up on the main road leading into the United States from Canada. Welcome to America! We're a bunch of ignorant shitholes! Have a nice stay!
I apologize, Canada.
10. Long descriptions of the layout of someones' house in the middle of a story. It never matters a fuck to the story and it's boring. One hauntings site I visit has a bad case of this; whenever the person submitting starts one of these long architectural digressions I just move the fuck along because the main incident is always going to be something utterly horrifying like 'and so I saw a shadow move across the hall into the bathroom.' ( Otherwise a great site you should go visit if you like getting so scared you feel like you're going to pee yourself.)
11. People who claim to be vampires. This is not about clothes; I kind of like the clothes, actually. No, I mean the lame dips who claim to be actual supernatural vampires.
There is no such thing as vampires. Not energy vampires, not psychic vampires, not blood drinkers, not any kind of vampires.
You are not a vampire.
Do these people hold jobs? Yes. They are the people you see in the background when you drive up to the take out window, there behind the fryer thinking "Yes, you see me now in my paper hat, but in actuality I am Demonicus the Dark and I thirst for your blood! Muahahahaaa!"
Your mother must be so proud.
12. Certain people. And I don't know what it is about these people either, but something about them makes me want to go up and grab them by the front of the shirt and slap them till they bleed. One is that bald dude who plays the asshole cop (IIIII hurt my self, todaaaayyy.... to see if I still feeeeel.....) Just looking at him pisses me off.
13. This guy my husband knows named George. Ho, the things oy've done! The ploices oy've been! I live in my car and never bathe! But I party with ( ) and sell drugs to ( ) and I used to own ( ), ( ), and I've blah blah blah blah yeah, right, ok, fine, bye.
14. Packrat people. Specifically their houses full up to the tits with CRAP. And dead newborn kittens you have to chip off the floor and empty jars and plastic butter tubs and old clothes and FILTH. I cleaned rental properties and I saw a lot of this. You had to wait 30 days or something before you could shift the stuff because of abandonment laws as I recall, and so I'd come to these shitheaps 30 days after the health department had posted them and the tennant had been evicted, after having had all the time in the world to move it and there it'd be, festering. I emptied out truckloads and truckloads of shit from these places-and sometimes there they'd be, the former tenants, parked in their car across the street looking at you. Not one thing was of any real use or value, ever. It was all crap. Garbage bags full of rolled up plastic bags. Bread heels. Shoes, baseball caps, golf balls... 25 pound sacks of potatoes that had turned into LIQUID...broken bicycles; oh, if I had a nickel for every one of those...and Jesus, the clothes, boxes and boxes of clothes smelling like stale people, stuck together in bricks with mold and cat piss, closets stuffed so full the doors had been forced open and the striker plate was torn out of the jamb........this still makes me so angry I get sick to my stomach. Grew up with a hoarder. Nuff said.

more later? its probably inevitable.


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