Friday, December 23, 2005
wildorchid: there's a sperm
wildorchid: 0 o~~~
wildorchid: egg and sperm
wildorchid: & this is a fetus
wildorchid: thats a boob with a high nipple
wildorchid: or an orange
Xcalibur: that is your legs up in the air
wildorchid: hahaha you made my crotch too wide
wildorchid: or that
wildorchid: that's an abstract rendition of your penis
wildorchid: 8==D and your balls, of course
Xcalibur: oh that is nice
Xcalibur: very creative
Ain't love grand?
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Mistake two: I decided to conquer Wal-Mart. I needed medicine for my canker sore, which is in the front of my mouth and out of control so I thought "go forth and brave Wal-Mart 4 days before Christmas." That was also an insane situation. Crazy absolutely crazy. The first thing I had to do was fight for a parking space. Then I made my way into the store, grabbed a basket and went right to the film section, to grab some Kodak UC400 professional because I'm a film whore and I'm stocking up for Kenya. I think 2 or 3 more packs of that and I'll be set, which is good, cause at $12 a pop, it hurts the wallet a little bit. I then wandered to the fabric section, because after driving my cousin to work and seeing her Vera Bradley tote, I decided I wanted to make the quilted tote I set out to make last fall......I didn't find fabric for that, but I did wander into the yarn section after knocking over a display (and saying "OH GOOOOODDDD" aloud - for that I got stares from the unkempt fat people known to congregate in Wal-Mart. I'm not sure why they were staring. Was it cause I was talking to myself? Was it because I took the Lord's name in vain? I DON'T KNOW!) anyways, yarn, and upon seeing cheap acrylic yarn, I was reminded of an email I received from lion brand knitting that said blankets and afghans were needed for hurricane victims in Mississippi. If you know me then you know how I am. I grabbed 6 skeins of yarn (hopefully two afghans worth) to make simple blocks that I will sew together into a blanket. Next I went to try and secure some Coke zero, no luck, so I moved on to travel size beauty products. Don't you hate it when you go to look for something and someone sees you looking at it and decides that they need whatever you're looking at too, so they STEP IN FRONT OF YOU and start reaching around you? Yeah, well there was a lady like that in the travel aisle. So annoying. The only person more annoying was the one that I made room for in the kleenex aisle. She had a big cart, so I stepped back to let her through, and she pushed her cart through, but stopped it in front of me, so she could take her sweet ass time perusing the Puffs and Kleenex looking for the perfect box while I waited for her to move. I wanted to scream. Needless to say, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. While using self checkout, an emo boy in this gay knitted cap comes up behind me with all these girlie pink toys and puts them on the belt. This always irritates me. So they go all the way up to the front by my stuff, so he walks up right next to me. Then he watches over my shoulder as I do the transaction. He was in one fat fucking hurry, which is ridiculous, since we all know nothing can be done fast around this time of year. He watches over my shoulder for the exact moment he can press "start" on the touch screen and start checking out the girlie toys with reckless abandon. He watched me swipe my card, watched as the number touchpad came up, watched as I hit "cancel" and when I was really sure he was watching my every move, instead of signing my name on the electronic signature line I wrote "Wait your fucking turn"
I am such a bitch! Merry effing Christmas!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
I hate feeling helpless. I hate that kids think they don't have options besides violence. I hate it and it's driving me crazy and I don't know what to do and I want to make it stop but I don't even know where to begin....I just want this Boston to be the best Boston, because I hear stories of how it was back in it's heyday, and its slow decline throughout the 70' and 80's. I remember it at one of its worst time and have witnessed "The Boston Miracle" and now work in the city, loving it more than I ever have. Something needs to be done. I am tired of all of this. I can't imagine how victim's families and friends must feel. They must be exhausted.
Monday, December 05, 2005
So last night my mother made a roast beef dinner. It was, in a word, amazing (for those of us who like to indulge in cow every once in a while. The cow lovers would have wept at the sight of the beautiful red meat juices flowing from the deliciously browned and wonderful smelling piece of meat on our counter).
So you think now "well ex-cuuuuuse me, little miss "my mom makes a sit down dinner every sunday"
yeah right, that's what you'd like to think.
While my mother cooks nearly every night of the week and we usually sit down as a family (unless only mom and I are eating, then we get lazy, bring our plates into the family room and drape ourselves across the couch or in the recliner to eat while leisurely watching the tv), she usually does not do anything fancy on Sundays. I mean she's a great cook and cooks great meals, but cooking a roast beef is usually saved for Christmas dinner or something like that. Until NOW
What is different about now you ask? I'll explain
For years and years, basically as long as I can remember, my mother has very carefully planned out the whole process of buying and storing food. If a whole turkey is on sale one week at the supermarket for .99 cents a pound, my mom would buy it and freeze it. If chicken breasts were on sale for a good enough price, she'd buy 4 packages. Same with hamburger, steak, pork, etc. We were able to do this because through my dad's various "connections" he of course knows an appliance guy, and we were basically given the freezer because it had to get off the showroom floor or something like that, so we have the accessory basement freezer, which is huge and has a large capacity for frozen meats and stuff like that. My mother would also make soups and stews in bulk and freeze them (though she did slow down when one day we realized all of our tupperware storage bowls were gone - being used in the freezer for storage) buy loaves of bread in bulk and freeze them, buy pizza crusts, pie dough, flour and sugar (freezing them protected them from our damp cellar) and things like popsicles and frozen drink mixes. The freezer was organized in a fairly orderly manner. Top shelf: leftovers, random game meat such as bear and elk acquired by my father through his "connections", and meat that was not numerous enough to have it's own shelf, such as a turkey. The next shelves featured mostly beef and chicken, with the bottom drawer occupied almost entirely by bread products. This freezer was sometimes so full that when you opened the door, a cascade of frozen meats would come tumbling out and hit the cement floor with a hollow thud.
When Hurricane Katrina hit, we watched horrified at the scenes before us. Horrified. It also made us think. If a hurricane hit here, and we were trapped for a week or so, could we survive? (Note: while everyone has a different view and argument about this issue, whether or not the Northeast would ever be immobilized by a storm, I would like to point out that I have been snowed into my house twice, once without electricity and heat, that I can remember without a way to get out, and even when we made our way out we were pretty much trapped anyways, as nothing was open, you couldn't get gas, you couldn't get groceries or water or an oil delivere, etc)
Ok, back to the question - would we survive? My mom immediately said "no, we wouldn't make it"
I was quiet for a minute and said "have you SEEN the freezer?" She just stared at me, kinda like "what?" and I said "mom, we probably could live here for a month if we rationed our food, for a week if we ate whatever we wanted. We have stockpiled canned goods, pasta and rice, we have some frozen veggies (even though my mother looks down on them!), and MEAT, woman, we have MEAT. Her argument was "what if we lost power?" I said "if for whatever reason our generator didn't work (side note: get a gas or oil powered generator. it will save your ass. i'm not even kidding) we'd fire up the grill and have us some barbecue." Finally she agreed that we could make it until help arrived on the food we had in the house, nevermind the fact that we could probably construct a shelter out of the paper towels we have stockpiled for BJ's....
So from then on the basement freezer became known, in my head, as the "apocalypse freezer" because if the apocalypse came, and whatever the apocalypse involved didn't kill us outright, at least we could eat some steak and wings prior to our final undoing.
Where does the roast beef come it? The apocalypse freezer is sadly and systematically being emptied. Believe it.
My mother started to realize that things frozen for 2 years straight did not taste good, even when defrosted and cooked. She realized that freezer burn really did ruin meat and bread and vegetables. She realized that the bear meat that has been in our freezer and is dated "2002" will probably never be eaten. She has learned that all the crackers she bought and kept "in case of company" are now stale, and we are starting to throw away box by box. She also realized that just because you buy something as a snack doesn't mean your kids will know they can eat it, especially when you yelled at your daughter for not eating the turkey you bought for her sandwiches, and then yell at her again for slicing up the 1 inch thick slab of turkey you bought for a "special salad" that was sliced up because you never told anyone there was thin sliced deli meat turkey for sandwiches and a slab of deli meat turkey for a "special salad!"
So the roast beef was part of the emptying of apocalypse freezer. It's sad and lonely in there now...You can actually see the bottoms of the shelves, something I haven't seen in years. Now while part of me is worried about the shelves emptying and the cabinets getting dusty, I know my mom won't really be able to completely ignore her ways.
That's why when our "meat guy connection" from the end of the street showed up with about 100 pounds worth of various meets last week that my mother lovingly unwrapped and then rewrapped in meat paper, I know that apocalypse freezer will not be lonely for long. heh heh heh..
Friday, December 02, 2005
Sent: Friday, December 02, 2005 12:32 PM
Dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying! god this is awful! i think i'd rather be at the gyn lol
AHAHAHHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not sure about that one.
wait.......let me think.....yup, I'd rather be at the gyn...
Thursday, December 01, 2005
So now, I'm waiting for Eddie's Towing by way of AAA to come tow me to good ol' Purvis Ford up the street where Tony, the nicest Ford Service man EVER who goes, "A 1997 Ford Taurus? Green? Yeah, there was about an 80% chance of that" and then when I told him I needed ot talk to my dad before I did anything, he was like "Oh honey, I deal with you young ladies all the time. You just do what you need to." I love you, Tony. You don't know it, but I do. Tony will help me out.
Pffft. Ok, so that's my story. The end
THE JOY OF FAMILY, TOGETHERNESS, MARTHA STEWART, AND GLUE GUNS........
Thanksgiving. Was it really a week ago?
The time does really fly this time of year...
I love Thanksgiving. I mean LOVE IT. I won't look to you and say "Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because everyone takes a moment to pause and be grateful (though we do) and I don't like Christmas cause it's commercialized and my birthday because it's centered around presents" HA I LOVE PRESENTS! I love Thanksgiving not just for the food, not just for the pausing and being grateful, not just for the football, but because Thanksgiving with are family is akin to a frickin' three-ringed circus.
It's partly my fault. Who looks at the Martha Stewart website at the Thanksgiving centerpieces and thinks "homemade pom-pom turkey placecards. Another brilliant idea, Martha....Jail really did a wonder for your creative flair...I am going to strive to emulate you this holiday season." WHO THINKS THAT? Oh shit, I DO. I am crazy when it comes to the holidays and craftiness. I think that came at a young age. My mother is extremely crafty and was a children's librarian for years and was the master of kid crafts. She always encouraged our craftiness when my sister and I were little. We were also sent to my aunt's church every Sunday after Thanksgiving for a number of years to make Christmas crafts. While I never quite graduated to the pine bough and holly floral arrangement and cut-out-of-white-paper nativity scenes (we still have the paper nativity!) I certainly had a grand old time coloring in woodblock shapes with fat vibrant crayola markers and affixing an iridescent rainbow angel or baby jesus sticker in the center. Or making little bells out of communion cups (probably some sort of mortal sin), or decorating a metallic glass ball by writing my name on it in glue and dousing (and I mean dousing) the thing with glitter. There was even one year where I made my own snowglobe, but since I was afraid of superglue, I used it too sparingly on the jar lid that served at the base of the snowglobe, so I was left with a leaky glitter-filled mess my mother had to clean out of the car, henceforth leading to a ban on the snow-globe making table. Anyways, my point is that we've always been a crafty family. My father is crafty in that Martha Stewart way, more in a "let me use fire and welding tools to make a wrought iron stand for the bird feeder" type way, which is pretty damn convenient, let me tell you.
So I decide to make the turkeys. I email them to my sister and she is all "alskdjlfaeuiroawhlasdhf asldkfja ldkjaosdlfhawoihaw erh WANT TO MAKE TURKEYS" excited and stuff. So I go on a mission. I go to the local AC Moore. AC Moore is my new obsession. If I was ever under house arrest, I would probably request that AC Moore be listed as "my house" and the conditions of my house arrest would be 1. never to leave the confines of AC Moore for the length of sentence and 2. be allowed to bring lifetime supply of pictures to AC Moore. There I would live on Dunkin Donuts (which is right across the mall) and I would scrapbook. I would pitch a tent right out front in the "seasonal" corner of the store and be as happy as camera whore in a film store....Right, on track, I go to AC Moore to buy the things Martha says I need for my turkeys: red, orange, white, black, gold and brown felt. It's on sale for 20 cents a piece, so I buy four of each color. Check. Black pipe cleaners. No prob, check. Red, black, brown, white, grey and gold wool yarn. No prob, I think. I go to the yarn section to the pure wool yarns. $5.99 a PIECE HELLS NO! I probably said it out loud too. I think "F this, I'll get a wool blend." NO wool blends to be had. I scrap the yarn and go to seek out the pom pom maker. AC Moore carries two brands. BOTH sold out. I think "some hyper crafty B*TCHES with too much time on their hands have the same idea and are MAKING THESE TURKEYS and have bought all the pom pom makers." THen I realize that I basically fit above description, ahahhaha oh well.. I decide to pay up and go to Wal-Mart, because Wal-Mart probably has cheap yarn, cheap pom pom makers and the type of clientele that goes there are not shopping for craft items. No luck. I go to Michael's. Nothing. DAMMIT!
Now this was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and I had really wanted to get a head start on things since I was making home made pom poms and my sister wouldn't be there to help until Wednesday, since we all knew that her flight would be delayed Tuesday coming out of DC (and it was, by about 4 hours or so) but instead I sat around, knitted (or maybe just plain sat on my ass I don't remember) and watched TV. My sister got in at about 12:30am and I went to bed, no part of the turkeys done yet.
Wednesday was a work day. When my sister picked me up at the train, we went on a mission. Joann's fabrics had a yarn sale, so we got three colors of wool acrylic blend yard for 2 bucks and a pom pom maker (yessssssssss). I figured we could start making everything when we got back from our Thanksgiving revelries at Friday's. Ha. Two huge margaritas and my sister was out of commision as far as crafts were concerned. She copied the templates while I made pom poms, and then had to eventually go to bed...
9AM Thursday. I wake up and flip on the Macy's parade (CBS coverage, unfortunately because my NBC doesn't come in too well) and go to work. It's like a sweatshop in my room (ok not that bad, and it was cold, so I wasn't sweating) and there were bits of yarn everywhere. My sister came in to cut out felt, but later bailed.....I will forgive her though, cause she went and got me a medium caramel swirl iced latte with whipped cream on it :) Anyways, I had stayed up on the phone til 2am making turkey bodies (multi-colored I may add, no easy feat!) and talking to boyfriend, who was cooking for Thanksgiving. By the time I got up on Thursday I had the bodies done at lease, and made a bunch of heads. I cut out the remaining felt, revved up the glue gun and got to work. I was a turkey-making machine. I glued felt and pom poms and pipe cleaners together and produced something quite unlike Martha's rendition of the pom pom turkey, but I was satisfied. I even made an emergency turkey in case a wayward wandering cousin showed up at my Grandmother's.
By the time we all managed to sit down, the table was quite lovely. My grandmother sets a good table, and had candles and beautiful centerpieces and everything. I took pictures too. And though being with my family can be a three-ringed circus (my great auntie spoke loudly through grace, cause she can't hear too well....my grandmother's hearing aid amplified my father's voice to the point of madness....the men fell asleep on the couch watching football....the cousins and women tried their hand a trivial pursuit....I almost fell asleep sitting up....etc etc) it was all in all FUN TIMES with the family, and FUN TIMES with the turkeys.....and the food....I can't even talk about it, I might have an orgasm if I do, and that would be inappropriate, cause I'm sitting at my desk, at work ;)
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
I will say it here so I do not have to say it AGAIN.
When you have a virus (ie mono, viral meningitis) , there is (usually) no cure-all, thus is the nature of a VIRUS.
A bacterial infection (ie strep, blood poisoning, bacterial pneumonitis) is treatable with ANTIBIOTICS, thus is the nature of BACTERIA.
aware.md explains it simply:
There are two types of germs that cause most infections in the United States - viruses and bacteria:
Virus - viral infections include
All colds and fluMost coughs Most sore throats Usually involve several parts of the body
Antibiotics CANNOT KILL viruses A virus is an infectious agent, smaller than bacteria, which requires the cells of a living organism to grow or reproduce. Viruses cause a variety of infectious diseases, among them the common cold, diarrhea, chicken pox, yellow fever, most childhood respiratory diseases and the majority of infections of the upper respiratory passages.
Bacteria - bacterial infections include:
Strep throatUrinary tract infectionsMost ear infectionsSome sinus infectionsAre usually localized at a single point in the body
Antibiotics CAN KILL bacteria IF the bacteria are not resistantBacteria are minute life forms which can cause infections in humans. Bacteria have the ability to adapt quickly to their surroundings. Their goal is to survive and multiply. This ability to adapt to their surroundings is the basis of antibiotic resistance. Surviving contact with that antibiotic allows the bacteria to resist it in future contacts.
WHEN I COME INTO WORK AND TELL YOU MY TONSIL IS SWOLLEN OUT OF PROPORTION AND I HAVE A *WICKED* SORE THROAT BUT MY DOCTOR CAN'T DO A THING ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT"S SOME SORT OF VIRAL INFECTION
DO NOT ASK ME WHY SHE DIDN"T GIVE ME ANYTHING TO TAKE
THERE IS NOTHING TO TAKE
*grabs strands of hair to pull while screaming as loud as swollen tonsil allows*
Monday, November 21, 2005
in the past four days I have
gone to the gym once
been given 24 hours notice for a bachelorette party
been given 8 days notice for a wedding
made an entire mini scrapbook for said bachelorette party
attended said bachelorette party
saw a man's naked ass *shudder*
started talking to my mom again :D
started talking to my dad again :D
SAW MY SUPAH HOT BOYYYYYFFFFRRRRIIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDD :D
went to the Mystic Aquarium
seen: parrots, a little mouse, penguins, 2 beluga whales, fur seals, stellar sea lion, sharks, seahorses, pirhanas, poison dart frogs, tarantulas, clown fish, anemones, sea stars, and all manner of aquarium animals
touched a sting ray
CELEBRATED A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY FOR RACHEL!
given 5 presents :D
had vomiting and explosive diarrhea :P
thought about Thanksgiving 3,769,231,490,238 times
thought about Christmas 1,456,792,873,226 times
plotted evil and good 212,376,598,874,213,409,223 times. heh heh heh
Friday, November 18, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
In the last 24 hours I have had:
a flu shot
3 bad commutes
a fight with my mother
a fight with my father
a fight/bad conversation with my sister
a fight/bad conversation with my boyfriend
a fall down an entire flight of stairs
and to add insult to injury, I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.
Can I curl up in the fetal position and cover myself with blankets and well someone tell me when Friday is here?
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Thursday night was a rush. I got home, went to the axis of evil pet store to get bird food because I was in a pinch (excuses) got the birds fed and watered, got my shit together, and without making us late despite my father's sighs and comments, got out the door at the predetermined time of 5:30pm.
We made our way slowly to Logan, cutting through Quincy Center (WHY???) and then hopping on the x-way again, and pulled into terminal A. My father had to take care of some police business, so I went in to wait for my sister's flight to arrive, killing the time by buying an Oprah magazine (which I never read) and peanut m and m's. After a little bit of waiting, she arrived, my dad met us, and we were off.
IT wasn't too cold in Boston, which was good since my sister was in a white hoodie, cami, black jammie pants and flip flops. I had my work clothes on, high heel boots, a silk blouse and grey wool pants with my raincoat. hahaha we were kind of dressed opposite, but we didn't really care, even though we were planning on stopping for dinner at Uno's in Concord.
We did end up stopping, had some great appetizers, some beer, pizza and then started out for Lincoln, NH, about another 20 or so exits north. My father had mentioned switching drivers but he never did, so we just let him do the driving, while I occasionally checked in with my mother at the other end. She had left earlier in the day with my grandmother, something my father had orchestrated so my mother would be surprised by my sister's sudden appearance.
By the time we were passing Plymouth, NH my dad mentioned that the gas gauge was on 'E'. Unlike me, he enjoys driving this way - I think it's the "let's see how far I can go on "E" " type of thrill thing, something I personally do not share. I kept saying "Well there's gas at Campton, and we're coming up on it" and I think he FINALLY got the hint when he pulled off at Exit 28. SHortly before pulling off, it had started to snow a bit, and while gassing up in Campton it was REALLY snowing and starting to accumulate. The temperature was constantly dropping as well. My dad leapt in the car after filling up and was like "shit it's cold, good thing we're almost there"
We proceeded on to Lincoln, and when we passed the "Lincoln 1 mile" sign I called my mom to tell her we were almost there. No sooner had I hung up the phone, do we start into a slow skid. Then everything happened so fast. We start to skid and then we move to the left side of the road, and my father slowly turn the wheel into the skid, then opposite. Soon we are careening around the highway, which was thankfully deserted at 11:00pm. We are going to the left and right. While this was happening very fast, it seemed like it was slow motion, and the whole time all I could think was "please keep us upright, PLEASE keep us upright" As we were propelled forward my father seemed to be losing and gaining control of our SUV all at the same time. We started to slide right again, and we hit the right rear on the guard rail. This slowed us down a lot, but we then bounced off and slid left. It then became painfully apparent that we were going to hit something, and I, like an ASS said "we're gonna hit" and braced myself for impact with the guardrail. Sure enough, we hit the left guardrail, very hard. All I really remember is my left leg flying up and whacking under the dashboard, I don't remember the whiplash that we'd all be suffering from the next day. We sat there for a split second, and then I heard my sister crying and my dad saying "ARE YOU ALRIGHT" It was him I was worried about most; we hit in his corner of the car, and I had been watching him the whole time we skidded across the road, I don't know why. Maybe cause I didn't want to see the road, maybe cause I knew we were entirely in his hands. He yelled, so I figured he was ok, and instead turned around in my seat to see my sister, who was surrounded by luggage, shaken up, but seemed ok. I tried to hug her around the seat, which obviously didn't work, and turned to look at my dad, but he was no longer in the car. I heard "get out of the car girls, get out NOW GET OUT OF THE CAR" My sister hopped out, and I fumbled for the plastic bag I had packed for her with mittens, a hat, boots, socks and her winter jacket. "ALLISON get out of the CAR now!" THen I thought "Oh god, the car is on fire" because I smelled the brakes and their burning smell, so I scrambled, found the bag, and hopped out. My father was hunched over on his knees in the snow covered ravine on the other side of the guardrail saying "I can't find my glasses" This was because he had done a superman-esque leap out of the driver's side window, as the door was jammed shut by the guard rail. As he fumbled he said "CALL YOUR MOTHER" I called her and said "we're ok, but we've been in an accident" dead silence. I said "mom are you still there?" and she goes "yeah. you sure you're ok? what do I do" I said "call information, get the number for NH State Police, tell them where we are, and tell them we need someone out here, but we're not hurt" My dad continued to search. Between hugging my poor sister who had been hit in the head by a cooking pot during the accident, and helping her track down a jacket, I asked my father if I should call the state police. He said "YES" so I dialed *77. Call cannot be completed as dialed. Fucking A. Called 411. "What listing" I say "New Hampshire State Police" "What city" I say "New Hampshire State Police" they say "What listing?" I say "NEW HAMPSHIRE STATE POLICE IMMEDIATELY" "we're sorry please wait for a specialist." Well it must've been a lonely Thursday night and said specialist must've been jerking off in the back, because I counted 10 rings and hung up. SO I dialed 0. I get an operator. I say "I need to be connected to the New Hampshire State Police immediately, this is an emergency" She says "Oh you have to dial 911" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
So FINE. I dial 911 and I hear James f-ing Earl Jones going "Cingular" and FINALLY "New Hampshire State Police Emergency Line how can we help you?" Sigh of relief. I go through the whole thing "we've been in an accident, not hurt, really shaken up, road's got black ice, other people are skidding, we're most afraid of being hit by someone else, yadda yadda" The guy says "you're on the other side of the guardrail?" I say "yes" He says "now you're in New Hampshire, right?" SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF GOD NO I'M IN FLORIDA BUT WANTED TO SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I CALLED 911 IN NEW HAMPSHIRE THEN TIMED HOW LONG IT TOOK THEM TO RESPOND! I say "yes sir, in New Hampshire" So he sends someone. We do a quick damage assessment: we hit the guardrail so hard, not only did we rip part of it out of the ground, but it jammed itself behind the tire and under the car. We were not going to be backing out and driving off the exit anytime soon....
These conversations should have been a good indication of how long we were about to wait for help. A random guy ran down the highway a few minutes after the crash with a flashlight and said "I was behind you and saw everything are you guys ok? Oh and I called the state police" While he and my dad were talking a tractor trailer skidded on what we came to find out was a frozen bridge, heading right towards us. AMy and I ran down the ravine and my dad and the other guy jumped the guardrail before the tractor trailer regained control and continued to speed down the highway. My dad sent the guy back to his car so he wouldn't be killed for helping us, and we huddled together to wait. And wait. and wait. After 30 minutes of waiting in the snow, a local policewoman pulled up. Having the safety of bluelights, I got my sister some sneaker from her suitcase, and as I did that, the state trooper (who will henceforth be called "Gary with the Hot Ass") pulled up. After they made sure we were ok, my sister and I were invited to hang out in the back of the police lady's car til help came and got us out.
This was both incredibly boring as well as slightly educational. Boring because this involved about two hours of waiting. But interesting because Hot Ass and local police girl had great conversations LPG: You hear about the meth lab on main st? HAG: No, but I had to respond to an arson last night, then arrested so and so for the second time for hitting up cars, but once I cuffed him he told me where he had stolen the stuff from. Or the police radio also provided entertainment: Police "I need a number on an address I have to respond to, I think it's the XYZ family" Dispatch: "you've been there before, I think it's 789" Police: "Yup, been there before. Ok. Thanks." Also, Local Police Girl made several heated phone calls to the Department of Transportation: "I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY to get out here and salt this bridge cause it froze last night and I skidded, and now you've had 3 phone calls before 11pm and we STILL had 2 accidents. I am sitting here with the second accident and I see two cars up ahead that have gone off the road" hahahah she scared them shitless cause 20 minutes later 3 salt trucks came.
A ramp truck came too, but was useless. He caused some more damage trying to extract the car, then said "I think we need the Fire Department to cut the guardrail up" SWEET thought Amy and I, firemen and power tools.
Now you have to remember that you are in New Hampshire in the start of the "North Country" and people don't see a lot of action. SO when the state police calls your local podunk fire department to take some heave equipment up to the highway and extract a car, they're gonna get excited, which is why two fully equipped fire trucks and a box truck were sent, along with about 18 firemen. The local police girl goes "jesus, what'd they send the whole brigade?" I said "oh let the firemen have their fun they get to use a saw..."
Around 1:30am we were finally extracted from the guardrail. My sister and I rode to the condo we were renting in the police car, while my dad went with the towing company. We were relieved to get there. We had to unload everything in the snow and cold and haul it in, but we made it in one piece.
I don't know if he's still doing it, but that night, my dad was really beating himself up about crashing. He said "I did everything I was trained to do, took my foot off the brake, turned into the skid and I still fucked up" I said "DAD you did everything right. If Amy or I had been driving we wouldn't have reacted properly and we would've rolled that thing over. You were amazing" The police officer had told us the grim truth. She said "thank god your dad's a cop and has all that training. Cause if you had flipped it, you would've jumped the guardrail, gone down the ravine, and then ended up below in the river, which is not where you want to be."
So basically, as much as my dad thinks he fucked up and messed up the car (we're waiting to see if it's fixable - it looks pretty bad, but not totally a lost cause) he is the one responsible for saving all of our asses. We got a chance to look at the accident scene in the daylight, and it was rather harrowing: we skidded about 50-75 feet across a bridge that was probaby a healthy 20 feet above the river. Had my father not known exactly how to react, we probably would've flipped at a much higher rate than the one at which we crashed, and definitely gone into the shallow river or its rock covered bank. He truly saved our lives, I think. And that's why he rocks.
Accident recount post officially over. The end. ;)
Thursday, November 10, 2005
It is currently 1:45pm.
In 15 minutes I have a conference call.
But for the next 15 minutes I have nothing to do. I mean I have something but I don't want to do it. That's that.
Also, I get to go home in like, an hour, thanks to the fact I worked 3 hrs uncompensated overtime this week. Well more, because I skip lunch and don't leave early, but I don't keep track of that crap.
Anywas, I am going to get one the 2:59 inbound green line to park street, and that little bitch better be on time. And then I'm gonna transfer to the 3:24 outbound red line. AND THAT BITCH BETTER BE ON TIME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
I will not let the mbta f*ck with me and my transportation.
yawn. that was a pointless post. And I'm not even gonna draw a picture to go with it.
PS WHY'D THEY HAVE TO KILL SHANNON ON 'LOST' ????
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
On my seventeenth birthday, I received a card from my grandparents. I'm sure I still have it too. IT said "Come with us this week to buy a: (and she sketched a little birdcage with a bird in it)"
I had wanted a bird for so so long, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I had been fascinated with birds throughout my childhood and wanted some to observe up close. Maybe it was because I wanted a pet, having to be satisfied with fish for so many years. At any rate, my grandparents were the ones who made the final push to bring birds into the house. My mom was hesitant ("the noise, the mess") but being a sap for animals, she was not about to protest.
Not knowing any better, we went to the epitome of evil among bird pet stores (begins with a "p" ends with an "o") and stood in front of the glass case of parakeets for several minutes watching the large flock of birds move and play together. We quickly picked out a little blue bird, and "he" was beautiful. He had a beautiful bluish purple body, that faded into turquoise, blue green, green, and then a yellow head. He had black stripes on the top of his head, black and white wing feathers and a sweet little face with big black eyes. We picked him out immediately. Then we had to pick him out a friend. Our eyes were drawn to a green bird. She wasn't your average green parakeet. She was a darker shade of green. She had a little yellow face, and on the top of her black striped head there was a patch of yellow feathers that I thought was shaped like a star. They were both beautiful and made a good pair.
We surveyed the cages. Since we knew we wanted two birds, we decided to get a cockatiel cage and a good selection of toys for the two of them.
The ride home was an adventure. Each bird had it's own cardboard crate, and was chirping nervously. We let the out in their cage. And the rest is basically history.
Beatrice and Benedick, as we called them, provided us with hours of joy and entertainment. They played in their cage, they'd fight and chirp and preen each other. They'd throw their food out of their dish, they'd escape between the bars of their cage and fly around my room, and I'd walk in to find them sitting on my curtain rod or sitting amongst my stuffed animals. Each bird had its own distinct personality. We loved them more than any animal that had ever crossed the threshold of our house.
I went to Africa in January 2003, and upon coming home in May, I learned that Beatrice had died very suddenly one night in March. Apparently, my sister found her, and it was quite traumatic. My dad went out and dug through the frozen dirt in order to dig a suitable grave. She was buried with a poem from "Much Ado About Nothing" the play which inspired her name. That was sad to me. But I wasn't there to experience everything, so I felt sad, and moved on. After all, I still had my little Ben, who almost died of depression after the death of Beatrice, but my sister and mother managed to drag him up out of it at the last second.
Little Ben adapted to life on his own. He became more affectionate and even started giving my sister "kisses." He would sit in the corner of his cage and put his head through his legs, turning himself inside out. He would observe our cockatiel, Lily, for hours, and then scold him whenever he started to misbehave. Ben would sing contentedly with the stereo, and grind his beak happily as I sat quietly at my computer working and he looked on.
A couple of weeks ago, we noticed that Ben was getting a little quiet, a little old and tired looking. He was after all, at least 7, having been in our family for 6 1/2 years and being at least 6 months old at the time of his purchase. But still, we had worked so hard to keep him healthy, converting his seed diet to pellets, supplementing his meals with lettuce, when he actually would eat it. How could he be sick? We second guessed ourselves often. He's old, maybe he's not sick, he's not sneezing or weezing.....maybe he's just slowing down. Finally, when Ben sat on his perch, hunched over, breathing heavier than normal and keeping his eyes close for longer and longer periods of time, I knew something was wrong. Knowing parakeets are prone to tumors, I prepared myself for the worst. As Ben's condition remained stable, I realized I had to take the chance to bring him to the vet, while he was still well enough to eat and get around his cage. I took him to the local avian veterinarian. I left work one day at 1pm without telling anyone I was going. I just walked out, went to the pet store to buy a carrier and went to the vet's. She was very nice, and told me that Ben was very thin and small, but she couldn't palpate a tumor. She told me that she couldn't know what was really wrong with Ben without x-rays and tests, which would cost upwards of $300. Not that I could ever put a price on the bird that had brought me so much happiness, I was still not prepared to spend that kind of money without weighing my options first. I told the vet this, and she suggested antibiotics and a supplement to boost liver function. I was shown how to administer the meds and $106 later, I was sent home, armed with medication and a medicine dropper. I was going away that weekend, so I had to show my mom how to temp the bird with a treat and drop the medication in her mouth, as my mom is skittish about handling the birds.
When I left on Friday, Ben (we found out that he was actually a SHE when we went to the vet's) seemed to rally. She seemed a little perkier, a little sassier. I went away reassured. It would not last long, however, and upon my return on Sunday I went to her cage to find her left leg paralyzed. She adapted to this very quickly, but still I was very concerned. I continued to medicate her, change her water and feed her whatever she wanted. But I knew deep down that something was very wrong. She started to slow more and more. On Monday, she could barely climb. We modified her cage so that she wouldn't have to leave the floor of her cage. On Tuesday, I knew we were in for the worst. Ben just sat on the floor of her cage, closing her eyes frequently, breathing heavily. The paralysis was a classice indication of an inoperable kidney tumor, and I knew that there was nothing to be done. This was hard, just watching my pet waste away. The only heartening thing had been the vet's reassurance that she was not in any pain. I kept telling myself that, and feeding her her favorite treats. I checked on her incessantly throughout the night, and then went to watch Tv for an hour. By 10pm Tuesday, November 1, our little Ben was no longer.
I will say one thing. She looked entirely peaceful in her cage. She had not moved from the place I had last left her, and it looked as though she fell asleep, died, and sort of just turned over. I could not keep from crying though, as we had bonded especially tightly in the last few days of her life. My mom was absolutely beside herself with emotion. We had not been the type of family that grew up with pets, these were really our first, so it HURT like a motherf*cker to see our babies go. Like I said though, there was nothing to be done for the sweet thing. I got a great blue box and green tissue paper. I wrapped her in a shroud of fabric printed with brightly-colored owls, and laid her in the box, with two treats and a note, telling her how much she meant to us. Because it's true, she was a special sweet birdie.
We buried her the next night, next to her friend Beatrice. Now they can finally hang out again and eat lots of treats, and I couldn't be happier for the both of them. But still, I selfishly dwell on the void they left in our lives. Sadly, we'd look at the empty cage, and finally my mother asked me to take it down. It made her sad, and it made our cockatiel confused - he'd stare at it for hours wondering where she was. I dissembled it, and put it on the floor. My dad urged us to get more birds, but my mother and I just couldn't imagine other birds in the house. "It won't be the same" we said......
we. are suckers.
I went to FosterParrots, a shelter I've been volunteering at for a YEAR this month (where the HECK did that time go?) and I told the director, all the while digging my nails into my palm so I wouldn't get 'emotional.' His look was one of pure empathy. He is truly the king of all bird nerds, and I KNEW of all people, he would understand how I felt, especially since he has struggled to keep some of his favorite birds alive in the face of illness, abuse from other owners, and disability. He said "ohhh, oh nooo, Allison! I am so sorry. That's awful. Oh I'm sorry." He let me go on about the vet and the tumor and everything and let me go on about how I was here to sort of move on and stuff, but DID NOT WANT MORE BIRDS. He says 'ok, well just think about this. It's kind of funny. Someone found a bird in the bank parking lot YESTERDAY and she's so so sweet and needs a home" I said "well don't look at me, I can't take birds" The codirector took a different approach. She said "Volunteers are not allowed to have empty cages, take her, take a friend for her and get out of here." I thought about it while I was on my hands and knees cleaning bird crap off the floor and thought "please of course I want two more parakeets" and when I saw the little one I was supposed to take home, I thought "sweet jesus how can I say no?" There she was, petite, blue (the color of tanzanite, my mom says) with a little white face and big black eyes. 1,2,3 awwwwwwwwwwwwww! She was playing on the toys in the cage and looked pretty happy and healthy. Karen, the codirector, said "let's find her a friend, oh that guy looks good" as she pointed to a solitary yellow and lime green male. I was kinda like "whatev, maybe she should have another female friend....." That was left up in the air while I made a quick phone call to my mother. At first she said "nooooooooo, oh please noooooooo no more, I can't stand the heartbreak" I said "but MOM they need a good home, come ON" and she said quietly "you know you KNOW you can bring them home if they need to be adopted." Skipping back into the parrot shelter, Marc had a carrier ready for me, and brought it to the parakeet aviary to help me collect the new birds. He caught the female and put her in the carrier. "Let's get her a boyfriend" Marc said. His eyes wandered over a few birds, and then settled on the same yellow and lime green male that had been pointed out to me by Karen. He sat alone on a perch. He was robust and quite healthy looking, but was minding his own business. He looked like kind of a loner. Marc grabbed him and put him in the carrier......and out I went.
The birds were so good in the car. Beatrice and Ben were always very spazzy on car rides, but these two sat in the carrier and chirped every once in a while. They were so well behaved, I even hit up the Dunkin' Donuts drive through on the way home.
When I got home, I showed the newbies to my mom who just stared at them with love, saying "awwwwww!!!" every 7 seconds or so. I brought the case upstairs to my room, and held it in front of Lily. "Lily" I said, "these are going to be your new friends" "Hiiii birdie!!!" said Lily. SO sweet. so SMART! The birds contentedly preened each other while I prepared the old cage for them, scrubbing it clean of any lurking germs.
When we released the birds into the new cage, they sat there. And sat there some more. They were so cute though, we didn't need them to tricks or anything special. AND then.....the female, SPRANG into action, crazily grabbing each toy with her beak and flinging it around, crawling back and forth on the floor of her cage, jumping from place to place - she was CRAZY. Meanwhile the male sort of sat in the corner and was like "oh shit, what the HELL did I get myself INTO??"
That pretty much sums up their personalities. We're gonna call them Charlie Brown (Charlie for short) and Lucy. They're really perfect names that fit with their attitudes. Charlie sits on his perch, innocently minding his own business, oblivious to the WORLD. Lucy zooms around the cage. Charlie sits there with this "Please just leave me out of whatever insane thing you are doing right now" Lucy will sneak up behind him, clearly in attack mode. She'll open her mouth, and lean forward, ready to STRIKE. Sometimes she actually gets away with it too.....Often Charlie will just fly somewhere else for his alone time, but every once in a while, he'll be like 'I've HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!" and strike back.
Ahhhh....it's SO good to have parakeets in the house again :)
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Friday, October 14, 2005
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
I RAN A HALF MARATHON YESTERDAY
I RAN it in 2 hours and 23 minutes
I raised over 2200$$ for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society
and I felt badass. I did. I admit it.
There's not really too much more to add. My sports bra was amazing and kept my small boobs in place and did not eat away at my skin. My shoes were fabulous and kept my feet going. My body held up all 13.1 miles. I had the names pinned to my back, names that my sponsers wanted to run in honor of or in memory of and the thought of them kept me moving as well. My coworker also gave me this amino acid revival shit and oh my God miles 6,7, and 8 were probably my fastest cause of that. Holy crap. Plus I didn't walk once (well except for at water stops but that doesn't count because HELLLOOOO I can't drink and run at the same time...yeah I'm spastic, but there it is, drinking and running do not mix for me). So basically I felt great. I could go into this heavy deep and real detail about how I proved to myself that I was strong and all that shit, but really I don't feel like it. I actually want to take a nap. Because I took the day off cause I am hobbling around cause my muscles and joints are all f-ed up. SO yeah. I will draw a picture though. This is me crossing the finish. My ankle is bleeding because of the electronic microchip anklet "if you don't wear this you don't get a time" thing messed up my leg and ate the skin off of it. ANd it bled everywhere. But that's ok, cause I got to buy first aid gear. yay.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
"you've got to learn to be selfish"
ha ha ha ha ha. well. I'll give it a try :D
I am sitting at work and I think I may be on the rebound from the stress. Because of boyfriend. Because he is amazing and patient. Ha. I loooooove him LOTS cause honestly, I have been under the worst stress and didn't want to drag anyone into it, ah, but who calls me at my worst hour (11pm)? HIM sooo he got to hear it last night when I couldn't keep it in anymore. wow, it wasn't pretty but now I feel like a weight has been LIFTEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD HOORAY
I have figured things out
Personal statement: it's almost there
Recommendations: pretty much out of my hands. Advisor is done, she's sending it herself, doctor will finish on time, Friday at the latest, so its' all on my former boss. All on you, MATTHEW!
Race: on sunday. At this point, I'm just gonna go with it.
Cookies: I stood in the "baking needs" aisle at the supermarket picking out low-protein flour (it makes the sugar cookies nicer) 4 pound of light brown sugar 1 1/2 pound of chocolate chip, a pound of raisins and thought "why the fuck am I doing this to myself?" I put everything back in its place and walked to the end of of the aisle where the Betty Crocker quick bake "homemade cookies in 20 minutes" bags were located, and for 1.69 a piece I got frickn' peace of mind. Now instead of slaving over an oven, I'm gonna make me some cookies, 4 different kinds, package them up for bookclub and still have time to lounge on the couch for "Lost" To Betty I say "AMEN SISTER!"
"Lost": just a note. I love it. So. much. addicted. the end.
Bookclub: a woman from bookclub called last night to remind me I was in charge of snacks. She is the loveliest woman in book club, I adore her because she is sooooooo nice and the person closest to my age (ahahahh and she's like, 38 or 40 ha) but she said "I'm so excited you'll be there because you always say the most interesting things" She could've been lying, but I don't care. I was like "huh guess i may add something positive after all" who knows. Bookclub is supposed to be fun I'm not supposed to obsess about saying witty things. hahahah besides, when we play the word game (where someone finds an obscure word and everyone tries to guess the definition) I always WIN! i don't always write down the correct definition (though a couple times I have) but I often write the most CONVINCING definition, ahahahha cause I'm good at making things up. PS Smith -------> says "chick lit" is OK. So now I really have no guilt! Suck on that bookclub people who only want to read "award winning works of literature" (oooh not that I am complaining-I got mad love for bookclub, it makes me read qualitay, although I just read "Skeletons on the Zahara" which was in a word, AMAZING, but now I have no guilt for mixing it up with stuff like "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants" (which is a great story!) or "The Bergdorf Blondes" (dumb as all hell but pretty damn entertaining. It got me to start drinking peach bellinis).
I think I must look kinda bad today. Well and yesterday. The kid at the grocery store was soooooo polite and nice (although I do say "please" and "thank you". I mean, I did work in a store once and polite people do make all the difference and when people say "please" and "thank you" I used to try and be as helpful as possible) and then he said "you have a good night now" I thought "huh kinda weirdly nice in a sympathetic way....perhaps he saw how many cookies I have to make and took pity." Then this morning the guy at Starbucks went out of his way to be nice. He didn't yell "NEXT" when it was my turn, but walked down the counter to where I was standing and said "Now what can I get for you today?" in this very kind voice, and then said "Ok Coffee light blend frappucino. And how about something to eat?" and then "Alright Autumn Green Apple Cake comin' right up for you" After I paid he leaned over the counter (now if I hadn't been totally worn out and looking kind of bad and knowing it this would've been creepy) hands me my apple cake and says "Now you have a good day today." I looked at him and said "Oh.... Thank you...." and he nodded sympathetically. Jeez. I thought "How bad do I look?" So when I got to work I looked in the mirror. Wow. My hair looks EXCELLENT-it's the John Frieda line for brunettes. My face, however, is an entirely different story. Because I was crying for like, an hour and a half last night, my eyes were rather swollen. So I wouldn't look like a raging "pot user" as my friend's mom calls it, I used some Visine. Uh. Too much visine, which in turn has taken away the red eyes, but increased eyelid swelling. It's rather unfortunate. There are the dark circles too. But you know, whatev, I am getting shit done today and no bad looking-ness is gonna stop me. Nor is my food obsessed co worker who drives me crazy.....No ONE can TOUCH me TODAY. ARWWRRRRAAAWWRRRR.
PS I realized that while slightly Lynette, I am also slightly "Desperate Housewife" Bree, except not as psychotic with a crazy Susan edge (the klutziness) PS Marcia Cross, who plays Bree, just got her Masters in Clinical Pyschology...no wonder she's such a damn good actress.................yeah. ahhahaha
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Just a list. I am under a lot of pressure this week. This is why:
On September 22nd I found out that the graduate biology department at the school to which I am applying has its own special admissions deadline, which is October 1st. The entire school, except one other program, has a November 1st or later deadline. And every program that has a different deadline than the general November 1st deadline is listed in first pages of the application. Except. biology. And when I emailed the head of the department, he was very much like "um make the deadline on time, or don't apply." He probably thinks I'm a flake, even though I was mostly emailing him to point out the fact that there are some major discrepancies between the bio department website and application. Anyways. The problem is that now I have 8 days instead of 38 to get 3 recommendation letters and a minimum 1200 word statement done. I had 2 recommendations lined up. At least one (bless you, my former advisor) told me that she could get it done by the due date, which is a lot to ask since the poor woman moved to Ithaca two weeks ago and is now teaching at Cornell and is probably STRESSING. So one down. Next I approach another person I had thought of but not confirmed and they say "no. the grad school doesn't want a letter from me, they want a big name from the hospital to write one. Ask the doctor in charge of your study" Oh the woman who barely knows me? ok. I asked her, and she also said "yes" if I emailed her my personal statement. Which means I had to write it. I spent Thursday brainstorming it, went home Thursday, 1 hour and 45 minutes late since the bus broke down and there was a shooting/electrocution on the train tracks which delayed me. I went to my sister's best friend's father's wake, depressing, then settled down at 9:30 pm to come up with something to say. I was too tired. My brain refused. I spent most of the work day Friday writing my statement in between frantic emails to the the recommender I hadn't yet heard from (former boss).... I got a decent enough draft done, but it was far from perfect. I then took a 45 minute bus ride to drop of the necessary forms at my former office, left a message for my former boss offering everything except my first born child should he finish my recommendation before October 1st, took the bus back, then took the train for another hour. It took me 3 1/2 hours to do all of this. And once again, it was personal statement time. I could only do so much. I quit around 12:15 I think, slept til 8, woke up and packed the car for a camping trip.
Saturday morning I drove myself and two friends 200 or so miles to go camping, where we met 3 other friends, all girls I lived with in college. We spent the night camping and it was truly fabulous, did some great sight seeing in the area, but then it was another 200 miles back home. It was fine, but the drive is tiring. I got in in time to watch the end of the football game, yay, grabbed some dinner and then worked til 11:15pm on my personal statement. It was still unfinished but taking shape. I forwarded it out to my recommenders saying "it's not done, excuse it if it's horrible, but at least you'll get an idea of why I'm applying to school (and putting myself and you through hell to do so)" I still haven't heard from anyone regarding when they may finish. But fuck it, that application will be there complete or incomplete on October 1st. It's a little irritating that a university department can set it's own standards. I mean it's fine, but I can guarantee you that half the people who apply to this program do not check the individual website. It's hidden away and very tricky to find. FUrthermore it has all these special rules "send two copies of transcripts directly to school" Yeah? Well maybe if I had fucking 38 days to do that, I would, but sadly for you, I have 8 days, and you are getting the single copy of my two transcripts in the envelope of other application materials I am sending. Too fucking bad, I am at the point where if I tried to follow all of these stupid rules I will have a breakdown. It's ridiculous. Bad enough I am a perfectionist and am tweaking my personal statement on a daily basis because I'm so worried that the admissions board will read it and say "she did this the week before it was due." ARGH!
So I have that. As if that wasn't bad enough, I am running a half marathon to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. THIS SUNDAY. Can you believe it? ugh. SO yeah, I am exhausted from staying up and cranky as all hell, and I have to run 13.1 miles on Sunday. I am supposed to be resting and instead I'm running around crazy and the hike I took while camping (which I knew would be bad, but went on anyways) aggravated my ankle and illiotibial band. Great. Hopefully it won't bug me on Sunday.
ALSO this week is bookclub. ANd cause I apparently can't plan for sh*t, I volunteered to bring the snack. I could of course buy something, but that is definitely not my style, so instead, after work today, I will be buying the ingredients to make 4 different types of cookies (the batch size is pretty small). I feel like I have to go all out with this because I don't add much to book club. i usually don't like the books that much, find them slightly boring, and therefore say things such as "the descriptions in this b0ok are lovely and vivid" Who am I? Jesus. I want to make up for it with my delicious cookies.
What is this obsession with being "able to do it all?" God. Ugh. I feel like I am going to turn into Felicity Huffman's character on "Desperate Housewives" (though God help me if I have 4 children) and I'm only 23!!!! Imagine me being all psychotic PLUS kids. IT's terrifying! And it makes me so stressed out (ok the deadline thing is an extenuating circumstance) and then I get cranky and no one wants to talk to me and then people think that I am mad at them (boyfriend probably thinks I am mad at him, though it's not particularly fun to try and carry on a conversation and be interrupted every five minutes with a description of what's going on on the LL Cool J tribute on MTV. Jesus Christ, don't call me if you don't want to talk to me) and yeah. Ugly ugly cycle. I guess what I have to look forward to is the fact that on Sunday, October 2nd around 12 noon, everything will be OVER. It will be wonderful. Then I may sleep the rest of the day. Then I'm getting a pedicure and manicure. Everyone KNOWS I am a nail polish whore and i haven't touched nailpolish since, uh, at least August, maybe earlier. I the last time I did anything to my nails except break them was the weekend of a wedding I went to with boyfreiend, August 6th.
Also-I feel guilty for being stressed. My sister's best friend lost his dad last week. There were 2 hurricanes in a month that destroyed people's houses. I mean, what the fuck is my problem? :(
Thursday, September 22, 2005
"Somewh&re along the line !t seems to have been f0rg0tten that when you call !n sick, y0u @re supp0se (aha GRAMMAR MISTAKE...dumb b0ss) t0 call int0 the 0ffice when there @re l!ve human be!ngs here t0 speak t0 -- in 0ther w0rds, d0n't leave a message 0n some0ne's v0icemail pri0r t0 the start 0f the w0rk day (something that is accepted as the standard here!!). N0 0NE WILL EVER QUESTI0N WHEN S0MEONE CALLS IN SICK (then why is it so f*cking imp0rtant t0 talk t0 a live pers0n?). AND EVERY0NE IS ENTITLED T0 S!CK DAYS. But it is necessary t0 speak with your supervis0r to tell them y0u are n0t coming in rather than saying, this is my cell and y0u can reach me here later (you're starting to ramble here, sister). We d0n't want t0 b0ther y0u when y0u are sick (bullshit), but we d0 want t0 kn0w if there is anything we sh0uld be f0ll0wing up 0n in your absence (translation: we want to be able to log on to your computer, read all your email and see what work you're not doing), especially if it turns 0ut that you might be 0ut more than just 0ne day (though if you are, it might be time to start looking for a new j0b).
Let's remember this for the future (translation: listen up, you f*cking dumb minions). And, remember my b0ss expects me t0 speak t0 her when I am 0ut sick (I live under a veil of boss induced 0ppressi0n als0, but mask it my lording power over my sub0rdinates), so I expect the same courtesy from you all (cause I want to take over this company and it's the only way I can do it, by being mean to people, that is). "
Seriously, what flew up this woman's ass and died? Jesus. Powermongering bosses, it's a disgrace. As you can imagine my friend was quite upset and had to reply with a very long explanation about how she DID talk to someone in person that morning who said that she would pass the message to the boss, etc etc etc. IT's sad. Anyways, to console her, I drew a likeness of her boss. It's in its preliminary stages, but I will post it here anyways:
That's her. The evil one. She's green.
This is a picture of my boss in comparison:
This is no way resembles my boss, cept the blue eyes and hair color, but I think her general personality is captured here.
I'll do my coworkers later. Cause right now I have to take a crap. And my bathroom now has a doorlock with a code, so you need to leave your office a few minutes before you actually need to go. For planning.....you know....
Monday, September 19, 2005
ok. today I give you "boyfriend (who is kept anonymous for his own protection) at work"
This picture is filled with some inside jokes (Tims for confidence), but you can basically see he is an IT person who knows lots of stuff nobody else knows about computers. When he starts talking all this technical stuff I don't understand, it turns me on, hahahahahhaha GET IT? It does though.... :D
Thursday, September 15, 2005
This is my stomach. and me. that pretty much sums up the last two weeks. My stomach acid is trying to eat me alive. I have to figure out how to stop the madness but I don't know how! Meanwhile I have a constant burning sensation along my breastbone and under my rib cage with extra stabbing pains on the left when I do things like, I dunno, bend over, eat, breathe.....ugh. At least boyfriend is coming to spend the weekend. Yay something to look forward too :D
Monday, September 12, 2005
My friend is a victim of workplace oppression and terrorization. It's really rather disgusting (in the despicable sense) and while she has done everything she can to address the situation, it's gotten out of hand entirely cause her boss just doesn't get it. It's really bad bad bad news. To make my friend laugh today, I drew a picture of her boss (who I've actually never even seen, but whatev) and her dual personalities. The bitch. I hope this is as unflattering as possible. heh heh heh....
Saturday, September 10, 2005
so hells yeah, obviously I did it, cause even though I know we're compatible, hahahahha, "my Leo partner" embodies the ESSENCE of a Leo (you're probably reading this. Go ahead, throw your head back and cackle, but you know it's true....like my neighbor, a Leo said to me last weekend "My personality simply reflects that I'm a Leo, that's all, don't get offended that it's all about me, it's just how I am" (ok he said this jokingly, but only half, and he was being funny as hell, but we all know that's a slight Leo undercurrent, and that people who are Aries, like me are hard headed and stubborn as hell. hahhah so true)) ANYWAYS. Hells yeah I took the love meter. Here is what we're dealing with:
Aries and Leo
Fire signs tend to work well with other fire signs, so this can be a good and lasting pair as long as there is plenty of excitement, romance, and play (check check and check again, especially the play part ahahahah). Both of you love a good time and will put sports, adventure, and parties on top of your priority list(again, yes). You are impulsively active by nature, and may be inspired by your creative, expressive, and fun-loving Leo partner(this is particularly true, and yes, my Leo partner inspires my creativity, heh heh hehhh. ok I"m stopping). You are more likely to follow a whim, and it will take a very secure Leo to trust you enough to give you the freedom you’ll want(this is true). Meanwhile, your Lion is loyal and faithful(he is too), as long as he or she feels loved or even adored (he is too). You both love to be the center of attention and would never turn your backs on an opportunity to be admired(commence cackling). There is no shortage of physical passion here(yes) , especially as a way to burn off excess anger(uh, ok). If, however, the Moon in your chart is in Taurus (what is my moon doing in my sister's car?), Scorpio or Aquarius, compatibility may be more difficult to achieve. (Click here to find out where the Moon is in your chart.)(don't do it cause you'll get pop-ups and have to pay just to find out where the moon is in your chart and then you'll just end up walking around going "shit I was hoping my moon wasn't there but it was and NOW what am I gonna do?") It would be a good idea for you two limelight lovers to admire each other, express your love actively and avoid excessive competition (I think we enjoy HEALTHY competition). Long-term potentials include an active and joyous life of laughter, entertainment and love (awwwwwwwwwwww). Hey. It kept me entertained for a good 5 minutes, people....
I already knew all this though. you can tell just by looking at us:
I AM APPLYING TO GRADUATE SCHOOL
TO DO THIS I MUST TAKE THE GRE'S?
I HAVE NO F-ING CLUE
I want to be some sort of biologist person. Will I ever need to know that the square root of 8 plus 1 times the square root of 8 minus one is 7? That germane is the opposite of irrelevant and that sully is the opposite of cleanse? Let me answer for you: NO NO NO NO aaand NO!!!!
as my sister would say: le sigh
oh well. Tuesday and it will all be over.
Now I must run 10 miles for my half marathon training.
I have a new sportsbra and I new sneakers.
This could mean either disaster or glory:
glory-my sneakers feel as though my feet were shod not in shoes but in two little puffy clouds that bounce of the pavement and make me glide through the air. Sportsbra no longer eats away the skin under my boobs, but soothes it with its balm-like red absorbent cotton lycra.
disaster-I get blisters which break open and bleed and ooze juices all over my non absorbent socks. sportsbra takes advantage of already injured under-boob skin and continues the damage.
I am anticipating a combination of glory and disaster. we shall have to see how it goes....
Friday, September 09, 2005
Hey guess what? My friend (abouttheliltinghouse.com hee hee) told me how to start a blog. I know it's just like, going to a website and clicking a link and signing up and crap, but I needed HEEELLLP. She told me I should start a blog, well I think cause she has one and it's pretty fun to read and also because I have recently discovered my mad MS Paint SKILLZ. They're not really skills at all, the drawings I do, I think, are pretty substandard, but the thing is that they make people laugh, so I like that. Therefore, I have started this blog so I can put up the pictures. Or maybe write a funny but true story, about how my bus hit a car this morning (the one I ride, not drive) but for now, in 2XE's honor, I give you my piece entitled "THE FIRES OF HELL"