Where the FUCK have you been, Wren?

Why, moving to Livejournal.

I'm sorry. I love the blog. I prefer the blog. But from now on, I will be posting over at Elljay because I don't want to LOSE MY CAREER.

So, you have a few options:

1) Call it a life. I love you. Thanks for reading. <3
2) Head on over to my Elljay and start chatting there. Contact me, and I will give you all the information you need. Unfortunately, my LJ must be friends-locked, so you'd need an account to comment, but.
2a) I have two accounts: one for the life, and one for the writing. If you want to join the writing one, let me know, but be prepared for NSFW content.

I'll have a proper goodbye post up Thursday. This is just to get you used to the idea.

Also: AK will resume in July.

I appear to have a concussion.

How to end up in the dog house

Me: "Oh, did I tell you Mr. K proposed to me?"
The Boy: *aghast* "No!"
Me: "Yeah. We're supposed to get married."
The Boy: "Was he serious?"
Me: "Oh my God, of course not!"
The Boy: "Well, I mean, he is kind of an idiot."

He's lucky I decided that was funny.

I love my vet

They send out monthly e-mails. This one's intro sentence: "We can tell spring is here because people are wearing sunglasses with their umbrellas."

So true.

Because not all of you have access to my alter-ego's site

<--Yes, that is Martin from Oblivion, and no, I don't want to explain.

I love you, Coffee Guy

Peter and I met up at the cafe Maddo and I did a lot of NaNoWriMoing at, and my favorite Coffee Guy was there, wearing his "Utilikilt," combat boots, and sporting new surface piercings.

I ordered a mocha and a sandwich. Sandwich was given to me instantly. Mocha never made it to the bar. I walked over to him about ten minutes later, grinned pleasantly, and said "So, how's my mocha?"

He facepalms. "I don't know, how is it?"
"Hopefully good. I'm dying to find out."
Pause. "What size was it?"
"Sixteen ouce."
"Let's make that a 20."
"Oh, wow. Thanks so much!"

So I go back to sit down, and soon mocha is hand-delivered. Coffee Guy is my favorite because he always draws me little pictures in my foam. Well, today my mocha implored, in perfect calligraphy, "Please Don't Hate Us. :("

I took a sip and looked up to find him and The Owner both staring at me anxiously. I flashed them an "I love you" sign, and they giggled and went back to work.

I LOVE YOU, COFFEE SHOP PEOPLE. OMG.

What the hell, old people? Why do none of you have tact?

There was almost a riot at the concert I was ushering for tonight. I wish this were one of my classic cases of hyperbole, but it is not.

The problem? The ticket salespeople showed up and discovered someone had stolen the mouse and keyboard to the ticketing computer.

The solution? Get a new mouse and keyboard and ask the people who needed to buy tickets to wait.

THAT IS WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IN A SANE UNIVERSE, ANYWAY. Instead, they started screaming at the poor ticketing girl. Actually screaming, people. And she just kind of sat there and wilted and tried to explain the situation, but the crowd was having none of it because God I hate people. Meanwhile, the other two ushers and I are standing by the door doing our best impressions of >:o

"Fuck this," I muttered to Daryl, tossing him my programs and walking over to the mob. (I have this vague feeling that I made out with the ticket girl freshman year. Or wanted to. Or maybe want to now. Who knows. Either way, I needed to save her.)

"How hard would it be for us to pay you and just have you take a count on a piece of paper? I do not understand what the problem is!" shrieked one of our regulars.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said in my best teacher voice, and lo! the mob was silenced. "We are doing everything we can to get you all tickets and seats in a timely fashion. The concert doesn't start until 7:30, so if you bear with us and stop distracting the ticket people while they work out their technical issues, we shouldn't have a problem."

Stony stares.

"Any UPS students, please talk to the ushers by the door and take your seats now. We'll count you ourselves. Those of you who need to pay, please realize that someone has stolen the mouse and keyboard to the ticketing computer, which is what is causing the delay."

"That's terrible!" muttered a man in the back, and I listened while the news was passed back along the line.

"Why can't you just do it manually?" barked the ringleader.

"Ma'm, we are student staff, and there are a specific set of rules for ticket sales we are required to follow unless we want to lose our jobs. None of the management seem to have made it here tonight, and are also not answering their phones." (Believe me, we tried to call.)

"Isn't there a Plan B?!"

"I wish there were. Here, let me open the main doors so you don't have to hold them yourselves. Excuse me."

And thus the riot was quelled, and there were adulations from the ticketpeople, who have vowed to love me till the day I die.

Have I mentioned I fucking hate people?

Um, hi.

Nope, not dead. Just been student teaching and working on a four-chapter Oblivion fanfic.

Mock me if you want, but it is chock-full of sexy genius.

Honeythief- Halou

Sometimes I doubt the path I chose
Sometimes my dreams feel all on hold
There's no doubt that this will make me strong
Because it's the hardest thing I've ever done

Despite this cruel world
And all my best efforts
You surprise me with just how perfect you are

Even with all my flaws
And my bad examples
You surprise me with
Just how perfect you are

And when I'm lost
You search for me
And when I doubt
You're my belief

I'm suppose to be
The stronger one
You always seem
To prove that theory wrong

Still, I hold my breath each time you go
Out in the world that's beyond my control
If you are dreaming
I never want to wake you up

When I'm all in a spin
Full of cynicism
You remind me of just how perfect you are

When I'm at my wit's end
And I'm losing my head
You remind me of just how lucky I am

for The Boy:

01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101

XD

iTunes puts the hot in relationships

The Boy and I are flopped on the bed, listening to music.

*new song queues*
Me: *twitches spastically to the beat*
Boypillow: "Hey, don't dance so sexily!"
Me: *stare*
Me: "You were raised by circus clowns, weren't you?"

Fatality.

Pandora.com and I got into a fight today. It randomly decided to add a slew of completely inappropriate pop music to a station I'd carefully trained to perfection. Since I write my book to this station, I was somewhat less than amused.

Me: "What the shit is house techno doing on the Frou Frou station?" *skip*
Pandora: *country twang*"YOU STOLE THE MOOOON FROM MY LIIIIIII--IIIIFE."
Me: "What? No!" *thumbs down*
Internet: *stutters, strains*
Pandora: "Take just one last dare, pretend you don't care. Till twilight falls. Wait. There's someone else here. And I can't stop my tears. I've never been so scared..."
Me: *skip*
Pandora: "I AM DONE WITH YOU NOW!"
Me: "Odd. I was thinking the same thing." *close window*

I got a new vest today.

And it looks really good with my necklace.


Wow, you can really tell I have mono if you look at those enormous bags under my eyes. It doesn't help that Maddo and I spent the entire day running around in the rain to acquire that vest.

(No this is NOT a shirt I wear at school. I wonder why. I am going out to dinner, and as such feel it is more appropriate for me to have cleavage on display than it is in front of a room full of fifteen-year-olds.)

For Maddo

<--Because I had too much time on my hands this morning.
I made the text sharper and deepened the color on a whim. I wasn't sure if I could fix the text without digitally redoing it, but it turned out to be really easy. Use it if you want! :D

(Wren: Making like the Sistine Chapel restorers with icons since...eh.)

I wish time still stopped for bad things like when I was a kid

Melvin "The Brick" Fatrat, July 2006 - March 5, 2009
He climbed into his hammock with his brother last night and didn't climb out again this morning.

Life, you're not funny.

So everyone I know is coming down with mono. This would be fine, because I love commiserating with friends, except now there are going to be more annoying rumors at work. Observe:

Dispatcher: "So apparently Feeney has mono."
Dispatcher 2: *raises eyebrow at me* "Oh, really?"
Me: "Oh, that's just fucking peachy."
Dispatcher: "What?"
Me: "I have mono."
Dispatcher 2: "See, I told you we'd find out who you've been kissing."
Me: "Yes. Feeney and I make out every day. Any time I am not here, we're swapping saliva."

Bossman Prime: *from over the cubicle* "Who now?"
Me: "Feeney."
Bossman Prime: *snort* "Oh. Riiiight!" *re-lurks*
Office: XD

At least one person has it figured out. And, at least I don't work with him anymore so there can't be any "OMG they make out at work guys!" rumors.

*giggle*

The Boy, at about 3AM, woke me up to tell me the following:

Boy: "I like flamethrowers!"
Me: "Oh, really? Which kind do you like?"
Boy: "The ones with nozzles."
Me: "Honey, why are we talking about flamethrowers?"
Boy:* giggles* "I dunno!"
Me: "Why don't you go back to sleep."
Boy: "Kay!" *rolls over and promptly begins to snore.*

He talks in his sleep a lot, and it will never stop being adorable.

Fin.

Went to bed naked. Woke up with missing pants on.

Have had trouble walking up and down stairs.

What the ever living fuck went down last night?

I'm going to level with you guys. I went to bed with pants on last night. I really did. They were my maroon UPS sweats, because if I sleep completely naked my ass gets cold, okay. IT DOES.

This morning I wake up groggy with a sore left leg and ass muscles. I am also ass naked, and my sweatpants are nowhere to be found.

This leaves me with two questions:

1. What happened?
2. Where the fuck are my pants?

I just realized...

...I never posted the pictures of me from Halloween. Without further ado, I present...Wrenjamin.



Yes, those are pigtails.

Belated HR Update

So HR is taking the Christmas Decoration Debacle very seriously. They are treating it as a religious discrimination case, and as soon as my letter of complaint is formalized will turn it into a formal review, which means at the very least a letter in her permanent file.

In the meantime, I am convincing my fellow students to go to HR for other reasons, since she seems determined to piss off and walk all over everyone on the staff. For someone that rants about respect, she's not very good at treating us with any.

In short? She's in trouble. Hopefully this will encourage her to talk calmly before swan diving into our throats.

Hah.

I've lost seven pounds since I bought the Wii Fit. :D

Estella is no more. New computer is named "Vicky."

My desktop is back, baby. Looking pretty, and running the Windows 7 64-bit beta with no issues. It does all the things a little computer should do on its own like hibernating, booting, not upping the temperature of my room by five degrees, and not running its fans so loudly I can't sleep if its on.

As happens, now that I have my new tower under control, several of my friends want to redo/build one of their own. Isn't computer geekdom great? I'm just going to order them all to pay with cash and assume I'm stimulating the economy.

Now I just have to get my games installed (what did I do with the Oblivion EP? Oh Hell,) finish tidying up my documents folders, and redo my iTunes Library. *shakes fist*

*snerk*

Unc forgot my birthday.

I got a call from him at 1150 his time, and he left a very apologetic voicemail that didn't outright say he forgot, but made me suspicious.

The dozen red roses I received from him the next day, though? Those screamed guilt.

A word to the wise, guys: Flowers mean you fucked up or you're guilty about something.

The end of an era

I've gutted Estella. She is no more. This is cause for happiness!

Something hasn't been quite right with her since she was built, anyway. I never managed to fix the boot issues (which makes me believe it's the mobo's fault), and the mobo actively refused to recognize a good third of my USB ports (there were two bent pins in that area when it arrived, methinks that's the cause. Fuck you, ex-boyfriend, for getting it open box. It's like the fuck-you that kept on fucking. FOR TWO YEARS!). But, since I had nine ports on the front alone, I dealt with the other problem by never turning off the computer unless it was a dire emergency.

There's a problem with that. My graphics card is the size of Madagascar, and since the PNW doesn't use air conditioning, Estella would make my bedroom easily five degrees warmer than the rest of the house. Also the fans are loud when the room's that hot. And that's terrible.

So when it decided to stop recognizing the other USB ports? I decided change was needed. I bought a new mobo. An Intel mobo. And though it may be a weird thing to say, it's a pretty fucking sexy mobo. Everything is laid out really well, there are no cord issues, things are neatly labeled and color-coded. It's a joy to work with instead of an absolute fucking pain in the ass like the last one was. (Oddly enough, they're both by ASUS.)

While I was at it, I was browsing around and looking at how much prices had dropped, and realized that for $350 I could give my computer enough of an upgrade to work flawlessly for me for the next few years, especially since I tend to run a year behind the PC gaming curve. So I got more RAM, another DVD drive, a new processor (quad-core, stop laughing smugly Tim, it was $10 more than an Intel dual-core) and another hard drive (SATA, not IDE, my old hard drive is going to be retired to file storage.)

I'm still waiting for the processor to get here, but when it does, everything else will be ready. Case was gutted, everything was cleaned, wheels are on (thank god I hate dragging the fucking tower around), mobo is back in, everything is connected. I also downloaded the Windows 7 beta since I'm admittedly curious and definitely have more than enough room for two OSes. (Also I want something that's 64-bit just so I can see.)

In short? Happy birthday to me. In another week I should have a computer I can safely turn off when I'm done for the night.

Resurfacing

Strip Deadwood: Anytime someone says "cocksucker," whoever's name is shouted first must remove an article of clothing. This continues until all members of the audience are naked. Once this happens, start putting clothes back on.

By the end of an episode, a fully-dressed audience of four will have stripped and redressed a single time. On a good day. If the episode features Mr. Wu, the cycle may never stop.

Fuck you, Estella.

About this time last week, my computer decided to stop recognizing USB devices, essentially rendering deaf and blind. I've borrowed an old mouse/keyboard and am working on fixing the problem, but until then?

RAGE.

Oh God

Too tired to think. Cannot wait for weekend.

It starts.

Night of Wii Fit hula hoop and skiing + DDR with Matt and The Boy?

Total fucking, epic win.

Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go nurse my spine.

Hmmm.

Am thinking about getting rid of Blackberry. Want smaller, less cracked-out phone, and don't want to pay $50/mo for internet, which is required if you buy a Blackberry.

Will probably go back to a Sony Ericsson. I miss the old one I had dearly, and the updated version is pretty sweet.

Yes, I am at work and cleaning out my car/paying bills, why do you ask?

Dear Madeline: Post a chapter!

Hmmm.

The problem with having an espresso machine is now I can make it just as strong as I want it. Which means I am never, ever, ever going to be happy with commercially bought coffee again.

But I am going to be alert. Oh God, am I ever going to be alert.

Yay Health

After what I went through with my teachers last semester, I have come to the conclusion that I need to have a formal, documented, fucking notarized statement of disability for when I become an official employee, otherwise I'm going to be dragged to hell and back over the fact that I can't write. ("But you don't look sick!")

So, when I went in to get my meds refilled, I got two referrals. The first is to a psychiatrist who is "very good with treating bipolar disorder, but has a, er, strong personality." (I swear klaxons just went off somewhere.) The second is to a rheumatologist, whom he believes will help me get said diagnosis. I mean, we already know what I have. We just need them to tell my insurance and my employers, right? Right?

Here we go again. ._.

Awkward.

[It's the start of the new semester, and the teachers are handing out the journals "we'll" be writing in during reflection time in class. Journals are passed out to my right, and run out just before getting to me.]

Tess: "That works out well!"
Me: "I know, right?"

[The stack of journals coming from the left also runs out one person before me. This girl, instead of realizing this happened for a reason, freaks her shit.]

Girl: "WE NEED ANOTHER ONE FOR WREN."
Me: "No, I don't."
Adrian: "She doesn't need one!"

Girl: *assumes we're both joking*
Girl: "WE NEED ANOTHER JOURNAL!" D:<
Adrian: "No, we really don't!"

[All classroom activity grinds to a halt, and everyone, including the Dean and all six assembled professors, stops and stares. Someone on the far end of the classroom flings a journal at her out of desperation, and she presents it to me triumphantly.]

Me: "Er, thanks, but I don't use them."
Girl: *absolutely aghast* "Why not?"

Class: *Is she serious?*
Me: *smashes face into laptop repeatedly*

She stared at me for the rest of the class period.

This is what fuming looks like.

So I may finally be mad enough at a coworker to go to Human Resources over it. (WARNING: Rant Content ahead.)

This year, for some strange reason, the office staff decided to decorate for Christmas. And I'm not talking a tree and some lights around the top of the room. We had stockings, garlands, enormous bows, sticky window decals, fake plastic poinsettias and almost every free surface was covered in wrapping paper. It was heinous. Some of the student staff (Okay, me and Shylock) grumbled about not appreciating having to work covered in other people's holidays, but were told they were "holiday" decorations, not Christmas.

Uh. There are angels covering the windows. But because they also bought some Jewish stars and "looked for a menorah" but couldn't find one, it's suddenly inoffensive. Never mind that Hanukkah is a minor Jewish holiday and other religions don't even have one at this point in the year, no. It's multicultural you can't complain.

So I didn't. I think it's a little unfair that these people covered the office in Christmas decor for three weeks and then went out of town for the holiday itself and let us heathens work while being blinded by Christmas lights, but I put up with it because some of my coworkers really liked it. But when I come back and work a grave shift on December 29, I'm looking around the office and decide to take them down. It's after Christmas, I'm dispatching with nothing to do, and I figure it will save Bosslady some time.

So. Tree goes back in tree box. Lights go back in light boxes. Garlands are tied and bagged, ornaments are hand wrapped, window decals are stored and labeled. Stockings are placed on the respective cubicles of their owners. Three hours later, the office has been restored, and everything is neatly put away. All's good, right?

If all had been good, this wouldn't be a rant post. The next day I come into work and find Bosslady waiting for me. Now, Bosslady is supposed to be on vacation. That's right. This woman took time out of her busy schedule to come yell at me for taking the decorations down.

"Wren, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure," I said, assuming we'd head for her office. Nope, she keeps standing right there in the middle of the office, in front of Daryl and Bossman Prime.

"Can you tell me why you took the Christmas decorations down?"
"It was time! They needed to be taken down."

There's a deadly pause. "And what do you mean by they 'needed' to be taken down?"
At this point I realize where this is going.

"Look, I was trying to help you out. It took me three hours to take them down and pack them up. And as I understand it, after Christmas, Christmas decorations go down."

"'As you understand it?'"

"Bosslady, I'm not Christian."

Cue furious backpedaling wherein she changes her tack. "Okay. I'm just asking because I got a call from a coworker who was very offended that they were taken down. The person also said the decorations had been thrown randomly around the office."

Now, anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that's not true. I explain my esoteric fucking organizational system to her, and she changes her tactic again. "Okay. Well, another issue here is that those decorations weren't the office's. They were mine."

"Yes, I know. That's one of the reasons I was so careful with them."

"Well, just because your bag is in the office doesn't give me permission to dig through it."

Here is where I didn't say "yes, but I don't hang my bag on the fucking walls for everyone to see." I'm still proud of myself for this one. Also, office policy is that any personal property we bring has to be stored in the back room. So if she wants to use this argument, she has to admit she was breaking the rules.

Long story short, she goes off on a tirade about respect. How I wasn't "respecting property" or people's religious beliefs because I offended them by taking the decorations down. Nevermind that I neatly labeled the decorations and made sure they were out for people to claim. Or that I've been responsible for taking decorations down countless times before. It's disrespectful, Wren! (Jesus would be ashamed of you!)

Meanwhile, I am being berated in front of a coworker and a friend and being shown no respect myself by being allowed to have this conversation privately. Also, she wants to talk about respecting people's religious beliefs? How about the fact that she didn't check to make sure it was okay to put the fucking decorations up in the first place? It doesn't matter that myself and several others were offended they were put up, because we are in a minority. But one Christian flips his lid that they were taken down four days after Christmas, and I get yelled at.

I've contacted HR. I'll be giving updates. This is fucking ridiculous.

My Yesterday

1.) Wake up. Wonder whether or not am hungover.
2) Drive home from Seattle.
3) Tea and eggs.
4) Yep, am hungover.
5) Nap.
6) Ohgod it's six hours later!
7) Bailey's hot cocoa.
8) Okay still hungover.
9) Fried rice.
10) Sims 2
11) Bake cake.
12) Make Bailey's cake, which is like rum cake but warm and yummy.
13) Showers help hangovers right?
14) No.
15) Sims 2.
16) 6 AM: Clean apartment and go to work.

Sometimes I hate the English language...

And then I come across words like this one:

Callipygian. (From the Greek καλλίπυγος) Adj. 1. Having beautifully-shaped buttocks.