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Zynadae
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Name: Annie
Country: United States
State: Florida
Metro: Jacksonville
Birthday: 10/15/1981
Gender: Female
Interests: Blinking lights, six-stringed instruments of thrumming, riding the water, above and below, cartwheels, dark long drives laced with lightning, wind in the right direction..
Expertise: Folding flags at funerals, writing indexes, consuming space while adding space between me and others, walls, floors, bicycle chains...
Occupation: Military
Industry: Government
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  LastCzarina
Member Since:
8/10/2003
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| Ok. Generally speaking I love Overstock.com. They have this really impressive way of taking usually classy, righteous gear and turning it into radically cheap goods. For example, this super metro-looking badass chair I just purchased for $30. That's right.
However.
Today, I received what I thought was this in the mail:
In reality it was...
I was even fine with the shoddy plastic wrapping until I saw the pink tab. Oh no. Oh fuck no! I have been fooled into purchasing a Hello Kitty necklace! I am neither asian, nor four, and I will never live this one down since my roommates both saw me open the package, so excited, so thrilled over my new purchase.
But it gets even better. You see, this Hello Kitty fakelace is also ....
..ANTISEMITIC! Jew1110! What is that? A screenname? Or something more sinister? A remnant from AUSCHWITZ maybe?
Fuck me. Fuck me and my Hello Kitty Antisemite Necklace. Could this be any more par for the great course of my life? | | |
| Mary pointed out something important to me today.
And she's right. I probably should be ashamed, but I'm too proud. If you aren't for me you're against me, mofos!
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| Seriously you guys.
Just get this album.
Victor's Great Grandpappy Ambrose says so.
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| Imagine this. You go to the dentist for a routine teeth cleaning, but
instead of kittens or fluffy clouds on the ceiling there are various
photos of outhouses. Outhouses in winter. Outhouses on mountains.
Outhouses embedded in hills filled with daffodils.
The background music? I know you guessed Kenny G or Michael Bolton. On
most days this would be an extremely accurate guess. Today it was Black
Power talk radio.
I thought about waving the black panther sign her way. You know, just
so she'd stop stabbing my gums with that horrendous pick thing. But I
know when I'm defeated.
Freakishly white teeth and 5 archaic floss threaders from 1985 later, I was on my way to another Tuesday.
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| How is work these days? They ask.
Repetitive. I usually answer as I wander off to something else.
The thing is, my job is in a language that is technically English, but no one really understands except for those of us who do the same thing. Which puts me in a funny place. Like an island. And all I can think is:
It’s a good thing I can fly or I’d never get out of here. If I wasn’t here to begin with.
Sometimes I run late at night. Mostly because I love the way the moonlight hits the sidewalks in our neighborhood. Like they tried to make everything as cookie cutter as they could, but still there are ridges, visible imperfections, in the sidewalk. I run past the mutant ducks at the fake reservoir to the garish grocery store on the corner. Sometimes I contemplate doing jumping jacks out front in the fluorescent light just to be funny. But it’s so late that no one would be looking anyway. When I run at night I don’t listen to music. The only noises you really want to hear are at night.
I sweat my ass off at work. Literally. I think I know now what it’s like to be thirsty all the time.
The planes we fly have cracks in the wings. That’s a little scary. Yesterday, Tricia’s plane was struck by lightning in-flight. She told the story about how the observer was thrown out of his seat. I kind of had to laugh because for whatever reason it reminded me of various Muppet movies where Kermit ends up balled up against a wall with his legs all tangled up.
Today is Wednesday. Since they call it “hump day” I can’t ever help but envision all of us riding on top of a camel’s hump. Perfect animal symmetry. Camels spit. I hope that isn’t representative of Saturday.
Chins up, all. No matter how office spacey your job may be, the world is your dandelion. | | |
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