I love working at a library. Really, really love it. Libraries are grand places, full of these things called books, with pages, and with words, made up of letters. I love them the most. The books.

Also? I am a horrible person:

(Ok, I cheated a bit on that one.)

Slightly suggestive and funny haha, right? Nothing too bad? Just me and my dirty, dirty mind?

OR SO YOU THOUGHT:

I mean, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? No, really. You are, aren't you? Or am I imagining it? I MUST BE.

But no. I am not:

You cannot blame this one on me, people.

Clearly, I work way too hard. Good thing I have a shitload of time off coming up soon. So I can relax at home and read.

Cheers!

My Christmas present (which, much like the gifts I will be giving out this year, I played no part in constructing because I cannot craft for shit and really, don't we all just want serious blingy shit? Don't lie.) to all of you: Fuck You, Penguin.

The entire site is pure awesome, but I'm especially in love with: Llamas Will Break Your Heart Without so Much as a "My Bad" (here), Platypus: The Ultimate Buzz-kill (here), and OF COURSE, Red "Panda" Trying to Steal Panda Thunder (here).

Enjoy (the fruits of someone else's labor).

I have to go to traffic school.

And really...it's about damned time. Despite getting pulled over at least a dozen times in my life, I just recently got my first ticket. In fact, this ticket marks the most 'legal' trouble I have ever been in, in my entire life. How has this happened? I HAVE NO IDEA. (A killer lawyer? Possibly!)

So no, I'm not at all pissed about the ticket, for speeding, which I so, so earned. Which I've been earning since I was 16, pretty much. But the part that I am pissed about? Traffic School. The thought of doing anything for 8 hours (or, 6 hours and 4 minutes) fills me with absolute dread. I would like traffic school to be as painless as possible, meaning, I would like an instructor who would happily exchange money for a certificate of completion (why do you think I'm aiming to go right before the holidays, eh?), but since I doubt that will happen (and I was totally, kidding, by the way. Maybe.) I've been looking into the different schools in my area:

1. Kevin Dunn's Traffic School: I highly, highly doubt that this is Kevin Dunn, author of The Necromancer. But how cool would that be? Endless zombie/corpse/bad driving tie-ins? Awesome.

2. Gay Community Traffic School: I hate to stereotype gay people as being more fun than straight people...but uh, they are.

3. Safetripp Traffic School: I am not taking instruction from a school that cannot spell. Thanks.

4. Pizza For You Comedians 2 & Pizza 4U Great Comedians - Ok, now we're on to something...

Clearly, I am at a crossroads, people. So please, if you have any experience with this (and if I know my readers, YOU DO) send suggestions my way.

Life at the new apartment is going swell. Though I had initially had some reservations, and the situation is still pretty new...I totally fucking love living with my roomie. (Midnight beer runs, now more fun/less sad!) I'm in love with the neighborhood, have been walking (I KNOW) everywhere, and am so, so happy to finally be back downtown(ish) where fun shit happens on a regular basis.

And, most importantly of course, the roomie's kitty has gotten over her aversion to me and has apparently come to the decision that I am simply delicious:

Here, using her vice-like grip to secure my hand and prevent escape:

...and here, attempting to detach a finger by using leverage. Smart!

Oh, haha, bite-y kitty...so cute! So cute I might have to wrap up with a snuggly little kitty coat this winter just so she can always be next to me! With the cuteness! Ha!

(Roomie, I kid. Your cat is a delight. A DELIGHT.)

And yes, a break from animal pictures and the like is coming, I promise. It's the holidays, which means parties, which means being social, which means drinking, which means fuck, I hope I don't ruin Christmas this year, too. Also, thanks to a lovely little thing scheduled to happen this weekend, it's pretty much a sure thing that all hell will break loose, and soon. So uh, Happy Holidays!

I know the subject matter of this video may be a hard sell to some all of you, but Just. Give. It. A. Chance:

I was having a bad day today before it even really started. My dreams were shit, basically a collective of everything I've fucked up in the past few years, the kind of stuff that still weighs on me heavily enough (apparently; so much for suppression) to saturate my subconscious. So, dreams? Fuck you guys. Thanks for making me glad to wake up at 8am, assholes.

The bad day trudged towards a bad afternoon, and by 2pm I was counting the hours (7 and a half!) until I could go home and face plant in my covers. Because even though I'm a bit of a jerk, I would never dream of inflicting my blue moods on anyone. (Mostly just because they're lame.)

But then I saw this:

(more info at themurdercitydevils.com)

And now? It's pretty much The! Best! Day! Ever! (Next to this one, that is. And this one.)

CHEERS!

I went to a house party last night. Begrudgingly. Because I'm not 18. Sifting through a plastic bin full of ice and grimy hand water for a can of Bud Light ain't really my idea of a good time, now that I can buy my own drinks. But a good friend was in town, and since I pretty much stood him up at a wedding earlier this week by showing up hours late (partly his fault, though! I'm only half asshole!), I dutifully made the trek. The fucking hour-long trek.

And HOLY SHIT, was it worth it. In lieu of a bargain beer bucket, there was an actual, fully stocked bar. And a bartender (!!!). Oh, and vintage arcade games.

Even though it was a cool night, much of the party was outside, likely for two reasons: a makeout cabin (yeah...just in case the house wasn't enough!) and the beer vending machine. Wait, let's try that again: A BEER VENDING MACHINE. I know, I know, it's just a soda machine with beer cans, but you gotta admit, that's a pretty awesome thing to have in your backyard. My friends would make me a fucking millionaire.

And not that anything could really trump the beer vending machine, but there was also a ridiculous sized pool and a cabana-covered hot tub (methinks the homeowner gets like, superlaid) with a view of this:

I probably would have had to be carried out kicking and screaming ("Vending machine! I'll come back for youuuuuu.....!!!" )...if we hadn't run outta Jack.

Which, by that time? Probably a good thing. And I NEVER say that...so you know it was a good night.

Cheers.

Oh, hey, hi guys!

Yeah...soooooo...that whole 'posting for 30 days' thing? Ha! Fucked that shit right up, didn't I? I made it precisely to the halfway mark, and then, on the eve of Day 15, was out and about and realized I would have to leave the bar and go home to post. And I think you guys know that my decision? A firm, firm STAY AT THE BAR. FOR A REALLY LONG TIME.

It was a good call.

And then, out of respect for all of the other NaBloPoMo bloggers, I decided to not post for the duration of the month. Ok, maybe not so much 'decided' as just 'was lazy and didn't update'.

But hey, I've been busy. I moved. ON TOP OF A BAR. Yeah...it was nice knowing you, too.

I got the ok to paint my room, which excited me way more than it probably should have. After debating deep jade greens (Herbal, and Grass) and pale blues (Ice Cube...nope, I didn't make these up) I finally settled on I Look Way Better on the Swatch Than I do on Walls Haha You Stupid Sucker Maybe You'll Use Primer Next Time:

I got this far:

...before I got bored.

Luckily, there was a kitty (my roomie's) to keep me entertained.

Look how cute and stupid she is, playing with her litter box! Her litter box right by all of the paint! SO CUTE. I should not be concerned by this at all! I should totally stop what I'm doing and take a picture to document this cuteness!

And about 30 seconds later, the scene looked something like this:

The rivers of blood were from the gaping neck and chest wounds (or, a scratch) I suffered when I attempted to wrangle the cat out of the paint tray. And then chased it around the room. And grabbed her and -THE HORROR- attempted to wash her paws off. DON'T EVER DO THAT, PEOPLE. Just enjoy your blue cat.

Anways, once the blood started to clot, I resumed painting, and everything worked out just peachy, and by now I'm all moved in. And while the cat won't still let me pet it lest I attempt to touch it with that horrible water substance, I have twice found partially dismembered toy mice on my bed. That's pretty much a peace offering, right? I'm not gonna worry until I find a horse head tucked under my covers. And even then I wouldn't really worry, cause that would just be impressive as shit. In summartion: bring it, kitty.

Cheers!

A huge thank you to everyone who makes Dog Beach possible. Information and support at dogbeach.org.

So, what's the aftermath of a whiskey taste test?

DRUNK TEXTING YOUR MOTHER.

It was, at least, totally on accident. It wasn't a 4am "u nevver luuved meee enuf!!!" declaration, not at all. Rather, I sent a message to tell someone to chill the fuck out (really, the only kind of message that needs to be sent at 4am), and I mistakenly sent to her.

Oops.

So, sorry about that one, mom! You, out of all the people I know, need to chill the fuck out the least. And I would never call you a bitch. I mean, I'm not 13 anymore. (Weren't those days FUN?!) And yes, I know getting ranty text messages from your daughter at 4am isn't likely to inspire confidence in her general well-being. But at least I used proper spelling and punctuation!

I mean, that's gotta count for something, no?

I'm off for 3 days, starting tonight. Let's see who else I can wake up in wee hours/accidentally alienate/cause confusion with in that time. My guess: A TON OF PEOPLE.

Cheers!

While I never (ever) need an excuse to go out, a certain phrase, uttered earlier today, all but guaranteed that tonight will find my butt on a bar stool. That phrase?

Whiskey taste test.

YEAH, I know.

Also tonight, there's a huge, looming full moon, and I don'tknow about you, but I am so, so ok with blaming what will surely be some lunatic behavior on that little detail. Because if you can't blame nature and science for all kinds of crap, what good are they, really? And my other options - making mature decisions? Accepting personal responsibility for my actions? Ha! Hi, I don't know if we've met, but I BLAME THE FULL MOON.

Oh, sleeping in, how much I love thee! And naps! Naps, baby, if I could marry you, I SO SO would. I don't think California will let us, though. Sigh.

All of this lovely sleeping action is just one of the many, many reasons that I love Veterans Day, and by obvious extension, veterans. Both of my Grandpas were vets (Navy and Army) and regardless of whatever cockamamie (hehe) military endeavors our country may or may not be involved in, the individuals behind those actions will always have my support. (Except those that shoot doggies. And harass women soldiers. And hate on the gays. Can we move ya'll to the front lines? Rad, thanks.)

I'll be doing my part tonight, by hanging out with, AND TRYING VERY HARD TO BE NICE TO (meaning: not making jokes at his expense) a vet who's pretty much a total stranger. And is like almost a foot taller than me. And owns two guns. And he and I? We will be getting drunk.

So if I don't make it to NaBloPoMo day 12...well, country? YOU'RE WELCOME.

Cheers!

Right before the matches started, soaked to the gills (or, liver) in Grey Goose and Jack Daniels:

...and 5 minutes later, getting OWNED by the only wrestler wise enough to not get totally shitfaced:

Don't get me wrong; I'm pretty sure she woulda kicked my ass sober. Girl is a mad woman! AND she drove my drunk ass home. Yeah, I pretty much love her...

Thus ends my career as a luchadora. At least until this weekend. Which is when I start to move into a new apartment. Which has a ton of empty floor space. Which just SCREAMS out for a kiddie pool.

I see possibilities, people.

I'm on a quick break from work (the library) now. I had to be here at the ungodly early hour of 11:30am. On a Sunday? Yes. That is early. I showed up, ready to provide my perpetually stellar reference magics with my palms still stained red, and my hair in a ponytail because after two showers, it's still greasy.

Oh, the cause of both of those? Yeah...that would be from all the fake blood I wrestled in last night. Good times!

I am unbelievably tired right now, mostly because I am unbelievably stupid. I had to be up for work at 7am this morning, so I thought it was a grand idea to stay out until 2am the night before. And then, even though I was at home IN BED, somehow manage to stay up until almost 5am.

All of which translates into why yes, this is what I consider a post for today:

After all, I need to conserve my energy for tonight. There are chairs to be thrown over heads, bottles to be smashed, and friends to body slam. Or, another Saturday night.

So...how rad are my friends?

This should be nothing short of AMAZING. Cheers!

I've been hitting the gold mine when it comes to books. I'm generally a bit spoiled in this respect, working at a library and surrounded by books and bookish people day in and day out, but it seems like lately I've been begging out of other commitments so that I can read.

Maybe that's because uh, I have been doing that. Oops. (Way to piss off a friend: tell them you can't meet up with them at the bar because ohmygod, this chapter I was wrapping up totally ended in a cliffhanger! I mean, are there any other options besides staying up and reading until 4am? NOPE!)

And although I've been going through a social phase right now, I've still managed to sock away a few good books lately:

Things Just Get Away From You (quoted from, above)
Simple, cartoony art and horribly depressing and amusing situations. A snail, who THROWS HIMSELF ON A SALT LICK. Hahaha, sad.

People of the Book
The dedication page: "To the librarians". Ok, I'm sold.

For anyone interested in manuscripts, their construction, and their history; this book is amazing. It goes back and forth between the present day conservation of a manuscript, and various points in history when it was created, changed possession, or altered. I hate to use the "brings history to life" cliche, but it's Thursday evening, my weekend starts in 2 hours, and my brain is really only focused on HOLYCRAPGETTHEETOTHEBARALREADY.

The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America
Right up my alley. Pretty much what I wrote my thesis on. Only, like, a thousand times better (sob). I did love the attention given to the beginnings and history of the comic book industry, which often employed women, immigrants, and other 'undesirables'. A fledgling industry, thought to be irrelevant to the 'real world' and therefor relatively free of the prejudices that plagued more so-called professional industries, which went on to be a factor in shaping cultural conscience. Badass. You know, until the book burnings started. This book covers it all. (As well as debunks the myth that comic books were always read by a primarily male audience. Not so!)

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
I read this ridiculously rad (uh, it won this thing called the Pulitzer) work of fiction at the same time as I read the book listed above (nonfiction). It was great to see the similarities, the bits and pieces of historical fact weaved in with believable characters, realistic settings, and (mostly) plausible situations.

The author, Micheal Chabon, is one of those persons who was just born to write. I feel smarter after reading a sentence, a paragraph, a page; but at no time does the writing feel forced, or showy. He's got the vocabulary of a dictionary, but uses words because they are the best possible fit for what he's trying to convey, not because he's trying to show off.

Now take that author, and pair it with an epic storyline? Golden.

Ok, there were like 5 other books I wanted to mention, but remember that brain thing I was talking about? Yeah. It's happening. (Other book mentions are here and here. And I feel sorry for you if you're that bored.)

Cheers!

So...last night. That was pretty rad. (Not even gonna attempt to say something different than the 234,659,947 reactions we've all expressed/read/listened to in the last 24 hours? Nope!)

But you know what's not rad? LOS ANGELES COUNTY.

What.

The.

Fuck.

And this is only making me feel an teensy-eensy bit better.

My state, and particularly my county, have absolutely broken my heart. And I think we all know by now how I favor dealing with matters of the heart gone awry: with a hell of a fight.

Hi there! You know what you should do today, if you haven't yet? VOTE. Voting is good! Very good! Do it! I am so eloquent right now it hurts! And if you're in CA, maybe kinda think about voting no on Prop 8, or else these dudes will totally come and kill you while you sleep! For reals:

Why yes, that is a totally functioning coffin car. I was driving around the LBC on Halloween, saw it, and promptly pulled over to take pictures. I don't think the homeowner was too creeped out when he came outside and saw me doing so. Uh...boo?

Speaking of cars, I'm getting a ton of visits lately from the HAMB. Which is odd, since I haven't been on there much lately as I gave my lovely little 31 Ford, a birthday gift from an ex, BACK TO HIM when we broke up. Because he needed the money, and I am nice. Oh wait, no, THAT JUST MAKES ME AN IDIOT. (So...car guys...my birthday is in July. I'm just sayin...)

Anyways, welcome.

A few days ago I got the following text message from a friend:

The question marks were because when I first glanced at my phone and saw his message, I misread 'Oliver' as 'officer', saw the word ounces, and thought 'yeah, that figures'. It took a second for the words to become clear (yeah, hi, I work at a library), and another second or two for me to recall that the person sending this was expecting his first child.

For some reason, I felt the need to explain my initial confustion:

And the next day, when I hadn't yet heard back from the new dad (what, like he's busy or something?!), I figured that maybe he misunderstood my appreciation levels for new babies versus drugs:

Turns out, he was just fine with all that, and yeah, was probably just a little busy!

After I wished him and his family well, I probably should have just shut up:

So, when a perfectly nice, totally awesome man contacts me to let me know he's helped bring life into the world, I...bring up drugs, comic book characters, and 'cheers' him.

People? Do not let me around your children.

Now, off to buy Baby's First Archery Set...they make those, right?

For those of you that have asked, and are apparently not familiar with this thing called 'The Google', NaBloPoMo stands for National Blog Posting Month. The idea is to post every day for the month of November. That's pretty much the only requirement. Low standards? Me like.

The idea is a spin-off of NaNoWriMo, or, National Novel writing month, where the goal is to both start and finish writing a novel during November. Really, a much more admirable goal. Contributing an actual body of work to a literary genre vs. posting pictures of myself getting just stupid with my friends?

There was never really a question, there.

(Last night. Sorry about that cat situation, Jamie. Oh, and tell your neighbor I'm sorry about his underwear. Ladies, what the fuck were we drinking?!)

It's a cruel, cruel joke that November, and by extension NaBloPoMo, started on a weekend, a time when I avoid posting like the plague. I actually forgot, not quite aware that it was November 1 as much as Halloween part 2, and I was just a few hours away from screwing this shit up on the first day. Sometime in the evening, just before getting ready to go out, I caught someone else's mention of the event on Twitter. (Because post on the weekend? Fuck that shit. But cut off all internet ties whatsoever? Are you insane?!)

But I did catch it in time, I did get on here to post, and so far, I'm still in the game.

Uh...yay?

It's some kind of wonderful coincidence that Halloween fell on a Friday night, and at the start of a 3-day weekend for me.

Which means I didn't have to get up for work this morning.

Which means last night? It was pretty much filled to the brim with awesome (someone -other than me, for once, thank you lord- lost a bet and is getting my name tattooed on them).

Which means posting? Now? Hahahaha.

Let the sucking begin.