FLAWLESS VICTORY.

I am going to start this entry out on a side note: If you notice your doctor has gotten a haircut, you are seeing him too often. Just need to get that out there.

Okay. I've been avoiding blogging about my doctors and my illness because of an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Until today I felt like my doctors didn't believe how sick I was, and the specialists I went to have been continually giving me the run-around. I am being seen by a Physician's Assistant, and making appointments has been a nightmare. After my stomach scope, the doctor was emphatic that I get further testing as soon as possible, but the office itself said they couldn't see me until after New Years.' All of my friends have flown into a near-incoherent rage upon hearing this, but I didn't expect my doctor to do the same.

I caught him up on what had been happening. "So wait. You haven't even seen a doctor?"
"Er...nope."
"Let me call them about those tests. They'll be seeing you next week." He sounded painfully certain.

In the time it took me (well, Madeline. I need to get her a chauffeur cap) to drive ten blocks and walk in our door, an appointment had been made for me this Monday. The office called me, and the receptionist sounded more than slightly harried.

And I am left wondering how these sorts of spats are resolved among doctors. I can't help but think it must be like Tekken-- maybe he presses the right keys on the phone and delivers a roundhouse kick to the receptionist's face, causing her to cave and agree to his demands. Or maybe it's more complex than that. I've been trying to make an appointment, but the receptionist is blocking all my attacks. So he steps in, goes all super-Saiyan on their asses, complete with his fresh haircut, and bombs the motherfucking office with Kamehameha attacks until the enemy doctors fall to the floor a la Anakin Skywalker, cursing at the cosmos that their plot to cause me pain has been thwarted.

My doctor is my hero. :D

I have to say, though, I could do with less of him pressing incessantly on my abdomen and looking worried. Doctors should not look worried. That has to be like, Rule Two of the Bedside Manner Handbook.

Rule 1: Never, ever giggle at the patient's predicament, symptoms, or face.
Rule 2: DO NOT LOOK WORRIED. Even if they are spouting blood from the eyes.

The massive amounts of pain the pressing causes could stop, too. Then again, that's what could be causing the worry. It's been what, three weeks, and my pain hasn't lessened? My revelation that any solid foods at all hurt to consume might have added to this.

"And how are your bowels?" he asked after learning I had decided to boycott solid foods.
"They are very angry."
I have to give him credit for having an active imagination, but at the same time I have to feel a little bit of remorse* that I was responsible for my doctor imagining an Angry Bowel.

*I feel no remorse for you people, though, oh no. Feel my pain, people. We can bond!

Hmph.

I'm getting a little tired of staying up all night.

I have been typing for so long that my *nails* are sore

Me: "You know, I am not as stupid as my GPA says I am."
Maddo: "Well, at least you have health problems as an excuse."
Me: "Yeah. If I'm not sick, I'm making other people sick..."

And the results are in.

Graduate exam 1 of three:

Reading: 294/300
Math: 285/ 300
Writing: 291/300

And thus I have proven that I can work at the level of a high school freshman, without previous exam prep.

Aaand version 3

I'd recommend heading over to Flickr and seeing how everything updated. I'm learning how to mesh so I can fix her glasses and hair, so expect something totally, originally mine soon. XD

I have gone insane.

I really need to stop creating custom characters on Sims II. (Then again, I am a little bit manic, and there are worse ways to spend my time.) Here's my most recent work in progress-- Agatha Clay, the heroine of Girl Genius.



Click the photo to head over to Flickr and see the entire set. I have the basic creation process outlined over there already.

Ah, now that's out of my head, maybe I can sleep and then focus on homework.

It really looks like this is what they were listening to. D:

I don't listen to Sims music when I play anymore, so imagine my surprise when I saw them dancing to Loose Ends. Nabbed a vid because I am learning how to use their video capture function, posted it here because I was bored.

And weirded out. I mean look at them! o.o

I just spent six hours researching Spore

...and while that may have been an enormous mistake, it did allow me to stumble across this video. (Yes, I am aware it is an hour and thirty minutes long. I was entranced the entire time. Then again, I am still on narcotics.)

Really interesting stuff! I'd never really thought about generating seemingly complex structures so simply. But the instant he compared it to DNA, my brain went *bing* and it all made perfect sense. (Also, Brian Eno rules.)

Yeah, I broke down and pre-ordered it. I am already designing characters in my head, and the damn thing is still three months away.

I think we're out of the woods.

S.T. is drinking water of his own volition again. And lots of it.

I cannot really explain how happy I am right now.

Flood of cute

I am hopped up on Vicodin and sorting through my photos! Here is a visual representation of how I feel. (HINT: WARM AND FUZZY.)













:D I sleep now.

Another S.T. Update

I'm letting myself hope that he's going to make it. I wasn't so sure after work yesterday. I got home, dosed him, and tried to get him to eat or drink something, but he refused everything. So I gave him a clean nap area and went to bed. Woke up, dosed him, tried to get him to eat or drink, nothing. Woke up, fed the girls. He walked over to the food bowl and expressed an interest in the food, but didn't eat any of it.

Before work, I took him out, and offered him some applesauce baby food. He got a whiff of it and lunged for it like a ravenous cat, lapping frantically at it. (Side note: I can never be a mom. Seeing him down the applesauce like that made me start to tear up. It was so sad!) Ate for a minute before losing interest again. I try a Yogie, nothing. I try a piece of dried apple, and he takes it, but it is too chewy for him to get through. I ponder for a moment, then have an epiphany and offer him some apple juice. He drinks a cap-and-a-half-ful of it, then grooms a little bit.

It's the grooming that really got me. It's the first time I've seen him do it in days. He still looks as sick as can be. Porphyrin has coated his eyes and nose so much that his entire face looks bloody, and he's still taking shallow breaths, but he's not twitching anymore, and the clicking noise he was making when he breathed is nearly gone. He's also starting to struggle more when I dose him, which is a good sign, but also bad because it's more stressful for us both to get him his meds.

I think as long as we can keep convincing him to eat and drink that he'll be okay. I just want to see him eat something solid! D:

O RLY (aka I am already bored at work)

You Are A Romantic Realist

You tend to be grounded when it comes to romance. Sure, you can fall hard... but only for someone you've gotten to know. And once you're in love, you can be a total romantic goofball... But you'd never admit it to your friends!

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

Coherence is returning.

I've been meaning to share this little incident for a few days, but am only now coherent enough to post it. I've been off painkillers for 16 hours now. I'm fine, as long as I don't move. >>

Was at the specialist's on Monday. She decides she's going to schedule me for an endoscopy, and I express my glee (I think getting my throat/stomach scoped is really cool because I AM WEIRD.) She is slightly taken aback, and informs me that I will be asleep for the procedure. I ask if there is any way for me to remain awake so I can watch. She blinks, and says "well, they're going to run a scope down your throat..."

"I know," I reply.
"SHE DOESN'T HAVE A GAG REFLEX! I HAVE SEEN HER BRUSH HER THROAT WITH A TOOTHBRUSH." shrieks Maddo, from the other end of the room. I do the mature thing and *facepalm.*

The specialist pauses, then forges onward bravely. "Well, in that case...I'd ask the doctor performing the procedure?"

One and a half more hours.

The best part about working a grave shift is crawling into bed at the end of it. SUCH A GOOD FEELING.

better news

Maddo and I took S.T. to the vet this morning. He was looking a little perkier last night, and we managed to get him to drink some Ensure, so we decided that if he was willing to fight, we'd help out.

The vet listened to him and said his heart sounded good, but his lungs were quite crackly. We're supposed to give him antibiotics twice a day until he's had them all. In the meantime, we've bought a ton of Ensure and baby food and wet dog food and anything else we can think of to tempt him to eat.

So...there may still be hope. Wish him luck, everyone.

S.T. Strange is dying.

You know how sick people think you are when your ex, who has not been online since the breakup, frantically IMs you asking if you're okay.

The hospital just needs to admit me already.

One of these things is not like the other...

Me: "I've been in the ER three times in five days."
Comic House: NOOO D:
Professors: !!! D:
Maddo's Mother: I MAKE IT BETTER WITH MATERIAL GOODS D:
People I Barely Know: D:
My Doctors: o.O;; "What the shit is up with this girl's stomach?"


My Aunt and Uncle: "Are you sure it's not just a bladder infection?"

. . .yes.

Walking through rain on vicodin is the most amazing experience I've ever had

Okay, digestive tract? We need to talk.

I have done everything. I have given you painkillers, anti-nausea meds, anti-spasmodics, anti-acid reflux. I have stopped giving you food. I have continued eating normally. I have fed you only chicken soup and Jello. I am currently at home, bundled up on my bed, with a heated pillow mooshed up against my abdomen in a desperate attempt to get you to shut the fuck up.

But no. You keep hurting, you keep making me dry heave, you keep twitching, and you keep damaging yourself. No food makes you grumpy, regular food makes you nauseous, and bland food makes you dry heave. You don't even have any opinion of the warm pillow, which Maddo's parents bought me just. for. you, you ungrateful cluster of organs!

I am running out of vicodin. I have two pills to get me until 2:30 tomorrow, and I swear that if I am in as much pain as this tomorrow and they deny me painkillers, I WILL HURT SOMEONE.

Do you really want to be an accomplice to murder, intestines? Do you want to be interrogaed by the police and get 25-to-life, stomach? No?

THEN STOP FUCKING HURTING! D:

No love,
the girl who has mastered the art of fetal-position-beanbag-naps

This week, in brief:

1) Take exams I missed on Wednesday.
2) Study for Praxis Biology Subject test.
3) This weekend: catch up in classes.

At the E.R. last night

Me: "Well, I just had an IUD put in..."
Doctor: "Where?"
Me: "..."
Doctor: "Yes, I mean I know where, but where did you get it done?"
Me: "Oh, that makes more sense."

Laughter should not hurt.

The doctor lied. I definitely do not feel better, and I have been on the meds for three days now, dose-wise. If anything, I feel slightly worse.

*whimpers*

One day I will crush your puny Resistance once and for all!

I spent most of the day in a minor emergency clinic. I've been having stomach pain for the past week or so, and since it wasn't getting any better I decided I should probably get it looked at.

The doctor asks me a few questions, such as "have you been drinking well water recently, or have you been near any streams?" Maddo, as supportive as ever, instantly shrieks "Wren! Wren, parasite!"Granted, this outburst is largely my fault, since I left her with the glossary of my parasite book while I was doing paperwork and she quickly came face to face with the lovely little nematode that causes river blindness.

While Maddo continued to battle her newest medical demon ("Wren, how can you not FEEL it when they are in your eye!"), I was told to lie back and given an inspection by the doctor. She presses down on my lower stomach, and I go through the roof. Words cannot express the sensation accurately, and I do not think there is a sound in existance that expresses it outside a solo from the lead soprano in a production of American McGee's Aida. She continues to press different sections of my stomach, and each area leaves me orbiting a different planet in our lovely solar system as a satellite of agony. ("But Wren, how can you not feel them?!")

It is not a parasite. Allow me to assure you all. Instead of something within me feeding off of me and making me sick, something within me is feeding off ITSELF and making me sick. "Stress," my doctor explains, "can change the pH of your bile so drastically that it begins to damage the tissues of your digestive tract. Based on the pain, I would say everything from your lower esophagus to your large intestine has been affected." Cue me getting a vision of my innards melting. "Actually, they'd be bubbling!" Maddo interjects, and I feel a sharp stab of pain in my guts.

My treatment? Six weeks Prilosec and no caffeine. (YOU'VE CONDEMNED ME TO HELL.) The Prilosec is supposed to increase the pH of my stomach enough to "allow my tissues to heal, and I should feel much better in a couple of days." They went ahead and took some blood anyway, as well, because it is also possible for it to be a certain type of bacteria.

Oddly enough, I am less comfortable with the thought of a billion single-celled organisms eating me alive than my stomach doing it on its own. I have no idea what that says about me.

My classmates in Marine Interactions were really worried about me. Apparently the annoying kid is convinced he caused this. (Hopefully this means he plans on being less annoying in the future--might as well reap some benefits somewhere. >>)

People need to start taking me seriously.

It is done. For the past three days I have endeavored to make it, and it is complete! Behold, the Clifford Cowl! (Pay close attention to the clasp--that tag says "Clifford the Big Red Dog.")

The peanut gallery has had much to say on the subject.

1) No Understandy: I just made a cowl out of a Clifford hoodie
Mike: is a cowl really a viable fashion accessory
No Understandy: Yes.
Mike: gonna look a bit gothy with a cowl though :P
No Understandy: It's bright red and has DOG EARS
Mike: ...why
No Understandy: "I just made a cowl out of a Clifford hoodie."
Mike: when you said clifford i wasn't thinking big red dog
Mike: oh god this is AWFUL now
No Understandy: :D
Mike: did the panda hat not get you enough looks? :P
No Understandy: -.-
Mike: weirdo

2)No Understandy: http://www.the-nightwatch.com/pic/Rawr%20004.jpg
Pay careful attention to the tag. It's partially hidden by my collar.
Tim: oh my god it really is a cowl.
No Understandy: I wasn't lying...
Tim: I thought you were just being fancy with your choice of language.
Tim: but you weren't,
Tim: at all.
No Understandy: =/
No Understandy: I don't know what that means
Tim: IT IS AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT

*sinister laughter*

(click me)

This is a great day for Wrenkind

I just caused time to split today. I was in the science cafe, innocently studying for my Lab Exam, when I felt it happen.

There is a kid in Marine Interactions who likes my hair. It is all we have ever spoken about, and I have caught him staring at it during lecture when he is especially bored. Today he snuck up behind me while I was elbows deep in algal terminology, grabbed my shoulders, and vigorously ran his fingers over my hair in a sort of "d'awwww, hey there little buddy!" gesture. He has big hands. His damn hand engulfed my scalp and left my hair quite disheveled.

In that instant, I saw two things happen simultaneously. First, I saw myself grab him by the arm, pull him down over my shoulder, and slam my elbow into his kidneys before depositing him on the floor. At the same time, I saw myself calmly turn around and stare at him in mild confusion.

The Wren writing this did option two, but I swear that somewhere out there he was left in a battered heap on the cafe floor.

And tomorrow morning I take the first of my three graduate exams.

S.T. Strange and the girls moved in together tonight. The monstrosity into which they moved has affectionately been dubbed the Frankencage. Creating it gained me a blood blister, two scratches, and badly bruised palms, but it's ALIIIIIVE.


This is the top half of the girl's old cage, which was originally Neo's cage, wired onto S.T.'s old cage to create a multi-story monstrosity. It is, however, quite possibly one of the sturdiest wire constructions currently on the planet.


S.T. really likes this "level" idea. We were wondering if he'd fit up there, but he hasn't had a problem. We have a rather nimble old man, it would seem. (It probably has a lot to do with the existence of the girls.)


We wired a tupperware to the ceiling of the cage to make a Nap Nest(tm). The girls took to it immediately-- it's where they eat now. S.T. can't fit in there very well, so it's kind of like their personal clubhouse (it's okay, he has a huge fleece hammock.)


The girls are getting easier to tell apart now. Lilith has a cream-colored collar around her neck, while Jadis is still a uniform color. (Lily on bottom, Jae on top.)

And there you have it. If you'll excuse me, I am going to take a post-exam nap now.

Here is the quiz I wrote for this semester's ELEMENTS.

Please take me and give me feedback here. :D

This is your brain on *ded*

STARTLED PANDA. D:

I wore the panda hat to classes today.

No fewer than three professors asked me "so, is that a costume?" and then started backpedaling frantically when I pouted and said "no."

Later, when I was patrolling in it, people were very, very confused.

I am terrified of the future.

This was me testing out my superhero costume.

I just went on a geology field lab in my green billowy skirt and knee-high combat boots. This involved me climbing up and down a steep incline on a rope, trekking through vines and trees, and hopping around on rocks. It was a ton of fun, I thought, but everyone else seemed concerned for my wellbeing, for some reason.

When the professor saw me walk into class, he got a look of "Oh, this is bound to work out well" on his face, but by the end he was staring at me with a bemused sort of admiration. I didn't fall or get myself dirty, and I was able to get around faster than a lot of my classmates. Skirt plus leggings= more room to move than pants, but I guess they were worried that the length of the skirt would cause problems.

Reminds me of the time I rappelled off the side of my school in a skirt and knee-high boots. ^.^

Happy Halloween from Comic House!

Friday Harbor is full of many cool things

Sadly, sleep has not been one of them.

Friday we bussed up, which was great because of the ferry and the people, but horrible because I got motion sick halfway through. Seattle traffic loves me, I tell you. At the ferry terminal we were given glowsticks by a random guy in the car next to us, which turned out to be useful in the cabins. We got into Friday Harbor Lab at about 9:00 and met up at 10:00 for a tour of the facilities and a low tide algae collection EXTRAVAGANZA. I found a lot of sea stars and a chiton, which prompted my professor and her girlfriend to exclaim "good eye!," which made me feel proud in the manner of an Irish Setter which has just learned how to point at grouse in the bushes.

After that I really should have gone to bed, but instead I hung out in the boy's cabin with Matt and Larken until about 1:30. Woke up at 7:15, went to the dining hall, and had breakfast in front of a roaring fire. Post-breakfast Dana, Larken, and I went on a walk around the beach for about an hour. Dana got some awesome pics, which I am going to try to gank from her. (She is a good photographer!)

Then we met up and got a tour of the facilities, were assigned our lab space, and given several hours' worth of free time. Sarah and I spent far too much time keying out an alga, but it turned out to be a good thing because I managed to do a cross-section! I haven't been able to do one all year because my hands simply refuse to have the fine motor skills necessary, but this weekend I got one done and it was LOVELY. :D

We also did some more algae sampling. I found a crab covered in bryozoans, which made him look like he was made of marzipan, and Larken found a crab with a dashing algal hat (a fact which later confused Tim.)

After that Matt, Dana, Larken, Brian and I rowed into town to have dinner and go shopping. We accosted a candy store and discovered a store that sold everything...with lavender in it. (I now have lavender-scented glitter for open use in the girl's bathroom. Consider yourselves warned.) Larken bought a pirate hat, and I discovered that pear-and-Gorgonzola ravioli with garlic-cream sauce is...sexy. o.o

We rowed back in the dark and got ready for a night of research. We spent a few hours out on a beach digging holes and sieving sand for an invasive species of clam. My professor is interested in them because they are being parasitized by a local species of pea crab, a fact which they recently discovered. (We're helping with current research! :o) It was a lot more fun than it sounded. We danced, sang, and were cold. Really cold. There was also sand.

After that we had the option of going to another really cool intertidal site, but I was so cold and tired I felt sick (I was snuggling Matt the entire drive back to the cabins, if that is any indication of my mental state), so I ended up staying behind. My plan was to shower and pass out. Unfortunately, Sarah and I didn't think to give me the key before they drove off and left me stranded. ._.

I ended up spending two and a half hours in the boy's cabin with Larken. (I stole their shower, at least.) We had an unbirthday party involving tea and being very tired at a kitchen table, and he finally went to bed when he realised he was being too silly. (Me: "Neck popping bothers me, but popping my back is like a party!" Him: "And everyone is invited, only it's really just your vertebrae! Oh god, what did I just say?") I fell asleep on the random bed in their living room, and Sarah came to collect me when they came back at 2AM.

Today was mostly driving home.

I AM GOING TO BED. Expect an addendum of pictures from Dana which will make this post infinitely more interesting.

More rattie intros

Jadis, Lilith, and S.T. Strange met face-to-face the other day. While Tweaker and The Brick's cage soaks in the shower (it is much filthier than usual -.-), I figured I'd post a couple pics of the meeting.

First, we have a shot of Jadis' little tummy, complete with Comic House appropriate bandaging. Their sutures are now completely healed, though their skin is a little dry. I've been giving them aloe and bread with olive oil on to make it better. We'll see how well that works in another day or so.

That is an aura of FEAR. She was so sure we were going to force another syringe of pain meds down her throat.

Here is Lilith giving S.T. a kiss. Jadis is terrified of him. Then again, he is ENORMOUS.

Trevor was the "neutral ground" for the meeting. As you can see, he didn't much mind.

The girls are getting so big! I can't wait to see how big they are when fully grown.

Okay, time to go rinse the cage. I really wish they would all get along so I'd have fewer cages to clean. ._.

12 hours of X-files plus two cups of tequila and three slices of pizza= amazing day.

Now I just need to down water like a madwoman so I can be functional tomorrow.

This made me hiss like a slithery hissy thing that was just woken up by bright lights

Wren: *needs to leave for movie soon* Ack! have to go tame my hair oh god
Tim: PICTURES OF UNTAMED HAIR
Wren: no!
Tim: (it's probably a level 70 purple. raid drop.)
Tim: yessssssss.
Wren: .....YOU ARE THE BIGGEST DORK I KNOW. D=

It is now officially a Daryl Trifecta

Q: Why do these clippers suck?
A: Daryl.

I had my Old English midterm today. I have been sitting at the living room table, frantically absorbing the text on roughly eight billion handouts while surrounded by my amethyst-and-gold runes and fragrant candles for the past twenty-four hours. I called it my "circle of power," and it actually helped to a) keep me focused and b) ward everyone else off. ._. (I call that a success.)

Because of my hands, my prof agreed to let me come in 20 minutes early to get a head start on the exam. I head over to our scheduled meeting point this morning and spend twenty minutes sitting in the hall listening to Pink Martini because he completely forgot about me. Luckily, I managed to get the exam done in the required time--barely. I had two minutes to go. After that I recuperated in the science cafe with an enormous mocha and some Plato. Finally, I made it through Ancient Cities, eve though my professor was so sick he could barely hear. (Is it bad that I want to cover him in blankets and make him tea and soup?)

Okay. Trek through the rain. I get home, I collapse on the couch. I shut my brain down and enjoy my well-deserved lethargy.

And then Daryl comes home. He has finally decided his hair is disgusting (A fact which I have been trying to convince him of for the past month) and wants me to buzz his hair. Alright, fine, but we have no clippers. He wants me to go get them with him. I don't particularly want to move. He decides to take Matt instead.

Does anyone remember Toulouse, the man who lived in my closet and would pop out at intervals to yell "MISTAAAAKE" at me, tug at his pants, bow, and head back in? (I'd link, but it's secreted away in a pile of 2002 emo drivel.) I miss him. Sending two boys to do my job is not adequate, and I paid for it later.

He comes back with a set of clippers the size of my hand. Not only that, but the clippers have a name. They are called "The Peanut." (If that's not foreshadowing...) Daryl swears up and down that "the ladies at the store said they were one of the best clippers they had." (Note to self: attack ladies with "The Peanut" later.)

I decide to give them a chance and attack his head with them. Does the hair come off a la V for Vendetta or G.I. Jane? Oh no. Does the hair not move at all? Yes. I am brushing his hair with "The Peanut." It can't even keep buzzing when his hair goes through it. Daryl either has hair made out of woven steel, or these clippers suck. And I am comparing them to a set of clippers one of my friends found abandoned in a cabinet, covered under a thick layer of cat hair and dust.

A word to the wise: It violates a major law of the universe if bought objects suck more than found objects. Daryl's hair quickly became a black hole of evil, and as "The Peanut" tears its way through his hair, it begins to pull at his scalp in an attempt to have it all. "I AM ON FIRE," he finally screams, and I realize another tactic is needed.

To get the clippers to work I had to first cut his hair short with scissors, which felt great on my hands, let me tell you. After that they started working part-time. After a good 45 minutes of work, we had made progress, of a sort:

(Side note: see how my nails and tongue stud match perfectly? Yeah.)

All that hair on him? I put that there vengefully.

Luckily, with my resourcefulness, we managed to salvage his hairdo, and he now looks quite nice. The general consensus is that "The Peanut" is not really a clipper per se, but some sort of masochist's vibrator.

._.

D:

I feel like a horrible momma. The girls just went in to get spayed, and they were so HAPPY and INQUISITIVE about everything!

Jadis: OMG HI NURSE HAND GROOM GROOM
Lily: DO YOU HAVE FOOD
Jadis: EEE GROOM GROOM
Lily: GIVE ME YOUR TREATS
Jadis: <3
Lily: I WILL SETTLE FOR SNUGGLES

They're not going to be so happy or inquisitive once the surgery is over. ._.

Dear world:

I am single. I am also currently celibate. I have not been kissing anyone, having hot sex, or making out in dark corners. (Physically, at least.)

So why, world, is the doctor's office testing me for mono right now?

YOU COULDN'T LET ME GET IT THE FUN WAY, HUH.

No love,
the girl who also has a sinus infection

Pissants.

There is no longer a friendly rivalry between Comic House and Robot House. As of tonight, it is an all-out war.

Last Wednesday we got together with Dana and Larken to learn to play Guitar Hero. I invited two people from Robot House, neither of which could make it. One was "Romeo." (I am totally glaring and saying I-TOLD-YOU-SO to the house.) We only had one controller and wanted to play multiplayer mode, so we asked to borrow one. When we went over to pick it up, the guy who answered the door told us it didn't matter which controller we borrowed. So, we took the red one to make sure it wouldn't be confused with our black one. Seems fair, right?

Wednesday passes. The night is fun. I e-mail "Romeo" and ask whose controller it is to see when they want it back. I get no response at all. I IM the other guy we talk to from the house, who said we could borrow it. Also no response. Since it seemed like they really didn't care how long we had it, we held on to it. We saw several members of the house on Thursday, who waved and said nothing. On Friday, I tried to corner "Romeo" and ask him about it, but he literally RAN out of the classroom door to avoid me.

(Side note here. YOU ARE A COLLEGE SENIOR. The days of running away from girls are behind you, sir. The only reason why I tried to be nice to you was because you sat next to me the first day of class this semester, and had been nice to me on other occasions before that. You seemed funny and sarcastic, and rather intelligent. Had I known that you instantly became a sociopathic gluteal haberdasher once people tried to be civil to you, I would have kept the fuck away. You are not being stalked, which should be obvious considering you have no human qualities that would be stalk-worthy. Get over yourself! I am amazed that you managed to find six people willing to live with you, though that became less astounding as the rest of these events unfolded.)

I didn't want to bring the controller back randomly because no one ever answers the door when I knock or ring the bell (BECAUSE I AM A CRAZY STEALTHY STALKER WITH ALL THE BELL RINGING), so we held onto it and waited for them to get back to us. No dice.

Flash forward to tonight. "Romeo" is serving food at the campus grill, and when he sees me, he stops what he is doing and yells "WE WANT OUR GUITAR BACK!" I am a little taken aback, but I agree that I'll drop it by. He then proceeds to be a complete jackass to everyone in my house as we get our orders in. (Note to self: Apparently guys who glare like assholes the whole way through.)

Once we get home, I IM the other guy and ask about it. Apparently "Romeo" and the controller owner are under the impression that I walked into their house and took their damn guitar without asking anyone's permission.

Oh yes, you read that right. They think I stole their controller.

Gaskets blow somewhere in the interior of my psyche, and I lose it. The conversation did not end well. But, I think I had every right to be offended. Our houses have a friendly rivalry. That does not mean marching into their house and ganking electronic equipment. That does not mean violating personal space and overstepping the bounds of acquaintanceship. The fact that "Romeo" thinks I would stoop so low has made me lose all interest in a friendship with him. I could accept the stalker jokes, because it was amusing. But this is a bit much. Especially since they didn't do a damn thing to contact us to get it back! If you're that worried and upset over your property being taken, shouldn't you take action?

Apparently not. Apparently the members of Robot House simply sit and stew in their own angst because they have not yet developed the social skills, or possibly the fucking testicles, to figure out what is actually going on in a situation. Seven people in the house and not a socially acclimated one among them (okay, so that's not true of two of them, but still. Isn't that still defying some sort of golden rule? The entire house is a statistical anomaly, and it is completely the fault of robots!)

Tonight Maddo and I gave them their controller back, after a minor crisis involving the whammy bar and the shoddy workmanship typical of Red Octane. The ex-leader of the house answers (the one who kept threatening to burn our house down), and the following conversation ensues:

"Hello!" *chocolate bar OM NOM NOM NOM*
"Hey! Tell [controller owner] thank you for letting us borrow it, and that we would have gotten it back sooner, but we were having trouble getting ahold of you guys."
"Okay!" *OM NOM*
"Also, tell Eric he's a jerk."
"Will do!" *NOM NOM*
"Thanks!" ^_^ ^_^

So that's that. Controller is back, and I am breathing normally again. No more friendly rivalry. No more glaring and pretending to hate but actually finding it fun. We at Comic House are leaving them the fuck alone, since they have made it quite clear that is what they want. We will also be locking our doors in case they decide to "retaliate."

All of this drama over Guitar Hero? This can't actually have happened among a group of near-college graduates, surely. Right, guys? Anyone?

That's it. The lightning is incoming, I can feel it in my toes.

I never thought I'd be sentenced to Hell for just reading something, but that was before I came across this:

"Judas kissed Jesus back, and tore at His robes. In moments, Jesus was naked, and Judas was marveling at His cock. 'When they said you were hung on the cross, I did not think that this was what they meant!'"

And couldn't. Stop. Laughing.

I AM GOING TO BED. D:

It has become a house meme

Q: "Why is there a jar of peanut butter under the table?"
A: Daryl

Just a thought:

Whoever invented the "expectorant" really needs to hang out with everyone who has been forced to take it. Ever.

D:

La, hlaford!

Being social is so damn exhausting! No wonder I could never do it while I was depressed!

This is the face of a Washington State resident.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, O PEOPLE OF THE STATE.

Ahaha.

Me: *zzZZzzZZzz, under bed*
Matt: *comes home, stomps up stairs* "SARAH, WE ARE THE ONLY ONES HERE."
Me: *zzzZzz--* !

*yawn*

You know it is going to be one of those days when you wake up with horrible 80s music on repeat in your head.

Then again, I could be biased, because I'm dreading lab. I caught a freshman cheating during the Geology exam yesterday, and decided I should tell the professor. I sent him an e-mail after class, and now he wants to speak to me in lab about it.

I've never seen a student at this uni cheat. It really surprised me when I noticed he had his PDA phone out underneath his desk and was scrolling through some notes and copying things down. But, I think he needs to be called out now and learn his lesson, rather than later. If he gets caught now, he gets a reprimand, and maybe fails the test. If he gets caught his junior year, there is no doubt that he will be expelled.

Regardless, I still feel like a horrible person.

It's like I'm in high school all over again!

It seems as though the entire campus is determined to force me into a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque relationship with one of the members of Robot House. Matt has already claimed the part of Mercutio, and Maddo just wants to be everyone.

In some ways, I guess it's my fault. I've been making an effort to befriend the poor guy, especially since he makes a point of glaring at me every time he sees me (in jest, mind.) When we crashed one of their events wearing anti-robot propaganda, I was sporting an army green shirt with spray-painted stenciling that said "glare at me." It was a great hit-- I got glares in spades, coupled with much embarrassed laughter. And the rest of Robot House thought it was amazing.

Unfortunately, they also decided he and I would make a couple. Note that there's no adjective in that sentence to describe what sort of couple. I don't think they really care, so long as we get together. His roommate oh-so-stealthily tested the waters by informing their Romeo that I have "a huge crush" on him. The poor kid freaks out, and then roommate says he is joking.

You might wonder how I know this. The roommate tracked me down on Thursday and informed me of the event himself, again oh-so-stealthy in his reconnaissance. I informed him that he was a horrible person to do that to poor Romeo, and then mentioned off-hand that it was mildly offensive that he had freaked out.

"Oh, not in a bad way."

... D=

Needless to say, I then politely informed him that he was going to die.

Friday the professor who lords over the class we have together asked me to give some papers to him, since he had been deathly ill at home all week. (That is what I get for nabbing an extra paper assignment for him on Monday. Stupid, stupid!) I left them on his doormat, since no one was answering the door, then sent him an e-mail and told him to get them before the squirrels or the rain did. A few minutes later, I get a reply: "Thanks stalker lady." I retort maturely: "Jerkface!" and go on about my day.

The roommate eats lunch with us that day, and informs me that he told Romeo that he told me about the "I has a crush" incident. Roommate apparently threatened to kill him, to which his only respose was: "She wants to kill me, too! Do it together and bond over my death!" When I ask after Romeo's health, he says "you know, you seem very concerned for him! Why don't you come over and nurse him better? Maybe make him soup?"
"Actually, I make good soup. From scratch."
"She does," adds Mercutio. There is much shin kicking under the table. Roommate smirks knowingly and ambles off, leaving me and Mercutio to hatch a cunning plan.

When we go to Target to purchase my Roboraptor, we also pick up a nice can of soup. To this soup I attach a label:

Directions for use:
1) Consume
OR
2) Aim at roommate.
Throw vengefully.

When we head off to the campus movies that night, I leave it on his doormat, with no explanation. It also doesn't have my name on it, but I am trusting the collective intelligence of the house to figure it out. While out patrolling this morning, I noticed it was gone. So there are really two options at this point: one, Romeo shows up to class healthy and invigorated; two, roommate shows up with large can-shaped welt on his face.

Though, I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive. Either way, I am hoping it will teach roommate to shut up.

In the meantime, I just have to deal with relentless teasing from my housemates. Is it possible for four people to be some sort of collective Satan?

Fuck, I'm glad I went to college.

"For the record, sea urchins do not make good candles." -Jennifer, my Marine Interactions Prof during lecture today.

Chapter 1 of Typhon is up on my writing blog.

She might have been on the right track with the sign idea.

(The sign idea.) Alright, I admit it. I'm giving off single vibes. And I am so sorry, but I have no idea how to stop it!

I just caught myself flirting with Tom. Tom, the coworker. Tom, who lived next door to me freshman year. Tom, who used to knock on the door when drunk and annoy the roomie. I think that's enough proof that there is something wrong with me.

Tom, Bossman Prime, and I were sitting in the office keeping each other entertained when Tom finds a pair of thumb cuffs on another Bossman's desk.
Tom: "Why do we have these?"
Bossman Prime: "Oh, he found them in the dirt by Wyatt."

Tom studies them for a moment, looks at me, and says "Why the hell would anyone on campus have one of these?"

And what do I do? Do I make a bondage joke? In my head, yes, I do. But what I do in reality is worse. I smile. Not a jaunty grin, not a "HAHA DOMINATION" leer, but a slow, open-mouthed smile that just kinda crept across my face against my will. While making eye contact with a 21 year-old guy playing with thumbcuffs.

Tom turns bright red and starts laughing. This makes me grin harder. Then it hits me what just transpired and I start laughing from shock. "Oh God Tom, I did not want to have that moment with you."
Bossman Prime asks Tom "What did you just do? Are you being gross?"
"No," he says. "Wren was giving me an intriguing look..." And he grins again.
I hide in my hoodie and order him to put the thumbcuffs away.
"Yes, mistress."

I want to die.

Whoa.

Chapter one of the new story is coming along nicely. I am currently on page eight, 1.5 spaced and justified. To give you some reference, each chapter of "The Vorpal Libraray" averaged 5 pages double-spaced. I think I'll be through the chapter in another eight or so pages. IT IS GOING TO BE LONG, GUYS. V:

Hopefully, this means I will be able to post the finished chapter on Friday. The one person who has read it so far is still living and as sane as she was before starting it, so I take that as a good sign.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Wren: I wish medicine didn't suck so bad
Mike: medicine helps sometimes
Mike: you wouldn't be all badmouthing medicine if you had polio!
Wren: Dude, I have the Niagra Falls of phlegm cascading down the back of my throat and into my stomach.
Wren: The Old Faithful of phlegm is currently spewing from my chest every time I cough.
Mike: ew
Wren: AND IT IS THE MEDICINE'S FAULT. It turned me into some sort of bizzare tectonic phlegm hotspot.
Mike: i just ate
Wren: So did I, in a way.
Mike: ewwww

At UPS, we have opinions.

So I'm frantically working through my buildings, trying to get caught up after dealing with the kitchen fire that flooded an entire floor of Trimble with a smoke consisting of white wine, garlic, and chili powder. For the record, whoever thought up that little combo should be shot. It makes the eyes and lungs burn, and now my clothes reek of burnt alcohol and rancid spices. (It's just one of those nights.)

I get to Wyatt, and am shutting up a room when I realise that literally every desk in the room is covered in bored Greek Life graffiti. "The West Side is the Best Side," "503 represent," "Sigma Chi sucks," "Wu Tang or Death," and "Toy Story 2 was okay!"

What.

Toy Story Two was okay. Why would you even go through the effort of carving that into a desk? It's not inflammatory. It doesn't evoke a strong reaction in the gut. It's like riding into battle and shouting "I will probably stab one of you!" Everyone's just gonna nod and go "yeah, that seems about right."


Some people need to learn how to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. OPINIONS, PEOPLE. HAVE THEM.

Of Mandolins and Broken Dreams

iTunes: *queues up Mandolin song Wren spent last semester trying to learn*
Wren: EEEE!
Maddo: *bastardizes song by humming it in a grating maner*
Wren: Stop it, Maddo. You can't ruin ALL my memories."
Maddo: "What?! This song didn't mean anything to you!"
Wren: "Yes, it did! I worked my fingers to the bone so that one day I could serenade you from underneath your window! But no, all I could do was sing "You and me, me and you, both of us togetheerrrr!" So instead of sex, I got Monster's Inc!"
Maddo: *hysterical giggling*
iTunes: *starts playing rather intense mandolin song*
Wren: *begins air-playing the mandolin vigorously at Maddo while wiggling her eyebrows wildly*
Maddo: "THIS IS WHY I CAN'T BE WITH YOU!"
Maddo: *flees!*

further proof that I should not be allowed near technology

Chew Toy, my original iPod, developed a mind of its own before its death. I've mentioned in several posts on here its tendency to choose music that perfectly suited the situation at hand while on shuffle. Before it died, it turned on its own while I was saving it from Tim. Clearly it was a semi-sentient being there

Now, my voice recognition software is beginning to express its opinion of the topics I'm using it to discuss. Today, I'm trying to finish up my paper on the ancient Hebrew view of cities, using the story of Lot and Sodom and Gomorrah as my main example, when it oh so cleverly mangled my words. Observe what occurs when I summarize Lot's actions:

Bad plot is allowed to leave for Zo'ar...

God is going to smite my computer.

brain bad, serotonin good

I learned something new and lovely today. Apparently when the weather changes I feel more pain. It's not too bad, because when it gets cold, I'm already sleepy and about ready to go to bed. It definitely makes the medicine head interesting though.

I got two pages of a paper done using my dictation program. It was actually pretty cool, though I admit to having stage fright when someone else is in the room. I have a feeling that once the novelty wears off they'll pay less attention to me, and this feeling will pass. It will probably make writing more interesting, because it will give me a chance to be in character for all of the dialogue. That would be good, because I really sucked at that as a kid. Looking over some of my other stories, it seems like I have gotten better, but I'm not going to turn my nose up at help.

(Note to self: apologize to Matt for screaming in his ear. Also suggests that in future he not reach for me.)

May I have your attention please.

My writing blog has officially reopened. I will post a new chapter every Friday, if all goes well. Go ahead and head over (see the happy sidebar link?) and let me know what you think I should write- the new story, or finish up the old?

I have every intention of keeping it up this time.

New Hair Photos, Finally

Most of you know by now that I cut my hair off. Before you Neandertals start bitching about me having short hair, consider the following:
1) My hair had been bleached at least eight times and was starting to fray like so many delicate little ropes.
2) I do not have time to take care of long hair this semester.
3) Long hair gets in the way of pretty much everything. Collecting algae in the field? Oh, there it goes in the water. Reading in class? My, what a lovely purple-and-orange curtain! Sleeping? Gak! Choking! And that's not even including a windy day.
4) It's incentive to keep losing the stress weight I picked up over the summer.

I took before and after dying photos, so here is a shot of the old color combo. Didn't it look lovely? (My, what large roots you have!)


And here is what I looked like after one round of bleach. (FLAME ON?)


Finally, here's the new color. A lot of people have expressed shock at how light it is since I normally go for really "saturated" colors, but you have to admit the color suits the style. In the words of John: "That color is perfect for your hair! It's so...fluffy!"


And, of course Maddo got a cut and color, too. Here she is, in all her before and after glory.


When we first rinsed out the dye, we were worried we'd chosen shades that were too similar, but after a wash the true colors showed through.


Are we awesome or what?

Requiem for Warmth

I no longer own any jackets.

When we were moving out of the apartment, Matt and I accidentally didn't check the main hall closet, which is where I stashed my winter coats. I tracked down one of the girls who lives in the apartment now, and she grudgingly admitted she had thrown them away.

No e-mail, no call, no putting two and two together. Just into the trash! It makes no sense to me, but it seems like life's way of telling me it's time to update my wardrobe. New hair, new purse, new earrings, and now new jackets. I don't know that I'll ever be able to find a coat that matches my trenchcoat in sheer awesome, but I shall try.

Goodbye trenchcoat! You were six years old and well-loved.


Goodbye REI coat! You were both waterproof and excellent for stashing rats in.


Goodbye corduroy peacoat! You were perfect for my Russian Hat and Suicide Scarf, and warm.


Goodbye red fleece! You went so well under everything. D=
(so well, in fact, that I have no photos.)

Now I get to talk to my family and go shopping for more new things.

Extra, Extra!

I have cut all my hair off and have real bangs for the first time in six years. You know, I can't figure out why we don't call it "fringe," because it really is far more descriptive, especially in my case. I'll post pictures soon, so stop foaming at the mouth.

I am also preparing to restart the story I wrote in seventh grade that got destroyed in eighth. It hurts to much to actually re-write it, though, so I have decided to take the same premise and tell it from the point of view of the book's antagonist. He was my favorite character, anyway. I haven't yet decided if I am going to restart my story blog and put it over there, but I'll be sure and make another news post when I do.

I go pass out now. Just got off work.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

House is amazing because he is what I will be when I am that age, except for the whole miserable thing (or at least that's the proposed modus operandi in Wrenville).

House is terrible because it makes me realise that no matter how much I want to, I will never get my filthy little paws on Hugh Laurie. That thought makes my life seem bleak. Clearly I need to coerce one of you to grow a salt-and-pepper beard, don violently blue contacts, and talk dirty to me in British English. Use words like "dodgy" and "sodding" a lot. Drink tea from red mugs, and be scathingly witty to anything I suggest to pass the time.

...So, any takers?

D=

Dear Lovely Cafe Employees:

I know that I live in the cafe and know you all by name. I also appreciate that you remember me and can at least guess halfway what I will be ordering that day.

I also know that you are being nice by giving me free things, but it would probably be in the best interest of the world to stop offering me extra shots of espresso. I CAN'T SAY NO, and then everyone has to deal with an awake and uncontrollably shaking Wren WHO LOVES EVERYONE OMGGGG.

For some reason, beloved cafe people, that terrifies my friends.

Love,
The girl who wants to climb back in her sullen shell like a confused cicada.

Oh, Freshmen!

Asked today in Geology class: "Wait, are snowflakes solid?"

They're not getting any better.

It has been another one of those weird days

I have been doing a lot of homework today. A few minutes ago I finally snapped and had to rant to someone. Poor Tim.

Wren: Please give me one good reason why I am being forced to translate Pidgin into Latin. AND WHY DO I SMELL LIKE HONEY AGAIN
Tim: Pidgin into Latin? what?
Wren: I AM REQUIRED TO TURN PIDGIN INTO LATIN
Tim: I don't even know what that means
Tim: you are saying words
Tim: and they make no sense.
Wren: a good man = gudfela man = vir bonus
Wren: VIR BONUS, CUZ.
Tim: okay A: what is pidgin.
Wren: Pidgin is a bastardized English spoken by Samoans, among others.
Wren: AND DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY SPEAK ESPERANTO?
Wren: no!
Tim: no, they don't
Tim: you need better classes or something.
Wren: it's a linguistics class. Given examples, I can easily decipher the structure of a language.
Wren: He's making a point.
Tim: oh.
Wren: bah. disfela man i-gudfela.
Tim: I'm lost again.
Wren: bahaha
Tim: eanie.
Tim: meanie.
Wren: miney?
Tim: D:
Wren: MO!
Wren: :D
Tim: THROWING THINGS AT YOU
Tim: they will arrive eventually.

For the record, nothing has yet arrived.

LOLRATS OMG

And the semester comes together

I'm keeping all my classes, and since I just got both my work shifts, I have a pretty good idea of how my schedule is going to look. So, without further ado, here is my Intimidating Semester Schedule (tm).

Monday:
9:30 AM- Wake up.
9:50 -10:20 - Exercise with Maddo
10:30-10:45- Get ready for class
11:00 - History of the English Language
12:00 - Geology 101
1:00 -Ancient Cities
2:00 - OMG FOOD NOW!
3:00- 6:00 -Where did my brain go? (Alternately, homework)
6:00 -6:45 - Dinner with House
7:00 - 8:00 - Prepare for Heroes (woo comic house events!)
8:30 - 10:45 - HEROES
11:00- 12:00 - X.X;;

Tuesday:
9:30 - Wake up.
10:00 11:50- Geology lab
12:00 - 12:30 - lunch
12:30 - 4:30 - Marine Interactions
5:00 - Theme House Coordinator Meeting
6:00 - Dinner with house
7:00- 10:00 - Homework
10:00 -12:00 - X.X;;;

Wednesday:
9:30 AM- Wake up.
9:50 -10:20 - Exercise with Maddo
10:30-10:45- Get ready for class
11:00 - History of the English Language
12:00 - Geology 101
1:00 -Ancient Cities
2:00 - OMG FOOD NOW!
2:30- 4:00 -HOMEWORK OMG
4:00 -12:00 - Work.
12:00 - ZZZzzZzz...

Thursday:
9:30 - Wake up.
10:00-10:30 - Exercise with Maddo
12:00 - 12:30 - lunch
12:30 - 4:30 - Marine Interactions
5:00 - ELEMENTS meeting
6:00 - Dinner with house
7:00- 10:00 - Homework
10:00 -12:00 - X.X;;;

Friday:
9:30 AM- Wake up.
9:50 -10:20 - Exercise with Maddo
10:30-10:45- Get ready for class
11:00 - History of the English Language
12:00 - Geology 101
1:00 -Ancient Cities
2:00 - OMG FOOD NOW!
3:00- 6:00 -Where did my brain go? (Alternately, homework)
6:00 -6:45 - Dinner with House
7:00 - 10:00 - Homework!
11:00- 12:00 - X.X;;

Saturday:
Sleep in!
Field trips, camping, and general layaboutness.

Sunday:
8:00-4:00 - Work.
4:00 -6:00 - Veg.
6:00 - 10:00 - Homework!

Ad nauseum.

ZOMG FALL 07

I never thought a class about algae would be SO FUCKING INTERESTING. XD

I knew I was tempting fate with yesterday's post.

My bicycle has been stolen.