December 30, 2004

weird enough for ya?

Weird Ones.

1. Why do doctors need malpractice insurance, but politicians, professional bowlers, secretaries, and Spanish teachers don't?
One reason is that professional bowlers, secretaries, and Spanish teachers don't have any money, so it doesn't pay to sue them. It doesn't usually pay to sue politicians, either, since most of them are lawyers to start with, and that would be a bit like going up and biting a lion. The other reason is that if, for instance, your Spanish teacher screws up, the worst that can happen is that you won't learn Spanish correctly. It's not like you're going to end up dead, blind, in a coma, missing a lung, or excreting medical instruments.

2. Why are there jumbo size boxes of moth balls? Who needs all those moth balls - or any for that matter?
Joan Rivers sleeps in them.

3. Is Dick Clark an evil robot? Why or why not?
Scientists have been pondering that for centuries, and as yet nobody has come up with a definitive answer. Erich von Daaniken's theory was that Dick Clark came from a planet of long-lived aliens who later colonised Krypton [hence "Clark" in the name]; but since the Sumerian stone carvings which he used as corroboration depicted a cow goddess, a snake god, and a naked guy with an antler hat, support for this theory in the scientific community has been weak. Darwin died before he could prove his theory on the origin of Clark, and his maid screwed the pooch by accidentally burning the papers soon after his death. Hawking gave up after trying to rewrite the Unified Field Theory to accommodate the existence of Clark, typing "Piss on it!" into his voder. The leading theory as of this writing is that Clark, like Joan Rivers, is a vampire and sleeps in mothballs.

4. What would happen if you recorded a dog whistle on a cassette player and then played the cassette at a dog pound?
I dare you to try it and find out. I recommend operating the cassette player by remote control, from outside the pound.

5. Why exactly are objects in the mirror closer than they appear? And if they're not where they appear, where exactly are they?
They're closer than they appear because what you see in the mirror is behind you, while the mirror is in front of you, so the object is closer to you than to the mirror. [Actually, that sounds like it makes sense. I just pulled it out of my ass.] As to where they are: they're behind you, right?


Thought for the day: If you hit the slash key, sneeze and cut the cheese at exactly the same time, are you multitasking?

Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:49 AM | Comments (0)

December 29, 2004

This kind of shit pisses me off.

I'm just gonna stop updating the number of tsunami victims. The fuckin' thing is never gonna stop growing. 63 000, 68 000, 77's gonna be weeks before dead people stop washing up on shore. The ocean's a damn big place.

Oh, and Jerry Orbach died. Couldn't be Jerry Falwell, or perhaps David Hasselhoff, or even that aggravating little Carrot Top bastard. 2004 will be remembered as The Year The Gods Picked Off Damn Near Everybody That Either Kicked Ass Or At Least Didn't Suck. [At least the Yahoo obit has a good bio. And thanks to Rori for the news.]

Chris Noth is still around, though.

Note to self: Do not write blog entries before coffee, particularly in the last week of Depo cycle.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:46 PM | Comments (0)

December 28, 2004

Silly me.

I thought it couldn't get any worse.

Tsunami Death Toll Soars Past 55,000

Two points:

~Ye gods. AGAIN.

~There's no way in hell they're gonna be able to bury all those people without severely polluting the soil and groundwater. I'm not even sure they have enough ground to bury them in. Prepare for reports of mass cremation.

I had some money saved up; I was gonna send it to a charity that assembles care packages for troops in Iraq [or send a package myself, but I've read at least one report that you're not allowed to send stuff directly anymore cos of security risks]. Now I'm wondering if I should split it between that, and...who, exactly, I don't know, but I'll pick some agency that's dealing with Asia.

Must go to work...


Posted by Frida Peeple at 08:19 PM | Comments (1)

December 27, 2004

Ye gods.

Asia Tidal Waves Death Toll Tops 22,000

Ye gods.

May the path through the veil be smooth under their feet, and may they find glorious things on the other side.
can we stop tearing our hair over 9/11 now please? thx

Posted by Frida Peeple at 12:35 PM | Comments (1)

December 24, 2004

Merry Mithras!

I dug up some articles about Mithras, an originally Persian solar deity [Mitra] who was later appropriated by the Romans [along with everything else the Romans could get their greedy mitts on] and worshipped widely by Roman soldiers up til Constantine gave in to Christianity's popularity and legalised it in C.E. 312 or 313, depending on whom you ask [though he secretly remained pagan until a deathbed conversion in 337]. It sorta straggled on until 394, when Theodosius told everybody they couldn't be anything BUT Christian, and that was that.

Everybody's heard the thing about how Mithras' birthday was December 25 [though some sources put it on the eve of the solstice, which is pretty darn close], but if you haven't, here's a piece that refers to it. There's also a page at About that lists specifically the parallels between Mithras and Jesus, and the Wikipedia article on Mithraism mentions some of the similarities as well.

I did not know that the ouroboros [the tail-biting snake that Lance Hendriksen and his wrinkled forehead made famous in the "Millenium" TV series] was a Mithraic symbol. But it is. Of course, it's an alchemical and Hermetic symbol as well, and not being an antiquities scholar, I really couldn't tell you which came first, although the Hermeticists stole from everybody, and the alchemists descended from them. What struck me, though, is the fact that it's's connected with a god that has a winter solstice birth...and has anybody ever really heard a good explanation for where in the hell Christmas wreaths came from?

Before I get any all-caps e-mails from Christians who insist that Jesus really was born on December 25, may I offer for consideration the idea that by the time the Gospels were written, he'd been dead [allegedly] for several decades, and if anybody had thought to ask him when his birthday was, they'd probably forgotten by then. They had to celebrate it some time, and celebrating it at the same time as the birth of a deity that had so many parallels with him would have been the natural thing to do. I think what will anger the Christians more is the whole thing about Mithras being reborn from a cave, after having been dead...and the whole pre-dating-Christianity thing...y'know. The churches aren't really fond of the idea that somebody else's god might've done it before theirs, or that the writers of the Gospels were embellishing them with whatever was handy [which is starting to look more and more like the case].

Anywho, a merry Christmas or Mithras or Yule or Solstice, or whatever you're celebrating. It's not about the name of the god anyway, it's about celebrating the fact that winter doesn't last all year. Without holidays, we'd all go completely fried-batshit, which is why there are probably more Christmas-celebrating atheists than there are God-fearing Seventh Day Adventists.

So eat, drink and be merry. And if I hear of you driving drunk, I will wallop your ass til it's plaid.

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Quote for the day: "Christmas is just plain weird. What other time of year do you sit in front of a dead tree in the living room and eat candy out of your socks?" [From a Shoebox greeting card I have packed away somewhere.]

Posted by Frida Peeple at 08:52 AM | Comments (2)

December 23, 2004

In the future...

This almost made me snort coffee.

I especially like how in the 2050's, he's got the white hair and the wrinkles, but is still wearing the same baseball shirt.

That, and Bush's talking ass.

hee heeee...


Posted by Frida Peeple at 02:55 PM | Comments (0)

New in the sidebar...

In the blog section, Ashley and the meme section, Weird Ones.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 12:52 AM | Comments (1)

December 22, 2004

Yes, I'm weird. Why do you ask?

I was gonna post this to my LJ, but it was so much fun to do, I thought I'd stick it here.

Weird Ones.

1. If you could invite three people, living or dead, to a dinner party, who would they be, and why? If you chose to invite dead people, why the heck did you do so? They're lousy company and rarely go to parties anyway. If you could invite 3 cartoon people to a dinner party who would you invite?
Well, one thing you can say about dead people is that they won't eat you out of house and home. They may fall over in the salad from time to time, but if you prop them up with a stick, that usually solves it. As for the problem of dead people and dinner parties...when have you been to a live dinner party anyway? Dinner parties are pretty much ALL dead, because they involve dinner instead of a keg and strippers. If the most interesting thing you're going to do all night is play Pictionary, you might as well have dead people there.

As to whom I would invite...I'm thinking Joseph Beuys, Albert Einstein, and what's-his-face from Shaun of the Dead. Beuys and Einstein probably wouldn't show up, and if they did, what's-his-face could help me keep things down to a dull roar if things got rowdy.

3 cartoon Prime, that Egon dude from "Ghostbusters," and Dick Gephardt. [CSPAN is a cartoon, right? It's not real, right?? Please??]

2. If the cost of living is so high, why does it remain so popular? Is its popularity just a fad? Explain.
Well, as you mentioned, dead people aren't good company, and they don't get out much, so it's just not a popular lifestyle. The undead lifestyle involves a lot of being out at night and getting hunted by young blondes, and not a lot of sunshine or promising career paths. However, the original reason for the popularity of living is that about a billion years ago, a band of microbes called the Oogs started doing it, their fans took it up, and pretty soon everybody was doing it and nobody could remember not having done it. Sort of like the Beatles hair thing.

3. What's the deal with semicolons? Are they just the bastard children of colons? We are told that grammarians tell us that we should use semicolons. Who are these grammarians anyway? Do you think they really exist or are they just a story told by the establishment to keep us down? Explain.
They are a crossbreed, invented by a collaborative group of geneticists and grammarians, between colons and commas. The reason there's so much secrecy surrounding them is that the method used to combine colon DNA and comma DNA is patent pending, and they don't want anybody to steal it before the patent goes through. Grammarians are a special kind of scientist that studies gramma rays. Gramma rays are what allow your grandmother to know exactly what you're doing even when she's on the opposite end of the house and has her back turned.

4. When people see a wet paint sign, why don't they believe that the paint is wet until they touch it? What would people do if you taped a 'sharp quills' sign to a porcupine?
They'd end up with about 20 quills in their hand. See, if you present something obvious to people, then put up a sign restating the obvious, they think you're lying somehow, and have to prove it.

5. Do fish cry? How can you tell? If you said that they do cry, what causes them to cry?
They don't cry. They do, however, swear. The bigmouth bass, for example, swears copiously. This is why water appears blue.

Well, that's that...time to go start cooking for the dinner party. What the hell do 70-foot transforming robots eat, anyway? Oh, right, energon...

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Posted by Frida Peeple at 11:06 PM | Comments (0)

Word Search #3

This time gave me the word "gordon." It took a couple pages before I found anything that interested me much [though I'm sure somebody else doing the same search might find something they think is really great that didn't ring any "click me" bells with me], but I did find

~A Gordon Lightfoot fan page [I was hoping for at least one of these, and I found more than one]

~An American Kennel Club page about Gordon setters.

~The page of artist Gordon Snidow, who does really nice paintings of the untamed West.

~Flush Gordon's page on water pollution. I just loved the name. :D

So that's about that. There are a lot of references to Jeff Gordon, who I don't really care enough about to link to. Anyway, enjoy...

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Thought for the day: Why is it that people in chatrooms who don't have time to read your profile, and don't even have time to type out three-letter words but must substitute single letters, somehow have time to private-message everybody else in the room?

Posted by Frida Peeple at 01:25 AM | Comments (0)

December 20, 2004

neato coincidence

I was playing with my "3D Text" screensaver, and I discovered something interesting:

If you use the Woolbats font [available here], the phrase "HoHoHo" comes out looking like this:


The first glyph is a symbol for winter; and the second one is a symbol for the Horned God, whose rebirth to the Goddess, according to some Neopagan traditions, is celebrated at Yule--the winter solstice.

I just thought it was neat.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 10:58 AM | Comments (0)

'scuse me, I think you forgot one.

So, not like it matters to me, because I'm not Abrahamic anyway...although maybe it does, because the hilariously flawed argument that the Ten Commandments are the basis of our legal system [which is about like saying the Code of Hammurabi is the basis of our legal system] adds to the self-righteousness of people who think we should make this a Christian state...but in the arguments about which commandments do and don't correspond to state and federal laws, one question seems to have been absent:

So where's "Thou shalt not rape"?

The only crime against another's person that is specifically prohibited is murder. Where's the prohibition against sexual violence? It's not in the first four [no other gods, no idolatry, no misusing the Divine name, keeping the Sabbath holy]; it's not in the fifth [honouring parents] except in the case of raping one's mother, which is both very gross and very rare. It's not covered in the sixth, either [murder].

Is it in the seventh [adultery]? If so, is raping your wife still okay? I don't think so. And if you're unmarried and the woman is unmarried, so there's no adultery, is it okay then?

All right, so how about the eighth [theft]? It can be argued that you're stealing something--privacy, dignity, bodily integrity--but doesn't that relegate it to a property crime? Are we still property? And if theft extends to crimes against the person, isn't murder, or theft of a life, covered under it? Why then does murder get its own explicit commandment, but rape as a sin can only be implied through a contorted interpretation of another commandment?

Number nine deals with bearing false witness, so that doesn't cover it at all.

The tenth forbids coveting your neighbour's "house...wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbour." That leaves out unmarried women. It also implies that women are property. More importantly, it doesn't say anything about taking them [because theft is covered elsewhere]--you're just not supposed to covet them. So you'd really have to play pretzelmaker with that one to derive any sort of prohibition against rape from it either.

So, the Commandments classify wives as property and they've neglected to list sexual assault as something displeasing to the eyes of the Lord. And, inexplicably, people ask me why I'm not a Christian. Well, for starters, because the Lord in his infinite wisdom forgot to tell the men not to rape me, or my mother, or my friends, or anybody else.

Do you see why I have problems with people who insist that this particular moral code is still completely relevant? You can give me the argument that women were viewed differently back then, but if the rules apply to a social structure that doesn't exist anymore, how relevant can the rules, as a whole, be? And if they're not all relevant, why is anybody still insisting on applying them wholesale? I could write a moral code saying "Thou shalt not kill" and "Thou shalt not steal" and then go on to say "Thou shalt kick the shit out of each other for whatever reason you see fit," but just because the first two are good rules doesn't make the third one a good rule. Look, if part of the moral code fits and part doesn't, you don't keep enforcing the stupid shit. You take what has worked up to now and fashion a new code that leaves out the stupid shit [like the bit where women are shoved into the same category as donkeys and farm equipment] and adds in some good things that didn't make it in before [such as treating women and children like humans and prohibiting sexual or other abuse]. A culture's morality has to evolve with the level of understanding that the people in that culture are capable of, or it will become stagnant and people won't bother to follow any morality anymore, which is exactly what's happening.

Monotheism, I hope that handbasket's comfy.

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:51 AM | Comments (0)

December 19, 2004


just a few things...

~"Gud" is not an acceptable substitute for "good."

~"Cud" is not an acceptable substitute for "could." Cud is what a cow chews.

~Do not tell people not to get angry. How they feel is their business and their responsibility. If having people get angry in your presence is so alarming to you that you can't abide it, then consider therapy.

~If you're going to write about something, know how to spell it. I'm not saying that you have to know how to spell every word ever conceived. I mean, do not go into a chatroom saying you like to write about "medevil" stuff. If you can't spell "medieval," it really doesn't give people the impression that you should be writing about it, does it? Similarly, do not go into rooms claiming to be a "Cristain," a "pagen," a "Bhuddist" or an "athiest." It's not required that you know how to spell the name of every belief system on earth, but for gods' sake, at least get your own correct.

~The word "hi" has ONE h, ONE i, and no other letters. No a's, no y's, no e's...ONE h and ONE i.

~"Dear" and "darling" are not terms you use to address women you don't know. Neither is "honey," "sweety" or similar terms of endearment. Rule of thumb: If you wouldn't call another man by that name, don't use it on female strangers/acquaintances. The Fifties are over.

I'm sorry to be such a nazi about this stuff, but really, people.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 03:12 AM | Comments (0)

December 18, 2004

Entirely Superfluous Entry

I don't have a single fucking thing to say. I just wanted to put in an entry so I wouldn't have 3 days running without one, because people tend to get the idea that you're dead or something. Yes, I'm a dork. Shoot me, it's dork season. Really.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 11:12 PM | Comments (0)

December 15, 2004

Exhibit A

When I tell people that one of the reasons I don't want children is that I'm very doubtful that I would have the patience or the wherewithal to raise them decently, they almost invariably counter it with something along the lines of, "Oh, it's different when they're yours. You're just instinctively kinder and more patient with them, and your maternal instinct takes over. That's just what happens when you become a mom."

Is that so? And this happens for everybody, you say?

I present to you Exhibit A. [Thank you Rori for posting this link. When I'm done gagging, I'll go look for some more exhibits.]


Well, looky here...

there's an exhibit B [also seen at Rori's but turned up independently on my search]...

...and a C...


So, tell me again how the maternal instinct is supposed to kick in and make the mother all patient and loving and protective and stuff...

It's a human life, not a video game. There is no reset button that you can hit if you fuck up so that you can keep practicing til you get it right. This is live. If you sincerely don't think you can get it halfway right on the first take, why would you risk it on the basis of a bunch of of blathering, with little basis in reality, about this magical maternalness that supposedly bestows infinite temper control on every mother?

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Posted by Frida Peeple at 08:16 AM | Comments (0)

Again, inexplicably...

Weird Ones.

1. How'dya like to mow my lawn? Hm? Hm? Hm?

2. How can you be sure that ham comes from pigs?
I have all my ham notarized.

3. If you were going to give someone a moose for Christmas how would you go about wrapping it?
With something as funny-shaped as a moose, you pretty much gotta go with a gift bag.

4. Do you believe in lust at first sight? Explain.
Of course. If there were no lust at first sight, Hustler's readership would consist entirely of gynecologists; the only recipients of Victoria's Secret catalogs would be people who buy lots of underwear; and Leo DiCaprio would be working the drive-thru.

5. Who came up with the letter K? Doesn't it seem gangly and mishapen to you? Do you think it has self-esteem issues?
It has a pituitary disorder. Currently it takes medication and attends weekly support group sessions with Q, 4, Æ and £.

Okay, that's enough weirdness for one morning...


Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:53 AM | Comments (0)

December 14, 2004

Word Search #2

This time gave me the word "mourn." This is what I came up with:

~A webcomic for computer dorks like us. It's Mac, so if you use Windows it's like being American and reading a comic in Australian English. This one really cracked me up.

~A piece on the death of blogger Aaron Hawkins, who wrote, and how its effects were felt by the entire blogging community.

~A whole bunch of stuff about people mourning the presidential election, mourning Arafat, and mourning loved ones. I didn't link to any of it because I wouldn't know where to begin.


Posted by Frida Peeple at 11:40 AM | Comments (0)

December 13, 2004

holiday baking

Chocolate chip: done. Cutout sugar cookies: in progress.

If you don't feel like reading about the technical aspect of baking cookies, skip this entry. [If you don't like swearing, skip the entry below this one too.]

The dough is more of a pain in the ass than it was last time I made these, and I think it's because I used 1/3 margarine, which is softer. The cookies aren't as stiff when they come off the cutting surface, and the dough gets too soft faster. The taste is very slightly different; since I almost never use margarine, I can taste the vegetable oil and the artificial butter flavour if I pay very very close attention to the flavour. I doubt anybody else will notice, especially when the frosting is on, and especially when they melt in the mouth the way they do [which they don't quite do with all butter--must remember this]. I'm gonna use all butter for the frosting, now that I know what happens with the oleo, and most of it will get almond extract anyway, except the frosting that goes on the candy-cane-shaped ones, which will get peppermint. I'm out of vanilla, that's the one thing I should have stocked up on. ~kicks self~ The lack of vanilla might be noticeable. Then, too, the store opens in an hour and fifteen minutes, and I'm not broke yet.

The recipe I'm using comes from a Gold Medal Flour cookbook from which I've copied many a recipe. It's one of those treasured family cookbooks that you can open and tell which recipes are the best because of the chocolatey fingerprints that have accumulated on the pages over the years. I generally end up doubling it, if for no other reason than it's a shame to waste all that effort on 15 cookies. Extras go to family and work, and I save a few plain and a few frosted for me. This batch is going largely to my brother, who makes so much more money than anybody else in the family that it's useless trying to buy him anything. He does love baked goods, though, and I know he doesn't bake for himself often. There's gonna have to be a note in there about the peppermint frosting, and about the brown specks which are not dirt, in fact, but nutmeg.

Dough's re-chilled...back to work...


Posted by Frida Peeple at 06:16 AM | Comments (0)

Why is it...

...that people will add you to their friends list, wander off for like a million years, and act like the biggest tool in the world when they come back, but that's somehow your fault for not having a sense of humour?

And why is "sense of humour" always defined as what the other person thinks is funny? You can go somewhere, crack your usual one-liners, and have people laughing their asses off, and 20 minutes later you're somewhere else and somebody is making a snide crack at your expense, and suddenly you've been classified as a rigid, humourless hardass who needs to loosen up and relax, because you didn't think it was funny. [And why do I get the feeling that Kerry has this same problem?]

And what is the big fucking problem with just being the way you are, without having to have everybody in the whole fucking galaxy tell you how to be and what to say and how to feel? Why is it their damn business anyway? And how did they tolerate life for this long if it's such a monumental hardship for them to let other people just be who the hell they are?

And why do people tell other people to do things like "relax" and "calm down"? Do you really think I care at that point? And do you really think I'm gullible enough to think you care? I know better than to believe anybody gives a shit about my stress level. People just want me to shut up. But they couch it in this fake-ass concern, like, "Oh, I don't wanna see you stressed, calm down." Shut the fuck up. I got your number. Sure, if I was calm all the time, I'd probably be happier. Guess what: WE'D ALL BE HAPPIER IF WE WERE FUCKING PERFECT, BUT WE AREN'T, ARE WE?

You can't. You can't do it. You can't even be [ ] this much upset without somebody telling you to calm down, as if you're going to be strangling people the next minute. Really. What the fuck do they think you're gonna do? Are people such stupid fucking sheep that one workplace shooting every 6 months in a country of 290 000 000 people has them paranoid about even the smallest display of anger now? And why do they think it's helpful to say something that implies that even a small amount of upset is unacceptable? What, we can't even be a little upset now? Did the aliens abduct me, lose my paperwork and accidentally ship me to Planet Fucking Vulcan? Why do people treat even the slightest disturbance of calm as though it's a vein-popping conniption? And why do they think that an upset person is going to listen to them anyway?

I understand why it's useful to control your temper. But to assume that people can and should have perfect control is asinine. And to assume that the level of control you think is appropriate should be imposed on everybody unilaterally is selfish. And to assume that losing control means you aren't trying is an inexcusable fallacy of logic.

I just love the way people will tell you not to repress your anger. "Don't bottle it up, then you just explode." Of course, they don't realise that if I'm mad enough, I'll explode with a completely empty bottle, and if I'm not mad enough to explode, it just goes in the bottle and gradually evaporates as I apply rational thinking to it. Once I get past the point of rational thinking being effective, there isn't anything you can say that will work, and it has nothing to do with repression. It's just there. It didn't build up. It wasn't there, and now it is. The few issues on which I actually come close to repressing anger are the ones in which I haven't said anything directly to the person I'm angry at. What good would it do? They just get mad and argue with you anyway. They're never gonna stop sucking. I'm not sure that long-standing anger and built-up anger are the same thing.

What's really hilarious about the way people tell you not to repress your anger is that these same damn people, if you actually express your anger, will tell you not to "take it out on them," which for some people means everything up to and including raising your voice in their presence. Let's get a few things straight, people:

~Being angry in your presence is not "taking it on you." Insulting you without provocation, or otherwise mentally or physically abusing you, is "taking it out on you." If you think that having somebody be in the same room with you while they're being angry about something unrelated to you is abuse, you need to grow some skin. It may make you uncomfortable, and if the person can control their anger enough to keep you from feeling uncomfortable, that is considered common courtesy. [I'm not especially good with that one myself.] But making you uncomfortable by doing things that don't have Jack W. Shit to do with you is not "taking it out on you."

~There are effective ways and ineffective ways to express anger. Some of the effective ways aren't particularly productive. However, asking somebody to use anger management methods that don't fucking work simply because it's more constructive or polite is mean. Not all emotions can be put to productive use, nor should we make ourselves miserable trying to make each and every emotion productive. We're not goddamn factories. Deal with it. Throwing things or fuming and swearing may not be productive, but they sure work a hell of a lot better than sitting there in a chair saying, in a perfectly calm voice, "I'm very angry right now." The last thing you need when you're mad is additional resentment over having to hide the fact that you have feelings. Just because you'd rather somebody expressed their anger calmly doesn't make it possible, and even if it's possible, that doesn't make it effective. What it often ends up doing is forcing the person to deny they're angry so they can calm down like you want them to, and then they're repressing themselves, which you just got done saying you didn't want them to do. You want people to be less angry? STOP EXPECTING THEM TO COMPLY WITH TWO MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE STANDARDS.

Okay, now I've burned it all off and I'm calm. Sort of. Not like you could tell. For some reason, people infer an upset mood even when I'm just expressing, in plain language, what's on my mind and don't feel particularly upset at all. Then they'll tell me to calm down, which implies that a] they're too stupid to read my mood accurately, and b] they just can't deal with anybody being un-calm around them, and emotions that are well within my normal range and not even anywhere near my extremes are just unacceptable to them, that I have to be in what, for me, is a fucking emotional coma before I'm calm enough for them. That will piss me off every time.

I don't know.

It boils down to this: If you can't deal with people having and expressing anger, stay the fuck away from me.

My teeth hurt.

I hate cookies. Or I hate having rotten teeth. One of the two.

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Thought for the day: Oh, go jump in a lake. Really. I'm in too much pain to give a shit whether anybody thinks or not.

Posted by Frida Peeple at 04:25 AM | Comments (0)

December 11, 2004

Yay Norton!

I reinstalled it and it finally works right! W00T!!

For now, I revoke my desire to pitch the computer out the window.

On a completely unrelated note, I was walking with my mom yesterday through an alley, and we saw a piece of concrete that had "Fuck You Asshole" written on it in black marker. I'm gonna go back today, and if it's still there, I'm gonna change it to "Fucklfill Your Assholepirations!" Hopefully the cops won't catch me.


Update: The piece of concrete has been altered. Police were not involved. ~twirling mustache~

Posted by Frida Peeple at 05:57 AM | Comments (0)

December 10, 2004


Trying a new meme today...Weird Ones. [Fits me to a tee.]

1. What was the last thing you hit with your car? If it was another car, then how far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?
The last thing I hit with my car was, in fact, another car. They were pretty darn close; I'm not very good at hitting things that are far away, because of my eyesight.

2. Why can the Incredible Hulk see Doctor Strange's astral form when no other non-mystically-attuned mortal can?
Everybody else threw their 3D glasses away when they left the movie theater.

3. Which is morally worse, frying potatoes in oil to make potato chips or frying corn in oil to make corn chips?
They're both venial sins. Both pale in comparison to deep-fried Twinkies.

4. How do they cram all that graham into those little graham crackers?
They tell the graham that there's a sale on $49 iPods going on inside the little graham crackers.

5. Why are there no all tuba rock groups?
Have you ever heard "Iron Man" played on tuba?
They can't find a bassist.
Everybody knows that the really serious bands use bassoons now.
Okay, I admit. I don't know.

That was fun.


I finally found a good way to eat brown rice: I microwave it, then add a little smidge of butter, a slice of American cheese [I use 2%; if it were normal cheese, I'd leave the butter off] and some taco sauce. It tastes just like the fried rice you get at Mexican restaurants. I just finished the first bowl of brown rice I've ever eaten in which I didn't have to force down the last half. If you use instant brown rice or leftover rice, it's a very quick, easy, filling dinner.

I'm going to go take a nap.

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Thought for the day: What I really wanna know is, how come there aren't more rock bands [not metal bands, but regular bands] that have flutes? Not that there would be a flute part for every song, but it would be a welcome change to the rather overdone guitar-bass-drums-vocals setup.

Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:47 AM | Comments (2)

December 08, 2004


...I totally forgot to post anything.

...was Pearl Harbour Day.

...was Tom Waits' birthday. [Many happy returns, Tom]

...I got a fat Christmas bonus.



...I am eating egg rolls instead of going out because I want to save my bonus.

...I am one step closer to getting round to making out a will. Amazon package might arrive.

...I want to try and get my firewall problem straightened out.

...I'm gonna try to place an order for that calendar I want.

...Björk songs keep running through my head. Not that I'm complaining.

...I'm just really really tired.

same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Thought for the day: You hear spiritualists and New Age writers sometimes say that the dead shouldn't be mourned because they're not really gone, they've just moved on to another plane. Really, does that make a fucking bit of difference? Gone is gone, whether they've moved to another plane or to another state. I have ex-boyfriends that live 30 minutes away that are just as gone as if they were dead and cremated. If you can't see them anymore, or have any kind of meaningful contact with them anymore, they're gone whether they still exist or not. To be able to really see it from the perspective of "not really gone," you'd have to have a perspective the size of the universe, and nobody does. How stupid and callous to treat it as though people's subjective perceptions aren't worth considering.

Posted by Frida Peeple at 07:31 AM | Comments (0)

December 06, 2004

For my holiday kung fu is the strongest of all.

All the presents that are actually on the premises have been wrapped, and are about to be slapped with tags and bows. All that's left is an Amazon shipment and some cookies, and one parcel to be shipped, and I'm done with presents.

However, my anti-blog-spam kung fu still sucks cow hiney.

Toodles, must go delete/ban/delete/ban/delete/ban....

if f1or1cet [whatever it is] was worth shit anyway, they wouldn't need to advertise it so much and in such skanky ways to move their product. If I catch you buying it, I will thrash you soundly. You will not enjoy it. I will see to that.



Spam: Deleted.

Presents: Tagged and bowed.

Ass: Dragging.

Shower: Ready.

Bed: Soon...

Posted by Frida Peeple at 12:36 PM | Comments (0)

December 04, 2004

Word Search #1

One of the things I wonder about when I read other people's weblogs is where they get the links they post. I know a lot of the time they get them from somebody else's blog, or they might find it while reading news or receive it in an e-mail from somebody they know. I feel sorta guilty always swiping links off somebody else's blog all the time, and I don't come across a lot of interesting new pages in my usual rounds of online reading [which is largely...other people's blogs].

So I decided to try something else: go to, get a random word, Google it, and see if the search turned up anything good. [I tried to do this yesterday, but my computer choked on the 7-foot dong known as Norton Internet Security 2005 Upgrade Download and passed out, threatening me with a message saying "You must reinstall Windows," which I didn't seem to need to do after all.]

Anyway, the word that Wordcount gave me was "sculptor," and in the results list I managed to find a few interesting things:

~A website displaying the work of Ian G. Brennan, who is the British Royal Family's sculptor and woodcarver.

~The geometric sculpture of George Hart, who not only sculpts using traditional materials, but does incredible things with floppy disks, CD's and plastic dinnerware.

~The art of Benbow Bullock, metal sculptor. Very visually interesting stuff. [To all you people who complain that it doesn't look like anything: Go to the school supply section of Target and buy some cheap plastic stencils with different basic shapes on them, and take them home and doodle with them on paper, preferably with some coloured pencils. I think at least some of you will agree, after that, that shapes and colours are fun just on their own.]

~The gravity-defying stone sculptures of Chris Booth.

Just about makes me wanna get offline and get my hiney into the studio. Maybe after I shower.


same bitch time, same bitch channel...

Posted by Frida Peeple at 02:45 AM | Comments (0)

December 03, 2004

Dear Santa...

I've been really good reasonably good better than a lot of the bastards you probably know, and I don't think it's too much to ask to just drop off a few things this year, being as you're nondenominational and all. Just little stuff, like, oh...this...

...and, uh, this...

...oh, and I'll need one of these...

...and probably one of these for work.

Cos, y'know, sometimes it's a bitch getting people to do what they're supposed to.

I could also use a copy of this...

...a copy of this...

...oh, and, uh, one of these.

I know you'll come through, won'tcha, Santa? Because, remember last year, when you forgot to bring me the car stereo and I accidentally put senna in your cookies? I'd really hate for something like that to happen again, and I know you would too, especially considering those long flights over the Pacific Ocean and whatnot.

Smoochies! <3<3<3


Posted by Frida Peeple at 08:18 AM | Comments (0)