Dear First Initial, Middle Initial, and Last Initial,

You are not the person you think you are. You're as vain and shallow as the people you try to stand against, and you're even more foolish. Would you like to know why? Because you've never had a thought in your head that wasn't put there by someone else, and you're too stupid to even know it. Every person you've ever met has told you that you're special, that you know things that no one else does, that you've got such a unique take on the world and all the things that make it work, and when we come right down to it you're the same brand of mediocre everyone else is, you just don't know it.

I think it might be good that you don't know this. There's so much about this world that you have no idea about, but you think you do because you read books and travel around. This world that drives you so mad, this world that makes you shout and twitch and shake with frustration is made up of billions of people just like you, and everything you hate about them lives and breathes and thrives in you. I can see right down into the depths of your soul, and I can see where its rotting. There might still be time to cut out the things about you that are failing, but I think you're too lazy and too stupid to even try.

I hope your next salvation is clever enough to turn a blind eye to your shortcomings, because being able to see them as I do makes you even more repellent than you were from the outset. You are not more than your circumstance. You are exactly as you are perceived. You are as boring and mediocre as the people you turn away from, and the layers you wrap yourself in, pretending to have depth and interest, are just different shades of the same boring color.

~L



"He's a really good-looking guy, and I thought he was really cheesy at first-"
"Trust your instincts."
"Sometimes people are layered like that...There's something totally different underneath than what's on the surface."
"And sometimes there's a third even deeper layer that's the same as whats on the top surface... like a pie!"

I'm just too damn pretty...

Today I'm craving something more than Slim Jims and Sunflower Seeds. I want to be nourished in the soul, not the body, and unfortunately there are very few things in the world that can do that. The soul requires something more fundamental than sports and beer and cigarettes... it needs more than the same meaningless conversation about whether or not my team won or lost (we lost by the way) or the latest celebrity gossip.

I don't know if I'm simply bored with everything and everyone around me or if I require something deeper and more meaningful than the usual daily drivel. We shall have to see, though. Watch me make this pencil disappear.

I have a PHD in Horribleness!

Today's piece of wisdom: It's funny when friends get hurt. Also, there is never a bad time to watch Dexter.

Today was Father's Day, and with predictable morbidity, my father turned to me with all the love and pride in the world reflecting in his eyes, and said: "There might not be many of these left for me." My father is not allowed to say these kinds of things. They make me want to hurt dolphins. My father will never die. Ever. It's not allowed.

Oh, what else isn't allowed? Apparently I'm not allowed to maintain a bad-ass pedicure for longer than three days. FUBAR (A hideously antiquated term that I will bring back.) Lucy does not like having to continuously reapply her electric blue nail polish. It makes her cranky.

Went and saw My Cast (shadowcast what usually does Rocky Horror Picture Show) do something unRocky-related. Doctor Horrible's Sing Along Blog...isn't really a shadowcast-type musical, but I was beaming like somebody's mum. I'm always surprised when I go there and I'm still treated like the sparkly little snowdrop of 6 years ago. Still can't believe it even was 6 years ago that I met all of them, that's a trip in and of itself. I don't know how comfortable I am with the idea that there is a group of people out there that I still maintain contact with that remembers me from the Goth phase. (A phase I can't quite shake but don't subscribe to as strictly as before.)

Ongoing project to retcon the old Beauty Blog into something approaching a real blog is not going well. I'm working tirelessly to deliver up-to-the-minute information about the latest tips and trends, which of course means that I'm doing absolutely nothing. Well, not doing absolutely nothing, really, because I have given myself a lovely manicure (yay, my nails are growing back!) and I have redone my makeup pallet to give me more of a "I'm too gorgeous to wear makeup" kind of vibe, rather than the electric blue of the past few weeks. I've also cut way down on the shimmer/glitter, if you want to know.

Also, repairs to pretty white dress that was broken several weeks ago have been a huge success. Black trim was added without incident, and now dress may be worn with black leggings and black boots without mixing too many metaphors. Current project: Makeup Tutorial ala youtube, to be posted on my Examiner page to be posted when I can figure out how to make image capture work on sister's webcam. If I receive even one email asking me to show off my parts there will be consequences of the most brutal and Karmic kind.

Stay tuned, you crazy cats. The boys from Quadrant 44 with their vicious metal hounds don't come around here no more... but you still should.

A brief discourse on alien psychology...

So I was having a conversation with a girl at a party (it happens sometimes) and she was telling me with complete authority that all about Europeans don't bathe or brush their teeth or shave parts as much as Americans do. I smiled and told her, "I'm pretty sure you're mistaken... for the most part. I've never met a single European who fit that description." She shook her head and told me that one time she met a girl who was from Switzerland (or Sweden or Germany, she couldn't remember and now neither can I) who bathed once a week and rarely washed her hair AND had nasty long armpit hair. My response was "Are you really basing your entire opinion of Europeans on that one encounter?" She nodded. Either she was incredibly stupid or incredibly drunk, but in either case I'm beginning to think that my brain must be transplanted from some other higher life form.

I say this because not ten minutes later another woman, who was middling-aged and quite intoxicated, insisted that there's cocaine in Red Bull... I asked her if she was thinking of the energy drink called COCAINE, which is no longer available in stores, but still available online and (as far as I know) narcotic free... but Drunk Cougar was absolutely insistent that there's cocaine in Red Bull and that if you drink it you will ABSOLUTELY get addicted to it. I sipped my Vodka/Red Bull with increasing disdain but indulgence. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm not always the cleverest person in the room, I just use my brain more than some.

I should find some other uses for my amazing brain. Maybe I'll work on my book some more.

Today's insult to injury....

So I got an email today from a betting company in Gibraltar asking me to come in to interview for a Customer Service position. I applied for the position in February. Funny old world, isn't it?