OMF.

I thought I'd take a shower to help me come down off this trip I like to call... ok, I don't have a name for it. Not important. What is important is that I took a shower, and I had a fucking brilliant idea.

Someone needs to create a scale for inside the shower. Not for crazy people who obsess over how much they weigh whilst soaking wet, but rather for crazy people who obsess over how much shampoo they have left in the bottle versus how much is left in the conditioner bottle!

I don't know about you guys, but it's a pain in the ass when you run out of shampoo before conditioner. Or vice-versa. Because you can never catch up! Or you have to use way more conditioner than you really need, and just waste it, in order to catch up with where you think you are with the shampoo, because maybe that bottle feels just a bit lighter than the conditioner bottle.

So just picture this with me. You're in the shower, and you're not one of those really smart people who buys the shampoo and conditioner 2-in-one bottle. Or even those really really weird people who buys the shampoo/conditioner/bodywash people. You don't want to be one of those people. Because the only products I've seen with the 3-in-one are Axe products. And you don't want to use Axe products because you don't want to be a cockbite.

Anyway. Shampoo bottle. Conditioner bottle. You weigh shampoo, and that comes up something like 5.23 oz. You weigh conditioner, and it's 5.30. "Hmmm... I've been a little stingy with the conditioner, lately," you think to yourself. Or, if you swing that way, "I've been using too much shampoo! What have I been doing with my life?!" With the handy-dandy Shower-Scale-Thingy, you can now moderate your morning (or afternoon, I'm not judging) ablutions accordingly, so that you can run out of shampoo and conditioner at the same motherfucking time!

Best part of this: you sell a single scale for the regular price. You sell a double scale, where you can weigh shampoo and conditioner at the same time, as a deluxe model, for an extra $20 $35. People will buy it, too! They love those As Seen on TV products. They're all the rage.

Ok. One of you go and invent this product, sell more units than the Snuggie (whose only purpose to me seems to be as a Halloween costume. You get a red one, an fancy red hat and a saucy moustache, and go as the Snuggie Inquisition, which nobody will expect) and you get back to me. I don't even ask for much of your millions. I think 10% is fair, considering how all I really did was take a shower and type some words, while you had to do the hard part of inventing it, marketing it, and overcoming the fact that shampoo and conditioner often have vastly different consistencies, and so the same volumes of each may not exactly weigh the same.

Forget that last bit. If you don't, that just means that you hate money. And I know you don't hate money. WHY DO YOU HATE MONEY?!

Fucking shitball mothercock.

My work schedule right now oscillates between opening, where I wake up at 4 or 5 am to be at work at 5 or 6 am, and closing, where I go in to work around 1pm and am there until 9:30 or 10 pm. It could be worse, but it royally fucks with my brains sometimes. For instance, after returning from a 5-day vacation, I had two closing shifts in a row. I then had a midday shift, and today I went in at 6am. Tomorrow will be another 6am shift, Sunday will have me there at 5am, and then Monday I'll be going back in at 6am.

For those of you keeping score, that's five seven days in a row. My brain first thought it was five for some stupid reason. It is not capable of keeping score.

I don't intend to bitch about how much I'm working. That's not the point I'm trying to make. I'm very glad to have a job. But sometimes I wish there was a way to express, via this text, how long it took me to finish the previous sentence. It sort of went like this:

"That's not the point I'm trying to make. I'm very..." *blink blink* *type type type* *blink blink* *staaaaaare* *delete delete delete* "... glad to have a job."

Where was I?

I'm glad to have a job. Things suck right now, but they'd suck worse if I wasn't working. And this is not the worst job I've ever had. It's actually in the top five. My boss isn't an asshole, my coworkers are a fucking laugh riot (ye gods, I can't even spell riot correctly the first two or three times). I have awesome coworkers.

I keep losing my train of thought. Ok, going to start over. Again.

I'm glad to have a job. What I'm whinging about is the fact that my sleep schedule gets so fucking cocked-up sometimes, I lose many of the faculties that make me feel superior to the people I see on websites like... oh, I don't know... Lamebook. I can spell words with, like, seven syllables, whereas those people can't even spell words with three letters. Though I realize it's probably more due to laziness and the oppressing mentality that communicating in (*blink blink blink* *staaaaaare*) anything resembling an educated manner is for morons who can't grasp the idea that i can rite lyk dis n u stil no wat i meen, bra.

Someone help me. I'm losing control of my brains, and it's because I couldn't fall asleep last night. It's appalling that even though I've only technically been awake for (*staare* "ok, the first alarm went off at 4:30 am, and it's 6pm now, so..." *blinkblinkstare*) almost 14 hours, I feel as though it's closer to three times that amount length. I mean, I did sleep last night. Just not for long. I was definitely still awake at 2am. It's just kind of dumb that I can easily stay awake for more than 14 hours with no brain-deadening effects when there are more than 2.5 hours of sleep in between awake periods.

Ok. I'm done. I'm going to post this and let all 11 of you know just what a pitiful, broken creature I become sometimes for no real reason at all. But first, a picture. Because why the fuck not?

I was going to post a pic that was strange and out of nowhere, but that one is appropriately topical. So now I'll look for another strange and out of nowhere picture.

I really hoped more people would buy that t-shirt. Because then I would have more moneys, and people would be wearing Taintpuncher shirts.

A saga of flowers and herons.

This weekend I took a trip down the Mississippi, and I took photos of the things that I saw there. I saw mostly flowers, and a heron. And some spider webs, but those photos aren't interesting. Click to embiggen.

Not bad for it being almost unbearably hot and gross outside.

In other news...

Ok, that last post was kind of sucky, but I have too much pride, or not enough sense, to remove it. So here's a post with some pictures I took recently that I do not hate. As always, click to embiggen.

I need a damn haircut. But I still love adding all the random labels that Zemanta suggests for my posts.

First World Problems

Laundry day always has the potential to send me into a fit of rage.

I'll admit it: I absolutely loathe those people who throw a load of laundry in the wash, or the dryer, and then just forget about it. It infuriates me when I go down to my apartment's laundry room with my laundry, and someone else's clothes are just sitting there.

Because I'm a wimp, I'll usually give that person the benefit of the doubt, and head back upstairs, wait a half hour or more, and go back down. Because maybe the machine had just stopped. They're not precise. The washer usually takes a little less than a half hour, the dryer a little more than 45 minutes. It depends on the load, so it's no big deal.

But when I go down there repeatedly, and the same clothes are just sitting there, utterly untouched, my blood kind of starts to boil. There are only two washers, and two dryers. There are 16 units in this building. How arrogant do you have to be to think that you're the only one who'd like to have some clean damn clothes that day?

It's moments like that that make me want to throw the forgotten clothes onto the laundry room floor and just use the machines. I hate that I have to drag out someone else's laundry (which is sometimes damp from the washer and starting to smell a little gross) and pile it on top of the narrow, rickety table. I hate that I have to feel guilty about doing that, and that a small part of me is worried that I'm going to get caught in the act, and bitched out by the owner of the orphaned laundry. I wish I just had the balls to do what I had to in order to get through this chore that I already hate without feeling like I'm the asshole here.

I know that sometimes things come up, and that emergencies happen. I'm sure that people are probably willing to take the fact that their clothing has been displaced in stride, in a cool and mellow manner. I'm perfectly aware that there is a laundromat not three blocks away from my apartment - but frankly, it's more than twice as expensive, and it's goddamn hot out there and no relief of inconvenience is worth spending more than $15 to do 2.5 loads of laundry.

I'm in a miserable mood today, and I won't feel better until my laundry is clean and I don't have to think about it for another week.

Asterisks are always important

I read this article, because I am a woman adult human being adult human being who is not a damn dirty hippie*, and so I shave regularly. Good razors are important things, so I considered this article relevant to my interests as an adult human being that shaves regularly.

As I read the article, I noticed, as I hope you will when you peruse the article yourself, that after the "yearly cost" for each razor is shown, an asterisk is also displayed. So I searched for its meaning, and read this:

*Cost assumes an average of eight every-other-day shaves per cartridge or razor.

Huh. Every other day. Now I know why women bitch about shaving so much. It's because they're shaving as much as three times as frequently per week more than I am. Seriously. When I say I "shave regularly," "regularly" means once a week. Maybe my undiscovered super power is body hair that grows three times slower than the rest of the adult human beings on this planet.

This honestly blows my mind, and I'm astonished that every-other-day shaving is so common that a Yahoo! article will use it as a standard for razor testing. What is the math on this? Assuming I shave once per week, and use each disposable razor four times before discarding it, am I saving much more than the rest of the women who follow the standard?

Or maybe I'm more of a damn dirty hippie* than I thought I was. And on an unrelated note, I'm saddened that the only unusual labels that have been suggested are "Recreation" and "Collecting".

*I don't think hippies are damned or dirty. It's just an expression. An expression that got into my vocabulary (would "vocabulary" apply to a phrase, rather than a word?) via South Park.

Ye gods, this shit is hard.

I've been telling myself for a long damn time to start writing blog posts again. How long? Well, if you look at the previous post, you'll notice that it was put up in August of last year. So we'll call it six to eight months. But when it gets to the point where it's been almost a year since the last time you sat down to talk to the internet for an extended period of time, that shit gets intimidating, man.

And I'm not going to lie to you, Blogger has changed some things since I last tried to write a blog post, and that's intimidating, too. For instance, I just noticed that it's recommending some labels for this post. The labels happen to include "Black Orchid", "Lady Lynda", "Galilean", and "Jesus".

What the everloving fuck? "Jesus" I can sort of understand, because I used the phrase "ye gods" in the title, and "damn" in the first sentence. That makes sense, I guess. But I have no idea what "Black Orchid," "Lady Lynda," or "Galilean" are supposed to refer to, with or without this particular blog post's context. "Galilean" probably has something to do with Galileo, I'll bet, but that's as far as I'm getting. I'm going to warn you, my wide audience of 9 followers, this suggested labels thing is a little mesmerizing. I want to just keep going and see what kind of labels I can end up with. Or at least until Blogger realizes that I'm an atheist, and all these religious labels are slightly inappropriate. Wouldn't that be fun?

No. That would not.

Enough ranting about internet weirdness. Suffice to say that it's midnight thirty, and I've had exactly one beer three hours ago, which means I'm a little off my rocker because I am extraordinarily lame. It's enough to make me want to mix myself a little drink to make sure that beer isn't lonesome. How's this for an idea? I've got raspberry vodka and orange juice (the labels suggestion added "Resurrection of Jesus" just now; this is trippy!), so that's more or less a screwdriver. But how delicious would it be if I used frozen blueberries instead of ice cubes? I've been considering that combination for a few days, but I haven't worked up the courage to try it. Not because I'm afraid it won't taste good, but because I don't want to feel like a lush. That's how my brain works, you guys.