hers my nome dr. now go practice your spelling.

ugh. sunday night again? where did my weekend go? really, i should be going to bed. i have to be up at the ASS CRACK of dawn tomorrow. no really. the ASS CRACK. i have like three alarms and a wake up call request in just to make sure that my lazy ass gets out of bed in the morning. i don't know what the issue is - i just can't seem to do it. and then i stand in the shower for like 45 minutes - i don't know why. i don't know if i'm sleeping or what, but when i wake up, the whole upper half of the house is foggy and the bar of soap is gone.

so things seem to be going well - work is great, family is great, money is eh, friends are great and then the bf just like fucking freaks out on a weekly fucking basis and i have no idea what to do about it. in all my life, i've never seen anyone act the way he acts. you know how there are times when you want your significant other to show some emotion, to not act like a zombie, to show that they care and that you mean something? ladies, really, quit your complaining. because when they do show emotion, act like (immature) people, show that they care and that you mean something to them, you'll honestly be wishing that he'd just go back to watching football, putting dirty clothes in the hamper and holding the remote control like he fucking owns it.

really. i honestly think that i'd rather do his laundry than resort to the junior high fucking bullshit that came about on friday evening. ugh. rather than relive all the gory details, let me just tell you this: jealousy is all the fun you *think* someone has had (isn't that a great quote?). he doesn't trust me, and maybe with some good reason but not the reasons he has in mind, he doesn't respect my decisions (at least not the ones made in his absence) and there was no one he wouldn't have taken it out on if i, and several others, hadn't stopped him. i've spent a good portion of my weekend apologizing to those people for his behavior; he doesn't remember much of it. but i don't get it. i've never known anyone to be so jealous and really over nothing - or at least what i see as very insignificant. he apologized. i told him i can't deal with that and i won't deal with that. we'll see. in the midst of all that, i hear from mr. mittens himself that he's leaving his wife. which is all i've ever wanted him to say for the last six months. except now i'm not with him; i'm with king bee. and doesn't that just figure?

so my mind is just a mess. the bee and i had a great week, it was awesome. i hung out with he and his family a couple of nights, he came down to see me a couple of nights - it really seemed like progress, like we were finally getting comfortable with one another. and then we have this massive ... setback? outburst? event? and here i am. i don't want to have to babysit my bf. but that's certainly what it felt like saturday morning at 0200. the rest of the weekend was great; but we hung out here, didn't go out hardly at all and avoided the entire friend scene. is that what its going to take?

but that's enough about that. let's talk about something else.

so i think i'm going through a johnny cash phase. all my clothes for work seem to be black. wtf? i'm feeling a little goth, like maybe i should paint my fingernails black and stop washing my hair. what do you think?

speaking of work, my boss wants to give the two of us that don't work on the weekends a blackberry to answer email leads. me and a blackberry on friday and saturday nights. i was telling nigel about this and didn't think much of it until she pointed out that i am one heck of a drunk texter. oh yeah... "yeah, show me your nipples and i'll sell you this car..."

so the other day i was at nigel's house, she was making me dinner. and i was talking to her 9-year-old daughter about these custom made dolls that you can buy that look just like you. they are so dead on, it's like freaky. and they're so expensive, they must be extracting dna from the paperwork you send in. but they won't make scars or cleft chins or anything like that. well i thought it said you couldn't have a doll with a cleft palette, which sort of makes sense, who wants an ugly fucking doll like that? but nigel's daughter didn't know what a cleft palette was, she'd never heard of a harelip - so i had to explain it. by drawing a diagram. where's libbeth when you need her?

i'm getting sick. another bladder infection. this pisses me off.

oh. so i bought and downloaded the new kanye cd. it's the bestest ever. i legally downloaded it because my mom doesn't like people knocking on the door, ever, so i don't think lars from metallica would be a good houseguest.

"yarrrr.... i'm lars.... and you're fucking music pirate."

i need to go to bed. i'm tired.

obama and my momma

can you believe it's not even noon, i'm not even out of bed, and i already have advice to share with you? that's because i'm a goddamn genius, gump.

i had the weirdest fucking dream EVER last night. do let me expand...

setting: family vacation, me and the fam and some people i don't even know at this weird little shop in an expensive little touristy town. brothers and i are shopping for touristy things when i find the coolest pair of off-white snake skin print leather pants. (HEY. it's my damn dream, you shut the hell up.) they're my size, they fit perfect, they're priced accordingly and as such i MUST have them.

we're perusing the goods when i find myself face to face with the wife of presidential candidate barack obama, michelle. how exciting. i think i may vote for your husband, i say. oh, thanks, she says. why don't you tell him?

and there he is. i'm holding off-white leather pants and discussing the upcoming presidential election with barack obama. weird. he invites us to dinner. well isn't that just the bees knees?

i run out to the van (yes, we're driving the herd around in a *van*) to share the news - we're having dinner with obama and my momma. except there are a lot of people chasing me and i don't know why. the saleslady, the dudes in black suits with the sunglasses - i have no idea wtf is going on except maybe this is like the pre-dinner warm up to make sure we're all hungry and no food goes to waste.

nope. i'm still holding the pants, which i haven't paid for. i get dragged back into the store, i pay for the pants. my momma won't go to dinner with obama (she thinks he is the signal of the coming of the apocolypse) but i do.

and that man can put down some shots.

so. the moral of the story is: pay for any goods you may be holding before you attempt to eat dinner with a presidential candidate. getting tackled by the secret service is NO FUN. even in your sleep.

the end.

i gotta write this shit down...

what a week. work is awesome. i like it. mostly, i like the hot chocolate machine. i like to mix the hot chocolate about 65/35 with the coffee and then i find i'm on such a caffeine rush i don't need to eat or blink the rest of the day which is fucking AWESOME. my boss is cool and the consultant has even recommended that i stick around and look into merging into management. which i find just hilarious because if you know me at all you know i've spent most of my life ducking responsibility and things that reek of management and seriousness - i like to blame my "fuck authority" attitude on my father but really i just think that the less that people think i'm capable of, the less they expect of me and then the less i really ever have to do. which is like every slacker's mantra, really. i'm no different than any other rain man genius sociopath. except i'm much cuter.

the job is gravy. the coworkers make it interesting. the managers make it challenging. and the finance staff will be the death of me. i don't understand how anything gets done; but i guess it's not for me to figure out. at least not right now. i'll get to the bottom of it eventually.

i went and looked at an apartment today. it's okay. i'm sort of indifferent about it. the location is prime in relation to work, but it's a little more than i wanted to spend and it's not as nice as i'd hoped it might be. i think i may keep looking before i plunk down an outrageous application fee. the only bad thing about apartments in spankeny is that they're full of dmacc students. it's kind of like living with idiot skills attendees. except that i'm no longer the one ducking in the bushes getting covered in poison ivy therefore i don't think i'll be as receptive to the bullshit.

speaking of bullshit, let's discuss this week's drama with the king bee, shall we? and what a week full of drama and bullshit it has been. i haven't seen him since sunday, and i've barely talked to him since then either. however, in our limited conversation, i have garnered the following information:

• my outburst on sunday night was inappropriate. i concur. i apologized for the way i handled it - it wasn't kosher and i would have been pissed too. it wasn't okay and i know that. however - i can only apologize so many times before an apology sounds trite and repetitive and insincere. i don't know if he's looking for an engraved invitation to a whine and cheese fest, but he ain't getting one. i done said i'm sorry, do let us move on...
• he has not necessarily been up front with me about his past living situations. previous conversations had led me to believe that he was nothing but a momma's boy. but as it turns out - and only my asking brought this information to the surface - he has lived with not one, but in fact, two previous girlfriends. i asked about his reputation as the live-in boyfriend; he immediately blamed the gossip circle and those that speak against him. hmmm...
• his main issue with things at the moment is that he is in fact ready to move in together. i find this interesting on many levels because 1) it's never even been discussed between us and 2) i indicated in the very beginning of this that i wasn't really ready for anything "serious" and if this was ever going to be "anything" i wanted to take my time. after a length of time measuring in at just 96 days - i still don't think i'm ready for this. and to be perfectly honest, i don't know if i'll ever be at that step... with... him...

does it make me a bad person for saying that? does it make me a bad person for dating someone that at this point in time i don't think i have a serious lifetime potential with? what if i know that he thinks that there is serious lifetime potential - does that make me a bad person?

tonight we talked; i said that i don't want to put up with this kind of indifference and lack of communication. i truly think that something of this caliber, even if we disagree, should be discussed. i considered breaking up with him but i didn't want to do it. i don't know why. in relation to him, to "this", i find that i have a superiority complex and i don't know where that comes from. what makes me special enough to think that i can have someone and keep my eyes wide open too? i don't know.

i just don't know about a lot of things anymore.

i know there are pros and cons to being single - and in the grand scheme, i'm okay with them. the idea of singledom in a new town is a little depressing but i'd deal. my friends aren't that far away - it's not freaking dbq, it's spankeny. but time will tell if singledom is the answer. i do know one thing that will help - clearing my mind of all things related to mr. mittens. i don't think that's a healthy relationship and i think it's fucking with my head. his obligations aren't going to go away and regardless what he says, there's no way that this is nsa.

having said that, he'll be around this weekend. which makes my head swimmy and my phone ring...

anyway.

so my drive to work is like, mad crazy long. way crazy long. i don't even know how many miles, it's like the car won't even count that high. for the first week, i was doing awesome: out of bed at a great time, showered, ready to go - some days i was in spankeny so early i could go to starbucks and get the coffee of the day. which was awesome because, like i said, who needs to blink? but now i have it all figured out as to what is the latest time i can get out of bed, shower, put on a shirt that requires zero ironing and make it to spankeny with like 17 seconds to spare. which is awesome in another degree, really, to be able to calculate it down to such a science and to not spend the money at starbucks because that will cost me about 17,000$ a year not including the cost to get my teeth whitened.

i've found that when i drive i zone out really bad. i'll completely miss landmarks, towns, passing cars and then i'll end up miles beyond where i think i should be and i'm all, "how the fuck did i get here so fast?"

if i moved, i could get out of bed at like 0830 some days. right on.

part of me still just wants to pack up the car and drive away forever. but i left some good lotion at work so i guess i still have to go in for at least one more day. biznatches...

okay. i've got to find something else to do. i'm supposed to be going out with nigel and chrissy and snackmaster bobby tonight, except everybody is like, having kid issues, except me (thank god, THAT arrived today, WOOT!) and so i'm still here and honest to god, i'm considering just going to bed and saying fuck that shit, bitches, i'm rick james, i'll just go to bed and say piss on you. it's sounding better and better the more i think about it.

i just want to be buzzed

its beer friday. thank god. i need to get my drink on.

i have no idea what to do

Is the cup half empty?
Or is the cup half full?
Does the sun rise at dawn?
Or does the earth just spin along?
Or is it all perspective?
On how we see the world?
How many countless life forms
Are on a little ball that twirls?

Are we intrinsically separate beings?
Or could we possibly be parts of the same thing?
Water feeds the plants and
The sunshine make them grow
So how can anyone be an island on their own?

Does life life make me happy?
Or does it bring me down?
Do I have what I need?
Or do I just want what's around?
Am am I I seeing truth?
Or do I just see wool?
Well is the cup cup half half empty?
Or is the cup half full?

--20 Questions, Beastie Boys

here pelican, pelican, pelican...

random thoughts. it's hard to construct a sentence on a monday.

it's a lot of responsibility to be someone's everything.

i'm 27 and i don't own a suit. does that make me less of a person? i have to have my picture taken for work tomorrow and it's been recommended that i wear a dark jacket and a white shirt. i don't own a dark jacket that doesn't have adidas stripes down the sleeves. that and it's supposed to be like 90 degrees tomorrow so i think i'll tell them where they can stick their recommendation.

in their ass.

so king bee. i think i probly overreacted in handling the situation, but i can't shake the visions of domestic-ism that were beginning to appear. i don't want a live-in boyfriend, i don't want to share a house or an apartment, i don't want our laundry to mingle, i don't want him to be comfortable using my remote control or leaving my house at dawn or any of those things. i don't want to feel obligated to any of those things. i don't like the fact that he leaves clothes and soap at my house - doesn't ask, just assumes that it's okay. it probly would be okay if he didn't just do it, you know? i like the guy, i generally enjoy the time we spend together - but the level of seriousness is troublesome. and it's hard to backtrack...

anyway. my phone rang at 0545 this morning; he made sure i was awake because he knows i'm not much of a morning person. i called and left him a message. he called this evening: he doesn't really understand what happened yesterday, he's not going to be around much this week. i don't know. maybe we need to discuss expectations.

but i'll probly have to define expectations before we can discuss them.

and there i go again, being a snotty bitch. wtf is my problem?

so i think i ordered a ppv movie except i can't remember what channel its on and i can't seem to find it being recorded on the dvr so i'm not sure what's going on there. so for the moment i'm watching scarface because i like the part where the dude gets hacked in the shower. ahh, the good old days when you could pack a chainsaw in your suitcase and clear customs with it...

i didn't text message anyone last night after i blogged. i felt guilty enough about the text messaging i did in the afternoon...

i did get some sleep last night. crazy dog left me alone. i wonder if she doesn't like king bee. animals can be perceptive. and then they can just be crazy so who knows.

this movie makes me tense. there has got to be something better on tv... i'm out.

if you still feel raw about it, i'll be waiting

i just kicked out the king bee. not permanently, at least i don't think so. i told him i'm not his roommate, his whore or his maid, and i refuse to be treated as such. he said to call him when i feel like talking again. i told him to call me when he realised how shitty he was making me feel.

i guess i'm kind of testy this evening. but i'll bet you my phone doesn't ring. and i know mine won't be dialing out...

gahhh. fucking boys, anyway. i hate them all.

so my "roommates" are on vacation. and that leaves me housesitting and dogsitting. housesitting is awesome, because i can watch my movies on the big tv really loud like i like them. and i can either do the dishes as i dirty them or i can wait until i'm out of glasses and then wash them all. (i'm not waiting. i'm far too anal retentive for a sink full of dirty dishes; ick.)

however, dogsitting is NOT so awesome. the dog hates me. and she's fucking crazy. she wouldn't eat her dinner last night (dinner, by the way, is a specially crafted plate of ham and chicken and cheese - not dog food, as you might imagine.) so she started barking at 0300 this morning because she was hungry/bored/mad that i was sleeping. and she barked nonstop until nearly 1000. what made her stop barking? i went and bought her a freaking roasted chicken, as suggested by my roommate and she ate the whole thing and took a nap. later, as i tried to put her out, she gangbusted the door and went for an unauthorized stroll about the neighborhood. about 20 minutes later she just came home.

i hate this dog. plus, she keeps jumping on my bed which is just pissing me off. grrr....

so. work. let's talk about work, shall we? yup. i'm gainfully employed and i have one of those titles that sounds really important. i'm a business development coordinator. what does that mean? well, obviously, i develop and coordinate business, you big dummy. no, really, it means that the salespeople at the antichrist of car dealerships that i'm now employed by are really not happy to see me every morning. but that's okay, since they're all old and not cute anyway.

at least not at my location. which is probably good. that could be kind of distracting. the phone guy is adorable and he's distracting enough.

anyway. work is good. i like it, so far. my boss is kind of scatterbrained and in the right light (or maybe the wrong light?) she has one hell of a moustache, but she's a back scratcher and she likes me. i'm sort of the "teacher's pet" and i like it that way. my coworkers are decent; at least 66.6 percent of them are. the remaining 33.334 percent is an insecure double bagger asian chick whose previous experience includes getting fired from the dealership/amusement park across the street. most of the time, she's not bad, if you don't look her straight in the face. the rest of the time i just want to club her with a blunt object. but whatever. a job is a job is a job is a job...

i just have to get moved. and that may be happening soon. i may have found a way to get through my financial woes more quickly than i thought. more news on that as it develops.

i'm seriously feeling bad about that whole argument with the king bee and he's probly asleep. i fucking hate boys. all of them. gahh...

so i think my fish is sick. norman, who i think is actually a norma, is looking swollen and is bottom sitting. beginning signs of dropsy, which as i found with roger cannot be cured. but then i fed him and now he's looking fine. perhaps he was swollen as a sign of starvation? i don't know. i can't figure the fuckers out. you feed them; they die. you don't feed them, they still die. they should be more like cats.

but not dogs.

i bet he doesn't feel bad at all. i bet he doesn't even understand why i'm mad. all day long, he did nothing but slept or ate or used my roommates kitchen or bathroom or shower; he was pissy when he had to buy lunch; he would have rather have played psp than talked to me on our way to cville this afternoon - the time actually spent with me, not sleeping or showering or trying to put his hand in my pants or watching telly was basically nonexistent. and i was feeling a little bit used. so i told him so. and he made that pathetic little puppy dog, "i don't get it face" and i held my ground.

and now i feel like a bitch.

i'm going to go watch the yankees beat the red sox and text message someone who at least pretends to care about me.

new job eve

it's new job eve and i'm still awake. it's not the jitters though, it's the clothes. the clothes in the dryer are taking forever to dry and rather than deal with wrinkly clothes in the morning, i'm suffering now. ugh.

plus, i'm getting the cold from hell. which is thanks to the king bee. cold + new job day does not equal awesome.

"hello, i'm the superjanel. what are you saying? huh? you're going to have to speak up. just talk directly into my good ear. the one that isn't plugged with mucus, thank you."

i'm considering wearing long sleeves just so i can tuck kleenex in them.

DON'T EAT MY NAME, BITCHES.

it's officially my last day here at job #2. granted, i've left here before - several times, actually. once last summer when i was just too busy, once in a big teary scene, and one other time, i don't really remember when or why. but this place is kind of like hotel california - you can check in, but you can never leave, you just get sucked back in. this place has its own gravitational pull; it's like the center of its own lil' universe, pulling people in and out at random. but not me, not any longer. it's like the end of an era. the end of a legacy. once and for all (or as long as the new place will have me, whichever is longer) i'm leaving. so after some discussion and some whining they even got me a cake with my name on it.

actually, me and another employee that leaves and comes back on a pretty regular basis. we got our names on a cake. but do you think we got to see the cake with our names on it before the other wolves ravaged the cake?

fuck no. check this shit out.



I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO EAT MY NAME. OMGWTFBBQ???!!1!!111!? but the cake i did get to eat was good. and i do love me some cake.

at my new place of employment, which starts monday, btw, i'm a little stressed out, i had to go fill out all the customary new employee paperwork yesterday morning. and while i was there one of the employees had a stroke. not even an old, wrinkly, stroke-prone employee either. right on. because i tolerate pressure so well...

so king bee and i have been doing better, at least for the last few days until he got kicked out of his parents house. now he doesn't *really* have a place to live. yeah, he's looking for a place to rent, somewhere closer to work, which is not close to me at all. so he's sort of been living at me and my *roommates* house. and that's neat-o... especially because he hasn't gone to work in the last two days and i'm not sure why. instead he's just been lying in my bed, festering like an open wound. it smells like a foot in my room, because sometimes the king bee smells like a foot even though he showers and uses my roommate's soap, lol. i am displeased with this, but i can't just kick a sick homeless boyfriend out on the street, can i? so it's not like i have anything to hide, it's just weird, leaving him there when i'm gone. i think my roommates are going to start charging him rent. or at least charge him for parking.

if you're a boy, YOU CAN'T LAUGH

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

save the whales. harpoon a fat chick.

so last night i asked the king bee to bring me a glass of water. (yes, the king bee. we seem to be doing better but that's for a later conversation.) so he goes outside to get his work clothes for the morning and comes back upstairs and runs a glass of water from the tap in the bathroom.

you're prolly thinking, aw, that's nice. he took her a glass of water. i didn't even freak out on him all rosie perez-style a la "white men can't jump," even though that would be fun. but that's not the point. the point is the water came from the bathroom. from the bathroom, what's the big deal? it's just that i would never think to do that, and i can even tell you why. it all started when i was a kid. did you know that neurotic little kids grow up to be neurotic little adults? oh yes...

so when i was a kid, i believed all sorts of random things. i don't know where most of them came from; who knows where thoughts come from - they just appear, right? so when i was a kid, i used to think that you couldn't drink water from the tap in the bathroom because it might be dirty toilet water - and you especially could not drink water from the tap in the bathroom while the toilet was flushing because then you were guaranteed to get dirty toilet water. i also used to think that if i drank water (but obviously NOT water from the sink in the bathroom) as i was peeing, i would be able to pee forever, thus eliminating the need to do such things as brush my teeth or go to school.

remember the tablets that the schools used to send home with you, that you chewed up and they showed where all the plaque on your teeth was - sort of a reminder to your parents that you ate too much candy and you needed to go to the damn dentist? i was always terrified that my teeth would forever be stained red.

i was also convinced for a time that there was a bear living across the street from my house. he would come out during the day sometimes but mostly at night while i was trying to sleep. he only wanted to eat my toes - he was a bear with a foot fetish, i guess.

but i also used to think that purple shoes hurt your feet (thanks, dad), your feet were the best way to stop a bicycle (thanks, dad), the fastest way to clean your room was to shove it all under your bed (thanks, dad), and the best way to save whales was to harpoon fat chicks (again, thanks, dad).

yeah. so anyway. king bee handed me this glass of water, this glass of water i'd listened to him run just 10 feet away in the bathroom sink. i was grateful for the water, don't get me wrong. but i'm sure he thought i was on crack when i asked if the toilet was running when he turned on the faucet.

so i explained that this is just one of my many small yet adorable neuroses and he cracked up, explaining that it is impossible, since he is a big know it all plumber steamfitter union guy. psh. whatev. I KNOW.

so i'm going to quit talking now that i've shared just how neurotic i really am. yeah. um. bye.

let's slow things down to 60 minutes an hour...

blah, blah, blahbity, blah, blah, blah...

that pretty much covers lunch with the farm family. a lot of talk and i don't remember 90 percent of it. no, i guess it wasn't that bad, once you filter out all the crap and bull and blah, blah, blah... my dinner was awesome for being mediocre. they thought it was great, which they would, since they've never had it before, so even in its blatant mediocrity at best, they were still raving about its awesomeness. i thought it sucked, so i left all the leftovers there for them to enjoy. and then they get to wash the pan.

my mom thinks i'm hard on him. i think that any man that left his children to live 3,000 miles away while they're still in their developmental years is a crackpot and a man that moves back 10 years later expecting to slide back into the same relationships with his kids is an even bigger crackpot.

but it's not worth getting my panties wadded for. it was lunch and nothing more.

so i've been watching a lot of tv lately, what with my stints at the whippity dippity and all. and i have a serious issue with america's next top model. not an issue with it; an issue with watching too much of it. because its been running marathon style on mtv like everyday for the last i don't know how long, i have watched just about every season. but i can't seem to catch any of the episodes where they crown the top models. i can tell you who is NOT a top model but that's not nearly as fun. do you watch mtv? have you seen the commercials they show on mtv? they're all about texting and i'm all for texting and such, i text all the time. but there is currently a sweepstakes that can be entered via text where you have to answer one question: what is the capital of the united states? is it a) miami or b) washington d.c.? um, wtf? are people really that stupid? i know that watching a lot of america's next top model is fucking mind numbing but come on - is it that bad?

and speaking of texting, what is up with drunk texting lately? and why am i not a part of it? why is everyone else having all the fun and i am not? this is no fun. i woke up to a buttload of text messages this morning; i came back out to the car this afternoon to find a buttload more. where the fuck are these people and why am i not invited to this giant party? i'm a little insulted. lol... but i guess the texts are fun.

so i've heard that there is one heck of an opportunity coming up this weekend - one that i hope pans out. it's even on my 101/1,001 under fun things. woohoo! i'll know more about it this week.

i'm tired. i'm out. actually i'm going to go watch back to the future II. it's the shiznizzle.

peas out.

i am AWESOME. i just wanted to remind you.

in honor of labor day, i'm hereby refusing to do anything that resembles labor. until tuesday. that means i have about 50 hours to relish in my absolute laziness and it will be awesome because i only do things that are awesome.

so my high school-esque summer vacation is coming to an end, which is appropriate, as fall is upon us - the chil'ens are back in school and the wooly worms are on the highway - and i'm going back to WORK a week from mondizzay. i know - wtf, right? little freaked out, but looking forward to it. i'll like it more when i don't live so far away.

did you know that the earlier you see wooly worms on the highway the longer and colder your winter is supposed to be? yeah, that's only sort of awesome. i wonder where my winter coats are.

this is a tortoise. this bitch will fuck up your car. or he will make a mighty fine stew, or so i hear.

so one of my summer quests has been saving small turtles from the perils of crossing the highway and facing traffic. if i see a small turtle, i'll generally stop and pick him up and deliver him to the safe side of the highway he seems to which he seems to be traveling, because around here the sick fucks will pick them up and stew them or sell them for the meat - can you believe that? ugh. so anyway. yesterday i was driving to work and i was already late ( i believe my text message read something to the effect of "low fuel. hay truck. blue hairs. locusts. atomic bomb. few min late.") but there was this like 70 pound TORTOISE crossing the road, i swear to god. and i so wanted to save him but there was no way i was going to be able to (gracefully) be able to pick him up and dodge the traffic at the same time, because this was no country bumpkin back road, this was highway 14 and this was sure to cause a commotion: retard girl saves sea turtle beached in chariton marsh and then i'd be found out for not having a license and then i'd really be fucked. i happened to be on the phone with nigel at the time i passed this adorable beast, and i told her of my dilemma, and she commented that there was no way to save such a massive animal from the highway without herniating myself. agreed, but i have a blanket in the back of the car - i could throw it over him and just kick him across the highway, it's got to be better than getting run over by a car.

i am such a humanitarian.

also on my way to work, there is a boot on the side of the road. just one boot. who throws out just one boot. it's not a nice boot, but still - why would you toss just one boot out the window? you're still stuck with just one decent boot to wear and that leaves you in a pickle. perhaps it was a heat of the argument toss - like, 'i'm so mad at you i'm going to throw your boot out the window.' i've never been mad enough to throw a boot but i once threw someone's entire mcdonald's value meal out the window before he had time to even eat it. then i just sat there and ate mine and giggled.

i am such a bitch sometimes.

like this week. i've kind of been a bitch this week. and not for any particular reason, apparently i'm just a bitch just because i can be. my friends tell me it's my god given right as a woman to be bitchy when the mood strikes but it's really not any fun. and i've really only been bitchy to one person and it's really not fair. he's not reading this, he's never going to read this, sometimes i wonder if he can read, so this isn't going to make any difference but i just wanted to mention it.

you see? and there i go again. being a pissface just for the sake of being a pissface. wtf?

i think one of my legs is longer than the other.

i'm going to visit the farm family today. i made fucking 50 pounds worth of ziti in my new lasagna pan, that's sort of exciting. i was all psyched just to leave the pan with them because i thought it only cost me like 6$ but as it turns out it cost like 14$ and i am not leaving a 14$ pan with them, heck no. i will bring that shit back even if i have to sit there until next thursday. my god, that will suck a nut.

i should be getting ready to go. i don't really want to go. but this is like the obligatory visit that gets them off my back for awhile. because if i don't have time now (when i really do have time, i just don't have motivation or energy), what will it be like when i really don't have time (because i honest to god DO NOT HAVE TIME)? so yeah. this isn't going to kill me. it's just going to hurt a lot. es muy mal.

i want to see superbad. and the bourne ulitmatum. and balls of fury. i need a movie marathon day. i need a haircut. i need to go to the bathroom.

shit. i'd better get going. superjanel OUT.