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Tag Archives: tv

Beating a dead horse


I’ve only been dealing with this Photobucket fiasco for a few days now and I’m already done.  Done with Photobucket but also with the comments about “you get what you pay for”.

Okay, STOP for just a damn minute.

kill la kill, fuck you

To Photobucket and everyone else being a dick right now.

Photobucket has been free to use for a very long time; I’ve been using it for 11 years now.  If they had offered something that appealed to me, I would have been more than happy to pay for it.  But since I started using PB, I’ve only accumulated less than 3,000 photos which is a damn lot for me, but nothing compared to what others have collected.  I had a whole 1.4 GB used of a 2.1 GB available to me through the free service.  And yes, it was free for me, but don’t for one fucking second think that PB was doing this out of the goodness of their hearts–they made money or they would not have offered the service.  They receive money by the way of ad revenue and based on the amount of ads that were constantly popping up in my face, they weren’t doing that bad in terms of advertising dollars.

The garbage part of this whole deal is that there was no notice, no option for something affordable or month to month, and now, no way to get back the pictures that have been locked down.  Skimming through some of the WP blogs, I saw someone note something that I had not thought about:  $400 per year doesn’t guarantee you anything.  If you want to be able to 3rd party host, you have to pay the $400.  Some people would do it, I’m sure, if they had the need for the enormous amount of storage being provided at that rate.  However, what’s to say that $400 is going to buy you a year of service?  The giant exodus from PB makes many wonder if they’re going to be around in another month, let alone a year.  So $400 is the ransom that some people are having to cough up.

The other thing that is a serous pain in the ass for me is that you cannot download folders of gifs from PB.  Folders that have jpg and certain other picture formats can be downloaded as a whole and is actually pretty darn convenient.  But, if you have jpg mixed with gif in a folder, then the downloaded folder will only have the jpg files.  All gif files have to manually downloaded.  I’m glad I didn’t put any video on there; I’d probably still be working on it.

As of today, I’ve finally finished downloading all of my pictures from PB and deleted my account.  It takes a day or two for it to completely shut down though, just in case I go bonkers and decide to cough up the annual fee.  There were plenty of pictures that were not even accessible to me, but I did get most of them out.  The thought of organizing them on my own computer is daunting and I’m seriously struggling if I even want to go back and put pictures back into 11 years worth of blog posts.  Maybe I’ll just do my usual stupid photos and gifs going forward and pretend the last 11 years never happened.

But probably not.  I’ll probably just be real pissy and bitchy about it and restore all of my posts.

What were we talking about?


Oh yeah.

Coulrophobia:  [kool-ruhfoh-bee-uh] n. 1. An abnormal fear of clowns.

Kindergarten, 5 years old: Color and cut out the pieces of the clowns face and glue them onto this other piece of paper to make a happy clown!


I colored and cut it out and then I used too much glue.  I cried and cried because I had ruined it.  Spoiler:  it was not ruined because Elmer’s School Glue dries clear.  I was inconsolable.  Literally, my kindergarten teacher was holding me and rocking me back and forth to try to get me to calm down.  Thank you, Mrs. Garavaglia.  You were the best.

Pierrot clowns


They fall into the umbrella category of dolls.  I hate porcelain dolls.  Some are strikingly beautiful, but there is something sinister to me about dolls.  Dolls have been used in ritual magic from the dawn of time and are believed to be able to house the souls of the dead.


The movie Dolls, even with its terrible acting and special effects pretty much ruined me for life.  I rented that movie for a sleepover and again, no adult ever thought a thing about it.  Also, I rented that VHS movie because I’m old as hell.

Zeebo the Clown, and anything from Are You Afraid of the Dark?


The intro says more than I ever could:

The clown from Poltergeist.


It’s not chair scene, but still terrifying.  That chair scene kills me every time.

Ronald McDonald.  My sister told me that he raped kids.

life destroying

Jack in the Boxes


Okay, not all of them are scary.  Look at this cute thing:


You know who wasn’t scary to me, though?  Bozo the Clown.  Thanks to WGN Chicago I watched him and his sidekick Cooky  and dreamed of throwing the ping pong balls in the numbered buckets.


I would never have been on the show but I still had that stage fright anxiety that I wouldn’t get a ping pong ball even in the first bucket.  I did not need to fail spectacularly in an ultra embarrassing way on national television.

Enough about clowns already!  Back to other pointless programming.

The episode in which everyone sees my bra


So, a few months ago, I was watched an episode of Ghost Hunters and in multiple shots and interviews, you can clearly see bras that were hung up in the closet.  I couldn’t believe that no one, especially the homeowner, noticed them?  Maybe they could have moved the bras?  Anyone?  Anyone?

I’m going to declare that I love how Tango has bloomed over the years. <3

You couldn’t move them?  Drawer?  Throw them in the closet and shut the door?  I was annoyed.  All the years of poring over real estate photos has been seared into my brain.  I see everything.

Except in my own home, apparently.

Last week, after my failed attempt at watercrafting, we had a company come in to assist with the cleaning and repair which will well exceed my homeowner’s insurance deductible.  They also handle all of the claim brouhaha, for which I am very grateful.  Their representative came to my house, tested all the moisture levels and directed all the demo work.

So. Much. Noise.

My side of the garage.

The other side of the garage.

Under-the-stairs-storage is *so* creepy and not at all where I keep things you don’t need to see.

We sat together at the kitchen table, filling out paperwork, calling the insurance, comparing tattoos (he has an awesome pirate ship on his chest, I have none).  We discussed liquor, the hand made pirate pajama pants I made for Josh, and how people are dumb when they use unprofessional e-mail addresses (xxxbootyluvr69xxx at yahoo, I’m looking at you and your RESUME).  A good time was had by all.

Until the other night when, to my chagrin, I saw this:

You know what is? I KNOW WHAT THAT IS.

OMFG he picked that chair to sit in.  He sat in the kitchen chair that I had a bra hanging off of.  No one is going to notice my totally cool Rolling Stones tote bag once they realize they’re sitting up against my bra.  Why do I have a bra carelessly hanging from a kitchen chair?  Because fuck you, that’s why.  My pants are in the foyer right now.  I can say with 100% honesty that I am so fucking relieved that it’s the $100, rarely worn, least embarrassing bra to be embarrassed by.  Maybe he didn’t even see it.  Thank god it wasn’t the ugly “daily workhorse” bra.

Work starts tomorrow to repair everything.  I’m praying for no problems, no drama, no further damage, no mold, no errant undergarments,