whoa nelly.

I have seen two faculty members in their underwear in the four months I have been on the job. The first was the Stockroom Idiot, and the second? Well!

I was walking through the faculty wing of Wyatt at midnight to check to make sure a window was locked when I see an open office door. Inside it is one of my professors from last year, flopped in a chair, wearing only an undershirt and a pair of plaid boxers. Since I have only seen this man in three-piece suits, this is tantamount to him being ASS NAKED.

Me: O_O
Prof: Generic greeting that leads to conversation! *perky smile*
Me: Inane answer... *must not break eye contact*

Ironically, that is the least awkward that man has EVER been around me. (Maddo thinks he really hates suits.)

Allium is the scientific name for "Onion." We are so sued.

I've got the first rough draft done for one of my two articles appearing in this semester's science magazine. It's an update of something Sarah and I wrote collectively when we were taking Ecology, modified to more accurately suit the tongue-in-cheek, subtle humor of our satire section. If you're interested in reading the draft, here it is. The original is posted here, though I'd suggest not reading it first. There has been a shift in humor from ridiculous to sly, and I'm sad to say the original suffers upon comparison.

"Fools!" said I, "ye do not know"...

It's been a week since Rose and I had our last falling out. I called and texted her on Saturday, and she hasn't replied. So I'm calling it quits. It's her problem, and she needs to come to grips with it. I'm not weak-spined enough to coddle her and beg her back into a good mood anymore. That shit ended in high school.

I just hate it. I miss her when I'm not talking to her, but it's getting to the point where I think my life might be easier without her constantly sending me into emotional highs and lows.

It's odd, tho. I think we have some sort of karmic bond that keeps drawing us together. I keep giving up on her, and then all of the sudden we're back in each other's lives. It really bothers me, because I can never tell if I am doing the right thing.

I wish I could explain it better than that. Sometimes I think we'll never be able to get away from each other. When we were in high school, we used to joke that we'd end up trying to kill each other and end up hospitalized. Then there would be some sort of mix-up and they'd put us in the same room, and we'd be dragging ourselves across the floor towards each other in an attempt to finish the job.

I never thought it would end that way emotionally, tho.

And I was all "whoooooa."

As I'm sure you've noticed by now, the blog has been overhauled. To your left you can see a new archive titled "Archive By Topic." This is where you can go if you're looking for a specific type of blog post. I'd suggest avoiding "Rants" and "Family" if you're not a fan of angst. "Antics" and "Quotes" are by far the most amusing caterogies (though I suppose it depends on your sense of humor, because I laugh at a lot of the posts in "Family.") Do yourself a favor and don't click on "Interwebs."

Most posts from 2006 have been labeled. I am going to be honest and say it is taking everything I have not to split posts into different topics to make labeling easier. So for those of you who are freaking out about the backlabeling I have ahead of me, consider the alternatives.

Dear fingers:

Please start forming callouses quickly. Right now you're being all weak and silly, so my tone quality sucks. Really badly. My accuracy also leaves something to be desired. So if you five could just suck it up and get tough, I'd really appreciate it.

While we're at it...pinky finger? Lift some weights or something. You're really holding us all back.

Wren-ja!

I'm currently feeling very clever due to breaking into my own home.

Here's why.

In Asian Studies my blood sugar dropped and I started feeling dizzy and shaky. But I sucked it up because right before class I had received a package notification, and I KNEW FOR A FACT that it was my mandolin. My freaking TOES were chiming in agreement.

So after class I weave and sway my way over to the mailroom. Lady searches around for a few minutes, finds my package, and hands it to me. I head back to the house. It takes about twice as long as usual because I'm so shaky and dizzy, but I get there.

Only to discover that I have no keys. 11AM is the time when no one is EVER in the house. I usually sit zazen during this time, or game. In the future, this will be my mandolin practice hour. But now? Now this time has gone from pleasant to sinister. Yes, you're low, it says. And yes, you have a new toy. But no one is home, so how are you getting in the house, bitch?

Time and I have never really gotten along. I can be quite honest about that. So I decided to show 11 o'clock that I could kick its ass, low blood sugar or no. So I walk around to the dining room side of the house and pop the screen off a cracked window. (Note to self: Put screen back on.) Next I open the window, shove back the blinds, and deposit the mandolin box and my backpack on the dining room floor.

Getting myself in was a much bigger problem. The window is 5 and some odd feet off the ground, and I am too shaky to lift myself into it at this point. But then I have an epiphany. I steal the glass recyclables bin from the house next door, invert it, and put it under the window. (Note to self: Return glass bin.) Then I put my back to the window, brace my feet against the house next door, and push myself up onto the windowsill. (Note to self: Get rid of muddy footprint on house paneling. Also, never become a ninja or catburglar. You'd get caught.)

I get in, I get some food, and I flop, waiting for the shakes to pass. When I open up Blogger to start this post, Daryl walks in.

"Where the hell were YOU five minutes ago?"
"At lunch."

Fuck you, 11AM. You may have had a laugh, but I am IN my house, WITH my mandolin.

...Unfortunately, I am currently too shaky to get the box containing said mandolin open. I had better become a fucking virtuoso on that thing. A classical mandolin PRODIGY.

Yargh

I just switched to Blogger Beta, so don't be shocked if this site gets a complete overhaul over the weekend. Then again, if I get my mandolin, I highly doubt ANYTHING will happen this weekend. >.<;; Except a lot of not-so-beautiful music.

So I've figured something out. If I get up at 7:10 AM, I can get ready slowly, make some tea, and head off to my 8AM class with no hard feelings. If I get up at 7:30, however, I don't have time to do much of everything, get grumpy, feel crappy, and decide to skip. Next week I am making sure to get my ass out of bed earlier.

I really do feel like hell today, though. But I'm not too worried. We had an exam yesterday, and it is Friday. There is no way we're learning anything dire.

I have to read six chapters of Genji this weekend. At least now I know he's not sleeping with his half sister. She's just his cousin. (But the aristocrats were all inbred, anyway.) He bothers me for other reasons, too:
1) Sleeps with a lady's younger brother when she won't give in to him.
2) Sleeps with women who tell him no.
3) Steals children, raises them himself, and then marries them.
4) Finds a random woman in the dark, sleeps with her, and then finds out who she is later. By accident. Because I know I've just had days where I go "hey, a sleeve!" and just *thrust*.
5) Imagines what it would be like if his male friends were female while they are doing the same thing to him.

What the hell, Heian Japan. I admire your loose definition of sexuality, but am terrified of your pedophilic tendencies. TERRIFIED, you hear me?

8 AM Exams- The Worst Thing Ever

Tea? Check.
Calculator? Check.
iPod? Check.

The three essentials of test-taking are here. Off I go into the chilly grey yonder.

::EDIT AFTER EXAM::
Holy crap. Gregorian chant is the best thing to take tests to. Ever. In the history of MAN.

Big Willie Shake

All my mandolin stuff is here...except for my mandolin. I decided tonight while looking over the rest of my stuff that I am totally going to be a bard for Halloween.

I love music so much. XD

Rite of Spring

Alright, so apparently my circle of friends is collectively beginning the slow downward spiral into whiny insanity. I have two friends right now that I am having rather severe issues with, and a couple more who seem to be taking my resulting stress far, far too fucking seriously.

I am so absolutely goddamn sick of people doing this to me. I have a bad day, I tell someone about said day, and I warn them that placating or coddling me will only piss me off more, and then what do they do? They either do it anyway and shock of shocks! piss me off, or they get whiny and sensitive and yell at me later for taking my bad day out on them. Yes, yell at me for having a bad day. That makes everything all better. Fam does this bullshit to me all the time. Quite a few people in high school did it, too, and I left the state to get away from them. My mother was a mental case, and SHE could tell the difference between my general and directed anger, so what's their fucking excuse?

Let me guess. You have to be off your rocker to understand this. Makes perfect sense to me, but CLEARLY I AM ALONE HERE. If I am brusque and hang up on someone at work, to me that is a sign of job needing instant attention. I cannot fucking take breaks. I can sneak out onto a roof to talk on my phone, but if some dumb twat of a sorority girl doesn't answer her cellphone and her father freaks out, I have to go find her. And until I do, I assume that she is missing. Therefore, I cannot talk. Why can people not wrap their little brains around that concept?

Or, say, my phone signal cuts out because I'm in a weird area of the building. It happens a lot. I can tell the difference between a call cutting out and being hung up on, but I must have some sort of supercharged aural capabilities granted to me from four years of two hundred marching band students playing at full volume in a practice room. That's the only explanation here. And if I don't call you back? It has nothing to do with the kid tagging our library AS WE ARE TRYING TO FIND HIM for three hours of my shift. Nope. Not job-related at all. I just HATE you and want to cause you emotional pain.

So now here I am, fianlly pissed off beyond all reason. Let's take notes on the differences, shall we? For science! I was perfectly happy last night once I finally got home and got my homework done. Clearly five hours of sleep and this bullshit was just what the doctor ordered to spice up my day. The personal center of my universe wants to shake things up a bit, eh?

Fuck you. I have an exam tomorrow and plenty of homework and stress to deal with tonight, you know. One of my housemates has just called a meeting to tell us something, but he refuses to tell us what it's about, or talk about it at all one on one. That's not stressful AT ALL. I have a dentist appointment today to check when my teeth need to get ripped out of my jaws, and I'm not sure I have enough insurance information to actually get this done because my uncle is a bumbling windbag. I also have the two above-mentioned friends to deal with. And this? This was absolutely the last thing I needed aside from a Durango crashing into my face.

Maybe after I wind down from this you'll finally be able to tell the difference between me having a bad day and me wanting to rip your entrails out through your esophagus and stop taking everything I do so personally. Jesus Christ. What tone did you expect me to use when I was telling you what was wrong? Should I have sounded like I was talking about bunnies and the petting therof? Or am I going to have to tiptoe around you like the star of Swan Lake every time I'm stressed out for fear you'll flip out again and make things even worse on my end?

Fucking selfish, inconsiderate son of a bitch. Get over yourself.

Entitlement

Yes, I know one of my coworkers had the "audacity" to walk onto "your" practice field, while you were coaching "your" team, to arrive at "your" car, and give it a ticket. ("Your" ticket, as my boss later said.)

Then again, you had the "audacity" to park in "our" grassy lawn.

Assistant coach-hood does not make you God.

The Red Mandolin

Gather round, friends, for I have a tale to spin.

Thursday we were walking by the sale board on campus, and I see a sign proclaiming "FOR SALE: MANDOLIN!" Immediately I realize that I need one. So I call Marcus:

"Hello! I was wondering, "I" being your niece, how you feel about mandolins and the buying thereof?"

A day goes by. Nothing happens. So I leave another message.

"I wasn't joking about the mandolin, you know. You need to call me. But not if you want to discuss this, because I'm at work. But call me, so we can discuss money."

So then he calls me back.

"Mandolin, huh?"
"Yep. I figured you could pay for the mandolin, and I'd pay for the lessons."
"Okay. But we get to have a concert."
"Sure thing."
"...so how much is it?"
"Should be about $200."
"Oh God, my plane! I'll call you tonight."
"CURSESSSSSSSS."

And then he doesn't call me back, so I called him.

"To ensure you don't forget to call me back about the mandolin, I am going to serenade you. Three! Two! One!
MANDOLIN MANDOLIN MANDOLIN LIN LIN!
MANDOLIN MANDOLIN MANDOLIN LIN LIN!

Call!"

He called, and gave me the money. I think a large part of my success is because he has absolutely no idea what a mandolin IS. For those of you who are with him on that, behold!

And if you want to know what the hell that sounds like, play some of the stuff on this page. I'll be playing most of the renaissance and midieval music.

I have my own line of propaganda now

Since I started that Ebay thing, I decided I might as well re-start my hunt for a "Join the Wrens" poster. Want It Now had better come through for me, because Wren requires original art for framing and hanging on walls.



When I have a house, that is totally going in the kitchen or dining area.

No one is allowed to make "Manbear" jokes for the duration of this post.

Except I just did. Ooops.

So my new winter hat came today. Once I finish the scarf and mittens, I will make a pic of the full ensemble and post it. But in the meantime, here is Wren in a panda hat.



That pic makes my nose look far more crooked than it really is. (Yay for baseball. >.<)

More of the science and the love

"Gyrase" is the best sounding enzyme ever. Guess what it does. No, really. Think about it. It does -exactly- like it sounds like. This is why I love biologists.

Also, bacteria that synthesize magnetite+microscope+bar magnet= hours of endless fun (and dizzy bacteria. Not literally, of course, because they don't have inner ears.)

I work tonight

I am sitting in Premodern Japanese Lit. To my right is an exhange student from Japan. I'm a terrible person because I am staring at him incessantly, but I'm trying to see how much of our conversation he understands. Aha. All of it. He's laughing. (I also may not be over my irrational desire to turn every Asian study abroad student I see into a pet. )

>.<;

I've decided that I'll be a lot less stressed out about work if I meditate beforehand. Tonight I shall test my theory.

"Sumo this, sumo that, sumo squash, sumother tiime..."

The beanbag came in today. It is large and red. Here is some proof. ^^









Comic House is in love. Sarah is, as well, but has forbidden pictures of her.

Hurr Thar Be Hair

The light was good today, so Maddo and I finally got some good hair pics. Enjoy.

Here is Maddo's Fishbowl+Blue Mayhem hair. A little girl at her church told her she looks like a mermaid.


Here is an outdoor pic of my hair.


By our powers combined...

Well, that sucked.

My messenger bag strap broke while I was biking today and dumped onto the sidewalk. My laptop was inside.

Luckily, my laptop is fine.

My goal this weekend is to revamp my damn messenger bag with weight-bearing caribiners and a strap pad. I simply hate backpacks.

Ugh. In an alternate universe, there is a me that is very angry at the world.

Rargh

Sick again. Skipped all my classes yesterday, and one of them today. I think this is a cue that I need to get more sleep.

So sleepy, and I have lab, a symposium, and an editor's meeting tonight.

A brief outline of this evening in Statistics.

8:35 PM- Alright, Stats. It's time to be interesting, right? I mean, after a day of Stemplots and a day of Histograms, we're past the basics, right? A new section, so we'll be moving into the more difficult stuff. That like, requires THOUGHT. Yep!
8:36 PM- *opens book to section 1.2*
8:36 PM- "MEAN, MEDIAN, MODE, AND RANGE? THIS IS SECTION 1.2? HOW CAN THIS COME AFTER SOMETHING ELSE IN THE TEXT? HOW CAN ANYTHING BE EASIER THAN THIS?"
8:37 PM- *incoherent sobbing*
8:40 PM- "DARYL! I need ice cream! Drive me!"

9:00 PM - "Okay. Let's look at the homework problems."
9:01 PM- "DESCRIBE THE SHAPE OF THIS GRAPH?!"
9:02 PM- *notes are on FIRE*
9:03 PM- *OHGODTHEDESK*

Work Stories!

A senior at our university was shot and killed last night at a party in Seattle. We knew him at security because he'd been caught a couple times with pot and paraphenalia. I got into a mini-argument with one of my Bossmans about it, because he seemed to be saying that since he wasn't a model student, his death somehow meant less. I begged to differ. No one deserves to die just because they had the nerve to stand up to a party-crasher or smoked a few joints their freshman year. You can't assign worth to people like that.

On a lighter note, we had a fire alarm at Harrington Hall at about 10AM. We all responded, and Traineeman and I swept the building and made sure everyone was out while the alarm was blaring in our ears. It was like someone had raised a hive of snare drum bees in my skull, and now they were old enough to start throwing parties, and my brain was calling the cops and complaining about the noise. I have never experienced a sound that I FELT rather than heard before this day. (I mean, with the exception of that time my cerebral tissue was actually replaced by a subwoofer. Man, was that ever a weird day.)

Two guys in Harrington were apparently immune to the Snare Drum Bee Revolt, however, because when I keyed into their room to make sure it was empty, I found both of them ASLEEP IN BED. The alarm had been going off for ten minutes at this point, and only me entering the room got them to rise out of their whatever-induced stupor.

The best part? The guy on the left, in his boxers, freaked out when he saw me and hauled his sheets up around his middle with a stare of utterly violated horror. Exactly like you see women do in movies... and only in movies.

Me, I'd be more worried about the alarm. And the bees.

Maybe it was the hair.

Pink- it's not even a question.

My hair is now a neon dark pink- a color which, until 7:30 this morning, I thought was non-existant. Three bad pics to post now. I'm hoping to get some of me and Maddo looking hot at Logjam when we help Daryl pimp out Comic House and Campus Films. Nice sunlight, me with my pink, her with her aqua? Sexy. And, easy to spot. (Sarah, just look for the BLINDNESS when you get out of lab. <3)

It is so weird to see me covered in something this PINK.


This is where the "neon" comes into play.


More after Logjam, mayhap.

Daryl told me two days ago about a girl who went off on a rant about me in Genetics class. Apparently she sat next to me in Microbiology on Wednesday and spent the entire hour staring at my head. Faded burgandy and red is evidently quite sexy, or enthralling, or something. (Well, it still looked good. I was just BORED.) Anyway, during lab, three different people have a conversation about how I am the "only person in the world who could ever pull of this shade of hair."

I went into microbiology today, and she sat next to me again. This time, she ranted about how awesome my hair was to my face, and we introduced ourselves to each other.

Before today, I never knew who she was, or that she had been in a single one of my classes. My obliviousness never ceases to astound me. Then again, when you have ever-changing haircolors, more people know you than you think.

>>; *shaves head*

I'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy my science classes

Microbiology is AMAZING. We did an experiment in lab today that was so much fun Mark has offered to repeat it for the house if we set it up a week in advance. Basically, we froze ice with bacteria.

HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? I shall tell you.

There is a bacterium that is known to cause frost damage. It enjoys snacking on the contents of cell cytoplasm. When cells freeze, the water within them expands, and the cell walls burst, which lets the insides out. Over time, this bacterium has developed the ability to induce water to freeze.

So in lab we took pure water, which has a freezing point of -15 degrees, and brought its tempurature down with an ice and alcohol bath to about -10 degrees. Then we took a dropper of the bacteria, dropped it in, and *bam*! Solid block of ice. It bloomed. Was so awesome.

Apparently this is exactly how they make artificial snow.

I love science.

Was I this clueless? O.o;

Walking out of Stats today, I overheard this snippet of conversation between two very obviously freshmen girls:

"How was class today?"
"Oh, it was boring. All we did was take notes."

Will someone please tell me what they think they've enrolled into? It is clearly not a University. I need to see how long it takes them to realize that the colored pencils, scissors, and glue sticks are just deadweight in their little pink backpacks.

Scientists are not literary.

The guy who came up with the title Whelks to Whales needs to be taken out back and beaten with the alphabet.

Soda Pop Hop

Robot House is convinced I am drunk.

We were in the checkout line at Safeway, staring at the Jonbenet tabloids and discussing how sick her parents were when I see Royal Family gossip goodness. Maddo and I giggle at the thought of "raunchy" Prince Harry photos. I set down the two sixpacks of Henry Weinhard's Vanilla Cream Soda I am holding, step forward, and pick up the tabloid.

Sensing its moment had come, one of the soda bottles rockets into the air and explodes of its own volition. Shrapnel and foam fly everywhere, and I am left standing in some sort of Candylandesque battlefield, holding the National Enquirer, covered in a fine layer of cream soda viscera. Everyone in the store stops and stares. And there is judgement in spades.

Cream soda? Meet penis straw. My revenge is nigh.

Last 12-hour shift for the foreseeable future. All I have to do is stay sane and not maim the Manstork.

I am so fucked.

My family has yet to send my tuition check. It was due 11 days ago.

*sighs*

Dear Partnerman (Coda)

Don't get me wrong. I love working with you. So does Dispatcher. But sometimes you can be the biggest fucking know-it-all on the planet. And since I am prone to fits of that myself, might I suggest that that is certainly saying something?

Today I wanted to take the trainee around. He'd done all the buildings you were doing, and you monopolized him the day before. Yes, you've been here longer, and you're the patrol lead, but Bossman had no problem with me training him some, as well. Your response? "But you have no idea what you're doing!"

One hour later you left a girl you'd had an admit assigned for to rot in a dorm breezeway for two hours. I smell a bit of hypocrisy. I may not have the experience, but I have the training, and if I can't answer a question, I will refer him to our fucking boss. I'm not afraid to tell him I don't know something. He knows I just finished my own training period, because I was very up front with him about that.

Then, when trainee and I dealt with crazy fence-hopping landscapers of doom, you had the nerve to criticise the way we handled it. Did Bossman find them, no problem? Yes. Did we keep them in our line of sight without them knowing we were there? Yes. Did everything get resolved quickly? Damn skippy it did. So what was the problem?

I am so ready for summer to be over. I like you much better as my aquaintance.

::EDIT::
Prince Abubu: on another note, "Manstork" is the most awesome thing I have ever called anyone in my blog
Mike: Who is Manstork?
Prince Abubu: Partnerman
Mike: He is a tall man?
Prince Abubu: yes
Mike: Ah. Does he deliver babies?
Prince Abubu: OH MY GOD I HOPE NOT
Mike: Babies for all, courtesy of Partnerman!
Prince Abubu: I hate you so much sometimes.

<3

XD

I just did an admit for my new RCC (RA for campus houses) into her own house. She was quite embarassed.

*snerk*

I have made a difference!

I ran into one of my old Biology professors (who is now the deparment chair) while locking up the science building, and we got to talking about last year's Cell Biology lab/exam hell. Basically, one lab always gets stuck having an exam right after their lab day. For the entire semester. And most students think that is incredibly unfair. She thought about it, and has decided to e-mail other professors and see if they can start moving exams to days when there are neither classes nor lab so one section of students doesn't always get mindraped by 12 hours of their Bio class ever again.

Can I get an Alleluia?

Observational Skills Rock

I just spent ten minutes crawling around on the dining room floor attempting to locate the earbud tip to my iPod headphones after I accidentally ripped them out of my ears. At minute eleven, I realized the earbud tip was still in my ear.

I am such a dork.

Gadget!

A little over 16 gigs of music (culled from about 22).
No missing artists.
No missing albums.
Cover art for every song.
Custom graphics.

Once my iSkin gets here, my iPod is going to be bitchin'.

Chew Toy Requiem

My new iPod arrived yesterday, and I've been obsessively organizing my music, adding album art, and hacking the graphics ever since. (Squeakerbunny shall take over the world.) I'm debating between "Gadget" and "Squeaklet" as new names, because I don't feel right naming it after Chew Toy. It's too streamlined. >>

For those of you who don't know, Chew Toy entered its death throes a couple of months ago after attempting to stage a coup on Squeaker. Squeaker survived, though I had to reskin a lot of it, and Chew Toy survived...in a way. I could no longer edit or access the songs on it from a computer. Or attach it to a computer at all without things exploding. But, it still played fine, so I just plugged it into the wall to charge it and hoped I wouldn't get sick of the music on it.

This lasted until my vacation with Fam. I suppose my iPod, in its already weakened state, could no longer withstand her blathering on incessantly snoring and quetly slipped into a coma one night.

I mourned the loss of my music for a month. Tim came to visit and did his best to fix it, but nothing was working. He tried to convince me to give up.

"Prove it's broken."
"Okay, give it he-"
"NO!"

Cue a violent struggle between us, him grabbing for the iPod, and me alternately assaulting his ears with my screams and his kidneys with my feet. In the midst of this, the backlight of the screen goes on, and lo! everything looks normal.

We both stop and stare because the iPod was on hold the entire time we were fighting.

Unfortunately, just because it turned back on didn't mean was as good as new. In the end, only one song remained on my iPod.

If you ever want a rousing rendition of "Dude Looks Like a Lady," pick up Chew Toy and pop in the earbuds. It will gladly play it for you. Sometimes.

I just had the most uncomfortable experience POSSIBLE while trying to drink a bottle of cream soda.

"Let's go get some air for the passengers" is probably the wierdest line I've heard in a while.

Snakes on a Plane gets massive, massive points for satire.

It loses massive, massive points for its blatent lack of caring about herpetology. Then again, it was so obvious they didn't give a fuck about this that maybe it has lost so much that became a win. Some sort of quantum fucking physics herpetology loss-transmogrification took place in that theater. (ANACONDA WOT?)

But the crowd was awesome, and I do not think I have laughed that hard in a long, long time. I think the people behind me were in tears. TEARS.

Dear Fam:

Stop taking everything so fucking personally. When my car fucking died in the airport parking garage, I called you.

"You were screaming at me!"
"I was not. It was loud, and I was incredibly upset."
"Well what can I do? I'm three thousand miles away!"

WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I AM UPSET, BITCH?

Things are fine with the car now. But I have no intention of calling Fam any time in the near future. She makes things three times as difficult as they ever need to be.

I am the best girlfriend ever.

Next week is swiftly taking shape in my head. Here's how it looks so far:

Tuesday the 15th: Watch movies and get settled into Comic House. Fall back in love with kitchen by cooking yummy dinner.
Wednesday the 16th: Hang out with Maddo and Sarah? (Hint hint, guys, RSVP. I'd be willing to head to Oly for this one.)
Thursday the 17th: Snakes on a Plane opening show, 10 PM.
Friday the 18th: Work from 7 AM -4 PM (I was blackmailed). Dinner out at the Melting Pot. (Note to self: Make reservation when I wake up.)
Saturday the 19th: Iunno. Hike? More Sarah and Maddo? MAYBE ALL THREE?
Sunday the 20th: Head into Seattle, check into the University Tower Hotel at 3PM. Take the Seattle Underground tour at 6, and eat dinner at the best Thai restaurant in town at 8PM (Yes, I am talking about Typhoon). There's also a Greek Place. (Note to self: Make reservations.)
Monday the 21st: Meet up with everyone in Seattle and make an Uwajimaya run! I'd also like to go to the Woodland Park Zoo if anyone else is interested. >>
Tuesday the 22nd: Iunno yet! I'm too busy being AWESOME to plan that far ahead. But I'll bet it involves being broke. ^^;; But whatever. I'm only me once. And it's not like I have rent or bills to pay next month.

Blockbuster was never this fun

Tonight was a night of rediscovery at UPS security. Dispatcher and I rediscovered our inner children by discussing A Ring of Endless Light and Matilda. And Partnerman? Well, he rediscovered his inner child by poking us repeatedly with a bamboo cane.

Allow me to elaborate.

Wren: *OMGBOOKgrippingpartdramadramatotalengrossment*
Partnerman: *POKEWRENSFOOTLOL*
Wren: *startledglare*
Partnerman: *littleboygrin*
Wren: *giggles hysterically* "You are a BASTARD. I was totally into my book."
Partnerman: "Oh, I know."
Wren: *giggleglare*

And then:

Dispatcher: *typetypetypeyay*
Partnerman: *POKEHEIGHTADJUSTERLOL*
Dispatcher: *suddenlydropsafootlower* "HEY!"

Pause.

Partnerman: *gigglepokebackadjuster*
Dispatcher: *isbentoverbyweightofchair* "AAGH!"

Pause.

Partnerman: *ROFLpokeseatadjuster*
Dispatcher: *isalmostdroppedonfloor*

Pause.

Wren: "You look like a hermit crab."
Dispatcher: *fumes* I KNOW.
Partnerman: *painface*

Pause.

Partnerman: "Why haven't you fixed your seat?"
Dispatcher: "Because I know you'll just do all that again."
Partnerman: "Damnit!"
Partnerman: >>
Partnerman: *sneaksneaksneak*
Wren: *rolls away in chair* NO.

And finally:

Partnerman: *swingcane, swingcane, swingcane, swingcane*
Wren's peripheral vision: *OMFGCANE!*
Wren: *glare*
Partnerman: *giggle*
Wren: *giggle*
Partnerman: *giggle*
Wren: *giggle*
Partnerman: *giggle*
Wren: *giggle*
Dispatcher: *stare*
Wren: "He almost hit me in the face with the cane."
Dispatcher: "Oh. I would also be laughing if that were in my immediate future..."

In the end, I'd say the dispatcher and I made one final discovery: Neither of us are yet ready for children of our own. And our bosses, who all already have their own, discovered they were happy we belonged to someone else.

So tonight there was an arrest. A couple were fighting, and the female ended up getting sent to jail.

I told this to a coworker, and he goes "Wow. I've never heard of a girl being the aggressor."

I started laughing quasi-hysterically. He obviously had no idea whom he was speaking to.

It is now my greatest goal in life to not live past 50

I simply cannot imagine being a functional human being at that point.

I just got woken up by pain in my legs so severe that I cannot go back to bed. I finally found some extra strength pain meds, took three, and am now in some sort of throbbing purgatory until they kick in.

If I have arthritis pain this bad at 20, I am not looking forward to the future. I can't even find the words to describe what this feels like.

...fuck.

I forgot to lock an entire building tonight.

Luckily, when I told my boss at shift change and offered to stay late to take care of it, he said he'd do it, and thanked me for my honesty. I think he knew by the look on my face that I really didn't need to be reprimanded.

So yeah. I'm going to go feel dumb now.

Back to School Present to ME! ^^

I just bought 12 books. The one-click ordering on Amazon is evil, but I figure I just spent what I'd normally be spending on rent on books, so it evens out.

Here's the breakdown. As you can see, it started out seminormal, and then I got an attack of childhood:

1&2) The Tale of Genji- Murasaki Shikibu: Two-volume hardcover boxed set, the newest translation.
3) IT- Stephen King: Hardcover First Edition.
4) Dragonsdawn- Anne McCaffrey: Hardcover First Edition.
5) The White Dragon- Anne McCaffrey: Hardcover Reissue (But only the 3rd in the series. Eat me, you stupid publisherpeople.)
6&7) Exiles Volumes I and II- Melanie Rawn: Hardcover First Edition (WRITE THE THIRD ONE ALREADY I'VE BEEN WAITING SINCE I WAS 12.)
8) A Ring of Endless Light- Madeline L'Engle: Hardcover Reissue (The last copy in stock. >>)
9-12)The Time Quartet- Madeline L'Engle: Special Edition boxed set of all four of the novels (Wrinkle in Time, Wind in the Door, Swiftly Tilting Planet, and Many Waters).

I think that's it! Now they need to get here so I can reads them. (hehe...All female writers except for Stephen King.)

Purgatory

I was sitting here at the desk, bored out of my mind, feeling more and more like a secretary as the day went by, and then discovered the Bagel Man had been there the night before.

My breath now tastes like basil. AND I AM HAPPY.

Also, I'm trying to figure out what shifts will work with my schedule. I think I have it figured out. Classes from 8-11 on Monday, and then work from 4-12. No class till 11 on Tuesday, and only one class, so that leaves plenty of time to get my homework done. Then, for my second shift, I want Friday Grave, so I work from midnight to 8AM. That leaves me plenty of time to do homework and hang out with the housies.

::EDIT 4PM::
This shift is DEAD. Nothing is happening. So much so, in fact, that my boss sent the dispatcher home until 8 or 8:30. I have no buildings to unlock until 2100, and don't fancy four hours of randomly fucking about in the great outdoors when I am crazy tired.

So, here I am for another four hours. Time to update Shoshin and my recipe blog.

Epiphany

I realized something tonight as I was sitting in the passenger seat of the patrol car, desperately clutching the doorhandle to keep from sliding out of my seat, and trying my best not to *eep* because it hardly suits the Security Vibe:

That car that frequently wakes Sarah and me up between 2 and 4 AM when it zooms past our window? I'm in that car, and the person whom I have cursed at repeatedly in the dark hours of the night as I turn my iPod back on and grip Gimp Bunny bitterly is sitting to my left.

7:15 and the dumb is calling

"UPS Security, this is Wren."
"Um...hi, I have a couple of questions?"
"Yes?"
"How much is your yearly tuition?"
"..."

Please do not attend my college.

Work it.

Me: *walks from front of office to near Bossman Prime's cubicle*
Bossman Prime: *working at computer* "Oh, hey bitch."

Pause.

Me: "I assume you weren't talking to me."
Bossman Prime: "Oh, HELL no. I don't want you to rearrange my FACE."

I never thought someone who I see as a complete badass would ever say that to me.

Unwinding

Taking a bubble bath with recently dyed hair is interesting. You let your hair down, plunge your head underneath the bubbles for a couple of songs because you've always liked how they sounded underwater, and when you open your eyes you've been transported to Stanley's suicide scene from IT.

Dear red nail polish,

Fuck you for exploding all over my real silver and gold jewelry. My sapphires would like to add their best wishes for your violent demise at the hands of my lighter.

No love,
Wren, who now has to spend the next hour getting high of nailpolish remover fumes.

Thank God

I'm too sleepy to remember if I mentioned it here, but the girl who is leasing the room after me decided to move in ten days early. So, after my boss talked to a few people, I get to move into my campus house on the 14th. (Hopefully this means our furniture will be back by the 14th...)

Maddo, will you and/or Trevor be available on the 14th or 15th to move the bookcase, desk, and papasan back into the house since they won't fit in my car? We can have a move-in party and pretend we're all back in Comic House. >>

Oh God. Me in the house, two weeks early? I am going to clean, like...baseboards. It's going to be terrible.

There is no pleasing these people.

I smile. I offer to help with the dishes. I didn't bring my Blow Me or Porn shirt. I've been wearing skirts and keeping my elbows off the table. I even toned down my frigging hair and have been wearing a clear tongue stud.

So of course you have to find a problem elsewhere and assume I am making out with/boinking your son from anywhere from the living room couch, to the garage, to his sister's fucking BED. With no provocation. It's not like you walked in on us, or anything. And you know what? You haven't seen anything because there was nothing to see.

Which begs the question...

WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I AM?

I don't care how much sleep I got. 6:30 AM my time to wake up?

UNACCEPTABLE. >.<

I am so many kinds of awesome

I finally found a Sim that will work for me. I still need to tweak her mouth a little, and the hair is a bit long, but I present to you the almost-complete Wrensim anyway!


This is mostly just to show you the eyes and the freckles. Cheeks are too plump at this point, and I abandoned that hairstyle in favor of one where the hair is down.





Full body. I think I did pretty damned good on my profile. I had no idea what my profile even LOOKED like before I started this. I may be, you know, ME, but I discovered that I had spent very little time actually paying attention to what I look like. Maddo and Sarah I did from memory, but me? Had to use just about every damned picture of me I own. (And that's a lot of pictures.)


Action shot one. Pensive Wren?

...I am SO putting grommets on that belt.


Action shot two. Could that possibly be a SMILE? >>

And then for a formal outfit, I decided that nothing but a femtux would do. Again, ignore the old hairstyle. (Though it doesn't look bad with the tophat!)


Ohhhh yeah.

Shakespeare just got to get paid, son.

Sarahsim is complete as scheduled. Next I am going to start work on Daryl, because Matt should be the easiest, and I CANNOT MAKE A SIM THAT LOOKS LIKE ME. Look. LOOK.


..Okay, ignore what she's doing, because that's actually pretty accurate.

Needs more bondage belt. And more glasses. I require librarian glasses.

But Sarahsim turned out quite well once I finally found hair that would work. She comes in two colors: blonde and black.



Some of the humor comes from the clothing names. Her bottom set is "Dark Jeans with All-Weather Black Sandals." If you know Sarah, you get it instantly. >>

I'm still trying to find her a black jacket. If I can figure out how to do some more hardcore editing, I'll be able to make her one.

I'm headed out of town until the 1st or so, so I won't be online much, but I'll be reachable by phone, e-mail, and blog. Sim project is on hiatus until I get back; Squeaker doesn't have Sims on it, and I'm leaving Papoose at work for the boys since we're terribly short next week and most of them will be stuck dispatching for eight hours or more. Putting a patrolperson behind a desk is a cruel crime.

And, before I go, a tale of three hundred cheerleaders and one old pervert. (I am so glad I get paid what I do. This and the cobweb+eye thing happened less than 24 hours apart. I have to GET A NEW CONTACT LENS.)

Ew.

Last night I was doing housing checks at 11PM and got a cobweb in my eye. Yeah, let's just combine my two phobias into one lovely package! I was so distracted when this happened that I ended up walking through a bush. Yes, through. I was on the phone with Mike. He can testify.

My probation ended today, so I am now officially UPS Security. I was told they liked me because I was reliable and am willing to help cover other people's shifts...and that I patrol with Partnerman too much. That's not my fault; I've told him it's an issue, and he will meet up with me anyway. But, summer is almost over, and I'll end up with new people in the fall, most likely, so I'm not too worried about this.

I have to finalize the Maddosim (she still needs an athletic outfit, and I want to tweak her eye color) and the Sarahsim (which I tested briefly before work) before I catch my plane tomorrow. I am still having a hard time getting my sim right. I guess I just need to break down and make a Read shirt and throw on some cargos and call it a day.

I heard you were dead (redux)

Nope, just recreating Comic House again. I cancelled my WoW account and bought The Sims 2, and have since been modding and skinning the game like crazy. My own character is proving very difficult to get right due to a lack of decent glasses templates, so last night I gave up and decided to work on Maddo.

Here is the real deal:


And here is the Maddosim:


There are a couple of differences, of course. The glasses are the wrong shape (but I did change the color to make them work better,) and real Maddo isn't wearing lipstick or smiling in her picture. XP*

I also made Maddosim an outfit that reminds me of two pieces of clothing I really associate with her. The shirt is her "The Protean Self" band shirt- hence the drama masks, and the pants are...red plaid pants. The original pants I used were gothic, had huge flares, and there were skulls and grommets everywhere. They were also guy's pants. So look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.



I'm going to try to tweak the belt to work better with the cut of the pants, and give her close-toed slippers instead of those sandals. The hair is a style I found online that I recolored to match her bleached red hair that she loved (and misses muchly.)

I made a Superman pj/underwear set for her, too, but the sim looks so much like her that I don't feel comfortable posting the screencap online. >.<; (The same goes for her swimsuit.) I'll probably make a Spiderman set, too, but the S logo was a lot easier to edit on than the webbing would be. (Daryl is totally getting Spidey boxers, tho.)

But, I will show you the formal dress I edited for her. It reminds me of a lot of her more formal clothes, among them the silk pants set she wore to Typhoon during that weekend in Seattle.



And that's it. That is why I am sitting here at work and am incredibly tired and headachy. Luckily this is my only 12-hour shift this go-round.

I'm going to start work on Sarah as soon as I can find a hairstyle that works. Why does no one make long hair tucked behind the ears? COME ON PEOPLE. That and standalone cartilage piercings seem to be impossible to locate.

Ohwait. I've just had an apostrophe. Now I just need to get back home to my editing program and try it out.

Merciful Heavens were not in today's forecast.

Dear Stockroom Idiot:
I do not get paid enough to talk to you when you are in your underwear. No, really. Trot back around the fucking corner and get out of my sight. I reject this entire situation.

You are a TERRORIST!

Telemarketing is permanent life destruction. We cannot LIVE!

Dear Partnerman:

I could have given you a long, angry response after you told me you were "trying to speed me up because I walk really slow," but I didn't. Instead, I kept walking at my normal pace and let you run off ahead; this may have annoyed you, but it also kept you alive. Thank me later.

I'm sorry that it's such an inconvenience to you, Manstork. I've had to go through physical therapy twice in the past six years so I could walk. I've broken both my legs, and my knees have gone out twice. Because of this, on damp, chilly days my joints stiffen and my old fractures ache. But, none of that is information you need to know, because what you think of me does not matter. You're not my boss, you're just some kid with a big mouth and no tact who's two inches taller and a year ahead of me.

Tonight happends to be one of those damp and chilly days. I cannot walk any faster right now because of my lovely arthritic flare-up. You're lucky I'm walking at all. But you know what? It shouldn't be a fucking problem, anyway, because no one ever said you and I have to patrol together. In fact, last shift we got in trouble because they think we hang out too much. Head off on your own so you can "cover more ground" and leave me be.

Kthxdie.

Is spending time with family supposed to be that emotionally exhausting?

Erm.

I woke up this morning, and my hair was wavy.

I have no styling stuff with me, so I just kinda stared and went "Ah, fuck it."

Also, my cell phone is dead, so any calls today will be missed. If I'm needed, e-mail me.

Whee!

We just biked ten miles.

God, that was so much fun.

Hardtail I was on sucked so much ass, tho. Oh my God. The seat was made of freaking MARBLE, for one. Definitely not getting that bike. XD

With age comes BORING.

I've been thinking about this more and more intently since it idly crossed my mind at Point Defiance the other day. I was sitting on the sand cliffs at the end of the point, looking out at the bridge, enjoying the stiff breeze that always comes off the water there. The tide was out, so a ways below me was a pebble beach with really nice-looking waves that was absolutely vacant. I wanted to go down there, and there was a path down the side of the cliff, but I didn't.

Ten years ago I would have headed down that path without a second thought. That day I sat there and immediately thought "where would I leave my book? I'm wearing the wrong shoes for that. I could fall or roll my ankle. Getting back up would be a pain. What if the tide comes in?"

What the fuck! Ten years ago I would have stashed my book in a tree and gone down the damn slope BAREFOOT if I thought it would give me a better grip. What the hell happened to me? Is this adulthood creeping up?

I say fuck that. I'm going back there when I get back to town and climbing down that damned path and sitting on that beach. The last thing I want to do is forget how to have fun or lose my sense of adventure.

"Quick, to the Uglymobile!"

Uglymobile.

I ended up sleeping under the sink last night because Fam's snoring was so bad. When she woke up at 4:45 AM and headed for the bathroom, she freaked out when she found me on the floor. I was perfectly comfortable!

But, I now have my own room in the bed-and-breakfast we're staying at. Which is a very lovely house, and the owner seems nice. A little brusque. There is a wine-and-cheese tasting at 6PM, and a hot tub. Fam and I are going to see The Lake House tonight, and then go on a 6-mile bike trail around the lake tomorrow. (That will get me even more psyched to buy my bike when I get back into town.)

Apparently Coeur d'Alene is the white supremecist capital of the nation. I have seen one non-white person since we arrived, and people have been FREAKING OUT about my hair. It's a little unsettling, but at least the lake is pretty. It's like I told Fam: come here for the scenery, not the culture.

We may do some shopping tomorrow, too. I'm in a jewelry mood. I need earrings.

My aunt snores.

I am so fucking tired.

In which I almost die a lot.

Fam decided to rent a full-size luxury sedan and drive us from the airport to the hotel. While on Valium.

DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE FORESIGHT TO SEE THE PROBLEM HERE?

"Oh, I feel fine!"
"I know you do. Trust me, I can TELL that you feel perfectly fine."

But I let her. That is a mistake I will never make again.

1) Directions are impossible for someone on Valium to understand, apparently, because "take the next left" becomes "let's merge onto the highway!"

2) It is permissable to make left turns from the rightmost lane out of four of a one-way street. On a red light. Three times in a row.

3) Left turns no longer need to yield to oncoming traffic, either. That convertible CLEARLY has brakes, and should be using them right about...NOW.

It was like being stuck on a rollercoaster in an amusement park run by Pennywise the Clown. Downtown Spokane will never be the same. Though, looking out the window, that may be a good thing.

Plane Post

Blogging from a propeller plane. I think my feet are going to go numb from the vibrations before we get there. I am so glad the flight only lasts for 45 minutes.

So apparently we're not going to a spa at all. We're just going to a town neither of us have ever really been to...for two days. I think I remember there being a bike trail around the lake, tho, so hopefully this won't end too badly. Fam is quite cracked out so she can fly, and it has been a little stressful, but if things settle down I'll be peachy.

Not much to say except I want a new iPod, a bike, a motorcycle, and a corgi. I'm obsessed. And the answer to this is obviously the episode of Cowboy Bebop where Ein appears.

I fucking love this computer.

Dear Prostitot Cheerleaders:

1) Put some goddamn pants on. I don't need to see your ass, Ms. Hot Pants. You are 12. Girl in thong who got locked out of her room, you are 16, and only SLIGHTY more forgiven.

2) It is not funny to go "hee hee! Wren's back! Haven't you been here, like, three times already?"
"...yes." STOP LEAVING WITHOUT YOUR KEYS.

3) After I open your door, don't stare at it and go "How do I unlock this big boy?" Do keys not EXIST in your orbit?

4) To the six girls who got locked out of their rooms at once after showering. The proper response to seeing me is:
a) To shout "yay, the keys are here!" and run screaming at me to give me a soggy loliphile group hug.
b) To not do the above.

I'll give you a hint. It's not a). I am not "the keys", and the idea of having you all pawing at me in joy makes me wish I were a turtle so I could just drop and HIDE IN AN IMPENETRABLE SHELL. Other people, however, seem to find it amusing:

Prince Abubu: I had six soaking wet cheerleaders try to give me a group hug when I unlocked their rooms last night.
John: ohh man
Prince Abubu: I almost killed them
John: I am just trying to see that
John: wow that is really funny
Prince Abubu: It was me screaming 'no, no! Ladies, we do NOT touch the security guard!"
John: ha ha ha, ohh man
John: that is good
John: that improved my mood greatly
Prince Abubu: well, I'm glad someone benefitted from my pain. XP*

Well, that was unexpected.

While I'm messing around on the time entry menu today I discover that I am now making 12.45 an hour.

I have always hated spinach

And I'm pretty sure I always will. But whatever.

There are easier ways for me to be healthier, anyway. I've stopped buying pop and junk food for the house. I also have foods that take time to make, so I'm less likely to eat out of boredom. And I don't carry enough money to buy fast food (I have this thing about credit cards at fast food places. I dunno.)

I've been craving chocolate ice cream for three days now, tho. Or is it four or five? But now I have an attack of stubborness, and I refuse to give in because it would depress me, anyway.

>>

Yes, Wren Self-Prevention at work again. I know me too well. Too bad I won't be able to do this once I'm back eating full-time at the SUB.

Zach's Back

Gotta love those random texts at 11PM...

Zach: Nice hair.
Me: How the hell... (I thought he was in Germany, and had not seen him since last month.)
Zach: Saw you earlier.
Me: Why didn't you come say hi? =(
Zach: Wasn't an option. (...)
Me: Okay then.
Zach: How is work and summer?
Me: Work is great, but summer is boring, since most people are out of town still.

And then he stopped texting, which leads me to believe he was too drunk to continue pushing buttons.

*relief*

Well, I got a low B in Oceanography after all was said and done, which boosted my entire (though not my major) GPA closer to a respectable number. Hopefully I do better next semester, too. Regular exercise should help boost my immune system and energy levels, for one.

"Tattoo removal services are making a killing off people’s stupidity. "- Seth Macfarlane

So very, sadly true.

Reminds me of the time Flamer Matt wanted me to lotion his freshly done tattoos, one kanji on each shoulder. He told me what they meant, and I knew enough Japanese to realize he was wrong...just not enough to know what he'd actually gotten himself branded with.

Dear Body:

Please tell me why you have stopped liking chicken. Do you know how hard it is going to be to eat out anywhere now?

Love,
Brain

Safeway

Little Girl: "WHOA! What color is her hair!"
Biker Dad: *looks down aisle, proceeds to throw up the horns at me*
Me: *taking this in stride* "I don't know, what color IS my hair?"
Biker Mom: "It looks green, doesn't it honey!"
Little Girl: "Did you make it that way?"
Me: "Yes I did!"
Biker Dad: "No she didn't! All faeries have green hair!"
Me: "...not a fairy."
Biker Dad: "She's a faerie!"
Me: *FLEE*
Little Girl: "YOU'RE NOT A FAIRY! YOU'RE NOT A FAIRY!"
Biker Mom: "Hush!"

Biker Dad, you fail.

Ah, Fourth of July...

Fin.

I NEED TO NOT DO THINGS LIKE THIS

*room is full of security people, eating tons of food and chilling. The door is locked, and a sign on the door says KNOCK, WE'RE OPEN.*
Friend: "I cannot BELIEVE how much money you guys are making right now. LOOK AT YOU!"
Me: "I know! I'm making 18 dollars an hour to *yak* ...cough on lemons!"
Room: "..."
Me: *hysterical laughter*
Friend: "The sad thing is that is NOT the first time I've heard someone say that."

It took me a full five minutes to stop laughing.

Actually, I lied.

I'm still laughing. *snerk*

Oh, do continue...

"That's George Washington, the first president, of course. The interesting thing about him is that I read three—three or four books about him last year. Isn't that interesting?"—President Bush, showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

Bitches!

"I am having lunch!"
"I had breakfast made for me. Hah."
"Yes, and you have a wonderful girlfriend, which is a luxury I don't possess."
"Aww, I'm sure you'll find the right girl for you one day."
"Hardly. They're pretty to look at, but I'd go insane if I dated one."
"Funny, now that you mention that..."
"XD"

I really love my coworkers. I'm filling in for a kid who swears up and down he's sick (I call Fourth of July Jungle Fever), but I'm not about to complain because I'm making 12 hours worth of time-and-a-half for being here. Also, the grave shift is coming back around 6, and we're going to have a 4th-of-July barbeque. All in all, far more than I would have been doing had I not been called in, and while making $215.

God, that's as much as I used to get as my entire PAYCHECK at Blockbuster. I cannot believe I spent two years there.

On another note: I'll be spending my free time today making a Blue Seed AMV.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

Two stories

Both posted over at customers suck:

Summer lovin, having a blast! Summer lovin, happened so fast. I met a girl, crazy for me, I met a guy, cute as can be. Summer days, drifting away, but ah! for those summer nights!

In your itsy bitsy teeny weeny riding up the butt bikini, keeping on the heels cuz you're sagging just a teeny bit more than the girls he pretends he doesn't thrill, rubbing on the lotion, and rockin on the horse sized pills.

Typing to keep myself awake

After work yesterday, I actually fell asleep sitting up while arranging my bedclothes around me. I woke up a few hours later lying on my legs, completely disoriented, and in an incredible amount of pain due to my hip being pissed off. Feels fine now, tho. Still, I didn't think I was -quite- that tired.

The dispatcher and I had a mind-reading moment today when Partnerman walked in wearing a pumpkin, red, purple, and grey plaid shirt over a red undershirt with white shorts and orange flip-flops. Everything was going fine until we made eye contact. She grinned, I snickered, and it was downhill from there.

Partnerman's roomie: "What are you guys laughing at?"
Me: "We're having a girl moment. It would be best not to notice."
Partnerman: "What?"
Dispatcher: "It looks like you just got in from Hawaii."
Me: "Don't be silly! There's no plaid in Hawaii!"
Partnerman: - -;;

It was the white shorts that did me in, in all honesty. Though he usually has better dress sense than that. When we first started working together I had him pegged for a nerd because he always buttoned his polo up completely (including the forbidden "dork button"). Well, one day he forgot, and I learned the actual reason why. Thus, I assume today was laundry day.

Days off!

So, who wants to go see The Devil Wears Prada with me? I ADORE Meryl Streep.

Icons and hate

Straight from the PotC: Dead Man's Chest trailer. Johnny's next line is "I happen to have no dress in my cabin!"

Unfortunately, due to the amount of time I spent getting the perfect screenshot for this icon, I'm pretty convinced Elizabeth and Jack don't actually kiss. Her eyes are open, his are shut, and she pulls away from him slightly.

Maybe she's just a tease and there's still hope for hot sex. Happy thoughts, Wren.


This one is for Maddo. And those of you who see the movie MUST AGREE THAT IT IS TRUE. Tumnus crowns her and thinks "ah, now to wait ten years." *thumb-twiddle*

Though I can't decide if I should make one that is less overly cheesy and more, I dunno, less subtly joking. Maybe if I can master the art of the animated gif I'll give it another go.

Here's the banner I made, also for Maddo. (Tell me if you want different dimensions...)

Yes, that is star eraser brush+lens flare. SHAMELESS. ^^


And finally, what happens when you have twelve hours of shift and one actual hour of work to do. Yah, that's a sketch from Poe's LJ, badly colored and butchered by me at 4AM.

It's not easy being green... ^____^

I was just completely shunned by a lone Mormon.

Good thing he's headed off-campus today; it's rather hard to ignore a Maglite.

One of the camp counselors called last night and complained that we weren't sending female officers to do admits for the Mormon girls. Well, we kinda can't, when there are only two female patrol members out of 14 or so people able to let you in. So shut up.

I then got into a debate with Tom about whether this counselor would be more upset if he was sent to let them in, or I was. We figured it was pretty even until I suggested I hit on the girls as I was admitting them. I'm not a mean person, however, so will refrain from doing so without justifiable provocation.

Ugh.

Only halfway through the shift. I feel tired, sick, and headachey. I blame popcorn and flourescent lighting.

::EDIT::
Actually, I lied. I think it it's my meds that are making me sick.

Most of you have seen these already by now...

But for those who have not, I present to you my green hair:




Yay for color coordination.

Because we can can can!

I took a pic of me blonde that doesn't suck. But the green dye is soaking in as we speak, so it's kinda a useless thing now, anyway.



And here's one of me and the roomie, because I clearly just want to be like her.


As soon as the green is done I'll post pics.

^^;

Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But whips and chains excite me.
So throw me down, tie me up,
And show me that you like me.

I am a moron.

Tonight I finally decided it's a good idea to password my photo directory. Sorry for those of you who liked convenient linkage.

Bubbler is now listed as KOS, just FYI.

*shakes head* I am never going to live down Bunny Wren.

Duck, Magnum! DUCK!

The hairstylist thinks I'm hysterical because I walked into the salon with purple hair, plan to dye it green, and yet hyperventilated when I saw myself blonde. Makes perfect sense to me; I'd rather be mistaken for a druggie slut than a rabid prep. Also, it's odd to see my skin have more color than my hair. I look...oddly tan. Alive, maybe? Is that COLOR in my cheeks? At least my eyes are still happy being green.

One simple color change has turned my carefully cultivated nerdslut look into some sort of sporty pseudo-prep hell. I plan on wearing a large sombrero until the green dye arrives on Thursday.

Ah hell. Without further ado, here thar be pictures.

As you can see, it's pretty brown at the roots, though the red and purple were still scarily obvious on the tips.


They put me in something called "a heavy foil." That doesn't mean a lot of foil. It's literally a fucking heavy foil. My neck hurts, and I was all floppy. (Ignore the pic qual. Cameraphone.)


It ended up being a very heavy foil, indeed. Topheavy.
"Look, I'm a metronome!" *wobble* "Ohfuck-!"


Maddo found the entire ordeal highly amusing.

And now, here's what you guys actually wanted to see, linked because I am still too traumatized to look in the mirror:
1) This is not me.
2) This is also not me.
3) This is a very sad me.

As soon as it's green, it will look amazing, but right now it's just...scary. You can see traces of red and purple left at the ends, and some strands of my hair were left unbleached. All of that is going to give the green amazing depth, so when it's out in the sun it will be even more awesome.

I'm going to go hide now.

Tomorrow I will be blonde.

The things I come across at work

This is not an interview--it's a catfight.

Assimilation

One of the side effects of working with the same person all the time is gaining the ability to communicate silently. We'll go through buildings together, and always know where the other person is going to check, so we get it done in half the time with no conversation--about what we're doing, at least.

And patrolling about campus? Practically predatory. When one of us pauses, the other will notice immediately and start looking for the disturbance. We listen for sounds, pick up on smells, track them down, and then enter in a formation that best suits the situation. It's pack behavior, and it's a little unsettling.

Then again, it does help us track down free brownies a lot. Which reminds me. The new 7-Up is really good.

I sleep now, but if you want to read about some suckage on the job, clicky.

Dear World: Fuck you and your sense of timing

You were right if you sensed coldness and a little bit of anger in response to the text message you sent me tonight. Some of it is from having an exam tomorrow, being tired from work tonight, etc. But most of it is, in fact, what it seems.

Fuck you. You haven't spoken to me since the middle of my Winter Break, after you knew for a fact I was angry at you. But you didn't care. And I understand that. You've never really given a fuck about anything, have you?

You texted me at 2:30. I'll bet you were drunk. This isn't you swallowing your pride and making amends; this is you pretending that nothing happened and assuming that I will do the same. And I say screw that. I know exactly what you're doing. You're bored, and you want to toy with me some more.

I am not a man, and I'm not your little bitch. So when you call me tomorrow, you had better fucking prove me wrong about you. I am not letting you do this to me anymore.

Gah. I was so sure I'd never talk to you again, too. I'm still not sure how I feel about it either way. Except for the deep sense of anger that is going to keep me awake tonight.

Serendipity

I have an exam and two labs tomorrow and have to work until midnight. So of course, dispatcher goes home with a migraine and leaves me the last four hours of my shift to sit at a desk and study. I'm sad that she has to deal with a migraine, but happy it worked out the way it did.

Now if only my nose would stop bleeding. I've already changed the bathroom trash and disenfected the bathroom once. - -;

Cobwebs

This is the only job I've ever had where there has been a need or a means to run and hide from one's bosses for three hours. This is also the only job that has caused me to gain a face full of cobwebs more than once a shift. Or that has given me a reason to climb to the top of a steeple and crawl around in a basement tunnel in the same hour (oh signing walls, I WILL FIND YOU.)

I offered to loan Partnerman a copy of Katamari Damacy, which caused him to invite me to his housewarming party on the 24th. I won't know anyone there, but I feel like I should go. If I don't, I'm worried he'll think I don't like him. And who knows; he and his friends are more mature than most of the drinkers I know, so it may be tolerable. He told me to just call ahead and see what's going on before I decide.

And now, two short letters:

1) Dear high school kids on bikes--
Yes, I understand that you're put out that we told you to get off campus, and then beat you to the parking lot where you thought you were going to keep doing your clown tricks unhounded. Doesn't it sting when you find out you're one of the predictable masses? But no, I will not "suck your sack;" judging by how fast you're biking away while yelling those obscenities at me, I doubt they've dropped yet anyway.

No love,
Security chick who could take you both

2) Dear cheerleaders--

NO.

No love,
Security chick who is sick of you forgetting your damned keys

Last Night: A Study in Madness

I've decided that the problem with Maddo, Sarah, and me hanging out with each other only once a week is that instead of our normal level of daily insanity, we feel we must CRAM AN ENTIRE WEEK'S WORTH into one night.

Thus, I present to you a textual smattering of what we brought down upon Olympia last night.

DRIVING:

Sarah: "Okay, turn up there."
Me: "Up where?"
Sarah: "There!"
Me: "...Which direction...?"
Sarah: "That way!"
Me: "SARAH!"
Sarah: "Left! Left!"
Maddo: XD

Maddo: "The turnabouts are coming up."
Me: "I love turnabouts."
Sarah: "Really?"
Me: "Yes, they're very efficient. So I go all the way through this one?"
Sarah: "Yes."
Maddo: "Wren, you were supposed to go right there."
Me: "I was going all the way through!"
Sarah: "It's fine. This is why it's a turnabout. Just get it on the next go round."
Me: "Correction: Efficient when Sarah is not the one giving directions."

AT DINNER:
I think I overdid the nerdslut look, because Sarah swears up and down the waiter (henceforth known as the Wall Gremlin) was giving me the eyes. Maddo thinks it was my rather bad timing in conversations:

Me: "Maddo, next time that happens, grab a lot of lotion, and give your legs a massa...
Wall Gremlin: "Can I get you another soda?"
Sarah and Maddo: *snerk*
Me: >.<

I'll leave the decision up to you. Tie+glasses, or bad timing?

And then some stuff that simply cannot be explained:

1) Sarah: "What the hell is that?"
Me: "...a lemon..."
Maddo: "Buttlemon."
Sarah: "Actually, it looks like a nipple."
Me: 9.9 *tosses it on her plate*
Sarah: "EW! I WAS GOING TO EAT THAT!"
Me: *Puts it on appetizer plate*
Sarah: *shoves it into the marinara dish*
Maddo: *covers in foccacia squares*
Me: "Oh my GOD."
Wall Gremlin: "...Ladies, can I get that plate out of your way?"

2) Maddo: *spits water all over table, chokes.*

AFTER X3: A story in three parts!

1) What I heard:
Me: "If I were a mutant, my superpower would totally be spontaneously generating ties."
Sarah: "From where?"
Me: "From my NECK, of course!"
Both: *Hysterical laughter*

2) What Sarah heard:
Me: "If I were a mutant, my superpower would totally be spontaneously generating pies."
Sarah: "... ...from where?"
Me: "From my NECK, of course!"
Both: *Confused laughter*

3) What Maddo (and her father) heard:
Both: *BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAFLOPFALLGASPSQUEAK*
Father (on phone): "What is that noise?"
Maddo: "Wren and Sarah."
Father: "What are they doing?"
Maddo: "What are they doing? Laughing. Loudly."
Me: "Oh God, he thinks I'm such a freak."
Father: "They are such freaks!"

Squeak.

I brought Squeaker in to take notes in class today, and ended up bonding with three other girls over tiny laptops. Then, the absolutely gorgeous girl who has the nerdslut look down even better than me (it's because she's tall) started showing pics of her chinchilla, so I brought out my rat pics.

Then we all went to the zoo for our last lab and had a fun time running around and looking at the animals. I bought a stuffed octopus and spent far too much time in the touch pools.

After that I realized it was far too pretty of a day to just go back home, so I went to the beach. Those quizzes that ask if you prefer mountains or beaches have it all wrong. I prefer both. >> Saw a sun star and a kelp crab and went wading for a little bit, then took a brisk walk along the sand with the vague idea that it would help my knee (fine-tune balancing responses). On the walk back I cut up a small cliff to take the path back to my car and ended up getting within five feet of a year-old male deer. Finally, I spent some time sitting on the cliff at the end of Point Defiance looking over the water at the Narrows Bridge.

It's been a nice day so far. I think I'm going to go running and then try to do some homework outside on the green by Wyatt.

When I'm back from running I'll post some of the crazy antics that went on last night between Maddo, Sarah, and me. X3 was pretty terrible, but watching it with open captioning made it a lot better.