alikat1976

Okay, let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up:

I moved into a new apt, same complex. It's... well, it'll do.

Chris may or may not be moving back to Austin. We'll see what happens on the job front.

I have turned off my internet and fancified digi-tv and DVR and home phone for the summer. If you need to reach me, obtain my cell #.

That is all.

END TRANSMISSION.

So... I combined all the pics from my camera and Mom's - yeah, it's a lot of the same animals. We know. Bite us. http://s55.photobucket.com/albums/g159/alikat1976/National%20Zoo/

And I also posted my videos to my youtube channel - they're not hard to pick out. Ignore the stuff from work and my fishtanks, and you'll be fine. Really. http://www.youtube.com/user/AliKat1976

I have been jamming out all morning to the Dr. Horrible soundtrack. Awesome possum!

The people who claim to follow the teaching of Jesus Christ, shouldn't they be socialists? The Americans who claim they believe in the Constitution and the rights and beliefs of America - shouldn't they be welcoming of people with different religious backgrounds?

Sheeple.

Arrrrr!

This is a test. It is only a test.





AHHH Much sweetness!  It works!  Imagine that, I leveled up on World of Interweb!

Add +3 to webcam use.

In case you're interested, these are the betta rutilans I talked about in my last post.  They are as yet unnamed, and I welcome any suggestions.

I have a little 2-gallon fishtank on my desk at work.  I'd been keeping a von rio tetra in there with some ghost shrimp for almost 2 yrs.  I came in this morning and noticed that my tetra was on the gravel, breathing heavy and eye-bulgey.  Very sad day for me.

I've been losing fish pretty steadily over the summer, throughout all 4 of my tanks.  Started with the dwarf puffers going, one by one.  Then blackie the angelfish died.  I lost a florida flagfish at some point, but never found the body.  Downer for sure, but since it happened across all of my tanks, I know it isnt a water problem, just an old age problem. 

So I went down to Aquatek today to find some new pretties to put in my desk tank and was shown these really pretty betta rutilans.  They're a m/f pair, bright red with blue eyes.  Totally pretty and peaceful.  Hopefully they won't eat my shrimp.  I'll post pics at some point, if I can get some good ones.  Probably after the weekly water change, teehee.

Anyway... that's all I got today.  Hasta.

So, we went to the Austin Labor Day BBW Bash dance on Saturday.  It was the same routine we've done a mess of times before - spend time and energy making ourselves pretty so we can go pay entrance at the door and then deal with a cash bar.  Loud music, people everywhere.  This time though, I think it felt truly empty for the first time.

I always enjoy seeing old friends that I don't keep in touch with - that was never the problem.  In fact, it's the primary reason I even decided to go to the dance and not puss out like I wanted to on Friday night.  But as we were sitting there, and I was having more fun making the toy animals on the table do perverted things to one another, it struck me deeply...

I don't enjoy socializing anymore.

I don't like meeting new people, having the same conversations over and over.  I don't like feeling as though I have to be pretty and funny and entertaining for strangers.  When the Austin BBW Bash group held St. Patrick's Day and Memorial Day events, we went, but the experience was the same.  I walked away feeling as though I paid money for something that didn't entertain me, so why go?  Even Chris mentioned to me last month after JenMarie's birthday party that I didn't seem like I was having any fun because I didn't talk to anyone there, either.

I know that in large part, my "shyness" around strangers is due mostly to embarassment over the poor condition of my teeth, but I also think I may be hiding behind that excuse because I've hermitized over the last couple years.  I rarely go out anymore unless it's with my friends.  With gas prices being so high, I don't really leave the house too much, except for weekly girls' nights and trips to see Mom. 

It's frustrating for me personally to go to these big events anymore.  I feel as though I have some kind of "responsibility to the BBWs" to attend functions and go through the ordeal to present a nice package for display.  Maybe it's just me, but I think that feeling runs through a lot of us (and by us, I mean the BBWs who did any modeling or professional work) and that's why we make the effort that we do, to look good and put on our faces for the crowd.  We get stares and lewd comments.  Our assets are photographed (usually without consent, in my experience) and we're thanked for our money and service to the community.  Whatever. 

Maybe that's why I don't like socializing at the events with strangers.  I feel the weight of the looks when we enter the room - the men like to ogle, and the women... well, I don't know why they stare.  Reasons could be numerous, I suppose, but the end result is that I feel seperated from the group because of it.  Like I'm not a real person anymore.  The vibe I have gotten a few times in the past is that some of them think I must not face the same problems they do, or that my life is somehow easier than theirs. Because I'm tall and fair skinned and perceived to be better-looking than they?  I don't know.  I speculate, probably incorrectly, but that's how it strikes me at the time of this entry.

I know I used to really enjoy going out with the BBW groups.  We used to have a BLAST at clubs and houseparties.  Even the bash used to be something I looked forward to, unlike the events I now dread. 

Have I changed, or did they?  

I don't know.  Right now I have more questions than answers and probably need to spend some time sorting it all out.  Until then, however, I'm staying in my hidey-hole and I'm not coming out.  You can't make me!

I got to go to an advance screening of this movie last night, and I have to tell you, I really enjoyed it.

So, yeah.  Apparently gmail's dns servers aren't up to date or something, or maybe it's just my computer, but I can't get into gmail.  Frustrating.  Very frustrating.

Alternatively, Hulu has put Dr. Horrible back online for free, and they've put all 3 acts together with one commercial in the middle, so it's like 42 minutes of uninterrupted fangirl squeeness.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, take thee now to http://www.hulu.com/watch/28343/dr-horribles-sing-along-blog and get yourself an education.  

I love Joss Whedon.  I hate Google.  Now what? 

Today was going to be such a good day.  My BFF4E, 

curvedkitten got into town last night and is spending the weekend with me.  All I had to do today was go to work, come home, and let the party begin.  I was even singing to myself as I walked the dogs out to the truck (I have Mom's dog, Chibi, while she's on vacation).  Turned the key, engine fired and died.  Fired and died.  Fired and died.  Geri, the truck (short for Geriatric), is dead.  *sigh*

Couple hours and about a million frantic phonecalls later, and I wind up waiting for a tow truck so that I can get Mom's car and get my butt to work.  Shortly thereafter, the repair shop calls to tell me that my fuel pump module went out and the whole thing has to be replaced.  *sigh*  It's been an endlessly exhausting day - but I finally got the call a minute ago that Geri's out of surgery and resting peacefully.  So, tomorrow morning I will go pick her up and write a check for over $600.  

When I found this truck back in March, I thought it would be a good replacement vehicle for old Jane (R.I.P).  As it turns out, Geri is just a money-sucking whore, top to bottom.  

 

Did you know that when you eat too much quinoa: 

 

Your digestive system will create brown Floam?


 

So, there we were, nestled in bed together, waiting for sleep to take us.  I cuddled my squishy pillow against me and sighed.  I was going to have to get up and go to the bathroom before I would ever get to sleep.  Tossing my pillow over my head, I rolled out of bed, but was startled when he yelped.  

"What's wrong, did I scratch you?" I asked, worried that once again, my sharp fingernails had clawed his flesh.

"No, you hit me in the head," he whined back.  "With the pillow."

"Crybaby," I groaned.

"No, it hurt!  It pulled my hair!" he defended.

"Honey, you shave your head.  Go to sleep."