Half Baked and Half Naked

Archive for October 2007

Today is Halloween, yay! Last night I spent a few hours carving some of the four pumpkins the Hot Boyfriend and I acquired the other night. One of these pumpkins could definitely fool you into thinking it was carved by a five year olds hand – but it was me, trying to get the damn carving done already.

Another of the lovely pumpkins I carved was actually difficult, and left me in carpal tunnel hell. Kamy got a stencil from my auntie, and not just some vague pattern for a stencil either. It was a female vampire; slightly cartoon-ish, with many small lines and angles. After toying with the damn thing for well over an hour (yes, for ONE pumpkin), I was finished – and viola! I had me a bona-fide jack-o-lantern. You can even tell it is a female vampire thing. Kind of. Ok, maybe a little less than I can brag about, but I am proud of my handiwork, dammit, and I will not let you tell me otherwise.

Unfortunately, I have no camera due to the terrible “boyfriend” incident of ’06, else I would have some pictures for you now. Tomorrow I will have pictures, and will post them, I promise. Until then, make sure to have a good Halloween, and don’t be a jack ass and hand out raisins or fruit, hand out the good stuff when those little begging shit fuckers come to your door – you don’t have to worry about their teeth, their parents do.

Oh yeah, and keep an eye out for the Great Pumpkin!






It is a sad, sad day.


I think it is funny how certain songs can take you back to places you haven’t been in years. I started getting into music at a very early age; my parents said I used to be so enthralled with watching MTV at the ripe old age of 3, that I would get mad if they changed the station. My father instilled the need to listen to various styles and genres of music, and to always have an open mind when listening for the first time.

The 80’s were definitely not what I would call “ground breaking” for music. Hair metal and electric pop music blasted the airwaves, while I sat with my older cousin Jennifer; stopping, rewinding, and listening over and over to our Depeche Mode tapes to copy the lyrics down, because they weren’t on tape cover/insert.

Some songs do stick out to me as being kind of sweet love songs; “Power Ballads” if you must; Skid Row, Poison, Gun’s ‘n Roses all had them and I would like to share with you now some of my not-so-guilty-pleasures. I have so many distinct memories that accompany some of these songs. It makes me sad that the artists who performed these songs are now on Reality tv, looking for love or doing some “Surreal Life” crap.Then again, the eighties were crazy, and most of these guys pissed away all their money on hookers and blow . . .





Skid Row – Sebastian Bach before the lame “Celebrity Rap Superstar” bull ish MTV suckered him into . . . damn he is fine.


Axl shows his softer side in this sweet love song . . .




Brett, that sexy man, before he had to go on Reality TV to find a woman.






Oops, how did that last one get in there?

You Know You LOVE the NKOTB,



In all honesty, I hate working. I hate that I have to get up every day and go to a place where most of the people are awesome, but just enough of them are cock-sucking bastards who make me want to shave my head with a rusty spoon just to ease the pain of listening to them talk.

I hate the admin assistant with the heavy accent that thinks she is god’s gift to the world; she isn’t. As a matter of fact, she is quite the BITCH. No, I will not order you that “special” cell phone because you used to have one like it and it is pretty and you like pink. Take the free phone and deal with it, whore. I hate the finance person who won’t pay the fucking invoices because she feels that she “needs more backup” even though she has all the backup for the invoice there could possibly be. It isn’t your money bitch, pay the fucking bill before our email service gets cancelled and you are complaining that you can’t harass people via their inboxes anymore. I hate the VP of a certain division; the one who tells me one day that he wants no one to have a Blackberry, then the next day orders himself the most expensive Blackberry they make. Yeah dude, stop talking like you own the company, you are just another piss on like the rest of us – only you get to show up to the office whenever you want because you “work from home” ::wink wink:: I hate the guy in the “Art” department; the one who wanted a $3500 laptop, but was denied, so he found a reason for someone else to get that exact same model, then proceeded to keep it when that employee left the company a month later. That’s right, because you get to take whatever you want since you are sucking off the head honcho in that office. You are right dude, who the hell am I to request that you send back the company property – what balls I have!

I know that there will never be a time when I am happy with my job, unless I am my own boss, but I am killing myself just trying to play nice to so many people right now. I hate that I have no authority – I take that back; I hate that I am told I have authority and then told I can never make a decision. I am tired of having to suck it up when my boss says that admin assistant called nearly in tears because she wanted the pink phone not the blue one, and how could she function knowing that the color of her phone was not what she originally demanded? So now, if I want something I just have to cry?

I called in sick yesterday, not because I was ill; because I was not motivated in the least to show up. Every day is a constant struggle for me to keep myself entertained. What normally seem like “big” projects for other people, are mundane tasks that I complete with great ease. I know if I wanted to I could find another job that might be more challenging, but if I do that, I lose the security of knowing I have good benefits, and probably will have to work farther from home – which I will not do again.

Up until the beginning of this year, I drove about 35 miles to and from work, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but when you live in California, a trip to the local grocery store can be a thirty minute drive. Daily, I spent at least 4 hours in my car, sitting in gridlock. I hated it, and vowed when I got this job, so close to home and against traffic both ways, that I would never commute that far again unless I was being paid at least 100k. Yeah, that won’t be happening soon . . .

At least I have good things to look forward to this week; tonight my Hot Boyfriend and I are carving the four pumpkins we procured last night, with Kamy. Then tomorrow is Trick-or-Treating for as long as her little legs can handle it, followed by Joe Rogan on Thursday with Lush. Friday will probably be spent drinking beer with said Hot Boyfriend, and hopefully being able to remember what I do that night. If I have something to look forward to, the time seems to pass a little faster – not much, but a little.

Counting the minutes until Friday at 6pm,


Happy Birthday to my Hot Boyfriend!

Can’t wait to shower you with kisses and gifts!



On a daily basis, I am subjected to hearing my mother freak out over how crappy other people drive and park. Today though, was an even more dramatic display of her distaste. When dropping of Kamy for kindergarten, there are always lines of cars in the kindergarten drop off area – some with parents inside, and others empty from parents leaving to walk their kids to class. Apparently, my mother was not happy with the way one of the other vehicles was “blocking” the driveway, and when I got out of the car to take Kamy up to class, my mom got out of her car to yell at the driver of the other car. 

I am walking back towards our car from the classroom, and I can hear my mother yelling about how she (the other driver) is “inconveniencing” other parents, and it is a red curb and she needs to move her car. I am not the only one who hears this; there are many other parents around, all making comments about how crazy these two people are to be arguing at 8:45am. I walk head down, back to our car (which is also parked in the red, so my mom can “prove a point”), completely mortified. 

The other woman called my mother a bitch, which isn’t exactly far from the truth, but my mother (being the person who ALWAYS has to get the last word or be right no matter how wrong she is), proceeds to “one-up” this woman and call her a whore. Then she spelled it out for her, just in case the girl was dyslexic and didn’t already know for sure. Some other words were said, and the next thing I know, my mother is yelling “Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it?” At this point I decide it is probably better for me to collect my mother and leave before they actually throw blows. 

I walk over to them, and proceed to tell my mother just to let it go and leave already, and she has to prove her point to the woman and to me, by yelling about how I don’t need to shut her up she can say whatever she wants, and then some more about the terrible injustice that is someone parking their car

 The other participant is now using the excuse that calling someone a whore in front of a school is such a good example for the kids. Yeah, because her using the word ‘”bitch” is really so much better, right. My mom goes on and on, and when I finally get her to walk away, I look at the other woman, mouth “I’m sorry” and get back in the car. 

My mom decides then that it is a good time to drive like a maniac down the street to prove whatever point she thinks she is proving. Apparently, I am wrong for intervening in her little exchange with this stranger, because the next thing I know, she is yelling at me that I have no right to be upset. 

The point I was trying to make to my mother; that just because she feels that someone is not doing something right (by her standards); it doesn’t mean she needs to go get in their face about it. It isn’t her job to play the parking enforcer at Kamy’s school, they have teachers designated to patrol that area of the parking lot. I then told her that if it bothers her so much, she should call the school and complain, rather than start drama. I am also wrong on this, as she so quickly pointed out to me, since the other lady was the one who got angry, not my mother. Oh yeah, and it is always better to take things into your own hands then to give the authorities the opportunity to fix the problem. 

Yeah, because my mom calling that lady a whore and then spelling it out for her is not instigation, it is solving the problem (at least it is in her head). How dare I not take my mothers side? But then again, she always feels that everyone blames everything on her, even when she does nothing wrong, like today. Because apparently, me and my rational thinking are fucking wrong, and her thinking process is always right. Especially when it comes to parking your car. 

Referee for a Day, 


When the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze
Even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burning

Malibu is on fire.




What the hell is going on? At least two of the eight or nine fires that are ravaging Southern California (one of which was maybe 15 miles from my home) have been deliberately set. There are some sick bastards out there. 

A few facts about the last three days: 

People evacuated from their homes: 500,000+ 

Homes & Businesses Destroyed: 1400+ 

Firefighters Hospitalized: 3 

Persons Killed: 1 

I have an elderly aunt and uncle that live in Ramona, near San Diego. They were one of the first cities to be evacuated, and no one has been able to get a hold of them for two days. I am not a religious person, but those of you that are could really help by praying for their well being right now.