They F*ck You At The Drive Through

Some cool shit has happened this weekend, but I am filled with rage because I am essentially living the life of Leo Getz right now.

Between people selling me the wrong things at stores (two of the exact same lipsticks instead of the two different ones I picked out, MAC sales lady?), and the utterly ridiculous fuckover I'm getting from my insurance and the Rite Aid pharmacists, I'm about to lose my mind and bash my car upside a Dairy Queen behind it.

Here's a quick note to people in the medicine dispensing industry: it's one thing when you fuck with us and our pain meds. But when you start fucking around with people's psychiatric medications, you are setting yourself up for a world of pain. Don't you realize that they minds is gonna go completely tore up on them? Don't you realize you are putting everyone around them in danger with your foolishness?

DON'T YOU REALIZE YOUR CRACKER ASSES NEED TO FILL THE DAMN PRESCRIPTION, AND QUIT THIS TRIFLING SHIT. IF THE DOCTOR SAYS FILL IT, AND THE INSURANCE SAYS FILL IT, FILL THE FUCKING PRESCRIPTION. DON'T GIVE ME NONE OF THIS JIBBER JABBER 'BOUT "but..but...my server is down"

BISHWUT???? ON *YOUR* ADVICE I JUST CALLED INSURANCE AND THEY TOLD ME IT WAS GO. SO YOU BEST CALL THEM UP AND GET THE SAME OKAY. CUZ BABBY IS LOCKED AND LOADED AND YOU'VE BEEN GIVING SOMEBODY THE RUN AROUND FOR THREE DAYS. THREE DAYS OF COLD TURKEY OFF THEY SPECIAL MEDICINE. YOU PLAYING WITH FIRE, FOOL.

Seriously, though. It's taken over three days of phone tag and constant mistakes on the part of the pharmacy and the insurance that has left me without both supplement pills that I need to live to make up for organs that were,  you know, FUCKING REMOVED. And also more than three days without drugs that directly control and supplement key neurotransmitters in my brainium. Small things. That keep me. From killing y'all. And they also botched the scrip that prevents migraines.

Yes. They shit on my entire life. Thanks for asking. Yes, even though all these things are their mistakes, I still suffer. And yes, they did just call, at 3:10 PDT, and tell me that the insurance host server is still down. So even though I'm covered, I still don't get to fill the prescription.

Gee. I guess it's a good thing it's not insulin.

Black rage. Black rage.

~must leave now and go find something to do so urge to kill and maim goes away. sublimation: it may not be healthy for me, but it's saved more idiotic motherfuckers since 1977 than all anti abortion methods combined~

Personality Analysis Via Netflix Suggestions

Suggestions from Netflix can be enlightening. This is actually one of the tamest lists I've ever gotten:

• Witty romantic period pieces
• Dark suspenseful fight the system movies
• Critically acclaimed violent biographical movies
• Quirky heist action and adventure
• Goofy showbiz satires
• Cerebral detective shows
• Classic emotional movies based on classic literature
• Sentimental medical tearjerkers
• British dramas featuring a strong female lead
• Gritty crime movies from the 1980s
• Exciting Sci Fi and Fantasy
• Understated 20^th Century period pieces
• Thrillers based on a book

 In other news, my bro will be in town for a few days. Which is righteous. Much cleaning and buying of supplies to do. I'm still trying to sort out my finances, which got right hosed while I was finally working, ironically enough. Oh, the horror of government forms. Being honest has never really done me much good, yet I persist. When will I learn?

Also in the irony category, I got a part time job offer while in a doctor's office today. There's some sick justice to that. I doubt I'll get it, as it was a last minute referral, but it was amusing, nonetheless. And any doctor that you find yourself doing a bad Russian accent with and talking about bestiality ("When chicken run, time for new chickens.") is probably worth the visit.

But we all know I don't have to get a job, because the world is ending anydamnways:

And finally, a recommendation. If you love the horror genre, go see Cabin in the Woods. Don't read any reviews, don't watch any trailers. Just go in as a blank slate and enjoy a movie made by people who love horror movies. It's fun.

Still Batshit After All These Years

Back in sunny SoCal for nigh on a week now. My attempts to re-order my life are feeble, as usual, but there seems to be a semblance of structure visible through the murky fogs of my tiny studio.

Before I am carried away by present inanities, I should take this moment to extend my warmest thanks to all my friends and family that supported and visited with me during my extended stay to the "other L.A." Without your spare mattresses, spare cars, spare food, spare booze, and spare brains, I'd never have made it. Moreover, I wouldn't have had any fun.

While there are primitive signs of some kind of possible sanity and order in my life, apparently Mel Gibson is still Batshit Insane. Now, there are several parts of this story that are suspect, not the least of which is the source, Joe Eszterhas. Forgoing his history and the fact that he's a late life convert (I distrust converts, they tend to be zealots), there's the little question of how this personal letter got leaked.

Mr. Eszterhas typed himself that there are only two copies, one to Mel and one to Mel's assistant (who must be either Satan Incarnate and loving every minute of this, or else on the strongest tranquilizer cocktail available--DiazAtivaviLoraXanaPam[quaaludes+1]). And I'm guessing that the Gibson PR machine didn't run to the press with this little gem. And since Joe E. is dishing to some media outlets, looks like somebody's looking for some press. Reasons? I dunno. The least slimy one I can credit is pressure to get that movie/screenplay released back to him (Joe E.).

Besides the big giant huge fact that Mel Gibson is a racist, sexist, bullying, misogynistic, terrorizing, paranoid, delusional, feeble-minded, insecure, violent, insensate, douchebag wanker of a disappointment, there are two things that I find disturbing:

• he is allowed to be around a child
• he acts like this while supposedly sober

The first I put down to the California justice system. Which I still don't really understand, but so far seems pretty lenient on celebrities. Seriously. Then again, maybe they are lenient on all drugged out DUI freaky deaky hit and run shoplifting probation violating people, and we just hear about the celebs? Hmm.

The second though, this guy is acting like he's on a drunk rage, yet he's supposedly sober. Just on recordings and reports alone, I would have bet SRS cashmonie$$ that this joker was drunk off his ass for most of the time. Can you spend so much time being a drunken rager that when you sober up you get stuck with the rage cycle on a loop in your head? Man, that would be a cruel joke indeed.  "I sobered up, but I'm still nucking futs!"

Melvin's bad behavior aside, there's more in the world. Just in case you've missed it, allow me to drop this earwig in your brainium:

Tink did that to me about two weeks ago. You don't think too much of it. At first. Then when you can't stop thinking about it two days later you realize you've been converted.

Luckily I really like the song. If she hadn't told me it was new, I would have assumed it was 80s pop from Australia. Which is not a bad thing.  I don't think I'm alone in that appreciation:


In which Andy Samberg mercifully does not reveal his junk, yet again. . . . 


And I'm pretty sure this is funny no matter where you live, since these New Yorkers are cracking up all the way through it:


Watching Bill Hader try not to laugh is awesome.

Speaking of awesome, I would for Hollywood to sit up and take notice. Despite my rocky relationship with Mr. Scott, I give credit where it's due, and it is mightily due here. THIS IS HOW YOU DO A TRAILER.

Coming soon: my painful public intervention for one of my future ex boyfriends. Which one? The cracky one. The recently reeaaaaaallllly cracky one. *sigh*

I'd Go Out Of My Mind But For You

The waiting drove me mad
You're finally here and I'm a mess


I've wished on the lidded blue flame under your brow
And honey I wished for you


One day I am gonna grow wings
a chemical reaction
hysterical and useless

I stand in the rain on the corner
Watch the people go shuffling round, down, round
'Nother ten minutes no longer, 
And then I'm turning around, round, round


Set 'em up Joe
Got a little story
I think you should know


I wonder bout his insides
It's like his thoughts are too big for his size
He's been taking too much on
Off he goes with his perfectly unkempt hope


I am leaving! I am leaving!
But the fighter still remains

River, O River, River running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water, will you make it go away?
Bring me something to take this pain away

Freeform Blather

Driving today it hit, a memory of you, so sudden I almost gasped
my hand to my mouth
And there it was, a tiny story of small kindness that could maybe explain
my enduring affection for you that so many cannot comprehend (sometimes even me)

Out and about in a town buried under the waters of distant and recent memories
sights wavering in and out of focus in green and blue shimmers, like empty glass bottle dreams
if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes
It will change as surely as your fickle love's mood

The fan squeaks overhead and we fall back and back and back
because the Deep South means Deep Couches that are Neverending,
Iced tea and wine in the same kind of glasses, Yes, I'll Have Another
And when we're done here we'll sail off to another adventure
(except nobody ever quite manages to leave that couch)

You can't always get what you want, the man said
but sometimes you get pretty damn close with minor effort
and you have to stop and ask yourself: How can I be
So Near and yet So Far? What the hell does it take?
Am i just fooling myself, and i never had a chance at all?

Or did i never just push it Far Enough, Tap It In, Take Her Home?

What if i could Have It Like I Want It, and i Just Never Knew It?

but that all sounds like a fairytale

Some nights are an orange haze, some days are
a fluorescent glare, some afternoons a cool shadow,
some times are the bluest two tone blue blue blue
Some breaths are the sea, and its colors are secret

Some dreams are the sky and so are,  you suspect, the right kinds of kiss