Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Nifty article via mefi about "subsisting" in an urban environment. Living on only what he could scrounge, a UCSB student survives on fish, fruit and garden veggies for 10 months. I couldn't make it without Cheetos for 5 days. (mmmmm. Cheeze food, what the cheese eats.)

Monday, September 29, 2003

Yeah, i thought i had something to say tonight. but alas, not so much. crap tv and crap food for dinner (mac 'n' cheeze, hotdogs and brussel sprouts, yeah, i said brussel sprouts, what of it?) couldn't even motivate myself to go exercise tonight. the whorling vortex of doom sucked all the energy from my soul.


Sunday, September 28, 2003

My ex (X3) boyfriend who will remain nameless, but who still lives in this town despite several voodoo curses, was seen getting his hair done by a co-worker. And by getting his hair done, I mean his 44 year old hair dyed and permed (yes, permed. ) There is justice in this world.
Your Tax Dollars at Work:
An article in the Scotsman (via mefi), examines what happens when the gov'mint of the US of A begins to try to think like its president. Public view webcams in an Islay distillery are under constant CIA surveillance to make sure that the weapons of mass drunkeness aren't "tweaked" into weapons of mass destruction.

Boy howdy, its no wonder the rest of the planet thinks we're idiots. We obviously are!

Saturday, September 27, 2003

As we enter the time of the Jewish High Holy days, it is a good time for all of us to examine the way we exist and interact with others. As seen in Jewsday

There are three ways to understand the existence of man:
1. Man is a boat floating on an ocean. Even if he makes no effort to swim, he will always float. He may be rocked a bit by the waves, but he will survive nonetheless. In this scenario, he need do little to make it through life, save survive.
2. Man is a swimmer in the ocean who must always make an effort to remain afloat, and who, without treading water, will quickly sink. In this scenario, man must constantly work in order to survive, but he need not invent. He can do the exact same thing throughout life, namely tread water.
3. Man is a wave, an excitation, atop the ocean of existence. And without seeking to redefine himself as a distinct and separate wave at all times, will not only cease to exist, but will never have existed in the first instance. In this scenario, man must change and rise always in order to remain distinct and alive.

This is an emphasis of how important change is for spiritual and mental well-being. Good Luck to all. Evolve or die.

Friday, September 26, 2003

Kind reader. Misanthropegirl's girlhood was spent reading science fiction and fantasy novels. Come to think of it, her adulthood consists mostly of the same. But I digress, here is a wonderful link to a page devoted to the early stories of space and space exploration (the kind of stuff seen in old Amazing, Weird Tales, Astounding and the more modern Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine.) Of course they do miss out on one of the biggies and MY personal favorite, Robert Heinlein, the granddad of sci-fi and speculative fiction (a few works of his that come to mind: "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress", "Have Spacesuit, Will Travel" "Farmer in the Sky" and "The StarBeast" to name a few from his large body of work.)
A note, Science Fiction is defined as something that could might maybe happen some day Termed speculative fiction, in some circles, this would include movies such as Blade Runner (based on the Phillip K Dick book "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"), Heinlein's "The Man Who Sold the Moon", the Star Trek oeuvre, and George Orwell's "1984". Fantasy reaches the realm of the impossible (as opposed to the merely improbable, and far range). Examples are obvious: "The Lord of the Rings" (misnamed) trilogy, the Dragonlance series, the Narnia series (by the usually much more speculative C. S. Lewis---exploring the crucifixion and redemption myths rampant in western society), and of course, Shrek.

A quick breakdown: Sci-Fi: everything obeys the current natural laws (if venturing into faster than light travel, the author does tend to make up their own version), Fantasy: mythic creatures and magic are the order of the day.

Both genres (often mistakenly lumped together) make for enjoyable reading at any age, but a real mind expander for the young (and impressionable) peruser.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

Diet Coke. Black Poison. Nectar of the Gods. I am, I admit, an addict of the highest degree. One of the most telling moments of any of my interpersonal relationships is when friends (and even more so, boyfriends) realize I would trade their liver for a cold one. Or really a lukewarm one would be better. See this beautiful picture of my favorite beverage.
Some wonderful thoughts from www.craigslist.org:

Why I left you.

I just read a couple of "why I left you" posts, and these triggered my guilt mechanism. I am sorry I ended things without the gut-wrenching, agonizing micro-analysis you wanted. So here are some of the reasons why I ended things between us:

You are defensive. You think you are different and contrarian and individualistic...but you do this because you need to reject the world before it rejects you. Anyone that doesn't agree with you is "traditional" or "conformist" or - horror of horrors - "square." You have no idea how very pedestrian you actually are. Especially in New York.

You have not traveled. REALLY traveled. You have no exposure. You are limited. You will never be able to relate to or empathize with non-Americans. No, wait, let me narrow that down: non-east coast, non-white, non-English-speaking humans. You can't speak another language.

You think your sexual proclivities and fetishes prove that you are an interesting person. They don't.

You lie.

You credit your multi-faceted personality and mood swings and constantly shifting priorities and ambitions to the fact that you are a...Gemini. Seriously. You use being a Gemini as an excuse to change your mind. About everything from your clothes to your life goals. Oh. My. God.

You are careless, feckless, lazy, neurotic, on Paxil, self-absorbed, shallow, and not very bright.

You just don't get it, and you never will.

You are, however, a fantastic cook, and I will miss that about you.

Your Ex-Girlfriend

The letter I never wrote....

Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Jean-Paul Sartre. Philosophe francais. Mentor to Camus who wrote L'Etranger. The Cure based one of my favorite songs ("Killing an Arab") on this treatise on existentialism. Existentialism, the primary tenet of which is "L'enfer c'est les autres" or, "Hell is other people" (a modified version is held by a famous french food critic, "Hell is other people at breakfast".)

Obviously, Sartre is misanthropegirl's favorite philosopher.

Read a good note on him over at Slate.

Monday, September 22, 2003

What When and How. The Deathday.
Happy Deathday!
Your name:misanthropegirl
You will die on:Saturday, July 16, 2016
You will die of:Serial Killer Victim
Created by Quill

...a clever take on Jesus as a criminal over at Slate'sfraywatch(tab down):

This Jesus guy:

1. engaged in property theft by cursing a fig tree, resulting in the loss of corporate profits.

2. disrupted market activities by attacking financiers engaged in lawful currency transactions.

3. stirred up class warfare among the poor.

4. stole intellectual property, by preaching a gospel that he didn't copyright.

5. subverted the capitalistic virtues of private property by advising people to give away possesions.

If he were doing this kind of stuff today, our conservative leaders would make sure he were properly punished. Three strikes and you're out, Jesus!

Responses would probably be superfluous. Please donate to your favorite house of worship. Your favorite house of pancakes. Plant a tree in Israel. Uproot one if you prefer.

Sunday, September 21, 2003

Scientific proof (ha!) that those thirty cats will be the cause, not the nasty symptom, of my insanity.

Saturday, September 20, 2003

Esquire's 45th rule while drinking:

If you don't smoke and you're in a bar, don't complain about other people who happen to be smoking, because, virtuous friend, you are in a bar.
Had a lovely hike today; Big Falls up on Mt Charleston. You can find this hike using the new trail finder on the sidebar...very useful.

Got quite a sunburn too.

And now the apple butter is crocking away.

Friday, September 19, 2003

This is a test of your career.
This is only a test.
If this had been a real career, you would have recieved raises, bonuses, and promotions.
Dating reaches a new low.

Well, i'm done. This last one was just too much. A clean cut young man with a multitude of promising attributes has been shown to have a very VERY VERY large flaw. In his youth, he wrote an extremely offensive tract called 100 Facts about Blacks and 1 Lie. This little gem is all over the net--mostly on white power sites.


Now, I'm reasonable. All I really wanted (given that this thing was out over 12 years ago) was an explanation for the thought process behind it (eg. "I was young and ignorant, and realize the errors of my ways") But instead I got 1) Obfuscation ("can you believe how many languages that's been translated into?") 2) Diversion ("you seem really wound up") and finally 3) Irritation ("i don't even remember what that said, why should i care?")

I was even willing (well, not really) to overlook the felony conviction for possession of an unregistered weapon (13 years previous---the internet really IS a Pandora's box).

There's a cat at work I think I'll go get and bring home.

Seriously, is what I'm asking for too much? A man of higher than average intelligence, all body parts in working order, and the ability to grab both ears and PULL HIS HEAD OUT OF HIS ASS.

Pray not for me, I am obviously beyond hope.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

In Xanadu did Kublai Khan

a stately pleasure-dome decree,

where Alph, the sacred river, ran

through caverns measureless to man

down to a sunless sea,

Xanadu: Samuel T. Coleridge. When universities stopped requiring Humanities 101 with a degree, we all lost more than a little. And by we, I mean every ignorant SOB who names their dog Kublykan (Kublai Khan), my staff, who not only didn't realize the misspelling, but added to this pain with comments like "...isn't he a wrestler? He's someone famous, I know." and lastly me, the one who has to sit through this asinine dialogue and when (even though I know better) venturing to quote a stanza or 2, recieving blank stares for my trouble.

bah humbug.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

The caduceus. The symbol of the commecial arts, it is taken from the staff of Mercury or Hermes (the greek or roman messenger god). Often confused with the staff of Aesclepius, the symbol of the healing arts. As is so frequently noted in the pudding heads I have around me at the WVOD, a disturbing, but unsurprising trend in the Judeo-Christian-Muslim traditions of taking very old symbols from other cultures and placing their own brand of ownership upon them (think Yule and Christmas; the Rites of Spring and Easter (named after the greek demigoddess Oestre--the goddess of planting) etc) is alive and well. Today, I was informed very pertly, that the Caduceus, was from the staff Moses that turned into snakes via the will of Jesus (now, I know he is the Once and Forever King, but didn't Moses predate him by 100+ begats?) And then, when I (mistakenly and atheistically) tried to disseminate the right provenance of the Caduceus (never mind the rod of Aesclepius), I was deNIED, and told that I could believe what I wanted, and she would as well.

I copied the definition of the Caduceus out of Dorland's Medical Dictionary, enlarged it 10 times, and posted it on the back wall. I do not think my informative effort was appreciated. I even put out the text regarding the Rod of Aesclepius.

Too damn bad. Ignorance is fine, but not around me.

Saturday, September 13, 2003

I'll get you and your little dog too!
Ramen noodles. Food of the poor, Nay, food of the Gods! Remember the ~10000 times you, too, enjoyed ramen in this instructive essay.
A gift. A present. A picture of George Bush Jr. made of anuses (ani?).

Friday, September 12, 2003

Here's something a veterinarian would have known on first glance. From over at medpundit , man bites man.

There are more things on Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Another notch in the cat-only lifestyle in my future (and another mangled metaphor...) A date tonight with a man who sent me flowers sight unseen (sounds good, doesn't it?) ended with me fleeing the scene...and the (mistaken) notion that 10+ stories of drinking to the point of passing out is good first date fodder.

Sure, and tell me about your diabetes again?

I should have known better when he told me he owned 2 Pomeranians. These are not the dogs of a man I could date.

On another note, The Whorling Vortex of Doom (work) is over for the week. Times at TWVD are pretty smooth. Asshattery has been at a minimum lately. Or perhaps its the Zen-like acceptance of the flaws of the job is working.


And my allergies are somewhat better. Went to spin class tonight. Tried to go to the pool for swimming last night, but there had been a "hygenic incident" (possibly fecal, no one is talking). This entails the ENTIRE water mass of the Olympic-plus Desert Breeze Pool to be changed out.

Oh well, working as a lifeguard for 3 years and a SCUBA instructor for 4, I got habituated to human protoplasm and other STUFF in the water where I swim.

Like W.C. Fields said "I don't drink water because fish fuck in it."

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

I'm dying. Yes, really. Or at least my nose is going to fall off. I hate allergy attacks---and this is coupled with my euro-extended 10 day workweek this week (right now I'm on day 7). Generic Claritin, Dimetapp, Neo-Synepherin, and a dose of home-prescribed antibiotics (one of the perks of being a doctor) and lots of fluids.

There's always some sort of excuse to not workout, isn't there? My head couldn't take the pool today--especially flip turns.


Sunday, September 07, 2003

Sunday dinner with the parents; a tradition in the Christian based households in this country. And even in our household (my mother's other disappointment--that I am an avowed agnostic) despite the fact that church hasn't been part of our life since i was in 3rd grade (long story short---the fact that my father worked weekends and the Neo-Church of Christ allowed dancing yea and verily unto the alter itself...scandal!)
So back to dinner. A lovely client of mine had recently given me a gift certificate to The Claim Jumper restauraunt AKA Giant Plates of Food. The food, while good, is exuberant. In fact, entrees are served on turkey platters. With whole apples as garnishes.

A big hint: don't order the appetizer platter AND a meal.

It was relatively a nice night; no one fought and I didn't hear about the Amish or the Mennonites. Or my sister dating the doctor (who, by the way, she didn't marry).

Welcome back Hal, Audrey, and Ian from the wilds of Utah. I'll stop by tomorrow for tales from the land of Deseret.

Friday, September 05, 2003

On the up side, I'm the 41,392,565th richest person in the world.

So as part of the top 0.56% in the world, I could afford those 30 cats if the whole "man thing" doesn't work out.
Several things make me act 12 years old: sullen, stubborn and reticent. These things include, but are not limited to: my mother, bathing suit season, and dating.
Dating, in fact, can cause me to obfuscate, meander, and just plain lie to even good friends. I like to believe it returns to the fact that my mother's greatest disappointment to date is my lack of Husband and Child.
Reality and the lack of viable male companionship has led me to the murky world of online dating. Some good, some bad, and some just so fricken' boring that even the $200 dinner etc can't make up for it.
As a matter of fact, I just got home from 2 hours of my life I'll never get back. The gnocchi a la pesto was pretty good. The companionship was more along the lines of Al Franken without the intellect.

Well, the 1/2 bottle of wine was good.

So....that's what I did with this Friday evening. The 30 cats in a trailer is getting closer, and closer, and closer, and closer.....

Thursday, September 04, 2003

Phooey. I spent a good chunk of my life writing a really extensively linked blog when my computer crashed. Phooey. Rats. Spit. Dirty drawers.

Monday, September 01, 2003

ok then, 11 hours later and back in LV. the flights were unremarkable except for the bald man with nicks on his shaven scalp and bad BO. the cats appear happy to have me back. they are VERY INTERESTED in my luggage. all sorts of new smells.

a note from over at Blivet:

form action="http://bdmonkeys.net/~chaz/battle.php" method="get">

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Stalking over the tundra, wielding gilded boxing gloves, cometh Misanthropegirl! And she gives a vengeful scream:

"I'm seriously going to contort you until Western Civilization implodes!"

Find out!
Enter username:
Are you a girl, or a guy ?

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