I've tried to start 5 different entries in the past 2 days and nothing is coming out properly. All disjointed and weird. So I'm just going to type as I think.
Stanley iBook is still sick, prognosis is that his video card crapped out and that we'll need to take him to the Apple Genius Desk to get him fixed up. I'm typing this on Kelly's Mac. Kelly's in San Diego and it's very hard not having her around to bounce ideas and thoughts off of. I gave Kelly full disclosure to tell all handsome male stars she meets on Friday when she rents a car and drives the California coast to L.A. (I know. Can you believe her life? I want her luck) my phone number and to CALL ME. I'm supposed to leave this weekend for Pittsburgh and visit my cousin who is currently not returning my phone calls because he is a punk. I'm worried that he might flake out on me because he has a tendency to do that. It would disappoint me more than I can possibly explain because when we were little he was my best friend in the universe and we shared secrets and adventures. Then our grandmother died and he didn't know how to handle it. His luck took a sharp turn downward and he's retreated into his shell ever since. But he and I still have this thread that I refuse to give up on. Our great Aunt Sis (real name: Efthemia. Now you know why we call her "Sis"), the last living sibling of our grandmother is not doing well and is in the hospital. Her heart is beating so fast and hard that they're afraid it will give out on her. Some days I think I know the feeling. That last sentence was so emo, I need to go style my hair now so that it hangs over one eye and apply ridiculous amounts of eyeliner. Excuse me.
[Edited out because after posting I realized that this is the internet, and hey, I might want to censor myself slightly just in case the wrong people find this and you know, I don't want to get fired. Oops. Sad, too because it was probably the one coherent part of this entry. Also, I motherfucking hate you, Blogger, for not having a password/privacy protection option] Tonight, I am going to pink bubble a new job. And a new digital camera. And a big box of money. And possibly Richard Coyle. If the Doc were around (I think he's in Portugal or some other fabulous place) he would say, "Miss [EightK]? Father will send you a job when you are ready. He's an on-time type of Father. Visualize and it will materialize! PEACE!" Considering the Peace Mission is 100% positive that Father Divine is responsible for getting me this job, I don't really feel like I have an argument against anything the Doc says. I can't argue with the Doc period, because the man is brilliant and has 2 doctorates.
I've had "Nothing Better" by The Postal Service running through my head all day (Yes, Redhead, I KNOW). I'm bummed because the amazing mix CD that Dave's super cool roommate Jeff made for me didn't burn correctly and doesn't work. It would have been an awesome mix because it featured, among other things, a techno song featuring sounds from Transformers and a punk band covering Madonna's "Like a Prayer." Sucky. To make up for it, Jam gave me a neat-o mix and I've been jamming to that for several days. I need to step away from BBC America because Waterloo Road is my new crack. I can't believe that Tom's being such a man-child about Izzie, even if his wife Lorna is all bony and obsequious. Hey, you know? I think I am changing my pink bubble order to Richard Coyle with a side of Jason Done. Dammit. Another reason I need to step away from BBC America: I am far too susceptible to developing school-girl like crushes on men with accents.
As I am writing this, I am also on Flickr and uploading a whole bunch of pictures from last summer when we went to Pride in New York. I didn't get to go to Pride this year because that was the weekend of craziness with everyone and their mother coming to visit me and seeing random people who I never thought I would ever see again. I feel I have so much to write about that weekend but I don't know where to begin and I'm not sure I'm going to even try. I feel the same about this past weekend. QK came to stay for a couple of days last week and we spent a day in the city walking everywhere. It was amazing. We went thrift store shopping and walked Old City and ran into Renee and went to Farmacia for dessert and wine. I had the warm flaky apple and sun dried cherry galette and I swear to God, I wanted to lick the plate after I was done, it was so good. I feel fatter than normal this week and I think I've gained weight. Kelly just got an offer from a local gym that will be opening at the end of the summer that gives you membership for only $15 a month and no start-up or annual fee, and that is what I'm talking about. I think that's the main reason (well, one of them) that I haven't joined a gym is because they slap your ass right away with a $100-$200 start-up fee in addition to all the monthly fees. I hate that shit. So I'll be joining a gym next week after I get back from Pittsburgh (presuming the cousin CALLS ME BACK, GOD).
I wish we had a bottle of rum in the house, because if we did I would make Mike and I daiquiris. He and I spent the 4th together and grilled out and then went to see fireworks in Radnor. Nothing tops last year in D.C. I almost wish we could have gone back there again this year. Last year we were lucky enough to stumble onto the best possible spot on the Mall to see the fireworks. We were Right There. Big booms. It was amazing.
Wait. What? Flickr only lets you have 3 sets with a free account? That's shitty. OK, so the start of the Pride photos are in the "College Friends and Fun" set. I don't have time to finish them tonight, I have a jillion of them from the actual parade and it's now after 10pm, and Jeezus I didn't even get to start my laundry like I wanted to. I have nothing to wear to work tomorrow, except a skirt, and I'm too lazy to be all lady-like and in heels. I'll have to upgrade my Flickr account to Pro later this week when I have money again -- Damn you, holiday that pushes our paycheck back one day! I have so many photos to show you guys, a bunch from June, or The Month of a Thousand Graduations, as I like to call it. I have old school pics from when me and my cousins were wee ones and it occurs to me that I promised an entry on family and cousins and never got around to it. Sorry about that.
I will leave you with this, though:
CALL ME, MICHAEL, YOU PUNK-ASS.
And with that, I am off and going to pink bubble my way to sleep. And tomorrow? I'll probably delete all of this because it's weird and disjointed, just like me. Aaaaannnndd there's the emo again. Christ.
Stanley iBook is still sick, prognosis is that his video card crapped out and that we'll need to take him to the Apple Genius Desk to get him fixed up. I'm typing this on Kelly's Mac. Kelly's in San Diego and it's very hard not having her around to bounce ideas and thoughts off of. I gave Kelly full disclosure to tell all handsome male stars she meets on Friday when she rents a car and drives the California coast to L.A. (I know. Can you believe her life? I want her luck) my phone number and to CALL ME. I'm supposed to leave this weekend for Pittsburgh and visit my cousin who is currently not returning my phone calls because he is a punk. I'm worried that he might flake out on me because he has a tendency to do that. It would disappoint me more than I can possibly explain because when we were little he was my best friend in the universe and we shared secrets and adventures. Then our grandmother died and he didn't know how to handle it. His luck took a sharp turn downward and he's retreated into his shell ever since. But he and I still have this thread that I refuse to give up on. Our great Aunt Sis (real name: Efthemia. Now you know why we call her "Sis"), the last living sibling of our grandmother is not doing well and is in the hospital. Her heart is beating so fast and hard that they're afraid it will give out on her. Some days I think I know the feeling. That last sentence was so emo, I need to go style my hair now so that it hangs over one eye and apply ridiculous amounts of eyeliner. Excuse me.
[Edited out because after posting I realized that this is the internet, and hey, I might want to censor myself slightly just in case the wrong people find this and you know, I don't want to get fired. Oops. Sad, too because it was probably the one coherent part of this entry. Also, I motherfucking hate you, Blogger, for not having a password/privacy protection option] Tonight, I am going to pink bubble a new job. And a new digital camera. And a big box of money. And possibly Richard Coyle. If the Doc were around (I think he's in Portugal or some other fabulous place) he would say, "Miss [EightK]? Father will send you a job when you are ready. He's an on-time type of Father. Visualize and it will materialize! PEACE!" Considering the Peace Mission is 100% positive that Father Divine is responsible for getting me this job, I don't really feel like I have an argument against anything the Doc says. I can't argue with the Doc period, because the man is brilliant and has 2 doctorates.
I've had "Nothing Better" by The Postal Service running through my head all day (Yes, Redhead, I KNOW). I'm bummed because the amazing mix CD that Dave's super cool roommate Jeff made for me didn't burn correctly and doesn't work. It would have been an awesome mix because it featured, among other things, a techno song featuring sounds from Transformers and a punk band covering Madonna's "Like a Prayer." Sucky. To make up for it, Jam gave me a neat-o mix and I've been jamming to that for several days. I need to step away from BBC America because Waterloo Road is my new crack. I can't believe that Tom's being such a man-child about Izzie, even if his wife Lorna is all bony and obsequious. Hey, you know? I think I am changing my pink bubble order to Richard Coyle with a side of Jason Done. Dammit. Another reason I need to step away from BBC America: I am far too susceptible to developing school-girl like crushes on men with accents.
As I am writing this, I am also on Flickr and uploading a whole bunch of pictures from last summer when we went to Pride in New York. I didn't get to go to Pride this year because that was the weekend of craziness with everyone and their mother coming to visit me and seeing random people who I never thought I would ever see again. I feel I have so much to write about that weekend but I don't know where to begin and I'm not sure I'm going to even try. I feel the same about this past weekend. QK came to stay for a couple of days last week and we spent a day in the city walking everywhere. It was amazing. We went thrift store shopping and walked Old City and ran into Renee and went to Farmacia for dessert and wine. I had the warm flaky apple and sun dried cherry galette and I swear to God, I wanted to lick the plate after I was done, it was so good. I feel fatter than normal this week and I think I've gained weight. Kelly just got an offer from a local gym that will be opening at the end of the summer that gives you membership for only $15 a month and no start-up or annual fee, and that is what I'm talking about. I think that's the main reason (well, one of them) that I haven't joined a gym is because they slap your ass right away with a $100-$200 start-up fee in addition to all the monthly fees. I hate that shit. So I'll be joining a gym next week after I get back from Pittsburgh (presuming the cousin CALLS ME BACK, GOD).
I wish we had a bottle of rum in the house, because if we did I would make Mike and I daiquiris. He and I spent the 4th together and grilled out and then went to see fireworks in Radnor. Nothing tops last year in D.C. I almost wish we could have gone back there again this year. Last year we were lucky enough to stumble onto the best possible spot on the Mall to see the fireworks. We were Right There. Big booms. It was amazing.
Wait. What? Flickr only lets you have 3 sets with a free account? That's shitty. OK, so the start of the Pride photos are in the "College Friends and Fun" set. I don't have time to finish them tonight, I have a jillion of them from the actual parade and it's now after 10pm, and Jeezus I didn't even get to start my laundry like I wanted to. I have nothing to wear to work tomorrow, except a skirt, and I'm too lazy to be all lady-like and in heels. I'll have to upgrade my Flickr account to Pro later this week when I have money again -- Damn you, holiday that pushes our paycheck back one day! I have so many photos to show you guys, a bunch from June, or The Month of a Thousand Graduations, as I like to call it. I have old school pics from when me and my cousins were wee ones and it occurs to me that I promised an entry on family and cousins and never got around to it. Sorry about that.
I will leave you with this, though:
CALL ME, MICHAEL, YOU PUNK-ASS.
And with that, I am off and going to pink bubble my way to sleep. And tomorrow? I'll probably delete all of this because it's weird and disjointed, just like me. Aaaaannnndd there's the emo again. Christ.
1 Comments:
I'm wagging my finger just the littlest bit, but since you don't really *need* a finger wag, I'll leave you with this classic thought instead:
I wish my grass was emo, 'cause then it would cut itself.
Aaaaaaaaand ... scene.
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