Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Lemurs have taken over my brain....

Not really, but it's a fun title.

I survived our second family get-together of the weekend. My cousin Kevin and his wife, Carol Ann, brought their 3 kiddos over to swim, and my cousin-in-law, Riley, brought his three boys (and one hanger-on) over yesterday. That's a lot of young kid (no one over 14) in one place, but they stayed mostly outside. Riley annoys the hell out of me talking about hunting and youth sports, but hey, whatcha gonna do?

After we all stuffed ourselves with Saturday's leftovers and the kids froze their nads off, they all went home and Mom and I went off to Circuit City (hisssss) to fight the big corporate bastards about the 15% restocking fee. We lost. I lost 200.00, and I came home and swam for 2 hours. Washed away most of my cares, and I was just glad to have 1,200 back in my bank account (laptop was 1,400....1,000 after rebates). I will be putting up some sort of anti-Circuit City propaganda here on the blog soon. Watch for it!

My mom took off work today, just for the hell of it, and we've been running errands. We took Scooby to the vet for a foot issue, I went and got my new bank card issued (since my current dies tomorrow), and I stopped by the office to visit with Rachel for a bit. Scooby has some mysterious foot problem...probably a sharp, sticky piece of grass broke off between his toes, so he's drugged up on antibiotics and completely unhappy.....but adorable as always.

Tomorrow I go back to the hell-hole (library), and Thursday I start teaching summer courses (Tuesday/Thursday 5:30-9:20). Two summer sessions x $1,700 a piece = one happy adjunct.

Today's menu: reading Saturday, swimming if the sun ever comes out, and marveling at my golden tan. Quite amazing since I haven't been tan in approximately 5 years. I wanna caress my own sexy self.

Note: I got my tax return five minutes ago. Thank you Jehovah (God)!!

Monday, May 30, 2005



I've never hated anyone before, but I think I'm doing it right now.

A sad day for laptops....

Well, I have a new laptop but probably not for long. I bought what is seemingly a nice Toshiba today. As most of you know, my old Toshiba tragically collided with my heel over a year ago and has had a cracked monitor ever since. It's finally gotten to the point of ridiculous monitor crackage, so I bit the bullet and bought this new one for the bargain price of 999.00 (after rebates).

It's nice....technically as nice as my last one: 512 RAM, 80 GB hard drive, 3.something MHz processor, DVD writer, wide screen. And the buttons are cheap-ass, the mouse pad hangs a bit, and it won't load my SIMS2. And for 1,000 dollars I'm not going to be fucking annoyed with it, so I'll probably take it back sometime this week. I'll have to pay a 15% "restocking fee"....in other words "15% so the guy who came up with the policy can take his buds out for drinks and lap dances." Fuck corporate America.

My old laptop is like a warm blanket....well-loved and worn around the edges...and the bitch still purrs like a kitten. If it weren't for that damn monitor. Will likely get the monitor replaced, or I might just use my mom's desktop for a while.

Blah blah and blah.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Bastard Paperclip....

The greatest link ever:

http://www.idleworm.com/tch/pclip.shtml

Exact revenge on that bastard paperclip that "helps" in Microsoft Word. Courteously stolen from author Cara Lockwood's blog:

http://caralockwood.blogspot.com

Saturday (In More Ways Than One)

Note: I had this post formatted all cute...colors and stuff. Blogger ate that part and I'm too tired to redo it, so just read the damn thing.

Today's family lunch was a smashing success. We laughed ourselves 'tarded and ate ourselves into carb-induced comas (my favorite kind, as you all know). I only got 3 hours sleep, so that was a bit of hitch in the day, and I almost fell asleep in the floor at one point, but I managed to pull it out and stay conscious until everyone left.

My aunt's hubby, the one that gives off the molestor vibe, drew me diagrams of my exhaust system (the one on my car, that is). He asked, "Hey, Andi, what kind of exhaust system do you have on your car?"

-blank stare from me-

"Umm, I dunno. It works, and it's quiet."

Later he tracked me down in the kitchen and that's when he drew the diagrams to explain how mine is different from most, and I need to get the mufflers extended. He'd been on his back in the garage checking out my exhaust. Yeah. The conversation sounded a lil something like this:

"Wah wah wah yadda yadda blah blah wonk."

He also tried to have conversations with me about my XM radio and computers. That's the usual. I think he still thinks I'm a web designer.

My aunt Peggy painted a picture of a horse about 20 years ago that looks just like a mule. It was sitting in the living room because we returned some paintings to her and Murlene (don't have room for them in the new abode). She didn't remember painting it, but the mule thing became a running joke today. The Molestor took a picture with it. How fitting. Two asses on parade.

It was a really fun day. It reminded me of how deliciously warped my family is, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The other Saturday I alluded to in the title of this post is a book. I'm reading Saturday, by Ian McEwan and loving all 40 pages I've read. I can see that the main character may jump up and down on my nerves by the end, but the writing is gorgeous. In a nutshell, it's about a day in the life of a neurosurgeon, Henry Perowne. It starts with him seeing a flaming plane headed for Heathrow airport. One of those post-9/11 stabs that I've bashed before. I'm hoping to be pleasantly elated in spite of my distaste for 9/11 fiction.

Here's a passage I was fond enough of to actually, physically write it down in a paper journal. That's the utmost compliment.

But is there a lifetime's satisfaction in twelve bars of three obvious chords? Perhaps it's one of those cases of a microcosm giving you the whole world. Like a Spode dinner plate. Or a single cell. Or, as Daisy says, like a Jane Austen novel. When player and listener know the road so well, the pleasure is in the deviation, the unexpected turn against the grain. To see the world in a grain of sand.

In other reading news:

Trick, I'm sad to report that Gilead made me want to die, so I chunked it. I'm all for an internal story, but at least the main character could've been interesting. Suzz, can I have an "Amen!?" Maybe I'll try it again someday, but not anytime soon.

I also ditched One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Too many penises. I'm not in the mood for dick lit.

Oh, and I ditched one more: Serving Crazy with Curry, by Amulaya Malladi. Stilted dialogue drives me INSANE! Suzz, one more shout out to you: never read this book. Adverbs and adjectives out the ass.


TV: Long gone.

CD: Rascal Flatts' new one--Feels Like Today
Reading: We've covered this.
In my head: A zoo.

Friday, May 27, 2005

Thursday, May 26, 2005

The Excitement that Is Memorial Day

The preparations are underway for our first ever "Crazy Memorial Day Weekend." My mom had the idea to gather my grandmother's side of the family for a Saturday-before-Mem-Day lunch because they never get together, they're spread out every-freakin-where, and they're gettin' older. Since we have the new house, which is perfect for entertaining, and a back yard and sunroom that are equally fabulous for 'tainment, we're doin' it! Heavy preparation starts today. I've been cleaning, but I took a blog break, and I'm trying to decide if I should swim now or later, or now and later.

Last night I offered to clean today and my mom said, "Nah, you won't do it to suit me." *mouth on the ground in a most unflattering look of disgust* I was pissed, so now I'm cleaning everything and, by God, it will suit her! It was probably a mean mom-ploy to get me to work my ass off today. Oh well, I'll bite. So far I've dusted, vacuumed, swept, straightened my bedroom, and cleaned the kitchen countertops. This afternoon I'll be cleaning and organizing our computer room because people will want the full tour.

I also have to pick up a brisket today. We're having brisket, ham, cole slaw, baked beans, deviled eggs, salad, corn casserole, buttermilk pie, cheesecake banana pudding, and my aunt Martha is bringing some kind of cake. For those who are northward, a brisket is a side of cow, smoked to crusty perfection and later drenched in bbq sauce. We had a local bbq joint smoke it for us (CJ and Val: we took it to Ernie's! *shudder*), so I have to pick it up and snack on it before the fam moves in and inhales it.

In addition to the Saturday shindig, we're having my cousin, his wife, and their three kids and another cousin and her hubby, and their three kids over on Monday for burgers and swimming. All of our pubes should be a snowy white by the time we surface from the bleachy pool.

For added entertainment, here are some short blurbs about my grandmother's siblings:

Danny: Former golden-gloves boxer and race-horse trainer. Currently very retired with this live-in wo-man whom I flipped off when I was 15.

Eddie: Former engineer for the now defunct Texas Utitlities. He used to live in a house with a very large winding staircase that made me feel like a Hollywood starlet. Now he lives a couple of streets over from us in a house in front of which a "friend" of mine lost control of her bladder when we were very young. Glamorous, eh?

Peggy: The most memorable of my great-aunts according to the recollections of my friends who have attended my family funerals (Rachel, David, Debbie). Peggy is a willowy woman with a bleach-blonde beehive hairdo, glasses that take up half of her face circa 1970-whatever, and she tries to paint. We used to have a portrait of a horse that looked strangely like a donkey that she did for us.

Murlene: Actually paints very well. Former electronics maven for a defense company with a plant in nearby G'ville. She has purply-auburn hair, a penchant for leopard print and leather, and has been known to hop a ride on a motorcycle occasionally. She dances at the VA every Saturday night and has had the same boy-toy for a record bunch of years now. She's 83, I think.

Bonnie: The most prim and proper of the group, although we all sorta cocked our heads like "huh?" when she started spending her time and money in a hyperbaric (sp?) chamber to smoke out her parasites. Her husband gives off that child molestor vibe.

I'll keep ya posted.

Tagged in the ass....

Dena tagged me, so here I go-go....

1. Total volume of music files on my computer: 204 items....but some are missing. Where o where could my mp3's be?

2. The last CD I bought was: Stand Up...Dave Matthews...you've all heard me bitch about that.

3. Song playing right now: Sweet Home Alabama....because Bo on American Idol got me all hot for it last night. Haven't listened to it in a long time, but it's a favorite cross-country driving song. I'm still waiting for a Sweet Home Texas: We'll Kick All Your Asses, but it hasn't happened yet.

4. Five songs I listen to a lot (in no particular order):

Sin Wagon (Dixie Chicks): They can wield instruments and hate the President....what else could a girl ask for?

American Baby (Dave Matthews): It's got that crotch-pulsing Dave-of-old flavor that gets me speeding tickets.

White Wedding Dress (Boy Sets Fire): The greatest lines in all of music when you're pissed...."She found her freedom and then burned the bastard to the ground." Doo-wop.

Anything by Ciara: this is not my fault. XM radio is apeshit for Ciara even though I hate her girl-whisper, make-your-belly-wiggle pronunciation. I'd rather have an earwig in an orifice.

Kill the Messenger (Shawn Colvin): Shawn is delectable....I love her. Could listen to this song for days. And sometimes I do!

Honorable mentions:
Evanescence: cover of Thoughtless from their live album.
3 Doors Down: I never know the names of their songs, but I listen to them on XM all the time.
Rascal Flatts: The Broken Road...and Dry Country Girl, of course. I actually can't find that CD and I'm beyond pissed about it.
Alison Krauss and Union Station: Forget About It

And if you're up for playing: I tag Amanda A., Heather from NC, and Heather from the frozen north.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Sunburn

I finally got to play in the pool!!!! I went out this morning and had a good swim for a little over an hour. I still have a bad'ish sunburn from the weekend, so I didn't want to stay out toooo long. The burn really doesn't look very bad, but in my shoulder blade'ular area it HURTS. I can't wear scratchy clothes and when I wake up in the morning it feels like porcupines have been humping my back all night.

A friend told us a great lil trick for keeping our pool water crystal clear: Clorox. It sounds bad, but it's one gallon in our 5,500 gallon pool. When ya put it that way, not so bad. We'll see how that works. Much easier than chlorine and shocker, and cheap!

Gotta work until 6pm tomorrow. More then.

On TV: Friends...the one where Phoebe gets the chicken pox and Ryan the sailor comes to visit.
Music: Josh Groban
Reading: Started and finished The Giver, by Lois Lowry, today. Still reading 100 Years of Solitude by Marquez and re-reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
In my head: Thoughts. So many thoughts.

Monday, May 23, 2005

Busier than a kitty in new litter.....

I know! I've been ignoring the blog for a few days.

Saturday: I got home from work and had to go straight to a historical society meeting to talk about our plans for the new library in my teeny tiny hometown. The meeting went swimmingly and it looks like I get to woo someone for a building to use for the whole shabang. Lovely. Time to polish my cleavage. I didn't get home until around 8:00 and _____ called around 9:30. We talked until 11:00, and while I didn't get to blog anything worthwhile it was SO VERY worth it. So much fun. :o)

Sunday: Mom mentioned Saturday night that we were gonna go get our above-ground pool on Sunday, and we did. It took all day to set up and fill, and it's still filling this morning. Now I have a quandary on my hands....to take off work and swim or go to work early, try to get off early, and come home and swim. I'm voting for take off work, but we'll see if I have the nuts to fake an illness when I call in at 9:00. I actually don't have to fake an illness, since I still have cramps from the pits of hell and a runny nose, but I still don't know if I can do it. My mother instilled in me an unwavering sense of guilt for taking off work or school if I'm not on the brink of death.

I did sort of swim yesterday....there was 5 inches of water in the pool and I was flopping around with goggles on. Take the mental picture and run with it.

I now have an on-the-way-to-wicked tan. I MIGHT be getting scuba certified with _____ this summer, so I must have a tan, just in case.

Off to decide if I'm sick. More later about my dream last night.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Hooo, hooo, hooooters....

Hooters has a magazine out now. Hooters Magazine. How boring is that? It's going to be pages and pages of wings. Because that's what everyone goes there for, right?

Drugged up and ready to go!

I tried a Tylenol PM last night, and it worked like a charm. I still had a dream about scum of the earth, but I'll get over it. Now I have cramps that would take down a rhino, so I'm going to re-drug myself and be off to hell.

Back later with something more meaty and pleasant than drugs and carnage.

Friday, May 20, 2005

I can't sleep, and I really want to throw something and do a lil screamin'. Why is it that when I get horizontal I wake up? Maybe I should stand in a corner and I'd be sawin' logs in no time.

A Question....

If someone were to peruse your collection of choice...whether it be music, films, books, etc...what would the person glean about who you are? What would be revealed?

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Crash Landing

As many of you know, I haven't been sleeping much lately. I take a shower early and lay back to enjoy the cool sensation of letting my curls dry naturally, grab a book and a glass of ice water...heaven. And I read, and I listen to music, and I blog, and I read blogs, and pretty soon it's 11:00, then it's 12:00, 12:30, 12:45, 1:00. No desire to sleep whatsoever. I think it's the drastic cut in free time I've taken with the two jobs. Either way, I still need my sleep because I'm one cranky wench (snakes sprouting from head, fangs) when I don't get enough sleep.

Last night I finally crashed, and the crash landing has continued into today. I was asleep by 10:30 last night, and it looks like it'll be earlier tonight. My brain is finally slowing to a sad little hum, eyelids dipping, neck becoming lax, and in the back of my mind I hear, "I'm tired you crazy bitch. GO TO BED!"

Today I did a bunch of nothing.

A tree trimming service came at 9am. Head trimmer man gave me that scary rapist vibe. Tall, large build, bald, "bubba" attitude, and a big chainsaw on a stick. I could've been raped, pillaged, and hacked in one fell swoop. Turns out, he only raped our trees. Poor things.

My sleep-ass wardrobe consisted of an old Mavericks t-shirt, blue workout pants (drawstring), and black flip-flops--hair tied up in a knot. I didn't even bother to change when I went for a library meeting at my friend Kandice's house. I didn't feel too bad...we all looked pretty "laid back."

The rest of the day: reading, showering, reading, dinner, reading, blogging. Why? Because I have no life according to Library Bitch (giving finger).

I once again find myself resisting sleep. I'm giving it up and goin' to bed. Sleep is such a waste of valuable time that I could be doing something ELSE.

Note: Responses to the feminism post coming up when I'm not about to pass out!

TV: Never.
Music: Josh Gracin
Reading: From the Dust Returned, by Ray Bradbury

Definition please?

Suzz and a moron got me thinking about this again. I've blogged about *my* definition of feminism before, but I want your opinion...men and women welcome. Honest answers only, please.

When you think of feminism what definition pops to mind?? What *is* feminism to YOU? Most importantly, what is feminism NOW?? Not 30 years ago...but this minute.

Even if you infuriate me, I'll leave all of your virtual body parts in tact. Scout's honor.

Whatever...

A list of things that made today far more trouble than it was worth:

My boss was an hour late leaving me all of the opening duties.

Story time - 34 screaming ankle-biters, two of which were lost and I had to help them find their good-for-shit mommy who was happily perusing the fiction section instead of watching her brood.

My boss was nowhere to be found during story time. 200 books checked in in about 30 mins and all three phone lines ringing like funeral bells.

I was asked to stay an hour later than scheduled because BossLady can't seem to work a calendar.

The zipper on my oh-so-cute capris morphed into a full-on wardrobe malfunction an hour before I left work. I had to use safety pins and prayer to keep my ass from making its debut.

TV: Why bother?
Music: John Mayer CD I stumbled upon at midnight last night. Heavier Things.
Reading: The Ice Queen, by Alice Hoffman and slogging through Gilead.
In my head: Ache.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Damn it all to hell!

Someone already beat me to the dick lit. punch. Here's an article about it:

http://tinyurl.com/ayg94

This is just like the time I missed out on inventing toe rings. Bah!

Dick, anyone?

Thinking back over the semester at the college, I was just remembering one day when I walked into one of my reading classes with a book in hand (not unusual). I was reading The Beauty Myth that particular day. One of my students, who actually used to be stationed near where I lived in NC, asked what I was reading. When I said The Beauty Myth and flashed the cover he said, "Oh yeah, a chick book." I thought, Mmmmm, sorta, Stumpy. This CHICK (Naomi Wolf) would eat your balls for breakfast. Because it had a pastel yellow cover, an idealized female form on the front (for that tongue-firmly-in-cheek effect), and a chick was reading it, it was automatically a "chick book" despite the fact that, in actuality, it's an important Women's Studies text.

The term chick lit. or chick flick, or chick whatever has been widely accepted by women near and far. Some still take offense to it, but much like the term "bitch" women have started to take theses words back and add them to their own vocabulary.

What irks me is the dismissive attitude that often accompanies these terms when they come out of a man. Oh, it's a chick flick, so it's obviously sappy and overrated andy any decent man wouldn't watch that shit. Since men started this (chick flick, chick book, chick show, chick music) I think it's time for new terms: dick lit, dick flick, dick music, etc.

Wife to hubby: "Hey hun, whatcha watching?" *the sound of machine guns splitting the air* "Dick flick," she mumbles under her breath.

Hubby to wife: "Hey babe, wanna go see a movie tonight?? I was thinking House of Wax or Soul Plane.
Wife replies: "I will not go see another dick flick with you until you come see Monster-in-Law!"

Not that the menfolk will care, but it's time to even the playing field a bit. The next time I see a bloody knife on the front of a book I can brush it off as dick lit. The next time I see Sylvester Stallone in the credits to anything it'll be a dick flick. Oh, and Toby Keith is the ultimate dick music.

G'nite dicks.

Note: I certainly wouldn't want to imply that all men are like this. They certainly aren't, so smooches and tweaks to all the beautiful sensitive boys out there. May your dicks live long and hard.

TV: Long gone.
Music: Martina McBride
Reading: Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson
In my head: Sinus meds.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

The Why's....

1) Why are all the interior designers on HGTV Canadian?? Is Canada a hotbed of interior design genius?

2) Why must we, as a society, be exposed to commercials asking, "Do you ever get tired of wet, sticky maxi pads?" I'm certainly not one to be embarrassed by the natural "functions" in life, but let's not dwell on the logistics.

I'll let you chew these over before I post some more.

One more: Why would anyone collect antique baby food dishes?? Do any of you collect antique baby food dishes because I'd really like to understand.

Books and Vampires

I got called in to work early yesterday (the usual), so, like a good lil circulation peon, I went in and made me some dough. BossLady told me that the new director had a friend coming in to volunteer. Friend wants to get a library degree, so she needs some practical experience, yadda. I was the only person at the desk yesterday, with the exception of our high school student worker, and all she can do is shelve books. So, around 3:00 in walks the volunteer.

Picture it with me:

5'11"
Thin and ghostly white
Red fitted sweater
Black capri pants
5-inch Mary Janes
LITTLE GIRL SOCKS.....white, turned down, with ruffles

Then we get to her head, and this is the real treat:

Orangey-red hair with purple'ish streaks
WHITE powdered face makeup
Menstrual-red lipstick
At least a centimeter of black eyeliner all the way around the eyes

Can we all say Dracula?? Anyone?

Now, given the freakish appearance, she was very nice. Turns out, she teaches English at another community college (when I found out I looked down at my flamingo Bill Blass and wondered how different two people can be). The real kicker in all this, way more kicky than the fact that Draculena was so made up, was the interaction between her and our new director. The director that has been with us for exactly one week.

The case:

He helped her shelve books for almost an hour. Shelving books does not take a rocket scientist....especially when all you're doing is Adult Fiction.

When he walked out across the library and she was trailing slightly behind, she frolicked....literally skipped and jumped....to catch up with him.

He wanted me to train her at the circ desk. Volunteers are not allowed at the circ desk.

He spent at least an hour with her in his office....his office with the door closed when he saw Kenya coming down the hall to the break room.

When referring to him in conversation she giggled like a horny 12-year-old.

When I asked how late she was working (we were open until 8pm) she said she wasn't sure what the plan was with Director, she'd have to ask, and she frolicked (hopped and skipped) off to find him.

Shortly after her return, he surfaced and said, "Hey, you ready to go???" More frolicking.

They were seen shortly after sitting on the tailgate of his truck talking for another hour.

My question:
Couldn't he wait at least two weeks to bring his girlfriend and/or fuck buddy to work and give her a job??? Sheeesh!

P.S. I'm not the only one who noticed. It was that obvious. Oh, and thank Jehovah she left before story time. We would've had a wad of scared kids on our hands.

Monday, May 16, 2005

To Hug or Not to Hug

According to another weird Yahoo News article, a school in Oregon has a ban on hugging. Pretty standard stuff in middle and high schools across the country. We don't want any wild woodies running around knocking people over in the halls because the guy got some boobs pressed against his chest before lunch.

One student's mother threw a fit when her daughter was given detention after repeated warnings to lay off the hugginess. A whole argument about student rights vs. creating an appropriate school atmosphere ensued.

Now, the whole point of this recap is to get to Rob Horner, a University of Oregon professor who works with schools across the nation on "building social culture that supports effective learning." This is what he had to say:

"To say 'no hugging' really blows it," Horner said. "That's exactly the sort of trap that, as soon as you say that, what is the first thing everyone is going to want to do?"

How insightful! What verbal pyrotechnics!! And when he said "blows it" did he mean "Guys, you blew it!!" or was it more of a "That blows goats!" type of thing? Hmmm......
The University of Oregon should be *so* proud.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Salon vol. 2

You might remember my "Salon" post a couple of weeks ago.

Very short recap: Reference Diva is starting a conversational salon to attract the small group of stimulating people in this area to engage in titillating convo and drunkeness.

We had planned to have our first meeting of the minds and bottles already, but seeing as only 3 people would be in town, it got put off until June 17th. After talking with some friends, Reference Diva got the bright idea to call and invite a new professor from the uni. where I'll be studying. Turns out, said professor teaches English and Philosphy. Yep, so I'll be rubbing elbows with a potential professor, and I just hope to God I come off soundin' a lil bit edumacated.

Oh the pressure! Thank goodness for booze. It'll just take one whiff and I'll be totally relaxed.

On TV: Yeah, right.
Music: Not in the mood.
Reading: Same thing.
In my head: Issues of pressing importance.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

I'm wearing color....call the cops!

I'm not a pastel kind of person...normally. My personality is much like the pic on my profile in many ways. I'm not goth by any stretch of the imagination...I have blonde "pony hair" for God's sake...but I like dark, rich, dramatic colors, lots of black, dark blues, crimson, etc. Why I decided, all of a sudden, to start wearing springy colors is beyond me, but it's kinda nice for a change. My faaavorite shirt nowadays is a soft, wonderful Bill Blass button-up in blue and green. There was another shirt that I liked when I bought the previous one, and I've been too lazy to go pick it up. Today Mom picked me up for lunch and broke the news: she bought the shirt for me!!! Woot! It's another button-up, collared, 3/4 length sleeves. Get this....it's pink, lime green, and robin's egg blue pinstripes...diagonal pinstripes...and at regular intervals down the stripes...WHITE FLAMINGOS! When I say flamingos, I mean the size of the tip of my pinky. Subtle flamingos. I don't know what's wrong with me. The next thing you know I'll be decorating with flower patterns....oh the horror!

I'm ruining my image and Clack and Val are in the corner wondering if aliens have stolen their friend.

Graduate school registration....check!!

This afternoon was slow at the 'brary, so I took advantage of the time by registering for three graduate courses. I'll be attending class on Tuesday and Thursday evenings...Tuesdays 4:30-10:00 (gonna suck) and Thursdays from 4:30-7:10. At least I get the bulk of the work done at the beginning of the week and I can bask for the rest of the week.

Course descriptions:

507. The Oral Tradition and Modern Fantasy for Children. Three semester hours. A study of fables, folk and fairy tales, myths, and modern fantasy for children. Special attention will be paid to the relationship between oral and written forms. Works by Aesop, Grimm, Perrault, Sendak, Lewis, Tolkien, and Cooper may be included.

525. Contemporary Literature. Three semester hours.
A study of the literature of the last two or three decades, reviewing the international scene or concentrating perhaps on a single genre or topic, such as recent American fiction or post-War British poetry.


599. Bibliography and Methods of Research. Three semester hours.
For beginning literature and languages graduate students who have not had an equivalent graduate-level course, this course covers manuscript preparation and format; research techniques for literary, linguistics, and composition/rhetoric studies; and research methods for foreign language majors.


I had planned to take Colonial/Federalist literature because the time was better, but screw it, I can't take another semester of Bradstreet and all the rest. I like that period, but I've studied it three times already. Although I'm not down with the kiddy aspect, I think the Oral Tradition and Modern Fantasy will jive better with a possible thesis topic. I'm always interested in fairy tales, myths, etc.

I'm so excited! I'm such a nerd! And I still wanna take Narrative Theory this summer!!!

*yawn*

I did not kill the bitch today. She was in a suprisingly good mood. Miracles do exist. In other news, I'm thoroughly engrossed in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I've read it once before, but it's a fun read, and I'd like to be prepared for the new book coming out. It's good to be engrossed in anything reading-related lately with my lack of attention span. I haven't felt very bloggish today, but I'll respond to comments tomorrow after work, and a new entry will burst upon me in a moment of divine inspiration...I hope.

G'nite for now.

Friday, May 13, 2005

Library Booty....

Here's what I picked up at the library sale. Thanks Amanda and Heather for remindming me that I left this part out!

Plain Truth, by Jodi Picoult
Billions & Billions, by Carl Sagan
The New Lifetime Reading Plan, by Fadiman and Major
A Patchwork Planet, by Anne Tyler
The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, by MelissaBank
Women Who Run with the Wolves, by C. Pinkola Estes
Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiaasen
The Dante Club, by Matthew Pearl
Peace Like a River, by Leif Enger
Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Salt: A World History, by Mark Kurlansky

...and two for my mom...bios of Christopher Reeve andMariel Hemingway. Oh, and an MLA Handbook...onward tograduate school!

I'm like a kitty in new litter.

For a bit of a giggle.....

Click HERE to read the wonderfulness that is Snarkywood's take on the Tom and Katie situation.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

The cardinal sin....

Tonight I was incredibly ecstatically giddily excited about going to the book pre-sale at the library. It's really only for members of Friends of the Library, but the staff was invited, too. I went armed with my checkbook and a ponytail holder...for some serious book grubbing. I also had a hold come in today. I walked in and greeted my co-workers, including the slack-jawed bitch that's been nothing but a thorn in my ass since I've been there. She asked what I was doing at work when I don't have to work, and I told her book sale, etc. She exclaimed, "You're an hour early girly." I told her it started at five, she vehemently insisted that it started at six...she was wrong, etc. So off I went to shop.

Twenty minutes later I surfaced from the meeting room with 14 books for $10. I walked around the circ desk to say g'bye to everyone and bitch shrieks, "What on earth did you buy?!?"

"$10 worth," I replied.

She then proceeded to ask the most taboo question a booklover/intellectual can ever dream to hear, and up to this point I've never been asked.

"What kind of life do you have?" She stared. That slack-jawed-fish-face-glassy-eyed-stare-of-those-who-brag-about-not-having-read-a-book-since-high-school.

I stared back thinking, Is she *really* insinuating that I have no life because I read?

She explained, "Well, if all you do is read then what kind of life is that?" Yep, she went there.

"A rather busy one," I retorted. "I teach at the college, I work here, I read, I work out, I spend time with friends and family, I travel......"

She was still slack-jawed and her only reply was, "Oh."

I thought: At least I'm not a self-important moron whose only friend is her 17 year old co-worker. And by the way, your husband spent a good 10 minutes staring at my tits Monday night when he brought Jr. to storytime.

This woman and I will soon be brawling on the floor, I'm sure of it. If she's rude to me one more time I will wrap her in very sticky library tape and let the patrons throw rocks at her. They don't like her either.

TV: None
Music: Dave
Reading: HP and the Order of the Phoenix and Brick Lane
In my head: Methods of torture.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Desperate plee.....

I need insomnia remedies. What do you do when sleep hangs just out of reach, sticking his tongue out and shaking his bum and laughing? I think I saw him blow his nose on my bedskirt, too, but I can't be sure.

Unrelated sidenote: Fence!! Where's your blog??!!!

Addendum: I now realize I spelled "plea" wrong! I should have my English teacher license revoked and be flogged in the town square, but I'll blame it on my laptop screen and the lack of sleep and brush it off and carry on. *shiver*

Protecting Me Always

Os recounted on his blog, how he and his sisters got into a conversation about who would get what when his mom passed away, mom came out with a list, etc. Click HERE for Os's blog. It reminded me of a lighthearted conversation I had with my grandparents and my Mom long before we lost them in 2002. Somehow that conversation turned into a reality that will remain dear to me all of my days.

The cemetery in my little town is right off of a busy'ish highway. It comes up pretty close to the road. My grandparents purchased an eight-person plot several years before they died, so that there would be enough room for me, my mom, my aunt and uncle if they wanted to be there, my cousin and his wife, etc. As the cemetery has grown through the years it's expanded to be quite large, and all of the "home folks" tend to be buried near the front....the town members that were staples, that were admired and loved. Well, we got a spot right up front by the road. Our family plot is one of the first you see when you enter. I was TICKLED...probably a little too excited...about not having to be buried with the transplants to town.

One night, sitting in my grandparents' dining room, as we did every night, somehow a conversation got started about the plots, and I mentioned jokingly that I didn't want to be buried closest to the road. You never know, a driver might come off the road in a drunken stupor and flatten your tombstone. And I plan to have a hell of a tombstone: neon lights, interactive touch screen...Vegas right here in IOOF cemetery. Watch out! My grandfather was highly amused by all this, as was my mom and grandmother. We had a good laugh over it, and in subsequent years.

My grandparents were planners, so they had their tombstone made up before either of them passed away. Normally, on joint stones, the man is buried on the right and the woman on the left....as they would stand at the altar for marriage if you're looking at them from the audience. Well, much to my surprise, my grandfather had his name put on the left....closest to the road....so none of us would ever get squashed by a drunk driver.

My grandfather passed away suddenly in August of 2002. My father has never been a part of my life, so my grandpa was always my dad. He and my grandmother helped raise me...keeping me every day while my mom worked long hours in downtown Dallas...an hour's commute, each way, from home. My grandfather's death was the hardest blow I've ever been dealt. It was sudden and shocking, and traumatic beyond my wildest imagination. I tried to save him...and it didn't work.

When funeral time rolled around our pastor did an amazing job. He talked about how much my grandfather cared for others. When he and my grandmother were young and freshly married they took in my grandmother's younger brother after the death of his parents. They finished raising him. They owned a farm and helped their workers in any possible way imaginable. They helped their kids, my mom and I, more than I can ever tell you. They raised my cousin from the time he was 12-years-old. They were parents to us all....a part of our everyday lives. These weren't holiday and graduation grandparents....they were a part of my soul. In my grandmother's later years my grandfather took care of her, too. He picked her up when she fell, suffering from dementia it happened often. He was in a great deal of pain when he died because he had injured his back, and the pain would never have gone away, but he picked her up every time she fell right until the end of his life.

I did pretty well at the funeral. I held myself together until our pastor mentioned how protective my grandfather was. He was so protective that he was buried nearest the road...to protect his girls. At that moment, sitting in church, with everyone listening to what he'd done for me...for all of us, I realized, to my core, how much I'd lost. There's no better gift in the world than unconditional, eternal love. It was just like my grandpa to turn a joke into eternity. He was the greatest man I've never known.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Stop looking at me!!!

Have you all noticed that people can't get away with anything anymore without the local or national news butting in and projectile vomiting it all over your TV and computer screens??? For heaven's sake, a person can't ditch their fiance by faking their own kidnapping, can't launder money, can't expose their wee to a 12-year-old boy, can't even kill anyone or set a church on fire without being ratted out by the damn media. What is the world coming to when we don't have the privacy to break the law or make general asses of ourselves without everyone knowing about it?? I bet Katie Couric and Matt Lauer would be pretty upset if they were told on. If everyone knew that Katie likes to dress like a nympho elf and sacrifice squirrels on her homemade altar, or if everyone knew that Matt has a secret Man Boy Love Association stash under those Sports Illustrated's in his dressing room loo. How about Brendan Higgins on Dallas local news??? He hired a speech therapist to help with his teleprompter stumblings and dressed him up like a cabana boy named Jesus so no one would know the truth. And certainly not least, Dave Matthews isn't telling anyone that he's no longer pissy and high and that's why DMB is starting to sound like Neil Diamond and Rosemary Clooney's secret hot pig sex tapes. The media will get wind of it sooner or later, and I guarantee it'll be all over the place. Down with the media...nosey bastards.

**Inspired by the morning news and an overactive imagination. No egos were harmed during the brainstorming of this post.

Blog Break and Assorted Hodgepodge

After a blog break for the last few days, I'm feeling slightly refreshed. Slightly. I still feel a little uncreative and wordless, but I'll see what I can do.

I've decided that Jennifer Weiner is officially trying to annoy me. She hasn't posted on her blog in over a week. Given, she said she was gonna be traveling, but gimme a break. You can fiiind a computer in over a week when you're a touring author. She's just trying to drive me crazy. She's doing a fine job. Here's an old snippet....facts about Lucy at age 7 months:

More hair. Light brown. Looks blond in the sunshine. Seems to be on the wavy side. She still also has her little bald spot, smack in the middle of the back of her head. It's perfectly round. Like a crop circle. And beneath it is the last remaining lock of the dark-brown hair she was born with. Which looks like a baby mullet.

I've also decided that my hormones are attempting to kill me. I won't go into details.

I'm celebrating the release of Dave Matthews Band's new album. I will shortly be falling out of bed (where I still reside because it's my day off), putting on my trusty Pat Green shirt, and making the pilgrimage to Wal-Mart to pick up my copy of Stand Up. The bad was on the Today show this morning, and it was the first time I heard the new single, American Baby. I give it a thumbs-ups, although...it did seem a little bland after the cuts from Everyday and some of their earlier stuff. We'll see. I still have hope. And Dave still looks nice playin' a guitar.

This post sucks. I'm quitting while I'm ahead.

The Whitest Woman Marries the Tannest Hick

Kenny Chesney and Rene Zellweger have gotten hitched. This officially marks the marriage of the whitest woman and the tannest hick in show business. I can't wait to see the kids. If you can't really appreciate their respective bodily colors click here. They met in January at a tsunami relief concert. Sounds stable to me. 8-D

Monday, May 09, 2005

Pissing the day away....

Got up late (9am), fiddled around and sat with mom at the kitchen table talking. We got dressed and got to Red Lobster around 11, and we just barely missed the pulsating wave of mothers that flooded in after us. I had New Orleans Salmon and mom had some big shrimp. It was orgasmically wonderful. The Fudge Wave desert was multiple orgasmically wonderful. We came home and promptly got horizontal...all the food ya know.

Tonight I took the obligatory SIMS break for Desperate Housewives. More posts on DH to come. Now I'm sitting on my bed, listening to Gavin Degraw's stripped down version of his Chariot album (much better than the "real" album) and thinking dirty thoughts. I need to go to bed. I actually don't have to be at work tomorrow until 3pm, so I could stay up all night if I wanted, but I'd rather not completely eff up my sleep schedule.

I should be significantly more pleasant since I have more time off until June 1st.

On TV: Off
Music: Aforementioned
Reading: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in preparation for the new book coming this summer.
In my head: Mystification and Mastication

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Quote o'the Day....

There's more to a successful marriage, etc. than hairless sex.

--Suzz, 5/8/2005

Saturday, May 07, 2005

With your thong in your mouth.....

I *THINK*....I think I just heard a song/saw a video on MTV that said something about a girl carrying a thong around in her mouth. Not a good way to start a Saturday. *shaking head* Only a man with gold-capped teeth would think of that.

Can't See Cranky

I'm so far past cranky, I can't even see it anymore. I'm sleep deprived, I'm beyond stressed out, I dislike this new job, and I dislike a vast majority of my fellow employees, my attention span is so short that I can't read, everything on TV is shit, and I have to work tomorrow...just like every other Saturday for the next three months. Oh, and I'll be missing the big festival carnival thing happening in my hometown that I wanted to go to. Fuuuuck youuuuu librarryyyyy liarrrrssss!!!! I threw my discman across the room a few minutes ago because the batteries I risked life and limb for last night were already dying, so now I'm listening to Zombie (Cranberries) over and over and over on the laptop. All I really want to do is sleep, but every time I lay down....no matter how fucking exhausted I am...I'm as wired as a lightning bolt to the labia. I need a massage, six Zoloft, and a brisk run. I already had cheesecake....and it didn't help.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Flood-of-Consciousness

Sleep eludes me, so what better to do than ramble online? I am at once pissed off, broken-hearted, giddily exhausted, and I feel bloated. This should be fun.

On my way out of the college tonight, after giving my final final, I saw, on the back of an aged Prizm, a window decal that said, "I LOVE JEHOVAH." Nothing special, right?? Ohhhh so wrong. In parentheses, just under and to the right of JEHOVAH it said, "(God)." There was a Bible in the back window. There were Christian bumper stickers as far as the eye could see, yet the person still felt compelled to clarify who Jehovah is exactly. As if the reader might think Jehovah is the love child of Jerry Garcia and Tammy Fay Baker. A preacher came to mind, standing stern, regal in his pulpit shouting, "I LOVE JEHOVAH!!!" and taking a moment out to whisper, "Hey, that's God ya know..."

Since I can't sleep, I went scrambling through my CD collection (what isn't blessed enough at the moment to be in the car CD carrier) and pulled out some Dave Matthews. I'm beginning to feel quite nostalgic since they have a new CD coming out on the 10th. I had completely forgotten that I made a 2-disc burned set that I LOOOOOVED when I was in college with a fast internet connection and no Napster restrictions. When I'm 80 I'll be the old granny with no stories of how she smoked pot and had wild sex, but I shall certainly tell of how I unabashedly downloaded hour upon hour of Dave Matthews Band songs and the coveted Dave-speak. But I digress. In order to listen to the CD on my discman, which I prefer to do at night when I'm attempting to sleep, I had to find some batteries. I have a bad habit of emptying the available batteries with any little bit of juice out of the things around me late at night when I'm trying to tease the discman to life, so my remote controls were drained and out of the question. I was terribly proud of myself when I managed to sneak through the house and out into the garage for more AA's without waking up my mother or any of the dogs. I even managed to sneak back in, use the bathroom, and grab a light bulb for my bedside lamp with no waking. Arrived back in my room, put on the Storytellers CD, listened for a while and decided to try out the other CD. Wouldn't play. Damn burned CD's, you can never trust 'em. Then I tried Storytellers again...no go. At this point I'm gettin' pissed. I frolick over to the CD tower and start poking around for the Dave CD I had in mind to start with, and I can't find it. Everything falls out of the top compartment, and I give up the fight and sit down on the carpet, toppling ass-backwards onto a rogue shoe almost breaking my tailbone in the process. After sifting through the thoroughly fucked up CD selection (nothing's in the right case) I ended up with the Best of Aware Records. A far cry from Dave, but at this point I'm just glad to be alive.

I already know I don't want to go to work tomorrow. If this sleeplessness lasts I may not be able to scrape myself up, and if I do scrape myself up I will only want to throw on my workout clothes and go for a few-hour walk. I have catching up to do. Food, the smell of food, the thought of food, etc. nauseates me, so the diet shouldn't be a problem for a bit. The last thing I feel like doing is smiling at strangers for eight hours. Handling their dirty books and smelling their overwhelmingly nicotine-and-tar-clotted auras.

TV: Trash
Music: Jackopierce
Reading: Not sure yet...I'm eyeing a few things.
In my head: Bitterness and disappointment.

Love Letters

O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

*The Sick Rose, by William Blake

***************************************

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

*From The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot

***************************************

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

*Jilted, by Sylvia Plath

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Wakeup Call....

It's all still here, it's just too much to see and read over every time I blog. To read the post highlight the white space with your cursor.

This morning I found out that one of my closest friends has cancer. Crystal is 24, she's a teacher, she's gorgeous and sweet. She was having some problems with her eye...some redness and blurred vision. She thought it was Pink Eye, but it turned out to be a tumor nestled between her brain and her optic nerve. The week after she found out she went to a neurosurgeon and he removed all that he could. She lost sight in her right eye. She says she can live with that...it's better than the alternative. She hasn't worked her normal teaching job since the beginning of April, but she's subbing to ease back into work. She goes back to the doctor in July to find out if what's left of the tumor is growing again and if she'll need chemo or radiation. I saw her in March, and all of this happened in April.

We met during the summer between our Junior and Senior years of college. There are three of us....Amanda, Crystal, and me. They're the only people I went to college with that I get together with on a regular basis. They're wonderful, funny, sweet, talented. I've posted about them before. I admire them greatly. We don't get to see each other as often as we'd like. Crystal teaches full time in a high school and middle school and works with kids in lots of academic extracurriculars. She's dating a guy we went to college with named Terry. Crystal wants to go to law school. Amanda teaches high school Spanish, coaches the dance team, and teaches dance classes at a studio. She's also a clogger in her free time (how she has any, I don't know).
Sometimes we go a month or so without talking because we're busy, and we're spread out an hour apart in each direction. We never thought so much could happen in a month. She didn't tell us until now because it was a blur and because she didn't want to burden us. That's just the way she is.

This morning I am angry. I'm angry that Crystal is going through this, and I'm upset that we weren't there for her. It's incredibly unfair that someone so innately good should have to deal with this much painful shit. She says she knows God has a plan for her, she just wishes she could see it. I know she's right, but I'm still pissed at Him for putting her through this. I've been crying all morning, walking around in a daze, and thinking of how stupid my problems are. It doesn't really matter how fucked up my jobs are, it doesn't really matter if the phone rings, and anything I say on this blog doesn't matter. What matters is that my friend is struggling and I love her very much. If you pray, pray for her.

You can be your own cheap fortuneteller!

Women have an uncanny intuition about a number of things (not only women, but I am one and many of my readers are female, so hush men). Sometimes we call it "just a feeling" sometimes it's "the gut feeling." You know what I'm talking about...that nagging voice in your head and stomach that tells you exactly what's going to happen...normally when it's bad. Don't walk down that darkened alley. Don't pick up the phone and call...you'll regret it! Don't eat Aunt Leda's tuna melt!!!

How many of us would pay good money to get rid of the women's intuition at some point?? When it's screaming to run like hell from the red flags in the relationship or back out of a trip we've already bought the plane tickets for (happened to my cousin). How many times has it saved our ass or at least helped us avoid an embarrassing situation or kept us out of a blush-inducing mistake? There's a whole book written about the upside of fear and "the feeling"...the title escapes me, but I read it for an independent study my senior year of university.

If you think about it, we're really our own cheap psychic. We don't need Magic Eight-Balls or Ouija boards, or even shrinks. Most of the time we already know the answers, but we're too chicken-shit to listen. I am, anyway. Disagree if you will. Given the uncomfortable situation at work on Monday some things happened at work today that I knew were coming (I'm just glad it didn't revolve around ME like I thought it might). I didn't have to spend all day wondering and pondering and torturing myself over something that I won't mention here (because it's too personal and NO I'm not telling) because I already knew the answer deep down.

Shouldn't knowing 75% of the answers set us free?? Free from worry and waffling? Yeah, but does it?? Maybe I'm just anal and too flip-floppy and that's why I say, no, we're no more free because of gut feelings and intuition. We just spend more time hoping we're wrong and clinging to the improbable.

What say you about gut feelings? Are they accurate or are they self-fulfilling prophecies? Do we get what we expect and all that jazz? When has your gut cut in and made a difference?

Library Oddities vol. 2

I woke up with the squirmy, this-is-gonna-be-a-shyi9tty-day feeling. Alas, I'm terribly excited that I was wrong. Super-wench wasn't there today, and it was relatively peaceful with the exception of a few entertaining/freaky patrons.

First was Little Man Tight Wad. He approached the desk with four books in hand and proceeded to explain that he's going on vacation for a few weeks, and he won't be back in time to renew...could he renew now? Before even leaving?? L and I made an executive decision to say no because my boss is being a hardass about policy. We have a new director coming in Monday, so we need to be prim and proper. We offered to let him renew over the phone later, etc. but he's going to Mexico so that wasn't an option. He reallyyyy didn't want to pay two days of late fees. Keep in mind a late fee is 25 cents per day per book. So, two days at 25 cents for four books would be a grand total of two dollars. He finally decided to let us put the books on hold, and he'll pick them up tomorrow. Saving him one dollar. It'll cost him more in gas to get to the library to pick them up a day later than it would've been to just pay the effin' fine.

Next was the woman and her 9 children. N-i-n-e. It really made me want to remove my uterus. And she homeschools. To make a long story short, she wanted to renew her card and the children's cards, plus a $1.00 each replacement fee for new cards, plus the ungodly late fees that had stacked up on the old cards. A grand total of $62.95. Little Man Tight Wad would've shat himself, I'm sure of it.

And my personal favorite. Just to recap first, I attend two face-to-face book discussion groups, one of which meets the third Tuesday night of every month, and today's which meets on the first Wednesday. We discuss whatever we've been reading, yadda, blah blah. One of the ladies from the Tuesday night group showed up at today's meeting. We see her at least twice a day in the library as it is, and I really find her enjoyable to chat with, so I was happy to see her at the meeting. Later, after the meeting was over, she approached the circ desk to ask me about some of the members of the group...one in particular that writes for the local paper. This led to a conversation (somehow) on how the local hospital is a deathtrap. Val and Clack can attest to this, I'm sure. Anyhow, this particular woman...LS....is an interesting character as is: tall, stocky, super-short blonde hair with a "tail"...circa 1988...lots of shirts with fish and dolphins on them, tons of health problems that she's more than happy to discuss, and apparently her mother was a scholar with a British accent that LS still throws back to occasionally. Today, when we got onto the topic of the deathtrap she explained to me that a while back she stopped taking her herbs (which ones, I didn't ask) and had a gushing rushing tidal wave of blood emerge from between her legs. Which leads me to wonder where the herbs were taken exactly, but that's neither here nor there. If it wasn't enough that she was loudly telling me about her massive blood flow, she continued by explaining that the Doogie Howser ER doctor that examined her couldn't find her cervix with a map and a flashlight. And as she put it, "I've birthed four children, so I KNOW I have one!!"

I'll save the nutcase, that picks our library garden roses and gives them to us claiming that he's grown them, for another time.

TV: Dead to the world.
Music: Do I even have to say it?
Reading: Beasts and The Collector of Hearts: New Tales of the Grotesque, by Joyce Carol Oates

P.S. I refuse to correct the typos. I'm laptop shopping, so I'll soon be able to spot the typos before they get published.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Nervous squirmy feelings.....

I'm nervous about work today. Just an icky, yucky, sick feeling....like something bad will happen. Blah.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Quote of the day....

I have a knack for trying to make out with strangers during the good part...and then I steal your lemonheads.

Ten Wicked Wants

Ten things I would demand right now if I could have anything I want:

1. A hot tub.

2. A pedicure from a brightly dressed troupe of midgets.

3. Her head on a golden plate.

4. ***Edited for content***

5. A private audience with Gavin Degraw, Dave Matthews, John Mayer, and Mindy Smith.

6. A night of dancing in a hot, sweaty, thumping-so-hard-it-hurts nightclub.

7. My blue streaks and my piercings back.

8. A flaming pile of How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must): The World According to Ann Coulter and Everything Is Illuminated.

9. All the seasons of Sex & the City at my disposal.

10. A Cheesecake Factory cheesecake the size of a wagon wheel.

On TV: Dunno
Music: GD
Reading: Beasts, by Joyce Carol Oates
In my head: Electricity

Monday, May 02, 2005

Abbreviated Jury Duty & Bitches Infiltrate the Library

Jury duty was the most uneventful experience I've ever had. I got there at 8:45, no trouble parking downtown, actually got a seat in the corridor outside the courtroom, got called in, judge talked for 2 mins, he asked for peeps with possible exemptions to come up, I went, I told him that I was a teacher and was giving finals this week, and he said, "Miss M. you're quite busy...come back another time." I was out by 10:15. I didn't even have to flash my Fry 'em t-shirt. Damnit. And I donated my $6 pay for the day to a women's charity. My random act of kindness for the day.

The rest of the day was more eventful. After two weeks at the library, I fear the honeymoon is over, and I'm really kinda gettin' the screws put to me. A few examples:

1) I'm not in the position I applied for and was accepted to.
2) I'm making 2.50 an hour less than I applied for.
3) I was supposed to be put on a Saturday rotation so that I'd only have to work one Saturday a month. Now I work every Saturday. Fuckers.

Today one of the bitches I work with...well, really the only bitch I work with, got mad at me. She assigned me to shelving books, meanwhile, in the 70 degree weather the children's librarian turned on the HEATER. It was a steambath. I shelved my heart out anyway. I sat down to do some paperwork before I checked the book drop outside and finished shelving the non-fiction. She stopped me mid-type and looked at me like a flaming pile of dog shit and said, "Ummm, what about the others??" I didn't really wanna say, "Hey, my fat ass is hot because B turned the heat on." So I told her I'd planned to empty the book drop at 7, and I'd finish after I got those non-fiction out of the drop and added them to my to-be-shelved pile (this was 10 mins 'til time to check the book drop, mind you). Again, she looked at me like the flaming feces, and I think she may have written a nasty note to my boss about me. I'm ready for war if need be. At this point I have no idea who my boss actually is because it seems that everyone can boss anyone around if they feel like it. I'd like a job description PLEASE!! And the job and hours and money that you fucking hired me for!!!!

(_!_)

And there was a little more to it, but it only makes me look better and her look even more stupid, and it'd take forever to type, so I'll leave you with that short outline. The bottom line, this library thing, while it's fun to fondle books, is making me appreciate teaching even more. I love being left alone to DO MY JOB. I had been waffling about whether or not to accept the grad. assistantship or stay with the library...they want to keep me on and train me for reference and children's, too. Now I'm thinkin' make the grad. thing is the better deal.

Stay tuned.

I'm goin' to the big house!!!!

I have to serve a jury summons today. My first one ever. I'm not excited. I'm taking at least 2 books with me. I just want them to let me go so I can give final exams this week and carry on like normal. I'll be sporting my,

Fry 'em all!

....t-shirt. Wish me luck! Will report back later.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Show me your juicy phrases....

I can't get interested in a book. Maybe a bodice-ripping romance is in the cards. Better yet, something dark and moody and grotesque. Maybe murder?

Everyone recommend a book to me, whether it's bodice-ripping or murderous or not. I love recommendations.

On TV: Desperate Housewives already went off, so what's the point?
Music: Gavin
Not reading: Bachelor Girl (too dry for current mood)
In my head: Homicide and jury duty.

Maudlin Meanderings and Cryptic B.S.

Today was a bit of a rollercoaster....surprises around every turn, just when I thought life had become devoid of them.

Oh, this is the start of something good
Don't you agree?
I haven't felt like this in so many moons
You know what I mean?


There was talking. All those feelings rushing to the surface after the burial in their shallow grave. They were never gone far....just a finger or the tip of a boot sticking out of the grave. A ghost, haunting and hovering, coming in dreams, tearing at my heart.

And we can build through this destruction
As we are standing on our feet
So, since you want to be with me
You'll have to follow through

What therapist? What pastor? What friend can erase these permanent scars and deeply planted yearnings?

With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you
You to stick around
I'll see you everyday


Where did I turn but my old standby...my constant companion in times of turmoil and wretchedness. It's enough just to leave home, to drive with no destination, wind whirling and sloughing off the deadness, the shame, the want, and the residue.

But you have to follow through
You have to follow through
These reeling emotions they just keep me alive
They keep me in tune


I am the sacrifice saved. The phoenix risen. The dead that dances for joy. But there is still the temptation, the loneliness, the want.

Oh, look what I'm holding here in my fire
This is for you
Am I too obvious to preach it?
You're so hypnotic on my heart

I wrestle these choices every day. There's no easy right or wrong. No painless existence.

So, since you want to be with me
You'll have to follow through
With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you