If you show me yours, I'll show you mine.
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Posted:May 28, 2006 10:56 am
Last Updated:Jun 9, 2006 11:23 am
4631 Views
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I have a confession.
I'm a music voyeur.
If I see someone rocking out with their earbuds in, I am completely consumed by the desire to ask them what they are listening to. And sometimes I do! What's on their grocery shopping playlist? What's on in the car? What's on at the gym?
I want to know what you're listening to!!!!!
I don't particularly know why I am so curious about what kind of music other people are listening to. I think it's a combination of curiosity to see...
do you listen to what you *look* like you listen to?
The Alt Punk skaterboy.
The bookstore Emo .
The Classical librarian.
The Garage Rock Revival concert promoter.
The Bossa Nova chef.
The Adult Alternative waitress.
But what is the librarian is listening to death metal and the the Skaterboy is listening to the Bee Gees? What if the gruff bus driver has got Joss Stone on, and the syrupy-sweet flight attendant is listening to The Ramones? I love it when people crawl out of their cliches and surprise me.... EEEekkkk I get so happy.
Another part of it is...
"Do you have something good that I haven't heard?"
My sister and I both grew up really into music. In New York, you're a train ride away from tons of live shows every weekend and we spent the better part of our money on LIRR train passes and concert tickets when we were in high school. She's a singer/musician now and her live-in boyfriend also has a really good band that is getting really popular. She sends me 4 or 5 bands a week to check out. Between us, we spend hours on college radio sites and Napster, ITunes and Rhapsody. We're constantly hunting for fresh food for our ears and brains. I swear we should have worked as scouts for a record label. Tuesday (New Release Day) is my favorite day of the week.
SO
You're not getting away that easy...
What did you download this week?
Or maybe you just stick to your CDs?
What song do you love right now?
What song do you hate, but is yet stuck in your head?
Do you think you look like you "match" your music?
What's on your MP3 Player this week?
If you show me yours, I'll show you mine.
Your playlist, that is.
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New York, I'm Sorry...
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Posted:May 27, 2006 12:09 pm
Last Updated:May 28, 2006 9:23 am
4274 Views
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New York-
We've been together for a long time. Everytime I left, I always ended up coming back to you. I guess I always craved the safety of the familiarity you provided. You gave me an identity; I knew where all the roads led.
But you and I both know...
Our house isn't a home.
I remember growing up in Northport, looking around with so much hope. I wanted to live in my parents' house forever. I wanted to buy it and paint it a different color (blue) because I thought that beige was boring. I remember which stair creaked and which closet door was tough to close. The dark space underneath the deck was scary and I think there are still probably 17 balls under there that I was too chicken to fetch. I remember the lawn my father mowed and the old tire swing. When the rope broke my mom didnt fix it and I was always sad about that.
How many swings did I miss out on?
There was a lilac bush in the corner of the yard and it was my favorite part of May when it finally bloomed. I would take a knife and cut through the tough branch, bring it in and put it in a drinking glass on the dining room table. I was always mad that the bees liked the lilacs as much as I did. Big fat bumble bees that looked a lot more scary when I was five.
They aren't so scary anymore.
But things changed and we moved. I never had a home again. In Glen Cove, we moved from apartment to house to apartment, and I escaped out to my dorm in New Jersey. But out on my own, I returned to New York. Old Country Road was neither old nor in the country, and Rte. 107 was always backed up at the intersection Northern Boulevard. Out on my own and married, yet I still didn't have a home. Levittown and Bethpage were crowded and commerical but I couldn't buy what I really wanted.
You never provided the kind of suburban bliss you advertised.
I was never a part of what I saw in the movies.
Home is a concept I got used to doing without, and I grew to be a cynical resident. I made the turkey and put the star on the tree. I put the cover on the pool and lit the citronella candles. I went through the motions.
But it never materialized.
I did my part.
I really tried.
But you didn't come through like you promised.
So, New York, I'm leaving you. I didn't want it to be this way, but we're just not good for each other. Our life is empty and the memories aren't good enough to keep me here. I can't hang onto the hope like I have been doing all these years.
I'm not in love with you anymore.
The dreams I had for us when I was young never came true, so it's up to me to go find another way.
Another home.
New York, I'm sorry.
A
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35 Days Left
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Posted:May 21, 2006 8:09 pm
Last Updated:May 27, 2006 6:07 am
4331 Views
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Yay! Guess what? I made my reservations today!
I'm leaving NY on June 24th. I'll arrive in NZ on June 26th and I can't wait. That's the good part.
But the *waiting*... ugh it sucks. That's the bad part.
Really, Really, Really can't wait.
OK I will wait.
But I don't wanna!
Sometimes I think it would be fun if we all just act like 3 years olds; throw ourselves down on the floor and scream when we're frustrated or can't get something we want. Tell anyone off who we don't like.
Sometimes I just want to say to my clinical director...
YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!!!
or to the the credit card company that wants my money...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Or to the director that wants me to scrub down equipment...
YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!!!!!!
And just run away, and slam the door to my room.
What's so great about being a grown-up anyway?
Hmmmmm... I think I need to go find my teddy bear now.
A
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Trading Up
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Posted:May 19, 2006 7:44 am
Last Updated:Nov 28, 2007 3:06 pm
5140 Views
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I'm still teary.
Never did I think seeing a grade would make me actually cry for joy.
C+.
I needed a C in my physics class in order to graduate on time. If I didn't get it, I was going to have to spend the summer here retaking it... and another 3 months away from Bulge. It would have been beyond awful. I wouldn't have been able to take my boards, couldn't then get my license, couldn't then work, couldn't apply for a work visa in NZ... it would have been really really awful.
EVERYTHING was hinging on how I did on that one final.
My professor finally got back to me last night. I saw his name in my inbox, and couldn't breathe as I clicked to read the email. All I saw was C+ and I bawled my eyes out in relief for about a minute before I could see clearly enough to text Bulge the news. It was at least equal, if not better, to the moment when I saw my name on the "Passing NYS Bar Exam Applicants" webpage at 12: 01am on a similar May night some years ago.
But I've been thinking all night... and I've realized there is a big difference though between when I passed The Bar then, and passing physics, clinching graduation, now.
I remember the night I found out that I passed the bar with complete detail. We were finishing up the kitchen we had gutted. I had just put the final touches on tiling the kitchen floor that day, and had checked the grout to see if it was curing properly. I got my hands dirty fixing some stray streaks I hadn't seen before. So I went to kitchen sink to wash my hands, and the dishes from dinner were still in there, so I decided I better do them; they wouldn't have gotten done otherwise.
I washed the 2 plates from dinner. I washed the 2 forks, and then the 2 glasses. As I was washing the last glass, I put my hand with the sponge inside to wash the bottom, and the glass cracked in half with my hand inside it. It sliced open a gash on the first knuckle of my right index finger, just where it met my hand. I cringed as I felt the sting and burn, and my hand started to bleed profusely. I dropped the glass in the sink, as the red water mixed with the lemon fresh soapsuds.
"Hey, be careful. That's a new sink."
"Sorry. The glass broke and I cut my hand."
"Oh."
I washed out any glass that might be stuck and then wrapped my hand up, applied pressure and held it above my head. He was playing a game on his computer, and I went in the other room and sat on the couch. 28 minutes to go. I knew the Bar Exam results would be posted at 12: 01 am, and then I would know if all that work had paid off. I would finally know my fate.
27 minutes passed and I told him I needed to get on the computer.
"For what?"
"I told you the results are going up tonight."
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Figures", I thought silently.
He saved his game and I took over his seat. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh... I kept trying to bring the page up, but there was too much traffic. I kept trying for a few minutes, and then finally it lit up before my eyes. I scrolled down, "1st Department", "L-Z"...
And then I saw it.
My name.
Three years of law school. Six weeks of bar review, 4 hours a day, six days a week, an hour away in Manhattan. 3 days of grueling 8 hour exams.
But I did it.
"YES!! WOOOO HOOOOOO!!!!! I PASSED!!!!!"
I jumped out of my seat still holding the huge bandage around my hand.
"Hey, don't make so much noise, you'll wake everyone up."
I froze and looked at him in utter disbelief and crushing disappointment. And I felt something inside me go
*Click*
And just like that, it was over.
I knew in that precise moment that I was leaving my husband.
True to form, three weeks later, I got in my car with nothing but some clothes in the backseat, my hairdryer and my cell phone, and drove away. Forever.
How my life has changed.
Bulge was online with me to keep me company when I was studying, even though I wasn't really talking to him.
He texted me every time I had a test to wish me good luck.
He was there with me as we calculated, down to the decimal point, the exact scores I needed on my exams in order to get my C.
He was there for me when I had a nervous breakdown, doubting that I would be able to pull it off.
He cursed with me when my professor didn't have the final grades ready on time as promised.
He asked me first thing every time he talked to me the past three days, "Any news?"
He knew I was on edge about the prospect of having to stay here to retake the class during summer session. He masked his own disappointment, and said it would all be OK even if I had to.
And it only took 2 seconds for him to get on the line yelling "WOOOO HOOO" out the window of the car on the way to work when I texted him the good news.
He was the first one to tell me...
"I'm so proud of you. You worked so hard. You did awesome."
And although I was teary with relief because I was so happy I passed, I was crying moreso because I realized that this is the way it's supposed to be. To have someone in your life who is so loving and supportive is priceless. I'm really lucky to have a second chance at this.
I traded up. *Big time*
And as I looked down at the scar on my hand from that other night years ago, I felt it again.
*Click*.
And just like that, I knew for sure,
as I have always felt from the start,
He's the one.
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So I went to beach... and now I'm blind.
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Posted:May 17, 2006 3:56 pm
Last Updated:May 22, 2006 7:03 am
4432 Views
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I'm blind.
Give me some dark glasses and an application for that boys choir.
And change the "o" in my handle to "i".
How did it happen?
It all happened so fast, but I think his is how it went down.
I got out of the hospital at 3pm and it was a warm, sunny spring day here on Long Island, so I decided to go to the beach on the way home, as I usually do during the summer. I'm working at a large hospital right by the water, so it's only a few minutes down the parkway, over two little bridges and then there's a little barrier island off the south shore that is all a state park. It's before Memorial Day, so I don't need a sticker. Cool, I'll go.
It's real sunny and warm, but the wind makes it cool by the water, so I bring my hoodie and my cell in case my stupid physics professor decides to call me back and tell me if I passed his stupid class or not, or in case Bulge wakes up early and texts me from bed. So I go to the Field 5 parking area all the way down on the east end of the park. I throw my shoes on the blanket, and decide that I'll walk a few miles, and skip the gym tonight.
So I'm walking along barefoot on the cold flat part of the beach where the waves had washed up when it had been high tide. The New England water was still *frigid* so I didn't get too close. Still I was happy to be back in the salt air, watching the dirty seagulls fighting over a piece of seaweed. Watching the surfers, pretty surprised how many people are out on the beach today because with the wind it's actually quite chilly. A lot of the people have little beach tents or little enclosures around their blankets to keep the wind from getting at them. That's pretty smart, at least they won't get a chill.
So I walk on thinking of how I'll miss this part of being on Long Island, but how the beaches are pretty in New Zealand too, even if they are different. I'm daydreaming about where Bulge and I might live and what things will be like when I get there. Wondering what it's going to be like to be married again and thinking of all the things I have to get done before I go in a few weeks. Wondering if I should come back to work in New York in September or take a contract in Texas or California, thinking about all the places I should...
Oh my god.
That guy has no pants on!!!!
This tall guy takes raises his arms over his head and takes a nice, big stretch; I swear it was for my benefit. I shield my eyes from the wrinkly schlong that is now *flapping around* in the wind, balls blowing south by southeast.
ACK!
So I just shake off the image and keep walking, thinking "Fuck, that guy must be cold"... I have a hoodie and long pants on and I'm still chilly. A few clouds start to roll in, and when the sun isn't out it gets noticeably colder. At this point, I probably walked more than a mile, so I should really turn around and head back anyway. Well, I guess everyone was thinking the same thing I did, because a lot of people got up and started to pack up their stuff and ...
OMG!!!!
*Another* guy with no pants on!
And the chick he's with has no top on!
Holy shit! What has gotten into people today?
And then something finally clicks in my little blonde brain, as I look around at all the people who are getting ready to go home.
Nobody has clothes on but me!
Those little enclosures weren't to keep the wind out! I turn away to avoid all the random bouncing man-junk, and my eyes meet the *palest, yet still hairy* *never ever seen the sun* *whitest* ass I have ever seen! The light reflects off the dude's butt and zaps my corneas!
FER FUCKS SAKE I'M BLIND!
I don't want to stop, fearing they might take advantage of my newly impaired state, so I just listen to make sure the ocean is on my left as I walk quickly back west away from the awful sights that robbed me of my vision.
Fucking Bastard Nudists.
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Bud Light Presents: Mr. A F F First Post Blogger Guy
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Posted:May 13, 2006 11:00 am
Last Updated:May 21, 2006 7:49 pm
4687 Views
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Everyone, sing along now... You know how.
(cue inspirational background music)
Bud Light Presents
Real Men of Genius
(Real Men of Genius...)
Today we salute you, Mr. A F F First Post Blogger Guy.
(Mr. A F F First Post Blogger Guy...)
You've signed up, you're ready to get laid, and you don't care how badly you have to lie in order to do so.
(8 inch cock, yeah!)
You type words like "sensitive" and "caring" in your profile, while you minimize the 12 open windows of porn on your desktop.
(It's a free trial!)
You scan in that photo of you from 1989 that shows off your great abs, although now you prefer to *drink* your six pack.
(A Little Extra Padding!)
Do you even know what a blog is? Absolutely not. But you'll start one anyway, just to show you respect broads who can write.
("IS ANYONE OUT THEIR REAL??????????" )
So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, Mr. Burden of the Blog; why should you pay for sex, when you can beg for it for free.
(Mr. A F F First Post Blogger Guy...)
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The Smurfs Were Communists
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Posted:May 11, 2006 7:57 pm
Last Updated:May 14, 2006 4:43 pm
4271 Views
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I was just watching some random TV while in the kitchen talking to my roommate. The Smurfs were on Cartoon Network, and I swear I think that show is some kind of subconsious Marxist propaganda.
Each Smurf had a job: Handy Smurf was the builder, Painter Smurf painted everything, Brainy Smurf was smart, Vanity Smurf was fucking useless... Each Smurf a specific job and only did that one job. All the Smurfs seemed to be happy with what their jobs were and they go back to school or do anything to try to get promoted. They knew their places.
Papa Smurf wore a *red* cap?
Plus all the Smurfs had the little smurf song they all sang together...
"LaLAlalalala... lalalalala...."
and they all had their little matching Smurf uniforms...
And they all shared everything, there were no signs of capitalism, of buying and selling; Handy Smurf didn't send Brainy Smurf a bill for fixing his little mushroom house roof.
Does that make Gargamel the US? Boiling Smurfs to make them into gold? Then Azriel must have been the UK!
I don't know... it seems kinda suspicious that this cartoon was popular in the 80's during the Cold War. I can't believe I never noticed it till now.
There's one thing I do know for sure though;
Smurfette was a .
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What I See
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Posted:May 10, 2006 6:15 pm
Last Updated:Jun 16, 2006 3:04 pm
4472 Views
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I can't understand,
how you don't see
what I see.
When I look at you,
I see the best person
I ever knew.
The kindest.
The funniest.
The sexiest.
The sharpest.
The deepest.
The most loving,
most supportive.
You are my heart.
I hope you never want to lose me,
because I'm never letting go.
I plan on keeping my hold
on the best thing
that ever happened to me.
You.
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Info About Your Heart... Your "Actual" Heart!
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Posted:May 9, 2006 1:02 pm
Last Updated:May 15, 2006 8:57 pm
4463 Views
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I'm in heaven...
I'm FINALLY doing my **favorite** clinical rotation - cardiac catheterization. I'm working in a cath lab in a major hospital in Long Island. So I figured I'd tell you guys a little about the cool stuff I'm involved with at work. My director asked me to write an article for one of the local publications... so I'm sharing a rough draft with you. 
There are three most common procedures they do in my lab: angiograms, PTCA, and arthrectomy. All three procedures involve a small puncture in the crease of a patient's groin to insert a tiny wire and catheter in the femoral artery (or vein), and from there the catheter goes up the aorta (or vena cava) and into the heart.
If a doctor wants to check out the right side of your heart, he will go through the femoral vein, up the inferior vena cava, then the superior vena cava and into the heart, right atrium first then through the tricuspid valve and in the right ventricle. Since the blood returns to the heart through your veins, the catheter goes with the flow. The doctor also might go even further up into the main pulmonary artery (which arises from the right ventricle and is pretty big) and measure what the blood pressures are in there.
Right heart catheterizations are usually done for purely for diagnostic purposes; to measure pressures and check out how the tricuspid valve is working on that side. A tricuspid valve that is leaky will allow backflow (called "regurgitation" ) which causes the heart to work a lot harder and/or faster to pump the same amount of blood through the body. A tricuspid valve that has a narrowing (called "stenosis" ) or hardening (called "calcification" means the blood isn't getting through the heart as fast as the body wants to pump it through, and it causes the blood to back up into the right atrium and the venous system. Measuring the different pressures and looking for backflow are main reasons a right heart catheterization is done. Right heart catheterizations are also helpful for diagnosing many pulmonary- related cardiac problems.
If a doctor wants to check out the left side of your heart, he'll go through the femoral artery. Since the blood is being pumped away from the heart through the arteries, the catheter has to go against the flow of the blood circulation on the way up. Once the doctor is in the femoral artery he'll thread the catheter up through your aorta, and then into heart-left atrium first, through the mitral valve, and down into the left ventricle. Then all roads lead to the small capillaries in the lungs, so that's pretty much as far as you can go on that side.
The coronary arteries branch off right between the where the left atrium ends and the aorta begins. These important vessels are the first stop for oxygenated blood as it leaves the heart chambers. The coronary arteries supply the muscle that pumps your heart. It's only possible to get to the coronary arteries through the aorta, so if your doctor wants to perform an angiogram on your coronary arteries, he will be doing a left heart catheterization.
An angiogram is a diagnostic test where the cardiologist will thread a catheter up to your heart and shoot dye into your cardiac arteries to diagnose blockages. The contrast dye shows up on a "moving Xray" called flouroscopy and it's recorded for playback at many angles so the vasculature can be visualized fully while your heart is beating, and blockages can be assessed.
Left heart catheterizations and angiograms are helpful for diagnosing acute myocardial infarctions (a complete blockage of a coronary artery which causes a "heart attack" ), partial blockages (which temporarily cut off blood flow and oxygenation causing "angina", chest pain), and assessing how the heart muscle as a whole is contracting. Your left ventricle is the biggest and most powerful chamber of the heart because it's responsible for pumping blood from the heart through the aorta to the rest of the body, at very high pressures. To generate the pressure necessary to do that job, the heart muscle (myocardium) in your left ventricle has to be very strong, and has to be fed nicely by several sets of arteries.
If a complete blockage, or "heart attack", occurs, the myocardium doesn't get the amount of oxygenation and blood flow it needs, and it can get damaged or die. If a *major* cardiac artery is blocked off, and a corresponding major part of the heart (especially the left ventricle) gets damaged or destroyed, a patient can die, or at the least the heart will not beat as efficiently anymore. The myocardium generally cannot regenerate enough to heal and reverse this damage. Depending on what part of the heart is oxygen deprived, it may cause serious life threatening arrhythmias such as ventricular tachycardia "V-Tach" and ventricular fibrillation "V-Fib"; which is why you hear those two terms always on medical shows when someone is dying and they are trying to revive then with shocks (defibrillation) and drugs. Even a series of small heart attacks can eventually lead to heart failure, and then a heart transplant would be needed.
PTCA (percutaneous transcatheter cardiac angioplasty) and arthrectomy are therapeutic procedures that fix whatever blockages are diagnosed with the angiogram. PTCA is a very common procedure where the cardiologist will thread a deflated balloon up into your heart and into the cardiac artery that's blocked. Blockages are caused by plaques that are made of hardened deposits and cholesterol. The doctor positions the balloon where the blockage is, then inflates the balloon to open up the artery. If your blockage is hard or "calcified" they can also use a little rotoblator drill-ish end on the catheter to bust up some of the hard calcified plaque and open the artery up again. This drilling of plaque is called arthrectomy.
Angiograms, PTCA and arthrectomy can all can be done independently, together, but are also sometimes followed by the insertion of "stents". Stents are tiny little wire mesh tunnels that are threaded over the top of a balloon catheter and expanded when the balloon is pumped up at the right spot. Stents give support to the artery wall and smoosh the plaque back against the wall of the artery to open up a better flow of blood through the blockage. Stents can stay in place forever, and depending on risk factors, are often a good alternative to coronary bypass and graft surgery (CABG).
The downside to stenting is that, depending on the location and size of the stents, the vessel can block up again ("restenosis" ) as the inside of the artery tries to grow back through the mesh or more plaque builds up. However, newer stents have been invented that are covered with a time-released drug that inhibits the regrowth of tissue. These are called "drug eluding stents". They can lower restenosis rates pretty significantly in some instances. Most doctors use drug eluding stents almost exclusively in their patients, although bare metal stents are still used in some circumstances. drug-eluding stents are very expensive; a single stent can cost thousands of dollars,
Everyone probably has some degree of blockage in some vessels by the time age 55 approaches. For mild blockages that don't cause serious symptoms, medication and a cholesterol-lowering plan may be the answer. If the blockages are severe enough for your doctor to suggest intervention, PCTA and arthrectomy are usually the most common treatment. Both procedures are pretty easy to recover from in themselves, but if they were done as a heart attack intervention, your total recovery may be longer. Sometimes if blockages are too severe, affect major arteries, or if there are too many sites in one artery that need to be opened up, coronary bypass and graft (CABG) is the only alternative at that point. Patients are transferred out of our lab at that point and booked for bypass at our hospital or transferred to another hospital.
After seeing some the angiograms I've seen this week so far, I think I will be getting some exercise and cutting out junk food! Some of the patients had awful cholesterol junking up all of their arteries and it was just gross. Ewww! I don't want that thick, gooey sludge gunking up my beautiful arteries. They have to last me a lifetime. I'm just happy I don't smoke because those people had the *worst* arteries of the week so far, and their hearts were all screwed up and their lungs too. It's actaully pretty sad because most of the people were pretty regretful about having smoked all the years that they did. It's so hard to quit though; my dad smoked for 45 years and he just was successful quitting after his 12th try. (Nothing like a bad stress test score to scare the crap outta a guy).
Well, do whatever you want, it's a free country. But if you saw all the stuff I saw the past few days, you might want to think more about your heart health. All the trite and overused phrases are true; eat well, cut down on fatty food and red meat, don't smoke and exercise. The advice is so overpreached that I don't think anyone really listens anymore. But if you saw the gross sludgy goo that was in these people's hearts... you'd be totally grossed out, I swear. So I thought I'd just share. Most of the patients were pretty freaked out when they saw the damage they had done. And it was all types of people, white, black, fat, skinny, old and young... one guy was 37 and a bodybuilder!
Well, take care of your heart and I hope I don't see you in the lab... I think I have to go for a run now!
A
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Study Shows Blogging May Get You Laid
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Posted:May 7, 2006 10:10 am
Last Updated:May 9, 2006 11:26 am
4411 Views
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A study came out this week that suggests that the more creative you are, the more sexual partners you are likely to have. The research was carried out by the University of Newcastle upon Tyne and the Open University in the UK, and found that professional artists and writers have around twice as many sexual partners as those who do not indulge in these creative activities. The average number of sexual partners for professional artists and writers was between four and ten, compared with a mean of three for non-creative types. Statistics also showed the average number of sexual partners rose in line with an increase in the amount of creative activity a person took part in.
(Woo hooo!
*As everyone starts typing the title page of the novel they've been wanting to write*)
It may be that creative people are more interesting, or maybe they live a certain lifestyle that permits them to take advantage of sexual opportunitites more often. Or it maybe simply means that their outlooks on life enables them to act on sexual opportunties more often purely for the sake of the experience, without thoughts of commitment. It may also be that since creative types aren't generally perceived to be the most stable people financially, that their partners aren't interested in commitment from them from the beginning, and are only expecting a sexual relationship.
Now, here's the bad news.
(Dammit!!! *Everyone stops typing and sulks*)
It has also been shown that some of the personality traits which highly creative people have generally make them prone to depression and schizophrenia. It's believed that this heightened sexual activity is biology's way for offsetting against all the creative people with mental illness who never procreate and those who commit suicide before they get to have . A creative person's charisma, and thus sexual attractiveness, is thought to be the main mechanism by which creativity suvives in the human species... against all odds.
Verdict: You might want to keep your day job.
Have you ever had a sexual relationship with an artist?
What was it about him or her that you found attractive?
Do you consider yourself "creative" or an "artist"?
Do you find you get laid more because of it? Do you feel your "artist" label gives you more sexual freedom?
Do you find that in your experience creative people are more likely to be mentally unstable?
A
'Schizotypy, creativity and mating success in humans' Daniel Nettle and Helen Keenoo, Proceedings of the Royal Society B, November 2005. Doi:10.1098/rspb.2005.3349
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Tip
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Posted:May 6, 2006 7:14 pm
Last Updated:May 12, 2006 6:44 pm
4169 Views
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Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccck.....
I *hate* cocktail waitressing, even bartending is starting to get on my nerves.
I know, I know, I'm an educated girl... WHY would I keep taking these city gigs??? I should be doing something better with my time...I'm smarter than this, it's degrading...blah blah blah. I keep wanting to quit, but I've been doing it so long and the money's so good. I just can't give it up. I admit it...
*sigh*
I'm a tip .
I force myself to make pleasantries with any asshole who'll throw $10 on my tray when I bring over the round... Smile, and hold my tongue, as some stupid, stuck-up bimbo says, for the fourth time, "with a twist"...
Listen, you fucking coke'd up bitch, I heard you the first three times. Stoli rocks with a twist... and if you say it one more fucking time I'll twist your goddamn head off...
"Anything else?" *Flash smile*
Because $10 x 10 assholes/hr x 3hours = $300
Which goes towards good things like rent, plane tickets, shipping, board exam fees, wine, credit card bills and car insurance.
Which all gets me closer to bulging_boy.
So I guess, actually...
It's not that bad.
A
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Change Starts With You;Take the Oath.
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Posted:May 4, 2006 8:29 pm
Last Updated:May 12, 2006 6:45 pm
4313 Views
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It's everywhere.
Taking over blogs.
Turning sentences into drivel.
Destroying cohesive paragraphs.
Assaulting readers' eyes.
Making people cringe.
It's the enemy, and...
Only you can stop it.
It's LOL.
You see it everyday. It's overwhelming. It's in posts you read. It's in comments you skim. It's on the IM's you get, and in emails you receive.
'How could I ever make a difference...it's a losing battle.'
You may think the battle against LOL is futile... but that's not true.
You are the most powerful weapon in the fight against LOL.
Change starts with you. I challenge you to take the first step with me.
Take the "No LOL Pledge"; read it aloud as you copy and paste it into a comment below to show your support in the fight to end LOL abuse.
*************************************************
I, (link your photo/handle here), do solemnly swear,
that I will no longer use the phrase "LOL".
I believe that most things really aren't that funny,
and there are many less cliched ways to denote humor.
I will not remain silent anymore;
I will speak out against those who bring shame to Blogville with overuse of that trite and useless phrase.
If I see someone who is ignorant of our mighty cause,
I will educate them, or stage an LOL intervention if necessary.
I will support my blog brothers and blog sisters in their rehabilitation,
so that they may become responsible, honorable members of society once again.
I will be happy to look forward to a future where our will not know the horrors of LOL.
And I will be happy to look back on today; the day I started the battle that ended its reign of mediocrity.
As you are my witnesses,
I pledge this today.
*************************************************
Thank you, Blogville.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I will start by taking the pledge myself, and live by its ideals everyday forward.
Afterall, change starts with me.
A
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To link to this blog (rm_LilBlondeNZ) use [blog rm_LilBlondeNZ] in your messages.
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