And I’ve been here since Saturday. My wireless (stolen/borrowed/whatever) works when I feel like going down the hall and sitting on the floor. So I haven’t really (obviously) been updating. I’m much too busy sitting by the pool or in the sand, soaking in the Vitamin D that my body has been in sore and desperate need of. And while I really do have some things to say, I can’t say them right now. I have to go get some dinner. But I’ll try to be back.
I’m heading to Florida in the morning, so today will be spent packing and tying up loose ends and all that fun stuff, and tomorrow will be spent in the car, trying not to fall asleep and run off the road and kill us all.
I’ll try to update while I’m gone, but if I don’t, please take some of your precious blog surfing time to peruse my archives. I used to be a lot funnier. And then I started writing about getting new shoes.
Yeah, so, I’m putzing around on the internet this morning. The kids are getting ready for school, I’ve made their lunches and fed them, the day is progressing like any other. I’m surfing Blog Mad for double credits. Checking e-mail. You know. The usual.
I decide that it would be a good idea to send a friend a link to a rather nasty video of something unmentionable. I had seen it on another friend’s site and the image of it is burned into my brain for all eternity. Seriously. There are moments when I’m tired, or someone says the word “horse” or “butt” or “butt sex with a horse” or something along those lines and the video begins to play in my head all on its own, and no amount of booze or drugs is going to get it out of there. If they ever invent some way of pinpointing a memory in your brain and erasing it, I’m going to take full advantage of that service.
So, I go to my friend’s site and find the link. Keep in mind, as I’m doing this, my kids are about 10 feet away from me, putting on their shoes, their coats, their hats and gloves, gathering the schoolbooks, etc. I’m thinking to myself, I’m going to open this link in a new tab, copy the url, and close it down quick. They’ll never know, and I won’t even have to see it again. Because it’ll take a while for the video to download, right? Sure!
Then, all of a sudden, everything goes fucking haywire. Firefox windows start popping up all over my screen! All containing gross images of, well, I’ve completely blocked it out of my head but it was pretty nasty. And out of my speakers comes hollering a man’s voice, gleefully exclaiming:
Hey everybody! I’m looking at gay porno! Hey everybody! I’m looking at gay porno!
Over and over again, as the windows keep popping up and I’m clicking like crazy, actually for a moment thinking that I’m going to be able to keep up with them by closing them down, but to no avail, so as my children migrate slowly towards my chair (“What’s that all about, Mom?), I close the lid of my laptop but I can still hear it going on and I’m thinking
Oh, my god. I’m going to have to go to the Geek Squad to get this fixed, and my laptop is going to be singing “Hey everybody! I’m looking at gay porno!”
So I lift the lid again, just a little, just enough to stick my finger inside and hold down the power button and turn the whole goddamn thing off, half worried that it wasn’t going to work and my laptop would forever be singing “Hey everybody! I’m looking at gay porno!”
But it worked, thank the stars.
Then of course I worried that when I turned it back on, it would still be happening. But it didn’t. The sing-song of “Hey everybody! I’m looking at gay porno!” was gone, and all is back to normal.
So now, I need to send my friend an e-mail and let her know about it. Or do I? Because as long as it doesn’t infect the computer with anything, it is kind of funny to picture some kid sitting in Starbucks perusing the internet and coming across that link and clicking on it, no? No. I do need to let her know. I’ll leave it up to her whether or not to leave it up.
The lesson for today, folks: Don’t try to sneakily get the url for a gay porn video so you can send it to a friend. Because you might get outed.
NBC5.com – News – Police: Man Killed Boy For Walking Across Yard
Okay, so, I like my grass. Sure I do. Not as much as the guy who lives across the street, the one who blows all his leaves off his grass and then VACUUMS his grass. Yes. Vacuums. And yes, I’ve shouted at kids to get the hell off my lawn, but I live on a corner, and they’re too lazy to walk/ride their bikes around the corner and go straight across my fucking lawn. But this is ridiculous. Who shoots a kid for walking on his lawn?
He won’t be worrying about his lawn too much anymore, because he’s going to be in PRISON.
You heard me. I’m heading south again. I’m like a bird. Only it’s not winter, it’s spring. Officially today, I think. Right? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like spring. It’s 34 degrees outside. So, anyway, I’ve just returned from Texas only to hop in the car on Friday and head down to Florida. I have a thing for Florida. I like it. It’s sunny. And warm. And the only thing required of me is to stumble from my condo to the pool to the beach and back again, cocktailing it all along the way (after 4 p.m., of course) (okay, noon. Who’s counting).
Hopefully, this trip we won’t encounter dump trucks full of cows again. Although, it was amusing. So, maybe we hope for the dump trucks full of cows. I’ll be sure to take some pictures and update along the way. That is, if I can scam some wifi from the guy who lives upstairs. Did I say that? I mean borrow, with gratitude, wifi from the guy who lives upstairs.
I have eyestrain because BlogMad is in double credit clicking mode tonight and tomorrow. I’ve come across a lot of blogs I’ve never read before. The only problem is (and I’m sure some of you won’t consider this a problem) that BlogMad’s categories are pretty loose, as in, anything with cursing in it (hello!) or containing, say, photographs of skinny blonds with their legs spread who use their manicured fingers to be sure you can get a good look at what they want to show you, are all in the 18+ category. Some of these things come up on my screen and I freak out and click crazily for the minimize box and look around all worried, like someone might have seen me. Which they very well may have, as I sit near a window and anyone walking by can peek in and see what I’m doing.
That’s all. I’m not leaving until Friday, but I wanted to prepare you all for the possibility that I might, in a few short days, be too drunk busy to post much.
One of my favorite internet friends is Somebody’s Son. Go read his blog. You’ll laugh. Or maybe you’ll get all offended and cry, I don’t really know. He makes me laugh, though.
Also, I just realized that this template has no place for my links. WTF? I have to fix that. I’m going to have to use my brain! Shit.
Blog Mad is going to go into public beta in a day or so. If you’d like to sign up, click here:
Or click the button on my sidebar. Blog Mad offers a 1:1 ratio, so you get a view for every blog you look at. And I believe on the first day of public beta, there’s going to be a 2:1 ratio, so for every blog you view, you get 2 credits. I’ve gotten a ton of traffic from it. Not necessarily quality, reading traffic or anything. And I’ve gotten a couple of, well I’ll just leave that one alone. Anywho, it’s a goodie. Go sign up. If it says you need an invite, e-mail me at vikibabbles at gmail.com and I’ll get you one.
My girl Allison has some great things to say. Go read her post of today, entitled Fuck Women’s Lib.
I’m just having a little identity crisis, so I’m fooling around with themes. Not making my own or anything, but just sponging off the back of someone else’s hard work. So if you check in throughout the day or weekend, you might find yourself thinking, wtf is she doing? Why does this keep changing? Or, you might be fooled into sticking around for a few minutes beyond your countdown. Until you realize, OH! It’s that vikibabbles thing. Bitch fooled me.
Update: I like this one, but I’ll have to figure out how to change the pictures. And for some weird reason, I can’t change the permissions, so I can’t mess with it. Which is probably good. But at least for today, the green background is for St. Patty’s Day!
Update #2: I think I’m in love. I have an affinity for the plain, and this one is called veryplaintxt or some shit like that. Plain as fucking day. Plain as it comes. Plain plain plain.
What do you think? Assuming that, when you read this, everything is all plain, black and white, just a bareness of loveliness, leaving nothing to distract you from the amazing power of my words.
Excuse me. I just laughed so hard I hacked up part of one of my lungs.
Update #3: Why on earth can’t I change the file attributes properly? Why am I stuck in this “if this file was writable you could edit it” hell? WTF am I doing wrong? Anybody?
Update #4: I found this lovely template, called lush. I like it’s simplicity combined with the color. And the ladybugs. I’m going to try to make this work now. Maybe SOME people who think my site sucks will be turned on by it. Or not.
So, the lineup is announced yesterday, and I take a peek at it. Aside from the Chili Peppers, included on the roster are Wilco and Poi Dog Pondering, my two absolute favorite bands, especially to see live. And I’m thinking, hmm. There’s no Primus this year. There’s no crazy hard-rock band. There’s not even any country. No Willie Nelson or any of that. So how in the HELL am I going to convince my husband that it’s a good idea for us to spend $300 on a couple of concert tickets? And to spend three days in the city going to see music? In August? Because if you think it’s hot in July (remember all those news reports about it being hot at Lollapalooza last year, and how they had to spray everyone down with fire hoses?), you’ll not survive August. In Chicago. In Grant Park. Under the sun.
Then, this morning, I’m dreaming away about being a child (in this part of the dream I was a boy with long hair), and being shown by a father (presumably of the long-haired boy) how to use a little bomb, which looked like a crazy fun candle for a birthday cake. And though he told me not to light it until it was necessary, I thought it would be fun to do it RIGHT NOW, so I lit it, and as the wick burned down, I ran out the front door and threw it as hard as I could but it only went about four feet, and it lay there on the sidewalk right in front of my house, and I ran, ran like a little scared chicken, leaving this bomb to go off right in front of my family’s home. I ran around the corner of the house and waited for an explosion but it never came, and when I walked into the back door of my house, I was me again, myself, not a little long-haired boy, and everything was different, and I found a plane ticket in my purse and I thought “Where the hell am I supposed to go now? Can’t I just stay home?” and I showed it to the airline stewardess who stood there and she did something to it and handed it back to me and it didn’t have my name on it anymore, so I wandered around the house and went up some stairs and I was in the home of somebody I know, and everyone was drinking and having fun, and then I had to climb up some very narrow, steep steps, and I kept slipping, and when I got to the top I saw that I was on the upper deck of a cruise ship, and this slutty young thing, who apparently worked for the cruise ship, tried to show me how to climb over this railing in order to get to the deck itself from the stairs, and when I peeked over the edge, it appeared that if I fell while climbing I would slide right into the ocean, and I was afraid, but she convinced me to do it and as I dangled from this metal rail, the chipped yellow paint digging into my palms, feeling with my foot for a place to step, I spied another way, an easier way, and I said to the slutty chick in her hot pants and bikini top and side-of-the-head pony tail, “What is that?”
“What?” she says, smiling at me.
“That over there, is that an easier way of getting up here?”
“Well, yeah, but you went this way instead!” and she laughed at me in a spiteful, mean way, and left me dangling there but that’s where it ended because at that moment I was awoken by my husband pouncing on my bed, pouncing on me, and saying “Guess who’s in the lineup for Lollapalooza? Huh? Huh? Guess!”
“Who?” I asked.
“Ween! Ween!”
And I was still a little asleep and I said, “I like wieners,” even though I meant to say “I like Ween,” and then I woke up a little more and I said, “You want to go to Lollapalooza to see Ween? Ween of push the little daisies and make ‘em come up fame? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. After you make my lunch, go buy tickets.”
The moral of the story is, folks, that sometimes you get what you want without even having to try, and in a very weird way, and you never would have thought to get what you want by saying something like, “Look! Ween is on the bill! Ween! Push up the daisies, baby! Ween!”
And also, that it takes me a really long time to get to the point. Lolla ’06, here I come!