Dec 29, 2008

Lots of things going on. New computer, new blog coming soon...

How was Utah? Boyf was wonderful and my family loves him. Me too, actually.

Also I have a serious rice-a-roni addiction starting. mmmm...

Crash

My computer died.

Yes, my harddrive crashed. You may remember a similar event when my last hard drive crashed and then my sister died. God what a crappy month THAT was. I really...really miss that computer. *sigh*

Anyway, my computer is dead, so I'm using Boyf's until I get a replacement. I gave him the 2nd bedroom when we moved in, (if you live with me, I assume you need a separate space to avoid the occasional crazystorm) but now I'm taking all the time I can online and editing, because I am addicted to the internet. I feel bad revoking the privacy of Boyf's room...but not bad enough to leave the house for an internet cafe in winter.

We're flying to SLC on the 23rd for christmas with my family. Hmm.

Now that I think about it, I really need to give Pad some space before he's surrounded by Utahns. He has no idea...no idea...

Less is More

I don't like to talk about Boyf that often, or rather not about stuff between the two of us. We live together now, so it'd be pretty hard to not mention SOME conversations, but we're a fairly private duo.

Boyf is MUCH more private than I. Less dramatic too. Like that'd be an effort.

So...

I really like dating this man. That is all.

Akeelah and the Bee

In movie-to-food terms, it's comfort food, but a good meal.


and PERFECT for me and Dante and Cormac to do make-overs and gossip about boys!

silver cormac-lining

It's pitch black at 6pm, I'm watching a show about HUGE frogs from, like south america or something, and I have no job.

It'd be easy to go mad if i didn't have this cute puppy creature to keep me company.

Sam W. Soothing Message #1

Hello, Jady. I'm Sam Waterston.

You may know me as a soothing, knowlegable attorney on TV's Law and Order, as well as guest spot on several other series in the Dick Wolf family of entertainment. I'm quite comforting and well-spoken.

I believe you may have need of my influence, Jady.

Many people worry, in their mid-20s, that they've mis-stepped in their professional and, ha ha, yes, personal paths. That isn't so. You're awesome, Jady.

I approve of your prudent use of your spare time to bake cookies as well as the later extrapolation you've made to give edible treats as holiday gifts this year.

You are also at a lovely weight and I like your hair.

I know you may be feeling lethargic and weak this week, but remember, vitamins are there for a reason! You deserve the best of health, Jady.

Thanks again for allowing me a moment of your time. I'll just stand here and make soothing noises whilst you rest.

Theeere you go. rest, rest. good girl.

Cloverdale, IN

Me: You know, Sister actually said she felt uncomfortable with me being here.
1: Oh, I don't know why you'd say that, Jady.
Me: Uh...why would I lie?
1: I don't know, Jady. I'm not THAT kind of doctor.


You know, one moment, your fractured relationship with your mom and stepdad seems to be knitting up nicely. The next moment, they call you a liar and a lunatic.

Maybe one of them will try to convince me that I'm making up my depression again. Because, as y'all have seen, depressed is the funnest thing to be EVER. Sister, on the other hand, doesn't seem interested in spending time with me at all over the weekend. As in refused to hang out at all........SO glad I came.


I'm rethinking a visit home for xmas.











p.s. I considered NOT posting this blog, but chose to a)record this trip for future warnings against optimism and b)tell Cloverdale, Indiana to officially fuck OFF.

Cleaner

http://www.aetv.com/the-cleaner/

Imagine: an hour of Benjamin Bratt giving advice in a harsh, angry-soulful voice: "I know what it's like...I know what it's like to fire up that spoon and feel invincible for that first 3 minutes...so what you wanna do, man? be another rock star cliche?" AND FUCKING SO ON.


I don't want to do a long sass-dance about addiction-drama media in general, because lord knows I'll always be deeply critical of anything claiming 'shockingly REAL' portrayals of cutting, addiction, disorders, depression, etc. They're silly and overdramatic. Ta-da.

The Cleaner, however, is particularly insulting--because i really don't think the creators know how preachy, silly, and totalitarian they are. For example:

1. Unless someone is drinking molten lava, it will usually take more than, say, 4 seconds after consumption to have an allergic reaction/ overdose.

2. Meeting people and asking them to help you find drugs ON THE SAME DAY is not very inconspicuous.

3. 'Hey....I've BEEN there! I KNOW what you're going through!' is not a magical phrase that knocks addicts out of apathy and establishes the speaker as a sage, healing figure. Sorry.

4. Please tell me this show isn't taking air time away from Breaking Bad...Breaking Bad is far more awesome

5. Drug mules aren't often 105 pound rich white chicks. Sorry again.

6. Friends who use aren't evil 'bad egg' types who force Your Good Daughter into bad situations. There's been a problem, it's Your Good Daughter's problem, and shooing away her 'bad' friend won't help a bit.

7. I hate Benjamin Bratt so much. Used to not really mind him. But apparently he's his own, personal jesus.

8. 'I hope she's ok...' 'She will be.' Really? REALLY?

9. It's strange that Mr.Cleaner is so damn astute about every stanger he meets, but hasn't noticed that his daughter has an anxiety disorder and his wife is clearly underweight.

10. Forcing someone to clean up over a weekend and shoving them into rehab is the worst imaginable way to facilitate lasting change, you dumb didactic fucks.




*sigh*



Oh, thank god. House is on. Where the drama is intentional and the addictions aren't solved by magic.





edited to add:

TV Promo: House can cure one more thing...end-of-the-weekend-itis!
Boyf: Swelling of the end of the weekend?
Me: *sigh* no-one enjoys your grammatical nit-picking, baby.

In the Hood

Watching Leprechaun 5 (Leprechaun in the Hood), distressing sparkly jeans for a great halloween costume, with a cute boyf on his way home. Dare life be awesomer?


Ice-T: (as a mean pimp in L5:LitH) I hope you had sex last night, because I'm going to come over there and cut off your dick!


I LOVE halloween movies.

Flu-thulu

I've been holed up in the apartment for the last 3 days, coughing up green and yellow slugs. My body aches, I have no job, I'm not doing a show, my mom wants me to get a job, oh yes she does, and I've felt much, MUCH prettier.

So, basically, I'm writing a post because boyf's off at his Pub Quiz and I'm too sore to sleep. Instead, I'm running a bath with Epsom salts, sewing a few stuffed animals, and watching House so I feel guilty about not saving lives.

TV makes me feel guilty.

*sigh*

Not that I'd fly to Africa and treat TB sufferers, not on my paycheck, but Damn, Cuddy looks good for a doctor. Doctors don't normally look that good. Hell, actresses that age don't normally look that good.

I'm taking a bath for Boyf, mostly. He shouldn't have to suffer just because I'm too tired to wash up.



edited to add: David was moved from the hospital to a rehab center, where he works out for 3 hours a day, and has all sorts of bars and rails and nurse-types to help him move around. I imagine all the employees are dressed in tuxedos, and everything is beautifully choreographed. Mostly because I'm inclined to think of life in musical seqauences, and a lil' bit because I hate thinking about my mom's husband in pain.

Robert the Old

It's my sister's senior weekend in two days, and I'm a little shocked to realize she's...um...grown up.

The picture above, at Robyn's high school graduation, astounds me. It was during the Weeks of Crazy, June 3-June 15, 2005.

June 3rd-Mom's Birthday/Ashley dies
June 5th-Ashley's viewing
June 6th-Robyn's Graduation
June 7th-Ashley's Memorial
June 9-11-Joel's Wedding (our cousin and my god-brother)
June 15th-Robyn's Birthday

I could write a book about THAT debacle/celebration/mourning/festival of fucking madness...in fact, I am. Still, I managed to smile at my baby sister's graduation, and that's something.

So now, nearing on 4 years later, she's nearly done with college, and I'm in awe. Robyn has played soccer all four years, she's sustained a GPA I would've killed for, and she's graduating with a degree in MATH. She's also blonde and blue-eyed and gorgeous.

I guess what I'm saying is, I deserve a lot of praise. For not hating her awesome guts.

Yeesh

My stepdad, shown here in nerdly professor headshot, got in a biking accident this week. He hit his head, so he doesn't quite remember what happened, but his shoulder, ribs, pelvis and kevlar helmet are all broken. Damn. He had surgery today, Mom's been spending nights at the hospital.

I can only imagine how scary this would be as a wife; it's pretty unsettling from 5 states away. Spraining my ankle was an ordeal, mind you, and I've never broken a bone in my body.*

Mom won't let me fly out and David can probably find helpful, numbing drugs on his own, so I'm doing the only thing I can. Signing up for a month of unlimited bikram yoga classes and attempting to get at LEAST as athletic and bad-ass as David.






*yes, I'm aware that's a stupidly fate-challenging thing to say. I'll be wary.

Illin'

I had just sipped down some Theraflu when my temp agency called, and now I'm sitting at a desk, answering about 10 calls in the span of two hours, and sweating into my nice new outfit. Damn you, Needformoney, Damn you to hell.

I got my security deposit back from my former slumlord this weekend. This whole economy this is just *crampin* my job-style, and I needed the cash. Also, I never have to talk to that awful man ever again. Boyf has been dealing with the new landlord and handling it with greater manners and poise than I could muster. For example:

Boyf said: Hello, I'd like to remind you again that we're still waiting for repairs on the apartment. Give me a call as soon as possible, please.

I would say: Where the hell are you? It's been three weeks, three WEEKS since our dining room ceiling leaked and came a-tumblin' down onto our tv and an irreplacable work of art. Listen, fucker, you better be immobile or contagious with something VILE, or you should have been here, and I will make you regret it.



Boyf said: We've had to make some repairs and re-painted the majority of the apartment, and as per our agreement to have the move-in fee waived, Jady and I will be needing our checks returned before paying this month's rent.

I would say: I don't know what heathen creatures you rented this place to before us, but the walls and windows were absolutely disgusting. You haven't even bothered to provide touch-up paint for correcting the mistakes you made, nor clean prior to our move in...there's still cobwebs in some corners, for gods sake. I'm baffled by your incompetence and wish to remove your spleen.


Boyf said: Thanks, and we'll be in touch soon.

I would say: Get your ass into action, do these repairs, and make it quick. You have no idea the sheer violence and terror of which I am able to wreak upon you. Also you are stupid and fat.

Interview

Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you 5 questions of a very personal nature.
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them 5 questions.

My Questions, courtesy of Jesse Parent:


1. You're only allowed to do one of these. Pick one and explain why: 1) Act in a play 2) improvise 3) work on a novel.

The sad this is, I could be trying to do all three. If I had the time and financial support, I would work on any four novels I've had in the oven for months. The Memoir, the Fairy Tale, the Thriller and the Graphic Novel, not to mention the Fable. I've been doing nothing, NOTHING of creative note beyond making the apartment look cute, and it ires me. *sigh* way to bring me down, Jess, way to ruin the weekend...

2. If you were going to have twins, would you want 2 boys, 2 girls, or 1 of each?

Damn...I'd like to say one of each, but I've been waiting for daughters for so, so long. On the other hand, two boys would be hilarious in comedic stylings...and one each would mean they could solve crime...

3. If you had to live in any other city, besides Chicago, where would it be and why?

I've considered that for a while, actually, and I'd love to live in Portland, Oregon. It's a nice easy drive down to Salt Lake City, which would be a welcome change from never coming home to visit; it's green and lush and publishing-friendly, improv-ful and a lovely place to live.

4. If you traveled back in time and had to babysit yourself at 9 years old, what do you think would be the most challenging?

I actually have no idea how i was at 9, since I can't remember that time in my life...and apparently neither can anyone else in the family. I assume the most difficult thing would be finding a way to entertain 3 girls including a future med-school-rockstar and string-theory-nerd. We were troublesome, I've heard.

5. Describe your ideal job. Not like "empress of the world", but a real job.

writing, obviously.

In the short term? Working as an editor for a solid publishing company, and having enough money and time to volunteer as much as I'd like. In theory, I'd like to work as a counceler or animal-rights-type, but I would cry far FAR too much and take everything very personally...

Palin Failin'

"Positively affect the impacts"



Boyf: "I feel like I'm losing focus, and not paying attention, but then I realize she's just not making any sense. The language center of my brain can't comprehend what she's...layin' down."
Me: "But seriously, she has a retarded baby."

Quack.

Me: So you can tell when i'm not taking my meds?
Boyf: Yup.
Me: Is it because I talk really really fast and continue to change topics and can't focus like this?
Boyf: Yes, baby.
Me: Huh. Let's go to Walgreens and get my meds because I haven't been taking them for a few days and i want to get those motherfuckers before I go crazy...Uh, crazier.
Boyf: *kiss* Kay.


I'm watching a show on the Vril Society. Bob the Vril-Master is being profiled. Vril-types apparently fueled all that Hitler noise in the 30's.

Holy shit, now there's a special on 'Scandals of the Ancient Worlds: Egypt'

People, as a race, are pretty damn hilarious.

Jarky!!!

I promise he is not a jag, despite what wearing a tie over a t-shirt usually means to me.

This is Jarky! Jarky is one of my favorite people, with whom i lose contact for months and months, then talk to and suddenly remember how much I adore. You know, like lox. You don't eat lox for months and months and then one day you remember 'hey, those weird fish thingies are SO delicious! and I could probably order a plate right NOW' and then you do and it's great.

(Of course, I only use that metaphor because Jarky is jewish, like so so jewish, seriously jewish. He shakes and trembles when i make him open an christmas present every year, because it burns him.)

Anyway, Jarky is awesome. So take THAT, Hitler.

Every Morning

Every morning, I endure THIS FACE as I leave my puppy and go to work. Breaking his heart in the process.

Did you know I'm obsessive?

Roomie and I have been talking more lately, and I'm enjoying it lots.

But I have to admit, I have no circle of girlfriends, no 'girlz, let's go to the bar and club and do karaoke! Huwwhhah! Squealandsuch!' sort of circle, and it drives me a little bit crazy.

So ladies who read this blog?

I'm starting a poker night. I am. We can drink girly things and I'll kick Boyf out onto the sidewalk and we can talk about how FUN it is to have our cycles line up. Ok?

I'm not good at this socializing thing. THROW ME A BONE! A LADYBONE!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD(DESS) PLEASE!

Hysterical

You can all stop asking what exactly my uterus looks like now, ok?

Too Mad To Speak

Without going into too much detail, my father and I spent most of my adolesence apart. I don't remember much about living with him, except small snippets...eating waffles while sitting on the heating vent to stay warm (thanks for actually bringing my plate to me, btw, dad), going to hospitals OFTEN, that time our porch was covered in earwigs, shudder, etc.

I don't remember the divorce, how I reacted, at all. So understand that I can only remember this the time I was angriest at my dad:

He went on a trip, probably a week or weekend, even, and I asked him to send me a card when he did. By the time he came back, the card hadn't shown up yet. So I asked him about it. He said it was probably still in the mail. I asked for a few weeks, and eventually he apologized, and explained it was probably lost in the mail. Actually, he never sent a card at all.

Now, I know I'm a neurotic person, and I know I linger over-much on people letting me down. I spent a lot of time as a kid, alone, or waiting for someone to come through for me, who never quite did. Probably why I hate having someone else in charge of something I care about more than do they. I would have felt so much better if he'd just admitted he never sent the card, ok? Sorry. Didn't follow through.

It's the 'oh, someday, honey', bullshit that made me frustrated, furious, and humiliated when i realized he was just placating me. Yes, when I was, like, 4, I still didn't like being placated. PLACATED is a fun word. ok.

BUT

Don't make promises you can't or don't intend to keep. Just don't.
I would rather expect NOTHING
than look like an idiot waiting around
for something that won't happen.

Don't want to do it anymore? Can't, you say?
Let me know, jerk, so i can stop waiting for you.

Street Fight

This one's for you, Kendra. and NO you are not the fat lady in the comic. But you would cheer her on.

ReRun

English Major's Poem

I can find a metaphor in a glass of milk.
first, the obvious
nourishment contained
milk in a container of heated, frozen sand
the sand a herald of the ocean
mother, maiden, lover, widow-maker
grains of time and salty tears
tears and milk
the constant sorrow and food
of women
the white sands of the Atlantic shore
soft and and small and itching
the first holiday after my sister died
and the family couldn't bear to be at home
and my sister
counting down hours
regressing into a calorie-free childhood
where milk was too rich a drink and glass
too transparent
The windows at night with an ambulance outside
drinking ensure and purging
red lights flashing
the TV on well after midnight
because she couldn't sleep
and my mother, we return to the milk
fighting with her child
her eldest daughter
lasping into seizure with her hands clenched
and cold like glass, and pale, chalky
a glass of milk

Sweeney was Subtle?

Whilst filling my prescription at Walgreens, Boyf and I perused the rows Halloween goods and costumes and tested all the noise-making figurines and displays for the season, because we are both very mature adults. Boyf pointed out which clowns on the makeup packaging were probably assholes in real life, and I bought two DVDs with old-timey spooky movies and cartoon reels.

So far we've watched about 75% of Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street Starring Tod Slaughter (I feel that borders on typecasting, which is WRONG), a cult actor known for performing as the villian in victorian melodramas; the british Bela Lugosi, y'might say. He wrings his hands, cackles, and chews scenery like no other, my friends.

It helps, of course, that in this version of the story, Sweeney isn't sympathetic. He's just a barber that kills people for money and fun. Mrs.Lovett helps him clean up and splits the profits. Sweeney lends money to the fleet owner, then uses this leverage to try and force the fleet owner's daughter, Joanna, to marry him.

He's kind of a dick.


*gasp* check out how much I rule! I found it online, to watch, right-now-ish! Enjoy!

Lots of free time

100 Posts!!!

OhMyHeck guys SERIOUSLY!!!!!!

feel free to buy me a drink or send all the gifts you want!!!

I have ansense of humor.

Scanner + Boredom = Comedy GOLD

Poorly hiding my amusement as a couple have a loud, shallow, pointless fight on the bus

I Laughed out Loud, But Still...

Boyf, sending me a text to let me know the oven was installed and working:

Stove is gassy and super hot, so you two will have lots to talk about.

*sigh*


What a jerk.

Let's Get This in the Open

Yeah...

I'm very uncomfortable with how beautiful my little sister has become.







No I will NOT introduce you to her. Scram, buddy.

2004

When I read my old blog--and believe me, it takes a lot of boredom to resort to THAT-- it's hard to imagine being quite as unhappy and without boundaries as I was.

That is to say...I wrote about things then that I'd never mention now, and I CLEARLY fixated much more. I credit this growth entirely to my family and friends' support.

It's not often that I find a quote I'd want to repeat word for word...and it's even rarer that I take the time to mention how happy I am.

Hear that, Ashley, mom, family, friends? I'm really fucking happy.



September 2004:

"I love you all, you freaks, you braniacs, you snobs, you show-tune namers, you former Elpers, you improvisors, you showoffs, you wonderful wonderful WONDERFUL people."

To. Do.

Let's see...

Buy litterbox, watering fountain, baggies for the pets
unpack all bags, boxes, and hollow objects used to transport stuff
put bike in downstairs storage
receive deliver of TV stand and dresser drawers
assemble stand, dresser, and living room lamp
unpack new appliances, dishes, sheets, blankets, towels and pictures
hang shower curtain with liner
paint dining room, living room (and hall), bedroom 1 and 2, kitchen walls and bathroom tiles
laundry: wash, dry, fold, put away
connect cable
connect stove to gas line
stock up on groceries
move pet food to Tupperware, place cat food in location out of reach of dog.
paint window trim on rooms
sew and hang curtains
buy desk, dining table and chairs
set up wireless Internet
send baby blanket
take care of dog and cat
take pills
hang pictures
write story treatment for publisher
rehearsal and filming of web-com pilot
save up money for pad's xmas gift, which will be pretty schweet
get deposit from old apartment, buy xmas gifts THEN instead of in December when I'm freezing and less rich
change address at post office, bank, netflix, etc.




So...no. No, casual acquaintance; Despite how many emails you mass-mail me, I do not want to watch you crappy improv show.

Baby 2: Clarification-ed!

Warning: This is a girl, girl post. Don't read ahead unless you're comforatable knowing just how much of a Girl I am.



The eggs pouring out of my ovaries are plugging up my veins and hindering bloodflow to my brain, so all i can think about are BABIES and I want to clear a few things up:

1) How the hell do people know their exact conception date? if I'm planning on getting pregnant, we better be having sex pretty damn often, y'all. It's called statistics. Look it up.

2) I get to hold my tummy and caress it lovingly the MOMENT that strip turns blue.

3) people need to come up with a less repugnant name for 'mucus'.

4)Ohmygod I do not want to ever hear your name suggestions, birthing suggestions, or lotion recomendations. You are not allowed to touch my belly just because it's huge. In fact, you best keep comments to yourself unless I go into labor on the bus and ask you for advice, bee-otch. This is MY baby and tummy. go ruin your own.

5) I think I already eat enough for two.

Oh, Baby

(Clearly i WILL look this cute when pregnant.)

Apart from a few cousins, and a few friends in different states, I've been yet able to avoid Pregnancy. Friver has had two kids already, yes, but this is the first time since our friendship began. I've been thinking on the topic much more than expected.

The entire process is just strange, people. I would make so much more sense to me if people laid eggs. In fact, i can't think of (and refuse to try) a single thing better for humanity than gaining the ability to lay eggs.

People could sign them. Like casts. With cute markers or pens. That's just ONE of the many benefits.





More thoughts later. By the way, moving? Never Again.

Huh.

I've never really wondered if a Postsecret card was directed at me. This is the closest any of them have come. Spoooooooooky.

Florabunda!

My first art purchase for the new apartment.

thank you, The Awesome etsy.com.

So I quit my job on friday. Then I got a new job offer on Moday. Suck on that, Everyone. Or more specifically...everyone lacking job skills and the ability to ever once in their life have a non theater-related job but somehow squeezes out a pittance-based, pitiful existance and finds pleasure only in the ultimately futile attempts to rise above mediocrity YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH, you know who you are, bitches.

I'm already enjoying my first 2 days here more than i did at the candy factory, and I think they just may keep me. It's a receptionist position, so my job entails preping conference rooms, answering the phone, scheduling meetings, and generally saying 'yes sir, when sir, of course sir, my you look handsome sir, good joke sir'. I can do that. Oh goodness can I ever.

I also have free time to email many, many people, visit websites, and post blogs. In fact, if you see my site looking slight different, reader-san, that's because i work for a design firm and god damn it, my personal blog better reflect the commitment I've made to this place. After two days. As a temp-to-hire. I have great, great passion.

Waiting Game

Friver is expecting his 2nd son (3rd child) any day now. He's incredibly stressed, as one can well imagine-- not only prepping for the emergence of a screaming, demanding, wholly amoral parasite, (aww), but setting up for the birth itself at home, and working overmuch to get ahead before he loses the abily to sleep an entire night.


Boyf has been out of town for 9 days, and it turns out I HATE having Boyf out of town for 9 days. He comes back tomorrow night, and then we spend the next week packing, moving, getting stuff and setting up a home together. I'm thrilled to be doing so, I'm so so damn excited to live together and have things together and have romantic dinners sometimes at a real dining table and all these wonderful things that form a montage of awesome in my mind... although all I want right now is the ability to meet him at home and watch silly tv together.

For Friver and me, it's time to hurry up and wait, get everything as prepped as possible and pray we didn't forget anything crucial. God damn, I hate the waiting game.

Chipped

My teeth are nearly 50% false in front, since I had horrible, horrible teeth as a child, and my doctor in Utah is a miracle worker. I went from my braces getting removed to Dr.L, who worked tirelessly to give me an entirely different mouth. it was incredible. I got ten times hotter that very day (grinch-ed!).

This morning, however, one of the front teeth lost a side--don't ask me how it came loose--and now I look like a hillbilly.

I'm actually looking forward to go to the dentist. They're still the doctors who I think do the best consistant job, don't screw up and let people die, and frankly know eating disorders a lot quicker than the squibs in the ER triage room.

When I don't have anything interesting to do, i doodle.

I will miss nothing about this job except the access to fun office supplies, and all the pens I took home with me.

Rise and Shine

Yesterday, I got a stern email from my boss on the matter of arriving 6 minutes late (3 by my clock) and not even making a formal apology. *sigh* She doesn't like my slutty pedal pushers either.

Still, I went to bed fairly early snd shook myself out of bed at 6 am, stumbling in the dark to get dressed and walk the dog.

Aside---This, by the way, is my 5th day of No Electricity, because my landlord can't be bothered to send an electrician. If it's not fixed today, I'll hire someone myself and bill the managment company. Furthermore, I am so damn pleased to be moving.


oh, also??? Pad and I got the apartment we wanted, a sweet 2-bedroom with living room, dining room, kitchen and walk-in pantry. The master bedroom is sunny and the laundry is just down the back stairwell, Dante will be mewling at birds from our 3rd story windows and Cormac will play fetch with me out on the lawn. The small bedroom is to be the computer-game-and-sewing room...when either Pad or I want to get our Nerdhobby on. ---/Aside

I don't think the Starbucks lady could have acted more disgusted when I ordered my 5-shot venti mocha this morning, but then again, she doesn't sit in an overwarm, silent office all day. Considering my tolerance to drugs, we should all be thankful caffine still gets me pumped enough without mixing in half a bottle of trucker pills.

Pack it UP

I'm just contemplating how much stuff I have to clean, pack, and move. Once I get the approval on my apartment and sign the new lease. Sign the new lease with my boyf. And then he's out of town for a week or so while I get ready to haul this stuff to new digs. with my boyf.

I am Jady's brain, thrilled and terrified.

I am become headache.

Trim

Gave myself a lil haircut before moving and cleaning EAT MY BRAIN.

Petted

One of the best perks of having a dog is getting (or giving yourself, I suppose) permission to act like a goofy kid. When i'm with my Corms, I don't feel silly, jumping up and down, running in circles, arriving at home after work with my baby whining to see me and being equally excited to give each other kisses.

I've been giving th' pup extra attention this week, due in part as a reaction to Dana's passing. No stranger to grief, I can only imagine how Glynn is feeling, losing his buddy...to his credit, he's handling it like a champ. ((When Sapphire died, I was an absolute wreck; my mom actually flew out to Cali to tell Ash. To her death, Ashley still couldn't discuss the matter without sobbing))

So Pad and I gave Cormac a lecture and now he is NOT allowed to die until he's at LEAST as old as Dana (18). Oh, and Dante is grandfathered into a 2-decade agreement.



This morning Cormac and Dante woke me up early, because they were starving and thirsting to death and also needed treats and ice cubes and tummy scratches and also ear scratches and also to bat at the curtain while I showered and sit on my feet while I ate breakfast and also take a walk to pee and be scared of a plastic bag on the sidewalk and then mew at me until I lifted them up onto the counter so they wouldn't have to jump all three feet to get to the food bowl. POOR DARLINGS.

Summer

I want to preserve the moment when I realized I wasn't constantly cold, I was actually getting color in my skin, and I made friends with a sweet lesbian couple (dog's name, I kid you not: Butch) who took a picture of Cormac and me on the beach...about 5 minutes after Cormac stopped wrestling with their babygirl,



who was kickin' his booty,



and trotted over to the girls, who were burying one another in the sand, accessed the situation, and peed on the currently entombed lady. *sigh* Smooth move, Corms, smooth move.


*thank god they had a sense of humor and shrieked and giggled instead of, as I would do, punching Cormac in the face.

Grouches

BF: it amazes me how much you can worry over one person not liking you.



It may shock you, reader-type, but not everyone likes me. Likewise, I don't like everyone. I've worked very hard in the last few years on manners and treating people well...after being rather shocked at certain behavior. BUT TODAY I AM AT MY LIMIT OF HOLDING BACK. So totally openly and honestly, let me just say:

-I talked to you about my sister's incredibly difficult death. That does NOT mean you should write a sketch about a similar family situation, ending with one sister smothering the other in a hospital room. No, that would be awful to do.

- it is not your business if I do or do not attend church, nor does my relationship with god influence your life in any significant way.

-If you insist on spreading horrible rumors about me, don't be surprised when I comment on that extra few tires you're carrying around your belly.

-yes, I will be be on the phone the entire time you try and sign me up for your charity. I don't donate to foundations interupting my conversation, on the street, every damn morning.

-you don't like me. Telling your friends that I need to be fucked into silence is in poor taste; telling them so on an online forum is idiotic.

-we broke up. Handle it. Handle it like you're not 12 and a girl.

-you don't like dogs. You live in a dog friendly apartment building. FAIL.



WHEW.

normally I'm a very sweet girl.

Did I mention I adore my boyfriend?

Ch-ch-chANGES!

so, Reader-san, The time comes to make good on certain promises i made myself on the condition that I found a job. First of all, I have to start working out again. Which is somewhat ironic, since now I have less time than ever, and more to get done. still, if I neglect myself for much longer, I'm in danger of turning into a complete asshole, neglectful of my poor lil' body and soul.

Also...there's a lot of delicious chewing gum around the office, so I'll have delightful choices of flavors when I run. Still, I can't completely change my life without suffering a nervous breakdown, so I'm setting goals and moving slow.

Summer Goals!!!


Take a yoga class or, as Kendra suggested, get a yoga video and DO it. Running is all well and good for detox and cardio (I use abrevs cus I'm totes buzzy an' can't waste t'time, y'all), but yoga will get my flexibility back to where I should be at 23...namely, not a tense lil' wreck. I will stretch my hamstrings long enough to touch my toes for *minutes* on end, so help me god.



Fix my long-suffering feet. Gymnastics, soccer, chronic clumsiness, public transit...I've abused these poor guys, and they're horribly ingrown on their best days. I recently attempted home-made surgery and tore out the edges that'd grown into my big toe, and that was RETARDEDER THAN A THOUSAND RETARDEDS. So now my toes are cut open, my nails are yellow and GROSS, my skin is calloused and my patience is UP. I want picture-pretty feet, healthy and feeling great, by Christmas morning. I will be asking Santa for some cute-ass slippers. I start, with soaking and scrubbing and de-fungaling, tonight. I'll take before and after pictures, so prepare for the horror.

High Five!

Cover your ears, Ye of little strength....

I!!!!! GOT!!!!!! A!!!!!!! JOB!!!!!!!!!

high five!



(is this not the nerdest picture I've ever taken? It may as well be the cover of 'Happy Fuzzy Family' magazine. GOD, I loathe that magazine)

I'm working on a Database for a Big Company that makes Edible Product. For the record, working at a candy factory is far less whimsical than Wonka fans would lead you to believe...although the oompas in the cafeteria make a meeean cup of coffee.

Stress

It barely seems worth mentioning that I'm still jobless. You would have heard otherwise, reader-san. The day I get hired, Chicago will collapse to its knees, ears bleeding, from my shrill squeaks of delight. Puppies citywide will stampede, ships will sail, buildings will crumble, and my mom will be disappointed that I took the wrong job. Because no matter who hires me, I promise you, it's the 'wrong job'.

Those of y'all in the theater world know how i feel. Few children become what their parents expect, if any. Pad's parents have been incredibly supportive of his goals (and they're lawyers, for chrissake), and set a rare example of light-touch parenting. Of course, he doesn't have panic dreams about getting a B+, but I doubt he misses them.

So I continue to go on interviews, and follow up, and apply to anything I can find. Ironically, both my stepfather and bio-dad talk about Chicago in unflattering terms, and Mom suggests things like avoiding ATM surcharges and applying for THIS job, this one right here online. I'm deeply grateful for their financial support, and help in my job hunt. But damn, the interest is pretty steep.