I thought Dan Akroyd was cute.

Due to my jobless state, I have more time to be bored while I look for one. I can't take it much longer. I'm actually beginning to regret quitting my old job, but not quite. No, now that I rethink that...I don't think I'll ever miss it.

I miss being able to pay my bills without having my sleep interrupted by thoughts of being broke, and being able to go somewhere without having to plan it being less than 10 dollars. I miss being able to buy new jeans. I miss being able to help with household bills more.

Damn it. I miss being an adult.

:-/

However, due to this abundance of spare time...I'm watching a lot of movies. The latest was the dvd set we have of Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters 2, including 2 episodes of the cartoon that I loved so much. I remember seeing Ghostbusters for the first time; being fascinated with the idea of ghosts and being torn between wanting to see Slimer, and not wanting a Carpathian warlock to try and kill me. I was young and impressionable. Besides, I had a crush on Dan Akroyd. I think I still might.
. Hmm.

Boredom stinks like old garbage...

1. First name: Well, I was almost named Victoria
2. Were you named after anyone? Technically, one of my names is a deliberate re-spelling of a family name.
3. Do you wish on stars? Once in a while.
4. When did you last cry? Yesterday. It sucks to worry about money.
5. Do you like your handwriting? When I try and make it neat its ok, when I don't-- it looks more like I sneezed the ink onto the paper.
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Leftover turkey off the bird.
7. What is your birth date? 10/28/81
8. What is your most embarrassing CD? :-/ Sweet Kisses by Jessica Simpson
9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with yourself? I don't know. Probably.
10. Are you a daredevil? Not really. I don't trust parachutes enough to jump out of a plane, and I would never tie a giant rubber band to myself and dive off a bridge. I don't like driving too fast, either. Shit, I'm boring.
11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? Once, a long time ago. It almost destroyed a friendship, so I swore I'd never do it again.
12. Do looks matter? Not so much, but some.
13. How do you release anger? Punch pillows and vent to my friends.
14. Where is your second home? What kind of rich bitch do you think I am?
15. Do you trust others too easily? Rarely.
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Talking Alf doll.
17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? Gym class. I get the importance of exercise, but why the fuck did they make us beat each other with floor hockey sticks and force me to pretend to be sick to get out of volleyball? ;)
18. Do you have a journal? I'm not writing this on the wall in lipstick.
19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Nah. Why would I do that?
20. Favorite movie(s)? Of all time? umm... LOTR, Dead Poet's Society, The Evil Dead, Napoleon Dynamite, The Cutting Edge, and Super Troopers...among lots of others.
21. What are your (acceptable) nicknames? Mostly every calls me Dee, there's some other ones, but for the sake of making sure they never come to light again...I'm keeping my yap shut.
22. Would you bungee jump? I already covered that. I'm pretty sure hearing the cord snap would be the last thing I heard before I started screaming and having a massive coronary on the way down.
23. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nope. April-October I'm in sandals.
24. Do you think that you are strong? After packing and positioning all my belongings...I'm stronger than I thought I was.
25. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Magic Brownie... Ben and Jerry, thank you.
26. What size of shoe do you wear? 9
27. What are your favorite colors? black, pink, purple, blue
28. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? I'm too tough on myself
29. Who do you miss most? My close friends.
30. Do you want everyone you send this to send it back? I try to never send these out.
31. What color pants are you wearing? best gray sweats ever.
32. What are you listening to right now? Shorties Watchin Shorties
33. What was the last thing you ate? leftover singapore lo mein
35. What is the weather like right now? finally, gray skies and a break from the sun.
36. Last person you talked to on the phone? My dad
37. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Where their eyes go.
38. Do you like the person who sent this to you? She seems like a nice person
40. Favorite Drink? Peach Snapple/ dark beers
41. Favorite sport? Baseball
42. Hair Color? Dark red
43. Eye Color? Hazel
44. Do you wear contacts? Nope.
45. Favorite Food? Mac n cheese or strawberries
46. Last Movie You Watched? Ghostbusters
47. Favorite Day of the Year? Any day I'm on a legit vacation.
48. Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Creepy movies with decent endings.
49. Winter or Summer? Summer I don't like being overheated...but I hate snow.
50. Hugs or kisses? Both. I'm greedy.
51. What is Your Favorite Dessert? Brownies with raspberries.
52. Who is most likely to respond? NA
53. Who is least likely to respond? NA
54. Where Would You Want to Go on your Next Vacation? Where do I want to go? Jamaica.
55. What Books are you reading? Dreamcatchers by Stephen King, Letting Go by Pamela Morsi
56. What's on your mouse pad? Roadrunner
57. What did you Watch Last Night on TV? CSI: Miami
58. Favorite Smells? Peaches or a nice cologne
59. Rolling Stones or Beatles? the Stones
60. What's the furthest you've been away from home? St. Maarten

I want a dog.

I've been waiting for 10 years and now, damn it, I want a dog. That "we're for puppies" commercial on tv just about turns me into a hyperactive 5 year-old.

We used to have a cat years ago. It was evil. Or at the very least, it was a twisted creature that used to enjoy ambushing anyone walking past a doorway and scaling up their legs- whether or not they were wearing pants. I'm not a big fan of cats. Over the years my cat allergy has grown to epic proportions, but the oddest thing is that I'm not allergic to every cat. When I'm around one that gets me, though, I may as well just dope myself up on Benadryl and forget my name while I sleep the sleep of the overdosed.

My first dog was a rottweiler. I remember being scared when dad told me he got one, because of all the bad press. What I remember next was turning into a pile of baby-talk mush when I saw the teeny puppy sleeping under our coffee table. I named her Ninja (I blame the Turtles) and she was the greatest dog ever. But we lived in a crowded area and one of my shit-for-brain-animal-abusing neighbors shot her in the head with a BB gun when she was in our front yard. It was worse than you might think. Thankfully, she survived and was fine, but we gave her to a family that had a huge farm so she'd have a happier life. She went on to live almost 10 more years and have a ton of puppies.

I have a dog at my dad's house, but he also has 3 cats. I don't get out there much, and I only refer to her as "my dog" because I'm the one that brought her home as a puppy and put her in my stepmom's lap. It was cute how my dad thought he had a chance to say no. They live an hour away, so I don't get out there much. I want my own dog, here, where I can play with it, go for walks, bond and make homemade dog biscuits.



Now, the big decision is what kind of dog. We know it has to be a smaller breed, and preferably one that's hypoallergenic, or doesn't shed too much with regular grooming. I'm researching local rescue groups for possibilities. I'm partial to rescue dogs because of what happened to Ninja, and my dog at dad's house was found in a snow drift in the woods when she was 6 weeks old. Some jackass abandoned her. Any suggestions?

What? You mean I'll never be Miss America?!

I went for a walk in my new neighborhood today. They should really invest in a few novel things, such as sidewalks, pothole-filling and maybe even crosswalks. I felt like I was playing frogger. It's not that I'm saying that the drivers around here are bad, just more like they refuse to read signs and rely on faith rather than skill. I'm not driving right now because I know and admit that I need more practice, perhaps others should take my example.

Seeing as how I have to rely on public transportation (which I refer to as "Hell") I had to learn where the closest bus stop is. I judged it to be 3 songs away on my MP3 player. It's not a bad walk, but I imagine it will be far less charming in 2 months when we're hip-deep in snow and I have to dodge plows to get to said bus stop. I've done it before in high school and college (I hate snow, I can't figure out why I went to a school that only closes by order of the Govenor of NY.)

I passed some interesting things. For one, there is a Boy Scout monument, dedicated to all the Boy Scouts of NY state. Two benches and a big rock right by the side of a busy road in a residential area. Riiight. Something tells me that no one sits there to read and contemplate life and the Boy Scout oath.

There's a waterfall nearby, and I'd sit there sometime...but there's this smell there. I don't know what it is or where it's coming from. It smells like hot garbage and diapers baked in the sun and left to soak in the rain. The strangest thing is that it's only noticeable for about 10 feet as I walked by.

I was a sweaty mess when I got back. What? Am I supposed to pretend that after a long walk in the hot sun in the middle of a city that I looked like a Miss America contestant? Hmm... I wish could get a crack at answering some of the questions.

"So... What do you think is the biggest issue in today's society for children?"

"Well. Outside of the fact that more and more of them are trading sex for small favors, doing drugs because theres nothing else to do, and growing steadily dumber in our society that rewards beauty instead of intelligence...why are you cutting me off? I'm not done tal..."

;~)


...off to shower.

Wine-ing about my day...

We finally own this house!

The closing was today, and one of the most boring things I've ever sat through-- with the exception of a few classes I've had (Computer Skills, for example.)

I don't care how boring it was, though-- it's worth it. One funny thing happened. My mother's lawyer was talking about me and she stopped and asked how old I was. I told her I'm 23 and her jaw just dropped. She seriously thought I was still in high school. Crap, now I wonder if I really look that young. I don't usually get carded too often, but apparently I look like I'm 16.

Maybe it'll hold over until I'm 40 and look 32.

We had a few friends over, and we all drank too much wine and ate too much. Personally, my 5 glasses of wine, 2 glasses of champagne and a strawberry margarita were enough to tire me out. Last time I drank numerous glasses of wine-- I was on a cruise and wandered around the ship singing 80's tunes with other drunk people.

The Man Entry...

I have to vent about guys for a bit.

It seems to me that every man I meet as of late is in one of these groups:

1) Gay. (self-explanatory. And so often, perfect, if it weren't for that whole dating-other-guys thing.)

2) Stupid. (They're multiplying, I swear. I'm on myspace and I get random messages from guys telling me that they think I'm "cute," or "I like wat I see "

For example-- and this is a REAL message I've recieved.

"hi name is ***** i loved yea add i am from nj i attend college in ny i am 24 be 25 in july i am 5/7 brown eyes brown short hair weigh 185 i love cook sing dance write songs movies music is what i live for i love drink have fun so if you liek message me back here i give you number you call me or give me number to call you"

NO punctuation, NO grammar, NO BRAIN. It boggles my mind that an email like that could be sent out.

I have no patience for stupidity like that. Yes, typos happen...but that's why spellcheck was invented-- or at least a quick once-over to make sure that there's at least one or two punctuation marks within the entire mess.

I am a bitch. I don't deny it. I can't date a dumbass.

3) Annoying. (Telling me ad nauseum about their ex girlfriend or parental issues isn't the fastest way to interest me.)

4) Smarmy/Fake Charming. (These are the guys that make comments about how they like women built like me, when they are alone talking to me-- but when they're out in public they won't give me a second glance. I'd have more respect for those guys if they'd be honest.)

I recently was contacted by a guy I went to school with, and he went on and on about how I was his type when we were in school and how he thought about trying to get with me-- but he assumed I wouldn't be interested. I knew he was a flirt, but he would have had a decent chance. However, now... he tells me that I shouldn't be single because I have big boobs. Right. That's what I want-- a man that's solely interested in my tits. Granted, it helps, but I'd like a guy into more than that. He tells me that he thinks I'm attractive and all...and then tells me he has a girlfriend. Ew. Bad boyfriend. Red flag, anyone?

5) Whiny. (These are the guys that bitch and moan about how nice guys always finish last.)

This came up on myspace with my friends and we all got this idiotic bulletin to that effect-- how the "nice" guys are ignored and no one will sleep with them, and the author had a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood. I sent a bulletin back out, here's my response:


"I would like to extend a hand to the TRUE nice guys, the ones that understand that dating and relationships are worth the work. The ones that must be out there, intelligent enough to not spread that garbage.

To the "nice boys," and whomever wrote that spectacular tribute to oh-so-manly despair...how do you walk upright with no spine? Shouldn't you be more of a quivering pile of jello on the floor? Every woman has heard it, men whining about always being "the friend." Get over it. If you're interested, let her know. if she's a smart, worthwhile woman she'll tell you it won't happen, nicely. If she steps on you she wasn't worth it in the first place. Everyone faces rejection, it's usually not as bad as you think it is.

How come so many men (And yes, women, too) always expect more than they're willing to give? Thanks to the media, Hollywood and the fact that not enough men understand that Fantasy is very different from Reality-- it seems as though most of the men out there seem to have a sense of entitlement for a model-esque woman. Yet look at those men and they spend the majority of their time playing with their X-Box and avoiding responsibility (and reality.) They're the ones that eat nothing but crap food but have snotty comments about women that actually eat.

Oh my God, would you believe that women actually need to eat to survive? Can you still breathe after hearing that some women that are "fat" are happy? And to the ladies that don't get it-- don't limit your sense of "hot" guys to just those that wear the same damn button downs and enough hair gel to ski down. Don't date a man if you only want to change him. It's obnoxious and offensive to impose any preconcieved notion of perfection on anyone.

Here's one to all the girls that don't fawn all over the Gotti-bots in the bars, the women that see intelligence and dorkiness as attractive. Consequently, too often we're subjected to the attentions of the drunken morons that just want to get laid. Keep it up, look for those that are worthy for us, keep your standards and don't let the unworthy ones get you down.

However, "boys," the first step to alienating women is to have that sense that all women are bitches and won't talk to you anyway. That's ignorant and damn right I won't talk to you. Get over the sense of entitlement, and grow a spine."


Ok, I think I've vented enough for now. I know there are good ones out there, I'm not totally bonkers... but I just needed to let that steam out before it blew out of my ears ;D

Handcuffs, Egotism and Chicken Wings

I'm back from my overnight trip home. For all my rampant cynicism, I really did have fun. This is one hell of a long entry though, heads up. I tried to hit the highlights.

My friend got here to pick me up around 6 yesterday. We had some of the birthday cake I'd made for him, and by 7 or so, we were on the road. The city I live in seems to be comprised of mostly one-way roads, kind of like a smaller and grimier Boston. We made it onto the Thruway, and it was a straight shot to my hometown.

We found a parking spot at the fair, and immediately walked to the main pavilion to find my father. It was easy, he was the DJ. I'd expected to feel stifled right away, but I wasn't. Mostly it was a sense of raging nostalgia. We goofed around for a while and ran into one of my oldest best friends. She wasted no time telling my friend some of my most embarrassing stories (the best one is when I smoked weed for the first time, and had no idea it caused the munchies. All I knew was that I drank about 10 glasses of water and ate an entire bag of doritos. I mentioned the whole story further back in another entry in July.)

The place looked exactly as I'd remembered it from every other year I'd gone. However, since I had a friend with me, it wasn't so rough. We bought a couple of beers in the commemorative glass mugs they sell every year-- it's about time I started my collection. My dad has 27 from the last 29 last years.

Last night we were there til around 10. I only saw a few people that gave me the urge to run up, kick them in the shins and run away. No worries, I didn't do it. Afterwards, my dad, my brother, my friend and me went to a local bar. It's THE place to go in town. Greatest chicken wings ever (my friend is a convert now. I can't eat them often...but they're the best. Screw Buffalo.) I had been craving a bacon cheddar burger with curly fries and gravy from there for the last 6 months, so I mowed that down like I was being paid by the calorie. We were there for 2 hours, just telling silly family stories. My dad is so funny, but the thing is, he's kind of a big fish in a small pond. Everyone knows him-- which was both a blessing and a curse when I lived there. On the positive side, I took less garbage because of it, and on the negative side-- I couldn't get away with a damned thing EVER. It always got back to him, so I just gave up and waited til college to screw up.

I was so glad to get to see my brother. I can't believe how much he's changed. It's crazy to see, since I don't get up there as much as I should. He recently went out west to visit family, and for the last few weeks he's been telling me on the phone that he brought something back for me. I was curious, because usually he can't keep a gift secret for more than a few days haha. He gave me my present last night and I was literally speechless. He helped my aunt make me a New York Yankees quilt. It's unbelievable. He fooled dad by telling him he was making it for him, and when he got back to NY, he let him know it was for me. It's on my bed now. It's the best thing he could have ever given me. I'm so proud of how he's turning out. For a 13 year-old boy, he's remarkably stable and is his own person. His favorite music is old school rock and country, in a land of rap fans.

This morning we were up before 8. No seriously, we were. We ended up deciding to go out to breakfast and then go see 40 Year Old Virgin. The host at the restaurant was really silly, he was swearing to me that he remembered me from eating there before. I like it when men with accents flirt harmlessly with me. It's good for the ego.

The movie was great. I rarely laugh out loud watching a movie, and Steve Carell had me howling. Admittedly, I think he's gorgeous, and he was the only reason I didn't hate Anchorman...but he did an awesome job. His character was just so damn lovably cranky that I found myself wishing I could find a guy like that. The movie had a decent message, so unlike the rest of the movies out.

After the movie, we tried to find where the friend we'd met up with the night before lived, but got confused. I still don't know for sure where she lives. It put me in a piss-poor mood. For an hour or so I was really touchy. I was mad because there was almost literally nothing to do that didn't cost money. We ended up taking a trip to Wal-Mart, where I bought unnecessary items-- a cheap DVD (Evolution) and a t-shirt (one of the new vintage style band shirts. I bought the Rolling Stones one.) I don't care. It cost 10 bucks and looks fantastic.

We made it to the fair for Day 2, and met up with another old friend of mine. She's great. I was lucky, the close friends I had were good influences...and somehow we all turned out to be pretty much the same. Maybe I'm just more political. The swearing habits are almost even.

Hot dogs and fries for dinner. I noticed I must have changed and not really seen it myself. It's an old joke, but it's true. If you ever want to feel really good about yourself-- go to a small-town fair. You'll leave with your ego singing showtunes. It's like a nice shot of "Shit. I'm positively stunning compared to this."

My friend was telling me that he appreciated the change of scene from downstate. It must have seemed a hundred times more low-key. He also appreciated the smells. To me it smells like grass and cow manure in the sun, but to him it smelled better than "smoke coming from the nearest TGIFridays." Ok dude. Whatever works for you. It smells like cow crap to me, but thats what I associate with home.

The three of us wandered around. We walked about 20 feet, stopped to talk, and then realized we were holding up traffic...walked another 20 feet and stopped to talk again. We ran into my dad, who had had a few beers and is really a jolly drinker. Thankfully for me, he's not in the least embarrassing. The absolute BEST and most priceless moment went like this:

We saw other people laughing and pointing at two guys dressed up as a giant police whistle and as McGruff the Crime Dog (you know, "Take a Bite Outta Crime!") The whistle came right at me, and we decided to pose for a picture. I saw my friend fumbling around in his bag for something, and meanwhile McGruff leaned over to talk to me and said, "It's hot as hell in here." haha, it was another one of my friends! I whispered to him that I have once dressed up as Winnie the Pooh on a very hot summer day, and that I felt his pain. My friend fished something out of his bag-- a pair of handcuffs!! He cuffed his hands together and joined in the picture. It was Giant Whistle, Me, McGruff and then him. My dad took the picture.

My father looked at me and said, "We need to talk," and pointed at the cuffs, then he put his arm around my friend and said, "No. WE need to have a talk." My friend was laughing like crazy and told him, "No! I didn't bring them with me! I swear! I bought them here!" So he just told my father that the only souvenir that he thought was "practical" was a pair of handcuffs-- and then posed in a picture with me while wearing them. So my dad now believes I'm sleeping with my best male friend. One problem... he's gay! haha. I'll let him know, but dad will probably end up feeling disappointed, he's been waiting for a while for a chance to scare a potential boyfriend with his "Let's go for a walk with my shotgun and a shovel. If you answer my questions-- we'll both walk out. If not, I'll still have my shotgun and shovel and walk out alone" speech. We took some interesting pictures.

We left around 8:30, and got back here around 10-ish. We only got a little lost. It feels like I spent more time there than I did, and I'll probably think of more to write about later, or at least I'll snark on some things more. On a solely bitchy and honestly awful-of-me note-- I found out that one of the girls that had made my life hell in school now has what sounds like an extreme coke addiction and looks like a walking medical skeltal specimen. Oh well. Better to be fat and happy than coked-out and fugly, right?

Do the Time Warp, Baby.

I grew up in a very small town. I hated it, and I ran to the first college that accepted me-- sight unseen. Lucky me that I loved the school I chose.

It just seemed so goddamn oppressive. I showed a friend of mine my high school yearbook, and it brought me back 6 years to my senior year. My prevailing feeling was "I HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE." My school was run by people that pissed me off and lived to try and rattle my chains. They succeeded more than I care to admit. But thanks to the passage of time, I'm amused by it now. Not so much that I had pennies thrown at me when I was walking home, or had guys pretend to like me just to jerk me around-- but at how hard they tried to bother me. I know it was a small town, but they really had Nothing better to do? haha. If I were truly that unimportant, they would have ignored me. I wish they'd known how silly I thought they were. Hopefully my brother doesn't let himself get yanked around too much-- he's going into 8th grade.

As I remember, they were fairly stupid. Perhaps cracking a book or watching something other than TRL would have been beneficial to them.

I miss the town itself. I haven't lived there since I was 18, so it's been long enough for my glasses to turn sufficiently rose-colored. There's a bunch of people I really do want to see, my close friends from school and my family, mostly. I'm bringing a friend of mine from Long Island. I think the only reason I'm not dreading going back is because he's going. We're going back for my town's big annual fair. IE-- the biggest thing that happens every year. Complete with cheap t-shirts, cheap beer in a commemorative mug, scary rides (think Gravitron and Swings-- and I mean scary as questionable maintenance) along with the Great Unwashed from all over the county. Maybe it's the Anthropology major in me...but it's just so interesting to people-watch there.

There's the younger kids, the ones that save up their allowances to buy invisible ink and exploding poppers that litter white paper packets all over the ground. They live to destroy one another with silly string, while their parents hide in the beer tent or under the pavilion listening to country cover bands. I like the littler kids, they genuinely have fun. They haven't gotten old enough to realize that other things are out there. I'm not so fond of the teenagers. They're in that snotty "don't trust anyone over 20" stage. The girls walk around in estro-packs, dressed in their trashiest best, pretending to ignore the boys. The guys stroll around, clearly thinking they own the very ground they walk on, dressed to the nines themselves-- in either flannel shirts and tank tops, or t-shirts 4 times too big. I know this because I lived it. Not so much the trash-tastic clothing or wasting all my money on crappy souvenirs (which I did,) but more so the interaction. In a town with little to offer to teenagers other than recreational drug use and jumping off a local bridge into the lake...this is big news. My friends and I used to harrass each other with those poppers, and we took our turns irritating the older members of the community.

I'm now old enough to hide from the pubertal masses in the beer tent and drink Coors Light from my mug. I can get a sausage and pepper sandwich or wings and relax and listen to the music while my brother and his friends terrorize each other.

I don't know how I ended up a liberal feminist bitch having grown up there. It's very much a land of yellow ribbon magnets, flags everywhere and having an anti-Bush or anti-war opinion in the wrong place is likely a very bad idea. I've even taken my turn helping our local Republican Club at thier booth. I did it for my dad, and because it was fun to see the kids play the game they always had. I don't usually hide my beliefs, but I'm going to try to avoid the political discussions, so I don't end up asking why cranky old republicans are afraid of gay people, but still think that personal responsibility is the key to life. Or, even worse, ask them why my reproductive system is any of their damned business, and point them to NOW's website. I'm supportive of my country and our troops...but that doesn't mean I need to agree with it. But no way in hell am I getting into all that on a trip back. All I want is some good greasy food and to have fun with my friends. If anything, it'll be an interesting blog entry.

Someday, I'll bring a boyfriend back there. But not yet haha...

"Any good movies in?"

There's about 6 blogs that I keep up with, and one of them reminded me of my first job.

My very first job I obtained through nepotism. Damn right I did. Being 16 in a small town with no car to get somewhere else makes it hard to find a better option. So I got a job in a video store through family connections. It wasn't one of the national chains. It was hardly tough labor. My boss was a good friend of the family, and I think that made it worse for me to hate my job. I worked two nights a week-- every friday and saturday, for a couple hours. Not that I was rolling in nightly party plans, but that was hell enough. Add to that the sheer boredom, and the general stupidity of the clientele (by this I do not include the majority of the regulars, they made it bearable,) and the fact that I made $14.97 a week after taxes. Every time I went to work I was sure that children in Thailand making Nikes made more money than me. I worked there during the time Titanic came out. The uproar was insane, we had 40 copies and a waiting list. Still even with all the over-coverage of the movie, people still had the time to complain if someone gave away the ending. That's right, some people were so sure of Hollywood's ability to rewrite history that they must have thought the Titanic would float away into the sunset, while Leo and Kate fornicated in a car.

I was also there when the infamous Pam and Tommy tape came out. We made more money on that little back area behind the curtain than we made a habit of telling anyone. When I worked there I was behind a door, and behind a desk. I was supposed to stay there, unless I absolutely had to leave to do something else my boss told me to do. So when parents didn't take the care to keep their little bundles of joy on a leash (figuratively, of course) it suddenly became my job to start yelling and keep the kiddies from venturing past the curtains to keep them from being warped and likely needing years of therapy from being surrounded by porn tapes. Obviously I didn't want to see little Johnny and Susie learn about sex far too early because they caught a glimpse of Tommy Lee's massive wang...but thats why children should never run around unsupervised. That's why we had the Sing-a-Long and cartoon section.

The tedium was almost the worst. The absolute worst was taking phone calls. Mostly due to the fact that a few months after I started there, we expanded the business and started to make pizza in the back kitchen. My mother hated it, and even I didn't like it-- but I still had to sell it. So I'd be renting out 5 movies to a bitchy housefrau with her kids, selling them soda, candy and then they decide that they want a pizza. But back to the phone calls. How do most people order pizza? They say, for example, "I'll have a large pepperoni and mushroom." What I always seemed to get when it got busy was:

"Do you have any specials...no? Pizza Hut does, you know. I'll take one with half pineapple and ham, a quarter with jalapenos and half pepperoni and extra cheese. What size? Didn't I tell you already? You should pay attention...I want a large, or do you have extra-large? I'll also take a pizza, a small one, with no sauce and broccoli and garlic. What do they call those? Oh yeah, white pizzas. I like those. Do I get a free movie with this? No? I should, you know. I'll be there in 10 minutes, can you have it ready?"

I'm proud of being able to avoid grinding my teeth into dust.

The funniest part of this all to me was that I pretty much ended up getting "let go." I never got fired, and in fact, my boss told me later after my first year at school that I was welcome to come back to work that summer. Yeah...no. I'd rather stitch together sneakers in a sweatshop and make friends with the child laborers. I remember how it happened. One day, another employee had to quit to go to school, and my boss told me that I'd need to work more hours, and I told him that that was great, any more hours would be welcomed (maybe I could break 20 bucks on a paycheck.) Two weeks later, I got called back into the kitchen and he said, "Yeah, we just don't really need you anymore..."

On my last day, he interviewed and hired my replacement in front of me. Classy.

The Downhill Spiral of the Glass Babysitter

I've known or awhile that TV sucks. It dawned on me when I got digital cable with roughly 900 channels...and nothing but crap is on. The same rotated crap, on the same stories, on every channel.

Seriously, though. What happened to tv? It seems like if it's not a spinoff from Law and Order, or a show about death, it's a reality show, or a reality show about reality show, or a reality show starring reality show stars. Half of what's on tv has the same damn 30 people in it.

I don't want to watch MTV anymore. It makes me sad, angry and confused. I remember when it used to have...music television. Then the Real World took a nice stinking dump on it, and it's never been the same. I never really got into the Real World thing, it seemed too contrived and lame. If I wanted to watch the same small group of people fight, hook up and pretend to get along-- I would have taped my time in college and watched that.

Besides, that Jesse guy from years back made me want to tackle him and wash his hair, and duct tape his mouth shut. Don't get me started on TRL. MTV should have never cancelled Fear-- it was the best show they've ever had.

I admit that I watch some stupid shows, and that I get caught up in some of the reality buzz stuff once in a while. But it's pretty rare for me. I has to catch my attention and keep it. I watched one season of Survivor in it's entirety. I thought it was cool, but that people were taking it too seriously. Lo and behold-- 54 seasons of Survivor later, it's gone too far. Time for a new idea.

Where are the ideas for shows coming from? Is someone feeding psychotropic drugs to monkeys in labs, and handing them sheets of paper to scribble on? Really, I think that's where American Idol came from. Except that the monkeys wrote, "just kidding" on the bottom of the paper and were ignored.

Ok. I love CSI and it's spinoffs-- it's hasn't jumped the shark for me yet. I also like Crossing Jordan, Family Guy (American Dad is a pile of garbage though) South Park, The West Wing... and most of the silly countdown shows on Vh1. I'll watch Cold Case Files, but you can only watch so much of that before you start to learn all the famous cases better than the lawyers. I like the paranormal shows on ghost hunting and haunted hotel stories. My latest favorite shows are Dirty Jobs and Going Tribal on the Discovery Channel. Every once in a while a really good show gets through the filters, but it's usually canned once it proves to be too smart or funny for the average tv viewer-- who prefers their tv in the form of Cops and watching Rob and Amber get married.

I don't think it's bad if someone wants to watch the shows I think must have come from the bottom of the television trash heap... but I don't get how they caught on. For example-- Growing Up Gotti, Gastineau Girls, Filthy Rich Cattle Drive, 7th Heaven, Dr. Phil, The Swan, Wife Swap, Punk'd, The OC, all the makeover shows (with the exception of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, that's an amazing show) What Not To Wear, and Andy Milonakis...to name a few. No big deal if people watch them, I'm just curious as to where the hell the ideas came from. My only guess would be that they were ripped from the nightmares of those drug-addled monkeys.

As Hollywood seems to be striving to put out increasingly more expensive bad movies lately, maybe tv is just following suit. Yes, television is primarily, and for most, solely entertainment...but wow, I'm worried about what's next in line for new tv shows. I figure the ideas will mostly revolve around watching the newest crop of reality attention-addicted stars aging, through plastic surgeries and failed marriages. Hey, maybe Vh1 will foot the bill for Ricardo and Slavco's wedding, once it's legal, as long as they have sole rights to tape it and turn it into a Britney & Kevin-esque disaster documentary. Either that, or every new show will be all about surgery-- closeups of colonscopies and stomach-staplings, with before and after interviews and pictures. Everything is to be "Extreme," whether it be Extremely sappy, stupid, expensive, unlikely, painful to watch, or just plain bad, remains to be seen.

Any bets?

"Now for something Completely Different!"

I've got a song on, it's one of those songs that I can never listen to without thinking about someone. The summer of 2003 I worked up at school and lived on-campus. I met a guy through a friend, and even though I was warned that I'd likely dislike him... I thought he was great. Totally unlike anyone I'd met before, and he played the guitar *rueful smile* I never knew I was a guitar bunny before that. I went to visit his room and found him playing a song I recognized and we were talking about music, turned out we shared a lot in common with our taste in music-- hardcore mainstream rock and punk. I told him my favorite band was Staind. I could listen to them play for hours and Aaron Lewis' voice can calm me down like nothing else.

The guy and I hung out, never kissed or anything, and I realized I really liked him. Then he learned to play a Staind song, I don't know if it was for me, but in my little ego-world I'll pretend it was. It was one of sweetest gestures ever. I know, I'm a sucker. A week or two later, he had to go home for a week and we talked online, and he told me he liked me, too. I told him we should be friends and see what happens, because we were both dealing with issues. I was so happy, it was rediculous.

When he came back from his vacation, we hung out once or twice more, and still, nothing happened. Then I started to notice him talking about another girl, like mentioning her in away messages. I didn't know how to ask and not look stupid...but a mutual friend finally told me that he'd slept with some girl and was totally into her now, but he still thought of me as a friend. He later told me he'd slept with her in part because she was "so hot," and that made me feel like dog crap on a warm day.

I was really shattered, I felt like I'd had no chance. I didn't make a move because I didn't want to rush him, and then all that happened. To make matters worse, after that I got over that and even though I was still angry, I was still talking to him. He even still flirted with me, but it really meant nothing. He made jokes about me coming to sleep in his bed, but I knew that I could have shown up naked at his door and he would have had no clue how to handle it.

Towards the end of the summer another friend of mine brought to my attention that he was now going after yet another friend of mine. He even had the balls to ask me how to get her. They ended up dating, for about 2 weeks-- then he dumped her-- over AIM. Looked to me like I got out lucky. I talked to my friend, and turned out that she had no idea that the "other girl" he liked was, in fact, me. I'll never know if he was spineless, an asshole, or just totally confused. I was really pissed for a while, then moved on. I gave him a quick, and only ever, kiss before I left school, I guess just to fuck him up a little. I think I only remember it so clearly because it's attached to one of my all-time favorite songs. It seems silly now, but it's years later, and I can look back and laugh-- or at least not cringe over how stupid the whole dramatic episode was.

That summer was crazy. The title, that I so nicely ripped off from Monty Python is also a quote from a friend to describe my taste in men. She also said things like, "If a man needs more than one glass of water to consume your underwear collection you're not wearing enough thongs" I miss her now haha.

I also almost started to be interested in one guy I knew from my dorm, that I always saw out at the bars. Then one night I saw him out and he fell into a construction ditch because he was so drunk and didn't recognize me. I was... less than enthused. I'm sorry about that, I hope he's doing well now.

I look back now and realize that it was at least 50-50 between me and the guys I hung out with (not slept with, lets make that clear) screwed things up worse. I was a bitch sometimes, and took things personally. I often acted badly when things didn't work out. Not the best way to start a decent relationship, so none ever did. Enough time has passed now, though, to think more objectively about it all and recognize my own faults. It took me a while I realize that I didn't damn myself (in a non-religious sense) by fucking up. Hell, I'm 23, and wouldn't it be a little sad if someone made it all the way to their early 20's and never made a few mistakes, even if it meant hooking up with the wrong person or drinking too much and looking foolish? Then again, I'm only 23-- its ok to move on and try again.

Am I normal yet?

Tomorrow should be my last day on my antibiotic regimine, and I can really only hope it works. I'm still congested, but the sinus headache has lessened to the point where a couple Advil can handle it. I can even sleep.

Ok, the oddest thing so far has been my dreams.

For the last week I alternated between just passing out and being in a semi-asleep kind of state. I knew I was dreaming, and I could realize how bizarre all my dreams were. It seems like every time I sleep I remember my dreams now, which is very unusual for me. They're all very detailed and they're full of people I haven't seen in years. For example:

I had a dream about going out to eat pizza. It was a make-your-own kind of place. I kept fumbling and dropping shit all over the place. I couldn't keep up with everyone else. I dropped a bunch of sauce on my shirt. Someone handed me a napkin, and it turned out to be the guy that I had this huge silly crush on in high school.

He graduated when I was in 10th grade, and I was just So Sure he was the hottest and smartest guy on the planet. I haven't seen him in 7 or 8 years.

I had another dream that one of my friends bleached her beautiful dark hair blonde and braided it, and I had to pretend that I liked it. I'm assuming most everyone has had to deal with this kind of thing at one point or another. We went out for burgers and the person that sold them to us was the same snotty uber-slut that used to antagonize me for lack of anything else to do. This was probably my favorite one of all haha ;)

At least I understand why most of my dreams involve food in some way. Until yesterday, all I had eaten in 5 days was a bowl of soup, a nectarine and a handful of crackers. My poor body isn't used to not eating. I don't get how those Hollywood people do it. I must have lost 10 or 12 pounds. It's not how I wanted to go about doing that.

I can't wait until I have more to talk about than how I feel like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse used me as their personal racetrack... Someday soon I'll be back to normal!

Thanks again for all the well-wishes :)

Yay for drugs!

I kept food down today, for the first time in 4 days. Hopefully it isn't just passing moment, but I'm feeling better. Adrienne, I think you might be referring to Imitrex. I took that yesterday, and it finally knocked out the migraine I'd had building since the 30th. It took 2 of the pills and over 3 hours, but as far as I'm concerned-- that shit is the greatest. Thanks for the comments, too :)

I went to my doctor yesterday. He asked me what the ER had done, and if they had diagnosed me-- they hadn't. I told him they'd just given me 3 shots that made me throw up. He said politely, that the ER has a distrust for unexplained head pain-- I think I kno why they made me give a urine sample before they gave me anything-- it's likely they were drug testing me to make sure I'm not some kind of addict. My doctor started writing out like 8 prescriptions for Mucinex, Imitrex, Phenergin, etc--and told my mom I'd need a head CT scan.

Then he noticed I have no insurance-- so he had to "switch gears." The insurance limits what I can get, because it would be so damned expensive without it. So the doctor nixed the CT and a couple of the scripts, and gave me a goodie bag with samples of Imitrex, Nasacort, Allegra-D, and Ketek (antibiotic.) He finally diagnosed me with both sinusitis and migraine. I'm still really congested and scalding myself in the shower to clear up my sinsuses, but I'm still just abso-fuckin-lutely thrilled that my head doesn't feel like someone's power-drilling into the space between my eyes for the first time in 11 days. It'll probably hurt some tomorrow, but hopfully the antibiotics are working enough so I can sit up without being dizzy and confused.

Painkillers! Stat! Damn It!

I went to the ER last night because of this headache I have. It was the worst pain I'd felt I think, to date. I was dizzy, I'd thrown up, couldn't eat, I was really tired and confused. My mom was seriously worried, so we packed into the car and found the nearest ER. When we got there it seemed pretty slow, traffic-wise. It got packed later, though. We're lucky we didn't put it off much past 8. I was in so much pain and was so confused that I had to think when someone asked me my birthday and my SSN.

I signed in for Triage, then got evaluated by a nurse and she told me to register for care. I got a nice bright green wristband (same kind underage drinkers get sometimes lol.) It didn't take long to get me into a bed, but most of the time I was there was spent waiting. It *was* busier, so I couldn't really bitch about it. A nurse handed me one of those super-special backless hospital gowns and told me to take my top off. Honestly, it wasn't how I usually prefer to take my shirt off for someone else. I'd just say those stupid gowns are "easily aerated."

I lay down, and after a while, a doctor came in to ask me about my headache. Too bad he wasn't George Clooney, it would have given me something other than being sick to concentrate on. Even Noah Wyle would have helped ;) I rated my pain an 8 out of 10. He told me they'd get some meds for me ASAP. I don't know how long it was, but it seemed like forever. Another nurse came in and said, "Oh, you didn't give a urine sample yet? Get me one quick and I can give you your meds." Awesome, right? Wrong. I wasn't able to keep down water, so having to pee in a cup wasn't something I relished doing. Somehow, he got his sample (gross. I hate peeing in a cup) and a bit after that, he came in with 2 syringes. I had been expecting a shot in the arm.

Nope. Denied. I got two shots in either hip. He told me it was morphine and that it should help. I figured since thats what soldiers in WWII got when they were injured, it would help me.

Denied again. He said he'd check in on me in a little while to see if it was making any impact. An hour later, I finally got to tell my doctor that the morphine had done nothing. He seemed genuinely concerned, and said they'd figure out a way to help me. Good thing, because crying in a hospital bed wasn't really my idea of a spiffy time. My poor mother was worried out of her mind the whole time- because the morphine had made me throw up. Turns out drugs on an empty stomach can do that.

After the doctor left, one of the same nurses came in with another needle, this time chock full of hydromorphone. She said it would make me groggy, I told her I'd like that, please. I figured, this shot *must* go in my arm.

Denied! I had to get the shot in my ass. I haven't had that particular indignity since the days of Kindergarten booster shots. It burned, like she told me it would. But within 10 minutes I couldn't keep my eyes open. I knew what was going on around me, kind of, but even though my head still hurt some, I just curled up on the bed and tried to keep the back of the gown from falling open. To be honest though, it hurt so bad that if they had told me they had to administer the drugs on the bottom of a golf cleat and kick me, I would have been all for it. More than once if they had to.

That shot had the same effect as the first, in making me throw up. Sorry to be gross, but I just want to talk about it. It was scary. I was just dry-heaving what little was left in my stomach, whenever I tried to sit up or move. I felt sick, and confused. A lot of last night is kind of blurry to me. I do remember a very nice lady that was there with the man in the next cubicle over came over to ask me if she could get me anything. He was so much worse off than I was, that it just floored me that she would be concerned about me. That helped a lot.

Around 12:45, another nurse came in with my prescription info and when she asked me how I was feeling, I threw up again. It's more embarrassing than I thought it would be, to be so worn-down and sick, in front of total strangers.

Mom had to bring the car to me, I was so dizzy and still nauseous. I fell asleep about 3 minutes after I hit my bed.

Today, though...was hell in it's own way. I woke up at 9, with my head on fire. I had to go with mom to get my prescriptions for Motrin and Hydrocodone filled. The roads around here could use some work. I puked in the car on the way back. I haven't done that in her car since I was about 7. I went back to bed, and just kept throwing up. Finally we discovered I can keep down flat ginger ale. So I've had about 2 quarts of flat soda, and 3 saltines. I'm just not hungry (that's so not me. I usually need a chocolate fix at least once a day.) The idea of food just makes me want to reach for the bucket by my bed (which actually came from the ER, I think the nurse realized how sick I was and knew I'd need it.) I should have accepted an anti-emetic from them for the nausea, but for some reason, I felt like being a fucking cowboy. It hurt SO BAD everytime I threw up, like I was slamming my brain around in my skull. Seriously, I'm sorry if anyone ever had a headache like this before. But if you had-- what helped you? I'm all for getting advice.

PS-- don't ever try and cowboy it out in the hospital.

All day I've been in bed. My Lortab finally seems to be working, since I'm not so damned dehydrated. I do have to make myself drink as a conscious decision. The ER nurse gave us the names of a couple doctors around here, because my old one is over an hour away. I couldn't make that car trip without having visions of running the car into a wall.

Something tells me tomorrow will be another day of bedrest. Whatever, not like I'll be out running a marathon anyway.

Stupid people piss me off.

I'm so pissed off right now. Aren't crank calls overdone by the time you're 23? It's so sad and stupid. I've been gone from where I work for over 2 months now, and apparently, someone still feels like fucking with me. They need to grow the fuck up and quit acting like children. The dumbest part is, they used a number that I know-- it used to be in my phone! I know how it works, they got high or drunk, likely both, were talking about me and what a bitch I am and decided to call me. Thankfully it didn't last long and I just hung up. I'm not going to egg them on. I would love nothing more than to call back and say something, but I'm not stupid, that never works and I'd end up looking like a jerk. I just don't have the energy. I spent the last 3 hours in the fetal position, and I'm only up now because my sinus meds finally kicked in.

I have the worst headache I've had in a year and I think it's sinusitis. This is probably the worst timing ever. I've had this headache for a week now, and today it finally had me down. Not much bothers me more than a bad headache. Now I really have to go to the doctor.

I'm just so irritated. I spent that last month at work biting my tongue, and trying to be an adult in a situation that was just shit to begin with, and they can't let it go after 2 months. They were the reason I quit my job, and I don't think they realize I could have gotten them fired but chose not to, out of whatever bit of respect I had left for them. No wonder I have issues with people. I honestly wish that I had never considered them friends, because it showed poor taste and judgement on my part-- they were politically stunted and had only the vaguest clue that the world didn't revolve around them. I wish they knew how much their hypocrisy pissed me off. I wish I'd never told them anything personal about myself, but oh well, they know...and so does everyone else they've told by now. I just left, to preserve my own dignity and to be on good terms with my bosses. All I can do is move on, shouldn't those fuckwits try too?

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part3

"Sunday 7/31/05

We went back to clean the apartment today. It was just as bad as we'd feared it would be. I spent the majority of my time on my hands and knees cleaning in the kitchen...and to clean behind the fridge, and due to the lack of space-- I had to army crawl back behind it to scrub the floor. Hell. Over the course of 4 hours we scrubbed, polished, vacuumed and dusted as much as we could. Doubtless we will still likely get less than half of our security deposit back. Whatever. We lived there for 5 years and it doesn't look like there was a rock star entourage party there. No holes in the wall, no beer and vomit stains on the carpets, and no pizza stuck to the ceiling. Hell, we never even threw stuff off our balcony (not worth it, we were over the lawn, no chance of hitting anyone.)

By the time we left, my poor black sweatpants were covered in dust and grime and we looked like we'd been rolled downhill in a trashcan. Why I even put body spray on defies logic-- I just ended up smelling like I had a lilac bush in a sweaty headlock. All I wanted was a shower to wash off the layers of dust and Comet, Windex, Scrubbing Bubbles and Easy-Off Oven Cleaner. My hair, which I put back in that same uber-unattractive bun-thing that I had for moving day-- sprang out all over the place and gave me the unfortunate look as though my head were suffering through a civil war and each hair was a warring faction. TV sucks solely for portraying cleaning as anything but uncool. Let's see a commercial with some harried, dusty, grimy person scrubbing the bathroom floor instead of some happy June Cleaver-esque Cleaning-In-Heels and-Pearls horseshit. Someday I want enough disposable income to hire someone to do that for me. I'd pay them really well, and I'd bake them cookies. Anything to not have to clean my toilet or be on my knees wiping crud off the side of the trashcan ever again.

OCD. Definitely OCD. Definitely. I'm no girly-girl, but I hated seeing my nails get ruined (as though I didn't do enough damage to them after I got the fake set put on for my friend's wedding- that lasted about 2 weeks before I started to feel like Wolverine. I had to keep washing my hands, it just made me want antibacterial hand gel and lotion.

So here I am at 10 PM. Again I've had to come to terms with my internet addiction. It's not as bad as it could be, but I had a dream about checking my email. That can't be a good sign. I get Roadrunner on Thursday, so maybe I'll stop having net-themed dreams by then. Oh well, it's not like I dreamt about blogging or ego-searches on google. I'm still ahead of the game.

12:30 AM-- I dropped 2 calls at once a while ago. I can see that cell service here is kind of shaky. I'll try standing on our back porch next time. I looked through a few boxes and I came across the one holding all my old tapes, of the VHS variety. It kind of weirds me out knowing that kids are in school now never having used a VHS player. Old school, now. It's gone the way of the 8-track. My first stereo had an 8-track, and I never really used it. All I knew was that you couldn't fast forward or skip a song. I grew up listening to tapes. I have a few relics lying around-- The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff, NKOTB, Tiffany, and Queen among them. My younger brother has never owned a tape, as far as I know. He's almost 14, so he knows what they are, but he only has CDs, and when I told him my mom has a record player he looked at me like I told him I used smoke signals instead of email. "

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part 2

"Saturday: 7/30/05


6 AM-- Up, wandered blindly to shower. Avoided tripping over boxes. Instead tripped over an extension cord. Stepped on earring. Swore.

7 AM-- Packed like a maniac. Probably channeling WWII General. Tried not to be a bitch. Just wanted to be done.

8:30 AM-- Movers arrive. 5 guys. Better be strong. Pissed about book boxes, but still carried 2 at a time. Looked like Sherpas hauling supplies up Everest. Turns out most of our furniture could use woodglue, screws or a fiery death in a bonfire. Started to get a headache-- right in the front. Hurt to bend over, turn head or breathe. Ignored it. Swore. Movers keep moving all our stuff. Tons of stuff. Poor movers. Better tip them big.

11-ish AM-- Done moving out. Embarrassed by forgetting to vaccuum under couch cushions and having the movers find a spoon, chapstick, 4 lbs of assorted debris and an Always pad. Shocked by accumulated dust underneath furniture. May become OCD from the experience. Must wash hands. Must vaccuum more often. Starting to feel dehydrated and stomach making angry noises.

12-ish PM- 2 PM-- Haven't seen a clock. Sure it would never end. Movers start to unpack the trucks. Had to admit to being the one living in the Cowboy-decorated room (the curtains and wall border were left behind.) Wished they were pirates or something cooler. Just glad it's not Pokemon or Bratz. Sneezed. Sneezed. Sneezed. Dust allergy finally caught up with me. So tired of sneezing. Watched movers put my bed back together 14 times faster than it took mom and I to put it together. Got into paper fight. Movers finish, we tip them $30 apiece. Books are heavy.

2 PM-- Grocery store because we have no food. Stomach VERY angry. Still dehydrated. Headache taking over head like it's storming the beaches at Normandy. Getting cranky. Wanted a sandwich and a drink. Wanted beer, drank soda. Couldn't remember which box held my ibuprofen. Would swear, but too tired. Got my sandwich-- turkey, cheese and pickles. Almost too tired to eat. Ate anyway.

3PM-- 6:45PM-- Realized basement is perfect for headaches-- dark, cool, with sofa. Took crash nap. Woke up confused. Never fell asleep in a basement before.

7 PM- 10 PM-- unpacked. Realized kind of crappy cell service in my room. Realized internet addiction. Missed e-mail and myspace. Ate stouffer's lasagna. Hooked up laptop before unpacking clothes. Must have priorities. Laptop is my dvd player, stereo and general attention waster. Spoke to my dad and brother-- talked to brother about Dad's car-- vintage MGB-- Dad's new favorite child.

10 PM- 11:45 PM-- read in my big rocking chair. Ignored giant mountains of boxes. Willing to sleep on bare mattress.

Sooner or later, I'll fall asleep on that mattress, bare or not. I can sleep til 9 tomorrow, which is a gift from the gods as far as I'm concerned. We do have to go back to the old apartment to clean up the ravenous hordes of dust bunnies and tame the wilderness behind the fridge. It's probably going to be gross and I'll probably get another dust headache and spend the afternoon racked out in the basement on the couch... but it's worth it to have actually gotten out of there. I probably would have eaten kitty litter to get out of there, but come to think of it, I used to eat Grape Nuts and that stuff is only a carton of milk and a spoonful of sugar away from cat litter."

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part 1

Ok. I just got my internet back today. And because of that, I've been glued to my poor laptop since the cable guys left. Roadrunner is the shit. But since I had no net, I kept a journal of my time moving. It's kind of long, so here's a bit:



Today was the big day-- Moving Day. My first thought when I woke up at 6 was, "I should probably finish packing." I showered, put my hair up wet in some kind odd bun and packed my last box-- of the stuff in my room.

However there was still the kitchen. For 45 minutes I frantically packed the last of our glassware and the dirty dishes. We came close to running out of paper. I drank one bottle of water and ate a plain untoasted bagel (all food was already here at the new house and so was the toaster.) Today was Day 3 of the 18 hour+ days that I've been doing. I haven't done that shit since my last semester of college when I was pulling too many credits, working til 4 am and counting my days like a convict on the eve of parole.


Ok, let me go back a bit.


Friday: 7/29/05

6 AM-- Got up, stumbled to shower blindly. Tripped over a shoe then over a box. Swore.

7 AM-- Over to the new house to wait for Taft and Sears deliveries. Screwed around making playlists on my laptop til they got here.

12 PM-- Back to the apartment. Tripped over more boxes. Swore.

2 PM-- Tried to take a nap but stymied by all the lists in my head. I'm such a fucking type-A sometimes.

3 PM- 11PM-- Mom's boyfriend and his two sons drove up to help. All tower over me. Must be eating fertilizer or something. Talked Batman with one of them, and gave college advice since he starts in August ("Never forget naptime. Never forget snacktime. Never forget your ATM card.") Flashed back to the two summers of Orientation Leader position dispensing advice to freshmen and attempting to cut the cord of the parents. Ate Wendy's chili, picked out the onions because onions taste like crap. Packed all books-- over 2,000 of them. Very heavy. Poor movers.

12 AM-- tried to fall asleep. Couldn't. Instead tried to remember here the phone charger was packed, if the microwave plate was wrapped up, if all of my underwear was going to fly out of my drawers in a multicolored shower of panties (they told us to leave the drawers packed, they just wrap them in packing blankets.) Flashed back to the time I accidentally left a pair of underwear with a rasta smiley face on the ass in the dryer and my neighbor brought them upstairs to me. My bad.

1 AM-- Fell asleep. No remembered dreams. Too tired. Back making same unhappy noise as Dad's bum knee. Swore.