lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary


On to Extraordinary

It has always been my goal to live an extraordinary life. From as far back as I can remember, I knew that my writing would be my ticket out of obscurity into relative near-obscurity.

Of course, like every person who claims to be a writer or want to be a writer, there are roadblocks. There always have been, and always will be.

Lately I've been noticing that I am decidedly... average. I am ironically average, but average nonetheless. I watch American Idol every week with one eyebrow cocked, smirking, calling Jamie during commercials to cat it up. But when the folks at FOX tally up the ratings, they don't say "Oh, 30 million people watched us this week, but 10 million of those watched ironically, so that totally doesn't count." This is just one example, but it's probably the most telling, and in it is everything you need to know.

So, now, I tackle the most tenacious roadblock to extraordinary: Rupert Murdoch. I kid, I kid. I, of course, am my own roadblock, and in my quest for something better, a version of myself in line with what I know I am and far and away from what I always have been, I have had some difficult decisions to make.

The only one that will affect you is this: I have decided to quit blogging. I know, I've said it before, but this is worth giving up something I love so much for. Blogging, for me, is a time-waster, a talent-squanderer, a roadblock.

And today, I jump over it.

Thanks for reading, and know that one day you will read me again.

7:31 PM - 15 February 2006


That's Right, Jay Leno

Jennifer Love Hewitt has the face of a ragged specter, and Tom Green should just fucking give it the fuck up already.

11:30 PM - 13 February 2006


My Own Personal Olympic Medal

All your very own, coming from Hasbro in time for Christmas. Courtesy: Dick "All Right, Dick, Let's -- No, Dick, It's Me. Scott. It's Me, Dick. Scott HAMILTON" Buttons.

8:34 PM - 13 February 2006


That's Right, I'm Live-Blogging the OLYMPICS

7:07 CST: I'm already weeping, and nothing has happened yet. Welcome to the Games of the XXVIII Pusslympiad.

7:15: The... Opening Ceremonies don't start until 8? Then what the hell was local queero Rene Knott talking about when he said, "Up next? The Opening Ceremonies."

7:57: A woman who sounds just like Sarah Chalke is interviewing someone. Hmph.

8:07: The soundtrack of Planet of the Apes is accompanying a bunch of Italian men humping the ice. I like-a!

8:17: Outfits by Armani, music by the elevator at my doctor's office.

8:20: My sister calls to tell me that everyone is wearing red, white, and green scarves, and the girl singing "Fratelli d'Italia" is wearing a red, white, and green dress. I peevishly inform her that, while I may not own a flat-screen LCD TV with surround sound, I do have a color TV, and yes, I can see what colors the people are wearing.

8:25: 500 of the nation's least-organized line-dancers bust into "Il Slido Electrico." And do I hear the Nokia ringtone? I think I do.

8:40: Nothing says "worldwide harmony and competition" like 30-year-old American disco pop.

8:50: And nothing says "30-year-old American disco pop" like Le Freak.

8:50:30: So by the transitive property, about which I learned in Mr. Mall's Geometry class 12 years ago, Nothing says "worldwide harmony and competition" like Le Freak.

9:01: Ooh, dissention in the ranks about whether or not the French skating heartthrob dated Miss France! Quelle scandale!

9:12: The music ventures tentatively into the eighties.

9:19: Thanks for helping us kill some innocent Iraqis, MONGOLIA!

9:32: The First Lady watches with approval.

9:34: Bob Costas says "Hellbent for leather." I die, happy.

9:52: I have seen the future, and the future is pyrotechnics. 1970s-style pyrotechnics.

10:15: Sophia Loren looks every day her 382 years.

10:23: My diary turns 1,000 days old. Happy birthday, you old bag!

10:33: The floating death mask of Peter Gabriel scares me shitless.

10:33:42: I change my pants.

10:41: One of the best torch-lightings I've ever seen mocks my sister, as, despite her fancy-schmancy TV, she is picking Amanda up from work. Ahahaha.

10:49: The singing death mask and accompanying bow tie of Luciano Pavarotti scare me shitless.

10:50: I change pants again.

11:00: We end with a slo-mo retrospective. A sort of "Remember that time 3 hours ago when we held the Opening Ceremonies? Yeahhh... that was great." Those were the days, man.

7:55 PM - 10 February 2006


Cordless Drills: Super Cheap at Target

Lorie inspired me to write an entry about how kick-ass I've been getting with the cordless drill. So here goes...

These are sconces that I got free for having a candle party:

I think my favorite part of that picture is that the fire/choking tags are still on my blinds and I never noticed it until I saw the picture posted on Flickr. Also? Curtains will eventually make an appearance, just as soon as I find some that match my PURPLE COUCH and don't look like ass.

Close up of the sconces:

This is a bookshelf in my hallway, which is the mini version of the one in my living room.

Sitting on top are a melt warmer (also Partylite... In the Yankee Candle world, I understand they are called tart burners) and an awesome brown desk lamp I got from a yard sale for 75 cents. Everyone else hates that lamp. On the wall is a pastel drawing I did of some oranges that I finally hung up during the Super Bowl. During the process, I dropped it on my toe and it busted part of my toenail off. Oranges -- yum!

11:43 PM - 06 February 2006


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