Christmas Thievery

Christmas was nice. I haven't gotten to do anything really fun yet, but I'm going out of town next week, so we'll see. :-) I'm hopeful. One of my jobs had a break-in over the break, and some computer equipment was stolen. I can't believe I have to be the one to politely suggest to a coworker that they don't need to go around accusing other people (by calling them at home!!) of doing it, that's the police's job. Sigh. Are there any normal people in the world?!? Hell--of course not; if there were, I'd be married by now.

Why do people jump to conclusions? Why do they always seems to want to insert themselves into someplace where (1) they don't belong, (2) they are incompetent to perform (and I include myself in these; I don't mean incompetent in a bad way--you won't see me hanging out my Ancodia, Girl Detective shingle any time soon), (3) they weren't *asked* to perform, (4) they are more likely than not going to screw up big time and be the cause of misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and insults? I just don't get it. And then, when I suggested this person back off and let the people in charge of handling it handle it, they get all offended. Like I wouldn't be offended if someone who isn't even my superior at work called me at night, at home, during a break, and accused me of stealing computers. What is wrong with the world today? I'm not even old enough to be *saying* things like "what is wrong with the world today?", and I know that's uncool. Frickin' dipshit.

I think that part of the problem is that most people wouldn't know empirical proof if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord, singing "Empirical Proofs Are Here Again". :-) Ok, I somewhat stole that from Black Adder. :-D What galls me is that the person who is doing this is one of the "Never There" underlings during the last semester, and so them calling people, being accusing, is all the worse in my opinion. It's like having your long-lost dimbulb younger brother, the one who left the family ten years ago to become a gold prospector in Alaska, come back and try to tell you how to run Dad's business. What can I say? We hire some stupid people.

Am I upset about losing the stuff? Oh, hell yeah. I hope whomever did it gets caught and all. But really--what can I do? Hmmm...lemme put my brain on this one: Locard's Theory of Transfer says that they've both left and taken something from the crime scene. My superior deductiveness tells me that what they've taken is the computers. And my deductiveness also leads me to the conclusion that what they've left, besides an overall grinchy aura (which it's hard to dust for, and tends to not hold up in court), is clearly fingerprints. Hey--I have a tin of talc here, a whole bitchload of 3x5" index cards, and some leftover scotch tape from Christmas...let me go get on that right now! I can borrow Mom's old-ass vacuum cleaner that one can throw into reverse, fill it with the powder, and have the whole room printed in no time! See what a little ingenuity'll get you?

As always, I have a cunning plan... ;-)

I need more friends!

Sigh...one indication you don't have enough friends is when GMail gives yet more invitations for you to disperse, and you've run out of people to whom you can disperse them. If anyone is interested in a GMail invitation, send an email; I've got five left.

Well, I did end up getting IMed by Nastypants. Sigh. Teach me to not sign off and just sit there, cowering. You know that Toby Keith song, "I wanna talk about me", or whatever it's called (can you tell I'm not exactly the biggest fan Country Music has ever had?)? Ok, so I endured that for a while. Not that I really should complain, because in truth, I don't fare too well talking about myself. I can do ok in conversations talking about ideas, events, things like that; I just have a hard time talking about me-stuff, because I always feel like the other person is getting bored, or something.

Ok, so anyway: Ever since then, I've been at work at my other job, stocking up on hours for holiday shopping. And I've actually started my book. No kidding. And I'm not going to stop until it's done, even if it completely sucks.

One more week of workng my butt off, and then I will cut back to regular part-time hours, and have some semblance of time off. Sort of. More about that later, I guess.

End-of-semester kvetch

Well, I get this weekend off. Yay. I'll probably just sleep and listen to A Prairie Home Companion. I have things I have to get done, but the past two weeks have been horrible, and I need a mental health break.

I am so very totally looking forward to not having to put up with certain people over the break. Good lord; it's amazing how, when you're under stress, people you would normally be able to just tune out are able to drive you batty. Miss Rudeass, whom I've mentioned before--she's the one who likes to pick fights with the Caffinettes at coffee shops, waitstaff, and anyone else she feels is "beneath" her--has been in full effect these past few weeks. And what's funny is, just as I started typing that last sentence, she just signed onto AIM. I can practice my ignoring her abilities...I'd put on my "away" message, but I wasn't expecting her on, and I've learned from dealing with people like her that it's wisest to just ignore them--don't befriend them, but don't antagonise them. So I'm crossing my fingers, wincing, hoping she doesn't IM me. So far, so good. :-)

The reason I say don't antagonize people like that is because, first off, they have a lot more time than normal people do to devote to campaigning against others. In her case, a whole, whole lot of time, because she's not pulling her weight on the project for sure, and she's doing lousy in classes. But, of course, with her there's an excuse for everything. This semester, she's been moaning about how she's so busy with classes, yet she doesn't hand in anything on time (if at all). It's been difficult handling that issue with grace this semester, because now that we're essentially working and going to school together, it's difficult to dodge the comments others are making. I don't want to get involved; I'm neither for, nor against. That's been my motto. Now, in all honesty, I wish the bitch death on a stick only after a brutal crab infestation, and maybe a round or two of leprosy, but I'm keeping that to myself. :-D

Now, ultimately, it's only a matter of time before everyone wises up to her. As it is now, there's already grumblings here and there. Once they wise up, she'll wander off to greener pastures. But in the meantime, antagonizing her can make it so that she starts gossiping about me, criticizing me, and everything else. It's just not worth it. And I have to keep reminding myself that Life is not fair, and sometimes I won't get to directly witness someone's richly deserved comeuppance. S'ok. I'll cope.

I'd love to be self-indulgent and kvetch about her some more, but I won't. Augh...ok--just a little more. :-) Well, indirectly. As for the "driving me batty" part, once I begged off of going with her for coffee and etc., and a few of us stopped inviting her to lunch, she took up with another girl in our group, and a few of us have nicknamed the pair "the magpies"; Miss Rudeass has a drilling tone that can inspire a raging migraine in 0.10 seconds, and as god is my witness, I believe her kindergarten teacher must've been deaf, 'cos the girl seems to have never been told to use her "indoor voice" in her whole life! The other one is not loud, but she talks about things she knows nothing about as if she'd invented it. Usually you see this behaviour only in men, but I possess knowledge of a female specimen, I tell you. Well, anyway, these two were being their typical magpie selves out in the hall about something they both knew nothing about, chatting each other up in what had to be one of the larger ego blow jobs that poor hall'd witnessed in years (in really loud voices, so that everyone could hear how bright they were). If I am remembering correctly, they were talking about Wi-Fi, but I might be mistaken. Regardless, three of us were (unbeknownst to them) around the corner in one of the offices, within earshot. And the guy with us, who is rather techish, was commenting on everything they said--kind of like a third party in the conversation--and it was hilarious! Miss Rudeass would proclaim something silly, he'd comment something to the effect of "No, it isn't, but I'm sure you have an even less-informed opinion to share--"Sophie", what do you think?" And then "Sophie" (not her real name) would pipe up with something, ironically enough, less-informed. This went on for probably a half-hour, and I was crying from laughing so hard!

So my life doesn't suck all that much. :-) There are some high points in it. Well, not nearly enough--I'm still not dating that really cute guy in one of my classes--but it'll do for now.

things with which I occupy myself

Yes, besides being petty.

It's snowflake time! http://snowflakes.lookandfeel.com/make-a-flake.swf

omfg...

Ok...call me petty. I just hate it when someone who doesn't deserve it gets lucky. It annoys the hell out of me. Especially when they gloat. Fricking loser.


Augh.

Huh?

Who is better than Kinkaid? Ummm...Vettriano, for one. I can't believe I just had this discussion. Some people--I swear...

I was just talking online with a work-friend, teling them about the Kinkade Store, and they lit into me a-cos they like him. I didn't say I didn't like him, I just said his stuff could be better.

Geez. Teach me to have an opinion.

I have to remember to write about the whole fiascolike debate over whether or not a policeman will write a ticket if they didn't see a traffic accident. I'm personally thinking that once people are able to have brain implants that make it so that they are able to (among other things, I'm sure) do something like access the internet, one of the businesses that will stand to really make a mint off of the whole thing is snopes.com. Kee-rist.

I'm just going to hell with myself! Auk!

Breaking a pattern of trustworthiness, I've thrown caution to the wind and called in sick. Yes, that's right--I have today off. Well, illegitimately. But illegitimately counts! So what am I doing with my ill-gotten day?

Nothing constructive. It feels fabulous.

I hope this isn't some disintigration of personality where I'm going to just keep calling in sick until they fire me, thereby launching my career as Total Slacker and Bum. But it might be. I mean...this is uncharacteristic of me. I'm scaring myself. :-0


giggle

So what's on the agenda for today? I'm going to go visit a friend who is running a restaurant-stand thingy, and then I'm going to pick up laundry detergent, and then I'm going to maybe watch TV, but probably study for my final in two weeks.

I am so totally looking forward to the shopping part. It's detergent, but detergent counts as shopping. Even if detergent doesn't technically count as shopping, it counts as shopping considering that it's not just detergent. I also have to get Plax, fabric softener, and dryer sheets. Now that is shopping.

Radioactive spiders

One last thing:

I really love Christmas lights, but some houses end up looking like they’re inhabited by radioactive spiders. I mean, good god—it’s supposed to enhance the house and lawn—not obliterate them!

A Shopping Trip Now Redux

Wowwy-cool! I posted my last post from my cell phone! That rocks, though I don’t have a lot of room to write a full post. Butsoanyway… I slunk off early to go shopping (or is that slinked?), and let me tell you—it was fun! I know I said before that I needed to go shopping like I needed another hole in my head, but I…ummm…wasn’t…errr…talking about…ummm…oh, I never said that. No, really—I didn’t. You misunderstood! It wasn’t me! I was speaking metaphorically! Never did the thought occur to me! I’m being maligned by the liberal media!

Well, it works for politicians.

I went out for lunch and spooged something on the right side of my shirt because I am as graceless and clumsy as they come. It was so obvious because it was a grey shirt, so I had to decide to either forge ahead into the heart of shopping darkness looking like a dorkburgerweeniegirl, or skulk back home and change.

“To hell with that,” thought I, “I’m made of tougher stuff! There’ll be no mincing back home to change the pinafore—I must progress--or die!”

I got a few strange looks with that one; perhaps I shouldn’t have said it out loud. ;-)

So I hustled my butt down to the mall. I had to vulture around the parking lot for at least twenty minutes, but I finally found a space. The place was crowded as hell. I immediately went and bought a new shirt. Ok, so I’m not made of tougher stuff; I lied. Get over it. My new shirt is a really gorgeous purple one, with some green and grey in it. I had a lot of time to admire it as I stood in line for the bathroom to change into it. Yeah, I know—halfway through standing there, I realized I could have gone into the fitting room.

Not too bright. I know.

Ok—so then I was dressed and stuff and didn’t look like a major pig anymore. I found the coolest sparkly Givenchy dangly junk jewellery earrings that matched my new shirt, and it would’ve looked really way-cool with my hair up and a lot of eyeliner and mascara on. And high heels. And a matching sparkly choker. And I would really, really look way-cool with a new purse, too…

Then I realized I was shopping for myself. Damnit.

Ok. So I put the earrings back. I did find a pretty blouse for my mom, and I would have gotten her usual perfume, but she’s decided she likes Imari, from Avon, in the past few months, so I’ll have to go get that elsewhere. I tried to not buy the PWP Esteé Lauder had, but I failed. So I suck, maybe, but I totally blame the Bing-Bing noise they play in department stores noise for subliminally making me shop against my will.

In case you didn’t know, the Bing-Bing noise causes your brain to go all mushy, and you can’t think. The only thing that undoes the destruction of the Bing-Bing noise is the Bloodleoodleoop noise made by the credit card reader. It’s very pernicious. Swear to god—I read it in like maybe that Vance Packard book. Maybe.

Ok, so some of it I might have embellished a little.

After I did the department store shopping thing, I went out into the main part of the mall; I wanted to get a DVD for my son-friend, and I had a coupon for $10 off any purchase at Origins left over from my birthday. They have this great charcoal sludge that sucks the junk out of your skin. It rocks.
Ok; on to fugly pictures: As I was walking to Origins, I passed by the Thomas Kinkade—Painter of People That Have Never Heard of Energy Conservation store, where they sell all of his paintings. Ok, I’m exaggerating. His paintings aren’t fugly. Some of those things are pretty expensive! And, sure—he’s good. I’m not debating that. But does everyone always have to have every light in the damn house a-blazing away in the middle of the day? And it’s not even done in a way that’s surprising, or contrasting, like Magritte’s Empire of Light. Why can’t he pick one—preferably leaving the lights on inside, but lower, and the sky darker, as if it were dusk? Frankly, there’s too much light, and I can always hear my mother yelling, “doesn’t anyone know how to turn a light switch off in this house?!?” whenever I look at his paintings. I love the idea of Kinkade’s stuff; some of the scenes are amazingly beautiful (but remember, I’m a girl that loves the warm, cozy cottages kind of thing to begin with, so I’m an easy sell), and he’s raised the bar on motel art for sure. For my personal preferences, I prefer others more, but…he could suck worse. Ok, end of Ancodia’s art review.

I shopped for what felt to my feet like centuries (I was actually glad by the end of it that I didn’t buy new high heels to wear), and then I went to another mall with my sister to do the browsing for knicknacks for work-friends and acquaintance-friends stuff. I still have all of that shopping to do, because in the middle of it, we decided that we just didn’t feel like shopping anymore, so we went to leave. As I was about to pull out onto the main road, there was an accident in the mall parking lot—a car ran over a motorcycle. The driver of the motorcycle wasn’t hurt; he was going slowly enough that he actually jumped off the bike before the car rolled over it—go figure, huh? But the car also knocked him to the ground and rolled over his bike. My sister saw more of it than I did, so we stopped to see if anyone needed help, and the motorcycle rider said if we witnessed it to stay, so we did. Then there was drama—the motorcycle rider’s girlfriend showed up (they’d just been to dinner at the mall), and mall security came, and the guy in the car didn’t have a driver’s license, and so on. After the police left, we decided to be really indulgent and go to The Cheesecake Factory. We were seated next to a couple that argued—loudly—throughout the meal whether or not Rick James was dead, if Teena Marie was in the Mary Jane Girls, and if Teena Marie was actually Rick James’ daughter or his cousin, what type of couch Rick James had, and whether or not Teena Marie probably had one, too—you name it. It was just weird as hell. I mean, I have dreams that are less bizarre than their dinner conversation was. At one point, I asked my sister if she thought Appollonia’s Barcalounger could whup Vanity’s La Z Boy, and what she thought Prince might have to say about that, and can you believe the bitch gave me the “shut-up” eyes and kicked me under the table???

I’ll have to save the rest for later…I’m getting really tired. But today was fun. :-) It’s the first Black Friday I’ve gotten to shop in about five years—every other year, I’ve been working. So that was good. That was really very, very good, so Ancodia’s a happy girl today!

’night.

This is living! a/k/a A Shopping Trip Now

Shopping, fugly pictures, car crashes, and Christmas lights done by radioactive spiders... What more could a girl want?

Black Friday! Yay!

It's International Shopping Day! I am so very heading out to the mall!

Oh, craps.

Ok... I turned in my reviews, and I hit the open road for a pre-Thanksgiving getaway. I had nowhere else to go, so I went gambling on a ship. I played craps for about five hours, and I won a little bit. Not counting my initial investment--I don't count that as winnings. I'm not bold; I mostly made line bets, I think they're called. I have the attention span of a gnat, and every time I play craps, I have to relearn it, it seems. Well, that, and I play fairly infrequently. The last time I played was in April, when I had to pass through Atlantic City on my way to Boston (I flew up, stayed the day in Atlantic City, and then rented a car and drove on to Providence and then Boston on business). Next time I play, I'll probably lose--that's the way it goes. If I thought it would go any differently, I'd raise money for my son-friend by playing all the time. :- )

I went to play for a few reasons. Number one was that I had nothing else to do. Number two was that, well, I'm a social creature, and craps is a social game. Thirdliest is because some of the employees are cute as hell.

Number one is an oft-visited theme; I really don't have all that much I can do in my spare time when I do have spare time. So I have a few things that are easy enough to just pick up where I left off. I really didn't feel like studying on Wednesday, I didn't feel like reading, or watching TV, or anything that was solitary. I need to go shopping like I need another hole in my head, plus shopping isn't exactly social. I mean, true, you talk to salesclerks, but there's not any...real talking. Or fun. Playing craps is very social, like almost instantaneously. I think it's probably like the camaraderie of the trenches, or something. :-) But there's almost always high spirits, joking, and you can talk to just about anyone. Some people are weirdass turkey freaks, but s'ok--most of them are very nice and funny people. And whenever I play table games, I usually start out at the low tables, so it's not all that expensive. And one of the boxmen we had was attractive in an oh-my-god way...

Ok. I know I'm pathetic. This also is an oft-visited theme. And the scary part is, I know it. Because I've been this way all of my life--and the sad fact of my life is that I don't fall in lust with those whom my friends think of as superhotties. I can't even begin to count the number of times I've been teased about it. But guys in formal dress have a soupçon of unapproachable sexiness anyway. Add to that the kind of...I don't know--tired seriousness?--this guy had, and I'm attracted. Not that anyone like that would probably put up with me for a minute (I have an inclination towards silliness that sometimes rears its goofy head. Oh--ok, ok: most of the time I'm a goofy pain-in-the-ass klutzy moron), but nonetheless...I think it's sexy. I think it has something to do with looking so serious, maybe; thousands of very dirty, appealing ways to alleviate that preoccupation swarm into my mind that most all involve my mouth and various parts of his body. And this guy...I mean he was really, amazingly fucking beautiful, and if I had any guts (and it weren't in some setting where there's not a proverbial snowball's chance in hell), I would have... Oh, hell--I would have done absolutely nothing. We all know this. Sigh.

Oh--wait--I've lost the added, "if I had any guts" in medias res; my bad. An astronomical amount hinges upon that part. Like the entire issue of my doing anything. :-) Perhaps I should start drinking--that might give me added confidence! ohhhh...let's see... After the three or four Long Island Iced Teas required to comfy me up a bit, I could sashay (eh--you say trip, stumble, and fall; I say sashay. It's artistic license) over to stand next to third base. Then, over the din, I announce my proposal:

Ancodia: I came here to lose $x. It's yours if you come upstairs with me after you get off.
Third: Well, thank you Ma'am, but I'm married. And...
Ancodia: I'm not talking to you, buttmunch.
Third: Could I also point out...
Ancodia: Wouldja shut the hell up? I am *so* not talking to you! Waitress! Another Long Island, please!
Third: I think you've had enough, and I'd like to point out...
Ancodia: Shuup! I'm trying to make a proposition here!
Boxman: May I help you?
Ancodia: ummm...just a sec; I've gotta drink this first... ::tips waitress, drinks fifth LI Tea in one gulp::
Third: Ma'am, you can't set your empty glass on the table. Now might I point out before this goes any further that...
Ancodia: Shaddap! You schtiffd me onna field bet 'bout three throws ago. Plus you're married. So shaddap! As I was schaying b'fore...
Third: Ma'am, could you say it without leaning across me and putting your hands on the table?
Ancodia: I need the schtability.
Third: I don't care. It's against the rules. And could I point out Ma'am, that...
Ancodia: SCHADDAP! Ok--I'm offa your schilly table. ::falls backward into pit::
Pit Boss: Is there a problem here?
Ancodia: Noddaddall. I'mma try this one more time. An' couldja tell dorkus here to shaddap furra sec? He schtiffed me and then knocked me inna head wiffis stick b'fore. An' 'e's married. I'm so not innerested innis 'pinion...
Third: Ma'am, I've apologised to you for the stick.
Ancodia: SCHADDAP!
Pit Boss: Ok, ok--let her talk.
Ancodia: Thannya. As I wash sayin', I thinkyer gorgeous...
Third: Well, thank you. But you have to realise that this...
Ancodia: Imma grab his goddam schtick over there and shove it upyer assh if you say one more word.
Pit Boss: Let her say whatever she wants to say.
Ancodia: Thannya. Why's the damn room schpinnin'?
Pit Boss: Ma'am, what is it that you want?
Ancodia: I wanna talkta him. ::points to the Boxman; the Pit Boss motions for him to come over::
Boxman: Yes?
Ancodia: ::grabbing the Boxman by the lapels:: I gotta schtay up, ok? Jus' work wif me here...
Boxman: And?
Ancodia: Anneye think yer absofuckinglootly gorgeous. Anneye'll pay youta come upschtairs wif me affer you geddoff, anneye...
Third: I'd really like to point out that...
Ancodia: Shuup, jerk.
Boxman: Is that all?
Ancodia: Ohellno; I'm offerinya tha 'posal ovva lifetime. I'll payya, you hafta do nothin'. Schwear.
Third: If I could...
Ancodia: Well, 'cept I wanna kissya. 'Least once. Other'n that, tho', nothin'
Third: Could I...
Ancodia: Whaadya want thass so damn 'portant?!?
Third: I'd like to just mention that this is a cruise ship. There is no "upstairs," at least not in the manner you're thinking.
Ancodia: Ohshit.
Third: I've tried several times...
Ancodia: Ummm...yeah. Ummm...lemme work out the logistics then; I jus' hafta revise a bit...
Third: Been trying to tell you.
Ancodia: Ummm...shaap an' lemme think...
Third: For quite a while.
Ancodia: [to Third] Shaddap. [to Boxman] How'bout yer place? Eyeshoont be drivin' anytime soon...
Pit Boss: Ma'am, I think you might want to come with me...
Ancodia: No. I wanna go make Boxy here's night.
Pit Boss: Why don't you let the nice security officer take you for a walk outside for some fresh air?
Ancodia: I don' think walkin' sagood idea. An' I think I'm gettin' somewhere wif Boxy.
Security: Come this way, please. ::pulls Ancodia towards the door::
Ancodia: Wairress! Bringga Tea ou'side, k? Imma be the one prolly in handcuffs walkin' the gangplank...


So maybe drinking's not such a good idea. :-) Sigh.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I guess I'm off to Chinesefoodland. The upside of this is that I'll get more fortune cookie fortunes. Yay!

The Reviewer's Dilemma

Note to self--don't ever, ever take another class where you have to review others' work. If you've never done it, don't. If you have, you know what I'm talking about. You're in a position where, true, your submission may have sucked (at least mildly), but everyone else's did, too. And, the ones reviewing you aren't going to be kind to you. So, you think, why should you be to them? But then you think how nice it would be if we could all just get along, as it were, and maybe they're being nice to you, so why not be nice to them? It's like the Prisoner's Dilemma for refereed research. :-) On the other hand, if you let something slide that really, truly sucks, your instructor will notice and call you on it. And, hoo-buddy, some of these suck. I'd love to detail a few, but I'm too petrified that some Google search by one of the authors on their "pet project" would turn this up. And that's not to say that some of them aren't good--they are. Ummm...but not all of them. Yeesh.

Even my blog hates me...

My last post never showed. Weird. My son-friend is having $600-worth of oral surgery, and another $1,600 is going to be needed in a few weeks. Where am I supposed to come up with this money from? I don't understand why...why this always happens to me, why he can't save, why...

Ok. I'm pissed.

...and fruit flies like a banana

Ok...it's been a long time since I posted; I suck. This has, beyond any doubt, been the worst month of like, the past five years. I literally haven't had the time to stop for a moment. So what has this earned me? Well, in my godawful mathstuff class, I have a high B or low A right now. So that's good. But I ended up with a well-deserved migraine today that made me literally *have* to stop for about two hours. I was doing ok until someone else came into the office and turned on the lights (I'd had them off; there was already too much light coming in from the window and monitor). Then it really skyrocketed to where I couldn't think. I'm not a Drama Queen; I rarely call in sick, or even get sick. And maybe I should have stopped a while before, or taken the weekend off, or something, but when I was a child, I remember getting yelled at and stuff for being sick, and I feel guilty now because of that. I feel like I am being indulgent and lazy, or something; that's the best way I can describe it.

So I went to another office that's not used much to work there, or rest, or something, but a work-friend (the younger guy I'd mentioned) was there. He wanted me to stay, but he had the lights on, the hallway was bright, I couldn't think, so I said something--I'm not sure what--and left. I went up to the 4th floor bathroom that's not used much and has a chaise longue. I stayed there for about two hours with a damp folded up paper towel over my eyes, 'cos the damn bathroom has no light switches. When I got up, I felt sort of better. I got up because my cell phone wouldn't stop ringing; six people called me during those two hours. Each time I looked and it wasn't a life-or-death thing, judging by the caller, so after the first call, I'd put it on silent and just looked at it when it buzzed to see if it was potentially a life-or-death thing. Ok...so I suck. I'm a bad person, a bad worker, and a bad friend. At least that's how I feel.

When I could get back down to my car, I took an Axert (I don't care what anyone says; Axert works, and Imitrex doesn't, and I'd love to spray paint that on the side of my health insurance company's building--their "preferred" prescription is Imitrex and so I have to pay double for Axert, which means I can only afford to refill it every four to six months), and so now I am feeling mostly better.

I know I sound whiny. And I know I sound like "the sick girl, " or "the girl who has to have exceptions for everything," but I'm really not. I try to not be like that, and it really annoys me when people do act like that. So I go out of my way to not act like that.

So that's what's been up with me. Coming up in my life is a huge final paper in one class (plus "peer evaluations" of classmates' huge final papers), the Final From Hell in the mathstuffs class, a couple of presentations in my last "easy-ish" class (I hate those, but they're like, a necessary and relatively lesser Evil). And I have to play catch-up over winter break, so there's no winter break. Sigh. I've changed my mind--I wanna be a shepherd. I think shepherds get winter break. In fact, I'm fairly certain of it.

disgusting, and an update!

Augh; in my haste in posting last, I maybe didn't put enough emphasis on how totally disgusting I think it is to get with people that are younger than you, at least if they are significantly younger. So no, I'm not "dating" anyone younger; we kind of work together, and he's funny and very intelligent, and we've done some stuff like getting coffee together and all a few times. I would not even classify this as a crush, he's like someone who could be my brother (were my brother not an absolute asshole, but we'll not go there). I mean, there's a lot that happens in a four or five year period of time; people change a lot, and that's a huge hurdle to get over, plus it's like child molestation, or something, and it's gross. Not that I'm slightly opinionated on this subject, or anything. So I didn't mean to imply anything gross, and I don't think it's wrong to have vague thoughts of "if I were a few years younger, I'd be chasing your butt all over town". It's just if you *act* on that that it's wrong. Well, it *is* wrong if you're like, in your 20's or 30's, and the butt you want to chase is like, sixteen. That's disgusting beyond words, and in need of more therapy than you can shake a stick at, but I'm not talking about that sort of thing when I'm talking about this guy. It's a friendship thing only, and truth is, I'm not looking, and I'm not interested. So there.

And I know I'm being a hypocrite, but it seems to me to be a bigger problem if it's an older girl and younger guy; I'm in agrees with those that think that it's less gross, and even normal if the guy is older. Though we're not talking twenty years' worth of difference...that's back into weird, with few exceptions. I mean, look at Anna Nicole, fer chrissakes. That's like freak show weird. But I was once very in love with a guy who was ten years older than me, and I don't think that's weird. And if a guy is like a year or two younger than a girl, that's not too weird--it's just when you get into it being like four, five years that it starts to be a little gross, and that's where I'm at with this guy, so the idea of dating is a little "eew". The idea of being friends is cool, but *dating* definitely rates an "eew".

I need to be writing a paper due tomorrow right now, and I'm not. I am so burnt out it's unreal. I am so over this whole term...

So far this holiday season, I've done nothing fun. I've *wanted* to do stuff, but can't justify the time expenditure. So there's nothing new, and I'm typing for basically no reason. As if there ever had been a reason...ha, ha. I feel like I'm just hanging in there until the Christmas break. That's a sucky way to feel, really. Things would be nicer if passing time weren't something endured, but enjoyed. Sigh...I've been reading The Writer's Almanac too often recently. :-) Does it show?

Thanks for the coolness, Kate!

I found this link while playing online when I should be working:

http://www.kate.net/funstuff/calendars.html

This is *wonderful*!! The October ones are gorgeous!

Ok, so anyway, since I'm here...

I am swamped. Drowning. So far, this Christmas season sucks. But, on the other hand, there are sort of good things; Number One Good Thing is that I am not failing that god-awful math class. Nopers, I just got my midterm back a few days ago, and I have a solid B. Considering that this class is one in which I aspire to mediocrity, I can live with a B. Well, ok...other than that, there's not much else that's good per se. Everything else is just liveable. Well, another good thing is that I have gotten to hang out a few times with someone I work with who is a great and very funny guy. Too bad he's younger than I am. Sigh. Oh, well--it's the best I can do as far as male company goes at this point.

Speaking of male company, want the living definition of pathetic? When you go for a Pap, and your Gyn tells you you need to get a "social life". Who on earth ever has been so pitiable as to have that happen? Ummm...right here--Ancodia. Yeppers, I went for my yearly, and actually got a sit-down talk after about do I get depressed, am I looking for a boy/girl friend, and don't I think I need a more fulfilling social life, because I am a "beautiful, bubbly girl with a wonderful personality [Ed. Note: I am?] who seems to be rejecting...[Ed. Note: here, to me, it kinda trailed off into that Charlie Brown's Teacher's "Wop Wop Woo" kind of talk, but it took the general direction of why am I not on birth control and sleeping with someone, fer chrissake?]". I told him everyone gets depressed, and anyone who says they don't is a liar, which he conceded, and I tried to explain that I would have a hard time fitting anyone into my life right now. I was tempted to tell him that from a distance, men are ok, but up close and once they get used to you, they tend to be major jerks, plus the fact that I seem to have been born without the ability to have an orgasm fairly seem to be putting the "social life" thing on a *far* back burner, but I didn't. My bet is he would have said that not all men are like that (and he's right; only the ones that are interested in me are like that), and as far as orgasms go, try harder. Or something else equally helpful that essentially amounts to my not putting enough torque behind it, or something. :-P So I left with a promise to think about getting a "social life". The temptation coming from my Inner Satirist to stop on the way home, buy a vibrator, and tick that one off my "to-do" list was almost overwhelming. True, it involved shopping, but I just wasn't up to it then, because Paps make you all scratchy and crampy, and my breasts were starting to hurt from the breast exam. Being a girl sucks.

ok, ok...so I lied. I'm *not* going to think seriously about getting a "social life", as it were. But what was I supposed to say to him?

Ok...back to writing this dumb paper that's due on Thursday and I won't have finished. Auuuugh!

Jingle bells, jingle bells!!!

It’s the Christmas (or Holiday) Season. Right now. As of September 21st. Remember that I’d promised this explanation? Ok—here it is: it’s the Holiday Season from September 21st to February 13th every year because I said it is. Why did I say it is? Because I wanted to. What gives me the authority to determine when the holiday season starts and stops? By virtue of the fact that I am me. Don’t be thick about it.

My rationale for doing this is as follows: Like it matters.

A more in-depth rationale for doing this: It’s all a big holiday anyway, the original holidays don’t mean much anymore, and so I figured that I would just start the holiday season on my birthday. So I tried that out for a year, and then I felt guilty about leaving my Mom out, so I decided to start the holiday season one day earlier, on her birthday. It encompasses her birthday, my birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, the largest shopping day of the year, Hanukkah, Festivus, Christmas, Newtonmas, Kwanzaa, New Years’, and the whole holiday denouement up to Valentine’s Day, among other holidays. That way, after New Years’ Day, you don’t have to get all depressed because it’s all over, because it isn’t over for another month! You can still enjoy the snow and cold and stuff. I can’t see why no one had thought of this before. Brings new meaning to the holiday greeting, “Merry Xmas, for infinitely large values of X”! :-)

So happy holidays!

And, my holidays don’t discriminate, so you can celebrate them in any way you wish, no matter what religion (or lack of) you are. You can even change religions halfway through—I don’t care. And, since I’m a Reverend in the Universal Life Church, I can condone that sort of thing. Or even encourage it. :-D So that’s why we are in the Holiday season right this very second.

kiss kiss, barf barf.

I haven't forgotten to post, I've not had the time! Right now, I'm listening to the "Halloween" station on my ISP's radio thingy (ok, like it's hard to guess that it's AOHell) while I try to finish some homework that's due tomorrow that I don't know bupkis about. Sigh. Icky-yucky-stinky-stupid factor analysis. The Grim Grinning Ghosts song from Disney's Haunted Mansion is playing...it's cool! :-) I love this season so much, too bad it has to get all sucked up by all this school stuff and everything.

My car's ok, and I haven't had the chance to check the lottery numbers yet! Auk!

I had better get to work--I have to finish this PAF/PCA schtuff, and then read over some stuff and fake-up a presentation really fast, and then read two articles and come up with these busywork "thought questions" that are required for my Thursday class. Doublesigh. It's hard to get motivated...I'm sleepy, damnit.

My son-friend has an interview for a relatively good job tomorrow. He says he's going to tell them he has "absence seizures". I tried to reason with him, and suggest that he at least phrase it in terms they'll understand, like saying he has epilepsy, but he wants to do it his way. I say if he does it that way, he's not going to get the job. Sigh again. He really needs the insurance so he can get his medication adjusted so he will stop having seizures, so I don't see why such a big deal has to be made of it. Maybe that's dishonest of me, but whatever. No one is ever going to go out of their way to help you in this world; I've at least learned that much.

I did get to talk to that cute guy in my Mathstuff class today; too bad I looked like hell. But he was nice, like he always is. God, he's so cute! So that was a nice thing. And so is my new car. :-) So some things are very good.

Ok... I'm getting to work now. Phooey. And yay, Christmas and Halloween! :-) When I post next, I'll explain why we're in the Christmas season right now--as of Sept. 21st, to be exact.

The fate of my old car...

Ok. My old car was sold. For $1,100. But, on the positive side, it was sold to another dealership, and so I can still buy it back. If I win the lottery, that is. Or *when* I do, rather. I have got to keep positive. We're about to have a big storm here, and I had to park my new car outside, so now I have to worry about it getting wrecked. The basketball hoop in my driveway is freestanding (sort-of; it's on a pole that's been stuck into the ground), and I'm just hoping it doesn't crash down onto my new car. Sigh. Always something to worry about. If I had my old car, I wouldn't worry so much, because anything cosmetic is not that big a deal, but...well, I don't know. I've been spoilt over the past three days of driving my new car. So, when it gets destroyed or all trashed up, I can at least have the past three days to look back upon with fondness.

So this has been and shall be a banner week for me. And I want my old car back. And I don't want my new car to be hurt. And I feel like could cry for a week over everything! Grr. As if my life weren't stressful enough already.

I normally enjoy rain and storms, but I'll not be enjoying this one, I don't think. Too much else to consider and worry over. Too bad I don't drink much, or take pills. Tonight'd be a good time for either, or both. :-P

I miss my car, altruism, the lottery, and my Plan!

I miss my old car. We understood each other. I am ragingly sad. This really sucks. I want to buy my old car back. I am really, really sad. I know it sounds stupid, but it's the truth. Right now, I wish I hadn't done this, and I feel like my car probably misses me. I actually did cry. Ok, so I'm stupid.

:-) I could sneak back onto the lot and go steal my old car back...I *do* have an old spare set of keys. And I know my old car would be so glad to see me...

Ok. I'm not going to do that. But I would like to buy my old car back. I could just drive it sometimes, so it doesn't feel unloved.

On a related note (bear with me on this one), I collect fortune cookie fortunes; I do this for a number of reasons, none of them good ones: first of all, I think they're the best kind of advice, if you're thinking through something. If you try to talk to someone about whatever it is you're thinking through, they're not going to listen to you, and when they do give their input, it's usually got some agenda behind it. With fortune cookie fortunes, you don't have that problem; true, they're not listening to you--but we've already established that your friends aren't either. What makes the fortune cookie's advice better is that it's without the hidden agenda (that plus it's trying at least to make you feel better about yourself). So it's like impartial, kind help--and that's always nice, even if it's wrong. My second reason is because I feel that fortune cookie fortunes are a good example of altruism. I mean, the person writing them is just trying to make people feel better--there's no ulterior motive. Well, I know that there's the ulterior motive of buying the fortune cookie, but to that I would point out that they're given out free in Chinese restaurants. Now I know that the next thing one could say is that the Chinese restaurants buy them because people like them, and so there's the profit motive. To that, I would just say "shut up". That may not have even occurred to them--they might be just doing it to be nice, and, Occam's Razor being what it is and all, we should look to the simpler explanation first before accepting all kinds of elaborate explanations involving middlemen mediating the relationship between the (non)purchaser and the nice little old Chinese guy sitting in a back room typing out helpful sayings on teensy pieces of paper with a typewriter that has red ink. So there. It's altruism, quod erat demonstrandum. Pfft.

Having established firmly that Chinese fortune cookie fortunes are good, impartial, altruistic advice, a third reason they are great is because they have lottery numbers. Now I know that the lottery is "a tax on ignorance", and blah, blah, blah. I actually rarely play it. I don't play because, first off, I am in agrees with Voltaire on this one--you have a better chance of getting struck by lightning than you have of winning. Secondly, assuming that we all think Voltaire's da bombest, thereby making it kind of a moot point, I don't play because I forget to. A lot. Like actually 99% of the time. I can't say that I would play more often if I did think there was a good chance I would win, because I think I would still forget. I'm just that way.

Butsoanyway (yes, that is *so* a word), as I was cleaning out my car, I found an old fortune cookie fortune. It had been there for a long, long time; it was wedged between the center console and the seat, towards the back. You would have to be practically tearing the car apart to have found it (which I might as well have been doing...ugh). So my Brilliant Plan (yes, it does *so* deserve capital letters!) is this: I'm going to remember to play the numbers in the next lottery, and they'll win. And then I'll take the money (well, a couple hundred dollars of it) and buy back my old car.

Brilliant, isn't it?

Update...wheee...

I give my solemn vow that this entry will NOT start off with "Ok". God, that's annoying.

I haven't done anything phenomenal today. Yesterday, I bought a car. Well, I figure I deserve something--like A/C. Now I have to do all the mundane crap, like clean out the car I'm trading in, and all. Bleah. But it's cool; I haven't had a "nice" car in like, forever. I'm not really very image-conscious, which is why I've been driving my POS for so long, but I have to admit, it's nice to (potentially) not have to worry about all the headaches that come with driving a POS. Like breaking down, and having no A/C. My previous car was a 1991, so you can imagine the details, I'm sure. So I've exchanged those headaches for the headaches of having monthly payments. Eek. Truth is, that makes me a little nervous. Ok, that makes me more than a little nervous. I don't like being *that* much in debt. But, on the other hand, I have this coming weekend off, and I'm tempted to drive somewhere--it'll be nice not having to worry about breaking down, or something. Sigh. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm neurotic sometimes. :-) No--really--I have my moments. Swear. :-)

Ok, so I'm happy. I'm happy I bought the car. I feel a little guilty, like I don't deserve it, and a little anxious about the payments and stuff, but otherwise, I'm happy. I just get a little scared when good things happen to me. It's like an anticipatory kind of scared. So I'm stupid--we knew that.

I wish I had something to go do tonight. :-\ Weird, I know. I'm not that big a birthday celebrator, but I do wish now that I had something to do. Well, besides clean out my car. I'd better go get finished.

P.S.

Today is my birthday. Yay. Now that that's done with...

Ok, so I'm not much for celebration.

Now if I could just get some sleep for my birthday, that would rock. I'll write more later. Promise.

Excedrin P.M. is your friend...

Sigh. No--really--it is.

Stupid bimbo forgets to type a title...

Ok--I'm temporarily giving up on posting by email, because the font comes out so dark. I probably should just change templates, but I kind of like this one. Maybe I will change later.

I'm playing online poker right now (ok, well sort-of playing; actually, I'm just clicking stuff when my turn is up. I'm not in much of a thinking mood right now.), and it's raining. It's actually pretty nice; I just love the sound of water--fountains, rain, waterfalls--anything. I hope it rains all night. It's always easier for me to fall asleep when it does, even though it underscores my loneliness in a way. Well, to me it does; I'd rather be falling asleep with someone.

I was going to go on to sleep--well, actually, I did--and just post this later. But I just got up. Grrr. No more rain, and the frogs are chirping. Well, really not chirping--more like quacking. Loud. Picture a flock of ducks on your front lawn--yeah, that. I have an indoor cat, and he wants nothing more than to go outside and find out what is making all that noise--it's kind of cute. Like he'd know what to do with a frog; if it jumped, he'd probably wet himself; he's a big chicken. But he's cute.

Ok...I'm going to try to sleep again now.

depressing

    Ok; I still haven't figured out how to fix the text.  This could be be because I am stupid.  I guess this means I need to either stop posting by email, or get a new template that doesn't do this.  Depressing, because I kind of liked this template.  I wouldn't mind so much if they had a template that had penguins and snow, or autumn leaves, or something.  Or a pretty stream, or...  Ok.  I know.  Shut up.  Sigh. 

email posting weirdness...

 

    Well, I see my post, but the text is darkened.  Why?  Who knows.  It's bedtime.  The Rebellion of the Blog is thwarted by me being sleepy and not caring right now.  Too bad, Mr. Blog. 

silly poker people, like me

 

    Hmmm...ok.  So this is my first post by email!  :-)  I am getting so blogger-savvy, it's scary!  :-)  Gee, I hope the sarcasm comes through loud and clear...  I'd really hoped to be further along in my understanding by now, but, eh.  Can't do everything.  Right now, instead of sleeping, I'm playing online poker.  Now how bright a life decision is that?  Well...so what.  I have to hone my skills to get on the World Poker Tour sometime, don't I? ;-)  Ummm...yeah.  What I want to know is, why is it that whenever I have a really, really good hand, the flop is always bad (and vice versa)?  I just don't get it.  Oh, well. 

 

    And some people (particularly one in the room I'm in right now) take losing so seriously!  I mean, c'mon--it's play money!  I've been playing for about an hour, and I'm getting ready to quit; I've been losing pretty consistently, and you don't see me calling anyone names.  Geez.  Although, on the other hand, if this did happen on the WPT show, it would probably be pretty interesting.  Oh, man--or fist fights!  Think about it--full-contact poker.  :-)  I knew you'd see it my way.  :-D

 

    Ok...I'm heading off to bed now.  I hope this posting works!  Good night.

Family Day

Ok, so I suck--I called in sick to work today. I feel like a bum, true, but...it's been months since I was out, maybe more than six. I went to this expo-type thing they were having downtown. It was great--it was a kind-of science/technology thing. I played with some of the exhibits. :-) I just basically wandered around there for a few hours, failed (pathetically) to find enough bravado to walk up and talk to a cute guy I saw there (so much for the New Me that's going to try to pick anyone up! I am such an idiot) and then went to talk with my father.


Our relationship isn't the greatest. Well, it's better these days, but he's stopped doing the things that made our relationship not-so-good. When he was married to my Mom, he was pretty abusive. These days, he just acts like it never happened. I guess I am ok with that. For years I didn't talk to him; I had kind of run away from home anyway (not that there was an actual home left, they were divorced, so I kind of ran away from home in theory), so there wasn't a lot of purpose in talking to him. I was angry at him for the way he had treated all of us, especially me and my Mom; we got the worst of it by far. Then, a couple of years ago, my younger sister started telling me every time she went to see him that he'd asked about me, and really wanted to see me and stuff, so when I moved to where the (sort-of) rest of my family was, I went to see him. He likes to talk a lot; he always has. He's actually very knowledgeable--he's a professional (read: doctor, lawyer, Indian chief, etc...), highly educated, and so on, and does have a lot to say in a legitimate sense. When he's being nice, I've never minded talking with him, or listening to him. So I guess in a way, I'm disappointed in myself for not sticking to my guns, as it were, and denying him the pleasure of my company for the rest of his life. On the other hand, I guess it's not such a big deal anymore. No one really cares. And I don't ask for or take any money from him, so it's not like I'm being a friendship-whore about it, or anything. For a long time, I figured that if I ever did get married, I'd have to do so after he was dead, because otherwise, he'd have to walk me down the aisle, or if I made alternate arrangements, he'd show up anyway, or...something else awful. In a way, this was a good thing. First, it kept me from marrying one person who was a jerk to me anyway. Second, the kind of life I want kept me from marrying someone who didn't want at least a semi-traditional wedding--I think I deserve at least that; it doesn't have to be anything fancy, but I do want a ceremony and stuff, it's the stupid romantic in me--so doing something like running off to a JoP was out of the question. Thirdly, I would be embarrassed really to go into all of the details as to why I wasn't going to have my father there, and my Mom never remarried, so I didn't have like, an alternate choice...I list this as a good thing because it kind of kept me from getting close to anyone I've dated so the not marrying wasn't a big deal. I know--I make no sense. Anyway, so I guess in the long run, any way he treated me is immaterial, and so whatever. One of the first times I went over there, his new wife pissed him off, and he turned to stare at her with one of those "I'm going to beat the shit out of you" looks, and it made me laugh. I mean, he's not going to do that to anybody--he's too old--and...well, I guess I'm immune to it. I mean, it didn't make me nervous or upset like it used to. It was weird. I guess you would have had to have been me and been there to understand.

So I drove out to visit him for about two hours. I guess he likes having someone to talk to, and it's not all that often I go, so I don't mind. He's doing fine. I guess that's good.

After I visited with my Father, I had to drive all the way across town to have dinner with my Mother. She'd found a new place to eat, and wanted to share. Check it out: halal Chinese food. No, I'm not kidding. In her own way, my Mom's cute. I should probably mention here, that we're not Muslim. Not even Middle Eastern. :-) We've got a moderate amount of Jewish, and I'm ok with kosher, I always _feel_ like the place is cleaner even if it maybe isn't, and I guess halal's not all that different, but...it's just the Weirdness That Is Mom. Leave it to her to find the only halal Chinese restaurant in the tri-state area. Possibly the world. :-) I mean, what's next? Vegetarian BBQ? Kosher Cuban? Now, in fairness to the restaurant, the food was awesome. I had a kick-ass orange chicken, and their "Chinese tea" was actually jasmine tea, which smelled and tasted _wonderful_, and everything was very pleasant. I didn't tell her about visiting my Father, though; that always upsets her, so I figure why mention it?

I had better get to sleep soon. I've spent the whole day doing not very much productive, but I think I needed the break.

Like clockwork

Amazing. This is my life. I as much as think about quitting Eviljob, and the second I press "Post", my son-friend calls and needs money to fix his car. It's only about $100, not that I necessarily have that just lying around, but let me assure you that it could be worse. It's not the money. It's not. Really. It's that it just feels like even if I joke about having a life, Life won't let me consider it for even a moment. I'm not angry. I'm just...I don't know. It would have been cool to relax and think about Total Freedom. Or the cute guy in my class. Or just being held and things not being so screwed up, even if I know nothing is ever going to really change. Whatever.



Of course I said I'd give him the money. I'm not mad; I'm just grumbling. Sorry.

She catches a clue...

All right; it's reality check time. This just dawned on me.

In the grand spirit of being brutally honest--with myself about myself, if no one else (I would sooner die than tell Miss Stinkypants that she's obnoxious, for instance)--I am forced to admit that I would have a lot less time to grumble about, or even consider, what she's doing if I were getting laid on a regular basis. There; that's blunt. Maybe that's why some people just annoy the hell out of me, whereas if others are finding them annoying too, they're sure hiding it well. Or maybe they just don't give a damn, because they're involved enough with their own personal lives to just not give it that much weight.


I think I've figured it out. I need to get a freaking life. Well, one that doesn't revolve only around work, school, and all the people who rely on me for everything. I need to quit the one job that I hate anyway, tell my mom to take responsibility for herself, tell my son-friend he's on his own, catch up on sleep for a week or two, and then go to like, a bar or something, and pick someone up. I mean, I've thought about it. No, really--I have. I'm so out of the loop on this boyfriend-getting thing that as far as a plan, that's the best I can do. I figure I could totally quit Eviljob, cast everyone off to fend for themselves, and, well...where do people go to pick up people? Well, I mean besides dumbass things like speed dating and all; it takes me more than five minutes to figure out where I am most of the time--I couldn't evaluate someone else in that time. So where would work? Bars, I figure. And maybe I'd have better luck if I picked someone up, instead of the other way around; that other way hasn't worked very well in the past.


Ok...I'm finding this funny. I don't even really drink all that much. Plus, I have really bad taste and/or luck when it comes to men. I mean _really_ bad. Like being a server, I could tell you horror stories. And I'd be too concerned that whomever I might meet in a place like that would be a career alcoholic, dysfunctional beyond salvation, or inclined to punch me to emphasize key points when they speak. Plus, I'd have to talk to them, and I'd probably screw that up. So I can't really. And I can't cast off my damn tribe. I'd be too worried about them to do anything else. And I can't quit Eviljob; the tribe and I need the money. So I can't. Ok--bars are out, quitting is out, casting-off is out. Out, out, out.


Next plan: I'm going to walk right up to Mr Really Cute Guy in my class, and ask him out. I'll let him know that, because of Job1, Eviljob, the tribe, and more schoolwork than you could shake a stick at, I'm limited to only going out on Thursday evenings between six and eleven p.m., some Wednesday evenings, and maybe Saturdays after work, but only for an hour or two because I have to work all day Sunday, and only if I'm caught up on everything for that coming Monday. Maybe I should write this all down, so I'm ready. And while I'm fumbling through that, I might as well allow a few minutes to start talking on autopilot so that I can throw in something monumentally stupid and embarrassing like how beautiful his eyes are, so that he's left with the impression that I'm a raving psychotic stalker moron. I mean, who wouldn't want to wade through twenty million "ummms" to hear a half-coherent compliment? After that, I probably should pencil in a couple of minutes for tripping over something, slamming my hand in a door, or dropping my books on my foot. You know--casual demonstrations of my physical prowess. And, to make sure I'm memorable (Cosmo says to make sure you're memorable!), I could maybe finish off with six- to ten-million "please", "ummm", "I just love the way you ___ (insert something profound, like "write with a pencil")", etc... If I plan it right, I might be able to do it in front of everyone in class--so that he has the pressure on him to be social and say ok, of course.

Or maybe that's not a good idea, either; it might not go off as smoothly as I've planned.

Ok, so at least I have an insight into why some things that shouldn't bother me do, or moreover, maybe why I'm peevable and not all that happy sometimes. Not that I can really do anything about it. But...well...insight is good, isn't it? Sure it is. Yay, insight.

Obnoxious. Just plain obnoxious.

Ok, so I now have a heaping _pile_ of stuff to read and write up. I mean a literal mountain. As if I am ever going to make it through this all. But that's ok. :-) I guess it could be worse. In all honesty, when I get this stuff, I'm not whiny. I save my whining for here. I'm doing basically ok, with the slight exception of one of my coworkers annoying me. It's been snowballing. I mean a lot. We went out to dinner the other night, and I realized that she's one of those people who really talks down to servers--hence my previous post. She has a lot of other obnoxious habits, but they'd just annoyed me in the background before. Our server came over and she literally didn't let him finish saying hi before she made a comment about how he took a long time to get to us.

Now, I've been a server before; it's not something I was all that good at, or should/would probably ever do again, but I feel for them. Most are doing their best, have a lot of crap going on you will never know about (I could tell you some horror stories...), and are nice people. Sure, there are some bad ones, but that's true anywhere. But anyway--back to my story: So she starts fussing about the amount of time it took to get to us. In fairness, it was a bit of a wait, but the place was slammed. So he apologizes, and most of the meal goes well enough, although she made another nasty comment when he didn't bring her a second drink after she'd asked (I figure he forgot, and that falls under "no big deal"). Then when he went to clear her soup, the laws of physics intervened, and her spoon fell off the plate and into her lap. My god, you would think that this was a beheadable offense. I pointed out that it would probably wash out just fine, to which she started griping that that wasn't the point. Ok, so what _is_ the damn point? I got embarrassed, and apologized to him, and that just made her worse. I mean, you would think she was trying to get some knocked off the bill or something the way she was carrying on. I'm not trying to ascribe a tacky motive to her, but the whole thing was very tacky; there's no way to make it otherwise. I ended up tipping way more than normal on the whole bill, because we'd split the check, and she wasn't tipping him at all, then she got irritated that I _did_ tip him (I made damn sure she couldn't see how much), as if I'm supposed to support her in her nuttiness.

This nastiness-to-those-we-perceive-as-beneath-us thing has happened a couple of times before, and I guess I'd excused it as being semi-legitimate irritation, or a bad day, or something--but now I see the pattern. The semi-legitimate irritation, to me, is a personal-interpretation thing. I'm not going to trounce all over someone else's right to be ticked off, it's still a free country. We'd gone to get coffee--you know, at one of those coffee places that take your scoop of coffee, spread it out on a frozen marble slab, and mix in Oreos and whatnot...oh, wait--that's those trendy ice cream places...nevermind. Anyway, we go to CoffeeCool-O-Rama, where I get a coffee, and she gets a quintuple mocha tequila sunrise soy nut cherry surprise toffee crunch caramel latte, size veni vidi vici, with extra whipped and Doritos on top. Or whatever. And, in her eyes, there wasn't enough Doritos, or caramel, or some central ingredient. So instead of asking politely for an extra handful of crumbled Doritos, or sloosh of caramel, or both, she goes back up to the Caffinette (trademarked job title of CoffeeCool-O-Rama employees, of course) and starts off her polite request with "You messed up my latte; you must be new." Well, call me petty, but I wouldn't have reacted any differently from the Caffinette; she was a little offended, and while the Caffinette fixed it, they traded little catty comments back and forth ("I'm not new, maybe you mis-ordered"; "I never mis-order, maybe you should check your manual of how these are made", etc...). But I figured since no one threw any quintuple mocha tequila sunrise soy nut cherry surprise toffee crunch caramel latte, size veni vidi vici, with extra whipped and Doritos on top into anyone else's face, well...no harm done. :-) But now I see the trend.

Why do I feel the need to vent in epic detail? Because I find it actually very annoying. I mean, mostliest because it's just hurtful. Thirdliest because it embarrasses me. Those are the two easy ones. Secondliest, the difficult one, is because it makes it seem like this person is like, Queen of The World (or thinks she is, rather), and let me tell you--at the restaurant the other night, I wanted to throttle her. I am just mystified at a bunch of things that fall under secondliest: Why do people put up with this? Where does one get the idea in the first place that you can do this? Why isn't there more reward in being a nice person? I guess this is the big one that makes Secondliest hard for me to wrap my mind around. Deep down, I feel like there's no real reward in being nice. But as for me, I feel like I have no choice. Like at dinner--I can't not tip. I can't not apologize. I would have felt guilty for weeks, and I'm serious; I would feel like I had done it. And I don't like making others feel bad about themselves...I don't know. I don't know what it is. But it's annoying, and it's also annoying when she interrupts people, or finishes their sentences (especially when she's wrong about what they were going to say, which is often), and so on, and so on... I should not be so emotionally invested in what other people do, true, but I am. Not that I know why, really. But nevertheless, now I'm eagerly awaiting her getting the swift kick in the pants she so richly deserves. What else can I do? I mean, how do you tell someone that they're completely obnoxious?

Words To Live By

Always, always remember:

No matter how nice they may be to you, if the person you are out with is rude to your server, they are not a nice person.

This ranks right up there with "If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you".

Swear.

And then the rains came...

I just lost an entry as I tried to post...grrr. :-) Teach me to not save, eh?

It's really raining here. That's nice, and on top of it all, I have tomorrow off--from everything. I'm going to sleep in! Yay! I will, that is, unless I do something stupid like I did the last tme I tried to sleep in, and set my alarm out of habit. :-) I do have a lot of reading to do, but I can get most or all of that done tomorrow, plus I managed to find on my hard drive a document that I typed a few months ago that I can recycle for something I have due in probably under an hour, instead of having to spend a few hours in creative...errr...creating. :-) So I'm happy. And I shouldn't have railed on my coworkers like I did here. This is why I'm glad I rarely ever say things to people. I was just upset. I still am, but I'm trying to not think about it. But today has been great, and tomorrow is looking like it'll be great, too! :-)

past my bedtime

I can't sleep. I want to, but I can't sleep. I'm eyes-stinging sleepy, and I just can't. I wish it weren't so damn quiet here. Times like this I wish I lived above a 24-hr cafe, or something. I'm going to go turn CNN on and fall asleep. If subliminal learning worked, I would be the most up-to-date person in the world. It doesn't. I'm not.

No title fits. Sorry.

All right...I'm taking a break. This week is going from bad to worse. And not just for me. One of my work-friends’ children has died. Her child was only ten years old. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it upsets me more to hear people talk about how the child is in heaven, etc.; I mean, I guess it makes you feel better, but it just sounds to me like you’re saying it’s somehow ok.

I very much do not think that it is ok.

I am probably never going to get the chance to have children. I don’t not want children. I definitely don’t hate children--there are a number of reasons that maybe someday I’ll go into, but the fact remains that I’ll probably not get to have them. When I hear about someone losing their child, I can’t help but feel pain for them. I’m not assuming enough to go saying I feel what they feel—I know I cannot understand or even come close to imagining the pain they must feel—but I feel a deep sorrow in my own way. Because I know that if I ever did get to have a child, I would have so much love for them, and so much of myself in them in every way, that I would rather die myself.

I wonder if it actually does make the parents feel any better to hear this, or if it’s like when something bad happens to you, and someone says “I know just how you feel”, when they don’t and can’t. I wish I could ask, but I guess I can’t. Or, rather, I mean I know I can’t. I’m only guessing how a parent that has lost a child might feel, or how I would feel if I were they. I have had two very horrible things happen to me, and I believe that someone might feel really badly for me, but they don’t know how I feel. And it’s hard to assume what someone else is feeling, so I am probably getting whatever parents feel wrong, but I’m doing my best.

So what my co-workers say, I know, is none of my business. And I’m not trying to be judgmental. I don’t say anything censoring to anyone, I don’t give them funny looks; I just do the nodding my head thing. If that makes me a hypocrite, whatever. But I just don’t like it. Even if I did believe in heaven…it still wouldn’t be ok. So I am sad; I am very, very sad, and knowing that her child is in heaven, and everything else I’ve heard doesn’t make it better. I’m probably sounding “holier than thou”, and that’s not what I mean; I’m just trying to say that I don’t like the way the world is run. This whole thing isn’t fair, and I feel like the whole world should just stop for a while or something, and I know that people die all the time, and sometimes it matters and sometimes it doesn’t, and the whole world can’t stop, but that doesn’t feel to me that it’s like it should be. Everyone is important. We should treat them like they are important. And it’s not ok that they are dead, even if you do think they’re in a “better place”. What if they were hurting, or were sad about something, or needed something, or…I don’t know. I mean, if I had a child die, every time I had not done as I should by them, or said no to something that, when you look back, is trivial really, all that would haunt me. Probably forever. I still sometimes feel badly when I think about when I was a kid and my mom had to have her mother—my grandma—watch me during the day; I wanted my mom, and I didn’t want my grandma, and as far as I was concerned, that was that. I tried to run away in my Big Wheel, and I did outrun my grandma, and really upset her and everything. And I still think about that sometimes and feel so very bad about being so horrible that it makes me cry. I hope my grandma understood, but maybe she didn’t. That sort of thing is what I am talking about, and all those sins of omission we do every day.

I also wish I knew how to help more if it really is as bad as I imagine it must be. I don’t know how to convey that it really is ok to call me, for example, even if it’s at three in the morning. I mean, of course I’ve offered to help, or listen, and everything, but I don’t know if that is enough. Really, I know that that isn’t enough. And that just makes me feel even guiltier, and I don’t know what to do differently. I just feel completely useless and inadequate, even more so than usual.

My so-called mind...

I am going absolutely, positively nuts with all the things I have to do. Ok-- I am now officially at the point where I freaking dread waking up, because I'll just find out more new stuff I have forgotten to do! Today I forgot to have this one article read & ready to discuss, and forgot to email a website to someone (I'd promised to do this a week ago!). This is like freaking Alzheimer's setting in. Oh! And I almost forgot to go to work this morning! Well, I forgot that last night. I mean seriously--that's bad. Well, it's my part-time job (the toxic energy dump) that I forgot about, so who can blame me? :-) I didn't totally forget--I did show up, and was on time, and all that other stuff, but...I'm getting flustered. Augh. I am such a dumbass.

Yay, Math.

Augh…how can it be so early in the term and I’ve already fallen behind? Ok, I’m not technically behind yet, but I will be tomorrow if I don’t read twenty pages. Blecch. I guess I’ll go get it done in a bit. But I don’t have to be happy about it. :-)

My Mom seems to be ok. She’s less sick today than she was yesterday, so I guess that’s a good thing. She won’t just rest though, and I hate it when she acts like that, though in that respect, she’s just like me, I guess. I have a hard time stopping, but probably when I get to be her age, or if I had her health problems, I would have caught a clue, you know? Ok, ok…maybe not. But damn it, you get what I mean.

My son-friend has started working part-time; it’s not a great job, it’s not a bad job. I’m just happy it’s a job. That way, he feels somewhat better about himself, and I feel somewhat better about my bank account balance. I still have been giving him some money these past few weeks, but nothing like what it was over the summer. If I could save up enough to get to go do something over winter break, that would be really wonderful. Nothing major, just like a couple hundred or so, and go away for a weekend, or something. I’m not picky.

I came home early today because tomorrow is a semi-all-day meeting (this means we sort-of break for class), and I have some laundry to do, and I have my heart set on a nap--or at least an early bedtime if I can’t get through twenty pages of stupid math quickly. Can you say “Phooey Poo-Poo, Boys and Girls? I know you can…”

I wish I were one of those majorly together types of people, but for some reason, no matter how hard I work, I can’t seem to manage it. For all of my life, I have never understood that. Sometimes it feels like everyone else on the planet got an instruction manual that I missed out on. :-) Or maybe they’re just getting more sleep. I know that definitely one thing is that whole not-doing-well-talking-to-people thing I do. But I don’t know how to fix it. And the close friends and stuff I have had don’t work out, for one reason or another, usually because they turn out to be nuts. I think I attract those types because I seem non-judgmental. I guess. Who cares—it’s not like it’ll change. But so I’ll spend this whole term waiting for the other shoe to drop, and who knows; perhaps it will.

No; I’m not upbeat today; I have to go do Math. I mean, who could be upbeat with that hanging over their head??

My Mom

My Mom is sick again. She has some flu or cold or something. She's sneezing, and her blood sugar has stayed high all day. I always worry when stuff like this happens. She's had a lot of health problems in the past five years, and it's not good for her blood sugar to get and stay so high--it's been over 300--and ha, ha, this is god getting me back for being so wrapped up in my own stuff for the past week. I should have not gone out last night, and should have gone over to check on her, so it's partly my fault. Who knows what her blood sugar was all yesterday, because she won't take it unless someone makes her. It's like this whole weird role-reversal, and I feel like I'm the parent playing "bad cop" after a divorce, and she's the parent playing "good cop". Oh, and she gets to be the kid, too. And of course she likes her rules better than she likes mine. This is the heart patient with diabetes who will argue with you--with a straight face, she's serious--that chocolate-covered raisins count as fruit. It would be one thing if I thought she were making an informed decision; you know, one of those people who know what's coming and goes and eats fried lard and Ring-Dings and whatever else they want because they want to fully enjoy what time they have left. Now the fact that they're _that_ into deadly food to me should maybe be cause for a second thought or two in my book, but regardless, if they're an adult, and they've made an informed decision, that's ok. But the thing is, my Mom hasn't. She just doesn't seem to get this whole cause-and-effect thing. She doesn't take good care of herself; at her age, with her health, she will still fast to lose weight if she thinks she's getting heavy (she's not fat at all), and thinks that losing six pesky pounds that way is better for her heart than the uproar she throws her blood sugar into and the fact that when her blood sugar is that high/low, all the bad foods you eat just clog up your heart all that much more. She came from a different generation (my parents had me very late), and ok, true, to her not eating is a good diet, and healthy = skinny and all that, but... My point is that she isn't understanding the implications of what she is doing. When she does have that heart attack or stroke, or slips into that diabetic coma, she's not going to want to be there. So I'm trying to save her from herself.

I'm whining again, I know. But I'm overtired and crampy. And worried. She will probably be ok this time, but what scares me is that someday, she won't be ok. It's that inevitability that has me so upset. I'd rather it be me, because I worry that when it's her, she won't understand it.

Directonless Dingbat

Still no official word on why I was asked about prereqs, but I've heard that there have been errors in prereq enforcement in other classes this term, and I've been told that others in the class were asked, so I guess he's just being cautious. Regardless, I was directly emailed, not BCC'd, and the salutation addressed me by name, so it's not like I was totally off-base by wondering if it was just me.

Everything went mostly ok today, even though it was a long day. Had a painful dinner with some school/work-friends; we were working late, so we decided to take it to a restaurant, and we had what I guess could best be called a social clash of egos. Basically, two of the girls with us started making with the social one-upmanship about twenty minutes into it. Everything was fair game--illnesses, love lives, travels, the heartbreak of psoriasis...you name it, they've had it better, or worse. I just finally gave up trying to talk, in general found it boring, and of course nothing worthwhile was accomplished. I don't get some girls. Why can't you just be you? That's what I wanted to scream out, but didn't. In fairness, one of them is worse than the other, but they both have enough of particular personality types to have clashed. So it was like Attack of the Drama Queens and Attention Pigs. Brutal. Really.

Note To Self: Wait at least a month or two before attempting that again.

No, really--to subject my fragile constitution to such upheaval again might give me the vapors...I swear! :-) ...and that was typed in my very bestest and most histrionic Scarlett O'Justshootme font! :-)

But seriously, even with that, it was an ok day. I did come up with some decent ideas that, true, I need to flesh-out a little, but they might be workable as far as this one job that's kind of a long-term project. At the end of the project, we have to have something to show for all of our work and time, otherwise we run a chance of not being asked back, is basically the issue. Not being asked back means that job is over, and Mr Credit Card Company gets grumpy. Considering that this is my _main_ job, it also means I'm in a scramble to pay basic bills and help out loved ones, so Mr Credit Card Company can get as grumpy as he wants, he doesn't get jack. But let's not focus on the negative. The _positive_ is that I thought of at least two things that would be easy enough to do, and would definitely count as productivity. At least I think it would.

See, the real problem here is that for this job, we have kind of a project manager. Not precisely as such--this person actually has a different title--but that's essentially what they do--manage this project. And they're one of the ones that's gone a lot. And I am not sure of what I am doing. Ok, I'm a blithering incompetent, but at least I show up every day, and I'm _trying_ to get stuff done, plus it's my first time to do something like this. I'm not sure if I'm doing the right things, if what I write up is correct, or good, and when I try to get direction, I come away with a lot of feel-good stuff, but again, not a lot of direction. So I worry and panic. I mean, this is my livelihood we're talking about here. And I don't know how to do it. So that's one of the things that is actually really bothering me. I don't want to keep hearing all the squooshy lovebunny talk about how great I am, and how she knows I can handle this, and it's all easy--it feels like pep-talking a chicken before you stick its head down into one of those choppy things. Well, ok...you get my analogy. I'm scared about it, though. I actually really, truly am. But I did some decent thinking today, and a side group of us are going to meet on Wednesday to try to see if it might work, or some permutation of it, or something. So that's good. We were going to talk about it some this evening, but we didn't, opting instead to talk about...well...total crap. I guess that's winding down after work? Yeah, ok...whatever.

Weirdness, cars, and mysteries.

What the hell?!? I just got an email from one of my instructors, asking if I, in fact, have the prerequisites for the class in which I am currently enrolled. Now normally, I wouldn't take offense, but it wasn't addressed to anyone else--just me. His salutation contains my name. What's up with this? I just replied and affirmed that I have had them, but now I'm wondering what this is all about. Ok, so call me paranoid. I mean, it's not normal to ask that; it's a closed class; there are only ten enrolled, and it's "closed" in the sense that you aren't able to enroll without the prerequisites, so...??? Oh, well. I guess I'll find out in class tomorrow morning.

Work went ok today--both of them. I confess that I ducked out early on the second one, but that's ok, because I was the only one there. And I needed to get my oil changed, like really, really badly. The guy at the place where I go knows me by now--I'm the girl who comes in dutifully every 5 - 6,000 miles for an oil change, whether the car needs it or not. :-) Well, lookit--those are expensive, and I _do_ augment the oil sludge in-between changes with Marvel Mystery Oil and stuff. It's not like I'm totally neglectful. My car loves me, and thinks I treat it just fine. It told me so. Well...it hasn't complained. :-) This rationale is lost on Scott The Mechanic, however, who favors a by-the-book interpretation of the rules. And in this way, Chirrin, we have an illustration of the difference between the executive and the judicial branches of car maintenance.

I started a new mystery book yesterday, and I'm just about through with it. It's not a bad one, and that's good, because it's probably the last one I'll be able to fit in for a month or two. This is in spite of the fact that I read everywhere--at traffic lights, while I'm walking, in elevators, while Scott The Mechanic is kvetching--you name it. I discovered a few years ago that I like mysteries, cozies specifically. I never thought I liked mysteries, then I moved into a new apartment, and that evening the cable was out, my crap was everywhere, I was exhausted, and so I ended up watching a static-filled made-for-TV movie called Murder At The PTA Luncheon. I just thought it was cool. So I bought the book, and all the other books by that same author at my favorite used bookstore that has cats in it--really, they have three cats there and they are so sweet, but that's a description for another time--and then started getting antsy because there weren't any more. So I started reading other authors that were similar, and before I knew it, I was hooked. :-) They have subsections of mysteries for every possible interest--the ones that are dedicated to food aficionados, pet lovers, lesbians, former nuns, ladies that don't consider car upkeep a dire enough issue to merit throwing wrenches--you name it, it's a series. I once found a website that listed a bunch of mystery authors and genres in a way such that you could find an author you liked, and they recommended similar authors--majorly cool. :-) Although Valerie Wolzien is probably always going to be my favorite, I especially liked the Southern Sisters series, and even cried when I finished reading the last one after their author, Anne George, died. Stupid, I know, but it made me sad.

Sigh...why do I mention it, or ramble on? I don't know. Just because.

Freaky and Spooky :-)

Ok...like I said, freaky & spooky...all the aforementioned formatting weirdness went back to normal. Go figure. Maybe the formatting fixed itself because it felt sorry for me. :-) Well, it could happen.

Today I guess didn't suck too badly. It was a kind of rainy day, and those are nice! And I had my first meeting of the (sort-of) math class I am taking this term. I say sort-of math, because it's actually a special topics math, but I don't want to go all into the explanation, because it's frankly boring. At least the way it's being taught. This is the second in a series that I've had with this professor, and It'll probably suck. He's probably a nice person, but he just isn't a good teacher. I'm not saying that to be mean, it's just that someone can have all the expertise in the world and not be able to convey it to another person, and that's this guy. But the good part of this is that there was a very cute guy in the class in Spring, and it looks like he's going to stay with our group for the series, because he was in there today. :-) I've never actually talked to him for like, a long time, just two superficial conversations at the most, but he's cute. I just like looking at him. I've seen a lot of the back of his head, since I sit in the back, and it's a cute head, but I like his eyes; they're warm and friendly; he seems nice, I just can't think of any reason to talk to him, or anything. Geez. Ok, so I'm an idiot.

I try not to think too much about whether I think a guy is cute or not anymore. I know that is probably close to the stupidest thing ever said, but it's true. That way, I don't say dumb stuff, and I don't get all sad when they are gay, committed, married, or all three. :-) And it's actually easy to do after a while; you just forget to notice most of the time.

I can't wait until autumn kicks in...I am looking forward to (sorta) my birthday, and Halloween, and winter. "Sorta" my birthday, because I don't really celebrate it; I don't see the point, there's no one else who sees the point, and there's always other things to do. I try to do something special somewhere around that day that's just for me, and I usually manage to somewhere in the vicinity of the right day. Like last year, I decided I would take a few hours and go for a drive to this small town a few miles away, because I'd never seen it. When I got there, they had this cute little town square thing, and it had a hardware store there. I'm not exactly a hardware store kind of girl, but it wasn't like a normal hardware store; they had other things. Well, I ended up buying a present for myself! It's this super-wonderful incense burner that's shaped like a little log cabin, and came with pine-scented incense cones that really smell very pine-y. And it was only $4-ish. So yay! :-) I am working and have class on my birthday this year, but I will try to do something like that again this year, and I hope it turns out as well!

Shpeaking of shpooky, it would be very cool if this Halloween I could get a pumpkin and carve it, but I'd probably mess it all up and waste the money, and I'll probably be too busy by then, anyway. I would love also to make this winter stew I saw on (I think) the Food Network a year or so ago; you serve it in the gourd from which it was made, which I think is very cool. I think I would have been happy in a big family that has a large Halloween party and Thanksgiving and Christmas; I was just thinking about that yesterday when I stopped to get notebooks and stuff for class (not like I procrastinate, huh?); I stopped in JoAnn Fabrics, and they had all their Halloween and Thanksgiving stuff 40% off, not that I could afford it even then, but anyway, they had this really cool metal turkey candleholder that would be the greatest centerpiece ever with some extra decorations, and back in their fabrics, they had this beautiful patchwork-style fabric in all autumn colors that would make such a gorgeous tablecloth, or even a runner, and it would be so easy to put a decorative trim on the ends! If I'd had the money, my cat and I would have enjoyed it muchly this holiday season! :-) I wish I had the time to make some things like that, but since I don't have the time _or_ money, I guess it's not a big deal.

I still have some Christmas ornaments I made from fabric a while back; I liked them a lot, but the person I made them for didn't like them. They were a bunch of bows, all in Christmassy plaids, with white backings to accent the plaid. I had had to make them quickly, because I didn't have much advance warning, just a comment about how that particular Christmas was going to be so awful because of having no tree, no family, etc., that I thought I should try to do something about it. I made them all in two nights, while I was working (thank god I don't work overnights anymore!), made a braided ribbon garland too, and then got a tree. It went over like a lead balloon. I don't think the ribbons looked tacky; I think they looked pretty, and would look even better with other decorations, but I think the tree itself looked pretty enough. I'm not very religious, but I like the holiday, and someday I will put up a tree and use the bows, and I will get other pre-made decorations to go with it, and maybe make some more of my own, too. I don't think that's necessarily tacky; just because I am just as happy--or more--with something I made myself I don't think makes me tacky, it just means that I spend a lot less at Department 56 than other girls. :-)

Yes, I am pathetic, and look forward to the holidays so much each year, and they're usually not all that great in actuality, plus I'm not very religious, and am actually a skeptic, though not an "angry atheist" at all. I know; I'm stupid. I'm an optimistic pessimistic optimist! And I've got my fingers crossed for this season...oh, wait; I don't believe in superstitions, either...!

Just saying hi.

I've been very busy with work and now school has started back. I hope this term goes well, that I don't have to run around putting out the most immediate fire all the time, that I can get organized...sigh. It won't happen. I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but there are just some things that will never happen. I feel like I will never have time to myself, like I will never be able to get a full night's sleep, I will never get to do anything that I want to do just for me, just for fun. Ok, I'm whining again. But this comes after several weeks' worth of break where all I did was work; I'm still behind in one job, because two of the other people I work with decided to just flake out--one was there but not working, and the other just left (attendance isn't mandatory, but we have due dates for things that aren't negotiable). My other job is in a state of permanent confusion; we're changing owners, and everyone is quitting, getting fired, written up, you name it. This second job I hate. I dread going there; I can't wait to leave. It is, in the words of that stupidass Fish! book, a toxic-energy waste dump, or however they put it. This is the job I do in what would otherwise be "free time". I could sleep in, listen to A Prairie Home Companion, catch up on my reading if I quit, and have more time to study and write this dumb idea for a book I have. But I would also have less money. A lot less. As in I-probably-wouldn't-make-it less. If I didn't have to pay and "lend" so much out, things would be ok, but that's not the case. And probably won't ever be. So oh, well.

I am really tired, but I guess I just had to vent. I'd better go to sleep so I can get up early and go back to that second-job hellhole, then I have class, then I go to my other job, then I go home and do it all over again the next day. Why I bother to write, I don't even know; I have to be the most boring person in the world.

I am so stupid.

In trying to play with this blog, I somehow reformatted it. Now all the stuff that should be on the upper right-hand side is down in the lower right-hand side, and I am too stupid to figure out what I did. I even changed templates, hoping it would go back to normal, and it won't. Oh, well. I am sure that, as with so many other things in my life, in a few weeks I'll have it figured out, and be embarrassed by my abject stupitude. I am a moron.

On the other hand, I kind of like this template...it reminds me of the view outside my bedroom window when it's raining. Well, the top banner part does. Ok, so I'm stupid--I said that already. Never has there been anything dumber than me. Fine.

If anyone ever reads this, I apologise. I wish I weren't so freaking retarded, also. Not that there was anything in the upper right-hand corner worth reading, but whatever. At this rate, I'll have the whole site crashed by morning. I should go to sleep now before I destroy anything else.

A Mom's Advice

A girl I work with today mentioned to me that her mother always told her that, in any relationship, only one person is the one that is really in love. She said her mother always warned her not to let that one person be her. That sounds like excellent advice. I wish my mother had made me think like that, too. Not that it helped my work-friend; she's madly in love. But still...

This is living...

I have never been less motivated to go to work. I'm sleepy still, it's going to be a beautiful, rainy day, and I'm going to miss Garrison Keillor for the millionth time. Ok, so I'm all about me. So freaking what? I wish I could call in sick. I can't, but I wish I could. Or quit. :-) Ok, so now I'm really smiling. Geez...I feel like I could sleep for a week. I want to get dressed, wander over to Build-A-Bear, make a big-ass polar bear, bring it home and sleep, listen to A Prairie Home Companion, and read all day. I'd even read to the polar bear. And then go to M.T. Bear Company and get some cute outfits for him, because they have a cute plaid thingy I've been wanting to get. And maybe another furry friend. Sigh...I'm dreaming. Ok, ok--I'll go get dressed. Sigh. Grumble.

She's back (yay)!

Ok, so I survived the trip. It actually was nice, for the most part. Well, sort-of. The flight there I mostly slept through, since I brought Xanax. It's not that I don't like flying; I love flying. It's the crashing I don't like. Not that I've ever crashed, but geez...we humans are capable of vicarious learning, right? Well, that's what I've done--vicariously learned that I don't like crashing. The airline people were...special. I mean, there were some nice people, or at least ones that were just doing their jobs and no more, and I'm fine with that, but I ran into two SERIOUSLY grumpy-ass people that were like on a mission to make everyone miserable. I think people like that take it out on me because I'm quiet(er) than others, or because I try to be nice, or because I'm alone, or maybe because I look like I'll put up with it, or understand, or something. Which I guess I do, if you think about it. The first one had just gotten fussed at by a guy and his wife, and so for some reason it was my fault by the time I got up there. Well, I mean, there was a problem with tickets, and I do really understand, I just don't know why it always has to be me, you know?

During the trip, I did get pretty lonely a few times, but that's not a big deal. A lot of people talked to me, and they were very nice. It was very pretty overall, and I think I got a lot of nice pictures. If I ever do get married, or have a boyfriend, that's one of the places I would like to travel to; it would be more fun with company, I think. It would be nice to have someone to laugh with when funny things happen, which they did a few times. Well, on the other hand, one of the funny things was that I had to eat a Ramen noodle soup with only chopsticks and one of those big spoons, and well, let's just say that I don't have a talent for it. :-) That maybe wasn't a moment I should want to share. I figured that I could tell someone that rival Japanese gangs had a food fight in the restaurant and I got caught in the crossfire, but no one asked why I was wearing Ramen noodle soup as I slunk back to my hotel. I am such an idiot. :-) But it was very beautiful away from the tourist-y part, and I do wish I could have shared that with someone.

I have this stupid kind-of mental list of things I want to do if I ever have someone again, and I got to add a bunch to that, so that's really depressing and pathetic. :-) I mean stuff other than sex. I have an entirely separate list for sex-stuff. I figure I should make multiple lists kind of out of respect for him, whomever he is, because _everything_ doesn't have to be about sex. So there's companionship stuff, and friendship stuff, and emotional stuff, and no one really cares, or ever will, besides me, so I'll shut up.

While I was gone, my mother took it upon herself to remodel one of my bathrooms. Why? Because she got bored and didn't have anything left of her own to have remodelled. No, really. That, and because she's freaking weird. But so am I, I guess. It could suck worse. There are now a bunch of shelves that I can smack my head on when I forget they're there, I have a new sink, new toilet, new smelly potpourri thing a-fuming away in there, and new towel racks, and a bunch of other stuff. Did I mention that I liked my bathroom just fine? Teach me to give people access to my place. I am mainly only grumpy about it because of the aforementioned head-smacking thing (I'm like a foot taller than she is, almost), and the fact that when I got home, all I wanted to do was go to the bathroom, shower, and brush my teeth, and I got to do none of those, since she had all my stuff moved out of the bathroom, and the grout in the shower wasn't dried. I guess I got home early. That, or she got the idea a day or so after I left, and didn't get around to getting anyone to do anything until a few days before I got back. Sigh.

My son-friend is still out of a job, but what's new? His girlfriend and her daughter moved in with him, so I hope things will get better. They are total dingbats, and can't manage money or his health problems, but I will have to think about that stuff later, because I am still tired from the trip; it was too much of a time change. I gave him $140, which was all that I could spare, and that was enough; I mean, he's still alive, he had gas and food and stuff, so it couldn't have been too little. I am trying to relax right now and playing online poker. :-) I have built up a small empire and am ready for the Final Table, Baby! :-)

I have also promised myself that, now that I am back, I will start writing again. I started one book, and I think it was pretty good, but then I started feeling like I was just being stupid and wasting time, and so I stopped. But the truth is, I really enjoyed it, just doing the writing. I guess that's one of the benefits of not having anyone to talk to. :-) And I wrote that while thinking, "with whom to speak"...lol! I maybe *am* getting better and less picky. ;-)