Lateshoes

Suck it, dickwads.

Sean Hannity, Sarah Palin – don’t think I’ve left you out. Seriously, why do you hate America? Why are you committing treason?  Why do you hate our freedom? Uggggggh. You’re so annoying. Please learn the difference between “fascism” and “socialism”….please, show me YOUR birth certificate…. and for the love of Mike, please stop taking pictures of the nights when you drink hooch out of each other’s ass-cracks!
Fucking hypocrites, sore losing, racist (yeah, I said it), fascist (yeah I know what it actually means) pack of douchepains! This one’s for you.

Cat People (Putting Out the Fire) – David Bowie

Judy Is A Dick Slap – Belle & Sebastian

Dirty, Dumb & Comical – Unnatural Helpers

Dumbells – Mission of Burma

Museum Of Idiots – They Might Be Giants

Dude Yr So Crazy!! – Le Tigre!

Going Insane – Vivian Girls

Bin Laden didn’t blow up the projects – Immortal Technique/Mos Def

Devil House – Shonen Knife

Purely Evil – Rogers Sisters

What’s Wrong With You? – Bratmobile

Suck My Left One – Bikini Kill

You Fucked Yourself – Quasi

Let The Bitches Die – Lightspeed Champion

Yesses and Nose – Gene Defcon

Forecast Fascist Future – Of Montreal

I just spent an hour picking off every fleck of nail polish, on both hands because I couldn’t just “live with the chip” on my thumbnail. Does that make me crazy?

Today really tested the limits of my patience. It started out nicely enough. As of this morning I’ve lost 18lbs and despite the oh….million more I’ve got to go, I’m pretty encouraged that I can keep this up. So that’s the good news.

Now, for the other stuff. I should warn you that precipice for all of this borders on TMI, but then – this whole blog pretty much does that, so – whatever, you’re all grown ups, you can take it. The fertility specialist I’m seeing (the lady who started this whole “weight loss” thing) put me on birth control, which sounds…insane (at least it did to me), but her expert opinion is that being on birth control while I’m trying to lose weight will preserve and possibly enhance my fertility for when my body is actually “ready” to start makin’ the babies. She explained it much fancier and science-y-er than that – but, that’s pretty much the jist.

So, the birth control she prescribed, besides having the dumbest, most humiliating name ever given to a pharmaceutical has unleashed upon me the longest, gnarliest, horror-show like period I’ve ever had in my entire. life. As of today we’re talking 3 weeks, 5 days and 21 hours. And it’s not just the mildly inconvenient, pest that most periods are. It’s what I like to call a Dario Argento period.

This morning I met with my doctor to make sure I wasn’t going to die, basically and she assured me not. What she could not promise is that I won’t go insane. And, let me tell you people – it’s already happening. On the way to the doctor traffic was crazy, I couldn’t find a parking place, blah blah blah and after my appointment I got lost trying to find my way out of the under-construction hospital, so by the time I made it to my car I was already in an inconsolable loon state. But, then – I realized the person parked next to my driver side was parked so crooked and so far into my lane that I couldn’t walk between to open my door. Our bumpers were less than an inch apart.

I had to walk around the front and squeeze between our cars to get to my door, then I could barely open the door at all and had to squeeze inside which almost tore my coat. Something inside me completely snapped. I wanted to key their car. I wanted to take a baseball bat to the windshield. I settled for writing a chicken-scratched note on an old Wendy’s napkin, it went something like this:

Learn how to park.

You suck.

I hope you die.

Fuck you very much!

Later, when I regained my ability to think rationally I felt kind of bad. Like, this person was parked at a hospital after all. I mean, what if they are dying and I just like, totally rubbed it in. Then I thought. Whatever. Fuck them. They should learn how to park.

See? Crazy.

You may or may not know by now that I’m completely crazy – and if this is news to you then sit down my friend and let me explain. About 90 (or so) percent of the time I’m decently capable of keeping my “shit” together – but, the other 10 percent? Flippin’ nuts.

One of my more, let’s call them quirky personality ticks is something called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Though I’ve never been properly diagnosed, there is no denying it. Everything in my world has its place – its place according to me. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to you that that book looks fine there – if it doesn’t make sense to me- my brain completely rejects it and I won’t stop thinking about it – I won’t rest until that book is EXACTLY where I need it to be. Sigh.

So, this morning when I took my laptop out of its case to find a nice (okay small) DENT on the lid – my motherfuckin’ crazy level shot up to eleven.

In the middle of the night last night, I woke up to find Io sitting on top of my computer (inside its case) so, I shewed her off and she jumped with all of her fatassitude off and onto the ground – leaving behind a small-ish, but very noticeable dent in my three week old laptop.

When I first noticed it, I immediately broke into a sweat, feverishly looking for some easy fix to my dilemma. Surely, it can’t be that hard. I mean something that can happen so easily to such a costly machine has to be just as easy to fix, right? You would think. But, no. Dent pullers won’t do the trick, you can try removing the lid but you run the risk of destroying your display – you can’t just replace the lid because it’s actually fused with an epoxy to the LED components (or something – I have no idea), so unless you want to replace the whole shebang (a whopping 800 bucks) you are out of luck. More sweating.

I don’t think I heard a word anyone said to me all day. The stupid dent was all. I. could. think. about. Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeent. There’s a dent. My beautiful, my precious….was… blemished, marred, scarred, bruised and forever marked like the girl who gets knocked up in Junior High.

How could Apple be so careless, I thought. Didn’t they know this would happen? Why didn’t they make me get one of those hard cases? Why didn’t they tell me I should sell my cat?

After many hours of unsuccessfully trying to massage, pull, clean and wish the dent away – I finally gave up, resigned to the fact that I would forever (or at least for a long while) be attached to this imperfect, banged up crackbook. I would have to answer questions.

“Oh, how did THAT happen?”

I would worry that if I ever have any hardware problems in the future, Apple would no doubt point to the scar and say, “Oh! No way, lady – it looks like you’ve played baseball with this.”

Ugh.

This little dent (pictures forthcoming – when I can bare it) had broken my heart and I was as obsessed as I’ve even been with any boy or band or film. I kept searching the internet and making frantic phone calls well after I understood it was useless.

I even prayed. I prayed for a cosmetic dent on my laptop! It was more a prayer for myself in the end, but still.

How could something so small destroy my entire universe for hours? Why do things like this get so far under my skin? I mean, other people would be mildly annoyed, realize it’s something that’s bound to happen and then get over it. Of course “other people” also watch According to Jim, so what do they know?

It took 6 hours and three episodes of The Wire for me to pull the damn thing out and type on it. But, now that I am, I realize that what I love about this computer isn’t just its beauty and design, it’s this. I get to type and tell my story. I get to read the stories of my friends and I get to connect with people I love. Okay, don’t tell anyone I said that.

Just as a sidenote though, while I’m like coming to terms and all – Steve Jobs, if you ever want to hook an OCD sister up with a new lid that would be really cool, right? Ya feel me?

Not that I’m still obsessing.

What?

Update: Pictures of the stupid dent!