We can kiss, kiss goodnight

I know that I've been overly enthusiastic about things, but one thing that truly does deserve the title of the best ever is my brand-new workin' Zippo.

Other things recently elevated to The Best Ever:

• Caffeine
  
• Skirts
  
• Last Monday's ham-with-mustard sandwich
  
• Asking Luke "what's hanging?" not so innocently
  
• Pestering untold number of people
  
• Driving
  
• The scary neck thing
  
• Countless other inane, not that great things.
  

The sun breaks over us

So, our apartment is being inspected. Which apparently consists of an older gentleman poking around in various crevices in the apartment. Yes! garbage disposal working! closets open and shut! windows are a+! Right now our bathroom, what with its faucets that let water out seem to be most entertaining. Also entertaining is my television, stopped on FoxNews, the horrors. It was the only one showing live footage of the White House. I am not a staunch raving Republican like my dad. Yet.

Busy Bee

I've got so many things to do, like drawing and packing and moving, but all I want to do is curl up in bed and doze until it's midnight. Or seven; then again til midnight. These past few days have been so filled with socializing (drinks and laughter and dinner and dancing and drinks and movies that make me misty and driving and laughing and classy pizza and DVDs and phonecalls that make me giggle and grin) that I've become unaccustomed to spending hours upon hours alone. I just want to call people up and brightly ask if they want to go to the Union or a drive or find someplace to buy popsicles.

What I need to do is acquire soda and pack pack pack some things up, throw large sums of things out as well, then draw. Only I am saddened, because my beautiful, beautiful Open Pantry closed sometime in the past forty-eight hours, when I was out being little miss social. Were I not moving in a matter of days, this would be a sadder affair - where would I purchase Mt. Dew for late night visitors? cigarettes at two A.M.? ice cream that I do not need?

R.I.P., Open Pantry

Lesson learned

This past week I have learned the following:
• It is apparently in poor taste to ask someone, a friend's potential boy no less, quite bluntly if they have oral herpes. More astonishing is if this is at a pleasure party filled with many, many people.
• That I am exceptionally skilled at certain activities. Moreso than I previously thought.
• The letter k is far more important than previously assumed. This has only been realized after my keyboard has decided to quit supporting said letter.
• Colette is both lovely at perching on car hoods and lying coquetteishly in front seats.
• Exactly how much I missed taking pictures, both of myself and of others.
• I can drink Brian under the table, hands down.
• Colette really likes it when I order her to "strap it on." And she obeys instantly. Of course, "it" refers to her seatbelt. But, whatever.
• It is fun, owning a girly Zippo, engraved.
• I can, in fact, drive stick when absolutely necessary. Though still nerve-wracking to learn.

Plain

Dear Blog;

You are ugly. I thought that once I got you all Moveable Type-y, you'd be nice and streamlined and classy. But instead you're just oversized and clunky, bogged down by my definite classless retellings of possible prison rape. Alas.

Perhaps in my upcoming Two-and-a-half Weeks of Creative Genius (aka no work and a household to play in) I will cram in a little blog html'ing to make you beautiful, between all the painting and drawing and scrounging and reupholstering and photographing and plotting and yes, oh yes, the drilling.

(Get your minds out of the gutter. I'm talking about REAL drilling. You know. With a power drill. I am going to be carpentery, too!)

Kisses,
Me.

Assume the position

You know you're creating an instant classic memory when, at the end of a strange conversation with a random guy at a gas station at eleven at night, he sticks out his rear and places his palms flat on the counter. You know what I'm talking about.

He was practicing for when he gets sent to jail in a few weeks. At least he'll be nice and limber.

Superb

I think that I've found one combination that makes up a fucking great day.

Empty

Unexpected last-minute reshuffling of afternoon plans leaves a wide open space to accomplish the mountains of things that I was wanting to do. The problem is deciding what to do first!

I love life!

There/not

Seriously, what is up with everyone doing the sneaky thing where it LOOKS like they're away but haha! they're still chatting?

Speaking of AIM, I need to do a little shout-out to DeadAIM which absolutely rocks. I am far too thrilled to rename the buddies on my list with their real name, instead of their screen name. In fact, I love it so much that I actually just informed Colette that "I am way too turned on by this new AIM." Unless, like, it's not the AIM at all.

Without you

I find it mildly amusing that I rank "very high" or "extreme" in eight of the ten afterlife possibilies. Moreso that the two "very low" levels are for the repenting believers and virtuous non-believers. Ultimately, I will wind up in the Seventh Circle with "the violent, the assasins, the tyrants, and the war-mongers."

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Caffeiney

Coldish coffee is not so unpleasant when you're expecting it. Instead of expecting, I don't know, Diet Cherry Coke.

Question:

When viewing my page, does the extra info (y'know, picture, links, etc) show up at the side of the blog, or below it?

Hardcore

My kind of activism is where I get an email that says, "go fill out this form to support X!" Then, it has a direct link to the page where I have to fill in my email address and name to show that yes, I do in fact support X.

Brenda!

A bit ago, firmly enmeshed in numbers upon numbers, I entered the following digit into the calculator:

902.10

and laughed out loud.

Crotch to crotch

It's really sad when the highlight of your day is a tie between watching someone be detained in a police car right in front of your office and realizing that Bravo is one of your expanded basic channels; more of a TNT than a Showtime.

I love that we're located right at a speed trap, because all morning long the sirens go for a brief moment, and then we get to watch and see if anything interesting happens. Today it did.

The Bravo news is thrilling because not only do I have the option of watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (which, truthfully, sounds mildly interesting at best - I just don't care about boy makeovers) but I will have every chance to watch Boy Meets Boy. This is destined to be the hottest show on cable, if only for the following quote: "'We’re all partnered up,' a heterosexual suitor recalls, 'and I’m crotch to crotch with this 6-foot-4 guy—who also turned out to be straight.'"

Mmm, bop

Am I the only one who's completely floored to find that the Hanson brothers have, well, aged? I always figured they were some kind of robot that stayed in the same shape.

Also, they're kind of weirdly attractive in the bland Abercrombie sense. And they all have terrible hair. And sing worth crap.

Spray it on

Every time I see one of those dreadfully sad commercials for Axe spray, I'm amused to recall that my dear little brother owns Axe deodorant. Guess their marketing works for fourteen year old boys. But, really, I can't imagine any self-respecting male actually goes out to a store and purchases this. I think I want a job at Shopko or Walmart, with the express purpose of finding out. And then laughing, if they did.

Kerpow!

I've determined that I am physically incapable of creating a professional logo today. They all look like they belong in a comic strip, saying "crack!" "pow!" and such.

I've also determined that I have spent Too Much Time updating my blogs. I would feel more guilty about it if I didn't see my dad put down three days of eight hour shifts for my timecard last week. Excuse me, I was here a good 9.5 hours on two of the days, and the third was more like 8.5 hours. I WANT MY MONEY! This is a good thirty dollars I'm being squeezed out of.

To further compensate, I will be returning home with new office supplies.

Crisp

From now on, I am ironing my shirts. All of them.

And by "from now on," I mean as soon as I get an iron. Look for crisp shirts in Sept 2003.

Goals

I really want to use the term "wacky endeavors" in a sentence today. "Zany endeavors" will also work.

Yesterday I learned that I've been spelling "withdrawal" incorrectly for ages. That second a is in there. This is more embarassing than the days of "wierd."

Rereading my archives (what happened to June?!) I realize that damn, May was fun. Also, there's a lot of cryptic messages that I thought were brilliant at the time, but now I just find 'em maddening. I think that May was much better than June. June will forever (as in, the rest of this post) be known as "Tequila Month."

Ooh! I get to play with checks now!

Word up

My favorite part of my wacky email:
"..I would say, 'woah Yvette don't they feed you out in the ghetto?'"

The reason I am so wacky:
I've gotten no more than six hours sleep in the past forty-eight. And really, the days before weren't that great either.

I am feeling impulsive because:
I've got an enormous check to cash.

I am being responsible because:
A mere five blocks away hangs a gorgeous print that I love love love, but would not fit in with my room's decor. Also, I have a hard time plunking down $65 dollars at a time (when it's not a tech-y thing.)

I am feeling sad because:
I'm embarrassed for the girl with the horrendously "sexy" prom dress on MTV's True Life. Hello, why doesn't she realize that she looks like a cheap hootchie? Or rather, a cheap hootchie in a terribly ill-fitting dress.

I am terribly, terribly annoyed because:
My cell phone has decided to stop acknowledging incoming calls. Any incoming calls.

Prattling endlessly

I just wrote Yvette an exceptionally long email, and I'm thinking it's so very uncool to sit at your dad's office, smirking at your own crazy wit. And it's even more uncool to be posting about it, but eh, who cares.

I spent the entire morning and afternoon working on a web page for my dad's work. And it's getting depressing, because even though I know how time consuming even one page is, (not to mention several graphics, even simple one-color-and-text graphics) I keep thinking, "this is all I've accomplished?" I'm also about to start swearing because one mouseover won't work, and it's consistently the same one. With the exact same code as the others. But it doesn't work.

Right now my goal is to get all the pages set up with the same basic (and I do mean basic) formatting, and then go apeshit with the graphics possibilities. After that comes the war about MIDI music and lime green graphics.

This would probably go faster if I didn't stop to send Yvette hilarious (it was hilarious, right?) emails that are the equivalent of one page in Word. But it's a fun break, even more fun than trying to figure out how someone could ever design these pages. And my wondering is totally not one of inspired awe. It's a terrified confusion, threatened only by my concern over the relatives of mine who paid for this.

Some night

One of these days I'll figure out the secret to falling asleep promptly. To not inexplicably become wide awake upon climbing into bed, no matter how exhausted you were before undergoing the pre-bed routine. Perhaps there's some hidden connection between taking out one's contacts and waking up that I've yet to discover.

There is an absolute to zero

For the life of me, I can't quite figure out Yahoo. Not the web search, but the little "in the news" section on the front page. Sometimes I'll open up a browser and one of the links will inexplicably be highlighted. I know that I didn't read the article about how the popular clownfish can change both sex and size (though I soon will; I totally want one of these fish now.) So, why is it highlighted?

I wonder about things too much.

I also can't quite figure out why the ghost smell of tequila is still present on a daily basis.

You knew the reason

You know, for awhile I thought maybe, just maybe, it was just an excuse. That I actually do have a terrifyingly small bladder, and my unthinking daily apology of "I've been drinking a lot of water/soda/etc today" was just a scant alibi.

Cut to Monday, where from the time I awoke - seven in the morning - til lunch around noon, I consumed not a drop of liquid. Or rather, cut to Monday just past two thirty, realizing that I've not peed all day.

So, see? It is the excessive consumption of liquid.

Scary as Pauly Shore's movies are, I must admit that I am dying (just a little) to see his new flick.

Muggles

It's probably a sign that I've read Harry Potter fairly recently when, while reading local online news such as this make you think about what sinister Lord Voldemort follower this could be. I mean, it's just like the beginning of "Order of the Phoenix" when Harry has to scour the muggle news, seeking something unusual that would signify grave danger lying ahead.

Um. Yeah.

I've been thinking

I've been thinking of things today. Things which haven't been pondered or dwelled upon in some time, and the collective confusion is exhausting. The flight response is there, same as it's been for quite awhile in varying degrees, and I wonder if I'll ever actually leave.

I've been thinking of things that haven't happened, that may have happened, things that may happen in some indistinct future. I've been thinking about how badly I want to sink into a deep, comforting sleep that's peppered with dreams vaguely corresponding to my life. Or be the proverbial fly on the wall, using any information gleaned to assuage my fear of being completely out of the loop.

But, really, I need to stop thinking. I accomplished this remarkably well earlier in the week (perhaps why updates were at a shocking minimum) but of course one nugget of fear brought that to a glaring end. And this makes me know that what I crave is simply assurances that what I fear was never true. And I know that there is no way to get, and trust, said assurances. So instead it's simply onward with life.

That's where we left her

It's a terribly odd thing to wake up from a nap to find a pack of cigarettes in your front pocket. That is, until you recall how you procured them in the first place.

A Brief Return to Non-Office Life

• As I left this morning, I had a fleeting thought that I would later regret not carrying along my raincoat to work. This regret passed quickly once I got outside; the oppressive heat and humidity that accompanies midday made me glad that I was not lugging around anything extra.
• Though I could be doing much more productive things with my time today, (and some not-so-productive things) I'm glad that I am at work. And it's not the impressive twenty-eight dollars which I will earn, but instead the rather odd things that I have witnessed today.
• I really enjoy the horn to signal all the boats to return ashore. I like it even more when it blares wistfully several times in the span of a few minutes, instead of its typical long shout near sunset. Yes, I know this means inclement weather approaches, but it sounds just enough like a whale muted through tons of water to be relaxing. Not that I need anything else to soothe me; I may fall asleep at any moment regardless.
• I'm again wishing I had something to shield me from the likely rain in an hour. Unless the rain turns into a tornado, in which case I'll be glad of having less to carry.

These are a few of my dangerous things

Yes, I know that I've not shut my curtains in awhile (see here). But I was still shocked to find that my previous estimate was likely on the short end, as I've got a nice spider web hanging from the shades.

You coming crashin' to the ground

There's a large fly in my room. A large disabled fly, actually.

It landed near me awhile ago and I swatted it, annoyed at its constant swirls around my room accompanied by its ever-present zzzt. I made contact and sent it hurtling towards the floor. Unfortunately it survived, and now it zips around in unsteady ovals, and keeps resting on my lamp.

Eventually I'll put it out of its misery, though. Damn flies.