Halloween: Covert Style

I think I may be Sarah Palin for Halloween this year. I do have the hair and the glasses to pull it off. All I need is a moose beanie baby (which I have) and the outfit is complete, hahahahaha.

So glad this month is almost over

Oh, fuck it. I'm gonna have a party. New job starts on Oct 6th (first rule about blogging is you don't blog about work, right? No.). It's a young-ish office and I work with a woman I've known from livejournal (NERD!) for years. We're both huge Trekkies. She loves James T. Kirk and I love TNG. Should be interesting, to say the least. I feel like this is going to become UTI (Universal Technical Institute, not urinary tract infection) part II. Have an indifferent attitude towards work but love my coworkers and become emotionally destroyed when I leave. Or not so much destroyed but I'm a big fan of dramatics (what? Don't judge me.).

With this new job, comes a new salary, new friends, new work environment, etc. I'm one step closer to gentrifying into a "sell out". Whatever, it's buying in, not selling out.

That being said, I am so excited for this week. Wednesday is Neil Gaiman Day! Hooray! Which means that somewhere around that celebration, I'll get to meet the fantastical Kyle Cassidy (who encouraged me to wear my Watchmen shirt to the book signing). B.Tom gains 25 nerd points!


Now to exit these destructive relationships and stand on my own. Insults will be traded, feelings will be hurt, but ultimately, I know this isn't where I belong. I have no idea where I belong but I think I'll take some time to figure it out.

Californication AKA my inability to fixate on a "real" male

I'm behind on the "hip" TV shows. Weeds lost my attention this season (Nancy Botwin, you are a mess) and as much as I love Belle De Jour's blog (and Billie Piper's ass for that matter) I'm not interested in the second season. Last season of Dexter was too awesome and I refuse to watch it anymore since nothing else will make me go, "WHAT?! WHAAAAT!" more than the last season's final episode.

That being said, I've blown through the first season of the X-Files in my post-surgery "not allowed to do anything fun" fest. My nerdy mind has exploded. I decided to watch Duchovney's new show, Californication... little did I know some writer somewhere had loved Bukowski's "Women" (which reminds me, I lent out my copy of it... now to whom...) as much as I did. This writer presumably went out and consumed as much cheap wine/whiskey as humanly possible then wrote a whole series about it.

First off, the main character's name is Hank. Second, he's a sex addict. Third, he's in love with a woman whose the love of his life but he can never have back (due to their emotional fuck ups). He's a mysogonist, acerbic, sardonic, charismatic, drinks Jameson straight, and is going through a writing funk. My god.

Since my infuatation with Fox Mulder (it's easier to like people who aren't real, they never disapoint, make you cry, never not call, etc.) knows no bounds, I think it's perfectly rational to say that I'll be watching the rest of Season 1 tonight, while doing my internship reading.

It's easier for me to drown myself in fiction (science, non, anything) than to deal with the "what if's" of reality right now.

Updating for the sake of Karen

There is nothing really relevant that I can say at this point.

Mogwai was pretty awesome, my ears are still ringing. The night was made even better by utterly ridiculous texts from one V. Spicer.

The quest for employment is going.

How does one handle this, politely?

So, many of my Mom's friends have kids my age who are all getting engaged or getting hitched. Which is fine, I mean whatever floats your boat. Unfortunately, these kind hearted souls keep asking my Mom, "When is Brooke going to get engaged?"

My Mom handles it with grace and tact, "She's not seeing anyone special." or "I don't know, whenever she's ready."

Thankfully I have neither grace, nor tact. To put it mildly, it's annoying when people who are blissfully wed (in a day and age when 50% of people get divorced) try to make me feel bad for not being part of their club. I'm not engaged, nor do I want to be anytime in the immediate future. I'm queer so I have a 50% chance of not even being able to marry my hypothetical partner (unless we go to Vermont, California, etc.). Regardless, I'm 25. Why should I be engaged? What happened to being twenty something and care-free? I'm mature enough to admit that I am selfish. I like not having to report to someone, to have a financial responsibility like a marriage (or a child), to do my own damn thing.

A small part of this may be embitterment that I haven't met "the love of my life". That small part is choked to death and swallowed whole (anaconda style) by the common sense part of my brain that says the notion of having one love of my life is out-dated.

Thank God(s) for rationality. WOOOO!

Guten tag

Karen, I am updating.

At this juncture, my life is being consumed with the (se)X-Files, Black Books, Battles, and learning everything humanly possible about Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, Martin Starr, and Judd Apatow. Sadly, none of these fandoms overlap.


Oh and a friend of a friend directed this so, yay!

After watching, After Hours, this morning I am officially convinced that Martin Scorsese did some really good drugs in the 80's. Also, he has no problem with uni-brows. The whole movie I kept thinking that Griffin Dunne (also known as THE DEAD GUY in An American Werewolf in London) was going to turn into a Maine Coon, what with the 'M' across his face. EEESH!