It's a beautiful, spring-like Saturday morning. I don't usually blog on Saturdays... I'm not usually at such a high-functioning level at 9am on a Saturday. Today, however, I was woken by the sound of a chainsaw... or hacksaw... or circular saw... some sort of loud saw that they're using to crowd yet one more house into the development I've lived in for the last 20 years. [I grew up building forts in the trees and riding my bike in the woods behind my house... now all of that wilderness is gone and all that's left is a cheaper version of the Stepford colony]. So now I'm up, drinking coffee.
But I digress. The reason I'm here this morning is to bid a fond and sad farewell to the memory of The Probe. My parents will be trading it in for a whole $500 (they bargained up from $200) off on their new Honda Accord (boring) today. The last few months with the Probe have been rocky - she no longer runs the way she once did. But she was a valiant soldier, a trooper, and took good care of me. We've been together since my senior year of High School, and she never let me down. Her paint is faded, the molding has fallen off... the shocks are shot, the windshield wiper sprayers don't work, the combination switch is broken, her brakes are bad... okay I'll stop. But you get the point. Regardless, I have many fond memories, and I know that the people close to me do too. So I ask you today to take a moment and spare a kind thought in memory of The Probe. We loved her.
I hope she gets auctioned off to the demolition derby like Lindsay's Shadow did. I bet she'd win.
May 21, 2005
May 19, 2005
Kibble for Thought
Here's my question to ponder for the rest of the day:
Casey said that "guys are like cats - the more you ignore them the more they annoy you". Okay, point well taken. But... does that mean that women are like dogs? And if so, then would it explain our vast miscommunication issues?
On that note... I watched an episode of Animal Face Off and the jaguar ripped the wolf's throat out. Just an interesting study, considering the whole cat vs. dog scenario. Thoughts, comments?
Casey said that "guys are like cats - the more you ignore them the more they annoy you". Okay, point well taken. But... does that mean that women are like dogs? And if so, then would it explain our vast miscommunication issues?
On that note... I watched an episode of Animal Face Off and the jaguar ripped the wolf's throat out. Just an interesting study, considering the whole cat vs. dog scenario. Thoughts, comments?
May 18, 2005
Boomerangs
Isn't it funny how sometimes you don't realize that you've missed someone in your life until they return to it? Thanks, Matt.
[Now you can feel super-cool because you're in my blog!]
[Now you can feel super-cool because you're in my blog!]
May 16, 2005
LiveStrong... Dickhead
If you consider what you're reading here to be "pseudo-intellectual bullshit", I'm curious as to the level of your actual intellect. "I got a tetanus shot today" and "my little brother was really hungover" are not particularly thought-inducing topics. This is a diary - I'm not pretending to be anything I'm not. If what I have to talk about is so gravely offensive to you, then go somewhere else. You didn't 'stumble' here... we both know exactly how you arrived. There are maybe 3 people on the planet who actually read what I have to say - and I like it that way. Plain and simple, this is a diary that I write in while I'm at work. I'm not looking for some loser from high school to anonymously comment on my personal life. Especially someone who doesn't have the balls to identify him/herself. I'm not looking for validation, fame, fortune, or anything else.
Oh, and Casey thinks you're an asshole too.
Having said that... my kitten got sick this weekend because she ate one of those rubber "LiveStrong" wristbands. She pooped it out on Sunday, and I found it in the litterbox. She's feeling much better now.
Oh, and Casey thinks you're an asshole too.
Having said that... my kitten got sick this weekend because she ate one of those rubber "LiveStrong" wristbands. She pooped it out on Sunday, and I found it in the litterbox. She's feeling much better now.
May 10, 2005
Game Over
CD: uggghhh can you imagine having children
CD: uggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
CD: LIFE OVER
SW: NO CHILDREN
CD: like game over in nintendo- that theme music
CD: doot doot doo doo dee doo doo dee doo doo doo doo
CD: uggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
CD: LIFE OVER
SW: NO CHILDREN
CD: like game over in nintendo- that theme music
CD: doot doot doo doo dee doo doo dee doo doo doo doo
May 06, 2005
Eternal Sunshine
I just watched Garden State [and drank 1/3 of a bottle of Kahlua].
It's interesting that, at the end of a week during which I've decided I need to be medicated, I watched this movie. To over-simplify, it's about a guy who goes off his meds for the first time in 17 years and realizes how numb to life he's been. He realizes how much more he'd rather feel anything - even pain - than feel numb. That numb robs you of yourself. That the idealistic persuit of "happiness"... just results in numb.
Pain reminds you that you're alive.
It's interesting that, at the end of a week during which I've decided I need to be medicated, I watched this movie. To over-simplify, it's about a guy who goes off his meds for the first time in 17 years and realizes how numb to life he's been. He realizes how much more he'd rather feel anything - even pain - than feel numb. That numb robs you of yourself. That the idealistic persuit of "happiness"... just results in numb.
Pain reminds you that you're alive.
May 05, 2005
Siblings Converse
Baby Bro: i'm gonna die
Baby Bro: and
Baby Bro: i want you to have my stereo
Baby Bro: and my car
Big Sis (me): your stereo sucks
Big Sis (me): and my car is better
Baby Bro: i know i'm sorry
Big Sis (me): and I just remembered - the car isn't yours to give
My darling little brother can be a teeny bit on the dramatic side. Especially when hungover after his last finals for the semester.
Baby Bro: and
Baby Bro: i want you to have my stereo
Baby Bro: and my car
Big Sis (me): your stereo sucks
Big Sis (me): and my car is better
Baby Bro: i know i'm sorry
Big Sis (me): and I just remembered - the car isn't yours to give
My darling little brother can be a teeny bit on the dramatic side. Especially when hungover after his last finals for the semester.
Sanity is Transient
Me: if I go to a counselor, will it make me ineligible to work in college services?
Z: and the answer should be yes -- but then no one would be employed
Z: i saw a counselor once -- 2 sessions and i was cured
Me: cured huh
Z: yeah -- she said never come back
Z: so i translated it as cured
(the inital "Z" was used by request)
Z: and the answer should be yes -- but then no one would be employed
Z: i saw a counselor once -- 2 sessions and i was cured
Me: cured huh
Z: yeah -- she said never come back
Z: so i translated it as cured
(the inital "Z" was used by request)
Why I Got A Shot Today
I'm not squeamish about needles, but I hate actual shots. Especially in my arm. Put a needle in my ass any day of the week, but do not incapacitate my left arm indefinitely. The worst part? I'm left-handed... and I always forget that the reason they give you shots in your left arm is that the majority of people on planet Earth are right-handed, and your arm hurts for days post-shot.
Why, did I get a tetanus shot today, you ask? Who gets a tetanus shot at 24, you wonder? Well, let me enlighten you.
My father is one of those former un-handy handy men. In the 60's, he thought he could rebulid a carburetor. Now the drug-induced haze of handiness has subsided and he tells me to fix my car's heat-sheild myself with duct tape and a wire hanger. He has become your typical suburbian father, who tries once to wallpaper the bathroom, fucks up, and declares that he's hiring people to do everything for him from now on. Well that's great and all, but it leaves a problem. The problem is The Toolbox. Anyone who has grown up in Suburbia with a father like mine knows exactly what I'm talking about... It's probably 50 years old, completely covered in rust, and sits harmlessly in the corner of the garage, waiting patiently to die. Which would probably happen, peacefully and unaided. Unfortunately, along comes the secondary problem - Handyman Revisited.
This weekend, my father's inner Handyman Hippy alter-ego must have decided to visit The Toolbox. I think it happens once every 4 or 5 years. According to his report, he "needed some tools". Keep in mind, nothing was "fixed" this weekend. There were no "repairs" made. No home-improvement shows were watched. If something needed to be "repaired" or "fixed", he would have called someone else to do it anyway. A more accurate description is that he walked over to the Toolbox, moved and opened it, looked inside, then closed it (partially) and walked away. Cut to 3 days later. I'm on my way to work, trying to get in my car door (which is parked in the garage). Mr. Handyman's big Toolbox visitation positioned it perfectly... directly in front of my driver-side door, so that I could rip my foot open on it, rusty hinges and all. Which of course, happened. At 7am in the morning, pre-coffee. Even worse, it scuffed my favorite pair of work shoes!
Naturally, the rusty-hinged Toolbox encounter resulted in a review of my tetanus shot record (which, until today, apparently didn't exist)... which resulted in a painful shot, first thing this morning. Again, pre-coffee**. Suffice it to say that, until May of 2015, at the ripe old age of 34, I can step on as many pieces of rusty metal as my little heart desires.
** why do all of the crappiest things happen before I've had coffee?
Why, did I get a tetanus shot today, you ask? Who gets a tetanus shot at 24, you wonder? Well, let me enlighten you.
My father is one of those former un-handy handy men. In the 60's, he thought he could rebulid a carburetor. Now the drug-induced haze of handiness has subsided and he tells me to fix my car's heat-sheild myself with duct tape and a wire hanger. He has become your typical suburbian father, who tries once to wallpaper the bathroom, fucks up, and declares that he's hiring people to do everything for him from now on. Well that's great and all, but it leaves a problem. The problem is The Toolbox. Anyone who has grown up in Suburbia with a father like mine knows exactly what I'm talking about... It's probably 50 years old, completely covered in rust, and sits harmlessly in the corner of the garage, waiting patiently to die. Which would probably happen, peacefully and unaided. Unfortunately, along comes the secondary problem - Handyman Revisited.
This weekend, my father's inner Handyman Hippy alter-ego must have decided to visit The Toolbox. I think it happens once every 4 or 5 years. According to his report, he "needed some tools". Keep in mind, nothing was "fixed" this weekend. There were no "repairs" made. No home-improvement shows were watched. If something needed to be "repaired" or "fixed", he would have called someone else to do it anyway. A more accurate description is that he walked over to the Toolbox, moved and opened it, looked inside, then closed it (partially) and walked away. Cut to 3 days later. I'm on my way to work, trying to get in my car door (which is parked in the garage). Mr. Handyman's big Toolbox visitation positioned it perfectly... directly in front of my driver-side door, so that I could rip my foot open on it, rusty hinges and all. Which of course, happened. At 7am in the morning, pre-coffee. Even worse, it scuffed my favorite pair of work shoes!
Naturally, the rusty-hinged Toolbox encounter resulted in a review of my tetanus shot record (which, until today, apparently didn't exist)... which resulted in a painful shot, first thing this morning. Again, pre-coffee**. Suffice it to say that, until May of 2015, at the ripe old age of 34, I can step on as many pieces of rusty metal as my little heart desires.
** why do all of the crappiest things happen before I've had coffee?
May 04, 2005
Zoloft
M: he got scared
M: better yet, he's a fuck head.
Who needs anti-psychotics or therapy when you have friends like mine?
(and yes, I'm fully aware that at this moment I am suffering from a relapse.)
M: better yet, he's a fuck head.
Who needs anti-psychotics or therapy when you have friends like mine?
(and yes, I'm fully aware that at this moment I am suffering from a relapse.)
The Horrible, Very Bad No-Good Wednesday Morning
I'm having a horrendous day.
The only thing salvageable about this morning is my Dunkin Donuts Iced Mocha Latte. It's really good. Everything else sucks.
Oh, and this snippet of convo with Casey:
by devoting your life to him
you convinced him that you were more of a loser than him, since your life was revolving around a loser
if you arent the main loser, you are a loser devotee, you move down a rung
"you wouldnt want to belong to any club that would have you as a member"
--woody allen
once you lose yourself, i think, you do become a loser in a way
That last part is really good.
The only thing salvageable about this morning is my Dunkin Donuts Iced Mocha Latte. It's really good. Everything else sucks.
Oh, and this snippet of convo with Casey:
by devoting your life to him
you convinced him that you were more of a loser than him, since your life was revolving around a loser
if you arent the main loser, you are a loser devotee, you move down a rung
"you wouldnt want to belong to any club that would have you as a member"
--woody allen
once you lose yourself, i think, you do become a loser in a way
That last part is really good.
May 03, 2005
M-er F-er
You know you're completely monkey-fucked when you wake up on a Tuesday morning and think, "Man, that was a stressful dream I just had."
May 02, 2005
Blogger Heaven
I'm a busy little blogger today. Just found 2 new blogs that are pretty interesting (and well-written, because we all know my grammar issues...). I think I find them both interesting because I can relate -- people in the bar/restaurant business have earned my undying respect, especially now that I waitress AND do liquor promotions. Dealing with people and their a) food b) alcohol c) money and d) alcoholism is brutal. On a regular basis. So check out these blogs. Not that anyone ever lands here to check anything I link to out. But still.
Waiter Rant
Standing On The Box
Waiter Rant
Standing On The Box
Becky the Bandaid
I love Casey, and I love her band. I'm a total groupie... and I live for pounding beers in the front row and yelling "Freebird!!!" at her incessantly, until she tells me to shut up.
Long Story Short
In my heart I will continue to think of them as "Casey and the Double Ds". 'Cause it's funny.
Long Story Short
In my heart I will continue to think of them as "Casey and the Double Ds". 'Cause it's funny.
Nothing Interesting
I'm not sure why it's been so long since I last wrote... I have plenty of things to say. I could say I've been 'busy', or whatever, but the reality is... I sit at this desk all day, every day. Sometimes it's intimidating to know that my diary is online and anyone can read it... but other times, that's the only thing motivating me to write something.
Things have been moving right along in my life... I guess I still keep thinking that one day I'm going to wake up and magically no longer feel so heartbroken. It's been almost 6 months, and sometimes it's hard to believe it wasn't just yesterday. I know that it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did... but it's still there. He was on tv the other night - just the back of his head. It startled me, because I actually didn't recognize the back of his head. I know that sounds silly. It was unsettling though. For a year and a half, the back of his head pretty much consumed my life... and now it's just a rusty memory.
Having said that... things are good. There was a line in this stupid movie I saw a few weeks ago that was something like "This is your life, right now. It's not going to stop and wait for you to get back on your feet". How true. I've been spending a lot of time with my girlfriends - Casey, specifically. We've been friends forever, but for some reason lately it seems like we just 'get' each other. We actually had a drunken conversation about it on Saturday night. We're very different people... but at the end of the day, we think alike. So... I'm happy. Sometimes lonely, sometimes sad... but you can't live your life in a haze. Pain reminds you that you're alive, right?
Things have been moving right along in my life... I guess I still keep thinking that one day I'm going to wake up and magically no longer feel so heartbroken. It's been almost 6 months, and sometimes it's hard to believe it wasn't just yesterday. I know that it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did... but it's still there. He was on tv the other night - just the back of his head. It startled me, because I actually didn't recognize the back of his head. I know that sounds silly. It was unsettling though. For a year and a half, the back of his head pretty much consumed my life... and now it's just a rusty memory.
Having said that... things are good. There was a line in this stupid movie I saw a few weeks ago that was something like "This is your life, right now. It's not going to stop and wait for you to get back on your feet". How true. I've been spending a lot of time with my girlfriends - Casey, specifically. We've been friends forever, but for some reason lately it seems like we just 'get' each other. We actually had a drunken conversation about it on Saturday night. We're very different people... but at the end of the day, we think alike. So... I'm happy. Sometimes lonely, sometimes sad... but you can't live your life in a haze. Pain reminds you that you're alive, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)