Listening to: We Love Katamari Soundtrack - Everlasting Love
O.M.F.G.
To paraphrase a certain post:
"You, and everyone else except for me, is stupid. I am the only one who makes informed political decisions, and you are a naive idiot. If you do not comply with the (insert poster's name here) voting way-of-life, you are double-plus ungood and are ruining America. You MUST vote! Unless you happen to vote differently from the way I vote. I which case you are stupid. But you're voting... and if you don't vote, you're stupid and... I..."
(at this point, poster's head explodes from over-inflation).
You know who you are, Ms. "I know what's good for you." In your perfect vision, we'd all be wearing little uniforms and copying your every move. You know, for the betterment of humanity and such.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Those lucky-jerk parents...
Listening to: Dazz Band - Let it Whip
Those folks of mine got back from China last friday, and they had pictures. Lots of them. And many wonderful stories.
I don't mean to sound like a whiny, cantankerous, spoiled piece of crap, but they could have very easily stowed me in their luggage, if they so pleased. My mom said that the trip was primarily "outside of her comfort zone" (they usually travel very very well, and while they still stayed at some nice places, the trip lent itself to a series of Amazing Race-like environments). I asked her if she'd run the race with me - mommy said we'd suck at it. She thinks that neither of us are particularly courageous, and I'm not going to argue that - she's absolutely right.
Now, Steve wants to race with me. Couple-racing has one mega-downside - the potential driven-to-insanity breakup. Is it worth the risk? Oh, probably not. But money + travel with the guy I love most? oooh, excellent carrot on that stick.
But then I come to the usual problem-when-applying thing - the "Have you been diagnosed with any mental illnesses?" question. Of course I can't lie - I take several medications to treat the problem. But if I'm fully medicated, and I haven't been a threat to anyone, including myself, that shouldn't be a problem, right?
Those folks of mine got back from China last friday, and they had pictures. Lots of them. And many wonderful stories.
I don't mean to sound like a whiny, cantankerous, spoiled piece of crap, but they could have very easily stowed me in their luggage, if they so pleased. My mom said that the trip was primarily "outside of her comfort zone" (they usually travel very very well, and while they still stayed at some nice places, the trip lent itself to a series of Amazing Race-like environments). I asked her if she'd run the race with me - mommy said we'd suck at it. She thinks that neither of us are particularly courageous, and I'm not going to argue that - she's absolutely right.
Now, Steve wants to race with me. Couple-racing has one mega-downside - the potential driven-to-insanity breakup. Is it worth the risk? Oh, probably not. But money + travel with the guy I love most? oooh, excellent carrot on that stick.
But then I come to the usual problem-when-applying thing - the "Have you been diagnosed with any mental illnesses?" question. Of course I can't lie - I take several medications to treat the problem. But if I'm fully medicated, and I haven't been a threat to anyone, including myself, that shouldn't be a problem, right?
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Something's off
Listening to: Michael McDonald - No Such Luck
Something's off in my life.
My computer's audio is on the fritz, my printer isn't working, and I'm definitely not feeling the enthusiasm I often feel.
My head doesn't feel attached to my body - like there's some poisonous helium in it or something. I don't like this at all. I think I'm mad or upset about something, but I really don't know what, and that's the most frustrating part of all. It makes me feel miserable, but not depressed. Just really concerned. As I told my friend Justin last week, I feel like I have a permanently knitted brow.
And the folks are in China, so I can't call them about this. It fucking sucks.
Something's off in my life.
My computer's audio is on the fritz, my printer isn't working, and I'm definitely not feeling the enthusiasm I often feel.
My head doesn't feel attached to my body - like there's some poisonous helium in it or something. I don't like this at all. I think I'm mad or upset about something, but I really don't know what, and that's the most frustrating part of all. It makes me feel miserable, but not depressed. Just really concerned. As I told my friend Justin last week, I feel like I have a permanently knitted brow.
And the folks are in China, so I can't call them about this. It fucking sucks.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Needin' love.
Listening to: Bill Withers - Use Me
It's been about a month or so since I last saw Steve, and longer still since we, uh, you know.
I ordinarily don't like to talk about such things, since it's really only my business, but I'm a twenty-something with a significant other. If you've gone without as long as I have in such a situation, it's going to get to you.
And it has.
And it's "that week." So chances are, even though I'm visiting the Mister this weekend, we'll be going without again.
Dammit dammit dammit.
It's been about a month or so since I last saw Steve, and longer still since we, uh, you know.
I ordinarily don't like to talk about such things, since it's really only my business, but I'm a twenty-something with a significant other. If you've gone without as long as I have in such a situation, it's going to get to you.
And it has.
And it's "that week." So chances are, even though I'm visiting the Mister this weekend, we'll be going without again.
Dammit dammit dammit.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Proper debate technique
Listening to: Bananarama - Cruel Summer (which seems to extend into October for some reason)
ARGH!
Frustration!
Pain!
Urge to kill rising!
For everyone:
Nobody is right 100% of the time. That is impossible. To be more specific/not specific, YOU are not right 100% of the time. Debating means arguing with reason, not with emotion - and I'm saying this as a goddamned BIPOLAR WRITER. There is a difference between fact and opinion, one which I had to painstakingly teach to a bunch of glazed-eyed freshmen last year. When you're dealing with something like opinion, the word "right" does not apply, because you are dealing with the stuff that pumps your blood, your spleen, and your brain.
And my spleen has to stay where it is, gathering in my veins, because I'm afraid of telling people that they're being a bunch of jerks.
Argue all you like, but people are people. You can't change anyone's mind about anything by telling them that they're stupid or wrong because they don't agree with you. It's pointless.
ARGH!
Frustration!
Pain!
Urge to kill rising!
For everyone:
Nobody is right 100% of the time. That is impossible. To be more specific/not specific, YOU are not right 100% of the time. Debating means arguing with reason, not with emotion - and I'm saying this as a goddamned BIPOLAR WRITER. There is a difference between fact and opinion, one which I had to painstakingly teach to a bunch of glazed-eyed freshmen last year. When you're dealing with something like opinion, the word "right" does not apply, because you are dealing with the stuff that pumps your blood, your spleen, and your brain.
And my spleen has to stay where it is, gathering in my veins, because I'm afraid of telling people that they're being a bunch of jerks.
Argue all you like, but people are people. You can't change anyone's mind about anything by telling them that they're stupid or wrong because they don't agree with you. It's pointless.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Fucking dreams
Listening to: Christopher Cross + Michael McDonald - Ride Like the Wind
I've been having way too many dreams I can remember lately, and I don't like any of them.
The other day, the dream involved being on an airplane supposedly en route to Minneapolis. Except every time I looked out the window, I saw the ocean. Maybe 50 feet below. I other words, we were flying lower than most rescue helicopters. And there were leaping fish everywhere. No matter when I looked out the window, there was the ocean, and there were the tuna. And then the plane finally landed. In the middle of a horrifying thunderstorm. There were some very strange looking skyscrapers outside, glowing with pink and green neon. I didn't recognize them at all. Then the PA says "Welcome to Los Angeles International Airport."
What. The. Fuck.
Nevermind the fact that there is NO way to fly over ocean to get from eastern-US point A to southern California point B. There were way too many things wrong with this.
The last couple nights have involved ex-boyfriends. The relationships ended poorly, but I'm perfectly happy now. I'm with a guy I love more than anything, and then I get this weird bullshit.
Last night, the ex in question was Adam, I guy who I dated when I was about 15. We were both really immature, and though we've since made peace and talk as friends, I've never harbored anything remotely close to romantic feelings for him again. And now I get this stupid shit dream about how Steve and I have parted amicably so I can settle down with Adam?
WHAT THE FUCK?!?
(To Steve: It's a dream, honey. I don't like it any more than you do.)
I hate the ex-boyfriend dreams the most. I always wake up feeling angry, weird, and then angry again.
I wish I was chilling with Steve at the Luxor right now (he even got his own room, apparently rather unusual for these sorts of meetings) and not kicking myself for my idiotic subconscious.
I've been having way too many dreams I can remember lately, and I don't like any of them.
The other day, the dream involved being on an airplane supposedly en route to Minneapolis. Except every time I looked out the window, I saw the ocean. Maybe 50 feet below. I other words, we were flying lower than most rescue helicopters. And there were leaping fish everywhere. No matter when I looked out the window, there was the ocean, and there were the tuna. And then the plane finally landed. In the middle of a horrifying thunderstorm. There were some very strange looking skyscrapers outside, glowing with pink and green neon. I didn't recognize them at all. Then the PA says "Welcome to Los Angeles International Airport."
What. The. Fuck.
Nevermind the fact that there is NO way to fly over ocean to get from eastern-US point A to southern California point B. There were way too many things wrong with this.
The last couple nights have involved ex-boyfriends. The relationships ended poorly, but I'm perfectly happy now. I'm with a guy I love more than anything, and then I get this weird bullshit.
Last night, the ex in question was Adam, I guy who I dated when I was about 15. We were both really immature, and though we've since made peace and talk as friends, I've never harbored anything remotely close to romantic feelings for him again. And now I get this stupid shit dream about how Steve and I have parted amicably so I can settle down with Adam?
WHAT THE FUCK?!?
(To Steve: It's a dream, honey. I don't like it any more than you do.)
I hate the ex-boyfriend dreams the most. I always wake up feeling angry, weird, and then angry again.
I wish I was chilling with Steve at the Luxor right now (he even got his own room, apparently rather unusual for these sorts of meetings) and not kicking myself for my idiotic subconscious.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Icky girl stuff
Listening to: snoring cat
Alright, time to be a little too revealing.
I am suffering from godawful cramps of the monthly variety. I feel like someone's repeatedly kicking me in the lower abdomen, while simultaneously feeling like I'm sitting in a very uncomfortable, posture-mangling chair. I feel nauseous every time I stand up, and the abdominal cramps make me feel like I really have to poop, when I know I don't.
The icing on top was the maybe six hours of sleep I received last night - thanks a lot, horrible cramps and noisy cats! So not only do I feel like shit physically, mentally, I'm running on half an engine.
Thankfully, I only have one class to sit through today, but I'm really not feeling good at all. I have to do some walking this afternoon, to go to the bank and then get home. The thought of walking while being in a state of will-she-or-won't-she vomit-flux is kicking my brain's ass. I've puked in the Anderson Hall toilets about 6 times so far, and I have no interest in doing it again. I mean, throwing up anywhere sucks, but being so close to the disgusting, sticky floors of those restrooms is enough to make you vomit in itself.
So, now that I've shared my period/vomiting woes, this post is officially the most grody thing I've ever posted.
Alright, time to be a little too revealing.
I am suffering from godawful cramps of the monthly variety. I feel like someone's repeatedly kicking me in the lower abdomen, while simultaneously feeling like I'm sitting in a very uncomfortable, posture-mangling chair. I feel nauseous every time I stand up, and the abdominal cramps make me feel like I really have to poop, when I know I don't.
The icing on top was the maybe six hours of sleep I received last night - thanks a lot, horrible cramps and noisy cats! So not only do I feel like shit physically, mentally, I'm running on half an engine.
Thankfully, I only have one class to sit through today, but I'm really not feeling good at all. I have to do some walking this afternoon, to go to the bank and then get home. The thought of walking while being in a state of will-she-or-won't-she vomit-flux is kicking my brain's ass. I've puked in the Anderson Hall toilets about 6 times so far, and I have no interest in doing it again. I mean, throwing up anywhere sucks, but being so close to the disgusting, sticky floors of those restrooms is enough to make you vomit in itself.
So, now that I've shared my period/vomiting woes, this post is officially the most grody thing I've ever posted.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Political SHIT.
This will be one of those rare posts of mine where I'll truly vent.
I fucking hate American politics, particularly from my position as a no-party-enthusiast. I'm in this craptastic position where I HAVE to declare hatred for one side or the other, or I'm considered a drain as a person.
"Why won't you vote, Julia?"
Because I hate shitheads. I'm not about to elect one. Nobody speaks for me at all. I'm a gray-area person, and that's not allowed these days. You have to hate the president or love the president; you have to hate the democrats or hate the republicans. But nobody represents me at all.
There's a reason why it's called "knee-jerk." If you react with smugness and assholery, you're a smug asshole JERK. Making jokey little jibes at people who you don't agree with is just a dick thing to do, and my respect-o-meter's needle has completely fallen off for those who would rather make a snide elbowing-aside remark than express your feelings in a sane, adult manner. Political arguments make me physically sick, because I know that the maturity level is almost certain to drop to an 8th-grade level.
So I'm not going to vote because I don't want to, and your stupid little asides make me hate you, liberal or conservative.
I fucking hate American politics, particularly from my position as a no-party-enthusiast. I'm in this craptastic position where I HAVE to declare hatred for one side or the other, or I'm considered a drain as a person.
"Why won't you vote, Julia?"
Because I hate shitheads. I'm not about to elect one. Nobody speaks for me at all. I'm a gray-area person, and that's not allowed these days. You have to hate the president or love the president; you have to hate the democrats or hate the republicans. But nobody represents me at all.
There's a reason why it's called "knee-jerk." If you react with smugness and assholery, you're a smug asshole JERK. Making jokey little jibes at people who you don't agree with is just a dick thing to do, and my respect-o-meter's needle has completely fallen off for those who would rather make a snide elbowing-aside remark than express your feelings in a sane, adult manner. Political arguments make me physically sick, because I know that the maturity level is almost certain to drop to an 8th-grade level.
So I'm not going to vote because I don't want to, and your stupid little asides make me hate you, liberal or conservative.
The week is over
Listening to: Elton John - Philadelphia Freedom
My first week of school hath drawn to a close. And you know, it hasn't been too rough. The undergrad class has been extremely easy to follow, which I kind of anticipated (I know that there are kids in that class who were born in '88... KIDS!) and my workshop went well - there are three new kids in it, and I'm excited to see how they write. Maybe it'll be a nice change from what I'm used to. Some new material, that sort of thing. I made a new friend yesterday, a first-year poetry guy named Joey, who, thank dog, is a baseball fan, so he didn't mind me screaming at the tv in the bar yesterday.
My work schedule's not as bad as I thought it might be - I'll be working three days a week. Monday and wednesday nights, and tuesday afternoons (admittedly, the tuesday scheduling was based entirely around the Genesis concert that's coming up in a couple weeks, but it's fine. I don't do anything on tuesdays anyway) and a shitload of meetings in the next couple weeks.
I'm getting my work done, my writing's flowing for once, and I'm going to New York this weekend to see Steve and my folks.
Life? is good.
My first week of school hath drawn to a close. And you know, it hasn't been too rough. The undergrad class has been extremely easy to follow, which I kind of anticipated (I know that there are kids in that class who were born in '88... KIDS!) and my workshop went well - there are three new kids in it, and I'm excited to see how they write. Maybe it'll be a nice change from what I'm used to. Some new material, that sort of thing. I made a new friend yesterday, a first-year poetry guy named Joey, who, thank dog, is a baseball fan, so he didn't mind me screaming at the tv in the bar yesterday.
My work schedule's not as bad as I thought it might be - I'll be working three days a week. Monday and wednesday nights, and tuesday afternoons (admittedly, the tuesday scheduling was based entirely around the Genesis concert that's coming up in a couple weeks, but it's fine. I don't do anything on tuesdays anyway) and a shitload of meetings in the next couple weeks.
I'm getting my work done, my writing's flowing for once, and I'm going to New York this weekend to see Steve and my folks.
Life? is good.
Monday, August 27, 2007
It begins... redux
Listening to: Maroon 5 - Makes Me Wonder
Well, today, I step into my first undergraduate class since spring of '06. I'll be the lone grad student in a huge lecture, but I've got the prof on my side. I just need to figure out how to actually enroll in it, in spite of my grad-student status. It's not going to make my schedule very flexible - looks like I'll be going to school a lot more than I thought I'd be this semester, plus scheduling in work-time... I'll be lucky if I have any spare time at all. Like a normal student.
I'm going to have to work my butt off, and I don't really know how. This could be trouble.
I have to get a SEPTA pass. That's the only way I'm going to be able to afford this. I guess I could walk to work, through the terrible neighborhood, several blocks away.
Well, today, I step into my first undergraduate class since spring of '06. I'll be the lone grad student in a huge lecture, but I've got the prof on my side. I just need to figure out how to actually enroll in it, in spite of my grad-student status. It's not going to make my schedule very flexible - looks like I'll be going to school a lot more than I thought I'd be this semester, plus scheduling in work-time... I'll be lucky if I have any spare time at all. Like a normal student.
I'm going to have to work my butt off, and I don't really know how. This could be trouble.
I have to get a SEPTA pass. That's the only way I'm going to be able to afford this. I guess I could walk to work, through the terrible neighborhood, several blocks away.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Swiped from Kimmah
Listening to: The Fixx - Saved by Zero
Alright. I suppose I have enough strong feelings about things to do a love/hate list (thanks for the idea, Kimmah! Sorry I'm so lame and unoriginal...) These are in no particular order:
The Love:
-castro hats
-asparagus
-cat noises
-fake wood paneling
-metallic/aerodynamic diners with coughing old-lady-waitresses
-gravy fries (fries must have crisp exterior)
-The New York Mets
-tom-heavy drum solos
-diet Pepsi wild cherry
-Long Beach with Steve
-sexy baritone voices
-muttonchop sideburns
-tattoos of random/stupid shit (flying tacos, televisions, Abe Lincoln, etc)
-early 20th century sensationalist handbills
-PlinkO
-70's ragtop hoop-ds
-scraping all the dust/gunk out of my computer
-pineapple juice that doesn't taste like the can
-Benihana fried rice
The Hate:
-black socks
-preachy mcpreachers who think they know what's good for me
-mayo
-most of Chattanooga
-The New York Skankees
-spilling iced tea on my keyboard
-jam bands
-regular Coke (I don't mind diet)
-the Del-Mar-Va peninsula
-babysitting drunk friends
-the Septa Subway
-canned tuna
-pants that cause muffin-tops
-cat-vomit (and stepping in it)
-plain chapstick
Alright. I suppose I have enough strong feelings about things to do a love/hate list (thanks for the idea, Kimmah! Sorry I'm so lame and unoriginal...) These are in no particular order:
The Love:
-castro hats
-asparagus
-cat noises
-fake wood paneling
-metallic/aerodynamic diners with coughing old-lady-waitresses
-gravy fries (fries must have crisp exterior)
-The New York Mets
-tom-heavy drum solos
-diet Pepsi wild cherry
-Long Beach with Steve
-sexy baritone voices
-muttonchop sideburns
-tattoos of random/stupid shit (flying tacos, televisions, Abe Lincoln, etc)
-early 20th century sensationalist handbills
-PlinkO
-70's ragtop hoop-ds
-scraping all the dust/gunk out of my computer
-pineapple juice that doesn't taste like the can
-Benihana fried rice
The Hate:
-black socks
-preachy mcpreachers who think they know what's good for me
-mayo
-most of Chattanooga
-The New York Skankees
-spilling iced tea on my keyboard
-jam bands
-regular Coke (I don't mind diet)
-the Del-Mar-Va peninsula
-babysitting drunk friends
-the Septa Subway
-canned tuna
-pants that cause muffin-tops
-cat-vomit (and stepping in it)
-plain chapstick
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Sand in the what, now?
Listening to: Dead or Alive - You Spin Me
Wow - exhilirating weekend in LI. Went to the beach not once, but twice. I even made it through wearing the bikini not once, but twice. As predicted, I had the usual boob-poppage, but that didn't end up being a problem. I survived my first real swim in the ocean in almost a decade without any issues, although sand ended up in the usual places. It now lines the drain of Steve's bathtub. Dog-willing, there won't be any major plumbing upsets as a result (I doubt I mentioned this earlier, but his toilet more or less exploded in... July or June or something - I was home for the entire ordeal).
I didn't realize how much I missed being buffeted by the admittedly short waves of the Atlantic. I had such a bad scare from being sucked under a massive Maui wave when I was 11 that I barely went into the Ocean at all thereafter (I did go snorkeling in some calmer waters when I was 15, and I did a little sea-kayaking when I was 18), and having Steve there with me definitely calmed what fears I had. I know how much he hates being in the sun, so it was especially awesome.
So I'm home now, with no real work for about a week. School starts soon, and I really don't want to think about it, although the prospect of no longer being the department's BABY (man, I hated that - my first semester's creative writing prof called me that and I hated her for it) is something I do look forward to. I just feel kind of bad that they'll have to deal with that beastly woman now.
Wow - exhilirating weekend in LI. Went to the beach not once, but twice. I even made it through wearing the bikini not once, but twice. As predicted, I had the usual boob-poppage, but that didn't end up being a problem. I survived my first real swim in the ocean in almost a decade without any issues, although sand ended up in the usual places. It now lines the drain of Steve's bathtub. Dog-willing, there won't be any major plumbing upsets as a result (I doubt I mentioned this earlier, but his toilet more or less exploded in... July or June or something - I was home for the entire ordeal).
I didn't realize how much I missed being buffeted by the admittedly short waves of the Atlantic. I had such a bad scare from being sucked under a massive Maui wave when I was 11 that I barely went into the Ocean at all thereafter (I did go snorkeling in some calmer waters when I was 15, and I did a little sea-kayaking when I was 18), and having Steve there with me definitely calmed what fears I had. I know how much he hates being in the sun, so it was especially awesome.
So I'm home now, with no real work for about a week. School starts soon, and I really don't want to think about it, although the prospect of no longer being the department's BABY (man, I hated that - my first semester's creative writing prof called me that and I hated her for it) is something I do look forward to. I just feel kind of bad that they'll have to deal with that beastly woman now.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Just say the word... ohhhhh
Listening to: Phil Collins - Sussudio
((side note: man, does that song permeate your whole body when you hear it... you sing along, you dance like a fuckhead, and you momentarily find Phil Collins to be awesome.
Although it's no In the Air Tonight.))
Well, off to LI today. To the first event this year which has me in a bikini. I'm scared. Very, very scared. I've put on too much weight for most of my old board shorts (my one "fat" pair still fits very comfortably, but that hardly makes me feel better), half my tattoos haven't been displayed in public, and I have a legitimate concern about my boobs popping out should I even consider entering the pool. It's awfully difficult to find a bathing suit that fits an ample-chested woman without it being either a Speedo or something with a skirt that is meant to be worn with a bathing cap studded with daisies.
Steve's response to my fear was pretty kind - he did remind me that he's going to be "the hairy guy." Still, nobody wants to be the chick with the gunt whose boobs fell out.
Man... all this insecurity after Dr. Weiss tells me I'm losing weight. But I did use the restroom five minutes before I weighted myself yesterday, so it could've been a fluke.
Why can't they make exercise more fun? If there was a lap pool around here, I'd be in it daily, but such is not the case. I'm not even sure where the pool at Temple is. I should probably ask about that.
((side note: man, does that song permeate your whole body when you hear it... you sing along, you dance like a fuckhead, and you momentarily find Phil Collins to be awesome.
Although it's no In the Air Tonight.))
Well, off to LI today. To the first event this year which has me in a bikini. I'm scared. Very, very scared. I've put on too much weight for most of my old board shorts (my one "fat" pair still fits very comfortably, but that hardly makes me feel better), half my tattoos haven't been displayed in public, and I have a legitimate concern about my boobs popping out should I even consider entering the pool. It's awfully difficult to find a bathing suit that fits an ample-chested woman without it being either a Speedo or something with a skirt that is meant to be worn with a bathing cap studded with daisies.
Steve's response to my fear was pretty kind - he did remind me that he's going to be "the hairy guy." Still, nobody wants to be the chick with the gunt whose boobs fell out.
Man... all this insecurity after Dr. Weiss tells me I'm losing weight. But I did use the restroom five minutes before I weighted myself yesterday, so it could've been a fluke.
Why can't they make exercise more fun? If there was a lap pool around here, I'd be in it daily, but such is not the case. I'm not even sure where the pool at Temple is. I should probably ask about that.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Boot
Listening to: Kenny Loggins - Heaven Helps
Well, I've officially been booted out of a forum (one of my illegal botany forums). The reasoning? I've apparently been "too negative." As in, I express my opinions, either political or regarding mass media, and the overly aggressive mod decided he didn't like what I had to say - particularly regarding Miami Ink, and I got dumped. Oh, and because I offered a favor to another poster. Apparently those are both grounds for a PERMANENT BAN.
Alright, I don't understand what's wrong with strongly disliking Miami Ink (I think it's doing a disservice to the tattooed community) that merits a ban, but that's the way the ball bounces. I guess I'll just have to find another online forum to "destroy."
What a fuckhead that mod is.
Well, I've officially been booted out of a forum (one of my illegal botany forums). The reasoning? I've apparently been "too negative." As in, I express my opinions, either political or regarding mass media, and the overly aggressive mod decided he didn't like what I had to say - particularly regarding Miami Ink, and I got dumped. Oh, and because I offered a favor to another poster. Apparently those are both grounds for a PERMANENT BAN.
Alright, I don't understand what's wrong with strongly disliking Miami Ink (I think it's doing a disservice to the tattooed community) that merits a ban, but that's the way the ball bounces. I guess I'll just have to find another online forum to "destroy."
What a fuckhead that mod is.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Merrily we roll along
Listening to: Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill
Man - is July really almost over? I can't figure out if it was quick or slow, but it was productive, and I'm feeling almost GOOD about school starting up again soon. Almost. I've never felt any kind of dread for school before (it had never really been hard before), and I'm trying to go in with a good attitude. I really hope the new students are cool, and that there's at least one who's younger than me. I don't like being the baby of the department.
Mom's coming on thursday, so the apartment needs to be cleaned in a pretty major way, but mom's a welcome break from dad (who dropped in this weekend). I love dad like crazy, and I appreciate that he wants to see me so often, but it feels like I need to entertain him all the time. Plus, he's always a little fuzzy on details. (night before: expect a call around 11; 11am next day: I'm not coming; 1pm: expect me in 30 minutes). Mom's good enough to schedule things well in advance.
Thank dog, she's taking me to Ikea, since my couch is sagging horribly, and the torch lamp in my bedroom decided to fall over this morning. Nothing like waking up to shattering glass noises, with skittish kitties running around (possibly through said glass). Thankfully, no cats were injured, and the lamp still appears to work, but it doesn't look very nice. Like most lamps, its torch-lid contained a variety of dehydrated insects (including a couple ladybugs, which I find revolting).
Why I find ladybugs gross:
From 1995 to 1999, I went to a sleep-away summer camp in Maine. We lived in wood cabins, and there was a seperate room filled with wooden cubbies, one for each camper. My last year of camp, I must've made a poor cubby choice - it turned out to be a ladybug nest. I noticed the occasional ladybug here and there when I shook out a shirt or towel or something. One day, I took out my not-often-used cleats and looked inside... hundreds of dead ladybugs.
Ugggggh.
Man - is July really almost over? I can't figure out if it was quick or slow, but it was productive, and I'm feeling almost GOOD about school starting up again soon. Almost. I've never felt any kind of dread for school before (it had never really been hard before), and I'm trying to go in with a good attitude. I really hope the new students are cool, and that there's at least one who's younger than me. I don't like being the baby of the department.
Mom's coming on thursday, so the apartment needs to be cleaned in a pretty major way, but mom's a welcome break from dad (who dropped in this weekend). I love dad like crazy, and I appreciate that he wants to see me so often, but it feels like I need to entertain him all the time. Plus, he's always a little fuzzy on details. (night before: expect a call around 11; 11am next day: I'm not coming; 1pm: expect me in 30 minutes). Mom's good enough to schedule things well in advance.
Thank dog, she's taking me to Ikea, since my couch is sagging horribly, and the torch lamp in my bedroom decided to fall over this morning. Nothing like waking up to shattering glass noises, with skittish kitties running around (possibly through said glass). Thankfully, no cats were injured, and the lamp still appears to work, but it doesn't look very nice. Like most lamps, its torch-lid contained a variety of dehydrated insects (including a couple ladybugs, which I find revolting).
Why I find ladybugs gross:
From 1995 to 1999, I went to a sleep-away summer camp in Maine. We lived in wood cabins, and there was a seperate room filled with wooden cubbies, one for each camper. My last year of camp, I must've made a poor cubby choice - it turned out to be a ladybug nest. I noticed the occasional ladybug here and there when I shook out a shirt or towel or something. One day, I took out my not-often-used cleats and looked inside... hundreds of dead ladybugs.
Ugggggh.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Regarding my "cop out"
Listening to: Weather Report - Palladium
Post #13 is a cop out. Apparently. I'm not supposed to feel anything other than contempt for our nation's politics, and unfortunately, all I can scrounge up is apathy.
I said it before, in some form: just because I don't agree with you doesn't make me wrong.
Why I'm a Libertarian:
I am a political grey-area-ist. I think that people deserve their own privacy, that victimless crimes need not waste the country's money, and that people should generally be responsible for themselves. I don't think it's the government's job to protect me from myself. That would be my job.
That said, I don't think anyone's ever completely in the wrong, politics-wise. Every way to face an issue represents some kind of positive grain. Someone, somewhere, believes that what they are doing is right. But that doesn't mean they are. It is a perception issue. I'm a liberal and I'm a conservative. It doesn't make me wrong, it makes me DIFFERENT.
So fuck you.
"cop out" my ass.
Post #13 is a cop out. Apparently. I'm not supposed to feel anything other than contempt for our nation's politics, and unfortunately, all I can scrounge up is apathy.
I said it before, in some form: just because I don't agree with you doesn't make me wrong.
Why I'm a Libertarian:
I am a political grey-area-ist. I think that people deserve their own privacy, that victimless crimes need not waste the country's money, and that people should generally be responsible for themselves. I don't think it's the government's job to protect me from myself. That would be my job.
That said, I don't think anyone's ever completely in the wrong, politics-wise. Every way to face an issue represents some kind of positive grain. Someone, somewhere, believes that what they are doing is right. But that doesn't mean they are. It is a perception issue. I'm a liberal and I'm a conservative. It doesn't make me wrong, it makes me DIFFERENT.
So fuck you.
"cop out" my ass.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Whee!
Listening to: The Police - So Lonely
Although I'm really not lonely at all. Just a remaining earworm from last night. The concert kicked ass (except for two hours of horrible opening-band waiting time), traffic getting home was negligeable, and I have Steve and Chris here - it's really nice spending a birthday among friends. Last year, I was working at Breezemont. We had celebratory donuts, since cupcakes weren't allowed. Fuckin' horse shit.
So, I'm 23.
::shrug:: call me when I'm 40. My paranoia's there already.
One thing you should never do at any stadium in Philadelphia? Chant "Eagles fuckin' suck!" While exiting CBP last night, I was being followed by some douche, probably from New York, who started doing his Eagles-suck thing in the midst of a swath of people trying to leave. Now, I hate the Eagles as much as a Giants fan should, but even I know how absolutely irritating and stupid it would be to INCITE A FUCKING RIOT. I last saw the fellow making menacing fists at some other meatheads who told him that he should stop being a prick and shut up.
Although I'm really not lonely at all. Just a remaining earworm from last night. The concert kicked ass (except for two hours of horrible opening-band waiting time), traffic getting home was negligeable, and I have Steve and Chris here - it's really nice spending a birthday among friends. Last year, I was working at Breezemont. We had celebratory donuts, since cupcakes weren't allowed. Fuckin' horse shit.
So, I'm 23.
::shrug:: call me when I'm 40. My paranoia's there already.
One thing you should never do at any stadium in Philadelphia? Chant "Eagles fuckin' suck!" While exiting CBP last night, I was being followed by some douche, probably from New York, who started doing his Eagles-suck thing in the midst of a swath of people trying to leave. Now, I hate the Eagles as much as a Giants fan should, but even I know how absolutely irritating and stupid it would be to INCITE A FUCKING RIOT. I last saw the fellow making menacing fists at some other meatheads who told him that he should stop being a prick and shut up.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Excerpt 1
Listening to: Eurythmics - Here Comes the Rain Again
Alright, readers...
I'm posting up the first excerpt of my new story (I always type them up in story form before I illustrate them) with hopes that you will offer VERY HONEST CRITIQUE. I want you to tell me what works and what doesn't work, if the syntax is confusting, etc.
The clock says 3:42 am. I've been lying in bed for three hours. I'm out of Tylenol PM. First I was too warm. Now I'm too cold.
Luther's been making noise, too. Nocturnal little bastard. He keeps switching back and forth between swatting around that mouse with the stupid rattle in it and rubbing his clawless paws against the corner of the bed. Or he's lapping at the toilet, or climbing on my head. I pet him a couple times - maybe he'd be a good kitty and sleep or something - but he went right back to that idiot mouse.
I'm getting up. This is pointless.
Three hours of swishing paws. Three hours of the buzzing streetlight outside. Three hours of the toilet making weird noises.
It's 3:42 am. El, you have work in four hours. There's a pile of papers you should have graded by now.
51 papers on the ancient world, by 51 6th-graders. I bet 47 of them picked the Rome prompt. The fall of Ur wasn't nearly as interesting as the discussion of great Roman inventions. Anything with information would impress me, but this is a private school; they've been doing the five-paragraph thing for a couple years now. "Higher standards," Mrs. O'Connell said.
Can't sleep.
Time to sit down and do this.
***
Elliot shut his eyes as he switched on the living room lamp, and a moment later opened them again. The stack of papers on the coffee table rattled in the draft of the A/C, but remained a solid pile of weight. As he sat down, he picked up the papers and moved them next to him on the couch.
"Fuck, red pen." He got up again, walked back to his room, and dumped out the pen cup on his desk.
"Where's the red one? Dammit." He picked up a purple pen, and returned to the paper stack. He picked up the first paper.
"Brianna Abrams... Rome." He read the paper quickly, adding lines, correcting spelling, moving commas. Purple ink, a B- paper.
Purple sent no message. It was too friendly. O'Connell had no rules about pen colors, but this looked all wrong. Elliot put the paper on the coffee table and picked up the next one.
"Eddie Ayers... Rome." Purple purple purple. C+. He threw the pen on the floor. "Fuck!" Elliot stood up. "No. These were due back last week." He shut his eyes, sighed, and sat down.
Cheryl always got her tests back quickly. Though grading math tests took a lot less time. The kids loved her as much as they could love a math teacher. She got away with being strict because she was young and funny and occasionally said "damn" in front of the kids. Young male teachers always need to be goofy to get students to listen. Maybe it's why she asked him out. The new, young, wacky history teacher who wore pink socks on pop quiz days and made up songs for the kids to remember all the important battles in Greece.
She corrected herself so cutely when she said "damn."
Elliot picked up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one.
"Craig Brown... 'The Fall of Ur.' Nice." Except the Greeks weren't involved in Ur. "Where the hell is my red pen?" From the kitchen, Luther mewed. Elliot scribbled a long note on the back of the paper. In loopy purple script. "Big purple F!" He slammed the paper on the table, tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, and stood up.
Cheryl hadn't talked to him in a couple days. Friday night had not gone well. They ran into students at the movie theater. Students who asked, "are you guys on a date?" then giggled after she said "we're friends outside of school - are you on a date?" 2 students now, 51 students by Monday. They had finally progressed to sex, but it didn't happen. As soon as he had the condom on, he couldn't keep it up. He still pleasured her, but they both seemed embarrassed about the outcome of the night.
Alright, readers...
I'm posting up the first excerpt of my new story (I always type them up in story form before I illustrate them) with hopes that you will offer VERY HONEST CRITIQUE. I want you to tell me what works and what doesn't work, if the syntax is confusting, etc.
The clock says 3:42 am. I've been lying in bed for three hours. I'm out of Tylenol PM. First I was too warm. Now I'm too cold.
Luther's been making noise, too. Nocturnal little bastard. He keeps switching back and forth between swatting around that mouse with the stupid rattle in it and rubbing his clawless paws against the corner of the bed. Or he's lapping at the toilet, or climbing on my head. I pet him a couple times - maybe he'd be a good kitty and sleep or something - but he went right back to that idiot mouse.
I'm getting up. This is pointless.
Three hours of swishing paws. Three hours of the buzzing streetlight outside. Three hours of the toilet making weird noises.
It's 3:42 am. El, you have work in four hours. There's a pile of papers you should have graded by now.
51 papers on the ancient world, by 51 6th-graders. I bet 47 of them picked the Rome prompt. The fall of Ur wasn't nearly as interesting as the discussion of great Roman inventions. Anything with information would impress me, but this is a private school; they've been doing the five-paragraph thing for a couple years now. "Higher standards," Mrs. O'Connell said.
Can't sleep.
Time to sit down and do this.
***
Elliot shut his eyes as he switched on the living room lamp, and a moment later opened them again. The stack of papers on the coffee table rattled in the draft of the A/C, but remained a solid pile of weight. As he sat down, he picked up the papers and moved them next to him on the couch.
"Fuck, red pen." He got up again, walked back to his room, and dumped out the pen cup on his desk.
"Where's the red one? Dammit." He picked up a purple pen, and returned to the paper stack. He picked up the first paper.
"Brianna Abrams... Rome." He read the paper quickly, adding lines, correcting spelling, moving commas. Purple ink, a B- paper.
Purple sent no message. It was too friendly. O'Connell had no rules about pen colors, but this looked all wrong. Elliot put the paper on the coffee table and picked up the next one.
"Eddie Ayers... Rome." Purple purple purple. C+. He threw the pen on the floor. "Fuck!" Elliot stood up. "No. These were due back last week." He shut his eyes, sighed, and sat down.
Cheryl always got her tests back quickly. Though grading math tests took a lot less time. The kids loved her as much as they could love a math teacher. She got away with being strict because she was young and funny and occasionally said "damn" in front of the kids. Young male teachers always need to be goofy to get students to listen. Maybe it's why she asked him out. The new, young, wacky history teacher who wore pink socks on pop quiz days and made up songs for the kids to remember all the important battles in Greece.
She corrected herself so cutely when she said "damn."
Elliot picked up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one.
"Craig Brown... 'The Fall of Ur.' Nice." Except the Greeks weren't involved in Ur. "Where the hell is my red pen?" From the kitchen, Luther mewed. Elliot scribbled a long note on the back of the paper. In loopy purple script. "Big purple F!" He slammed the paper on the table, tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, and stood up.
Cheryl hadn't talked to him in a couple days. Friday night had not gone well. They ran into students at the movie theater. Students who asked, "are you guys on a date?" then giggled after she said "we're friends outside of school - are you on a date?" 2 students now, 51 students by Monday. They had finally progressed to sex, but it didn't happen. As soon as he had the condom on, he couldn't keep it up. He still pleasured her, but they both seemed embarrassed about the outcome of the night.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
5 days...
Listening to: The Police - Canary in a Coalmine
In the past, my birthday has been an underwhelming mess of sorts. Bad weather is inevitable, with a 50/50 chance between disgustingly high temperature and humidity, and an enormous, flash-flood inducing thunderstorm. Every year, I've kept track of the weather, and there has yet to be an exception. Which is bad, considering...
I'm seeing the fucking Police as my 23rd birthday party.
Woot! This brings my concert total to a whopping two (three in September, when I see Genesis - ::glee::). I'm debating making a t-shirt specifically for the event, perhaps just a phrase from a song. If I get compliments, then the plan is to make multiple Genesis phrase shirts and attempt to sell them out of the back of the Element before that concert. It shouldn't be a massive investment or anything, since iron-on-letters and plain t-shirts don't cost that much... and the worse case scenario is a mass ebay dump.
::tsk:: silly student. You can't get rich fast.
So dog willing, the weather will be perfect, or at least, not-raining, come thursday. Pray for good weather, guys, I beg of you.
In the past, my birthday has been an underwhelming mess of sorts. Bad weather is inevitable, with a 50/50 chance between disgustingly high temperature and humidity, and an enormous, flash-flood inducing thunderstorm. Every year, I've kept track of the weather, and there has yet to be an exception. Which is bad, considering...
I'm seeing the fucking Police as my 23rd birthday party.
Woot! This brings my concert total to a whopping two (three in September, when I see Genesis - ::glee::). I'm debating making a t-shirt specifically for the event, perhaps just a phrase from a song. If I get compliments, then the plan is to make multiple Genesis phrase shirts and attempt to sell them out of the back of the Element before that concert. It shouldn't be a massive investment or anything, since iron-on-letters and plain t-shirts don't cost that much... and the worse case scenario is a mass ebay dump.
::tsk:: silly student. You can't get rich fast.
So dog willing, the weather will be perfect, or at least, not-raining, come thursday. Pray for good weather, guys, I beg of you.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Go Team Venture!
Just as a sort of pre-emptive explanation for my new cartoony sigs over at OT - too many episodes of The Venture Brothers, a hilarious and well-made cartoon on Adult Swim. Possibly the funniest show sice Futurama.
My Monarch/Dr. Girlfriend sig ended up looking all shitty, so my sig now features Rusty Venture. For those of you who have never watched this show, I encourage you, do. Especially if you were ever into Johnny Quest at any point in your life.
My Monarch/Dr. Girlfriend sig ended up looking all shitty, so my sig now features Rusty Venture. For those of you who have never watched this show, I encourage you, do. Especially if you were ever into Johnny Quest at any point in your life.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Heh... neat.
Listening to: Hall and Oates - Method of Modern Love
(btw, for those of you who've noticed, yes, two days later, I still have that infernal song stuck in my head)
Didn't know I had so many readers - awesome! Now I have to update more regularly, or I'll be systematically slaughtered, and one of you will have my lovely inked skin to wear as a coat.
It's been a slow few days, though Lia's coming back to town this week, so I'll finally be around a friend on a regular basis - for the first time this summer! I've made it through a month and a half being relatively alone, and surprisingly, my moods have been stable, I'm getting work done, and I'm feeling pretty unstressed.
Just started a new graphic story yesterday, regarding a young teacher suffering from insomnia. Familiar territory, if you will. My drawings seem to be improving, and now that I have a scanner, I can edit text and art on my computer, so this one might actually turn out to be the piece I can attempt to get published. Dog willing. It's hard work doing all that illustrating, and I know I've laid down my pen early on multiple occasions, but I really want to follow through on this - you guys have to keep my nose to the grindstone - in exchange, I'll occasionally post my pages as they're cleaned up.
(btw, for those of you who've noticed, yes, two days later, I still have that infernal song stuck in my head)
Didn't know I had so many readers - awesome! Now I have to update more regularly, or I'll be systematically slaughtered, and one of you will have my lovely inked skin to wear as a coat.
It's been a slow few days, though Lia's coming back to town this week, so I'll finally be around a friend on a regular basis - for the first time this summer! I've made it through a month and a half being relatively alone, and surprisingly, my moods have been stable, I'm getting work done, and I'm feeling pretty unstressed.
Just started a new graphic story yesterday, regarding a young teacher suffering from insomnia. Familiar territory, if you will. My drawings seem to be improving, and now that I have a scanner, I can edit text and art on my computer, so this one might actually turn out to be the piece I can attempt to get published. Dog willing. It's hard work doing all that illustrating, and I know I've laid down my pen early on multiple occasions, but I really want to follow through on this - you guys have to keep my nose to the grindstone - in exchange, I'll occasionally post my pages as they're cleaned up.
Friday, July 06, 2007
the question.
Alright, alright... it was something like, "In 1905, this Frankfurt doctor delivered a paper on the subject of a man he had encountered, who said to him, 'I have lost myself.'"
The answer?
"Who is Alzheimer."
I knew this only because I've studied the disease extensively... since it's floating around in my genetics and all...
The answer?
"Who is Alzheimer."
I knew this only because I've studied the disease extensively... since it's floating around in my genetics and all...
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Boomf.
Listening to: Fleetwood Mac - Hold Me
::yawn:: a nice couple of days with visitors; first Sarah, then Steve. Got my social-ness out of my system, and am now ready to hunker down and be my creepy loner self again. Just glad to get the giganto-bong out of my apartment for good (I heart Craigslist - you can get rid of ANYTHING there), and now I have some greens with which to kick back and relax. It's boring on your own.
Wish I'd seen Hall and Oates' concert in person, but considering the downpour last night, I think the tv was a wiser choice.
Oh!
And I got final Jeopardy right tonight - neither of the contestants (other person had been knocked out of FJ due to negative funds) did, but I... I got it.
::yawn:: a nice couple of days with visitors; first Sarah, then Steve. Got my social-ness out of my system, and am now ready to hunker down and be my creepy loner self again. Just glad to get the giganto-bong out of my apartment for good (I heart Craigslist - you can get rid of ANYTHING there), and now I have some greens with which to kick back and relax. It's boring on your own.
Wish I'd seen Hall and Oates' concert in person, but considering the downpour last night, I think the tv was a wiser choice.
Oh!
And I got final Jeopardy right tonight - neither of the contestants (other person had been knocked out of FJ due to negative funds) did, but I... I got it.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Your Daily Showcase
#1 (bid $35,000) - OVER
-Exciting Vegas Trip
-Exotic Egypt Trip
-Poorly-made Sailboat
#2 (bid $19,240) - OVER
-Beautiful Living Room Group
-carpet
-Hawaiian flowers for a year
-Pair of Yamaha "classic" motorcycles
Lame.
-Exciting Vegas Trip
-Exotic Egypt Trip
-Poorly-made Sailboat
#2 (bid $19,240) - OVER
-Beautiful Living Room Group
-carpet
-Hawaiian flowers for a year
-Pair of Yamaha "classic" motorcycles
Lame.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Your daily showcases
Showcase #1:
- A lovely brass bedroom set
- with new mattress
- A lovely gemstone necklace
- Greece trip
Showcase #2:
- St. Lucia trip
- $1000 cash
- Corvette(!)
I always feel bad for the guy who gets the terrible showcase. He almost always wins, and it's usually stuff that you'd just be happy to take in cash equivalency. I haven't seen any grand prize Espresso machines, baby grand pianos, and party boats lately, but woe be it for the fools who win personal hovercrafts, electric golf-cart vehicles, or bad Chevys.
- A lovely brass bedroom set
- with new mattress
- A lovely gemstone necklace
- Greece trip
Showcase #2:
- St. Lucia trip
- $1000 cash
- Corvette(!)
I always feel bad for the guy who gets the terrible showcase. He almost always wins, and it's usually stuff that you'd just be happy to take in cash equivalency. I haven't seen any grand prize Espresso machines, baby grand pianos, and party boats lately, but woe be it for the fools who win personal hovercrafts, electric golf-cart vehicles, or bad Chevys.
On the road again
I seem to be driving more than usual latey. Went down to Bawlmore last night at around 5:30 (yay rush hour! actually, there was next to no traffic) to grab a nice dinner at Gertrude's with Justin (and Graham as your bartender - he made me an extremely nice gin and tonic, then handed back my credit card when I attempted to pay). It's been a long few weeks with no people around, so to have Justin, Gram-bot, and Ian hanging out with me for a couple hours... well, it's more fun than I've had in a long while. I do adore my boys, and I actually have time now to go see all of them - woo!
In addition, yesterday, I did a sample run of teaching GED language arts. Wrote up a brief lesson in a couple hours, sat in on a class, then taught for the final twenty minutes. I apparently looked pretty comfortable and confident, because I've been picked up for a few more future dates this summer... man, $15/hour. That's some money right there.
In addition, yesterday, I did a sample run of teaching GED language arts. Wrote up a brief lesson in a couple hours, sat in on a class, then taught for the final twenty minutes. I apparently looked pretty comfortable and confident, because I've been picked up for a few more future dates this summer... man, $15/hour. That's some money right there.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Bored.Beyond.Belief
You know what sucks?
Not having a single friend in town for a goodly portion of the summer.
I mean, I'd probably be bored in New York, too, but at least at my old crappy job, I'd be around some of my buddies. As well as too many stupid high school students who also decided to be counselors. Never mind. At least now I have a little green planty material to keep myself a little amused.
Though counseling is more fun than excel spreadsheets, which I'm only doing because the folks at the Learning Center can't do anything with me. Volunteering is kind of lame sometimes. Especially the "no pay" part.
Saw the Mets play an amazing game on satuday night, though. Thank dog, I only bought three concessions (Dippin' Dots in spiffy souvenir helnet cup, bringing my total collection to 4 - $5.50; pretzel - $4; Brooklyn Ale - $7.25 I will be damned if I'm going to pay $6.75 for a Bud Lite when good beer is available at an even more ridiculous price) because I think the prices are getting even more outrageous than usual.
Not having a single friend in town for a goodly portion of the summer.
I mean, I'd probably be bored in New York, too, but at least at my old crappy job, I'd be around some of my buddies. As well as too many stupid high school students who also decided to be counselors. Never mind. At least now I have a little green planty material to keep myself a little amused.
Though counseling is more fun than excel spreadsheets, which I'm only doing because the folks at the Learning Center can't do anything with me. Volunteering is kind of lame sometimes. Especially the "no pay" part.
Saw the Mets play an amazing game on satuday night, though. Thank dog, I only bought three concessions (Dippin' Dots in spiffy souvenir helnet cup, bringing my total collection to 4 - $5.50; pretzel - $4; Brooklyn Ale - $7.25 I will be damned if I'm going to pay $6.75 for a Bud Lite when good beer is available at an even more ridiculous price) because I think the prices are getting even more outrageous than usual.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Snobesque
Listening to: Yes - Big Generator
To an unnamed someone I sort of know:
When someone mentions something even remotely mainstream in any sort of enjoyment context, shooting them down by saying how crappy it must be is a really obnoxious thing to do. Especially if you've just said "well, I don't know anything about it, but..."
It's the rough equivalent of telling someone that their pants make them look like a blimp while YOUR SPECIAL PANTS make you (and any other person as special as you who happens to have said pants) look just wonderful. Whenever you do it, I want to take you aside and tell you that you're a horrible person who should have her human decency card revoked.
::fume::
Sorry to my four loyal readers. I'm just very mad at this aforementioned person and do not possess the cojones to tell her what I think, mostly because that sort of ventilation, even in private, tends to piss people off.
This is no way to live life - it just makes you look like a bitch.
To an unnamed someone I sort of know:
When someone mentions something even remotely mainstream in any sort of enjoyment context, shooting them down by saying how crappy it must be is a really obnoxious thing to do. Especially if you've just said "well, I don't know anything about it, but..."
It's the rough equivalent of telling someone that their pants make them look like a blimp while YOUR SPECIAL PANTS make you (and any other person as special as you who happens to have said pants) look just wonderful. Whenever you do it, I want to take you aside and tell you that you're a horrible person who should have her human decency card revoked.
::fume::
Sorry to my four loyal readers. I'm just very mad at this aforementioned person and do not possess the cojones to tell her what I think, mostly because that sort of ventilation, even in private, tends to piss people off.
This is no way to live life - it just makes you look like a bitch.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Je reviens
Listening to: Genesis - Home by the Sea/Second Home by the Sea
Well, back from an extended mini-vacation.
Went to Charlotte's end-of-school festivities. Got to ride up to the Cape with mom, which doesn't happen often, since she usually goes out first with dad and I to follow. The drive felt shorter than usual, maybe 4 hours, many of which were spent attempting to get into a comfortable position to rest my eyes. Plus, I got a donut.
This is where I make note of an excellent meal I had whilst in Hyannis at a place called Spanky's Clam Shack (apparently, it's owned by one of Charlotte's classmates' mothers). Fried clams are generally delicious no matter what, but really fresh fried clams, with a lemon chunk to squeeze over both them and the fries... well, that's just somethin' else. The real icing on the cake was a glass of Cape Cod Red to wash it all down. Fried shellfish and beer - you honestly CAN'T get much of a better combination.
Better still, that night was the school's benefit dinner - I ended up winning a cute oil painting of a green pear for my kitchen in one of the silent auctions (alas, I didn't win the raffle for the plane tickets... I would've loved to convert my $20 entry into tickets to California). The dinner was a little less... busy than last year's (4 courses instead of something like seven), but it was very tasty. Particularly the scallops tartare. Cape Cod has the market cornered on amazing shellfish... Twice in one day!
The next morning, Charlotte and some of her classmates put on a play they'd been working on for a while, something about the school. As it turns out, Charlotte's been taking voice lessons, and she's got a hell of an instrument. I knew she liked to sing, but I'd never actually see her do it, and she impressed me a lot.
Spent the rest of the weekend at Steve's. A low-key visit, definitely enjoyable... Except for the toilet, which decided to explode about 15 minutes after Steve left for work on sunday. I got to formally introduce myself to his landlords while bailing all the floor-toilet-water out of the bathroom with the few towels Steve owns.
Word of wisdom: Never, ever drive to Long Island ever again. The "ride" through Brooklyn yesterday to get back to Philadelphia took approximately an hour and 15 minutes in which I went maybe 15 miles. And the gas light was on the entire time. When I finally got over the Verazanno and coasted across Staten Island and over the Goethal's and finally into Jersey, I pulled into the first road-stop I could find, as I was both ravenous and terrified that my car was running on fumes. Discovered that the chicken strips at Popeye's are almost as good as their biscuits... makes me glad that I don't know where the nearest Popeye's is, because I'd find some excuse to eat that garbage.
As it turned out, I filled my car up ($2.85 a gallon! AMAZING! I LOVE JERSEY!) and paid for a little over 14 gallons. I was in shock. My car has a 15 gallon tank. I'd never gotten it so close to empty in my life. ::shudder:: My poor car could've died!
Well, back from an extended mini-vacation.
Went to Charlotte's end-of-school festivities. Got to ride up to the Cape with mom, which doesn't happen often, since she usually goes out first with dad and I to follow. The drive felt shorter than usual, maybe 4 hours, many of which were spent attempting to get into a comfortable position to rest my eyes. Plus, I got a donut.
This is where I make note of an excellent meal I had whilst in Hyannis at a place called Spanky's Clam Shack (apparently, it's owned by one of Charlotte's classmates' mothers). Fried clams are generally delicious no matter what, but really fresh fried clams, with a lemon chunk to squeeze over both them and the fries... well, that's just somethin' else. The real icing on the cake was a glass of Cape Cod Red to wash it all down. Fried shellfish and beer - you honestly CAN'T get much of a better combination.
Better still, that night was the school's benefit dinner - I ended up winning a cute oil painting of a green pear for my kitchen in one of the silent auctions (alas, I didn't win the raffle for the plane tickets... I would've loved to convert my $20 entry into tickets to California). The dinner was a little less... busy than last year's (4 courses instead of something like seven), but it was very tasty. Particularly the scallops tartare. Cape Cod has the market cornered on amazing shellfish... Twice in one day!
The next morning, Charlotte and some of her classmates put on a play they'd been working on for a while, something about the school. As it turns out, Charlotte's been taking voice lessons, and she's got a hell of an instrument. I knew she liked to sing, but I'd never actually see her do it, and she impressed me a lot.
Spent the rest of the weekend at Steve's. A low-key visit, definitely enjoyable... Except for the toilet, which decided to explode about 15 minutes after Steve left for work on sunday. I got to formally introduce myself to his landlords while bailing all the floor-toilet-water out of the bathroom with the few towels Steve owns.
Word of wisdom: Never, ever drive to Long Island ever again. The "ride" through Brooklyn yesterday to get back to Philadelphia took approximately an hour and 15 minutes in which I went maybe 15 miles. And the gas light was on the entire time. When I finally got over the Verazanno and coasted across Staten Island and over the Goethal's and finally into Jersey, I pulled into the first road-stop I could find, as I was both ravenous and terrified that my car was running on fumes. Discovered that the chicken strips at Popeye's are almost as good as their biscuits... makes me glad that I don't know where the nearest Popeye's is, because I'd find some excuse to eat that garbage.
As it turned out, I filled my car up ($2.85 a gallon! AMAZING! I LOVE JERSEY!) and paid for a little over 14 gallons. I was in shock. My car has a 15 gallon tank. I'd never gotten it so close to empty in my life. ::shudder:: My poor car could've died!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Curse. Hate. Destroy.
Listening to: Depeche Mode - People Are People
I am in a horrible mood. I think it had something to do with not falling asleep until about 4, a dream full of disgusting bugs (roaches, giant daddy-longlegs, etc) which kept jolting me awake in fits of leg-kicking and "no no no stop!," and the qats being bad. Mort pooped on the floor for the sixth consecutive day, and if he weren't cute, I'd kick him.
So, with my terrible grumpiness having been established, today's post shall be an angry rant.
Rant #1: I do not care about your sex life. This is directed at nobody in particular, but has been something that has pissed me off since college. I do NOT fucking care how good the sex is, how frequent it is, where you have it, all the various positions/accesories involved, et cetera. The only reason I ever mention mine is in response, because I am a self-conscious idiot who feels the need to "compete" whenever someone tells me how wonderful a particular aspect of their life is.
This has nothing to do with bitterness generated by rarely seeing Steve, and everything to do with me not giving a shit about your genitalia.
Rant #2: This is directed at someone. Some people. In power of a certain program. When a kid is trying to explain himself when a fight happens, and he has the entire excuse for his misbehavior clearly laid out, and it's ALMOST a perfectly sound reason for a childish response, it's really unkind to keep interrupting him to tell him what a bad kid he is, and that he's ridiculous for responding how he did. The kid is eleven years old. He is not an adult. He's not likely to handle anything in an adult fashion.
The argument in question: The boy took off his belt because, in his words, "it was cutting off my circulation." He put said belt by his backpack, and the girl next to him snatched it and hid it. He got mad and frustrated, and told her to give it back. She threatened him, so he threatened back. They both got in trouble, but not before the powers that be called him out for the fight, in front of a silent room full of other kids. I felt really bad for him, even if he was part of the argument. I wished I could've taken him aside and talked about it quietly.
Rant #3: I realize that I probably shouldn't prop a foot on the edge of the table to balance my drawing book when there are kids present, but come on, other-lady-power-that-be, don't tell me that I'm being unprofessional. It really hurts. Just tell me that I should probably sit straight.
She really took the wind out of my sails yesterday. I was in a great mood until she chastised me, although it was quietly enough so nobody else heard, and I ended up slipping into a depression-divot for a few hours. I almost cried three times in front of the kids, and had to slip off into the bathroom each time so I could let out a few tears and then get back to work like there was absolutely nothing wrong. I know it's my responsibility to keep my emotional problems to myself, and I'm really, really trying my hardest, but it makes my heart hurt so much sometimes. I actually had a pain in my chest and my head all night because I felt so crappy.
It was the first time I had felt down since I reduced my medication a couple weeks ago. I'm off the antidepressants in a couple days, and I really hope I can keep it together.
So now I've vented a little. I still feel like shit, and the drive to New York tonight isn't going to make me feel any better. I think I just need a good night's sleep.
Followed by a trip to the dentist tomorrow morning.
Oh, and it's that particular week of the month.
Oh, and the Mets are sucking in a terrible way.
I need a hug.
I am in a horrible mood. I think it had something to do with not falling asleep until about 4, a dream full of disgusting bugs (roaches, giant daddy-longlegs, etc) which kept jolting me awake in fits of leg-kicking and "no no no stop!," and the qats being bad. Mort pooped on the floor for the sixth consecutive day, and if he weren't cute, I'd kick him.
So, with my terrible grumpiness having been established, today's post shall be an angry rant.
Rant #1: I do not care about your sex life. This is directed at nobody in particular, but has been something that has pissed me off since college. I do NOT fucking care how good the sex is, how frequent it is, where you have it, all the various positions/accesories involved, et cetera. The only reason I ever mention mine is in response, because I am a self-conscious idiot who feels the need to "compete" whenever someone tells me how wonderful a particular aspect of their life is.
This has nothing to do with bitterness generated by rarely seeing Steve, and everything to do with me not giving a shit about your genitalia.
Rant #2: This is directed at someone. Some people. In power of a certain program. When a kid is trying to explain himself when a fight happens, and he has the entire excuse for his misbehavior clearly laid out, and it's ALMOST a perfectly sound reason for a childish response, it's really unkind to keep interrupting him to tell him what a bad kid he is, and that he's ridiculous for responding how he did. The kid is eleven years old. He is not an adult. He's not likely to handle anything in an adult fashion.
The argument in question: The boy took off his belt because, in his words, "it was cutting off my circulation." He put said belt by his backpack, and the girl next to him snatched it and hid it. He got mad and frustrated, and told her to give it back. She threatened him, so he threatened back. They both got in trouble, but not before the powers that be called him out for the fight, in front of a silent room full of other kids. I felt really bad for him, even if he was part of the argument. I wished I could've taken him aside and talked about it quietly.
Rant #3: I realize that I probably shouldn't prop a foot on the edge of the table to balance my drawing book when there are kids present, but come on, other-lady-power-that-be, don't tell me that I'm being unprofessional. It really hurts. Just tell me that I should probably sit straight.
She really took the wind out of my sails yesterday. I was in a great mood until she chastised me, although it was quietly enough so nobody else heard, and I ended up slipping into a depression-divot for a few hours. I almost cried three times in front of the kids, and had to slip off into the bathroom each time so I could let out a few tears and then get back to work like there was absolutely nothing wrong. I know it's my responsibility to keep my emotional problems to myself, and I'm really, really trying my hardest, but it makes my heart hurt so much sometimes. I actually had a pain in my chest and my head all night because I felt so crappy.
It was the first time I had felt down since I reduced my medication a couple weeks ago. I'm off the antidepressants in a couple days, and I really hope I can keep it together.
So now I've vented a little. I still feel like shit, and the drive to New York tonight isn't going to make me feel any better. I think I just need a good night's sleep.
Followed by a trip to the dentist tomorrow morning.
Oh, and it's that particular week of the month.
Oh, and the Mets are sucking in a terrible way.
I need a hug.
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Professor is in.
Listening to: Genesis - A Trick of the Tail
Hand me a fucking apple, because I had a teacherly moment today.
Today, whilst watching the kiddies as they played Reader Rabbit, or Reading Blaster, or whatever, I noticed one girl struggling with one of the minigames. It involved navigating a climber from word to word to climb a mountain, following a common thread between each word. In some cases, the guidelines were obvious, like "find words that are like grape" and the idea was to pick the words that began with gr-. In the girl's case, it was identifying the words with the short vowel noise.
This is a six-year-old girl we're talking about, so it seems fair to say she had absolutely no idea what a short vowel was.
So I pulled up a little-bitty chair next to the girl and had a chat with her. First, I had her identify the vowels, which she was able to do, albeit a little out of order. Then, I laid out what a LONG vowel noise is.
"Those are the ones that SOUND like how you say the letter - like boat, or smile."
She nodded.
"Alright, so a short vowel's when it DOESN'T sound like how you say the letter - like bob, or cat. You understand?"
She nodded again. I told her to try the game again - and she did it without a single mistake. I felt so damn good.
And better still? She then proceeded to help explain to the boy sitting next to her what short vowels were, so that he could play the game, too. And he did it without a single mistake.
I've never been so certain in my life that I want to teach. It sounds cheesy, but it's so damn rewarding to not only watch a kid learn something, but be able to explain that learned information to someone else - that shows that what I taught her really stuck. I feel... important.
Working at the daycamp in Westchester, I never felt so appreciated. Those spoiled kids... they're not interested in doing anything other than what they want. This is different. These kids really want to achieve, and I'm glad I'm part of it.
Hand me a fucking apple, because I had a teacherly moment today.
Today, whilst watching the kiddies as they played Reader Rabbit, or Reading Blaster, or whatever, I noticed one girl struggling with one of the minigames. It involved navigating a climber from word to word to climb a mountain, following a common thread between each word. In some cases, the guidelines were obvious, like "find words that are like grape" and the idea was to pick the words that began with gr-. In the girl's case, it was identifying the words with the short vowel noise.
This is a six-year-old girl we're talking about, so it seems fair to say she had absolutely no idea what a short vowel was.
So I pulled up a little-bitty chair next to the girl and had a chat with her. First, I had her identify the vowels, which she was able to do, albeit a little out of order. Then, I laid out what a LONG vowel noise is.
"Those are the ones that SOUND like how you say the letter - like boat, or smile."
She nodded.
"Alright, so a short vowel's when it DOESN'T sound like how you say the letter - like bob, or cat. You understand?"
She nodded again. I told her to try the game again - and she did it without a single mistake. I felt so damn good.
And better still? She then proceeded to help explain to the boy sitting next to her what short vowels were, so that he could play the game, too. And he did it without a single mistake.
I've never been so certain in my life that I want to teach. It sounds cheesy, but it's so damn rewarding to not only watch a kid learn something, but be able to explain that learned information to someone else - that shows that what I taught her really stuck. I feel... important.
Working at the daycamp in Westchester, I never felt so appreciated. Those spoiled kids... they're not interested in doing anything other than what they want. This is different. These kids really want to achieve, and I'm glad I'm part of it.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Sputum.
Listening to: The Doobie Brothers - Eyes of Silver
::hack hack hack::
Nothin' like horking up goo all day, unless you're also simultaneously mopping up a leaky nose and re-popping your ears. Fuck this awful upper-respiratory illness. Fuck it in whatever orifice it has.
Missed work today, due to goo-hacking. Probably better that I didn't get the kidlets sick.
Read the unfortunate news today that Bob Barker filmed his last show. After explaining to my mom that the show wouldn't be aired until September, she said-
Julia, what the hell are you going to do every morning?
Granted, it couldn't possibly be that hard to hand out PLiNKO chips, or botch peoples' bids, or remind folks to give their pets the snip-snip, but I'm genuinely gonna miss Bob. I'm not as obsessed as some of the screamier contestants, but Bob's been a fixture in my life since I was a wee child who subsisted entirely off of milk, Chips Ahoy, and Campbell's meatball soup. Besides, I doubt anyone else would be as good at sinking those putts in Hole in One (Or Two).
Being the sensible girl I am, though, I reminded my mom that Art Fleming had been the host of Jeopardy for YEARS before Alex took over (I think I might be more obsessed with Jeopardy than TPiR). I really shouldn't know this, since Mr. Trebek started his hosting job September 10th, 1984. Less than 2 months after my birth. I really need to do something more productive with my brain. Still Jeopardy related - I haven't gotten the Final Jeopardy question wrong for THREE STRAIGHT WEEKS.
I'm a damned genius.
::hack hack hack::
Nothin' like horking up goo all day, unless you're also simultaneously mopping up a leaky nose and re-popping your ears. Fuck this awful upper-respiratory illness. Fuck it in whatever orifice it has.
Missed work today, due to goo-hacking. Probably better that I didn't get the kidlets sick.
Read the unfortunate news today that Bob Barker filmed his last show. After explaining to my mom that the show wouldn't be aired until September, she said-
Julia, what the hell are you going to do every morning?
Granted, it couldn't possibly be that hard to hand out PLiNKO chips, or botch peoples' bids, or remind folks to give their pets the snip-snip, but I'm genuinely gonna miss Bob. I'm not as obsessed as some of the screamier contestants, but Bob's been a fixture in my life since I was a wee child who subsisted entirely off of milk, Chips Ahoy, and Campbell's meatball soup. Besides, I doubt anyone else would be as good at sinking those putts in Hole in One (Or Two).
Being the sensible girl I am, though, I reminded my mom that Art Fleming had been the host of Jeopardy for YEARS before Alex took over (I think I might be more obsessed with Jeopardy than TPiR). I really shouldn't know this, since Mr. Trebek started his hosting job September 10th, 1984. Less than 2 months after my birth. I really need to do something more productive with my brain. Still Jeopardy related - I haven't gotten the Final Jeopardy question wrong for THREE STRAIGHT WEEKS.
I'm a damned genius.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
So...very...sick...
Listening to: Bob Barker
Uggh... I definitely have something nasty going on with my immune system. My throat's practically swollen shut, I can't breathe from my nose, and my eyes are all itchy and watery. Off to the student clinic... great. I get to wait for something like an hour to see a doc for five minutes.
I need a hug. From someone wearing a facemask.
Uggh... I definitely have something nasty going on with my immune system. My throat's practically swollen shut, I can't breathe from my nose, and my eyes are all itchy and watery. Off to the student clinic... great. I get to wait for something like an hour to see a doc for five minutes.
I need a hug. From someone wearing a facemask.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Hot stuff, baby.
Listening to: The Alan Parsons Project - I Wouldn't Want to Be Like You
The job started. Yay!
Basically, I roll in at 2:30, arrange snacks, napkins/straws, and placemats. The kiddies (k-6) come in around 3, and munch away until 4. I've apparently developed a fanclub for my ability to raise a single eyebrow (somewhat interesting sidenote: back in high school, Dr. Lipnick always said with a sarcastic smile that I was supercilious. I looked up the word... sure enough, it translates directly from latin. "One who raises an eyebrow"). At 4, the kidlets file off into their class groups. I tag around with 210, the kindergartners and some first graders. All very cute, albeit with some incomprehensible first names involved.
Some of the kids are very well behaved. Others, not. What I love about this place, though, is that unlike the constant coddling atmosphere of Breezemont, where even the most snot-nosed punk of a kid, who shoves people, whines, and never listens to anyone is still "an angel," here, the kids get ignored if they're bad, yelled at if they're really bad, and "in serious trouble" if they hit, curse, or anything like that. Not just "now, sweetie, we don't hit." No, here it's "DON'T YOU DARE HIT HIM."
Plus... it looks like I might have a nice (holycrappaying!) job in the fall, teaching language arts to GED students. I really hope I can make this work. A real teaching job... wow.
The job started. Yay!
Basically, I roll in at 2:30, arrange snacks, napkins/straws, and placemats. The kiddies (k-6) come in around 3, and munch away until 4. I've apparently developed a fanclub for my ability to raise a single eyebrow (somewhat interesting sidenote: back in high school, Dr. Lipnick always said with a sarcastic smile that I was supercilious. I looked up the word... sure enough, it translates directly from latin. "One who raises an eyebrow"). At 4, the kidlets file off into their class groups. I tag around with 210, the kindergartners and some first graders. All very cute, albeit with some incomprehensible first names involved.
Some of the kids are very well behaved. Others, not. What I love about this place, though, is that unlike the constant coddling atmosphere of Breezemont, where even the most snot-nosed punk of a kid, who shoves people, whines, and never listens to anyone is still "an angel," here, the kids get ignored if they're bad, yelled at if they're really bad, and "in serious trouble" if they hit, curse, or anything like that. Not just "now, sweetie, we don't hit." No, here it's "DON'T YOU DARE HIT HIM."
Plus... it looks like I might have a nice (holycrappaying!) job in the fall, teaching language arts to GED students. I really hope I can make this work. A real teaching job... wow.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Grody to the max
Listening to: The merry buzz of my air conditioner
Jobless. Pudgier. Pimplier.
I'm effing pathetic.
On the other hand, I assembled a lot of furniture over the weekend, all by my lonesome - even some really heavy things, like the bookcase and tv table. But my apartment looks like a million bucks now, minus the cat-vomit stains, the continued presence of a trillion cat hairs (sense a pattern?), and my own inability to keep objects off the floor.
But! my light switch is FINALLY fixed. Now I can see how bad my skin is, how filthy my bathtub is, and how much my legs need shaving.
Jeez. I'm a downer today.
I think it's because I haven't watched Bob yet. The Price is Right solves all maladies. That's why sick people and old people watch it.
Jobless. Pudgier. Pimplier.
I'm effing pathetic.
On the other hand, I assembled a lot of furniture over the weekend, all by my lonesome - even some really heavy things, like the bookcase and tv table. But my apartment looks like a million bucks now, minus the cat-vomit stains, the continued presence of a trillion cat hairs (sense a pattern?), and my own inability to keep objects off the floor.
But! my light switch is FINALLY fixed. Now I can see how bad my skin is, how filthy my bathtub is, and how much my legs need shaving.
Jeez. I'm a downer today.
I think it's because I haven't watched Bob yet. The Price is Right solves all maladies. That's why sick people and old people watch it.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!
Listening to: Of Montreal - I Was Never Young
My apartment is the embodiment of leprosy. Which is really bad, considering the rent I pay to live here.
Yesterday, I had the unfortunate mishap of knocking a lit charcoal puck while... well, it's not important what I was doing... but it fell on my floor and singed my carpet, so I'm strategically placing furniture for the time being.
The pile of boxes in the corner I recently discovered can be simply thrown into the trash room, rather than stacked up on a cart, wheeled down to the bottom floor, then wheeled some more over to the vomit-inducing-stinky dumpster. The vaccuum bag desperately needs to be changed, but I have high hopes that after it is, my carpet will gleam a million shades brighter. Those damn cats haven't been helping with all their puking and hairballs. There are some stains that seltzer simply can't eliminate.
MUST get the damn light switch in the bathroom fixed. The one in the laundry nook is not enough - it's too dark for me to notice how badly my legs need to be shaved, or how seriously I need to consider plucking the ol' eyebrows. I know it'd only take the maintenance guy like 10 minutes to fix, but I'm embarassed at the unclean state of my apartment.
Dammit, dad, why do you have to visit?!
Oh yeah... free expensive meal ^__^
Update: Isis was fine. Apparently, it was her aftermarket gas cap that made the EMISSIONS MALFUNCTION light go on. Talk about overly dramatic. All day in the shop, over some idiot gas cap.
My apartment is the embodiment of leprosy. Which is really bad, considering the rent I pay to live here.
Yesterday, I had the unfortunate mishap of knocking a lit charcoal puck while... well, it's not important what I was doing... but it fell on my floor and singed my carpet, so I'm strategically placing furniture for the time being.
The pile of boxes in the corner I recently discovered can be simply thrown into the trash room, rather than stacked up on a cart, wheeled down to the bottom floor, then wheeled some more over to the vomit-inducing-stinky dumpster. The vaccuum bag desperately needs to be changed, but I have high hopes that after it is, my carpet will gleam a million shades brighter. Those damn cats haven't been helping with all their puking and hairballs. There are some stains that seltzer simply can't eliminate.
MUST get the damn light switch in the bathroom fixed. The one in the laundry nook is not enough - it's too dark for me to notice how badly my legs need to be shaved, or how seriously I need to consider plucking the ol' eyebrows. I know it'd only take the maintenance guy like 10 minutes to fix, but I'm embarassed at the unclean state of my apartment.
Dammit, dad, why do you have to visit?!
Oh yeah... free expensive meal ^__^
Update: Isis was fine. Apparently, it was her aftermarket gas cap that made the EMISSIONS MALFUNCTION light go on. Talk about overly dramatic. All day in the shop, over some idiot gas cap.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Re-boot
Listening to - Steely Dan - Deacon Blues
I have to commit to this crap if I'm ever going to get any respect.
Respect for blogging...
Um.
Anyway...
Still jobless on this 25th day of May. What the hell am I supposed to do for money - dive for pennies in the Love Park fountain? Sell my body to the night, a la Roxanne? I don't understand why it's so effing hard to get a stupid summer job. I never had this problem before - I've applied for some pretty easy stuff - banquet-waitressing, freelance columnist-ing... I don't know what else I can do.
Plus-side, though. I just received a call from the Honickman Learning Center. They seem to be interested in having me teach some English and writing in the fall. Teaching experience, morality-reward, and perhaps a little wallet lining. Which'll be especially nice once it hits me that I'm not going to be getting my stipend anymore.
Unrelated: I'm very mad at Isis for being a bad bad car and malfunctioning. She's been in service since 9am, and I'm suspicious. I really hope there's nothing serious wrong with her.
I have to commit to this crap if I'm ever going to get any respect.
Respect for blogging...
Um.
Anyway...
Still jobless on this 25th day of May. What the hell am I supposed to do for money - dive for pennies in the Love Park fountain? Sell my body to the night, a la Roxanne? I don't understand why it's so effing hard to get a stupid summer job. I never had this problem before - I've applied for some pretty easy stuff - banquet-waitressing, freelance columnist-ing... I don't know what else I can do.
Plus-side, though. I just received a call from the Honickman Learning Center. They seem to be interested in having me teach some English and writing in the fall. Teaching experience, morality-reward, and perhaps a little wallet lining. Which'll be especially nice once it hits me that I'm not going to be getting my stipend anymore.
Unrelated: I'm very mad at Isis for being a bad bad car and malfunctioning. She's been in service since 9am, and I'm suspicious. I really hope there's nothing serious wrong with her.
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