08 July 2007

hal linden is just a prima donna

that's just for you, libbeth. i don't even remember who hal linden is.

i cried when i left charlotte today. i miss my friend. i miss the closeness we used to have and it makes me sad that our lives have gone in such different directions. i love north carolina; i love the area and the people and the accent makes me laugh. perhaps when i get my life on track i'll look into jobs in the area. but it doesn't make any sense to subject me or my kittehs to another major upheaval anytime soon. i need to get some things sorted out.

so i'm sitting in chicago. and on the way in we came in from the north, giving me a full view of downtown chicago and navy pier; the ferris wheel was all lit up and the downtown is gorgeous. the hancock center has its red, white and blue stripe along the observatory - it's just amazing to see. and the whole thing just makes my heart sort of ache for the times that eddy and i spent here. we both loved chicago: the baseball games and bubba gump, the pier and the shops, and all the hotels and taxis. one thing we both enjoyed was traveling. now we just enjoy traveling separately, going different directions. (that's sort of metaphorical as well as seriously literal.) and for the record, i don't miss *him* - i just miss some of the things we did as a couple even though it seemed like we stopped being a couple long before we actually split up. but whatever.

anyway. so i'm seated in 8a on my way to ord. the passengers in 8b abd 8c proceeded to make out the entire way here; it was gross because she was about 14 and seriously retarded (like seriously, she was retarded) and he was old and should have known better than to make out with a retarded 14-year-old. yuk.

jesus. wtf is that damn ding-dong noise? i'm going to start punching babies if someone doesn't turn that shit off.

so i've applied for a job with another airline. this position would take me all over the place; i wouldn't be stationed in dsm. i don't want to work for an airline if i have to work in dsm. i've also found a job in clt that i'm interested in and may apply for. something has to be done; i have to get back on track. as much as i enjoy living in my high school bedroom and staring up at the extremely creepy marines poster that jorge hung in my old room, i think it's time to figure out something to do with my life. living at home with the folks isn't going to cut it. although my dad has offered me a place to live if things with mom "don't work out." what the fuck? i'm not married to her; what is there to "work out?" i think i'm pretty sure he 's insane, but in a sometimes entertaining sort of way, like a kid that never grew up and now he's being forced to act like an adult. it's only working for him sometimes. what a bizarro thing to say to your kid.

so i woke up this morning COVERED in bruises. and the more i move, the more bruises appear. i believe the cause of this is white water rafting, although libbeth's son tried to stab me with various pieces of cutlery over the course of my trip. i could blame it on him, but he's so stinking cute i just can't bring myself to do it. i have bruises on my legs and butt, and on my thumb (that one hurts ba-ad).

guess what i found in nc? ziti. like real ziti, not penne, not large elbow macaroni - real ziti. so i bought four boxes. and then i remembered that i bought three pairs of shoes and that i don't have my own kitchen, so getting the ziti home became a non-issue. i left it in a bag and asked libbeth to mail it to me. no rush; i'll have to paypal the postage to her or something because i forgot to give it to her before i left. or maybe i'll just send her the recipe and they can make my wonderful baked ziti. because it's the best fucking ziti ever.

king bee is coming to get me tonight. he'll pick me up in dsm, drive me to chariton to get my car and then drive back to dsm for work. an hour to get to dsm, an hour to chariton, and another hour back. and he has to be in dsm for work at 0600 tomorrow morning. i told him he didn't have to do it - i could find somebody else to bring me home, someone who didn't have to work tomorrow but he was insistent. what do you tell someone who's more interested in you than you are in them? he's told me he's talked to his parents about me, he's talked to his friends about me, and he's invited me to go camping with his family next weekend. i've told my mom his first name and that he sometimes lives in indianola when he's not at home in chariton. do you see what i mean? i'm not sure what to do about that...

anyway. i'm going to go find a bathroom and make sure i'm sitting at the right gate.

loves and kisses, superimissmybestfriendjanel

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