I have nothing of real importance to say today, other that I have made it to my FIFTEENTH HUNDREDTH PAGE VIEW!!!!
That is a whole lot of people coming over to my little ol' site and poking around at my ridiculousness. It makes me very happy.
In other news, I was super sick this weekend. I would not recommend getting a cold from any little brother. Oh my goodness, was I not feeling good. I ate so little food, I can list everything I ate from Friday until today.
Friday:
Chicken sandwich: Regretted.
Three forks of pasta: Bad Idea.
Coke: Oh, buddy...
Saturday:
Chocolate chip pancake: Not happening again for a while.
Sausage: <Grossed out face.>
Three bottles of water: My only good idea.
Sunday:
Orange Float: Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Six leaves of Iceberg lettuce: <Stomach unsettled.>
Three more bottles of water: Still not hydrated.
Monday:
Cheerios and banana!: Felling better.
Ice Cream: Terrible idea, what is wrong with me.
So I think I might still be sicky. I won't elaborate on the details, but my weekend at my grandma's, which is usually awesome, was spent either asleep under a heavy comforter, or in the bathroom, wondering what I did to deserve feeling like death, dying, and more deadness.
To end on a good note, my mom did a reading for her newly published short story in a local anthology. I am deeply proud of her. She even got to sign her autograph. She puts this part in air quote, but she is getting quite famous in the erotica world. She obviously gets her writing chops from me!
Monday, February 25, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Making a Snowman
So a few weekends ago I discovered my new favorite beer, (Blue Moon), made a snowman, and had a delightfully awkward few hours with a guy who is overly interested in me, whilst I am not so much in him.
To begin the evening, I went over to Ambria's to pick her up so we could go hang with Danielle for a few hours. A few weeks prior to this meeting, I had met up with Danielle to discover she had reverted from her earlier persona of a crazy person. She had effectively ruined my nineteenth birthday party by being a crazy person, and Ambria and I had avoided her since. But when I finally decided to meet up with her for the first time in a year and a half, she was normal, and seemed genuinely happy.
The change in Danielle led me to encourage Ambria to reach out to her too. Thus, the meeting up with Danielle was scheduled.
So we went to a coffee shop, talked for a few hours, after which Ambria and I decided to meet up with her new boyfriend at his house to drink some beers. We went to the store to buy our alcohols of choice, then went over to Corey's house.
Ambria and I sort of assumed that Corey's friend Joe would be there. But I figured after I had turned him down after asking me out, he wouldn't try to push the issue. I didn't want to date him, and most certainly did not want to hook up with him. There wasn't a pair of beer goggles that would make that happen. Sure, he is nice enough, but he has some serious issues with hygiene. Thanks, but no thanks. I like my boys showered, shaved, and with brushed teeth.
Still, I hoped he wouldn't be awkward about his admiration of me.
At first, things were fine. We were all drinking our beers, chatting about the fact the Joe and Corey knew Danielle from, "hellas ago," in middle school, and how she had changed so much afterwords. There was also talk of this one girl that was sort of stalking Ambria because she was dating Corey. Then the guys decided they were hungry and left to go to the store. Ambria and I went exploring the house.
At some point in time, we decided to look outside for the guys. Instead we found snow. Like inches and inches of the stuff.
Fueled by our intense love of the snow, and possibly by the beers we had already consumed, we donned our coats and headed outside for a stroll. We proceeded to walk up and down the street in the snow at two o'clock in the morning. There was a bar down the street where some guys were spilling out, but no one really bothered us. I scuffed my feet in the snow, making words and pictures. On a short brick wall, I drew a snow penis. And then Ambria and I got paranoid about leaving the door unlocked, and ran back to the house. Diving in through the front door, we slammed it closed and locked the handle and deadbolt.
We peeked outside to where a car was sitting with its headlights on. Convince it was a burglar, (or quite possibly and encyclopedia salesman) we grabbed the blue painter's tape and proceeded to tape the door closed.
The first thing wrong with this picture was that we were obviously in no danger. (Or else I wouldn't be writing this...) and secondly was that the door swung inward. So there was no way that some tape was going to hold the door closed.
At the time, it seemed like a genius idea. We hid in the bathroom.
The boys came home, and started buffaloing around like boys often do asking loudly, "Where are you guys?"
We giggled in the bathroom. They found us. We weren't too mad though, since they had salsa and chips.
It was then decided, after more beers were opened, that a snowman was to be made. I don't know if it was because they were city folks or what, but Ambria was the only other person to know how to make a snowman. We rolled and packed the snow until three in the morning, stacked the three balls of descending size one on top the other, and decorated him with carved potatoes, a hat advertising a cigarette company, and short little twigs for arms. He was beautiful. Until we made him into a snowcat.
To begin the evening, I went over to Ambria's to pick her up so we could go hang with Danielle for a few hours. A few weeks prior to this meeting, I had met up with Danielle to discover she had reverted from her earlier persona of a crazy person. She had effectively ruined my nineteenth birthday party by being a crazy person, and Ambria and I had avoided her since. But when I finally decided to meet up with her for the first time in a year and a half, she was normal, and seemed genuinely happy.
The change in Danielle led me to encourage Ambria to reach out to her too. Thus, the meeting up with Danielle was scheduled.
So we went to a coffee shop, talked for a few hours, after which Ambria and I decided to meet up with her new boyfriend at his house to drink some beers. We went to the store to buy our alcohols of choice, then went over to Corey's house.
Ambria and I sort of assumed that Corey's friend Joe would be there. But I figured after I had turned him down after asking me out, he wouldn't try to push the issue. I didn't want to date him, and most certainly did not want to hook up with him. There wasn't a pair of beer goggles that would make that happen. Sure, he is nice enough, but he has some serious issues with hygiene. Thanks, but no thanks. I like my boys showered, shaved, and with brushed teeth.
Still, I hoped he wouldn't be awkward about his admiration of me.
At first, things were fine. We were all drinking our beers, chatting about the fact the Joe and Corey knew Danielle from, "hellas ago," in middle school, and how she had changed so much afterwords. There was also talk of this one girl that was sort of stalking Ambria because she was dating Corey. Then the guys decided they were hungry and left to go to the store. Ambria and I went exploring the house.
At some point in time, we decided to look outside for the guys. Instead we found snow. Like inches and inches of the stuff.
Fueled by our intense love of the snow, and possibly by the beers we had already consumed, we donned our coats and headed outside for a stroll. We proceeded to walk up and down the street in the snow at two o'clock in the morning. There was a bar down the street where some guys were spilling out, but no one really bothered us. I scuffed my feet in the snow, making words and pictures. On a short brick wall, I drew a snow penis. And then Ambria and I got paranoid about leaving the door unlocked, and ran back to the house. Diving in through the front door, we slammed it closed and locked the handle and deadbolt.
We peeked outside to where a car was sitting with its headlights on. Convince it was a burglar, (or quite possibly and encyclopedia salesman) we grabbed the blue painter's tape and proceeded to tape the door closed.
The first thing wrong with this picture was that we were obviously in no danger. (Or else I wouldn't be writing this...) and secondly was that the door swung inward. So there was no way that some tape was going to hold the door closed.
At the time, it seemed like a genius idea. We hid in the bathroom.
The boys came home, and started buffaloing around like boys often do asking loudly, "Where are you guys?"
We giggled in the bathroom. They found us. We weren't too mad though, since they had salsa and chips.
It was then decided, after more beers were opened, that a snowman was to be made. I don't know if it was because they were city folks or what, but Ambria was the only other person to know how to make a snowman. We rolled and packed the snow until three in the morning, stacked the three balls of descending size one on top the other, and decorated him with carved potatoes, a hat advertising a cigarette company, and short little twigs for arms. He was beautiful. Until we made him into a snowcat.
This is our Snowman/cat. All of the stuff on the ground is grass. Because I was incredibly determined to make a three and a half foot tall snowman/cat. Yes, I still appear to be a giant, but have two plus feet on him didn't help.
After the snowman/cat was completed, we went inside. Chucking off our wet coats and shoes, we relaxed inside the warm house. I told Ambria if she wanted 'alone time' with Corey, she only had a half hour. She should be glad I am such an accommodating friend. Though honestly I feel like a Madame after helping Steph Dye get her own 'alone time' a few summers back.
They escaped upstairs, and I was left to be entertained by Joe. He wasn't very entertaining. After trying to convince me to smoke pot with him, (no thank you. I don't care what you do in your free time, but I am okay spending my free time not smoking pot with you...) he tried a different tactic to win my affections. Rubbing my feet.
Honestly, I don't mind a good foot rub, but I usually pay for it. Like at the nail salon or when I get a massage. Not some random dude. Yeah, I get it, I have cold-as-a-corpse feet, but I don't need a guy who I met only once before to rub them. Especially after he tells me he doesn't really like to shower, shaving his face and cutting his hair is out of the question, getting his teeth clean regularly is an expense he doesn't want to pay, and that he likes his women hairy like Chewbacca. I don't really know how he segwayed into any of those topics, but he managed to, all while trying to rub my little, corpsy feet.
I was ready to go, but apparently Ambria wasn't.
So I waited, pulling my feet up and under me, and nodding or shaking my head at Joe instead of making conversation. We got into an argument about fake boobs by the time Ambria and Corey graced us with their presence again. Ambria smiled at Joe and me, then said it was cool for us to head home. I was more than ready.
We said our goodbyes to Joe and Corey, cleaned off my car, and went back to her house to sleep. It was almost six in the morning.
Ambria vowed to never leave me alone with Joe again.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Snow Day
Because it is snowing out here in the Ol' Midwest, I got to have a snow day. Basically that means me, sitting at home in my jim-jams watching Modern Family and looking at duck-faced selfies of people on my Facebook newsfeed. Life is good.
I thought I should also write a few new posts to be published on a schedule.
But first, I decided to write this post so as to not further disappoint people with my lack of recent posting. (Considering I can sometimes post every day for two weeks straight, I know it is rude to just fall off the face of the Earth. Or into the Mississippi.)
I thought I should also write a few new posts to be published on a schedule.
But first, I decided to write this post so as to not further disappoint people with my lack of recent posting. (Considering I can sometimes post every day for two weeks straight, I know it is rude to just fall off the face of the Earth. Or into the Mississippi.)
I was at Ambria's house last weekend and Made this on her fridge with her niece, Jenna's letters.
I also had a wonderful moment with Jenna when she pulled my tank-top down and said, "Let me see your boobies!" Which was then quickly followed by her offering to "show you mine boobies!" She is almost three.
At work, we got this postcard. The website is real. I checked.
I was painfully domestic one day and fixed the hole in my pocket. I will be a woman yet.
I ran into someone's mirror in the hospital parking lot one night. My wrist still hurts. But I bet that car hurts more.
Sharon got this from her mom, who got it from her other daughter as a Christmas gift. It didn't fit her mom's phone, and Sharon doesn't like all the pink, so she gave it to me. I don't own an iPhone though, so I have been attempting to give it to Ambria for a week. Problem is, I keep forgetting the damn thing in my other purse.
This was the sign that one of the kitch managers made at work. 'Nuff said.
This is the how someone decided to correct the sign. I definitely learned me sum English.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tests
I had a biology test, followed by an anthropology test, followed by a human sexuality test, and have a 12+ page paper due tomorrow.
Well, fuck you, test god. I aced my shit, and wrote an awesome paper.
Which is also why I haven't posted anything recently. I have to get good grades in school so I can get a better scholarship. So... I will have a better story for Saturday. I promise.
Well, fuck you, test god. I aced my shit, and wrote an awesome paper.
Which is also why I haven't posted anything recently. I have to get good grades in school so I can get a better scholarship. So... I will have a better story for Saturday. I promise.
Monday, February 11, 2013
70th Post: Boobie Day!
So, my neighbor upstairs is apparently into Goyte. She was playing/singing/performing karaoke to "Someone That I Used to Know."
Someone I used to know was "Quiet," and "Silence," and "Shut the fuck up, you sound terrible."
I guess that is the price you pay when you are way too poor to rent a house.
In other news, at the end of this post, I am going to talk about boobies. But before I get there, I am going to first write about other, more mundane, and certainly not as amazing, things.
The first would be that I have an english class in which I have exactly two assignments. I have to have between the two papers 25 pages. Fearing that I would not be able to fulfill this requirement, I began writing a story that I thought I would have to really work on to eek out that 12 1/2 page marker I was hoping to make. I started writing, got going... and had not even really started the story but had 17 pages. Thank you NaNoWriMo for making me able to expound on every little detail I could possible expound on. While it makes hitting the 50,000 word mark far easier than expected, it doesn't really help when I know that everyone else in the class will have to read my work and they are dredging through a hundred and fifteen pages. Especially considering that my character is blind, so I am missing a whole sense to even write about.
Next on my list: My grandpa has been in and out of the hospital since last week. Sure, he is eighty-nine, but if it is his time to go, I really don't want him to suffer. I would rather it be peaceful, like he just goes to sleep. Not him having these mini strokes and falling, resulting in a bruised hip and surgery and blood infusions. It makes me so sad to see him unable to stand up well or move things like a table or a chair. He couldn't even fix his pillows to make himself comfortable. He needs to get better and feel better. Not have this slow aching pain of getting older. I don't want him to think about things like, "It's my time." He deserves to be thinking about things like, "This is an amazing book," or "My son really helps around the house," or "Caught my three hundredth squirrel today!"
Dad and I have finally started season three of Battlestar: Galactica. So far, amazing. I won't say more, but I could definitely not stop myself from reading about everything that is going to happen in Wiki. I have no self control.
I have been really cranky for no apparent reason. Well I think I actually do have a reason though. I have been on birth control for about three years, and this is the first long period time I have gone off of it. I don't have someone I am currently wanting to have sexy time with, so I figured why spend the money? Well, PMS is a good reason. Holy crap, I definitely have not missed this nonsense. I don't understand why women were made like this. All crankiness and fatigue. It's almost enough to make me want to go ahead and start shelling out cash for some hormonal relief. But I need to get a better paying job first.
Speaking of which, I am working on that. The only problem is that the hiring process at this place that I really want to get a job at has the most ridiculously long timetable. So I may not be hired until the summer or something. Le sigh.
In better news, it was Boobie Day in my Human Sexuality class, and I learned some really cool things. Like that people on the night shift are possibly more prone to getting breast cancer. The reason being that they are exposed to light all day, and artificial light at night. There is also a high prevalence of breast cancer in cities because of the high amounts of light people are exposed to. In places where there is less light, (like England and Maine) people are more depressed, for lack of copious amounts of light, but there isn't a spike in breast cancer like there is in say night shift nurses who live in San Francisco. Basically, I learned that the best way to ward off an extra risk factor for breast cancer is to sleep in absolute darkness.
I am sure someone out there was really excited about reading the end of this. Ohmigosh, I love boobies, you were thinking. I think there are great, too. That is why I had to let you all know one extra way to preserve them!
Someone I used to know was "Quiet," and "Silence," and "Shut the fuck up, you sound terrible."
I guess that is the price you pay when you are way too poor to rent a house.
In other news, at the end of this post, I am going to talk about boobies. But before I get there, I am going to first write about other, more mundane, and certainly not as amazing, things.
The first would be that I have an english class in which I have exactly two assignments. I have to have between the two papers 25 pages. Fearing that I would not be able to fulfill this requirement, I began writing a story that I thought I would have to really work on to eek out that 12 1/2 page marker I was hoping to make. I started writing, got going... and had not even really started the story but had 17 pages. Thank you NaNoWriMo for making me able to expound on every little detail I could possible expound on. While it makes hitting the 50,000 word mark far easier than expected, it doesn't really help when I know that everyone else in the class will have to read my work and they are dredging through a hundred and fifteen pages. Especially considering that my character is blind, so I am missing a whole sense to even write about.
Next on my list: My grandpa has been in and out of the hospital since last week. Sure, he is eighty-nine, but if it is his time to go, I really don't want him to suffer. I would rather it be peaceful, like he just goes to sleep. Not him having these mini strokes and falling, resulting in a bruised hip and surgery and blood infusions. It makes me so sad to see him unable to stand up well or move things like a table or a chair. He couldn't even fix his pillows to make himself comfortable. He needs to get better and feel better. Not have this slow aching pain of getting older. I don't want him to think about things like, "It's my time." He deserves to be thinking about things like, "This is an amazing book," or "My son really helps around the house," or "Caught my three hundredth squirrel today!"
Dad and I have finally started season three of Battlestar: Galactica. So far, amazing. I won't say more, but I could definitely not stop myself from reading about everything that is going to happen in Wiki. I have no self control.
I have been really cranky for no apparent reason. Well I think I actually do have a reason though. I have been on birth control for about three years, and this is the first long period time I have gone off of it. I don't have someone I am currently wanting to have sexy time with, so I figured why spend the money? Well, PMS is a good reason. Holy crap, I definitely have not missed this nonsense. I don't understand why women were made like this. All crankiness and fatigue. It's almost enough to make me want to go ahead and start shelling out cash for some hormonal relief. But I need to get a better paying job first.
Speaking of which, I am working on that. The only problem is that the hiring process at this place that I really want to get a job at has the most ridiculously long timetable. So I may not be hired until the summer or something. Le sigh.
In better news, it was Boobie Day in my Human Sexuality class, and I learned some really cool things. Like that people on the night shift are possibly more prone to getting breast cancer. The reason being that they are exposed to light all day, and artificial light at night. There is also a high prevalence of breast cancer in cities because of the high amounts of light people are exposed to. In places where there is less light, (like England and Maine) people are more depressed, for lack of copious amounts of light, but there isn't a spike in breast cancer like there is in say night shift nurses who live in San Francisco. Basically, I learned that the best way to ward off an extra risk factor for breast cancer is to sleep in absolute darkness.
I am sure someone out there was really excited about reading the end of this. Ohmigosh, I love boobies, you were thinking. I think there are great, too. That is why I had to let you all know one extra way to preserve them!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
My Subway Stalker
So, I previously mentioned something about Randy, the guy who gave me his number as he exited the public transportation system that I will forever refer to as "the train."
Apparently he rides the first train heading west on Thursdays.
How I know this: I got on the first train heading west last Thursday. He gave me his number then. Today I got on the first train heading west today, (also a Thursday). Guess who was on the train.
(And guess who has hiccups right now. Holy shit. I sound like a velociraptor.)
I looked around the train as I got on all nonchalant like, and there he was, creepily staring.
Apparently he rides the first train heading west on Thursdays.
How I know this: I got on the first train heading west last Thursday. He gave me his number then. Today I got on the first train heading west today, (also a Thursday). Guess who was on the train.
(And guess who has hiccups right now. Holy shit. I sound like a velociraptor.)
I looked around the train as I got on all nonchalant like, and there he was, creepily staring.
^^ Kinda like this. ^^
Except with grey hair and a red hoodie and a lunchbox the size of a small dog's kennel.
I quickly moved positions to standing behind a tall imposing looking fellow near the doors that weren't going to open until I got to school. It worked gloriously. And I have a new plan of attack.
Ride on the second train heading west.
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