MISSING CLASS RING!

The internet is an amazing place, so I just wanted to let everyone know I am missing my class ring. It has most likely gotten misplaced in my filthy house, but there is always the slim chance that I lost it on the street... being that it's not very useful to anyone but a '04 Ithaca College graduate with a b.s. in cinema and photo- the person who finds it might look for me- perhaps online.

so here's my attempt to come up on top of such a search.

Rachel M. Robinson went to Ithaca College for Cinema and Photo, graduating in 2004 with a B.S in Cinema & Photo. She lost her class ring in New York City on the upper East side and she works in the 30's near Penn Station. The ring is silver (white gold) with a blue stone.

GIVE IT BACK!!

Top Astronaut- tonight at 8/7 Central

With the latest developments of the weird "love triangle" astronaut kidnap/murder case, I'd like to suggest a new direction for the space program- reality television. It has come to my attention that scientists, though they appear so self-effacing and do-gooderish in the news and the papers, have just as massive egos as any other professionals. Astronauts must have some of the biggest of the bunch considering they have to go through all that psychological evaluation before they can even enter their profession. But has this been awarded in the past- no. I think it's time. I want to see The Real World...In Space! I'd like to see a zero-gravity Survivor. I'd like to see Top Powdered Astronaut Food Chef. I think the rest of the world is with me.

You have to wonder if the price of a reality television is comparable to the price of a large, sophisticated rocket. I need some internet whiz kid to find those figures for me. How many reality TV travesty's would we have to combine to make one season of Vh1 SpaceCelebReality?

Also I would like to note that the New York Times article about the crazy astronaut lady was definitely lacking. But in the end one crime expert did say that it was odd that the lady was so prepared, having brought pepper spray, a pistol, rubber hose, plastic and duct tape. He said it was completely unique for a female crime, only men usually plan ahead.

...

...excuse me? Females not planning their crimes? Hello... some girls don't even leave the house without changes of clothing for every worst-case scenario that is statistically possible... You're saying that these same girls, when driven to commit acts of violence, just lose all that "be prepared" and become commiters of random crimes of passion?? No no no nononoonono.

I think that many more females have gotten away with crimes than we know.

maple cheddar heart attack

Hi.
I know it's going to sound really obvious to all of everyone but me...but if you go to a Dunkin Donuts anytime soon, do yourself a favor and DO NOT GET THE CHEDDAR, SAUSAGE, MAPLE, CROISSANT SADWICH. That's right, folks- SADwich. It's about 700 calories of painful, oozy grease. Not wonderful and delightful like the pictures make it seem.

But don't worry, I took the fall for you, and now you don't have to feel compelled to get it just to see what it's like. Or just because you easily break under the pressure of the advertisements of your favorite establishments.

I love Dunkin- but SAVE YOURSELF.

Still don't know what the title means...

So I decided to read A Clockwork Orange so that I could act as if I knew more about the movie, which I haven't seen for a quite some time. It was a good read, a lot of fun. It makes you wonder if you are a special sort of person to be able to easily get a grasp of the funky future slang the narrator uses throughout the book. I do know some people who said they couldn't get through it, but I think those people read with a much more focused and demanding eye than I do. I just like to gloss- to get the feeling and the idea. To glaze over and not realize that I'm reading at all. It's as if the book is just sending me the message telepathically.

The worst is when you stumble during this kind of reading, and then start thinking about how strange it all is. It's really hard to start back up again. All of the sudden you're staring at each individual word and they don't seem to make sense because when you reach the last word you can't remember what the beginning of the sentence said. I hate when this happens. Readers block.

Anyway, about the book. It was great. The movie was a pretty true adaptation, except the movie ditches the last chapter. You should go to the library and read the last chapter- then you can tell everyone your read the book.

Boll-ing for books

So I went to the library last week and started grabbing books randomly off the shelves- sounds like it could end up badly but so far it's been great. I picked up the short novel The Train Was on Time by Heinrich Boll. No idea what it was about. But now I'm about 10 pages from the end and I LOVED it.

It's about a German's last thoughts and feelings as he rides a train to the front lines in Poland where he's convinced that he is going to die. It's kind of strange that I found this book right then, because I had just had a dream about going to Iraq, and I can still distinctly remember/feel the strange wave of emotion that washed over me (in the dream) when I realized that I was probably going to die.

Also I am inspired to write my own book. This was Boll's first. Where's mine?

Psychogenic Polydipsia

I am going to study this more and have a character in a script who has to be watched all the time because they may just have the urge to drink way too much water.

Water intoxication- not fun!

Here's some bad news on the subject...

Trumpet Two Punches!

So there was a game I played in... middle school and early high school- kind of a small school craze- called "Trumpet".

The point of "trumpet" was to get whomever you happened to be talking to to repeat themselves. When they said the same thing to you twice, you could say (or YELL!) "trumpet" and then punch them or kiss them or take their lunch... whatever the agreed specifics were between you and the individual. We even had a teacher involved. We got nothing from her, and we never got to hit her, but we DID get the joy of a brief class disruption. Worth it!

Anyway, at the time of the trumpet craze, Malcom in the Middle was a cute little show that most everyone watched on Sundays. In Malcom, they played the Circle game. You make a circle (like an "A-OK" sign) with your thumb and pointer somewhere below your waist, and when you get the other person to look in the circle you get to hit them, kiss them, etc... BUT not if they get their pointer finger into the hole before ... I don't know, what. I forget... I think without looking directly at it. I think it was all about the peripheral vision.

Either way, we started playing Trumpet and circle in conjunction. We intertwined them until we were sufficiently bruised and sexually harassed... Then, as it is with all incredibly good games, they were banned from school. They have been absent from MY life ever since.

I miss them and the people who cared about them. I hope I can somehow get people to play them with me later in life. That will be when I know I have the perfect job.

My boss: Rachel, could you get me the file about the thing that's cool, etc. etc?
Rachel: What's that? I have headphones on.
My boss: Could you get me the FILE about the THING that's cool, etc. ETC.?
Rachel:...TRUMPET!!

Slinky

I would just like to share that I have a dog named Slinky.

She is nicknamed "Stinky" slinky because she likes to pee all over her blankets, her bed, the floor, and anything else that can fall beneath her squatty little vagina.

But I do like her. Despite the pee. Everywhere. All the time. She's a hard case. She led a tough life, and she is not quick to open up to anyone. I probably have a crush on her.

When we got Slinky she was the shortest looking dachshund anyone had ever seen. She is slowly leangthening. She's five years old, or so, so she's not growing- just losing some weight. Most people get to pack some weight onto their dogs when they bring them home from the pound, but not Stinky- she went on a diet straight away. It is hard to tame the beast.

Slinky is like a teenager. If you let Slinky lie around all day she will walk around in circles all night. If you let her walk around too long she will pee on the floor. Nothing short of constant attention and supervision will keep Slinky on the right track.

Slinky is a good measuring stick. You can measure a person's unconditional love with Slinky. Pets are easy to love when they are obedient or cute. Slinky is neither of those things. But how can you blame an animal? Who do you blame? Her parents? Her retarded dog genes? Is it her fault? She didn't ask to be born and raised locked in a gay couple's kitchen. Anyway, people who try to convince you that Slinky is able to be good, just too crafty or lazy to go through with it, and that's why they dislike her- those people aren't as nice as the ones that like Slinky in all her stinkiness. Those people aren't going to cut you slack, or listen to excuses that involve your feelings. Maybe those people have worked so hard to make good decisions all their life, that the are jealous of the fact that you can love Slinky despite her glaring flaws. What's fair about that?

Well, there's nothing fair about it. I guess that's why love and logic don't mix, and I like Slinky.

wishful dreaming

So. Last night I dreamed I was in some house (not my own or any I've seen). I'd say it was a ranch style with a big basement that had laundry facilities. It was supposedly the house where I lived. In the basement someone was doing a lot of laundry. At first I thought it was Cory, a tenant in my building- and perhaps it was. But shortly thereafter I realized, NO it's someone famous! I realized this when the famous man pinched my butt. I was ready to be really offended when I realized it was, from a distance, Matthew Mcchonehy (or whatever his name is). I was still offended, but a little more ...honored? to have him doing laundry at my house. But no, it got BETTER. It turns out that it was really Owen Wilson (who I kept calling Wes Anderson). When he came upstairs I put my hands on his shoulders (and he was about my height) and looked into his face (which looked a little warped- I don't usually get that close to people in dreams) and said "I am SO happy it is YOU!" I was referring to the fact that he could now COMPLETELY get me that intern ship with Wes Anderson that I've been pining for.

So in conclusion, Owen Wilson- despite bad behavior- can come to my house to do laundry any time.

American Woman...

I'm 100% American, which means that I spend a lot of time binging on junk food, and even MORE time talking about how I am planning on losing weight. On my quest to stick to SOMETHING (one or the other) I found-

www.fitday.com

How fun! Have your own private health blog! And it works for skinny people too. Just figure out what your goals are for daily riboflavin intake, and you're off.

You can put that mountain down right over there...

My dad wasn't miffed when I told him that I was playing the lottery every day. He said "Good for you. You know, if you really believe, you'll win." No sarcasm. But at the same time, this wasn't a little sermon about faith either. Just the facts. Believers=winners.

Well. Last night I got a take5 ticket and went home and pulled out my dusty flash manual and learned about dynamic text and customizing scrollbars.

And today (technically last night @ 11:21) I won $25.

Coincidence?

Work. Why?

What I learned today:
# 1. The purple nerds taste like alarmingly similar to perfume.
# 2. Everyone has talent.
# 3. Talent will not make you successful.
# 4. Not everyone has perseverance.
# 5. Perseverance WILL make you successful.
# 6. The "#" sign is above number 3 on the keyboard.
# 7. Your worth is justifiably measured by your will to succeed.
# 8. People who can set goals within their means are more successful.
# 9. People who can accomplish goals that others thought beyond their means are the most successful.
#10. Sting is 55 years old.

So I am off to set and accomplish realistic, but impressive goals.

More Blogs!! Merrier Blogs!!

I love to categorize. Maybe I have a borderline personality disorder! I AM always right!!!... ... ....

So on the right, in my links, you'll see MORE blogs. Specialized blogs. Blogs for bitchings, ponderings, & writings.

This blog will have to be reserved for the most random- like for instance, how upset I am that they have removed the last comma (the one before the "and") in lists. Well THEY can do whatever they want. I'm keeping it. So there.

Ashamed

#1 Thing I am ashamed of today:
I was crossing a big street and an ambulance was blaring down it. The crossing guard (traffic aid) started tooting his whistle frantically. I did not pick up the pace. I was too busy worrying about not getting an extra job this Christmas.

#2 Thing I am ashamed of today:
I didn't get hired for an easy job that didn't even require a college education. I slumped out on the group interview and dumbed myself down to the level of the most unqualified candidate in the room. On purpose? Subconsciously? To be nice? Excuses! There is no excuse. I did a bad job. Blah.

On a lighter note, I have picked the "mega-ball" correctly for 2 games in a row now. You know, kids, maybe there will be a Christmas after all!