Shiraz Would Go Nicely With Kitten

SO, I've been pairing wines with domesticated animals, "peppery, I bet cat tastes peppery!" Sinewy, too. I'm not sadistic and they eat dog in Korea, after all. (Non-sequitur?) What culture eats cat, anyway? None.

Andy thinks that Malbec would go with puppy, but I disagree. Puppy is too gamy. Perhaps a buttery Chard to compliment the after-taste of frisbee and cricket? Besides, Malbec needs to be paired with some creature that also naturally exists at elevations higher than 1,000 feet, like, oh, I don't know, goat. Does Mimosa go with hamster? Sure! This is Fun!

One time, Shoe and I gave his cat a White Russian, it was funny. NOW, I'm sadistic and probably going to hell. Interestingly enough, most people I've interviewed do not believe in hell. When I'm trying to satisfy an acquaintance's or stranger's or over-emotional friend's satiation for warm fuzzy feelings, I adhere to that "there is no hell—yay existentialism!" school of thought, too.

I have, however met a few despicable people who convinced me that, if I am to leave vengeance up to the Lord, there must in fact be some sort of hell. And I admit that his mentality is in it of itself vengeful, but it is also mean, right? Just like being ethical is mean. Thirsting for justice is wrong. Let's just ignore what C.S. Lewis said, "Mercy without justice, grows unmerciful." Justice requires critical thinking, and re-evaluation of paradigms, that's just a lot of work, isn't it?

The Culture of Feelings, is also a culture of laziness, and ignorance.

When and why did we become a Culture of Feelings? I've grown real tired of it. Moral obligation—even moral permissibility—has been completely dismantled and incinerated in some cases. I don't have a whole lot of emotion, maybe I use reason as an escape from this suffocating environment of perky—and obviously—medicated people. I really need some air.

Besides, I just ate my body weight in trail mix (thanks, Mom) it's time for a walk.

Bazaar, Nazis & Lemons

This morning, I was awakened at 0235 by my neighbors yelling and blasting their music. I am not sure why this corner of the building stirs so frequently in the 0200-0400 hours, but I don't like it. In fact, I feel a tad bit shanghaied. Despite sleep deprivation, though, I must say that I look like I just stepped out of Harper's Bazaar—too bad this campus hates fashion. Go to class in my pajamas, you say? No, thanks—I'd be naked. I digress.

Last week, maintenance was changing my smoke detector batteries, and the first thing they asked was, "how is it going with all of your neighbor's beer pong parties—that guy trashes every room he stays in—you should see the carpets! I hope someone warned you about this room, he is the reason no one wanted to live in this room."

No, no one warned me. Gee, thanks RMC housing, you keep me on my toes. Last year after you illegally searched my purse and bags, I began to view those people as a smaller Nazi Germany, but now, I've realized that it is more of a used car salesman mentality. "Here, have this lemon of a room. Oddly, it's been vacant all year."

I should get a discount. I mean, imagine if this apartment was property sold to me by a party that had full knowledge of the eye-sore (ear-sore) neighbors? I think that would be unethical, if not illegal. But then again, "morally obligatory" seems to mean less and less these days.

And I'm not making an extreme proposal of re-pricing rooms within an apartment complex, according to location, and view of the Rockies (I have a great view, by the way). I am, however, proposing that said obnoxious neighbor should've no longer been allowed to reside here. After all, maintenance said, "apartments," meaning he's previously lived here and in different rooms.

Whew.

Transfigulutheran

Lately, I've been filled with Schubert, and I would also like to be filled with Sherbert. This morning, at church, we were all filled with something alright—that enchanting Holy Ghost! Yes, it is hard to believe but during Hymn 877, "This Little Light of Mine," we all started clapping to the beat.

"Let it be noted that on this day, Sunday, February 14, 2010, Transfiguration Sunday, the Holy Spirit moved the Lutherans to clap on the down beat..." - Pastor Eric

Lisa Simpson once created Lutherans in her science experiment in "Treehouse of Horror VII." Well, I feel as if this morning we re-created or unveiled something rather marvelous. Behold, the Transfigulutheran! Super Lutheran, who, while remains traditionally stoic, now has the ability to clap—on beat—to hymns.

I really hope this happens again. I want to hang out with the Holy Spirit more often, but not in a dead way. :)

Return of the Ex-Wife & Pink Fuzzy Rocks

Meanwhile, beneath this seemingly harmless looking pink & fuzzy rock dwells an enemy no sword or RPG can fully exterminate — stupidity!

Stupidity is viral. It multiplies and bloats and I am convinced it will be the cause of Armageddon. Last week, I got the electric bill from the old apartment. Took the same courtesy my ex did with me and text the bill information to her. Well, apparently, according to the ex-ball and chain, we're not liable for the fee since "we had both moved out." I didn't move out, ex- roommie, remember? Well, I guess if I stayed then I have to pay it, even though, I was only there until the 6th, thanks, bitch.

What bothers me the most about this is that when she was on the phone with Yellowstone Valley Electric, she didn't bother canceling our account. Even though she thought "we" had moved out? Seem fishy to you? It was my fault for assuming she'd have the presence of mind to cancel the account. Nope. I hope to God and Gandolf that this is the last text I will ever send her.

"Look, I know you grew up under a pink fuzzy rock, but I think this is actually something we have to cancel. Will try to do it without you."

Tune in tonight — same bat-time, same bat-shit-crazy-channel!

I Really Shouldn't Be a Diplomat

"I must acknowledge, once and for all, that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis." - Mister Spock

In high school, I would often mediate between my more neurotic friends. But when push came to verbal assaults and double-crossing adolescent boys, I lost my knack for diplomacy.

This has most recently been confirmed when i dealt with an over-zealous—stalker—young man who became way to attatched for only knowing me a matter of days. I thwarted advances and called him on his stalker-like behavior. I even familiarized myself with Castle Doctrine and House Bill 228, recently passed in Montana. The following section specifically interests me.

"Section 1. No duty to summon help or flee. Except as provided in 45-3-105, a person who is lawfully in a place or location and who is threatened with bodily injury or loss of life has no duty to retreat from a threat or summon law enforcement assistance prior to using force. The provisions of this section apply to a person offering evidence of justifiable use of force under 45-3-102, 45-3-103, or 45-3-104."

Unlike my baby-sitter homer state, Minnesota, I can actually defend myself in my dwelling structure. I don't even have to announce to any perpetrator/trespasser that they are about to be clubbed—literally—with a 5 iron.

Not retreating is something I'm pretty good at. I told off that guy a few times, despite his alleged connections and obvious mental maladies. I went on one of those anti-stalker websites and they all said to deal with them gently. I did at first, but he didn't get the point. So I went to my penchant for directness. As well as some oddly tactful excuses for not having contact. I should not be a diplomat

Even after being abnormally civil, despite my directness, the guy deleted AND blocked me on facebook. Now, this was either to 1. get my attention, congrats you did. Or 2. I'm about to be whacked. Or 3. it was too emotional for him to still be friends after my rejection, which wasn't really rejection because we didn't even know each other.

I've been a little bit on edge—ever vigilant, never fearful.

Where Do I Keep Finding These People?

Like, seriously, barring entrance to Walmart or Targhetto on Lake St. I have never before felt such a need for a loaded Glock, gat or stockpile of RPGs. And in leu of a firearm, I sleep with a 5 iron by my bed.

Why do I attract crazy people?

1. I'm blonde and thus easier to see.
2. I'm warm and affirming, sometimes.
3. I look innocent enough.
4. The shoes. (Thanks Will).
5. Intelligent enough that crazy people find me engaging. (Thanks Will).

No, this is just, nuts. Of course, when I date "nice, normal" boys, I get bored. I have a problem. I mean, really, I'm already paranoid. Just today i went to the sex offender registry to plan a safe walking route around campus.

P.S. I wonder how many people just watched me pull my clubs from my trunk, analyze, then select the 5, swing over my shoulder and trot back to my room. Shrug.

"Grangefruit"

Hi, my name is Naomi, I'm an English Major and I have also discovered Grangefruit. Please consider my candidacy for Hardin, MT police chief. Just kidding. But just over 30 minutes ago, I did peel, what I thought was an orange, and got a grapefruit. As the sojourn into this new citrus territory I have named my discovery, "Grangefruit," pronounced, "Gr-ah-ngefruit."



Could this cure cancer? Liberalism? Socialism? Piracy? Earth-quakes? Probably not, but there's a chance. If there's one thing I learned from statistics. Blank stare. Twitch.