As Seen On The Bathroom Wall

The best ideas come while sitting on the pot.

Politics and Bedfellows

We've all heard the saying right? Politics makes for strange bedfellows?

Well, what if we WANT those strange bedfellows?

Why is it that only politicians are allowed them?

Why is it that a Senator can have a wide stance in a public restroom? A governor can have an $80k hooker habit? A Speaker of the House can have a mistress mentality? A President can have a little fellatio in the Oral Oval Office?

Of course, I know that when Mr. Warner made that saying, he didn't exactly mean the aforementioned situations, but the question does beg to be answered, doesn't it?

I wonder if any of these individuals had been women, would the public have been so quick to forgive and forget? If it were Nancy Pelosi, rather than Newt Gingrich, who had cheated on not one wife, but two, would she be speaking on behalf of the Senate right now? What if it were Hillary Clinton, rather than John McCain, who had dumped her husband after a severe accident, and then married her lover a month after the divorce was final? Would she be able to have gotten away with that?

Politics is a very lopsided game of teeter totter. While we would like both sides to weight the same, go up and down equally, there's additional weight holding female politicians down. For example, it's hailed by conservatives when a female politician is a married mother. However, once her back is turned, the snide comments about how her place should be in the home, how she's taking jobs away from MEN, how she's the cause for the economy crashing, joblessness growing start to stream out in endless ribbons of misogynistic psychobabble. If she were single, then it'd would be a question about her sexuality, her ability to even bear children, and so on. This weighs down on the woman, more so than any physical entity could. Then you add on the weight of how other women view her. Some will hate her for being able to seemingly do it all. Others will hate her for not making a decision between motherhood and a career like they did. Her clothes, her hair, her makeup, even her jewelry will be criticized. We women can be just as harsh, just as cruel, if not more than men can in our criticism.

The sexual aspect of politics is very complicated. Male politicians are handsome, debonair, distinguished. Female politicians are usually called names rhyming with Yarpy, Witch, and Bike. Male politicians are excused for their rash decisions, the stress of the decision making process being one generic reason tossed out to fill that obligatory blank space. Female politicians are automatically "hormonal" and "emotional", incapable of any "rational" decision. Male politicians are given passes on their peccadilloes because the power can sometimes confuse them. Women politicans had better not even think about anything of the sort, because that will just prove she's the slut everyone thinks she is.

It's a double standard, to say the least, but it is the way that things currently are in this country. One day, we will see a female president in office. She might even be a mother when it happens. But, what most will want to know is if she still has sex with her husband, and she will have a husband. No lesbians in office unless she lets us watch. Her politics won't matter once she enters that big White House. Her foreign policies won't matter, her economic strategy, her concern for the GDP, or her interest in national welfare; She's only got to do one thing and one thing only to make the men in this country happy. Bring the men some beer and the remote control.

Election is over.

Time for football.


The Bathroom Peace Poem

Funny thing, that feedit widget that a lot of us have in our blogs. It allows us to see from where a reader is coming from, the method they used to get to our blogs. Sometimes, they'll come from a search. Two days after installing my nifty little widget, I have my first google search result, and apparently, whomever it was that arrived did so after searching for a poem about peace and bathrooms.

He stumbled upon my Twilight poem, which is the furthest thing from bathroom peace poetry there is, but all the same, it was pretty amusing to know that such a thing exists, and that one would be searching for it.

So, here's to you, Mr. Bathroom Peace Poem man, (or woman), a poem about peace. In the bathroom.


Like a dawn after the rain
Flushed tranquility


You gotta love stalkers ♥

Or just pissed off people who have nothing else going in their lives.

I have apparently pissed off someone to such an extent, they felt the need to bombard my YIM box with IM after IM of vitriolic asshattery. It was annoying, really, to wake up at 5:30am and see in my offline box message after message from some numerical identity. Apparently all of the GOOD names have been taken. (I know who took them all...that fucking dog food pusball...)

Now, I'm not upset at what was said. I can guarantee you it takes a lot to upset me. (Live with my mother for a year and see if you don't develop a thick skin, too.) It's disturbing, though, knowing that someone out there is so deranged, so demented, so...hurt *tear* by something I did or SAID that they felt the need to act out in such a childish manner.

I'm not going to guess who it was. I could, and probably be right, but there's no need for it. What's done is done. I now know that I have affected someone so much so that they cannot leave it alone (as if we didn't know that already) and felt the need to stretch that hand across the internet to try and touch me back. Well sorry, oh spiteful hand o'douchebaggery. You're an insignificant peon whom should experience just that: being peed on. I reported you for spamming, but Yahoo being Yahoo, you'll probably just be given a warning. 47 times.

Of course, I'll still be here. Laughing at you.

BTW, the NEXT time you PM me, it's "COULDN'T" care less. Not "could". Could implies that you care. And I know you care. Otherwise my PM box would have only been filled with PMs from my friends. You know. The kind that don't have to pay for it.



Holy Blog Rolls, Bat Man!

Why look over there ----------->

What is it? Why, it's a blog roll! An actual, working, live, existing blog roll!

Simple pleasures.

Shut up.


Heart Heavy (A poem blog)

the weight of tears
brings down my face
no smile could rise above it
so long have I dreamt of it
nightmares calling my name
the darkest day
clouded futures
no light could shine down the sorrow
no talk of moving on
the sharpness of this new pain
makes a heavy heart
touch the ground
I can no longer carry
it around
in my chest
my mind
my soul
my spirit
I'm aching
to leave it all behind
and this heavy heart
has bruised me
the marks
all over
tell the story
of melancholy
and something not far behind it
why do I feel the need to weather
what I know will never abate
the words and actions of another
that brought me crashing down
falling heavy
on my

(copied from my old myspace blog 6-16-08)


Bonds (A poem blog)

Clasped together
these hands of ours
locked in the embrace of understanding
Our fingers entwined
sharing space
unconditional, undemanding
Palm to palm
life line to life line
roads that separate but reconnect
Pulse to pulse
blood beneath skin
combined in wondrous affect
Shared thoughts
conflict contrast
collaboration of minds, two
Wholly open
receipt and parcel
of the gift of mutual truth
Friend, are you
heart mind body
glorious are these bonds of mine
To you, my friend
forever indebted
and loved, so blessed am I

(copied from my old myspace blog 6-17-2008)


So I'm Not Perfect (A poem blog)

When I look in the mirror
I see what I see
eyes that are a plain brown
not special, or unique
no flecks of gold or green shimmering
no light rings creating halos of what is
quite simply
Surrounding them I see glasses
black frames
Nothing fancy, since I don't need that
Without them, I wouldn't be able to see
those normal
albeit imperfect brown eyes
with no other color but brown inside.
And below those brown eyes
are freckles
a lot
scattered like soldiers upon the battleground
that is my face
They climbed the crest of my nose,
declared victory on my cheeks
and laid claim to the territory
as is the custom of a freckle...
or a hundred.
My forehead, plus one, can bear the brunt of winds
and crush cans
because I can
and you can't mistake it
for no other bears on it
the mark
of a woman
whose entire life was spent
being called "bird doo-doo head"
go south now
to my mouth
bottom lip too big
top lip too bowed
teeth inside
a little overbite
a little crooked, too
but always smiling or grimacing
depends on who are you
besides my mouth
lay dimples and lines
or a "kiss" and J.M Barrie might have called them
if I were living in his time
but I'm not
so they just age me
or so some people say
but then again those people
aren't perfect themselves, anyway
My shoulders are bony
my neck is too long
my breasts
Let's move on
My tummy has seen better days
that's for sure
but after four children
I certainly can't complain
sure my waist is thicker
and there are pathways to Peru
and my navel could probably hide
a Prius
or four
but moving on to where I sit
my butt's gotten bigger
as have my hips
but then again I didn't have either
so can I really say
they've gotten bigger?
Or should it be said
that I've gotten them?
My thighs
oh my thighs
how they jiggle to and fro
and on my body
that's not as good a thing
just so you know
my feet
they need prayers
since as a mother of four
I haven't seen a pedicure in years
My body in the mirror
isn't a picture of perfection
It's not what some others brag that theirs is
they can laugh and point all they want
It's not a monument to the glory that is flawless beauty
but rather
a testament to the wonders of nature
and the fact
quite frankly
I'm proud to be me

(copied from my old myspace blog 6-25-08)


Not Interested (A Poem Blog)

I'm not interested
In your pseudo-superiority
I'm not interested
In your innate ability to take shit out of
I'm not interested
In your need to be
I'm not interested
In your inability to stay
I'm not interested
In your need for
I'm not interested
In your lack of
I'm not interested
In your political
I'm not interested
In your religious
I'm not interested
In your sexual
I'm not interested
In your miltary
I'm not interested
In your ambitious
I'm not interested
In your saving my
I'm not interested
In your view of the
I'm not interested
In how your plans have
I'm not interested
In how you hate me so
I'm not interested
In what you think I stole
I'm not interested
In your pathetic
I'm not interested
In your moral
I'm not interested
In this need to be
Of any notion that I may have
Just to get me

(copied from my old myspace blog 7-11-08)


Place (A Poem Blog)

If words fail me
forgive me
I've lost my way from mind to mouth
I simply forgot how to tell you
I love
in every sense
the words may hold
because you may not understand
that I ask nothing in return
and I don't
expect you to need me back
the same way I need you
to breathe
My lungs can be full of you
and still I need more
to make the very skin on my bones sing
and you
all you need do
is smile to make me warmer than anything
I could hold in my hands during the cold
I feel so
at home
when you're around
and I am content
to simply see you
and ask nothing of you
other than to be
simply be
I have found where I am

(copied from my old myspace blog 7-22-08)


Mother (A Poem Blog)

you never know
who's going to turn on you
use you
abuse you
lie when they say they'll choose you
choose you over everything else
telling you to forget yourself
there's no one else
no one left
no one there
stop acting like you really care
liar liar liar liar
catching lies and tear drops
in my hair
because my head is down
in shame and defeat
while you beat
me down with your words
stomping on me
with your words
so full of spite
and hate
choking me
I suffocate
as you penetrate
the last vestige of my heart
I wait
to hear it shatter
like glass
this state
I am in now thanks to you
is thanks to me
and what my eyes
my once clear eyes
my once happy eyes
refused to see
because you sowed nothing
with your seed
that you wished to set
not me
no apologies

(copied from my old blog on myspace 7-22-08)


1am Ramble

The radio is going, featuring Michael Reagan, the husband is snoring, the kids are all sighing, Lotte has stopped coughing, the dogs are all barking, the wind has stopped blowing, the fridge is still humming, the cars are still driving, the fan is still blowing, the curtain is still moving, and I am still awake.


I quit!

I'm done trying to edit my stupid blog layout, and have chosen to use a premade one permanently. I like this one, it's brown, and it works cleanly in a three column layout like how I wanted. I was not having an easy time with trying to get the stupid blog roll to work on anything I did otherwise, so there you go.

I suck.

I'm not ashamed to admit it. There are worse things to be than inept when it comes to getting a stupid blogger function to work right on 99.9% of the layouts attempted on it. And besides, this layout allowed me to utilize that oh so nifty photo slideshow function that you see to your left featuring the oh so yummy Robert Pattinson.

I know, why am I speaking about him as though he were a morsel, a tidbit for consumption? Simple, my dears. He's tasty.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.


My blog roll will never go up. I think that little sidebar widget is a dud. I tried twice last night, once just now, and it keeps going buh-bye on me. I simply don't have it in me to do it again, not with pieces to fire and orders to send to the printers. It's bugging a damn mosquito bite. I know I'll just have to edit the code, do it manually, but that's a pain in the ass, and I don't like pains in the ass.

Also, thanks to a very large order, I was unable to finish the damn background images for ASOTBW, so it's going to be stuck looking like this for a little while longer. Perhaps this is providence. Maybe my blog roll won't work until everything is done the way I want it?

I know.

Wishful thinking.

But a girl can hope, can't she?



Cynical Me and my Cynical Gabber

So I did something I never thought I'd do.

I created a forum.


My reasons for it are many, but mainly, I wanted to do it. I could go into specifics, but that would do nothing but add fuel to the already overly long burning fire, and I simply have no interest in doing that.

As for the forum, I have no idea what I'm doing, and I don't think I'll ever become as adept at it as I am screwing up, but it's a place that I think will provide comfort to the people that do come. Oddly enough, I only told two people about it while it was under construction, and one of those people has been too busy to do anything to help so far, so I know that everyone who is already there are so as a result of the other person I told. I'm not upset by it, although I know that some will believe I deliberately withheld this information on purpose to deny them access, which was never my intent. I had made it quite clear that I wanted to wait until the site was where I wanted it to be, and now that it will pass, I have let people on my myspace know.

So, I am now letting you know.


Like I say over and over there, it's not perfect, it's messy, but it's comfy.


Driving while complicated

Some of you know that I've had heart problems since forever. I recently had a procedure done that was supposed to fix things, but it didn't work out as we all had hoped, so I'm going to have to have another one done soon. What I didn't expect was the difficulties I'd experience as a result of how my heart has reacted to the previous procedure.

While before, it would merely kick start into high gear, and being racing like it was in a rave dance off, now, it jump starts itself like a rocket, thumping in my chest something fierce, and I feel as though someone has punched me right above my breastbone. It's a very unnerving feeling, to say the least, but very shocking, and often times, can bring be to a standstill, shocking me into immobilization until the thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of my heart racing to catch up to some invisible white rabbit knocks some sense into me.

Well, yesterday morning, that immobilizing jump start occurred while driving home from dropping the kids off at school. While normally, it wouldn't be a problem, today, my body decided to go into blind, deaf, and paralyzed mode for exactly 4 seconds. (it's amazing how you're able to tick away seconds when you cannot see, hear, or feel anything other than the blood flowing in your veins) In that scant 4 seconds of complete and total vulnerability, I did the unthinkable. I ran a red light. With my 2 youngest children in the car.

I started crying as soon as I realized what had happened, and I couldn't believe the lives I had put in danger, especially those of my babies, and felt so hopeless and so pitiful. I rarely feel sorry for myself, so this bout of "woe is me" instead of "fucking doctor and his screw up" that I've had since I realized my surgery wasn't a success has really taken its toll on me. Now that I know that it's also causing me to endanger the lives of others, I'm feeling even more..."woe".

I don't like feeling helpless. I don't like feeling like an invalid. I know that as soon as the husband finds out (which he hasn't yet), he'll tell me I can't drive anymore. Oh Em Gee. That's going to kill me. My mobility...gone, too? WTF?

I guess until things get fixed in the ticker, it's for the best, but how much more complicated can this get? Will I need to wear that damn pacemaker like it was hinted? Ugh!


Death of the Plurk

I have decided to kill off Plurk. I simply do not have the time to keep up with the karma points deemed necessary for status merit, or what have you. I have enjoyed my few weeks there, to say the least, but all in all, I simply cannot balance time between work, my family, and my new project. I'm already stretched thin as it is, and focusing any energy on yet another social networking site seems redundant and just a tad bit silly. I already have the facebook I don't pay attention to, and my high school's little member board that I haven't visited in a while, and the big MS to worry about.

Plurking is a great idea, if you live in areas where people spend a great deal of time online. My state doesn't really have as many individuals sitting at home, cruising the net as larger, more populated states. Also, with one of the lowest unemployment rates in the nation, people really don't have time to waste online plurking when they could be doing something shopping!

Or blogging, as the case may be.

I will be sending my plurk to its final resting place after a farewell letter. Not many of my friends signed up to the plurk because I didn't invite many people to begin with. I know my friends, and what their limitations are. Asking some of them to take time out of their lives to get online and "plurk" would rank right up there with telling them to come over and unlace and relace all of the sneakers in my possession. You just don't do it.

So aloha to Plurk. I hope you take off, a la twitter.


What do you get?

Ironically, you find peace.

You find meditation.

You find camaraderie.

And lastly, but most importantly...

You find closure.


Cockroach WTFs

I'm combining my two Friday features because I was too busy, disappointed, tired, angry, frustrated, annoyed, mischievous, and bored to do them yesterday. In other words, I was damn lazy and I don't want to hear any more lip.

To the roach who stole my damn parking spot, I envy you, your ability to take so much damn joy out of robbing a mother of 4 a little 6x5 piece of asphalt so you can walk into Longs and get yourself some roid cream. And yeah, I knew that is what you needed, just by the way you gingerly climbed out of your lifted Tahoe, legs all spread wide, as though if they touched, you'd burst into some freakishly rank smelling flame. I saw the $1 swim ring on the seat, too. Pink is your color. Must match the pink bulbous mass that's probably still clinging to your sphincter. I hope it was worth nearly killing yourself and the lady who just pulled out of that stall.

  • WTF is up with China saying that those little female gymnasts are 16? Their physical justification is that Chinese are small? Small can still look 16! These girls look like they should still be sucking on their mama's left nipple! I have stuck out my self-imposed ban from watching the Olympics, but it's hard to miss their faces on every news site and paper I read! They're about as 16 as Molly Ringwald is. And yes, I meant IS I don't care if they parade 100 people in front of the IOC and tell them that these girls are 16. I don't believe it.

  • WTF is wrong with being honest? Holy shit, are people really that desperate for peace that they'll live with being lied to? NATO and the UN all smile and nod their heads when Russia said it would pull out of Georgia, not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES, and here we are, almost a month in, and no pulling out. It's like a John Holmes porn flick gone wrong. I think everyone knows that Russia isn't going to pull out of Georgia, nor that they are NOT in it for the massive oil pipeline that runs through Georgia. Russia sees how desperate the world is becoming for fuel, and it's way to cement its power is to possess as much oil as possible. Kind of like Britney Spears and cheetos.

  • WTF is the deal with slow internet connections? Everything is running smooth and fast, like a morning pee, and then all of a sudden, it slows down. Slow connections are the kidney stones of the internet! I'm hating life when I simply cannot see my email images load up quickly enough. I need to have my fix of email smileys in the morning with my coffee and forwards and spam. It's just not the same if all I see is a pretty red X and some random and obscure word married to it, like Uber, and Snargle.

  • WTF is a snargle?


I did it.

I stalked a congresswoman today.

Not just any congresswoman. MY congresswoman.

Her poor aide must have been nervousing herself something fierce, watching this little hapa-korean woman with a baby following her and Congresswoman Hirono around the Waimanalo Polo Field, eyes all focused and intent, stroller loaded with a diaper bag that looks like it could be carrying a bomb. Or 100 cans of spam.

I didn't even realize what I was doing until about 10 minutes in and I saw a man with an ear piece eye me out.

Oh yeah. The guy with the perpetual "stink eye" could go and talk to her, but not lil o' me. Then again, Mr. Stink Eye probably had a speck of dirt on his cornea, while I was literally trying to win the stare down contest with the aide.

You'd think, with all the luck I had with the Lt. Gov, and the Senator, that I'd be able to talk to Madam Congresswoman, but NOOOOOOO. Not even after a good 30 break was I able to get to have a small chat with this woman whom my homeroom teacher pined after way back in 94, when she was merely Lt. Gov to be. Maybe her outfit was making her hot. Long black dresses, even those with lavender trim, aren't suitable for mid-day heat. Perhaps it was the fact that Ann Kobayashi was there, trying to garner support for her mayoral bid? Who knows. (I know a secret...)

At the end of the day, though, I completely forgot about stalking her. Who wouldn't, what with one of our senators serenading us with a local favorite? It's not everyday that we're actually served by our politicians. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.


Martin Niemöller

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.

A simple thing, friendship. Simple in that it can be created in the blink of an eye. One minute, you're strangers, the next, you're sharing your deepest secrets.

Far more complex is the end of a friendship.

Often, it simply dies. Quick, slow, the deaths occur either way.

But, there are the rare occasions when you discover that there is no death, for that which does not exist cannot die.

What then, can one do when someone you thought was a friend, chooses to slice you to the core? Betray you with confidences once entrusted to them? Flaunt said confidences? Out of spite? Vindictiveness? Show no remorse? Laugh?

Moreover, what do you do when those around you witness such events, and choose to turn a blind eye? Their voices silent, while you weep? Those who would call you friend in the shadows, but not in the light?

The herd is thinning. Who will the wolf eat, once she's picked off all of the other sheep?

When they came for you, there will be no one left to speak out.


Analysis of a dumbass

What makes up a dumbass?

There are many components, really. For starters, there are the feet. Two normally useful appendages commonly utilized for walking, are merely transportation devices meant for the delivery of dumbassdom to any vicinity. Next, we examine the hands. Capable of creation for most people, the hands of a dumbass are capable of only ridiculous gesticulations during some rabid attack of interpretive dance induced, gogo dancing inspired diatribe about politics. Confused? Imagine how the dumbass feels.

Now we come to the mouth. Less environmentally friendly items have come out of Chernobyl than from this orifice. With the ability to drop a pound of bullshit in a single syllable, the mouth of a dumbass could be its most formidable weapon. Of course, all one need do is wait for the rest of the word to realize that it'll most likely be mispronounced, a few extra syllables added on for effect, and completely taken out of context. (e.g. Strategery)

But, before we lay all of our eggs in the basket of oral idiocy, let us not forget the eyes. The eyes are the windows into one's soul, it has been exclaimed. In the eyes of a dumbass, all you're usually left wondering is if you'd do more harm than good with some windex.

Finally, we have traveled to the brain. Truly the core of the dumbass, the center of its own universe. What riddles can be solved here? What mysteries shall we uncover the truth to here?



Hello old friend

When you find a pair of shoes you like, and that are comfortable, you wear them to the point of disintegration. You don't care if they don't go with that new dress. You don't care if they don't match that bag. You don't care if they're too anything or not enough of something, because damnit, you feel good in them. The same can be said of friendships.

Sometimes, you meet someone you just get along with, just have a good time talking to. It's a good fit. You're comfortable. They don't care if your feet stink. They don't care if you have bunions. They don't care if you need a pedicure badly. They comfort you, keep you steady, while you walk through life.

And, like those shoes, sometimes, you can put them to the side for a bit, needing to wear something else, for different occasions. After a while, you become so busy, you forget about the, resting patiently by the side of the bed, or under the couch. You lose them in the layer of boxes during packing, dust during cleaning, and clothes during washing. All the while, your feet are silently calling for their long lost friend.

And then one day, out of the blue, there they are.


Hello again.


A Question of Loyalty

I posted this in a forum I have started to revisit after a year long hiatus, and felt like re-posting it here as well.

No ulterior motives. Genuine interest. Contrary to popular belief.

This is a serious question that I think EVERYONE should answer HONESTLY to the best of their ability.

Do YOU consider yourself to be a "LOYAL" friend.

I know that there are some who are only loyal to themselves while portraying the opposite. Those types are easy to sniff out, although they can't seem to smell their own stink. I want to know what you think of yourself. You can be as vain or as self-defeating as you want. No judgements.

I'll go first.

I DO consider myself to be a loyal friend. I hurt when my friends are hurt, and I admit that sometimes, they hurt because of me. I am honest with them, and often times, that hurt stems from said honesty. I don't take any of it back. It's not good for the soul, imo. I stand by my friends even if it hurts me, as they stand by me, or not. My choice, my consequences. I have faltered in many things with my friends, and I try to make amends when the need arises, or has been brought to my attention. I am not perfect. I don't expect anything from anyone except honesty. That might be my biggest failing, since human nature prevents us from being honest all of the time, whether intentionally or due to self-preservation, but I am also forgiving. My second biggest failing would be that I also hold grudges like a bitch in heat in a house full of cats. I simply do not forget shit, and if a "friend", or someone who wasn't truly my "friend", betrays me, or someone I DO consider a friend, well, you're on my shit list for life. I don't profess to be a turn the other cheek Christian, but I do ask God for help in that department, and for the last few years, the only answer I've gotten has been "no", so I apologize in advance to anyone whose feelings I'll hurt because you hurt the feelings of my friends. I cannot get any more loyal than that.


So Blogger Hates Me

I've made oodles of changes to this stupid blog, and every time I come back to check on it, it's all gone...all of it. My blog roll...gone. My images...gone. My widgets...gone.

It's much easier using my own host...*poundering*


Twilight (A poem blog)

Even in the misty memory of this addled mind of mine
I still see you so clearly
never lost a fraction of time
your voice always inside my head
your breath always on my skin
your touch always sending me
to you
and I
forget to breath
forget to see
forget to be anything
but me
forget to cry
forget to die
forget to fall down
instead I grow wings and fly
be near me
be far away
stay away from the future
the future's today
from the sun's first crest above my head
to the twilight that shimmers when it has set
I won't forget you
I won't forgive you
for never giving me a chance to say I wanted this
and I
forget to breathe
forget to believe
forget to be
anything but the love you see in me
begin to cry
begin to sigh
begin to fight away any chance
of saying goodbye
to my heart
without you there's no will to live
without you there's no heart to give
it was never mind to give away
it's been yours since forever
since always


I'm a horrible person.

I'm not going to deny it. Why deny the undeniable? The plainly obvious? The blatant?

Why the character bashing? Simple. There are days when I read about someone dying, and I ask "why not THIS person? Why did it have to be THAT person?" Today is no exception.

LeRoi Moore died today, and the first thought in my mind was "why not Paris Hilton?"

Mean, no?

LeRoi was the Sax player for Dave Matthews Band. You couldn't miss him, whether in concert or in videos. He fit into that puzzle of musical genius like any round peg in a round hole would. Him not being there anymore must be very difficult to take, I imagine. The band must feel bereft. I know that the music world sure is. It can only pale in comparison to the feelings of those who've known him, loved him, and embraced him like his bandmates and family.

LeRoi Moore died today. I feel such a profound loss, it's weird, Many of you might not recognize the name, but you'll definitely recognize his face, and his sound. He played the sax for DMB, (Dave Matthews Band), and was always an integral part of the group. His music will be missed. DMB will never be the same.

Of course, none of that could EVER compare to what Paris Hilton has given us.

and let's not forget...


Okay, so she wasn't in it, and her porn tape hadn't come out yet...but you just KNOW she had something to do with that horrible shit!!

Oh, and she kills kittens.

Anyway, aloha 'oe, LeRoi. You're going to be meeting some mighty fine musicians where you're going, and I have no doubt you'll be making beautiful music together. Just be sure you send some of it down to us, will you? I don't think we can handle another "Stars are Blind" album...


WTF happened to WTF?

Fridays suck balls.

When you're trying to get your site up and running, dealing with not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 genuine children, and one man-child, and one of those 5 babies is teething, you've got orders to complete and send out, gotta make dinner, and so on, sometimes a blog is the last thing on your mind. And so it goes that WTF slipped my mind completely.

Well, here you go: WTF Friday: The late late edition.

  • WTF is up with China pulling a Milli Vanilli on the world with that little girl? I mean, sure, the US is as superficial as it gets, what with our Parasite Hilton obsession with fake tits, but the rest of the world only gives a rats ass if you have money. They don't care if some child's teeth are perfectly straight, or that her hair is pigtailed to perfection. It's already damaging enough as it is, being a female child in a patriarchal, one child only society, but to basically be told that you're too ugly to be on television is fucked up on levels that exceed my daily douchebaggery tolerance.

  • WTF is the matter with Warner Brothers deciding to push back Harry Potter: Half Blood Prince? Blaming it on the writer's strike, and then saying you want to make more money does little to quell any type of anger and disappointment that so many people will be feeling. ESPECIALLY after watching that trailer. The writer's strike didn't affect the filming of the movie, since filming had been completed before it had even begun, and you'd make more money during the summer? It's HARRY POTTER, for goodness sakes! It's not a Tom Cruise movie. It's not a sequel to Battlefield Earth. It's HARRY POTTER. Those who have read the books are dying to see the film. Lazy fucks who don't read are dying to see the film. Get with the program already and get that movie out before the end of the year!

  • WTF is wrong with being unmarried and living with your significant other? Dr. Laura goes on and on about "shacking up". This from the woman who "shacked up" with her MARRIED lover, now husband! It's as thought what's good for the hypocritical, fucked up, narcissistic geese is only good for her. She calls women who "shack up" "unpaid whores". So what does one call a woman who "shacks up" with married men? "Doctors".

  • WTF was up with Obama being photographed throwing a lei where his mother's ashes were tossed into the sea, or spending time visiting his grandfather's grave? I understand that he placed himself in the public spotlight because of his candidacy for the office of President, but there are some moments when common decency should prevail, even if at the sacrifice of a "good shot". Journalistic integrity has no merit here, because what is there to report? What he MIGHT be thinking? What religion he MIGHT be a part of? It made me as sick as I was after seeing the pictures of Nancy Reagan plastered all over the place grieving for Ronald after his passing. This need to be voyeuristic is absolutely appalling, especially when we, ourselves, would not want the same attention an scrutiny brought upon ourselves during such private and intimate moments, public figure or not.

  • WTF is the matter with drivers of Camrys? It's as though there are 2 gears on that damn car: Slow and Don't Know How To Drive. First, they merge into traffic like molasses dripping off an old lady's wrinkled ass, causing people to have to slow down or speed up just to avoid hitting their low end Lexus asses. THEN they proceed to mosey on over into the fast lane and put their shit on cruise control at 35mph while everyone else is going 60+. And yes, I swear these Camrys can cruise at have to be a secret member of the "I want to piss everyone off on the road" club to learn how. As if that's not enough of a reason to be pissed off, they then proceed to go to the EXACT SAME PLACE that you're going to, which means they want YOUR parking stall, or the one right next to it, and if they're parking next to you, that means they'll be 6 inches over the line, and parked nearly perpendicular to everyone else, thus causing you to either park AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL the way on the other side of the lot, or pulling a TOWANDA on them and ramming the shit out of their Camry. Which would feel really good at the time, but not so good later when you're standing in front of a judge...who just bought a Camry.


Cockroach Fridays

American cockroach
a large, reddish-brown cockroach, Periplaneta americana, found originally in the SOUTHERN U.S. but now widely distributed.

In Hawai'i, we have a saying. When you take something, you're being a cockroach. For example, if you stole my slippers (slippahs), you cockroached them.

So here's where things get interesting. I'm dedicating today to two things. WTFs and Cockaroaches. WTFs will follow shortly, but first thing's first.

You're a cockroach. You're so needy, so lacking in self-esteem that you cannot stand for the spotlight to be on anyone else but yourself. You need to cockroach everything from everyone in order to appease your need for attention. You placed yourself up on a pedestal, and found that in order to stay up there, you need people to acknowledge it. Simply being there isn't enough anymore. So you cockroach moments, ideas, work, and whatever else there is that can feed your insatiable need to be the center of attention. It speaks volumes as to the type of person that you are, and I almost feel pity for you. ALMOST

Truth is, you're lower than a cockroach. Even cockroaches have a purpose. You merely exist.


I've already received a few complaints about the layout. It doesn't view well in firefox, the main browser for just about everyone I know, and you know what? That's perfectly okay. It's only temporary. I plan on working on the perma-layout in the next few days, and basically know how it's going to look, graphics and all. It's going to be totally different esthetically from the daisyflight blog, mainly in its tone.

I'm trying to sell something there, people!

Flushing out thoughts requires me to be absorbed. Dark, dank, dreary. I was an emo kid in another life.

As for what reasoning is behind the title of this blog, it's quite simple: some of the best things I have ever read was written on the wall/door of a public bathroom. I actually read one of my favorite quotes for the first time ON a bathroom door. It's not a coincidence that the famous Rodin statue, The Thinker, looks like he's sitting on a toilet.

I cannot guarantee that what I'll submit here will be the best I've ever written. I can only admit to it being the best I was capable of submitting at the time. I am not the Cindy Crawford of Blogging. I'm more of a Stacey McKenzie type. I don't have to constantly keep my veneer of perfection up. I can be who I am, freckles and all. That seems to be the hardest part for many bloggers, from what I have seen. They try so hard to keep it "good", keep it "fresh", keep it "pretty". There's nothing pretty about beauty. Especially if that's all anyone ever wants.

So anyway, there you go. I'm not perfect, won't ever claim to be, and definitely won't try to. In the blogosphere, I'm an insignificant blip, a lone pixel in a 10x13 ai file. I'm just one of many, swimming upstream, hoping that one day, my eggs will hatch.

And if you're wondering how many more metaphors and analogies I can fit into this blog, don't. You'll never come up with a figure high enough.

So, enjoy the read, hate it, or feel nothing. Either way, I'm going to keep on posting. My only concession is that, once again, I will be changing the layout soon.


Testing the waters

I'm taking a dip, letting my toes feel the temperature. Will I like it? Will it be a cold shock to my system? Will it be a warm, comforting, ever enveloping blanket? Either way, I'm going to get wet here, and there's no turning back.

I forgot my towel.

Here's to happy blogging, angry blogging, melancholy blogging, and just because blogging. I've got a lot to say, and only two hands to get all of it out. You know that old joke about potagee women? How if you wanted to gag them, you would have to tie their hands? The same can be said of bloggers. Without our ever impending carpal tunnel syndrome, our cans of red bull, our RSS and podcasts, and the occasional jaunt to the loo, we're nothing. We're worse than nothing. We're Fox News reporters. We're Bill O'Reilly.

Lord save us from such a fate!