I break bones and laugh.

So my mother called the other day--something about how Squirt, the rat terrorist terrier, had killed a rat and it was inside my mom's house and could I retrieve it, plzkthnx? I think, Ick. But I trudged up there, because that's my specialty at the property--doing the stuff no one else does.

So I get up there and my mom's like, "It's still alive LOL." It's all lying there in my mom's office and she's got the baby gate up so the dogs won't go in there. I watch it for a few minutes and it's moving but barely. So we decide that my mom, being a big fraidy, will hole up in her bedroom with the Boston terrier and um, the rat terrier will continue to run around outside and ignore us. I will pick the rat up with the shovel and somehow take it outside and down a fifteen-step staircase. I dunno, I wasn't thinking about the particulars.

So my mom holes up and I grab the shovel. No sooner do I lower the shovel over the baby gate than I note that the rat is, how do we say, not there? In fact, it is halfway through a hole in the baby gate. It shot out of the hole and...what followed I will illustrate with (mostly) macros.

( Image heavy obvs. )

Then it ran underneath a...thingy (free-standing storage unit dealie) and we haven't seen it since.

Also in there I had this conversation:

My mom: Blah blah, gopher...
Me: It's a rat.
My mom: No, it's a gopher.
Me: It's a rat. A gopher is an entirely different animal.
My mom: Then what's a gopher?
Me: You know, like in Caddyshack?
My mom: No, that's a mole.

It's a gopher!

Aw, writing this made me wish I were at home.

Blah blah, the CW is screwing Veronica Mars fans by putting the Pussycat Dolls reality show on in its place in March. Yeah, like I'm surprised.

But also: "In development: 'Gossip Girl,' based on the bestselling books about rich New York teens, from Josh Schwartz, creator of 'The O.C.'"

!!!

I am also interested in the new Kevin Williamson series.

If you visit my hiptop blog, you can see pictures of my boyfriend's new ladyfriend. Her name is Dixie and we picked her out yesterday at the Humane Society. That was hard--when we were walking in, I was like, "I'll take one of everything!" The Prom King is actually the second person to adopt her--the first family adopted her, tried crate-training her (never mind that she was really too young for that), and returned her the next day because she cried all night. Those people? Suck.

Is it Kal Penn week on TV? First he's on 24, in a completely pointless storyline and tonight, on SVU. And can we go back to 24 for a sec? Are they trying to win the coveted "I'm So Sure" award? The President ordered an airstrike on a random house in like, El Segundo? I'm so sure.

Also on the "I'm So Sure" radar: A&E, CSI: Miami and The Sopranos are miles apart in quality so plz quit trying to advertise them together. Yes, they're both on your network in syndication. That's all they have in common. Besides zooby's deep and abiding balls-deep love for balls.

Earlier this evening, I watched the Takashi Miike episode of Masters of Horror, called "Imprint." For those of you who don't know MoH, it's a Showtime program and here's part of the description from wiki: "The show follows an anthology format, with each one-hour episode featuring a short film directed by a well-known horror film director. Since the show airs on a premium cable network, it routinely features more extreme levels of violence, nudity, and profanity than that of a typical television program." Speaking of extreme...Takashi Miike! For those of you who don't know that magnificent bastard, here is a quote I found that sums him up well:

"For the uninitiated, let's just say the guy is arguably the most 'extreme' film maker on the planet. And by 'extreme' I mean, 'Holy Fucking Shit What The Fuck Am I Fucking Watching I Need A Shower And Then Maybe Church' extreme film making."

So..."Imprint." Famously not shown on Masters on Horror after Showtime refused to air it--although really...what were they thinking? What kind of program did they expect Miike to deliver?

And how was it? Uneven but good. The acting quality is wildly varied, for one--Michie is good but Billy Drago is so over the top that it's comical. And this has nothing to do with "Imprint" but I had no idea he was Darren E. Burrows's dad. Bottom line: I liked it but this is definitely not something I'd recommend to just everyone. The torture scene was even worse than ===SPOILER SPOILER=== Odishon's "kiri kiri kiri" scene,===END SPOILER=== during which I had to leave the room.

I went for a job interview Sunday and that was a bit odd. First of all, I've never had a job interview on a Sunday. Second, the people I met with were nice and I'm sure if everything was ready, they'd be lovely to work with but...their spa isn't built. Construction hasn't even started. They're not expecting to open until March and I need a job before then. I told them I'd meet with them again next Sunday but I'm going to email and politely cancel. And then contact two new leads.

Right now? Degrassi, oh hells yes.

New Year's Resolutions:

1) I will no longer defend things I like. If people want to know why I like something, I'll tell them, even if the answer is as simple as "I just do." But people who want to get all up in my face, all "You actually like jazz music/horror movies/Gloomy Bear/my mom's balls?!!!" can actually like, let the door hit 'em. Save the outrage for something that matters.

2) I will stop torturing myself, whether it is regarding food, career choices, or some dumb shit I said to someone ten years ago. Let it go, Salome.

3) This year I will be fearless as much as possible. If only so my Yoda doesn't have to be gold all the time.

4) I'm going to get the two necklaces I've been wanting. And that thing for monooka.

And that's that. I hope you are all well. I am fine. I spent the weekend at my boyfriend's house, mostly waiting for Knology to show up. Knology fun:

4-6pm: The time they were supposed to arrive. The Prom King came home early from work to wait for them.
5:30pm: I arrive.
6pm: Call Knology, are told that there's an outage and that they'll be there within an hour and a half.
8pm: Call Knology, are told they'll be there in an hour and a half. Leave to get food since we're starving.
8:10, give or take: Return home.
9pm: Call Knology, are told they've already been to the house. Find a not filled out form from them on the front door. Complain that they could only have been there during a ten-minute window in which we were told not to expect them. Are told that we can reschedule for 19 January. Unacceptable! Are told to call back in the morning.

Saturday morning:

8ish: Call Knology, they say that they'll get someone in the area to come over as soon as possible. The Prom King leaves to go to the post office to pick up his Christmas present for me, which has finally arrived from Japan and apparently requires in-person delivery. The post office is closed. !!! I put on Cannibal Holocaust, intending to watch while the Prom King is gone.
9:30ish: Guy shows up and installs new cable line. Doesn't have high definition box, though, since he wasn't supposed to work at the King's house that day. He tells us that they can install one within the week. We watch Cannibal Holocaust (see below) and take showers.
12pm: Call Knology, are told they are sold out of high definition boxes. The Prom King asks what happened to the one that was supposed to be installed the night before and is given no real answer.
12:05pm: I urge him to call back. He does and is told that there is no lack of high-def boxes. The customer service rep arranges for another local tech to come by and install it. We wait.
3pm: The other local tech shows up and installs the high-def box. After only 23 hours, the Prom King has the service he ordered.

rockgeisha and her boyfriend watch Cannibal Holocaust: A play in one act.

Salome:
Prom King:
Salome: Sweetheart, you really don't have to watch this.
Prom King: I can't look away!

So I didn't get the job I was hoping for. Oh, well.

But I did get my Sidekick! I am pleased to introduce Thor. His number is 251.229.0301--I don't know why I got a number with a Mobile area code (read: way at the other end of the state) but it's cool. I love it so much!

You can read my hiplog here.

I had a minor freakout this weekend about leaving my job but now I feel good about it again. Like I said before, I will. I will do whatever I want to do. I am not afraid anymore.

I talked to my boyfriend about San Francisco. I told him that I knew he could't move there atm--just bought a house--and if he wanted to break up with me, I understood but it's something I need to do, even if only for a little while. Surprisingly, he was okay with this. I mean, he'll feel how he feels obvs but he didn't want to break up.

I feel a tinge of shame, as if I should feel guilty about this, as if I'm being selfish. But then I think, I haven't been selfish enough. For too long, I've been thinking, I can't do this because I have to do that, or Who will do that if I leave to do this? and...enough. I must live my life, if only because there is no one else to do it for me.

Now that sounds a little too dramatic so let's lighten up, shall we? I am basking in the glory of not having to do anything for a short time, as I'm sure I'll have plenty to do shortly--if I don't find a regular massage job within two weeks, I'm taking the first dumb job that comes along. Today I'm:

*relaxing with my beloved City Confidential (please repeat the Knoxville episode soon!), *thinking about making cookies--have to do something with this bag of Nestle Chocolatier dark chocolate chunks...pumpkin chocolate chip?
*job-hunting


*Feeling okay. Okay?

I was reading jambands.com's "Look Back at 2006," wherein they interview various musicians about the year, when I read a quote so amazing that I experienced a feeling akin to schadenfreude but more like schadenfreude plus waffles. Asked what he remembers most about 2006, New Riders of the Purple Sage's Buddy Cage reports:

"RatDog at Radio City Music Hall, 'co-headlining' (that's a fucking howl!) with the String Cheese Incident. If I were in SCI and had to 'share the stage' (yet another bullshit, self-serving euphemism) with a band so clearly more talented, I would throw up in utter humiliation after hearing Weir's performance and try to reshape my future plans in the music business. RatDog simply blew them out of the fucking state of New York that evening. The skills that Weir has hammered out in all the years with the Dead are manifest in that. If there's a phoenix that can rise out of the Grateful Dead experience it would be RatDog. Even the SCI fans were cavorting around the theater in facsimile fashion, as in Emperor's New Clothes, pretending SCI was the real thing when the whole sorry scene came off as some usurpers to the Grateful Dead working on the fantasy that if you 'do the moves' the talent will follow. Wretched. Just because you've missed a couple decades of insanely fine music; maybe you felt you were born too late; could be you feel cheated and intend to embrace your own version of 'groove' regardless of the vacuousness of said groove; chances are you need to create your own scene (cause ya wanna). None of the above excuses you from putting up with less – get it together, do the work, the research. And boogie on! Go for the quality."

I think my heart just grew three sizes larger. And...cosigned!

Or, Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends.

During a scintillating conversation last night, I realized that after a few years of having aspects of my life--for example: my appearance, personality, sex life--discussed by strangers on the internets...I fold.

During my Some Band hiatus, I tried to fill the SB-shaped hole with Fall Out Boy. It didn't work so well--no matter how I wired it together, I could never get it to fire at the right time. But anyway, they have a song called "Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued," which is about fame and fans and things like that. Last night, I was thinking about that song. Specifically, the line that goes, "We're only good 'cause you can have almost famous friends." I realized that a) I don't want to feel like that about my friends ever and b) hey, they are my friends and as such, I don't want to be a bridge to them for people who may not have the best intentions. In addition, as you can probably tell from the first paragraph, I'm a bit tired of having my life be picked apart for crumbs about them. I've become fascinated lately by the whole Scene Queens thing, because I'm curious about the scene thing as a whole and I'd just like to say...when you freak out, I understand, Scene Queens, I understand. At first, I think, they seek out the attention because few among us don't like attention. But the more people that pay attention, the more intense it gets and then it becomes intrusive and weird and the next thing you know, strangers on the internet are discussing how they can see your extension tracks or in my case, whether my relationship ended because I was "arrogant."

So from now on, I'm actually, no kiddin', no takebacks, for serious abstaining from public references to them in this journal. I know I've mostly done that anyway but there will no coded entries, no cutesy nicknames for you to figure out, lalalala.

I know this is all very drama llama but fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. I'm just trying to be a better friend and if the end result is lowered site visits, then oh noes--I don't care.

P.S.: My personal favorite.

My boyfriend, who is totally awesome, has lent me his laptop so that I may continue to internet uninterrupted while Compy is in the hospital. Suspecting that the issue was Compy's power supply, I replaced it myself, but the problem continued and thus, Comps is off to the infirmary tomorrow.

Anyway, I'm going to do the stuff I've been unable to do, like update at Boobtube and write my paean to Some Band but first I'm going to watch Dexter on sho.com because oh my God, this laptop is so fast.

So in closing, w00t!

Okay, so I mentioned the other day that I was working on a new blog and here it is: Boob Tube. What is it? Funny you should ask. It's a blog about television, specifically featuring show recaps, bits about commercials, and anything else telly-related we want to post. It's in its natal stages right now and we're still working out the kinks--that header is totally temporary, for one thing and you can make one for us if you'd like (PM me for details!)--but I'm quite proud of our work so far.

So there you have it. Boob Tube: Mean Girls, Idiot Box.

EDIT: And now you can go here to add the feed to your lj friends page! Hooray, pie for everyone!