Talk about philosophy, thinking about porn

This is the way it goes: not hot enough for metal, not cool enough for alternative and I haven't given up on life enough for emo. Oh, aren't we all in a bind.

Never really thought of myself as an artist; a mere dabbler, as they say. I recently tried to work on a painting. Oh, it's always so much better in our heads. What comes out on the canvas? That's another story. Sorry, I'm quite tired.

So... my train of thought has been derailed. No funny pictures; no witty comments.

Just raw, uncut Le Fig.


Back again riding the ferry, may I just say "voyage of the damned"? Why does the drug addict, the woman with 10 kids, the really loud woman, the wino and the shitty teenager have to sit next to me? I must have done something really bad in a past life. If I have learned anything about public transportation, it's keep your head down and always look busy.

No, This is a real photo.

It's okay, it will all be over soon.

See a bunny, beware

The photo in my last Blog reminds me of this story from when I was a kid.

This comic book,about a bunch of kids who sadistically love to bites the heads off their chocolate bunnies. Somehow, they are invited to this Willy Wonka candy factory. It's owned by this 6 foot 8 bunny in a brightly colored suit (don't ask, I was 9). The gist is the hapless children are dipped in vats of chocolate and what happens?

He bites their heads off. Yes, it was predictable and silly but hey, it scared me. And any time I saw a mascot, I would break out in a cold sweat.

First Day of Spring

First day of Spring. And Sunday's... Easter! Bunnies are a hoppin' and Christ's a risin'.

Short, Sweet

Notes from Liz: not short, but always sweet.

I use the computer now more than I ever have. Now I understand the addiction to email; there's nothing worse than waiting for that important message. Did I get it? Did I
accidentally delete it? Could it be the message I've been waiting for? I've turned into a 14 year old girl waiting by the phone (gimme back my Duran Duran poster).

Years ago, I tried a chat room. Struck me as a bunch of teenage and mid-twenties douches trying to one up each other. Sorry, I have better things to do. Like what you ask? Maybe I'll watch a marathon of documentaries about crystal meth. There, I can find out how people buy the products on line, cook it up at home in their lovely double-wide trailers and proceed to sell and or smoke it all. At that point, you sit in your hole, surrounded by beer cans, porn, pizza boxes and the smell of rotted teeth. As you probably can tell, I watch too much of the Discovery Channel. Yes, I know far too much about bikers, speed and meth mouth.

Speaking of rotted teeth and public intoxication, I saw The Pogues on Sat. I must say they put on quite a good show, The band sounded great. Shane was, well, Shane, and the audience didn't try to use me as a battering ram or vomit on me. All in all, a good time.

A girl walks into a Starbucks and...

No, not a joke; I go to Starbucks, order my usual latte (skim milk/one sugar, thanks for asking);
sit down, waiting to savor my $3.47 goodness when in walks a fellow. He is obviously a
member of the Nation of Islam (hat, bow tie; carrying a bag full of their newspaper, "Muhammad Speaks"). The gentleman sits down at my table with his Venti coffee--black, of course, and one by one, empties 16 packets of sugar into it (it was "Sugar In The Raw", non bleached--not Domino's, that imperialist, white as snow sugar, just so you know).

I was sorely tempted to ask him, "hey, would you like a little coffee with your sugar?"and guffaw but something told me he wasn't the LOL type.


No sadly, he didn't say anything; I was kinda hoping he would say something like "how does it feel to be the cause of all the wickedness in the world, white devil?", but the minute another seat became empty, he quickly fled.

Gotta admit a great set up for a joke: A Jew and a 5 Percenter walk into a Starbucks and...

You must think better of me

Oh, joy--another day, another blog.

Is it just me or are you sick of seeing Bill and Hillary Clinton? I just can't bear the thought of another four years of their schtick.  Before you think I'm a Republican, think again- Total Liberal.  It's just the whole Clinton act of playing good cop, bad cop. She opens her mouth; says something dumb, then gets teary eyed and says she's being picked on. He says (or does something) stupid and blames it on a vast right wing conspiracy. Oh, joy; it's like the '90's all over again,  except I don't have acne and I have an apartment. The election cycle is one dog and pony show that I wish I could avoid, altogether. Sorry, I am feeling a little fatigue.

Speaking of polling:
My ratings are down on http://www.humorblog.com/; this must be remedied, my minions.
Return your beloved Clementine to her former glory.

The stranger in my life

So here we go again.

A new tale of an author who wrote a "personal memoir", only later discovered to be fraud.

Margaret B. Jones' story of a young white/American Indian girl's life in foster care, complete with drugs, guns and gangs. Only problem, she's from a nice family and went to private school(sorry not the Bloods/Crips Academy for girls). See, apparently she knew people in this environment and wanted to speak for them. Ah, the old "giving a voice to the disenfranchised" excuse. Then how about writing about them and not making up a story? Novel concept.

I honestly don't know how people get away with this. In the internet age, nothing is private; any little thing about you will come out. Are these people delusional? Ever heard of www.smokinggun.com? Recently, a woman named Misha Defonseca, was found to have lied about her book, "Misha", a Holocaust memoir. How do you lie about being in a death camp? I know everyone wants to have their book published, but the Holocaust? How about I was a teen during the rise of the Nazis and was really unhappy? It's harder to prove it didn't happen; people can relate to your story and hey, if you do meet up with actual survivors there's none of that awkwardness, trying to relate to their story.

My personal fave was that doyenne of the book world, James Frey. His "Million Little Lies" was on the best seller lists and had that old Oprah stamp of approval. Until it turned out the story wasn't true--OOPS! Since I couldn't stand his whole smug approach to it all; his "yeah, I was an addict, I was in jail, I'm tough, I'll go to the dentist and not take any pain medication, I beat this thing on my own, go hard or go home" attitude. It was such a funny sight to see him on Oprah, turned into a stuttering mess. Schmuck.

Note to publishers: fact check. Note to authors: try calling it fiction.

Burn the lake; it's of no use to me anyway

Do you ever have one of those afternoons? I know that sounds like a set up for a joke.

There I am, just walking down the street; this fella's walking towards me. He decides to stop, drop and lie in the middle of the street. This stops me in my tracks. Sir--hello, sir can I help you? Nothing. Sir, this is dangerous--the guy could have easily been hit by a car. I tried to grab hold of his arm but he was limp and lifeless; not only was I repulsed by having to touch a stranger's(sorry, most people are filthy) hand, but he wouldn't help himself, leaving me to try to pick up the slack.

I got this funny feeling is this guy trying to kill himself? Has he given up all hope; thinks it would be better to just lie in the middle of the street and get run over by a car? Sure, the soccer mom in the Outback would be thrilled to know she was responsible for the death of this heavy overcoat wearing in 62 degree weather gentleman. Kids in the back: "Mommy, what was that large thud and crunch noise?" "Don't know kids; Mommy's putting the pedal to the metal and getting the McFuck outta here!"

Back to the gentleman... After several minutes of pushing and pulling with this dead eyed fella, I gave up; all hope lost I guess. I supposed I should be grateful Mr. Hopeless wasn't the head of the EPA. The lake's polluted--clean it? What's the point; burn the lake, it's of no use to me anyway. He lights his cigarette, over the blue flame of a roasting body of water, he smirks and walks away. I don't know what happened to this troubled gent, but I assume someone came along, picked him up, threw them on their back, slapped them around couple of times and told them to shape up or ship out. I am assuming cliche man lives in my neighborhood, but one never knows.

The lesser of two douchebags

"Oh, blogging is so five minutes ago"... usually said by someone who doesn't have anything to write about.

They probably spend way to much time on their webcam, complaining. Probably voted for Nader in 2000, said things like "there's no difference between Bush and Gore"--really? Guess what--Bush becoming President is your fault. You had to fight the fight, man. Ecch is what I have to say about that.

I can't believe Nader is actually running again; who would vote for him--have you learned nothing? The Green Party? Stop; please stop. Whether you like it or not, there are two parties: Democrat and Republican. No Green, Right to Life, Libertarian, Socialist, Communist, Bald Eagle, or whatever. Two parties; the rest are fringe groups, get it? Now cut the malarkey, register to vote and shut up already,

Oh and please go out once in a while; you're starting to stink.

By the by, saw "Grindhouse-Planet Terror" again this weekend; damn I loved that movie.
If you haven't seen it you should; if you did see it and didn't like it, well there's no hope for you, is there?