The exciting plans for the night… head up to Blockbuster, procure a copy of Resident Evil 3 in HD, come home and geek out for a couple of hours. But noooooo, we can’t be having any of that! Blockbuster, in their infinite wisdom, has chosen not to carry RE3 in HD, only BlueF’nRay. Gah. Stupid contracts.

Okay, fine. I’ll just rent the non-HD version and go about my business. Oh noooo, we can’t have that either! All copies of RE3 are gone, rentals and the ones available for purchase.

Fine fuckers, I’ll just take my copy of Halloween and go. *mutter*

That’s just peachy. Got some Rob Zombie vision, and I’m having a B.L.A.S.T. without RE3.

*pout*

I did get a lovely pinot grigio for later, so the night isn’t a total waste. Even if I am cussing up a storm!

So, we have snow, right? Bad enough I’m freezing my delicate little bottom off, but I have to contend with crappy drivers, too?

*insert copious amounts of swearing here*

What the hell is wrong with the entire DC Metro area? It’s not a blizzard, people. You can go faster than 5 miles an hour. No, really, I swear, you can do it. Unless, you know, you are hitting the beltway flying down the on ramp. Then, you might want to slow down a little bit with your damned SUV.

Fuckin’ idiots. I’m going to have Dad reserve a special place just for you.

If the elevator still reeks after your hippy ass has gotten off on your floor, maybe that’s a sign that you should be a little less liberal in your application of your morning patchouli oil.

If the elevator still reeks 15 minutes later, definitely lay off.

Good god, must you bathe in it?

Thanks for the migraine, asshole!

So the big news making its way through the feminist blog scene today is coming out of Colorado, where an anti-choice group is now attempting to collect enough signatures to get a measure on the ballot that defines a fertilized egg as a person.

A person?

*blink*

Of course, it’s being done to pave the way to outlaw abortion.  But I’m thinking if we are going to take it that far, let’s just do it all the way, shall we?

Hormone based contraceptives?  Going to have to be banned.  Sorry ladies, but it’s a known fact that your pill makes your uterus inhospitable to a fertilized egg.

Barrier based contraceptives?  They interfer with the natural order of things.  Banned.

You don’t even have to ask about emergency contraceptives, do you?  Banned.

Miscarriage?  That will have to be re-evaluated.  I’m sure we can find a way to get you on manslaughter, you egg killing godless heathen.

Abortion?  Clearly, that’s murder.  You are goin’ to the pokey, bitch.  And your doctor will be in the cell next to you.

I also suspect Colorado will need to institute, at a very minimum, required monthly gyno visits to ensure you are taking good care of the baby making machine.  If you are found to not be taking care of it, I’m sure that can be grounds for some lawsuit or another.

What else?  Ah, the most important thing of all.  How does that egg get fertilized anyway?  Oh, right, sperm.

Well, here’s the deal boys.  Every time you spill that and an egg isn’t fertilized, you are taking a potential tax payer away from the state of Colorado.  You are going to have to just stop that, right this minute!  Think about the children!

Oh, and as far as being able to use your fertilized “persons” as a tax deduction?  Don’t be silly, that would be going just a bit too far, don’t you think?

I told you I got a new iPod touch, yes?  I can’t tell you where I got it from, which is weird, because I rather like profusely thanking edited dammit friends in public who get me things when I do something right for a frickin’ change.

*cough*

Anyhoo…

So, now I’m rummaging through my cds and ripping them so I can have them with me at all times.  And it’s weird, because I haven’t actually bought music since discovering XM.  My kids, iPod junkies.  Me, not so much.  I don’t have time to fiddle around with playlists and all that.  I am an avid XM fan and love surfing channels to find new music.  But buying cds?  Yeah, not too often.

So here I am, going through my little collection.  And half of them?  Missing.  Empty case, no cd.  GDI.  The pisser?  I know exactly where they are.  And I am too classy to ask for them back, or to publicly bitch about it.  *ahem*

But, uh, yeah.  Dammit.  Somewhere, on the other side of the river in an alternate universe, someone is getting poked in the eye with fuckin’ biscotti.

It’s Thursday, and in case you forgot, Thursday is Good Humor day at the office. In less than an hour, the Good Humor man will be parked outside of my building delivering his frozen bits of goodness to all who stand in line.

One comment about that statement from you pervs and I commence with the bitchslapping.

*ahem*

Anyway, yours truly is currently chained to her desk as we are having issues with our authentication gateway. The server is hung (yeah, that’s what happens when you use IIS people, it HANGS) and we are unable to reboot until all of our call center reps are OFF THE DAMN SYSTEM.

*sigh*

Which means, until I get the call that I can switch back to gateway authentication instead of local authentication (which runs on FreeBSD and is, oh, you know, RUNNING) I’m stuck here.

Meantime, new subscribers will be unable to create personalized accounts, and old subscribers cannot make any changes to their existing accounts. All of that is done via the aforementioned gateway.

Want to change your information and get personalized stock advice? GET ME MY ICE CREAM BITCHEZ! No ice cream, no personalized authentication.

Seems fair to me.

Christopher has posted the absolute best pre-movie video ever made!

Pet peeve number 762: assholes who bring babies to movies. The fuck? What on earth makes you think a loud movie theater is a good place for a nine month old screaming poop factory? Get a babysitter or stay home you selfish fucks!

I took Cricket to see Shrek the Third recently and got mighty whizzed off at the people behind us. They had the grace to STFU after I turned around and gave them the hairy eyeball, but they wouldn’t take their squalling brat out of the theater. Uh, just because mommy took the baby up two rows doesn’t mean I can’t still hear it screaming. I can. And when it’s not screaming, I can hear mommy whispering “shhh, it’s okay baby,” over and over again. It is NOT okay! GO HOME! GDI!

*ahem* Sorry bout that.

When mine were in diapers, they didn’t go to the movie theater period, plain and simple. I didn’t take them to the theater until they had the ability to sit down and shut up for two hours. And if they couldn’t or wouldn’t comply? We left. Cuz, yanno, the other people paid for that show too.

While I may be a serious bitch, I am -not- a selfish asshole.

Edited to change “theatre” to “theater” as it dawned on me that an archaic spelling might be taken as a sign of illiteracy *smirk*

Somebunny woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

*sigh*

Yeah, somebunny was me.

I had several disturbing dreams last night, but I think the most disturbing of all was a dream in which I almost drowned. The disturbing bit was not so much that I was drowning, but that in my dream, I was perfectly okay with this. Not going to analyze that, thanks anyway.

I woke up with a headache, the type that feels like someone is cramming ice picks into your eyes. Whee. I snipped, snarked, bitched, stomped, and then cried in the shower for a little bit. Dammit, I have nearly two weeks before the red tide, there is no reason for me to be so pissy!

Oh… and slightly related, if you’ve noted my absence on IRC after yesterday, that would be due to a hard drive failure. Which, you know, happens. But dammit I hate reinstalling and then having to rescue all of my files off the old drive. It’s gonna take two weeks to get everything just so.

Yeah yeah, back ups. I know. Anyone want to recommend good software that will do that shit routinely for me using my dvd writer?

Sincerely,

Sabre McPissyPants

i hate everything

With all of my whining and complaining in the previous post, I neglected to mention my trip to the DMV on the 9th. Having finally received my new card from Social Security, I wandered up to the DMV to get a new driver’s license. Yes, on a Saturday. Whee.

Waiting in line was, well, you know how that goes. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t a trip to Disney. After I finally made it inside and got my number (somehow I was reminded of a scene in Beetle Juice), Tetris joined me and we amused ourselves with people watching. Sure fire entertainment to be found for the adept people watcher at the DMV.

After what seemed to be about a hundred hours, I was finally called. Bouncing and ecstatic about having my name changed, I hauled myself and all of my documentation to the window. The lady behind the counter was a person I’ve dealt with before. She was obviously having a very bad day the last time I saw her, or a very good day on Saturday, because she was quite possibly the most pleasant person I’ve ever encountered at the DMV. The last time I saw her, she was just as surly as everyone else. Then again, if I had to work at the DMV, I’d probably be surly too.

As she was busy clicking in the computer, she asked me for my old license, which I gladly relinquished. She stared at it for some time, looked up at me, and said, “Never, ever, ever color your hair that color again!” I looked at the picture, and there I was immortalized for all the world to see with some very dark hair. During a bout of depression when I moved to Virginia (long story, see previous blogs for an explanation if you care) I had dyed my hair a very dark auburn. Dark hair to match my dark mood. Since moving up to the DC area from Florida, I’ve done this a few times now.

She looked at my current hair color (reddish blonde, with various shades of highlighting) and commented that the current color (which is my usual color and fairly close to my natural color) made me look about 5 to 10 years younger. I thanked her, thinking that was nice, but she carried on, and on. She proclaimed that I looked like an angel, was beautiful, and on and on. And then asked me where I had it done at. Oy, can we just get on with this, please?

*sigh* I’m too polite sometimes.

After writing down the name of my stylist and accompanying information, she went back to entering information into the computer. She stopped again, and complimented me yet some more. At this point I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I’m not very good with compliments, and do not deal well at all with an onslaught of compliments. It just makes me feel weird and awkward.

Just as I was opening my mouth to ask her stop, she looked down at my hands and whispered, “You really should find a new salon for your nails though, they look too fake.” *blink* I looked up and asked her why she thought that. She told me they were too white.

Uh.

Okay, then.

I don’t have manicures or pedicures done. As much as I’d love to, I simply don’t have the time. So I maintain my nails myself. And the nails that she was stating looked too fake were real. 100% natural nails. Long, yes. Shaped, buffed, polished with a simple clear coat, cuticles neatly trimmed. Yup. But not a single tip or overlay to be found.

I sputtered and exclaimed that they were real. And she smiled at me with that knowing smile, and said, “Of course, dear. Now, don’t forget to smile big for the camera! You certainly look like an angel today, they’ll get a beautiful picture!”

Which, of course, was total bullshit. Tetris cracked me up by giving himself rabbit ears right in the middle of the dreaded “click”. The picture? So funny looking that even the guy taking it laughed.

And the nails? As if to prove a point, one broke the very next day while putting the entertainment center together. And over the next week I subsequently broke every single one of them.

Bah.

Okay, so I haven’t posted much recently, nor really replied to much. I’ve been busy. Well, busy is an understatement. Witness:

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