All I got out of it was the knowledge that I never again want to work for a for-profit.
Like schoolkids, giggling over who is saving $100 million by cutting what services.
I also got some more bad news about my father, and within 15 minutes of that, someone said some not nice things, and I responded in kind.
So I need to put this on hold for a second.
Details about Day21 coming soon.
KNOXVILLE, Tennessee (CNN) -- A shotgun-wielding man opened fire at a Unitarian church during a children's play Sunday morning, killing two adults and wounding seven others before being overpowered by congregants, officials said.
Jim Adkisson, 58, was charged with first-degree murder after Sunday's shooting at the Knoxville church.
One of the victims, Linda Kraeger, 61, died at a hospital several hours after the shooting at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church, Knoxville municipal spokesman Randall Kenner said.
Also killed was Greg McKendry, a 60-year-old usher and board member at the church, police said earlier in the day.
A suspect, Jim Adkisson, 58, of Powell, Tennessee, was charged with one count of first-degree murder, Kenner said Sunday evening.
Adkisson is not believed to have been a member of the Knoxville church, and investigators have not determined a motive for the shooting, Knoxville Police Chief Sterling Owen told reporters.
"[The motive] is one thing we're obviously aggressively pursuing," Owen said.
I realised I'm starting my last month here.
This Queen Latifah movie is making me cry.
"I spent my whole life in a box, I don't want to be buried in one."
If you had 21 days to live, what would you do?
The location from where I'll be working is a bit of a mess, and I'm trying to decide how to redecorate a single-floor dwelling on the second floor with only spiral staircase access - there's a balcony off the back, but I'd have to install stairs up to it, something I'm not necessarily capable of doing...
I can't really believe I'm leaving my city without any real destination in mind.
Confidence in self dwindling. Good thing I can still analyse, spin, and produce like nobody's business. Too bad I don't want to do it anywhere I've been offered a position.
|12:15 PM||Transvestites Also Cry||Black Box at the Prince|
|12:15 PM||La León||Prince Music Theater|
|2:30 PM||Citizen Nawi||Black Box at the Prince|
|2:30 PM||Out in Philly - Season 2: Shorts by Local GLBT Filmmakers||Prince Music Theater|
|4:45 PM||Breakfast with Scot||Prince Music Theater|
|5:00 PM||Straight||Black Box at the Prince|
|7:00 PM||Clandestinos||Prince Music Theater|
|7:15 PM||Sex Positive||Black Box at the Prince|
|9:15 PM||Otto; Or, Up With Dead People||Prince Music Theater|
"Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them." - Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh
"The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit." - Nelson Henderson
"I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I have not." - Lucille Ball
Also, the youtube of her kicking Elizabeth Dole (R) in the cunt would be priceless.
(CNN) -- House Speaker Nancy Pelosi called President Bush "a total failure" on Thursday, among the California Democrat's harshest assessments to date of the president.
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi says "I disapprove of Congress' performance in terms of ending the war."
"God bless him, bless his heart, president of the United States -- a total failure, losing all credibility with the American people on the economy, on the war, on energy, you name the subject," Pelosi told CNN's Wolf Blitzer in an exclusive interview.(more)
Some of my best fashion exercises are completely wasted because I am unable to take a decent self-portrait while at work. Why?
I'll tell you why.
Fucking flourescent lighting.
It's a simple enough concept - when electrons get really excited, the shift in orbital can release energy in the form of a light photon. Sometimes, this happens by making things hot (sort of like incandenscent bulbs or this guy) - In flourescent tubes, there's some poison (mercury), some inert gas (like a slowly savoured Santa Fe burrito), some phosphor (like old urine in the Wesbury bathroom), and the electrode shit. When you flip the switch, electrons do this massive Conga line from one end of the tube to the other, getting some buttplay from mercury as they rub up against it - Much like you or I would be excited, these atoms get all frisky, escalating through energy levels - Once the, uh, action, is over, a light photon shoots off. You'd think this would be the money shot we're looking for, but nay, these photons are far too sophisitcated for you to see - they're ultraviolet (not at all like that Milla Jovovich disaster).
So these happy light photons whack off (heh) the phosphor in the tube -which in turn changes energy and emits some fucking odious light.
And this is where I get mad. I would never go to a bar where a bartender does not know how to make a proper Manhattan and order said improperly-made Manhattan over and over again - But these lights - these horrible, horrible lights - Every day, millions of us are forced into cuboidal hellzones where these argon/mercy/phosphorus gangbang tubes loom overhead, not just emitting their foul light that washes out skin and makes things even more boring than they already are, but they put them in DROP CEILINGS.
The whole thing is a fucking affront to the very delicacy of my fucking nature.
I walk out of my condo into the morning sunlight, catch my reflection in a car window, and think - yes, you have successfuly integrated the blue understriping of your shirt with the white pebbling of this tie, and the heathering on those pants - It all works, and you are a better person for it.
Then, I get in to my office and look at myself in a mirror, and I feel like I've been hit by a truck - a very, very ugly truck. Everything looks green, my pebble-texture has become a sort of muted flat design reminscent of a row of staples to be loaded in a Swingline, my carefully tanned skin no longer golden but rather sallow, any tinge of red from the night before now suddenly front and center in my eyes.
I ask you, lightbulb manufacturers of the world, what the fuck is wrong with you?
No one wants to feel like you are making us look. So just stop it, ok?
Gay - if you're here, I probably don't need to define this, do I?
Matrix - referencing the 1999 Wachowski siblings' The Matrix, a science-fiction action film;
The film describes a future in which reality perceived by humans is actually the Matrix, a simulated reality created by sentient machines in order to pacify and subdue the human population while their bodies' heat and electrical activity are used as an energy source. [wiki]
Gaytrix - a present-day reality construct wherein members of a geographically diversified subculture [1, 2, 3] experience sensations of collective conciousness and group-determined emotional lability. Internal reports indicate a perception of 'significant' correlation between positive and negative impacts of life events as spread among members.
No relation to:
I think our shits done be broken. This has been a terribly long weekend - In part due to the actual extra day off, but really as a result of high levels of drama that began their Space Invaders-esque descent sometime around 1600 EDT, Thursday. I seriously don't think that shit stopped for three straight days, multiplying across barbecues and house parties and barstools and SMS and Twitter. It's not just standard queer drama here, either - In a functional Gaytrix/friendverse disaffected Queer A is insulated from the Bastard_World by backup Queers B, C, and however many others it takes through combinations of drinking, poignant jukebox selections, shameless mockery of people within earshot, co-kvetching about similar life shittisms, etc.
All of it is making me wonder what progress I've recently made - I'm tryin' on this job front, honest (that's a whole 'nother post) This Independence Day Weekend, I attended a party thrown by a handsome young attorney - In addition to the holiday weekend, the party was also to celebrate the end of the attorney's cohabitation with his ex-boyfriend. I know this brand of party well - I had one last year, on Bastille Day. Hell, I even invited my ex-boyfriend. It was a great party, one that I thought would clear my head and add some levity to the fact that my life as I knew it had essentially ended. It worked - and if you had asked me on that day 20 questions that required me to predict what I would be doing this July, I doubt a single one of the guesses would be correct.
Rule #1 of traveling via handbasket: Never ask where you're going.
Rule #2 of traveling via handbasket: Know that if you are in the handbasket, you need to get out.