Blah to cable.
We lost our cable for awhile (again), which, of course, makes me want to hunt down..the.. cable... cutters (?) .. Anyway, it was only down for a couple of days, which isn't too bad compared to the 10 days in the summer. (Withdrawal symptoms abounded.)
Despite my recent reunion with my internet priveleges however, I'm going to be going out and actually doing stuff instead. So at this moment, I'm getting ready to do some winter driving lessons, get some movies, collect baking supplies and cheesy christmas tapes and head over to Alicia's for a day of Christmas in its tackiest form.
I'll post again tonight maybe, when I'm attempting to procrastinate so that I don't have to write my stupid, bloody research paper.
'Til then: May you all find a ubiquitous Dolly Parton Christmas tape and listen to it until you're ready to bash your head in rather large festive sticks. (Don't even think of lying. I'm sure you all have one. Or if not her, Willie Nelson. Maybe the one with his duet with Sinead O'Connor.) Indeed.
Saturday, December 8, 200112:21 p.m.
listening to; Imagine / John Lennon
reading; The Lunatic Cafe / Laurell K. Hamilton
..::: - & - :::..
Freezing cold. Ready to sell toes for firewood.
I'm probably going to get pneumonia. I'm probably going to take to wearing a pound of clothing to bed each night. Which means, if ever I need to leave the house in an emergency, say a fire, I'll have to crawl hands and knees along the floor, weighed down by excess clothes. The firemen will find me, a crying mass of dejected fabrics at the bottom of the stairs.
They'll eventually have to get the crane to help me out. That many clothes will be worn. Seriously.
I've decided I love the debate club. I know about the labels, the associated nerdiness, and I embrace it all. I become a frightening, aggressive feminist when at the podium. I say, "Thankyou Mister Speaker", and my opposing team better watch out.
I don't think I'm above verbal character attacks.
For instance:
"Thankyou Mister Speaker. Robert smells. I believe that backpacks must be allowed in school, both for their usefulness in carrying textbooks and school supplies, and their practicality in keeping the day short and as stress-free as possible. Roberts mom is a HO..."
I think I'll use that at the next championship. Indeed.
At any rate, I really like the informality & hanging out with my fellow geeks. Sure, we never have lunch money, but its the useless debating and dork comraderie that counts.
And, extra note, did you guys go to my projects page yet? Listed are some projects I'll be working on and posting A.S.A.P. or mentioning and never finishing.
Wednesday, December 5, 200105:04 p.m.
listening to; Imagine / John Lennon
reading; The Lunatic Cafe / Laurell K. Hamilton
Tuesday, December 4, 200105:19 p.m.
listening to; Imagine / John Lennon
reading; The Lunatic Cafe / Laurell K. Hamilton
..::: - & - :::..
Seagulls. Scary.
I have Ornithophobia. Or at least, Ornithophobia as it pertains to seagulls. I was walking home today when suddenly, a giant group of them swooped overhead and began twirling like fat, white double-u's in the sky.
When I say giant group, of course, I mean the SEAGULL ARMY OF DEATH. Seriously. They were planning on attack action. It was a full-fledged battle in the clouds between over one hundred insanely frightening birds.
And of course, with so many birds in one place, overhead -- there comes the bird bowel droppage. Which is a nice way of saying that I ran home dodging gloopy white blobs of bird pooh. Which, really, truth be told, was not fun at all. First, I woke up late. Then, I wore ugly pants. Short pants. Pants that, in general, are bad pants. Also, I didn't finish my homework, and was faced with the unrelenting fury of Mrs. Boshcoff. Or, not really. But still. Then, I walked home and was attacked by birds.
It was so very Alfred Hitchcock in an even more nightmarish way.
Alicia's comment on my seagull fear: "I love seagulls. I want to be reincarnated as a seagull. Then you'll be scared of me."
Or, beat you to the ground with a big stick. Yes.
Stuff: I have to clean the house. In a fury of spontaniety my mom ripped off all of the wallpaper in the kitchen, so I have to scrape off the excess, clean the living room and kitchen and prepare for painting. We're going with Golden Grape and Lemonade. -- Golden Grape for the kitchen, Lemonade for the living room, back entrance and hallway.
I asked my mom what she would say if I "accidentally" took an axe and "accidentally" chopped up the kitchen cupboards until they were splinters of ugly-coloured faux wood.
She told me there'd be no Christmas this year.
I think I'm willing to make that sacrifice.
Tuesday, December 4, 200101:35 p.m.
listening to; Imagine / John Lennon
reading; The Lunatic Cafe / Laurell K. Hamilton
..::: - & - :::..
Wisdom: Fighting for my right to party 365 days a year. And eating lots of party cake.
