I'm a Roman Candle

$1.50

"Given the great inequalities it yields, I believe that someday our market system of wage labor will be considered as illegitimate as slavery is now considered. The fact that the market pays someone $1.50 for a day of backbreaking labor while others get millions of dollars for their white collar labor is akin to a form of slavery for which no one takes responsibility and which is disguised by the rhetoric of freedom."

-Steven J. Klees

Things I Tell Myself

Those two cockroaches I found in my bed were the only two to ever set foot in my bedroom. Cockroaches are not like ants- where there is one there are a multitude. Besides, I smashed them. So they're gone. And I wear earplugs to bed so nothing can crawl inside my ears and nest. And if an insect crawled in my mouth, it would just be added protein. A compulsory midnight snack. It doesn't matter anyway, though, because I killed the only two roaches that have ever been in my bed.

I Wish You Still Made Me Sick

I loathe Pink. I find her obnoxious and whiney. Whatever happened to the Pink who admitted "You Make Me Sick"? She was kick-ass. Now she's just. Kicked. Her new songs make me want to slap her and screech, "Get Over Yourself and try helping abused puppies or something. C'est more to life than your self-loathing. Girl Scouts Honor." I'm such a h8r.

My Overzealous Ovary

My ovary got mad that I wouldn't let her use her special talent. So she tried to make a baby on her own. But it's not a real baby. It's just a mass. Hopefully she isn't too mad when I abort the mass. Instead she'd better realize this way of acting up is completely inappropriate and could get both of us killed if she isn't careful.

It reminds me of my ancient fear of being Satan's version of the Virgin Mary. I was so afraid I'd one day be totally pregnant w/ the antichrist and have no way of explaining it to my family. This time, I was more afraid that I'd accidentally gotten too friendly with a fertilized toilet seat. (Seat covers are for babies.) But no. Just home to a mass made by an overly ambitious ovary.

So now I wait. Why is it that a doctor who specializes in urgent surgical patients only works on Wednesdays? Who only works on Wednesdays? Seriously?

Clap On, Clap Off!

I want to log into Facebook right now. It always seem(s/ed) to be a nice thing to do before turning off the lights and saying "See ya later" to the world at large. But it rarely was. There was always one more face to click on, comment to make, link to follow. It was a terrible 30-minute way to end the night.

But I have no routine to replace it with. So now I stare at my links at the top of my browser with a blank blah-ness. Until I can bring myself to say, "Screw it," and turn off the lights lacking any feelings of closure.

This is an attempt at closure. Sigh.

Clap Off.

P.S. If only I could replace all my BAD habits with GOOD habits instead of... well, NO habits, then I would be a supremely spectacular specimen!

What else have I done in my sleep...

It totally creeps me up when I wake up, and my cell phone (which functions as my alarm) is on the floor instead of on the dresser across my bedroom. And 30 minutes have passed since it sounded at 1 pm, transitioning into the snooze cycle. And I have no memory whatsoever of waking up, walking across the room and throwing it on the floor like a two year old.