Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Moses Liked to Trip
I'm going to say today's theme on danielleisonline.com - the blog - is religion, so I can post this article.
The Laughing Jesus
In July of last year under a post entitled No title today - just talk, I make reference to my pal Syl's wedding and a picture hanging in the house of worship:
'I thought I had actually found the church of my dreams when I looked over at a wall which I thought had a picture of Bob Marley. Unfortunately it was Jesus – I had to check. It’s quite a sight when everyone is walking out of the church and you’re walking up to the pulpit area. The pastor guy was up there and said something like, “Isn’t that a nifty picture of Jesus?” I can honestly say it was unlike any picture of Jesus I had ever seen – dude – I’m telling you he had dreads. I’m sure I’ve seen that picture on a t-shirt somewhere.'
A copy of the pic is below. It's entitled the Laughing Jesus. I still think it looks like Bob. Or maybe the Big J.C. has got perma-grin.
'I thought I had actually found the church of my dreams when I looked over at a wall which I thought had a picture of Bob Marley. Unfortunately it was Jesus – I had to check. It’s quite a sight when everyone is walking out of the church and you’re walking up to the pulpit area. The pastor guy was up there and said something like, “Isn’t that a nifty picture of Jesus?” I can honestly say it was unlike any picture of Jesus I had ever seen – dude – I’m telling you he had dreads. I’m sure I’ve seen that picture on a t-shirt somewhere.'
A copy of the pic is below. It's entitled the Laughing Jesus. I still think it looks like Bob. Or maybe the Big J.C. has got perma-grin.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Cymbalta is the Devil
I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar Type I close to 15 years ago and have had a love/hate relationship with psychotic medications since. I've been on many a pill over the past decade, each one coming in with a promise to make me a normal, productive member of society.
In the early days, I dealt mainly with depression, which worked out fairly well since I tended to be on the gothic side back in my day. As I've aged (ever so gracefully) the depression has morphed into mania coupled severe mood swings. Side Note on Mania - Mania can be fun. There's nothing like getting 'meth head manic' on a Saturday and cleaning your house from floor to ceiling (needless to say, it's been a while since I've had a good manic episode - just ask anyone who's been out to the house lately). Mania can also be very bad - bad mania consists of me getting violent and nasty - never a pretty sight.
A few years ago my drug doc put me on Lamictal in an attempt to curb the mood swings. Lamictal is God's gift to the world. I never knew they made a pill for a bad attitude, but they do, it's called Lamictal - ask for it by name and accept no substitutes. He also put me on Prozac and Buspar as well. I ingested this cocktail on a daily basis for a while until the doc and I decided I didn't need the Prozac as I was having no issues with depression, so I stayed with the Lamictal and my daily Buspar placebo.
A few years went by and in the summer of 2006 something happened. As I recall it was something silly but it threw me into a world of hurt. I had fallen and I couldn't get up. After two weeks of living in the gutter, I decided to go to the drug doc. He decided it would probably be a good idea to throw me on an anti-depressant even though I wasn't depressed, stating it would help me not limbo so low when I hit a down patch. He was also kind enough to give me the heads up that anti-depressants aren't always good for Bi-Polars as the pills can make you more manic. As with any good drug doc, he asked me what I wanted to be on. At the time I kept seeing those Depression Hurts commercials - you know they ones that show us depression hurts not only you but the others surrounding you as visualized by the sad dog longing for his owner to pay attention to him. These commercials always tore at my heart strings because I love my dogs and I don't want them to hurt, so I requested Cymbalta.
My initial experience with Cymbalta was horrific. I have never had a single side effect from the psychotic drugs (legal and illegal) that I had taken past but this shit was unlike anything I had ever taken. It was all around uncomfort. The only thing I can really liken it to is being 'ate up,' which is a term used by recreational users of the drug ecstasy. Being ate up from ecstasy is equivalent of being hung over from alcohol. General side effects include nausea, dizziness and an uncontrollable urge to grind your teeth - basically an overall shitty feeling. So here I was, feeling ate up, without even have had a good buzz the night before. This lasted two weeks or so until I slowly changed into what my office mates were calling Fortune Cookie Danielle. As Fortune Cookie Danielle I would go around the office and spout off profound thoughts such as There is no need to complain about things you can control and Why are your toenails stronger than your fingernails? This too faded, leaving me as Medicated Danielle, with a slice of mania every now and again to keep things interesting.
Last week I deemed myself cured and decided to kick my drug habit. I have a real fear of getting off Cymbalta, not only because of the withdraw symptoms, but also because I contribute it to the 20+ pounds of weight loss I've achieved (my biggest fear in life is being a fat girl with a pretty face). So here I am today. I haven't taken any mood altering medication since last Wednesday. You would think my now the Cymbalta withdraw symptoms would have ceased, but alas, you are poorly mistaken. My fingers keep going numb. I'm nauseous and tingley all over. I feel like a space cadet. I decided to turn to the web for guidance and it has not been uplifting.
What do I do now? The only thing I can. I'm going to get a bottle of Dasani and take my meds. I'm gonna be an addict forever.
In the early days, I dealt mainly with depression, which worked out fairly well since I tended to be on the gothic side back in my day. As I've aged (ever so gracefully) the depression has morphed into mania coupled severe mood swings. Side Note on Mania - Mania can be fun. There's nothing like getting 'meth head manic' on a Saturday and cleaning your house from floor to ceiling (needless to say, it's been a while since I've had a good manic episode - just ask anyone who's been out to the house lately). Mania can also be very bad - bad mania consists of me getting violent and nasty - never a pretty sight.
A few years ago my drug doc put me on Lamictal in an attempt to curb the mood swings. Lamictal is God's gift to the world. I never knew they made a pill for a bad attitude, but they do, it's called Lamictal - ask for it by name and accept no substitutes. He also put me on Prozac and Buspar as well. I ingested this cocktail on a daily basis for a while until the doc and I decided I didn't need the Prozac as I was having no issues with depression, so I stayed with the Lamictal and my daily Buspar placebo.
A few years went by and in the summer of 2006 something happened. As I recall it was something silly but it threw me into a world of hurt. I had fallen and I couldn't get up. After two weeks of living in the gutter, I decided to go to the drug doc. He decided it would probably be a good idea to throw me on an anti-depressant even though I wasn't depressed, stating it would help me not limbo so low when I hit a down patch. He was also kind enough to give me the heads up that anti-depressants aren't always good for Bi-Polars as the pills can make you more manic. As with any good drug doc, he asked me what I wanted to be on. At the time I kept seeing those Depression Hurts commercials - you know they ones that show us depression hurts not only you but the others surrounding you as visualized by the sad dog longing for his owner to pay attention to him. These commercials always tore at my heart strings because I love my dogs and I don't want them to hurt, so I requested Cymbalta.
My initial experience with Cymbalta was horrific. I have never had a single side effect from the psychotic drugs (legal and illegal) that I had taken past but this shit was unlike anything I had ever taken. It was all around uncomfort. The only thing I can really liken it to is being 'ate up,' which is a term used by recreational users of the drug ecstasy. Being ate up from ecstasy is equivalent of being hung over from alcohol. General side effects include nausea, dizziness and an uncontrollable urge to grind your teeth - basically an overall shitty feeling. So here I was, feeling ate up, without even have had a good buzz the night before. This lasted two weeks or so until I slowly changed into what my office mates were calling Fortune Cookie Danielle. As Fortune Cookie Danielle I would go around the office and spout off profound thoughts such as There is no need to complain about things you can control and Why are your toenails stronger than your fingernails? This too faded, leaving me as Medicated Danielle, with a slice of mania every now and again to keep things interesting.
Last week I deemed myself cured and decided to kick my drug habit. I have a real fear of getting off Cymbalta, not only because of the withdraw symptoms, but also because I contribute it to the 20+ pounds of weight loss I've achieved (my biggest fear in life is being a fat girl with a pretty face). So here I am today. I haven't taken any mood altering medication since last Wednesday. You would think my now the Cymbalta withdraw symptoms would have ceased, but alas, you are poorly mistaken. My fingers keep going numb. I'm nauseous and tingley all over. I feel like a space cadet. I decided to turn to the web for guidance and it has not been uplifting.
What do I do now? The only thing I can. I'm going to get a bottle of Dasani and take my meds. I'm gonna be an addict forever.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Boost Mobile
Something recently happened to the cell phone of the E.B.V.’s boyfriend. What exactly happened, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter. As the boy had to get a new phone, he opted to change carriers as well – his new carrier, Boost Mobile.
The E.B.V. sends a text message to her boy but doesn’t receive a response. WTF?! The stalker trait starts coming out. As if he had been forewarned, he suddenly rings her to let her know he is unable to figure out how to use the text messaging function on his new Boost Mobile Phone. The E.B.V. tells him she’ll show him when he gets home (guys are so dumb). Later in the afternoon, she gets a text message that reads ‘That's Tight!’ Huh?
Apparently Boost Mobile is the new pay as you go plan marketed toward the, uh, urban population.
The E.B.V. provided me with the following first hand knowledge:
New Boost Mobile phones come with the most "commonly-used" text messages preprogrammed. Who needs to have to retype:
1. Where You At?
2. What Up?
3. That's Tight!
Ringtones available by default:
1. "Where You At"
2. "Mouth Music" - i.e. human beat box
3. "Mama Callin" - it is my understanding the exact words are (phonetically-spelled) "HEY FOO, PICK UP THE PHONE, DIS YO MAMA CALLIN'"
After doing some research I have found that Boost Mobile has been providing cellular service since 2006. Their plans seem to be competitive and they even have an anthem.
The E.B.V. sends a text message to her boy but doesn’t receive a response. WTF?! The stalker trait starts coming out. As if he had been forewarned, he suddenly rings her to let her know he is unable to figure out how to use the text messaging function on his new Boost Mobile Phone. The E.B.V. tells him she’ll show him when he gets home (guys are so dumb). Later in the afternoon, she gets a text message that reads ‘That's Tight!’ Huh?
Apparently Boost Mobile is the new pay as you go plan marketed toward the, uh, urban population.
The E.B.V. provided me with the following first hand knowledge:
New Boost Mobile phones come with the most "commonly-used" text messages preprogrammed. Who needs to have to retype:
1. Where You At?
2. What Up?
3. That's Tight!
Ringtones available by default:
1. "Where You At"
2. "Mouth Music" - i.e. human beat box
3. "Mama Callin" - it is my understanding the exact words are (phonetically-spelled) "HEY FOO, PICK UP THE PHONE, DIS YO MAMA CALLIN'"
After doing some research I have found that Boost Mobile has been providing cellular service since 2006. Their plans seem to be competitive and they even have an anthem.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Reach Out and Stalk Someone..
I’ve met hundreds of people through out my life, some memorable, many more forgettable.
I always wonder Whatever Happened To…
Michelle and I have been pondering this query for years. With the plethora of information available on the World Wide Web, we can, at times, answer the questions that enquiring minds want to know (off subject, do you remember that commercial from 25 years ago for the tabloid? Crazy how some slogans stand the test of time?). The Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department has a nifty little website where you can look up arrests over the past five years, and on more than one occasion, I have grabbed my high school yearbook for a Where Are They Now montage. Used in combination with the Florida Department of Corrections website and you can find out a whole lot of dirt on all of the winners we hung out with back in the day. Then there’s myspace. I think everyone has sold out and created a myspace account, so it’s a wonderful place when you’re wondering Whatever Happened To. We check these sites frequently as records are very up to date. Why we do this I’m not sure. I think on some level, as sad as it sounds, we do this to feel better about ourselves. It’s almost uplifting to look at our prior conquests and say things like Eeew, he looks like white trash or Ick, time has not been his friend or the classic, OMG, what the fuck was I thinking sleeping with that loser? Michelle and I exchange our findings, comments, and nastiness. A good time had by all.
To expand on this a bit further, I think every woman inherits a ‘stalker’ trait (and any of the female readers out there who deny this are lying). We’ve all gone a little over board once or twice or at every opportunity that’s presented itself, asking ourselves questions like Where is he? Who is he with? What is he doing? Why hasn’t he called me? Is he mad at me? With our minds raging in questions like these we have no choice but to look for answers, by whatever means necessary. We’ve all incessantly called, driven by his home, popped up at one of his old haunts in hopes of something-er-other.
~A Tragic Love Story~
Over a decade ago, I met (and presumable fell for) a guy we’ll call LL. As I recall, it was lust at first sight. Shaved head, tattooed to the nines, dirty wife beater – you know, all the important things you look at. I thought he was my soul mate (keep in mind, I’m 17 at the time and I think every guy I hop into bed with is my soul mate). The tragedy, he was moving out of state the next week. As I remember (an my memory is cloudy – I can’t remember if I ate breakfast this morning, let alone some random week long fling from 10 years ago), we spent as much time together as possible over the next few days, then alas, he moved. We kept in touch for a few months it seems (I found some of the letters at home which is what brought this on), but eventually, as with all puppy love, it dissipated.
So last week, the image of this cat pops in my mind and I wonder whatever happened to LL? I turn to my trusty sidekick, the computer with high speed internet, and Google LL. Lo and behold, I find him. Dayum. What do I do now?
I do the only thing I know how. I contact the All Knowing Michelle. The All Knowing confirms my initial thought, contact him (she does include a back handed compliment by stating ‘He still looks good, though. Not like some of the others.’).
So I send a message:
Subject: I can’t think of a subject..
Message: LL Cool Jay? Used to live in Tampa a decade ago? Are you one in the same?
I get a reply the next day which simply says:
Subject: RE: I can’t think of a subject..
Message: i am one in the same-holy shit long time!-how are you?
Wow, I think. LL remembers me, which is surprising as I have many a day where I feel unforgettable. I type out my reply:
Subject: Blast from the Past..
Message: Holy shit long time is the under statement of the year (I don't think you'll hold the title long though - it's only February). I'm surprised you remember me, if indeed you do (for all I know you may have read - lived in Tampa - and concluded that I must be someone you haven't spoken to in a long time). If you do know who I am, I can only imagine your shock of receiving a message from someone you haven't had contact with for a very long time. Life is good. I'm happy. I have my health. I am comfortable with myself. I've got three beautiful children (each with four legs) that keep me young in my older age. What more can one ask for?How are you? Still up in VT I see. Did ya ever settle down, get married, start a family, etc.?
Needless to say, it’s been about a week and I have not had a reply. I am going to blame this on email (and Robert Blake - Robert Blake is responsible for all things bad) as the problem with email is can't hear cynicism in the sender’s voice. If I orally read the message, you can here the sarcasm laced words. To read it I sound like a bloody flake. This leads me to believe that a) he has no fucking idea who I am and/or b) he thinks I am a fucking flake. Hmph. What now? Maybe I should Ask RobX.
When the stalker trait rears it’s head in this situation, it makes me want to send another email and be like WTF?! but contrary to how I feel (how WE all feel, bitches) I have decided to let it be. I am a little bummed out as I think we’d all be in the situation (especially the gals in the office who have decided to live vicariously through me of all people) but oh well. I’ll just have to find some more potential trouble to get myself into. This shouldn't be too hard.
So here’s the question I pose, my avid fans, would you want to be contacted by someone distant past? I mean seriously, who wouldn't want to be contacted by me?!
I always wonder Whatever Happened To…
Michelle and I have been pondering this query for years. With the plethora of information available on the World Wide Web, we can, at times, answer the questions that enquiring minds want to know (off subject, do you remember that commercial from 25 years ago for the tabloid? Crazy how some slogans stand the test of time?). The Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department has a nifty little website where you can look up arrests over the past five years, and on more than one occasion, I have grabbed my high school yearbook for a Where Are They Now montage. Used in combination with the Florida Department of Corrections website and you can find out a whole lot of dirt on all of the winners we hung out with back in the day. Then there’s myspace. I think everyone has sold out and created a myspace account, so it’s a wonderful place when you’re wondering Whatever Happened To. We check these sites frequently as records are very up to date. Why we do this I’m not sure. I think on some level, as sad as it sounds, we do this to feel better about ourselves. It’s almost uplifting to look at our prior conquests and say things like Eeew, he looks like white trash or Ick, time has not been his friend or the classic, OMG, what the fuck was I thinking sleeping with that loser? Michelle and I exchange our findings, comments, and nastiness. A good time had by all.
To expand on this a bit further, I think every woman inherits a ‘stalker’ trait (and any of the female readers out there who deny this are lying). We’ve all gone a little over board once or twice or at every opportunity that’s presented itself, asking ourselves questions like Where is he? Who is he with? What is he doing? Why hasn’t he called me? Is he mad at me? With our minds raging in questions like these we have no choice but to look for answers, by whatever means necessary. We’ve all incessantly called, driven by his home, popped up at one of his old haunts in hopes of something-er-other.
~A Tragic Love Story~
Over a decade ago, I met (and presumable fell for) a guy we’ll call LL. As I recall, it was lust at first sight. Shaved head, tattooed to the nines, dirty wife beater – you know, all the important things you look at. I thought he was my soul mate (keep in mind, I’m 17 at the time and I think every guy I hop into bed with is my soul mate). The tragedy, he was moving out of state the next week. As I remember (an my memory is cloudy – I can’t remember if I ate breakfast this morning, let alone some random week long fling from 10 years ago), we spent as much time together as possible over the next few days, then alas, he moved. We kept in touch for a few months it seems (I found some of the letters at home which is what brought this on), but eventually, as with all puppy love, it dissipated.
So last week, the image of this cat pops in my mind and I wonder whatever happened to LL? I turn to my trusty sidekick, the computer with high speed internet, and Google LL. Lo and behold, I find him. Dayum. What do I do now?
I do the only thing I know how. I contact the All Knowing Michelle. The All Knowing confirms my initial thought, contact him (she does include a back handed compliment by stating ‘He still looks good, though. Not like some of the others.’).
So I send a message:
Subject: I can’t think of a subject..
Message: LL Cool Jay? Used to live in Tampa a decade ago? Are you one in the same?
I get a reply the next day which simply says:
Subject: RE: I can’t think of a subject..
Message: i am one in the same-holy shit long time!-how are you?
Wow, I think. LL remembers me, which is surprising as I have many a day where I feel unforgettable. I type out my reply:
Subject: Blast from the Past..
Message: Holy shit long time is the under statement of the year (I don't think you'll hold the title long though - it's only February). I'm surprised you remember me, if indeed you do (for all I know you may have read - lived in Tampa - and concluded that I must be someone you haven't spoken to in a long time). If you do know who I am, I can only imagine your shock of receiving a message from someone you haven't had contact with for a very long time. Life is good. I'm happy. I have my health. I am comfortable with myself. I've got three beautiful children (each with four legs) that keep me young in my older age. What more can one ask for?How are you? Still up in VT I see. Did ya ever settle down, get married, start a family, etc.?
Needless to say, it’s been about a week and I have not had a reply. I am going to blame this on email (and Robert Blake - Robert Blake is responsible for all things bad) as the problem with email is can't hear cynicism in the sender’s voice. If I orally read the message, you can here the sarcasm laced words. To read it I sound like a bloody flake. This leads me to believe that a) he has no fucking idea who I am and/or b) he thinks I am a fucking flake. Hmph. What now? Maybe I should Ask RobX.
When the stalker trait rears it’s head in this situation, it makes me want to send another email and be like WTF?! but contrary to how I feel (how WE all feel, bitches) I have decided to let it be. I am a little bummed out as I think we’d all be in the situation (especially the gals in the office who have decided to live vicariously through me of all people) but oh well. I’ll just have to find some more potential trouble to get myself into. This shouldn't be too hard.
So here’s the question I pose, my avid fans, would you want to be contacted by someone distant past? I mean seriously, who wouldn't want to be contacted by me?!
R.I.P.
Four years ago today, the world lost Sean Corey Lopusnak to a heroin overdose.
Remember kids, if you can put it up your nose or in your arm - DON'T FUCK WITH IT!
Remember kids, if you can put it up your nose or in your arm - DON'T FUCK WITH IT!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Site Launch Party
Some of the most upcoming, influential and inspirational people in the bay area came out last night to celebrate the launching of danielleisonline.com. I apologize to those of you who missed it. One of the rarest sights you can ever see is that of a glimpse of the elusive Danielle in public.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First up, this is my new best friend, Misha. I'm not 100% sure why the adorable little Russian boy, and creator of the music project G13, is flashing a gang symbol and standing in front of what appears to be gang graffiti, but it's all good in the hood as the underground is down with danielleisonline.com.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Say hello to Jeff M. This lifelong resident of Tampa, small business owner and fashionista is shown sporting what is sure to be the hottest trend of the season. You may all look at him like he's crazy now, but the confidence in his eyes tell you you'll be rocking this look soon.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is Jason L.. He does audio work. What is audio work you ask? It's more than just installing speakers. The on again, off again resident of the bay area and former Malibu Grand Prix employee showed us what he's been hiding in his jeans.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meet Gerald. I have no idea what this guy does, but as you can see, the only thing coming out of his mouth last night was danielleisonline.com.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me get a warm welcome for another Jeff. His story was (the only) one of inspiration. I'm sure it would be totally wrong for me to post it online without his consent so basically he has overcome something that has had a great effect on me through out the years. You go girl.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contrary to popular belief, these are not vagrants I found on the street and traded beer for advertising. They're Rich Van Valin and Jimmy!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tongues were wagging at the launch party for danielleisonline.com. The guys chose to wag them in each others mouths. Guys are so dumb. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John N. is standing on the left. He's a guy who likes to play pool and travels a lot for business. Pictured on the right is the man responsible for the evening, every one's favourite mate, and my hero, Robert Blake the 10th. If you look close enough you can see the evil eyes of Rich lurking in the distance. The importance of this photograph - It's your Highness and some 'manly' men drinking Buttery Nipple shots.
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Nothing comes between me and my Calvins.... but danielleisonline.com!
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Sorry, I don't even want to think of a caption for this picture. Would you?
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