| On Vox: stop reading... now. |
[Jan. 26th, 2007|02:06 am] |
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I think this "theme" fits me better.
It appeals to me for some weird reason that I will not reveal in the next paragraph.
I wish it had the same font as the last theme I had,
but from what I gather (and I'm not usually very astute when it comes to computer shit) you can't change the font on a theme.
But if you know any way around this, by all means, enlighten me please. In a related story:
I smoke too much. In other news:
I want a cig.
Originally posted on record.vox.com |
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| qotd: can't help myself... i'd still do him. |
[Jan. 9th, 2007|08:15 pm] |
What's the most obsessive-compulsive thing you do in a normal day?
Submitted by Nikki.
Wow. Uh, are they really asking this? Shit. I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder 6 years ago. You tell me what the most OCD thing I do is. To me, it all seems normal.
Also, Bloc Party frontman, Kele Okereke has come out of the closet.
Damn, I wanted to have his babies. He's hot, and shit. |
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| don't read this, but keep in mind: ohio state sucks. |
[Jan. 9th, 2007|07:58 am] |
Now, I know this is hard to believe, but I watch a lot of football.
And I tuned in to the National Championship game last night expecting to see a good game.
I was highly disappointed. Ohio State sucked it up.
I was pulling for Florida*.
*=because
a) my mom went there
and b) I went to Auburn, and us SEC schools stick together.
and c) They are a damn good team and where as most people thought they didn't have a chance, I was pretty sure they were being underrated.
I was right.
I sucks to be an Ohio State fan right now. Especially knowing that you can have an undefeated season and then go to a Bowl Game against a defeated** SEC team and get blown out of the water.
**=Florida was only beat by one team this season:
Auburn.
I was pretty excited about that. |
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| i think i might've been adopted. |
[Dec. 26th, 2006|02:25 am] |
Ok, so I guess I should start this off by saying something along the lines of "Merry Fucking Christmas."
If the "Fucking" part offends you, then I'll say "Merry Christmas" instead.
If the thought of Christ offends you, I'll say "Merry X-mas" or "Happy Hannukah."
If Jews offend you (like they do Mel Gibson), then I'll say "Happy Kwanzaa"
And if blacks offend you (like they do Michael Richards), then I'll say "Fuck you."
If that offends you, then I'm happy.
So basically, I don't mind Christmas too much.
It gives my parents a great excuse to shower me with pretty much anything I could possibly not need,
except what's on my "Christmas List."
And then I get to laugh at how well they think they know me.
Yes, you read that correctly.
It's taken me 20 years of Christmases to see the complete flaw in it for me.
I don't quite understand why I have to make a fucking Christmas List*, if I get one thing that I write down and the rest are just random pieces of shit with missing receipts, so I can't even taken them back. I thought that happened to everybody. But no, people actually get shit they want. Goddamn, I got the bad end of this fucking deal.
Fuck. This. Shit.
*-and yes, my parents force me to fill out said Christmas List.
It's not really an option. We do them every year. Even when I'm not living at home.
It's absolutely ridiculous that I write down things exactly how I want them, and they find something that they'll think I like better. They are most likely wrong.
Who goes into H&M more often, Mom? Me or you?
Who would better know exactly what they have and what she wants, Mom?
Yeah. That's what I thought.
I just don't quite comprehend how it's hard to read my Christmas list and screw it up.
Seriously.
Basically it says something along the lines of:
A new iPod. (Preferably Black)
Gift Card from H&M.
United Nude Boot- Fold Hi. Size 91/2.
Starbucks Gift Card.
The Office (US version) DVDs. Seasons 1&2.
South Park DVDs. Season 7 or 8.
Little Miss Sunshine DVD.
NIN Downward Spiral-10th Anniversary Edition.
Slaughter House Five by Vonnegut.
Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck.
And what do I recieve?
iPod. (check)
Starbucks gift card. (check)
The Office. UK Version.
South Park. Season 4.
Tennessee Titans Hat.
A wallet. (I get one every year. I send one to Goodwill every year.)
Three purses I will never touch.
Chocolate. (I'm not much of a chocolate fan.)
A couple of random books off the best seller list (which I don't ever read off of.)
The new John Mayer CD. I hate John Mayer's music. I'll even go as far as to say, I loathe John Mayer's music.
A Napoleon Dynamite Calendar. (speechless)
Bracelets where one is neon yellow, one's neon pink, and one's neon orange.
Yeah. I know.
Compare those two lists for just a minute.
Fuck.
I need a cigarette.
At least half of the stuff I get for Christmas every year can go straight to Goodwill.
I wish I was kidding.
My parents never save the receipts because they're "just absolutely sure" I'm going to love everything.
I think I might've been adopted.
And if you don't believe that my Christmas List could be taken so terribly wrong,
then when I get my camera back from my friend who borrowed it, I'll take pictures just to prove it to you.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
and for the record, I don't care if it offends you. I just wanted to make a point. |
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| how do I loathe thee? let me count the ways. |
[Dec. 21st, 2006|05:48 pm] |
Ok, so I'm still just not in the writing mood.
This whole "can't-write" thing is depressing for me.
That's all I really want to say about that.
In other news:
Christmas-time is upon us and I've almost finished my Christmas shopping.
You'll probably all hate me for what I'm about to say next, but here goes nothing:
I loathe Christmas music.
Yes, you read that correctly.
I loathe Christmas music.
I would say that I "hate" it, but "loathe" expresses my true feelings more accurately.
I mean, seriously there's like, what, a total of 15 main songs that are done by 12 million different people.
Therefore, each song is done an average of 80 million times.*
And THEN, they just have to be played without interruption from the moment Thanksgiving ends to the moment New Years starts.
Goddamn I loathe Christmas music.
*-If you don't understand the math behind that, don't worry about it.
It's like, quantitative mathmatical astro-physics or some shit. Leave the tough stuff up to me.
You wouldn't understand anyway.
I understand your brain might be a little exhausted after all the elbowing your way through Best Buy while fighting with the old grandma lady over the last copy of Pirates of the Caribbean 2. And that's all after waiting in line for a fucking parking spot in the parking lot for three hours. Then once you actually win the fight against the old grandma lady because you kick her in the shins and run away, you have to wait in the cash register line.
I'm not bitter ar anything.**
But back to the Christmas music, everyone now does a Christmas album.
Heidi Klum did a Christmas album this year.
Yeah, here's the link to the youtube music video of her single Wonderland,*** and I have to say, it's the worst music video I've ever seen in my life.
Even worse that the I Wear My Sunglasses at Night one, but Sunglasses only has the leg up because the guy looks like a complete idiot and it's funny. Who thought that video concept, much less the song concept, was ever a good idea?
**-It's not like I did exactly that this afternoon.
I kicked the grandma in the ankles.
(I accidentally aimed too low for the shins, but I intended to kick her in the shins.)
***-I recommend that you take a shot of hard liquor before watching this. That way, you'll laugh instead of wanting to mass murder all german people. I'm not even going to continue that with a Nazi joke. I'm insensitive, but I couldn't really come up with a good joke to follow not that insensitive. Come on.
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| i know i'm the stupid type, but i'm not that stupid. |
[Dec. 5th, 2006|03:57 pm] |
I recently (and by recently, I mean about 15 minutes ago) had someone ask me if I had a hidden talent and yes, actually, I do.
But I'll be completely honest, it's nothing fabulous.
I know, I know. You don't have to say it, I know everything I do is fabulous, but really... this is not.
My hidden talent is that my shoulder blades are double-jointed and therefore,
I can touch my elbows together behind my back. Yeah, not so fabulous.
I was quick to point out to said person that never will I be at an elegant cocktail party where the subject comes up*.
And when/if it does, I will not be the person that goes,
I have this awesome hidden talent where my shoulder blades are double-jointed. Yeah, just watch this shit. Oh fuck, I have a backless dress on! You can not only see my elbows touch, you can also see my actually shoulder blades touch! Awesome!
Yeah, I know I'm the stupid type, but give me a little credit. I'm not that stupid.
*-There are two reasons for this.
1) When in hell am I going to attend an elegant cocktail party!?
and 2) Who in the hell talks about hidden talents at an elegant cocktail party?!
Also, I think this writers' block shit is wearing off, but this still reads a bit dis-jointed and such.
I'm sorry my negative 80 fans, you will have to suffer just a bit longer. |
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| On Vox: standstill. |
[Nov. 28th, 2006|03:30 am] |
 Writers' block is upon me. I have absolutely nothing to say...Or maybe I have so much I want to say, that I don't know where to start.Or I can't find a way to translate all my emotions into coherent thoughts... » Read more on Vox |
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| On Vox: $$$. |
[Nov. 14th, 2006|08:23 pm] |
I am completely convinced that Mall Madness is to blame for my excessive use of retail therapy. » Read more on Vox |
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| [this is relatively decent] |
[Nov. 2nd, 2006|02:58 am] |
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This entry comes with a preface due to the fact, I use Vox.
On the front page of Vox (which is now "no-invitation-needed"), there is a [this is good] box.
This is basically some shit the Vox crew found amusing in a random Vox blog
and linked to the front page so everyone can see how witty/entertaining said blog is.
Now you may read on, if you so desire.
You know,
I'm not far witty enough to ever make the [this is good] box on Vox's front page. But seriously, I don't really mind. I'm not sure that I want 80 million people commenting on my one blog deemed "decent enough" by the Vox crew. Lord knows none of my other entries are worth commenting on, just that one they linked. Which seems to be what happens.
80 million people is presumably (according to yours truly) about how many people are here now that this place is public. Aside from the terrible intro posts that we all do at one time or another because we feel it necessary, I haven't found anything else that bothers me about public Vox. It's not so bad, but I'm sure there's plenty of time for it to get to that point.
So anyway,
I've been hearing a lot about how November is National Novel Writing Month*, and I have to say, people are forgetting a few other extremely important facts.
Not only is it National Novel Writing Month,
it's also the most honorable Tobacco Awareness Month (which I obviously support negative 110%), Diabetes Awareness Month, TMJ Amareness Month, Diabetic Eye Disease Month, National Epilepsy Month, Prematurity Month, National Family Caregivers Month, Child Safety & Protection Month, Pulmonary Hypertension Month, National Hospice Month, National Adoption Month, Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month, National Epilepsy Amareness Month, Peanut Butter Lover's Month, Slaughter Month, International Drum Month, National Native American Indian Heritage Month (try saying that five times fast) and Aviation History Month.
It's also National Healthy Skin Month and that seems a little ironic seeing as we are getting into winter and I don't know about you, but I usually don't associate the winter with the sun.
Now I know this sounds absolutely fantastic,
but from what I hear, November's always been insanely jealous of January.
Why is this?
Well, January gets the most fought over title of National Soup Month. But then again, January's always been envious of February which is National Hot Breakfast Month. Now I'm sure I could go on and on about how each month is jealous of the next due to it's more intriguing "National (Blank) (Blank) Month" titles, but I really just stated this to prove that American's come up with some really shitty ideas for "National (insert shitty idea here) Month" titles. See what I mean?
I'm just glad they didn't overlook September,
because ever since 1986, it's been called: National Asshole (Because Anne Was Born This Month) Month.
I find this a bit ironic, because
1: I was born this month.
2: In 1986.
3: My name's in the title.
4: I am an asshole.
Coincidence? I think not.
With all that said, November is very pleased to claim the one and only, National Split Pea Soup Week, during its very own second week and National Pizza with the Works Except for Anchovies Day on the 12th. Talk about prestigious.
Speaking of prestigious,
I saw The Prestige for the second time last night, and it was still as awesome as the first time I saw it. I'm pretty sure you should go see it. It'll change your life. Plus, Christian Bale is hot. And by "hot," I mean, "Yeah, I'd-fuck-him-hot."
*=In following with the whole, NaNoWriMo, apparently somebody's come up with NaSoAlMo.
This is short for "National Solo Album Month," in which participants write an entire solo album within the month of November. Check out the page. The FAQs are pretty unentertaining and pointless. |
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| it's a great day to be alive. |
[Oct. 28th, 2006|12:56 pm] |
I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm in a great mood today.
This is most likely because on top of everything else,
I am experiencing my second kidney infection in 6 months.
It's absolutely fantastic.
Don't believe me?
Yeah, I wouldn't believe me either.
If someone were to pitch me the idea of suicide right at this moment, I'd probably totally buy it.
But then again, they probably wouldn't even have to it pitch well, because I totally thought of that myself.
The medicine they gave me makes my pee turn orange.
I know what you're thinking:
a) Anne that's disgusting. Why are you telling me this?
b) It can't really be orange.
c) I hate you.
And yes, it is orange. Like really orange. It's kind of creepy. I know this is disgusting to some of you, but I'm sure you'll live. When you get a kidney infection and you think to yourself, "Shit, I didn't think kidney's could hurt this bad."
Remember me, telling you: "Fuck yes, they can."
This shit's painful. I feel like I've been karate chopped in the kidneys.
Oh, and those of you thinking the answer "c" above?
Yeah, that's cool. I don't really give a fuck. I hate you too.
See? Now we're even. |
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| i'm not angry, i'm just expressing my inner anguish. you know how i do. |
[Oct. 24th, 2006|11:08 pm] |
You know what really fucking pisses me off?
No, I'm not talking about that bitch again...
I mean, like normal stuff, other than humanity in general.
Well, since I've given you enough hints
and all you can come up with is the bitch I've been speaking about lately and humanity in general,
both of which are true, but not today.
Today, what really pisses me off is when someone decides to eat the rest of the Wheat Thins, save two, and put the box back in the pantry.
Who in the hell does that?
My sister.
If you ask her why, she'll say something along the lines of,
"Well, I felt bad eating the last one, so I saved a couple for the next person."
And you know, that's sweet and everything,
but now I'm craving Wheat Thins, merely because I opened the pantry door look for anything to eat.
I wouldn't have ever wanted Wheat Thins, but upon seeing them, I thought to myself,
Wow, those would be awesome to eat right now.
If I'd seen Goldfish first, I might be craving those right now, and satisfying my craving,
because there'd be more than two left.
But no, I want Wheat Thins because you had to leave two in the box that's placed right at eye level when I swing open the door.
Two Wheat Thins are not going to satisfy this craving.
That is what really fucking pisses me off right now. |
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| oh yeah, that's what i should've said. i'm such a dumbfuck. |
[Oct. 18th, 2006|03:17 am] |
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You know how there's that time where someone says something and you think,
God, I bet I could come up with the best comeback for that. So you think about it for .2 seconds and come up with one, a really good one, that's absolutely perfect in every way, shape and form.
Then you start thinking,
Wait, is it too late to say it now? Will this person even realize we're still talking about that? Or are they already thinking about something completely different and they'll just totally not get it.... So you try to decide to say it or not, but then the window of time completely disappears and you're left with this badass comeback that you can never use because this was really the only situation ever in your life where this particular comeback would be applicable. I hate that.
It happens to me 80% of the time.*
And that, is fucking l'esprit d'escalier. *=Well not 80%,
because lots of times I just decide not to say the awesome comeback
because it's a little rude or I don't think the person will get it,
so we'll change that guessed percentage to 79%.
Also,
Note to Self:
Next time I am hooked into going to see a ballet (for $50!), plan suicide the day before.
And don't stay up all night drinking beforehand.
Although, the symphony music and quiet, dark theater was perfect for a 4 and 1/2 hour nap.
Not that I did that or anything....
Thank god i don't snore.
My friends didn't even notice.
I'm that god.
Ha.
I just typed "god" instead of "good"
and then went back and changed it...
but then changed it back because it's funny.
If you think you're having deja vu
(and no, I don't mean the strip club),
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| morals? is that the new bbq restaurant in town? |
[Oct. 8th, 2006|09:12 pm] |
So, however long it's been since we got my new kitten, we came up with an inital name and have now decided to change it.
It's now "Wink" instead of "Pumpkin."
Whatever.
Personally, I don't really give a fuck.
Why? you ask.
Well, young Jedi, read on...
You know, this doesn't even matter, because the entire family's just going to call it "Kitty" anyway.
Or the prefered nickname of the moment, "Hell Cat."
Unless we named it "Cocksucker" or something like that.
Then, I'd just call it by it's name so I could call something a cocksucker 50 million times a day.
And I'm sure that would never get old.
...Psyche.
Moral of the story: Don't count your chickens before they hatch.
2nd Moral of the Story: Don't put Anne in charge of the "Moral of the Story."
3rd Moral of the Story: Buy the Killers' new album, Sam's Town. It's the best thing to ever happen to me.
...and I wish I was kidding. |
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| the only speeding i do is the drug kind, but without the "ing" part. kidding. |
[Oct. 4th, 2006|05:36 pm] |
A few weeks ago, I got a speeding ticket.
Remember that time I said,
"I don't speed, but I never wear my seatbelt, so I'm fucked regardless?"
No? Well, it's linked here for your reading pleasure, if you so desire to indulge.
(Which you won't, but that's totally cool with me..)
But anyway, it's still true.
"What?" you ask me, "But you just said-"
I know what I said, thank you very much.
And it still stands that I do not speed.
I know what you're thinking,
How'd you possibly get a ticket for speeding if you don't speed?
Well, here's the story:
I'm driving along, probably going about 74 or so in a 70.
(I know, technically that's speeding, but seriously, it's not really speeding.)
Anyway,
it's like 3 in the morning or something and there aren't any other cars on the road,
so I really have no point of reference.
Well, all of a sudden, I see a random car pull out right behind one of the bridges and turn on it's lights.
I look down at my speedometer: "73"
Ok, I think, maybe he thinks I'm drunk?
That would really suck,
because then I'm going to have to go get out of my car
and do the whole sobriety test
and I haven't had a single thing to drink.
(Which, by the way, has happened to me in the past.)
I pull over and put on my seatbelt really fast.
(I told you I don't wear it...)
and he walks up next to my car.
"Miss, do you know how fast you were going?"
"My speedometer said 73, sir."
"Well, I think you need to get that checked out, or stop lying to me."
"The first option sounds like my best choice."
"Can I see you license and registration?"
"Of course."
He goes back to his shitty Chevy Lumina cop car while I sit there and steam.
Is he pulling one over on me?
Goddamn.
Maybe I do need to get my speedometer checked out.
Fuck.
And then he issues me a ticket, tells me to drive safe, and says goodnight.
I drive off, wondering if I'm going the correct speed limit.
So I go 60, just in case.
And for the record, this is a relatively new car to me.
It's a 2000 VW Jetta, but I've only had it since the end of April,
which is about 5 months or so and I would've thought that I'd have noticed that my speedometer was off by now.
But, maybe I'm just dense.
Which is a distinct possibility.
Also, this got me thinking,
I wonder if cops ever stop a drunk driver or a speeder and then come up to the car and realize it's an ex-girlfriend.
Wouldn't that be awesome?
I'm sure they'd just think,
Hell yeah motherfucker, you cheated on me and now you've got jailtime for a DUI.
Karma's a bitch.
That'd be awesome for them.
And I'm pretty sure it'd be my only motivation for ever wanting to be a cop.
That and I'd get to carry a gun and feel badass.
But since I have so many urges to gun down everyone in the room,
I don't think it'd be very safe.
And for the record,
it's really hard to type when you have a small orange fuzzball named Pumpkin in your lap who likes to attack your moving fingers. Half the time, I'm holding him back with one hand while I'm typing with the other. This takes talent, folks. And it's not a talent I have, but it is one I can see myself acquiring here in the near future. |
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| "wait. now don't give me any credit, because i'd rather not disappoint later." |
[Oct. 3rd, 2006|12:23 pm] |
Ok, so this is from postsecret.com and if you don't know what that is, you should check it out.
but, I assume you've all been well versed in how the whole thing works.
Anyway,
I saw this one this week and I have to tell you it's one of my absolute favorites.
Now, I'm not exactly sure why, yet.
And I think I'm going to have to do some more self analyzing before I figure it out.
"Why?"
you ask.
Well, you see, the reason I like it is not the obvious answer, unfortunately.
I can't directly relate to this postsecret.
I know exactly what's going on at work.
Wait. Now, don't give me any credit because I'd rather not disappoint later.
To be honest, it's extremely hard for me to not know what's going on.
I'm a fucking server.
I put on a smile, take their order, and get the kitchen to make it.
Then I take it to them and give them the ticket.
It's not hard.
And I like that I totally spelled that out for you like you had no idea what a server does.
ha.
Anyway, the point it that I know exactly what's happening at my job.
So, I have a few other options/reasons I could like this one so much.
one:
The way it's written. It sounds like something I could've penned myself. I mean, it's kind of my style, right?
And for the record, I didn't send this in. I'm not tooting my own horn here people. I mean, seriously, do I ever do that? I call myself a "motherfucker." Point made.
two:
There's somewhere else in my life that I have no idea what's fucking going on.
And this is completely true. I'm having problems with some guys. about certain things.
And I don't really want to elaborate because there's some people that may be reading this that I don't know read this who may know those particular guys.
Does that make any sense?
"Yes, Anne, it makes tons of sense because you're fucking paranoid."
Just say it, I know you want to.
and three:
It's just funny. But, I don't think it's this one, it's got to be one of the first two,
because I seem a little abnormaly attached to it.
I mean, come on, I did write a post on lj about it. |
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| you're going to hate me. what's that? you already do? good. this will just affirm those feelings. |
[Sep. 28th, 2006|01:45 am] |
Ok, so I'm back.
And I'm pretty sure you're going to think I'm one of the worst people ever after this.
Well, unless you hate animals, then you'll be cheering me on every step of the way.
But if you're in that organization...
God. What's it called?
You know... The one with all the crazy people that throw flour and eggs at perfectly good fur coats
and stand on street corners and yell something along the lines of:
"ANIMAL ABUSE! I'M GOING TO FUCK YOUR SHIT UP IF YOU DON'T QUIT IT."
Oh that's right, PETA.
Well, you can go fuck yourself.
I love animals and I find no reason for cruel and unusual punishment towards them,
but for fuck's sake, get. a. life.
Anyway, so my cat died, right?
Yeah, thursday we put him down.
It was the absolute saddest thing I've dealt with in a long time.
Well, we decided we wanted to bury him in the backyard and the whole family wanted to be there.
There was just one itty bitty problem....
After we put him down, my dad and brother had to go out of town.
Like, right after.
So, I'm holding the dead cat thinking,
"What am I going to do with him until they get back in three days?"
Think on that on for a moment.
Still thinking?
"Oh no!" You're saying.
Oh yes.
"There's no way you coul have-"
"You wouldn't ever think to-"
"You mean you actually considered-"
Yes, we put him in the freezer.
There, I said it.
It's out of my system.
Yes, we wrapped him in a beach towel, put a trash bag around him and stuck him in our freezer.
our. freezer.
You're in disbelief.
Should I spell it out for you?
My. Dead. Cat. Spent. Three. Days. In. Our. Freezer.
And seriously, who does that?
Well, apparently Anne's family does.
And I'm pretty sure it was something right out of National Lampoon's Vacationdeleted scenes.
Then, we told my younger sister that he was somewhere else while we waited for dad and bro to get home.
She didn't even know he was in the freezer. It would've tore her to pieces.
So, since she didn't know. The morning we were to bury my kitty, we took him out and let him thaw.
Yes, you heard me. Just like the ground beef you have stored for game weekends.
We froze and thawed my cat.
Then laid him to rest, finally.
God. We are so insensitive.
And you think I'm the worst person ever.
NEWS FLASH!
I am.
no surprises there.
Also, we got a new kitty.
It's precious.
I named him Pumpkin.
Don't act like you don't like that name.
It's cute and you'd be surprised, but I have a soft spot for small orange fuzzballs with huge blue eyes.
So, sue me.
Also, it's better than naming it a people name.
Seriously, all of you that named your dog "Molly" or your cat, "Jake."
Yeah, I don't like that.
Probably because I've met way too many dogs with my name or a variation which could include, but isn't limited to:
Anne, Anna, Annie, Annabelle, Annabella, Anna Banana...
I've met more pets with names similar to mine than humans.
I'm not going to lie, it's a bit insulting.
I will leave you with one make that two thing(s):
Don't act like he's not the cutest thing you've ever seen.
Seriously, don't you just want to squeeze him until his beautiful blue eyes pop out of his head?
I'm pretty sure I do,
but I won't.
Because, you see, that's the real reason my last kitty, Simba, died.
No, I'm kidding.
He had diabetes.
But seriously, isn't that and being squeezed to death practically the same thing?
No?
Ok, then. Nevermind.
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| my kitty |
[Sep. 21st, 2006|01:13 pm] |
we put my kitty to sleep today.
i cannot stop crying.
he was a good kitty.
you would've liked him.
i promise.
maybe i'll put a picture up later.
right now, i can't stand to look at any. |
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