Square Dance and Guns Drawn

I officially dislike square beads.  I wanted to try out something new.  But it turns out they are difficult to work with and, in the end, not all that different from miyuki beads for uniformity.  It might be the matte finish wasn't helping.  The collar I started out on ended up as a bracelet, and even so I found the physical sensation of the beads so irritating that even that 6 inches took me a few weeks.

My next pattern is one I actually bought online.  Its a bracelet, but will be the widest piece I have ever done.  And the most complicated pattern (even though its relatively simple, I am still very new to looming).  So we shall see how that goes.

So the last time we went to Disney, after we got back on the road from picking up M, as we are driving on the Turnpike, we see the police on the side of the road, guns drawn and pointing at someone in an SUV.  That was a Disney trip first.  I am guessing their trip was not nearly as fun as ours was.

Mental Notes

1.  Making pumpkin bread in the morning makes the entire house smell amazing.

2.  I get an Elmo stamp on the hand when I use the potty. 

3.  I do not like square beads

4.  Covering 6 people's jobs leaves me exhausted.

Ummm I'm a Kid Now?

I tend to piss people off.

Big shocker there, I know.

I am not nice.  I do not rephrase my opinions to state them in a nice way.  And when people of a limited intellect get angry, they tend to hurl insults.  The only problem is, not being very bright... they tend to hurl lame or off target insults.


Calling someone a "kid" really only works as an insult when they are, in fact, a kid.  I'm 35.  Pointing out my age, with the implication that I am somehow young or inexperienced is not quite the stinging barb one might hope for when the person in question is middle aged, has a couple of kids, a marriage that took a decade to end, a big chunk off a 30 year mortgage... do you see where I am going with this?

The whole "what would you know, you're only 35" argument only really works if we were discussing geriatric issues.  Which, while I am sure this guy has far more experience with, wasn't really the topic of discussion.


Seriously, stop embarassing yourself.  That "you're too young to understand" crap has an expiration date, Einstein.  Jesus, if you can't step up to the plate stay on the fucking bench.  Swinging away for the cheap seats only to smack yourself in the face with the bat is just fucking sad. Actually, hitting yourself in the face with a bat might be a good start.  At least you could use it as an excuse for why you look like that.

I understand that the person in question is a member of a certain social group that has led me to believe it attracts the, lets just say, lower rung of the I.Q. ladder.  *coughGoreanscough*  So chances are he really is kind of a little retarded.  Its unfair to expect better of your inferiors.  But still... a little effort?  Looking at my profile one can come up with way better insults and implications.  My age is clearly listed.  I am not pretending to be some teen.  I am middle fucking aged! 

Here's a hint to the man in question - you went in the wrong direction, Einstein.

Collecting and Peeing for an Audience... Again

Ok this is not nearly as interesting as the title might imply.

During the course of my last Disney excursion (or incursion, it really depends on your point of view I guess) I finally fell prey to the one Disney related addiction I had somehow managed to avoid in my first 1,000+ trips. 

Hi, my name is Daughtry, and I am a pin collector.

Sigh.

I see this getting expensive.  Like most of my little obsessions, I tend to go way overboard.  I have enough jewelry making supplies to bedazzle my car.  I can start now and work until this time next year and not go through what I already have in my now sizable beads cabinet.  I don't even sell what I make.  This is what I have laying around to feed my own personal obsession.  A few years ago I gave F my box of Vampire cards.  I had a few thousand.  I had played the game for less than a month.  Yes, I know, I am insane.  OCD people really shouldn't indulge in OCD friendly hobbies.  Blame M, she talked me into it.  (And by that I mean she did it within 100 feet of me, therefor causing a domino effect.  I am also a communist.  Blame Vietnam.)

And the peeing for an audience thing?  Potty training the toddler.

See, told you it wouldn't be as interesting as one might think.

Brrrraaaaiiiinnnnsss!!!!

So apprently while I was wandering drunk and partying in Disney and Universal, I missed the Zombie Walk in Miami - or a chance to wander around drunk and partying in Miami.

Though really, one could walk around all day in Miami looking for brains to eat only to end up starving to death.  Tourist season has already started and, despite what they call it, you're not actually allowed to hunt them.

Totally unfair, I know, huh?

Oh well, maybe next year I can splatter on the green paint and the blood and shuffle through downtown Touristville.

But how does one tell the difference between the "zombies" and the "tourists" anyway?  Its the same blank dead eyed look, the same aimless shamble.

Just look for the backhair coming up over the top of the Speedo.  Dead give away.

Also - way more frightening than zombies.  I would rather jump head first into a pile of the flesh eating undead wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress than spend five minutes shopping on Lincoln Road with a bunch of French Canadians. 

Actually, when the zombie apocolypse comes, and it will, I recommend hiding behind the French Canadian tourists.  Zombies only want humans with brains, right?  Those people are totally safe.  The zombies just need to watch them drive for 5 minutes to know there will be no feast at that table.

Woo Girl Weekend

I spent a weekend of drunken debauchery at the Epcot Food and Wine Festival and Halloween Horror Nights with friends.  I now have to limp/hobble back to the day job with a sigh.


My favorite parts were the Harry Potter section of Universal and of course... the drunken wandering.  I don't really drink anymore, with the diet.  Also, 100 pounds of difference in your weight makes it way easier to get drunk.  Both at Epcot and drinking shots with E at HHN.

There was much wooing.

Then we got back and picked up Master's new car.  Oooooh pretty pretty shiney shiney.

And my first boyfriend, the boy I lost my virginity too once upon a LONG time ago, messaged me.  I think he is the only person alive that I am not related to and that I do speak to that knew me when I was a virgin.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually was once upon a time.