I love you.
Also, I have had a little gin. And cider. And now wine. But my love is genuine, silky, real, & slightly blurry,
We are in a new year. This year, for those who can’t count, don’t leave their solitary confinement, or are dyslexic is 2010, not 1020. That year actually kind of blew, historically. But 2010 is going to rock nards. Do you know why?
It’s because of you. It’s also, in a small way, because of me. But mostly you. Why? First, many of you who read this stupid blog, nay, ALL of you, are friends. Why complete strangers would read this is beyond me. Conversely, 369 people read my Climatequidick blog entry, & I have no idea why. Prior to recently, at most I’d get 70 reads on a post, total, over a period of months. Now, it’s consisently over 200, sometimes over 320. I have no idea what happened. I have theories, and they involve the inherent awesomeness of some of you, but I have no true earthly idea.
So here’s my question. Who the hell are you people? How did you find me? Why bother with my drivel? I want to know everything! What cosmic event suddenly made me more interesting? Why do you keep coming back? Why do you come here when you know it makes things hard for me, when you know…oh, why do you come? Eh hem, sorry, Morrissey moment.
“You had to sneak into my room just to read my diary. It was just to see, just to see, all the things you knew I’d written about you…”
But that’s the thing. I don’t write about you. I write about…well, me, to some degree but now also about things that are making me insane. So again, pretty much me. I do in all honesty write blogs to you about me in the hopes it will help you in some way. If all I manage to do is make you laugh or assist your daily wank, fine. If I expose you to some new concept or refresh your concept of an old exposition, rawk. If you see something I think, do, or feel & say “Wow, I am not a freak!” I am sorry. You are a freak. There is no getting around that. Just be happy there’s another freak like you, willing to write about how we’re freaks.
I’m not sure why I like wine so much now. Like Lister of the good ship Red Dwarf, I once detested wine people. Wine on me cornflakes, no thanks. Well, still no thanks. But now I am an unholy fan of the gawertztraminer, & to a lesser degree, riesling (which I also call German candy). I like Piesporter so I guess this makes me a German Nazi wine swilling fascist. AWESOME. I am primed to marry a successful Republican. Becoming a habitual wine sipper is the first step, I am told. Or the second. Having a fabulous rack was the first, but I didn’t have to pay for that as God gave with several of Vishnu’s hands.
This is what happens when there’s no Dollhouse, Fox. You have screwed me for the last time!
I sincerely believe Fox will continue to screw me for years to come. A while ago, I would have gone “Tee hee, YAH, Fox MULDER” but my Duchovny days are ovah.
So wine. Wait, no. Why? And here’s another thing. My last post was a highly personal coming out of the Jesus closet, & I barely heard a peep from any of you. I was expecting a certain amount of backlash, which I am grateful I have not received. My deviant heathen friends have continued to accept me, & I love yall for that. You get uber snuzzles. Either that or you didn’t read that far. It was a very long winded post, even for me. But go back & read the Jesus part, since most of you like cats.
Those of you who did comment did so in DMs on Twitter, and none of the people I expected to did. Were you offended by the Jesus/cat lady thing? I was afraid you would be. You have to understand, though. To a cat lady (me), seeing Jesus as a cat lady makes me feel an even deeper kinship with Jesus than seeing him as a shepherd. I am not particuarly fond of sheep. They are kind of dicks. Not as much as goats (shoot them all!), but pretty dickish, the wooly bastards. Have you met a sheep? They are insistent.
I like cats, though. To be fair to sheep, cats are also dicks, but they have triangle ears. I admit my bias toward triangle eared animals, including triangle eared dogs of the spitz family, chiuauas, and various fox like animals. Birds don’t have any outer ears which is party why I despise & fear them. But huskies, malamutes, Pomeranians…triangle ears. Awesome.
I also like border collies, who do not have triangle ears, but are fun.
I want a dog.
I think I was going to say something else, but instead I will say this. This year is going to rock. I can’t entirely tell you all why yet, because some things are still in the works. But the awesomeness of 2010 began in 2009. I have met & befriended some amazing people. A very few of you I love deeply & would kill for. Just ask me to kill for you, you’ll see. Many of you I love in a less homicidal way, where I would, like, look up difficult medical stuff for you & maybe help you with an insurance claim, but murder would require more love back on your part. Many of you I just adore to shreds. And some of you are so awesome I cannot even comprehend why you would deign to talk to me. I merely bask in the honour of your kind attention to me, & secretly pray you will ask me to kill for you. I have an idea who you want offed. I can make that happen.
If there’s, like, a data mining group or something checking me out now, please understand that A. wine and B. gin & C. I am a weiner pants. I could no sooner actually kill somebody on purpose than you could stop being a weirdo data miner. Because seriously, how can you go back to the private sector after doing a job like this? It’s like leaving a gang; you’d have to leave that cubicle of yours in a bag. So hear me now & believe me forever, I couldn’t kill anyone except in self defense, but there’s a part of me that likes to think I am passionate enough to kill for love. That part of me is the one drinking wine right now. Mazeltov, data mining weirdo.
I should probably delete a lot if not all of this.
OMG so how awesome is it that I am going to Chuckfest?! http://www.weheartchuck.com/?page_id=947 IT IS AWESOME! I get to spend 3 nights & almost 4 days in L.A. meeting my Chuckbuddies & seeing the Season 3 premiere & God knows what else? I am so DOWN for God Knows What Else! Let’s do What Else! It’ll be filled with epic yay!
OMG, way too much wine. I am falling asleep as I type. Soon enough I will be telling you about that dream I had, which I can’t tell you about because it’s naughtyish.
That’s another thing. Why in the hell do I no longer have naughty dreams? I barely have any dreams! I used to dream like a mofo. Now, if I do dream, it’s about work. Then I have to wake up & go to the place I just dreamed about. My work is fine, but it’s not so exciting that I want to dream about it all night & then go do it all day. Bah! I want to dream again that I’m in Tha Club with my friends, or the freakin’ sweet dreams where I’m in horrible, incomphrensible action films (which, by the way, is my goal as an actress. No Oscar material, me. I want to do hackneyed cliched bullshit where the stunt double has more screen time than my lame ass. I just want to deliver the quippy, bitchy lines. Wow, that shocks NO ONE).
One positive conclusion about the lack of dreaming is that maybe I am coming closer to living my dreams? How cool would that be? Hey, has anybody out there who currently IS living their dreams had the same issue? Did you suddenly & quite irrevocably stop dreaming about cool fun stuff because you were on the verge of being cool fun stuff? Help a brotha out, yo.
Meantime, I should really go to sleep, perchance to dream something prophetic (something I’ve also stopped doing). I used to dream frequently about things that made no sense to me, until I realized I was doing them 5 years later. I also get weird visions of completely random stuff that then then happens hours later. It’d be nice if I got visions of things that can and should be prevented, you know, to save lives, but instead it’s about spilling water, or being invited by another couple for couples sex.
A really freaky, highly powerful friend whose seemingly magical powers I have unequivocable proof of once told me that once I stopped being afraid, I too would be freaky. I don’t know what to make of that. He was Catholic, had been blessed personally by the Pope in person, and just knew everything. It was…freaky. He told me things I would do, that seemed ridiculous, & not a few months later, I would be doing that very thing or meeting that very person that it seemed would be impossible to know. He moved away a while ago & we completely lost touch, but I wonder what he would make of my current fabulous limbo state? I wonder what I should be telling myself? I have ideas, but they are far too wild, dangerous, & wonderful to contemplate.
Instead, I will just say this: 2010 is going to be effing AWESOME. You will be part of the awesome. I want to hug you. Here, have some wine.