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Oct. 23rd, 2012

people's issues


Some chick on Tumblr's BJD tag just blatantly said only white people can be racist. She straight up said if a white person is rude to a black person based on the color of their skin, that's racist, but if a black person is rude to a white person for the exact same reason, it's not. She claims it's because of history, but you know what? Throughout my entire history, I have never been rude to anyone based on race, so if you're rude to me just because I'm white, you're a racist. And a bitch.

She goes on to say that if a white person only owns white dolls, they're racist, but if a black person only owns tan/black dolls, they're not.

Just... Wow.

Ya know what, bitch? The only racist I see around here is you. Please get the fuck over yourself.

In the meantime, I'm going to continue to buy the dolls I like, not the ones you think I should like.

Oct. 7th, 2012


Well, I finally got my internet back. And all it took was the retarded solution of unplugging then plugging-back-in the box. How utterly stupid that something so simple could cause so many problems.

Oh, and I got hot water back too, after losing that for a somewhat gross couple of days. That was a more involved process to get restored, making me go to several different places and calling people and throwing things.

I have had a really, really rough past few weeks.

But I used my internetless/showerless days for good. I became an expert at freecell, took a bunch of lovely photos, read an entire book, and finished this story.

I need a vacation.

Dec. 13th, 2011

Is there a voice at all coming out of my mouth?

My life would be so much easier if any one single fucking person would ever fucking listen to any god damn thing I say, ever.

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Sep. 21st, 2011

of the characters in my head and out

I finally broke down and bugged SOOM about when my unicorn will be shipped. They said the estimated time will be sometime in early October. So I'm looking at another two or three week wait. Which kind of makes me sad, because I have a bunch of vacation time coming up (end of semester/autumn breaks), and thought it would be really nice to have him come then, so I'd have a lot of time to play with him. But no.

I'm not necessarily upset about the wait. I know these things take time. And as I said over five years ago when I was waiting for Günter, I'd rather they take their time and send me quality work rather than rush it and I end up with a defective doll.

But what irritates me is that people who ordered long after I did already have theirs. People who finished paying off their layaways weeks after I paid mine off have already gotten shipping notices. Why is mine being held up? Are they just waiting so that I can be last or something?


But there's nothing I can do but wait. During the vacation, I'll play with and groom my other guys. I've been so busy lately, they're literally covered in dust. They need some tender loving care. Their clothes arrived, so I'll take some time to change their outfits. Maybe take some random pictures with my new camera. Maybe finish up that story that I already took all the photos for, but haven't worked on since.

Before I know it, my pony will be here.

.... And I'll be back to too busy to even touch him. .~_~

In semi-related news...

I wasn't joking when I said (elsewhere) that it'd be a lot of fun to make a chart of all my story characters. So I did it, and will share one or two versions of it here.

The first version is this.
That's the least spoiler-ful version. Since the doll stories (Back of the Sun) and the written stories have a lot of crossing over, there are a lot of characters that could be involved, so I didn't put all of them on the chart. The chart only has the doll characters that are here now and those who are/will be closely related to them, whether they're part of the crossing-over or not, and then all of the main written story characters.

The second version is more spoiler-y. Therefore, if you don't want to be spoiled, don't look at this.
That has all the names connected by color-coded lines. However, neither the lines nor the specific relationships are labeled. You can figure that out for yourselves. ;P (Though I guess some are obvious...)

And yes, that was a lot of fun. .^_^

What do you think?

Oct. 13th, 2010

hate hate hate hate hate hate hate

It`s been a month since I lost my computer.

To say I`m pissed doesn`t even begin to cover it. The fucking thing was only two years old, and is now totally useless. It took all of a second for me to lose contact with my family and friends, to lose my ability to find out things I need to know, and one second to lose my hobbies.

I spent a month contacting a bunch of different people to see about getting it fixed. I`ve spent much of the time just waiting for people to fucking get back to me, and that`s beyond frustrating.

HP said they could fix it, but they`d have to pick it up from an address in the U.S., and after spending weeks trying to arrange sending it to someone, I find out laptops can`t be mailed overseas, as they`re considered dangerous goods.

I sat outside the post office and cried for half an hour that night.

Then I finally got in touch with someone in Tokyo who said they could fix it. They opened it up and said the motherboard was fried and would have to be replaced.
Today I left work with a phone message simply saying to give them a call, which I`ll have to do later, since they were closed by then.

And, ya know, I wouldn`t be at all surprised if they said they couldn`t fix it after all.

And then what? Do I buy a new computer? But it`s not that easy. Do I buy a Japanese computer, or an American one? If I get an American system, and it needs to fucking be fixed in two years, then what? Do I have to then buy another brand new computer? If I have problems, am I just going to again be told nobody around here can help with foreign systems?
If I buy a Japanese one, will I be able to get my programs on it? Because I am not buying a Japanese version of Photoshop, but I only have a copy of the English version.

Hopefully, my laptop will be alright. I don`t want to lose what`s on it. Mostly the programs, but also all the stuff. I have some 2,000 doll pictures alone on that thing, not to mention all the fanart, music, and videos. Pictures of my family, pictures of Kurama, stuff I can never get back if it`s lost.

All I can do is sit and wait, and I HATE IT SO MUCH.

I`ve been so depressed.

On a side note, if anyone is curious as to what I`ve been doing in the past month... I bought a [pink] PS2, and have been playing a lot of `Smash Hit 2`, where I learned Tachibana`s greatest joy is hitting Atobe in the face with tennis balls, while Renji`s shots seem to gravitate to Tezuka`s chest. Let`s just say, team TAT came out of those matches very, very bruised.

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Aug. 14th, 2010

and I'll cry if I want to

I worked so hard to make sure I didn't end up spending my birthday alone, and at the end of the day, I really fucking regret it. I would have been better off by myself.

I just wanted one little thing, but I spent so much time making sure everyone else got to see and do what they wanted to see and do, that by the time we got around to what I wanted to see and do, it was too fucking late.

I just wanted one thing - my entire fucking reason for going, for putting up with getting pushed and shoved and stepped on by gross, sweaty asses. No matter how tired and hot and miserable I was, I tried to keep my head up, because it was going to be worth it in the end.

But it wasn't. Because even though what I wanted was right there, I was told no, that I was wrong, that that couldn't possibly be where it was, because I'm just a stupid fucking whitey who couldn't possibly be able to read the Japanese website. Surely I didn't look at that website every fucking day for a month to make sure I had the location memorized. NO. I was wrong, and everyone else was right.

Except I wasn't wrong, but because nobody bothered to listen to me, I missed out.

Just me! Only I missed out.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

Jan. 8th, 2010


day 08 → a photo that makes you angry/sad

Another easy one.....

There is very little in this world that pisses me off more than the Westboro Baptist Church. The fact that most other Christians find them bat-fucking-shit insane says a lot about their disgusting fanaticism. On one hand, I wish someone would just take them all out in a blaze of fire, but on the other hand, I'm fairly sure that would turn them into martyrs for some, and that thought is just as bad as them living. However, I do truly wish there could be some kind of law enacted that would prevent them from holding their picket lines at soldiers' funerals. I know they have a right to assemble, blah blah blah, bullshit. They are intentionally hurting people who've already lost so much, and it needs to be stopped.

And in today's news, apparently during my two days off someone over in Target's cafe got lazy and didn't label food as needed or clean as necessary, and somebody reported something, and today the health inspector came in... while I was there. .-_- And all I could say was "I wasn't here, I don't know what happened." But fuck, why do I have to deal with other people's screw-ups?

Dec. 20th, 2009


There are no words for how disappointed I am in EVERYONE right now.

And there is no end to how much I hate this breederific fucking family.

So I'm going to ignore everything.

And instead, think about this.

But who knows when I'll get to post another.

Nov. 23rd, 2009


Dear Me,

The falling? It has to stop. Not helping the knee issue, like, at all. And now my arm hurts.

No love,


When did I get so clumsy?


Nov. 5th, 2009

Give it back.

I am missing a box, and I would really like to know where it went.

And by "where it went" I mean "who the fuck took it."


Sep. 7th, 2009


A few weeks ago one of my co-workers retired, and as I was the best trained in her area, I've more or less officially replaced her in the cafeteria at Target (hereby known as "food ave.") It's pretty much exactly what I wanted, for various reasons (more down time, a larger variety of tasks to do, no managers hawking over me every moment of my shift, etc.), but damn do we get some crazy bitches over there.

So the other day I had just gotten off lunch when some lady starts walking up to the counter. One of my other co-workers was there, as she was covering my lunch, but since I was back I took the lady's order. Or... tried to, but she couldn't seem to figure out hot dogs. She asked the difference between them, and I told her we had regular ones, all-beef ones, and bratwurst. She asked what the all-beef were made out of; I told her they were, well, beef. She asked what the regular ones were made of; I balked at why she's asking me these questions, then told her it's just "generic meat," but does anyone really know what hot dogs are made of? .^^; Then she again asks what the all-beef are made of.


And in the end, she orders an all-beef hot dog, a salted pretzel, and a drink.

As I go to get her hot dog, she goes to get her drink. She wants lemonade, but it turns out the lemonade is empty, so she tells me so. I say ok, and that I'd get to it after I got her food. The whole time I'm trying to get her hot dog, she's going on about the lemonade is out, the lemonade is out, "hey, are you going to fix the lemonade!?" I give her the hot dog and she says "are you going to fix the lemonade now?" I told her after I got her food. I think she understood me that time, because she didn't mention the fucking lemonade again, until I handed her her pretzel. Then another "are you going to fix the lemonade now?" I didn't even answer her - just walked away to go fix the lemonade.

After I fixed that and came out from back, I told her it was fixed and she finally got her damn lemonade. All was fine for a few minutes, then she came up again, saying something about she ordered a side of cheese with her pretzel, but didn't get it. I told her I didn't hear her order a side of cheese, but can get it for her. It'll be 52-cents. She goes off about why does she owe me 52-cents!?! I tell her because I didn't hear her say anything about cheese when she ordered, so I'll ring the side of cheese up for her now and get it for her. I thought it was so simple, but no. She starts going on about how the other girl, the one who rang her up, charged her for cheese, but she never got it. I told her I was the one who rang her up, but she never said anything about cheese. She said I wasn't there to hear it, because the other girl rang her up.

What.... the fuck?

I assumed she meant my co-worker, whom she saw, but wasn't rung up by. I tried explaining several times that I was the one who rang her up, but she didn't order any cheese. She starts screaming about how she didn't get her cheese, so I just yelled back "Never mind! I'll just give it to you! Ok!?" and gave her her fucking cheese so she'd get the fuck out of my face.

But Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with people!?

It didn't occur to me until later, but I should have mentioned "No, it was me who rang you up. Remember, you argued with me about WHAT THE FUCKING HOT DOGS WERE MADE OF!?!" but really wasn't in the mood to go that far over 52-cents worth of processed cheese.

Next time I'll regale you with the story of the psycho who made me give her different bills and coins for her change - twice. Because the bills weren't crisp and flat enough, and the coins weren't shiny enough, as if the money is worth more depending on how pretty it is. .... And then she proceeded to sit there and watch me for an hour and a half. Even after I'd closed. And then came back the next day and watched me some more.


Creepy bitch.

Aug. 22nd, 2009

Passing the blame.

That's it, no more fucking fairies!

Not only is the one I have a pain in the ass who won't stop molesting everyone, but his wings are getting destroyed because I can't seem to stop walking into walls.

Why am I so fucking clumsy!?

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Aug. 8th, 2009

Fuck you. Oh no, I said "fuck!" But really, fuck you.

I actually had two people threaten to sue me today. For doing my job.

But before I get to that, I'll mention the lady trying to return some DVDs. She (conveniently) didn't have a receipt, and paid cash, so we couldn't do a lookup. So I went to try and do a no-receipt return, but the computer came up with "You can't do a no-receipt return on this item." The only reason I can think of for it to say that is if she'd already gone over the $70 limit for no-receipt returns, but to humor her I tried calling our authorization people (in India....) and see if they could do anything. They predictably said there was nothing to be done, but the whole time I was on the phone she was standing there saying "I can't be over the limit, I've never been here before. I've never been here before. I've never been here before!"


I wanted to drop the phone and say "Well if you've never been here before, maybe you should return these DVDs to the store you got them at." But of course, I didn't. 'Cause I have no balls need my job.

In second place for douchbag of the day is the first guy who apparently wants to sue me. Jerkface comes in with a CD saying he wanted to return it, but it was opened. I started to explain how it says right on the receipt "Same item only if opened," but before I could even get two words out he butted in with how his 11 year old son bought the CD, and we sold it to him just fine, but the album was full of expletives and filthy language, etc. and that they "don't use that kind of language in [their] house." But there were no parental warnings or mature ratings or anything on the box, so if I didn't take it back, he'll SUE SUE SUE! So, whatever, I did the return.

But really, was that totally necessary? Treating me like that was really necessary?

So apparently in this guy's house, you're allowed to be and asshole, but not say it.


Look, Dickface. I know it's not my place to judge your parenting, but lets face the facts. Your pwecious widdle baaaaaaby is going to be hearing some fucking swearing and explicit fucking language in school and the rest of the outside world, so deal with it. By high school he's either going to be swearing like that himself, or he's going to get the shit beat out of him every day for being a pansy-ass fucking faggot. So kiss my ass, and go die in a fire.

But the winner of the Douchebag of the Day award goes to the asshole who freaked. the fuck. OUT on me. Over 43 cents.

See, Michigan is one of two states that has a law where if an item in a store is marked one price, but the customer is charged and pays a different price, they get the difference back, plus 10x the difference up to $5. It's the bounty law... thing. But, see, the thing is, for it to apply the price has to be marked on the item, meaning a tag or sticker or something.

So Fuckhead comes up with a can of bug spray and says there was a sign on the shelf saying it was on sale for whatever price, but he was rung up whatever other price. The difference was 43 cents. As I start getting him the difference (being nice about not even bothering to check if he was fucking lying about the sign or not, which he probably was, as I learned he was really really just out to scream at someone about anything), he says he also wants the bounty. I say that the bounty only applies if the item itself is marked, and he starts screaming about how none of the items in the store are marked and it does not have to be marked and according to business law code-what-the-fuck-ever scream scream scream he's going to sue me if he doesn't get his five dollar bounty and "I WANT TO SEE EVERY MANAGER IN THE DISTRICT!!" and FFFFFFFFFUCK!

I wonder if he noticed that I spent most of his oh-so-mature tirade just staring at the wall blankly, looking away only to check my watch to see how long he'd been going on.

Well of course my manager had walked over to see what the fuck was going on, and I just looked at her (it was actually a really cute moment, as she was standing over my shoulder so I just kind of flopped my head back and looked at her upside-down), and she was all pleasant like "What? =3" .... Now that I think about it, I think she did that on purpose, because it made him go off all over again, quoting business law codes that he probably just made up right then. So manager just said "Go ahead and do it. We're not supposed to, but just do it."

That prompted yet another rant from Fuckhead, because "Yes you are supposed to do it! Because I know everything and am so important and entitled and will scream such words as LAW! and SUE! and ME! ME! ME! It's all about me! I want it I want it I want it! Waaaaaah I always get what I want!" (not his exact words).

So lead manager of the night is called over, and he bitches at her for a while, then takes corporate phone number so he can scream at them for a while, and gives her his phone number so all the other managers can call him to be screamed at (I assume), and after alllllll that....

I give him his five dollars.

Aug. 7th, 2009


I... don't know what I did, but somehow I fixed my internets. There was something seriously messed up with the network (don't know how it got that way, since it was fine yesterday, then all of a sudden not), but I somehow figured out how to disconnect it from the two non-working networks and reconnect to something that works... or something. I don't know, there was a lot of random button clicking. .o_-

And I found my Front Page 2000 disk. Though I am now convinced it would be neat to actually try to hand code html sometime. .... We'll see.

So I am at the moment set to do the next doll story, which I was trying to photograph earlier today, but was so frustrated with everything that........................ Well, Antonio wasn't cooperating, and he got a little thrown around.

... I'm sure he's fine. .>_>

I hate my life # 8347

So my desktop is completely dead.

Well, by "completely dead" I mean it won't start up.

And by "won't start up" I mean it gets to the "now loading personal settings" screen, then freezes. Or if it's in a really good mood, it'll load windows, then freeze, but it hasn't gotten that far in a few days.

Several people have told me there are ways to recover my files and move them over to my laptop, so I'm optimistic about that, but I don't know how to do that myself, and I don't know how much it'll cost to pay someone to do it. So I don't know. But I really really don't want to lose all my doll pictures, or the 3,000 songs I've collected over the past ten years.

And I don't have my programs, so no photoshop to edit dollie pics, and no front page to make story pages with. .-_-

I seriously hate my life.

Well, I was able to download a version of photoshop, but it's only a 30-day trial. And I think I still have my old disk for front page, but fuck if I know where it is. I'll have to see if I can find it. If not.. I don't know. I'll learn to html by hand or something.

But wait! It gets better!

As of last night, I no longer have internet in my room. Something's fucked up, YET AGAIN! Yey! So now I can't even get on on my laptop at home.

Huzzah for Starbucks!

And if I weren't already in a bad enough mood, somebody decided to start doing laundry at SEVEN-FUCKING-THIRTY IN THE MORNING. That's early even for a normal person, but for someone who goes to bed at 4am? FUCK YOU.

It is important to realize the only thing separating my room from the laundry room is a piece of wood about 3cm thick.

But, you know, god forbid anyone have any consideration for anyone else in that fucking house.

..... Aha. And now a couple of shitheads just brought a bunch of noisy kids. Into Starbucks. Fabulous.

Somebody kill me.


Jun. 13th, 2009

I hate this place SO FUCKING MUCH

I love the way I have to clear off an entire wall of stuff so other people can play the fuck around in the room next to me.

Why am I the only fucking person in this house with any consideration for other people?


May. 10th, 2009

Here, have dorries.

Meh... I'm still irritated. In fact, it's borderlining pissed off-ness. I had so much shit I wanted to do while I had the house to myself, and now I can't fucking do any of it.

And I swear to gods, when I finally get the fuck out of here for good, I'm never coming back. Ever. Because people won't ever leave me the fuck alone while I'm here, I'll have a lifetime to make up for.

So instead of productive house-wanderings, instead I'm still, as always, trapped in my room. With nothing to do but play with dolls.

It's been a while, but the story continues~

May. 6th, 2009


I was supposed to have the house to myself for the next three weeks...

Supposed to being the key phrase here.


This happens every fucking time.

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Apr. 27th, 2009

Just stop.

All this "(OMG, fake cut!)" bullshit is starting to piss me off.

It's a fucking link, ok?



Apr. 23rd, 2009

Fuckin' breeders

A doll forum is not the place to spam pictures of your baby.

Jesus, it's like: ooh~ pretty doll, pretty doll, pretty doll, disgusting, shriveled, pink thing!

There's a place for that shit. It's called LJ. Take it there.

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