you know that feeling when you get punched really hardin the center of the chest, and then your soul siphons out through your kidneys?
Yeah, you know what i mean.
Friday
Update on the deliquescing heat.
Or: "Jesus Fuck! Didn't I just make an entry yesterday?!"
So, today I feel that I've managed to keep the house reasonably cool. Or, at least I've managed to keep myself reasonably cool by finding another fan and having it blow full strength directly on me. ....And by being unclad only in undergarments. Yes, I am in my underwears. This is not as attractive as it should be, since I also appear to have developed a rash from the heat on my legs, arms, chest, stomach, and back. I am gorgeous. I talked to my mother on the phone, and I told her about it in order to guilt her as she sits in her air conditioned office. It worked most satisfactorily. I'm still hot, though. On the plus side, it's only 93 ? right now. Yay!
There was a while this morning when I couldn't find Bert. I then figured out that he had been locked out on the porch. Doh. He seems to be alright now, he and Lily and passed out as though dead downstairs. But I'm wondering if I should bring him down to the basement, because it's much cooler down there. And Bert's all old and his fur is like, triple thick.
You may think, why don't I go hang out downstairs instead of what is likely the hottest room in the house? Because this is where the computer is. Obviously.
*edit: No, newBlogger, I obviously special characters aren't showing up. What do I need to do to fix that again? Oh wait, I don't care. That was a little degree sign, everyone.
So, today I feel that I've managed to keep the house reasonably cool. Or, at least I've managed to keep myself reasonably cool by finding another fan and having it blow full strength directly on me. ....And by being unclad only in undergarments. Yes, I am in my underwears. This is not as attractive as it should be, since I also appear to have developed a rash from the heat on my legs, arms, chest, stomach, and back. I am gorgeous. I talked to my mother on the phone, and I told her about it in order to guilt her as she sits in her air conditioned office. It worked most satisfactorily. I'm still hot, though. On the plus side, it's only 93 ? right now. Yay!
There was a while this morning when I couldn't find Bert. I then figured out that he had been locked out on the porch. Doh. He seems to be alright now, he and Lily and passed out as though dead downstairs. But I'm wondering if I should bring him down to the basement, because it's much cooler down there. And Bert's all old and his fur is like, triple thick.
You may think, why don't I go hang out downstairs instead of what is likely the hottest room in the house? Because this is where the computer is. Obviously.
*edit: No, newBlogger, I obviously special characters aren't showing up. What do I need to do to fix that again? Oh wait, I don't care. That was a little degree sign, everyone.
Thursday
It's new, it's scary, and I don't like it.
And I don't want to check my posts to see if any special characters I may have used show up properly. I'm at school right now. That sucks. I should have, you know, like, waited until I got home to do this, but I'm bored and I have an hour to kill. To murder. To render dead.
Anyway, yesterday, I wanted to make entries, and Blogger wouldn't let me, because Blogger is the love-child of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Ted Turner, if you know what I mean, and I think Beth does. And now I don't. In brief: Yes, it is nine-million and a half degrees outside. I do not have air conditioning in my home. Please, I don't even want to go into it.
The sun is my enemy. It compounds the trials of living. With any luck, I will soon be able to fly a rocket into it. Today my mood is bitter and exhausted, and this keyboard I'm typing on bites. Hard. I hate this entry. It's so over.
Anyway, yesterday, I wanted to make entries, and Blogger wouldn't let me, because Blogger is the love-child of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Ted Turner, if you know what I mean, and I think Beth does. And now I don't. In brief: Yes, it is nine-million and a half degrees outside. I do not have air conditioning in my home. Please, I don't even want to go into it.
The sun is my enemy. It compounds the trials of living. With any luck, I will soon be able to fly a rocket into it. Today my mood is bitter and exhausted, and this keyboard I'm typing on bites. Hard. I hate this entry. It's so over.
Sunday
Well, fuck you too, subconscious.
It's June 22nd.
Nothing has happened.
So much for the power of my prophetic dreams.
Nothing has happened.
So much for the power of my prophetic dreams.
Thursday
Waterloo. +1.
“She’s an era for you, an era of your life. If and when you break with her, you break with the only one alive who has shared that time with you.”
- Anne Rice, Interview With The Vampire .
I've always liked that quote. It's specifically vague enough to apply to many situations. Kind of like daily horoscopes. And I'm just a sucker for dates. And this one’s fitting. Well, at least when you over-think things the way I do.
I realize that every person who isn't me probably has no idea what the entry up to this point means. Huh. I suppose I really am cryptic, aren't I? Well plainly: I was deleted from the WD today. So here’s a blurb of self-indulgence: Goodbye, #587, Archer Princess, JupiterAmy. (February 26, 2000 - June 19, 2003)
It was real.
- Anne Rice, Interview With The Vampire .
I've always liked that quote. It's specifically vague enough to apply to many situations. Kind of like daily horoscopes. And I'm just a sucker for dates. And this one’s fitting. Well, at least when you over-think things the way I do.
I realize that every person who isn't me probably has no idea what the entry up to this point means. Huh. I suppose I really am cryptic, aren't I? Well plainly: I was deleted from the WD today. So here’s a blurb of self-indulgence: Goodbye, #587, Archer Princess, JupiterAmy. (February 26, 2000 - June 19, 2003)
It was real.
Saturday
A new twist on a very old song.
It's bugging me that my ads are still for weight loss. bettie gets ads for cramps, internet service, and Japanese business prospects. Why can't I get weird crap like that? Come on, BOOKS! SOFTWARE! HUMANITARIAN AID CONCERNS! CUPCAKES!
Eh. So, I read Everyman , which is a medieval morality play. I read it in Middle English, which was kind of cool. It's about a chap called Everyman, who is told by God to prepare for his Final Judgement (duhn duhn duhhhh!!). The eventual moral of the story was that at the end of his life, the only thing that stayed with him were the good deeds he had done in life. Everything else abandoned him.
If this were me, I'd have a different ultimate companion: my issues. Even when I have nothing else, they never quit me. Aw.
Eh. So, I read Everyman , which is a medieval morality play. I read it in Middle English, which was kind of cool. It's about a chap called Everyman, who is told by God to prepare for his Final Judgement (duhn duhn duhhhh!!). The eventual moral of the story was that at the end of his life, the only thing that stayed with him were the good deeds he had done in life. Everything else abandoned him.
If this were me, I'd have a different ultimate companion: my issues. Even when I have nothing else, they never quit me. Aw.
Thursday
Hey, guess who's dead!
This is one of my favorite games. Actually, it's not so much a game as the way I usually announce the news of someone's passing. Someone the informant doesn't know, usually a famous person. I mean, I'm not that sick. So, for today's guess who's dead:
David Brinkley. Well, that song is going to be a lot less fun to sing now, isn't it?
Gregory Peck. This is just very saddenening. I refused to recognize that he became old.
Speaking of dead things, on the subway this week, I noticed that there was the corpse of a dog lying by the side of the track on the stop where I disembark. It's been there all week. It's most likely a spaniel of some kind. I called NJ Transit yesterday and the day before, telling them about it. They said that it would be taken care of, and they apologized for my inconvenience. It's still fucking there. I can't tell you how distressing this is to me. I may have nightmares. I have this fear that it's just going to keep being there and that one day I'm going to walk by and it will be partially skeletal. Sorry, but hey, I'm the one that has to look at it.
Continuing with animals - tomorrow I'm taking Lily to the vet to have her girly organs removed. The office called for a confirmation of her teeth cleaning appointment. This is incredibley distressing. I corrected that, no, she's going to be cut open and her organs will be removed. That's ever so slightly different from having her teeth cleaned. Anyway, it turned out that it's in the computer for the right procedure, it's just down wrong in the appointment book. And this was the secretary I talked to. I know that the doctor is competant and on top of things. But still, I did not find this experience pleasant at all.
Sorry for the graphic nature of this entry. I blame John Webster.
David Brinkley. Well, that song is going to be a lot less fun to sing now, isn't it?
Gregory Peck. This is just very saddenening. I refused to recognize that he became old.
Speaking of dead things, on the subway this week, I noticed that there was the corpse of a dog lying by the side of the track on the stop where I disembark. It's been there all week. It's most likely a spaniel of some kind. I called NJ Transit yesterday and the day before, telling them about it. They said that it would be taken care of, and they apologized for my inconvenience. It's still fucking there. I can't tell you how distressing this is to me. I may have nightmares. I have this fear that it's just going to keep being there and that one day I'm going to walk by and it will be partially skeletal. Sorry, but hey, I'm the one that has to look at it.
Continuing with animals - tomorrow I'm taking Lily to the vet to have her girly organs removed. The office called for a confirmation of her teeth cleaning appointment. This is incredibley distressing. I corrected that, no, she's going to be cut open and her organs will be removed. That's ever so slightly different from having her teeth cleaned. Anyway, it turned out that it's in the computer for the right procedure, it's just down wrong in the appointment book. And this was the secretary I talked to. I know that the doctor is competant and on top of things. But still, I did not find this experience pleasant at all.
Sorry for the graphic nature of this entry. I blame John Webster.
Saturday
MATRIX!
That movie entertained the fuck out of me. Entertained. The Fuck. Out of Me.
For about two hours and twenty minutes, life was good. And pornotastic! indeed.
Thus stating that there are only two things important in life: sex and philosophy.
For about two hours and twenty minutes, life was good. And pornotastic! indeed.
Thus stating that there are only two things important in life: sex and philosophy.
Wednesday
Monday
I actually believe that's the definition of "Fucking A".
So, I went to the CVS to purchase some posterboard for my upcoming dramatic presentation. And also a chocolate. Anyway. Outside, there was a bum smoking a cigarrette, and listening to Led Zeppelin on his portable radio. And I'm talking, like, actual Zeppelin. Like, "Black Mountain Side" and "The Lemon Song". I now officially hate everyone except for that guy. I bet he's got a pretty sweet life. For a bum outside the CVS.
In other news, my hate of a certain other person grows less "paranoid and suspicious" and more "justified and correct" every day.
Oh, and I have also worked Buffy into my presentation. I geek supreme over all of you.
In other news, my hate of a certain other person grows less "paranoid and suspicious" and more "justified and correct" every day.
Oh, and I have also worked Buffy into my presentation. I geek supreme over all of you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
