geekcore.net

I saw i ♥ huckabees this weekend. I’m really unsure of what I think of it’s methods in describing existentialism. (yes, it’s just a movie, I know) But my whole thing is, I’m confused about what the blanket was about. Existentialism kind of says that we’re all alone in the world. We exist on our own separate of everyone else, right? We are responsible for our actions, etc. BUT, the blanket in the movie represented how we’re all connected and I’m you and you’re me and we’re all the same. A turd is the same as a marshmallow peep. So am I just thinking in terms of nihilistic existentialism – and being all alone and sad and in such a shitty world – or what?

I really liked when Naomi Watts said “fuckabees,” though. Best line ever.

I reject existence.

I’ve noticed that I’ve been getting a lot of hits from people searching for “hippies.” I find this odd because hippies was not even a word that I’d posted on this resurection of geekcore.net. It had been the title of my “hiatus” page, but that’s all. Now I’ve got kids from Norway and France looking to me to teach them about those damn dirty hippies. Well, kids, I know jack about hippies, save what I learned on TV. In 8th grade I wore bellbottoms with flower patches, but that’s about as close as I come. Sorry, folks, no hackey sacks here.

This is my very first blog…ever. I found this picture and thought it was worth posting. This was an actual game and believe it or not we didn’t start trading letters with each other until the very end. My sister, step-sis, todd, and I were the only people playing. My sister started with “pea” in the middle and I actually had all of the letters to make “semen” with the letters I got from my first pick. (The “y” was added later). What luck! (This was on Thanksgiving). Every game is more fun when you put “dirty” in front of it.
(Some of the words are random because people didn’t have dirty ones. And I do not think that Jews are dirty.)

Yesterday I bound my very first book. It was ugly but functional, sewn Japanese style and covered with a manila envelope & card stock. Basically, I just wanted to know if I would be able to do it, and I can. Hopefully I’ll turn out some ghetto style journals soon and might even post pictures.

Since when has American Culture provided for a practical use of body modification? I mean, no one really needs a septum piercing, forked tongue, or lace up bustier piercings down their back. But now, now we’re being offered pierced glasses. Someone, a professional I hope, will pierce the bridge of your nose, attach some fancy brackets, and screw glasses to them. Honestly, as I sit here adjusting my glasses, hoping that my ears don’t start hurting soon, I wonder if having them surgically attached to my face is the answer. Or maybe I should just get contacts. Or Lasik. Yeah, Lasik would be nice. Brackets, not so much.

No, really, all that information and such tiny tiny little text. I really hate it. It makes my brain swell. Oh lord, the internet gave me Encephalitis.

I’ve been looking for contact information on Ph.D. Alumni of the UGA Department of Romance Languages (all the way back to 1968!) for hours. My eyes have gone crossed and my brain feels like pancake batter. I would much rather be looking for a cover for my mp3 player. Why doesn’t Creative Labs make covers for the Zen Xtra? Bastards. There’s no reason why the iPoop has so many neat looking cases and mine doesn’t.

Anyway, I’ve decided to take up a new hobby. I’m going to try and learn to bind my own books so that I can make my own sketch books. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ll make you one, too.

Dear World,

The Vagina Monologues are not cool. They weren’t that cool 5 years ago. No one cares.

Lindsey and I definitely consider ourselves more boob girls than vagina girls, which is not to say that I am, or ever have been, ashamed or embarrassed of my vagina… I just think it’s rather trite and somewhat boring to refer to it as your “flower,” opening and closing, opening and closing, opening and closing. Seriously, maybe you should throw up an “out to lunch” sign and let that thing air out.

Love Always,
HollyAnne

Well, I think gmail is lame, and I’d rather d/l my mail. . . but I have like 2309482938 gmail invites. If you want one, let me know. I’m passing them out like pills.

While I’m waiting at my desk for Patrick to come and pick me up, I might as well post something interesting.

Yesterday, at work, Lindsey tried to show me her boobs. More than once.

Now THAT’S interesting.

I should leave. It’s after 5 and people see me sitting here and assume that I am still working. Well, guess what, bitches. I’M OUT!

I hope everyone had a Super Happy Valentines day. Mine was celebrated early, on Sunday, with Patrick. We saw the movie “Hide and Seek,” which was just really, really stupid, and cooked a nice dinner together at home with the cats & dogs.

On Friday after work Patrick and I were stuck in the turning lane next to a car with a very “gangsta” looking character. I could tell he was having a good time in his car with his girl because he starting doing that dance move that simulates smacking the ass of the one you’re with. You know what I’m talking about, right? Anyway, I started giggling and the girl in the passenger’s seat noticed. She starting laughing too and pointed me out. I was busted. So I threw down a white girl peace sign and turned away. But then!!! The dude opened his door and leaned out. So I was like “What’s up?” and then the conversation went like this:
him: “we havin’ fun!”
me: “I can tell. We’re having fun too.”
him: “where ya’ll goin’?”
me: “we’re about to get some dinner. wanna come?”
him: “heck yeah! were ya’ll goin’?”"
me: “chili’s, around the corner.”
him: “where’s that at? we gonna follow ya’ll.”
me: “okay! see you there!”
but they didn’t follow us and we did not make any gangsta friends. Dinner was not as fun as it could have been.