it rains a lot in Seattle

so, i was perusing the headlines over at CNN.com today and i found this gem of journalistic prowess: "Seattle stunned by 'bizarre' killings"

"Law enforcement officials said they couldn't recall a similar string of multiple homicides in the Seattle area."

they're kidding right? Ted Bundy...the Green River Killer...Seattle practically spawns serial killers. all that rain and such. we northwesterners are crazy bastards. tevas and shorts in December? i rest my case.

if you google "Seattle serial killers", this is the first page that pops up. and it scrolls.

it was precisely because i lived in Seattle (circa 1998-2000) that i developed some wicked fascination with the subject; i once checked out a stack of books at the Federal Way library which included such titles as Hunting Humans, The A-Z Encyclopedia of Serial Killers, Helter Skelter: the True Story of the Manson Murders, and the requisite A Stranger Beside Me: Ted Bundy, the Shocking Inside Story. the librarian gave me a look i have never seen on another human being's face since.

i've probably been flagged by the FBI.

if people didn't kill people regularly in Seattle and the greater northwest region, Ann Rule would have nothing to write about.

fucking moron flavored morons...

day four of Sonata [my ass]. it's 3:25am. shit's bunk, i tell you.

quote of the day: "I have to go. I have to do a whole day's worth of work in 12 minutes so as not to raise anybody’s expectations." -my father-

i have so much to live up to.

unrelated: i've developed a new affinity for Cool Heat pain relieving cream. seriously. is smells exactly like Pepsodent. it's like an Altoid for your whole fucking body!

Sonata my ass

related: The Ambien Cookbook.

diddy speaks (interlude)

so, being the insomniac that i am, i was channel surfing just now (this i alternate with net surfing, eating chocolate pudding and playing online trivial pursuit. did you know that there's a man-made "reef" off the coast of Delaware made out of old NYC subway cars? neither did i; i guessed New Jersey) and i came across the usual slew of infomercials, inclusive of the requisite Proactiv commercial. p. diddy is now one of their celebrity endorsers.

it's hard out here for a pimp[le].

(i'm so sorry. i watch far too much Daily Show)

ironically, what i've never seen an infomercial for at 3am is an ad for an over-the-counter sleeping aid.

i obviously don't watch enough television.

106

a few [more] things.

es ist sehr heiß. das ist nicht so gut.

i realized on my way home just now that New York really screwed up up my sense of temperature (among other things); i was thinking to myself, "my, it's sort of nice out" followed by "ok, perhaps it's a bit warm..." according to weather.com, it is 106 degrees in the Pearl district at present. and here i was thinking maybe 90ish. seriously. way off. i will, however, take an Oregon 106 degrees with 22% humidity over a New York 80 degrees with 90% humidity any day.

also, i was perusing the quicktime trailer site the other day (i'm really out of of the Hollywood loop these days. a tragedy, i know) and i came across this. now, i'm thinking, did we 80's children just not know how good we had it? if they're resurrecting 80's cartoons, the shit they have today must just completely suck. personally, i'm waiting for GI Joe: The Movie (i shit you not, my friend. i have a script for this kicking around in my collection of unproduced scripts somewhere. i think there was a Thundercats one as well. oh Cheetarah).

the Baroness was hot. crazy, but hot.

also, my mom priority-mailed me sleeping/anxiety pills. my mom is better than your mom.

...Miss Mace, if you're nasty.

the dude at Videorama just told me that i have a good stripper name.

this explains everything.

it's not the same without Psycho Safeway

a few things.

i saw The Appleseed Cast at the fez ballroom the other night. i highly recommend.

killing time at Powell's beforehand, i found myself in the health/self-help section. there's an entire section on death and dying. go there. just read the titles. it's in the red room along with travel and linguistics.

in an attempt to figure myself out, i flipped through You Mean I'm Not Lazy, Stupid or Crazy, a self-help book for people with ADD. it was 450 pages. it lost my interest.

also, i really never needed to see John McCain from this angle (on the cover of Esquire). i've found better things in my mailbox. bills, for example.

apply to be my boyfriend.

i'm so completely biting my friend Jason's style here, but fuck it. it made me laugh, so i made my own.

Disclaimer: this is intended to be a humorous send-up of my pathetically redundant and unsuccessful attempts at dating men. it was not written with any lingering animosity. Ok, it was written with a little animosity.

Regardless.

a few simple questions...

1. Do you live in the 503 area code?
2. Are you Jewish?
3. Are you a Republican?
4. Are you an actor?
5. Are you in a band?
6. In the last five years have you been subject to a traumatic, life-changing event (e.g. cancer, a terrorist attack, a mullet)? Did you seek therapy for it? Did you wait four years before seeking therapy?
7. How do you feel about the word “girlfriend”?
8. Do you believe in “God”?
9. How do you feel about plaid? As an interior decorating pattern? As a fabric one wears?
10. Have you read any of the following: Love in the Time of Cholera, The Bell Jar, or the Eyre Affair? Without my suggesting that you read it?
11. Do you have residual feelings for an ex-girlfriend? a female friend?
12. I say “I’m naked, come over” you say…?
13. Do you own a cell phone? Do you answer your cell phone?
14. Is your name Mike or some variant of (e.g. Michael, Mikey)?
15. If I call you a "cad", would you have to look it up? (hint: I’m not talking about Computer Aided Design)
16. Do you snore?
17. Do you smell nice (where nice = Tommy Hilfiger, Cool Water, Polo Sport or Polo Blue)?
18. Would it bother you if I smelled nice as well (where nice = Tommy Hilfiger, Cool Water, Polo Sport or Polo Blue)?
19. Would you throw me up against a wall and make-out with me? At your parents’ house?
20. Explain the difference between “your” and “you’re". It shouldn’t be difficult.
21. Do you drink beer? Do you drink good beer?
22. Can you dance? If you can’t, do you have enough sense not to?
23. Do you watch ESPN? Do you work for ESPN?
24. Do you have an inordinate amount of body hair? Could you ever be described as “furry”?
25. We book a tropical vacation together (this involves me in a bikini, or less, for the duration of a week. There’s also a private hot-tub involved). Would you cancel our trip for any reason?
26. Do you have a dog? Do you plan on getting one?
27. Are you allergic to cats?
28. Have you ever voted for Bush?
29. Do you know who George Eliot is?
30. Would you ever list The DaVinci Code as one of your favorite books?
31. Define “belligerent” without looking it up.
32. How do you feel about Lindsay Lohan?
33. Would you ever wear white sneakers?
34. Do your pants go all the way down to your shoes (meaning, do they cover your ankles and break nicely over your shoe)?
35. Does the sentence, “There’s many things that I can do,” bother you in any way? If so, why?
36. Have you ever said, “That was fun!” after having sex?
37. If I ask your best friend about you, will he respond something like this: "Don't get me wrong...I love [Your Name Here] like a brother, but he's completely fucked up about women."
38. Are you a Red Sox fan?

i'm sure i'll add to these...

every line is about who i don't want to write about anymore.

it's a holiday, i think. but i've nothing to celebrate.

i think somebody told me last week that i'd been glowing, of late. i've gotten a number of comments such as this in the last two months, that i seem really happy.

that's pretty fucking gone.

due to this weekend's sudden drama and also a consequence of my NyQuil and Codeine-induced coma of the last two days (to counteract the effects of my bleeding like a wounded artery and the fact that i was not really feeling very good in the first place), i am confined to my apartment working today. which is awesome.

i feel like throwing up. only i've been so depressed, i just realized i've hardly eaten in days. and i actually had nightmares last night, the kind where you physically jerk upright in a sweat; i actually thought somebody was standing over me.

yeah.

i need a hug.

It's such a lie that you should do what's in your heart. If we all did what was in our hearts, the world would come to a halt.

I made a joke once, a few years ago to a friend, I believe after one of my ex-boyfriends informed me most asininely that he was getting married (to the girl he dated before me, whom he got back together with within weeks of our splitting) that I was the girl you date to figure out who you’re really in love with.

The humor in it has since depreciated.

What sort of pains me, when I think about it, is that my first thought whenever a guy picks another girl over me, is “Am I not pretty enough?” Which is, of course, supremely superficial and likely unfounded. And then I marvel at the fact that I’ve been raised in a society which has programmed me to think that my beauty and my body are the entirety of my self-worth. That I’ll spend countless waking hours comparing myself to all the Beckys, Leias, Emilys, and Megans out there, wondering what it is that I’m lacking. Like the racehorse nobody bets on, you begin to wonder if it’s your limp they aren’t betting on, or just the fact that some breeder named you Unlovable.

Another point: Men don’t grovel.

I was discussing this with Chaya last night over the ever-popular even-the-nice-guys-treat-you-like-shit martini. It is an entirely fictionalized idea, likely put into effect by Hollywood, that men ever see the error of their ways and come groveling back to you, admitting that you were really the one. You’ll never get a phone call in the middle of the night, or a letter, or a boy on your doorstep sopping wet with rain, professing his love and need for you to forgive him. It’s never happened to me once.

Men don't do this. Men are cowards. Or, likely, he just didn’t care for you in the first place.

I know this from experience.