Believe your own legend

*update – as of 12 hours after posting this, it had 1 view and that was Shaun’s.   If it were any more ironic, I’d need a new hipster messenger bag.

Fall Out Boy may have said that… but I know for sure they said “I’m in love with my own sins.” I think they actually said “pretend you don’t know your own legend” or something.   I’m not gonna look it up.

I’ve been schooling myself in my own legend today.  I haven’t been this mad in a long time.  Back when I had a “real job” I used to get mad like this pretty often.  That’s why I have a legend.

This bitch right here, she’s got a legend.

<on a true note – I made it about 2 paragraphs into writing this and started laughing.  I’m just this frigging entertaining and that’s NO legend.>

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It goes like this:

Oh no she did not just say that.  Does she know who I am?  She must not have worked here for very long because that bitch don’t know me.  Other folks must not like her because if they did they’d warn her not to piss off that Cyndi bitch.

They say “who?  Mrs.  Dollins?  You better back the fuck up  and say “yes ma’am.”  When she gets mad, shit goes WRONG.  People get fired all the way up to corporate and even Iran gets to pointing a photo-shopped missile at your ass. “

“People hear her name on the phone and just hang the fuck up.  And you know what?  She calls the fuck back.  Then people meet her in real life and think ‘damn that girl is hot’ then they realize who they’re thinking about.  There’s a word for people who like to be around her – masochist.”

Then someone else says “that bitch, Mrs. Dollins?  She’s like a well-trained pit bull.  She’s all quiet and nice and stuff but as soon as you act a fool she’s got her teeth in your neck and you’ll be screamin’ for Jesus to save you.   Nobody’s gonna be standin’ by with a lead pipe or a shotgun to help you neither.  That’s because that lady may be a bitch – but she’s RIGHT and I don’t believe in shooting pit bulls.  I ain’t ever known that girl to be wrong or get too close to a pit bull with a bad attitude.  Ever.  Its best just to take your who0pin and apologize.  Then she’ll get you to write an apology letter to everyone who saw what happened because that shit’s traumatic.”

See, you don’t talk to me like that.  I may be little and cute and even my 9 yo looks more grown than me but I’ll shoot you.  No, I won’t shoot you – I’ll just write the Governor.  You’d rather be shot when I get through with you. The Governor knows who to call.  Actually, his staff knows who to forward the email to. The pen is mightier than a sword or a .22 or some shit.

It could be worse, though.  I could rat you out to the internet.  See this blog?  It’s got companies weeping all over it because someone was fool enough to fuck with me.  I’ll be leaving traces all over Google cache that will prove to my kids I was never a mature adult.  Twenty years from now they’ll be reading my memoir and be like “she was right – they shouldn’t have talked to her THAT way.”

See, cause I’m an internet super-FUCKING-hero.  They don’t even say NYPA to me because I know not to ask.  I just start fucking shit up and they play along.  Next thing you know someone will be paying me money to take off my bra. I’ll be making Encyclopedia Dramatica pages about your ass and leaking your dox to wikileaks.  Now don’t feel special or anything, because the internet isn’t looking FOR YOU.  Trust me, that ED page isn’t going to get any views because the INTERNET DON’T CARE about you acting wrong.  They’re just here to see me and that won’t last long either.

Me?  I’m that bitch that has balls big enough to walk up to Dr. House and dare to have lupus.  I’m trying to sell shit to telemarketers that call me.  I got a collection call the other day and ended up getting PAID.  Sure, it’s true I didn’t get paid by the company calling me but a couple hours later, I got some money and a couple hours after that my bank account balance went up.

I’ll be sending you emails like correlation =/= causation and stuff.  It’ll have the spoiler to Twilight in it and be telling you that Pluto’s not a planet anymore.   I’ll find newspaper articles from like last year to make it so that you’re not entirely sure of the date anymore.   I’d send you poo in a box from that site that sells poo in a box but I’m too lazy and broke busy to look up the URL.  Speaking of that, I get paid too much to deal with this shit.  Forget you.  FORGET YOU.

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See?  Now who would really mess with me after knowing that legend?  I wouldn’t.  I think I’ll buy myself a beer.

The Crazy-Radar (cradar?)

Being that I have a diagnosable mental illness, I feel fairly certain that I can spot crazy people in a reasonable time span.  Being crazy is kind of like being part of an elite club with special decoder rings or something.  Normal people don’t pick up on the signs right away.

To catch up you noobs – I have obsessive compulsive disorder and I enjoy a relatively normal life due to medication.  Now – I said relatively.  That means I make a lot of allowances for the crazy in my life.  I have routines that make the crazy feel a little better while not really doing anyone any harm.  It’s just how I do it so that I’m not spreading crazy all over the neighborhood grocery store. This morning I was halfway convinced that my medication was evil, but I keep reminding myself that it’s better to take it and feel a little crappy than to be in the grips of The Routine.

(thesaurus.com isn’t giving me any good synonyms for being nuts, so I’ll make do.)

The internet is a treasure trove of the mentally ill.  Typical people can be found too and more and more are joining this virtual world.  Sometimes typical people even mistake crazy people for having all their ducks in a row.  Um, unless the person with ducks is OCD – then the ducks will be in strict formation.  Today, my husband is one of those people.

Being he lives with me, he’s pretty used to thinking things that are bonkers are absolutely normal.  He sent me a link to this blog basically saying  QFT! (quoted for truth) and when I looked, my crazy-radar redlined.  Honey, that person is a nut.  I’m talking cuckoo – like batshit crazy tinfoil hat nuts.  Sure, there’s room for him on the internet just like there’s room for me on the internet and I do respect his opinion.  Really, he has some good points.  It’s just most people think linearly instead of in a scatter dispersion pattern.  If you rant without connecting the dots, people are going to think you believe that the aliens are shitting in your Cheerios and the only way to keep the terrorists from reading your thoughts is to write them on your walls. People with atypical thought patterns see relationships in things that don’t have anything to do with the other.  The logical next step is that if you rant about things that have nothing to do with the other, people will consider you to be fucked up.

I see a lot of crazy people on the internet.  Not so many honest to God OCD people (it’s like a favorite for people who think having a mental illness may be cool) but you do see a lot of different flavors of unhinged.  It’s always hard to talk to them though because most flavors of nuts don’t know they’re nuts.  They honestly believe they’re normal and everyone is either like them, stupid, or unenlightened. You first have to identify the mental minefields then tread very carefully.  Otherwise, you’re one of them.

If you want to read a good book on paranoia – this one is great.

From one crazy blogger to another – if you want to blend in, start drawing thought maps.  It’s like a flowchart of ideas.  This way you can objectively look at a real object (the paper) and think “the price of tea in China really doesn’t have anything to do with that.”   I have to remind myself constantly to stay on topic.  I need a tattoo on my forearm of the tangent symbol.

Spam

I checked my spam filter just now because I wondered if I was getting mostly trackbacks or stupid links on my blog posts.  I do weird stuff like that… it comes from being an analyst and hating having questions unanswered.

I had a spam from someone offering a DDoS for pay service.  The deal was you paid this guy to assassinate someone else’s site for x amount of hours for x amount of $.

My thoughts on it range from “pretty smooth move, shithead” to “it’s probably a scam to get people who use AOL to hand over their paypal info” to “how stupid do you have to be to PAY someone to do something you could do yourself with open-source software after 30 seconds on Google?”

Really, though, most people probably just see it and go “what’s a DDoS?”

Holy Effing Money Shot, Batman!

So, on several shitty boards I watch, there’s been talk of a “money shot” of Scientologists putting the beatdown on some protestors out at Goldbase.  Today, it hit the internet and Gawker (again) isn’t afraid of anything.

http://gawker.com/5074201/anonymous-v-scientology-protest-turns-ugly

Now, I don’t care too much about the dude on the ground (that black blob towards the left is his HEAD) but about halfway through, the video clearly shows one of the guards grabbing a 57 year old woman and SLAMMING HER INTO THE CAR!  After the dude with the camera gets her to safety you can see the “security guards” start to clean up the dude before the cops get there. The tone you hear is played on speakers pointing out to discourage protestors and to keep their voices from carrying.

I know a lot of folks are saying Anons are like a cult unto themselves, but the reason I like to watch them is because it’s all sorts of people from all walks of life.  If you know me or follow my blog, you know I’m not some two-bit Myspace whore with nothing else to do.

In other news, xkcd.com has some HILARIOUS comics on electing the Secretary of the Internet.  It starts here:

http://xkcd.com/494/

Hit the next button as needed and enjoy.

My 3 year old is a troll

Today while dropping off my eldest at school, my 3 yo son had been practicing making his siblings yell “EWWWW!”  He settled down while we approached the school, and was very quiet when the teacher opened the door.  (This is highly unusual behavior.)  As soon as the eldest got out of the car, this rugrat yells at the teacher and it took me a minute to decipher it.  Me and teach just stared at each other in shock.  

He had yelled at the top of his lungs:

“GET OUT OF MY BUTT!”

My son is an IRL troll.  He’s learning how to make a momma proud.