Random things, horny queens, blogger police and that lonely storm within

Well, my darling little angels, I am here, incredibly frustrated by the modern world, and about to kill someone just on general principle. Fret not; I believe in the ten commandments. In the meantime I cannot get a fricking copy of my credit report b/c satan is in charge of the credit card industry, life continues to plague me with the hellishness of unemployment (perhaps about to change; we shall see, I had a "networking" moment today, THANK YOU JESUS!), and I need to get the fuck out of Dodge before I start to beat myself against the ground repeatedly until I am bleeding. Oh, to get away, and oh, for quiet to descend upon me like gentle angels like you, my invisible, mostly silent readers. I am officially fed up with noisy urban areas and in this hell state, ya need the cash to find anything resembling quiet. It be hard, my friends. It be VERY hard.
So that's my life. I am sick of dirty devices, and the rampant horniness that descends upon women my age without relief (vibrators only last for so long, my friends, before the real thing is required). Ooh, did I say too much? The blogger police are about to come get me! As if. As if. Still, I do not wish to OFFEND. Ahem. You can see it's life be damned, or something. I am really going crazy; why was I born into this century again? Maybe someone could explain it to me, because I ain't in the right one. Too damned crowded and noisy for me, my little friends!
So there you have it. Obama is King, Hillary may some day be queen, I am a lonely woman trying to find her way, and everyone's got their shit. Getting away will work, although the only ticket I have is on Southwest and they do not fly into Atlanta which means I'd have to rent a car and since I do not have a fricking credit card they tack on incredible amounts for insurance. It really, really sucks.
Like so many things in life. And I should have taken that food home today; I did not. My date of sorts, brief as it was, included food I was unable to eat. Oh yes! I went out on a date today. That's another blog for another day, my friends. He's cute, but possibly into narcotic substances. Not my thing, not my thing. Just give me the legal drugs, like chocolate and caffeine.
Until we meet again, if we ever do. Shalom, my pets. SHALOM!
Go see the Twilight movie.

A Tad Too Much Realism, and my ardent crush on Jon Hamm

I hate my life! I hate myself! Feel better, yet? Ah, if only Kurt Cobain had decided to live I'd finally have a soul mate! Too bad he's dead and liked that Courtney Love person (albeit not without some significantly horrific conflict).
I am having perhaps the worst day of my wretched infinitesimal life and have come to the public library to commune with technology. Soon people will refuse to speak to one another and will simply sit down in front of computers, plugging their little minds into virtual reality without a murmur or a complaint. Great literary prophets will dance joyously in their premature graves as it all pans out here in the basically damned and doomed 21st century: life has become more about connecting with your I-Pod than with another human being! Admit it, people, you lovingly stroke that cell phone and that I-Pod and that laptop of yours and would be lost, lost, lost without them!
And now of course all the good ones are dead: David Foster Wallace, George Carlin, Paul Newman - I could go on and on as superior minds succumb to old age or to depression (that great cliche: writers and depression) and we are left with the teeming ignorant masses and those who think that The Golden Girls was a meaningful TV show and that the Twilight series is really well-written. It's enough to make anyone weep in isolated desolation (self-conquering marriage of adjective and noun, right there, people). Ah, to be alive a hundred years ago - has anyone ever been happy, or should I up my antidepressant dosage? Even that fails to be funny - life's just depressing, folks, so maybe it's time I checked myself into the funny farm or, barring that, learned how to skeet shoot.
First, I pray. For peace, for everyone I know, and for this creepy ass fucking town where I currently live (filled with more creepy predatory guys than I have ever seen outside a rest room in Grand Central Station). I pray for you and for me and for the upcoming election, and for maybe a little more understanding and compassion out there in the jaded suburbs, urban areas, rural areas, byways and highways and overpasses and underpasses and various psychic corridors where basically, we all live. We all live in the subconscious and the conscious mind simultaneously, and we all have a reason to be alive. I just haven't found mine, yet. And it's been a tough long haul out of the childhood of sexual abuse I endured, and I long to do the things I feel I was born to do.
It's just been very, very hard to do them, so hard I kind of wonder why I bother trying anymore when I've lived in one debilitating situation after another. Is there an end to it all?
Oh yeah; that lead actor on Mad Men is HOT. And they said she wasn't crazy, alas.