Happy monday, everyone!

Hey there,

funny

So it begins. ...The work week, that is.

I have to say that slowly becoming pathologically addicted to Fark, Something Awful, and the ever fresh and poignant Onion. Yummy.

The Onion is a classic, and it�s always got something on the front page that makes me laugh out loud... lol. Heh. The Photoshop Phriday section of Something Awful cracks me up every week, and somehow The Fark always finds a way to make real news even funnier without elasticsisng the truth. Really, who needs to with shit like this really happening every day?

Oh, by the way-- a general bitch for the moment-- Why the fuck are there now pop-up ads on Dictionary.com? Okay, I understand the need to make money, but that just seems like such an injustice to the public. I can respect on-site advertisements, but pop-up ads are such a huge pain in the ass of everyone. How much ROI can you actually be getting from a Pop-Up ad? Pop-up ads are why I often find myself swearing at the internet. Well, that and the fact that sometimes I enjoy swearing.

Goddamn right.

As I don�t really have anything else to rant about at the moment, it sounds like update time to me!

So, it�s been an entire weekend. As opposed to a half a weekend... yeah nice verbiage there Pam... Right. Haven�t you guys missed this? Apparently you all do, because every Monday when I check the statistics of the site, it always seems like my loyal readers (all twelve of you, some of whom have been reading for over a year! Yay!) like to come back on the weekends, and trudge through my older entries. Stuff like that makes my day. Well, not the entire day, but close enough.

This weekend didn�t seem to suck at all. Friday night, Frank came by, and we watched the Friday the 13th marathon on TNN. Damn, those movies are bad. That, obviously is why they�re funny. I�m a fan of Killer Klowns from Outer Space, so I can�t really bitch about horror movie quality. Anyway, Frank was in rare form that night. He made me laugh for hours with his jokes about the movie, and his musical adaptations of the Jason movies. How fucking funny is that? All I have to say is all I really need in life is to see From Jason to Kelly. Then, and only then, can I die.

During the movie marathon, Frank boldly stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth, and put it in my ear, again. It was all icky and wet. Yuk! So yeah, we play-fought again. That�s fun! Frank is such a little boy sometimes. He�s this responsible adult who pays all his bills on time and such, sure. But man... get him in a competitive situation where he�s losing, and he�ll go complete little-kid on you. Frank is very good at a lot of games, and even in casual conversation, he usually keeps the upper hand, so it�s rare that he loses-- or at least admits to losing, or running red lights. I swear, he�s so adorable when he�s not winning. �I don�t like this game!� was said... and not by me. Twice.

He�s awesome.

So that was friday. Saturday, I woke up with the intentions of doing laundry. Nope. I ended up going mall visiting and chocolate cake eating with Peng, John, and Frank. It was a normal trip pretty much, other than the fact that peng drove, and I actually rode in his car.

I am truly afraid that one day Peng is really gonna kill everyone. He�s not a stable person at all, very easy to pick on, and hangs out with a lot of guys who pick on each other out of masculine friendship, affection and the pure humor factor. That isn�t a healthy social fruit salad, dude. I feel bad, because he�s obviously been picked on his entire life, and hasn�t really had much in the way of friends. Now he has some friends, and they pick on him all the time. Seriously though, boys do spend most of their time picking on each other. Since Peng doesn�t seem to know from boys being using insults as a vehicle for friendship and affection, I�m not 100% convinced that he doesn�t take things to heart.

Ah, whatever.

After a breif hangout with the aformentioned asian people, Frank took me to go see Dumb and Dumberer. That was a funny fucking movie. Eric Christan Olsen (I think that�s his name) was a hauntingly good young Lloyd (Jim Carey�s role from the orignal) and Derick Richardson was even dumber as a young Harry (Jeff Daniels� role). Seriously, they were a little scary, because Eric really fooled me into believe that he was Jim Carey. He had the body movements down, and even the little girly shriek that Carey does was the same. It�s funny, because in interviews they are much better looking, and you really wouldn�t think that Eric Christan Olsen is a dead ringer for Jim Carey, or that Derick Richardson is nothing more than a younger, fatter, Jeff Daniels.

Eerie.

There were kids in the theater. Oh boy, that was almost ugly. Now don�t misunderstand what I�m about to say here. I still like kids, okay? Anyway, this big group of white kids akwardly stumbled into the theater. Another kid, who they knew, sat in the first row, while the big group of kids sat one row below and to the left of us.

I�ll be damned if the one kid didn�t turn around and start throwing shit. Oh them little bastards done fucked up. If they had hit me with anything, I woulda got them all kicked out. Anyway... Long story short, I yelled at the kids, and they didn�t behave afterwords, but I didn�t get hit with anything. That might have made me angry.That�s a very good thing, because they wouldn�t have liked me when I was angry. Grrr!

Anyway, I laughed a lot at that movie. So much, in fact, that I was dubbed �That� girl. You know, the bitch in the theater who�s laughing all loud. That was indeed me. I think I have a hearing problem, or something like that, because I�m usually really loud. Like, all the time, though. I don�t think I�m terribly crass. When I care, I can be polite, quiet and personable. Most of the time, I don�t realy care, though. It�s hard, sometimes, to be myself in this crazy society.

Yesterday I woke up with the intentions of doing laundry. Nope. It was fathers day. Yup, sure was. I don�t know my dad. Nope, sure don�t. I called my grandfather, who is dying from an uber-cancer in his lungs. His line was busy, and I didn�t call back. I figured the effort was meaningful enough.

I don�t handle dying very well. Death itself and it�s best friend greif are a couple of things I think I�ve got a pretty good grip on. The process of dying and suffering, however, isn�t something I handle well at all. When my stepfather was dying (before I even knew knew he was my stepfather... ugh, don�t get me started) I really couldn�t handle visiting him, so I didn�t. Some people would regret that, but I don�t. Nope, not one bit. It makes me feel good that the only memories I have of the guy are happy (or being yelled at), and not of him suffering through his sickness. As bitchy as it seems, I really don�t want to see my Pop-pop all sick, and unable to get around. Just thinking about him like that makes me want to cry, and I�m sure he doesn�t want pity, or to see his favorite grandchild in tears.

Yes, I�m his favorite.

Anyway, I don�t want to ruin my happy memories of my awesome pop-pop by seeing him all dependant, and sickly. It upsets me greatly how the American healthcare system is so flawed that it would encourage elderly and otherwise dying people to suffer through treatments and side effect laden medicines on their last days on earth rather than just letting �em die in peace. Isn�t it selfish of us, as the family members and loved ones of dying people to keep people plugged in, drugged up, and fucked over simply because we can�t bear to let them go? That�s unfair. I mean, I�d pick death over years of painful tourture any day. I�m sure this sounds terribly heartless, and I�ve had some pretty serious and emotional arguments on this topic, but it�s how I feel.

Don�t like it? Suck me.

On a related note, I came accross some weird information when I searched my full name (Pamela Newman) via google.com. There was another Pamela Newman who died on my birthday this year. Creepy!

Okay, enough talking about death.

I decided today that my life isn�t so bad. Yeah, I�m not ever satisfied, and I always want something more. Yeah, I�ve done the whole college thing, subesquently dropped out, had a career -sorta- and so on. Now what? Well, you know what? I really have no room to complain. Life is great. There are a few things here and there that could be a little better, but in comparison to my life on this day two years ago, my life now kicks that life�s ass.

June of 2001 I was living in gabi�s house, dating the Ex who used me a whole lot, and treated me like shit (I�m a real fuckup sometimes, I swear), worked for a job that bummed me out, and cried a lot. I haven�t cried (like a serious cry) in months. I really am a happy person. Well, I�m always happy, or at least I seem that way... but I really feel happy.

That rocks.

My work day is almost over, so I�m gonna run now.

Love and adoration,

Pam