Boy is sick. It's frustrating, because I really can't do anything about it. I want him to feel better because that's what we feel when people we care about are ill; also, he took such wonderful care of me while I was sick and recovering. *sigh* Ah, well. I fed him medicine and let him sleep for more hours on end--and I cleaned the kitchen, took the garbage and recycle-stuffs out, did a load of laundry, folded more, showered, exfoliated, shaved legs, considered plucking my eyebrows but couldn't work up the enthusiasm for it, watched some Nine-0....and there, that's my Memorial Day. Mom wanted me to go out to the cemetary with her and grams and Auntie J, but...Talking to the graves of my dead grandfather and uncle REALLY didn't sound to appealing, hmm?
So instead, I've been here, playing Domestic Engineer, and thinking.
To be filed in the "Why I'm Nuts" Section--Three dreams I had last night:
1) First--I dreamt that I was at a Dido concert in England, and she pulled me up onstage with her. She wanted me to help her distribute banana bread to the crowd--but I kept a few extra pieces to sell on eBay. Unfortunately, people kept eating the pieces I was going to auction. How obnoxious.
2) Next, I dreamt that I was in grad school with Boy and Quincy and assorted people I've never met. Boy and I had separate rooms in some housing thing, but spent every night together (gee, there's a departure from reality)--however, he refused to come to my room, instead insisting that he "had to get organized", so I decided to ask Luke Perry to be my roommate. He (luke perry) did NOT want to be woken up before eight. I told him that if he was rooming with me and Boy, he wouldn't be getting much sleep anyway, heh. Then Boy and I were laying on a chaise lounge, when he started bleeding from the penis. Apparently the bleeding was caused by exposure to some nasty chemical stuff at the powerplant where he worked.
Let me now mention that he has never, nor will he ever, work in a powerplant. I think this was a Simpson's metaphor.
So this dream tied into the third dream, wherein a town discovered that they were being poisoned (a la Erin Brockovich) and decided to get revenge on the power company, by killing the guys who ran the plant. Of course, the big battle scene in my dream occured in a rapidly flooding brothel. My mother was using a chalkboard-protractor thing (remember those? It was so your math teacher could make a perfect circle on the blackboard. Mom used those to gouge eyes out.) to kill people. She also handcuffed a guy to a showerhead and let him drown (the room was filling up with water), after throwing the bathtub down the stairs.
And people *wonder* why I don't wake up rested. See all the action going down?? And let it be known that these are very slicked-over versions, in reality the dreams are far more detailed. How obnoxious.
I'm going to continue watching my favorite movie with Boy, we're having a pretty slow night.
So Panda's back from school for a few weeks, and we've had a lovely time gallivanting about town. We ate bagel sammiches in the sun and got caught up on a good six months worth of poor communication on both our parts--between her school stuff (she's an RA and doing this crazy-complicated major, and of course, living the good college life), and my...flakiness (self-awareness is a precious gift.), we barely managed well-timed email, much less conversation. Gotta make up for lost time! While chatting about the possibility of everything and nothing, we realized we'd been friends for a whopping ten years...Has it been so long? We met when we were eleven, our first couple days of big, scary junior high school, and haven't had a falling out ONCE. Hell, we even made it through our senior year when she was editor of the school newspaper, and I was a silly lifestyles reporter (this is relevant information because I could hardly be bothered to turn in an article--it was senior year! I was in college at the same time! I had simultaneous senioritis and studyholicism. It's a tough dichotomy.) That's fairly impressive, says I. Consider as well the Kate Saga...
Kate and I had been the absolute best of friends since, what, first grade? Five years old! We remained fairly close after I moved in third grade, and when I moved back to Seattle a few years later, we picked up where we left off. Jr. High, highschool, we were bestest pals...and then she left for her freshman year of college in New York. Things went crazy-haywire, and we haven't spoken since. She had changed, I had changed, and in her eyes, our differences were irreconcilable. It took a while, but I've written it off as a loss, and continued living my merry life--what's the point of getting bent out of shape about it anymore? It's been two years since the last time we had direct communication--I saw her at parties for a while, before she moved to california to be with her bastard of a boyfriend...but hey, that's life. I took everything-kate and put it in a box. Notes, letters, pictures, gifts, treasures, integral pieces of life (hey, I'm a pack-rat, I'll be the first to admit it. And lemme tell you, 15 years of friendship builds up a lot of stuff.) I boxed it all up, wrapped it in paper, put her address on it--and I tell ya, if it hadn't been for the extremely high cost of postage for mailing a box that frigging huge and heavy, I would have mailed it to her. (Have I mentioned I can be a vengeful bitch when provoked?)
Ehh. It's still sitting in my closet. I took it down, once, andd it (I swear, i heard the vacuum seal pop, heh)...and really didn't feel like looking at it. Not that I was still angry enough to be upset by looking at an immense box of memories...More that I just didn't care anymore. It's not the best feeling, necessarily...that not-caring bit? But it was better than hurting like hell, I think.
*muses*...Now, where was I? Oh, Ten Years. Not bad, not bad at all. With all that moving on, letting go of the past, relenquishing guilt and pain and sorrow--having that semblance of history with Panda is comforting.
Haven't seen you in quite a while
I was down the hold just passing time
Last time we met was a low-lit room
We were as close together as a bride and groom
We ate the food, we drank the wine
Everybody having a good time
Except you
You were talking about the end of the world
I took the money
I spiked your drink
You miss too much these days if you stop to think
You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You
You were acting like it was the end of the world
Oh! A wondrous thing has occured, and I forgot to mention it earlier. Somehow, with the fog of depression having lifted since I don't have to worry about throwing up all day, I managed to CLEAN THE BEDROOM the other day. This is a terribly exciting occurance, you'd know if you'd been unfortunate enough to see the before picture. (Damn! I should have taken pictures so you'd better understand.) Mostly, it was the endless mounds of clothing, clean and otherwise, that had overtaken the bedroom. After the invasion of the clean clothes (laundry around here is of epic proportions, despite our small numbers), we were enslaved, and the growing population of the less-upstanding dirty clothing was of no help to our rag-tag band of rebels.
However!
I managed to drag myself to freedom and overcome the legions of clothing holding us captive. I made the bed, even! Boy was so happy, it was just adorable. He said it was better than a breadbox (pardon, you'd have had to hear the conversation earlier in the day. Let me paraphrase:
Me: I've got a wonderful surprise for you tonight!
Boy: *dirty giggles* Is it bigger than a breadbox?
Me: It's better than a breadbox!
Lo and behold, it was.)
Again, I do so love making him happy.
Also, this: I spent the most lovely day yesterday cavorting about with Nia, who was duly impressed when she saw my accomplishment--she'd never even seen the bedroom clean! We had lunch, and then did an impressive amount of shopping. More accurately, I accompanied her on her mission--we hit Illuminations (despite the lovely low-light atmosphere, that place gives me a headache. I think it's the people who work there.), Fantasy UnLtd., Toys in Babeland, and finally Venus, a local purveyor of all things not-skinny, including PVC (my first love), and leather (hers). If you're a chick, and you don't wear tiny clothes, and you're ever near Seattle--go there! The girls are great, and the prices (even on new stuff) can't be beat! Nia came away with a god-awfully expensive leather corset (did I mention the also insanely-expensive latex bustier she got at Fantasy UnLtd.? That girl has a fetish wardrobe to be envied), and I got a lovely pair of linen pants that fit like a dream.
THEN--and here's where you all become overcome with jealousy and drooling--we decided the only sensible thing to do would be to sit in the hottub(naked nakednakednaked!!), and discuss matters of great worldly importance. Namely, the Kink, but that should come as no surprise.
We rounded off the afternoon by taking pictures of her new leatherwear (she just *had* to send a few copies to her sweeties--I'm waiting for them to reach my inbox so I can use them as wallpaper on the desktop, heh), and headed to a late dinner at El Camino, only for me to be stricken by another dose of evil cramping. THAT was plenty disappointing, I hadn't even touched my margarita (shh, don't tell Boy, I'm not supposed to be drinking because of the antibiotics, but it was a beautiful summer night, who could have resisted?!?). But it gave me an excuse to cuddle with Nia until Boy came home, whereupon I promptly fell asleep.
There you have it, scenes from a Tuesday. Oh, and before I forget, go here and look at the amazing thing my Boy helped create. Isn't he just marvelous? *swoon*
Now, if you've had enough (I felt it very necessary to make up for my four days of playing in the sun and blog-neglect--curses! I just remembered that I forgot to talk about Sunday! Here, I'll make it quick:
Sunday included, but was not limited to, the following:
-early morning muffin-baking, and subsequent Boy-feeding in bed
-my first frappucino of the season (I'd been dreaming about them for three consecutive nights, but strangely, I lost interest after a few sips. bummer.)
-Introduced Boy to my speedy little boat, I suspect they'll be fast friends, once he learns to like the way I drive it--with controlled abandon
-making out on a blanket in the park, while a former....*ahem* gentleman of my acquaintance, heh, was a short ways away.
-and ended with the consumption of an assorted (and great) amount of ribs, barbequed by my own Boy.
See? A wonderful Sunday.)
But again with the distraction! Now, as I'm feeling grimy as all hell (as much as I love the smell of warmed-sunblock-slathered-body [it's most certainly my favorite scent in the world. If Demeter made it, I'd buy it by the case.], sunblocked-skin tends to collect...stuff. Dirty stuff. Yick.
I had my first wet dream the other night (hold back, o ye of certain complaint.), and while that may seem entirely uninteresting, let me share with you this: I was being fingered while driving the General Lee, of "Dukes of Hazzard" fame. You know, that big orange 70's muscle car? In said dream, I was in the driver's seat, Boy was in the passenger's...Veddy eeenteresting, says Freud.
This, of course, is a far better dream than the one I had about being double-timed by Boy and Bruce Willis. Do NOT pursue this line of conversation--suffice to say, I woke up confused. I mean, really--Bruce Willis? Sheesh.
Other news of the day: I found my mother. I assumed she was lost because I hadn't heard from her today (which, if you know intimately the relationship I have with Mom--shut UP! that's disgusting--then you know that we talk at leastnine times a day on the telephone, not counting last-minute lunches and shopping and so forth) even ONCE, shocking. But yes, she was found, finally.
Lordy. This weather is truly driving me to distraction. After my naked-but-for-new-shoes-sun-basking episode, I tossed on my swimsuit, grabbed my waterbottle, and headed to the patio. I'm now some sort of color! (as opposed to the winter paleness that I can only manage to shuck with a good sunburn) Luckily, I had the foresight to slather on the SPF 45 [yes, you're reading that number correctly--I told you I was pale.] and turned myself a nice tan color. And when I say "tan", please do read that as "less transparently pale".
I'm sitting naked in the sun, closing my eyes to the early-summer breeze. New shoes on my feet, bowl of ice at my side, DSL at my fingertips...waiting for my Boy to come home so I can lavish him with adoration--I love making him smile.
Ella is singing about a midnight sun, but I prefer this.
They did it! That's me, there, being shown as an applicant--how cool is that?! Man, I'm easily amused.
Time to catch up on some things that have fallen by the wayside in the last week+ of tumultuous living. First, the Boy-into-Monkey story.
So Boy and I were crashed on the Couch From Hell one night, watching...who knows what. With TiVo, all is possible. So we're sitting there, and...oh hell. At this point, I don't even remember how it got started, but he made this...noise, with his lips, kind of smacking together, but quietly, like a chimpanzee about to make a kissy face! It was so cute and funny and silly-looking; it made me cover my face and laugh like a little anime girl. And now, much to the imminient displeasure of our pals, we have another disgustingly cute couple ritual. Oh, la, too bad for them!
Now, the things-I-learned-in-college deal. I got all caught up in it, but I think that I'm not so interested in pursuing that now. Borrrrrrrr-ing.
Hmm, what else...*mind wanders for half an hour* Actually, I'm going to have some breakfast and do some cleaning-up around here, it's a mess!
Horrible realization: I was in the shower getting de-stinkyfied, music pumping, feeling a thousand times better than I expected I would right about now--and it hit me. That song I told you to listen to?? The one on that crazy vancouver-kid's website? If you listen to it with a door closed and the shower running, it sounds like a Tina Turner song. "What's Love Got To Do With It?", specifically. (of course, that's the only Tina Turner song that I can name off the top of my head, but that shouldn't be a deterrent from me thinking that it sounds like Tina Turner!) Unnerving. I literally came to a stop while washing my hair, jaw dropped, gasping...like I'd discovered the cure for scurvy or something. So sad.
(the cure, btw, is vitamin C. There's another thing I learned in college.)
That's kind of my theme today, things I learned in college (and if you pay attention to this blog for the next few days, you might have a better clue about why I'm blogging in this direction). I'm realizing it's been a year and a half, and I've got three more months to decide about next fall, and I want to make sure that I'm doing the right thing. So...here.
Things I learned in College:
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
I know that there have to be at *least* that many things, but I've decided that it's time to go eat real food now--as good as applesauce is, I could really use a steak. I shall return to fill in the blanks, with the Boy Who Kisses Me On the Mouth (and any other body part, if he can reach it, thank you Q).
So now, really, I'm at peace. Mostly. Couple things here and there that are bugging the living daylights outta me:
-It's *cold* here! Where did my spritely summer-ish weather go? Did I miss it yesterday? C'est possible.
-Go here and listen to the third track on that little music-player thing at the bottom of his page--too much goodness! I've had that one little loop playing in the background for half an hour, and I can't seem to make myself stop *sob*
-Ow. I didn't think it would hurt as much as it did...but it does! Curses.
Other than that, if you're looking for details, you're in the wrong place. I'm in no detail-giving mood.
I am finally at peace. Well, mostly. I'm a wee bit irritated right now--whenever I get depressed and can't motivate myself to do anything, my eyebrow grooming is the first thing to go. So now I'm here plucking TWO entire weeks of eyebrow-growth. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not Ape-Girl or anything (do remind me to tell you the story of how my Boy is turning into a chimpanzee), but I've not groomed my brows long enough for them to grow in the desired shape. If you don't do the brow-grooming-thing and have no clue what I'm talking about, take my mother as a case in point: Years of looking perfect for the camera (she was une modelle in my--and her--youth) and her eyebrows grow perfectly in place, which drives me blind with jealousy. So, the eyebrow-grooming is driving me batty, mostly because I'm doing it with my little Hard Candy compact by the light of the monitor, because Boy is showering and fogging up my bathroom mirror.
However!
I'm finally at peace with other things. This thing, the thing I didn't want to mention before because I'm trying to retain a sense of privacy despite blurting out intimate details of daily life--conversations about kinkiness, penises, voyeurism, eyebrow-grooming--ah, well. I've decided to blurt anyway. So...um...here:
I'm pregnant. No, not planned; yes, unexpected; no, not going to continue. THAT is why I've been barfing daily, haven't left the apartment in days, don't want to talk to people, etc etc etc. That hormonal imbalance is NUTS. Had a conversation today with Nia via MSN messenger (she's away) (oh, and have I mentioned that I love typing "Nia via"? *giggle* guess it's the silly linguist in me.) about how I'm seriously rethinking the whole having-kids-later-in-life thing. And I also now think she is slightly nuts for trying to get pregnant. Yick. It's miserable. I've spent the last week or so absolutely incredibly down-in-the-dumps unhappy, and I can't imagine that different circumstances (i.e. being pregnant was something everyone was interested in having happen) would make the hormonal nuttiness go away.
So, yeah. After tomorrow, this will be old news.
---two hours later---
Boy and I just got back from my last meal--I suddenly have the grand suspicion that I'm going to die tomorrow, I'll be all septic and bleeding and nothing will stop it, and Boy will have to avenge my death after his immediate grieving has ended. Very very very nervous am I. So to parlay that fear, I'm going to go watch the season finale of West Wing with him. And when I say I'll be watching West Wing, I of course mean that I'll be falling asleep on the Couch From Hell next to him. Sleep is all I do.
The Boy-to-chimpanzee story will have to wait--wish me luck on tomorrow, hmm?
Welcome back, Blogger! (insert Kotter theme song here) It's good to see Blogger back up and running. Ev does a marvelous job of holding it together, and we all so greatly appreciate it! (more gratuitous brown-nosing)
I'm afraid this will have to be another one of those entries-that-aren't-quite-entries. I need a nap.
I'm writing this in WordPad. Gross. Here I am, finally in the mood to talk, and stupid Blogger is down. Then I go to jot some stuff down in Word...and there's nothing of the sort on this crazy desktop of Boy's. Am I a princess, or what?
The loudest garbage truck in the world is sitting in the alley outside our bedroom window. Also, the alley remains an amazing conductor for sound. I can hear everything that anyone says in either building that faces it. To say nothing of the construction workers next door, heh. If I were as much as a voyeur as some people are, this would be interesting. As it stands, it just interrupts my thinking. And by thinking, I mean "naps".
Not that there isn't plenty to be thinking about right now. In the grand tradition of journalling (blogging, whaddev.), I want to just let everything spurt out of my brain--but thankfully I've the sense to keep some of it in. I do, however, wish that I could write these intensely wonderful, humorous, witty,yet-not-too entries that those with more experience (and dedication) produce. I started this...thing with few intentions other than attracting attention from strangers, entertaining Blondie, and maybe giving some Nine-0 updates--and in the process, I've become fully addicted to the Lifestyle. No, I don't mean the hip, Swinging one (again, we're not "swingers", we're polyamorous, heh.)--I mean the Life of the OLJ.
It's not a bad life. Helps that I'm unemployed for now, too. All these people doing interesting things, and being dryly witty and generally being more articulate than I've proven to be (but hey, can I help that I'm a wee bit scatterbrained? One of these days, being an irrational, non-linear-thinker will pay off, I just know it.). I'll improve, gradually--and I swear that going back to work will help. More interesting happenings, fewer days spent shopping and lunching and generally being unproductive.
This has been the day-long post. Just as well, I guess.
More about the alley outside the bedroom window: The apartment building across the street is full of the young and beautiful, and they all own dogs. There's a professional snowboarder on the 6th floor who leaves every Friday morning for competitions and returns Sunday night or Monday morning with a different girl each time. He lends his apartment to a pair of relatives while he's gone on the weekend--they're from the suburbs and want a weekend in the city without their children. He bleaches his hair to look like the hipster he's supposed to be. Wait, he doesn't own a dog. Good thing, too, given his schedule.
There's a young married couple on the 5th floor with a small baby that I never see, and they don't own a dog, either. They've got a large orange cat who has a penchant for sitting in the window. Their parents (in-laws?) come over on Sunday after church--the wife goes with Mom and Dad and the Baby, the Husband stays home and wakes up twenty minutes before they get back. Neither of them are 9-to-5ers, she stays home, he does something flexible. They go out to dinner twice a week, and they walk to and from with the baby in the stroller. Sometimes they go for walks with the baby in a pack, but you can't see it then, either. The sole time I saw the baby was one morning, last week. I woke up, showered, went back into the bedroom--and there was the husband, out on the walkway of his building, holding the baby, and...pointing at our bedroom. With me in it. Wearing a towel.
Next door to the young marrieds are another couple--young as well, but very blonde and more beautiful. She's got dark roots that you can see from across the alley. He doesn't iron his own shirts, and they often look like they're arguing. They have the same lamp in their living room that Boy has in his. (insert note about the IKEA generation) She's constantly on her cellphone, just moved here from Nevada (well, that explains the roots.) and she parks in the wrong parking spot.
Floor seven contains at least two apartments-full of mid-twenties single women, and at least two of mid-twenties single men. This is pr0n waiting to happen.
On the eighth and top-most floor, there's a man who, at first glance, looked like he was wearing a pith helmet today.
I've had four cans of Mountain Dew today (thanks, Nia :-P) and I still feel like vomiting. Of course, some might say that I feel like vomiting because I drank all that Dew, but...Nah.
It's time for me to change from bathing suit (my chosen clothing for today, despite not having gone outside into the sun) to my pyjamas and curl into a ball under the covers, exposing only my head, aimed at the bucket next to the bed. Upset tummies are the worst.
So, things. Had lunch with Nia the other day, which was nice. We went to Zoopa, gorged, had girl-talk...I confessed that I'm not as slick with the polyamory thing as I might hope to be (i.e. I get jealous as hell when she flirts with other girls. It's weird, I don't get all green when she flirts with the boys, it's just the girls. I dunno), we talked about the kink, as always--have I mentioned how great it is that we can be so frank about everything without either of us getting squeamish and squirrelly? (well, with the exception of when we talked about bestiality--it kind of started to gross me out, heh. But that's another story.)
Another conversation had between us girls recently: I've fully realized just how lucky I am these days. I've got a boy who loves me more than everything else in the world combined (yes, that's a direct quote from him--Isn't he wonderful? *swoon*), and a (pretty darned wonderful, too--and awfully similar to meeeee hehe) girl who makes me feel terrific, fabulousfriends, and a wonderful relationship with my family...Wait! That's not the list I meant to make! I mean, I am thankful for all those things--but the conversation was mostly about how lucky I was to have my Boy, and how even though I sometimes missed seeing a variety of penises, seeing just his penis all the time (which is NOT a bad thing, trust me, heh) is even better than I thought. Heh. That all came out...*wrong*. You know what I'm getting at though...right?
Disappointing: Buffy has *seriously* gone down hill this season. I miss two seasons ago.
Yesterday was spent with Mom and Kid Sis running errands and being girls as well...are we sensing a pattern here? I'm getting back to my girlie-roots, embracing relationships with women, instead of shying away from them. Still, sometimes, I get the feeling that a lot of women don't like me. You know, in a friendly-manner.
Aaaaaaaanyway, Nia's on her way over to deal with some MORE girlie-stuff, so I'd best get me arse in gear.
Vancouver was lovely, Puds and his wife were terrific, I saw samurai chefs in action--with a strobe light, no less! It was great, until the FIVE HOUR RIDE HOME. Curse those american border police. Saw the Vancouver Marathon, too. Notice I said "saw", not "participated in". As if!
I'm tired, but not in the mood to sleep. I got very carsick on the way home because I fell asleep after I cranked the seat way back, and the motion combining with the sun and the traffic etc...Ugh. I ended up barfing at Quincy's birthday, our first stop in Seattle. Luckily, I made it to the bathroom. Unluckily, it was a T.G.I.Fridays' bathroom.
Boy fell asleep as soon as we walked in the door at 630ish tonight--and is still asleep. Five hours later. (what's with five hour incriments of time today?). This is no longer a nap. Nor is really any longer sleep--he's bordering on comatose. Good thing I can hear his snoring from two blocks away, I want to make sure he's still breathing.
I'm grumpy. And tired. Too tired to type links and hrefs and such. I want to sleep. Curse insomnia!!
I'm doing a lot of cursing. I hope there aren't children reading this. (If there are: Kids, tell your parents all about this. They need to know what you're getting into on the internet.) I wish I could check my Nerve mail, but the site is completely screwy today, I can't get into anything at all. Grr.
Here, have some Mac. Fleetwood Mac.
"Thunder only happens when it's raining...
Players only love you when they're playing
Women, they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know"
and...(my theme song of the evening)
"Have mercy, baby, on a poor girl like me,
you know I'm falling, falling, falling at your feet
I'm tingling right from my head to my toes,
So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go.
'Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down,
and there's not another livin' soul around
You woo me until the sun comes up,
and you say that you love me"
Here I am, infusing life with not-so-profound Fleetwood Mac lyrics, and he's sleeping through them. *sigh*
I feel worse than bored right now, I feel boring. I think I'll go take some tylenol (with sleeping agent) and attempt to pass out. Or watch the Simpsons. Tough call. Hope y'all sleep well, I won't.
Happy Almost Cinco De Mayo! Boy and I shall be in Vancouver, a most ironic fact pointed out by Ex--We'll be in Canada for a Mexican holiday. Ha! They hardly have Taco Bell there. Not that Cinco de Mayo is a big deal to either of us--we're not Mexican. But I digress.
It'll be great, though! I'm supersuperDUPER excited--just me, Boy, and a jacuzzi tub built for two! Oh, and feeding squirrels in the park with Puddles and his wife. And dinner. And more naked-time. Woohoo!
In other news--Pool night was a blast, I just can't believe how BAD we all were! And they wouldn't let me cheat *pout* Ah, well...what they didn't see...hehe
My date with Nia was great, too. We watched one of the greatest remakes in history and gorged on pizza--and had some snuggle-bonding time afterwards. A good time was had by all!
Got dad to pay my rent this month. It would ALMOST be humbling if he'd ever paid for anything when I was growing up--but seeing as how he didn't...I don't feel so bad, heh. But seriously, it's time to start thinking hard about the employment thing. Do I take another boring shit job that pays the bills but does not contribute any mental growth...OR do I look for something I *really* like, and be an adult?
Things to consider: I like the idea of being able to mentally check out when things get nasty, work-wise. But I *don't* like the idea of another shit job. *sigh* We'll see.
Boy's making up for last week's abominable friday night movie choice and taking me to this tonight. The original was fairly crap, but here's hoping for the best with a sequel. In the words of the immortal Mr. Cranky, "They added a kid. That *can't* be good news." I'm willing to take my chances.
Have a lovely weekend, all (who am I kidding, Boy, Blondie, Zone, and Nia are the only ones who read this, and I talk to you guys often enough that I really don't even need to keep this journal, do I? *sigh* I'm sure that if other people were reading this, they'd tell me. But they're not. *sniffle* I'm so unloved! *dramatic fainting spell*)...
1) I do NOT like having to touch other peoples' laundry, clean or otherwise. I was forced to pull random stranger's (assumedly) clean laundry (YES, it included underwear!! *gag*) out of the dryer because they hadn't done it, and I needed to make things dry. I don't like the smell of strangers' laundry, either. It makes me feel like I'm prying into their most personal things, and in a bad way. This leads to another disturbing thought...
2) I do NOT like the thought of strangers touching MY laundry, clean or otherwise. I am not always prompt with the washer-dryer switch, either--for that reason, and the above mini-rant, I start to freak out over touching OTHER peoples' laundry, because I know they could be touching MINE. Boy likes to torment me with the idea that the skeezy guy down the hall goes into the laundry room after I've left and plays with my underwear, puts them on his scabby head and dances around, to which I say "*screeching noises, covers ears, runs away*".
/End rant/
Oh, and another minor freakish-point: I found two very large bolts in the washing machine. I *hope* they came from Boy's pocket, though I can't imagine how they got there. (It might be easier to imagine if he was employed doing something mechanical, such as railroad engineer (toot toot!), or mechanical bull repair man, etc. But he's not, heh) Then again, the bolds may have very well come from the washing machine, in which case I'm concerned for my current load of laundry.
The whole tax-snafu is frustrating. The first year that I actually do my taxes on my own (thank god for accountants), I figure it'll be no big deal, I've got one silly little W2 to declare, everything else flies under the radar...No big whoop, right? Pah. I can't believe I owed the IRS four bucks. Boy says I'm a tax anomaly, to which I say, "Pah!!" again! I wanted a refund, dammit. *pout*. I discovered that I am much in the same boat as my pal Drome, though he finds this much more amusing than I do. Hmmph.
Enough.
I've got a date tonight with Nia, and I'm slightly nervous. Not that we don't hang out all the time, right? But this is a *date* date, you know, like at night, just the two of us, alone...Since she's recovering from surgery and I'm recovering from pneumonia or whatever, we're doing pizza and a movie. Eeep!
More eep!--Tomorrow night I'm going to my first Bi-Poly-Kink-Grrls Pool Night at Belltown Billiards, and I'm exceedingly nervous. I'm not sure if I'm bi-, poly-, or kink-enough for those girls, I hear they're pretty heavy hitters. Ah, well. Good luck to me!
More on the nervous thing--I kid you not, I *always* want to not only type, but SAY "nerbous". I am a freak.
Time to attack the monstrous pile of laundry in the closet. Wish me luck, I'm going to attempt to NOT spill the laundry soap again.
