My japanese name is ���� Nakamura (center of the village) ���� Miharu (beautiful clear sky).
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My goddamn rock solid ghetto shiznit name is Ass Machine Teapot, Yo.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.

Don't mess with my ass machine, please.

My insulting name is Odious and unpleasant child Bumfluffmonkeywhore!
What's yours?

Which Evil Criminal are You?
A Rum and Monkey crime.

Glad to see some things never change.

Are You Damned?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

Aww... but I like sex with nuns.

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

Made Bishop of Agagni by Pope Formosus, you became Pope yourself in 896 by putting your immediate predecessor, Boniface VI, to death. Your reign lasted all of fourteen months. However, you firmly assured your place in history by putting the rotting corpse of the aforementioned Formosus on trial in the splendidly named Synod Horrenda. Naturally, Formosus was clad in full papal vestments. Having dug up the stinking remains once already, you proceeded to have them found guilty, reburied, re-exhumed, relieved of the three fingers of the right hand used in consecrations and finally thrown into the Tiber. All ordinations performed by the luckless Formosus were annulled. After this delightful display of gratitude, you were promptly strangled, paving the way for an increasingly short-lived series of successors and the reinstatement, dereinstatement and rereinstatement of Formosus' Papal deeds.

Sassy.

Great... My mother just called >< FUCK.

Eh, so... I think it's my mother's goal in life to make her children cry. Mmm. And she acts like it's perfectly okay to tell me which photograph she wants in her obituary. At length, she tells me that no one in the world loves her and that no one cares. She's utterly confused as to why I broke down on the phone with her the other day. She thinks it's about money. She keeps digging the mental knife in deeper, too. When I tell her I don't want to talk about it, I get the "No one loves me" speech.

The other day, I loaned her money. I found out that she'd wastefully bought a range for her kitchen, so I was more than a little upset.

A couple days later, I get a check for the amount I had loaned her... with this sweet little note attached:

The money is not an issue. She has always paid me back. I don't care about that. I care that she cannot manage money when it is in her hands. I care that she is so in debt that she may never get out. I care that she doesn't see me as a child but someone to support her. I could wish for things I never had in her, but I won't... because I wouldn't really know what to wish for. Lately, I cannot talk to her without wanting to cry or break something. So... I'm trying to talk as little as possible. Anything I say is turned around. She victimizes herself.

I told her that I know that her health is not-so good. I told her that I know that she's not well. I told her that her telling me these things over and over and over is not going magically make me be able to help her. I told her that I am helpless. And she said, "Well, Samantha, why are you crying? I didn't mean to make you upset." The fact that she's oblivious hurts even more. And she's so alone in the world... yet here I am with no one to go to when I have to cry.

Welcome to the boring land of chaos.

The sultry onset of summer is leaving me frothing at the mouth. Not in a good way. And the AC won't be fixed until tomorrow. But... I DO NOT CARE! I am off for five bloody days in a row, and I am going to sleep like no one has slept before. Well, that and clean. >.> Eww.

Maybe I'll finally get that oil change my car has been crying for. And maybe I'll get my driver's license renewed which is 4 months overdue.

My mind has been in a strange place lately. I'm sort of caught between apathy and anxiety. It's a lovely place if you know your way around.

I left work 45 minutes early today... because what I was supposed to be doing wasn't getting done due to technical difficulties, and suddenly mother nature kicked me in the cervex. So, I said, "The hell with this," and snuck away. No one noticed.

Mmmm... Oddly, I'm not in a bad mood right now. I feel free. I think I'll go to a park this week and just sit and watch ducks while pigment bursts on my skin and splatters freckles everywhere. Yep, I've been singing since I got home. WEeeee. And I can finally go see Bry in her new abode. >:3

From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep, I'll be there by your side. Just you try and stop me.

Near nervous breakdowns are fun. I was sitting at work, trying to look busy since the system was down for pricing... and I got to thinking, "This is so pointless, I feel so worthless... and, Gods, why am I here?" The futility of it all nearly made me snap. But I closed my eyes and pushed it back. Watery eyes and all. Meh... it wasn't existential thinking. It was me pissing in the river of work ethic.

Sometimes, while I'm stumbling out of bed half asleep, my consciousness freezes up and I hear my voice inside my head wondering who I am and what I'm doing in this body. It's a strange, alien feeling... like none of my life up to that point had existed. I usually shake it off and remember I have some place to be, even if I don't want to go there.

I hate it when I am reminded of the person I loved for so long. Makes me wanna smash things. Hurray for conflict! Uh... bllleeeeeeeeh.

My first day in another department started this morning. I was handed a stack of papers and told to check the functionality of specified electronics throughout the store. I did this for 7 and a half hours. Basically, I turned things on and off all damn day. HOW EXCITING! It's like I'm in school again, and I just got put in special ed.

nar nar nar nar

I have five days off in a row. Hopefully, I'll come to some epiphany that nothing is real and life is an illusion. One can only hope.

I am so tired. I'm driving myself crazy about work. It appears that I am finally in another department next week. Joy. Only two shifts. Not-so joy. But you know something? I really don't care. In fact, I'm finding it difficult to care about anything.

Well... I'll hang around work for a couple more weeks and see if there's a change in my mood, but I have to talk to my manager about pay before I decide anything. This morning, I told my dad that I was thinking about taking off from work for the fall semester so that I could do school full time for a change. I told him that I have been hording money lately, which is true, so that I can afford to dip into my checking and savings for quite a while if need be. His resonse? "Whatever."

It's sort of a relief. I thought I'd get some typical Bob commentary about how I should have a job and all that jazz.

Oh, just think of it... me getting my homework done and sleeping allll the time. How glorious. Maybe, just maybe, I'll discover some occupation that appeals to me. One never knows.

It sucks having no direction in life and no real talents to lead me anywhere. I feel like I'm bobbing on the end of a fishing line and nothing is biting. I keep waiting for something to grab onto me, but here I am... twenty-five and adrift.

*listening to Ravel, Rhapsodie Espagnole*

My mother was just here. I had to turn off Invader Zim to pay her full attention. She just needed someone to talk to, and--for once--I wasn't feeling completely selfish with my time. She mostly spoke of my sister's utter bitchiness and general bitterness toward our mother. It's understandable. Our mother wasn't prize material. But you can't change the past. She's a different person than she was when we were children.

So, somehow we got on the topic of independence and marriage. My mother was twenty-two when she married my father.

Now comes the information that has unsettled my stomach. Mommy said that she'd only known my dad four months when they got married. He virtually tricked her into getting married. He said that he was going to move to Atlanta, and that he wanted to be with her, etc. etc. My mother liked him a lot. She liked him as a friend, she trusted him, and she felt secure with him. So he pressed her to get married and she did. She'd been divorced two years before that. She still had feelings for her ex-husband.

She said she was so full of doubt, but she felt safe with him. So, they got married. She told me that she thinks he married her to have his kids, to have a wife. She's not sure if they were ever in love. My dad's a farm boy. He was twenty-eight when they got married.

I must be such a disappointment. :D

Ah, well, maybe that's responsible for my lack of interest in marriage or love. That, and many other things. Look at the example I had. They divorced when I was 7. My dad hasn't been with anyone since. It's almost as though he couldn't be bothered with love. And my mother was always looking for that real love. She married Jim in 1990? She told me he was the opposite of my father. Jim wanted a companion. She said she really loved him, but things didn't work out for the best. He was a nice person. I think he married my mother for the wrong reasons... but who am I to judge.

Does anyone get married for love anymore? Is it all convenience? Is it all a fear of being too old or missing an opportunity? Marriage: the new, temporary commitment to companionship. I'll marry you until the real love of my life comes along. I'll marry you because I'm afraid of being alone for the rest of my life.

Will you marry me?

PS. I don't do dishes.

*edit 10:02 PM

I forgot to add that my mother did not want to have children. It was only my father. It took her four years to have her first. And another four years to have me. There were two miscarriages between.

Get in the kitchen and make babies!