Getting over myself

It needs to happen soon. In approximately 3 weeks, I'm heading to Mexico for a month-long vacation with my family. I've been working really hard to get into shape for this trip, as I will be wearing a bikini during much of my sojourn south of the border. This strikes fear into my heart. I have spent so long loathing my personal appearance - I look in the mirror and all I see is FATFATFATUGLY - that, despite my best efforts re: gym and eating healthily, I am still convinced that I am a hideous, jiggly cow. People tell me otherwise, but I can never, ever believe them.

I wish that I could be comfortable with myself. I really want to enjoy this vacation...ultimately I know that I will because I will be with my family, whom I love and adore, but I want to feel happy in my own skin. I don't want to hide from the camera. I want to be ok enough with how I look that when I smile for a picture I don't look downward or to the side in an effort to shield myself from the inevitable "ugh" moment that happens when I see the instant playback.

I am an outfit that I can tailor but can never return for a refund. I must continue to work on being able to wear myself with confidence.

Pauly poll and perspicacious punditry

I have this friend who lives on a farm - well, he doesn't live on an actual farm right now, but he does live down the lane from the farm on which he grew up (upon which he grew??)

Anyway. During the course of an IM chat I was having with my friend - to protect his identity, we'll call him *Jim* - he mentioned that he was going to help his Dad harvest the corn/beans/whatever with a combine. This of course reminded me of Pauly Shore's stellar performance in Son-In-Law.

(IMDb it, peoples. I can't do everything for you, you know.)

(Well, it's not so much "peoples", as it is "person". Sigh.)

So *Jim* and I chatted for spell, during which he proceeded to judge me mercilessly for my appreciation of the comedic talents of Mr. Pauly Shore. I rebuffed his overly erudite rebukes quite handily, I thought - after, the might of Truth is on my side.

Then it happened again when I chatted with my friend Cicero in Pants. I post an excerpt of our brilliant spate of IM for two reasons:

1) It is wrong how everybody judges Pauly Shore. Just plain wrong.
2.) It is always easier to phone it in.

Without further adieu, I give you Jillian v. Cicero in Pants - The "Shore" Thing:

(ps: you should really, really check out this Mafia game. Neat-o!)

(pps: *Jim* will recognize this chat, as it is virtually identical to the one we had earlier.)

Cicero: do you know the game Mafia?
me: um no
Cicero: http://www.mafiascum.net/
me: oooh
Cicero: you might - I stress MIGHT - like it.
me: allow me a moment to investigate
Cicero: it's a forum based game.
me: hold the line
Cicero: kk
me: HELLZ YEAH
it’s a wiki
love it
will peruse in-depth
um this could be addictive
this is pseudo WoW
you sneaky bastard
Cicero: hold on - I'll show you the game I'm in.
me: kk
Cicero: http://www.mafiascum.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=5880
this should go to game 436

(Aside – I have NO idea what that means.)

Its the first one Ive played.
it will give you a flavor for the thing
me: i'm all about flavour
ps: how do you feel about pauly shore?
Cicero: I prefer not to acknowledge the existence of Mr. Shore.
me: really.
i ah...i um hatehimtoo.
yes
Cicero: buh-uh-dy.
me: just wondering
Cicero: lmao
riiiiiight
/outed!
me: come on!
you didn't laugh ONCE at Son-In-Law?
Biodome?

(Cicero changes his gmail status, effectively outing me as a Shore-ite)

me: FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
Cicero: lmao :)
me: suck it, bitch!
Cicero: I would but it's stuck up Pauly Shore's ass.
me: oh that's how it is?
i see. i see.
Cicero: snap
me: snizzAP!
Cicero: never admit to liking pauly shore in polite company. It's like Farm Porn. Keep that shit under your mattress.
me: good advice. works for you, i guess.
Cicero: ;)
me: you are the 2nd person today who has mocked me mercilessly for my love of the Shore
Cicero: I like neither pauly nor such porn. nor Yanni. Nor Zamfir. Nor Kenny G.
me: shut up
they are not the same beast
Cicero: you keep asking people and see what you get.
me: i've been conducting a sort of informal Pauly Poll
is comedic genius.
come down from your ivory tower, Cicero
mingle with the commoners.
Cicero: right. If hating Pauly Shore is wrong I don't want to be right.
me: whatevs.
snob.
Cicero: he's aaaaaaaaaaawful/
me: fucking ENCINO MAN for chrissakes
altho pound for pound, i'd vote Son In Law as his finest work
i liken him to andy dick
dick is better, though
ha
look what i just wrote
Cicero: I had forgotten about Pauly Shore. Why do you continue to sully my brain with this brown brown heiny tar?
hehe
me: that's a good'un
heiny tar
you are on fire
i like to sully people
sullyin' is what i do best
um not really
Cicero: :)


And that's pretty much where it ended. I think we all know who won THIS clash of the proverbial titans, no?

...

(ME. I won. Pauly Shore 4 EVA!)

Do the Right Thing / Sesame Street

Hilarious.

Megatron says "Fuck you"

Sidewalks swallow rage, absorb bile and bitterness. People are pounded to pieces, pulverized in the wake of my stiletto-ed stride, heels stabbing sans merci, relentless legs scissoring. Every footfall in the frantic, steaming morning, every nocturnal step echoed on empty streets spits "go. fuck. yourself."

These are the days of choler, of ill humour, of the simmering, seething miasma of madness glimpsed through the cracks in a bright smile, from beneath dark-lashed lids, lowered. These are the days of mad dogs and Englishmen and all the glittering assholes with their vacant words and dusty promises and bloody hands.

So give me your words, your laughter, your smell. Your walk. The nearness of you. I will take it, all of it. I will take it all and hide it away so that it won't tear at me as I rush past. That sound...that sound is me gritting my teeth as I write, grinding down the small bones of what once was.

Ahoy...

Phoenix - If I Ever Feel Better

"Call for you on line 1, Miss Thorne."

a very good year

i've lost track of how many times i've looked at you
when you weren't looking at me
and smiled.

it's hard to say how often i've smelled cookies
in the hollow of your neck and said
"what's that smell?"
and you've said "cookies."

we've wrestled on the floor a bunch of times
discount laundry safari
you have an armbar on my heart
are you ready?
are you ready?
let's get it on.