Oh Senor Don Gato Was a Cat

On a high red roof Don Gato sat
He went there to read a letter,
Meow, meow, meow
Where the reading light was better,
Meow, meow, meow
'Twas a love note for Don Gato

We all know how that story ends. Don't read the note Don Gato, please do not read the note.

My audio engine of preference has really been pushing Britney Spears’ new single “Gimme More”. The combination of a little curiosity mixed with my existing music funk created a recipe for melodic disaster. The only acclaim I can provide to the B-girl is she has one marvelous team of marketers. The perpetual exposure of negative publicity was the primary reason for my own self mutilation. It’s like watching someone try to place a derailed train back on the track. So shoot me, I gave it my ears. Two seconds after clicking the play arrow I was stunned with embarassment. What has brought me down to this low standard? It was murder of the first degree to my ears. I took off my earphones and walked away from my desk a couple of times during the observation to ensure that the disastrous melody could not be heard blaring from my phones by others in my office. There is never a good time for this jazz but certainly not at 8:15 on a Thursday morning. Inspiring minds want to know, who is the fool that listens to this garbage and thinks “wow, now that’s something". I'm sick to my stomach.

To nuetralize the havoc I am currently listening to Killing In The Name by Rage Against the Machine.

Ignorance REALLY is Bliss.

I am in a state of ambivalence which has my creativity levels flowing.

There is a quaint asian nail salon across the street from my office and I recently started utlizing their "brow waxing" services simply because they are next to free at "Queens Nails". Another bonus "Walk-Ins Welcome". It brings a smile to my face when I walk upon the handwritten "We Accept No Check" sign on the door. Asians are clearly not hooked on phonics.

I attempted to have my brows waxed yesterday. When I walked in to the salon the young asain lad inquired "what you need" whereupon I informed him I was in the market for a wax. In turn, he shouted what sounded like "you come back we no have wax no one here you come back tomorrow she not here today okay tomorrow okay". I am confused. Are you asking me a question or making a statement. Regardless I respond "You aren't leaving me with much of an option". I walk out with a disappointed disposition [tounge twister].

Today I walked in with confidence and a smile on my face. While I was informed "there be wait, k" I was assured I would be seated in the wax chair within minutes. I turn my attention to my blackberry when suddenly I am mesmorized by the love ballads playing throughout the salon. I can't lie - I was impressed. I found myself in a trance with Lionel's heartbreaking "Hello" lyrics. I even made a note on my blackberry "download hello". Next up was Careless Whisper by Wham. At this point I am fighting the urge to request a copy of the mixer. The most fascinating aspect to this experience is that the asians, who speak little to no English and who like to taint us by speaking to the other asians in the store with the language of their native tongue, knew every word to every tear jerker. I wondered if maybe one of their relatives/co-workers had recently been deported.

I have news to share. I recently developed a "pen pal" relationship with a prisoner. My new buddy's name is Steve. I will provide details tomorrow, mmmkay?

Don't you love her as she's walking out the door...

~ Josie McSass

It is rare to find individuals willing to step outside of their conventional cells. Hold on to the exceptional. ~ Josie McSass

I have a crush on Ben Stiller.
I have a minor addiction to Free Cell.
I adore string cheese.

I made a friend last night and his name is Matt. Matt is my new gay best friend. I have been in the market for one of them for quite some time. Sort of like a pet, if you will. Matt is exquisite. I had many questions concerning his lifestyle and there was no beating around the bush on his part. Speaking of beating around the bush, Matt is a heterosexual virgin.

Did you know that 33% of humans have a third nipple? I wonder how I have managed to avoid such a freak show in 32 years. Or have I??? I am trying to figure out if ths is something to be admired or ashamed of. Unique is one thing, monster is another. Three is a crowd.

Ode to IT Guy

Jerry had a little spam
big fat head
and a video cam
Jerry had a little spam
his office smells like a farm.

[This is the product of boredom mixed with a little bit of hate please do not think less of me].

Today is Pirate Day. Thanks to http://www.talklikeapirate.com/ I was able to expand my pirate vocabulary with chumbuckets which I am applying as my newest form of verbal criticism.

I am listening to The Doors. Here is a bit of trivia for those music aficionados out there. Jim Morrison’s hero was Frank Sinatra.

I ran into a nun this afternoon at my local grocery venue. I use the word ran in the literal form. Why is it that nuns always appear to be critically fragile? I thought the tiny, white haired lady was going to break when I bumped into her strikingly cold body. Odds are good that this is the only skin on skin action she has endured prior to making her devotion to god. On three separate occasions she and I met eye-to eye. I will admit the run-ins were primarily my fault. I shuffle around stores like a mad woman on a serious mission. Today I am in a hurry for no particular reason. I would like to think that Sister Helen was god’s way of shining a bit of heavenly light into my life. The holy kind, anyway. It’s rumored that sex, alcohol consumption, gluttony, and something known as “the devils music” are gratifying, but because I am a child of extreme faith I refrain from such poisonous activities.

I need to repent.

I’m a good Catholic girl. I was born and raised Catholic. I have had a love/hate relationship with the religion during my adult life. I have committed what would probably be considered sins of the carnal form within the Catholic faith. For whatever reason during the 5 times I have gone to confession as an adult I have failed to seek forgiveness for things the Catholic Church likes to frown upon such as using GD as an everyday adjective, skipping Mass on Sunday due to an extreme hangover, the pre-marital sex, the “morning after” pills, the feelings of hate I have for my office IT Guy, Big Cherry.

What of it?

I have had a priest criticize me post confession. True story. I haven't been back since.

I hope to write more tomorrow...

~ McSasssssss

Fighting off the mundane...

It’s impossible to miss those you didn’t admire in the first place. The only thing you long for is opportunity. ~Josie

I’m eating candy for breakfast.

I was daydreaming just now about a spider monkey puppet named Roger. He doesn’t exist, yet, except for in my dreams where he and I live happily together day after day. Clever primate, that Roger. He enjoys a Cuban cigar every now and then and is sort of a bigot but one hell of a nice guy. His favorite color is midnight blue. Roger is a closet Full House fan.

My hands are sticky.

I have the urge to do something extraordinary today. It’s on the brink. I can feel it.

The sound of my office IT guy speaking makes me want to jump in front of an 18 wheeler. I am not exaggerating.

Food for thought: Why is it that if you ask for “extra” anything on your salad, sandwich, pasta dish such as cheese you are assessed a small fee but if I ask to eliminate a designated item that customarily comes in or on said food item the price can't be negotiated on my behalf?

A friend asked me this morning what I thought about midget strippers. Fascinating. I could be swayed into a midget stripper show. Pushing the urge to be judgmental aside, I find midgets remarkably alluring. I have been known to waste an entire day on a Little People Big World marathon. I am fully aware of the risk associated with the following statement and I may lose a friend or two but this is my blog and I am being brutally honest. Given the opportunity, I would probably have my way with a midget. I trust it all works the same, right? The parts that matter are average size, right? I will google this later. Once at a concert I had the undivided attention of three midgets. They were semi-famous or at least famous in a Surreal Life sort of way. I would totally dominate a midget. I would dominate all three. I think I’ve unleashed some hidden fantasy of mine.

My friend Ohio asked me to write about threesomes amongst men. I am really starting to worry about this boy. His coy attempt at being nonchalant by broaching this subject amidst several other topics failed miserably. I am on to you Ohio. What makes this particular flag really red is this follows Ohio's recent revelation that he shared an intimate kiss with his male best friend not long ago. He claims to be totally comfortable with his sexuality and says he has zero gay tendencies. He also said he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for the kiss. I expect to find a Barbara Streisand cd in his car very soon. Ohio, I have no idea how threesomes amongst men work and I don’t want to begin to visualize it. Let me know how it works for you, buddy. Two things. Lube and condoms.

Does alcohol effect the decision making process? Does alcohol inhibit one to live on the edge or does it allow you to become more guarded? I have done some really ignorant things while inebriated and some really fascinating things to boot. Some of my experiences will never leave my soul. There are times that I become more reserved even a little fearful, perhaps? I have played the voice of reason amongst a group. I have faltered between courageous and coward. I can attest that some ideas that would never be entertained in a sober state sound immensely fascinating in a drunken one and usually the payoff is one of humiliation and anxiety. For example, having to make the walk of shame. We’ve all done it. It is no walk in the park (unless of course you have to make the walk through a park). I believe it is during that moment we, as shameful humans, look our ugliest. The skimpy clothing you thought looked hot the night previous is critically wrinkled, disheveled hair, black eyes. You make a mad dash into the house and shut the blinds in an attempt to cope with your lack of judgment wondering if the sloppy drunken sex was any good.

A bite size Reeses has been taunting me all day from my desk. I have opened and rewrapped the thing at least three times.

I was going through my collection of writings/journal entries/poems the other night. I found some really laughable stuff, some sad stuff, some humorous stuff, and some really dark stuff. I would like to take this opportunity to provide you with a few examples, may I?

Wisdom: The things you can get by with in your twenties no longer suit you in your thirties. You realize it’s unbecoming to spend evenings in a bar full of 20 somethings. You search for meaning in every little thing you do. You start to question your worth and decisions you made in your twenties. You are no longer willing to waste time with the people who provide nothing meaningful to your life. You refuse to give yourself to anyone that doesn’t give you something in return. The moment you admit you are getting old frees you to live because without living you are simply wasting. Constantly riding the line between jumping into life wholeheartedly, living in the moment and embracing life to fearing making the mistakes of your youth placing you in protective mode.

Sad: I want to cry about something today but I am not sure what it is. I woke up feeling blue, dwelled on some old memories and lost loves. Thought about a new one. Something is in the air that isn’t settling well with me. I feel like I am losing the battle to hold on to something desired. Sometimes I wonder if I have to hurt in order to feel.

Anger: You were everything but nothing. Off you went. You cried about regret but it was just a way to say goodbye. I watched you walk away and knew it was the last time. Positively doubtful we’ll ever meet again. I’m running far away from here. Because you would never see me that way. Because you were only pushing me to believe. It never happens the way we want it to. I can go back to being that way. It kept me living in the dark. Life without the freedom to live. Laughter that lives in an echo.

Someone I love: What do I want to say about you? How can I tell them who you are. Brilliantly intoxicating. You’re something to be admired so modest and true. Captivate me with bliss, in awe in your presence. I watched you from afar and became overwhelmed with emotion. I woke to find you laughing in your sleep consuming me with joy. You surprise me everyday. My love for you is selfish. I crave the goodness it serves hoping it never drifts away. I knew from the beginning you were to be in my heart.

Dark (yikes): I am trying hard not to let go. I can’t battle this fight with fear any longer. You’ve always been unattainable. Pulling me in just to push me away. You love to hate me. You hate to love me. I saw the resentment in your eyes. I fought to stay, terrified of what faced me so I ran. I made it to safety but hell is just around the corner. Survival is my only hope but it is silently slipping away. Always a prisoner of your love. Left without a soul consumed with hate. The more you moved the closer I became. The games we play are our demise. Such a precious thing had we unburied the evil. I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t tell you what I want from you. How long can we tolerate this painful love. What happens when you don’t know me anymore. The beauty is rotting away. You won’t let me smile. I wonder if you can remember who I am. Self destruction is the path I am on. I won’t allow it to take over but I will play with it for awhile. What are you coming back for now. The desire is tempting me. You cringe at the sound of my name. I ache at yours. Time forgets. The heart remembers.

Love: Why do I put you before all? Why is it so important to seek you? You’ve come into my life a few times. You’ve shown glimpses of chance when I didn’t need you. You’ve left me broken, torn and confused. You’ve left me to wander and to dream. You’ve created fantasies and fears. You taunt me with possibilities. You torment me with failure. You’ve made me a prisoner of past. You’re on my mind in all that I do. I place you on the pedestal I consider life. I hope we meet again.

I'm out. Hope you enjoyed the deep confessions of J.

Ditty Kong, 'O!

~ J

No way - It's Josie!

I have struggled for weeks with this blog hence my lack of a post in quite some time. I have been feeling a little sheltered and possibly protective of my emotions. I shall call it a writing funk. On the flip side of that, in recent weeks I have written 10 pages worth of single-spaced nonsense. I’ve considered posting it simply for humors sake. Truly a cluster of rambling bullshit.

I have also been lackadaisical chiefly due to the fact that my laptop was taken from me 3 weeks ago and as a result I have lost my primary tool for writing. I was heartbroken to boot. Having reflected deeply on the loss and finally accepting it, I feel like I am finally able to glide back into writing.

I hope I am not the only person to have made the following mistake. I was sitting at my desk earlier working diligently, eyes focused on my computer screen, when I nonchalantly took a swig of the cup of coffee sitting directly in front of me. Upon swallowing this half liquid/half solid concoction I came to realize I hadn’t made myself a drink at the office in recent hours. In fact, I have been drinking bottled water all day. The once perfectly tasty drink turned science project was a cup of coffee I had prepared for consumption and failed to finish yesterday. It is not the lingering taste of garbage in my mouth that bugs me at this moment. It’s the haunting remembrance of the feel of cold moldy coffee layered with a slimy film meeting my lips. I went a little crazy for a moment.

I had a dream last night that I had a mustache and a beard. My character in the dream wasn’t bothered by this added feature but the “real me” was crying inside. If my memory serves me correctly I recall I was at a show, a dance-off if you will, and I happened to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall to my right. Once again, the girl playing myself in the dream had no instinctive problem with the five o-clock-shadow. In fact, she seemed pleased with the look. However, my mind was devising a plan to rectify the disturbing guise immediately. I convinced my dream character into waxing the mustache/beard combo. Stubble is not an option when it comes to women and facial hair so shaving was immediately written off. While pricing different options, my twin sister appeared in my dream to remind me of the costly price of waxing a beard as thick as mine. Oh right - there is that. To my dismay the issue was never resolved prior to waking. This can only mean that somewhere out there in dream world I am walking-flying-creeping around possibly haunting people sporting the mustache-beard combo.

Left with the bewildering question as to why I am creating an image of myself with facial hair while in my own private dream world, I decided to do a little investigation. I am not a huge advocate of dream interpretation but I will admit that our dreams and our subconscious thoughts are parallel and that different objects and situations are representative of who and what we are in life. My curiousity was definitely peaked. This is what Dreammoods.com has to say about "women with mustaches" (I, too, was surprised yet relieved to find this was an actual dream option):

If you are a woman and dream that you have a mustache, indicates that you are expressing your power through your words and your verbal expression.

Naturally, this inspired me to search for a theory on women with beards. Dreammoods.com has this to say about the woman/beard combo:

If you are a woman and you dream of growing a beard, signifies your masculine aspect of your personality. You want to be more assertive and wield more power.

I was alarmed when I began to read the beard interpretation but in conclusion I could not agree more. I am just glad it didn't suggest a life in the circus. Now, thanks to dreammoods, I don’t feel like I have to hide behind my emotional disguise. I have the power within to be assertive and express myself in any form or fashion desirable. Thanks dreammoods.com!

I am working on a story – another fun life experience – I plan to share it within the next 24 hours.

Peace, lades and gents

~J

Cold and Dirty

I have been zapped of all energy. My body is dealing with post-vacation stress, exhaustion from moving and the never-ending chore of unpacking, not to mention trying to adjust to a new (very old) house that is nothing short of a sickening mess. I haven't had a moment to partake in "J time" with the exception of when I attempt sleep at night. Last night I saw a shadow in my living room. At approximately 10:30 pm I concluded that it was a demon shadow. I slept with the lights on last night.

The cherry on top of this sundae is I am freezing cold. My male co-workers keep the office at icebox temperature. I sit here at my desk hunched over in a ball trying to consume any heat my body might release. When I exhale I can see my breath. My jaw is clenched shut to keep my teech from chattering. Later this afternoon, upon stepping out into the scorching August heat, my body will go into a mild state of shock. Yesterday evening during my commute home I turned on the heat in my car. I almost fell asleep at the wheel.

I just walked over and adjusted the thermostat. This will undoubtedly cause a stir. The hairs on my arms are standing tall. I am wondering why I attempted to shave my legs this morning.

As if waking up in the morning wasn't previously a difficult task, now I lay in bed each morning and dread the inevitable shower. Let me point out that the shower at my new house is about the size of a telephone booth and is at least 50 years old. Yesterday was my first shower at the new digs and I felt slightly less clean post-shower than I did when I got out of bed. Still in vacation mode and wanting to provide as minimal time necessary towards grooming, I spent 20 minutes getting ready for work yesterday. 10 minutes of that was spent dilly-dallying directly outside the shower trying to convince myself it was okay to enter.

It is impossible to shave in this shower. I will pay someone to prove to me wrong. When clausterphobia set in I had to talk myself out of a panic attack on the horizon. Get in and get out. With 2 minutes to spare before I absolutely had to leave the house I threw a skirt over my stubbly legs, threw on a shirt that did not need ironing, and left my hair semi wet and "wavy". Needless to say I didn't feel great going in to work yesterday morning but honestly did not care.

This morning I took a bath in the 3x6 foot tub that resides next to the dawrf size shower. When I moved into my new home I made a pact with myself that I would never place a toe in this so-called tub. Funny how things change. My lower appendages were in desperate need of shaving. Today I was dealing with major time constraints yet still opted for the bubble bath to keep from eyeballing the floor of tub. In a Mommy Dearest fashion I made certain the water was sclading in an attempt to kill any lingering germs. There was moderate pain involved while inching my way into the water. While quickly cleaning my body I try not to concentrate on any particular area of the tub longer than 5 seconds.

I feel a degree better than I did pre-bath. Not clean not dirty but more like I just bathed in someone else's bath water.

As far as future bathing at the new casa goes, I somehow tricked myself, out of delirium I suspect, into believing that new bathroom furnishings will greatly improve the ambiance of the ancient room hence making my bathing experience a good one and fulfilling me with a clean vibe. I have a year in this house and, on most days, I am a fan of clean hair and smooth legs.

I am OWWWWTTT...!!! Goodnight world.

xoxoxo,

Josie

Friday Observations

some random thoughts that have entered my mind at one point or another on this grand day:

Personal space – keep out. If I can smell ya or feel ya, you are too close.

Attention men! Necklaces - never a good idea. Never. This applies to shell, gold, rope, beaded, string, hemp. If it goes around the neck it doesn't belong!

When speaking with a customer service rep, try to refrain from asking “are you a lady or a man”? The “lady” I spoke with earlier today did not seem to find it amusing when broached with this question.

If you can help it, never move. Packing might be the worst chore created by man. What could top that? Unpacking. If I could afford it, I'd dispose of all my personal belongings with every move and acquire new stuff. This morning at 1 am I hit my breaking point. In a state of delirium I employed this impractical practice of trashing anything I could get my hands on.

While flipping through many greeting cards earlier it became clear that I have a very sick sense of humor. Is it bad that I become agitated with the greeting cards containing a religious connotation?

I should not be allowed to have a vehicle with a sunroof. Hell, windows. If I had a dollar for every time I have driven around town in a mildew-scented vehicle while sitting on a towel barely able to see through the windshield due to condensation I would be living the high life, my friend. It is rather sad that every one of my co-workers has learned to give me a buzz whenever a cloud appears in the sky. I am serious.

Well guys I am off for a 7 day holiday to the lovely city of San Diego. Can't wait! July has been a crazy month and thus I have not had a lot of time for creativity or writing. I suspect this is what I can look foward to through August with my impending move across town. Oy!

In closing, I would like to wish MATTHEW a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Can't wait to spend it with you. Me and You, darling.

Josie