In case you were curious

This is what the playlist I listen to when I write my erotica stories consists of:

1) Is This Real?- Lisa Hall
2) Tales of Brave Ulysses- Cream
3) Blood, Milk, and Sky- White Zombie
4) Night Ride Across the Caucasus- Loreena McKennitt
5) Lullaby- The Cure
6) Corazon Espinado- Santana (Sorry, Sarah, but it's true. These three, in this order.)
7) Lithium Flower- Scott Mathhew
8) Tusk- Fleetwood Mac
9) They- Jem
10) Goodnight Moon- Shivaree
11) Resident Evil Main Theme- Marilyn Manson
12) Holomovement- Meanwhile Back In Communist Russia
13) Steam Will Rise- Silverchair
14) Rolling- Soul Coughing
15) Aeroplane- Red Hot Chili Peppers

That's my most recent one, at least, and I have a feeling it will undergo some tweaking. I'm not sure about Jem, Shivaree, or Soul Coughing, but I haven't found anything else with the appropriate beat and tone I'm looking for yet.

So there you have it. Also, I think I may have come up with a pen-name. What's your kneejerk reaction to Cassandra Layton? (Edit: That's the last name of the kid I had a crush on in grade school, you bastards. Stop laughing.)

Almost Free

Today:
1) Paint Anna's walls
2) Finish Packing

Tomorrow:
1) Fly to California

Tuesday:
1) Road trip to Tacoma!

Now all I have to do is survive until then.

I always feel like I don't exist anymore.

I think my uncle might be upstairs somewhere with Gabriel and the Spear of Destiny. He just walked in with two people I have never seen, went upstairs without a word, and shut the door. If the chanting starts, I am getting the hell out.

Need to leave anyway. He hasn't had a single conversation with me since the wisdom tooth incident. He has absolutely no interest in what's going on with me and clearly doesn't give a damn that I am here for the first time in 11 months...and leaving in three days. I'm just here when he needs me to do something.

Excuse me? Could you get me out of here?

You know you're in the Midwest when you can't find non-instant rice in the grocery store.

Dance! Boogie!

Minifam picked me a present out herself this year, and I am shocked to say that it is the most awesome and adorable thing I have seen in a long time.

Have any of you ever seen an iDog? (I hadn't.) It's a tiny little AI that you can plug your iPod into. It will play it like a speaker and kinda headbang to it. It can also pick up environmental music and respond to it. The manual says that depending what you play, its personality will change, too. Hours of fun, says you? Damn straight, says I.

Mine is of course hot pink because it was a present from my little sister, but it's a pink I can tolerate (it actually looks like my last hair color.) I've named her Veronica, and started her out playing The Cranberries and the Dresden Dolls.

Well, I just checked her personality, and she played me a country riff.

Unfortunately, I'm not exactly sure how to punish a dancing speakerbot.

Sowait....

Is Christmas supposed to be 12 days long? o.o

And so this is Christmas

I don't get my family. Earlier this week the plan was for me to go spend Christmas at Fam's. We were going to open presents, make my famous donuts, and just kinda hang out. Yesterday, no one told me otherwise, so I assumed that plan was still in effect. Today, I wake up at 11:30 and no one is here, and there is no note telling me what is going on. I also have no car, so I have no way to get anywhere. I call Fam, and she says "someone will pick me up eventually." No time frame, nothing.

Thirty minutes later, Unc drops off car, intercepts the USPS guy, and tells me to go over to Fam's once she's done at brunch. I called her about two minutes ago. Brunch is long over, and she's about to take a nap. According to her, I am now supposed to meet up with Unc, who was supposed to call me and tell me this over an hour ago.

So here I am, alone at home, wondering where the FUCK I am supposed to be right now.

I think I'm just going to go back to bed.


::EDIT::
I just now got ahold of Unc. It's 4:24 PM. They've been opening presents for the past hour. I know I can't expect them to wait for me if I'm not there--what bugs me is that he didn't call me when they started. Present opening is one of those social "we do it one at a time so everyone can see what we got" things, so it's not like he didn't know I wasn't there.

I don't want to go, anyway. Fam's not going, Unc has basically ignored me the entire time I've been here, and I'd feel weird around everyone else. Spending Christmas with a bunch of people who aren't related to you by blood and have no idea what you're like is depressing. I would have been okay earlier today. It would have made me depressed, but I would have been able to handle it. But, on top of being shuffled around incessantly today, I can't do it. I don't have the skin necessary to go sit in my little corner and be politely ignored for the evening. Presents are not worth that.

Dear USPS man who just now delivered my PS3:

I love you. I'm deeply sorry that it was my uncle who answered the door and not me, because I had thrown together a care package of yummy foods and had every intention of tipping you as much as possible.

As it is, I'm sending spirit vibes that the rest of your day goes well. Meery Christmas, sir!

Love,
The very guilty gamer girl

Dear Unc (Redux):

Buying a starter bondage kit, stupidly leaving the receipt in the car, and blaming it on me when Fam finds it a month later?

Very mature. I really had no idea just how much of a skeezeball you were until I heard about this little incident.

*blink*

Being woken up, handed a credit card, and ordered to buy two 60GB PS3s online is one of the most surreal things that has happened to me in a while.

Then again, receiving phone confirmation that both of them are in the mail and I'll need to sign for them tomorrow is even more edgifying. The prices were even reasonable.

*whimpers* I need to build a fort.

Wonderful.

There is a factory label on my bed that reads:

"Screw after assembly. Do not overexert."

LMFuAO

Again, I live.

I survived yesterday. Most of it was spent hugging the toilet and throwing up everything I attempted to swallow, water included, until I was dehydrated, exhausted, sore, and in tears. We called my doctor around three AM and he took me off the antibiotics and the vicodin. Since then I've been on ibuprofen, so my nose has been really bloody, but I feel just fine and have managed to eat things today. Hopefully after another night's sleep my back and neck won't be sore and angry anymore.

I cannot even begin to express how miserable last night was. Being unable to stand because you're dehydrated, and unable to sleep because you're still so sick while you've been off pain meds for hours is enough to make me want to DIE.

I ate french fries and a chocolate shake today, tho. It made me happy.

5:40 AM

Vicodin+ applesauce + long-handled teaspoon = ♥.

- -;

I am calling the docs tomorrow and getting new pain meds. This is worse than just not taking any.

Oh God

"You may experience nausea for the first few days as your body adjusts to the medication."

That cannot even BEGIN to describe how my body reacts when I take those damned pills. Damn stuff makes me dry heave AND has given me hiccups twice. On the plus side, one side of my mouth has stopped bleeding.

There is nothing on this planet quite like being awakened by pain.

To anyone who attempts to call me today, I'm sorry, but there are two huge wads of gauze in my mouth to absorb all the blood my gums are giving away so freely. Because of that, I can't talk. I do seem to be coherent enough to text or IM, so if you're dying for some Wrentime, please, track me down. I am dying for some distraction from the pain in my jaw. I've changed the settings on tril to make noise when people IM me, so I should hear if people want to talk to me if I'm not passed out too hard.

I found out something interesting today. Fam is a flawless speaker of Grunt-Charades. I was able to relay things to her like "Where is my iPod and pullover," "I'm dizzy but not sick to my stomach," "We replace the gauze every thirty minutes," and "for the love of God turn out the light before I kill you." I suppose a lot of it has to do with having a relatively young child and needing to be more up on the body language, but this is a level of observational skills I had not yet seen in her.

Okay, wow. Apparently the meds I am on make me dizzy and light sensitive. That does not make me a fan. For some reason, dudeman did not give me Vicoden, which I know for a fact I can function fine under. This stuff is not quite on par, so I have no idea what it will do to me in the long run.

Ugh, time to change my gauze. I have bloody spit drying on my tongue, and I'm getting rather sick of that metallic taste. I may be bleeding until 9PM, they say.

I don't know about you, but to me that sounds like a PARTY.

I am all astonishment.

Unc: "So, are you ready to get your wisdom teeth out?"
Me: "Oh, of course. I am going to LOVE being on Vicoden for two weeks."
Unc: "I don't envy you. I'd gladly never take that stuff again."
Me: "Yeah, it can make some people angry and very irritable, but I just get kind of hazy and loopy. It doesn't really even make me tired."
Unc: "That's good. So what are you going on Vicoden for?"

Dear Marcus:

What the hell possessed you to

a) open my mail,

b) pay my credit card bill,

c) get angry about doing it?

I pay my bills online, dumbass. That was not a current bill. So now we both paid on the same charge, and one of us just wasted a lot of money. I see why you're pissed, but I fail to see how that is my fault since the credit card and the bill were both IN MY NAME.

Also, don't call Amber and tell her about it without telling her the entire story. I don't need to get a lecture from her about it for something I didn't orchestrate. Luckily, now we're both mad at you.

Much hate.

Dear Sleazy Man in Truck:

"If you're looking for a ride, I'm looking for passengers" will not get me in your truck. It will only get you the empty promise of one of my freshly painted middle fingers. It will also make me even angrier at my family, who, if they had actually been at the airport when I arrived, would have prevented this little rendevous.

No love,
The stiff and cranky girl who just wants to go the fuck to bed already.

It's practically ritualistic...

My Christmas homecomings are frequently less than happy occasions. When I came back last year, they told me they'd sold all my stuff, and the year before that I didn't even have a room to sleep in. One of their favorite pastimes is leaving me alone for indeterminate amounts of time at the airport.

And yet I'm upset that things weren't different this year. My plane was an hour late. When I land, I call Fam to see where I should meet them. "Call Unc," she says. "You didn't let us know your plane was going to be late, so Minifam and I went home and he's out with [stripper girlfriend who is as old as I am]. I'm not sure when one of us can pick you up."

"..." Yes, my lack of precognitive ability has failed us all, and as a result I missed my window of opportunity to be part of the family. I call Unc-- it gets better.

"Hey, who is picking me up?"
"I don't know. I'm on my way to [stripper girlfriend who is as old as I am]'s."
"...So when am I going to get picked up?"
"I don't know."
"..."

And then it is decided that he will pick her up first and then they will both come to get me.
"Is that okay?"
"Does my opinion really matter?"
"Well, I at least want you to be honest."

He did have the sense not to bring her, at least. But when we got home? "Alright, I'm going to bed. I only got five hours of sleep last night." Twenty minutes later, girlfriend "sneaks in."

There is no food in the house. And he did not ask about my flight, or how I weathered the storm, or how the semester was, or anything. He just...fucking chauffeured me to the house and went upstairs and shut the door to the master suite.

I don't know if I can adequately explain why it makes me so upset. (Apparently that is something I've been failing at recently.) It's just this overwhelming sense of apathy that I am getting from them. It's not that they don't care, really, they just have no fucking clue what is going on with anyone else but themselves.

I'm not even sure now why I brought copies of the science magazine. It's just going to set me up for another night of feeling like this if I give it to them.

Talking to people to feel better has failed. I'm just going to go shower.

Hush, keep it down now

I am needing this break in more ways than I can comfortably explain. >.<

"It's my birthday present to me! I'm so happy!"

Fucking finals week hates me.
I'd rather live in a tree
And act like a monkey
If I could still smell pretty.

Take my doggerel poetry. TAKE IT.

The important part of this post is the shirt I plan on buying after I finish my Microbiology research paper, anyway.

Thar she blows.

I'm pretty much resigned to failing my stats exam, and thus the class. My pride's pretty wounded, but I need to focus on my other classes, get good grades there, and then just retake it my senior year from a different professor at a later time of day.

No more 8AM classes for me. The Wren has learned her lesson.

Though all this really could just be the sleepy apathy talking. I was far too wired to sleep last night.

Stats vendetta coming on

It's sad when the majority of my stats study focuses not on the material I still need to learn, but how to more effectively take the professor's tests. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT HERE.

One last thing.

Who snorts Darvocet?

I mean really.

I have seen more crotch on this job...

Dear incredibly drunk sorority girl who has fully embraced the stereotype:

Don't act so shocked when we tell you it will be a while before we can let you back into your room, especially when there are two ambulances and a fire truck parked outside that are visible from your hall window. There is a diabetic in the nearby frat with a blood glucose level of over 700 (LOL BEER). We will get to you when we can. Oh, my, it's five minutes later? Are the ambulances still in sight? Yes? Go away. Also, having your slightly less drunk boyfriend call in for you will not magically make us change our priorities, especially since he is certainly not one of your "sisters."

Finally, if you're going to flop your microskirt-clad ass on the floor in a drunken stupor, please wear underwear. I did not need to see exactly what your loving man was about to get himself into.

Sewer rats would have run in fear. I, however, had to calmly unlock your door and amble off to find a pleasant place to obtain a concussion.

Dear Birds:

It is two AM. Stop twittering gleefully.

lessthanthree,
Wren

It's stuck in my head.

you can tell
from the scars on my arms
and cracks in my hips
and the dents in my car
and the blisters on my lips
that I'm not the carefullest of girls

you can tell
from the glass on the floor
and the strings that're breaking
and I keep on breaking more
and it looks like I am shaking
but it's just the temperature
and then again
if it were any colder I could disengage
if I were any older I could act my age
but i dont think that youd believe me
it's
not
the
way
I'm
meant
to
be
it's just the way the operation made me

and you can tell
from the state of my room
that they let me out too soon
and the pills that I ate
came a couple years too late
and I've got some issues to work through
there I go again
pretending to be you
make-believing
that I have a soul beneath the surface
trying to convince you
it was accidentally on purpose

I am not so serious
this passion is a plagiarism
I might join your century
but only on a rare occasion
I was taken out
before the labor pains set in and now
behold the world's worst accident
Iam the girl anachronism

and you can tell
by the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that I'm not right now at all
there I go again
pretending that I'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just
let
her
crash
and
burn
she'll learn
the attention just encourages her

and you can tell
from the full-body cast
that I'm sorry that I asked
though you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
but I might be catching so don't touch
you'll start believing youre immune to gravity and stuff
don't get me wet
because the bandages will all come off
and you can tell
from the smoke at the stake
that the current state is critical
well it is the little things, for instance:
in the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses:
please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...

I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this
so I might join your century but only as a doubtful guest
I was too precarious removed as a caesarian
behold the worlds worst accident
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM

Dear Fam, yet again:

Over a week ago I asked you to mail a package that had been misdelivered to Unc's house. Normally I would have just waited and gotten it when I was pulled, kicking and screaming, back into the clutches of Saint Louis. Unfortunately, the package contains Maddo's birthday present, and since she is going abroad next semester, she kind of needs it now.

Fast forward to today. I call you to ask when you sent the package, and you of course have yet to get around to doing it.

"Do you still want me to send it? You're going to be back here in a week and a half."
"Yes, I know, but Maddo's birthday was on Sunday."
"So I should still send it?"
"That would be a yes."
"Look, I'm sorry."
"That package was really important."
"I know, and I'm trying to apologize. I'll mail it first thing tomorrow."
"..."

My mother used to tell me "sorry doesn't cut it." I mean, sure, I'm glad you're remorseful, but how hard is it to pull your head out of your ass and pay attention to what's important to someone else for two seconds? You said you knew it was important, but evidently you still didn't see the need to care.

I can't count on you for anything, but unfortunately I'm still occasionally required to try. Do you even listen when I speak? Considering all the times you've picked up the phone and called people when I was in mid-sentence about something, I'll have to go with no.

Fuck you,
Wren. Not Lauren, Wren, who would like to matter to you once in a while.

Pictures I've been meaning to post

Maddo just turned twenty. We love her.

\

Hair before dying.


This does it no justice.

This needs to stop happening to me

I had a kid I had never seen before in my life say hello to me today. This obviously means that I have, in fact, seen him, but have since forgotten he ever existed. I really wish that would stop happening. It makes me feel like a terrible person.

I found out at Madeline's birthday dinner that other students in my Asia 144 class have noticed I play games in class. Here's how:

J: "Wren, how did you do on your exams?"
W: "I got a 44/45 on China, and 43/45 on India."
J: "Oh, nice!"
J: "...So, may I ask what game you play every day?"
W: "Game? Oh....you mean in class..."
J: "Well, you do sit front and center. I think everyone in the class watches you play, actually."

I pondered that for a bit.

Today in class, I opened my laptop as usual, but instead of pulling up Wizardry V I loaded Illustrator, chose a huge font, and wrote HELLO J AND EVERYONE ELSE BEHIND ME!

That sat on my screen for a good five minutes, and I heard a few quiet *snerks* behind me. After class, J came up to me and said "I saw your little note. It took everything I had not to laugh very hard in the middle of the guest lecturer's discussion."

I am amazing.

You are Batman

Batman 75% Superman 70% Spider-Man 65% Wonder Woman 62% Hulk 55% Supergirl 52% Green Lantern 50% The Flash 50% Robin 47% Iron Man 40% Catwoman 35%

You are dark, love gadgets and have vowed to help the innocent not suffer the pain you have endured.

---

See quiz suck. Suck quiz, suck. There are so many things wrong with this that I can't even BEGIN to explain...

But at least I'm Batman.

Right now I look like a German dominatrix. The top of my hair is platinum blonde, side parted, and slicked against my head into a bun. The only catch is that the bun is pink. If it weren't for the fact that my two most despised colors were currently inhabiting my head, it would look pretty damn cool. Maybe some sort of diabolical blue and blonde combo...

My plan right now is to finish bleaching tonight, deep condition it, give myself a happy scalp treatment, and then wake up and redye it. That will give my hair some time to recover in between chemical attacks. And allow me to sleep at a decent hour, because I have a LOT of studying to do. Stats quiz Monday, and Microbio exam the second on Wednesday. Not happy.

I wish my digicam charger weren't MIA, because I'd love to get some shots of my hair to post.

Shocking, I know.

Wot the deuce?

I was thoroughly betrayed by estrogen at work tonight. Seriously. It snuck up on me and held me hostage.

There was a party at Sigma Chi that quickly turned into an interfrat fight, and I went along as crowd control. Unfortunately, I was...rather effective at it. Apparently every drunk boy within a 200 foot radius felt the need to come by and gripe to me about how terrible life was. I think one of them ended up in tears. Bossman Prime was inside, questioning the kids who got injured, and I was outside...being questioned by a bunch of vodka-basted bleeding hearts.

Later, we came across a kid who must have suffered from some sort of paranoid disorder, because he was so terrified of us he started crying. And I wanted to hug him. Please explain that to me. Bossman Prime is looking at him like he is a special breed of wuss, and I want to pet him like a puppy! Clearly something is amiss. Then again, I've always been completely undone by crying boys. It's like a Wren insta-snuggle tactic. Don't ask me why.

And now I do dishes in a desperate attempt to stay awake for the last part of my shift.

Nintendo is sitting in their corporate office, giggling because we all sound like a bunch of four-year-olds when we discuss their new product

I freaking love it. People make me so ridiculously sad. How hard is it not to fling a piece of plastic at your electronics? The awesome part is that the remote, in most cases, seems to survive.

Clearly the true spelling is the "wheemote," since it looks like it certainly takes pleasure in attacking its fellow inanimate objects.

Blame Madeline and Brandon