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hiyaa by Dana Oshiro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.  

April 21, 2005


After a few weeks of working for the man and having paid off my credit card, I check my hotmail account out of boredom. In the junk mail folder I find a forward from my ex-workplace outlining how my ex-bosses flights and hotel reservations are still being held on my personal credit card. After speaking with expedia and canceling my visa I think- hmm, my ex-boss is really a heartless cow, not only am I not called about this matter, but it seems only the executive assistant (a stranger) cares about it coming out of my pocket.

I love it when Anti-Poverty organizations financially fuck people and are ruled by ass-munching gerbils with the egos of kings.

God bless the frontline social work soldiers of mercy, fuck the ladder climbing Executive Director's of the world who assault our game- may all the homeless people that I hand-counted for you set up a tent city in your waterfront apt. and sneeze all over your stainless steel applicances. Bitch.

April 14, 2005


egg kitchen
Originally uploaded by Suzy Perplexus.
Those damn dozers, meddling with my vibrating egg...

April 11, 2005

The Best Birthday Ever

I was born on the same day as Siddhartha Gautama, the original Sakyamuni Buddha. My name is the Pali word for the giving of alms. This is supposed to be auspicious.This weekend was a karaoke party coupled with two days of hangovers. It is my best year for 1 reason - I have an amazing man and after seven months I'm still awestruck. Maybe you think that's gay, but it's my birthday so fuck off.Other April 8th events :
  1. Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth's home run record.
  2. The League of Nations convened for the final time in Geneva, and the United Nations was born.
  3. Father of Cubism Pablo Picasso and Father of Grunge Kurt Cobain died (boy was that a shitty year).
  4. Pope John Paul II's funeral. (Camilla and Charles had to put off their wedding)

April 05, 2005

Gonzo:The sequel

It seems Hunter S. Thompson's wife will ensure that the late great writer will go out with a literal bang- the deceased's ashes will be shot out of a cannon on his Colorado property.

Since you will out live me with the exception of a few stubborn smokers, I'd like to make a possible suggestion for my ceremony-pinata of me stuffed with my ashes and the world's finest cheeses. (she would have liked that)

April 04, 2005

Mensa: Sweating to the Smarties

So the la-di-da folks at Mensa, the top 2% in IQ test scores, have created a workout. I sincerely doubt that it touches Winsor Pilates or even Billy Blank's Tae Bo. Whatever you're smart. Funny is the new smart. Plus, for a bunch of supposed geniuses, your website looks like ass.
Okay, so I got 23/30 which is what 75? I took a little over 40 minutes, which I see is ten minutes past the alloted time. Still, factoring in the delay from bong resin and the slowing factor of hops and barley, I figure I'm 1/4 mortal, and 3/4 snotty intellectual elitist! Take that you fuckers! I'm way more immature than I am stupid.

April 01, 2005


Get a new job as a civil servant and the man really keeps you down. A few things of note:
  1. Robert Creeley, Black Mountain poet, doe-eyed sexy pacifist soul-searcher died at 78.
  2. My boyfriend discovers the Worm Within- shit and piss jokes made to look like a children's book.
  3. Props to my friend's band, The Panic.
  4. A few days ago while watching South Park, a friend and I discovered Wing and meant to blog about a few days later, her site is completely stripped and rebuilt, she's got this download option where you have to pay, and she's fucking gone Hollywood. Very William Hung of you Wing.
  5. Wanted to begin coproducing a screenplay with my buddy Teg called, "Charlie Brown" - an Indo-exploitation film about a jive talking Indian mamajama in Vietnam; however, the Clash's "Charlie Don't Surf" song really takes the punch out of it.

Well, off to the lexical assault mines. Damn it, I get two weeks into a new job and all the hipness fades right out, like the washing machine has a laggard cycle.

A flying roundhouse axekick to absolutes