Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Freshly washed and slept upon. The curls have been allowed to run wild and crazy with no discipline whatsoever. Because of the sleeping there's sort of a rat nest effect that can't be prevented. Notice the ultra-curly roots. Those bitches are almost impossible to straighten...even with a round of chemical straightener and a flat-iron.
After the morning frying. It's amazing isn't it? It takes great willpower and an anal-retentive neat-streak the likes of which you don't see very often to make it behave.
The moral of my tale: Whatever you think about your own hair, it could always be worse. And God hates my head.
Note: It takes a woman strong in her womanhood to post morning hair and no makeup. I just happen to not care.
Monday, August 29, 2005
- New Strain of Jet Lag Devastates Airline Industry
--John Irving was on The Daily Show tonight, and he related a story about the time he tried to heimlich maneuver Kurt Vonnegut (his former teacher). When Veonnegut began to choke Irving proceeded to grab him from behind, which he found somewhat troublesome since he's 5'7" and Vonnegut was (is?) 6'5". Since he couldn't get the right angle, he threw Vonnegut on the floor and "proceeded to beat on him from the rodeo position" only to find out that he hadn't been choking at all. He had emphysema. My question being: how could he muster up the balls to tell it on The Daily Show?? I hope they padded his gift basket for giving up that little nugget of embarrassment.On TV: No, thanksyouvellymush.
MP3: What Kind of Love, Rodney Crowell
In my head: Sleeeepy vibes.
Note: Longggg ass day tomorrow. Expect no peeps from me until evening.
Another note: The formatting is wonked tonight...leaving spaces, etc.. It's driving me batty, but ignore it, and I'll try to, too.
--Miss Havisham to Estella
I started this blog out of great pain and spite with a capital SPIT. Spit as in venom and nails. I found myself at the end of a long, hard relationship at the end of 2004/beginning of 2005. It was gory. Bloody. Toxic. All figurative, by the way. I disappeared and some simpering victim appeared by Christmas of '04 and hung around for a couple of months. She wandered around the house, took antidepressants by the truckload, and crawled back toward what was so SO bad for her. She lacked vibrance, opinions, and a backbone of even the flimsiest sort. So many things she had before. She didn't think she was good enough to ever have a decent relationship. She didn't think she could hack it in graduate school.
I took my previous blog, The Wasteland, down because it was frowned upon and stayed away from blogging from around November '04 until February of 2005. December '04 brought with it an occurence that finally dragged me out of my dark hole. I won't elaborate on what that event was, but it was enough. That's all that's important now.
I came back to blogging furious and fractured with the vow to exclude only those things I deem too personal to share or to protect those I feel are worthy of protection. The first name that occurred to me was Estella's Revenge. Estella is a character from Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens, that I've always found terribly interesting. Here's a description of her:
Estella is Miss Havisham's adopted daughter and her project in cultivated cruelty. Raised by the old woman to be cruel and hard to men, Estella, a great beauty, entrances Pip. She is mean to Pip for most of his life, although at the novel's end they meet again, and she seems to be a softened, changed woman.
At first Estella seems like the most evil, man-hating bitch imaginable, but she's raised to be. She's venomous out of circumstance. I found myself venomous because of my situation. I wanted to make men suffer. I knew the blog would accomplish that....for at least one man.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to add something to Estella's Revenge. It wasn't only about revenge. It was about a place to vent. A place to be creative again, An exercise in writing every single day. It was about figuring out what the hell I wanted again. It was about talking to myself, and if someone else read it...fine. I came up with Tripping Toward Lucidity (in all its wordy goodness) because that's exactly what I was doing. It's what we're all doing. Just trying to figure out what the hell makes sense.
One thing I really like about Estella is that she softened over time. She grew out of her situation and didn't hate anymore. Didn't torture. It's a small world when you're so angry and vindictive that it saturates your waking hours and your dreams. Estella's original revenge was on the men she destroyed, but the real revenge is that she grew up and became whole.
I'm writing about this now, so long after the fact, because it's one of the biggest stories I've never told. It's still shady at best, but it's a huge part of who I am now.
And, men, you can uncover your penises now. I'm not mad anymore if you didn't already catch that.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die
1. Have health insurance again!
2. Design my own home.
3. Own more schnauzers.
4. Travel to exotic locales like Milwaukee and Houston..and hopefully some more exciting choices like London, Dublin, Paris, and Monaco.
5. Lose some more weight/get in better shape.
6. Draw Social Security (I can dream).
7. Have my lower retainer removed.
Seven things I can do
1. Write good academic shit.
2. The splits.
3. Paint/sketch well (or at least I used to be able to).
4. Make an ass of myself.
5. Make people laugh without making an ass of myself.
6. Take care of my family.
Seven things I can not do
1. Get organized.
2. Play an instrument.
3. Reach the top level of any video game.
4. Bring myself to say "give head" out loud.
5. Be near a maggot.
6. Control my chronic eye-rolling.
7. Stand fuckwits, douchebags, or pedophiles.
Seven things that I find really attractive about the opposite sex
1. The "relaxed" voice.
3. A nice whiff of cologne.
4. Playful innuendo.
5. Hands and wrist-veins.
6. The occasional and heartfelt romantic gesture that takes me completely by surprise.
7. When they'll call me out on my bullshit. Without being mean about it.
Seven things I say the most
2. That's vile.
3. Whatcha doin'?
4. Oh my!
6. Just shoot me NOW.
Seven Books I LOVE
1. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
2. The Cider House Rules, John Irving
3. The Hours, Michael Cunningham
4. The Alchemist, Paulo Coehlo
5. The Robber Bride, Margaret Atwood
6. George's Marvelous Medicine, Roald Dahl
7. What I Loved, Siri Hustvedt
Seven people I'd like to see spread this across the blogosphere (and if you don't wanna do it, ignore me):
3. Heather F.
6. The Pink Kitty
...and anyone else who feels the urge.
On TV: I turned that crap off.
Music: X and Y, Coldplay
Reading: The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, Melissa Bank
In my head: Whatthefuckever.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
The party last night was lovely. There are several people still in the program that I graduated with, so it was nice to see them and get back into the swing of things. The food was great, the company was awesome, and I got into some veryyy interesting conversations about literature, feminism, more literature, and more literature. Oh, and publishing. And research. And composition, and more literature. Whew!
My time will be limited, but I should be home every night by about 7:30, so that's not so bad. I should have time to do assignments, stress out, and do research. Oh, and BLOG! I'd shrivel up and die without it.
Friday, August 26, 2005
I posted some informal reading comments over at Projectile Reviews yesterday in a fit of non-reading. I swear, I'm going to get on the stick and start posting more over there. It used to be on another, defunct, blog account, but now I've moved it to this account, so maybe that'll be less hassle and more motivation.
One last thing: I moved the Denise Richards post above HNT. I would hate to think she lost some of the limelight because of my paper-dollness.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Now, I should clarify that my adamant "eeewww" should not be considered a bite of my thumb at the childbearing process. That's not the gross part. Giving birth is, and I'm sure many would agree, a sacred event...bring life into the world!!! It's beautiful, it's touching, it's special.
On the other side of the coin, Playboy is not so sacred (boys, shuddup). It's about desire, objectification, and lust. Let's just say it...it's about titties. I'm sure Richards looked smokin'-hot, but at least give little Sam time to get off the teet. Won't she be proud to look back and know that her mama was determined enough to reveal her peaks and valleys that she jumped off the gurney and onto the treadmill? Way to go, Mom!!! Way to be a life-giving temple!!!
And fuck this PC business because we're all thinkin' it. Anyone think she lactated on set??
On an unrelated note: The asshat of the week award goes to Pat Robertson for calling for the assassination of the President of Venezuela and then claiming he never said that. Say it at home douchebag!!! That little black box with the man behind it is a CAMERA!
Oh my! It seems you caught me perusing my new collection of hot "Marilyn" clothes in my skivvies. I'll just die if I pick the wrong outfit. I'm leaning toward the one on the far left. I think it makes me look the most like Denise Richards after giving birth. Pat Robertson would never try to have me bumped off in that dress. Everyone would love me in that dress. I hope Madonna doesn't fall onto one of my cones. She'd break whatever bones are left.
Get half-nekkid with Os.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Finished cleaning this here 12th Circle.
Started reading my assignment.
Addendum: Should've done my syllabi for the three courses I'm TEACHING!
What I've done:
Watched Montel Williams (Sylvia Browne was the guest...she amuses me).
Ate salad and a piece of turtle pie.
What I will do in the next little while:
Blow-dry my hair.
Watch Ellen Degeneres and then Oprah.
Begin reading the most boring assignment since the invention of the printing press. Thank you, Mr. Gutenberg...kiss my pasty pale tail.
Addendum: The three syllabi for the courses I'm TEACHING!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
I should be cleaning so I can do work. I can't read assignments or do other school/work-related crap with my bedroom looking like the 12th circle of hell (one of the new add-ons....reserved for messy mollies like myself).
On TV: Oprah...the Presley women interview. I *heart* Lisa Marie
Monday, August 22, 2005
But ya wanna know what really weirds me out??
When you're a graduate student, all the profs let you call them by their first names. OH MY GOD! My favorite prof referred to her and hubby as "Donna and Mike". And another prof I don't even know yet (the one with the 126 pages of homework) nonchalantly signed his e-mail, "Derrick." Not to mention a wild "Wooohooo" in the midst of the e-mail, but that's another post entirely.
I'm not sure I can handle first names. I was raised in Texas where you call your superiors "Mr." or "Mrs."...."ma'am" and "sir". For the love of God, I might implode if I address a professor by first name.
Watch for signs of implosion in seven days.
TV: The Daily Show (how did I not watch this sooner?)
Music: I haven't the foggiest idea.
Reading: Appetities, Caroline Knapp (That was a typo, but I'm leaving it. Os, it was not Freudian.)
In my head: Spittle.
Saturday I woke up early thanks to my douchebag neighbors ('t's always the douchebag neighbors). Since I was up, and Mom is ALWAYS up early, we decided to go see a movie at 11:00. And what did we choose??? Guess...guess....
The 40-Year-Old Virgin!!!!
Steve Carell is officially my new celebrity crush! Look how cute he is...so innocent....so funny. The movie has actually gotten a lot of good reviews, and I can see why. It's hysterically funny thanks to Carell's sweet performance as a clueless 40-year-old virgin being "helped out" by his macho friends. But I'll save further comments for a proper review....
After the movie we had lunch, we book shopped, and we swam for two hours. I have my tan back, but now I'm limping.
The limping leads us to Sunday. Sunday morning I STUMBLED, HOBBLED, out of bed thanks to the dogs barking at the douchebag neighbors (always the douchebag neighbors). I noticed my foot hurting, but I didn't think much of it. As the day went on the hurting changed from "oh, it hurts a little" to PAIN. PURE UNADULTERATED PAIN. I have no idea what I've done to my foot, but it hurts along the sinewy side-area. It feels like a sprain, but how do you sprain your sinewy side area??
My prognosis in the grand tradition of anal-retentive overreaction to body pain in the tradition of the rabid spider laying eggs in my ear when I had swim ear:
Obviously a radioactive spider, reminiscent of that one in Spiderman, bit my foot in my sleep. It was very poisonous, so now the muscles in my foot are beginning to liquefy, thus causing me great pain.
Why don't they just go ahead and hand over my honorary medical degree??
Yesterday, while I was bedridden because I couldn't walk, I got an e-mail from my Research Methods professor giving us our reading assignments for the first class (126 pages). I'm not nervous yet. I think I *should* be very scared, though.
TV: Today Show
Music: Boy Sets Fire
Reading: same thing
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Fuck Blogger for installing the "flag" feature.
Fuck my portable CD player for not playing. Yes, there is a disc!!!
Fuck my toothless redneck neighbors for SAWING at 10:30.
Fuck the loan people for abstaining from sending me a payment book until my interest reached $8,000.
Fuck the hateful, the prejudiced, the sexist, the cruel and callous, the abusers, the killers, the torturers, the manipulative, the greedy.
I hate that my day deteriorated to this temper tantrum. It started so well. Am I "objectionable" yet, Blogger?
Song: Foundations to Burn, Boy Sets Fire
In my head: Rat poison.
Foundations to Burn
Justify, as if it were our right to say
Now decide, which liar you trust and which one chose our fate
Fed in time as a choice we think we're making
It's the guns that we know vs. the guns we never will
When illusions burn where will we be left standing
Still with the guns that we know vs. the guns we never will
Pacify, with false hope of safety within
Never mind that they were never there where could we begin
We call upon god for which killing's permitted,
and then brag out loud that our side made the grade
We better pray, with this as our position
Our wrongs don't come back and burn us down to the ground
And what gives us the right to judge without reprisal
To strike retaliation and wash our hands of blood
And who gave us the crown to claim that we're divine
Without needing repentance and drive them into hell
Friday, August 19, 2005
1. I want a career in which I can be a positive influence in people's lives. I'd also like to do the least amount of work for decent money. I think I've found my niche. I'm glad I know this about myself because it makes me feel less horrible about the fact that I've hated every job I've ever had, with the exception of two: college teacher, web designer/computer labby.
2. I like to be adored. Stop looking at me like I have horns growing out of my nostrils. You like being adored, too.
3. I CAN dance, and I do it often...through the house, to the music in my head, and even in bed (and, no, that's not code for anything). Yes, I dance in bed when I'm listening to my bedtime music--complete with hip swivels and come hither finger motions. Yes, I do this alone. What kind of dancing do I enjoy in and out of bed you ask?? The solitary kind. Love me some hip-hop dancin'. Seriously. It's fun, and a GREAT workout. My fave workout ever was Hip-Hop Body Shop.
4. I'm MOOOODY. I can go from zero to bit.....(nevermind, that's so cliche). I can be really happy one minute and a bitch and a half the next. Then I'll go from flaming mean harpie to downright sad. Damn estrogen.
5. Change is a thrill. I change hair colors like pantyhose, I miss my piercings, I would love a tattoo, I would trade in part of my liver to skydive, and I secretly fantasize about putting all my stuff in storage and living from little town to little town and little job to little job. I'll never do that, but it's a thrilling thought.
6. I'm such a Scorpio. No details needed.
More random crap later...On TV: Just finished watching The Fellowship of the Ring
Music: Graham Colton...Killing Me
Reading: The Obsession
Thursday, August 18, 2005
*Note: No tongues or cheeks were harmed during the drafting of this post.
Write three reviews for Projectile Reviews
Try to knock off a few books before the madness starts
Catch up on book discussion groups
Write down all these ideas before they waltz out my left ear
On TV: I just turned off Bring It On Again
Music: Flipping back and forth between Amerie and Coldplay
Reading: The Obsession: Reflections on the Tyranny of Slenderness
In my head: Thought-gasms
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
a) In bed and half-nekkid
b) In a bathing suit
I'll be SO GLAD whenever he gets FINISHED!
Today he showed up, I'm in pj's because I don't have to leave until 2:30 to go to the college for registration and staff development. I answer the door in a bleary-eyed fog to him looking surprised and asking, "Oh, were you asleep??" No fuckwad, I'm in my pj's and don't know my own name all the time. YES, I was asleep. Or at least I was workin' on it awfully damn hard.
If anyone says I should've been up and dressed, poop on your head. I'm on vacation. I won't get to stay in my pajamas again until December.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Monday, August 15, 2005
It's Stephanie's birthday, and I had to take a moment to do a little tribute piece. Stephanie's blog is one of the most entertaining and genuinely packed with shock value that I've found in this ever-expanding blogosphere, and I'm proud to say she's a fellow Texan and Dallasite. Even though I'm not really a Dallasite, I say I am because who knows where my hometown is? No one but Clack, Val, D., Cherbear, and the Today Show.
This is a pic I found of Stephanie's club hopping this weekend. Notice the delicious red halter and grass skirt...not to mention Non-IT Boy's penis that she ripped off his body shortly after he showed up at her apartment at 7am.
Long live Steph. May you have many safe escapades to come.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
I have two more weeks off and I have several things scheduled. Some I'm looking forward to, and I'm sure having my nipples hooked up to a car battery would be more pleasant than some of the others.
Tuesday I'm going over to Baptist Preacher's Wife's house for "crafting." Yes, Andi is going crafting. Well, more realistically...Andi is going to sit amongst people who craft. There is absolutely nothing wrong with crafting, and I wouldn't be so bitchy as to insinuate that, but I've managed to try 800 crafts in my life and I've stuck with exactly 0 of them for more than 2 weeks. I tried crocheting and wanted to rip my eyeballs out after I finished my first potholder, I tried quilting and ended up with gushing, bloody fingertips, and I tried cross stitch long enough to make half a project when Mikel was born. He's now 14. Baptist Preacher's Wife assured me that I was welcome to bring my own craft along or try the cross stitching or quilting. I was tempted to ask if I could bring my laptop and blog a long string of innovative curse words, but somehow I think that'd go over like a turd in a punch bowl. Why don't I just NOT GO you ask?? Because she has me firmly by the proverbial nuts. She wants to talk about the plans for the town library.
Wednesday is faculty orientation for the college (not to be confused with GA orientation at the university). I've already been oriented, but apparently we have to be oriented over and over. Because summer can be very disorienting. Director invited me to help with registration, which means, "Ms. Andi, please come in and help with registration for a few hours if you'd like to ever work in education in this town again."
Friday is a museum trip with a lady from my book group. Shit...that reminds me that the book group meeting is Tuesday night and I haven't read the book yet. Anyway, museum trip to Dallas and Ft. Worth. I need to try to get out of it. The lady is very nice, but wound tighter than an 8-day clock, and I'm afraid her nervous breakdown over the Dallas traffic might pull me right over the edge.
The 26th is Grad. Assistant orientation from 9-3 and then a party at my favorite professor's house from 5 to whenever. Must pick out my most responsibly sexy ensemble so as to make a good impression on the new profs. I'm thinking the Jackie O shirt.
On TV: I shot it.
CD of choice: Touch...Amerie.
Reading: My palm.
In my head: White girl noise.
Eat Cake was cute, but nothing to write home about. It's about a woman whose hubby loses his job, her estranged father moves in with her family, her daughter is a typical bitchy teen, and she starts baking cakes to save the family's livelihood. Yay. Sweet, empty of heavy messages, and entertaining enough to turn over a few hours.
Went to the library yesterday to return Amadeus and I picked up The Sixteen Pleasures, by some guy (looking for the book)...Robert Hellenga. Reference Diva assures me that it's one of the best examples of a man writing from a woman's perspective. I'll be interested to see if it lives up to Michael Cunningham's stunning The Hours, my favorite man-writes-as-woman book eva!
This afternoon it looks like comfort movies abound. USA is playing Bring it On, Bring it On Again, and then...tadaaa...Coyote Ugly. None as good as Resident Evil or Deep Blue Sea, but they'll do in a pinch.
TV: Bring it On
CD of choice: Afterglow...Sarah McLachlan
In my head: Sunshine and daisies.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
I Can Instantly Tell Whether Someone is African-American with My Amazing "Blackdar"
Children of Divorce Twice as Likely to Write Bad Poetry
Depression Hits Losers Hardest
Tenth Circle Added to Rapidly Growing Hell
CNN Still Releasing News Piled Up During Elian Gonzalez Saga
Sudanese 14-Year-Old Has Midlife Crisis
Gay Gene Isolated, Ostracized
South Postpones Rising Again for Yet Another Year
And my very very very favorite that made me cackle and disturb everyone in the library:
Dolphins Evolve Opposable Thumbs: "Oh, Shit," Says Humanity
It was supremely fulfilling to answer a man at the reference desk with, "No, sir, I do NOT work here." Mega-bitch was in with Embarrassed Hubby checking out movies. They looked at me as if I had three heads because I wasn't behind the desk giving them verbal fellatio. I sneered, and went back to ignoring them. Happy DANCE!
Tomorrow's menu: Much slothfulness except for the fish tank cleaning. Tomorrow night, much merrymaking and frivolity. There might be an amaretto sour involved. Watch out!
On TV: Crap.
Listening to: Gavin Degraw (baby daddy)
Reading: The back of my eyelids.
In my head: Endless possibilities and imaginary scenarios.
There is a story behind my crooked smile. Notice the upper lip's mid-dent is off center. That would be thanks to a wayward softball when I was in second grade. I played 2nd base for my softball team, and the injury happened at my VERY FIRST practice...ever. Actually, about six minutes ito my very first practice. We were practicing catching fly balls (stop snickering), and the ball bounced up out of my glove, popped me in the mouth, and blood flew everywhere. My mom hauled me to the emergency room in case I needed stitches, but they ended up icing it and slapping on a butterfly bandage. Yum.
The teeth are attributable to three years of brace pain. Thank you, Mama!
For all the half-nekkid goodness go see Os.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Fall promises to be a bitchin'-fast schedule. I'm teaching a night class/lab combo from 5:30-9:20 on Wednesday nights and a class/lab combo that is NOT as long on Tuesday/Thursday afternoons. Not to mention the 20 hours tutoring at the university and the three grad courses. Whew! Should be fast and furious, but I likes it like that.
I had a good 30-minute conversation with myself last night. Partially out loud. Is that normal??
Monday, August 08, 2005
FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKK HIGHER EDUCATION!!! You heard me.
I received a loan statement for a loan I didn't know I had for the amount of roughly $27,000. 27,000 DOLLARS! Now, this would not have been shocking had I been made aware of it during my TWO financial aid exit interviews from two INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER EDUCATION. I left Baylor U....aka, Expensive-Ass Private School...in 2001 to attend Texas A&M University-Branch Near Home for one iota the price. I paid a good deal of my junior and senior years of university out of my own fat pocket because I made a drug-dealer's stash of cash as a web designer for a Fortune 500 company in Dallas. Now defunct...a piece of shit overall, but that's beside the point (giving middle finger salute to TXU Energy and all their Polish outsourced whores).
When I exited Baylor, I was told that all my financial aid info would be passed on to A&M's system, so I could carry on seamlessly with my education, and because my mom made too much money, I didn't qualify for grants. Work study and loans were my ticket to a cheap-ass piece of paper that has thus far gotten me one shitty teaching job that I hated and paid decent and one teaching job I dearly love that is PART TIME, but I love English, and I'm a woman of principle. I'll take beans to do what I love.
Upon my exiting TAMU-Branch Near Home I was given a summary of my debt and I even asked, "Is that it?" When I went to Baylor it was approximately 16,000 dollars a year to attend, and it was looking light on the loan horizon upon exit interviewing. I was assured, "This is all." Well FUCK whoever said that. They were dead ass wrong and deserve to be raped with the handle of a garden tool because I do indeed now owe 27,000 dollars. Holy shit. I'm gonna be eating pork-n-beans out of a can for the next 50 years and I'll never be able to buy a home or retire.
I've always joked about staying in school until I'm 55 so my loans will be forgiven. Right now, that's lookin' like the smart thing to do. Defer til I die.
Let this be a warning to all of the college students out there reading. You are getting fucked, and I'm about to go back to school for another year and a half of fuckage.
I was just telling D. yesterday that I need to curb my cursing. Yeah, well it's not fuckin' happenin' today.
Listening to: The hum of my blood pressure.
Now, I have three weeks off and I have NO IDEA what to do with myself. After roughly nine hours sleep last night I'm bright eyed and bushy tailed. I could go to the library and read up the stash of magazines I've neglected since I've been a patron last. I could go visit Rachel (very likely), or maybe I'll swim all day. Heaven knows I've got a boat-load of books I could take advantage of.
Oh the possibilities....
Saturday, August 06, 2005
There's been a development in the life of someone I care about veryyy very much that has prompted me to take a few days off from bloggin'. I don't feel like being cute and/or entertaining, and this isn't the forum to vent about this particular situation. I'll be back in a few days. Behave until then. If ya need me, e-mail me.
Friday, August 05, 2005
1. I've had to deal with the bitchiest, ass-biting people I've ever seen this morning.
2. The Normans came in and someone had done a doodle in their pants because it smelled like a moldy cheese factory in a winding trail behind them.
My going away part was thrown Wednesday. I walked in at 9am to the following sight:
It's a flamingo. Wearing a hula skirt and a lei. This is the best thing to come out of four months employment at the city library. He has 12 seasonal outfits including a Santa outfit, St. Patty's Day garb, a wizard's robe (great for Harry Potter parties), and even bunny ears. He's standing in my chaise lounge wearing his hula outfit AND the bunny ears as we speak. At home. Away from the fiery, yeasty ovens of hell. Guess what I named him?
I will miss the crazy people here...or at least the memory of them on good days and, let's face it, I'll see them all the time because I love coming to the library to stroke the books. At least they can't tell me what to do anymore, and I don't have to kiss any more ass. If I make it through tomorrow. Pray that I don't get accused of murder before then.
Addendum: CRUELLA the Mega-bitch is HERE! She's here right now, and that murder charge will be up by morning. Pray for my poor "Dead Andi Walking" soul!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
This week, darlings, it's all about the shoes. These are my pride and joy...my "Marilyns." I feel ever so Marilyn Monroe in these polka dot babies. Please refrain from staring directly at my jacked up toes, though. I need a pedicure. And did I mention I've only twisted my ankle in these shoes once?? Thankfully I was just walking across the living room when Idid it. Whew!
For the Half-Nekkid scoop check out Os.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Folks, meet my Muse. My giver of inspiration, my heroine of imagination. She's a total whore, lemme tell ya. She's always off cavorting...leaving me at home, no ideas to work with, no genius to spread. She'll seek out my neighbors, she'll diddle my relatives...she'll occasionally do my fellow bloggers...but will she do even the tiniest bit of inspiring for me?? Hardly ever.
This time she walked out in the middle of an article I was writing. She claimed she was just going to take a smoke break and stretch her legs, but this is how it ended up. She stepped out on the street innocently enough, but she ended up falling into conversation with a greasy character and, as usual, she fell for his half-baked lines and dreams of being a big-time writer. I think she's codependent with a few abandonement issues thrown into the stew. Before I knew it she hopped on his crotch rocket and off she flew. I heard through the grapevine that she slept with the guy--some Ethan Hawke knockoff actor who wanted to slum with the writerly types--but she started really regretting it, so she left him to come back to me. She found herself sidetracked on the way home thanks to a bad batch of opium (supposedly left over from her stint as Edgar Allen Poe's muse). The cops told me they found her like this...sprawled out on a table in a warehouse...the card for a topless bar wrapped up in her panties and her pink dress soiled with only God knows what.
And I have yet to finish my article. Fickle bitch.
******end of money talk******
There will be a cake/going away party of some sort. When I walked into the 'brary yesterday, R was standing in S's office door with a gift bag, and when they heard the door S started laughing and yelled "Run! Ruuuuun!!!" Later in the day, S said, "Hey, Andi, don't call in sick Wednesday."
I talked to Kenya about it. She is threatening to get me a stripper and make him dress up as "the book police." I told her to just get me a gift card to Hastings so I can be my own book police. *shakey shakey, wiggle with a book* I love Kenya. I'm going to miss her. I'll be visiting often.
Mega-bitch came in yesterday. I was in too good a mood given my windind-downness to be a tightass to her, so I plastered on my best cheesey grin and took care of business.
I need to go buy textbooks for my graduate courses. Oh Jehovah (God), I just felt the first signs of a nervous stomach cramp. I need to buy my FACULTY PARKING STICKER, too, and get my new ID. Life is good (except for the paycheck thing, and that other thing I can't talk about).
Monday, August 01, 2005
If I ever had the urge to try escargot, it was squelched yesterday. Some of you may remember, I added two Gold Inca Snails to my aquarium a few months ago. One of them bit it yesterday, and snails are supremely gross when they're dead. They're gross when they're alive, too, but grosser dead. I buried him in the front flower bed, and toasted his too-short life with an imaginary Amaretto sour. Ok, OK, I dumped him under a bush at 10 last night and had a diet Coke. Sue me.
Four days (counting today's deadly 11-8 shift) left at the library. If they don't buy me a going away cake I'm going to buy myself one. Sea cows unite (because that's what I feel like today)!!
HOLY CRAP MY HEAD HURRRRTTTSSSS!