Thursday, March 30, 2006
or
I'm Too Fat To Pay Attention To Real Life
Enough, you hear me? Enough! I don't want to think about real problems and find real solutions. I don't want to examine and reinterpret my existence. It all sucks anyhow. Nggyya.
Gotta get out. Gotta find something else to look at.
Ran into this little number quite accidentally. It's a beautiful song, just right for getting suck in your head, instantly drowning out whatever nagging doubts might be hooming around in there. Cool. Yeah. Like a Dragonfly.
Second, raise your hand if you love Fitday!
Ok, raise your hand if you don't know what Fitday is! I see. Well, for your information, Fitday is the coolest thing that could ever happen to an obsessive-compulsive calorie-monitoring fitness freak. Yesssss. You just sit down at the end of the day, type in everything you ate, and it does all the talleying and figuring for you. Calories from fat. Calories from protein vs calories from carbs. How many grams of fiber. Everything. And then you write in how much exercise you did (or didn't do), and it totals how many calories you burned-off. Then you can compare input vs. output. Over one week. Two weeks. A month. A year.
I used to do all these calculations in my head, but thanks to the magic of modern technology, the computer does them for me! Though, sometimes I think it's a little leniant. I mean, 250 cals in a white russian? Come on!
I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart.
FOR EXAMPLE: One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.
Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says "I don't feel like it, I just want you to hold me."
I said "WHAT??!! What was that?!"
So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to hear... "You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man." She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"
Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.
The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment her new clothes, so I said lets get a pair for each outfit. We went onto the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you...she was so excited. She must have thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play tennis. I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement. Smiling with excited anticipation she finally said, "I think this is all
dear, let's go to the cashier."
I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't feel like it."
Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled WHAT?"
I then said "honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while. You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"
Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either....but at least that bitch knows I'm smarter than her.
Alright girls. Repost this if you agree. Hell even if you disagree, repost it.
Men, repost this because you have balls
Haha! Dumb bitch. Whoo. I would definately do this to my girl friend if I were in a similar situation. That's hilarious.
Seriously ladies (and actually, some guys too!) sex is an essential. It's just gotta be there. If one partner goes unfulfilled because of the other's indecisive, passive-agressive, I-have-a-headache bullshit, bad things happen. Low self esteem. The demise of an otherwise interesting relationship. World War III. And shit.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
or
Girlz Gone Wild - Spring Break
Spring break, in a word, rockedmyfuckingsox. I won't go into detail, as no one really gives a shit about my life, except for yours truly. However, I will share a few photos. Of my spring break. Gone WILD. And stuff.
On the evening in question, I met up with Zack and a few of his buddies for a night of clubbing.
We went to Havok - a weekly goth event. This time, The Birthday Massacre was performing. They're dark, electronic, edgy, and hard rockin'. The lead singer has incredible stage presence. I give them a seal of approval.
Chibi had the kindness to sign my hotpants.
My dear friend Kat came, too. She's one of the few people from high school with whom I still associate. Look just behind me and to the right (your right) of the censor bar.
It sure was good to see Zack. We've got an incredible story behind how we met. If enough people ask for it, I would gladly be self-indulgent enough to put it up.
C'EST TOUT!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
or
Open Sesame
Last night, I got home at 9pm and had nothing immediately available to eat for dinner. Damn. So I looked through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth slapping together. This, gentle readers, is a recipe born of substitution and necessity. And it turned out damned good.
Keep in mind that these measurments are approximate. I usually don't measure ingrediants when I cook, but instead eye-ball the proportion. So I don't know exactly. If the liquid I've written here looks like it's going to oversoak the batter, skimp on the soymilk.
SESAME CORN BREAD
3/4c corn meal
1 1/4c whole wheat pastry flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/2 c granulated splenda (If you're not afraid of sugar, I guess you could use that too.)
1/3 c tahini
2 tbsp sesame seeds
1/4 c pureed tofu (Or an egg, if you're . . . one of . . . those people.)
1 c soy milk (Which is soooo much cooler than milk, but you can be a n00b if you want.)
Combine dry ingredients with a licked-clean plastic fork. Add wet ingredients. Suddenly remember to preheat oven to 400F. Mix batter until all is moistened. Spray pan of some sort - I used a 9X9 glass number - with cooking spray, dump batter into pan. Muffin tins or a loaf pan would work fine, too. Slip the whole mess in the oven when it's hot enough. Pull out foil left in oven from toasting bread a week ago. Bake 10-20 minutes (depending on what pan you used) until a chopstick stuck in the center comes out clean 'n dry.
It was pretty damned good. The sesame flavor was really evident - very mild and nutty. The seeds gave a nice texture. I might toast them first next time (if I get ambitious). PEACE, my children. And like, make some coh'n bre'd.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
or
Your Mom Has a Nut Allergy!
Finally, an energy bar/meal replacement that EVERYONE and ANYONE can eat: THE LARA BAR!
I found this little gem in a Kroger's, minding its own business in the natural foods section. Usually I buy Luna Bars for my bar and bar-related needs, so when I saw "Lara Bar" I thought, what is this, some kind of sick joke?
Yes! It is! The Lara Bar has no: added sugar, additives, preservatives, artificial colors or flavors, animal products, genetically modified ingrediants, gluten, soy, or wheat. It is also kosher, and a raw ("living") food to boot.
Finally, a snack that even your raw-foodist, strict jewish, gmo-fearing, vegal pal with celiac disease can eat. I mean seriously, anyone can eat this fucking bar! Well, unless they have a nut allergy (INGREDIENTS: . . . walnuts . . . almonds . . .) but who gives a crap about those idiots anyhow? People with nut allergies should just curl up and die right now. If you can't eat a Lara Bar, you can't participate in LIFE, man. Your very existance is unnatural.
But that's neither here nor there. I had to buy one. I was sure it would taste like crap. But I had to know for sure. So I bought one with "apple pie flavor" and disappeared into the night.
As it turns out, the Lara Bar was pretty tasty. It aliviated my hunger and, once consumed, kept my bloodsugar pretty damned even. I give it the stamp of approval. I liked it so much, in fact, that I checked out a hippie webforum topic devoted to the Lara Bar. Their complaint? It's not organic.
DOH!
Monday, March 20, 2006
Your Fortune Is |
 |
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Or
What's Your Sign?
---------- Original Message ------------
From: Pseudo Nym
Date: Feb 12, 2006 3:06 PM
hello, larkin my name is Pseudo Nym. I'm fairly new to myspace. To be honest I wasn't interested in making friends just yet until I work my profile, but I've been lookin around at other people's profiles, and iIsaw yours earlier today and was like nah I'm not going to look, but here I am lookin' now and you sound ....interesting . I would love to hear from you.
From: Larkin
Date: Feb 12, 2006 11:11 PM
I'm thrilled that you found my self-aggrandizing pleas for attention stimulating.
To see grainy web-cam pictures of my tits, press 1. To hear me read my latest poem about self-mutilation, press 2 now. For a juvinile treatise on my suspected psychological ailments, press 3. If you want to proposition me for sexual favors, press 4. To hear me sing a Christina Aguilera song in the shower, press 5 now. To leave a massage, just stay on the line, and one of our operators will assist you.
I jest.
I would have something more interesting to say - perhaps something personally relevent to the both of us - but your profile leaves me with little material. So you're a scorpio, eh? Me too.
Um, that's it. Yeah. For now. Hope to talk to you soonish.
-Larkin
P.S.: Read my blog! It cures cancer and makes your coat glisten! Http://www.shinyobjects.blogspot.com
Or
I'm Still Not Mentioning My Cool New Hair-do
So I'm finally back in Tey-hass, gentle readers. Don't come rushing to kiss my feet just yet. There's a hitch: MAKE-UP ASSIGNMENTS.
*vomits into the potted palm*
Since I've been ill for, oh I don't know, a year and a day, I have my work cut out for me. Good thing I have a solid background in the Three R's (Reading, pRating, and cRamming). I'll manage.
In other news, I ate a pound of boiled shrimp. Vegan. Hah. Not today. Look at it this way - those shrimp were probably miserable in their over-crowded tank. Death merely set them free of their mortal suffering. And the bodies? Waste not, want not, I say.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
or
Those Who Can't, Bitch
*swats at nothing*
Why, you're all nothing but a pack of cards!
Gentle readers, I am afraid that I can't sleep. INSOMNIA. It's hell. It doesn't matter when I wake up, how much exercise I do, or if I take melatonin. It doesn't matter how many bourbons I drink. It doesn't matter what time zone I'm in, or what the temperature is, or if i'm hungry or not, or if I'm wearing my favorite pyjamas, or if i've meditated.
I CAN'T SLEEP!
After a few days of this, I begin to obsess over the strangest things. For example, tonight, I can't stop thinking about something a friend told me - a friend with an eating disorder. She told me "It doesn't matter what I weigh; the longer I stay a particular weight, the fatter my reflection becomes."
ANd, and like, it makes so much fuckin' sense, you know? I turn it over and apply it to myself - how the more stable I become, the more I want to change - and . . . and . . . I'm too fatigued to make the leap. I just know that a few hours of rest would turn this post into something . . . I don't know. At least something coherent.
But it's so fuckin' true, man. That's perfectionism right there. When one's highest achievement becomes standard. When one's standard becomes insufficient. When one's bad becomes ugly. There's no end. It's not even about the goal anymore, it's about the chase.
But what am I chasing? What am I hungry for?
Why can't I sleep at night?
Sunday, March 12, 2006
or
Shut. UP. You Dumb BITCH.
Look, it's not farging Hemmingway, but have to post SOMETHING, gentle readers. I really have been neglecting you, haven't I? The shame nearly consumes me. I most humbly beg your pardon.
Well, now that that's over with, I present to you a fresh selection of random quotes.
"It's hard to be coy when you're naked."
"Which is it? 'Jam it up your anuses' or 'Jam it up your ani'? No wait, I've got it: 'Jam it up your respective anuses."
"You're one sexy chicken. I'd like to uh, you know. Touch your tail."
Enough of that. In other news, I've been practicing throat singing. You see, gentle readers, Kay suddenly picked up an interest in it, and since I am not to be outdone, I decided to pick it up as well. Practice is going splendidly. Once I managed my first thin, beginner's harmonic, I couldn't stop.
I've been crooning and keening obsessively for about 24 hours straight. All through the night, in fact - much to the chagrin of my neighbors. Somewhere around 3.39AM this morning, I figured out how to produce three tones at once using my throat, tongue, and mouth. All I had to do was position them in a particular way and keen really loud at the upper end of my range. I didn't want to lose the trick, so I practiced it for about 45 minutes straight, sliding up and down to find the perfect shriek. Great fun. I found a few frequencies that almost split my head. Harmonics that would make Mariah Carey blush. Screams that made the windows resonate in sympathy. Palatial trills that
Not everyone was so thrilled with my discovery. At about 4.17AM, my next door neighbor descended into his living-room, banged on our mutual wall, and . . . well, the rest is history.
Monday, March 06, 2006
or
Cardiac Disease
For the record, I am not dead. Nor do I have any intentions of becoming dead in the near future.
I am sick, gentle readers. Horribly, terribly sick. Which, I suppose, explains why I haven't been posting. Some manner of fever and cough has trickled back into my lungs. I pray it's not a return of the pneumonia. What confounds me is that I'm not smoking a damned thing these days, and I'm STILL sick. I've been sick all winter long. Why did I ever quit? *pout*
And heartsick, too. If I've told you, you know why. If I haven't, well, I'm surely not going to smear my business all over the internet like a petulant 14 year old, as tempting as that may be.
So tired. So sick. So weak. If only I didn't feel so physically ill, I could use my anxiety and depression to get a lot of menial shit done. And then I'd feel better. I wouldn't have homework/dirty dishes/laundry/applications hanging over my head.
Ugh. As soon as I get off work, I had better go back to sleep.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
or
Bohemian Revelry
The Carpe Diem Society had its first meeting this afternoon - a brief period during which we made numerous sexual puns, tapdanced on the coffee table, and figured out who will be rooming with whom. Most successful.
For anyone who's interested, the roster reads as follows:
GIRLS:
Larkin
Caitlin McArthur
Desiree Gerringer
Kenzie Allen
Mysti Niermann
BOYS:
Kay
Alex Radunz
Greg Galloway
Zi Teng Wang
Tim Ryan
Hubert Chang
Michael Browning
Cesar Lizarraga
Which leaves us with a perfect total of 13! We have enough people for a common room! YESSSS!
Oh, how it did my heart good to see the smiling mugs of my dearest friends on every side. What a year it shall be! We'll all live together and get into all sorts of mischief!
STAY TUNED!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
or
How I Wasted Time By Being Kind To Myself
I did something rather rare today, gentle readers. Rare for me, at least. In the mmiddle of my busy day, I took two hours - which I could have used to do my homework or feed my neuroses - to de-stress.
But what does that mean exactly, "de-stress?" It's a popular word in our culture, that's for sure. Almost everyone you meet these days is simply paralyzed with stress, flapping about like disembodied tail come straight from the lizard, drinking or smoking or eating too much to make up for the hours of self-control they must impose upon themselves to function "adequately" in modern society.
Well. Ironic, isn't it, that the people who should most benefit from an hour to themselves can't afford to take it? Most afternoons, I sit indian style, hunched over a text book, balancing my laptop on my knee. At my right sits a can of energy drink. At my left sits a cup of tea or diet coke - they alternate. And this is how I waste my life, from sunset to sunrise, almost every day of the week.
Not today. Today, I let myself go. I worked out for 70 minutes, watched porn for another 30, ate a snack, and ran to work. Boy do I feel better! My tension headache hasn't come back yet. Let's see how long the calm lasts . . .
