Television

I had my brother over for dinner tonight. I was a little wary of his reaction to my joblessness, considering he vouched for me to get that job. And I promised him that I would stick it out through thick or thin for at least two years. (Psh, two years? I don't keep jobs for that long! I kept my RA job that long, but that was different. The RA job required, at minimum, maybe thirty hours a month, but you could spend, like, 29 of that watching TV.)

But he came over, and I kicked his ASS at Scattergories, thanks to the category "Boy's Names" and the letter was D. 30 points of terrible handwriting. Sweet. He sent me a text that I didn't get until 6 because my husband took my phone with him to work today, so I couldn't answer any of the mean calls I got from work, or hear any of the bitchy voicemails. It was a nice text.

I don't miss my job yet, either.

Long Week

My brother is doing better. He's going back to work, and they don't know what happened. It was some sort of weird sickness, it came without warning, and cleared itself up. So, no lasting damage, yay!

I had a long week. Ever week is a long week. I'm glad he's ok.

How are you?

I Hate Shots

Ok, my brother is going to be okay. He has to take some time off work for now, but he hasn't had a day off in almost three months, so it's probably a good thing he got sick and is forced to slow down. He's staying positive. He's so positive, in fact, that I have to go to the doctor and get a shot of immunoglobulins to prevent myself from being positive, too.

What he caught is temporary, and it sounds a lot more serious than it actually is. All it does is knock you on your ass for a few weeks, but it sucks, it's contagious, and it sucks.

Sorry for sending out creepy twitters. They took him away for two hours and wouldn't tell me anything because we have different last names. It was stupid. I friggin' hate hospitals.

Why So Serious?

What is it, 1 am? Damn. I need to get to sleep because I'm going to see a Sky Sox game tomorrow afternoon with a group of my coworkers and their families, including my brother's awesome girlfriend, Katie. I hope they get married because I already have the perfect toast in my head. However, they met on May 30th, so let's give them a few more weeks before I start pressuring my brother into going to the Shane Co. with me to pick her out a ring, and who in Colorado doesn't know where they're located? Nobody, that's who.

I went and saw The Dark Knight. Speaking as somebody who is no expert on Batman (considering the last time I watched one was the Val Kilmer one, and I saw it at the theater), it was pretty good. Most ladies argue that there is rarely enough, but it had too much Christian Bale for my tastes. I'm not into skinny dudes (sorry, Edward Norton).

Since my mother lives on the south end of town, and I live closer to the north end, I ended up spending a lot of time in the car today. It was nice, having a normal conversation with my FINALLY EMPLOYED husband, which is a drastic change from the screaming fights and threats of divorce that have plagued our apartment for the past week. He was telling me about our mutual friend who was pulled over three times in the same day last week. This friend of ours has over a terabyte of pornography on one of his computers, and we imagined how his court date is going to go.

"He'll be bringing his laptop with him to court, probably, because he's going to need something to do. They'll call him up at 8 am, again at 2 pm, and one more time at 5:30. It will be the final nail on his jailhouse coffin."

"Yeah, the third time he's called up to the judge, he'll be all 'sorry, your honor, but can you skip me for a few minutes? I'm illegally downloading The Grapes of Wrath, and I don't want to lose this seed.'"

It Must Be Thursday. I Never Could Get The Hang Of Thursdays.

Yesterday morning, my father and step-mother took my dog Cujo into the vet. They were going to put him down almost three months ago, but they instead spent thousands of dollars to keep him alive for this long. But the day before yesterday, he took a turn for the worse, and now he's up in doggy heaven or wherever because they gave him a lethal IV.

I'm not mad that they put him down. He had cancer, and was getting worse and worse. I'm just sad that he's gone. Man, he was the only dog on the planet that I liked!

So today, I developed a case of anal glaucoma and will instead spend the day swimming and drinking soda with my father and stepmother, both of whom are much, much sadder about their dog than I am.

Bastard

I saw a great Father's Day card at Borders a few weeks ago that read something like "Happy Father's Day, You Old Bastard!" and I've been kicking myself all day that I didn't buy it then, as they appear to have sold out of them already. I love my father dearly, but we have a very silly relationship, and that card would have been freaking perfect.

If I felt like linking it, this is the part I'd link Ben Fold's song Bastard.

I spent my day in their pool, and I have the red legs to show for it. It was hard enough to coax Gabe into rubbing it onto my back without promises of sexual acts, and I'm much too lazy to bend the seventeen feet down to put it on my legs. So, I've upped my chances of skin cancer, and I feel like my friend Zach would be rolling in his grave if he knew. He died in November a few years back (the day I met my husband, actually) of a combination of skin cancer and swelling in his brain, and when I started going to a tanning salon when I was 19, he lectured me for about two straight hours, then he lit a cigarette and started hitting on me. He was 30 and married. He wasn't a man of few contradictions, but he was awesome.

It's still very hot, and I'm sitting in pajamas in my living room, watching Gabe play Assasin's Creed on the PS3 while waiting for my laundry to dry so I can go to sleep. I work another one of those 11 hour shifts tomorrow (lucky me), and although I'm scheduled for several of them this week, this may be my last one. My boss was allegedly fired on Friday afternoon, and without him, we may all be absolved from the two-hour meetings in the mornings. Which will be nice, don't get me wrong, but man, he really was the best boss I've ever had.

Video Games Come Full Circle

I don't even want to do more than scratch the surface of this, but Gabe bought a PS3 today with some store credit at GameStop, so we now (finally) own every console (including hand-held) in this, the 7th gaming generation, in the Year of our Lord, 2008. So now, we consoles outnumber people who live in this apartment 6:1. The part that I care about is that we can now watch movies in Blu-ray and HD-DVD, as we have the 360 HD drive as well. We, obviously, do not live within our means. We also don't own any movies on Blu-ray yet. It's a shame Redbox doesn't rent out high-def.

For now, I'm going to focus on the second-best thing to come out of my wedding (the first, of course, being that I can have sex and it's not a sin) is that my brother, my lovely brother, allowed a friend of mine to crash on his couch the nights before of the wedding, and they are now a couple, and it warms the cockles of my sea-farin' heart to see both of them so happy together. Plus, bonus, she's been here every weekend, so I still get to kick her ass at Mario Party all the time.

AWOL

I just got two huge (HUGE) boxes of my 7-year-dead grandmother's knitting things that were in the back shed at my father's house. I was promised these three years ago, and I'm glad that my father made good on the promise. I have been very much looking forward to finishing her half-knitted blankets with 20 year old skeins of yarn. How awesome is that, finishing up the projects of a dead relative? Working my hands over the material she once started sounds like a heck of a year to me. I only wish she had been the one who had taught me to either knit or crochet, which are two things I can do (very well, may I add), but I learned to crochet from my friend Kristin back in high school, and my friend Ruhiyyih taught me to knit in college.

My brother's baby is named Aubrey (maybe spelled correctly), and she was 6 pounds even. She's very cute, and not nearly as hispanic looking as I was expecting. I haven't held her yet, but I expect I'll just drop her anyway. I love babies, but I'm a klutz. I have over 100 noticeable scars on my body, and I can honestly only tell you how I got five of them. Imagine the damage I'd do to a baby. "I don't know where her ear went, but I'm guessing it happened while I was tumbling down those stairs."

Gabe is going to be here in about 18 hours. I can't wait to see him! It's been almost four weeks since I've seen him. That's a new record. Three weeks after we started dating, I stayed at my mother's house for Christmas break for three weeks, and that sucked enough. At that time, we hadn't even rounded second base, and I hadn't yet told him I loved him. We're, uh, a lot closer now.

Must be at work in nine hours. I should probably go to sleep. Although, honestly, I'll be up late playing with yarn.

Baby!

My house is okay, but you asked me to talk about the lingerie shopping. Well, my mother and I had no luck, so a friend and I ended up at a porn store where we tried on skimpy, rubber nurse outfits, and we had a pillow fight in the dressing room, and afterwards, we took a cold shower together in slow motion. You cannot possibly find anything sexual about that story, right? IT'S TOTALLY INNOCENT. Man!

And, I cannot believe I'm writing this so close to what I just said, but here goes. My brother, my sweet brother, is going to be a father within the next 24 hours. The woman is being induced tomorrow at 6 am, which is exactly the time I have to leave for work in the morning. Thank heaven for whatever holiday that is because I only work until noon, so afterwards, I'll mosey on up to the hospital. Luckily, I'll be able to get anywhere I want, due in part to the scrubs I wear at work, and which hospital they may or may not have been stolen from. I'm not naming any names, but I sure as heck didn't do it.

If I were to write a newspaper headline about this story, it would be "Woman, 8, and Man, 6, Have Child." AND I WOULDN'T EVEN BE LYING. My brother and the woman share the same birthday of February 29th. Shame he couldn't have knocked her up a few months earlier, huh? That would be a much more awesome story.

Mother's Day and Wedding Plans

Instead of traditional gifts this year, my brother and I opted to help my mother with her year-long home-improvement project (YLHIP for short). Since last summer, she's been painting, redecorating, cleaning, blah blah whatever. I chose to scrub the kitchen floor with some of the most amazing cleaners on the planet, while my brother opted to repaint the bathroom. It was a hell of a day, and we aren't even done. The floors haven't been hands-and-knees scrubbed since the house was built, which was nine years ago. And the bathroom hasn't ever been repainted. It was probably a good idea to wait this long because she had both my brother and I living here until 2004, and he moved back in for a year in 2006. Neither of us are really messy people, but when you have three people with large feet walking around a house, there's a certain amount of dirt that gets mushed into every surface.

The reason this project was started was because she gave me pretty much all of her furniture a year ago. I was really grateful because I sure as hell didn't know where to buy a kitchen set in my price range, not to mention a couch and a coffee table and a bed. Since then, she's acquired the most comfortable couch in the world, really nice kitchen chairs, and several lovely paintings. I'm really jealous, actually. It's going to be at least ten years before I can afford a house as nice as hers.

The reason she's gone so overboard with the cleaning is that most of my extended family is going to be here in less than three weeks because I'm getting married. Which makes my heart skip a beat every time I think about it. Married!

I've always wanted a pretty low-key, fun wedding. When I was a girl, I never planned it or anything, I just knew it would be unique. I always wanted to have my reception at the bar, which turns out pretty well, because that's pretty close to the way it's going to be. It's fairly low-key and semi-formal (for instance, none of the bridesmaids or groomsman are going to match or anything). Speaking of which, one of the groomsman has chosen to not even come because he's a dirty bitch who got back from his mission and abandoned all of his friends, but that's a rant I'm holding back because who the fuck does that?
The coolest wedding I've ever been to was this a Scottish-themed wedding in the mountains. I think they even served haggis (bleh). I caught the bouquet, which is really funny, because I'm pretty sure I'm the first of the women who were there who's getting married. Which also sucks for everybody else because I was in fifth grade at the time.

While my wedding isn't going to be that cool (everybody shot down having somebody dress like Elvis to officiate), it's going to be unique. I'm angling to have tables of board games, and the groom's cake is Nintendo-themed. How awesome of a wife am I going to make? Totally awesome.

And that's all for today. Seacrest out.

Life, The Universe, and Everything [else]

Blah blah blah, I started a new job in Colorado Springs. However, there are cons to working there, namely that my brother works there as well. This is the third job I've had with him (the fourth place we've worked, although the fourth one, we never worked there at the same time as each other). In the total two years we've had the same place sign our paychecks, we realized we work very well together. The only major con? This job, I tried to make an effort to be my own person, nerdy as I may be, but it leaked out somehow that I was his kid sister. Ok, it didn't leak out, more like he told everybody. Damn it. I was used to good ol' Wyoming, where nobody knew my brother, I was just that chick with wit that could cut through diamonds. Now, I'm the witty girl who isn't nearly as cool as him, and people refer to as "Brian's sister," the only things I've ever had resembling a nickname other than [FirstnameMiddleInitialLastname].

I love him, though. He even gave me a set of his old scrubs to wear at the new job. Which was sweet because I sure as hell don't know where to buy scrubs. Unless I go to Wal-Mart and get a pair plastered with Betty Boop or desperation. Or I think they sell them at some second-hand shops. Or something.

The new job is a blast. I work at the front desk at a laboratory (which I pronounce as la-bore-ah-tory) for a pharmaceutical company. I figured, screw my college education, everybody in my family is either in the social services or medical field anyway. What's left to fight? I surrender to the patterns laid before me, plus, have you ever worn scrubs? It's like wearing pajamas to work. That, and let's face it: I do love me some Grey's Anatomy.

The trip down here was awful and snowy, but I made it, and I didn't wreck the car. I did a lot of other crap this week, but I just can't remember what. Let's pretend I did something cool, like jumping out of an airplane or rescuing kittens from a burning building.

If It's Ever Gonna Get Any Better, It's Gotta Get Worse For A Day

In the past 24 hours, I have driven to Colorado Springs and back. I have had 2 hours of sleep in the past 40. I am exhausted. And yet, I am blogging while watching Blades Of Glory.

I went home for several reasons, mainly that I'm trying to set up a job before I end up moving down there. However, my search proved too well, as I'm probably turning my back on Wyoming a full two months before I could have hoped, meaning I might move in about a week. Quick notice? Yeah, I thought so too, but hell, I'm young, right? I'm staying with my mother for a month or so until the apartment I'm moving into opens up.

Anyway. I'm so exhausted I could about die, and my sleeping pill is starting to kick in. Later. Ladies.

:(

So my dog had surgery, they thought he was fine, but my father called me and it turns out he has cancer and will likely be dead before the end of next month.

DAMN.

Cujo

Here's a secret that I don't tell people very often: I didn't like dogs until I was fifteen.

Before you take in a sharp breath and immediately leave a horrified comment, let me explain. I'm terrified of dogs: big ones, little ones, even cute ones. I'm just scared to death of them, unless they belong to somebody I trust, and then it'll still take me three or fourteen months to feel comfortable being alone with them. I've been attacked several times, once when I was five and I still have a 3 inch scar on my right thigh. It's 3 inches now, but try to imagine how big that bite was seventeen years ago, and you'll start to understand why they frighten me.

That's not really the story here. I actually have a dog, Cujo (for the record, my brother made that page, not me). He's probably the most amazing dog on the planet, at least in my mind. He's the only dog in my life that I've actually been completely comfortable around.

My dad got him when I was thirteen. And tomorrow, Friday, is the day that he is probably going to die. He has a ruptured spleen, probably caused by cancer, and they're taking him into the vet tomorrow morning.

So...that sucks. If that story makes you sad, read what I wrote earlier this evening about how I watched a whole episode of Lost.

Friday, February 29th

For most people, Friday is a relief. It's the last day of the workweek, the last day of dealing with a boss, with customers or paperwork or random crap. For me, this Friday is going to be the first day I've worked in a month. I got a job today, housekeeping at a large hotel chain. But blah blah blah, enough about that. Today, I want to talk about this guy.



This is my brother, Brian. Brian's a good guy, who is incredibly selfless, and he's one of my favorite people on the planet. He has the best laugh on the planet, other than our dad.



He's silly, smart, and starting this June, he's going to add "incredible father" to his resume.


This Friday, February 29th, is Brian's 6th birthday. So happy birthday, my fantastic brother, and I wish you at least 15-20 more.

Don't Sweep Your Floor With a Dog

"Every job is an acting job if you're expected to act like you give a shit." -From Jokes by Brian Beatty

I've now been unemployed for two weeks. Sometimes, being depressed just hits me in a huge, smelly wad, and this past week? I'm surprised nobody recommended I be committed. After three or four days of not showering, not really getting out of bed, I started packing. Being home, in my childhood bed, spending time with my father and mothers and brother just seemed like the place I should be. So I filled up Gabe's car with gas (it gets better mileage than mine), apologized to work and asked for a leave of absence (which I blew off, never coming back from medical leave), and drove the three hours home to my family.

And then Steve, a former boss and friend of mine and my brother's, died on Monday.

Basically, right now? Fuck everything.

Thanksgiving

This weekend, my mother came to town. She spent over $400 on rugs for my apartment. She also purchased a coffee table and a slow cooker (with six tender cuts of meat for it). No, I won't share her.

Eventually, my newly redecorated house pics will end up on Flickr.

So, how was YOUR weekend?

Happy

Today is one of those days. The kind of day where the sun streams warm through my window, despite the fact it's only 20 degrees outside. The leaves collect on the lawn in piles, and birds chirp happily on fences and rooftops.

I'm halfway finished with my Christmas shopping, my hair is doing that flippy thing, and I just bought a bundle of wood for my fireplace for a snuggly evening with my wonderful fake husband.

I'm trying to keep my mind of the bad things. Wish me luck.

Them

This was supposed to be a list of male supervisor's I've had with commentary about whether or not I wanted to make out with them (or similarly, which ones I've had sex dreams about), but I'm way to tired to accomplish something of that feat right now. Not that it's a particularly long list, but it's 11 pm and I cannot remember the oldest one's last name.

It's been a very crappy week at work, and tomorrow isn't really looking up. My boss has been riding my ass to get all this extra work done, but instead of giving me useful employees, I have a slew of trainees, and none of them are there two days in a row. I guess the bright side is that I found my engagement ring and that I did not accidentally throw it away at the car wash, which I originally feared.

That excitement, however, was diminished by the letter my maternal grandmother sent me in the mail today. Basically, somebody seems to have told her that I am living with a man before marriage AND that he isn't a Christian. I'm pretty sure I have now secured my place as her least favorite grandchild out of the six of us, and one isn't even related to her by blood. Let's see. Fornicator? Check. College dropout? Check. Conversing with non-believers? Check. Going to hell? Check.

Sleepy

I drove nearly 3o0 miles today...only to realize that my childhood bedroom no longer has a bed.

Further Proof I'm No Badass

Last night, I called my dad. I don't talk to him as much as I think I should, but that's only because he's so far away in New York. Who can afford that kind of communication, except after 9 pm and on weekends? Well, he told me he had a dream about me and he paused, and worked up the courage to ask if I was pregnant.

Dude, just because I've recently moved in with a guy, stopped pursuing my education, and abandoned all pretense of religious affiliation doesn't mean I'm knocked up.

I couldn't stay on the phone too late because I had another one of those fun 8 am shifts at work. I know, a lot of people have to be at work at 8 am (or earlier, the shame) but, dude, I'm 21! I don't get up before noon if I can help it.

I was really, really dreading this shift. The past few days, all I've done is stocked books. Thousands of books, all aranged in alphabetical order by author's last name, is not exactly the most fun I've had, oh, ever, so you can probably understand why I was thinking do I really need a job? Oh, how wrong I was.

I finally got trained to do what I was hired for, be a customer service manager, which is nothing more than a glorified cashier with access to keys that open the game cabinets. W00t. But I was so wrong because even though I was standing up from 8 am to 4:30 pm today without a break, I had a blast. My coworkers are badasses, rockstars, the elite of the underground social network of neo-punks. The kind of people I wish I could be. However, my hair doesn't do that flippy thing and I don't wear Chuck Taylors, preferring the $7.95 shoes I bought last month that were originally blue until I colored them black with a sharpie. Also, I've watched every episode of Big Brother that has been on this summer (can you believe that skank Jen lasted so long?) and my hobbies include scrapbooking and knitting scarves in the colors of the 4 houses of Hogwarts, so I have some work to do on myself before I can be One Of Them.

Also, my assistant manager bought me a latte, so that perked me right the hell up this morning. It's odd, I'm kind of looking forward to going to work tomorrow morning (5 days this week, 8 am!). This is a day that needs documentation because the last time I looked forward to going to work, I had braces and a '77 Caprice with dice over the rear-view mirror.

Criteria

Her: He told me he only has three criteria for the women he dates.

Me: What were they?

Her: He likes women who are tall and blond.

Me: That's only two.

Her: Ok, he can't date a woman who's earlobes are attached, like Gweneth Paltrow's.

Me: Well, your earlobes are fine, right? Did you get some, then?

Her: No, that's the next date.

Me: Whatever, mom, you were out until 9 pm. That's way past your bedtime.

After Art Class Today

Them: Wait, I thought you were painting a baby.

Me: The baby is underneath.

Them: Where?

Me: About six layers deep. I painted over the entire thing with white, and I started over.

Them: So, your Mongolian baby is now a sunset?

Me: My art teacher thought it was a drowning Mr. Potato Head at first.

Me: I'm pretty bad at art.

I'll Write Something Real Later

After checking my site stats and reading comments posted on previous entries that I hadn't noticed, I've become convinced that a member of my family has been reading this.

There are only two rules to this site, and one of them is IF YOU'RE RELATED TO ME, YOU MUST PRETEND THAT THIS SITE DOESN'T EXIST, AND IF YOU MUST READ IT, JUST PLEASE KEEP IT ON THE D. L. FROM MY MOTHER. The other rule will be discussed at a later time.

So, people who are my uncle, let me redirect you to somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just pick a link and never, ever look up this site again.

Hopefully, Tomorrow Will Be Better

Who was it who said that the only man a girl can rely on is her daddy? I'm too lazy to Google it, but that person is full of shit. (Update: Duh, that's from Grease.)

Anyway, my father has basically fucked me over, and his reasoning is that he lost his job, but come on, he's been not paying his portion of that bill for four months (his portion is $40, my portion is anything above that). He lost his job a week ago. I want to call him and be like hey, thanks for fucking with my credit score Dad!

Anyway, my kick-ass mother totally came through for me where he didn't, and I feel bad for underestimating how wonderful she can be. I mean, yeah, she put me on birth control when I was a 16 year old virgin, which was a fun first impression to give the girls who went through customs with me on our way to Christian camp, but she's still totally helping me out.

Anyway, a lot of things went wrong today, including having to call Ross Dress for Less about why the fuck they forgot to mail me my paycheck (I have > one (1) US dollar in my bank account, and hey, a paycheck or something might help) although I did email a little with Sarah Brown about drinking in college, which made work about 100% more awesome.

This doesn't really come full circle. It's just pretty sad that, after all the shit I've gone through with my father, it still took me about 21 years to realize that no, I can't rely on him.

Monotony. Monopoly. Mononucleosis.

I wanted this to be witty or funny because it's four days into 2007, and I just got back from the doctor from my 6 am appointment because I found out that I probably have mono. I think it's awesome that I'm starting 2007 out with a virus. I told my mom and she was all "Did you ask the doctor if you can give it back to your boyfriend?"

I responded "No, Mother, I'm not going to give it to him."

Without missing a beat, she said "You'd better not be. You're not married."

...Is it bad that I would rather have mono than go to work tomorrow?

Inevitable

Compared to 2005, this year has totally kicked ass. I knit over 5,000 yards of yarn into several projects, a few of which were gifts. I laughed a lot more, was happier, and had 100% more fun. As part of one of my jobs, I have a two bedroom apartment with no roommate, free cable, free internet, and my fish hasn't even died yet. I made some truly amazing friends, people that I will remember for the rest of my life, and my only regret in meeting them is that I cannot always bundle them up in my back pocket and keep them with me for the rest of my life. I was also much less fickle this year, I had slightly higher self-esteem than usual, and I finally fulfilled a resolution I made in 2003, which was to be kissed underneath some mistletoe. I also started standing up for myself.

I expect 2007 to be pretty much the best year ever. I turn 21 this year, meaning I'll probably be spending a lot more time with a karaoke microphone in some dive bars. I also have some student teaching to do at a high school, and I graduate in May with two associates degrees (English and Secondary Education). I'm planning on transferring to a university, where I will hopefully bring my GPA above my current 3.0. Ok, let's do this.

The Inevitable 2006 Best/Worst Of List:

Best:

Month: Ironically, July. I realized some hard truths in July, and I made some...adjustments in myself. I think I'm much more awesome because of this.

Book: Children of God Go Bowling by Shannon Olson. This book changed the way I view myself and I view others. Reading this book helped me cope with the death of a friend. This book did more for me than a summer of therapy ever could.

Song/Album: This year, I heard a song on the radio in Wal-Mart that was so beautiful that I teared up. I don't remember what it's called, but my brother does. I should probably ask him so I can download it. It was awesome, believe me.

Memory: The feeling of warm, strong arms around my waist as I woke up, and I swear, I felt like the world would never end.

Discovery: zefrank

Decision: Unlimited in-network text messaging for $10 a month. I saved myself, oh, $50 a month. Also, quitting that job at the movie store.

Purchase: Related to the last one, I got a new phone this year, for the first time since I started college. Even though my last phone took pictures and could connect to the internet, it might as well be made out of stone when compared to my new phone. How did I ever live without having a music player on my phone? And being able to take video clips? And play 3 different levels of Tetris while waiting for my oil to be changed?

Kiss: Three weeks ago, under some mistletoe, I swear to God I did that foot-popping thing discussed in the Princess Diaries movie. I can't help but smile like an idiot when I think of it. Or him. Shut up.

Idea: Trading bedrooms at home with my brother and painting the walls. I currently live in the master bedroom, which was my room when we first had the house built. I opted for green carpet instead of blue, and now the walls are the only ones that aren't lame white. Also, I bought my brother's furniture off of him for $5, and when I move into a real apartment for the first time, the only purchase I will need to make is a sofa.

Feeling: Butterflies. Always.

Worst:

Month: Again, November. Three people I know died in November. It was tough.

Book: Will you hate me if I say I didn't like Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams? Because the ending for the series was a total letdown. Much like The End by Lemony Snicket. Ok, I hate that book, too.

Song/Album: As much as I love Jack Johnson, I hated the Curious George soundtrack. A lot.

Memory: Discovering my high school journals, and instead of burning them, I read them. I should submit this shit to Cringe because, good lord, they're awful.

Discovery: PWOT

Decision: Agreeing to egg the truck of our good friend, Nipples.

Purchase: The book for the microcomputers class. I read it, but I didn't learn anything that I didn't learn in class, and the bookstore only gave me back 10% of the purchase price.

Kiss: I want to burn my tongue off just thinking about it. Trust me.

Idea: My worst idea actually turned out fine for awhile, but it's probably one of about five things in the history of my life that, if given the chance, I wouldn't have done again, consequences or no.

Feeling: Reading those diaries instead of burning them. Because *shudder* they are that bad.

Dead Dead Dead

My freshman year of high school, I went to four funerals. My next-door neighbor died of asthma in September, my great-grandfather died in November, my fifth-grade teacher died in January, and my paternal grandmother died February.

I think this year is going to turn out the same. I just found out that my great uncle died. I mean, he was very old and I didn't know him very well, but he was seriously one of the nicest old men I've ever met. I'm not crying over it or anything (it was really his time, he's been doing dialysis for something like ten years) but oh man, why does everybody die at the same time?

Dad/Jimmy Eat World

Today is my dad's 50th birthday. I sent him a card with a Barbie on it, and when I talked to him on the phone, he found it more weird than amusing.

I guess I got my mother's sense of humor and my father's inability to divide fractions in my head.

In other news, I bought this cd today. Again. For those keeping track at home, I have now purchased this cd 3 times since my junior year of high school. This cd reminds me of driving Nebraska highways at 2 am, kissing a boy named Ryan on the church bus in Canada, the good parts of funerals, and St. Ives face masks. I think that, lately, this has been just what I needed.

Is there a cd that you can listen to a million times and it never gets old? If so, what is it?

Telephone Call

My Grandmother: It's so nice that you're considering a career that'll give you time off for when you get married and have a family.

Me: Well, I don't know. I'm too young to be thinking about getting married, and I don't think I want kids.

My Grandmother: Hmm, maybe you'll turn out like your sister, Krissy. She never wanted kids either.

Me: How old were you when you had your first kid?

My Grandmother: Oh, well I was 21, so I got pregnant when I was 20. [pause] BUT DON'T YOU DO THAT.

Frabjous Day

I'm being tested as to how well I can keep myself together because my favorite brother called me today and left me a message that I have some "interesting" mail waiting at home. I called him before I even got back to my apartment after work.

He just pushed my buttons until I yelled at him (really mean yelling, I used the F word AND I took the Lord's name in vain), then he informed me that (Calloh Callay) I have Jury Duty next month.

I've been to the courthouse a few times, but it's always been my fault. It's like the Irony Fairy is punching me in the throat because I'm NOT an apathetic youth. I don't just vote in the Presidential elections, either. No, I vote in the primaries and mid-term elections and anything else. I'm a VOTING MACHINE. Do you know the guy who stands by the elevator at the mall and tries to get me to take a survey? HE ALWAYS CATCHES ME. "What, you want to hear my opinion? And you want to pay me five bucks for it? Is it Christmas?"

Maybe this won't be so bad. I just don't want to go home. 500 miles one way for two hours worth of work? Doesn't so much seem worth it.