i've got nothing to do today but smile...

holy crap, batman. it's april. where did march go? it should come back, because i spaced off getting my tags renewed and now i'm officially driving on expired tags. now i have to drive like a normal person, at normal person speeds and pray that i don't get pulled over and if i do i have to play female and dumb. wtf?

so today, because i'm unable to get my lazy ass out of bed at a decent time and get ready for work, i was running around like crazy trying to get out the door on time. it didn't happen. so when i got in the car and hit the button for the garage door, i apparently didn't give it enough time to fully open. because i put ugoff in reverse and promptly ran right into door.

i am so cool.

yup. it made quite a clamor, which kind of made me laugh. the door continued up, i continued out, and i got out to assess the damage. my poor ugoff is short a few parts - i tend to think they're mostly cosmetic - which i found in the driveway. i even put one of them back on, that's how much i rock. and i played with the door and made sure that it goes up and down.

and it does. it kind of shimmies a little bit, but it's fine. so i got back in the car and threw it in reverse, because this whole driveway-cleaning-garage-door-assessing-ugoff-reassembling ordeal took about 10 minutes and i was already late from watching the weather channel because i heart the words thunderhead and low level moisture (shut up, i don't even want to hear it) - anyway, i threw it in reverse and backed my little buick ass right out of the driveway and into the path of an edbq police officer, who was patrolling the neighborhood for rampant ruffians, hopefully the ones who stole the shit out of the garage, the little bastards.

omg. i think that's all one sentence.

he slammed on his brakes, i slammed on my brakes. i got the finger wag and he flashed the cherries, so if the neighbors didn't already know that i'm retarded from watching me run into the garage door, they now know i'm an idiot from watching me almost hit a cop.

and all this happened before work even started.

oh. em. gee.

and think, my day only gets better from here.

i get to work and it's like, tornado-ing outside. it was great. so me and my compadres, the ones i like, anyway, all pile into an empty (metal) bag cart to watch the storm. wind, lightning, thunder - it was great. until we got blasted with a 70 mph wind gust that lifted all the leftover sand from last winter into the air. until today, i'd never experienced a sand storm. but it sucks. it sucks a lot. in fact, i'm still picking sand out of my freaking scalp. and then the sideways rain. and then the lightning so close it made all our hair stand on end and we sort of realized that we were sitting in a metal bag cart, and rubber wheels or not, we trucked our stupid butts indoors.

and left three planes full of people to sit. because we're not going to work flights with lightning in the area. it was great. two flights were supposed to be there, the third was an okc diversion, trying to get to ord. and the captain was a bitch ass bitch. and if i hear the phrase, 'i don't want to end up on the cover of usa today' anytime in the near future i'm going to freak out and punch a goddman baby, you hear me?

so our tornado-producing storms moved east, and sat in ord for hours which delayed our last fight and i got home at 0300. no april fools, sistas. that's the god's honest truth.

i love my job.

so. i'm feeling a little better now, getting that out.

now for the fun stuff.

baxter's voicemail cracks me up. the chick that gives me options (which is a rant in of itself, options on voicemail. i just want to leave a message. shut the hell up) i have named sheena. and she sounds hot. i talk to sheena a lot, almost as much as i talk to baxter, really...

i doubt he'll be accompanying me and the gran massa to the visit our neighbors to the north. i think he feels more responsibility towards his work/life than i do and therefore doesn't call in sick to do fun things. and that's cool. i've not known too many people like that, but i've heard they exist... they're a rare breed.

now me? i call in sick every chance i get. ooh, is that a twinge of a headache? yeah, um, mike, i'm not feeling so well. oops, i stubbed my toe. yeah, um, mike... except that this gm has a serious hard-on for perfect attendance. little does he know that i have never had perfect attendance anywhere, anytime. so he and his perfect attendance can suck my nut.

...if i had one.

but it'd sure be fun to have baxter along for the ride...

canada: that's like only 29 hours away. we better get there when it's light outside and i can see shit. if i get there and it's dark and looks like here when it's all dark, i'm going to be upset. because i can stay home and experience dark, damn it. this had better be exciting. i want to see something canadian. i don't know what. maybe tom green. isn't he canadian?

yessss.......

okay. i'm going to bed now. i have to work tomorrow. it's my friday! yahoo!

oh, if you're interested, i found the mango. it wasn't smooshy. and some socks, that i don't think were mine, that was a little weird.

paging captain obvious to gate c4...

what a day. i don't even know where to begin. with the shocking news that wasn't really so shocking or the ordeal on my way home?

jesus. sometimes, you just have to wonder, who has fucking luck like this?

and the answer is the janel.

so. a friend has come forth with a something that i sort of knew but never really wanted to fully associate with him because of my own feelings toward the situation. and i've got a mixed reaction, in all honesty. on one hand, i feel wonderful that he trusts me with this information. and on the other hand, i just wonder where i stand, where i've been standing in this entire thing, beginning (for me) several years ago and ending... i guess today. my ambivalence is quite self-centered, but what else would you expect from me, really? i guess i should be happy that i am considered such a great friend and leave it at that. but i guess i'll always wonder. beyond that, i can't help but wonder if such information was revealed due to my proximity to someone else - in which case i'll be quite upset.

now, let me tell you what has my blood boiling this evening. on my way home, i managed to get pulled over not once, but twice. twice. who does that? who does that happen to? and again, the answer is the janel.

the first time, i come up over a random hill and just follow the line of cars that is being waved to the side of the road. after i receive the fucking spanish inquisition about living in one state and working in another (come on people - this is not that hard of a concept to grasp), i'm allowed to pass without receiving a ticket.

now the second time, i come around a curve and down a small hill, and once again, i'm waved to the side of the road, as are all small suvs and trucks. wtf? i'm smiley and polite, even though my bladder is about to burst and i'm a little crabby about this delay. i show my license and registration, once again explaining that i moved and that i work in one state and live in another. (is this really that confusing? for crying out loud...)

he asks if he can search my car. i hate this question. if you say yes, they tear apart your car. if you say no, they wonder why and then the next time, they're twice as rude and suddenly saying no isn't an option anymore.

i say yes, i have nothing to hide.

he proceeds to tear apart my car. things that i haven't seen in months are removed from my glove box and my console. he even found my white hot tizzies cd.

and then the fun begins.

under the passenger seat, wedged between i don't know what and something else, he finds an empty beer bottle. that belonged to my mom. it was from last november, when we went to vegas and i drove, and she had to be moderately sedated to get on the plane.

he pulls this out like he's got wonka's fucking golden ticket. "this yours?"

"um, no, it's my mom's..." i could launch into the whole story, but i can tell from the look on his face that he's not going to care and i'm fucked either way.

"you know that an open container is illegal in the state of iowa?"

"yes sir, i do." i maintain my composure even though i'd like to take that empty bottle out of his hand and hit him across the goddamn face with it.

"come with me, i've got something i'd like you to do."

side of the fucking road, my car is in complete disarray, and i've got to recite the alphabet backwards and blow in the fucking blower.

OMFG.

complete bullshit.

but i comply. and i recite the alphabet - backwards, which i'll never be able to do again, i'm sure - and i blow a 0.00, so fucking low it should have been a negative.

he's a little disturbed by this, and i want to tell him to sniff the fucking bottle, it's so old it doesn't even smell like beer anymore. but again, i bite my tongue.

so he decides to be nice. he's gonna let the open container go, but he is going to have to give me a speeding ticket for all his trouble. yup, that's how he said it.

i was going 60 in a 55. and he's doing me a favor? unfuckingbelievable.

i hate them. i hate all of them.

so i took my ticket. i got back in my car. i put my shit away. and i drove my ass home, mad as hell. and i'm still mad as hell. i obviously had not been drinking, although now i'd really like to. he was just looking for a reason to give me a ticket.

asshole.

beyond that, the garage was robbed this week and i'm dealing with an incompetent insurance company.

but i did get a sweet lil' phone call in the middle of the day. that did make me smile.

ugh. i need blood pressure medicine. i need something. i need a drink. fucking lent. where's the ice cream?

captain insano shows no mercy.

madison is the dumbest city in the world.

oh. em. gee.

i hate msn. i hate it. i hate it more than i can describe. i hate it, i hate it, i hate it! (when i make this statement, i want to talk to my grandma on the phone and wear high heels and stomp my feet like henry winkler in the waterboy... hehehe...)

anyway. here is the short version of why i hate madison, wisconsin:

• they don't believe in street signs or road markings of any variety. or lights. and all the goddamn streets look the same.
  
• apparently there is only one way to get to the airport. we did not take it. we didn't take anything close to it.
• even if there isn't a sign that says, don't make a u-turn here, i'm still supposed to fucking know that i can't make a u-turn there.
  
• the cops are assholes. (raise my right hand my ass. "do you know why i'm pulling you over?" "because you got all C's in high school?" motherfuckers. i have strong feelings about law enforcement officials. and they're not positive ones either.)
• apparently something about the polar alignment and the magnetism of the moon in msn throws off the gran massa champ's internal compass. because we were lost as shit both going into town and heading out. we suck.
• i love my gal pal. she's a 'doll', but she's sort of a flake. but i guess if i was inside the bar and watched my friend get pulled over right outside i prolly wouldn't answer my phone either, i'd be laughing so hard. thanks, doll.
  
• it's a long ass drive. period. and cow-shaped cheese does not make everything better. just some things.

are you wondering why i was in madison for the better part of the night last night? yeah, i'm still trying to figure that one out too. no, seriously, the champ had a friend come into the area. he was supposed to fly into cid, but because delta is the stellar airline that they are, he ended up in msn instead. about three hours late. YES. i thought, the champ picked me as a friend, this guy must be somewhat intelligent and/or good looking, gay or not, at least i'll have something entertaining for the next few hours.

um, no.

what the gran massa failed to mention is that the friend was abused as a child by the hairlip fairy. and that instead of a full-facial beating with the proverbial ugly stick, he opted for a half beating and a full lobotomy. this is a grown man, making the statement, "i didn't know the mississippi river was all the way up here."

all the way up here? this is iowa. not the fucking north pole. what the fuck kind of geography are they teaching you in ohio? don't they have any sort of educational standards? will they just graduate anyone who can write their name in cursive and distinguish oranges from apples?

wow. so i distanced myself as soon as i could, even though it was *only* 0430 this morning when we finally got home. short of locking myself in my bedroom, i couldn't get away fast enough. i could feel the mean iq in the house dropping dramatically even though we'd added a third person. it scared the janel.

but thankfully, they're gone now. yay. and the house is quiet, except for the occasional ring of the phone, buzz of the im, or the splash of the kitty falling in the fish tank. i don't know who was more surpised, the kitty or the fish. i guess i'm going to have to start paying attention to that kind of stuff when i'm home.

damn you kitties, don't you know i'm busy?

i got the nicest text message today: 'i just wanted you to know i'm thinking about you.' i wore the biggest, goofiest grin for like two hours. it was great.

and now, now i think i'm going to go to bed. i'm tired. boo.

gnite, lovelies.
love, superfreakindon'tbringyourdumbassfriendsaroundmejanel

you hold him down, i'll shoot him with his own bow and arrow...

yay! its 0005, meaning that vd is over and i can move on with my life. a friend turned me on to calling it 'single awareness day' but when you abbreviate that, it's still 'sad.' fuck that.

so. i acted on the previous incident. would you like the grisly details? i guess if you don't, you can just skip to the next section. last night, out and about in the raging metropolis that is east dbq, i was with a group of people that included the gran massa and one of his friends, justine and a couple other people i don't know, which doesn't really mean anything because i only know like five people here and i think four of them hate me. but that's not the point of this.

drinks were consumed. i was sitting by this really interesting fellow who thought i was amazing. at least he didn't talk about my eyes. barf. anyway. more drinks. fun to be had by all. the sad thing is, i don't even remember any of this - i'm telling this story as a collection of stories told to me by innocent bystanders. anyway, as the story goes, horseplay at the bar. my finger, justine's eye. his contact falls out.

his perfectly reasonable response to this?

he hauls off and slaps the holy shit out of me.

no kidding. his hand, the left side of my face, direct fucking contact. i was so fucking shocked i couldn't even move. and then i guess i sort of came to and i heard a bit of a commotion as he was asked to leave. or maybe he volunteered, i'm really not sure.

i know people asked if i was okay. i wasn't, but i wasn't going to admit that. it was more of a blow to my ego at the time. i've never been hit - by a guy - in public like that. so naturally, what do i do? i completely come to my senses and decide i'm going to take him on and anyone else who gets in my way. except he's nowhere to be found and this is prolly a good thing.

i get taken home. i sleep. i get up. i have a knot in my stomach all day. ALL DAY. i haven't eaten. my hands are still shaking. i'm disgusted with the entire situation.

really - what kind of person does that? who does he think he is? what makes it alright for someone to assault me? and honest to god, if i'd been spastic at the mouth or mocking him, i could at least understand it. just a little bit - it wouldn't make it better, but it would *almost* make sense.

so tonight. after my drive to msn and half a cheeseburger and a fish purchase (bruiser, how fucking appropriate), i decided to file a police report. i go to the edbq pd and let them photograph my face and this nice blue streak along my jaw about 47 different ways.i have to fill out paperwork. i have to write a formal statement. i have to actually write the statement, 'i am filing this complaint because justine assaulted me. i would like him prosecuted for this action.'

humiliating.

so where does this go from here? investigation (their words, not mine. it's csi: edbq!), paperwork, warrant. look out buddy. :)

i'm tired and i need to ice my face. do we have any peas?

i don't have enough crap in my life.

really. bring it on. apparently i can handle it because it just keeps on fucking happening. ugh. i'm under a strict confidentiality agreement at this point so i can't say a lot, but dumbass, i told you to take off that sweater. i'm smart. you should listen to me once in awhile.

ugh. so this does affect my immediate plans, there's no doubt about that. but fuck it. i'm still going. not as soon, prolly, and really that's okay because the idea of having to move in two freaking weeks was scaring the holy hell out of me, truth be told. but i'll still go. now i can do things at my own pace. i just hope things work out for you, because i'll miss you and i worry about you.

yes, grasshopper. the template has changed. bleak. stark. simple. black and white. maybe the way things should be...

boys are no fun. that means you too.

nigel wanted to know how this works. now she has seen the process and she's all learned in blogs. in fact, she may start one of her own. then we can have dueling blogs. sort of like dueling banjos, but not really. tonight we're going to get drunk and steal christmas lights off the square.

yesssss.....