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  • Everyday is like Sunday

    To drop a little Morrissey on y'all. Yep, I listen to him AND to the Smiths on occasion. And yet, I'm devoutly hetero (although not always real good at it) and not only eat meat, but rely upon dead flesh for my daily bread. Why yes, I AM quite conflicted over all of this. Wouldn't you be?


    Well, it looks as though my stats, as best I can decipher them (I'd likely have more luck with hieroglyphics) have at least doubled and in some places tripled over last month; when I had 17000+ hits. I owe it all to the trackback folks and their continual efforts to link me to (free) porn searches. Thanks also to the handful of y'all that actually follow me here at As the Stomach Turns, you too are highly valued.


    A pretty quiet day here at Stately Deranged Manor. I have NO problem with that whatsoever. Uneventful is good. I miss uneventful. I went for lunch with my pops (look out, M, they're gonna send y'all to LV to get married; it is, however, quick and, for you and Lee, may be relatively painless), and a brief chat. Thank Jim Morrison he neither gave me any I Told You So's nor that long-overdue lecture on the birds and the bees. Since he wasn't able to on my wedding day and all. As an added bonus, one of the foodbringers looked a little bit like the divine Ms. K; or, perhaps I've just had her on my mind too much of late. She did, however, have the little lock of hair hanging down the way Kendra sometimes does. That's probably all it was.

    Upon my return home, I thought I'd call the ex (yes, we still talk), since we fought (again) last night when she called me. I'm not positive, and wouldn't swear to it, but I may have asked for Kendra when I spoke to her daughter. This would likely be a major faux pas, although it would fairly well illustrate for the ex just where my head is at. I think I DID, in fact, ask for the ex-wife, but, after a brief pause; was told she wasn't home. Fine, whatever. Not my crisis. Although, again, I'll have to contemplate actually coming up with like thoughts and ideas if I no longer have tales of drama to share with y'all. That can only end badly. Fortunately or un, I'm sure I can always find some other drama. Or it'll find I.


    Anyway, time for work, tomorrow is holiday pay. GOOD times! Thanks again for making me think that someone out there actually enjoys reading my humble scribblings.

  • Women of the Day 7/31/05

    I was really kinda hoping that whilst blogspirit.com was down ALL of yesterday, that they'd have brought back my beloved hit counter. Alas, 'twasn't meant to be. And y'all know I'm way too slothful to actually install my own. On the positive tip, having all that free time yesterday, I managed to wade through my entire c.d. collection; and am now up to 2362 songs (and counting, of course) on my iTunes playlist. It's the having, after all, rather than the actual using that matters. And I managed to catch up on some reading: the book place carries graphic novels, so how could I not take a bunch out? They've got pretty pictures. I like pretty pictures. Being simple and all.


    Still no word from Kendra's lab partner, he of the ever-perfect facial stubble of which I'm quite envious. However, it IS a long weekend, so he might be on hiatus. And I can always try again. Yes, this IS all very junior high, but that's how tongue-tied and twisted I become around this woman. And I'm only attempting to discover her current status, ever assuming that she has Zero (Emptiness is loneliness and loneliness is cleanliness. Cleanliness is godliness and god is empty. Just like me.) interest in I. It's far safer that way. Hell, I have no interest in me.


    Big shout out to Philadelphia Eagles defensive tackle Jerome McDougle, who was earlier in the week shot (while revisiting his college town of Miami) in the stomach by a group of carjackers. Apparently, surgery went fairly well and he'll be back in 4 weeks or so. Ah, Miami. Nice place to visit. Of course, it may be your final resting place, but still a nice place to visit.


    I was right. On occasions when I preview what I've typed, I AM losing the odd sentence here and there. It's HARD goddamn work always being wrong, so I suspect I was due. Yay, me! Boo, technology!


    Wreck of the Day: narrowly avoided by the fabulous Scarlett Johannesen (note to self: learn how to confidently and correctly spell her name) when she saw a billboard of herself with heavily over-emphasized breastesses and nearly crashed her ride. That would've been tragic. We love her. Muchly.


    So it appears that the ex-wife's journey to the lawyer last week was merely a ''clever'' ruse on her part to get me to take some action, moving to Texas-wise, or risk losing her. Which is Ironic (don't ya think?), as it only served to push me further away. Having learned everything that I know about womenfolks from Rosie Perez' character in White Men Can't Jump, I'd assumed that women didn't want their man to attempt to fix everything for them. Looks as though I (strangely enough) may have slightly miscalculated on that one. It was cool to see Rosie's pendulous tits, though, wasn't it. Whatever became of her, anyway?

    If only I'd studied drama in high school. Then I'd be better prepared for what I'm dealing with now. Nope, the folks didn't ask about her yesterday (and no I told you so's, Halle-FUCKING-lujah!), which is good; as I have no earthly idea (and almost as little interest at this point, beyond having soap opera material for here) myself.


    The list:


    1) Nelly Furtado (some Canadian content. didn't really think much of her until her cameo in the video for Breathe by the Swollen Members (a truly great name wasted on a truly weak band). her portions of the song are the only parts I can listen to without wanting to spew DayGlo. something I have done in the past, usually after too many Blue Mondays.)


    2) Vicky Vette (awesome amateur porn site, even if the free content is somewhat weak.)


    3) Death (from the Neil Gaiman comics. if that's what the reaper looks like, I'm ready; take me now. hey, if Tori Amos thinks enough of the comic to write an intro for one of the collections, that is more than good enough for I.)


    4) Arate of Cyrene (dug the name. she ran a school of philosophy and was a contemporary of Socrates. and I can't always be all pron all the time, now can I? I'm trying to become a Better Man, one worthy of someone of the keeper variety; and, if not the wonderful Kendra, then someone else.)


    5) Themis (goddess of divine order, law and custom. when she is disregarded, Nemesis brings just and wrathful retribution. kinda like I did for the cocksmoker what's been parking in my stall. I truly hope he's out of town on vacation this long weekend, so he can come back to find his shiny blue ride disappeared. additionally, Themis was the name of Pamela Courson's ill-conceived clothing store, once upon a time.)


    All right, breakfast is nearly ready, so I'm gone. Like a dream that never was.

  • Women of the Day 7/30/05

    If you allow yourself to feel how you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.


    Sadly, I must've crashed the server, as I've been trying vainly to post off and on for the past 11 hours. I was even forced to delete my Las Vegas photo albums, as I was at 11 MB of disk space. Sigh. On the positive tip, due to my humble photographic efforts of yesterday (yes, I AM the worst photographer in the history of EVER, and I should be focusing on taking upskirt and candid shots of womenfolks; dreadfully sorry about that, whatever was I thinking?), I'm up to 663 MB of downloaded info. And I now appear on all kinds of searches. Yay, me!


    No luck as of yet on the attempting to pry info out of the fair Kendra's lab partner front. I figure either:

    - my e-mail was deleted unread (most likely)

    - my e-mail was read and ignored (most intelligent)

    - my e-mail has been neither read nor deleted (most favored)

    Whichever, it appears I'll be forced to do things The Hard Way. Fuck. This can only end badly. I may enjoy doing things the hard way, but that doesn't make me good at it.


    Thanks again to Suzanne of Reinventing the Bell Jar, I think you're pretty cool, too; but we'd better keep it on the down low, otherwise folks will talk. They always do. I love the new format of your site and I hope you have an excellent weekend, also.


    I've gots to say: My Free Paysite.com is the absolute fucking BOMB! I spent the better part of all afternoon watching wet T-shirt contest footage. Good times. Still no spam e-mail bombardment as a result of signing up, either.


    Wreck of the Day: former NBA shooting guard J. R. Rider, and not just because he went to my beloved UNLV. Million dollar body, ten cent head. Allegedly once attempted to use a Coke can for a crack pipe. And, of course, the many and frequent alarm clock malfunctions. There but for the grace of god and a sweet jumper go I. Sigh.


    Discovered today that the immortal Shirley Manson and her crew will be doing a show at the local U of Calgary on Saturday, August 27th. If only the tickets weren't $40. Sigh. I might still go. And get close enough to the stage that Ms. Manson (no relation, so it's okay to desire her) can, you know, sweat or even spit on me.


    Better late than pregnant, the list:


    1) Willa Cather (authrix of some sort, but here mainly due to her distaste for the materialism and conformity of modern life)


    2) Iris Dement (allegedly the namesake for the Goo Goo Dolls' immortal song Iris, so despite the questionable content of her lyrics, she made the cut.)


    3) Seka (some classic old school porn quality.)


    4) Taylor Kennedy (shapely Playboy model, and as the Go Go's say, Throw Me A Curve.)


    5) Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper (sponsored the development of COBOL (Common-Business-Oriented-Language) which allowed programmers to use words rather than numbers.)


    Just under the wire, as I'm on MST. Off to bed, then in a few hours, tomorrow's list.