I have a bod for sin...but no head for business.

So I bit the bullet and bought a new car Friday.  It's a Jeep Liberty, and it kicks all sorts of ass.  I can't wait to break it in with some mudding, but that would require rain, which ain't happening anytime soon. 

Now, I brought my sibling along with me to help with finances and stuff because I just don't understand any of it.  I'm by no means stupid, but anything to do with numbers and percentages, I'm like a nun in a sex toy shop...What are all these things and how do I use them?  She's much more number savvy, with a background as an accountant, so I know she'll steer me in the right direction.  I also go ahead and tell the salespeople that I'm not too good with this stuff, and some people might say that's naive, but I'm just hoping they have pity on me. 

My sister, always looking out for me, would not let me wear the see-through top I had to get a maximum discount.  That's no fun at all.  But the dude was more into my legs anyways, and began humming the ZZ Top song "She's Got Legs" when he first saw me get out of the car.  Listen, I'll use whatever tools I have to my advantage, and while it's usually the girls, I was happy to flaunt my lily-white legs in my wedge platforms to make my purchase. 

My brand new baby, the Honey Badger.  She's a crazy bitch.

Have a great day, and remember...The Honey Badger don't care.

Waiting on the boys who can't be men...

Let us discuss the age old question:  Why are men such bastards? 

What happened to gentlemen, courting ladies with flowers (gardenias) and candy (jelly beans or sour cherrys)?  No, instead I get guys who come up to me going "Yo, my name's T-Low, gimme your number." 

Seriously?  T-Low?  That makes it sound like you're a sugar substitute for tea.  And then, THEN, they want pictures of us.  And not of our faces.  Now, I don't have a problem if you're in a long-term relationship with somebody occasionally appeasing them with some skin flashing.  But dude, we just met.  And no, I don't need to see anything of yours.  I trust you're a guy.  There is no need to prove it to me.

Guys have no skill anymore.  They just come up, get in my personal space, try talking some bullshit to me that I see right through, then cop an attitude when I'm not "feeling 'em."  And yes, I know they are quite large and you've probably never seen anything quite as big as them before, but my boobs shouldn't be the topic of conversation, especially if you're trying to get to know me.

I went out on a date recently with someone I thought I knew.  Granted, some time had passed since I'd spoken to him last, but I wasn't expecting a complete personality change.  And when he wasn't trying to convert me to Christianity, he was trying to screw me.  How's that for mixed signals?  "I think you should reconsider your faith, but hey, let's engage in pre-marital sex."  What the hell??  Then he drunk dialed me a few days later (after ignoring a phone call from me) and told me he didn't think we could date because he was too controlling and we would end up killing each other.  Um, thanks? 

So, what do we ladies do?  Do we put up with the men Bridget Jones referred to as "alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts," and hope it's all an act.  Or pray that eventually a nice guy will come along who doesn't want to see a picture of my girls the first time we meet?

The House of Blues (or Reds and Purples and Blacks)

I'm a big believer in being true to one's self.  Yet for some reason, I can't reflect that when it comes to decorating my house.  I love all sorts of stuff, from Asian art to comic books, Mystery Science Theater and a man named Bruce.  So in trying to make my house more me, I think it's time for some serious redecorating. 

Now, the Asian art and stuff, I'm practically OD'ing on it, especially in my living room.  But that's not all I want to do.  My ideal house would have movie posters, a blend of classics such as Evil Dead and Enter the Dragon, and others such as The Black Swan (Tyrone Power not Natalie Portman) and Notorious.  Oh, and comic book posters too.  But isn't that overkill?  I have three bedrooms, and really not one of them is ME.  Should I make each room a theme?  Or just throw it all together and hope it looks eclectic and not totally ridiculous?

I don't really entertain since I live so far out in the sticks and I don't blame my friends for not coming to see me.  But on the rare occasion I get a visit, I do want them to think "This is so you."  And I'm just not there yet.

I have a few decks of Tarot that I would love to use in my bedroom, in traditional and non-traditional Tarot reading styles, and place them on my walls, but I've got wood paneling in there and I think it would look plain tacky.  And I'm anything but tacky.  ;)

To sleep, perchance to dream

~~ The night is the hardest time to be alive, and 4 am knows all my secrets ~~  Poppy Z. Brite

So I've been told I've embraced the way my insomnia has made me.  An interesting theory, but since I've been a chronic moon worshipper since I was 11, why wouldn't I think that's just my personality?  True, even I'm aware when I'm walking a fine line between sleep deprived and full blown Al Pacino in "Insomnia", but that doesn't mean that with more sleep I'd be any different.  Or does it?  Something for me to ponder as I once again debate the necessity of taking not only a sleeping pill, but an ADHD pill. 

Someone else told me I've never known "normal."  What the hell is normal?  Someones abnormal may be another person's normal.  What if a pill made my normal abnormal? 

I promise not all my blogs will be quite so philosophical.  In fact, most of it will be pure fluff and just the ramblings of a semi-sane 32-year-old single female working her way through the cosmos. 

So as I sit here and wait to caption a show that's already got captions on it (see, abnormal to me, but normal to the client) I wish you all a good night's sleep.  And to my friends who worship the Cheshire cat, I'll see you under the stars.