I guess I'm a "Marshmallow Lover". I accidentally dropped the whole bag of marshmallows into my hot chocolate.

It was very long time ago that I started thinking I shouldn't tell my mom about bad things in my life. My thinking at the time was that if she wasn't close enough to do anything about it, then I shouldn't worry her with details. The problem with being young is that you don't necessarily realize you're being young.

So I'm glad my mom reads this, where I write without putting things through a parental filter, because she responds and tells me how much we're alike. She got in trouble for missing work too.

I got some 'Marshmallow Lovers' hot chocolate to make up for my indecisiveness over marshmallows. Mini freeze-dried marshmallows come in a separate packet. Marshmallows or no marshmallows—the choices are there!

The incident with my dad finding my pictures seems to be old news now. He never mentioned it again, including answering who the anonymous tipster was, and has since bought me a cell phone. One common response was a reminder not to put anything on the Internet if you care who sees it. I accept that rule, but the difference is my dad didn't find my pictures, he was led to them. My dad running across naked pictures of me on his own would be just as disturbing, but less infuriating. I have a better analogy that I never bothered to write for public consumption:

Imagine I am more of an actual writer, and I write an article for a gay/lesbian magazine, or one of my feminist magazines like Bust or Bitch. I write about my sexuality and other such things that I don't care if the Entire-World-Except-My-Dad knows about. Now it's public, if you know where to look, but I know that my dad would never in a million years encounter a copy of Bitch magazine.

Now let's say a friend, a fellow teacher, or an acquaintance does run across this magazine and they recognize my name. They think, 'Isn't this Norm's daughter? I wonder if he knows she's bi/into BDSM/what that digital camera has been used for...' This is where boundaries were crossed. As an autonomous adult it is my right to decide which details of my life to keep private, and how much and to who I out myself. For me, having a weblog has led me to decide the answer is Anyone-in-the-World-Except-My-Dad.

Working Assets is trying to sell me on their cell phone plan. The envelope came in the mail with a sticker to claim my free cell phone, which I must affix on the proper spot on the form to be rewarded for my efforts. I've always wondered about this kind of marketing ploy. What happens if I don't use the sticker properly? Will I be denied my prize for not following directions? Is this kind of thing covered in customer service training?

Working Assets is trying to sell me on their cell phone plan. The envelope came in the mail with a sticker to claim my free cell phone, which I must affix on the proper spot on the form to be rewarded for my efforts. I've always wondered about this kind of marketing ploy. What happens if I don't use the sticker properly? Will I be denied my prize for not following directions? Is this kind of thing covered in customer service training?

Izzy wanted stories for his birthday... I was just thinking that Memorial weekend, Sunday specifically, is the strange anniversary of the night I tried to seduce Izzy and failed.

Another reason Drizzle is the best ISP ever: Earthlink may have had a lot of interesting people working in the call centers, back when Earthlink had call centers, but actually getting one of them on the phone was a one-in-a-million chance. (Not that I've ever had a reason to call Earthlink, but I'm guessing...) I had to update my credit card with Drizzle last night, and while taking my into Doug tells me that I'm going to the Vogue Sunday or he's going to stab me in the head with a fork. What's more, he should have access to my personal information if he really wanted to go through with his threat. (Or better yet, he could just head across the street when I'm at Andrew's, which wouldn't involve address stealing...)

Man sues Atkins over heart problems.

While I think this whole low-carb thing is absurd, I also know it seems to work for a number of people. It all comes down to different body chemistries reacting in different ways. When it becomes popular to not eat carbohydrates, or wheat, or eggs, or sugar, or meat, some people find out things about their bodies they wouldn't otherwise have known. (Who thinks to stop eating bread without a fad?) Other people react differently.

Still, every diet and/or exercise program I've seen always has the disclaimer to speak to your doctor before starting any diet or exercise program. This guy is trying to sue because he wasn't warned of potential health problems from eating a diet high in saturated fat. Haven't people heard of researching what you put in your body? We're not talking Oreo cookies being actually worse for you than eating Oreo cookies. I thought saturated fat = bad was drilled into people's heads from birth these days.

Karla has been throwing little tantrums like crazy today. I got to work early (yay me!) and divided the orders so perfectly that we both got down to the single blue future we each had at the same time. Still she was slamming papers around the best you can slam paper, and in the end she threw her pen down on the desk. Little tantrums all day. Apparently splitting the work evenly is something worth getting upset over.

I've upped my request for flowers... Larry's Market has purple glitter roses. Other colors too.

My welcome back to work yesterday was a Notice of Disciplinary Action left on my desk. This was a basic 'Oral caution' rather than a 'Written caution' or more severe 'Written warning' by the use of a checkbox, despite being written. Apparently I have too many unexcused absences in the last year. I didn't know using sick time is considered 'unexcused'. This must be like that not using health insurance thing. Perhaps I should start scheduling being sick in advance.

Waiting a day to sign it kept me from sending it back with a note about how amazing it is that I'm noticed when I'm gone when I am so prevented from doing my job or otherwise treated like I don't exist when I am at work. Karla couldn't have more blatantly taken all the morning orders, and people were falling all over themselves to give her more. This all gets covered under the 'etc' of any work rant.

And I don't even know that it is safe to write about this when a coworker doesn't understand that 'private' means private, and not making vague references at work that leave me confused and other people curious. If you have something to say—look, comment links and email. I threatened to ban his IP if necessary, and if I can't figure out how to do it, I know people who can.

I kept asking myself if I shouldn't have missed work after all, and then my cramps came back badly enough at lunchtime that I had to turn around and spend the time curled up in the breakroom eating Advil by the handful. I realized in the grocery store (Walker took me to get sharp cheddar on my way home) that I hadn't eaten anything except Advil all day.

Jeremy loves me too. He sent me news of Ebola.

For those keeping score at home, my period finally started for real. The idea now is if it can start for real, maybe it will stop for real too. I'm also a wuss, and when taking four advil and laying down for ten minutes didn't help, I called in sick. I can deal with cramps, or work, but not both at the same time. Anyone who has something to say against this, let me punch you in the stomach a couple times and see how you feel about going about your day.

I have the best boyfriend ever, and I don't care who says I'm weird for thinking it! Andrew bought me a green flavored slushie and left it in my fridge for me when I got home. He said because I had a bad day at work, and it was hot out, he had to do something about it. This is the best slushie I've ever had...

I have to find me a spontaneous flower-giving type boyfriend (or girlfriend). If anyone wants to volunteer for the job (even temporarily, I'll understand) there are these large, dark burgundy lilies at Uwajimaya that I want.

I also hate Taco del Mar right now for getting Lynnard Skynnard stuck in my head.

<Livejournal>I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. That is all.</livejournal>

I think it's time to stop going to the 7-11 near Andrew's. I've been going for slushies all the time because it makes my throat feel better, but the counter guy just told me I'm cute.

I replaced my cell phone at a painful monetary cost. I found out my name's not even on the account to be authorized to look at it, see what features I have. At least my dad should not have to know about me breaking the phone right off.

I think I unconsciously decided sometime early in my life that I would find a way to hurt myself with everyday objects in as many interesting ways as possible. I'll leave the knife throwing and chainsaw juggling to someone else... Actually, skip the chainsaw—I've got that one covered too. Yes, this is the one who sprained her ankle while walking across the livingroom, has a corn scar (like a paper cut, but thicker), and a permenant mark from a drawing pencil.

My latest feat: I bruised my esophagus by accidentally swallowing four pills at once. It woke me up in the middle of the night, and it feels like they're still stick there. This'll be a funny story when it's over, but until then this is incredibly painful, going through in waves every few seconds. I am drinking lots of slushies trying to numb it from the inside.

My credit union-bank moved down half a block to the corner, making it half a block closer to me coming from the bus tunnel. Reopening festivities included cupcakes frosted in the shape of an orca whale and standard notepad and magnet giveaways. I also got a pack of seeds for a "money plant" with a red dot that meant I won something extra (one of those travel coffee cups.) So the prizes aren't that exciting, but the randomly winning is.

Last night was the first time I went to a concert just to see the opening band. Swarf, who I saw at Convergence two years ago but missed half the show, and have been waiting to see ever since, played the Vogue last night. I'm wearing my Bad Kitty shirt with all appropriateness today since going out last night was the last thing I should have been doing last night.

I told you all I hated phones. I've broken the thing already.

My company hired another family member. I don't know what he does, since he probably doesn't have an official job title yet. That has to be the advantage with family companies—when you need a job they'll just stuck you in wherever. So I haven't had any reason to pay attention to him beyond learning his name.

He stopped by to tell me he thinks I'm the only person in the company who has a Cruxshadows shirt. He knows the Cruxshadows and no one else he knows does. Now I'm impressed. Now I have a reason to find out who this person is.

Now that I've got happy-clicker back up, I'm going to have to have another talk with Paul about work-appropriateness.

It's time for my quarterly TMI post, which if nothing else should keep my dad away. There's nothing that scares him off quicker than talking about my period.

Back during my time of passive Ebola, the first hint of blood would show up a week, two weeks, before I was scheduled to start and build up from there until the real thing hit. This meant up to three weeks out of four bleeding to some extent.

I'm tired of dealing with blood, and if I didn't have to be so noncommittal about whether I want children someday I'd be ready to have it all taken out (not that any doctor would go for that at my age, but it works as far as fantasies go...) I went to Planned Parenthood and got back on the pill. Better yet, I was told how I can take them straight through so that, if my body cooperates, I'll only have a period four times a year.

My body is not cooperating.

To start on the pill you take the first one on either the first day of your period, or the first Sunday after. If your first day happens to be on a Sunday then you don't have any decisions to make. That was the case for me, almost three weeks ago. Almost three weeks and I haven't stopped bleeding.

Making it all worse, for the last week I've been getting the feeling that my period is just about to start—pseudo-cramps and all the general body ickiness that goes along with it. I think a lot of people (men?) miss in the complaining that cramps aren't just about the pain, though that can be agonizing by itself, just like a migraine isn't just a really bad headache.

Between that and the cold, I can't tell which one is trying to knock me out and any given time. Yesterday I walked as far as the deli next door for some juice and spent my lunch instead curled up in the break room with a book and a microwave macaroni cup. And then I was reminded that I'm going to a concert tonight (Swarf) and the band isn't willing to reschedule for when I'm well.

Pie pie pie. I got my pie!

I staring to think one of the warehouse guys is hitting on me. He's told me I look nice one too times in two days to be a friendly compliment. Combine that with running into him while walking back from lunch, where he insisted I walk in front of him through a narrow patch (between blackberry vines and a parked car—lots of fun obstacles in the industrial district) so he could catch me if I fell. And there was wanting to open the door for me, in a way that was too 'my male duty to open doors and if a female hand touches the knob then I have failed' for my tastes.

Random thought of the day: It's my order now. I coughed on it.

Blogger has started to annoy me to no end. I forgot to undraft my updates last night, being sick and all, so today I spent up to a minute per post for it to rewrite the page and upload to the server. For.. each.. post..

Any blog people out there, I need suggestions for a new tool. I liked Blogger because it was simple—you provide the template and it provides fills in the blanks. I don't need something to grab my current music. I don't need hundreds of pre-build templates, or my line breaks converted to HTML. Meh, I don't know what I need. I just don't like seeing good things ruined for the sake of appealing to the masses.

Blogger has started to annoy me to no end. I forgot to undraft my updates last night, being sick and all, so today I spent up to a minute per post for it to rewrite the page and upload to the server. For.. each.. post..

Any blog people out there, I need suggestions for a new tool. I liked Blogger because it was simple—you provide the template and it provides fills in the blanks. I don't need something to grab my current music. I don't need hundreds of pre-build templates, or my line breaks converted to HTML. Meh, I don't know what I need. I just don't like seeing good things ruined for the sake of appealing to the masses.

My spam is getting better all the time. First they tried offering a larger penis, and I politely refused. I have more than enough penis available to me as it is. Then they tried telling me that mine is too small. Now I'll admit I've never pleasured a woman, but I don't think this has anything to do with it...

Now I'm being offered "an e~rection up to 36 hours". An e-rection! I can only assume that'd be used for cybersex, but wow, the inventions they come up with these days...

I got a response from Blogger about the new interface.

Hi there-

Blogger hasn't changed drastically in several years, so it's possible you've been with us long enough to develop a certain attachment to the way things looked and worked around here. If this is true, wow, that's really cool... Unless of course you hate all the changes we made and are currently composing a list entitled: "Blogger Employees Who Need To Share My Pain." But that's more scary than cool.

Since 1999 we've watched blogging catch on, we've taken note of how people use Blogger, and we've read all the email our users have sent to us. We took this experience and feedback and put it to good use. We updated Blogger according to the needs and wishes of our users.

Ideally, everyone is happy about the new features and innovations we've developed to make Blogger better, and maybe those who aren't happy right away will eventually decide that they like the changes. If you're not having happy thoughts about the upgrades and you just want your old Blogger back, then we empathize.

However, we are committed to moving forward. Join us!

-Blogger Support

Standard form letter stuff with a bit more personality. They outright ignored the specific issues I pointed out as to how the new interface is broken in places and otherwise has usability issues. It's not about the "change", it's about making the changes work. Free sweatshirt or not, I'm looking for alternatives to Blogger.

One of the things I hate about being sick, besides everything else about being sick of course, is losing my voice and having it replaced with someone else's. It makes me sound shy and meek in public, once causing someone to think I had just graduated from high school when I had a post-AIS graduation cold. It caused my roommate to mishear "I threw out the moldy tupperware," as "I threw up in the moldy tupperware." I thought he was being overly sympathetic over some cheap off-brand plastic containers that always get sacrificed when the ickiness level isn't worth the cost.

Andrew and I missed the U-Dist Street Fair. We thought it was next weekend. Isn't it always the weekend before Folklife, what helps make May such a busy month? Oh well, I was (am) sick the whole weekend anyway.

If you noticed the updates from Chicago trailed off as the event started, well... I expected as much. Here are the highlights to fill in the gap:

We hijacked the printer so the cute drummer from the band Goteki could use my laptop and print out her set list. It didn't occur to me until we were at the show, I can say someone from a band used my laptop.

Took the "Goth Bus" between the hotel and Metro, the venue, which was actually a series of chartered school buses. The first trip people were trying to sing The Wheels on the Bus.

Had bad sushi. Had good sushi.

Did more walking then we would have thought possible, mostly in search of food. The hotel restaurant which was supposedly open from sometime in the AM to 9 PM was always closed. Sunday I got to take the 'el' train, yay!

The hotel is supposed to be haunted but as far as we can tell that comes out in one broken elevator and one flakey one. The elevator dropped us off at the 11th floor once (calling it 12, and then switching to 11 as we stepped off) and started going back down, meaning it had no intention of taking us to our actual floor.

I found that Chicago is the city of absurd signs. I think I made the employees nervous in an IHOP taking a picture of the standard amusing 'dangerous and unlawful' maximum occupancy sign. I didn't get pictures of even half of the ones I saw, but all of my pictures from the trip are signs and the Navy Pier, the touristy area with a ferris wheel.

Sunday we found the freak-friendly area of town and went shopping. Somehow between the shops and the vendor fair, I didn't find anything to spend all of my money on. What I really wanted was a $400+ blacklight glowing plastic corset...

Cliche or not, I wore my cat ears to the last night at the Metro. I made sure the ears went to Convergence whether I was going to wear them or not.

I drank something red. I drank something purple.

I think I missed a job opportunity while I was away! I just found a message on the voice mail from the 4th in response to my resume sent through Monster. So those things actually do get responses sometimes...

How does a phrase like this make it into real life news? "Lane was without half her skull for almost four months while paperwork..."

I did something dumb today. Not as dumb as losing my power cord, but I left my jacket in Taco Del Mar, with my keys in the pocket. I called Andrew to warn him that I might need him to let me in while I walked back to the restaurant after work. I admit I knew in the end I'd likely find my jacket and keys without any need for help, but it seemed like such the perfect cell phone opportunity that I had to give it a try.

On the bus home my bag on my lap started vibrating, Andrew checking in on my keys. I have the ringer turned off because all the ring tones are horrible and the vibrator is loud enough. I'm still not at the point where I would answer the thing in public though.

So I finally got my cell phone... Apparantly my dad thought having one was important enough that he's paying for it for me and I can't argue with free. I posted the number friends-only on Lifejournal and I'll otherwise give it out on request. My grandma called last night which surprised me because it hadn't occured to me that my dad would have given out the number as well. He obviously doesn't realize I don't plan on actually answering the thing.

It's a pretty passive new toy—throw in my bag and go. It just really occured to me that I had the thing while walking to lunch, that if I wanted I could take out my phone and use it just like everyone else.

Talking to Walker about my absurd spam (apparently my little diccky means girls won't like me) led to one of those trying-not-to-laugh-out-loud-at-work moments when he said, "What's a pen-nis? I have plenty of pens."

Blogger is being even more broken than I thought... I searched all of the settings and I can't find the one to change posting order. I guess everyone is stuck in the order they were before the change.

Dealing with Blogger issues:

1. Switch blog back to reverse-chronological post ordering and update in real-time again. This is more practical now that I have net access during the day.

2. Email Blogger and hope enough other people complain as well so that this is just a symptom of growing pains and not a permanent (lack of) features.

3. Starting looking for alternative blogging systems. (Since when does Movable Type cost money?)

4. Eventually create my own weblog script. This was already in the plan, but not for the immediate future.

I am berating myself this morning, "What part of 'go to bed on time' don't you understand?"

dilinger7337: you interested in any european teen girls getting banged for the 1st time?
dilinger7337: 'cause i just got 4 copies of the same spam

Annual raises came through today. I got 40 cents, bringing me to $11.89/hr, still an odd number. At least I don't want to get used to making any actual amount of money because when I finally leave this place it'll likely be at a pay cut.

Ack! Blogger has completely redesigned their interface sometime over the last couple days. I want my old Blogger back!

Update: New Blogger is even more broken than I realized at first. It's no longer possible to query posts to be published at once. Even without my once-a-day publishing style this is horribly inefficient for where there are multiple things to write at one time. I'm attempting to save everything as drafts for now, and tonight I'll have to individually undraft and publish each one.

I've been using Blogger for nearly four years. Now I'm going to have to find new blogging software pretty quickly before I write my own.

Had breakfast.. er.. lunch... er.. late lunch at a Pan-Asian restaurant around the corner, and then wandered around the downtown city. Someone set up a WiFi network in a room of the the hotel so this is the congregation point for goths with laptops.

WiFi!!!

Convergence Day .5

Convention doesn't officially start until 3 so this is still day one-half.

I forgot to bring my Paypal receipt so Andrew and I had to go to a nearby Kinkos to reprint it. Kinkos is always a mess, makes me glad my art school Kinkos days are over. I couldn't print from my laptop but I could email the file, so I got to steal some quick net time at the same time and download my email (spam and viruses and all.)

We found our first source of caffeine looking for free WiFi, a coffee shop called Caribou Coffee. He ordered a grande chai and the barista had to ask, "You mean a large?" He explained we're from Seattle, which gave me time to mentally reorganize my weak coffee ordering pattern.

Convergence Day 0 (Thursday):

There's no net connection on the hotel of any kind so I can type updates on my laptop but not post until home, or we find an internet cafe. Seriously though, who's idea was it to schedule a net-goth convention in a place with no WiFi?

There's something about flying that makes me incredibly sarcastic. Combine that with Andrew and we start scaring other passengers. I think it's my way of entertaining myself through the trials of air travel, because unless it's your first time and you're still excited, flying is not an exceptionally good experience. It's not necessarily bad, might even be okay, but given the choice between a quick teleport or flying cross country—waits at the airport as long as the delayed flight itself, ears hurting (though I'm told that's just me), bad airplane food with prayer cards (Alaskan Airlines), three catered drinks where they don't even leave the can anymore (Alaskan Airlines), but skip the third drink because braving the airplane bathroom still means getting past an obstacle course of tray tables attached to seat backs...

My last two trips have been out of the country so I keep expecting Chicago to be this place where they speak another language, and don't have Wendy's and Starbucks visible from the taxi.

The late night food options come down to one bar & grill a few blocks from the hotel. Bars are scary, but being the only option gave me the excuse to eat bad food—cheese fries—and a salad to make up for my carb & protein travel diet. Cheese fries are yummy. I'll go back for that.

I'm updated... Can I go to bed now? (2:00 am).

Andrew and I are leaving for Convergence 10 in Chicago tomorrow, which makes tonight my real deadline for getting updated—just in time to fall behind again due to the weekend. Yay!

It's a strange feeling when you realize that it's only Friday for you.

Dying your hair red is the most fun, since you get to stage a murder scene in your shower!

It's time to dye my hair to match Neiko's.

Bellevue is not Seattle! Neither is Redmond or Woodinville or Bothell. We all know this, right?

Take a look at this company then. Their Mountain View office is on Mountain View, California. Their Rochester office is in Rochester, New York. Their Sydney office is in Australlia, right where it belongs. Their Seattle office is in... Bellevue! I wonder if any other cities have this kind of identity crisis.

(Oh yeah, the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, as in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, is in Kittery, Maine.)