FunSize113's Xanga

Friday, October 20, 2006

Fri, 20 Oct 2006 21:01:00 GMT

According to our next door neighbor, her ability to enjoy life is crimped because:

1. We be parkin' our truck on her grass. It's actually our grass, but whatever, the point is that she be payin' too much money to fertilize the grass and parking on it gon' make it die.

2. We have cardboard boxes lying by our garage and they might blow into her yard. Do we need trash bags? She'll provide us with some to pick up those potentially scarring boxes.

3. Our dog barks. According to our neighbor, she don't wanna be messin' wit any strange dogs, an' our dog be gettin' out sometimes, an' sometimes it also barks.

Lord have mercy.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 18:47:37 GMT

People who say that they hate fake people kind of irk me. Seriously, how much MORE pissed would you be if someone told you you were ugly to your face than if they said it to a mutual friend when you weren't around? You people aren't really opposed to superficiality, you just want everyone to be consistent with their dishonesty so that you get your ego stroked to your face AND behind your back.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Thu, 12 Oct 2006 22:29:40 GMT

Ok so, here's the deal. Discounting the fact that I haven't written on Xanga in like a month, I write here more than I do on myspace. Only my really good blogs make it to myspace. Hence, all my GOOD writing happens on myspace, and all of my less good writing happens on Xanga. But, I guess there are still a lot of people who like my crappy writing (And for those of you who haven't been sucked into the social vortex that is Myspace.), so, I guess I'll start writing on here... more often. Yeah. More later.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 16:41:18 GMT

Yes sir, it's all gone. I've heard that men like long hair, so maybe this affirmative action will deflect some of the unwanted attention I seem to be up to my nose in. The creepy guy from my last entry is still calling me at elast twice every day, even though I haven't picked up the phone for him in a week. Anyway, carry on.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 22:20:51 GMT

I Hate Men Version 243.0

So apparently, having horrifying admirers in two states wasn't enough for me. This guy cleaned the carpets in our apartment when we were moving (I should have been onto him right away, because he asked me if "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand was a romance novel. Romance novel?! Try classic American literature, you illiterate S.O.B.), and he told me that he plays piano in a church, and that he could find me a job doing the same. The man is forty, married, and tells me and Brandon that "Men and women should not be alone together, it makes the church look bad." So, I give him my number.

Before Brandon left, the man called me, and I promised to get back in touch with him later in the week, thinking about how nice it would be to pull in some moneys while my husband is away. So this week, as promised, I called him back, but oh, what a tangled web...

"Sure, let's get together as soon as possible!" The Jesus-touting virtuoso beams, "We can go to my church - the secretary will unlock the door for us - and we'll play together for a few hours. Your husband is gone for quite awhile, isn't he? Well if you need anything honey, and I mean anything at all, you just call me. I mean it. I can get you anything you need - just call me sweetie."

And I was like WTF.

So, the man says he'll call back Saturday. But he must have gotten eager, because today he has called me three times and left two voicemails which say the same thing: "Let's get together Sunday after church and play a few songs. Then, I'll take you out to eat."

I wasn't aware that it's cool for married people to ask other married people out on a DATE with them when they're not married to each other.

Oh, the emotionally scarring things I would say to this man... if I wasn't afraid he might try to molest me in the process.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 18:15:25 GMT

With Brandon gone, essentially, until Christmas, I have developed a comprehensive plan for my boring, sexless life. If you think my lack of discipline will overcome me, you're wrong, because I complied with every requirement on this list (With the exception of finding a job and the college thing, obviously.) LAST time Brandon was gone.

Objectives:

1. If all else fails, eat wholesome foods. I won't mill over what I plan to eat, but let's just say that if I don't die from nutritional boredom, I'm going to be the healthiest person in this town.

2. Make an A+++++ on all assignments for my internet classes, since they're easier than picking your nose and I have an unlimited amount of time in which to accomplish said assignments.

3. Get a job, no matter how shady or low-paying said job is. In the light of my colorless existence, no job that is not manual labor is below me.

4. Exercise daily. The idea is to daily alternate running with some other kind of exercise. For example, today I went running. Tomorrow, I'll jack Katie's pilate's DVD or something.

5. Strengthen my Spiritual life by reading the Bible and Bible-related literature, praying, etc. My previous excuse for not doing these things is in Special Forces training now, and I can't think of another one.

6. Clean junk. This means I'll actually attempt to finish moving in, clean our bedroom and bathroom, wash dirty laundry, clean Nacho's bathroom, do dishes, sweep floors... there's a reason this one comes last.

Wish me luck.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Thu, 31 Aug 2006 18:56:55 GMT

It was this afternoon that Brandon and I made the endearing discovery that we are Nacho's all-time favorite toys. Unfortunately, Nacho is not our $15 that we spent on his "kitty barn", which he yawned at before he walked across the room to chew on my feet. Oh well.

Also significant is that we have leaped another hurdle towards normalcy and moved into a house, which I don't care to ramble on about because it irritates me to no end when other people go on about their home, which is of absolutely no interest to anyone but themselves. I will say, though, that the closet in our new bedroom is about the size of our old bedroom in the apartment, which means that we finally have a space large enough to house Brandon's entire wardrobe.

Internet college started this week, and we were all required to fill out online profile for our classmates to read. While I highly doubt that the personal statements of community college students will be pithy, I may be tempted to read a few before I give up on the lower and middle classes of young American society. Snobby, yes, but not innacurate.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 21:46:58 GMT

"The $290 billion spent evicting one Iraqi dictator coud have housed America's 3.5 million homeless... forever."

Mandy's only film reccomendations on xanga EVER...

Avaiable at Blockbuster:

Available at the link below:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5946593973848835726&q=loose+change&hl=en

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Tue, 15 Aug 2006 02:03:50 GMT

"Bad Karma", or, "Why I will Never go to Vegas".

...anyway, I think I have bad karma. I told Brandon that I have bad karma, but he said that karma is sacreligious, and I told him that I knew that it WAS sacreligious, because it's ruining my life. But if there's no such thing as karma, how do you explain the fact that I'm always getting into car accidents? I'm not a bad driver. I always use my turn signal. But somehow, I can wreck a vehicle without another car, or even some other object, in fact, I can get into an accident with a part from my OWN car (How often, statistically, do hoods fly up and break windshields, and then also break your side mirror off? It provokes the same kind of incomprehensive shock as seeing the Rolling Stones perform live at the 2005 Super Bowl.). But it's not just the cataclysmic disfiguration of my already-poor-quality truck that makes my life suspicious. I unintentionally spill any liquid within a five foot radius of my body, but I have a cabinet full of piano trophies to prove that I'm not clumsy. The final straw is the fact that, every time I shower, I know before I even pull the curtain back that I'm going to knock the shampoo bottles off of the little shelf. It's just going to happen, no matter how much I think about being careful when I turn around. This is a problem I could logically disassemble and come to terms with, if my butt were the type that gets featured in rap videos and ads for South Pole clothing. But it's not. I know all the words to "My Humps", but my butt, in all honesty, seems evenly porportioned with the rest of my body, and I'm 5'2". I am also caucasian in origin. And I have bad karma...

My marriage: my biggest victory over karma to date.

And this is Nacho:

Please pray for Nacho, because Brandon hates him.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 01:16:50 GMT

My brain is on vacation... I miss Texas cuz Fayetteville, North Carolina has less culture than my catfish-frying kinfolk back in the uncivilized backroads of East Texas. At least yelling "GITTEM!!!" to your dog, who is chasing an armadillo, from the porch of your trailer is somewhat distinctive.

"In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity."

-Hunter S. Thompson.
(from: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.)

"By the time you finished talkin' 'bout it, I'll be done doin' it."

-Bubba Sparxxx
(from: Heat It Up.)

Oh, we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial.
We are entirely smooth.
We admit to the truth,
We are the best at what we do.
And these are the words you wish you wrote down.
This is the way you wish your voice sounds,
Handsome and smart.
Oh, my tongue's the only muscle on my body
That works harder than my heart.

-Brand New
(from: Okay I Believe You, but my Tommy Gun Don't.)