Checking In.

February 25, 2003

Good morning/evening/whatever to you, devoted reader. Glad to see you've decided to rejoin the masses currently enjoying my genious writing efforts. I would like to point out the guestbook to the left and strongly encourage you to leave your big, muddy footprint in there so I can begin tracing your every movement like the derranged stalker that I am. And for those of you who are not newcomers, don't kid yourselves. You know I mean you as well.
Well, I now have a brand spankin new niece in this world. Upon meeting this little creature (who is about the size of a field mouse), I was flooded with brilliant ideas for a name for her. They were met with dull ears unfortunately, but I have not yet given up. The happy mother and father have their eye on my digital camera to take pictures of the baby for relatives fortunate enough to be living in warmer climates than here, I am considering holding it hostage in exchange for baby naming privileges. My mother is pushing for the baby to be named after her. I, in turn, am now pushing for it to be named after Margaret Thatcher, the iron lady we all loved to hate during her fortunately long gone days of glory.
Me, my sister and my brother in law took it upon ourselves to embarge on the impossible task of cleaning out my brother's apartment for the arrival of the newborn. After being wheeled out of there on stretchers approximately 10 hours later we went to see a movie, About Schmidt. Seeing as it's not in my nature to plug anyone or anything on my website, I probably shouldn't. But seeing as it's also in my nature to go against all that is in my nature, I shall do it anyway. About Schmidt: See it. It's gud. It r rox. Well! That's sorted then.
Detectives Mormon 1 and Mormon 2 somehow managed to dig up my cell phone number, which I certainly never gave to them and have called me a few times due to their newfound burning desire to come over and "hang out", although discussions are over and I legally should be bawling my eyes out over the loss of their ever-genuine friendship by now. Said cell phone number is also somewhat unlisted, which makes their accomplishment all the more astonishing. You have done me proud, mormon boys! A future within the darkened hall of alternative science awaits you, should you ever tire of the burning bosoms and stylish 10 speed bicycles. I have been putting together quite the list of "things I find wrong with mormonism", complete with some very tough questions I will expect them to answer to help them along the way. So come Thursday, either they'll be out of the cult or I'll be found face down in a ditch somewhere, silenced for the greater good. Place your bets people, time's a wasting!

Mia :: 10:27 PM

(0) comments

February 22, 2003

This is just too damn sad. Now that the missionaries are gone, I realise that I no longer have anything to write about. The fact that they're gone from my life is obviously very sad, but far far sadder is the fact that they left it as empty as they found it. If anyone has any ideas for new madcap science experiments, he/she would be strongly advised to email them immediately to yours truly and thereby delaying any possible suicide attempts and/or spontaneous combustion from true and unhinged boredom.

my email: mmmia@mad.scientist.com

And yes, that's a real email address. No porn! Unless it's funny porn. Then just make sure that it's not a whole lot of porn. Unless it's a lot of funny porn.

My sister in law was rushed into the delivery room about half an hour ago, giving birth to yet another spawn from this very bloodline. Oh yes. Consider this a warning, folks. For my soon-to-be beloved niece's sake however, I hope her good catholic mother's will be the dominant genes. Otherwise, watch out world coz we're growing in numbers. I will train her dilligently to become a master of science, she and my three little nephews will dominate the earth with unspeakable experiments. I do have another niece though, but she doesn't count due to haggardly old age and limited contact with me (probably for the best).

I must go now to plan the babies' victorial walk into power and toast with the mirror to my brilliant scheme. On ruthlessness alone we'll march on to glory! Or to the tv remote and substance abuse. Whichever comes along first...

That really was a terrible thing to say about a baby. I take that back.

Backspace button? What backspace button?

Mia :: 5:19 AM

(0) comments

February 20, 2003

Greetings and salutations, devoted readers. I apologise for my lack of devotion towards updating this site and rest assured I'll try to make amends. It's just so damn hard to write about nothing. Ever tried it? Well, it's not easy let me tell ya. If I actually had a life, this site would be great...but alas, no such luck. In the near week that has passed since my last update I can proudly say that nothing of any significance or interest to anyone has happened.
Friday saw my last day of discussions with the missionaries. I ended up entertaining them alone yet again, as Sisi mysteriously "had to work". Where, I had no idea and due to my lack of curiosity in regards to this matter I still have no idea. But we somehow managed without her cunning wit and brilliance and managed to discuss the mormon bible for a total of five very sacred minutes. The rest of our time together was spent poking fun at the people in their english class with lacking talents in picking up foreign languages, one of which I had the great pleasure of working alongside during the summer and I can safely say that I have never felt like committing murder quite so often. I'm sure she's lovely though. I'm sure the whole "I'm boarderline retarded" thing is just a front to keep away prospective suitors on a panty hunt. We also briefly touched on the ever tiring issue of "prayer". Yes, folks. I admit it. I succumbed and allowed myself to be swayed by the sweet words freely flowing from their pouty lips and promptly got down on my knees (no, you pervert!) and prayed. And boy, did I pray. I prayed my heart out. Or I would have if it hadn't been for the fact that I seem to have prayer ADHD and my mind seemed to keep wandering off mid sentence and suddenly I'd catch myself five minutes later thinking about something entirely different. Prayer is definately not a good forum for me. I also didn't have a clue what to say and kept wandering off, mid sentence again, into "thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." and the prayer from the end of Bodyguard which I don't remember seeing since I hit puberty. So as it turns out, I have an excellent subconscious memory but I just suck at sincerity. Ahh well, two tears in a bucket and if that doesn't fill it... fuck it. Regardless of all my difficulties, I won't relent because as the ancient saying goes: "It's fun to make fun of the funny religion". And even though discussions are over, I was sure to show them enough clevage to ensure myself that whenever new missionaries roll into town there will be a knock on my door, and I'll open it to find two strapping young men with their ties suggestively loosened.... "Hello, Mrs. Robinson"

Mia :: 1:21 AM

(0) comments

February 14, 2003

Yesterday's Blog Seeing As The Internet Was Unwilling And/Or Unable To Let Me On To Post It:

To whom it may concern: Hello. How are you today?
I myself am doing just dandy. Ventured out of the batcave today to get my hair done. As we all know, being locked up with nothing to do just gets so much better when you do it with great hair. Because as we all know, if you're gonna do it...do it in style. Or something to that effect, anyway. Now, had I actually had something of more substance to do with myself this afternoon I might have done that instead but beggers can't be choosers, I'll take what I can get. At the hair salon I was once again faced with one of those life altering questions, those that define our very existance and challenge everything we've perceived ourselves to be. Namely: "Why, oh why, do a few highlights here and there cost me 100 dollars?" I am suddenly seeing the appeal of being a buddhist monk, aside from the obvious advantage of being able to bloat up like a prize pig whilst only making yourself all the more holy in the process. If I thought my face shape could carry it off and I wouldn't only be underlining the fact that not even plastic surgery can save my future within the beauty pageant industry, I'd definitely consider becoming a buddhist monk. I might possibly also have to be a guy, but with today's technology that can be easily fixed. I can even think of a thai boy who'd love to get rid of his thingymajig, so I wouldn't even have to wait for a pee-pee transplant. Providing that said thai boy would actually admit that he in fact HAS a pee pee, which is kind of a long shot when I think about it.
Anyways...where was I? Ahh, yes. Buddhist monks. The bald and the beautiful.
Hmm. I wonder if the mormon church accepts transexuals? And with a brand spanking new and unused sex organ, am I a virgin again? All very important questions. I'll pray about this tonight, and then tell the missionaries all about this in the morning.
I wonder what the prayer equivalent of "hanging up" on somebody is? Thunderbolts and lightning steering dangerously close to my head, perhaps?

On a different note though, with my recent escapades involving the church and some of it's fine, upstanding members the question has been raised with those around me whether I follow, or even have, any moral guidelines and whether I don't feel bad about my insincerity towards "the higher power". So I thought I'd briefly address that if I may. Firstly, I stand by my decisions. With the way
the world is and the fucked up way things have of turning out sometimes, I figure God must have one hell of a sense of humor. My disrespect is towards the church and not aforementioned higher power, and although the church might not accept me and my twistedness I feel that the big guy himself has room for me somewhere.
Albeit in a festering pool of firery, disease ridden rats.
Secondly, as to my moral guidelines, I have none that I am aware of. I live by one motto: dry-clean only.

Mia :: 9:50 AM

(0) comments

February 12, 2003

People, people....calm down. Your spiritual guide has returned from internet banishment due to medieval internet connection to give you the skinny on recent developments and entertain you senseless with rather insensible ramblings. They'll have to be ramblings rather than an actual commentary on my life, because the latter would bore even the most enthusiastic tweaker to tears in a heartbeat.
Finally made it to church on Sunday. They put me in the crying baby corner, which suited me fine because nobdoy heard the howling laughter errupting from my elegant and ladylike frame throughout the sermon. I walked out feeling somewhat cheated however after being given water instead of wine for sacrament. I ask you, can't they bring Jesus in to fix this? Isn't fixing this exact problem precisely what he's famous for, aside from the walking on water and healing the sick thing? You'd think people who spend half their damn days talking to the man would get around to asking him for this small favor. I'd ask him myself, but after having repeatedly tried to pray in order to get a hold of him, I've come to realise he's not talking to me. Hmm, something I did perhaps?
Also, they served me said water in a shotglass. I find the temptation of switching this water for vodka almost overpowering. I think they'd quickly realise whodunnit though, seeing as I stick out like a sore thumb in there, being the only person in the church wearing clothes that were made this century. I have a feeling it will stay that way, too. I don't care if I do let them dunk me into their holy swimming pool, I refuse to walk around wearing something that looks like a racing bike costume for serial killers. There is no way I'm buying that God, a supposedly all-knowing, all-good creature, ordered these poor people to give up anything resembling a fashion sense and end up resorting to walking around wearing these hideous creations.That's just plain cruel and I have to say, God must have better things to do than nitpick as to what people are wearing. I mean, please. I know the church wants to control everything, but when it comes to making people wear jesus jammies underneath their underwear so it never touches the skin I have to say they've gone a bit overboard.

Mia :: 9:37 PM

(0) comments

February 08, 2003

I've found my calling in life. Something I thoroughly enjoy and gives me great gratification, a sense of self worth if you will. I am going to be a mad scientist/sex offender. I've already started my journey down this particular career path as some of you may know and have found that in every step there lies an unsuspecting subject ready to be unwittingly included in my experiments. Again, as some of you may know, I performed a particularly grotesque experiment yesterday. Results are not yet in, but as we all know, the results aren't what's important. What's important is just the joy of doing stuff for others, others being myself. I will never go into detail on my life's work on this page, as it's rather bizarre and there are those among you who are not able to handle these things. Also, this last one was somewhat illegal, depending on how you look at it, and I'd rather not incriminate myself in any way. However tempting!

Mia :: 6:50 PM

(0) comments

February 05, 2003

Well, my devoted readers. You can remove the shotgun from your mouths as I have once again returned to give you the lowdown on my life and fill you in on what's shaking, as people with more interesting lives than I might say. I said it merely in sarcasm as the more persceptive of you will know, not much happens in the life of one missus Mia. Nevertheless, I'll ramble on about what little I can come up with for your enjoyment as always. Flowers are politefully declined but those that would like to thank me for this effort will be directed to my bank account.

Well, Saturday night saw my hermit lifestyle come crashing down when I attended a dear friend's birthday party. Not knowing what she was about to destroy, she gracefully offered her guests free alcohol. Listen here, people. DO NOT OFFER ME FREE ALCOHOL UNDER ANY FREAKIN CIRCUMSTANCES. (However, if you do feel absolutely compelled to do this make mine a triple malibu on the rocks with a dash of pineapple juice). My original intentions were to make a fashionably late and stylishly short stop at this party, fill the air with the aroma of my unchallenged sweetness and then be on my way back to Mormon solitude with my beloved television set. As it turned out, due to aforementioned free alcohol, this ended up not being the case. In the politest of terms applicable, I got shitfaced. Thankfully, my brain has surpressed most of the painfully embarrassing memories of that night for reasons I dont think I need to elaborate on. The parts I do remember however do not look too good for me. After committing acts that ensure I will have to bow my head in shame every time I run into anyone who was unfortunate enough to be at said party with me, I decided that there was no better way to top off the night than to pay the local titty bar a visit. After snagging a free cab ride down there through being unbearably obnoxious, I proceeded to stomp through the door without paying, simply by loudly making the doormen aware that I WAS GOING IN. Unfortunately for my dignity, they let me get away with that. Hellfire and brimstone awaits them for that little act of blatant cruelty, I'm sure. Once inside I kept downing "refreshments" which I had decided were also free at the bar since they had been so at the party. Again, I was allowed to get away with this. This did nothing to help me save face, I assure you. I then proceeded to get overly friendly with a guy I met, for reasons unknown. But I remember that we named each other The Christian Soldier and Little Mormon Molly, and we made arrangements to go ice skating were we to wake up unscathed from the night's consumption of ungodly beverages. I will naturally argue should he get a hold of me that I am far from unscathed and am rather somewhat scarred for life. Upon leaving the bar at 10 am in the morning which I found to be an appropriate time as I had promised to make an appearance at the mormon church four hours later, I was gravely assaulted in the parking lot by maddened hooligans. This episode of blatant violence left me critically injured as they had managed to break one of my perfectly sculpted fingernails, shining like justice in the night. I vowed to find out who these young men are and should I find them I shall naturally, in swift poetic justice, burn everything they own. Fairness is my middle name, after all.

I woke up at 2 pm the next day, thinking I was dead which then turned to wishing I was dead when I realised that I wasn't. Furthermore, I felt unable to attend church as I would have stunk up the church smelling like a Milwaukee brewery to the 8th power. This did not go over well with the missionaries who came to see me on Monday and were told upon asking why I had missed church that I had unfortunately been comatose from drinking. They were less than impressed with me, I might say.

During the Monday morning lesson Sisi again embarrassed the living daylights out of me by #1 screaming at the missionaries that her mother does not own her, #2 telling them that God had not put us on this earth so that we couldn't get some ass, #3 asking one of them first if he intended to use birth control when he started screwing and then whether he ever cursed, and what exactly did he say when he curses, #4 by suggestively groaning "Mmm, lookin mighty fine baby...shiiiat". And when they admired my christmasy reindeer slippers, she said "oh yes...we are crazy" followed by a neurotic laugh that would have creeped out the most psychotic of individuals.

SUBTLETY IS KEY. SUBTLE. SUBTLE. SUBTLE. I can't stress that enough. But it's hard when some people just do not appear to know the meaning of the word subtlety, nor when to shut the hell up. Now I realise that those who do not know Sisi do not at all understand just how mortifying the above situation was, and to those of you who do, well...your sympathies are gracefully accepted. The next lesson is on Friday morning. Me and my friend Michael have devised a malicious scheme for that lesson, starting with an innocent glass of lemonade. I won't go into this any further as it might gross out the faint hearted, but I can promise you this: This is what legends are made of.

Mia :: 12:46 AM

(0) comments

February 01, 2003

Another monotonous day in my recently rather monotonous life. I'm conducting a little biology experiment in my room, the question I'm looking to answer is "exactly how long can a human survive without a sufficient supply of oxygen?". I shut the window yesterday morning and am now waiting to pass out, basically. To fully explore this area I feel I should not leave my room at all, but unfortunately I have not been able to resist wandering aimlessly around the house.

Also, I had the missionaries over yesterday so I kind of had to leave the room. They might have found it a tad scary if I'd invited them up to my bedroom for a lesson, although seeing their expressions were I to ask would be somewhat priceless. They want me to go with them to some Young Mormon Singles Night at the church. Now if there was ever a place where chances of getting action are absolutely minimal, this would be it. So we can assume it will be safe for me to attend this little gathering and attend it I shall. Whether it's safe for everyone else, now that's another story...

Mia :: 5:42 PM

(0) comments