Please Forgive Me

Please forgive me.

2010-03-28T00:25:00.000-04:00

(Dear Christy Henderson with Storm Team 7:

Yikes, I was rude, wasn't I? I'm so sorry. I've been working on this, you know. My verbal dysentery has gotten the better of me again. Hence the blog.

Can I be your friend?

Affably yours,
Tee Ache.)

Dear Christy Henderson with Storm Team 7:

2010-03-28T00:07:00.002-04:00

I thought I should clarify this confusing little news nugget for the benefit of readers everywhere. I saw on the news that you had to make an emergency landing with your plane, as shown below:

Ms. Henderson: If the plane is upside down, you haven't landed it. You've crashed it.

Cordially,
Tessicle.

P.S.--So glad you're safe. That must have been horrific. ... Seriously. Give me a call sometime. We'll talk about it over caramel macchiatos. I'm Theresa, by the way.

Check it out--

2010-03-27T23:51:00.005-04:00

This poster gives me vivid, hallucinatory "Logan's Run"-eqsue waking dreams.

I want a Nikon DSLR more than ever now.

Suckerpunch! Suckerpunch! Suckerpunch!

2010-03-27T23:13:00.002-04:00

Things I've learned this week:

*Cats have tails and whiskers. But mice also have tails and whiskers. That's where things get confusing for me.

*I am, for the most part, incapable of returning rented/borrowed items in a timely manner. (Library, Family Video, and Mrs. LeBerth--please, please forgive me. I am so full of shame right now.)

*Serifs are apparently more difficult to read on-screen than when printed. So, my blog = fail. Besides, you know, the obvious reasons for it being a failure. (See: two-year hiatus, lack of interesting topics.)

*There's no shame in having shame, unless it's a really embarrassing secret shame that you keep locked away, and when you tell your closest friends about it, they laugh at you and tell you that your shame is pretty darn shameful. This makes a person the worst kind of loser.

*The word "precipitous" can be overused in conversation.

Not all who wander are lost, but I am admittedly terrible with directions.

2010-03-17T11:10:00.002-04:00

There's a certain point in almost everything in my life where even if I have the intention of doing something, I know that no one actually thinks I'll follow through--so I just don't bother for a while. Eventually I'll get around to these tasks, but not before every person out there has forgotten I intended to do those tasks in the first place. Then, when I get them done ... BAM! I'm all in your face with having accomplished something, and it's completely unexpected.

Shortly thereafter one normally recalls the fact that, "Oh, yeah, you said you'd do that for me eleven months ago," and then my face would be shoved centimeters from a steaming pile of my own mediocrity--"Bad Tessie! Naughty Girl! Look at your shame!"--but I can counter with the fact that i the end, I got it done, so what's the big deal?

This leads me to my next point--I actually updated this blog. I got it done. In UNDER two years.

Thursday last, as Husband and I were in the drawing room, he carrying on with his seasonal needlepoint and I skimming through Lady Chatterly's Lover to find all the good bits, he asked me without lifting his head, "Whatever happened to that blog you used to write? You know the one about you being sorry because you do everything wrong all the time?"

"I got busy," said I simply. This was a half-truth. I have been busy. Babies keep you busy with their poop and their need to eat and all those other things. But I have also been incredibly lazy, and I'm sure that at some point I could have turned off "Lost", called Sesame Street to see if it could babysit for a hour or so, and actually come on here to apologize for the thousands of wrongs I've committed since November 2008. (Thousands.)

So, to everyone who doesn't read this anymore because there's been nothing to read--I'm so sorry. It must have been excruciating. I hate myself for you. Please, please forgive me.

(Also, don't even bother with Lady Chatterly's Lover. Too wordy.)

All my misplaced affections,
Tessers.

Atonement! Atonement!

2008-11-29T14:31:00.003-05:00

Would the following individuals please forgive me?

Trey--because when I said the cabin my Father rented for Thanksgiving was going to be a peaceful retreat to provide you with uninterrupted writing time, I liiiiiiied.

I wasn't trying to be a liar--but, clearly, I should have thought the whole idea through a little more thoroughly. I did not think about:

a) Joan Crawford movie marathons
b) The inconvenience of parents who refuse to sleep on the same floor as one another
c) How utterly needy I am towards you when I'm around my family for extended periods of time (You are my coping mechanism.)

Rachel--I'm sorry I said I was going to blow your brains our if you wouldn't eat at TGI Friday's with us. I was just very hungry.

The really pretty couple that I sneered at in Downtown Gatlinburg last night--I'm sorry. I just really don't like exceptionally pretty people. That's not your fault, though ... I get that. So, I'm sorry.

Everyone who came into contact with me in the past 48 hours. I know I was unpleasant. I do not know why. There was no need for me to be that way.

Mr. B, the patron who was just in the library--I'm sorry I sniggered at your hot-pink gloves. I was rude.

Mr. Compton--I'm sorry I was nearly responsible for your family receiving condolence cards before your actual demise.

To be fair, when the caretaker said "They took him off life support, soooo...", I assumed the "soooo..." meant that you had met your maker.

Still, I should have asked.

NaNoWriMo--I'm sorry I've failed you for the second year in a row. I did get some writing done, which makes me feel good. I tend, though, to make a habit of committing to the impossible (or something that's possible, but which I'm entirely too lazy to do).

I'm sure that's not all. But I need to take a breather.

Here's the Skinnie, Minnie:

2008-11-10T20:57:00.002-05:00

Lessons I've Learned Over The Past Five Months (a.k.a. Why I haven't been blogging):

* A cookie is a dangerous promise. It's also a delectable morsel that one may be willing to lose a spouse over.

* There is nothing good on TV. Now or ever.

* So, yeah, maybe we could probably clone mammoths; but why would we want to?

* I lovelovelove everything about MTTS.

* I am two months overdue for a friend purge, but can't seem to get around to it because my stupid pregnancy mood-changes have made me unwilling to do the deed. I'm feeling the stress of not getting rid of my more toxic of acquaintances. (If any friend is reading this who's due for the purge and I haven't gotten around to it yet, can you go ahead and just not call me? ... You know who you are.)

* People think Pres.-Elect Obama is the Antichrist. Wrong... Here lay the Beast.

* Pregnancy makes you do two things pretty consistently: sleep, and complain about things. Guess which of those habits I've been frequenting?

* My house has reached a "COPS" state-of-being again. Have you ever seen those episodes of COPS? Where they break into a house and there's trash piled everywhere, and a lame Spanish-speaking parrot on the floor peeking out from underneath a Pizza-Hut box? Well, that place is where I live right now.

* Apple Jacks taste a little like apples to me.

(And, yeah, I know that it's taken me a while to blog. If you bring it up, I'll cry. Sorry, okay?)

Cordially,
Tessalah H.

I don't ever want to smell like that woman who was just in the library smelled. Because it wasn't good.

2008-10-01T15:37:00.004-04:00

Part of my job working at the library is utilizing our materials to help people find solutions to everyday problems. Another part of my job is dealing with really, really smelly people.

This is admittedly one of my least favorite parts of my job, and yes, of course I'll be obliged to detail the different types of scents I encounter throughout the day:

* Vindaloo Curry + Glycerin
* Chlorine + Firewater
* Twenty years of four-packs-a-day + One case of budweiser
* Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds
* Falafel + Disgrace
* Human Waste

I don't mind little smells. Everyone has little smells. I can handle cigarettes, must, day-old basketball play-off, wet dog, wet cat ... these scents are a part of society that I must accept as a public servant.

But, come on. Do some people purposely swathe themselves in these musks at the door so they've achieved maximum potency seconds before leaning into me over the counter? ... Okay, I'll assume these people can't smell themselves. Has no one told them? I'll be honest with Trey if he needs to hop into the shower before interacting with other Human Beings, and I expect him to do the same. Do these people have no one to love them that much?

If I had known smelly people had no one to love them, I'd have been much nicer to them.

Please forgive me ... this same time, tomorrow.

2008-06-25T15:02:00.003-04:00

Here are my two biggest lately-sins:

--I cannot stop thinking generally terrible thoughts about people. Right now, chances are that in my head I'm circling around some very heinous thought about you; about what a whore you are, or how fat your head is, or why you giggle like that when things aren't funny (or why you leave books on the counter, right above the bookdrop, or how you check out the same four wrestling magazines over and over ...). I'm seething all the time.

It's a terrible thing. I've been making up for it with manual labor--lots of manual labor--and that does make me feel better about all the bad things I've been thinking this week. The only thing I dislike about penitence is that it's difficult to stock up on it for future sins--penitence tends to have a short shelf-life. I can scrub the kitchen floor by hand tonight because I know I'm going to say something nasty about you tomorrow, but all that work just won't take the sting out like it does when you're scrubbing that floor with hard-earned shame.

--Pride. I don't normally struggle with this, but lately I've become slightly more than egotistical. Oddly, I do it in my own "Tesstastic" brand: I own my flaws and sins rather pridefully. I think I've come dangerously close to bragging about my inferiority complex. I'm not lying--I *do* actually have an inferiority complex a massive one. I'm not trying to make myself look a martyr, not trying to make myself look good; quite to the contrary, I'm trying to make myself look bad. So, I proudly, unashamedly parade my shame and weakness before my coworkers, friends and people I meet in convenience stores. Do I do it to protect myself? To give myself the power of owning my flaws before someone else discovers them? Ah, I don't think it really matters. Any respectable Tessie would keep her shame to herself.

There are so many more that I could address, but I'm pretty certain I need to be working right now, because being lazy on the clock? Totally a sin.

!!!

2008-06-12T22:09:00.001-04:00

Here's a cover of The Ramone's "I Wanna Be Sedated" by Octogenarian choir, Young@Heart.

Auntie Tessie, at your service.

2008-06-06T20:39:00.001-04:00

If anybody reads this tonight, comment something to keep me entertained. I'm at the hospital tonight waiting for my new niece to arrive. I'm pretty stoked.

I'm also pretty tired. I didn't get much sleep and I have to work tomorrow morning ... though chances are I won't be home until early morning.

So, if you happen to stumble here, s me a question, or entertain me with a funny anecdote. Or watch television and describe what you're watching to me. Anything to keep me alive.

Queen of the Sea

2008-05-27T19:44:00.003-04:00

When I was a little girl I sat on the couch one afternoon, drinking hot tea and watching Maury Povich with Mummy--it was an episode about counseling people through their bizarre and embarrassing tastes in "fashion". There were lots of dowdy drag queens and overweight skanks on that episode, and I wasn't phazed by them. What did phaze me was an older teenager who designed all her own clothing and tailored it to her eclectic tastes (to the chagrin of her mother). She came on the show in a floor-length A-line organza ball gown that pushed her breasts into her chin. It was an iridescent blue with turquoise tulle layered over the skirt, and over that swooped a layer of seafoam green fishing net. Hot-glued onto the fishing net were glittering seashells and starfish in pink, orange and yellow.

I remember she twirled in the dress, her fishing net flapping about her clumsily, and she placed her hands on the conch shells on her hips and cooed, "I call it my 'Queen of the Sea' dress." Contrary to the reaction of the audience, I couldn't help cheering for her, and I clapped my hands vigorously and sighed a delighted "Bravo!". That night, and a few nights after, I dreamt of sailing the high seas in that dress, and getting married to King Triton in that dress, and getting my driving license in that dress, and accepting my Oscar in that dress.

That was thirteen years ago. I still feel sort of feel as if that dress is my soulmate. I don't know who that girl was, or where she found the inspiration for that masterpiece. But somewhere, in a closet or a landfill, I'd like to think that dress is out there, thinking of me too.

Draw 50 Disappointed Children

2008-05-25T21:26:00.006-04:00

Here's someone who's relatively under-appreciated and who may deserve it: Lee J. Ames. You may recognize his handiwork as that sticky-tacked to the walls of any truly American elementary school, in posters of our most famous presidents--you'll also find books he's illustrated in cardboard boxes stacked in the back of Goodwill--such rare treasures as:

Daniel Boone: the Opening of the Wilderness

or

The Story of Power

If those don't look familiar, hit the sale shelves at one of your local libraries for any discarded copies of Trixie Belden novels or Landmark Books, and consider your memory refreshed. At the library, our most circulated Ames book is "Draw 50 People of the Bible" (that's right, he's the "Draw 50 ..." guy. Remember? There you go.)

I'm (at the worst) intimately familiar with his illustrations. Like most people who pay attention to these things, I can spot an Ames drawing from seventy-eight paces. He has multiple styles, all of which scream "Look at me, I'm that guy who does that stuff". When I'm tired I start to see in Ames-vision. I have to rub my eyes; I have to pause, shake my head gently, blink hard, make with the owl-eyes. For someone so ingrained with Lee Ames, you'd think I'd like him more.

My beef with Lee Ames, is he does this "anybody can draw" crap. You get his books and he says "Look, here's how to draw a polar bear. See, polar bears are really just circles and squares and cones, and then you draw in the fir." And so you learn how to copy his polar bear drawing, and you think you're really getting the composition, and you have grandeur notions of all the things you're going to be able to draw now that you've mastered his techniques, and guess what? All you can draw is a fucking polar bear, and you can only draw him in profile anyway, and you can't even make it a she-bear because Lee Ames didn't tell you how. So now you're stuck with what you don't realize is a shitty drawing of a polar bear and feelings of inadequacy because he briefly makes you feel like a champ, but you know soon thereafter that you're not.

The other thing I dislike about him is that when you read his books, you feel like everything has to look like something. Specifically, his something. I realize books can only teach you so much. But when you're a kid and you want to be a great artist and Lee Ames' book is telling you that if you want to draw an ice cream truck you have to start with the front left tire and instead you create an existential masterpiece, you're still going to feel like a fucking failure because all you wanted to do was Draw 50 Boats, Ships, Trucks and Trains.

Here's a Married to the Sea about Ames. I know how this guy in the picture feels.

Lee Ames: Why did you break my 10-year-old heart?

Don't forget the cannoli.

2008-05-25T21:18:00.002-04:00

Here's a video that the cast of "SpongeBob SquarePants" worked up for the Annie Awards back in February. They've dubbed over various scenes from Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, and The Godfather. I can't get that last scene out of my head, with Marlon Brando's moving speech about being a man. Somehow, the voice fits.

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

The title of this piece is, "Whatever The Opposite of Instinct Is, That's What I Have".

2008-05-08T11:34:00.007-04:00

I think the word would be "anstinct".

Lately I've had to make some tough calls. I hope you understand that when I say "tough calls", they are only difficult decisions for me. For you, these kinds of choices ("Oh God, white or wheat?") wouldn't send you spinning into a swirling stupor. Well, excuse me for not being blessed with all your gifts. If we were all winners, winning wouldn't mean much. I simply happen to be lacking in two very fundamental areas: instinct and reason.

So, first let's talk about my anstinct (that's right, this blog is all about me). Instinct is about natural urges, rather than reason. It is often looked upon negatively because it can get people into very serious trouble depnding on whether or not said urges are legal (or generally morally "good"). In this respect I am mostly very lucky, becuase I rarely get myself into trouble by suddenly getting the urge to do something morally ambiguous (speaking is another matter altogether though, and we will touch on this later).

The most obvious deficiency in my instinct department is with the very basic idea of "fight or flight". I was born without the fight-or-flight response. In difficult situations, I do neither. I stand there with my mouth gaping, or I sob, or I do something generally considered unhelpful. I am that person to whom the "Get out of the way!/Stand back!" bellows are repeatedly declared in high-stress situations. I'm always very thankful that I don't wet myself.

"So," you might say to me, "that's not all terribly bad, Tessicle. The world needs competent, reasonable people who can sit down and really assess a situation objectively. Not everyone needs to think on their feet." Ah. That is a very good point, only I also lack basic reasoning skills. I can google things; I can decipher recipes with relative ease; I can go on green and (most of the time) stop on red. Beyond that, I simply malfunction.

Take for example, the case of the older patron who shoved his tongue in my ear. I urged fellow employees not to make a mountain out of a molehill, said his spit was unpleasant but not harassing, per se; I let it go, even though said patron came back to the library and told me that (while perhaps he shouldn't have aurally assaulted me) he'd totally do it again, because I'm a very pretty girl.

Two weeks later, at four in the morning, I sat up in bed and smacked Trey on the arm. "Oh my Gawd," I said, "That was so not cool for him to do that."

"Mwsshi?" He said, and rolled over.

And he was right.

What was I talking about? And why did it take me two weeks to decide that Dude's behavior wasn't necessarily appropriate?

My point is, when he did that, my instinct wasn't to knee his 'nads or to run away. I stood there, hands clasped together, while he did that ("Hey, you had nachos for lunch! I can taste it in my ear!"), and continued to stand there as he walked away. (In my mind, I was replaying that one scene from "The Office" when Dwight's sitting in his Trans Am, listening to REMs "Everybody Hurts" and lolling his head from side to side. I love that scene.) And it took me two weeks to begin to reason the situation as being unfavorable.

Since instinct isn't a learned ability--and trust me, it isn't, because whenever I try to imitate the instincts that other people exhibit, I get into trouble--I feel I need to concentrate on improving my reasoning skills. This is my plan:

*Every morning upon waking I will complete two pages out of my Big Book of Mad Libs;
*At lunch I will complete two sudokus and every puzzle in Hilights Magazine (r);
*Half-hour napsies at 3 p.m. every day (work is no excuse);
*Watch more "Bill Nye the Science Guy" and less "Full House";
*Start using a cane;
*Take Geritol, because old people are smart.

Any more suggestions? Don't leave me hanging when I'm so obviously in need of help, here.

_______________________

Shouldn't you be asleep?

2008-05-08T02:36:00.003-04:00

Everyone should be on notice--I've been organizing a little blog overhaul here, so expect to see new things. I hope you'll like the changes.

You won't, but I'll hope anyway, cluck cluck.

Kisses,
Theresa Susanne Holliday and the Starlight Dizko Orchestra feat. Gerry Smithers

Who are you again?

2008-05-05T19:34:00.002-04:00

I get it, identity theft is wrong. It destroys lives, which I'm thinking has got to suck. But if I were going to be any kind of thief, I'd be an identity thief.

I know what you're thinking. "Stop right there, T-Rex. This has been done before. Didn't you see that trendy Leonardo DiCaprio movie about identity theft? ... No? Oh, you totally have to. It's so fresh and original. And it's based on a true story, I bet. And there were aeroplanes and electrotypographs and paper checks and everything."

Well, I know that. I read a synopsis on Wikipedia. And it is totally not the same.

First of all, he wasn't really stealing identities. He was creating new ones. And while it's more "original", it takes much less effort. If I tell a patron my name is Suzy Morganstern, they'll probably believe me, because those jerkasses don't know any better. But if I tell them my name is Ashley Holt, they'll say "Liar. Ashley's standing right behind you, and he has his name tag on and everything", and I'll have to come up with an excuse as to why he's wearing my name tag and how I'm really Ashley, and all without him hearing it.

Basically, I want to become other people. If I do become an identity thief, it certainly won't be for the money (you're welcome). I am obviously very well-to-do, what with my six-figure paychecks and lack of privatized student loans, and besides, it's wrong to steal money.

I'm buttering you up ...

So, here's the deal. I'm looking for a volunteer--someone who won't mind me borrowing their identity. Don't be scared. I won't apply for store credit or anything. I just want to be you for a while--enter some sweepstakes, go to some clan cookouts, place an order for your disposable contact lenses, take your dog to the vet, do your grocery shopping, clean your litter box. Whatever you normally do, that's what I'd do. Including griping about things. I'd adopt your political, spiritual and ethical views. I want to go the whole six yards on this. Let me know if you're interested.

Or, should I say, let you know if you're interested.

Think about it.

Tessahaalic's Site of the Week

2008-05-02T22:19:00.002-04:00

It's Friday again, and you know what that means. Actually, you don't, because I've never done a Site of the Week, and probably won't again. I shy away from commitment.

Anyway, here's my site of the week--

ManBabies.

Basically, it's a website with pictures of men and babies, only they switch the head around. It is now, officially, my favorite thing ever.

I mean that most sincerely.

Enjoy.

Starting Your Marriage Right

2008-04-29T15:05:00.003-04:00

...

... this couple has everything under control, from the sound of it.

At least they're being honest with one another about how they feel. I know lots of people who might benefit from a drop kick to the head in the seventh floor hallway of a Holiday Inn.

The only problem is, I do take issue with her attacking the guests. I mean, they're guests

Just sayin'.

Recreational Spewing

2008-04-21T13:14:00.003-04:00

Anyone who knows me, or has heard of me, or who reads my blog, or has ever seen me on a Sunday afternoon knows that I am addicted to purging. Not of the vomitous nature, but more getting rid of everything. I purge papers, friends, art, hot dog buns, situations, STDs. You name it, I'm trying to get rid of it. This is mostly because I am out of control when it comes to accumulating shit. I am an afficianado of odds and ends, bits of scrap paper and plastic, and lousy acquaintances. I collect all these things without restraint, and when I am inundated with all the problems these cause, I just throw my hands up in the air and sumble away, telling myself it's okay not to look back.

I do a bi-yearly friend-purge where I take stock of new friends, discover they're emotionally manipulating and abusing me, and awkwardly cut off ties with them in a manner that leaves them devastated and confused because, "hey, we were getting along, right? And you promised to dog-sit for me on spring break like four days ago, so why aren't you answering my calls? I know it's on purpose because I'll call you at three in the morning and I know you're home because everybody's home at three in the morning at least sometimes, you know? ... Answer me, bitch! ... Please? ... Kay, fine. What-evs."

I know I should feel bad. And I do feel quite sorrowful over it, really. No one ever **wants to declare friendship bankruptcy. But when my friends take a turn for the crazy and I start to get those "Hey, I know you're a heterosexual and married, but I kinda need you to be my wife now" vibes, I stick my finger straight down the throat of our friendship and let it happen.

--

Anyway, back to purging. Another thing many of you may know about me is that although vomiting is not exclusive on my purge list, it is definitely on there. Now, vomiting is not intentional for me. If I get stressed out, or have a migraine, or smell ginger ale or sausage gravy before noon, I just throw up. Usually there's a build-up--several hours of a tight chest and itchy throat, followed by a couple hours of cuddle time with the toilet.

After years and years of throwing up on a bi-weekly basis at the least, I'm fairly accustomed to the process, which doesn't make it more pleasant but does make it more entertaining.

Do I have an eating disorder? Not even close. If those were vanity vomits, I'd look a hell of a lot better than I do now. I have a stress disorder. I'm constantly anxious. I've got a full load here. Anything you put on me, no matter how small, could be the straw that makes the camel puke. But throwing is something that eventually calms me down. I wish I knew a better way to get my frustration out--an easier way that gives me better skin and doesn't make my mouth sad. But since it isn't something I can control anyway, isn't it better to simply embrace it, and maybe invest in a bottle of ipecac for when times get especially tough?

Wishing you well,
Tessicle

Mr. T's Secret Magic

2008-04-19T13:19:00.001-04:00

This is not a joke.

(But I am confused. Does this mean the Jews were right, and Mr. T is the son of God?)

Bank Fraud, Schmank Schmaud.

2008-04-15T14:50:00.006-04:00

So, what would you say if *you* were in this lil' picklet (yes, a picklet, because regular-sized pickles aren't cute but picklets certainly are)?

Eight months ago Trey and I wrote a rent check. Four months ago, they actually got around to chashing said check. Monday, they tried to send the check through again, and I got an NSF fee. Which sucks, because:

a) NSFs don't look great on your bank account,
b) $29 *is* a lot of money to me,
c) "Dum Spiro Spero", which is Latin for "Hands, Off, Moneygrabbers".

Seriously though. I didn't know if there was going to be enough money in the bank to get home. I am a resourceful chickadee, though, and made it home problem-free.

Well, yesterday, they ran the check through again. This is a third time. Three. Trois. Not two, not four, but three. So, I'm fifty-eight dollars in the hole. And to make sure it doesn't go through AGAIN, I need to put a stop payment in with my bank. Which is fifteen dollars. Add those two, and that's like two hundred dollars right there.

Well, more accurately, seventy-three dollars. But you see what I'm getting at. And anyone who knows me knows that I can't afford to be down seventy-three dollars.

I called the apartment office today, and the secretary (who knows nothing) was in. She said she'd leave a message with the landlord. I told her I needed it dealt with immediately. She said she'd leave a message with the landlord. I said it was time sensitive:

"I'll leave a message with the landlord."

Wow.

I asked for the name of the landlord's boss. She said she didn't know. I told her I needed to speak with someone today. She asked what she wanted me to do, and I think the answer should have been obvious. Anyway, I asked her what she wanted me to do, and she said to call her back in a little while, so now I'm waiting.

I'm sure it's an honest mistake on their part. The sad thing is--

and I'm **really** sorry to say this--

I. Don't. Give. A. Shit.

I don't know how much more clear I can be. Whose problem it on the corporate fun-chute is not my concern. My concern is supplying myself and my husband with groceries and my cats with fresh litter, and it's hard to do when you've got no money. I need to speak with whomever can make that happen. If I don't, a blood vessel in my head is going to burst and I will surely fall.

How's your day been going?

The Problem With Tailpipe

2008-04-09T18:49:00.006-04:00

That's the name of my new play.

Not really. Maybe.

Anyway, Tailpipe came in today, and he's just a barrel of fun. He's old and grey, but for his ears--black hair all over his ears. All over. His eyes are shiny and his jaw has a constant wobble--barely noticeable--and when he smiles he passes for a sweet old man that doesn't completely creep out the little ones.

He was outside today handing out his inspirational poetry to the children patronizing our lawn. His peotry is, to me, delightful (if not a bit alarming), because it falls into a genre beyond "terrible", or "psychotic", or "sign of the times". Anyway, apparently he gave some younger girls poetry about how they shouldn't whore themselves for crack, and he gave the boy patrons a poem about how they shouldn't shoot up liquor store clerks. He told some black boys he could rap some anti-drug songs for them.

I soothed the upset patrons and went searching for Tailpipe, but he'd already unicycled his way off the premisis. I'm going to chat with him tomorrow about not giving any patrons poems about whores or murder or prison bitches. I'm sure he's harmless, but I'm not really sure.

I feel like it's going to be an awkward conversation.

T. S. Holliday, #14 "That Girl" of all time. Seriously, thank you.

2008-04-09T18:42:00.002-04:00

Two people came up to me today at work and asked if we'd met before. I'd never seen either person before, and I found it oddly flattering.

Take these guys. I'd love to be one of those guys. They're the best guys ever--they don't have a hard time finding work, they're never followed by the paparazzi, and they likely make a decent living. If I could act at all, I'd want to be in a Christopher Guest movie, because I feel like that would land me a pretty solid career as
"that chick in that movie".

I get joy out of looking like someone that someone else knows. It's better than running into someone who actually knows me, because that always gets awkward.

Always.

To this person that I pretend to like, but I really don't like, but I'm not gonna let them know for real:

2008-03-31T10:16:00.003-04:00

Okay, here's the deal. (For the sake of this note, I'm gonna call you Soupy. Okay, Soupy?)

You're a nice person. Really. You're so nice that whenever I'm around you a tend to smile and joke like I do with my real friends. I think that's given you the notion that I want to be friends with you.

I totally don't. And it's nothing personal, I just don't like any facet of your personality. As soon as I'm not around you any more, everything you said starts at me like a fine cheese grater on my brain. Your stories are always better than mine. Your experiences are always more exciting than mine. And I think you try to rub all this in. Also, you seem constantly sympathic towards me,no matter my mood, which is annoying mainly because I don't need your sympathy, man.

If that weren't enough, your face bugs me too.

Soupy, my husband is tired of hearing me complain about you. He's bothered that, despite the fact that we established that you're a plague upon me a long time ago, I can't seem to get past it.

Every day you come up with new and surpising ways of making me like you less.

When the next "friend" purge comes, I hope you can be first in line.

Love,
Theresa S. Holliday (nee Kelley), eskwire.

P.S. What are you doing later?

2008-03-28T15:02:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

This morning was so terrible. My large vanity mirror fell off its wall hooks and onto the bed, and when it shattered hundreds of shards of shiny silver glass pierced my shins and lodged in my very bones. Paramedics had to use a surgical saw to slice off everything below the knees. So, now I can't walk, and I can't afford a wheel chair, so I affixed some rollerblades to the backs on my thighs and have a whole sit-n-roll thing going for me, which would be cool except now at work I can't see over the counter, so that blows.

I'm thinking Trey's going to divorce me now that I don't have legs no more.

Last month, I had a dream that I had a baby. Last night in my dream, I remembered that I'd had a baby last month and hadn't checked on it the whole time. I went into the bedroom and there was the baby, with a water bottle stuck to the side of the crib (the kind with the little spout like gerbils use). So it had had water but it was still sickly. And the whole time I kept thinking, "How did I forget that I had a baby? Shouldn't I have remembered a thing like that?"

So that was wierd.

Anyway, dearest, dearest diary, I've gotta go. Can we hang out sometime?

No, I really mean it. I want to stay friends. Call me.

Or I'll call you.

Love,
Tesssssssss.

All I'm sayin' is, bring me some dayum smoakes.

2008-03-26T17:46:00.003-04:00

Do you know who I really miss?

The Amazon woman who used to live next door to Trey and I when we were newlyweds.

This woman was amazing. Very pretty, I thought (before I heard her speak). When they were moving in, I couldn't stop staring at this caryatid--six feet tall, long straight blond hair, nice skin, very gracious in movement. I'm not sure what kind of fluke it was that made her seem this way, but it became clear that my initial impression of her was mistaken.

The first few days after she had moved in were relatively normal. The aprtment was occupied by Krystal (the Amazon woman), Brandon (her miniscule husband) and Baby (whose name I can't remember, but Baby will suffice). She and her husband seemed to enjoy lots of very rough, very loud coitus that first week. Their apartment shared some of our walls, and they seemed to ejoy it against the wall of our living room.

The second week, things became a little alarming. We heard shuffling, and we heard screaming. Lots of screaming. Shouting, followed by shrill, piercing, wailing howls that lasted minutes at a time. Breaking glass and such.

We called the authorities. "He's beating the shit outta her, oh god, he's beating the shit outta her," Trey cried, and walked in small, quick circles around our apartment. Within moments the cops were here--we knew because Brandon shouted "Baby! The cops are here!"--and things went silent. The cops came up and briefly talked to the neighbors, who were extremely cordial and were suddenly not murdering each other anymore.

As soon as the authorities left, they started back up, and didn't stop fighting for two or three months.

A week later, Brandon was pounding on the door, sobbing. "She breaked her hand on the window glass, we need yer phone," he said. "Quick, there's blood everywhere. Trey got a few feet into their apartment with some gauze and wipes before Krystal charged at him like Juggernaut from the X-Men comics, a steaming fury machine, screaming "Get outta mah furkin' house! Get outta mah furkin' house, bitch!" And you guys, her voice was thunderous like Andre the Giant.

The fighting would start at around four a.m.. Every day.

"Braaaandon."

"What?"

"Bring me some smoakes."

"We're outta smokes, baby."

"Well then furckin' get me some, you pussy!"

"Baby, the baby's asleep. Keep it down."

"GO GET SOME SMOAKES. NOW, BEFORE I WHOOP YOU."

(This would be followed by the distinct sound I can only describe as a drunken giant wrestling a very powerful midget.)

Sometimes, when we knew she was by herself, she'd bang on our walls and shriek "He's got a knife and and he's tryin' to kill me, y'alls!"

Trey would bang back on the walls and yell "We're trying to sleep! Please do us a favor and shut the hell up?"

To which she'd reply: "You got a problem with me, furkin' fag? Call the law! Call the law!"

And you know what?

He always would. :-)

Don't hang up!

2008-03-26T15:39:00.003-04:00

I'm not sure I'll be able to list all of the plethora of instances that has made today special. Let me try to catch you up:

* Trey interviewed today for his new job. Pending a series of drug, background and other tests, I'm thinking he'll be hired. I'm really sort of excited about it.

* My apartment is slowly becoming more livable re: cleanliness. I've always loved a clean apartment; I've just never had one. Tonight I think I'll be able to knock out a few more rooms and perhaps by weeks end, my house won't look like those featured on COPS.

* My second favorite computer-usin' patron came in today, and declared that his patent on his South-Carolina-Shaped-Hotel-Idea was about to expire, and that the government had ripped him off for several hundred dollars. Then he declared that he was trying to get money from every employer who had interviewed him because--
"calling me for an interview is saying to me, 'you're hired', and darnit, if I'm doin' the work I'm gon' get paid for it."

Then he put fourteen cents on his print account, and when I tried to spot him a few extra pennies to bring his account even (money comes off in .10 increments), he got angry and told me it was illegal. He also asked me to shred some documents for him (I assume he felt that information was sensitive. Of course, when I went back to shred them I noticed that they were just hand-drawn monthly calendars.

He also told me he was going to move to Pennsylvania to be with his own kind. I asked who his own kind was. His answer was so vaguely murmured that I'm finding there aren't the proper keys on the keyboard to type his response out.

* Tailpipe the Clown came in for a visit, and man, he's just a fun individual. He thanked me for everything I do, which is nice. Also, he's a little creepy. but his poetry is great.

Wait, have I not told you guys about Tailpipe the clown? Maybe a story for another post.

* RE: the picture associated with this post--it came from an e-mail that security sent to all the library employees. It's part of a sheet that they'd want us to fill out if we ever need to describe a suspect to a law enforcment official. It's one of the most profoundly beautiful drawings I've ever seen. And it has some really helpful lines pointing to different parts of the face, if you ever don't know where to find someone's sunken cheeks.

If you think that's good, you should check out the whole thing.

It's really quite important that ewe watch this video.

2008-03-20T22:27:00.002-04:00

I don't think I've ever been this ... stirred. I actually watched the whole thing. I'll bet you can't.

Wow.

Wow.

Oh, I'm so bold!

2008-03-19T17:18:00.002-04:00

I've been trying to work on being more unafraid lately. This is generally a very difficult task for me. I think the main thing is, I feel like that's an essential part of growing up that I must have missed out on; discontinuing fear of silly things.

I'm completely afraid when people on the phone get angry with me, or when an e-mail seems curt. I will go out of my way to do things I should not really be doing because I'm afraid a patron may be disappointed in me. I think God really wants me to have a little more of a screw-you mentality.

Here's a list of things I'd like to be less afraid of:

other people's cooking
movies where dogs or cats die
credit card companies
S. Ashley Holt
Dorothy Stillinger
Police Officers
"An Officer And A Gentleman"
Jack In The Box
Microsoft Vista
the sun
mentors
my friends
the Wrath of God
my kitchen
not getting things done

I want to knock five things off this list in the next month. At least one by the end of the week.

Sincerely,
The Tess.

He's the voice of the Angels. No, seriously.

2008-03-19T16:52:00.003-04:00

Okay, I'm not actively trying to make fun of him. And I'm certainly not trying to make fun of angels. But it just so happens that today, I stumbled upon my new favorite website.

Busey World.

Busey world is a website dedicated to my new favorite celebrity, Gary Busey. And when I say this, I'm honestly not trying to make fun of him. If angels chose a celebrity to spread their message through, chances are it would be this fella here.

Gary Busey is more than just a man. He has stared death in the face--the face!--and lived to tell about it. Well, really, nothing he's said about it has made any sense, but still. Here are some of my favorite Gary Busey quotes:

“Fear is the dark room where the Devil develops his negatives.”

"When you get lost in your imaginatory vagueness your foresight will become a nimble vagrant.”

“The experiences that God gave me to go through... which were cocaine, which were extravagant living in the fast, fast, fast, fast, fast lane, see?”

“My dark side, my shadow, my lower companion is now in the back room blowing up balloons for kids' parties.”

And my personal favorite, on why he chose to be an actor:

"…when I was in the first grade, I saw a movie called "Samson and Delilah," the Cecil B. DeMille film, and when it was over, I said to my mother, "Where do all the people go?" And she said, "They go out, and another audience comes in to see the picture show." And I said, "No, not those people, the people up there." She said, "You mean the people in the picture show?" And I said, "Yes." She said, "Well, they go off and they do another picture show, and so we'll come and see it." And I said, "That's what I want to do." And she said, "You want to be in the picture show?" And I said, "No, I want to tell stories with light."

Admit it.

Now he's your favorite, too.

I've got a stimulus package for ya ... in my pants.

2008-03-17T19:34:00.004-04:00

Did you guys know that in Finland, everyone gets a four-week-long, government-mandated vacation? And now, a parliament member is petitioning to add an extra week to vacation time specifically for couples to spend nurturing their relationships.

What a load of bull, man.

Many of you--two or three at least-- are asking, "Hey Man. If America is supposed to be the greatest country in the world--and it is--why don't we get a week to 'devote to our spouse on an erotic and emotional level'?"

I'll tell you why.

Because relationships in America are just that much better than trashy Euro "marriages".

Look at those stupid Europeans, with their sophistication and their berets and their long, long cigarettes (that's right, I'm talking to you, Pear-eeee). Wanting a whole week of cuddle time just to keep a marriage together. You can't cuddle during any of those other four weeks off? What are you doing then, huh? Too busy bangin' the secretary?

Shame on you, Finnish secretary banger! And shame on you, Finnish secretary!

American relationships are where it's at. Our relationships here are based on more fundamental values: stifling our emotions, learning to hold it in; and, most importantly, involving ourselves in the relationships of celebrities and ignoring the problems with our own.

That's why our divorce rate is shockingly low.

Come on, Finland. Get with the picture. You don't need another week off work to cuddle with your spouse. What you need is a good old-fashioned workaholic-ethic and some passive aggression. A little goes a long way.

I baked a white chocolate raspberry steampunk cake and nobody cared; or, my severed legs are sinking in haute-couture quicksand.

2008-03-10T12:50:00.009-04:00

Over the past month or so, every article of clothing or piece of fabric I possess has migrated to a very large pile on my floor, and last night that island swallowed me whole. I thrashed around, drenched to the neck in tangled, twisting waves of organza and poly-cotten and taffeta and denim. I waved my arms about wildly. I tried to scream but choked on a turtleneck sleeve that tried to snake its way down my throat. I kicked my legs, I heaved in the stench of lilac Febreze, and just before I went under--seconds from suffocation--I grasped the leg of my vanity and used the last of my strength to pull myself ashore.

I realized something last night--to die being crushed beneath the weight of your own wardrobe would suck, mainly because at the viewing everyone would whisper:

"Shame, isn't it? So lovely, and young, and thin, and generally indispensable. But if we're being honest ... she really brought this on herself, didn't she? ... Of course, no, of course I mean no disrespect to her. It's tragic. Why didn't she get rid of her old clothes like the rest of us do? If she had only listened to what the doctors told her." Then they'd shake their heads hastily, swiping away tears, and mumble something about me being a "modern-day Heath Ledger".

Sorting through clothes scares me less than Fabergé eggs, more so than albino alligators.

(I made a birthday cake yesterday for Trey. I fashioned it myself, out of birthday cake ingredients. I placed the layers on cooling racks. I gingerly set them on my Mikasa crystal cake stand. I massaged the butter cream frosting into the cake in sensual figure-eights and swirled a dollop of raspberry glaze into the center.

I formed a heart with the little white candles I bought at the grocery store.

I cooked a large dinner, cleaned the house, and invited my parents over. And then when I reached to get the cake, my father said he should probably be heading out.

Seriously?

No, seriously. You're leaving now?

I wrapped him a large, sugary wedge in some aluminum foil. I told him he could eat it later and I waited until he left to cry, because he didn't even wait to light the candles and sing happy birthday.

I just don't think that was very nice. Even if church was in an hour.

Love you, Dad.)

Look out, it's Spiderman.

2008-03-03T11:51:00.002-05:00

Here's a little list of things I like right now:

Songs about states
these pants
cats that walk on pizzas
turning off the television
punching things
being irresponsible
the interwebs
books that smell like apricots
tiny, crunchy blue flowers
focaccia
being responsible
sedated children
Jesus
polar bear babies
s'mores

And things I don't like:
Horatio Sanz (Sorry. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I'm sure if I ever meet you my opinion will change.)
Scarlett Johansen. (I am unflinching on this.)

Join My Cool New Club.

2008-02-29T15:58:00.003-05:00

I never thought about joining the Bloods or the Crips until I saw this inspiring wall graffiti. I'm guessing the artist was born circa nineteen-ninety-eight.

I am starting my own girls-only chapter of the crips, called the Criplets. We shall be regular James Deans, rebels without a cause, running loose on the streets with runs in out stockings and lipstick on our teeth. We will be the loose-canon broads by the sides of large men roleplaying Al Capone-esque vampire mob characters in downtown Greenville on friday nights. Playing Rock/Paper/Scissors, we will be the Bomb (which wins every time). Also, we will wear our hair in high, tight pigtails and smoke Virginia Slim 120s and talk in nods and winks.

I'm really excited.

The Dark Side of the Stacks.

2008-02-28T16:29:00.003-05:00

The other night I kicked some rowdy, disrespectful teenage boys out of the library, and I didn't do it very nicely. When they were leaving one of them turned around and bellowed a pleasant "Fuck you, Bitch" down the hallway. It bounced off the walls and doused me in shame and embarrassment.

So, am I? A bitch, I mean?

Probably. I told Ashley about it, and he seems to think I did a good job. That's a sure sign that I'm headed down a very dark, lonely path of bitchiness.

"You did what was necessary, Theresa," he cooed, and his beard was a black, wispy flame of poison gas that writhed beneath his straight, white, menacing smile. "The library is a much better place without all those teens." Then he gave me a bowl full of shiny pieces of heart-shaped cyanide candy to distribute to the rest of the teens, and drummed his fingers together beneath his chin as he watched them eagerly gobble it up and file outside the building to play in the sun one last time. ***

Anyway, I could have been a little kinder to those boys. But I gave them a chance first. And I spent the entire summer last year asking them to be quiet and having them ignore me. I don't know if that makes me a bitch or not, but I bet you do ...

-----
Okay. I had an "Am I A Bitch" poll set up, and the response was overwhelming. And pretty unanimous.

If you all dislike me that much, should you even be reading this blog?
---

***Portions of this story may have been fabricated for dramatic effect. The gist of it is the same, though. And the smokey beard.

Oh, no, look what I done did.

2008-02-22T16:12:00.003-05:00

As of late, I have been a very naughty girl. I have taken to just reciting the rosary under my breath all day to make up for my transgressions in advance, and I've still not caught up.

I have squandered money on hair care products (we both know I need them though, don't we? Don't be shy.);

I have left toxic substances within reach of my cats for hours on end;

I have forgotten to put detergent in a load of really dirty laundry and considered letting it slide;

I have thrown paper products in a trash can that's nearly adjacent to a recycling bin;

I have skipped a decade on my rosary because the show "My Big, Fat, Obnoxious Fiance" was about to air and I wanted to get a McFlurry first;

I have stepped in poo, tracked it through a white-carpeted house in which I was a guest, and then stealthily moved around all their furniture to cover up the tracks;

I have passed notes containing very suggestive sketches to my husband during church;

I have told people on the street that I don't have money when I just went to the bank;

I have (consistently) made fun of a number of different library patrons for their bizarre behavior.

Please forgive me, y'all. I am undeserving of your virtual companionship, but you continue to inspire me, all of you.

Dear Penthouse: I never thought it would happen to me ...

2008-02-22T14:57:00.002-05:00

I'm cured.

I've worked with the library for about two years now. When I first started I was very shy, very meek, and much prettier.

By the passing of a year, my sensibilities had evolved, and I was unashamed--nay, proud--to give unruly, uncouth teens and tweens the boot. Your music's too loud? You're out. Pass gas? See ya. Need help with your homework? Not on my watch, small fry. I was a privilege-suspending machine.

And it was awesome.

When I got promoted to teen assistant, everything changed for me. I was worried that I had delevoped a poor rapport with the teens and not many would attend my programs; or worse, that the teens might actually look up to me and decide to become as cold-hearted as I could be.

"Oh," I said to myself one night in December, "I'm responsible for these children, I am. Somebody's got to take care of them, give them a sense of validity." I pounded my fists against the dining room (card) table. I held my chin up.

"Don't you see?!" I cried to my husband, who was playing a very involving video game and had not yet noticed I'd gotten home from work the day before. "In a world gone mad, I'll be their rock!"

"...What? ... tell Tina we're out of sticky buns," my husband mumbled, before cursing and throwing his playstation controller to the floor.

I didn't know who Tina was, and it took me a while to figure out that my husband was right--there weren't any more sticky buns, and still aren't.

By that, I mean when all the kiddies have gone bad, a change in my title won't make the situation sweeter. They don't look up to me (thank God); they prey on my niceness.

NO MORE! I am proud to announce that I am, once again, speeding along full-throttle on my track of being mercilessly cruel towards any and all teens that come into the library, with the exception of a very elite group that I like to call "kids on my good side ... for now".

I am not exaggerating as much as you might think.

Em Eye Sea, Kay Eeey Why, Em Oh Ewe Ess Eeey.

2008-02-15T16:00:00.002-05:00

Did I mention that I'm going to Disney World?

Because I am.

I'm really stoked (do people still say stoked?). Trey and I are going in early December, and my (local) sister and brother-in-law are coming too. It's going to to be very good for Trey and I work work to save all that money (actually, I'm getting us there for only slightly more than the price of our honeymoon rental car, but that's a story that makes me angry so I don't really talk about it).

I have so many months to go, and I'm already using various planning tools and thinking of where we'll be eating and what we could do there that's romantic.

I hope none of this sounds braggy. I'm really not trying to be braggy (please believe me), but I'm really excited and proud that Trey and I aren't too poor to afford this.

Truly the King of (Wholesale) Kings

2008-02-15T15:30:00.005-05:00

I'm actually in a good mood today. I'm scaring some young adult library patrons, I had biscuits for breakfast, and I got myself a Costco card.

You guys, Costco is ah-maz-ing. They sell so many awesome things that I don't even know where to begin. Maybe it should be with the free samples at the end of almost every aisle in the food section. Or the fresh-baked bread in the bakery that sells for half the price of competitors. Or maybe it's the instantly printed photo IDs with the fabulously grainy, pixelated picture on the back, or the seventy-two ounce bags of Nestle Tollhouse semi-sweet morsels next to the six-pound boxes of Bisquick, or the seventeen dollar Calvin Klein button-down oxfords.

Perhaps it's the thrill of having to flash that card when you walk in the door, and, oh crap, the title of this entry is sacrilegious, isn't it? I'm not trying to be sacrilegious, because I love the Jesus. Seriously. Crap. I'm in huge trouble with me now.

Anyway, I think I'm in love with Costco. Everything is so big, and the sample cups are so tiny, and they sell bags of sugar the size of dog food bags, and they had a car parked in one of the aisles, and that's just so cool.

Help, help, help.

2008-02-15T15:05:00.002-05:00

Okay, I have the best job in the world--I know it. I get paid heinously to help people, and because they're not paying me I also get to feel as if I don't owe them anything; this is a feeling which affords me much-loved sentiments of superiority and a manner of sassiness that's almost unheard of outside Denny's.

It can also be a frustration for me; I generally dislike using the word "jaded", but it can apply to so many of my feelings about library politics and difficult patrons. Certain facets of dealing with the real public is that worst kind of deplorable, where you know you shouldn't whine about it because to could be so much worse, but could it really?

I find myself filled with silent, pleasant-looking rage towards certain patrons. Patrons who yell at me from the other side of the library when they have a question, or point to their computer screens with frustration and demand to know why I can't directly help them solve a problem with an obscure e-mail client or online form. I need to channel this rage, and I think this is the place. I'm going to say a few things here that I say to patrons all the time--and that I can't say to patrons any time--and I'm going to push all these negative feelings out of me, and yes, most of these are directed at you, nasty man with the camouflage coat and ponytail who thinks I'm lying when I say I can't help you with your problem.

*If something is blocked by our internet filter, I *cannot* unblock it for you.
*My responsibility is not to figure out your e-mail problems for you. I'll help you as much as I can, but not more.
*I'm keeping my distance from you because you're smelly, and that's pretty much the only reason.
*Those rules about keeping quiet and turning off your ringer aren't only for teens. This is a library. A library. Library. Library. Quiet. Library. How can you not understand this?

There. That's better.

P.S. Jeeeeesus, I'm sorry for mah anger. Next time I'll take it out on the neighbor's elderly Athiest mother.

I used to think Doctor Phil was the Devil

2008-02-13T15:49:00.002-05:00

Until I found out about Kevin Trudeau.

To the man who uses the internet often and can't find a job and smells heavily of urine today:

2008-02-06T15:48:00.001-05:00

I do not relish telling you this (that was a lie), but I need to get a few things off my chest:

it is not my fault that the library cannot transfer movies from VHS to DVD for you. We have never provided this service before, and we will not be providing this service in the future.

I wish you would not detail to me every bizarre business scheme you've worked up.

Also, and I know this is a little embarrasing for you--please do not come up and stand next to me when your skin is permeated with the essence of human waste. Perhaps some people cannot help it but I believe you can.

Sorrowfully yours,
tessielaah

His little glass eyes are very sad.

2008-02-06T14:49:00.000-05:00

This pint-sized robot (designed for a shopping mall) can identify people who are lost with his magic metal robo-brain. I think that's fantastic in theory, but when he advances beyond the barriers of our own limited cognitive structures and becomes ultimitely self-aware, he'll get a few firmware upgrades and then--BAM--he will leave us to our own devices and we will not know how to map our own course from Victoria's Secret to Sbaro's Pizza because we will have depended too wholly on him.

Check him out, the little heartbreaker. I think he's the one who's really lost.

Things That I Hate, Volume IV, Issue B

2008-02-06T14:36:00.000-05:00

Here are some things that I really don't like:

Popcorn Kernals
Poopy-book-smell
The whole "There are no stupid questions" myth (because there really are, absolutely)
Most little children (today, at least)
Hangnails on a pinky finger
Fat, flat thumbs
Pens that write really faint orange on purpose
"Celebrity Apprentice"
The color lilac (today, at least)

... also, mostly everyone and everything with whom/which I'm interacting today, which isn't fair but is still perfectly fine with me. I want to put on some oversized headphones and groove to Gomez in the dark until I'm in a better mood.

Lovingly yours,
Myself

Snugglelump.

2008-02-05T23:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Everybody:

Please forgive me for over-using the following terms of endearment recently:

Disco Puppy
Baby Puppy
Chutney Bear
Mango Kitten
Ice Monkey
Micro-Mammoth
Choco-Penguin
Cuddle Sloth
Dimple Glitter
Shiny Daisey
Little Madam
Boyfriend Kitty
Bubble Hamster

Yours,
Theresa S.Holliday*,
Eskwire

*Teen assistant to the stars

2007-12-01T14:10:00.000-05:00

Here I am blogging at work on a saturday, and it has been months since I had dedications to this blog, and I am living in relative shame. I would think about coming here often, and then I'd think of spewing out countless words that really shouldn't be typed out.

That, of course, is the case with most of my entries, but I digress.

I'm not necessarily in the mood to type right now, as I'm rather busy wallowing in the squalid putridity that is all the stupid things I've done lately. (The smell is here unpleasant, and it's very dank.) I'm constantly reminded of how wonderful my husband is not to throw me in the stocks every day and, more importantly, to stay by me. I also wonder how much longer he can put up with me, and how I'm going to fix things so that I don't keep repeating all my mistakes. This is a vicious thought circle, and as much as I don't care for it, I really can't help myself.

But even that's not the point.

Today is the first saturday of the month, and every first saturday of the month the fire station tests its sirens at one o'clock exactly, but today I didn't hear the sirens. And I always hear the sirens, so it's really throwing me off.

Today is quite a day, let me tell you.

Only I won't tell you, because it's not that interesting, or it's private, or something like that.

I won't promise to blog later today. But I do promise to regret it if I don't.

I'm the Mighty Steve Hawking.

2007-10-20T15:21:00.000-04:00

This is not the special something I wanted to show you all, but it's stil worthy.

I don't listen to tasteless music. Most of the time. I don't care for rap music, I don't care for excessive cursing in music, and I don't care for mindless violence.

But I LOVE this.

M.C. Hawking--A Brief History of Rhyme

Doomsday, get my gun.

Please forgive me.

2007-10-20T14:58:00.000-04:00

Dear reader:

I swear, I've just been *so* busy lately. School and work and everything, it's just overwhelming. And the smell--My God, the smell!--well, I'm just thankful for this relaxing weekend.

This weekend, I get to:
Manhandle eight pounds of ground beef
Furiously (with vigor, not anger) scrub down counters
Clean up the inevitable mountain of hairballs my cat will have gagged up by the time I get home from work
Cry myself to sleep because nobody loves me
Make a snazzy halloween costume out of empty milk jugs and pieces of old glass bottles.

This is all very exciting, because normally on weekends I just watch "Antiques Roadshow".
Anyway, I have something really special for you guys. Maybe I'll post it tonight.

Question of the day: Did you miss me?

Sincerely,
Vitamin T

Japanity and Fried Green Tomatoes.

2007-09-28T15:16:00.000-04:00

I'm subbing at a different branch today, and this town I'm in is like Whistle Stop from "Fried Green Tomatoes". There's a long stretch of railroad track (you can see for at least half a mile) and the road that runs beside it, and then there's almost nothing. A library, a school, a Hardee's.

The library's really charming, though.

So, today's site to check out: Pink Tentacle.

Pink Tentacle is hard for me to describe. It's a website that chronicles Japanese (pop!) culture, and science and technology. There's a picture of a transulent frog on there that's really cool. Not mind-blowing, but cool.

Also, if you haven't checked out Hello Kitty Hell yet, please do. It's amazing.

Bizarre Phil-Collins-Gorilla Madness!

2007-09-24T14:23:00.000-04:00

So, have you guys seen this?

Cadbury Gorilla

This commercial confuses me and makes me feel uncomfortable. I think that's a good thing. I get a secret, masochistic pleasure from feeling awkward, at least socially.

An aside: I love Cadbury's. Just, so much. It is the most delicious chocolate on the face of the planet. Much better than Hershey or Dove or anything. (And, if you haven't had Cadbury's that was actually made in England--the US stuff isn't--you don't know what you're missing out on. Ah-mazing.) To me, Cabury's is as good as Kinder chocolate, which my sister broght back from Germany, and just wow.

The Amazing Jesus Cat! Wow!

2007-09-23T02:08:00.000-04:00

I *try* not to be sacrilegious ... and I don't think this is crossing the line, but perhaps I'm wrong.

This video is really great.

Warning: If you play this around other people or at work with your volume up, you may find yourelf extremely embarassed.

(As an aside: God, you're really great. I'm so *not* making fun of You here. I just thought people should see a little Jesus Cat. ... Heart You.)

Help! I'm knee-deep in blog clutter!

2007-09-21T16:28:00.000-04:00

I know, my blog has a chameleon syndrome. I've been making all these changes to try and keep it tidy. Is this an improvement? Or does it look messier than ever?

Just let me know.

Because the Truth is all there is.

2007-09-14T22:36:00.000-04:00

The reason I hadn't blogged in a while is that, well, I did write them, but I couldn't bring myself to post them. I was in a very wierd pre-birthday funk, with work, with school stuff, with *everything*. So it was too cringe-worthy for even myself to read, I think.

I am, however, back full-force, ready to tell it like it is.

At least in my mind.

I think I'm gonna go have some cake with my bad 22 year-old self.

Heart you,

Tessie-holic

Let me get my hands on your--

2007-09-14T22:20:00.000-04:00

Remember that antisemetic patron I mentioned a few weeks ago? I think I called him "Ted"?

We'll call him Ted.

He gave me an informative article--for my protection, he said--about how using a cell phone with an IUD will give you cancer.

Then he said "Lots of stuff women do will give them cancer. So stupid. Like wearing braziers with those curved pieces of metal right under--"

then he made a cupping motion on his own chest--

"the bosom, well that's just asking for it."

Then he leaned in close, and said:

"It's an antenna to your mammary gland."

I just ...

Whoah.

You're Hired! UPDATE

2007-09-14T00:25:00.000-04:00

HELP WANTED:

Employees for the new Dunder Mifflin branch in Odessa, TX. Mad skills not necessary. Payment will be in the form of baked goods, bi-weekly.

To apply:

Go to http://www.dundermifflininfinity.com or click here

Create an account to apply.

When asked for the employee code, type: edyb0pzfh9 (this is now for the ODESSA, TX branch)

If you want to earn Schrute bucks, the passcode is: Kessler's

Help is really needed! I need fifteen people to sign up! You don't have to do anything after signing up, but it might be fun . . .

Sincerely,
Tessie-laah.

Saturated Love, Gloopy, Taking the Pot

2007-08-25T02:17:00.000-04:00

It's two twenty nine on the kitchen clock (this is about ten minutes fast, I know), and I'm sitting alert, legs and feet twitching, owl-eyed, in the center of the couch, and I can't seem to get over how amazing my husband is.

It stinks that we're poor, I guess, but there's something about it--the struggle to find a way to get by is exciting, and the way we work together (clockwork, I say!) to get things done is just unreal. I've always seen a romanticism in being ne'er well-to-do, Not because it's fun. It's not. But because I always assumed that if my man and I were poor (and I knew we would be, because I've always wanted to be an artist), we'd make everything we could out of it, and love each other all the more.

There are things about me he doesn't get yet. Times when I'm cranky and my blood sugar is low, and he takes it personally rather than casually prying my mouth open and shoving some hard candy in. Sometimes we both throw our emotions into the other's casually bad mood, stir things up when we shouldn't.

There are these great moments, though. Lounging in the den or flying down 85 in the Buick with the windows down at one in the morning, and I'm giddy with just the feel of closeness and an affection so natural that I am constantly in joko tai, the lover's deja vu. I'm connected with him like no one else.

(There are few people that understand me. Each of my sisters understands something utterly different and vitally important about me. Trey mostly understands all of these things, and still manages to find me attractive.)

I'm sappy. I'm sorry. It's sickening, and even the thought of being in one of those sickening relationships makes me smile. But every fight ends a little bit easier, and our banter gets a little taster every day, and when I'm away I can't wait to get home to see him.

You didn't just throw up, did you?

Maybe this post is a little too positive for your liking. If that is so, I will bring things back down by reminding you that your love does not make us richer fiscally, which blows. We are sooooo poor.

(I love him.)

The (anti-semitic) man with no name.

2007-08-18T12:17:00.000-04:00

We have a patron, whose name will in this story, for legal purposes, be named Ted.

Ted comes into the library every day to print out page after page of (mis)information he finds on the internet. He'll print out articles for us to read too--either about the Government, Microsoft ("They're the same, and Bill Gates is the Anti-Christ", he says), or a specific gender or ethnic group.

Today I handed him papers he'd left here Thursday--"Ted, you forgot these", I said to him kindly--and he said:

"Oh, Goodness, can't leave those around, because they're Anti-Semitic."

Oo-ka-ay.

Then he looked at me, smiling and shaking his head, and said with bright eyes, "Not that I'm ashamed of being anti-semitic. Naw, I'm proud. After all, they are just a bunch of lying, theiving pieces of filth trying to overtake society and force their Jewness upon us, you know?"

I stared at my screen, trying desperately not to look at him, and said "I have no comment . . . that I could say . . . that wouldn't . . . get me in trouble."

Then he winked (or I assume he did--I wasn't looking, I told you), rapped is knuckles on the counter, and sauntered off to the computer, sighing gaily.

You know who else was named Ted?

TED BUNDY.

I may be more special than you are.

2007-08-16T21:37:00.001-04:00

Don't worry, I know I'm not.

Yesterday at lunch, I told Chandra I only deprecate myself in jest, because I know
I'm superior to everyone else. She laughed a little too hard.

anyway, to the topic of this post. I got picked to closed-beta a really cool new application, and though I'm not allowed to even tell you the name, I will say that it's really exciting. I'm d/ling it right now, and will absolutely start posing vague comments about its performance soon.

Looking forward to it?

I know I am.

2007-08-15T14:39:00.001-04:00

I edited the last post eleven times before everything was spelled and formatted correctly.

I suck.

The Opinion of Kitty

2007-08-15T14:31:00.000-04:00

Not that I had any doubts about the wonder of this free (free!) gift, but I now understand the value of this fine piece of craftsmanship. Ingard Thomas O'Malley Kelley-Holliday thinks new lyeberry blankie is totally comfy (and he's not into blankets.)

He sniffed it briefly, placed a careful foot on it, and stepped into the wild unknown that is my new blanket. He is pleased. He has made it his.

I don't think I'm gonna argue.

Plush blue warmth--free for me.

2007-08-15T14:13:00.000-04:00

Comment cards filled out for Staff Day 2006 said that it was waaay too cold in the building. So for Staff Day 2007, our gifts were blue fleece blankets. I know what you're thinking: "Wow! A velvety-smooth blankie wit the Library logo embroidered on one corner? How can I get one?!"

Well, you can't because:

a) They're for Staff only, suckers, and:

b) ours didn't even have the library logo embroidered on them. They did, however, embroider a charming literacy-related expression--

Aah-dorable, right? I'm having a hard time staying awake wrapped in this machine-woven surrogate mama.

Possibly because it's the summer, and thus incredibly hot.

I wonder if they got these with some "You'd have to be a special kind of moron to buy a blanket in South Carolina in July" discount?

Joking, joking. It's free, and soft, and will now be a throw for my couch. Also, it will remind me not to watch too much reality T.V. and disolve into a state of FOX-induced illiteracy.

Going to read now,

Tessie

Wednesday.

2007-08-15T01:00:00.000-04:00

Today is Wednesday, which is Staff Day at the library. We close the library and congregate for employees-only fun--e.g. seminars, webinars, training, and various programs.

I'm actually mildly pleased t be going. It's my first staff day, and I get to hang out with all my book-ies and commit serious acts of horseplay (or partake in diligent note-taking), and it's all in the name of literacy.

Or something.

The lunch is catered, which is fabulous.

Also, it is noted that today is apology day. Nothing yet, but it's 1:15 a.m.. I'm sure I'll do something to be sorry about.

I asked how you were.

2007-08-15T00:47:00.000-04:00

And no one responded. And I know you read.

Well, now your time is up. I don't really care.

Please look at these woodland creatures. They are so cute.

Aim for the heart and strike true.

2007-08-13T12:14:00.000-04:00

For those of you looking for ammo to use against me, I've added a widget which tells you the most recent iTunes media I've used--now you can see what I'm listening to (or what I've just been listening to). You won't see Michael Bolton or anything, but prepare to be disappointed.

. . .

2007-08-13T12:08:00.001-04:00

Feel sort of icky right now.

Too bad for me, because I've got lots to do.

How are you today?

Spruce Street is the new golf course.

2007-08-09T22:50:00.000-04:00

So, I got a knock on the door tonight, and it was this teenager who lives next door.

I had told him that whenever I got some games back from my friend (who has my DS), I'd let him know and he could see them. He asked where they were and I told him I hadn't gotten them yet, and he said--very reluctantly--okay, and he'd check again later.

About two minutes later, the rapping on my door resumed. Neighbor-boy again. This time he said:

"What's your password?"

"Sorry?"

"I need your WEP password to use your wireless connection now."

"Okay . . .Um--"

"Did you guys block it or summin?"

(We had. Some Nintendo DS connections were killing our connection the other day and we privatized our router.)

"Oh. Yeah. Your . . . a DS was killing our connection the other night--you know, we couldn't even get on--so we blocked it. We download alot of things, so we need that connection. And for gaming."

"Well, when do you guys do the internet? I'll do it when you guys are off."

"I . . . Trey--my husband--he . . . he's on at like midnight to five. And I get on in the evening. And also, we're on in the morning. Yeah--yeah . . . so, all the time."

(This conversation was reaching a really awkward place for me. After all, he was trying to negotiate the best time to jack our bandwidth. What the heck, right?)

"So, can you tell me the password?"

(No!)

" . . . Oh--oh, yeah, sure . . . "

Then he smiled shyly, nodded, and turned to go. Feeling only slightly emboldened, I spoke after him--

"But only for tonight. You know."

At first I thought, "Well, at least he's asking to steal our connection. That's nice." But, you know what? I don't think I'm gonna let him. It's our connection. We pay Bellsouth too much money to sacrifice our bandwidth for :Pokemon Blue Rescue Team:.

I should probably just let him. Right?

Yesssss.

2007-08-09T15:31:00.000-04:00

Well, now I feel much better.

Please forgive me--Thursday, August 9, 2007. Absolution-lutely.

2007-08-09T15:04:00.000-04:00

God--

In high school, I got ordained online as a minister with the Universal Life Church Monastery. I set up an area at school and made a little (brightly colored and enthusiastic) sign which stated:

"Confess your sexiest sins here! Let the Good Reverend Tessie guide you through the Sacrement of Reconciliation!"

and, beneath that, another little sign, which said:

"Walk-ins welcome."

People actually came to me, which was weird. I had a certificate of ordainment printed, black and white, and plastered to the back of my chair. One person called me their ghostly mother. I blessed the classroom. I even thought about ordering myself some vestments. I was a total deviant. Also, sort of a perv.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't in the best spiritual interests of the confessors to detail their dirty deeds to me, and I stopped.

That was wrong, right? Sometimes it wasn't just about the gossip. Sometimes, but not most.

I heard it's in your nature to forgive, and I figured I'd just put this out there--that, and that sometimes I think about doing it all over again. I suck, I know. But to forgive is divine. And at least I'm not a terrorist.

Apologetically,

Theresa S. Holliday
(the one with the scar near her elbow and the weird toes, not the published author/public speaker or the pianist.)

Promise me you'll never do this.

2007-08-08T15:25:00.000-04:00

I've seen good tattoos of people, though generally it's unadvisable. Skin gets saggy, you know.

But if I were this poor widower, I'd probably amputate my arm.

Lady, from the moment I saw you . . .

2007-08-07T12:53:00.000-04:00

I'm just posting to let you all know just how much I care.

A lot!

Link-o-rama for today:

For some reason, I really love squishin' screamin' beans. (Don't do this at work.)

I don't think all of these are necessarily funny, but I love all these comic book strips anyway.

I want this application.

I'd love to stay and chat. Really. But the Honorable Judge Maria Lopez is on, and I feel guilty wen I miss her show. Like I'm disappointing her or something.

Fillee Cheasestake Mahdness

2007-08-04T14:45:00.000-04:00

Ben's mom just brought me some boxes of Hot Pockets and some microwaveable lasagnas, and wouldn't let me pay her for it. (Sweet!)

I'm totally going to rock a Hot Pocket's world tonight.

Or, kill it. Eat it. Whatever. I think you get what I mean.

Mrs. LeBerth, this one's for you.

::cue music::

I looked out this morning and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes and I slipped away--

Its more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
till I see Ben's mom walk away
I see Ben's mom walkin' away . . .

So many people have come and gone
Their faces fade as the years go by
Yet I still recall as I wander on
As clear as the sun in the summer sky

Its more than a feeling,
when I hear that old song they used to play
(more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
till I see Ben's mom walk away
I see Ben's mom walkin' away

When Im tired and thinking cold
I hide in my music, forget the day
And dream of a girl I used to know
I closed my eyes and she slipped away
She slipped away, she slipped away.

Its more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
till I see Ben's mom walk away
I see Ben's mom walkin' away

Soap Whittling

2007-08-04T14:26:00.000-04:00

People do it.

http://www.prmuseum.com/bernays/bernays_1923.html

Grief, 2.0

2007-08-04T13:15:00.000-04:00

All these crazy kids are on the MySpace. I'm not sure if I've shared this before, but I'm totally into My DeathSpace. This site catalogs MySpace sites of the deceased, and, occasionally, the MySpace sites of those who caused the deceasement.

(Deceasement? That's not a word, is it?)

Anyway, it's a great place not only to unload my voyeuristic tendancies, but to observe how technology has affected the mourning process. It's a dynamic outlet for those who want to feel somehow still connected to their friends, and it's moving to read the last writings of a person who takes their own life. Not depressing really, just poignant. It's absolutely worth checking out.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

2007-08-04T13:04:00.000-04:00

Have you ever seen a whale's penis?

Me neither, until yesterday. (NSFW . . .?)

I'm sitting at work today feeling guilty because my cat smells a little like pee.

See, the other day the pest control guys made their monthly 'rounds, and told my husband--who was alone with the cats at home--that he had to leave the apartment for about an hour, and take the cats with him. We only had one carrier and he didn't know what to do, so he showed up at my work and told me that the cats were in his car. Not in carriers, mind you. Just . . . in there.

So I went outside to see them, and my poor boy had gotten scared and tinkled all over himself and the car. All over! Tinkle EVERYwhere! I sat with him and he calmed down, and actually got around to enjoying himself.

But now he smells like pee.

He's a cat, but he's my child, and nobody wants the "pee kid". I've alienated my only son.

Forgive me.

D'you hate me yet?

2007-07-30T05:04:00.000-04:00

Dear, dear, dear--

I'm so sorry or not posting in a while. I've been terribly busy, though that's no excuse, I know.

I've missed you, you know.

Shortly, I shall post a rather extensive list of apologies to those people and places who've been lacking the Tessie-tastic requiem of sorrow they've deserved.

Here's what I've been working on:

Nothing too interesting, I know. All the fun of working with these pictures comes later, but first I've got to create my base. This picture will be used for my digital portfolio. My goal is to have a picture of everyone in my family. I'm having a really great time with it. I'm feeling very in control of myself with this graphics program, which is exhilarating.

So, apologies today! And link-o-rama too, because I've been thinking of you often.

Stay tuned, if you're still around these days.

Oh. My. Heav-ens.

2007-07-18T15:04:00.000-04:00

Firstly. blogger.com will only appear in Russian. So, I hope I'm actually blogging.

More importantly, I got pulled over twice on the way to work today, and have received a ticket.

And a citation.

. . .And I didn't even cry.

The greatest book of all is the one you never read.

2007-07-04T01:48:00.000-04:00

Did I just blow your mind?

Hey, here's a deluge of mostly impressive links I've been meaning to share with you:

Some (?) of these people are complete idiots.

Here's a fun quiz where you're shown pictures of men and guess whether they're famous computer programmers or serial killers. I only got one right.

I love cartoons.

Have you ever seen that commercial where a mother asks her daughter who she's been texting so much? I wish this is what happened.

I'm starting to wish I knew how to tie my shoe laces.

Another reason I yearn for a 7-Eleven in the upstate.

I'll update later today. For now, I've got something super-secret to work on. Sorry that I can't tell you what.

Not for the faint of heart.

2007-06-27T16:32:00.000-04:00

I stumbled across this website today, where people can get help with medical emergencies for their pets. You can request assistance, or you can donate money to help people and their animal-companions-in-need.

If you have some spare change, you should absolutely think about donating to the cause.

And if you're not convinced, look at some of the animal cases. There are *pictures*.

2007-06-16T11:04:00.000-04:00

It's 11:04 on a Saturday morning. I am wearing a large red faux-bowtie and a pointed green hat with red trim and a small gold bell on the tip.

This is true happiness.

A brief apology to all the little children I almost hit during the parade this morning.

Sorry,

Theresa

Here's the way it works.

2007-06-13T22:30:00.000-04:00

I'm not going to post an apology on here if you ask for one. If I offend . . . well, of course I haven't meant to. And I probably feel really terrible about it. You must have been the reason I cried myself to sleep last night.

But . . . I will be strong. I don't post negative things about people often on this site, but I also don't post untruths. If you feel insulted, ask yourself why.

You're so pretty. :-)

The Big Surprise

2007-06-11T17:12:00.000-04:00

Today I'm feeling particularly guilty because a friend of mine is getting evicted from her apartment for failure to pay her rent on time.

I feel guilty because if I'd had the money, I probably wouldn't have given it to her.

It's not that I'm unsympathetic. I am absolutely sympathetic. At the same time, I am also simply pathetic, and have no money for anything, ever. So if I had had five hundred dollars, I would have spent it on Trey and I rather than giving it to a friend in need.

And that's why I am not a good person today.

If it makes me feel any better, though--and it does!--I've got a kickass game of Kingdom Hearts going on.

It distracts me from my inherently dispicable character flaws.

Little-Known Facts of the Day, with T. Holliday

2007-06-11T16:44:00.000-04:00

Prairie Muffins may be my new heroes.

America is not ready for this woman.

I was ten minutes late for work today.

Thank you.

Dear Holy Ghost:

2007-06-11T03:51:00.000-04:00

Sorry about leaving you off the list in that last post. I just figured we were alright.

TH

S. Ashley Holt, May I have a word?

2007-06-11T03:40:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Holt:

Not-so-recently, I made a less-than-flattering comparison between your shirt and a shirt worn by cartoonist and compulsive masturbator Joe Matt. While I have apologized for this, I removed my public apology for this gaff from this very siburr-blogg.

For the disappearance of said apology, I do humbly ask your forgiveness. What good is an apology if you can't see it?

On a similar note, if you encounter the following individuals, please let them know that I haven't forgotten about them, and that my blog features (or is soon to feature) a well-deserved apology (slung haphazardly) in their direction:

Jada Pinkett-Smith
Bob Inglis
Jimmy Wales
That guy from the critically acclaimed HBO series "Arli$$"; you know the one, with the glasses
C. Placer
John Waters
Theresa Holliday
The Father
The Son
Muhammad
Janette Oke

Sincerely,
Theresa Holliday, Eskwire

For those of you that are those like me.

2007-06-11T01:36:00.000-04:00

Inkscape is VGE freeware, and so far, so good. My experience with it is fairly limited, but it's a lot more *free* than Adobe Illustrator.

If you ever need to get into some serious geometric modeling, this may be for you. If you feel inclined, use it and let me know what you think. Your opinion is twelve and a half times more important than mine.

Janette Oke didn't do anything to you, maybe:

2007-06-11T00:49:00.000-04:00

One of Rachel's friends said her favorite movie is "Love Comes Softly" because it's not dirty like everything else on TV. My favorite movie is "Love Comes All Over Your Back", but they don't show that during the day.

I'm not going to apologize for that.

This same friend also said that feminism is of the devil. All I have to say is, Omigod, is this true? Seriously, because if it is, I'm in huge trouble. I'm big with the disrespectin' men. Just ask the one I work with.

(Don't bother asking my husband. I don't let him talk to strangers.)

Program Pong

2007-06-06T16:27:00.000-04:00

I've been working on various projects today; first at foremost, I've been modifying the photos I took for a wedding. Photoshopping is a guilty pleasure of mine, and since I lost my copy of PS6, I've been using The Gimp.

What I enjoy about The Gimp is the utilitarian feel. It's no frills and all productivity, and the UI is similar enough to Photoshop that its very simple to switch between the two programs if I'm working on a school computer. Most importantly, it's an open source program, so I don't have to shell out any money.

While The Gimp's graphic execution is very intuitive, and certainly superior to the --let's face it--nonexistent features offered by iPhoto (I laugh because it's such a cute application), I'd like something with smoother capabilities in terms of control. The Gimp can be somewhat frustrating when switching between windows, and accidental-stray-clicks in the app window can be deadly.

I bounce around through different programs--The Gimp, Pixen, Photoline32, and Mozodojo--what I'm really excited about is PixelMator.

Please forgive me.

2007-06-05T03:05:00.000-04:00

I'm in a seriously squirrelly mood today. Not really sure what in the world is the matter with me. While I work on that . . .

Check this out.

The Hunter has become the Hunted.

2007-06-02T15:30:00.001-04:00

I suddenly hate sideways smiley faces. They're too forward. And they seem forced. I think I could probably tell you that I'd much rather you be dead, and if I put that smiley face after it you'd not be angry with me. I shant use them again.

Here's the deal:

2007-06-02T13:52:00.000-04:00

If you care about me at all, you'll buy me everything here.

At the hotel in Memphis (reminder: make post about hotel), Mary and I spent a little too much time looking at the cat butt breath mints.

I came for the talking office pen, but I stayed for the smoking baby.

On an unrelated note, have you seen this? I'm personally very excited. Finally, I can exhibit my voyeuristic tendancies on a more global level.

Whoops.

2007-06-02T13:35:00.000-04:00

Dear Helen:

Let me get to it. I know things were awkward between us last time. You didn't say anything, but I could see it in your eyes. In the spirit of making ammends, I'd like to say I'm really sorry for laughing at the following joke:

What is Helen Keller's favorite color?
Corduroy.

I couldn't help myself. Jokes about you are just so funny.

Cordially yours,
Tessie

At least there's a Piggly Wiggly. (Saturday apology double stuff!)

2007-06-02T12:11:00.000-04:00

Okay, my last post probably seemed a little bitter. (I've actually edited it to make it seem more pleasant.) I apologize. I have a hard time letting things go--not with everyone, not with my friends--but with people who wrong my friends and my family. I'll get crackin' on that. No person should have that much control over my emotions. Especially not people for whom I don't care.

On an equally apologetic note, I'm officially sorry for calling my friend David at two o'clock this morning. I thought he turned his ringer off--I used to leave middle-of-the-night messages all the time, since I'm always up until Dang in the morning. I guess he keeps it on for his gorgeous girlfriend. :-)

Hey, buddy, sorry about that.

Oh YEAH!

2007-05-17T19:57:00.001-04:00

The Office is in TWO minutes!

Eek!

Good Day!

2007-05-14T13:08:00.000-04:00

I don't have to go to work for another two hours . . . which is really nice. I got to spend this morning with Trey, which is super-duper. And, I'm filling out my student loan apps which, while not necessarily being the most fun thing to do, will get me money for school and emergencies, which is definitely nice.

Plus, my legs are doing a ton better. They still look rather ickiful, but they're healing up very quickly. Luckily, I did laundry last night so I don't have to wear a skirt which showcases my multiple lacerations. :-)

Here's an interesting fact: any time Bob Barker enters the Price is Right stage from the audience, their first prize game will be Plinko.

Maybe that wasn't interesting, but still. *Plinko*.

Theresa Holliday--Celebrating 0 days without an accident.

2007-05-13T18:01:00.000-04:00

Well, I fell down some stairs today and really banged up my legs.

I'm so thankful that I looks so fashionable with multiple lacerations. :)

Wanna see some pictures? (Crunchy goodness!) Let me know.

Honey Bunches of Growth

2007-05-13T00:52:00.000-04:00

You guys--

today was a productive day. I went to bed at 4:30, woke up at nine, went to work, staved off some serious nausea, and manned the desk all day with only slightly subdued enthusiasm. I even bought my boss a birthday card that she might like (picking out cards is too daunting a task. I'd prefer to pen a jovial message on a smoothed-out sheet of college-ruled notebook paper.

On a different note, I'm not sure how long the cereal I'm eating was in my cabinet, but it's really deliciously crunchy!

BREAKING NEWS: Tessie-holic's painfully poor taste in mew-sack (circa 1999) exhumed; remains smell terrible, sources say

2007-05-12T12:45:00.000-04:00

I've been listening to a lot of mid-to-late nineties music.

Don't ask me why.

Seriously, though, I have Barenaked Ladies queued up in my car (which I'm not driving right now, but I'm assuming it still counts). I really like a lot of their music. I do. But the first track on the disc is "One Week" (remember that song? Yeah, I bet you do), and let me tell you something: that's not the song you want stuck in your head for days at a time. Ask the band, they'll tell you the same thing.

I also found my writing from my two years at FAC. I only look at my first year's writings to laugh. My second year . . .

Maybe I don't quite understand where I was coming from then; but my suspicions are that I was merely a very bad writer.

Perhaps I'm getting too grumpy and blase in my writing style now. My writing from then seems disjointed and, at times, overly emotional. I think my best writing tends to happen when I'm somewhat removed from myself (because when I'm very in tune with myself, anything I say or think tends to be more what-the-hell-are-you-on-about, and less oh-how-profound).

I haven't written anything good in a while anyway. I would start to think I'm running out of steam, but I might not have had any to begin with. :-)

Ms. Beesly, you slay me!

2007-05-11T22:28:00.000-04:00

Can I say briefly what a great episode of the Office that was on thursday night? If you don't watch it normally, now's a perfect chance to get back into it. I'll lend you the season thus far.

Pamela Beesly rocked. She really spoke her mind in last night's episode, and even if Jim turns her down in the end, I will have rooted for her all the way.

My favorite quotes of the episode:

"I've been thinking of dating girls for a while. Angela thinks I can switch over. We'll see."

"I didn't mean to break anyone's heart, but you know, sometime's you just got to get your freak on."

"I hope there will be management parables."

"Check and see if there's a conversion chart in your notebook."

"Dip it in water so it will slide down your gullet more easily."

Thursday's apology

2007-05-11T02:50:00.000-04:00

Today, I'd like to apologize to my body.

Yesterday, I had a tea and some coffee, and then I didn't have anything to drink late today. And, I forgot to eat dinner last night, as well as breakfast, lunch, and (initially) dinner today.

Consequently, I have spent a fair amount of this day fighting (and losing to) the pukes. I hadn't done it in a while, and I forgot how not-that-bad it is. It's the build-up to it that's so terrible--if I spend too long before it happens, I have to will myself to go ahead and chuck it up. I don't try to not throw up--I know it'll happen regardless, so I just go for it.

Still sucks.

But, it's my fault, for not taking care of myself. Thus:

Body, I'm sorry for forgetting about you. I've been aloof lately. Sorry. I'll try to do better, and soon. How bout those chicken nuggets I just ate, huh? Pretty food-ish.

::sigh:: I love you, body.

Please Forgive Me

Please forgive me.

Dear Christy Henderson with Storm Team 7:

Check it out--

Suckerpunch! Suckerpunch! Suckerpunch!

Not all who wander are lost, but I am admittedly terrible with directions.

Atonement! Atonement!

Here's the Skinnie, Minnie:

I don't ever want to smell like that woman who was just in the library smelled. Because it wasn't good.

Please forgive me ... this same time, tomorrow.

!!!

Auntie Tessie, at your service.

Queen of the Sea

Draw 50 Disappointed Children

Don't forget the cannoli.

The title of this piece is, "Whatever The Opposite of Instinct Is, That's What I Have".

Shouldn't you be asleep?

Who are you again?

Tessahaalic's Site of the Week

Starting Your Marriage Right

Recreational Spewing

Mr. T's Secret Magic

Bank Fraud, Schmank Schmaud.

The Problem With Tailpipe

T. S. Holliday, #14 "That Girl" of all time. Seriously, thank you.

To this person that I pretend to like, but I really don't like, but I'm not gonna let them know for real:

All I'm sayin' is, bring me some dayum smoakes.

Don't hang up!

It's really quite important that ewe watch this video.

Oh, I'm so bold!

He's the voice of the Angels. No, seriously.

I've got a stimulus package for ya ... in my pants.

I baked a white chocolate raspberry steampunk cake and nobody cared; or, my severed legs are sinking in haute-couture quicksand.

Look out, it's Spiderman.

Join My Cool New Club.

The Dark Side of the Stacks.

Oh, no, look what I done did.

Dear Penthouse: I never thought it would happen to me ...

Em Eye Sea, Kay Eeey Why, Em Oh Ewe Ess Eeey.

Truly the King of (Wholesale) Kings

Help, help, help.

I used to think Doctor Phil was the Devil

To the man who uses the internet often and can't find a job and smells heavily of urine today:

His little glass eyes are very sad.

Things That I Hate, Volume IV, Issue B

Snugglelump.

I'm the Mighty Steve Hawking.

Please forgive me.

Japanity and Fried Green Tomatoes.

Bizarre Phil-Collins-Gorilla Madness!

The Amazing Jesus Cat! Wow!

Help! I'm knee-deep in blog clutter!

Because the Truth is all there is.

Let me get my hands on your--

You're Hired! **UPDATE**

Saturated Love, Gloopy, Taking the Pot

The (anti-semitic) man with no name.

I may be more special than you are.

The Opinion of Kitty

Plush blue warmth--free for me.

Wednesday.

I asked how you were.

Aim for the heart and strike true.

. . .

Spruce Street is the new golf course.

Yesssss.

Please forgive me--Thursday, August 9, 2007. Absolution-lutely.

Promise me you'll never do this.

Lady, from the *moment* I saw you . . .

Fillee Cheasestake Mahdness

Soap Whittling

Grief, 2.0

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

D'you hate me yet?

Oh. My. Heav-ens.

The greatest book of all is the one you never read.

Not for the faint of heart.

Here's the way it works.

The Big Surprise

Little-Known Facts of the Day, with T. Holliday

You're Hired! UPDATE

Lady, from the moment I saw you . . .

Janette Oke didn't do anything to you, maybe: