liz in la

oh shit. I'm a lunatic

Nothing makes me crazier than someone blaming PMS for a well-deserved chewing out. "It's not PMS, it's because you're an asshole." That's my standard response to such accusations.

Cut to last night.

"Did you try to break up with me on voicemail AGAIN?"

To which I replied, "NOOOO." And in my mind sullenly grumbled, because you KEEP NOT LETTING ME.

Were my grievances in yesterdays row valid? YES. They were. But my handling of it lacked finesse. Think shot putters. Or employing a super conductor to power an electric toothbrush.

I was in a fighting mood. A fighting mood fueled by crazy crazy estrogen and other equally malignant female hormones, coursing through my veins inciting pure, maniacal fury couple with rage in pursuit of a fix. In exasperation he asked, "what do you need?"

EVERYTHING. I responded. Then thoughtfully added, "Except scurvy. I could do without scurvy. WHAT DO YOU WANT?" I asked in a challenging, menacing tone that implied he should "bring it".

"I want to be your lover and your best friend."

ASSHOLE. NOT FAIR. Seriously. That was below the belt. COME ON. And thus the row ended. Because with that one little phrase he took all the fun out of it, defusing all my rampaging hormones until once again, I was just me, sitting on the couch, feeling mildly ashamed.

I must admit, I'm beyond impressed. Internet, we have a contender.

truth in advertising

I'm a meetup member of a running group here in LA. On Fridays they have a weekly "fun" run. I do not know what this means. As far as I know it is the same as the scheduled runs Wednesday and Monday.  However, the friday fun run begins at 5:30AM. That's in the morning people. And also explains why I have no firsthand knowledge of said "fun".

I think they either need to change the name or the time.

I know this is going to come as a shock, but the guy with the gun... yeah. I'm bored. I've expanded my search criteria and test driving a new replacement this weekend. Not a replacement, precisely, just something to augment my options for entertainment.

Maybe I'm expecting too much from actual people. Perhaps I should purchase a wii. Or a dog.

Hump day : again not living up to the promise

Oh Wednesday. You're like the middle child of days. In the shadow of your older, more successful siblings. Lacking the rambunctious, rebellious nature of the younger days.

Seriously Wednesday. Get a personality. make something of yourself. It's embarassing.

What the Hell Monday? (terrorists & termites)

I woke up this morning holding a lamp and cursing. My first conscious moment was a clatter followed by the slow motion tipping over of my bedside lamp. This is yet another reason why cats are evil awesome. With superhero reflexes I managed to catch the lamp before it hit the ground, from a starting position of dead asleep, head against the pillow, wrapped in blankets. This was all pre-alarm, pre-coffee, pre-consciousness.

I am spiderman.

This was the harbinger. I should have known that I would be visited with plagues, much like the Egyptians. It is nearing Passover so it's timely. Tomorrow expect rivers of blood, today I got the locusts. Actually, swarms of termites, launching a ground and air offensive against the fortress of my office desk. Here's what you should know about termites: they suck.

Most feelings of intense hatred boil down to jealousy. I admit I'm jealous of termites. Do you have any idea how awesome it would be if I could FLY AND BITE?! Technically I can bite, but it's not the same. I need venomy spit like spiders or mosquitoes.

How is this fair? Termites can fly AND bite. Honestly, not since sand fleas have I been so disgusted with intelligent design.

Wait. I don't believe in that.

And my date tonight with the boy who enforces federal laws was canceled due to mandatory overtime. Making me just the latest victim in the war on terror.

I may make this a weekly tradition -- my episodic, detailed account of why we should rename Monday "Badtuesday" or "StayInBedAllDay" or "ForTheLoveOfChristJustStabMeInTheEyeAlreaday".

do they make a floss for your brain?

Confession: Occasionally, I like to read trashy romance novels. Like three a year, so it hasn't reached levels that concern me... yet.

So I picked up a paperback that looked like the sort of thing that would involve some hardcore fornication. It was not, not at all. Actually it was a Christian Inspirational novel made to look like a trashy romance novel. Bastards. Evil genius bastards.

But because I have a problem quitting things, I read the whole damned thing. The plot line was about these people who had a close personal relationship with Jesus. And then these other people who didn't have a close personal relationship with Jesus being mean to them. In the end, the Christians were saved because God loved them more than the other people.

Did I mention there was no sex?

If you require further abuse

I'm addicted to twitter. So if you don't get enough of my inane bullshit here you can follow lizinla on twitter.

Consider it an inane bullshit booster shot.

strange fine equine with a shiny rump

I know the term "love child" is just code for bastard, yet, I think it's very romantic. It implies that your conception was not merely a reward to your father for remembering to take the garbage out, or for not drinking that fourth beer.

Also, it implies that orgasms were involved (well, obviously at least one was). Possibly even simultaneous ones.

My Aunt refers to bastards as "woods colts". I think that's equally romantic in a more primal way. In my mind it goes a little like this, a stud breaks out of the stable, goes for a wild night in the woods, meets some strange fine equine with a shiny rump, gets it on and then later in a kindergarten class somewhere little Johnny announces he doesn't have a Daddy. Wait. I mixed the metaphor.

Jedi mind trick

I cooked for a man. The last time I did this I never saw said man again. Fingers crossed that the hex is broken. During and after dinner he kept complimenting, nay, raving about the deliciousness of my culinary concoctions. As I've repeatedly told him that I cannot cook (read: don't like doing it and should never be expected to do it) at the end of dinner I Jedi mind tricked him. Placing my hand, palm out, in his face I said "I can't cook." He said, "hell yes you can!" Stupid not working Jedi mind trick.

shocking things and random observations

It sprinkled on me today. Water, fell right out of the sky, and landed on me. I stood in the rain and in outrage checked the weather forecast on my iPhone. My iPhone said it was not raining, leaving me to draw the only logical conclusion, I was hallucinating the water falling out of the sky.

Bristol Palin and her baby daddy broke it off. I for one am shocked. I really thought those crazy kids would live happily ever after.

The most morally bankrupt person I know wears a crucifix around his neck at all times. It is startling that it does not burn his flesh.

In conclusion, how much would it suck to try to kill yourself by jumping off Niagara Falls and then being one of only a handful of people to ever survive? Plus, you lose all your clothes in the descent. So, basically, you have hypothermia, you're naked and you just spectacularly fucked up killing yourself on the national news. Were it me, I would request that the ambulance just drop me back off at the top.

hello again

I've been ill. The universe struck me with a four day migraine. Thanks! I would appreciate if next time you visit your plague upon the deserving, like bad drivers and pedophiles. Just a friendly suggestion.

I have managed to get up to no good here and there. The thirties are fantastic. Like being 13 but with expendable cash.

I'll get religion in my forties, maybe fifties. We'll see how it goes.