(If you're not a Pack Rat player, you need not waste valuable minutes of your day by reading on.)

Quite a few of you folks play Pack Rat, and it seems like you all have very distinctly different Pack Rat ethics. Some of you lock some things, but not others. Some of you lock nothing at all, and some of you (like me) lock everything you care about since (in case you weren't aware of this) the rats have recently been given the ability to steal from other players' packs. Given that the rats can steal now, I tend to lock everything I want to keep. I also tend to confine my packratting to one set (or perhaps two) at a time until they are completed.

FYI, my general attitude toward my pack is: If it's not locked, steal it.

In general, if I can see that someone is working on a specific set, I'll grab things it looks like they could use and drop them in their pack, if possible. If there's nothing I can steal (based on point value) I'll leave the item unlocked in my pack and hope they pick it up.

But it comes down to the fact that you all have different styles and ethics, and while I try to mimic everyone, it's nigh-unto-impossible to figure everyone out. Some players write little messages in their message spaces saying what is and is not okay to pilfer (which won't stop the rats), others just rely on locks. That's my approach, but I might start leaving little notes and see if they're useful...

Just my thoughts. I shouldn't be Pack Ratting anyway--just wasting my wrists, which I should be saving for finals week. *Next* week. Gah.

made me puke. I kid you not. There was a bit in there that was just *that* nasty. (And damned if I wasn't laughing the entire time.)

I think this is a first for a movie. Never before have I been so disgusted and amused simultaneously. (While TBD has come awfully close to tickling me until I throw up, to date, he's always stopped in time to avoid it.)

All this is probably indicative of my present state of near-hysteria, because I'm generally not the puking type (as evinced by my vomitless viewing of the notoriously vile Two Girls, One Cup video). *Note that the link is to the Wikipedia entry--NOT the video itself.*

At any rate, the movie alternated between ridiculously (almost irritatingly) inane and hilarious. It's worth the couple hours of your life, as it improves drastically toward the end.

I don't get them often, but I know I'm about to. I've had a stiff neck since I got up, and a low-grade headache along with it. Just had a sudden onset of nausea, and the area behind my left eye is throbbing in time with my pulse. Add the lovely little floaty bits that have invaded my vision, and you have all the indicators that I'm about to spend the next few hours hiding from every last scrap of light and sound.

Thankfully, I just finished making dinner. I'm going to swallow some painkillers as soon as I've eaten something, and hope they don't come back for a visit.

I have a feeling it's to do with the Shakespeare paper I'm writing, which has me staring at Questia for hours on end, during and between bouts of which I've mainly been listening to Chris Hitchens reading God is Not Great and playing that fucking PackRat game on FaceBook. All this time in front of this monitor has probably done me no good, and combined with my current ridiculously high stress levels (two term papers due, a looming DAY of dental work and relationship bullshit on two fronts) I'm surprised I haven't had one sooner, as they tend to hit when stress and worry are getting the better of me.

Off to eat and tack towels over all the windows that don't have shades....

There are tons of posts and opinions about this Day of LJ Silence business, so I'm not going to bother getting into the background. Suffice it to say that while I find the comments made by the representative of our new overlords to be rude and thoughtless, I also bow to the beauty and wonder that is capitalism. I like my ad-free journal, and I pay to keep it that way. I also pay for additional user pics, even though I rarely use many of them. I feel for the slighted, am annoyed at the unthinking, and don't give a flying fuck about slactivism. And really--lessening the load on LJ's servers for 24 hours is closer to a favor than a slap. And to quote someone who replied to a related post in kradical's journal, "Hell hath no fury like the uninvolved."

Enough said. I'll read and post if the 'net connection permits, and I am moved to do so.

As always, I'm thankful for:

... this ramshackle old house that my ancestors built.
... heat in the winter and AC in the summer.
... my blessed, wonderful car.
... Autumn, the kitties, the weasels, and the scaly kids.
... cemeteries.
... digital photography.

This year, I can add:

... the opportunity to complete my degree.
... the encouragement that made it possible.
... old friends and buried hatchets.
... not burying one of those hatchets between the appropriate set of shoulder blades.
... new friends and shiny new hatchets.

... moving on.

Well, I've held off on mentioning this here in LJ Land because I really wanted to make sure that all the relevant duckies were in a row. Now that they are, I feel comfortable saying that I am, in fact, still working for the same company I was working for through Christmas. Hell, I've been working there for almost every Halloween (and occasionally year-round) since Christmas 1996. But now, my job title has changed.

After a frank discussion with a regional manager regarding my previously undisclosed kinky side, he decided that I'm the perfect person to handle some of the more... adult aspects of one of our compay's flagship stores. (I'm also working on getting a nice little .html template set up so I can send out attractive letters and product updates, changing the current eBay situation, shifting the buying approch for the adult entertainment departmet, and the implementation of the new POS system.)

I was, frankly, shocked that he made the offer. I'd only bothered bringing it up since the season was over and while a year-round job would have been nice, I really had nothing to lose. So I told the regional about my particular interests, and let *him* come to the conclusion that I'd be useful.

It was actually quite amusing, in retrospect. He was openly shocked as I talked to him, and even made a couple comments to the effect of, "But you're so... quiet." :P

It then dawned on me, a couple days later, that I'm now completely and totally *out.*

Kinky: Parents?--Check. Friends?--Check. Employer?--Check.
Bisexuality: Parents?--Check. Friends?--Check. Employer?--Check.
Poly/Non-monogamy: Parents?--Check. Friends?--Check. Employer?--Check.

I'm out. I'm totally, completely out. All my traits and activities that society traditionally regards as Don't Ask, Don't Tell have been addressed with each of the three main groups of people I deal with on a daily basis. I've been out as bisexual since college. My parents were less than thrilled, but they got over it.

I've been out as kinky to friends and family for years--less so with family, but gradually it reached a point where I'd say, "Yes, it's a party, but it's one of *those* parties, mom--you might not want to know." (One of my fondest memories is still of my eighty-something-year-old grandmother looking me right in the eye and declaring, "One of these days I need to ask you exactly what it is that you folks do." I almost passed out. :P)

Same with the non-monogamy thing. I never made any dramatic dinner table announcements or had a big sit-down wherein I dropped a Fuck Convention Bomb on my parents' heads, but I always openly talked about who I was going out with, and I never evaded or shied away from the implications when my parents would make statements like, "It sounds like you're getting a little *over-involved* with this guy." I always responded to every comment or question with the truth, and that hasn't changed.

It hasn't always been easy, but I can only imagine how... *vile* I'd feel if I'd had to sneak around and lie about my personal life all the time. I've always been glad of my decision to be straightforward with my family and friends about my lifestyle choices, and while I was okay with not being out as poly at work, I got over that eventually. It still rankled a bit, though. Realistically, the workplace seemed to be the last environment in which it could be construed as appropriate to get into lifestyle discussions, but there was also that lingering loathing for evasion and lies. So really, this new development feels like I've finally found the way to make that last puzzle piece fit.

Hell, when J offered me the job, I was thrilled. The first thing I wanted to do was shout it from the rooftops because I think it's just so damn cool. And now, I realize that I *can* shout it from the rooftops if I want to. It's finally completely safe.

I am so at peace with my life right now. :)

(This isn't my way of saying, "Out yourselves, dammit! It's the One True Way!" I know that there are many, many good reasons for people to keep various facets of their lives secret from their friends, families or co-workers. Kudos to those who have the sense to know when to shut up about something that might ultimately prove damaging to them in their present situation. I respect choices--I'm just saying that I made mine, and I'm happy with the results.)

I am caught in Mr. Squeek's treacherous feline Somnolence Field. He's on my lap, warm and fuzzy, and the sun is baking both the back of my neck and the fur of his belly. He's snoring softly and his paws are working lazily at kneeding my forearm. The dog is next to me, also snoring away, and Mr. Moo is on the loveseat, drowsing.

I'm fighting it, but I know that soon I will have no choice but to surrender to the slumberous waves of sleepy felines and the last rays of the afternoon sun.

I woke up about an hour ago when I heard a crash. It seems that Mr. Squeek has decided to catch up with his feline contractual obligations before the end of 2006. He's doing this by behaving Very Badly at Very Inconvnient Times. Tonight, he knocked all the mail and photo envelopes off the table. Last night, he kept sitting on my head while I was trying to sleep. The night before, he kept leaping onto the bed with a brief stop on my kidney on the way up.

He's lucky I adore him.

But back to tonight.

Tonight, after picking up his mess, I had the lovely, heartwarming experience of stepping on a cold, wet, soggy hairball. If I'd been but half awake before that moment, I was *fully* awake after. So was kit_kallisti, upon hearing the scream of, "Oh, Jesus fuck! What the hell!?!? ... Motherfucking cats! HONEEEEEY! I stepped in a hairbaaaalllllll!"

I'm now thoroughly awake, and am not particularly pleased about this. Am considering just going with it, getting up and getting a bath so that KK and I are not in competition for the bathroom later in the a.m.

I suppose I should make a separate post about work. We'll see.

Got back late last night. Have a sore throat and an annoying cough, but that is quite likely the result of the hideous rising damp I was subjected to over the course of the long weekend. Still, much fun was had, and while there was drama, there was enough love--in all its forms--that I feel it accurate to say that the overall experience was quite positive. Still processing some things, and re-processing some old happenings since I have recently gained some truly enlightening perspective.

Came home to some lovely surprises. My Apple Store credit app was approved for a good bit more than I needed for my intended purchase, so by the end of next week, I should be the proud momma of one of the new MacBooks.

Even the least powerful model makes my current Mac desktop machine look like an uppity calculator. And best of all, my genealogy program will run on the Intel chip. *does Happy Dance of Compatibility* I could hardly be more pleased. And the remote that it comes with? It's just precious.

The pressing question of the day for you technologically inclined personages is... Should I get the Apple Care Protection Plan for my new baby? I've always taken the option before, but I've not had to use it. Still, it seems like the sensible thing to do. Anyone ever had to use their Protection Plan, or regret not having purchased it when you had the chance?

Along only slightly less thrilling lines, kit_kallisti got a new PDA phone, so she's giving me her Compaq PDA to replace my old Clie. So I'll once again have an ultra-portable version of my genealogy files to take with me everywhere I go. And since there's a built-in camera, I'll never be without the means to photograph any to-die-for cemeteries I might run across in my travels. ;-)

Now, if I can just get my old iPod Mini repaired, I'll be so gadget-happy I won't know what to do with myself. I *could* just get a new iPod with the laptop, as I've plenty of credit, but I truly love my cute, little, apple-green Mini and the matching case I found for it. Seeing as it's lawn mowing season again, I really want it working. The in-ear plug style headphones are wonderful for blocking engine noise.

I'll break the weekend up into different posts, including two for photos from the cemeteries TBD was kind enough to take me to on Sunday afternoon, and a couple for general happenings and processing.

EDIT: Something is funky with the formatting feature of my LJ client. Must look into it. For now, I fixed it by adding the code for paragraph breaks, as needed.

Had dinner next door with the parents and grandfather. They provided ham and peas, I provided the comfort-food portion of the meal in the form of ( Rumbledythumps, the recipe for which is behind this cut. )

Was a bit of a PITA in terms of preperation, but the food processor was a great help and oh, it was definitely worth it. Especially since there are lots of leftovers! (In the form of the second, as-yet-untouched casserole dish.) :)

My grandfather was on a tear about psychics this evening since my mother, god help her, told him that the police will work with psychics when solving murders, kindnppings, etc. This just drove him *completely* batshit.

"What's the difference between a psychic and a fortune teller, then?" "So you're telling me that there's such a thing as the..." (and you could HEAR the quotes), " 'supernatural?' "

He almost imploded when kit_kallisti said that one must purchase a license before they are permitted to tell fortunes in NJ. There is no *certification* process, of course, but one simply MUST have a license. Heaven forbid some unscrupulous unlicensed fortune-teller should take advantage of the unwitting public! :P

After an hour of his bringing up this topic again and again, I'd had enough and we went home with only the ittiest bit of leftovers. (The meagerness of which is a testament to the cheesy, garlicy yummyness that is Rumbledythumps.)

All in all, a decent day. (However, if I'd not spent much of it hip deep in PMS-induced mania, it would have been much, much better.)

I spent far, far too long at the DMV today, followed by the quickest oil change I think I've ever witnessed in my life. Came home for a bit, cleaned myself up and hit the road again, this time to the day spa/salon for a haircut and highlights. Ended up spending the evening running errands with TBD, and getting dinner at a cute (if very... non-linear) little cafe restaurant in the city.

The new hairstyle was very well-received. :)

Am going to take sleep-inducing medications and snooze for a bit because tomorrow... ( Girl-babble behind the cut. You have been warned. )

Mini-break was absolutely wonderful. Got back late Sunday night, slept quite late on Monday, and ( Cut for polyfrog's sanity. )

I'll make a separate post for trip details and photos. I filled two 256MB memory cards as well as the spare 38MB card that came with the camera--and it's ALL cemetery pics. :P I feel vaguely obsessive and silly but oh, my GOD they were amazing! I'm so, SO glad we're going back again! I could easily spend another week doing nothing but wandering the graveyards, taking photos and transcribing the stones.

Am looking forward to seeing Niagara Falls, too. I was an infant when my parents made that particular pilgrimage, so I have no memory of the place at all.

yffy, if you're reading this, I'll pop over to walk His Highness and check on the rest of the crew after kit_kallisti gets home tonight. I hope you had a talk with little Ms. Skidmark about *not* scaring the daylights out of us, this time around. My poor heart can only take so much. :P

Good grief. Had absolutely -0- sleep last night. None. Nil. Nichts. Nada. Am exhausted and twitchy and really just want to *sleep* for a while. Still, the best approach might be to get moving, walk the dog and head out to get the oil changed in my car. I can stop for a sugar-free caramel latte at DD's since they now make a few flavors with Splenda. If I can just stay awake through the day today, the chances of my getting some sleep tonight are pretty good.

Am home from birthday-related travels. Was quite the pleasant couple days. Was actually stunned into silence at one point. Am still not entirely sure events transpired as they did, and I keep reaching to my neck to reassure myself that it's real. Overall, quite lovely, on many levels. (Spanking wasn't half bad, either. *grin*) But god, I'm tired. Brain is fluttering all over the place, but the rest of me is trashed. Will elaborate more on the birthday wonderfulness tomorrow.

Many sincere thanks for all the Happy Brithday wishes! *group hug*

Yes, the host of "Wannafuck" IMs I receive are vile and annyoying. But *this*... This is just nasty.

"Please, help me!
Are necessary money for operation, at me sick heart.
I from Russia. My parents already have sold all, has remained only
Computer that I could play. I very much ask your help, are necessary money.
Very much I hope for your help! Without operation I needed to live 2 months,
do not allow me to die, I wish to live!
my e-gold account 28----10
my e-mail: ____@bk.ru"

(Oh, and way to try to justify your computer/'net access there, chief.)

If they'd caught me a couple years ago, I'd have experienced more than a pang of guilt at the possibility that this was legitimate, and some poor person might really be just this desperate. Now there's not a bone in my body that buys this bullshit, even for a second.

Haven't been around much the past couple days. Popped back for a bit today to get some clean clothes and run an errands for TBD's better half. Was going to stay at this place again but am SO wired on coffee I decided to come home and get some things done before the meat market conference tomorrow night. I'll also be attending on Saturday, so I won't be around much this weekend.

This is good. Let my father deal with mom for a while. He married her--she can eat HIM alive for a few days. I feel especially justified since I discovered he's going to Central America shortly. Apparently, he "just can't get out of it," so I do not feel bad for making myself scarce for a bit. I'll get my share of ass-ripping soon enough. You see, my mother is--quite understandably--incredibly ill-tempered just now. Incredibly ill-tempered. I do not begrudge her this, but I *am* trying to stay out of the way of the shrapnel as I have not yet acquired a flak jacket of my very own.

So, sooooooo tired. I'll catch up on LJ while I drink my breakfast, but then I really need to Get Things Done so I do/will not feel guilty for being gone so much this week.

Last summer, I found an old note from an old boyfriend, and within seconds of reading it, my insides were cold and knotted and I wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

Every time anything reminds me of him, I feel deeply, horribly sick with the knowledge that I chose to take the hard line with him and his addiction. After talking to his mother and brothers, we agreed that we wouldn't enable his drug-seeking behaviors in any way. He stole his twin brother's needles since R was diabetic and always had them on hand for injecting his insulin. The few times he slept at his mother's place, she locked him on her second-floor balcony with a blanket and pillow for the lawn chair because he'd taken everything worth stealing when she'd let him sleep on the couch. After a few ugly, angry conversations that resulted in my refusal to give him money, he disappeared.

I later learned that he'd ended up living in his car on the streets of a filthy, burned out shell-of-a-city in an equally used-up carcass that wasn't fit to contain anything that had ever been as beautiful as his soul.

He ended up in prison for a few years, ended up Sick, unhealthy and overmedicated. A shadow-person with a half-life working in a warehouse, I'm told, schlepping boxes and only occasionally aware of the mindless tedium.

This isn't Rabbit Hole Day talking. This is my guilt.

I still talk to his father every couple months and leave of a couple of books to pass along to M. His mom still sends me Christmas cards, but it feels like she's just looking to remind herself that she wasn't the only one in our Tough Love confederacy. To remind herself that there's someone else out there who loved him. Who shares the guilt and responsibility for letting him land like he did--hard and awkward and broken from a fall too far for stopping anywhere but the ground.

Nothing like 15 drunken minutes spent chasing around after a cat with shit stuck in its fur. A *white* cat, mind you--with long, long hair and lots of it.

I love my life.

You know, I really do feel as if there's a Cloud Of Doom looming ominously overhead. I hope that my fears will be dispelled tomorrow, but somehow, I doubt that they will be. Or maybe that's just the vodka talking.

Couldn't bring myself to go out tonight, so we ordered out and sat down to watch The Island.

And I can't finish watching it.

( Probable spoilers behind this cut. )

Well, I'd written a couple of posts pertaining to the events of this past weekend, but I ended up combining them into one massive post that, while it flows nicely, seems like it is just FAR too long to be reasonable. Have decided to sleep on it and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow. Will probably split it up again, and feel quite silly for it as I just deleted the original two posts in favor of the one cohesive whole.

Obviously should not be writing *anything* right now.

Must sleep.