Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Cranky McSnidely's LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, October 28th, 2003
11:24 pm	my brother Well, you've all heard me rant and rave about the Bubba, but this is a new one: He tried kill himself over the weekend by setting himself on fire. He is now in Parkland Burn ICU and having the first of many surgeries today. He is in very bad shape and may not make it. Please light a candle or say prayers or think good thoughts or something for him. (15 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, August 9th, 2003
11:15 pm	Where the hell have you been? Well now, it's only been about 4 months since last I wrote, but hey, life has been going on. Seriously, going on. Many things have happened in my life, not the least of which being that I finally left Nazisu (Hell) to pursue a new life. When I left Hell I had decided that nursing was where I needed to be; however, since leaving and trying a summer semester and working part-time at a liquor store, an entirely new world of opportunities has opened itself to me. I have rediscovered that I can sell pretty much damn near anything and have people thank me for it. So, with that, I have been offered (after 3 months) an assistant manager's position with the liquor store, and have met about 10 other people, with extraordinarily interesting jobs, who are interested in hiring me. Neato. Now what? Do I dance with the one that brung me, or do I see who else is on the dance floor? Opinions? Comments? Questions? Fuck it. I need advice. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, May 2nd, 2003
10:15 am	Don't lose your panties It occurred to me yesterday that I had neglected to mention that I damn near lost my purple panties while in Hawaii. What happened was: We had to check out of Bellows before 9:00 am, but as anyone who has ever dealt with a hotel knows, you can't check into your hotel until 2:00 or so. Excuse me, you can check in anytime you want, but you can't have your room until 2:00. Fine. So, we leave Bellows dressed in our bathing suits so that we can kill time hanging at the pool or beach, whatever. I decided to put my bathing suit in a bag and wear a sundress (ahah! panties underneath) and just change when we got there. Seemed like a good idea, which it still does. ANYway, we get to the hotel, the s-l-o-w-e-s-t clerk ever in the history of the world checked us in (I swear to God, the other clerks checked in 4 groups before this lady even got our names entered in the computer.) and off we went to the pool to work on the tans. I go into the bathroom, change out of sundress and undies, put on cut-offs and halter top, go out to pool. While I was in the changing room, I decided to roll my panties up in my dress. Later, when Cynthia and I realized that we were seriously in need of food, I just left my bathing "suit" on and we took off through town. I started feeling a bit odd wearing that so I thought I would just grab the sundress out of the bag, throw it over my head and go. So I grabbed the dress, started to put it on when I heard someone hollering that I had dropped something. I turn around to see a gorgeous parking attendant from the Hilton Hawaii waving, yes, my purple panties. Now, had I been thinking, I would've just said, "Oh thanks, my bathing suit." But no, I was embarrassed and freaked, so I yelled,"My undies!!!" Gads. The dude was totally laughing at me, Cynthia was about to vomit from laughing so hard, and I tried to implode and disappear but damn it, it didn't work. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 1st, 2003
8:47 am	legal drugs So I went to Starsucks again this morning and ordered a latte (and yes, I managed to keep it in the cup and off of me and the stairs). Anyway, I had the good sense to order a "grande" instead of my usual "venti" (which the young'un at this particular store always calls a "ven-tay," and while I don't know much Italian I'm pretty sure that his pronunciation is incorrect) because I had a Toffee Nut Latte (TNL). Now, I kinda thought to myself that a TNL would be more suited to an after-dinner drink but as I love toffee and it's still a latte, I also thought, "What the hell." Big mistake. Huge. A TNL is the legal equivalent of mainlining, except instead of heroin and cocaine, I was mainlining sugar and caffeine, which, on the whole, sounds like a good idea IF it's 12:30 at night and your friends still want to party but you're fading fast so a TNL would work great. 8:15 in the morning, however, ick. I am now sweaty, jinky, and have this weird urge to run naked through the office, yelling at everyone that I'm Wonder Woman, "See my invisible plane!?" (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 28th, 2003
9:14 am	Boomtown Rats Ooooo-wheeee, but I'm worn out. Had a wedding on Saturday, an anniversary party yesterday, back to work today. Man...and I'm still trying to get used to my new meds. Yesterday I took my meds at 8:00 pm. Jeez, by 8:30 I was seeing double and sitting on the couch in and out of consciousness. Pretty picture: Me, on couch, barely functional, mouth hanging open, one hand covering one eye, trying to focus on Six Feet Under. Whoa. Today, I am still recovering from the effects, wondering if I can walk out without anyone noticing that I'm gone. Current Mood: tired (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 24th, 2003
1:41 pm	Running for cover Well, hmm, that's the last time I mention God on LJ. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 23rd, 2003
5:22 pm	Poi? Oy! Poi. Yeah. Not so much. No, really. Not so much! I had been looking forward to this Hawaiian adventure for over a year now. Cynthia called me a year ago last February to tell me that her mom had booked a cabin at Bellows Air Force Station for the next April (!), and that I had been invited to go with them. "Do you want to go," she asked. Uhm, yes, please--"Duh" times a bajillion. (See ocyn's recent entries for the back story of why they were going to Hawaii, other than it being, you know, Hawaii and all.)( Read more... ) (13 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 21st, 2003
10:23 am	And another thing God is dead. Wait now, hear me out. If God is in the details, then the details suck; therefore, Satan, Loki, Belial, Ashtaroth, blah blah blah Lucifercakes, is now in charge. And here's why: Manners are details, and manners are gone. Gone, gone, gone, GONE. "But, Shonda," you whine, "why would you say such a thing?" Because I can. See, I was out with ocyn and alexfiles (forgotten how to make them into a link, sorry) and, well, I slipped and fell down a couple of steps. NO, I wasn't drunk; at least then I would've had an excuse. I'm just clumsy. ANYWAY, down I went, in front of the whole damn place, and who helped me? alexfiles and some waiters. I am surrounded by people within a foot of where I fell; hell, I looked one guy right square in the eye, and he...looked back. NO-FREAKIN'-ONE helped me, offered to help me, looked even slightly sympathetic. As a matter of fact, the one dude looked slightly ANNOYED that I had disrupted his conversation. AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!! THE HELL? I mean, if I'd just watched someone bust his/her ass, I would've helped, or damn, at least have inquired as to whether or not he/she/it was OK. The more I think about it, the madder I get. I have a nasty bruise on my leg, and on my upper arm (I don't know how that one got there. It's just there. Is that OK with you, Sherlock? Yes, I'm testy.) Guys, this is to you: What happened? Where are the manners? Ah shit, girls, too. There were four of y'all sitting closer than DickDude and y'all didn't help either. Can someone explain to me why manners, kindness, chivalry, and whatever have died? What happened to manners in general? My grandfather would've died before wearing a hat in doors, much less to dinner. And yes, a gimme-cap counts as a hat. Take that shit off when you come in. Your hair looks dirty? So you have to wear a cap? Don't care. You should've taken a shower. Opened the door too many times for pea-brained, ungrateful bitches? Keep opening doors. Just because Mandy Big-Boobs doesn't say thanks, doesn't make it OK for you to lose your manners. Be the better person here. Mandy just wasn't raised right. See someone (not just a woman) struggling with something? Help out. Offer to help out. They might say "no, thank you, I can manage" they might say "I can do it myself, you chauvinist pig, you," but more than likely, they will say "Yes, please, I'd really appreciate that." And ladies, did a gentleman open that door for you? He's not being a misogynistic pig. He's being polite. He's probably not hitting on you. He's being polite. Fucking say "thank you." It's not your God-given right to be a bitch and ignore someone being kind just because you think you deserve to have the door opened for you. Guess what? You fuck it up for the rest of us who would love to have a door opened for us. I don't remember my grandfather cursing, either. Wait, back up off me. I curse like a sailor (as is readily apparent when reading this) when I'm around my pals and on appropriate forums, like, uhm, this, but I try to rein it in when I'm in a public place. It doesn't bother ME if you fucking "cuss" but maybe the grandmotherly type sitting next to you having lunch with what looks to be her 10-year-old granddaughter might not appreciate hearing about your sex life with Whorey McSlutty and her German Shepard. Yep, girls, you too. Boyfriend pissed you off? Heard something about him and your sorority sister, and what? a dog, too!? Shut up. Wait 'til you're at (insert popular college bar here) before crying into your low-carb beer about what a fucking asshole he is and look, there's his best friend, Todd, so maybe you'll just go over there and give him a blowjob and that'll show Ricky, that fuck! I would ask for tolerance and forgiveness for obvious distress, but I don't feel like it. Or maybe I will ask, because I don't want to be, you know, rude. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, March 31st, 2003
4:41 pm	movies i saw this weekend My friend here at Nazisu, Craig, keeps me in bad movies. And for this, I thank him. This weekend I had a triple-threat of two Troma films, and one indy British film, and while I didn't think this would be a good combo, it was. Nothing like zombies, sushi, and blood for an appetizing evening. The Troma group, responsible for bringing us such gems as The Toxic Avenger and Tromeo and Juliet, has unleashed Redneck Zombies and Sgt. Kabukiman, N.Y.P.D. Oh dear Lord, but I almost speeyakked from laughing so hard. My SO, Chris, was so not getting into Redneck Zombies and I was spewing margarita from my nose (note to self: Maybe movies are funny if you drink enough margaritas.) because how can you not love a movie with a redneck named Elly Mae (large man, large man boobs, hairy, with an identity crisis) and a zombie autopsy by a pre-vet student whacked out on acid? Gratuitous eyeball-popping and eye socket sucking, hysterical dialogue (pre-vet guy spies body missing upper half, says "She's dead!" No? Half a body? Dead? Surely not.), and one zombie baby, chewing on a finger. Please, go spend the 3 bucks to check this one out. Remember, supposed to be bad. Deal with it. Now, on to Sgt. Kabukiman. Hee! I love the name. And, Madame Butterfly is played throughout (a couple times on a tin-pan alley piano!). I can't even begin to describe this movie, but Kabukiman is passed on to a cop and when the dragon flies through the circle and the monkey rides the jaguar, well, just go rent it. Death by chopstick, pimp and ho made into sushi. Enjoy! Finally, we come to Razor Blade Smile. The tagline is "Part assassin. Part seductress. All vampire." Uhm, vampire becomes hit woman. Great for leather and vinyl fetishists. Nice ending. Good atmosphere. Some sex, lots of gore. Schlocky, but with a good budget. I also have to thank Craig for letting me borrow Bikers Chicks in Demon Town, or Demon Biker Chicks, or whateverthehell it was called. This is also a Troma flick and be on the lookout for Billy Bob Thornton, pre-Angelina, pre-Oscar, pre-freak afraid of orange food and antiques. Funny, funny, funny! I think we should have a festival of bad movies. Suncrap, possibly. Sundunce? The Wide World of Poo. Shit-house Movies. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, March 28th, 2003
12:34 pm	Another thing... Uhm, kids. No, not y'all. Real kids. Children. Don't care for 'em. Didn't really like them when I was one. Don't like them any better now. And I'm going to tell you why because right now I'd rather do ANYTHING, including shopping at Old Navy (see previous rant), than work at the stuff I get paid to work on because my job is silly and pointless and out of a 40-hour work week, I think I've done 4 hours total on this ridiculous job. Anyway, back to why I dislike age-challenged humans. Because they are not as cute as their parents are insistent that you must believe they are. Oh, occasionally there is the little cutie that you might glance on at the store, or in the park, but, strangely enough, they're always asleep. Then they're cute. Then they wake up. Then they need to be put out of our misery. I understand that children cry and fuss and get cranky, but they should do that around other children, or in the privacy of their homes, or with their grandparents, not at a nice restaurant, not at the movies, not where adults tend to congregate. No, your child is not an exception. No, your kid is NOT the cutest I've ever seen. In fact, I HAVE seen cuter children. No, I'm not impressed that your kid can sort of say "thank you." No, I don't have 15 minutes to kill waiting for the gurgle-noise-Mom-thinks-sounds-vaguely-like-thank-you to come spewing out of your child's mouth along with bits of sandwich and flecks of milk. Yes, your child does have the largest head I've ever seen and I'm a bit concerned that hydroencephaly has set in and shouldn't y'all be visiting a doctor, like, NOW? I've always been a bit, well, twitchy when it comes to children. I don't want to lie and say that yes, that is a beautiful baby, so I always go to the stock response of "Oh, look at the little feet. They're so tiny." It sounds like you're cooing over the kid but in reality, you're merely stating the obvious in a sweet voice. Another personal fave is to say, "Oh, that's a baby, all right," while winking and making that click-with-the-side-of-your-mouth noise. The problem is that to me ALL children ARE NOT precious. If your kid is ugly, I won't like it. I WILL make fun of it when you're not around. You WILL hear comments about the little feet and hands. You WILL NOT hear me say that it is cute, or darling, or precious, unless, by some miracle it actually is. Should I, and for the kid's sake, let's hope not, ever have a child, and it is unattractive, I will be the first to tell you. If you lie and tell me how cute my child is, I will argue with you. The looks of the parents are not a good indication of what the child will look like. I've seen some really pretty babies born to some fugly parents, and some god-awful, "Oh dear God, what happened to it?" kids born to some relatively OK parents. And I really think I should be in charge of deciding who should be allowed to breed, but they don't give grants for that kind of research any more, at least not since the early part of last century when a little thing called eugenics was going on, and that was such an ugly part of history, and despite how good my intentions are, I still end up sounding like Hitler so let's just sack up and know that I'll never be in charge and call it a push, shall we? Now, if you're the only person with a kid in your immediate group of friends, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT bore us with stories of your child. This is going to sound harsh, so take a Pamprin and deal with it: We don't care. Understand this, we do not care what it did last week, last night, last 10 minutes, ever. We don't have children, probably for a reason, so what makes you think that we have any interest WHATSO-GODDAMNED-EVER in what Cody, Emily, insert-annoying-popular-child's-name-here did? And, guess what? You are not the first person to ever have a child. You will not be the last. The odds are pretty good that YOUR child is not going to change the world but will, given your attitude and looks, be supremely unpopular, subject to ridicule and taunts, and will be generally miserable until it gets out of grade school, on in to college where it will meet with another survivor and will propagate the unattractive, school life in hell genes for another generation. And while I'm at it, if you allow your little "angel" to run around, unchecked, do not shoot daggers at me if I attempt to discipline it. If you can't do your part then the rest of us are obligated to do it for you. So, if I'm at dinner and Junior decides to run past my table, I will stick my leg out and trip it. For it's own good, and for my own amusement. And I'm pretty sure the wait staff and my fellow diners will applaud and buy me drinks for having the nuts to take care of the situation. If you insist on taking Michaela out with you everywhere, realize that some situations might have adult overtones; therefore, when I light up my cigarette near you, you can politely ask me to put it out, but don't try to intimidate me with "looks" as though I just asked you sell your child into slavery. If I say a curse word, realize that your child has heard worse at day care, or at the movies that you insist on taking it to, and that an occasional chorus of "shit," "fuck that," and "Jesus Christ" is not going to warp your kid as much as your are with your holier-than-thou attitude Current Mood: blah (Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 18th, 2003
11:04 am	"Check your bits, ladies." After having participated in my first, and probably last, peace protest, I have come to the conclusion that there are far too many people in the world with far too much time on their hands (and that the judicious use of soap and razor is highly underrated). And, if you're going to get naked to protest, why not do it in public where the opportunities for jail time (and exposure--no pun intended) are better? Now, as those who know me will tell you, I am NOT a religious person by any means, and for that matter, I'm not really even that spiritual. All things "higher power" tend to disturb and unnerve me, not because of the otherworldliness, but out of a sheer "You're the only person looking out for you, so why are you depending on something you can't even see to take care of your future?" sense. (It always struck me as a slightly lazy way to go on with your life.) Petulance probably has something to do with it as well, but that sounds like I'm 8 and want the new Cher doll with "growing" hair and no one has given it to me yet so I'm just going to whine and pout until someone gives in; which, on second thought, is how I feel about the whole religion thing: Maybe if I ask (whine) long and hard enough, SOMETHING will happen, but it's highly unlikely because really, NO-FREAKIN'-ONE is listening! In any case, going into this situation, which I knew was going to be rife with spirituality, was a difficult thing for me to do because: 1. I didn't wish to appear insincere, and in doing so to be killed with smudge sticks (which smell surprisingly, or not, like a dorm on Saturday after finals) and feathery, to-purge-the-bad-aura "thingies," and 2. have I mentioned I don't dig on anything religious. (OK, yes, the whole "getting naked in public" thing was going to be difficult, but I've lost 50 pounds so I was feeling better than usual about myself.) But go, I did. Now, how does this relate to Saturday's nakedness-for-peace rally? Too many freakin' hippy chicks thanking the "goddesses" and calling upon the female "oneness" to try, through the power of the universal vulva, to make Shrub call off the troops. I mean, really, all he needs is one good "smudging," a verse or two of Kumbaya (again with the religious stuff--did it occur to the goddess-thanking, chihuahua-toting, ass-annoying woman that she was Kumbaya-ing to "the Lord?"), and some ticks on his bits and he'd be singing a new tune (probably Kumbaya), right? (There is a wonderful joke in here, somewhere, about Bush, vulvae, and nakedness, but I can't quite work it out.) All right, so that the cynicism isn't too much (and so that I don't drown in my own nihilism), I will say that it was liberating to be naked, outdoors, with a lot of other women, pretending not to notice everyone else's body. (BTW, Cyn's boobies are celebrated for a reason.) It was rather heartening to know that of the other 42 women, no one's body was any better or worse than mine, and Vogue and Cosmo can bite my exposed ass. I have absolutely no reason to believe that our "statement" in the grass of Lake Lavon is going to affect Bush's decision (if you watched TV last night, you will agree with me), but, for my own edification, being naked for a few minutes, in the warm sun, was rather nice. And the fishermen seemed to enjoy Current Mood: sleepy (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 6th, 2003
12:18 pm	Still trying to find the word for those things at the end of my legs... Yesterday I had to take a personal day to try and get my life back on Central time. This whole international travel thing really knocks you down. You think you're doing OK until about midmorning and realize that the sack monster is not only calling you but really didn't let go earlier. Pace. Pace. Pace. Everywhere you looked in Italy were rainbow flags hanging out of windows with "Pace" written on them. I picked up one for my place, but I'm a bit concerned that I'll be misunderstood and eveyone will think that I am promoting some new homosexual salsa. I still hate my job. Nothing new there. I want some gorgonzola and crackers. I also want a cheeseburger from Snuffers, some pasta with tuna, some creme brulee, and some 'za from Campisi's. But I really want that burger. Just a bite of it, all salty and greasy. Swooning now. I speeyacked my dinner last night so this morning I had a kolache AND a donut. I just finished a blood orange to try and atone for the badness that was me this morning. Nothing like going on a diet to make you fantasize about food. (Comment on this)
Monday, March 3rd, 2003
9:55 am	London, Venice Whoa, I'm back, and I'm still tired. Jet lag sucks. London was wonderful. Venice was gorgeous. I can't type anymore. More later... (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 12th, 2003
4:05 pm	Let's see, I had a fairly rockin' Friday night, during which I met Ocyn's Satyric, went to watch dick-dancers, taught Ben to play Cricket, played pimp for Ben, played mom for Ben and Kel, got home at some ridiculous hour, only to feel crappy the next day. Yippee. I got a cold, sneezed all day Saturday and Sunday, felt miserable on Monday, closer to normal on Tuesday, almost home on today. Ocyn's Satyric is quite a guy. Ben and I met O and S at a Thai place, where everyone indulged in a coconut soup, except for me. I didn't really care for it. Eh, no biggie. After the Thai place, we went to the Tipp, which I hadn't been to in years (bad memories) and I had 3 or 4 glasses of wine (Ben thought I was a merlot girl! Uh, the hell?) and Ben had his usual beer. It was an interesting evening, full of bitching and moaning and laughing. It's always fun to have a new audience for my old gripes. I leave for London on Monday, and let me tell you, I refuse to let this war crap get in the way. Current Mood: bored Current Music: John Mayer, Room for Squares (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 4th, 2003
10:24 am	Upper Management and you So, why is it that a manager and one of his "writers" can sit and talk for an hour and a half on God, the Koran, our place in the world and the afterlife, the Shuttle, and the everlasting "Why?" but I can't make a phone call over 2 minutes where I don't get dinged by the management? This is the same manager who won't let his children celebrate Hallowe'en (they get Angel Day, whatever the fuck that is supposed to be) because it's Satan worship. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, January 31st, 2003
8:55 am	Guilty pleasures OK, ocyn and alexfiles and I talked a bit about this at Trinity Hall a few weeks ago. I wanted to know what movies, books, music, whatever are their guilty pleasures. Now that Final Destination 2 is out, I feel safe in saying that I LOVED Final Destination. The deaths were quite original, the cast was cute and talented, and everyone seemed to know that they were in a B-movie, but played it straight anyway. So, that being said, what are some of YOUR guilty pleasures. Feel free to explain, or not. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
8:28 am	Sorry To those who read my diarrhea of the mind, I apologize for putting that HUGE post. I didn't know how to do the "read more" thing, or how to do anything but type, so you got the whole article at once. Oops. (Comment on this)
Thursday, January 30th, 2003
11:29 am	Coulorphobia Send in the clowns? First, make sure Shonda Purvis of Dallas isn't within screaming distance. "Evil! Evil! Oh, dear God, but I hate clowns," says Ms. Purvis, 36. "Despise [them]. Get the shaking heebs just thinking about them." Ms. Purvis and others suffer from coulrophobia, the fear of clowns. ( Read more... ) "I don't know that I want to like them," he says. "I have this deep-down feeling that some of them are serial killers and are wearing makeup to hide." (6 Comments |Comment on this)
10:06 am	War Is it wrong of me to not want a war just because I'm supposed to leave the country in a few weeks? I mean, I'm going to be seriously pissed if this bullshit about nukular weapons of mass distruckshun (uhm, yeah, oil!) fucks up my trip. To satyric and ocyn, yes, your fwuppiness is fucking adorable. It is decidedly cute and happy and blah blah. I've tried, oh how I've tried to look on the bright side of life, but cynicism and darkness are just too attractive and enticing. So, and please know this is in no way personal, :P~~~~~~~~~~~~. Bwaahahahahahahaaaaaa!!!!!!!! (Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 28th, 2003
10:55 am	One word Found on yahoopicks, One Word asks you to write on the word of the day. You have 60 seconds to say whatever you feel like saying. Don't think, just write. Yesterday: satellite Today: doubt Dig it. (1 Comment |Comment on this)