It's late, I am still, for whatever reason, not sleeping, thus a quick blog post because I should be, but alas I am not, naked in bed.
Yesterday, well I guess that isn't accurate, Monday, was the first day of classes at my old job. Later in the day I received two emails and then even later in the day a phone call from one of my former employees begging me to come back to work. I laughed and asked what had happened in the course of the crazy first day of work known as fall semester. Well, I guess the first person they offered my job to, turned it down. Option number two accepted the position, came in and introduced herself on Friday, was sent home with my job duties, ect. and then called in on Monday (first day of classes) and quit. They were up a really big poo creek with no one to take the paddle; because as I pointed out to the former employee on my phone, do you really want to hire option number three because obviously there is a reason they are option number three.
The reason I find this funny: The new person, who ever that may be, will be making more money, only working 20 hours, not forty, has MUCH less responsibility as there are currently two other people doing the other aspects of my job so the new hire, whoever that may be, will only being doing one...ONE aspect of my former job. So. To recap: more money, less hours, more flexibility, less responsibility, and apparently no one wants it.
Yet I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave a position where: I made less money, worked forty (or more) hours a week, had no benefits, and there are currently (or will be) three people doing the (jobs) I alone did.
Nice.
I told her tomorrow would be better and the next week would be even better and so on. Soon she would have a boss telling her what to do and all in the world of academia would be fine. I was feeling pretty loved after an hour of calming the former employee off the proverbial ledge.
Now for an update on my new job: Today (Tuesday) was my first day. I did some alphabetizing and I met the gal who has the assistanship within the program, the computers were down so I couldn't do any typing, and I didn't know the password to check voice mail, I worked on some homework. I felt I earned my pay today.
When the afternoon (real worker) came in she asked how it went. I told her it was uneventful, but fine. She told me to enjoy it while I can because it won't last. As she put it so delicately, "Director Lady will be keeping me busy, so enjoy it while I can."
I suddenly felt like a misplaced character in a chick lit book. Th title character who is about to meet her fate, which she has misinterpreted as a plus but was about to be multiplied into a big minus.
I am sure I am wrong, but every once in awhile I like to pretend I am the star in my own TV show. It makes life more interesting that way. Hmmm, I wonder what will happen to my misguided character tomorrow? I foresee papers, the library, cute lost students asking me questions, and feeling as if, at thirty-three years old, that I know nothing. Nothing at all. Sometimes that is refreshing and sometimes not so much.
...Oh, I need sleep.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
I GOT IT!!
That incredibly low paying, high networking job, yeah, it's mine! I start tomorrow. Monday-Friday 9-12. Now, I won't be working this job for the money. Seriously, the pay is laughable and by far the worst pay I've ever been offered. How laughable and how bad you ask, my take home will be less than $300 a month. Yes, that was a month. I am doing the job to: get on a schedule because mine is currently horrible, (falling asleep around 4 a.m. up around 11 a.m.) to network, and to meet some people cause I know two people here. One is a friend, Phil, who is married and really wants to sleep with me. The other is a former employee and I don't know that I would actually consider her a friend. Me need some peeps to hang with and also to utilize my vocal cords.
So, let's hope I get the additional student loans I need because yeah, less than $300 a month won't exactly pay the bills.
But, typically I have always been the happiest at the jobs where I make the least amount of money. So, I expect to be ecstatic every single day at work.
Whoo-hoo!
So, let's hope I get the additional student loans I need because yeah, less than $300 a month won't exactly pay the bills.
But, typically I have always been the happiest at the jobs where I make the least amount of money. So, I expect to be ecstatic every single day at work.
Whoo-hoo!
Friday, August 24, 2007
how you livin'?
Karma, destiny, pre-destined, happenstance, haphazard. How do you live your life?
Me, I am a firm believer in karma. What comes around goes around. Big believer in that. Predestined? Um, not so much. The thought that my whole life has already been all planned out for me? It's too much to think that I don't have any control over path A or path B. Happenstance and haphazard, yeah, those are pretty much how I feel I live my life sometimes. I think I come off as very spontaneous and as if I don't think things through sometimes. Which, okay that's true, but mostly I think things through privately and then announce what I am doing which seems to be out of the blue. Sometimes I just have things that get stuck in my head and then I write them down. This post would be a case of that. (The popping and writing down thing.) Back in March (remember March? What a great month. Mr. London was leaving, my girl friend was secretly stalking Mr. London because, I have no idea why, friends stabbing me in the back, job falling through, school telling me I was one credit short of graduating...good month.) I kept having the date August 24 pop into my head. I finally wrote it down in my planner and wrote, "life will change for the better." in the date blank and that was that. Even up until yesterday I was having doubts about my psychic abilities. Well I'll be damned. I think life did just change for the better.
After a week of coming to terms with the quirks of my apartment, having a friend tell me he could no longer in good conscious be friends with me anymore because he is attracted to me, but dating someone else, going to all of my classes and meeting everyone in the program, but still feeling a bit lonely and misplaced at times the week has come to an end, and a wonderful end at that.
I received a call at 1:24 p.m. today wanting to know what my availability would be for a job I had applied for at 12:03 a.m. this morning. I told them and they quickly hung-up. At 1:28 p.m. I received another call and they wanted to know if I could come in at 2:00 p.m. for an interview. Ah, no. (hair was still wet, I wasn't dressed, and I wasn't sure where the building was.) What about 3? Ah, no. I have a meeting at 3:00. My mind is racing a gazillion miles an hour trying to figure out when and what I could do because I really want this incredibly low-paying, but high networking job. We decided on 4:00 and I will just leave my meeting early (it was a meeting for all of us grad students.)
The interview went magnificent and she (the director) ended the interview with, "I have one last interview on Monday at 8:30." A glance at the other applicant's paperwork and a look of irritation on her face about the prospect, "but I am very excited about you. You stay close to your phone."
Super score! I would be the assistant to the director of the Women's Studies program here at Semi-big U and it is exactly in my area of interest and what my undergrad minor was in. More importantly it is in an area I want to focus in when I am finished with my degree and I can do some serious networking and getting my foot in all the right doors.
The one friend I have here calls it, lesbian studies. He is super excited about all of the lesbians I will meet and he sees it as a way to speed up the process of making his birthday present come to fruition that much quicker (a threesome.) I see it as an excellent opportunity in the area of future employment and that whole, changing the world thing I am so fond of, but I'm guessing it isn't going to do much for the future dating prospects. (Of men. Or is it? You tell me.)
I had decided at the beginning of the week that I would celebrate the end of the week with a trip to the local pizza place in the middle of college central. I ordered the pizza, it was delivered to my door and all five cheeses were nicely melt together. After digging into the third piece (fourth piece) I came to the conclusion that what I was smacking my lips with was stoner food. Complete and total stoner food. I didn't have any pot, but the beer was super gooooood. (I was actively ignoring the brick in my stomach.)
After a particularly harsh Thursday night class (I have 24 papers due just in that one class. No need to re-read that Yes, 2-4. 24 papers for one class. Yay.) I stopped at a local non-mass-marketed-coffee shop. The gal working the counter was adorably cute, friendly, went on and on about the bracelets I was wearing and oogled them even more when I told her I had made them. Is it shallow that this totally made my week? The chocolate goodies I ate on the drive home totally made my night. Score on a cool non-cookie-cutter coffee shop with friendly adorable locals to talk with. The two middle-aged moms sitting at one of the tables knitting sold me on the place.
A neighbor knocking on my door and greeting me with an apology that was nicely phrased in a British accent and sporting a rock star faux-hawk asking if I had water, only to discover I did not; was a lovely pause in my morning. Having the mystery smell disappear from my bathroom once the water returned and stopped running red-brown was a most welcome unexpected development. (I realize that reads as if my water was always red-brown...ah, no. My apartment isn't that gross, it was that color when the water came back on and the pipes cleaned out. It is now the proper water color, which is none.)
Finding the local art store and discovering they have the proper art supplies to make my apartment even cooler, hipper, and more vibrant and alive with color makes the feeling of perpetual dusk that I actually live in bearable.
I am currently trying to talk myself out of going to get ice cream. One, I don't "need it." Two, I have to get dressed (I'm naked a lot.) (actually I'm in my "jammies") (which is naked....)(kidding.) Three, the brick is still in my belly and the ice cream will turn into a bigger brick...but I'm not sure I care about that. Yeah, it's more about having to get dressed. Jammies and nakedness in public needs to become more acceptable. I need to make that a goal.
So, did I win a million dollars? I wouldn't be writing this if I did. Did I meet the love of my life? Again I wouldn't be writing this if I had. Win a trip around the world? Again with the typing thing. No, none of those, but sometimes we have to think about all of the small things, lump them altogether, take them for their greater sum and realize life is pretty great when we focus on the good things and not the bad things. Here's to life changing for the better from here on out.
Oh, and hoping I get that incredibly low-paying, exceptionally high-networking job.
Me, I am a firm believer in karma. What comes around goes around. Big believer in that. Predestined? Um, not so much. The thought that my whole life has already been all planned out for me? It's too much to think that I don't have any control over path A or path B. Happenstance and haphazard, yeah, those are pretty much how I feel I live my life sometimes. I think I come off as very spontaneous and as if I don't think things through sometimes. Which, okay that's true, but mostly I think things through privately and then announce what I am doing which seems to be out of the blue. Sometimes I just have things that get stuck in my head and then I write them down. This post would be a case of that. (The popping and writing down thing.) Back in March (remember March? What a great month. Mr. London was leaving, my girl friend was secretly stalking Mr. London because, I have no idea why, friends stabbing me in the back, job falling through, school telling me I was one credit short of graduating...good month.) I kept having the date August 24 pop into my head. I finally wrote it down in my planner and wrote, "life will change for the better." in the date blank and that was that. Even up until yesterday I was having doubts about my psychic abilities. Well I'll be damned. I think life did just change for the better.
After a week of coming to terms with the quirks of my apartment, having a friend tell me he could no longer in good conscious be friends with me anymore because he is attracted to me, but dating someone else, going to all of my classes and meeting everyone in the program, but still feeling a bit lonely and misplaced at times the week has come to an end, and a wonderful end at that.
I received a call at 1:24 p.m. today wanting to know what my availability would be for a job I had applied for at 12:03 a.m. this morning. I told them and they quickly hung-up. At 1:28 p.m. I received another call and they wanted to know if I could come in at 2:00 p.m. for an interview. Ah, no. (hair was still wet, I wasn't dressed, and I wasn't sure where the building was.) What about 3? Ah, no. I have a meeting at 3:00. My mind is racing a gazillion miles an hour trying to figure out when and what I could do because I really want this incredibly low-paying, but high networking job. We decided on 4:00 and I will just leave my meeting early (it was a meeting for all of us grad students.)
The interview went magnificent and she (the director) ended the interview with, "I have one last interview on Monday at 8:30." A glance at the other applicant's paperwork and a look of irritation on her face about the prospect, "but I am very excited about you. You stay close to your phone."
Super score! I would be the assistant to the director of the Women's Studies program here at Semi-big U and it is exactly in my area of interest and what my undergrad minor was in. More importantly it is in an area I want to focus in when I am finished with my degree and I can do some serious networking and getting my foot in all the right doors.
The one friend I have here calls it, lesbian studies. He is super excited about all of the lesbians I will meet and he sees it as a way to speed up the process of making his birthday present come to fruition that much quicker (a threesome.) I see it as an excellent opportunity in the area of future employment and that whole, changing the world thing I am so fond of, but I'm guessing it isn't going to do much for the future dating prospects. (Of men. Or is it? You tell me.)
I had decided at the beginning of the week that I would celebrate the end of the week with a trip to the local pizza place in the middle of college central. I ordered the pizza, it was delivered to my door and all five cheeses were nicely melt together. After digging into the third piece (fourth piece) I came to the conclusion that what I was smacking my lips with was stoner food. Complete and total stoner food. I didn't have any pot, but the beer was super gooooood. (I was actively ignoring the brick in my stomach.)
After a particularly harsh Thursday night class (I have 24 papers due just in that one class. No need to re-read that Yes, 2-4. 24 papers for one class. Yay.) I stopped at a local non-mass-marketed-coffee shop. The gal working the counter was adorably cute, friendly, went on and on about the bracelets I was wearing and oogled them even more when I told her I had made them. Is it shallow that this totally made my week? The chocolate goodies I ate on the drive home totally made my night. Score on a cool non-cookie-cutter coffee shop with friendly adorable locals to talk with. The two middle-aged moms sitting at one of the tables knitting sold me on the place.
A neighbor knocking on my door and greeting me with an apology that was nicely phrased in a British accent and sporting a rock star faux-hawk asking if I had water, only to discover I did not; was a lovely pause in my morning. Having the mystery smell disappear from my bathroom once the water returned and stopped running red-brown was a most welcome unexpected development. (I realize that reads as if my water was always red-brown...ah, no. My apartment isn't that gross, it was that color when the water came back on and the pipes cleaned out. It is now the proper water color, which is none.)
Finding the local art store and discovering they have the proper art supplies to make my apartment even cooler, hipper, and more vibrant and alive with color makes the feeling of perpetual dusk that I actually live in bearable.
I am currently trying to talk myself out of going to get ice cream. One, I don't "need it." Two, I have to get dressed (I'm naked a lot.) (actually I'm in my "jammies") (which is naked....)(kidding.) Three, the brick is still in my belly and the ice cream will turn into a bigger brick...but I'm not sure I care about that. Yeah, it's more about having to get dressed. Jammies and nakedness in public needs to become more acceptable. I need to make that a goal.
So, did I win a million dollars? I wouldn't be writing this if I did. Did I meet the love of my life? Again I wouldn't be writing this if I had. Win a trip around the world? Again with the typing thing. No, none of those, but sometimes we have to think about all of the small things, lump them altogether, take them for their greater sum and realize life is pretty great when we focus on the good things and not the bad things. Here's to life changing for the better from here on out.
Oh, and hoping I get that incredibly low-paying, exceptionally high-networking job.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
inner dork: all things whore-like
Oh sure, I may be living in the perpetual dusk thus making it feel like Oregon. I may be living in a monsoon like some randomly chosen Asian country. I may not know what a decent night's sleep feels like because my apartment, mind, and body are all sabotaging me and there may be some sort of funky smell coming from my bathroom that is totally not bathroom related, but inner dork will live on!
So, did you know...
In the 18th century it was common to refer to a penis as a "whore pipe."
(And I am sure a few men of this blog will know start to bring that phrase back.)
In early-sixteenth-century Europe, harlots and courtesans were referred to as "nuns," and a brothel was a "nunnery." The expression "Get thee to a nunnery" was actually an encouragement to go to a brothel.
(I need to go to a nunnery.)
(So, then when did nuns become christians and harlots become whores?)
During the 1800's there were approximately six thousand brothels and eighty to a hundred thousand prostitutes working in metropolitan London.
(And that's why it is refered to as, "Merry 'ol England.")
During the first Crusade, English knights spent their entire campaign fund on prostitutes.
(And that's why there had to be a second, and third Crusade.)
..that's all I's got for today. I have to run off to class. Well, fist I have to get dressed, and then run off to class.
So, did you know...
In the 18th century it was common to refer to a penis as a "whore pipe."
(And I am sure a few men of this blog will know start to bring that phrase back.)
In early-sixteenth-century Europe, harlots and courtesans were referred to as "nuns," and a brothel was a "nunnery." The expression "Get thee to a nunnery" was actually an encouragement to go to a brothel.
(I need to go to a nunnery.)
(So, then when did nuns become christians and harlots become whores?)
During the 1800's there were approximately six thousand brothels and eighty to a hundred thousand prostitutes working in metropolitan London.
(And that's why it is refered to as, "Merry 'ol England.")
During the first Crusade, English knights spent their entire campaign fund on prostitutes.
(And that's why there had to be a second, and third Crusade.)
..that's all I's got for today. I have to run off to class. Well, fist I have to get dressed, and then run off to class.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
and so it begins
Yesterday was the start of classes. Ah, what a vacation, I tell ya.
The class is a seminar, basically a way to get to know everyone in the program and also a way to write a crap load of papers. Today is the start of my most feared class, but I am trying to have a good attitude about it, social statistics. I hate math, math hates me. I'm also pretty sure I have a learning disability towards math, it's called fear, but I am going in with a positive attitude. It's also an undergrad class, the grad stats class is this spring. (I don't have the math requirement, hence the class.)
Anyway, I have all late afternoon and night classes- super score. I also don't have a job- super, super score. I'm also going to fall into a super lazy routine in about another week. To go from six jobs, two classes, two moves, six hours of sleep a night, to- nothing....screech! That would be the sound of my mind coming to a screeching halt. I have gotten decent sleep the last two nights. Here is why that is significant: every night, every single night, something in my apartment has fallen in the middle of the night scaring the crap out of me. The other night I had two pictures fall on my face while sawing some zzz's. That was fun. Last night nothing fell. This meant I actually got out of bed earlier. However, I either need to get up at a decent time and hit the workout and then hit the library or....lupy, bumpy, slug will start to set in...or I will be getting a job. And that's simply sad.
Oh, and I know this will be shocking, but all of my blog time in the past was done from work. I know, shocking. So since I don't have a job right now, um....the blogging might decline. Might. Don't know. Keep checking in.
The class is a seminar, basically a way to get to know everyone in the program and also a way to write a crap load of papers. Today is the start of my most feared class, but I am trying to have a good attitude about it, social statistics. I hate math, math hates me. I'm also pretty sure I have a learning disability towards math, it's called fear, but I am going in with a positive attitude. It's also an undergrad class, the grad stats class is this spring. (I don't have the math requirement, hence the class.)
Anyway, I have all late afternoon and night classes- super score. I also don't have a job- super, super score. I'm also going to fall into a super lazy routine in about another week. To go from six jobs, two classes, two moves, six hours of sleep a night, to- nothing....screech! That would be the sound of my mind coming to a screeching halt. I have gotten decent sleep the last two nights. Here is why that is significant: every night, every single night, something in my apartment has fallen in the middle of the night scaring the crap out of me. The other night I had two pictures fall on my face while sawing some zzz's. That was fun. Last night nothing fell. This meant I actually got out of bed earlier. However, I either need to get up at a decent time and hit the workout and then hit the library or....lupy, bumpy, slug will start to set in...or I will be getting a job. And that's simply sad.
Oh, and I know this will be shocking, but all of my blog time in the past was done from work. I know, shocking. So since I don't have a job right now, um....the blogging might decline. Might. Don't know. Keep checking in.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
chapter 1
It's a game of true and false.
I moved into my apartment site unseen and it is exactly the apartment I was hoping for. (In terms of location and such.)
True. Right building, right side of the building, right floor.
Ta dah!
Friday, when I drove all the way up to my new place to sign my lease, get the keys, and to "clean" my new place, it took about six hours longer than I expected, thus cancelling my master plan for the rest of the day/weekend.
True. I am convinced that I could live in this apartment for two years, never clean, move, and still get all of my deposit back. Yeah. It was gross. Three people living here and apparently never cleaning, gross. I was planning to leave by 2:30 to return home on Friday, however I left around 5 and the place still wasn't clean.
The number of things listed as "broken" vs. "not broken" on the walk-through list is in the "not broken" favors.
False. Pick something, anything, "broken" is written next to it on the walk-through. Plus, I was just given the paper and the keys. No landlord was present. I thought about writing "huge hole in living room wall" because I'm pretty sure there will be one when I move out, I just like to be prepared.
Pretty sure the front door has been kicked in at least once. Definitely once, but I'm leaning more towards three, possibly four times. I feel safe.
Note to self: buy another lock for the door. Buy two. Three. Four? Naw, stick with two. No need to feel like I'm in New York.
"Mold all along the bathroom wall, under sink" is also written on the walk through.
True. And it's the really healthy safe kind, you know, the black kind of mold. The kind that can kill you. Yay!
This caused me not to go out Friday night and also not to pick-up the Uhaul Friday night.
True. So I didn't get the early start I had master planned out for Saturday.
Saturday, move day, couldn't have been hotter.
False. I'm pretty sure hell is hotter. Probably. Probably not by much. Literally. 104 degrees with humidity to match. Awesomeness.
Did I mention I live on the top floor?
Three is the number of times I almost passed out on Saturday due to heat, sweat, and exhaustion.
True. I never actually passed out, however, I did manage to see the nothingness of a black tunnel three times. I also mumbled to my mom that I didn't want mustard on my sandwich at one point when the blackness was most prevalent. See, even in the darkest moments I still have sandwich standards. Mayo, no mustard.
There was a hookah (hookah?) left in the Uhaul.
False. There was a HUGE one in the Uhaul trash, however. My brothers and I stood there in giggling admiration of the discarded pot paraphernalia, but it was in the trash. No amount of alcohol or Dial antibacterial soap would make it clean again.
By Sunday I was basically unpacked and living in a livable living situation.
True. By Sunday night I was hanging pictures and artwork and it was beginning to look like home.
I love the shade tree in front of my apartment.
Um, false. It is so shade-o-riffic that I need to have my lights on all the time. So. I will always be cool and well shaded, but my electric bill will probably be so high I won't be able to live here for much longer.
And it makes working on my tan really difficult.
Note to self: invest in candles for practical purposes.
Monday I was driving around, shopping, and finding stuff.
True. I found my class buildings, bought my books (I'm sure it will be $400.00 well spent. Sure of it.Turns out the bookstore is not owned by the university so financial aid was not an option. Wrote a check, didn't chance it with the debit card. No need to be embarrassed before school starts. Pay day was today.) I found Super Target and Barnes and Noble, coffee shops, organic stores. It was a good day. I haven't found a bagel store, but I have hopes.
Tuesday.
I have no idea what I did Tuesday. I'm sure it involved boxes, nails, hammers, and unpacking, hanging, and rearranging. Sure of it.
Oh wait. Tuesday I masturbated and watched porn. It was a good day.
Wednesday. I decided I was in desperate need of food groups for dinner. I'd been living on turkey sandwiches (mayo, no mustard) for breakfast and dinner (I've been too busy to eat lunch. See references to Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.) I decided I needed green beans as one of the food groups. I had to go to five stores before I was able to locate any.
True/false. I only had to go to three stores. It was a mission. I'm not sure it was from God, but it was a mission to find green beans.
I also received a two-fer from Starbucks again.
True. Messed up order, got the mess-up and the non-mess-up. Twice. Once on Friday once today. The caffeine gods smiled on me and I called it good. Miraculously my headache went away as well. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, and the angles sang down on me.
Today I decided it was time to relax and get my Greek Island tan back.
True. After the great green bean mission, I decided to check out my pool. Hop into my suit, okay more of a pull-on the suit, throw on the pool dress, grab the beach towel (pool towel), book, keys, and cross the two yards. No one is in the pool. Super score. My side of the fence is locked. Hmm, okay cross over to the other side, that side is locked as well. Crap-ola. Oh. Hey. Look at that. There is a big 'ol sign on the gate. "Due to the theft of the floatation device the pool is closed until Thursday at 2:00. Management."
Poop stain.
Walk back to my apartment feeling very much like I was just scolded by my kindergarten teacher.
Tan will have to wait.
Until tomorrow.
I haven't had a decent night's sleep since Wednesday. As in a week ago.
True. It is to the point that I don't think a good night's sleep is possible.
Tomorrow more running around, picture ID, finding an ATM that doesn't charge me to get my own money, (seriously, why? It has to be the greatest idea ever...that and insurance. "Hey, tell you what. You give me your money for protection on something that may or may not happen, but you give me copious amounts of money just in case."
"Wow. That sounds fantastic! How does about $300 a month sound? Excellent. Here you go.", oh, and working on my tan. Damn kids had better returned that floatation device by now. I need to relax! However, most importantly I need a tan.
True. All true.
I moved into my apartment site unseen and it is exactly the apartment I was hoping for. (In terms of location and such.)
True. Right building, right side of the building, right floor.
Ta dah!
Friday, when I drove all the way up to my new place to sign my lease, get the keys, and to "clean" my new place, it took about six hours longer than I expected, thus cancelling my master plan for the rest of the day/weekend.
True. I am convinced that I could live in this apartment for two years, never clean, move, and still get all of my deposit back. Yeah. It was gross. Three people living here and apparently never cleaning, gross. I was planning to leave by 2:30 to return home on Friday, however I left around 5 and the place still wasn't clean.
The number of things listed as "broken" vs. "not broken" on the walk-through list is in the "not broken" favors.
False. Pick something, anything, "broken" is written next to it on the walk-through. Plus, I was just given the paper and the keys. No landlord was present. I thought about writing "huge hole in living room wall" because I'm pretty sure there will be one when I move out, I just like to be prepared.
Pretty sure the front door has been kicked in at least once. Definitely once, but I'm leaning more towards three, possibly four times. I feel safe.
Note to self: buy another lock for the door. Buy two. Three. Four? Naw, stick with two. No need to feel like I'm in New York.
"Mold all along the bathroom wall, under sink" is also written on the walk through.
True. And it's the really healthy safe kind, you know, the black kind of mold. The kind that can kill you. Yay!
This caused me not to go out Friday night and also not to pick-up the Uhaul Friday night.
True. So I didn't get the early start I had master planned out for Saturday.
Saturday, move day, couldn't have been hotter.
False. I'm pretty sure hell is hotter. Probably. Probably not by much. Literally. 104 degrees with humidity to match. Awesomeness.
Did I mention I live on the top floor?
Three is the number of times I almost passed out on Saturday due to heat, sweat, and exhaustion.
True. I never actually passed out, however, I did manage to see the nothingness of a black tunnel three times. I also mumbled to my mom that I didn't want mustard on my sandwich at one point when the blackness was most prevalent. See, even in the darkest moments I still have sandwich standards. Mayo, no mustard.
There was a hookah (hookah?) left in the Uhaul.
False. There was a HUGE one in the Uhaul trash, however. My brothers and I stood there in giggling admiration of the discarded pot paraphernalia, but it was in the trash. No amount of alcohol or Dial antibacterial soap would make it clean again.
By Sunday I was basically unpacked and living in a livable living situation.
True. By Sunday night I was hanging pictures and artwork and it was beginning to look like home.
I love the shade tree in front of my apartment.
Um, false. It is so shade-o-riffic that I need to have my lights on all the time. So. I will always be cool and well shaded, but my electric bill will probably be so high I won't be able to live here for much longer.
And it makes working on my tan really difficult.
Note to self: invest in candles for practical purposes.
Monday I was driving around, shopping, and finding stuff.
True. I found my class buildings, bought my books (I'm sure it will be $400.00 well spent. Sure of it.Turns out the bookstore is not owned by the university so financial aid was not an option. Wrote a check, didn't chance it with the debit card. No need to be embarrassed before school starts. Pay day was today.) I found Super Target and Barnes and Noble, coffee shops, organic stores. It was a good day. I haven't found a bagel store, but I have hopes.
Tuesday.
I have no idea what I did Tuesday. I'm sure it involved boxes, nails, hammers, and unpacking, hanging, and rearranging. Sure of it.
Oh wait. Tuesday I masturbated and watched porn. It was a good day.
Wednesday. I decided I was in desperate need of food groups for dinner. I'd been living on turkey sandwiches (mayo, no mustard) for breakfast and dinner (I've been too busy to eat lunch. See references to Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.) I decided I needed green beans as one of the food groups. I had to go to five stores before I was able to locate any.
True/false. I only had to go to three stores. It was a mission. I'm not sure it was from God, but it was a mission to find green beans.
I also received a two-fer from Starbucks again.
True. Messed up order, got the mess-up and the non-mess-up. Twice. Once on Friday once today. The caffeine gods smiled on me and I called it good. Miraculously my headache went away as well. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, and the angles sang down on me.
Today I decided it was time to relax and get my Greek Island tan back.
True. After the great green bean mission, I decided to check out my pool. Hop into my suit, okay more of a pull-on the suit, throw on the pool dress, grab the beach towel (pool towel), book, keys, and cross the two yards. No one is in the pool. Super score. My side of the fence is locked. Hmm, okay cross over to the other side, that side is locked as well. Crap-ola. Oh. Hey. Look at that. There is a big 'ol sign on the gate. "Due to the theft of the floatation device the pool is closed until Thursday at 2:00. Management."
Poop stain.
Walk back to my apartment feeling very much like I was just scolded by my kindergarten teacher.
Tan will have to wait.
Until tomorrow.
I haven't had a decent night's sleep since Wednesday. As in a week ago.
True. It is to the point that I don't think a good night's sleep is possible.
Tomorrow more running around, picture ID, finding an ATM that doesn't charge me to get my own money, (seriously, why? It has to be the greatest idea ever...that and insurance. "Hey, tell you what. You give me your money for protection on something that may or may not happen, but you give me copious amounts of money just in case."
"Wow. That sounds fantastic! How does about $300 a month sound? Excellent. Here you go.", oh, and working on my tan. Damn kids had better returned that floatation device by now. I need to relax! However, most importantly I need a tan.
True. All true.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
inner dork: PG factoids
All my books along with all of my useless knowledge are boxed up. So I will supply you with useless information 'bout me.
Did you know... (and if you did, um, who are you and why are you stalking me?)
I've been in five car accidents. Two of which should have killed me. However, I have managed to walk (limp) away from all of them.
None of those car accidents were my fault.
One, roll over (rolled three times and landed upside down in a corn field in the middle of B.F.E. and in the backseat.) I was 17.
Hit a bridge embankment due to ice. Around 19 or 20 years old.
Rear-ended a guy (oh, that one was my fault. More damage to my car than his.)I was 17.
Rear-ended by a guy going over 50MPH, I was in the middle of two other cars. My car was mushed really good. I was 21 years old.
Roll-over, mom was driving. I was 22 years old.
(knock on wood.)
I have two brothers. One older (36) one younger (23.) I also have a step-brother and a step-sister (I dunno. If I think they are idiots, do they count?)
My parents divorced when I was 15.
It is still one of the most pivotal moments of my life.
Also one of the best things that ever happened to our family.
I always say goodnight to the moon.
I also always pause to look at the moon.
I love gardening.
Therefore my deck garden is my solace.
I love a weekend that has the phrase: "I read a book while working on
my tan."
When someone says something that I think is sending bad vibes out into
the universe I always knock on wood three times.
When I spill salt I always throw some over my shoulder.
"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is one of my all time favorite
books.
But so is the "Lorax" by Dr. Seuss.
I believe it is perpetually 1997.
I have no idea why. It wasn't a particularly good year, but I am always surprised to learn it is not 1997.
So I am surprised a lot.
My first car was a 1981 Citation. My aunt bought it for me, cost
$200.00. That would be total dollars.
It lasted less than a year. We moved the middle of my senior year of high school and I commuted over 50 miles each day.
My porn star name is: He-She Cornell. (Name of my first pet, name of
the first street I lived on.)
My mom couldn't remember if the dog was a "he" or a "she." Hence the name,
He-She.
First pet I owned as an adult was a mean as hell black Cocker Spaniel
named Busker. (Boo-sker.) After the band Busker Soundcheck. He had
separation issues. And territorial issues, and just generally mean as
hell doesn't want anyone he doesn't know around him, issues. He just generally had issues. Otherwise he was a great dog....well, and awesome watch dog.
I lost my virginity at 16. (I'm still trying to find it. "Virginity!" "Virginity come home!")
The first time I got into a bar was 16. (The above are not related.)
I've done professional acting work. (There was no soundtrack of, "Wa-chicky-wa-wa," involved.)
....that's all I can come up with for today.
So, tell me a useless factoid about you.
Did you know... (and if you did, um, who are you and why are you stalking me?)
I've been in five car accidents. Two of which should have killed me. However, I have managed to walk (limp) away from all of them.
None of those car accidents were my fault.
One, roll over (rolled three times and landed upside down in a corn field in the middle of B.F.E. and in the backseat.) I was 17.
Hit a bridge embankment due to ice. Around 19 or 20 years old.
Rear-ended a guy (oh, that one was my fault. More damage to my car than his.)I was 17.
Rear-ended by a guy going over 50MPH, I was in the middle of two other cars. My car was mushed really good. I was 21 years old.
Roll-over, mom was driving. I was 22 years old.
(knock on wood.)
I have two brothers. One older (36) one younger (23.) I also have a step-brother and a step-sister (I dunno. If I think they are idiots, do they count?)
My parents divorced when I was 15.
It is still one of the most pivotal moments of my life.
Also one of the best things that ever happened to our family.
I always say goodnight to the moon.
I also always pause to look at the moon.
I love gardening.
Therefore my deck garden is my solace.
I love a weekend that has the phrase: "I read a book while working on
my tan."
When someone says something that I think is sending bad vibes out into
the universe I always knock on wood three times.
When I spill salt I always throw some over my shoulder.
"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is one of my all time favorite
books.
But so is the "Lorax" by Dr. Seuss.
I believe it is perpetually 1997.
I have no idea why. It wasn't a particularly good year, but I am always surprised to learn it is not 1997.
So I am surprised a lot.
My first car was a 1981 Citation. My aunt bought it for me, cost
$200.00. That would be total dollars.
It lasted less than a year. We moved the middle of my senior year of high school and I commuted over 50 miles each day.
My porn star name is: He-She Cornell. (Name of my first pet, name of
the first street I lived on.)
My mom couldn't remember if the dog was a "he" or a "she." Hence the name,
He-She.
First pet I owned as an adult was a mean as hell black Cocker Spaniel
named Busker. (Boo-sker.) After the band Busker Soundcheck. He had
separation issues. And territorial issues, and just generally mean as
hell doesn't want anyone he doesn't know around him, issues. He just generally had issues. Otherwise he was a great dog....well, and awesome watch dog.
I lost my virginity at 16. (I'm still trying to find it. "Virginity!" "Virginity come home!")
The first time I got into a bar was 16. (The above are not related.)
I've done professional acting work. (There was no soundtrack of, "Wa-chicky-wa-wa," involved.)
....that's all I can come up with for today.
So, tell me a useless factoid about you.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
happy sad
Well today was it, my last day at Big College.
It was a lovely send off.
A few care packages to send me on my way.
One large sheet cake (with not a single piece left to bring home. *sigh*)
One corsage made out of money (and it matched my outfit. Awesomeness.)
Several peeps stopping by to wish me well.
One card filled with a lot of money. (A lot of money.)
Many hugs.
A few tears.
Many, many promises to keep in touch and many email addresses shared.
One round of applause when I announced my soapbox plan for the world (make woman powerful, stop the dumbing down of women in society, end the media images of beauty, thinness, and idolizing stupidity. The power of one person to change the world and the ripple effect of those changes. Quite simple really.)
Several students, and a few of my employees came in to campus just to wish me well.
Even the guys in the IT department were sad to see me leave.
I am sad to leave as well, but I am very excited about the first sentence of the new chapter that will begin this weekend. Very excited. It is finally here. I can't wait to see what the first words on the page will be.
It was a lovely send off.
A few care packages to send me on my way.
One large sheet cake (with not a single piece left to bring home. *sigh*)
One corsage made out of money (and it matched my outfit. Awesomeness.)
Several peeps stopping by to wish me well.
One card filled with a lot of money. (A lot of money.)
Many hugs.
A few tears.
Many, many promises to keep in touch and many email addresses shared.
One round of applause when I announced my soapbox plan for the world (make woman powerful, stop the dumbing down of women in society, end the media images of beauty, thinness, and idolizing stupidity. The power of one person to change the world and the ripple effect of those changes. Quite simple really.)
Several students, and a few of my employees came in to campus just to wish me well.
Even the guys in the IT department were sad to see me leave.
I am sad to leave as well, but I am very excited about the first sentence of the new chapter that will begin this weekend. Very excited. It is finally here. I can't wait to see what the first words on the page will be.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Its been a wonderful chapter
He walks by my desk and notices the book I have lying next to my arm, “What’s this?”
“It’s a book that Cynical Sue gave me to read. It’s a book about an immigrant son who is also a first generation college student. She is letting me borrow it because he and are going though some of the same things.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“What that I’m an immigrant or a first generation college student?”
He smiles at the immigrant crack because he knows full well that I am not, “No, that you’re a first generation college student.”
“Yep, I am and there are many, many things that I am having trouble with emotionally in terms of that.” He walks away as my eyes fall to my lap and my mind becomes distant as I get emotional just thinking about it. I come from a very Midwest, very blue collar family. All are very successful (some are happy) in what they do, however, no one has been to college in my immediate, and for that matter I can only think of one cousin who has also attended college and has a Master’s degree, in my entire family.
This whole college business, the whole B.A., the whole Master’s program, the thoughts of going after my Ph.D? Yeah, the family doesn’t understand it. No, I mean they don’t understand it at all. When I came back to school a few semesters ago, my mother’s only advice was, “Just don’t drop out this time.”
Gives you warm fuzzies doesn’t it? Yep, that was the only thing that was said to me. Do you know how many times she told me to drop out over the last two years? Too many to count. She didn’t understand the stress of it and hated to see me going though all of the stress and tears; so the fact that I am willing to go through it all again, and in an even more intense way, why in the hell would I do that to myself? They also don’t understand the difference between a Bachelor’s and a Master’s. They don’t understand the degree I am pursuing (Public Policy) and they don’t understand what is that I want to do, (change the world for all of humankind) why I want to do it, (because I can. It's all about the power of one) or what the degree means (personal happiness, personal freedom, a better job, a better future.) I finally sent my mother the link to the Small State U’s website with the link to the program description because she couldn't remember what the program was called or what it is I want to do. She has since printed it out and tacked it to her bulletin board.
I know they are proud of me, I know they wish me well, I also know they don’t understand me, and can’t for the life of them understand why I would willingly put myself though it again, and I have yet to hear, “Congratulations!” from anyone that has the same blood as me. This doesn’t do a lot for the moral or self-motivation factor. Does a lot for the self-doubt, self reflection, what the hell am I doing, factor.
The parent’s don’t understand the stress, the determination, the love of education and knowledge and the differences in the level of degrees. They don’t understand the money involved in college tuition, the financial sacrifices, the personal life that goes to the way-side, the sleep deprivation, the student loans, the textbooks (one semester in explaining the textbook buyback my mother exclaimed, “Well, that’s just a big ripe off.” Yes, yes it is. Welcome to academia.) any and all of it is misunderstood, which means, I am misunderstood, my goals are misunderstood, so therefore the support system and the words of encouragement are not always what I need, get, or want and the cheerleading is shown in words of, “you need to drop out and get a job.”
So. This next week is going to be rote with emotion. I am leaving my family (who drive me crazy, but I do love ‘em) and friends (who, over the past year, I have discovered who my real ones are and who were only using me) a job I love and adore, a place I have called home for thirty-three years all to start a new chapter in my life. However, the thing I am going to miss the most is the support, love, words of encouragement, and cheerleading I receive everyday when I walk into my job. I don’t think it is a huge secret that I work at a very large college and have for several years. I work within a particular office and I work with a great group of students. The students change with the semesters and with the seasons; many I love many I want to kick to the curb most have been exceptional and have been an inspirational to get to know their stories and see them grow over the years. But it is the staff, the instructors, who I work with, learn from, interact with, and have the most wonderfully random conversations with on a ongoing basis that have truly been the kick I’ve needed to keep going when the days, weeks, months have been tough. Their words of encouragement, wisdom, sarcasm, cynicism, and pats on the back, and cheerleading, which I am going to miss so very dearly. So, so very dearly when I leave next week. The intellectual and the asinine conversations, the loud laughter, the randomness, the sentences of, “…what is wrong with the students today….?!?!?!” The wonderful pressure of, “So, when are you going after your Master’s?” Which have now turned into, “So, where are you going to go for your Ph.D?” The students who say the kindest words to me, wave to me from across campus, who I pass by on the sidewalks, the days when I accomplish nothing at work because everyone stops by to talk and has the need for me to play psychologist, doctor, teacher, bartender, friend who are the encouragement and the push that I need because they see and know things about me that I haven’t had the opportunity to discover in myself yet. Knowing that so many people who I work with, meet, and have conversations with throughout the day have meant so very much to me. But I also have the knowledge that I have meant just as much, and have made such a difference to so many people; and that's when I realize that this chapter is going to be a very diffuclt one to close, but I also realize I truly do have a wonderful life.
“It’s a book that Cynical Sue gave me to read. It’s a book about an immigrant son who is also a first generation college student. She is letting me borrow it because he and are going though some of the same things.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“What that I’m an immigrant or a first generation college student?”
He smiles at the immigrant crack because he knows full well that I am not, “No, that you’re a first generation college student.”
“Yep, I am and there are many, many things that I am having trouble with emotionally in terms of that.” He walks away as my eyes fall to my lap and my mind becomes distant as I get emotional just thinking about it. I come from a very Midwest, very blue collar family. All are very successful (some are happy) in what they do, however, no one has been to college in my immediate, and for that matter I can only think of one cousin who has also attended college and has a Master’s degree, in my entire family.
This whole college business, the whole B.A., the whole Master’s program, the thoughts of going after my Ph.D? Yeah, the family doesn’t understand it. No, I mean they don’t understand it at all. When I came back to school a few semesters ago, my mother’s only advice was, “Just don’t drop out this time.”
Gives you warm fuzzies doesn’t it? Yep, that was the only thing that was said to me. Do you know how many times she told me to drop out over the last two years? Too many to count. She didn’t understand the stress of it and hated to see me going though all of the stress and tears; so the fact that I am willing to go through it all again, and in an even more intense way, why in the hell would I do that to myself? They also don’t understand the difference between a Bachelor’s and a Master’s. They don’t understand the degree I am pursuing (Public Policy) and they don’t understand what is that I want to do, (change the world for all of humankind) why I want to do it, (because I can. It's all about the power of one) or what the degree means (personal happiness, personal freedom, a better job, a better future.) I finally sent my mother the link to the Small State U’s website with the link to the program description because she couldn't remember what the program was called or what it is I want to do. She has since printed it out and tacked it to her bulletin board.
I know they are proud of me, I know they wish me well, I also know they don’t understand me, and can’t for the life of them understand why I would willingly put myself though it again, and I have yet to hear, “Congratulations!” from anyone that has the same blood as me. This doesn’t do a lot for the moral or self-motivation factor. Does a lot for the self-doubt, self reflection, what the hell am I doing, factor.
The parent’s don’t understand the stress, the determination, the love of education and knowledge and the differences in the level of degrees. They don’t understand the money involved in college tuition, the financial sacrifices, the personal life that goes to the way-side, the sleep deprivation, the student loans, the textbooks (one semester in explaining the textbook buyback my mother exclaimed, “Well, that’s just a big ripe off.” Yes, yes it is. Welcome to academia.) any and all of it is misunderstood, which means, I am misunderstood, my goals are misunderstood, so therefore the support system and the words of encouragement are not always what I need, get, or want and the cheerleading is shown in words of, “you need to drop out and get a job.”
So. This next week is going to be rote with emotion. I am leaving my family (who drive me crazy, but I do love ‘em) and friends (who, over the past year, I have discovered who my real ones are and who were only using me) a job I love and adore, a place I have called home for thirty-three years all to start a new chapter in my life. However, the thing I am going to miss the most is the support, love, words of encouragement, and cheerleading I receive everyday when I walk into my job. I don’t think it is a huge secret that I work at a very large college and have for several years. I work within a particular office and I work with a great group of students. The students change with the semesters and with the seasons; many I love many I want to kick to the curb most have been exceptional and have been an inspirational to get to know their stories and see them grow over the years. But it is the staff, the instructors, who I work with, learn from, interact with, and have the most wonderfully random conversations with on a ongoing basis that have truly been the kick I’ve needed to keep going when the days, weeks, months have been tough. Their words of encouragement, wisdom, sarcasm, cynicism, and pats on the back, and cheerleading, which I am going to miss so very dearly. So, so very dearly when I leave next week. The intellectual and the asinine conversations, the loud laughter, the randomness, the sentences of, “…what is wrong with the students today….?!?!?!” The wonderful pressure of, “So, when are you going after your Master’s?” Which have now turned into, “So, where are you going to go for your Ph.D?” The students who say the kindest words to me, wave to me from across campus, who I pass by on the sidewalks, the days when I accomplish nothing at work because everyone stops by to talk and has the need for me to play psychologist, doctor, teacher, bartender, friend who are the encouragement and the push that I need because they see and know things about me that I haven’t had the opportunity to discover in myself yet. Knowing that so many people who I work with, meet, and have conversations with throughout the day have meant so very much to me. But I also have the knowledge that I have meant just as much, and have made such a difference to so many people; and that's when I realize that this chapter is going to be a very diffuclt one to close, but I also realize I truly do have a wonderful life.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
inner dork: apples, and oranges (and other assorted fruit)_
It's all tutti fruity today.
Did you know...
Pomology is the study of fruit.
Tomatoes and cucumbers are fruits.
Apples, not caffeine, are more efficient for waking you up in the morning.(Yes, but coffee doesn't require flossing.)
Fresh apples float because 25% of their volume is air. (Therefore, 25% less calories than a non-fresh apple.)
The avocado has the most calories of any fruit. (But it makes such a tasty dip.) (And facial.)
The most widely eaten fruit in America is the banana. (Hmmm, bananas. They come in their own little carrying case.)
The average banana weighs 126 grams.
Approximately 17,000 bananas are eaten each week in the Boston University dining room. (The other universities refused to comment.)
Bananas do not grow on trees but on rhizomes.
Cranberries are sorted for ripeness by bouncing them; a fully ripened cranberry can be dribbled like a basketball. (She shoots, she scores!)
Lemons contain more sugar than strawberries. (Therefore making a much better beverage.)
Seeds are missing from a navel orange. The bigger the navel, the sweeter the orange. (You say navel, I say belly-button.)
Orange juice helps the body absorb iron easily when consumed with a meal. (And not so easily when it's not taken with a meal.)
Pineapples do not ripen after they have been picked. (How do you know when a pineapple is ripe? I do not wish to knock on its shell as it is prickly.)
Grapes explode when you put them in the microwave. (Totally gonna test this one out.)
A cucumber consists of 96% water. (Therefore contains 96% less calories.)
More than 200 varieties of watermelon are grown in the United States. (I can name two, seeded and seedless.) (Okay four, big and small.) (196 more to go.)
Did you know...
Pomology is the study of fruit.
Tomatoes and cucumbers are fruits.
Apples, not caffeine, are more efficient for waking you up in the morning.(Yes, but coffee doesn't require flossing.)
Fresh apples float because 25% of their volume is air. (Therefore, 25% less calories than a non-fresh apple.)
The avocado has the most calories of any fruit. (But it makes such a tasty dip.) (And facial.)
The most widely eaten fruit in America is the banana. (Hmmm, bananas. They come in their own little carrying case.)
The average banana weighs 126 grams.
Approximately 17,000 bananas are eaten each week in the Boston University dining room. (The other universities refused to comment.)
Bananas do not grow on trees but on rhizomes.
Cranberries are sorted for ripeness by bouncing them; a fully ripened cranberry can be dribbled like a basketball. (She shoots, she scores!)
Lemons contain more sugar than strawberries. (Therefore making a much better beverage.)
Seeds are missing from a navel orange. The bigger the navel, the sweeter the orange. (You say navel, I say belly-button.)
Orange juice helps the body absorb iron easily when consumed with a meal. (And not so easily when it's not taken with a meal.)
Pineapples do not ripen after they have been picked. (How do you know when a pineapple is ripe? I do not wish to knock on its shell as it is prickly.)
Grapes explode when you put them in the microwave. (Totally gonna test this one out.)
A cucumber consists of 96% water. (Therefore contains 96% less calories.)
More than 200 varieties of watermelon are grown in the United States. (I can name two, seeded and seedless.) (Okay four, big and small.) (196 more to go.)
Monday, July 30, 2007
just killin' some time at work
| American Cities That Best Fit You: |
 60% Washington, DC 55% Philadelphia 55% San Francisco 50% Boston 50% Chicago |
well that was fun
First move out of two is finished. As far as moving goes, and moving unnecessarily, it wasn't horrible. Much in the way that having your skin ripped off and rolling around in rock salt isn't horrible. Not pleasant, but I don't think "horrible" is the word I would choose to describe either events.
I wanted to get started around 10, everyone agreed to this.
My phone rang around 9:30.
Everyone wanted to get started now. Right now. Now. Not later. (Much like the candy. If you bite into the the Now or Later you will enjoy it now, not later.)
Fine. I'm not 100% ready, but sure. Come over. (I knew this would happen as I have been part of this family for 33 years. I understand them well.)
I told everyone we would be finished around 12.
We weren't.
The men were getting short-tempered about this.
I told the men to chill-out.
We were finished by 1:00. (I think this is pretty good considering.) Considering I ran out of boxes and we had to improvise by throwing crap into any 'ol thing I could find. (Always fun. Thus I have peroxide in the same box as textbooks, nail polish, and shower hooks.)
Mom and I (notice, no men were involved) finished cleaning by 5:30.
We decided to throw my mattress on top of the hide-a-bed. (Hmm, ever know the name of something, but never put it together until you type it out, or think about it? Yeah, I just did that with the hide-a-bed. It is literally a bed that is hidden. How clever.) So, the bed is comfy, but it is also (literally) waist high. So, I (literally) climb into bed each night.
I have a lifetime stored in 3/4 of a garage. Is that wonderful or sad? And considering how much I threw away, donated, and sold, why do I still have 3/4 of a garage full of my stuff?
But, it's over. One move finished, one more to go. Days until my next big move: 11 and that's just crazy.
I wanted to get started around 10, everyone agreed to this.
My phone rang around 9:30.
Everyone wanted to get started now. Right now. Now. Not later. (Much like the candy. If you bite into the the Now or Later you will enjoy it now, not later.)
Fine. I'm not 100% ready, but sure. Come over. (I knew this would happen as I have been part of this family for 33 years. I understand them well.)
I told everyone we would be finished around 12.
We weren't.
The men were getting short-tempered about this.
I told the men to chill-out.
We were finished by 1:00. (I think this is pretty good considering.) Considering I ran out of boxes and we had to improvise by throwing crap into any 'ol thing I could find. (Always fun. Thus I have peroxide in the same box as textbooks, nail polish, and shower hooks.)
Mom and I (notice, no men were involved) finished cleaning by 5:30.
We decided to throw my mattress on top of the hide-a-bed. (Hmm, ever know the name of something, but never put it together until you type it out, or think about it? Yeah, I just did that with the hide-a-bed. It is literally a bed that is hidden. How clever.) So, the bed is comfy, but it is also (literally) waist high. So, I (literally) climb into bed each night.
I have a lifetime stored in 3/4 of a garage. Is that wonderful or sad? And considering how much I threw away, donated, and sold, why do I still have 3/4 of a garage full of my stuff?
But, it's over. One move finished, one more to go. Days until my next big move: 11 and that's just crazy.
Friday, July 27, 2007
hodge podge
Just a quickie update. (Who doesn't love a quickie?)
This weekend is part one of two of "The Big Moves." (Dun-du-dun!)
It is the completion of moving all my crap-ola into my parent's garage and moving back into my old room for two weeks. (As a refresher: the reason I am doing this is because my landlords decided to be poo heads and wanted a full month's rent for the month of August even though there is nothing in the lease agreement that states this. Why didn't I argue with them? No time to argue. I believe in picking my battles and this wasn't one I wanted to fight. I just "found" my copy of the lease agreement yesterday. A.k.a. I had a brain storm and bypassed my landlords who aren't returning my calls and went straight to the rental/management company and they faxed me a copy of my lease.)
Doncha just love a brainstorm?
I am officially down to three jobs.
(Whoo-hoo!)
I finished one proctor gig and the transcription gig and the gig last night. That leaves me with: full-time (not so secret) profession, one proctor gig, one mentoring gig.
With all of the "extra" funds my savings account looks quite nice.
All of those "extra" funds will be gone by mid-October due to bills and a payment needed for Budapest.
Last night I got to play teacher.
No.
I mean, I actually got to be a teacher.
Just for one night, but it was awesome.
It might have been awesome cause it is not something I get to do very often.
Okay, last night was officially the first time.
I was so in my perfect element with this class. We discussed the play "End Game" by Samuel Beckett.
They told me they hadn't read it before class.
Yeah.
You're not getting off that easy. I guess that means we will have to read it out-loud in class then.
We discussed, existentialism, God, the universe, the war, mortality, religion, changing ideals, ect.
I love college students.
A little over a week ago I received a phone call that completely turned my pissy mood around and was exactly what I needed to move ahead.
London called me.
Completely out of nowhere in the middle of my work day London was on my phone. I simply got up from my desk, walked outside and had a wonderful and lovely conversation as if I had just seen him hours before.
I don't believe in anything as hokey as closure. So it isn't that, but it was what I needed. It was a little, "thank you" note for my heart and for my mind.
I don't want to talk anymore about it because I think it loses its simplicity and loveliness by doing so.
The new chapter in my life starts in exactly 14 days.
I have too much going on and too much stress to really be excited about this. Something about working six jobs, taking two classes, and moving twice. That might have something to do with it.
Not sure.
But maybe.
Other than the Yankee and Red Sox games I went to in May I haven't been to a single baseball game this season.
That makes me sad.
I am missing my boys of summer.
Not to mention my beer and hot dog consumption is way down.
The fact that August is going to be here next week? Ho-lee-crap. Where did the summer go?
My family is throwing me a going away party next weekend.
I will be buying water balloons and lots of alcohol will be present.
The stories of, "My Family the Geniuses" with commence shortly thereafter I am sure.
I was told by a student that I have become very sarcastic this summer.
I replied with, "Really? You think I've just become sarcastic?"
Notice how I replied to the comment about being sarcastic with sarcasm. (I thought it was a nice touch.)
I received a "B" in my econ class.
I am very proud of this achievement.
It's a bit below my standards, but I am very pleased with this considering everything I have going on, how burnt out on school I am, and how I've never taken an econ class before.
So. Go, me.
I am only in the middle of the latest Harry Potter book.
Do NOT tell me anything about it.
I can only steal a few minutes here and there to read it.
However, last night I had to make myself put the book down and go to bed.
Oh, I do love it when a book has that kind of power on me.
I feel like I've been on a continuous countdown since December.
Counting down until London left.
Counting down until I was finished with school.
Counting down until I left for Greece.
Counting down until I heard about grad school.
Counting down until the end of the semester.
Counting down until I move this weekend.
Counting down until my last day at work.
Counting down until I move/move.
Counting down until grad school starts.
Then I am sure it will be a countdown until I leave for Budapest.
And then a countdown until I am finished with the first semester in December.
Do you ever feel like you're on a perpetual countdown?
Isn't life just one big countdown?
Does anyone else have the song, "Final Countdown" in their head right now?
If so, I apologize.
Because it is stuck in mine.
And it is a sucky song.
Why is it that only the sucky songs get stuck in our heads?
Or is it that even the good songs become sucky songs after the same lyrics go round and round in your head for hours on end?
This weekend is part one of two of "The Big Moves." (Dun-du-dun!)
It is the completion of moving all my crap-ola into my parent's garage and moving back into my old room for two weeks. (As a refresher: the reason I am doing this is because my landlords decided to be poo heads and wanted a full month's rent for the month of August even though there is nothing in the lease agreement that states this. Why didn't I argue with them? No time to argue. I believe in picking my battles and this wasn't one I wanted to fight. I just "found" my copy of the lease agreement yesterday. A.k.a. I had a brain storm and bypassed my landlords who aren't returning my calls and went straight to the rental/management company and they faxed me a copy of my lease.)
Doncha just love a brainstorm?
I am officially down to three jobs.
(Whoo-hoo!)
I finished one proctor gig and the transcription gig and the gig last night. That leaves me with: full-time (not so secret) profession, one proctor gig, one mentoring gig.
With all of the "extra" funds my savings account looks quite nice.
All of those "extra" funds will be gone by mid-October due to bills and a payment needed for Budapest.
Last night I got to play teacher.
No.
I mean, I actually got to be a teacher.
Just for one night, but it was awesome.
It might have been awesome cause it is not something I get to do very often.
Okay, last night was officially the first time.
I was so in my perfect element with this class. We discussed the play "End Game" by Samuel Beckett.
They told me they hadn't read it before class.
Yeah.
You're not getting off that easy. I guess that means we will have to read it out-loud in class then.
We discussed, existentialism, God, the universe, the war, mortality, religion, changing ideals, ect.
I love college students.
A little over a week ago I received a phone call that completely turned my pissy mood around and was exactly what I needed to move ahead.
London called me.
Completely out of nowhere in the middle of my work day London was on my phone. I simply got up from my desk, walked outside and had a wonderful and lovely conversation as if I had just seen him hours before.
I don't believe in anything as hokey as closure. So it isn't that, but it was what I needed. It was a little, "thank you" note for my heart and for my mind.
I don't want to talk anymore about it because I think it loses its simplicity and loveliness by doing so.
The new chapter in my life starts in exactly 14 days.
I have too much going on and too much stress to really be excited about this. Something about working six jobs, taking two classes, and moving twice. That might have something to do with it.
Not sure.
But maybe.
Other than the Yankee and Red Sox games I went to in May I haven't been to a single baseball game this season.
That makes me sad.
I am missing my boys of summer.
Not to mention my beer and hot dog consumption is way down.
The fact that August is going to be here next week? Ho-lee-crap. Where did the summer go?
My family is throwing me a going away party next weekend.
I will be buying water balloons and lots of alcohol will be present.
The stories of, "My Family the Geniuses" with commence shortly thereafter I am sure.
I was told by a student that I have become very sarcastic this summer.
I replied with, "Really? You think I've just become sarcastic?"
Notice how I replied to the comment about being sarcastic with sarcasm. (I thought it was a nice touch.)
I received a "B" in my econ class.
I am very proud of this achievement.
It's a bit below my standards, but I am very pleased with this considering everything I have going on, how burnt out on school I am, and how I've never taken an econ class before.
So. Go, me.
I am only in the middle of the latest Harry Potter book.
Do NOT tell me anything about it.
I can only steal a few minutes here and there to read it.
However, last night I had to make myself put the book down and go to bed.
Oh, I do love it when a book has that kind of power on me.
I feel like I've been on a continuous countdown since December.
Counting down until London left.
Counting down until I was finished with school.
Counting down until I left for Greece.
Counting down until I heard about grad school.
Counting down until the end of the semester.
Counting down until I move this weekend.
Counting down until my last day at work.
Counting down until I move/move.
Counting down until grad school starts.
Then I am sure it will be a countdown until I leave for Budapest.
And then a countdown until I am finished with the first semester in December.
Do you ever feel like you're on a perpetual countdown?
Isn't life just one big countdown?
Does anyone else have the song, "Final Countdown" in their head right now?
If so, I apologize.
Because it is stuck in mine.
And it is a sucky song.
Why is it that only the sucky songs get stuck in our heads?
Or is it that even the good songs become sucky songs after the same lyrics go round and round in your head for hours on end?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
inner dork: all things salty
...that are innocent and condiment-like in nature. (but that does pose an interesting question, doesn't it?)
Did you know...
Salt is the only rock humans can eat. (That would mean that someone has actually tried to eat some other type of rock. Yawza! Me, teeth!)
Only 5% of salt produced ends up on the table. The rest is used for packing meat, building roads, feeding livestock (mmm, bloaty moo-cows) tanning leather (mmm, salty-moo-cows.) manufacturing glass, soap, ash, and washing compounds. (mmm, salty clean clothes.)
Salt is one of the few spices that is all taste and no smell.
(I tried to prove this, but I was only successful in inhaling salt up my nose. mmm, melty salt.)
Tabasco sauce is made by fermenting vinegar and hot peppers in a French oak barrels (German barrels are not allowed and could not be reached for comment on how resentful they felt about this snub) that has three inches of salt on top and is aged for three years until all the salt is diffused through the barrel.
(mmm, bloaty, salty, hot sauce.)
Worcestershire sauce is basically anchovy ketchup.
(And it tastes mmm, so good.)
(Do you all say, Worcestershire sauce or do you say, Worcestershireshireiiires sauce?)
I feel all edumacted, but I also feel all bloaty.
Did you know...
Salt is the only rock humans can eat. (That would mean that someone has actually tried to eat some other type of rock. Yawza! Me, teeth!)
Only 5% of salt produced ends up on the table. The rest is used for packing meat, building roads, feeding livestock (mmm, bloaty moo-cows) tanning leather (mmm, salty-moo-cows.) manufacturing glass, soap, ash, and washing compounds. (mmm, salty clean clothes.)
Salt is one of the few spices that is all taste and no smell.
(I tried to prove this, but I was only successful in inhaling salt up my nose. mmm, melty salt.)
Tabasco sauce is made by fermenting vinegar and hot peppers in a French oak barrels (German barrels are not allowed and could not be reached for comment on how resentful they felt about this snub) that has three inches of salt on top and is aged for three years until all the salt is diffused through the barrel.
(mmm, bloaty, salty, hot sauce.)
Worcestershire sauce is basically anchovy ketchup.
(And it tastes mmm, so good.)
(Do you all say, Worcestershire sauce or do you say, Worcestershireshireiiires sauce?)
I feel all edumacted, but I also feel all bloaty.
Monday, July 23, 2007
SOLD!
I sold a painting! I sold a painting!
(...and repeat to infinity.)
I'll admit, when she told me which of my paintings she liked the most, and essentially wanted a copy of, and then told me the colors she wanted, I was apprehensive.
I'll admit it wasn't until I was in the middle of the painting that I saw the colors complimenting each other.
I don't know how you could look at the painting and not have your mood brighten.
In the midst of moving it was nice to have an art project to work on this weekend.
All of that on top of being paid for my artwork, c'mon, are you kidding me? When I take a moment to enjoy this thing called life, I realize that my life really is a verb.
(...and repeat to infinity.)
I'll admit, when she told me which of my paintings she liked the most, and essentially wanted a copy of, and then told me the colors she wanted, I was apprehensive.
I'll admit it wasn't until I was in the middle of the painting that I saw the colors complimenting each other.
I don't know how you could look at the painting and not have your mood brighten.
In the midst of moving it was nice to have an art project to work on this weekend.
All of that on top of being paid for my artwork, c'mon, are you kidding me? When I take a moment to enjoy this thing called life, I realize that my life really is a verb.
The memory of summer and youth
* The smell of books, the smell of libraries, the mustiness of all the knowledge that fills the air. The way the bindings creak and crack when you open an older book, like an attic door being opened and letting out all of its hidden treasures and secrets that have been hidden away waiting for someone to come in. I love looking at the dates on the punch cards in the front of the book to see when the last time someone checked that particular book out. When I was in high school I used to read the names on the punch card in the front of the book to see if a boy I had a crush on had checked the book out sometime before me and therefore we shared something in common. I would imagine the boy in his favorite t-shirt and jeans lying on his back in bed reading the book I now held in my hands.
The knowledge that fills a library reminds me of a childhood basement, the combination of dust, mildew, and damp brick walls that haven’t seen any light through the small ground level widows in a long while. The scent can hit you like a memory sometimes, but then while you’re within the confines of the rows upon rows of books the memories disappear and you can actually feel yourself travel back to your youth. Some of my own books have this same effect on me; when I open the cover and hear the binding crack the aroma of memories and youth hits me. I can feel myself travel back to when I was a pre-teen and I see myself sitting on my twin bed with its white chenille bedspread, the coolness of the air conditioner floating through my room, the bright sun and tall oak trees with their long green arms waving and watching me through my bedroom windows while I was reading the long hot summer days away traveling to wherever the black and white words would take me.
That is exactly how I felt this weekend. Saturday I awoke early to head to my local bookstore purveyor to purchase my copy of Harry Potter. I then proceeded to spend my Saturday afternoon on my deck enjoying the lovely weather while working on my tan as I traveled with Harry and his usual troop of friends on their final adventure. I suddenly flashed back to being 12-years-old when all I wanted to do during the summer was either be outside working on my tan or laying on my bed inside within the cozy comfort of the air conditioning. The fact that I knew there were several million actual 12-year-olds doing the same thing I was on Saturday, well that brought a smile to my face. The fact that there was as much hype and anticipation over a book...a book in the day and age where the i-Phone, i-Pod, and whatever other gadget is hot this summer, well, that brought a gigantic smile to my heart and to my memory bank.
* The first two paragraphs are from a short story I am currently suffering a bout of writer's blocked. It is about the summer I was 11 years-old and my love of books and how I whiled away the summer hours.
The knowledge that fills a library reminds me of a childhood basement, the combination of dust, mildew, and damp brick walls that haven’t seen any light through the small ground level widows in a long while. The scent can hit you like a memory sometimes, but then while you’re within the confines of the rows upon rows of books the memories disappear and you can actually feel yourself travel back to your youth. Some of my own books have this same effect on me; when I open the cover and hear the binding crack the aroma of memories and youth hits me. I can feel myself travel back to when I was a pre-teen and I see myself sitting on my twin bed with its white chenille bedspread, the coolness of the air conditioner floating through my room, the bright sun and tall oak trees with their long green arms waving and watching me through my bedroom windows while I was reading the long hot summer days away traveling to wherever the black and white words would take me.
That is exactly how I felt this weekend. Saturday I awoke early to head to my local bookstore purveyor to purchase my copy of Harry Potter. I then proceeded to spend my Saturday afternoon on my deck enjoying the lovely weather while working on my tan as I traveled with Harry and his usual troop of friends on their final adventure. I suddenly flashed back to being 12-years-old when all I wanted to do during the summer was either be outside working on my tan or laying on my bed inside within the cozy comfort of the air conditioning. The fact that I knew there were several million actual 12-year-olds doing the same thing I was on Saturday, well that brought a smile to my face. The fact that there was as much hype and anticipation over a book...a book in the day and age where the i-Phone, i-Pod, and whatever other gadget is hot this summer, well, that brought a gigantic smile to my heart and to my memory bank.
* The first two paragraphs are from a short story I am currently suffering a bout of writer's blocked. It is about the summer I was 11 years-old and my love of books and how I whiled away the summer hours.
Friday, July 20, 2007
PG's a dork! PG's a dork!
Ok, I just called myself a whale's penis, but that is not the point.
The differences between geeks, nerds, dorks, and maybe dweebs.
Nerds: These are the brilliant types. The ones who know everything in a book and nothing about the street. Somewhere between being locked in the basement to learn about all things electrical, statistical, and mathematical they forgot how to talk to anyone, specifically the opposite sex.
Geek: These are the nerds who have some social skills, street smarts, and business savvy. They put all of the books smarts to use and are now taking over the world. Ala: Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, et al of the computer and Google world. The geeks really are inheriting the Earth.
Dorks: These are the geeks who are oddly brilliant in whatever field they have so chosen to go into, but also have amazing social skills. They might be a bit quirky in their mannerism (lack of eye contact, or the ability to know useless facts, or the ability to look up words in the dictionary.) There is no desire to start or own their own company. They are perfectly happy in their brilliance and ability to be social with a variety of people and places.
Why I believe I am a dork. (Really you need proof?) I learned that there are exactly 216 noodles in every can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup and that the soup is cooked only once it is sealed in the can. If there is one more or one less noodle it is kicked off the assembly line.....I learned that on the Food Network about 3+ years ago. It has stuck with me. In addition to that I can also:
Name all of the astrological signs- in order.
I break into song spontaneously.
I play Jeopardy!
I love to laugh
and I love shoes.
and Art.
and Jewelry (and make most of mine.)
I can have an asinine conversation about intelligent things and an intelligent conversation about asinine things.
I Google useless information All.the.time.
This week I called two women, broads. This then went into floozy, and hussy and what the differences are. I then realized that "broad" is such an odd thing for a woman to be called and I wondered what the word origin of it was. I then looked up the word "broad" in the dictionary. There are 25 definitions for the word "broad." However, I think I came up with the origins. Either definition 8 or 9 and also the word, broad-wife. (really, after that do I need to go on?)
But, I am also someone who loves baseball and boxing. Enjoys a good drink. Can make any comment go straight into the gutter. And enjoys a conversation with a nerd and a geek because inside, we're all a little dorky.
What's your inner dork?
The differences between geeks, nerds, dorks, and maybe dweebs.
Nerds: These are the brilliant types. The ones who know everything in a book and nothing about the street. Somewhere between being locked in the basement to learn about all things electrical, statistical, and mathematical they forgot how to talk to anyone, specifically the opposite sex.
Geek: These are the nerds who have some social skills, street smarts, and business savvy. They put all of the books smarts to use and are now taking over the world. Ala: Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, et al of the computer and Google world. The geeks really are inheriting the Earth.
Dorks: These are the geeks who are oddly brilliant in whatever field they have so chosen to go into, but also have amazing social skills. They might be a bit quirky in their mannerism (lack of eye contact, or the ability to know useless facts, or the ability to look up words in the dictionary.) There is no desire to start or own their own company. They are perfectly happy in their brilliance and ability to be social with a variety of people and places.
Why I believe I am a dork. (Really you need proof?) I learned that there are exactly 216 noodles in every can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup and that the soup is cooked only once it is sealed in the can. If there is one more or one less noodle it is kicked off the assembly line.....I learned that on the Food Network about 3+ years ago. It has stuck with me. In addition to that I can also:
Name all of the astrological signs- in order.
I break into song spontaneously.
I play Jeopardy!
I love to laugh
and I love shoes.
and Art.
and Jewelry (and make most of mine.)
I can have an asinine conversation about intelligent things and an intelligent conversation about asinine things.
I Google useless information All.the.time.
This week I called two women, broads. This then went into floozy, and hussy and what the differences are. I then realized that "broad" is such an odd thing for a woman to be called and I wondered what the word origin of it was. I then looked up the word "broad" in the dictionary. There are 25 definitions for the word "broad." However, I think I came up with the origins. Either definition 8 or 9 and also the word, broad-wife. (really, after that do I need to go on?)
But, I am also someone who loves baseball and boxing. Enjoys a good drink. Can make any comment go straight into the gutter. And enjoys a conversation with a nerd and a geek because inside, we're all a little dorky.
What's your inner dork?
Thursday, July 19, 2007
inner dork: geeks, dorks, and nerds
...Oh my!
K, no useless info today. (I know, sad.) But after yesterday's post got me thinking about the differences between geeks, dorks, and nerds (oh, my!) I then proceeded to look up what Webster's had to say on the subject. (Who's a dork, huh, who?) Which led me into looking up another word, and then another, and then (Yep. I'm that loveable girl you all want to take home with you. Admit it.)
Anyway, so what is your definition of each? Which one are you a self-proclaimed one of? (or something like that.) And who do you think is more loveable, the dork, the nerd, or the geek? I'll post my answer tomorrow.
K, no useless info today. (I know, sad.) But after yesterday's post got me thinking about the differences between geeks, dorks, and nerds (oh, my!) I then proceeded to look up what Webster's had to say on the subject. (Who's a dork, huh, who?) Which led me into looking up another word, and then another, and then (Yep. I'm that loveable girl you all want to take home with you. Admit it.)
Anyway, so what is your definition of each? Which one are you a self-proclaimed one of? (or something like that.) And who do you think is more loveable, the dork, the nerd, or the geek? I'll post my answer tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it
Maybe it is all of the poo.
Maybe it is the inner dork in me who finds the jobs fascinating as many of them are things I never would have thought about other wise.
Maybe it is the humor.
Or perhaps the sarcastic wit.
The blatant attempts for a laugh and more camera time.
The voice.
The fact that the crew is picked on relentlessly.
How unabashedly the show is willing to do anything....anything.
However, chances are the real reason is the host, Mike Rowe.
Perhaps he is the reason "Dirty Jobs" has become my new favorite show and why I love a good marathon.
A good marathon of "Dirty Jobs" that is.
Maybe it is the inner dork in me who finds the jobs fascinating as many of them are things I never would have thought about other wise.
Maybe it is the humor.
Or perhaps the sarcastic wit.
The blatant attempts for a laugh and more camera time.
The voice.
The fact that the crew is picked on relentlessly.
How unabashedly the show is willing to do anything....anything.
However, chances are the real reason is the host, Mike Rowe.
Perhaps he is the reason "Dirty Jobs" has become my new favorite show and why I love a good marathon.
A good marathon of "Dirty Jobs" that is.
Monday, July 16, 2007
wide awake in dreamland
No one likes hearing about another person's dreams. I know this. However, this dream involved some of you, so I thought I would humor you by going inside my head. Also, I rarely remember my dreams once the hot water of the shower hits my face, so apparently these have significance.
Ptg and her husband were in my dream. She was pregnant and he had a very hairy back. His shirt was off, thus the hair was all there for me to see. I don't believe her pregnancy nor his hairy back are related, but one never really knows.
Joefish and Dirty Bunny were also there. They were comforting ptg through her labor pains.
I was apparently useless to help.
There was a stack of cows standing on top of each other eating paint off the side of a house. The house (was) white and was a turn of the century three story, so the cows were stacked very tall as one cow (all brown) was enjoying the lead-free paint from the very tippy-top of the house.
I was on my way to work (my old job from several years ago) when I passed the cows stacked on top of each other eating the paint.
Then suddenly ptg and her hubby, with his shirtless belly and hairy back, showed up and I was in the hospital.
Then Joefish and Dirty Bunny were there.
I thought it was very nice of them to show up to help out.
Then my alarm went off.
Now. I don't actually know ptg or her husband. I don't know if he has a hairy back, but I'm going to assume he doesn't. So I apologize for any harm my subconscious has caused.
I also don't know Joefish or Dirty Bunny either, but they seem like good peeps. I also don't know if they actually know ptg or her hubby, so see they are good peeps because they were willing to help out in a time of need. Good peeps. (better than the marshmallow peeps, I am sure. Although when put in the microwave the marshmallow peeps are fun to watch.)
I also don't believe that cows have the ability to stand on top of each other. I also doubt they would like a diet of lead-free paint, or lead based paint for that matter, but in my dream they seemed to think it was a tasty treat.
No drugs were involved in this dream. Copious amounts of alcohol were involved on Friday and Saturday. I don't remember those dreams at all. Perhaps last night's dream was merely catching up with me.
I will try and incorporate the rest of you into my dreams as soon as I have time.
You're welcome.
Good day.
Ptg and her husband were in my dream. She was pregnant and he had a very hairy back. His shirt was off, thus the hair was all there for me to see. I don't believe her pregnancy nor his hairy back are related, but one never really knows.
Joefish and Dirty Bunny were also there. They were comforting ptg through her labor pains.
I was apparently useless to help.
There was a stack of cows standing on top of each other eating paint off the side of a house. The house (was) white and was a turn of the century three story, so the cows were stacked very tall as one cow (all brown) was enjoying the lead-free paint from the very tippy-top of the house.
I was on my way to work (my old job from several years ago) when I passed the cows stacked on top of each other eating the paint.
Then suddenly ptg and her hubby, with his shirtless belly and hairy back, showed up and I was in the hospital.
Then Joefish and Dirty Bunny were there.
I thought it was very nice of them to show up to help out.
Then my alarm went off.
Now. I don't actually know ptg or her husband. I don't know if he has a hairy back, but I'm going to assume he doesn't. So I apologize for any harm my subconscious has caused.
I also don't know Joefish or Dirty Bunny either, but they seem like good peeps. I also don't know if they actually know ptg or her hubby, so see they are good peeps because they were willing to help out in a time of need. Good peeps. (better than the marshmallow peeps, I am sure. Although when put in the microwave the marshmallow peeps are fun to watch.)
I also don't believe that cows have the ability to stand on top of each other. I also doubt they would like a diet of lead-free paint, or lead based paint for that matter, but in my dream they seemed to think it was a tasty treat.
No drugs were involved in this dream. Copious amounts of alcohol were involved on Friday and Saturday. I don't remember those dreams at all. Perhaps last night's dream was merely catching up with me.
I will try and incorporate the rest of you into my dreams as soon as I have time.
You're welcome.
Good day.
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