On Suicide and Shame

I swear I'm not trying to take the easy way out and just give you guys links to things instead of writing actual content, but I have more links for you. I'm gonna write about 'em, though! So this is like a combination post. Hooray!

First link is this book I'm reading with one of those ridiculously long titles involving a colon that lets you know right up front it's kind of a self-help book: I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't): Making the Journey from "What Will People Think?" to "I Am Enough". There is no way to refer to that book that isn't cumbersome (god I hate that song), but I'm giving it a chance anyway.

Normally, I have zero interest in self-help books. They're usually doofy and written by someone who is just pulling pyscho-pop babble out of their ass to make money off sad people. I used to work at a bookstore, and would just boggle at the nutty titles of these things when straightening that section. Really? Some old frosted-blonde lady with 3-inch French tip fingernails is going to tell me how to land a man? Because we're all the same, you know, we women. And men, of course, are all the same, too. There's a formula to finding love/happiness/transcendence/Waldo. Just, um, don't look at that book right next to this one, which gives you a totally different formula, because THIS IS THE ONE. BUY ME.

This one is by an author recommended by Jenny Lawson, a.k.a. The Bloggess. I'm a huge Bloggess fan because she's a great writer who is open about her struggles with anxiety and depression, and approaches the topics with the best sense of humor. She makes these problems accessible to people who don't suffer, while bringing a sense of community and hope to those who do. It's damn awesome, and her book made me laugh so hard I couldn't eat while reading it, so I should probably go ahead and recommend that, too. She's hugely popular right now for this Traveling Red Dress thing she's started, and she also likes to emphasize the idea "depression lies." If you've never suffered from depression, then A. are you old enough to be reading this blog? and B. you probably don't get it. But if you have, even temporary post-sad-event depression, you probably realize that it's SO TRUE. Depression's an asshole that gets all up in your brain bits and lies to you about who you are and what you're worth.

Just a link

I just feel like this is a really important article for anyone who knows anyone to read, maybe especially if you know someone who has been raped (like, you know, me):

http://www.xojane.com/relationships/what-to-say-if-your-best-friend-tells-you-she-was-raped

My Alter Ego?

I think I have found my soul mate: http://journalnotkept.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-about-naked-guy.html

(just to be clear, I mean the author, not Naked Guy)

Almost Weekend!

It's Friday. I don't have much to share. I still haven't had a spare moment to crack open The Ethical Slut and really start delving into my poly "research." I also haven't had time to put together the story I want to tell about the time I was a completely selfish bitch and tried to date roommates.

So what I will do instead is continue the penis trend and share this comic from Penny Arcade that the Swede just sent me. August: Penis Month.

Carcinogens: Everything

What do you think? Should I send this list to Desk and see if it totally paralyzes him?

(note: I'm not making fun of cancer. Cancer sucks ginormous hairy monkey ass. I'm making fun of Desk, because he's a poopy-head and that is what overgrown children like me do to poopy-heads.)

Bat Farts

Coworker: Ummm
Coworker: http://giantbatfarts.com/
Coworker: (needs sound)
BobGinger: should not surprise you that I have seen this site before.
DN: Yeah, you are easily the classiest woman I know.

Words!

Words that are fun to say:

1. Bonk
2. Dong/Dongle
3. Dag (Australian slang I just learned from Ozzie)
4. "hrnk"
5. Peanut
6. Kerfuffle
7. Glorious
8. Poo/poop/poot
9. Scoot (probably any "*oo*" word, actually)
and of course...
10. BUNNEH

Words I don't like saying (and I don't know why):

1. Panties
2. Moist
3. Tardy (unless I'm talking about the Turtle)
4. Teacher
5. Horny
6. Bow
7. Ribbon
8. Silly

Internet Hob-Knobbing

Why is called hob-knobbing? It makes me think of hobbling around, or bonking hobbits on their heads maybe.

I already posted this week about my interaction with Dooce. My other favorite blogger is Miss Doxie, and not long ago she set up a Facebook page. Today she posted about how she's just discovered Honey Badger (who don't give a shit). In response, I posted a link to one of my pictures from SlutWalk.

She responded within the hour: "I just fell the hell out of my chair laughing. That is the best photograph ever taken." And now she is sending my picture to her friend.

GUYS

I made Miss Doxie laugh! One of the funniest people I have ever, ever read, and I MADE HER LAUGH.

Bam, son. I'm done.

(okay, this would be better if I'd actually been the one who made that sign that she's laughing at, but ... I can be a funny proxy, right?)

(I promise I will have more dating misadventure stories soon. I think the next one will involve me being topless and covered in glitter. Yep.)

COMPLETELY UNRELATED: This advice column is fantastic, and this one in particular - read the 2nd question/answer. Very important info re: blowjobs, a subject I take quite personally. I have been in that woman's situation, and I think the dude's advice to her is fantabulous. READ IT READ IT NOW

Love/Hate

Upstairs, trying to do my job but mostly moving around in a 2-foot space, I just stumbled over my own feet. Twice. I dropped a box. I tried to go up the wrong stairs (and needed to be going down). I mistyped and had to correct at least 1/3 of the words in this post so far.

Who spiked my water?? And can you please at least spike it enough that I am having fun instead of just bumbling around like a blind water buffalo at a swap meet? THAAAAAAAANKS.

-note: I feel I should point out that I started writing this yesterday, so it was yesterday that I was wtf-water-drunk. Best part? I even got a weird no-seriously-who-spiked-this hangover by the afternoon. This resulted in me going to Target after work and spending too much money on things like yoga mats (I am going to DO YOGA and STRETCH because that will make EVERYTHING BETTER) and water flavor thingies (I will drink water! and it will cure my headache! because I'm apparently hung the fuck over for no damn reason!).

It's okay, Internet. I'm better today. Let's make a list! Wheeee!

Blame the rapist, not the victim

This weekend in Seattle, there is SO MUCH TO DO. I have to pick and choose what I'm participating in, which makes me sad.

There's the Best of SIFF 2011 (I will be missing most of this due to all the other stuff) ... the Solstice Parade (which I've already mentioned I am participating in) ... the Fremont Fair (at which I am volunteering) ... the puppy parade (I'm gonna have to miss this one, woe is me!) ... the SlutWalk ... and so much more.

What I want to write about today is SlutWalk, because saying that I am going to that keeps causing quizzical looks. The word "slut" has a negative connotation, and people can't figure out why I'm going to go strutting around in a walk full of them.

So let me (try to) explain.

Hump Day!

I know why it's called that, but really? We couldn't think of anything better? That's just BEGGING for awful sex jokes.

My brain is incapable of forming comprehensive thoughts today. I got a ticket (of the work-related sort, not the oops-I-broke-the-law sort) this morning that I've read about 10 times and it still doesn't make any sense to me (or any of my co-workers), so I'm continuing to just stare at it. Which means, lovely friends, you don't get any kind of thought-provoking and/or hiiii-larious post from me today. You get blank stares, links, and haiku.

G-Funk and I have decided to communicate only in haiku. This morning, regarding my plans to ride a bicycle in public in just a few days, while quite nude:

me:
Naked in public
The day draws ever closer
What was I thinking?

It’s gonna be cold
And will probably rain too
Stupid Seattle!

G-Funk:
Bouncing naked jibs
Painted like a circus clown
You are so so brave

me:
Can’t stop laughing now
Will forever call them “jibs”
This will get me through

Also I have just found this blog about a girl's experiences using the free online dating site OKCupid. Could it BE more relevant to this blog's interests? </Chandler> It's a "tumblr." I don't understand tumblr. I'm sorry, I JUST DON'T GET IT. It's a blog that's not a blog? How is it different than a blog? Or is it just a blog with a different name?? HELP ME UNNERSTAN.

In a sharin' mood

My last poetic post spurred a little swirl of haiku-related emails betwixt (I honestly can't decide if I love or hate that word. Mostly it just makes me want to eat Twix.) myself and G-Funk. She whipped this one up:

Your file got fucked up
It’s not the end of the world
Some perspective, please

And then gave me the best Tuesday afternoon present a crotchety office worker could ever ask for: THIS WEBSITE. Now I get to sit here trying not to guffaw and snort and chortle (all totally different laughs) at my desk when I am supposed to be Serious and Worky. Instead I'm all, *snicker* ... *snerkle* ... *ahem*

Snerkle? Yeah. Next time you try to hold in a laugh, just go ahead and tell me what it sounds like.

that website + bunneh = lurve 4eva (...or at least until I reach the end of his archives. Which just happened, and now I'm left feeling abandoned and alone and other a-words. Awry, maybe? Sure. I feel awry.)

EDITED TO ADD MORE POETRY FANTABULOUSNESS

Catching up on news
Makes me make serious face
Like I'm working hard.

Notice boss looking.
I squint thoughtfully at screen
Frown at web comic.

And a couple more from G-Funk, who is a natural at this:

Vending machine Twix
Exists only in my dreams
What the fuck, Alan*?

*Not the real name of the guy at work who buys the stuff that goes in our vending machines. NOT GONNA POST IT HERE PEOPLE. I'm retarded, but not quite that retarded. Yet.

Quality control
team asleep behind the wheel
Yet client blames me

Brain Dumpin' and Poetry

I'm frazzled today with work, so I can't remember what I wanted to post about. Instead, you get whatever weird crap happens to come to mind! Wheeee!

An article about women faking orgasms. With other links inside! Links within links! A rabbit hole of fake orgasms!

I'm always hesitant to talk about my job on the INTERNET, because while I am a huge fan of dooce.com and would not at all mind making my living blogging (who wouldn't?), I would rather not start out the way she did... which was that she blogged about work, was discovered, and fired. Eeek.

But! Here we go anyway.

I do tech support, which I am not a fan of doing, but it pays more than the things I'd rather be doing, which are, in no particular order:

1. Nothing.
2. Writing inane crap.
3. Playing with puppies and/or kitties.
4. Breeding hamsters.
5. Sleeping.

Unfortunately, even though I could sort of mold at least one of those into an actual job (work at a pet store, which I used to do, and mostly enjoyed), it would not pay enough for me to continue my current, um... how do they put it in divorce cases? Quality of living? I'm a Woman in Debt, and I feel I pay my penance for such irresponsible spending in my youth by now working miserable jobs.

MY POINT IS

I am now taking applications for the position of Sugar Daddy. No sex guaranteed, but I will make you lots and lots of cookies in exchange for large sums of money with which I can pay off my debts.

No wait, that wasn't it...

I have written some poetry regarding my work woes, and I like to call them Helpdesk Hate Haikus. There are a couple that are specific to certain users in my company, so those I'll keep to myself, but here's some generos for you:

If email is down
Stop trying to email me
to tell me it's down.

(no really, that happened at my last job.)

You think you're crucial
A monkey could do your job
Try to get a grip.

(as I like to say: you're not Jack Bauer. What you do is not crucial to life or national safety.)

It's out of toner
Just put in some damn toner
You don't need Helpdesk.

(it's one thing if your printer stops working and you don't know why. It's another entirely when you know you're out of toner, but you expect someone else to walk all the way over there and pick up a toner and put it in your printer for you. It's not rocket science.)

Don't type with caps lock
Everyone will think you're dumb
It looks like yelling.

(a lot of people at this company do data entry in all caps. They frequently fail to take the quarter-second necessary to tap that CAPS LOCK key once before putting in a ticket, thus sending tickets that look very much like this: MY COMPUTOR ISTN WORKING PLEASE HELP URGNET.)

Anyone else want to try their hand at some workplace haiku? It's therapeutic!

Linkies

Stories by someone else that seem to fit here (the first two are super short but delightful):

Worst Boyfriend in the World, Pt 1

Worst Boyfriend in the World, Pt 2

Some other article by the same lady and it's really good