I'm Very Nice

I do nice things for people, passively, on a regular basis at work. Some people that I deal with do things that keep me from doing the normal, nice little extras that I usually do. I want to tell them that I would do this or that for them if they would stop taking the opportunity away from me. For some reason it really chaps my hide. If I don't get to do the "nice thing" that I was planning on doing, I don't turn into "regular Amber", I turn into "more irritated than I would normally be Amber". This doesn't make sense and it makes me question my own motives. It also makes me think that those people think I must not be nice enough to do nice things and that is why they preemptively do them themselves, thereby robbing me of the opportunity and making me furrow my brow.
Don't make me get mean, y'all.

It really should be called...

...CS-Ouch!!!
ha ha
ps:i don't even watch it. i promise. boston legal, on the other hand...
pps:sorry this is so short. i taste onions and i need to go eat peanut butter and beer.

This book was written in 1936 by Hugh Morris and contains "The Secret of Wooing and Winning the One You Love". I think most of mankind could use reading it. According to page 7: Man, it is, who must be the active partner. It is he who makes love to woman. He chases the woman who was made to be chased. The success of love depends entirely on the understanding of this basic relationship. 

Abject Terror 101

one of the WORST feelings is realizing that the floor isn't where you thought it was. it's always too late by that time.
douglas adams said that there was an art, or rather, a knack, to learning to fly. and that the art, or rather, knack, was in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.
seems treacherously reasonable.

Time spent...

...in acts of unprecedented kindness toward my ovaries is time well spent and guaranteed not to go unnoticed. I was ready to drive a knife deep into the hearts of those useless, little suckers when my gay coworker appeared beside me like the shadow of the hint of an effeminate ghost. He then performed the said act of kindness toward my ill-mannered ovaries and all those evil, dormant little eggs inside me suddenly felt something like a ray of sunshine do something that I imagine is not very similar at all to darkening their door, but seems akin to as as far as idioms go. At that moment, those little eggs became seeds of hope- hopes of similar acts of kindness that may be taken on their behalf during future and hopefully less gut-wrenching menstrual cycles. Thank you Max Denler.
PS. I wish that all the brainless ninnies that keep hounding me about teaching them to learn how to knit or crochet would go out and learn how to comprehend diagrams of poorly drawn fingers and yarn like the rest of us. I feel like closing my eyes and touching their hands and saying, "There. Now you can knit." No doubt, they would say, "Really?". And my natural response would be, "No, dammit! Now go buy yourself a book and learn how to teach yourself something for a change!" People just expect arts and crafts to be delivered up to them on silver platters. And they smile like they deserve a reward for wanting to learn something just enough to exert no actual effort on their own parts. It's like they are saying, "I want to learn. Here! You do it."
Man...those evil, evil ovaries.

My grandfather lives in Georgia and people affectionately refer to him as "Curly". Last time I went to his house, this sign was posted in his yard. He was trying to tell the Georgia Power people not to cut any trees on his property without consulting him. Apparently, the best way to do this is to write in your own blood. I want a sign like this in my yard. I think it is the best thing ever.

the aforementioned unsuccessful choker of aunt heather's, went on to start a stunning anti-career building ultralight aircrafts. the diminutive looking woman standing in front of the work in progress in my mother.

in the 80's, i had a small rectangular camera. in the 80's, my father had a red sport coat. this is my all-time favourite picture of him, choking my aunt heather. sadly, not only did she live, she reproduced. if someone had told me that when i was eight, it would have been quite disheartening.  

am i trying to date a girl?

Upon driving home from the grocery, I ONCE AGAIN started getting frustrated by the politics of friendship. Natalie Portman started me thinking about this because, you see, she checked me out at the grocery store. She was a little snaggle-toothed, but cute. Since I was buying beer (Genesee Cream Ale in a can! I never buy canned beer. This was 5.98/12pk and according to a recent Brew Magazine, it is award-winning and tastes similar to MALT LIQUOR!!! Yehaa!), she checked my license and saw that my first name is Courtney. So she says, "You're a Courtney, too! Aren't we the best?" I looked at her name tag.
Her demeanor was award-winning- which brings me back to beer- which is, at this point, no revelation.
So, anyway, imagine a slightly snaggle-toothed Natalie Portman saying it. This girl had the most sincere smile I have ever seen. I admitted that I was partial to Courtney's and immediately wished I was friends with this girl. At the least likely times, I run across people that I randomly feel a strong connection to despite my pseudo-antisocial nature. (I say it's pseudo because I honestly can't tell these days.) The next logic evolutionary progression in this series of afternoon events was, of course, melancholy. How could I possibly become friends with this girl? This is a subject I've waxed poetic on at least once before, but, folks, the horse ain't dead. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if it's a horse at all. I was giving this matter SO much thought- trying to figure out if there was a good way to become friends with strangers (ahem, the other Courtney) without scaring them/her. If you don't want to come right out and tell someone that you want to get to know them better, then you have to orchestrate events so that you "coincidentally" run into someone enough times, preferably in settings conducive to the budding of friendships. And then, what if they find out later that you became friends with them on purpose? That could be the end of your long sought after friendship. Frankly, you will look and feel like a weirdo- even though my whole body and mind revolts against the idea of letting society and normalcy dictate the birth and construction of any friendship. It should be that hard to become someone's friend. It just shouldn't. Ladies and gentlemen, it was at that point that I started questioning my motives. The whole line of reasoning, the whole consternation over a thwarted friendship with a snaggle-toothed cashier at the grocery store, the devious plotting to make her mine- was I trying to ask this girl out? It hit me like a wave of poisonous relief. Telling someone you want to get to know them better sounds suspiciously like asking to date them. And somehow, I feel like asking her out on a date would probably be more well-received than asking to be her "friend". I mean, come on. One option makes me look like a loser and one makes me look like an attractive lesbian. I pick attractive lesbian. In the immortal words of Mr. Richard Butler in the post-Psychedelic Furs fame that went by the name of Love Spit Love, Am I Wrong?

Comments given by charming girls named Courtney with friendly countenances will be given preferential consideration. Thank you.

i want...

...accidental death and disfellowshipment insurance. that way, if i get kicked out of the christian congregation, at least i can live in sin AND style.

Morality falls at the wayside

So, I've given the matter a lot of thought while gazing lustfully at bacon off and on for about three years, and you know what? Pigs don't trompe all over the earth in herds and ruin topsoil. Political moguls in third world countries don't starve their own nation while profiting from the grain sales to the pig-raising industry. Forests aren't being cleared for pigs to stampede around. They aren't contributing to flooding and wildfires. Pigs don't require tasty grains to subsist. Why! Their very food is called "slop"! Also, pig farmers occasionally give their pigs baths in buttermilk before entering them in county fairs and the like. Where are the "Save the Buttermilk" picketers? Is it just me, or is morality in general so very arbitrary? To sum things up: I'm eatin' pigs.
I'll just join PETA and call it even.

Sweet Surrender

For some twenty-seven odd years (27 being an odd number), I had nobly resisted the urge to purchase a Weekly World News tabloid, despite it's obviously riveting content. I have lusted after it while standing in line at many a grocery store. Today, I lost the fight. A bride combusted at the altar and all that was left was her skull and the wedding ring! A space alien cookbook was found! Supposedly, I'm not going to believe what they gobble! I had to know what the Martians eat. What if they ever come to my neck of the woods?
Sadly, I received a minor bitching out due to my purchase. What is the appropriate age to start filling ones mind with meaningless, albeit hilarious, fodder? I thought I was doing good to have lasted this long?
To further compound today's significance, the annual "polar plunge" took place in Lake Ontario. This is the event where southern-ridiculing northerners strip down and run out into the freezing lake waters to prove what a bad idea that is and that it should never be done. I suppose it is a lesson to children. Ps: the north rules, the south drools!
I ridicule the South too, but I have a free pass. I grew up there, therefore it is a form of self-deprecation and hence, passable.
Also, I don't plunge into freezing waters annually. This does a lot to validate one's claim to level-headedness. Not that I need to validate it. Or that I am claiming it... I'm just saying. I don't. And I am.

the struggle for levity

i want levity in all matters. death, disease, loneliness- what's plaguing you? whatever it is, cheer up! you are going to get very upset if you try to view things realistically. and that, my friend, is the height of realism- and the conundrum that is the beauty of "levity girl".
there is only one major flaw in the quest to take everything lightly. it becomes a way of life. this gets in the way mainly when one watches moving feature films. it's very, very embarrassing for the "levity girl" to let others know she has real emotions. flaws in her pseudo-armor.
now, you might think that someone who tries to downplay the horrors around her would not be so bothered by the ubiquitous sound plaguing our airways. the sound of bands like train and matchbox twenty. well, never fear! "levity girl" takes a very, very lax view toward assasination. or rather, the lack thereof. cheesey rock bands are causing a far more pervasive terror than most world leaders could hope to produce. so where, i ask, are the assasination attempts? where is the revolution? don't tell me that we already had it and that this is the resulting synthesis! that would make "levity girl" very aggressivelty un-lighthearted. then she would have to take off her levity suit. then she would feel naked and lack the levity needed to deal with situation. it just creates a whole heap of trouble.
the end