AnonyMouse

Bye Bye, Typepad!

My new state of affairs has left me with more free time and aside from blogging like mad, I have had more time to nerdle. I've had my own hosting service for some time but was always too lazy to bother with installing WordPress on and serving my own blog.

Well time have changed and I am growing up.

Alongside my fellow bloggers, Jennie Smash, Angelina, and Urban I have decided to become a grown-up blogger and get my own URL. That means that despite having forked over the cash for the year, I hav moved my blog to a new location. You can now find me at:

Legend of Drunken Mouse [dot] com

I am still working out all of the bugs but it is looking pretty kick ass already, though I am sure I will change the design later. I was able to easily move all my posts over, so nothing has been lost, though I do have to figure out a subsitute for all those nifty TypeLists I had on this site.

Anyway, people update your blogrolls and I promise this is the last move. I have had this hosting service for over 5 years so I have no intention of moving my blog again after this.

This Bar Will Be Your Grave

What you are expecting is some whimsical rant about my love affair with alcohol, but the actual subject of this post is in regards to public displays of affection and how it needs to stop before I go on a rampage.

One of the side effects of my new state on mental health is that I find all couples repugnant. I tolerate the fact that people pair up and allow them to pursue their delusions of happiness always repressing my urge to make them spontaneously combust -- but I have my limits.

I was out with Jennie SMASH! making sugar (translation: drankin') doing our usual best friend thing of lamenting and telling funny stories... mostly lamenting. I had returned from taking a much needed piss to find her smirking and ready to dash off and enjoy an obligatory cancer stick.

"Have fun with this." was all she said as I sat down bewildered.

To my shock, horror and mostly disgust, the two people sitting across from me were going at it like two horny pitbulls. *HURK!* What the fuck?! Didn't anyone tell these assholes that this is my home and an establishment solely for imbibing intoxicating liquids? People drink here then go home and do that sort of shit. Far away from the burning eyes and frail stomachs of the rest of the population, i.e. me!

What is worse is that they were doing it badly. They were clumsy enough when they came into the bar with that shy, awkward, bullshit that two people suffer when they know all they really want to do is the squelchy. Now, I had to suffer the dry heaves.

Fuckers.

To top it all off, the vile couple to my left and another set of bastards to my right, felt they had to keep up and start face sucking too. Was I somehow transported to a high school party without realizing it? I was distraught in a way that not even the merciful Duvel in front of me could cure. I might have even thrown up a little. Right in the back of my mouth.

When Jennie SMASH! came back, we made a mad dash for the outer bar where people were obviously not raised in repressed Amish communities and finally released onto the unsuspecting public for Rumspringa.

People please take five seconds to come up for air and drop dead. The world (mostly me) will appreciate it.

My Internal Clock is Amazing

There is only one reason that after a night of boozin' away my woes, that I am up, bright and squirrelly; my internal clock.

It is truly an amazing theoretical device and saves my ass on a regular basis. Last night, I slept (OK, passed out) during my entire train ride, only to snap awake the minute I arrived at my stop.

Now I am conscious because my internal clock loves 6:30AM and wants to see it everyday. Everyday!

Drunken Mouse with auto-pilot functions now available at a local pub near you.

And This One To!

It's over
You don't need to tell me
I hope you're with someone who makes you
feel safe in your sleeping tonight
I won't kill myself, trying to stay in your life
I got no distance left to run

When you see me
Please turn your back and walk away
I don't want to see you
Cos i know the dreams that you keep is wearing me
When your coming down, think of me here
I got no distance left to run

It's over, I knew it would end this way
I hope you're with someone who makes you feel
That this life is the night
And it settles down, stays around
Spends more time with you
I got no distance left to run

Fuck You! I Can Be Sad & Listen to This All Day!

When the routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And the resentment rides high
But emotions won't grow
And were changing our ways,
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again

Why is the bedroom so cold
Turned away on your side?
Is my timing that flawed,
Our respect run so dry?
Yet theres still this appeal
That weve kept through our lives
Love, love will tear us apart again

Do you cry out in your sleep
All my failings expose?
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold
Is it something so good
Just cant function no more?
When love, love will tear us apart again

Square One.5

There is only so much that a person can lose before having to... "reevaluate."

Since November, my life has been one of emotional malaise. I lost love, my home, and a sense of who I am all at a moment when I thought my fortunes had changed. In the aftermath of descruction, I thought I had managed to salvage my life, I found a place, made new friends and attempted to take time to contemplate the events that led me to foreign territory.

Life is never easy.

I thought that I had done alright. Nothing was quite perfect but I thought I had settled my mind and affairs enough to attempt living like a normal person. The thing is, when you are broken, you don't totally realize it. You subconsciously ignore the things that perhaps you haven't actually dealt with or can't. Was I running? Was I afraid to let go. Afraid to engage? Angry? Sad? Lonely? Tired?

I don't know.

For the most part I think that all I've really wanted was to be left alone to think. It's not malice or a desire to have people totally fuck off, but I feel I've just been going through the motions of life as I've seen it done because I have not had the time to sort out a damned thing. I've attempted to "heal," tried the Dating Siesta, and even tried to be a "single mouse."

Who is Drunken Mouse? I don't know but the plan is to figure that out.

Whoever he has been, her hasn't been good for himself or anyone else. So I am done. Back to where I was before I lost my goddamn mind, well almost. I learned a little -- maybe even a lot. Enough so that I don't have to completely isolate myself, but I am finally going to decompress and meditate... or something.

Peace! I'm out!

How to Get the Day Started in 12 Easy Steps

The following takes place between the hours of 6:30PM and 11:30AM.

*boop boop. boop boop.*

Step 1: Be stood up for dinner because you didn't call to extra confirm. WTF?

Step 2: Sigh in relief because you didn't really want to go and plunk down to play Kingdom Hearts 2. Where the fuck is King Mickey?!

Step 3: Get call from Jennie SMASH! demanding your presence at local bar to hang with her and Angel (But Probably Not).

Step 4: Drink liberally, ignoring that you have not eaten all day. Well you've had cereal for breakfast.

Step 5: Keep drinking and accept any and all shots given even if these liquids are generally used to prevent rust. That was not SoCo, fucker!

Step 6: Let Angel (But Probably Not) drag you to various bars in the LES where friends have apparently given up on her arriving.

Step 7: Drink at each of these bars.

Step 8: Take cab back to Angel's (But Probably Not) place and assure the driver that he will not get robbed.

Step 9: Begrudgingly (not really) agree to sleep on Angel's (But Probably Not) bed while she crashes on the sofa. Sucker!

Step 10: Do that "Where the fuck am I?" wake up thing before your brain does the "flashback" thing. Why don't I have coffee?

Step 11: Realize at 8:30AM that you've left all your work shit at home and have to go back there to collect it.

Step 12: Get to work slightly late wearing the same clothes from the day before and participate in meetings while still inebriated. Worry that everyone knows.

Side Note:
PattyCakes introduced me to a new band called Delays. I listened to their songs on their MySpace profile for 10 seconds and immediately downloaded the singles they had there. Delays is now getting heavy rotation on iTunes. The lead singer has a voice like a girl and somehow it works.

MousePad, Now with Cafe Seating

I am now the proud owner of a cafe table.

It is quite handsome and allows for me to sit near my windows and people watch while writing. As you can see from the pic it is very simple but sleek and desperately in need of a plant. Just a small modest lass that I will name Meredith after the lead character on Grey's Anatomy.

It also requires a mug of coffee, which I do not currently possess. Send me coffee.

3AM Drip

When I arrived at home last night my room was hot as hell. It is only a might bit chilly outside, so there was honestly no reason for my radiator to be on full blast. Even during the winter it was never on all fucking night which made this morning's sauna a bit of a surprise.

I sleep like a dead person and if it is insanely hot, it is even worse -- wake me up when it is Fall. I awoke to my arm dangling off the bed and my hand in a puddle of water... what the fuck?! I don't sweat that much.

It was even hotter in the room when I got up to turn on the lights. My night-stand was drenched and the ceiling was dripping water. Great! Wondering if my radiator was dripping on my downstairs neighbors as well, I attempted to turn the fucker off.  I stopped the drip but it was still as hot as balls in there.

I checked in on my roommate to make sure his floor was not a duck pond as well, but apparently he can completely shut off his heat. How nice for him...

As the ceiling drip began to speed up and exceed the glass that I had left to catch something that looked like apple juice, the next part of the event took me upstairs. It’s 3:30 in the morning mind you, I expected to be greeted with a bit of “why the fuck are you at my door?" Fortunately, each apartment has two doors so I expedited a solution to the debacle by knocking on the bedroom door of my neighbor that likes to stomp around in heels while being a bit... heavyset.

Of course it took a few minutes for her to not open the door but respond to my alert that her floor might be saturated. This was promptly followed by some mutterings of  ”oh shit,“ mandatory stomping, and no fucking thank you and sorry for being an oblivious cow-woman. Whatever.

The dripping has stopped, but since it is still hotter than Satan’s scrotum in here, I figured why not pass on my wonderful adventure to the masses of the Internets. Hope you enjoyed and I will be spontaneously combusting in a few minutes.

*WHOOSH!*

Sometimes You Are Just Bait

MadCat, Jennie SMASH!, some friends and I were at a beer garden where the mugs are the size of a human head. We realized that we'd never drink a liter of soda, but beer..?

Glub! Glub! Glub!

Anyway, the topic somehow turned to my favorite subject,  zombie survival. We are pretty sure that fun time MadCat is bait as she can not quite deal with the gore - especially in the eye region. She claimed she was a maverick as the insanity that would overtake her would create a crazed zombie-killing machine.

Unfortunately, in my book of survival mavericks are just another form of bait. No one wants the crazy person on their team when it is time to think up a plan for escaping the mall as they are likely to suggest bum rushing the hordes and expecting the best.

Faithful readers, we all know that zombies are bastards and that even the best laid plans will get you eaten, so it is best not to tempt fate. Keep calm in a zombie situation, seek high ground, aim for the head, kill to keep their numbers low and hope to whatever deity that you believe in that they are of the shambling ilk rather than the freshly dead running kind.

Those kind are fuckers.