post flood!

Today I made the mistake of doing laundry while on the phone with Matt J. It would not have been a mistake had Comic House Matt not also been there. I was having a perfectly normal conversation about how Matt J. needed a haircut because he looked like he had a dead ferret on his scalp when I reached into the washer to grab some wet clothing. Without paying much attention, I took a pile of laundry the six steps to the dryer and started loading it. All of a sudden, I hear Matt L. began to giggle hysterically from his bedroom. I look to my right.

There is a long string of elastic stretching from the washing machine to my hands, and hanging from it in the middle like a confused bungee jumper is a bright pink set of briefs. I also start giggling hysterically.

Wren: "Oh, wow, I think the washing machine just ate a pair of my panties! There is elastic all over the place, and my panties are hanging in the air."
Phone: "..."
Matt L: *laughs hysterically*
Wren: *starts pulling on the elastic coming from the washer*
Elastic: *keeps coming from washer*
phone: "..."
Wren: *starts walking toward Matt L.'s door, bringing long string of elastic with*
Elastic: *stretches from washer to door, all the way down the hall.*
Wren: "And people wonder why I found underwear in my computer fans."
Matt L: *still laughs hysterically*

Cue two minutes of me pulling at elastic in a vain attempt to get all of this under control. Throughout this entire debacle, Matt J has been utterly silent on the phone. The two of us in the apartment, however, cannot stop laughing.

I finally get all of the elastic out of the washer, give the panties up as a lost cause, toss them in the trash, and attempt to salvage my conversation with Matt J.

Wren: "I'm okay, I'm okay."
Phone: "I really don't think you're okay."
Wren:*bursts into hysterical laughter and collapses on the washing machine*
Phone: "See?"

One hour later.

Matt L: "oh, there's a pair of panties in the trash."
Matt L: *pause*
Matt L: *throws garlic on top of them and walks away*

I thought about the oddest things while getting my MRI

For some reason, being stuck in a narrow plastic tube while the aural equivalent of a bunch of troglodytes with clubs and rocks bashed about my ears and spine made me think of Hawaii. Because of this, today I accidentally pinpointed the exact day I discovered I was a nicer person that my mother. (Before the snide remarks start, remember that the operative words here are than my mother.)

We were driving to our house, and my mother spotted one of our neighbors mowing the lawn. In gym shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, a medical facemask, and enormous dirt biker goggles. My mother starts laughing hysterically, grins at me and says "someone needs to tell that man about fashion sense." I pause, look at him, and say "mom, I think he just has allergies." She goes quiet, looks at him, and then stares at me. "... that never would've crossed my mind."

She was definitely right about that one.

This is shaping up to be the best summer I've had in a long time.

Periodically over the years we have lived together, the members of Comic House have come up with shirts we felt we simply must create. My all-time favorite was the "Mr. Peen and the Vay-Jay-Jays" band shirt (which I still have every intention of designing), but at Matt's birthday dinner we came up with one that ... well, it may be the best thing ever.

THE HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA: Keeping children Play-doh free since 1983!

Yes, I will explain. We discovered at a table of two gay men, a bisexual male and female, and two straight females that there was a direct correlation between the amount of Play-doh eaten as a child and the consumer's resultant sexuality. People with no exposure to Play-doh, or those who never ate it, were gay. Those who ate it once or twice were bi. And those who thought it was a bedtime snack were straight.

Intrigued, we all asked our circles of friends how much Play-doh they had eaten as children, and the vast majority of the answers have followed this trend.

I, for one, find this to be amazingly awesome.

Ironically, you were exactly right.

"Want to come over?"
"Yes, but I'm grumpy. I'll just say something to piss you off and then we'll both be unhappy."

You're grumpy? I've had electricity shot through half my muscles, needles stabbed into me while I flexed, metal rasps run over the bottoms of my feet. I have been poked, prodded, stretched, and intentionally caused pain for the sake of diagnosis. I have spent most of the day scared and stressed out. And you don't want to come over and keep me company while I pass out because you are grumpy?


How nice.

Well, at least I'll know.

I have an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow at 1 to discuss my arm issues and possibly get an EMG. For those of you who don't know what that test implies, look it up. And then send me spirit vibes.

At least we're getting closer to figuring out what the hell is wrong with me.

I am going to feel squicky for the rest of the night

Q. What's worse than finding a spider the size of a quarter on the wall by your bed when you get home from work?
A: Finding the remains of the moth it had just consumed all over your sheets.

The apartment is lovely

And I am almost completely done unpacking.

Come visit us!

People keep calling me "diplomatic"

Really, I've just come to terms with the futility of getting angry at my family. If anything, it makes them even less willing to fix their fuck-ups than does my current stance of annoyed apathy.

Unc is the one who told me I couldn't stay at our summer houses while I was waiting to move in to the apartment. Ironically, Unc is also the one who never deposited any money for the hotel into my bank account. This means that last Tuesday my account overdrafted for almost 300 dollars. Granted, this is what I get for trusting him and not checking my bank account more carefully the day they were supposed to have given me my money. Then again, I didn't realize that he could be so incompetent as to be unable to perform the three mouse clicks necessary to transfer funds from his account to mine. I mean, I knew he was lazy, but that lazy?

Last Tuesday was a lovely blur of stress and rage. It took me four hours to get ahold of him. In fact, I wasn't the one who got ahold of him at all, which suggests he was avoiding me. Fam called him and told him about the overdraft, which caused him to realize that he'd never deposited the money. Her response to this was "you call her yourself and tell her what happened." So he did. I told him that I had with the overdraft on my credit card, but I still had a -$40 bank account summary. He apologized and told me he was going to put the money in. I breathed a sigh of relief, took a nice long bath, and went to bed happy.

Wednesday: no money in my account! Overdraft fees are starting to accrue, and I'm beginning to wonder whether or not I will be able to feed myself. I call him twice, and get no answer.

Thursday: no money in my account! I call Fam and ask her what's going on, and she says that he told her he had deposited the money. I tell her that the opposite appears to be true, and that I now have over $100 in overdraft fees.

Friday: Unc finally answers. He's on his fucking yacht at the lake, and admits to me that he has not deposited the money. Why? "I was having computer problems."

...

Several responses ran through my head at this point. First, "Odd, I was having problems buying food!" I also wanted to ask whether or not his two days had been so astoundingly busy that he hadn't been able to trot his ass into a bank or a fucking library to deposit the money. I understand that yachting is incredibly necessary in his line of work (after all, nothing quite screams "Professional Assclown" like a yachting hat), but would the world have ended had he stepped off the deck for two seconds? And, a courtesy call telling me " Hey, I am too lazy to deposit your money, I hope you have food!" would have been nice. But, I say none of these things. A bit wearily, I ask him when he thinks he will be able to deposit the money.

"Tonight." All right. I go to bed again, albeit a bit mistrustfully.

Saturday: no money. Unc is not answering his cell phone. Again.

Sunday: see above. I now have $155 in overdraft charges, and have been buying groceries with my credit card. The fact that I actually can still provide food for myself is comforting, but one should never have to put groceries on a credit card.

Monday: Unc answers his phone. "I deposited almost $1000 into your account." "Well, it's not there. Maybe because it was a weekend, but I have a feeling that's not it. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know."

And here we are, one week later! I call him this morning to inform him that I now have $200 in overdraft charges, and he takes it upon himself to get onto the bank website as we are speaking."what does your bank account end in?" I tell him. There is a pause. "That's the problem! I put the money in my savings account!"

What.

At least I have money again. He gave me twice what I asked for out of guilt, so I can't really complain. I just wish he didn't think every problem can be fixed by throwing money at it. The fact that he couldn't fucking remember to make sure that I had a roof over my head is a little upsetting.

Christ on a Cracker

I really don't fucking understand people sometimes. When I am angry, I tell people not to talk to me until I calm down. It's kind of for their own good. Because when I get angry, I am very adept at tearing people apart. And when I am angry, I have very few scruples about doing just that.

And yet you keep on prodding at me. Now we have decided on the Facebook approach. Yes, I am aware you sent me an e-mail last week. I don't need your three-paragraph justification on why you did it. I don't care what mindset you were in, or what effect the sending had on your fucking chi. What I need from you right now is a prolonged absence from my life. I've told you this. I keep telling you this. But, shockingly enough, you keep doing the selective understanding thing:

"Why did you unfriend me on Facebook? I said I was sorry."
"...What part of 'I'll call you' did you not understand?"
"I just want to know why you unfriended me on Facebook."
"Because being bombarded by your emo bullshit annoys me. Leave me
the fuck alone."
"Well, it sent a rather confusing message."
"Was it 'leave me the fuck alone', by chance?"
"Why, yes, it was. Sorry for pestering you so much, by the way. I don't
want to bother you while you need your space."
"...Leave me the fuck alone!"

I'm not sure why you think being remorseful should automatically make everything better. You royally fucked up. You said something epically stupid, pissed me off, and now you need to be a man and deal with the consequences. Life doesn't get better just because you have decent hindsight. That's the great thing about words--they tend to stick around. And you get to live with the consequences of what you say. Don't try to play it off like it wasn't that big of a deal in the hopes that I will suck it up and move on. I won't. So stop talking to me, stop downplaying this, and stop trying to guilt me. I have no patience for high-school drama. If you want to whine, there are more appropriate forums.

In the future? Brain, then mouth.

A quote that took me over a week to remember.

Maddo: "Ah, Shrek II; the best Cameron Diaz has ever looked."

(Yes, that is the one where Fiona spends most of the movie as an Ogre.)

I hate being transported to the sets of B-movies.

Today I had to enter a house to turn off a lot of lights Facilities left on. One of the lights turned out to be in the basement, and I ended up having a horrible time finding the switch.Of course, the sheer creepiness factor of the basement didn't help my search. What passes for the ceiling is actually a network of thin aluminum sheets that have been nailed haphazardly to create a pocked, saggy, and highly reflective surface that only partially covers the pipes and wiring. The floor is cracked, exposed concrete, covered with years of dust and paint splatters. The walls are completely missing in parts, but what still stands is a brilliant avocado green with generous helpings of spackle. Even better? The damn thing is enormous!

I'm stumbling around, still attempting to find a light switch, when all of a sudden I come across a mirror. A mirror, suspended from the ceiling by wires, in the dead middle of a room, at chest level. Nothing else is in the room except trash piled in a corner. Instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I found the damn light switch and left the house as quickly as I could.

That mirror is one of the most terrifying things I have ever seen.

Something tells me I need to start thinking these things through

A few weeks ago I changed my voicemail on a whim. I had been getting messages for months telling me "wow, that was really depressing, blah blah blah blah...", and I got rather sick of it.

Shocking, I know.

So, while waiting for Daryl to leave a drug store with his Life Medicine, I called my voicemail and changed it to something a little more peppy. Alright, it's a lot more peppy:

"People keep on telling me that my last voicemail was too sad, so...HII, this is
WREN! LEAVE A MESSAGE, OKAAAY?"

Which is probably why it terrified everyone else in the car. (What, am I not peppy, you bastards? D=)

Since then I've been getting the oddest voicemails. Like the secretary who was laughing so hard it took her two minutes to tell me I had an appointment tomorrow. Or, like the dude today:

"Hey, I just dialed a wrong number, but I wanted to let you know that is the most awesome thing I have heard in a long time. So, have a good day and take care!"

I need to add a label called "relief."

I didn't fail Genetics.

I knew it was a mistake before I called.

Me: *ring! ring*
Fam: *answers angrily* Look, I know I haven't deposited the money for the hotel yet! I'll do it first thing tomorrow!
Me: ...What?
Fam: Aren't you calling about the money?
Me: ...No, I was calling to wish you a Happy Mother's Day...
Fam: ...Oh.

Facebook made this come to mind.

She turned away, what was she looking at?
She was a sour girl the day that she met me
Hey, what are you looking at?
She was a happy girl the day that she left me

What would you do?
What would you do if I follow you?
What would you do? I follow

Dont turn away, what are you looking at?
He was so happy on the day that he met her
Say, what are you looking at?
I was a superman, the looks are deceiving

The rollercoaster rides a lonely one
I pay the ransom note to stop it from steaming
Hey, what are you looking at?
She was a teenage girl when she met me

What would you do?
What would you do if I follow you?
What would you do? I follow

What would you do? ....

The girl got reasons
They all got reasons

What would you do? ....

Hey, what are you looking at?
She was a happy girl the day that she left me
The day that she left me / the day that she left me
She was a happy girl the day that she left me
The day that she left me / the day that she left me
She was a happy girl the day that she left me

Dear Uppity Piano Tuning Bastard:

I realise that piano tuning is a dying art. In fact, this is probably why we are stuck with you and your stellar personality, which is likely to soon manifest into its own entity if you do not surgically remove the stick from your ass in the near future. Clearly you being two people at once makes you on some level superior to me (at least in terms of density). However, keep something in mind. Yes, I may not be able to stand there with a tuning fork and a set of pliers and make a Steinway sound like a choir of angels (mostly because I don't have that sort of anal retentive patience), but that does not mean I am an idiot.

I put you on hold. I know, how rude of me, but I was trying to find information on you. You hung up. We did not "lose our connection." You hung up on me. And I am fully aware of that fact (just as anyone who has a concept of what a flashing light on a phone suddenly disappearing means would be. Dispatching is not rocket science.)

I told you we'd send someone over. You asked when. I answered as soon as possible. Apparently you need to know an exact time frame, despite the fact that you are not even at the fucking door yet. I must have forgotten that time bends for you. God Himself will descend from upon high with a key made from the hopes and dreams of children everywhere simply so you may enter our Student Center and tune a beat-up baby grand that will likely get more use as a massive rolling hour'dourve tray than a musical instrument.

That's right. All your hours of twanging and tuning are supporting cheese and crackers. Now take your stellar personality and get the fuck off my campus.

No love,
The girl who just had a five-minute "let's make fun of you" fest with her boss on our radio system. (He doesn't like you either.)

And here is what happens in a world NOT dominated by sanity...

I recently discovered that I will have no home from May 14 to June 1. Everyone I know will be out of town, so there will be no crashability. Not a problem, though, right? After all, my family owns houses on Hood Canal.

Well, apparently it is a problem, because they're not letting me stay there.

That's right-- instead of letting me stay at a house they OWN, they are paying $1K to put me up at an ExtendedStay.

Buh.

I don't even know where to begin on this one.

I'm going to have to begin this one my saying one of my bosses absolutely HATES Partnerman. This of course means that by extension he has to hate me. That's just some sort of law of the universe or something. It has been an annoying issue, but it has been tolerable.

Until Tuesday. On Tuesday, Partnerman and I walked into work and each found a write-up sitting in our inboxes. A write-up stating that we both apparently refused to take cafeteria trays back to their homes.

Refused.

So here's what happened in a world dominated by sanity. On Sunday, Partnerman and I ate food. (Shocking, I know.) To get said food back to the office, we used a tray. An hour before the end of our shift, Idiotboss asks if we'll take the tray back. Partnerman says that he will do it. We rush to get everything done, and he offers me and Dispatcher a ride home. As he's cutting out to drop us off, Idiotboss again asks about the trays. Partnerman says quite clearly "I'll do it, I'm giving these two a ride home."

So he drops us off, goes to get changed, comes back, and teh trays are gone. Well, that's that, right?

Nope. Because we both refused to take the tray back.

Needless to say, we go in to talk to Big Boss. I was worried he'd be an ass about it, but he agreed that a) this was dumb and not worthy of a write-up, and b) a complete overreaction on the part of Idiotboss.

So now Idiotboss has to talk to Big Boss. Hopefully next time he feels like being a spiteful idiot he remembers this event. If not, it is going to be a very long summer.

><

Packing fails.

I am so sick of going through this. D=

buh.

You know it's going to be one of those days when you can't find a single pair of pants when you wake up.

pretty pictures!

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Totally Undignified

So, I found the downside to writing papers by speaking.

Hiccups.

photo courtesy of Amatoris

Oddly enough, that's always the first thing people liken my eyes to...

I don't understand Mondays

it has been a weird day.

Last week, I was talking to Sarah about how mundane a story I have for my injury. People see my brace, which is silver, steel reinforced, and bad ass. Then I tell them what's wrong, and lets face it-- talking about damaged carpal tendons and injured ulnar nerves also sounds pretty bad ass. Then, they ask what I did to cause this, and I say... typing?

Talk about a letdown.

So Sarah comes up with the bright idea that every time someone asks I should look them in the eyes and say "too much masturbation."

It has been a weird day.

I woke up early this morning so I could go in to class and take a quiz. I have to say, it's a little unnerving to have the professor pretending not to listen as you pretend not to notice that she's in the room as you are dictating your quiz to your computer. I was practically whispering into my headset, so my accuracy was for crap, but I didn't care. When the rest of the class came in to take the quiz, I just corrected all the mistakes with my left hand.

After class, I was walking out of the café with Sarah, and decided to express my worry that my left hand was about to go the way of my right. I turned to her and asked "what am I going to do if my left hand dies?"

"Stop masturbating," she says. I glibly reply, "Nah, I'll just get someone else to do it for me."

Cue my old chemistry professor coming around the corner with a look of O.O on his face.

It has been a weird day.

why I wish work were over.

It is a gorgeous day outside. It is also warm, and I would love to go outside and play, but unfortunately I'm stuck in this cumbersome security uniform. Also, if I were to do anything fun people would stare at me weird. Call it the Curse of the Belt or something equally interesting.

I also have had nothing to do since noon. My incompetent boss left me with more than half of the unlocks, which is great because I only have one hand. Despite this I've been done for almost 4 hours now. I don't really like sitting around and doing nothing. When on the clock, anyway. From what I hear, that's when most people like to do it, but it always makes me feel kind of guilty and lazy. (Thus ends another installment of why Wren doesn't make sense.).

Oh well. In another hour I'll be done and I'll be able to go flop on the lawn with no sense of guilt, which is good because I think it's high time that my freckles made their reappearance. Note to self: teach voice program to understand the word freakle.

Well, that was easy.

Peenrita

Plan B

Well, today has been productive. I called AAA, only to find out that battery trucks in Tacoma don't work on weekends. Of course, I was silly and forgot that it is absolutely impossible for cars in Tacoma to run out of power on Friday and Saturday. So now I get to call and go through all of that again on Monday. Most excellent!

But, I was able to get something productive done today. Daryl and I had an attack of clean and ended up cleaning the entire downstairs. When I dusted the TV screen, he look me in shock and shrieked "ew"! Apparently he doesn't like dust either, which is surprising, since he uses the TV more than any of us, and has been staring through that coating of film for weeks...

We also got all our posters hung up again today, in preparation for Heroes. as usual they have all started falling off the walls, and we have been too busy with labs and papers and dying to keep putting them back up. But, now that 30 people are going to invade our living room every Monday for the rest of our semester, we kind of feel obligated to not make them sit in the pig sty. Go figure.

And finally, I conned Fam and Unc into buying me a voice recognition program. In fact, that is what I am using to write this post right now. I feel bad for Sarah, who is sitting to my left playing World of Warcraft, because she can never tell if I'm talking to her not, and shall never have to read my blog again. (At least that's what she just told me.). Then again hearing and in bits and pieces over the course of my writing probably doesn't make it flow as well as it would if she were reading it when it was done. Maybe I should just start writing when she's in class...

Apparently this is the same software that Maddo's dad uses. It's called Dragon NaturallySpeaking 9, and he says when he is teaching it to recognize his voice that he is "training the dragon". I really like that phrase, and so have decided to adopt it for my own use.

So, now have two different ways to blog. I don't quite yet know which one I like better, and so I'll probably end up using both until my hand heals. The good news is Fam has decided me to send her insurance cards, so hopefully on Monday or Tuesday I'll finally have a way to go to the doctors I need to see.

In the mean time, margaritas!

I can't audioblog this one.

Dear family:

Die in a fire. I can't start physical therapy for my tendons OR get the test I need to determine the extent of the damage to my nerves until you send me my fucking insurance cards. This would not be a problem if you had just fucking SENT THEM TO ME IN NOVEMBER LIKE I ASKED YOU, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS SONS OF BITCHES.

The longer I wait, the worse my hand gets. You are ruining my chances at ever being healthy and normal simply by being lazy.

Also, fuck you for making me get sent to collections over the blood test bill. Another doctor will likely do the same because you can't put two fucking pieces of plastic in an evelople.

Unc: why the fuck do you have a secretary?

Fam: what exactly is it that you DO? Really?

WHY CAN NEITHER OF YOU BOTHER TO CARE?

In which Wren discusses chocolate ice cream, margaritas, and Comic House

With a cameo of the roomie!

In which Wren discusses CSOC majors, and imitates Manstork imitating her

If you're confused about who "Manstork" is, do a Ctrl+F in the Security archive for Manstork and "Partnerman." He goes by both depending upon how I currently feel about his existence.

In which Wren reveals her secret conversion to Wicca.

I am sorry about the background noise in this one-- there's also a skip, but you're not missing any words. Is just the way the file saved.

In which Wren has an epiphany and decides to tell the world.

If I were a car, they would have canned my model years ago.

Back from the doctor. I apparently have a dire combination of both ulnar tunnel and tendonitis. Yeah, you read that right. I have both a nerve and a tendon problem. This means that I am going back into physical therapy. (Though I suppose I should be happy it's not for knee problems this time around...) It also means I cannot write or type unless I absolutely -have- to until further notice. So, don't expect any blog posts.

But that's not all. As soon as they heard I was on Tegretol, they decided I should see a neurologist, too, in case this was a neural issue and not really an arm problem at all.

So there you go. I am either a broken excuse for a human being or a total headcase.

._.

One last thing. I think it was lack of sleep that caused me to liken the pain in my arm to "having nails hammered into it by a bunch of Romans."

Luckily, no one got it.

Perfect.

There will be no blog posts until further notice. I have injured the tendons of my right hand, and typing feels like burning.

No, I did not hit/slap/punch/murder anyone or anything. In fact, I have no idea WHAT I did.

Days like this fill me with a hatred of life.

*SQUEE*

Tonight we got a call letting us know there was a lost puppy in the Arboretum. So I head over with a lead to collect him.

Did you know silver rottweilers existed? Neither did I. But they are ADORABLE. This little guy was really well-trained. We took him back to the office, let him settle in, and gave him a bed made of lost-and-found clothes while Dispatcher went to work putting out ads.

So puppy passes out behind the counter where no one can see him, farting contentedly in his sleep. A girl comes in to report her car stolen, and is clearly trying hard not to cry. She's on the phone with her parents, waiting for the police, and giving us her info, all the while clearly stressed out. She gets off the phone, there's a pause, and I have an epiphany.

"I don't know if it would help, but there is a lost puppy back here that would probably love for you to pet him."

She was a lot calmer and more relaxed by the time the police arrived. Clearly, puppies fix everything.

Ever wonder why you're really in lab?

I know I sure do. (Yes, this is for the science magazine.)

I am at a loss.

I have no idea what to do. My iDog refuses to be happy. If I pet its head, it whines, if I scratch its nose, it whines, if I play it music, it pretends it's happy, and then whines the minute I ask what its personality is. If I take the batteries out, he whines, too.

So I get online and look up the manual. The troubleshooting section contains one item: "What to do if your iDog freezes up." It tells me to press the reset button. I figure hey, he's stuck in one mood, lemme try that. So I press the reset button.

And he whines at me.

Apparently there is no reset button for insanity.

Dear Campus Community:

I apologize that most of you are now aware I was having printer issues, but can you blame me for screaming? It should not take fifteen minutes to convince a $100 printer to spit out ten pages of notes for an exam I have tonight.

*clicks print*
Printer: I am out of paper!
Me: NO YOU ARE NOT!
*clicks ok*
Printer: Look at all this paper I am feeding through my body! Whee!
Me: WHY IS THERE NO TEXT?!
Printer: Your document has finished printing!
Me: *twitch*
*clicks print*
Printer: I am out of paper! =D
Me: D'AH!
Squirrel in tree outside: *FLEE*
Printer: >>
*Five pages print*
Printer: Your document has finished printing! ^.^
Me: I WILL THROW YOU OUT AFTER THAT SQUIRREL.
Printer: . . .
Me: . . .
Printer: . . .I AM OUT OF PAPER BITCH.
Me: *froth*
Roommate: ...I think the squirrel just committed suicide.
Printer: =D

My printer is the electronic equivalent of a passive-aggressive, retarded puppy, and for that I truly am sorry.

Much love,
The angry girl who now has no voice

I have never stopped relating to Faye.

Here's a good example of why.

1 AM

Me: "I'm going to wake up early and study my ass off."
Sarah: "Yeah..."
Me: "You know, I wish that really worked."
Sarah: "What, getting up?"
Me: "No, studying my ass off."
Sarah: "...BLOG THAT."

Awww.

S.T. Strange went outside today, and was more interested with burrowing in my hair than anything walking or driving by. Which means a lot, since a couple across the street were staring raptly, trying to figure out what was on my shoulder. A fratboy also drove by, whistled, catcalled...and cheered when I flipped him off. -.-

But the rat was cute.




And, of course, the excursion ended with him attempting to crawl into my shirt.






And, yes, that is a new hair color.

Q: Why have you not been updating?

A: Carpal tunnel. >.<

Dear brain:

Stop it with the weird dreams already, okay?

Really. Stop.

Yet another letter to the Stockroom Idiot:

Apparently there is no way to escape the long arm of your destructive essence, Stockroom Idiot. Despite the fact that I no longer have to rely on you to obtain supplies for my study, or bear witness to your tantrums when Microbiology *gasp* uses a lot of sterile media, I must deal with absolutely random interventions that render my term project useless (that's a motif for you, isn't it?).

I spent three hours in lab last night. From 9PM until 12:30 AM I sat in lab, crushed up flies, and spun down their little bodies to extract their DNA. I have spent the past month breeding these flies and carefully selecting the mutation I wanted to study. When I left, I put my carefully labeled DNA in the water bath like I was supposed to, and Matt said he'd pick them up when he came in to TA the morning lab.

Unfortunately, you got to the water bath first. You took my vials of DNA, the culmination of thirty days of my time, and threw them away.

YOU THREW THEM AWAY.

Needy people freak me out.

Work last night.

Dispatcher: "Security, how can I help you?"
Dude: "Hi, I need an admit into my house."
Dispatcher: "Admit hours don't start until 1o."
Dude: "But that's like 30 minutes! No, an hour!"
Dispatcher: "That's correct."
Dude: "....Well, what am I supposed to DO?"

...

*Breath*

REMEMBER YOUR FUCKING KEYS NEXT TIME!

That's it.

So I found a job I wanted at the zoo today. I met all the requirements save one: I don't have a Washington state driver's license.

Cue scream of rage.

So now I have a new goal. I am going to start establishing my residency.
1) Open a bank account here. It will probably have to be a checking account.
2) Register to vote here.
3) Get a state ID. I can't get a WA driver's license until I am a resident. -.-
4) Register my car in Washington State.

This way, by next year, I will be a resident.

(I am so full of rage.)

I need to fix my vibes

This has been an odd semester for me at work.

A few weeks ago I was locking up a lounge and had a short brunette hop out from behind a corner and attempt to karate chop me. As soon as she realized I was 1) not her friend and 2) a member of Security, she screamed and ran back around the corner.

Today, I was talking to Manstork in the plaza, felt a breeze, and turned around just in time to see a six foot tall Psych student in the process of giving me a bear-hug. Luckily, he realized he had no clue who I was, either, and backpedaled.

This weekend has been full of me taking deep breaths and repeating "I am not pissed off, I am not pissed off, I am not pissed off" over and over again.

Friday I get an e-mail from Tom asking me to cover his shift. I say I'd take half of it and to tell me what hours our boss said would be better. Fourteen hours later I have not heard from him, so I assume his shift has been covered, and send him another e-mail essentially telling him to fuck off.

Saturday night I get a call from work going "Where are you? Tom said you would cover his shift." "Well, Tom lied." I talked to the bosspeople about it, and since I didn't sign the shift change form, I can't be held accountable for what happened.

So I head out for a while. When I get back home at 1ish, the house smells like someone rolled in yeast and then rinsed in wine. I quiz Daryl and Matt, which causes me to discover that they have accidentally poured wine on our cable/DVR box.

Later, I find chocolate embedded in the rug of the Study Zone. The rug is mine.

While at work, the annoying stalker freshman keeps texting me. I have never responded to a single one of his messages, which makes me wonder why he still does it. Also, he never asked if I had a text plan before he sent the first one, which in my opinion is incredibly rude.

Two minutes ago, Matt and Daryl admitted that the wine glass actually BROKE when they ruined the DVR. The glass in question is also mine, and has sentimental value.

I am not pissed off. >.<

Worst squelching noise ever

I was in the kitchen last night (but Sarah wasn't, ha she sees what I did thar) unpacking and cleaning chicken breasts, listening to Areta tell me a story. She gets to a point where I am supposed to contribute something to the conversation. There is a heavy, damp noise.

Cue awkward pause, followed by me saying faintly "...there is a chicken breast on my foot..." and collapsing into the sink.

Dear Brandon:

"Questing with Wren on WoW" is actually code for "having large amounts of sex."

Love,
the girl who thinks you shouldn't knock what you've never tried.

I really need to work on this guilt complex thing

I dropped my History class today. Between being sick this week making me fall really far behind and the stress caused by getting used to my meds, a job, an internship, two labs, and two clubs, something had to go.

Job can't go because of bills, internship can't go because I need it for my major. The clubs can't go because I live in one and would be lynched if I quit the other, and my meds certainly can't go, because it's not like I could handle myself BEFOREHAND.

So the elective went.

But the professor? She's so nice, and so understanding, and so friendly. I don't feel like I dropped her class, per se. I feel like we've broken up. "It's not you, it's me."

So now here I am, running around, and feeling like a terrible person.

Will someone please explain myself to me? XD

Stop pecking away at my childhood, you damned vultures of knowledge!

It used to be that when I saw "XO" I thought "aww, hugs and kisses!"

Now I automatically think of Turner Syndrome.

Dear Animal Behavior Professor:

Thank you SO much for being an understanding person and allowing me to forego the zoo trip today. I am still ridiculously sick, and probably would not have been able to do all that walking around and still be alive for my exam.

<3!

This post has been long overdue

I think I mentioned a while back that I got two new ratties, but was currently missing a camera charger, so couldn't post pics. Well, I can post pics now, so here are a couple. Yes, I am well aware that you won't be able to tell the difference between either of these two or S.T. Strange, but I don't care.


Everyone, meet Melvin and Scooter. They came pre-named, and I thought about giving them new ones, but it didn't seem right since they were given to me by a friend. "Melvin" is the one closest to my foot. He has a straight stripe down his back and no spots. His brother, "Scooter, is the one closest to the wall. He has a saddle and a stripe on his back.


They may look a lot alike, but they're really not. Scooter is the more active and adventurous of the two. He was also the one who had a tendency to leap blindly at walls when I first got him. For this reason I have nicknamed him "The Tweakmonster." I'm also going to be bluntly honest here and say that Melvin is one of the dumbest creatures I have ever met, which has made me start calling him "The Brick." (The fact that Sarah is in the background singing gleefully along to "Lump" is not making this any less funny.)

Melvin was actually the first of the pair to leave his cage voluntarily today, something which has never happened, causing me to exclaim to Sarah "Look! The Brick has mobilized!"

As far as psych rats go, they're turning into pretty normal guys. The good news is they're used to being trained, so learn new things very easily. The bad news is that they hate, hate, HATE leaving their cage, and don't understand that snuggling with humans can be a good thing like S.T. does.

Clearly they needed to be cleavage raised.

You have been warned.

Monday: Am sick.
Tuesday: Class 9:30-12:20. Take-Home Exam Due.
Wednesday: Class 9-10, 11-12. Lab 1-5. Exam 6-8.
Thursday: Class 9:30-12:20, Lab 1-4, Exam 6-8.
Friday:Class 9-10, Appointment, Class 11-12. Essay Due.

But at least my iPod is working again.

My car is dead for the third time in six months.

Whoa, it is so windy

Today was a panda hat and trenchcoat day. I was walking out of lab with Matt when I get stopped by a professor. The following conversation ensued:

"What are you dressed for?"
"Warmth."
*blink blink*

Apparently girls dressed as Matrixbears cannot be for real. XD

Med Update the Third

I just increased my dosage again last night, so I figure it's a good time to give another update.

Last week was hard. I flaked out so much that I bought things at the store, and the next day when I was searching through the kitchen, found things I had no idea I'd bought. (As I said last night: "It's like presents from past me!") I had a terrible time staying awake in classes for two days, my attention span was shot, and so forth. But, I started taking more careful notes in my planner, and it slowly got better.

I also had really bad swings. I went from peak mania to bottom depression in less than 24 hours. That has never happened to me, and let me tell you, it was utterly exhausting. Then the depression stuck around for three days.

But now I feel mostly okay. I upped my meds last night, and other than feeling like I got hit by a train, I seem to be doing okay.

Let's hope it sticks.

I think watching a British man beatbox rap is one of the more amazing events I have ever seen. Even more so because he is my professor.

Hibernation

Today I was going to wake up early to shower. I really was. But then I woke up and realized that panda hats are acceptable alternatives to shampoo. So I threw on a pullover, put on the panda hat, and started brushing my teeth.

Sarah: "Good morning!"
Me: *quickly learns that sleepy panda growls while brushing teeth are bad*
Sarah: "...oh!"

Animal Behavior

Last night we read a paper about mating behaviors in toads for a paper discussion. Apparently males who are "calling" to females become so engrossed in the behavior that you can inject them or bleed them and they will not stop calling. They won't even move.

*Croak, croak* obviously means "NEEEEED SEEEEEX NOOOOOOOOW."

Anticlimax

This day was the worst gauntlet I've run all week. Which, to me, is a claustrophobia-inducing portent of impending adulthood. After all, just a couple of years ago, life would STOP so I could have a birthday.

And now I have to work my birthday around life? When did that become fair? =/

Hunh.

Even though I never really wanted to be, it made me a little sad today when I realized that I would not be allowed to be an astronaut.

Then I just felt weird.

So today I learned that crossing-over also occurs in MITOSIS.

Sometimes I really hate life.

Dear Brain:

Come baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. D=

-Wren

Another Med Update

I saw the psychiatrist today, and got a doctor's note for the professor's class that I keep missing. It was all very high school.

Anyway. I'm upping my meds again. Right now I'm at 200 mg a day, and she wants me to get up to 400 mg/day. So, I'm taking 300 mg for the next three days, and then switching to 400. Pretty soon I'm going to start having to get blood draws, as well.

But, I'm not really complaining. I can tell it's working, and the side effects so far have been manageable. I'm a little worried about the way the Tegretol interacts with my birth control, since I take the stuff primarily for hormonal reasons and not for contraception. There's been talk that I may have to augment the pills with a patch. Both the pills and the Tegretol compete for similar protein binding sites, and "the Tegretol always wins," which means I absorb less of the hormones. So, back to the doctor I go for a professional opinion to see what I can do to keep my old issues under control.

I can't imagine going through this if I were in a career situation or in the middle of a serious relationship. I'm so glad I decided to go through this now, because it would only have been harder later on.

Not to say it's not hard enough now.

Specimen Wren

One of my old Bio professors ran up to me today and said "Oh! I used you as an example in my 112 class yesterday!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! I said 'now Wren's hair is purple, but not because of her genetics. Can you see the difference here?' And a couple of my students were nodding vigorously and going 'Yeah!'"

"Well, thank you!"

"No, thank you!"

This had better not be a normal thing

Yesterday I had my first real flake-out day from the meds. I think the fact that I hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in a few days compounded it, but I seriously felt I was on Vicoden with the added bonus of being incapable of remembering a damn thing.

It was really frustrating. I don't think I can adequately explain it.

But, today I feel fine. I've been writing every little detail down in my planner, but I do feel fine.

I want to shoot someone rather specific

Ad nauseum. I need my fucking insurance card by Friday the second. Please mail me my package. Give me my fucking insurance card. Please mail my package.

I called Unc on Monday. "Can you send me my package? Also, I HAVE to have my insurance card by Friday the 2nd. Absolutely have to."

"Okay. I'll ship the package overnight. You'll have it by Wednesday. And I'll send you my insurance cards and just request new ones."

Today is Thursday. I get this e-mail from his secretary:

Hey Lauren. Unc has a box full of "stuff" (not sure what all is in there yet).
I'll be packing it up today and hopefully get it out in the mail tomorrow.
Are you needing it fast? Want it shipped UPS or anything?
Also, we have requested a new health insurance card. It will be mailed to Unc' house so hopefully he gets it to me when it arrives and I'll get that to you soon as well.

Take care and let me know if you need the box quickly otherwise it will go out in regular mail.
Thanks.

*twitch* Know what this reminds me of? This fiasco with Fam. And any other number of them.

Everything in Moderation, Except Violence and Wrens

Tim: I should get Mike to play WoW again. >.>
Squeaker: Don't you dare.
Tim: but he's the guy who heals me when he's high. :(
Squeaker: I will fly out there and fucking kill you with the expansion pack.
Squeaker: they will be picking pieces of it out of the atria of your heart.
Tim: ... o.o
Tim: you seem more terrifying than usual.

The One-Week Update

Well, I've been on Tegretol for a week now, and tonight I am supposed to double my dose, so I figured now was a good time for a one-week update on how I've been feeling.

Side Effects:
No bad ones so far. I haven't had more difficulty speaking (than is usual), or thinking. If anything, I've gotten the best night's sleep of...a decade in the past week on this stuff. While this might become a bad thing as I increase my dosage, right now it's a pretty big perk. I've noticed no abnormal bruising, rashes, or weight changes.

Desired Effects:
I haven't had a severe swing yet, though it's unclear whether that's due to the meds or not. I came down from my mania on Tuesday and was rather normal until Friday night. Since then, I've been fighting off a depressive swing. Dunno if this was caused by starting the meds while manic, but it's been controllable so far. Hanging out with people forces me to leave the house, and going to the library forces me to do homework. As long as I keep up with my Wren Prevention, I should get through this okay.

In one week I'll probably do this again. I'm getting closer to an "effective" dose, so
things will probably start changing.

Flashback

In high school I had a goal. I was going to buy an old 1980s Plymouth Laser and customize it. See how it has the pop-up headlights? Every time I see one of those cars, one of the headlights is broken, and it looks like the car is winking. And I thought it was abominably cute.

So I decided that I was going to get a car with a broken headlight, decal the front window with "ARRRR," paint an eyepatch over the broken light, and dub the whole mess "Cap'n Winky."

That was in high school. Last Monday I discovered I had a new goal:
Wren requires an eyepatch.

Why? Because Mythbusters recently proved that they give you excellent night vision if you actually have two eyes. Which suits my diabolical plans quite nicely.

I want to crawl in a hole and die.

I have two major issues with the campus Buddhist Student Union.

1) It's Dalai Lama. Not Dali. Stop calling him "Dolly" at the meetings and please, please, PLEASE don't write it Dali five times in a mass e-mail to the entire club.

2) When you're advertising an interest meeting, don't put a picture of the Kitchen God on the fucking flyer. I can understand that you're not all that well versed in eastern art, but...we're talking a fuck-up spanning two religions.

Dear sesame seeds:

Get off my whole wheat bagel. You certainly do NOT go well with my strawberry cream cheese.

No love,
I hate you so fucking much you little black specs of nasty!

Ye of little faith...

I think my Genetics professor is sick of my questions

When told "because that's the way God made them" after asking why male fruit flies don't undergo crossing-over during meiosis, it is probably not a good idea to respond "Yes, but why did He make them that way?"

I've had several people express curiosity about exactly what medication I'm now on, so here you go:

Tegretol.

FYI of doom

I went to the psychiatrist this morning to discuss medication and a formal diagnosis. Formally, I have been diagnosed with bipolar I disorder, which is the most severe of the types of manic depression. This means that I alternate from euphoric manic extremes to near-suicidal depression when left unchecked. Many people also become psychotic with time (hi mom). Luckily, I have yet to have a psychotic episode, though it's possible that won't manifest until I am older. But, since I'd rather not ever have delusions of being Jesus, I'm going on medication now.

This is where the real warning comes in. The available medicines work differently for everyone, which means that the next few weeks could be very hard for me as I experiment with drugs to determine what is the most effective and least obnoxious of my available options. I am being started out on an anticonvulsant that works great for some people, but has rather serious side effects for others. These include a bad rash, liver damage, and decreased blood and plasma counts. So, I'll be needing periodic blood tests for a while to ensure I'm not affected. Some people also lose cognitive ability to a rather upsetting degree.

Basically I am warning everyone that if I seem weird for the next few weeks, there is likely a good reason. Adjusting to meds is never easy, and I may have to go through it several times before we find one that does less harm than good. I'm slightly manic right now, so there's a chance that starting on the meds will send me into a strong depressive swing before I begin to stabilize. Thus, I am writing this before I take my first dose, because if I do become depressed I'll be far less likely to tell people what's going on.

I'm not trying to scare you guys. There's a good chance that this will be an easy thing. But I also may need help figuring out whether or not I'm acting abnormally, and I'm worried that the meds will make that more difficult for me because it might change my "normal" swing pattern.

I may also end up having an identity crisis. What is "normal" Wren like? I know I won't change fundamentally, but it's hard to say what effect removing my mania will have on things like my work ethic and some of my more random tendencies.

In short, long month ahead. Please be gentle and understanding while I get my brain figured out.

<3

I don't want to rearrange our living room...

There were 24 people at Heroes last night. That does not include the people who actually live in our house.

Why I should not be allowed to speak in discussion classes, part the second

It has already been established that I have a tendency to derail any group conversation, but I don't think anyone knows how bad it would be if I didn't think before I spoke. Consider the following, and remember that "Pegasus" was my ultra-exclusive four-year college prep English class.

The Scenario in My Head
Prof: "Think about your best or worst teacher and tell me about him or her."
Me: "My best was Ms. Brewster, my Pegasus teacher."
Prof: O.o "Pegasus?"
Me: ^_^ "Yeah, winged horse husbandry?"
Class: o.o *crickets*

What I Actually Said
Prof: "Think about your best or worst teacher and tell me about him or her."
Me: "My best teacher was Ms. Brewster, my English teacher."
Prof: "And yet you are a Biology Major.."

Now if I could just catch myself in time for all the weird things I say.

I now own both trousers and suspenders. =D

My Animal Behavior textbook is insane. Not surprising, considering most animal behaviorists are insane. Think about it: if you spent most of your life researching behaviors that ultimately exist for and are triggered in an attempt to have sex/ prevent others from having sex/ become more desireable for sex / etc, how long would you stay socially acceptable? Still, I'm not sure that excuses him from writing in the first person and inserting pictures of bees attempting to fuck his thumb. Or this, for that matter:

"It is not just insects whose nervous systems employ rules of thumb as simple as "attempt to insert penis into yellow or orange objects."

Dear coworkers:

When I find out which one of you was using my TV over break, be prepared to kiss your testicles goodbye in a rather sickeningly literal fashion.

Ironically, had you not left generic root beer cans all over my coffee table, I'd have no idea you had done it at all...

No love,
The Irate and Possessive Wren who will keep asking until someone fesses up

We've all got something on the brain...

In our defense, there was a two-day span for these. I was pressured into putting the second one up here by Sarah.

Diego: "So what are you putting an application in for?"
Daryl: "The Old Spaghetti Factory."
Me: "He dreams big."
Daryl: "...whaaat?"
Me: "Daryl. You're going to be a stereotypical gay waiter. "
Daryl: "No I'm not!"
Me: "So you're not going to be a waiter?"
Daryl: "....yes..."
Me: "Oh, so working there will magically make you straight? You might want to warn your boyfriend-- 'Sorry man, but their spaghetti really makes me crave pussy."
Room: *horrified laughter*

Matt: *singing song about being Mr. Saran Wrap to the Chicago soundtrack.*
Me: *snort* '''Let me store your leftovers'! It's a new euphemism for sex!"
Table: *iz ded*
Matt and Brandon: "Hey, it's not really 'leftovers'. We're still alive!"
Me: "Who says it's referring to your junk?"
Table: *lightbulbs*
Areta: "Oh God, this conversation is snowballing."
Table: "..." *iz ded some more*

Snow Day!

Well, not really. We had classes, of course, because we always have classes. And there's been snow on the ground since...the seventh or so. But there was fresh snowfall last night, so we decided to grab a few pics today. Photography credit goes to Sarah.



This is Areta, our fifth member for this semester while Madeline is abroad. She's from Caifornia, so is naturally fascinated by snow.



I happen to hate snow, but it's fun in small amounts. Such as this one. =D



I've stood out on campus more than usual today because everything is so white. Or my hair could just be that purple...

This is ridiculous

You know it's going to be one of those days when you can't find the most conspicuous shoes you own. I mean really. How can I keep missing a pair of red patent leather knee-high combat boots?

A bright beginning for the semester...

1)Worst patient to give a check-up to:
Sarah: "How old is the rat? Two?"
Me: "Yeah, so he'll probably live through our senior year, but that's it. Oh, we might want to take him in for a checkup, because a lot of rats get cancer when they're older."
Sarah: "Yeah, I was reading up on that. They can get respiratory problems too, which is why I was so worried when he was sneezing over break. I was listening to him breathe, but he kept licking my ear and trying to get in my cleavage, so I stopped. He seemed fine."
Me: *laughs* "Why hello, nurse!" *wags tongue vigorously* "Bom-chikka-wow-wow!"
Sarah: "WREN!"
Me: "What! If he were human, that would totally be a porno, but since he's a rat it's okay!"
Sarah: "I hate you! Now I'm afraid to go to the doctor!"
Me: "Sarah, I highly doubt you're going to swan dive into someone's cleavage."
Sarah: "Swan...dive..." *flail* "Is that it?"
Me: "Sure, I can't see you though, but it sounds great."
Sarah: "Good, because I was trying to do this frog thing, and then I thought that was wrong..."



2)Though since we live in Comic House, the confusion may be understandable:
Me: "Hush."
Sarah: "Hush?"
Me: "Yes, hush."
Sarah: "...Hush..."
Me: "Yes, hush, the word that means 'be quiet!'"
Sarah: "Hush?"
Me: ... XD

...what the fuck.

Okay, so I've reached a new low at work tonight by discovering something worse than seeing naked professors all the time-- dealing with incidents occuring AT YOUR OWN HOME.

I LOVE ECOLOGY!

The sad thing is, I can see this exact thing happening in one of my courses here.

Professor to group of girls covered in whitish goo: What happened to you?
Girl #1: Egg sac war.
Girl #2 and Girl #3: Yeah.
Professor: ... Ugh.
Guy: I love this class.
--Fort DeSoto Beach, Florida

Overheard by: There's nothing like lab in the field

I actually saw a snowplow labeled "City of Tacoma" last night...

I woke up yesterday morning, thought "damn it's cold!", and then looked out the window to see a light dusting of snow all over everything. That evening, Daryl walked into the house absolutely covered in snow, and I looked out the window again to find three inches and then some. Moral of this story? I really need to pay a lot more attention and spend less time cleaning. <<; Also, Daryl is awesome and got me a present:



I had to spend some time getting FTP set back up on my big computer to get that image uploaded. Though I've been spending a lot of time on bigcomputer in any case in a desperate attempt to get it working for games again. I opened her up to see if I could get any more dust out of the fans, grabbed a pair of tweezers, and ended up removing a chunk of lint, Sarahhair, and my underwear 1x1 inches in size from the bottom fan. Needless to say, not only is my computer running a lot cooler, but the fans are much, much happier.

Now if I could just get the shift key back on...

Dear Body (again):

Feel free to stop being sick at any point now. I am on vacation and there is much fun to be had. Unfortunately, you refusing to accept that food is a good thing is kind of throwing a damper on the whole squee aspect of my week.

No love,
The girl who really wants to make fried rice but can't because you suck!

musings from the sick

College cooking-- you know there's enough food in the kitchen to make a meal if you could figure out the least weird way to combine it.

Escape from STL has made me feel like a new person

so you dont want to hear about my good song?
and you dont want to hear about how i am getting on
with all the things that i can get done
the sun is in the sky & i am by my lonesome
so you don't want to hear about my good day?
you have better things to do than to hear me say

god its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i took out the trash today and i'm on fire...

so you don't want to hear about my good friends?
you dont have the guts to take the truth or consequence
success is in the eye of the beholder
and its looking even better over your cold shoulder

i'm not suggesting you up and line me up for questioning
but jesus think about the bridges you are burning
and i'm betting
that even though you knew it from the start
you'd rather be a bitch than be an ordinary broken heart

so go ahead and talk about your bad day...
i want all the details of the pain and misery
that you are inflicting on the others
i consider them my sisters and i'd like their numbers

god its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i took up croquet today and i'm on fire

i picked up the pieces of my broken ego
i have finally made my peace as far as you and me go
but i'd love to have you up to see the place
& i'd like to do more than survive i'd like to rub it in your face.....

hey! its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i had so much fun today and i'm on fire
god it's been a lovely day everything's been going my way
ever since you went away hey i'm on fire.....
i'm on fire...
i'm on fire...
so you dont want to hear about my good day?

wtf mate? ^^

I was backdating my blog and realized I never posted the movie we made with us and S.T. Strange when he was a tiny.

We need to make one now that he is fat, lazy, and grownup.

::EDIT::
Now with 100% more link to the video in question...

I wish I had thought of this in High School.

It would have made Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man easier to live through.

Mixed signals

So, I e-mailed my boss two weeks ago and asked if he wanted me to work. Here's the response I got:

Wren, at this time we have our schedule complete up until the beginning of the spring semester. As far as moving back in your house early you would have to take that up with [ladyboss]. She turned in a list of names of who was returning early to work at Security to Student Development for early move in. It may be too late for you to move back early.

So I do e-mail Ladyboss, and she says she can get me into the house on the fifth even though I'm not working. So I call in today to get them to unplug my doors, and the boss I e-mailed above shows up to let me in. Guess what he asks?

"So, Wren, since you're here, you want to work a few shifts?"

"..."

>.-

...so...much...PS3...

Judy Garland was right.

I cannot believe that I just spent twenty hours in a car. I mean, I know I did, but the fact that I am less sore than I was after the plane flight and both of us are still alive is still a rather shocking feat. I'm still miffed that Diego did not let me drive, but he swears up and down that I was still useful. (I think he's just happy I let him listen to techno the entire way.)

It definitely didn't feel like we were on the road for as long as we were, and I think a lot of it had to do with us being willing to break. We stopped and had a long lunch, stopped periodically to get drinks, and then went to an actual restaurant for dinner (the halfway mark).

I'm not too impressed with Oregon. It was supposed to be this sort of promised land after we finally got out of Cali, and it really wasn't. It was dark, so we really couldn't see anything. Though that also could have been because the entirety of the state was a MASS OF RAIN AND FOG. I don't actually believe that Portland exists, either. It's all a big lie.

Plane travel is always going to suck, tho.

As plane flights go, this one has actually been rather pleasant. I got to watch a movie, I finished Dune, and as yet no one has attempted to steal my PS3. I’m still dead tired and the plane air is causing my skin to rebel in dehydrated rage, but we’re twenty minutes from L.A., so the worst is almost over.

Well, not really. The worst is probably yet to come. I really hate the LAX, and I’m even more terrified of California. Talking to people who are actually from there has only strengthened that fear, because people I dislike tend to love it, while people I like tend to hate it. To me, that means it’s some sort of cesspit. Granted, I won’t be there for long, but driving the length of the scariest state in the nation is still likely to have an effect on my poor exhausted psyche.

::EDIT FROM COUCH::

What I went through to get my luggage cannot really be described as a “throng” of people, or even a herd. Those words suggest both sentience and motion. Instead, I got to wade through a clot of stationary meatbeasts to wait at the world’s least helpful baggage claim. An hour later, we flee for the car.

Speaking as someone who just spent four hours on a plane, I think I can safely say that I LOVE CARS.

New Year's Day!

I am going to be so exhausted today. Here is why:

1) Wake up. Clean room, get self presentable to go get lunch with aunt.

2) Eat lunch. Go by Circuit City and grab cables Unc needs for the PS3 so I can take my pretty ones home.

3) Come home $100 poorer, plug in cables, turn on PS3.

4) Note that nothing is showing up on screen. WTF. =_=;

5) End up on floor for the next hour, surrounded by cables, remotes, and manuals, frantically typing to Tim on the computer trying to brainstorm how to get this damn thing working.

6) Tim gives up. By all rights, it should be working.

7) I solve problem by tricking PS3. Yay pretty pictures! A happy dance ensues.

8) ....Why is there no sound?

9) Scrounge through closet and find old a/v cables for PS2.

10) Yay, sound! Wait, you want your money back, Unc? I need food money for road trip. YAY! =D

11) Ohgodit'sfouro'clockIneedtopack!

12) There is no way I am getting all of this home with me...

13) lie gasping on floor Finish packing, give Unc pack of clothes to ship, and continue cleaning room.

I barely slept last night and I think all the planning is making me manic. I am going to be such a wreck when I land in Cali. >.<; Just think- After I make it through security with my laptop, PS3, trenchcoat, and knee-high boots I can have a nice relaxing flight and watch movies until my brain melts out my ears.