I wouldn't eat anything that color unless it came out of a cereal box.

 Remember that delicious guy I saw a few times at the gym? I got a better look at him a while back and he wasn't as hot as he looked from farther away. But then today I saw him close up, and he had his hair down.

Only an older Brian May.

More like that.

But since he's not Brian May, I wasn't too sure how I felt about the look.

Brian May is a f**king GOD. Or he's at least in the in the top 10 on the list of Greatest Humans of All Time. 

don't question it

If you don't know who Brian May is, SHAME on you!!

Aside from being half of the genius that was Queen, he's invented all sorts of music-type equipment, is an animal activist, and he has a frigging PhD in astrophysics.

W    T    F

Speaking of boys.... Friend brought up the crush last weekend. (He's her cousin.)  Apparently he was intimidated by my dizzying intellect.

-________________-

Where are the nice decent men? I don't think I ask for all that much in a man. I don't need someone who looks like a rock star, I don't want an intellectual, I don't care about how much money he makes or what kind of car he drives or how much porn he looks at. I just want a gentleman, and a man who could build me a house with his bare hands, and who likes to sit in his recliner with a six pack and watch sports on Sundays, and who enjoys being loud with his buddies and having a cigar while barbecuing.

It's really not all that much to ask, for feck's sake.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It really ticks me off that these things seem to only have a lifespan of one year. I use it in my car, to connect the ipod to the radio. I've gone through 3 of them because after a year or so, they just stop working.

Like seriously, it's BS. Such a simple little thing--why the heck can't it work for more than 12 months?!? It's not like it's some crazy complicated high-tech thing. It's an effing audio adapter. These things have been around in some form or another for like a hundred years. AND I NEED MY IPOD TO WORK IN MY CAR.

Ipods are a really brilliant little invention, don't y'all think? And I'm not really crazy about technology and gadget-type things, but being able to carry 14 days' worth of music around in a thing that's the same size as my cell phone is pretty rad. I remember the days of airplane travel in which I had to drag a 5-pound case of cassettes, and then the even heavier CD case in my carry-on bag. I couldn't settle on just a few CD's, because I'm like ADDDJ with music--I can switch from Beethoven to Abba to Slayer to Lady Gaga to Rob Zombie to Cab Calloway to Tarja to Queen to Leadbelly to Marilyn Manson to Brahms and back again like 25 times on a 2-hour car ride.

(I nearly soiled myself the first time I saw that.)

The DVR is pretty rad, too. I'm only just getting the hang of it, but it's pretty exciting to be able to have 100+ hours of Law & Order SVU available in that little box whenever I want to watch it.

But I have to say that my favourite modern invention--the one that makes me shudder when I think of what it was like to live without it--is the dishwasher.

F**king genius.

I mean it's not a huge deal having to wash your own dishes. I had no dishwasher for the 3 and a half years I lived in Philadelphia. And we had no dishwasher in Ireland (the "dishwasher" was generally the youngest person staying in the house). My roommates in Phila. totally SUCKED at washing dishes. Most of the time they just wouldn't bother, which brought out my Dragon Rage. And then when they did do it, they complained about how much it sucked, which was understandable because they were all doing it wrong--sitting there with the water running and washing each individual thing one at a time with the sponge.

No.

Get your gloves on, toss all the dirty stuff into the sink, dribble some dish soap on it, and fill the sink with scalding hot water. Then all you have to do is just push the dishes round the sink a bit and then take them out and put them in the drying rack. When I showed my roommates that, you would have thought from their reactions that I had just showed them how to turn water into a 40.

Of course you could just skip all of that and get a dishwasher.

Now I know I'm a bit psychotic about my dishwasher, but when you love something that much I think you should take care of it, and take pride in making it do its job Properly. The dishwasher is a glorious thing--it should be treated with reverence. But apparently some people are so simple they can't even operate the dishwasher without catastrophe.

By that I mean Little Sis.

She's the youngest in the family, and there's a pretty big gap between us (I'm the next oldest). Mum was kind of older when she had Lil Sis, and I think at that point she had just totally had it with parenting. Whereas Big Sisters #1 and #2 and I grew up with Super-Strict-Dictator-Mum, Little Sis got Whatever-Just-Do-What-You-Want-Mum.

I'm not complaining--Mum's rules coupled with her total lack of emotional guidance made me self-sufficient at an extremely young age. I knew how to take care of personal hygiene, clean house, do my laundry, con people into giving me rides, and feed myself all without assistance well before I hit age 10.

Little Sis, who just turned 17 last week, can do none of those things. She can't even work the dishwasher.

I'm pretty sure most people--even those without dishwashers--can tell the difference between dish soap and dishwasher soap.

It's not like it would be cataclysmic if you were washing dishes manually and ended up using the Cascade instead of the Fairy Liquid. HOWEVER, it IS cataclysmic when you put the Fairy Liquid into the dishwasher.

Dish soap has magic powers.

EVIL magic powers. After Lil Sis put the dishwasher on, we all came downstairs the next morning to discover that the entire kitchen was covered in bubbles and foam. It was like something out of a campy kids movie, complete with the cats up on the counter looking at the soap with horror, and then glaring at us as though we were the most moronic creatures ever to walk the earth since Sarah Palin. (It was breakfast-time and they could not access their food bowls, which means the Humans Have Failed Epically.)

Except it wasn't really that funny in real life.

A BLACK sheriff?!?

... I think I've still got it. It's all in the subtle facial expressions. If you can appear lost, helpless, sad, and yet still refined, it's easy peasy. But it is also about targeting the right victim. Men over 35 are generally more susceptible, and I have also noticed (here in Bergen County, at least) that men from the lower-middle class, rather than the stuck-up POS white collar execs that make up most of the population here, are much quicker to lend a lady a hand. 

Oh yeah, and the Bend And Snap actually does work. Like 99.9% of the time.

There's also some behavior analysis that goes into it. But mainly all you need to do is learn from the Master:



She is the reason I went blonde and cut all my hair off. Because she's perfect. 

I think I'll just stop right there, because if I get started talking about Marilyn, I could go on for hours. 

....

Just one more.

<3

There's this really delicious guy at my gym. Unfortunately, I can't seem to work my wiles at the gym because I'm sweating, and either not wearing [much] make-up, or it's getting blotchy and smeared from me being sweaty. 

And of course, the last few times Hot Guy has been there, I've had no makeup on. On Thursday, he showed up (he usually is only there on weekends) and I had just started on the elliptical, so I was like YYEEEESSSS I don't look like a mess, I can totally seduce him!!!

Then I was like oh wait. I'm wearing the most ridiculous shirt ever.

>:(

One day....

It's nerve-wracking sometimes, being OUT with no makeup on. 

Ok well actually "no makeup" for me means that I have on a powder concealer, some mascara, and light-coloured lipstick that could sort of pass for my natural lip colour. 

If I'm outside with no makeup on whatsoever, then that means I'm either sleepwalking, or my house is on fire. I've had boyfriends who never saw me without makeup. Mt roommates even--they never saw me without makeup. Damo was actually quite disturbed by it.

I need to wear makeup. I'm NEUROTIC about this. Why?

Well, duh--because I'm hideous without it.

All imperfections must be obliterated if I am to leave the house for anywhere other than the gym.

Let me explain:

I know I'm a bit insane. I know that some of these cannot possibly be covered by makeup. But for some reason, I believe that my application of makeup is almost like magic, and everything looks better once I've put on all the foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, mascara, etc., etc., etc.....

Completely Irrational:

1.)  Make up is not going to fix my hair. And my hair is retarded. Some bits are pin straight, some are varying degrees of wavy, and then 

2.) there's a couple spots with perfect ringlets, that will not respond to any hair products, blow dryers, or straighteners. Apparently this is like the Official Stamp of Pure Irish Blood. Thank God for Aquanet.

3.) Make-up will not cover up my overbite. Continuing to wear my retainer probably would have been more effective. 

4.)  I don't know why my eyes are always red and bloodshot. Sure after smokey treats, THEN I know why, but on a day to day basis? My nose randomly flares up into redness as well. I have noticed that other extremely pale people seem to suffer from the red nose and eyes. Like Nicole Kidman--her eyes are always red. And she's fabulously pale.

5.) The double chin (which I may or may not have, depending on my mood) cannot be altered with makeup. Neither can the fact that I have a weak chin, and no neck.

The other stuff actually can be fixed with make-up:

6.) The red blotches. They're always there; they just become more apparent if I'm drunk, exerting myself, or out in the sun. Those and the blackheads are the reason that I MUST wear concealer at all times. No exceptions.

7.) BLACKHEADS. I squeeze them out, but yet they still return. I have tried every exfoliant, and even face washes that are more or less sand in a tube, but to no avail. I imagine that if I didn't wear so much makeup on my face, I probably wouldn't have blackheads, but if I think about that for too long, but my brain will melt and leak out of my ears.

8.) My eyebrows, when I am in full make-up, look as though they have been tweezed and shaped by God Almighty Himself. Without cosmetic assistance, I don't really have eyebrows. In some kind of nod to vintage Japanese fashion, they only grow up to a certain point (almost to where the arch should be), and then I'm pretty much bald. A number of my female cousins share the same eyebrows. I suspect inbreeding is behind some of these facial and hair abnormalities. 

I sat down at the computer with the intention of typing out more of one of the books I recently finished. That was over an hour ago. Now it's time to leave for dindin with Mum. 

Oh, bother. 

I'll never understand why writers are such procrastinators. 'Tis a conundrum. 

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

This is going to be a bit of a spastic post. I'm having a hard time focusing on one thing long enough to be coherent. 


I have been pigging out for the last four days. It began Saturday night, when I came home drunk from friend's birthday night out. When most people get drunk, they lose their inhibitions about going home with unattractive strangers. I lose my inhibitions about eating junk food. And I cannot compete with my kitchen.

That's just the pantry. There's also another cupboard full of peanut butter and Nutella, and the freezer full of ice cream.


Then Sunday, two friends and I went on a bird-watching adventure to the Raptor Trust.We went hiking in the Great Swamp Wildlife Refuge afterwards (photos will be developed eventually...), so at least we spent pretty much the whole day walking. The walking is the essential thing to remember, because after that, we went to Wawa.


If I had not pigged out on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday, I would have felt ok with allowing myself the Wawa Binge. Me going into a Wawa never ends in anything other than epic consumption of as much food as I can possibly carry. 

They put heroin in their sandwiches. There's no other explanation. And there's definitely heroin in everything that Tastykake makes.


So for all of you who were reading The Fairy Queen, I have posted a few more chapters. Feel free to alert me to any spelling or grammatical errors. Also, I need a title, and would be glad of any suggestions. If you like that book, you should definitely read the first one--Underwood. You don't really need to read it to follow the Fairy Queen, but the whole book is up on the site. It's also in the process of being illustrated by Elk, who is awesome and incredibly talented. 


There's an Angie Harmon clone at my gym. 

I've been stalking her every time I see her, because I want to know if she sounds like Angie Harmon as well as looking just like her. Because Angie Harmon's voice is probably 80% of the whole package of hotness. Eventually, I'll figure out a way to strike up a conversation with her. If she does indeed sound like Angie Harmon, she may well end up in the crawl space in my basement. (The one I've been saving for Stephanie March.) At the moment, I've been a bit more focused on getting a photo of the 70's Porn Star, but maybe I should switch gears for a while. 


Mum thinks talking to Angie Harmon lookalike is more important than 70's Porn Star. I think Mum may in fact like women. At least some women. She seems abnormally fond of Kyra Sedgwick, which just proves that god is a sick bastard, as Kyra is married to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 


I wonder about Mum. I can't tell if she's oblivious to my nightly herbal sleep remedies, or if she just doesn't care. I do try to hide it as best as I can, but that has been difficult this past week. The supply I just got is quite a bit more potent than his usual stuff, and now everything I own reeks of drugs. 


I want a dragon. 

And now, I think we should all have a collective moment of silence for Cinnamon Brown's blog, which has been abandoned until further notice. I miss you, Cinna! 


Hope you're all having a good week so far. <3

Can you not

I apologize for my prolonged absence from the blogging realm. Time just got away from me this weekend what with stuffing my face, and then running to gym to exercise it all off. 

To the tarot card requester: Temperance and the Heirophant are gone as well. The only cards left from the major arcana are the Emperor, Justice, and Judgment. There's still quite a few of the minor arcana left, but not many of the face cards--only the Page and Knight of Cups, Page and King of Pentacles, and the Page and Knight of Wands. There's still a bunch of the numbered cards left, so if anyone else wants some tarot cards, let me know: bellatrixburrows@hotmail.com.

This is Rockland Bakery:


Guess what's across the street?


Rockland Bakery is in fact the greatest thing since sliced bread. You can go in there at midnight and actually go into the factory and grab loaves of bread, bagels, croissants, and everything else fresh out of the oven. I went there yesterday with Big Sis #2 and we got 2 doughnuts, a giant cinnamon-pecan danish, a cupcake, and cannoli for $3.00. It's crazy how cheap it is. 

So yeah, every time I walk out of the gym, I am assaulted by the fresh-baking smells of their lovely sourdough bread, and cinnamon raisin bagels. It is not fair. Whoever zoned those two buildings should be castrated in public. 

No luck catching the thing in the attic. I did try to make a vlog about going up into the attic to look for it, but unfortunately no one would leave the house long enough to give me some peace and quiet, so I couldn't do it. I did investigate. I suspect the starlings are back, although how they manage to make such a tremendous racket at all hours of the night is beyond me.  Starlings are supposed to be quite small, and diurnal. The thing in the attic sounds large, and is mostly nocturnal. But I'm pretty sure it's the starlings. Therefore, this is definitive proof that starlings are (a.) Evil; and (b.) possessed of more ridiculous diabolical powers than I had originally thought. 

For real, they're f**king evil.

Time to start planning Operation Starling Holocaust Part Deux. 

Failed this weekend, food wise (obvs, at this point). So as per usual, I'm a puffy fat mess this Monday. I've got a writing workshop tonight, so I shan't make it to the gym. I plan on trying to salt flush on Tuesday. I tried last night, but for Reasons Unknown, it didn't work. 

I don't get that. Like where did the salt water go? Did it evaporate? Get absorbed into my kidneys? WTF??

>:(

More later, perhaps; or I shall be late for the writing workshop.

<3 you, my girlies!

hsawaknow

Yeah so I just realized I've got kind of a lot of followers. Hey y'all!! Am I following you? Am I commenting on your blog? If I'm not you should yell at me. 


Francine, I've still got plenty of tarot cards left (and for anyone else who still wants one). You can send me your address here.


I've had this song in my head for two days. 



I went to the gym for the first time ever today. Little Sis wanted a gym membership for Christmas, so I said I'd do it with her. Today was the first free day she had (she's nuts with the homework and the studying--as someone who never studied or did any homework from second grade onward, this baffles me somewhat). So we went to the fancy gym in Pearl River, signed up, and went to go exercise. 


And then she left me. Alone. In an extremely crowded place I've never been to, filled with loud, sweating people. 


Turns out she only wanted to go to this particular gym because her friends go there. She met up with them as soon as we got there and left me to fend for myself.


Thank God the gym has a "movie room". 'Tis pretty much a movie theater full of ellipticals, bikes, and treadmills. I enjoyed this thoroughly. Especially since it was dark, and therefore no one can see how retarded I am. I'm not so good with the electronics. My treadmill at home pretty much has an ON button, and up and down arrows for speed. These machines were like effing spaceships with the buttons and LCD screens. 


I am not losing weight. Despite extreme restriction (and going 2 days at a time with nothing at all, like twice a week), daily exercise (burning 400+ calories), salt water flushes, and only one bad binge recently, my weight refuses to budge. Every time I step on the scale I want rush out and get emergency liposuction. 


I'm bored.