Caterwauling

Two words: Antonella Barba.

Two actions: Piercing my own eardrums with a letter opener, and throwing the bloody sword at the television.

Somehow, I cannot help but envision the microphone as a penis.

Like someone said about her, “I just don’t recognize her without a dick in her mouth.” And as I replied, with her in mind, “Some people do look much better with one.”

I was just fussing with my AIM settings, because I only have eleventy billion projects due before midnight and really, why the hell not?

And I learned that you can name people anything you want to. Which, heh. *rubs hands evilly* Just ’cause someone’s on your buddy list doesn’t mean that they’d ever *be* your BFF — I think we all have people we have our own lil nicknames for, and the temptation is just too great to assign them what you *really* call them.

That’s all we’d need, for an autoresponder to come up, “Sorry, (Oxygen Thief), but Goddess doesn’t want to talk to you — EVER”! *bonk*

I was also particularly interested in the “Alert Me When” feature. I do this in iChat but I didn’t realize AIM had added it. But I looked for “alert me when X buddy like, dies or something,” but it wasn’t an option. Bah. Maybe in the next version!

I was just watching “American Idol,” and there was a promo for “Fox News at 10.” Fuckin’ hysterical — they just did a blurb on the blowjob-giving whore, and the ad spot that immediately followed it? “Brought to you by Hummer.” Seriously, they couldn’t have planned that one any better!

That hoe-biscuit Antonella Barba is still on “American Idol.” Seriously!

Paula Abdul looks drugged, as usual. As I remarked to my new-favorite TV-watching buddy, “Paula makes Anna Nicole look lucid. And, for that matter, alive.”

Today’s horoscope — Gemini, daily extended (by Astrology.com):

Even if you will be surrounded by grownups all day, it might feel as though you are stuck in a kindergarten class. For instance, you can expect some petty behavior or even a tantrum when someone doesn’t get his or her way. Your first instinct will be to deal with this person compassionately, but there is no need for that. You can feel free to ignore, and move away from, this negative energy.

No, I don’t wanna be your friend. And definitely not just because you decided you need one, not because it had to be me personally but instead because I was the last one out of the sandbox that you peed in. *punch*

It’s ponderous, really, the lengths we go to, to save some. Yet, we don’t step up to the plate for the ones who are worth it.

The markets went down like that ‘ho Antonella Barba today. And that’s an achievement!

So apparently the Antoiletta Antwatella Antonella Barba blowjob pix are fake. Hey, I figured the vacant look on the “throaty” contestant matched the same one I see on my 32″ TV screen, so whatevuh.

I figured she must be as bad at blowjobs as she is at belting out Aerosmith songs, because done right, the recipient wouldn’t have the presence of mind to reach for a camera.

Oh, and was it me or did the mosaic over the boy’s pee-pee (seriously, it was child-size) look bigger than the wand itself? And that sure as hell ain’t sayin’ much. One would think he’d keep his short-dick pics to himself!

I wonder whether she’ll be in the “Dawg Pound” on “American Idol” tonight, as the boys will be singing and the girls will be sitting there, sweating it out. Someone called the radio station yesterday and said they saw Antwatella getting on the Metro at the National Airport stop, but I doubt “Idol” would let her go home without a press release hitting the airwaves first.

In any event, I’m not sure whether I pity her more for having a rotten ex-boyfriend who released all those pix, or whether I should feel sorrier for her for that god-awful singing voice.

Speaking of crotches, I ordered a pair of pants from an online Web site. I just got the bill for 80 friggin’ dollars. Jesus H. I didn’t look at the price when I did my one-click ordering. Hot damn, they’d better come with a built-in vibrating tongue, for all THAT. Fuckin’ shipping and handling — shit, for what they charged, that tongue had better arrive attached to a MAN!

Sabre and I were just speaking of the need to indulge in a big cup of shut-the-fuck-up (i.e., if you don’t have anything nice to say, and all that jazz), but why us? Why can’t we give a double-shot of it to those who need it most?

I went to drop off my application this weekend at the mediocre-dream apartment, but I parked outside the rental office and could not take my ass out of the car to save my life. I had an application, savings and checking account information, pay stubs and blood and urine samples (theoretically) and I just couldn’t do it — I still have the stuff in my bag. So, I went back to my own building’s management and cussed a blue streak over their inability to call a girl back after a dozen tries.

I was particularly pissed because the unit that opened up next to mine (that I REQUESTED) sat vacant for a month; now a mother with two young kids is in it. I failed to see where that’s a better tenant, but whatever. Their loss. I did take some price quotes down, and promptly left. I enjoy telling people they suck … my cup o’ shut-the-fuck-up was clearly leaking!

The mother on the other side of her locked out her kid (again). Usually she locks out the girl, but this time it’s the boy. (Did I mention that it’s a one-bedroom-plus den?) And a kid is usually always pounding to be let back in, and I think all the other tenants within earshot have had it with them, as we all yelled at the boy to shut up already.

I know it’s not his fault, but seriously, I am so ready to move, I can taste it. It’s a BLESSING that I didn’t get the unit in between us!

I have decided to just live on the street. M Street, but the street nonetheless.

Brr

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

After running around like a psychopath for the past two weeks, Mother Nature forced me to run errands early in the day before grounding me. I watched episodes of “Grey’s Anatomy” that I’d missed this season, I napped, I hugged my cats and I cooked, like, real food and stuff.

Viva le snow day!

So everyone’s yapping about that no-talent, bridge-and-tunnel trash Antonella Barba posing on the toilet, and topless to boot. So the fuck what? I’m sure we’ve all been in a compromising position (*cough*) in our day — we just might not have Memorexed those moments!

“American Idol” fans are all atwitter, wondering whether this will disqualify her from the show. Honey, have you heard her sing? That voice alone is going to serve as her plane ticket home!

“There’s no one in town I know
You gave us someplace to go.
I never said thank you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.”

– Jimmy Eat World, “Hear You Me”

Today would have been my grandfather’s birthday. It’s his first one away from us. I’m fine now but I anticipate going slightly berserk later in the day because, well, I do that every day when I start to miss him, anyway.

I would no doubt have driven up to Pennsylvania to see him. I probably would have done it unannounced, pretending I was busy down here but then meeting him and Mom at a restaurant. Last year, I sat down beside him in a booth and scared the hell out of him. But he was thrilled. He always hugged me so hard, he called it “squeezing the stuffing” out of me.

I miss those hugs.

“What would you think of me now,
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that,
Now I’ll never have a chance.”

Mom and I always feel like we stopped missing my grandmother as much, once my grandfather was gone. His loss is fresher, and he was it, you know? Everything that resembled our life died with him. Everything has changed — nothing feels sacred or even right anymore.

But when I was in New York last weekend, I was telling my mom about going to Junior’s, which I did every day of my trip (incidentally, I watched the Food Network tape an episode of “Good Eats” there on Tuesday), and I was swooning over chocolate and vanilla egg creams. I’d never had one in my life and I didn’t even look for it on the menu, but I asked for it on a whim and absolutely loved it.

Mom told me that it astounds her sometimes, how much my grandmother comes through me. That was one of her favorite things in the world when she was younger, and I guess she used to get them in all kinds of flavors. Anyway, I cried a whole bunch after Mom told me that — it made me happy to have some connection to my grandmother, and sad that all we have left are these little, random moments and memories that we cobble together.

“And if you were with me tonight,
I’d sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big,
God wouldn’t let it live.”

I know I’m just an ordinary girl who’s facing the same losses that the rest of the world does, too, but other people get to grieve and move on with their lives. And we can’t seem to master that last part.

Maybe I’m selfish, but I’m always looking for signs that he’s crossed over successfully, that he’s OK where he is. But my psychic vibes fail me now when I need them most. Mom still thinks he’s going to come back to us — not just as a spirit, but that time is going to rewind itself and this is all going to be such a huge mistake that can be undone. God, how I wish.

In going through his things, Mom found a note he had written her, in case anything happened to him — we’re not sure when it was from, but given that those incompetents at the VA Hospital have been screwing him over for 50 years, I guess he was being realistic.

The letter was addressed to her and said, very simply, “You and (Goddess) need to go on to have a good life. Show ‘em all how it’s done.” We just wish he was able to have a good life of his own.

OK, what I said about going berserk later on? That time has now come. *sob*

Happy Birthday, Grampy. Love you bunches.