Entries from September 2004 ↓

A list of worthy competitors, the winner of which is determined by number of Google page results:

low carb vs. low fat (Winner: Low Fat!)

Kottke vs. Slashdot (Winner: Slashdot!)

Fark vs. Metafilter (Winner: Fark!)

ass vs. titties (Winner: ass!)

Einstein vs. Galileo (Winner: Einstein!)

Paris Hilton vs. literacy (Winner: literacy!)

yin vs. yang (Winner: yang!)

Krystal vs. White Castle (Winner: White Castle!)

circumcised vs. uncircumcised (Winner: circumcised!)

Ja Rule vs. 50 Cent (Winner: 50 Cent!)

Agent Cooper vs. Black Lodge (Winner: Black Lodge!)

Florida vs. Frances (Winner: Florida!)

Bush vs. Kerry (Winner: Bush. God fucking help us.)

I did not know that. Now I’m going to have to give up another delicious demon.

Now is about the time when I start thinking really hard about my costume for Halloween. Last year I didn’t dress up and I really regret it. Halloween is the BEST holiday, and I can’t wait to start getting my stuff together. As soon as I find out what that stuff is going to be.

But, everytime I start thinking of a costume I think about my friend Jenny’s costume about four years ago. Considering the circumstances, it might have been the best costume of all time. We worked at Outback Steakhouse together at the time, where they encouraged employees to dress up. Most girls came as sexy bunnies, or sexy devils, or sexy cops (because, when you can’t be creative it is easiest to make up for it with skankiness), but Jenny came as a booger.

Yup, a booger. She wrapped herself in a greenish-yellow cellophane, put a ton of goopy gel in her hair and carried a big sign that said, “SAVE THE BOOGERS”. Only thing better than going as a booger, is going as a protesting booger. See, she wanted to go as a snot ball for Halloween since she was a kid, but her mom never let her. Jenny was from a very prestigious and rich family who only allowed their daughters to go as clowns or princesses or Stawberry Shortcake. So once Jenny didn’t have to have her costume approved by her mother, she did it. She became a booger.

The most hilarious part of the whole evening was people’s reaction. That evening Jenny’s tables either asked to be moved, asked for a different server, or got up and left. They were so grossed out by A GIRL WRAPPED IN CELLOPHANE pretending to be a booger that they couldn’t take it. As if she looked anything like actual dried nasal mucus. Which she did not.

Anyway, to me, that is what a Halloween costume is all about. Go with your gut, and care not who you offend. Forget treats, bitch, it’s all about the tricks.

What is the best Halloween costume you’ve ever worn?

When you are cooking eggs, hand me the shell. I like to crush them up in my hands.

Refer to me as Miss B.

Quote “Twin Peaks” to me in my presence. (You may actually get tongued for that one.)

Talk to children like they aren’t retarded. They deserve better.

Point out to me any juicy, tabloid-y articles about Rachel from “For Love or Money.”

Wear one of those John Edwards is Hot t-shirts.

Make me a mix CD I can actually hear.

Offer me Cheet-os. Mmmm, Cheet-os.

Notice that I’ve lost 12 pounds since joining the gym.

Ask for my opinion on wine, then take it.

Don’t mention that I look like “that chick from Roseanne.”

I was awakened at 7 this morning by a flash of lightning so bright I thought someone was taking a picture using a flash. I went right back to sleep though and had one of the scariest dreams I’ve ever had.

I keep having these nightmares. I keep having the same fucking nightmare over and over again. It isn’t every night. At least, I don’t remember it every night. But once every couple of weeks I have a nightmare that my boyfriend is leaving. Or cheating. Or ending up in the bed with his ex-girlfriend.

[ASIDE TO THE CLASS: I’m a little bit crazy.]

Last night’s dream was one of the worst. Boyfriend and I lived in this big house and for some reason it was filled with people. It was filled up with people from our past. An older neighbor I once had was there, and my childhood preacher and most of our exes. Which was the source of my anxiety in this dream. I went into this jealous psycho rage the likes of which haven’t been seen since the boiling of the bunny. I wanted one of his ex-girlfriends out of the house immediately but I couldn’t find Boyfriend to tell him. Every time I would find him he would disappear before I could tell him I was LOSING MY FUCKING MIND, then I would look for him again, half the time being told he was with her, the other half the time finding him WITH HER.

Then they’d be gone.

When I was finally able to keep him in front of me for more than a few seconds he wouldn’t let me speak. He told me he could no longer live this way. With my insanity. He’d run into my first boyfriend I’d ever had, and he told Boyfriend how I scared him away 12 years ago with that same crazy jealousy. Boyfriend now saw that he had to break-up with me. For my own good.

And then he was gone.

Have you ever screamed in a dream? You know the kind where it happens in your head, but not in real life, so it sort of gets stuck halfway in between? Well, that is what happened. Except lots and lots of screaming.

I searched the house for him everywhere. For hours. For hours I ran through the house looking for him, to tell him that I loved him one last time, but he was nowhere. But still I searched.

Night fell. I couldn’t find him because he was sleeping. I looked in the bedrooms one by one when I saw the familiar slump of his sleeping shoulders beneath layers of quilts. And then she stepped out of the far side of the bed to use the restroom. She never looked at me. And he never woke up.

Then I did.

I woke up suddenly, breathing shallowly and quickly wondering WHAT THE FUCK just happened. I got up to pee. As I sat there the pressure of all those unscreamed screams weighed on my throat and I lost it. I cried and cried and screamed and cried. Boyfriend had left for work long ago–he wasn’t there to assure me it was okay. I’ve rarely felt as alone as I did this morning.

So I called him. And screamed and cried some more. He assured me that he would never leave just because I am a little bit crazy. And that truth be told, I’m probably a lot crazy. But that no amount of crazy would scare him away.

I feel cracked out now. You know how after a long night of Class A partying it feels like your brain turned into applesauce in the morning? That is how I feel right now.

Man. I’ve got to find a way to quit with these nightmares.