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.

At (a small, seemingly pointless 8 hours of) Work

Last week I was stuffing envelopes, today I'm alterating between 4 floors of a company, covering 20 minute breaks and lunch breaks for the receptionists. Thank GOD I busted my ass to graduate early with an honors degree. Reaping the rewards of that crucade, y'all.

On the awesome side, my friend Eric is buying a condo (well, like 90% buying a condo, knock on wood) and his amazing, huge and awesome apartment will be available at the end of august. Not only is the space bigger and VERY cute, the rent is lower. Holy unlikely, Batman! Now I just need to convince my mom to let me stay in Chicsgo, and change my lease to get out of my teeny (yet cute) YET overpriced place.

This would all work a lot better if I had a job, God. I'm just sayin....