A better one!

I might in the near future be writing a big long entry about something I'm pretty sure no one except myself will care about. It has to do with my last entry. (Goodness! A follow-up? A clarification!?) ... Of course, now that I've expressed my intent, I'm almost definitely not going to do it. Because expressing intent is just like doing it! So it's over now, out of mind.

Anyway, this is not what I came to tell you about. I am here because slowly it has begun to dawn on me that much like the pirate, "asshat" has become too mainstream. "But," you may ask, "isn't that what you wanted?" To which I will reply: "... Shut up." Anyway, say hello to my next creation.

ASSCART.

I am unsure as to whether or not I want it as one word or two. Anyway, go, children. And disseminate it. Hee.

I hate liking things.

Seriously. Have you ever really really really been a fan of something, and then you realize that everyone else who likes the same thing is really half-assed about it? Like, not knowing character full names and who they're related to and shit like that. You know, the things that you could only really care about if you were irrationally obsessed but yet are like nails driven under your skin when people fuck up? If they don't care as much as I do, then they shouldn't bother at all! ... Dammit!

Also, have you ever read a companion book and pointed out all the errors in it?

*He* left *her*??? Oh, "sharon" you are so on my hit list.

*EDIT*
I think I might have given myself a concussion. He did leave her. I meant to write it the other way around. ... that sharon girl is still on my hit list.

You know.

I'm starting to feel that the only way I can continue to like some people is if I stop reading their posts.

Seriously people.

Okay, I need to say something.

About Brookie.

Please answer honestly.

Do you really care?

I mean, I'm serious. I don't care. I see people that I know and like get upset by things he says, and honestly ... does it even matter? I simply can't even imagine not ignoring everything he says. I've tried to come up with some unpleasant epithet for him, to explain why no one should care about what he says, or whatever, but I simply can't, because that's how little I care.

And I'm perplexed that other people care, because it makes me care, because I care about those people. BLAH! All this caring, make it stop!

My advice. And I seriously hope people listen to it: ignore him. It's so insignificant. If you ignore him, he has nothing to work off. He makes the most ridiculous, inane, and inconsequential comments. They mean nothing! He has done nothing, that I've seen, that is worthy of anyone's attention.

Stop caring! Stop replying. Ignore it. Devote your attention to something that matters. But above all:

STOP CARING!

It's my fondest dream!

More in the continuing adventures of the stupidity of the scholastic institutions I have attended. Today's target: my high school.

When I was a junior in this high school, around the same time I joined the WD, there began some talks of making additions to the school. This, because, you see, the school was becoming ridiculously overcrowded, not only with my town's own young (incidentally, I hope Jaynee moves or decides on a private school before Olivia is of-age), but also with much riff-raff from neighboring, shittier towns, such as East Orange. They claim a relative as a resident of this town, and say they live with them, so they can go to a "better" school. It's crazy beans.

So, anyway. This year, some more than 4 years after this proposition, they began work on doing it. The tennis courts next to the school (don't be impressed - it was fenced-in asphalt) is now a parking area. It actually doesn't look too bad. They began digging up the parking lot adjoining the school, for what will be the future "Kenneth Card Science Wing." Heee. Nevermind.

And, as my father was driving me back from school, he told me: "They've started tearing down part of the building." !! At first, ironically, I was upset. I thought they would be tearing down by where the aforementioned parking lot was. That's where they have these large stone facades that say "Boys' Entrance" and "Girls' Entrance." I used to have my dance recitals at the high school when I was very small, and those were the doors I used to go in through. The "Boy's Entrance," interestingly enough. Part of my childhood. Awww.

But nevermind, no, that wasn't the part they were taking down. No, they're taking down the "new building." Yeah, they're redoing the newer section of the school, not the older section. Yeah, I don't get it either. But, yeah man. Taking a fucking wrecking ball to my high school. I've always wanted to do that! It's so cool!

When I go on my break, I think I will try to go by and watch the demolition of my high school. I wonder if they'd let me help. Even if, you know, I just threw a large hefty rock at it, or something.

Yaaaaaaaaaay!

Also, plans for the rennovations are expected to be completed in 2008. Where's my eye-rolling monkey?

Why am I surprised?

Hello loyal reader. For this month's installment of Amy's blog, we will be reading "Why Am I Surprised That Rutgers Has Fucked Me Over?"



So, I just waited for and got on a bus to take me to the theatre arts department. I was going to drop off my project at my proffesor's mailbox. In the lobby, however, I see a sign:

HOLLYWOOD HITS STRIKE CALL : MAY 5.

What's this you may wonder? Oh, well, this is the strike call that I am assigned to for my Nazi labor camp class. Which was supposed to be on May 9. Ensue panic. I go upstairs to the officed to talk to ... fuck it I'm not using names. I inquire about this. Good news: I haven't failed. I was pretty sure that the policy for missing a strike is that you fail the class. No, instead, I will be dropped one letter grade.

You'd think I'd be relieved, and no, honestly I am. Though, I swear to God, if they told me that I failed and that I had to take the class in the fall, I wouldn't. I would fucking drop the whole major that I'd be one credit away from completing rather than put up with this fucking school any longer than I have to. Let us look at the circumstances that put me here, and allow me to say:

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!

"It's been up almost a week." Oh yeah? It's been up almost a week? When in that week have I had time to drag my ass across New Brunswick to come here and check it? Didn't this show only start its preview last Wednesday? It ran less than one fucking week? When has that ever happened? You pushed the opening back and pushed the closing up? WHEN HAS THAT EVER HAPPENED? When has a strike ever been on a Wednesday?

Why am I so upset you ask. Aren't I overreacting just a little? What am I getting, a B? Well, yes, but then, consider that I have a 4.0 in my major. I've had a 4.0 average for the past four semesters. It was kind of something that was important to me, you know what I mean? And now, in less than twenty-four hours the whole past three years are just fucking undone. Did they plan this? Are they deliberately trying to fuck me over one last time? Getting in a cheap shot while they can?

I cannot possibley relay how much I hate this goddamn fucking piece-of-shit cocksucking ass cunt motherfucking school. This place hurts my soul. HURTS. MY. SOUL. And I cannot describe it any better. I feel like I've been kicked in the chest.

But what I most want to know is: Why am I fucking surprised? This, I muttered to myself in a daze as I was making my way back here. Why am I so fucking surprised? Is this a shock? Has this school not repeatedly fucked me over time and again? WHY am I caught by surprise every single time?

And really, this has implications for my whole life. Why am I such a trusting person? Why haven't I learned from all the times in my life that I've been fucked over that it's going to happen again? And why, when it does do I get fucking hurt like it's the first fucking time?

Why. am. I. surprised?

And to think, I said i didn't have anything to write about

Now is the time to seize the day.

Well, shit it's been a while since I've made an entry. Not that anyone noticed, probably. I've had the impetus to write about things, as in, actual things more than once since the last installment, but I just didn't get around to it.

So, I have a paper to write for my monkeys class. I've been able to since last week, but I've leaving it until tomorrow after I teach the urchins. Nice and last minute, just like I like it. And then afterwards I suppose I'll write my other paper for my other class (short, thank goodness, since I don't know what the hell I'm going to say) and write up the script report that I didn't feel like doing on Monday.

So. I'm tired. Although not physically. Obviously, since it's 2 AM and I've just had two cans of unfiltered Coke and plan to do some embroidery after I write this. It's okay. I have nearly 6 hours until I plan to wake up. But, yeah. Really tired. This afternoon, I was so upset that it somehow caused me to take a nap. [where's my "flippant monkey and self mocking" icon?] I guess it makes a sort of sense. My body's only way to cope was to knock me unconscious.

You know what makes everything all right, though? Singing newsboys. My God I love this movie far too much. Far, far too much. Sexy singing Christian Bale and sexy singing David Moscow put all things to rights.

Awesome. [/Cartman]

Seriously, yo. Sadly, living in the New York area, there are far too many people to get any real sense of regionalisms. And now, in the interest of making a big honkin' list, and boring the crap out of absolutely everyone, I will now give my personal responses to all one hundred twenty-two of these linguistical thingamabobbers. Or, if you don't feel like caring today, I offer you an alternative:

HONK IF YOU LOVE MONKEYS!

Okay, now that the suckers are leaving me feedback, let's go.

1. f. Although, it depends, really. When talking about the concept, I use "on-t" and "an-t" interchangeabley, heavy on the "on-t" -- but I always say "an-t" when talking about a specific one.
2. a. "been" rhymes with "bin"
3. a. Rock stars, dude. Come on.
4. b. Carmel is a valley.
5. a. But sometimes b. if I'm in a rush.
6. d. D is the fourth option! And it's in purple! And centaur is Sagittarius!
7. a. Stop trying to be British, non-British people. [eyebrow]
8. d. I was leaning towards a., but my keen ear tells me otherwise.
9. b. Cray on, you crazy crayon.
10. a. Although, as I've learned, b. is actually correct. When the word was first getting transcribed, it was pronounced "crick" but spelled "creek" what's been going on since then is a change in the pronunciation to reflect the spelling.
11. b. Yes, I know it's an "o". Bite me.
12. c. No witty comments.
13. a. I'm not sure why. I'm pretty sure that I've always heard "chif," but everytime I say the word, it comes out "cheef."
14. a. Although the other option is just so quaint.
15. a. Woo hoo! All three are different, bitches!
16. b. Incidentally, I hate mayonnaise.
17. a. I'm surprised that b. had the highest percentage.
18. a. No, seriously, people. Two "i"s. Not three.
19. a. No witty comments.
20. b. Hmm. This seems to be shifted slightly south-like.
21. a. or f. Seriously, I interchange those two at random. I really have no idea how to say this word. Not that I care. Nuts to nuts!
22. b. No witty comments.
23. d. I suppose. I say "really" most of the time, but sometimes it's "rilly" when it's in the middle of a fast sentence.
24. d. I suppose again. I usually say "real estate agent." But if forced to pick, I say b. As in "Real-uh-ter Bill!"
25. a. No witty comments.
26. a. Heee. Hehehehehe. Heee. "R-out."
27. a. Huh. I can't believe this is so low in the percentage. I'm used to being the majority. I'm a winner.
28. a. different
29. d. Sometimes I can't tell if I'm pronouncing an "l" but usually, I'm not.
30. a. "Annivershary"? [eyebrow]
31. b. Woo! No metathesis for me!
32. a. No witty comments.
33. c. I think that I tend to say "s" more, but I don't really notice either way.
34. a. I'm such a good little Latin student.
35. a. "Why, what do you call it?" "A car hold."
36. c. I'mma hafta say. I say both, but I say "growsery" when I'm using the word alone, but I also say "growshry" (2 syllables) if I'm saying "grocery bag."
37. a. Because there's a fucking "h" in it, Phoebe. [/Izzard]
38. a. Again, I say, [eyebrow]
39. a. Come on now, people.
40. a. A "cor-ter" is my beau.
41. f. No, serously. I don't. It's a faucet. Or a tap.
42. a. Although, technically, it's not a "g" either. It's an engma.
43. a. No witty comments.
44. a. I like CREAM cheese.
45. b. I'd only stress the first syllable if I were being a dick.
46. a. Does that make me an out-of-towner?
47. b. Again, with the eyebrowing.
48. b. Again, unless I'm dicking with you.
49. a. Drug is pluperfect.
50. h. I think I say "you" and "you guys" in equal measure. And stealthily, like a heat-seeking missile, I think "y'all" is creeping into my vernacular. But then again, so is "you lot." It's so situationally dependent!
51. c. I guess. I often say "You wanna come with?" because of Moe. But my brain doesn't accept that particular sentence, no.
52. b. Not only no, but fuck  no.
53. b. Heh. No. Unless, again, with the dicking. God, I'm a linguistic ass clown.
54. b. I've never before encountered the idea that this following set of sayings is acceptable.
55. b. Ditto.
56. b. Ditto.
57. b. Ditto.
58. b. or c. I usually say yard sale, and if pressed, that's my preference. Unless you're acutally selling things out of the garage, which I've only ever seen happen in the movie Ghost World .  If someone says "garage sale" I won't argue with it.
59. u. I've heard the phrase "mumblety-pegs" before, but I never knew what the heck it meant. Is that what it means? Jesus that sounds German.
60. h. I have no word for this. Though I may consider using "tree lawn" now. For the Harry Potter tie-ins. Is that where her name somes from?
61. d. island. I knew that!
62. g. I'm pretty sure that this, too, is an island. That's all I've ever heard stuff in the middle of the road called.
63. a. milkshake. But when my mother was younger, she called it a velvet shake! I swear to Jesus! Is she a lone freak? Also, I seem to recall hearing the phrase "thick shake" during my stint as a southerner, but I could be making that up. I'm sure Someone will tell me if I am.
64. a. Naturally, it's a sub, and I don't get into any of the semantic fights over this. They aren't really my thing anyway. Though if I had to pick one of the more esoteric ones, I guess I'd called it a hero.
65. c. Interchangeabley, but with emphasis on the lightning bug. "Firefly" is more abstract terminology.
66. a. But I've always wanted to call them "crawdads" because that's funny.
67. a. I've never heard them called any of that other crap. They're the only spider-looking things that I never had irrational fears about.
68. c. I guess. Though I usually pronounced it "granma." I suppose I should have said "nickname" when I was asking this highly scientific question to my highly scientific test subject.
69. c. No distinction. But I think the options they listed for this one are different. Which is off-putting.
70. c. I'm so median with these questions.
71. c. Yup, same thing. Distinctions were made by name. Although, my mother's mother was the only one who wasn't distinguished by name (possibley because she had the same name as my mother) so she was just "Granma." And I had Grampa Louie and Granma Grace, and also Grampa Bud.
72. a. Incidentally, I always called them "dust balls" growing up, but then I was introduced to the phrase "dust bunny" at some point, and it stuck. Although I've also heard (but not used) "dust mice."
73. a. And shut up, .23%. You do not call them trainers.
74. a. Pill bugs!! I love them! Although, when I was very small and first discovered them, I called them something that I made up, and have since forgotten. But "pill bug" is their official name. [nod]
75. a. And seriously, I'm going to kill that .23%. That's not a spree, right?
76. g. I'd only ever call it diagonal. But I have heard "catty-corner." I just didn't know what it meant. And I still don't think it means that.
77. d. Other? Where's the "I don't have a name for this option"? I mean, I think "donuts" sounds familiar, but that's only because the other options sound ever weirder. I don't know, yo.
78. b. Scrap paper is what they give you in math class. [up]
79. a. I'm surprised that anyone in this area said "turnpike" or "parkway" for this. Those are specific roads. And we don't cotton to those "freeways" around here.
80. a. Sunshowers are so pretty. Also, way to live up to cultural stereotypes, the deep south.
81. a. By R.L. Stine.
82. q. What the hell is wrong with everyone? It's "eye goo"! Although I guess I've heard it called "sleep" once or twice.
83. g. Uh, again, I don't have a word for this. An easy course is ... an "easy course."
84. d. I'm sure Del agrees.
85. a. If we're not talking about a scrunchie, then we're talking about an "elastic band."
86. b. It's a doughnut, right?
87. b. I suspect I don't say this because I don't eat them. ... And because I only found out what they were a couple months ago.
88. a. Bow-legged refers to the whole leg! And to sluts!
89. a. Uh ... kinda. I call it slaw, but only because my diction is really quirky, and I see it as an abbreviation of sorts.
90. c. Um. I'm not sure it's fair to say that I know the difference, but I do have different conceptions of the words. A casket is what the person's in during the wake and services, but once you bury it, it becomes a coffin. I usually say casket. Unless I'm talking about vampires.
91. b. No witty comments.
92. c. I call it "asshole." Incidentally, a Chinese fire drill is something totally different.
93. c. Seriously. It's all good.
94. c. Frosting is shit I've hand-whipped, motherfucker! Icing is the really sickly-sweet stuff (too sweet for ME? Surely you jest ...) that makes me queasy.
95. a. New York Wins! FATALITY.
96. e. I do not use the term "supper" unless I'm in a really weird mood.
97. b. Sometimes "trash can" but usually not. A garbage can is in the kitchen. A trash can might have more paper goods in it.
98. a. "On ... accident"? [eyebrow]
99. b. That's what I hear them called, anyway.
100. d. Only, you know, I don't ...
101. b. But, I mean, I've "passed up" homework. If we're all staying in our seats.
102. g. A waterbug is something else.
103. d. "Bubbler"? [eyebrow]
104. a. Generally, anyway. I know different cities have different systems, but here it's the subway.
105. a. Heee! I love this one! Someone say "pop" right now! Or "Pepsi coke"!
106. c. Seems almost too logical, doesn't it?
107. c. Yep. No one really cares about the accident, they just care about the hold-up. Not that it stops them from looking!
108. a. No witty comments.
109. a. I want to hear someone call it a poke, though. I really do.
110. c. Is this really not that known? "Devil's night"? Wtf?
111. a. But it's so cute when some people call it the heel. It really is.
112. a. Yay drugs!
113. b. People don't?
114. a. Though I guess it really should be the other one, huh?
115. a. Heee. Like a cow's opinion.
116. a. I'd only say "thezbian" if I were making a deliberate lesbian pun. Which is not so unlikely.
117. a. It's a basement, though if I had to define "cellar" it would be a cross between d. and e. But being unfinished doesn't make it a cellar, it just makes it an "unfinished basement." It's the storing part the makes it a cellar. Like a "wine cellar" or "cellar dungeon."
118. g. Oh. My. God.
119. a. Though I want to bring "take away" into usage in the States. Help me out, y'all!
120. b. Or a. "Shotgun" is just the call. If you're stating it in a more academic way, you can say "Dibs on the front seat!" But if you just say "Dibs!" you'll get a pffft to the face, and someone taking your seat with a call of "Shotgun!"
121. c. I never knew that I wasn't saying it properly. If I had to pick a runner up, it'd be "oogle."
122. b. Suck it.


And that, my friends, is what you get for reading my blog.

04/04/04!!!!

It's 4:44 on 04/04/04! It's 44 degrees outside!

I WIN!

I'm never gonna let you go, 'cause I like your charms*

I'd just like to mention that I am so ahead of everyone on celebrity crushes. I liked Owen Wilson from Armageddon . I liked Orlando Bloom when he was in Black Hawk Down . I was totally crushing. And then I got over it! And a year or so later, everyone else caught up. Bravo to getting around to Sarah Polley. That was only a decade ago!

Anyway. I have excellent taste. And I'm pretty. For these reasons, I don't feel any shame for doing things like waking up at 1:30 to listen to "All You Wanted" by Michelle "You-Can-Tell-I'm-Emoting-Because-I-Turn-Every-Syllable-Into-Like-Ten-Syllables" Branch.

That's right. No shame. I am cleaning out my ears with Zeppelin. Whom I started listening to at birth, by the way. At birth .

In other news, my AOL webspace has been non-functional for quite some time, meaning that I cannot upload anything new to it. This pisses me off something mighty.

*By which ...

I love my little Hispanish children!

I love them! I love them and I want to keep them! Do you think their parents will let me? I was very nervous about going to teach creative dramatics to a small class of bilingual students at a local elementary school today (she said for exposition). But they were wonderful. They got right into all the activities, and none of them suck. Reuben is the shy taciturn one. And he has blue eyes. So he might be my favorite.

They asked if I was married. [eyebrow]

...I said no.

Pardon me

whilst I eat some strawberries with some Double Devon Cream.

Oh yeah. That's the stuff.

I can't tell if I'm depressed or feelin' fine. I mean, continuing coverage of one story keeps getting remarkabley worse, and I haven't been sleeping well (again), but everything else is rather good. Plus, I emerged triumphant in my latest battle against the irony fairies.

Plus, the aforementioned foodstuff. I'll be spiffy when Wednesday rolls around.

Who's won that race? What's the weather like today?

It's snowing!! This is ridiculous! It was in the 70s nary a week ago! Okay, perhaps nary. According to several (at last count) persons, I have not been updating often enough. Ha! Well. I have nothing to write about (aside from my strong desire to raise a campaign to Save the Subjunctive Mood) so I will answer a BLOQ from P@!

(That stands for: Bunch, Logbook-style, Of Questions.)

Aren't dollar stores just the shizz-nit? I'm not really sure. When your town has a surplus of dollar stores (or, more accurately, 99 cents stores) it tends to look a bit crappy. Of course, it is a great resource for purchasing props and the like for my classes. So. Maybe.

What three words best describe you? I am Amy.

What would a Ph.D. do fo-r your care-r? It would improve public perception of my intelligence if I become sufficiently famous. Wouldn't really do anything for me in terms of actually getting work, though.

If a book were being written about your life, what would the chapter you are currently in be called? $14 a week. (My autobiography would be called "My Life On Trains.")

Bob Dylan said everyone must get stoned - but why? Because The Man is like that.

Don't you hate that? I sure as hell do!!

How can they possibly expect you to go to work on a day like today? Well, I have a seminar. I suppose I don't really have to go, but this is my "department" as it were. So I feel like I should. I think it'll be good times. Of course, this is all dependent on whether or not NJ Transit actually gets me there. WHAT WITH ALL THE SNOW AND EVERYTHING.

If you could change the color of your eyes, your hair, or your skin at will - what would you alter your appearance to? At will? You mean, if I could be like, a shape-shifter? That'd be pretty neat, I suppose.

Pick a movie or a book or a television series that you know fairly well - now, what character would you like to see their point of view from? (eg, Harry Potter from Draco's perspective, or Snow White as strictly told by Sneezy, etc) Huh. You know, all of my favorite series show events from the perspectives of several different characters. That's strange, says I.

What song do you currently have in your head? "All Along The Watchtower" as sung by Bob Dylan. Of course, that's also the song I currently have in my ears.

What have you learned today? The Harry Potter stationery makers are cheap ass-bastards.

I love the sound of a Pepsi can opening. Also, certain sirens are cool. What sounds do you find appealing? Oh Pat. Also, I like creaking stairs for some reason.

If you could visit 83 years in the past, or 83 years in the future, (for one week, with no time paradoxes resulting) which would you choose and why? 83 years in the future, obviously. THINK OF IT FROM A GAMBLING STANDPOINT! Also, I see no benefit to going backwards in time. I'd just get a lot more things to say "No it wasn't, it was like this ," about. I have enough of that from my own lifetime.

and finally...

Invent a new word right now....please? Dude, I've invented so many already. I'm a neologizing fool! What, "spish" wasn't good enough for you? Hows about "googe"? Alright, here we go.
"smraf" n. tightening of the forehead in response to an unwelcome utterance, such as a request.


* I'd like you to know that ieSpell's suggestion for "spish" is "apish." Heeeeeeeeeeeee!!! They're not far off!

HOUSE FIRE TURNS TRAGIC.

This was the headline I saw at a paper stand at the train station. Am I missing something, I wonder? Are house fires usually a cause for great celebration? I mean, I assume that they mean people died in the fire. And that's not good, I suppose. But "turns" tragic? I don't think this has the dramatic juxtaposition that a headline like, say: WONDERFUL PARTY TURNS TRAGIC would have.

In an unrelated story, I have been wondering if I should get one of those "Wish Lists" at Amazon.com. Should I? See, on one hand, it'd be really swell if I got stuff that I wanted. For free. But on the downside, I know I'd probably end up getting things for free. And that makes me feel all guilty.

On second thought, if someone could just get or manufacture for me a lifetime ... food pass to Wendy's, that would really kick ass.

Happy Birthday, Nip!

Nip, my beanie baby cat, was born March 6, 1994. Which means that yesterday was his 10th birthday! It was also the day I got him! Heee! He was a present to me from the director of the show (it's a fitting gift, the play is sort of about a cat) -- because last night was closing! Woo! No more show!
I slept until 4 o'clock today. It was terrific.

I've also just had some chicken. That was terrific.

And I've decided that when I by my train tickets tomorrow, that I'm going to pay for the fare partially in nickels. The prospect amuses me far more than it should. I mean, seriously. Hehehehehe! Nickels!


Oh, and listen to my kitty's little poem:

His name is Nipper, but we call him Nip
His best friend is a black cat named Zip
Nip likes to run races for fun
He runs so fast he's always number one!

MY CAT IS A WINNER!

Oh yeah!

One of the things that I wanted to mention - my well-meaning preceptor has put up another bulletin board. It has a bunch of feelings on it, with pictures cut out of magazine and dabbled in glitter to go along with those feelings (Clint Eastwood is "cranky" heee!). And then there are index cards with the names of everyone on the floor thumbtacked to it bottom. The idea, of course, being to indicate how we are that day (like those magnetic smiley-face charts - although there's nothing like "cute" on it, what a rip-off!) by placing or card by our emotion. One of those is "in love" (which, does that really qualify as an emotion? I'm conflicted.) and the associated picture is of Kirsten Dunst and Jake Gyllenhaal. I squealed for joy!

Seriously, though. I know that I don't know the girl, and only stalk her alarmingly and wouldn't mind being in naked contexts with her ... hmm. So, my presuming to know anything about her love life is a bit silly, but, honestly, nearly never have I seen two people so in love. Every picture of them together is just so ... filled with emotion. Like where ever they are is completely secondary to the fact that they are with each other. God I hope that lasts. It makes me feel so happy for the both of them, and in general. It's really beautiful.

Crossword puzzles.

And her boobs are still fantastic. [up]

Heh.

So, I arrived home this evening to find a bag of food and a card hanging on my door. The card was addressed to Shereen. Of course this did not stop me from opening it. Apparently, she has a lunch date with a young lass, but she canceled it. So the lass bought Shereen lunch, and a card of apology! That's so nice!

But apparently Shereen didn't tell her she moved out, either!

The food is now resting in my refrigerator. I bet wacky hijinks will come of this!!

In other news, the show is going much better, thanks. There were some amusing occurrences that I had wanted to relate (not related to the show), but I've forgotten them all. Oh well. Next time.

Gah.

D'you ever have something to say to someone, but you're so worried that it's not going to be ... right to say? Maybe because you know that their feelings are the more important, but you really just want to talk about your own feelings? Something like that. Anyway. This is one of those.

You are so fucking right. God. So ... everything. One of my pet hatreds is of the phrase "I know how you feel." But, some of the things you say, Jesus, I fucking was   you. And I would have given fucking anything to have you never know what it feels like. You are completely right.

Fuck.

Worlds folded more than 4.

In case you were wondering ... that was  the gimmick.

All in all, I've had a most pleasant and entertaining 4th.

What collides?

I have had a miserable day. I want sympathy. I'm far too tired to write out my troubles again, and yet, I still don't feel sated with prior rantings. So I am just going to copy and paste directly from emails that I sent to the Boy. Aren't you lucky! It's like a super secret glimpse into my life!

Preface: As ... someone may know, I am running a show now. Normally, I love this. I am an actress, foremost, but I love working crew, and I love my producing work. I am a theatre enthusiast in general. So when I say that I was achingly disappointed in my evening, I ain't just bullshitting you. Also, since I didn't mention this in the email, my scene partner for my class most definitely has a crush on me. It's really pissing me off. And if he doesn't learn his lines, I think I have every right to murder him. Moving on.

Email the first: Oh good, it's you. As my designated lifemate, you get to hear me carry on about my completely shitty day. I took a lot of napping last night, and actually slept for a good deal of the night. However, since I'd been so ... awake for a few days prior, I was still extremely tired. And I had to wake up early to do my laundry, because I'm not sure when I'm going to *get* another free *hour*. Whilst doing my laundry, I discovered something insidious. The dryers, which cost 75 cents per use, run for 54 minutes. Without exception. 75 more cents if you want 54 more minutes. What I have done in the past is, at select times, remove select clothing items which are already dry, to help the still-damp ones dry faster. I could take as much time as I wanted, since the timer only counted down while it was running. NOT ANYMORE, THOUGH! Now, the minutes get used up -- even if the dryer isn't on! What the fuck am I forking over my change for? Anyway, because of the need to do laundry, I had a very short time to get to class, even though my class was at one. First, though, I had to stop off at the store to get a gift for my "secret valentine" -- because my class decided this would be a good thing to do. I got a sample box of chocolates and a card with a smiley face on it. It cost less than three dollars, but that was still more than I was willing to spend. I need to conserve all my money for train tickets and, you know, to live. Despite my poverty, I still felt shame that mine seemed to be if not the cheapest, than one of the bottom two of everyone. Even though I am destitute. (On a that note, my father is bringing my prescription down to me on Sunday morning. I will beg for funds because I do not know shame or guilt.) My gift was a bar of candy that I didn't like, and a bag of "Veggie Twists" which actually is the sort of fruity new-age snack I'd go in for. Except the flavor - garlic and rosemary. ?!!?! So, after class I took the bus back to my room, unloaded some stuff and grabbed my pills and checked my emails. About 12 minutes total. Then I had to get another bus to go back to the other campus to work on the show. The bus was at the stop as I arrived. The EE. As I was *running up to and along side it* is when it started to pull away. I WAS RIGHT FUCKING THERE! As it leaves me there, hoping that the driver sees my extended middle finger in his rear view window, I look across the street to see the F bus also pulling away. So I had to stand at the bus stop for about 15 minutes. All this means that I had about 15 minutes to go to the dining hall and attempt to have food. The only thing that had that I could actually eat were dry chicken finger (no honey or honey mustard) of which I had about four. It was terrible. And that's all I've had to eat all day. Also, I've been very dehydrated (which I note as I suck back my last bottle of water). Then I get to the show! I soon find that I have not yet begun to be pissed off. Let me start a new paragraph.

So, I am running props. My duties include setting the props and some furniture that will be onstage, and arranging items off-stage that will be carried on by the actors. This can all be done before the show starts. During the show, I hand one thing to one person, take one thing from one person, and hold open a door. That's it. As I am backstage, I cannot watch the show. That's what tonight was supposed to be for. Tonight was the *crew watch*. That is the title of the evening. It's an opportunity for the crew to watch the show. But did I? Well, fuck no! Because the stage manager thought it would be a good idea for the prop people to "watch" the show from backstage. Even though none of our duties are even set as they are still changing things around. I did fuck nothing for an hour and 45 minutes. Absolutely nothing. I stood around being frustrated and bored and taking up space, and then pretending to be happy when the actors introduced themselves. I could not see the show and I could not hear the show. I only have a slightly better understanding of it than I did before. I HAVE NO CONNECTION TO THE SHOW. I don't even know what's fucking going on on the stage. So fucking frustrated and so fucking bored. It was torture, and it's going to be torture every fucking night.

What I could tell of the play was the following: not thirty seconds into it, there's a scene of simulated sex. The word "cunt" is used a great deal of times. This play was obviously written the day after the Sexual Revolution occurred. I don't know if you'd enjoy seeing it or not. There's a musical number at the end (there are musical numbers - it's weird) in which the ladies sort of ... heckle and insinuate upon the male members of the audience.

So, yeah. I had a fucking awful night. I barely know what's going on in the show. I have no connection to it, and my first impression of it is that it's a horrifically boring waste of my time. None of which I would have to feel right now if they had just let me *watch* the fucking show and feel connected to it. But no. Now the next three weeks of my life will suck a boatload of ass.

Email the second: Today (which is by now "yesterday") was also ten years since Karen died. I don't know if that contributed to my shitty day. I don't think it did, but then, as I discovered the other day when I was talking to Anita, we both have a lot of unresolved feelings about it. I meant to mention this somewhere in the other email. You don't have to make this its own reply. I don't know if I want to continue a discussion about it.

I think I'm going to see if I can get some sustenance from the vending machines in the basement. I might get a Coke, though it will surely fuck up my desperately needed sleep session.

Epilogue: I decided to get a bottle of water from the drink machine instead. It was 75 cents. I gave my money, pressed the button, and it pretended to vend. It accepted my money, but gave me no water. There were some chaps there playing that table-football game, so I couldn't even cry. Next, I made my way to the snack machine. It took my money gratefully, but every selection I made, though there was clearly a snack to be had, prompted the message "Make Another Selection". Every single one. So, dejected, I pushed the coin return and collected my change. Then I pressed my luck with the drink machine again, the fruit of which is the opened can of Coca~Cola now sitting in front of me.

Someone shoot me.