So, if anyone else uses Pandora, let me know so I can friend you and stalk you. Musically.
(Anyone else have a problem where it takes forever to get a station right? I just now got one almost perfect and I am afraid to thumbs up or down anything else ever again in case I ruin it.)
Suzanne Vega always needs more love.
Am I an afternoon's pastime?
A thing on a string
To be thrown and retrieved
Like a phone call received
On somebody's birthday
To tease and delight
And then say goodnight
And then just say goodbye?
Am I a toy on a tray ?
A soft piece of clay
Queen or clown for the day
Machine ballerina
Soldier of tin
Standing so loyal
While you sit so royal
Then I'm put away?
For your approval,
Perusal,
And your possible
Refusal,
I'm amusing,
I'm a puppet for your play.
Am I your Mad Magazine?
Skin trampoline
Pin-up pinball machine
Your fantasy girl
Of puzzling parts
But none fits or starts
We match wits but not hearts
I'm heard but never seen?
For your approval,
Perusal,
And your possible
Refusal,
I'm amusing,
I'm a puppet for your play
Here are two new icons I made recently from a VGCats comic. It took a lot more work than it looks, trust me. Text bubbles were moved. Text was redone. Backgrounds were re-done. Fonts were downloaded. HAVOC WAS WROUGHT.
(For the record, the one on the left is Kairi from KH2, and the left most definitely features Sora and Riku. Finally, the truth has come out.)
The backgrounds were especially fun. ._. *Shudders*
"It's okay. I'm a scientist. "- Me, Mike.
The problem with that phrase is that all the hypotheses we were justifying ended up causing horrible bruising. My left arm is missing skin because I whacked it on the wooden couchback while playing the Wii. Boss battle! It was necessary to use extra force!
The wedding may have sucked, but hanging out with Mike made the trip back worth it. He's the only one I talk to from there, anymore. The only problem is I got about eight hours of sleep the entire weekend, so now get to go to work exhausted.
The wedding is today. I went upstairs to meet everyone, and stumbled across Unc's sister, K.
K: "Oh. I didn't know you were going to be here..."
Me: "Yep." *walks off*
Child: "Do yoo like puh-ple?"Smart kid.
Me: "Nope." (This is a reflex response by now--I honestly wasn't intending to be a bitch.)
*candid stare* "Den why is yourw hairw and shirt puh-ple?"
Me: "Shampoo accident." *flees for basement*
Wren discovers glaring at her iPod does not change the song, no matter how many brainwaves she puts into it.When one of your rats jumps up on the edge of the tub to say "o hai" and accidentally falls in with you while you are taking a bath, it is hysterical.
It is somewhat less amusing when done by the cat.
I have most of my first identified set of antiques for sale on eBay. >.<
If they don't sell there, I am selling them wholesale to a massive antiques company.
While effective at making them go away, hissing at dive-bombing crows while on patrol scares the bejeezus out of nearby custodians.
Wren suddenly realises that the new bed may be the cure to her sleepless nights.
Ever seen a llama run? It's hysterical.
Yesterday our mental health stop was the Badlands. Today, it was an IHOP in Bozeman, Montana. I'm sure you can imagine just how effective that was.
It's true, though. Montana doesn't end. We went through half of Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho today to reach Spokane, but Montana was so long I keep forgetting we were in Wyoming at all. By the time we reached Idaho, it was pitch black and foggy. I was driving the U-Haul in the mountains, which I am sure you all know just how little I enjoy doing. There was an enormous metal sign at the end of a hairpin turn, reflecting my brights back at me blindingly and obliterating all sign of the road ahead while screaming “WELCOME TO IDAHO.”
I screamed right back, Maddo giggled.
Around the next bend was a “HISTORIC VIEW POINT PULL-OFF,” but to the right of me was the inky blackness of a fall to our deaths, and to the left of me was an overzealous Jeep that passed me going 90 and swerving. “I DON'T CARE,” I replied to the sign, and Maddo giggled harder.
Right about this time, Snape killed Dumbledore, but luckily Spokane is 15 minutes from Idaho, so I kept it together long enough to get a room.
Starting out peeling bug corpses off your windshield wipers does not bode well for your day, just so you know. Luckily, all other signs have indicated things will be going well today—that is, assuming we manage to find a store that sells iPod cables. If the iPods go dead, I think we might be proper fucked.
Called Fam this morning to let her know we weren't sucked up by a tornado and deposited in Topeka.
“I'm glad you called. I was worried, but I figured if they'd found your little bodies dead in a U-Haul, I would have gotten a call by now.”
“...Thanks.”
“Dude, I swear I just heard your phone.”
*checks “Huh. You did!”
“I WIN!”
*iPod queues up Marriage of Figero. Hysterical laughter commences.*
Maddo: *hears surreptitious rustle*
Me: *Om to the nom, motherfuckers*
Maddo: “What are you eating?”
Me: “...a rib.”
Maddo: “Oh my God. How many have you had?”
Me: “I ATE THEM ALL!” D:
Maddo: “Well, let me know if I need to pull over so you can barf.”
Me: “I regret nothing!”
Maddo: “Hey, a rest stop. We could switch and you could wash your hands since they're all gross from the bbq.”
Me: “Oh, no they're not!”
Maddo: “No sauce was spared!”
Maddo: “Wren, what was that noise?”
Me: “Oh, you know. I just put my foot through the lid of the to-go box and squished the sandwich.”
Maddo: -.-
Me: “What? It's not the ribs! I don't care!”
Maddo and I have both concluded we should have known things would not go smoothly with my family. Here is a brief list of why:
1) Unc told us to wake up at 7:30 to collect the truck. We dragged our asses out of bed at 6:45. At 8:00 AM, Unc was still in the shower.
2) Thanks to his poor planning, instead of being done at 11:00 like we wanted, we were done at 2:00. (Don't ask.)
3) Then there was a thunderstorm, and Fam actually refused to drive us back from lunch to get to the U-Haul so we could leave.
In other news, I have murdered more bugs than I knew existed. But now we are at a Holiday Inn, courtesy of Unc's credit card (which he has sent with us), and eating pizza and watching movies. So I feel a lot better about life.
Now if only we weren't 120 miles behind schedule...
I don't think Maddo was prepared for the extent of my airport jitters. She's never flown with me before, so the sight of me tweaking and nauseated in the passenger seat of Daryl's truck this morning must have been a surprise. It's not my fault, really. I just sit there, dreading airport security, thinking of all the things that have gone wrong in the past and oh god what if they yell at me for having my face lotion in my makeup bag and is my bra going to set off the metal detector again do I have my driver's license what if I didn't lock the back door why am I motion sick and where are my meds!
Breathe.
I did have a bit of a run-in with the TSA, but it wouldn't be a trip to Saint Louis without it. I had just made it through the metal detector without issue when I hear “FEMALE ASSIST, BAG CHECK!”
Oh God.
Turns out it was indeed my backpack being suspected. “WHOSE BAG IS THIS!” shrieked an old bag (Ha, you see what I did there), and I sheepishly raise my hand.
“Come here.”
I amble over. “What's going on?”
“You have a LOT of liquids in here.” She glares at me accusingly, and I flash back to running into Peter, Brandon, and Matt at Target yesterday. (“Are you making meth?” “No, I am going on a road trip!”)
“I know. I'm going on a five-day trip,” I reply tersely.
“Step back outside the metal detectors.”
Great. What did I do wrong this time?
I do as I am told and watch her grumble to herself as she dons gloves and grabs a Ziploc bag. It took about as twice as long as it should have because she was so busy yanking the gloves on she lost fine motor skills and got the fingers tangled. Then she kept missing the Ziplocs. She follows me out with my bag and begins to yank at the zipper, which is about as effective as her glove-obtainment was. After a few awkward moments, I decide she's probably going to tear the damn bag before she manages to get it open.
“Do you want me to get that for you?”
Stony silence is my only reply. Maddo is staring at me through the metal detectors, managing to look at once amused, sympathetic, and triumphant.
The zipper finally obliges, and she reaches in and yanks out an offending bottle, only to find all the other “liquids” have come with.
“Oh. They're already bagged.” She deflates a little.
“Indeed.”
The gears in her head turn, and righteous wrath resurfaces. “Well, next time you need to leave it out on the belt so we don't have to go through this again!”
“That's fine.” I consider pointing out that there is no sign stating this anywhere, but think better of it.
At this point I decide she's actively trying to pick a fight, because instead of letting me go, she gives me a suspicious stare. “Are you suuuuure those are the only liquids you have?”
“Yep.” (Other than the face moisturizer, I mean. Heh. But really. What's the point of Ziplocking the fucking things if I'm not going to do all of them?)
“Fine. Go back through.” And she storms off, . Back through the metal detector I go, to discover that Maddo was allowed to get by with her liquids without a search. (I think the guy who called the bag check felt bad.) But still, this proves my hypothesis that all airport security people think I am a druggie.
Hopefully this is the only bit of random rudeness I encounter. As Maddo pointed out: “She was just trying to bully you so she could feel powerful. I don't think she expected you to fight back because you were so much younger than she was.”
That usually ends badly for people.
As of 8AM, Fam is AWOL and Unc and [girlfriend] are at the house, gathering all the stuff I need to pack together to make it easier for me and Maddo once we arrive. I think this is very nice of them. They've also asked us to pick a restaurant for tonight's dinner, which is also nice of them. (“I think [girlfriend] is the best thing that has ever happened to your family.” - Maddo) So, assuming I can survive the damn plane flight, I just have to pack and get dinner and then pick up the U-Haul tomorrow morning and then get out of STL.
Note to self: Do not forget to buy a cooler and an iTrip or we may not survive Montana.
::EDIT::
Oh my God. Funniest thing ever. Went to dinner with the family, and invited Mike along (not you, Eri. Clearly). We decided afterward that we'd meet up to go swimming, but Mike needed to drop by his house and get his swim trunks. Unc decided to take us to his new office, so Mike ended up getting back to the house first. I get the following text:
"You here yet?"
"Nope. Just sit there and look shady until one of my neighbors calls the cops on you."
"Kay."
We got there seconds before the police did.
NOTE TO SELF: Update this banner.
