It's been a long time. You're just as lovely as you used to be.
It's been seven days since my last post, which was pathetic. No interesting thoughts or stories or observations.
The simple fact of the matter is that absolutely nothing has been going on with or around your dear Amanadoo. No job. No school. No major upheavels. I'm like jonesing for school to start over here. I've applied just about every place this town has got, but evidently I'm an undesirable. All the college kids have all the summer jobs anyway. No worries though.
This weekend may prove to be blog-worthy as BF and I may or may not be sojourning to my hometown, where he would be meeting my family for the first time. It very well may not go down because his parents (under whose control he's pinned...remember, he's younger than me)
I think perhaps I'll visit the fam sometime soon regardless. Some really heavy stuff has been going on around these parts. By "these parts," I mean 'inside my head,' but that counts. I could use some brotherly love and grandmotherly wisdom. Not to mention that nice 6 hour drive.
BUT THE POINT IS, GENTLE READER, THAT I SHANT NEGLECT MY BLOG ANYMORE!!! Not for a whole seven days anyway. Unless I'm overcome with bronchitis again, like I was for the last 8 or 9 days. I'm which case, screw the blog, I've got some antibiotics to become accustomed to so that the next time I get sick, it'll be harder to treat the disease within and I'll be sicker for a solid 8 or 9 days. A little bitter.
More later, my lovelies.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wake up, wake up---it's the first of the month....
So, school still rocks it hard. At least it does compared to toiling away at "real college" or sitting at my parents house day dreaming about foreign countries yelling at my Moms to get in the kitchen and fix a sista a sandwich......The two girls that had seperated themselves from the rest of us at first have warmed up. Turns out they're pretty cool. Though the one chica really can't stand some of the girls. Can't win 'em all I guess.
Yesterday I called musky Husky and told her I can't work there anymore. She was cool about it, but she kept trying to extract info as to why I was quitting. I didn't tell her anything. Screw that...just gimme my check so I can get new tags and cease driving illegally. I'm grateful that they gave me a job when no one in my own damn town is hiring, but I'm also happy I don't have to drive all the way out to the stinkin' west side. Also, I'm deep in regret for not heeding Derek's advice (check out yesterday's comments). Wise as his wisdom is, the best idea I ever heard for quitting a crappy job came from some comedian guy on Comedy Central...He said that the next time you leave a job (cause you know when you're going to get fired, and you definetly know when you're gonna quit), you should go into work with a pocket full of glitter. And when they tell you to leave or you tell them you're leaving, throw some in their face, say "glitter!!!" and run. Cause you get to go home, but they have to walk around all day covered in glitter. That stuff is hard to clean off.
Shhahahaha!
Yesterday I called musky Husky and told her I can't work there anymore. She was cool about it, but she kept trying to extract info as to why I was quitting. I didn't tell her anything. Screw that...just gimme my check so I can get new tags and cease driving illegally. I'm grateful that they gave me a job when no one in my own damn town is hiring, but I'm also happy I don't have to drive all the way out to the stinkin' west side. Also, I'm deep in regret for not heeding Derek's advice (check out yesterday's comments). Wise as his wisdom is, the best idea I ever heard for quitting a crappy job came from some comedian guy on Comedy Central...He said that the next time you leave a job (cause you know when you're going to get fired, and you definetly know when you're gonna quit), you should go into work with a pocket full of glitter. And when they tell you to leave or you tell them you're leaving, throw some in their face, say "glitter!!!" and run. Cause you get to go home, but they have to walk around all day covered in glitter. That stuff is hard to clean off.
Shhahahaha!
Monday, March 2, 2009
WHINES
On the way home from the school interview the other day, I noticed a car (a corolla* I think) zipping this way and tht in a futile attempt to get ahead of the traffic. I was stopped at a traffic light when I heard said little car honking. I turned to my left and saw...duh duh duuuhhh...the fuckwit! The suprise of it put a big 'ol smile on my face and I asked why he was driving so crazy. He was late for a meeting with the woman at city hall who decides whether or not he's allowed to put up new sign at the hospitality slice. I told him that I'd just come from school and I'd be starting July 12. He said "good, good." But then he told me that one of the girls at the hotel should be calling me soon because they may need some extra help this weekend. As this happened last week, he was talking about this past weekend. No one ever called. No one called me back after my interview at that grocery store either.
Story of my life.
My bank account has dwindled to a new frustrating low. As the fourth of July is coming up and BF and I are going to make little holiday out of it, it'd be really great if I could buy some things. But oh well. That's what I get for being such a fraidy cat and quitting a full time job.
I'm not too worried about any of that, really. I'm lucky enough to have parents that let me mooch off them while I figure out what I'm going to do. Incidently, when I graduate and get my liscense, the fact that I will never have to rely on my parents again will be the absolute best part. But like I said, it's really great of them to have put up with me constantly changing my plans. It let me figure out what I really, really want to do.
In other news, there's been a sort of medical upheaval in my body as of late. First, RL Wriggle and I ate supper with Dick Lucas about 6 or seven days ago. As soon as I walked in my front door afterward, I started throwing up like nobody's business. I was out the rest of the night.
Then, I got glasses. I'm supposed to wear them at all times except for when I'm reading or on the computer. Seems I've been making myself near sighted with all the reading I do. See, my eyes lock in at a certain distance (however far away the book is) and then I can't focus on things that are a little farther away, like traffic signs or little old ladies crossing the street.
Last, but certainly not least, I currently have one hellacious case of the flu. My head feels like it's suddenly concave. There is thick stuff pouring out of the various holes in my face at a speed that, quite frankly, is impressive. But painful nonetheless.
BF came and got in bed with me this morning, which was wonderful. Unfortunately, he's off to play golf with his friend. Now I'm stuck in my house, feeling and looking like crap, with a bunch of little kids here for the summer. If I had some money, or like, a life, I could find something to do. But I don't so I can't.
Other than all that, I'm having a pretty darn good day, concidering.
Story of my life.
My bank account has dwindled to a new frustrating low. As the fourth of July is coming up and BF and I are going to make little holiday out of it, it'd be really great if I could buy some things. But oh well. That's what I get for being such a fraidy cat and quitting a full time job.
I'm not too worried about any of that, really. I'm lucky enough to have parents that let me mooch off them while I figure out what I'm going to do. Incidently, when I graduate and get my liscense, the fact that I will never have to rely on my parents again will be the absolute best part. But like I said, it's really great of them to have put up with me constantly changing my plans. It let me figure out what I really, really want to do.
In other news, there's been a sort of medical upheaval in my body as of late. First, RL Wriggle and I ate supper with Dick Lucas about 6 or seven days ago. As soon as I walked in my front door afterward, I started throwing up like nobody's business. I was out the rest of the night.
Then, I got glasses. I'm supposed to wear them at all times except for when I'm reading or on the computer. Seems I've been making myself near sighted with all the reading I do. See, my eyes lock in at a certain distance (however far away the book is) and then I can't focus on things that are a little farther away, like traffic signs or little old ladies crossing the street.
Last, but certainly not least, I currently have one hellacious case of the flu. My head feels like it's suddenly concave. There is thick stuff pouring out of the various holes in my face at a speed that, quite frankly, is impressive. But painful nonetheless.
BF came and got in bed with me this morning, which was wonderful. Unfortunately, he's off to play golf with his friend. Now I'm stuck in my house, feeling and looking like crap, with a bunch of little kids here for the summer. If I had some money, or like, a life, I could find something to do. But I don't so I can't.
Other than all that, I'm having a pretty darn good day, concidering.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
College trip to Dublin...
... and almost all of us came down with food poisoning, some more severely than others.
I got worse and worse, lying in bed sweating and gibbering. I woke up with my English Lit lecturer concernedly mopping my brow. Embarassed, I leapt from the bed and staggered into the toilet to take a dump.
As the dump came cascading out of my tea towel holder, I realised I was going to speak Welsh. I decided to swivel round 180' and sink to my knees in the classic "white telephone" stance.
Only, as the bile rose through my throat, I couldn't stop the fizzy gravy from pouring out of my rusty bullet hole.
What transpired is best described as a "360 degree fountain of vomit and faeces". I coated the toilet, the wall behind it, the floor, and my clothes as I tried to point both ends in the same direction, failed, and rotated in a devastating poo and spew spiral.
Having emptied both ends, I crawled into the shower and tried to clean myself up. I then somehow got back into bed and passed out again.
When I next came too, my roommates were standing over me looking concerned. Sympathetic? Hardly. "Clean up that mess you left in the toilet you dirty bastard"
So I spent the next couple of hours pathetically sponging my poo spray and technicolour yawn off the walls of the bathroom.
I nearly had to go to hospital, but thankfully recovered sufficiently by late evening. A health inspector arrived and asked for stool samples. I tool the little phial, not really knowing what to do with it (I was still pretty delirious). Did I just dip the plastic probe into a big log to take a sample? Did I heckers.
I positioned my business end over the tube, and let rip an enormous poo. It was too big to fit in the tube, so I poked it in with my fingers and screwed the cap over the whole smeary mess.
When we went to give our samples in, they had thankfully given us little brown bags to hide our anal shame. Thank goodness, because I wouldn't have wanted the other guys at college to know that I was a dirty bastard who had just been pooing into his own hand!
I got worse and worse, lying in bed sweating and gibbering. I woke up with my English Lit lecturer concernedly mopping my brow. Embarassed, I leapt from the bed and staggered into the toilet to take a dump.
As the dump came cascading out of my tea towel holder, I realised I was going to speak Welsh. I decided to swivel round 180' and sink to my knees in the classic "white telephone" stance.
Only, as the bile rose through my throat, I couldn't stop the fizzy gravy from pouring out of my rusty bullet hole.
What transpired is best described as a "360 degree fountain of vomit and faeces". I coated the toilet, the wall behind it, the floor, and my clothes as I tried to point both ends in the same direction, failed, and rotated in a devastating poo and spew spiral.
Having emptied both ends, I crawled into the shower and tried to clean myself up. I then somehow got back into bed and passed out again.
When I next came too, my roommates were standing over me looking concerned. Sympathetic? Hardly. "Clean up that mess you left in the toilet you dirty bastard"
So I spent the next couple of hours pathetically sponging my poo spray and technicolour yawn off the walls of the bathroom.
I nearly had to go to hospital, but thankfully recovered sufficiently by late evening. A health inspector arrived and asked for stool samples. I tool the little phial, not really knowing what to do with it (I was still pretty delirious). Did I just dip the plastic probe into a big log to take a sample? Did I heckers.
I positioned my business end over the tube, and let rip an enormous poo. It was too big to fit in the tube, so I poked it in with my fingers and screwed the cap over the whole smeary mess.
When we went to give our samples in, they had thankfully given us little brown bags to hide our anal shame. Thank goodness, because I wouldn't have wanted the other guys at college to know that I was a dirty bastard who had just been pooing into his own hand!
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