my worst fears realized

So, by now it should be apparent that I have some pretty irrational fears. Fear of swallowing a spider in my sleep, fear of drowning in the ball pool at Chuckie Cheese (or IKEA), fear of waking up to find I've been transformed into a giant cockroach (see Gregor Samsa via Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis"). But my most gruesome of attainable fears was realized last night when the cottony swab of my Q-Tip dismounted its plastic shaft and became lodged in the primary opening of my right-side hearing device. 

It's the closest I've come to fainting, outside of those two times I actually fainted. 

Just like that, I was made deaf and left staring at the stripped, blunt end of my now, half-naked, Q-Tip. Immediately, my head began to swim with long-lost fragments of ill-composed Biology notes and questions I could not answer: What will happen if I can't get it out? Will it eventually reach my brain? Where the hell is my Semi-Lunar Canal and shouldn't it prevent this sort of thing from happening?!

For a bit, I even had a brief spell where in mental time-lapse I witness the stinking, rotting decay of the cotton swab within my inner ear where it would remain trapped until being eaten by scavenger ear creatures. It's hard to relate clearly what happened next.  Something took over. I must have (with head leaned drastically to the right) unearthed a tweezer and went to work on the matter with little regard for decency. When I awoke I was sitting on the bathroom floor tearing with nervous excitement, examining the surprisingly clean white devil. 

 

Needless to say, I decided to forgo cleaning my left ear. 

let's get up to speed, shall we?

So, I start blogging in 2005 not because I had anything particularly important to say, but mainly because it was easier to write it somewhere and have other people read it than it was to force people to listen to me in social settings. The blog was on Myspace, which was fine, but since I have long outgrown the joy of endangering myself for social gains, I have upgraded to Blogger (Yes, I think it's classy too.)

But don't be concerned, you can put a homeless man in Louis Vitton and he'll still dig up french fries from a trash can. I say that to say that even housed within the more elegant Blogger solution the quality of my writing is not likely to improve. It may -since you brought it up- decline under the pressure.

Anyway, I'm about to post a number of blogs previously posted on Myspace just so that I can catch you up on all the useless thoughts I have been thinking. They will look like as if no one has read them, which is true, but know that they were from a time and place forgotten and that starting from this post, the madness begins again. Just think of all the dumb things yet to be writ.


O.K. I think that's all from me. Happy reading.

Love,
Your mostly melancholic observer of life, Nita.

some misguided efforts for 2008

Happy 8th Day of the New Year!

I can celebrate it, right? Of course I can. Because yes, while you all were toasting and boozing and apologizing to your significant others for making googly eyes at half-clad strangers, I rang in this New Year's with a shot of Amoxocilin and a case of influenza.

Shut up. I had a great time.

In fact, I woke up with 14 minutes to midnight, which turned out to be just long enough to suffer through another Fergie performance of "Big Girls Don't Cry." Needless to say, I was too weak to kill myself.

Then finally the ball dropped and I, with a chain-smoker's hack drug myself through a verse of Auld Lang Syne, wished the television a blessed New Year and went back to bed. But in my feverish sleep I drew the inspiration for this blog. (Hold on, I'll get to the point shortly).

As I laid in bed taking in the sounds of the South Minneapolis area I live in, sounds of police sirens and crackwhores, it was then that I decided: This new year, I'm not going to make useless resolutions for myself. No, I'm going to help others. I'm going to invent well-meaning, but misguided non-profit organizations to help inner city folk, such as the ones setting off car alarms outside my apartment building. So, I went to work on a mental list to save the world/projects. Here's what my deteriorated mind produced:

Shanita's Well Meaning But Horribly Misguided Inner-City Community Building Non-Profit Agencies for 2008:

1. Hug-A-Thug-Everybody (HATE) – Because everyone needs a little love sometimes.

Sometimes you just need to be reminded that not everyone despises you and wants you to move out of their neighborhood and stop endangering the livelihood of their children and businesses.

2. Educated Broke Folk Forever (EBFF) – Together, we can take the "Ho" out of "Homelessness."

Just because you're unsuccessful, doesn't mean you need to turn to the streets.There are lots of unsuccessful people who, because of their expensive education, feel great about themselves and their inability to make ends meet.

3. Illegal Operations Made Possible (IOMP) – You call it, "organized crime" we call it "business management."

In every gang-banger and drug dealer there's a waiting entrepreneur! With proper skills in asset/liability management, bookkeeping and fiscal responsibility there are no ends to where you can end up! (Including, but not limited to a maximum-security prison.)

4. Natural Inventions in Growing Great Agricultural Shit (NIIGGAS) – Helping you grow only the finest hemp under the pretext of medical research since just now.
Start up is easy. We work with what you already have. Transform your hoopty into a fully staffed mobile opium den! They say "You can't!" we say "You CAN(nabis)!" Financial freedom is spelled, W-E-E-D.

Two other potential organizations that didn't get properly thought through were Mothers Of Fundamentally Underachieving Kids w/o ADD (MOFUKA) a group that allows you to blame society for your children and (SHIIT) or Sex Has Its Inherent Troubles, a support group for folk who can't find they baby daddy.

So, there's the list folks. It is unlikely that Oprah will sponsor me. But then again I'm holding out for Dave Chappelle.

Donations?

a semi-comphrensive list of inconveient places to stand

While I don't typically consider myself to be a reliable source of guidance, I do over time tend to collect bits of unrelated information that occasionally when mingled with boredom result in a revelation worth sharing. This is not one of those revelations. This is a blog about nothing.

It has come to my attention recently that humans regardless of intellectual education or upbringing frequently find themselves loitering (or standing and blinking) in locations that would be ideal for such behavior were it not for the fact that it is also required to facilitate needs others. Initially, this blog would have been titled, "A Comprehensive List of Inconvenient Places to Stand and Think" but it was concluded that were these individuals thinking they would have found better places to stand.

So, that said, I have taken it upon myself to begin the process of putting together a collection of places for the wandering to avoid. But ridding the world (or at least your world) of these nuisances is not a task for one person. Therefore, should you come across an offender, or discover a new and equally inconvenient location for offenders to congregate, please feel free to add it to this list then immediately fasten a copy of the list to the offender's forehead. Use double-side tape or poster putty.

And now on to the list...

1) In between your shopping cart and the opposing wall of cake frosting.
I would go to the right but your cart is there, I would go to the left but there you are. Listen, lady, it's you or the peanut butter. Choose wisely.

2) Casually, with your back to the ATM machine.
You're obviously here to try and steal my pin number so stop trying to look like you didn't see the cash machine sitting there. Take fifteen paces to your left and turn yourself in to the proper officials.

3) At the BOTTOM of an in-service escalator.
The escalator hasn't stalled, why have you? See that line of men, women and children spilling off to the left and right of you as you search through your purse? Yeah, they all want your head on a spike.

4) At the TOP of an in-service escalator.
See 3.

5) In an unoccupied parking space outside of the bank.
Wow, I wouldn't have had to park all the way over here by this tree if you hadn't been laughing on your cell phone in the vacant space right next to the bank door. Creep.

6) Immediately outside of a public washroom.
Did you pee and then forget where you were going? Keep moving, I will hit you with the door.

7) Sitting on top of / standing in front of someone else's washing machine / dryer.
Since you're in a public laundry, am I wrong to assume that you have your OWN machine to be sitting on or blinking in front of? Go away.

8) With your back to the Light Rail train door.
There's only a limited amount of time to enter the car before the automatic doors close and no one can get in when your fat head is blocking the entrance.
....

So, now that I have gotten the proverbial ball rolling, I encourage you to go, identify and violently purge such offenders from the face of the earth. Or if you are the offender, go lie down since this has probably been a lot for you to read and you may not fully understand what's going on yet.

Lastly, keep in mind that I am indeed a fan of senseless lollygagging but only when it doesn't come at the expense of others. Or really just me.

Alas, farewell and happy non-intrusive loitering.

gay and from utah

So, as I often do, I am using myspace as a means of communicating with the world at large. Is the world listening? Of course you're not. I do this strictly to make myself feel valued. This and the medications. I digress.

This blog goes out to a dear and personal friend of mine, Matt Something-Something. I met Matt Something...oh... say five days ago? Yes, we were friends from Spokane WA, to Denver CO, on my return flight after New Years. Best friends for two hours and six minutes plus turbulance.

Matt held my hand figuratively (and literally) through take off since I at the time was convinced I was going to die. But aside from displaying life saving techniques, helping me find my seat adjustment button, and showing me how to activate my seat to be a floatation device (in the event of a water landing) Matt was also a hilarious and charming seat-mate who entertained me and calmed much for my fear and for that I am grateful.

So grateful, I misplaced the paper he gave me with his myspace address. Hence why this blog goes out to "Gay-And-From-Utah" (which is how Matt described himself).

Therefore, if you have seen Matt, or know Matt, or perhaps ARE Matt and haven't realized yet that I am talknig about you, DROP ME A LINE. Thanks for letting me hide my face in your arm during take off and I hope you had an awesome time protesting sexual discrimination in uptight colleges and universities. Hope we meet up on a boeing 433 somewhere again.

Cheers.

Ps. Have you seen my Chapstick? Thanks.

i changed my status

Yes, that's right. I did it. I had to. There was little other way to let the world know that I was starting a new page, turning a new leaf. After all, in today's semi-voyeuristic social networking cult that I like to call "life," how else would the waiting public know that "oh-girl" broke up with "what's-his-dick?" That "Rudeboi999" is now practicing a form of religion known only as "Other," that "Hotstuff00" is confused about his/her/its gender again? Or more commonly that "you-know-who" is really a closet alcoholic so she really just needs to click Yes and get it over with because everyone already knows she's in rehab again? It's obvious, we all know that the truth lies in the Status.

Therefore, as is necessary when announcing any major life change or reconstructive gender operation to your closest 1,875 friends, I, Shanita "McNita" John, have changed my Status. I have change Myspace Education Status from "In College" to "College Graduate." Yes, I have changed Graduated In from "N/A" to "2006." And then finally, I have changed my STD Status to Chlamydia, just to keep people guessing.

I kid.

But for the first two status changes I am genuine. Even though it hasn't sunk in yet, I have indeed graduated from the Minneapolis College of Art & Design. The ceremony was on December 15 in the Year of Our Lord 2006. By the way, is it still the Year of Our Lord? I don't have a problem with this, I just could have sworn it was the Year of Our Lord last year and at least in 1997 too. Just checking.

So what does this mean for the future? Well, for the immediate future, it means that I'm going to continue to sit here in my pajamas and Santa hat eating mushy Cocoa Puffs dribbling Soy milk onto my shirt wondering if we had another time change no one told me about because I just woke up and it's after 1:00PM. (I digress, do we ever move time forward more than an hour? Say by 3 or 4 hours? No? Ok.)

But for the "future-future," it means that I will cherish my accomplishments, fondly recall my experiences, embrace my new horizons, and heed the words of Bill Rude my rockin rockabilly commencement speaker (throws up horns) and "Don't Stop Believin'."

It means I will climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every—wait. I have to go Spongebob just came on.

to the owner of the toned and tanned midsection

Two days ago I shamed my gender and myself and now I am determined to set the wrong right. While running errands in St. Louis Park I accidentally stared down a perfectly tanned shirtless young man walking down the sidewalk. Normally, I try to control these sorts of things, but this time, I was overcome. I stared and I knew he saw me but I could not turn my head. THEN, to make matters worse, about ten minutes later while dropping off some criminally overdue books at the St. Louis Park public library I ran into the SAME extremely tanned mid section a little later in his journey and again, this time with jaw dropped, I stared! Dammit!

Now, I have taken it upon myself as my solemn duty to apologize to this young man. Since I do not know his name, and remembering his face would be like trying to identify a gnat in a sandstorm, I have turned to Myspace as the appropriate vehicle to share my regret. So here goes my apology to the Owner of the painfully toned and perfectly tanned middle section:

Dear Tanned Mid Section,

Two days ago while you were talking down Minnetonka blvd, minding your own business carrying a gallon bottle of water, your white cotton shirt draped over your broad shoulders, I brazenly sexually harassed you with my prolonged disbelieving stares. For this I am very sorry. If this is working correctly, you should be receiving the subliminal message I am sending you, learned from the book, How to Send Subliminal Messages in Text. Meet me by the tennis courts. Ill bring the satchel of raw Chamomile, you bring the pitcher of scalding water and the Geoffrey Chaucer.

Furthermore, I would like to state that I am a totally opposed to the objectification of men in general and believe that it is your right to be able to walk down a suburban boulevard in whatever state of undress you please without the piercing eyes of ill mannered strangers.

Secondly, while I too think it was strange (and by strange I mean destiny) that we ran into each other again so quickly, I must state firmly that I was NOT following you. Though in the brief moments when our paths first crossed I did consider swerving off the road and crashing into a nearby light pole in hopes that you would come to my rescue, to follow you would have been absolutely reckless and irresponsible and I want you to be confident that at no point did I consider it.

Lastly, as a punishment for treating your firm bronzed torso as a packaged piece of dark meat based to perfection, I have placed myself on a strict diet of nuts and berries until I have curbed my carnal cravings.

Please forgive me. It is my earnest hope that your day wasnt ruined by thoughts of stalking and unwanted sexual advances.

With deepest humiliation,

The girl driving the green Dodge Intrepid with the missing hubcaps on the right side.