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!