the sheer intelligence is stunning.

so i'm sitting across the desk, watching my brother go over his retirement plan. well, it's the iowa lottery's version of a retirement plan - it's a crossword puzzle scratch ticket. and we're talking, generic stuff. and i'm watching him scratch off letters. and one of the words doesn't look like a word.

"what's copire?" i say.

"i think that's co-pier," he replies.

quiet. he continues to scratch off letters.

"oh wait," he says. "that says copier."

oh yes. we are THAT smart.

i've turned off the alarm but the clock still ticks...

every time i think maybe (someday) kids wouldn't be so bad, i get a glaring sign that i am sorely mistaken. every single time. and that's okay. i'm not taking it personally anymore. it's just not meant to be.

last night i had a dream (me and the good dr. king, right? look where it got him...) that i was in charge of caring for a classroom of kids, during snack time. and i had this tray of gigantic cookies, iced with beautiful red and blue frosting - they looked wonderful. and there were enough cookies for all these kids and for me and i was so excited. (what can i say, i went to bed hungry.) but as i was getting all these kids ready for snacktime, and myself too, i noticed all these things around me that i enjoyed: a stack of my favorite t-shirts and a bottle of grey goose on the counter. and i suddenly got really sad, because i realized if i sat down to snack time with the kids, i wasn't going to fit into my favorite t-shirts any more and i wasn't going to have any place to wear them and i wasn't going to have any more grey goose-induced fun.

i could picture my life, covered in red and blue icing, full of kids, and it wasn't good.

so i didn't have any cookies. and i didn't participate in snacktime. i put on my coat and i left (which coincidentally led into another dream, this one having to do with space travel and the whole space-time continuum, which i believe has nothing to do with my whole child-bearing issue, but maybe, whatever, i don't know.)

so yeah. no kids for the superjanel. not anytime soon, anyway.

she believes in shooting stars

i was up early this morning - early that technically it's morning but it's darker than it's been all night. the bee is working overtime and i don't like to stay at his house when he's not there. so i went home. but the stars were incredibly bright, it was amazing. and i stepped off his porch and right in my line of sight was the little dipper, smack in the center of the southern sky. i usually have a hard time finding the small spoon but like i said, it was so bright, it was just amazing. and on my way home i saw not one, but two shooting stars. i love that, it's like it's a special event that occurs only for me. and then i wonder if anyone else was quick enough to see it, although at nearly 0500 you have to bet that most everyone else is sleeping. so i made my wishes and went home and went back to bed. but i didn't sleep nearly as well as i had before i left the bee's house. :(

so i've been asked: what the fuck is a swamp deer? do let me tell you. first off, you have to know that the great (mis)state of iowa really has two populations: one, obviously is human. this is the population that is polled for census records every ten years, pays property taxes and speeding ticket fines (sometimes) and takes the trash cans to the curbs on tuesday mornings. the second population is that of white-tailed deer and these probably out number the first population, both in number, size, and in many southern counties, sheer intelligence levels. if you're not familiar with the white-tailed deer, they are known for their big ass antlers, cute little white tails, and their japanese kamikaze attitudes towards automobiles. these are not bambis: they are fur-covered motherfuckers and they eat cars like yours and mine for breakfast, biz-natches.

oh yes.

but i digress. swamp deer are cousins of the white tailed deer. they live in lucas county, near pin oak marsh, which as i know it was just overflow from the chariton river that never went away from the big ass floods in 1993 and 1997. i could be wrong but i don't really care if i am; don't bother to correct me, it's my fucking story. ANYWAY.

swamp deer. they're directly related to elk, moose, buffalo and the now extinct mastadon and brontosaurus. they are that fucking big. and they like to hide in the ditches along the highway at mad crazy hours of the morning when it's still dark and you're half asleep, starting your commute to work, and then they like to fucking RAM the side of your car, just for fun, just to make sure you're awake. "oh, good morning, didn't see you there..."

hitting a swamp deer is similar to running your car into a giant boulder - the sound is one and the same. they are huge creatures, covered in swamp moss, making them impossible to see in the dark or in the daylight and they come at your vehicle at 4,812 miles per hour with no intention of stopping, just tearing shit up and making you wish you'd worn your brown pants to work. and after they have royally destroyed your shit and fucked up your day, they scamper off, back to their herd of swamp deer friends and lie in waiting for their next victim.

they are assholes. every last one of them. and so when i saw my poor uugof's eyeball lying on the side of the highway, i stopped to look. just broken glass and plastic - no hair, no blood, no dead fucking swamp deer. which just pisses me off. because for all the trouble this is causing for me, i want a dead fucking deer.

actually, it's causing very little trouble for me at all. life is continuing on as normal, except that my poor uugof is *again* sitting at the body shop and the estimate is over 5,000$ in repairs. holy shiznit. i am certainly getting my money's worth out of my insurance company this year. but if there is a brightside, i do get a new bumper! woot!

okay. so the yankees are out of the playoffs (again). and joe torre is NOT coming back next year (WTF?!!). i blame all of this on the cleveland indians. tonight is game seven of the alcs and if dice-k does not come through with a win, i am going to take matters into my own hands. i don't really know what that means. it prolly means i'm going to throw a little temper tantrum like i did after the yankees lost, that was so fucking adorable of me. :P

okay. i'm hungry. and bored. i'm going to go watch transformers again.

curse of the swamp deer

my poor uugof. he's fucking cursed, i swear. and i'll bet the fucking deer isn't even dead. not even injured. for all this shit, i want a dead fucking deer.

gah...

damn, it feels good to be a gangsta

in spite of the fact that the bee is nearly suicidal over the fact that they (they being "the man") can take his hunting licenses this fall in conjunction with his DUI, i'm having a splendid week. i got the apartment (it has a washer and dryer AND a fireplace AND a skylight in the kitchen!) and i'm moving 10nov. woot! i've figured out a way to dig myself out of the financial black hole i've managed to put myself into, and it doesn't involve selling any body parts on the black market. woot! and i think i'm getting the asian hag fired. woot woot!

work is going well. tomorrow we get out blackberries. i always wanted a blackberry. (note to self: do not take to bar.) and now i'll have one. i rule.

i'm looking forward to moving. this apartment is adorable. i don't know where i'll put my monster of an entertainment center. part of me wants to let my brother and dad just take it out in a field and kick the holy shit out of it, office space-style. (damn it feels good to be a gangsta.) my big kitteh is going to miss my mom, though. they're all, like, besties and stuff. it's kind of cute. i think he loves her because she's stable and i'm not. that's okay. i'm not offended. i have mischa - we're both retarded and we get along just fine.

the bee may end up living with me; i'm not sure. it was my idea, if you can fathom such a thing. i just like it when he's around. i don't know; don't ask me to explain.

i'm going to bed now. i'm tired. and i'm low on gas and you need a jacket.

i imagine it makes a nice thud.

every time i see an orange construction cone i have to fight back a serious urge to run it over with my car.

i don't mean to ignore you

it seems a weekly update is the best i can do lately. the week is so busy, all i do is drive and work and fight with the bee and cry over the yankees - i don't have time to get to my blog. besides that, this was the week that i chose to take my three day sabbatical from the web as part of my 101/1001. that obviously doesn't include web time at work, as that would probly get me fired. so i sort of altered it to include fun things like ebay, gmail, myspace and my blog. also things like the news, the weather channel and woot. i thought i was going to die until friday night, it was friggin' awful.

anyway. so here's the janel's week in review...

sunday night: yankees win. i again fall in love with johnny damon as he hits a home run, changing the momentum of the game with the indians. such a beautiful man. *sigh* the bee stays the night. it's a good night.

monday night: yankees lose but i do get to see the farns pitch and even a losing game is even a game worth watching. oh, the farns. i adore kyle farnsworth, like more than cheesecake and most of my shoes and a lot of things. he's a wonderful thing. but the yankees lose and i want to cry. the bee stays the night. it's a semi good night. would have been better if the yankees didn't suck so much.

tuesday: i'm off at noon on tuesday and i spend most of my afternoon looking at an apartment and falling in love with it. then i write my wannabe landlord a bad check so she'll hold it. i want it so bad it makes my stomach hurt. it's in johnston, which is just a 15- minute drive from work in spankeny. i take home the application and decide to think it over. talk it over with my moms and decide if its meant to be, it shall be.

wednesday: sleep in. work until seven. stop at the bee's house for a few minutes after work. go home and go to bed.

thursday: happy birthday little brother. :) take apartment application to wannabe landlord. give her another bad check in the hopes that she's not banking them anytime soon. dinner with the bee ends poorly, which is sad because we were at buzzard billy's and under the umpteen coats of lacquer on the table there are trading cards from the first season of SNL. he sits with his elbow on a trading card of john belushi in his bee suit and the irony about kills me. we end up having another public, but quiet melee, ending with a mutual(?) break up on the court ave bridge, only to make up several hours later on the phone. this shit is giving me an ulcer.

friday: dinner with the fam. the bee does not attend, out of spite? i'm not sure. i have to work in the morning, so i head home. no bee.

saturday: work. home. laundry. veg. bee calls, he's working late and then he's got to go to a bday party. do i want to go? not really, and i say so. he's pissy, i'm pissy, we're back in bickering mode. blah, blah, blah. i hang up. he calls about 12 hours later. he's about half drunk and apologetic. again, same ol' weekend routine. he wants to come down. i tell him he's been drinking, it's a bad idea. no worries, he says. he's fine. 15 minutes later, he calls, he's just a few minutes away. we're talking. he says, come downstairs, there's a car behind me, i think it's a cop.

before i can get downstairs, there are cherries illuminating every window on the north side of the house. it was so not cool - i watched my boyfriend get arrested in my own fucking driveway for DUI. they hauled him off, cuffs and all, and then released him this morning. motherfuckers. i hate them all.

i felt so bad, i couldn't do anything. it wasn't my fault. i didn't ask him to come down and i even said if you've been drinking, don't do it, but i still felt bad. so now there's all this to deal with. i told him i'd help how ever i could.

my mom's so cool though; i can wake her up in the middle of the night to tell her that the bee got arrested in the driveway and she wakes right up to commiserate with me. she rocks. she made me feel better, as much as she could. i didn't sleep much last night, i couldn't, knowing he was there. and the wayne county jail isn't like a fucking prison, it's not like the polk county drunk tank, it could have been much worse. he was safe, he wasn't injured, just a little humbled. but i realized that despite all the issues we have and all the reasons i shouldn't, i do in fact care for this guy.

so there you have it. one crappy week leads into one crappy weekend and i'm left wondering what the fuck can happen next. i'm going to head up and go see him in a few minutes. his family is going to tear him apart when he gets home; i'm going to try and diffuse a potentially nasty situation.

wish me luck.

have i told you lately...

...how much i love you, johnny damon?

*sigh*

dualing banjos, dualing personalities

have i ever told you how tired i get of drama? i swear, i instigate very little of it. maybe some of it. maybe it's the people i choose to hang out with. i don't know. but it's giving me a fucking ulcer and it's got to stop.

king bee and i had plans last night, as concrete as they ever are, which is not saying much because i'm honestly not one for making plans. nigel got sick, snackmaster bob got pissy and they went home. i ended up hanging out with some other pals and my arrival at our meeting point was late, i'll admit - but when am i ever NOT late? but the scene was horrific inside and it only got worse outside. i was so embarrassed by the way he acted and by the things he said, i just left. i was going to go home. i wasn't going to say anything more, i wasn't going to say anything at all because i knew if i started i wasn't going to be able to stop. but he called and told me to fuck off, he's done with me and my bullshit. and then he hung up.

i didn't call him back.

instead i called mr. mittens. and drove south of town to a place i've been avoiding since i've been in this hellhole of a town. i knew it was a bad decision; i knew the whole thing was wrong. it was so wrong i sat outside in my car and discussed with myself the poor decision i was making. but i still went inside. and mr. mittens was there. and so were some others that i haven't seen in years.

it's strange how time doesn't really age some people - it's like they'll look the same until the end of time. maybe that's my memory playing with me, i'm not sure. but they're still the same people, living the same lives with the same goals they had 10 years ago. and perhaps its my own dissatisfaction with my own life, but i couldn't help but think that some of it was just sad. their own personal expectations aside, these people were and are capable of much more. but it's like they get sucked into this trap, this area, and they're here. and i'm spouting off here, because i can't say for sure that this wasn't their life goal, their life expectation. but it's just shocking to find the personality and intelligence (hard to discern at 0130 on a saturday night, i know, but i know these people) in this location, living these lives. but i shouldn't judge, should i?

mr. mittens tried to talk to me. he wanted to talk to me but i really wanted nothing of it. i just wanted to be away from the constant argument that becomes my relationship with the bee on most days that end in "y". and i said that i just don't want anything at the moment. i want my space and i need some time. because i really don't know what i'm doing. and as far as mr. mittens, that's all i know. i have no confirmation on his home life. i don't even want to talk about it. i don't want to know.

king bee started calling in the middle of the night last night. i told him where i was, where i'd been. i didn't have to tell him who i was with. his apologies were trite and while i think he's sorry for what he said and how he treated me, i don't think he understands why i'm upset. we talked several times in the middle of the night. he wanted me to come to his family dinner this afternoon; i had mixed emotions about it but finally declined the invitation because it dawned on me where the drama stems from: there are two sides to the bee. i get one side when it's just the two of us, alone, chilling, doing our thing. i get another side when he's touched any sort of alcohol or he's in public. and that's not right.

i am who i am, what i am, everyday. there's little flux in my personality from day to day, albeit it's fair to say that random is a accurate adjective. i'm the same person at home that i am when i'm out. my friends don't have a lot of impact on my personality - in fact, i make it a point to try not to let my friends opinions influence me too greatly. i don't want to be that kind of person - i like who i am and what i do and i'm nowhere near perfect. i'll own that statement.

but i want to be with someone who is the same way - i don't want to have to wonder who i'm going to see or talk to or be with and then adjust my actions accordingly. it's not fair to me. it's really not even fair to him, if you think about it.

but i don't know that i can make him understand that. i don't know if it's worth the time to continue trying. i can't wrap my mind around it at the moment; it's making my head hurt. do you know, is the application process for the nunnery complicated? can i just show up and get my habit? send me your address, i'll send you some pottery.

signing off.

love and kisses,
superjanel

did you know?

• treatment effects are flammable.
• cute assholes in high school only get cuter and slimier with age.
• telling a girlfriend to "get bent" is not a good way to get laid.
• being cute is a good way to get free drinks.
• just because you had ear surgery doesn't mean you can hear any better, apparently.
• some people will never change.
• some places will never change.
• but the faces change.
• i still have no idea what i'm doing.
• and blogging and drinking still equals a big no-no.
• i really don't want to go to his family dinner tomorrow.
• in fact, i'm not sure that after being told to "get bent" that i want much to do with him.
• at the moment, i'm kind of nauseous.
• my phone dials people at random. like libbeth. i swear, i'm not prank calling you.
• my god, those high school assholes just get cuter with age. OMG.
• i need to go to bed and sleep this off.
• i love free drinks.
• have i ever told you that.
• i have to get out of this town. it's killing me. and my judgment.
• DUDE.
• i got kick ass tickets to see dane cook in november. and that is so fucking awesome i don't know what to do about it.
• and that one sentence just totally fucked my momentum.
• jc.
• i wish i could just go out and get shitty drunk and not have to worry about HIM for once.
• sometimes i wish there weren't a him at all.
• and sometimes i love him.
• yeah, i meant that.
• is meant really a word?
• it's not asking me to spell check that.
• aren't bullet points awesome?
• i should go to bed.
• i'm telling you, he's fucking HOT now.
• jc.
• okay.
• bed.
• no more blogging.
• i do heart bullet points.
• so i went to the bar tonight with like 66$.
• and i came home with 59$. and that's awesome.
• if it's free, it's for me.
• i had crab for dinner.
• i stabbed myself in the thumb with the crab thingy.
• i'm completely rambling now.
• DUDE. HE WAS HOT.
• okay.
• gnite.
• love,
  
• the
• super
• janel
• i
  
• love
• bullet
• points
• i'm done now. i swear.
• one more. it's not going to kill you.
  
• now i'm really done.
• vodka cranberry. YUM.
  
• gnite. :)
  

from behind enemy lines...

i just want to see if the alarms and sirens go off if i post this...