Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Stories of the Past: Part Five (to be continued)

Disclaimer:Stories of the Past are always long. If you don't like reading long post.... STOP READING!!!

This is for 11th grade. In 11th grade I had moved back in with Grams. I love Grams. I take care of Grams. But that's besides the point. The point here is what I did to get into trouble at the High School.

I'm fighting with myself over which story from eleventh grade I want to tell you first. It's either the day I walked out of class and turned my self in or the day I was suspended. Give me a second to decide.

I think for a shorter entry I'll just tell you about the day I walked out of class. However it has to wait until later today. I'll just update this later when I get a chance (In otherwords: after work)

Have Fun


So, story time little kiddies. No, that has two D's in there not T's you oof.

I don't remember what day it was exactly, but I do know that it was gym class. I have always hated gym. All the females in my family have hated gym. We barely pass it, if we do at all.

Oops... got off subject.

There was a girl in there who I absolutely hated. And that's just how I feel about most thin cheerleaders who think, just because they can afford $100 shoes to get muddy in, they're better than me. And I was tired of listening to her degrade me. And my friends. So I decided to sluff class. You all remember sluffing right? Come on! Everyone has sluffed once in thier life. Don't bother to lie, I know the truth.

Well normal people, when they sluff, leave campus or hide in a bathroom or DO something. Me? I turn myself in. I go straight to the attendance office and tell the person behind the desk "Hi, I'm sluffing class. Where should I go?"

Her response? "..."

Me: I'm sorry. I should explain. I don't want to be in gym, but I have nothing better to do with my time. So I'd like to turn myself in for sluffing. Should I be going to ISS?

Her: ....? Umm.... No? You... go to your... vice principal.

Me: Oh alright. I know him. Bye now.

And I go to my vice principal's office to wait for him. He came back, but was incredibly busy. So he decided I had some severe underlying issues and should speak to the school psychologist. Who was no less busy.

So, what did they do with me? Put me to work of course. I got to file things and run notes to classrooms the rest of the day. Of course, 5 minutes before the end of school I decided I needed to go to my last class and get my math homework, but who wouldn't want to do good in a class taught by a HOTTIE?

So I became infamous for sluffing class and turning myself in for it.

Next story? How I got Suspended my very first time ever!

It's what we don't know that bothers me

I'm sitting here at work wasting time. I don't want to work. We have a new girl. That's a little of topic there, Skitz. I know, but I don't really care... I'm just talking to myself. What about the people who read this? Yeah, what about them... umm Hi, Dar. Dar you should leave us a comment. Although when you mentioned that little quiz thingy I was totally "oh she really does read it" But still we want to know what you think about some of the things we write. Why in the hell am I talking in third person?!

Now that I've remembered how to change colors I seem to do it a lot. Remember A LOT is two words. One word will get you docked points. Oops... mmmm... lost track of my thoughts again. My chest hurts. Damn it....

You know I meet people online and tell them what I do for a living and the next thought across my mind is "Do they have a collection account on them?" And my mind answers, "Maybe, but unless they lived in Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, or Idaho you'll never see it." Oh... that's right. Nevermind then. I love being anonnymous (however you spell it). No full names now. That's bad mojo. Umm... I should stop rambling. Going to work now. Post something else later.. maybe..

Have Fun


Friday, March 26, 2004

Just a little something I wrote

You're watching the doorknob as it rotates slowly, millimeter-by-millimeter, clockwise. Once it has turned 90 agonizingly slow degrees, it stops. You hold your breath as the door starts to creep inward. You can see the inner wrist of the person on the opposite side.

Slowly, you let your breath trickle out. You know that wrist. You've nibbled right there. Where it raises just a little bit. You've held onto that wrist when you were too scared to look at the movie screen. You've admired the strength in it on a warm spring day. You know that wrist.

The door is almost half open now and, yet, you still feel some little detail isn't right. You observe your love as they walk through the half open door. Their hair is a little messy, but it always is. Their lips are in that endearing smirk that you love. There, on the right, is the elusive dimple. You know that dimple as if it were part of you.

But the eyes, oh god. The eyes. Your loves' eyes are cold. They're distant. You feel a pain shoot through you as you look, again, to their hands.

There it is. In the left hand. The detail that wasn't right. That is what has turned your loves' once warm and loving eyes, cold and distant.

The blade gleams wickedly as they approach.

And the last thing you can think of, once they've plunged it into your hear, is that you shouldn't have eaten their Cherry Garcia ice cream.

=P Bet you didn't see that coming? I wrote this while waiting for my computer to fix itself. What do you think? Good? I think so. But I'm biased. I wrote it.

Have Fun

Stories of the Past: Part Four

So after my fight with DFGD (Dad's First Girlfriend's Daughter... keep up people! Geesh...) I got shipped to Grams' for the rest of 7th grade. No biggie. I love Grams. She's always there for me.

Anyhow, durring the course of that year, I managed to get into trouble again. Now I was NOT a trouble maker by nature. Not there anyhow. But people, from when I was in 5th grade, remembered me. And were either A) in awe of my total lack of respect for the authoritive figure that was the principal and the fact that I didn't get suspended; or B) in total disbelieving-ness as I showed no firey temper. I was the good kid. I did my work, was rarely late to class, got good grades, had a very small group of friends I hung out with, and was very quiet. But that didn't stay true.

Durring one of my English classes I decided to write a letter to my little brother because I didn't live with him and was starting to miss our fighting. I had finished the work the Substitute had given us and was quietly sitting at my desk writting the note. When *BAM* the sub walks up and grabs my paper. WHA??? Excuse me, that's mine. What the hell are you doing with it??

She read it to herself and scolded me. Then refused to give it back. She, instead, tore the damned thing up! Oops. There goes my temper.

I snapped. I picked up my desk. I threw it. Again across the room. Again, not AT any particular person. I then... walked out. I went downstairs to the girls bathroom and just sat there.

The V.P. came and found me later. Told me to just go to the computer lab if I couldn't go back to class without harming someone or being a distraction to the class. Sounded good to me. So I went in search of the computer lab.

I never did find it. But by the time the next class started I was ready to go to class. No stupid subs there. Just good ol' teach.

That'll teach those B people to not believe I have a temper huh? I thought so.

Stay tuned for the next story from the last school year that I lived with Grams'.

Have Fun

Thursday, March 25, 2004

This is very, very sad ya'll

It's sad... but probably true... look!

Borderline:Very High
Avoidant:Very High

-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! --

Have Fun

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

Ode to my Favorites

Disclaimer: This is not what really happened. In fact, it's made up. Well most of it. They know what's not real. Well I hope they know what's not real. They should. They were there you know. What? Oh, yes I'll shut up and post it then.

Once upon a time, and living in my computer
There was the beautiful and wise
Queen of Everything. Her name? Amy.
Who was lucky enough to meet
The King of Photos (who had a
Weird obsession with owning CD’s);
She just called him Chris.
Chris and Amy one day decreed
That their loyal friend Zoot
Had created the best wedding cake. Ever!
And so Lauren (another Loyal friend)
Was heartbroken. She closed her site.
And all the villiens missed her.
Colleen, who had the prettiest red hair,
Had known all of them and knew
That Miss Doxie, the one and only,
Was funnier than a school for comedians.
However they all agree that Miss Doxie
Is no longer allowed to paint rooms
As they're still peeling colored bugs
Off the ceilings and walls in their homes.

See? Now you can all laugh. OR you can be horribly red from embarrassment for me. OR you can be completly flattered that you were one of the six who got me addicted to blogs in the first place. Really it's your choice.

Have Fun

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Skitz on Relationships

Okay, so really I have no room to talk about relationships. I'm only 19!(Umm scratch that... I'm not 19 until July. Must be jumpin' the gun here) I don't think anyone should be getting married before they're like 25. As for dating. Well to me, that's not really a relationship. Not unless it lasts years. And even then... it's not quite the same as being married. When your married you need to work through things. When your dating... screw working through it! Just break up! No?? Oh you should work through that to? Damn...

That would explain a few things.

At least when your only dating it's easier to leave the person than if you're married. Of course, from what I've seen in my family, people can seem the sweetest of people... until you marry them. And then, they change. I, however, am biased. In my family we have one, that's ONE couple that's not been divorced. And to their kids.. they're the one set that should have. Well, okay, Matt's not been divorced, but him and Tiff are always talking about divorcing eachother. Always fighting, always yelling.

Maybe this is why I'm so afraid of relationships. I think that if I get into one I'll either lose myself, or I'll be miserable.

I read about all these happy couples. And all I can think is:"But these people don't show you the bad side. They don't have to. All you see is the good."

I don't know why I had to post this. Just had to show you a glimpse of what was running through my head I guess.

Have Fun

Water... *gasp*... Must have more Water!

I think I drank half the entire state's water supply last night. All within a few hours. Now see, if I hadn't sworn off soda I could have just made some company really rich. Instead? I'm making less water available for the greenery. I'm a horrible person. Those poor plants.

I know! I'll get all of my guy friends to pee on the lawn this summer for replacement water. It'll work. Won't it?

Have Fun

Monday, March 22, 2004

Stories of the Past: Part Three

This should be a relatively short story. Should be.

In fifth grade I lived with my grandma. I went to school at the school up there. This was a whole set of new people. And all of them seemed snobbish to me.

In my part of the Valley those who live on the East bench are snobs. They're rich. They get cars for their 16th birthday and wear $50 shoes all the time. Three different pair.

Those who live on the West side? Well we're ghetto. We get clunckers if we buy them or steal them ourselves. We wear $15 shoes to the point where they can't be considered shoes anymore. They're just pieces of tattered material on our feet. We are poor. We are racially diverse and culturally also. East bench is white people. Maybe 3% of all the East bench people aren't white. East benchers ignore them for the most part.

Now I know this isn't completely true. However, this is how I saw it. It's basically how I still see it with most of the people there. I know of a few people up there who aren't like that. And I like those people. Even if they think I'm below them as I lived on the West side most of my life.

So back to the story!

Fifth grade. People I don't like. New school. Bad morning. I woke up late, got to school late, and just plan couldn't even think on time. So when Mr. Gods-gift-to-the-world knocks everything off my desk, (That I had just spent 10 minutes organizing and carfully placing on the corner of my desk) I freaked. I yelled at him to pick it all up. The teacher freaked. Told me to pick up my stuff and go to time-out. I freak again. Tell teacher there was no way I was going to that corner when I didn't cause the problem. Only in not so nice of a wording.

Remember, my mother and father swore all the time around me. My mom can swear 5 sailors under a table. Seriously. She could have.

So Mrs. Teacher adds more time to the amount of time I'm to spend in time-out. I refuse and throw my chair to make my point. Not at anyone. She adds more time. My stuff is still on the floor so I throw my desk to further my point. Then I tell Mr.GGTTW to pick it all up. He's frightened and says nothing. Teacher calls principal. Principal shows up. Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

Principal was in a meeting. He now has to carry me, kicking and screaming, to his office. All the while I'm calling him a "mother-f***ing a******" and telling him he'd better "f***ing put me on the god-d***ed floor". We were going down the first grade hall at the time of the yelling. The doors were open. Bet those kids got a new language lesson that day.

So he gets me to his office where these seven grown adults are still sitting in these heavy chairs. Seriously, they had to have weighed 10 to 20 pounds a piece. The chairs people. Keep up!

I, of course, try to leave through the door. Principal lines people + chairs against the wall in front of the door. Leaving only a foot between the first chair and the wall parallel to the sides of the chairs. I sit in the foot of space and push all 7 of those things four feet with my legs. Enough room for me to open the door. I, again of course, get caught. And handcuffed to one of these chairs. That he's sitting in. The adults leave. I refuse to speak.

Dare Officer comes in. *Gasp* he knows Sign Language! Maybe if we speak in sign Language the girl will speak. Whatever. Don't think so. This rebellous girl ain't sayin' a word to either of you dorks.

Okay! Let's let her cool down then send her to the computer lab for the rest of the day. Sounds good to this girl. Let's go!

In otherwords? I spent most of that day playing games in the Computer Lab. No homework to be made up either.

Oh and my stuff?? Mr. GGTTW and everyone else had to pick it up and neatly set them on my now upright desk.

Don't you wish you were me?? If you don't check back you won't see what happened the next time I lived with Grams. It's nearly as good.

Have Fun

P.S. Guess it was long huh? Maybe I just like to hear myself think....

Read at Own Risk as Contains Female Things

I think it's kind of tacky to write about these things, but I can't help myself. I'm a girl and so thus, most of my life centers around these things.

What things? Well DUH! Periods. Or in my case, lack there of. I'm nearly 19 you know? Well I've never been like normal girls. Oh no. Not me. What and be a sheep? As if. Sorry off topic.

Back to topic. I used to have Flo come visit me maybe once every two months. Then it was once every three months. Then it was every month for 3 months. Then back to every two months. And from September of '03 until just last week? None. Yep, no visits. Time for some serious thinking and deciding. I'm told by the doctors that you only need 4 a year to be healthy. But if I didn't have one for 6 months? And they're only about every two months on average? I need to do something to fix them. Otherwise, if I ever decide to sleep with a guy? God imagine the worrying. Nothing but abstinance is 100% and if you don't have regular periods you always think your pregnant.

Solution: The patch. I decided since I'm horrible with pills (like forget to take them but once a week bad with pills) I'd try the patch. It's supposed to knock some sense into Flo so she comes to visit every month, plus it's birth control. Like I need that last. I'm wondering how long it will take me to get used to actually knowing when Flo is supposed to show.

Before now I usually just went with the whole "Oh wow, nice to see you again. Long time no see." approach. Now I get to know when she'll show up. Let's see how long before I get fed up.

Now ends my tacky post. Please have fun on your less tacky favorites. And please don't think better of me. I really am quite tacky. See the sheep fur? I'm quite covered in it no matter what I tell you. Deal with it, huh?

Have Fun

Thursday, March 18, 2004

My 100 Things

1. I did NOTHING for my 18th birthday.
2. That’s not completely true. I went to Rawlins, Wy the day after for work related business.
3. I did basically nothing for my 16th birthday. I went out to eat with my Grams. No party. No big fun. Just dinner and a song. Whoopie….
4. I treat my Grams as if she’s my mom.
5. I’ve lived with my grams for a total of 5 nonconsecutive years.
6. My dad thinks I’ve replaced him.
7. I’m astonished he cares.
8. I do NOT like touching strangers.
9. I do NOT like touching friends.
10. I don’t mind touching family… but I’d rather not.
11. I read. A lot. Like everyday if I had enough books.
12. I hate starting everything with I.
13. Writing was a favorite pastime of mine.
14. Poetry is what I wrote.
15. I don’t like showing my work as it landed me in therapy.
16. I am gory at times.
17. My movie collection has Children’s movies, Drama, Action, Horror, Comedy, Romance, and Science Fiction in it.
18. I claim to hate romance.
19. I don’t.
20. I stopped watching a lot of television when I moved in with Grams on a permanent basis.
21. I moved in a year ago this coming June.
22. I’ve not told anyone on here, yet, what I do for a living.
23. I’m a skiptracer for a collection agency.
24. That means hunting people down to tell them they owe money.
25. I stopped here on the end of my first day of trying to write this.
26. I was engaged to David.
27. Only for two weeks.
28. I broke it off because I have a fear of commitment
29. I’m passive-aggressive
30. My old psychiatrists were amazed at how well I know myself
31. I really don’t.
32. I’m a good liar.
33. I learned to lie from my step-mom.
34. I don’t know how many cousins I have
35. I never see my mom’s side of the family
36. I’m very close to my dad’s side of the family
37. I have Irish in me.
38. My hair is brown with read highlights when I’m in the sun
39. My hair looks black when it’s wet.
40. My eyes are termed hazel.
41. They change colors.
42. Even to yellow and orange.
43. When I was a kid I wanted to be a cat.
44. I’ve had cats around me all my life.
45. Pumpkin is trained to come when I snap.
46. She puts me to bed at Grams’
47. Dad’s dog Lucky puts me to bed at Dad’s
48. I am a manic depressive.
49. I refuse to take medications
50. I once tried to strangle my little brother.
51. I have a bad temper.
52. I hate to clean my room.
53. I am a chocoholic.
54. I love to walk on tredmills
55. I have a high IQ
56. I suck at correct grammar and spelling sometimes.
57. My co-worker always asks me how to spell things.
58. My older brother is only my half-brother.
59. My dad doesn’t realize we know about our half-brother from him.
60. Crystal knows the most about me.
61. Crystal and I will spend hours just talking.
62. I’ve only stayed up 24 hours twice in my life.
63. I’m an early riser.
64. I go to bed before midnight usually.
65. I drink alcohol occasionally with my brother
66. I’ve never been drunk.
67. I’ve tried.
68. I don’t like alcohol unless it’s mixed.
69. Children are drawn to me.
70. I can’t handle being around kids for a prolonged amount of time.
71. I’m scared of kids.
72. I raised a baby when I was 10.
73. She was my step-sister.
74. She forgot who I was when she left when she was 3.
75. That makes me cry.
76. Her dad is my dad’s friend.
77. Her dad would have been my guardian if my dad had died.
78. I love French fries
79. I’ve not had many French fries in the last three months
80. I have few friends.
81. I’m very loyal to those I do have.
82. Until I mess up and think I don’t deserve their friendship anymore.
83. I hide from emotions.
84. They always find me en force
85. All my emotions are strong, never mediocre.
86. I cry during sad parts of movies.
87. Only tears. Never noise.
88. My mom has been my hero since I was little.
89. My mom can belly-dance.
90. I cannot belly dance
91. I can carry things on my head.
92. I can kneel, stand and turn without spilling anything from a cup on my head.
93. That is one of my only talents.
94. I can only type 43 wpm
95. I took 4 typing classes in school.
96. I also took three years of Spanish and one of French.
97. I cannot speak Spanish or French fluently
98. I do not stick well to routines.
99. I have routines.
100. I didn’t think I could finish this list.

This is not a good day

I can't do Haiku today. I have to work. I love work. But not on Thursdays. I want to Haiku on Thursdays. If I don't bring my numbers up at work I'm going to be fired. I have only a month to bring them up. I'm going to lose my 32 hour work week privlege. I'm not happy. My cousin is abandoning me to go to Idaho. She never would go out of state with just me. My little brother is distant again. He's using me for my car. My older brother has moved too far for me to go see him any old time. I miss my kids. My grams is still fighting about the house. I don't want to move. My mom is having problems. I'm worried for my mom. My grandma is sick and I never visit her. I should go see her before she dies. My uncle is spoiling his kids. He's also saying things around them he shouldn't. They're smarter than he gives them credit for. Kryssie has a book of mine from the library. It's 2 months overdue. I started my 100 things list. I don't know if I can finish it. I miss David. I miss Mike. I miss Miranda. I just miss the old days. The days when I was a juevenille. The days I thought of only myself. I don't remember a time I wasn't worried about something or someone. I don't remember a time I didn't miss a friendship I had killed because I was scared. I have a fear of committment. This is close enough to a list of a hundred things that I should just use this. I know nearly all of my relatives birthdays. At least the ones I see and know. I have never met my Uncle Rob. I've never met my Aunt Sherry. I barely know my mom's other siblings. They all live out of state. I had a bad childhood. But I loved a lot of it. I would do a few things different if I could have a second chance at life. I wouldn't change others. I wish I were less emotional. I wish I wasn't so cold-hearted. I want a boyfriend who will give me giant stuffed animals for the hell of it. I don't like stuffed animals. I want a guy who is creative with gifts. I don't think I'm deserving of presents. I do things and buy stuff for people to make myself feel loved. I love seeing a look of joy on a friends face when they get something they've wanted for a long time. I hate to see sadness in any persons features. I won't console someone who is sad. My emotions seem to rub off on those around me. I can make people laugh if I don't try. I cannot make a person laugh if I try. I get bored easily. I never get bored if I'm reading a good/interesting book. I work with music on all day. I listen to alternative music. I do like some country songs. I've worn jeans 97% of the past year. I alternate the main article of clothing each year. This year is jeans. Last was skirts. Year before that was Overalls. And year before that was Jeans. I do the same thing with stories/poetry/art/journals. This year is journals. My journal is this. I have a few secrets that I've told no one. I probably never will. I don't feel comfortable thinking about my future. I claim to never want to marry. I feel lonely. I'm sad. I'm tired.

Thurday Haiku Smackdown

Yes, it IS that day of the week again. THURSDAY!!!!!! Everyone must do an obligatory jig. Then you must high-tail it over to Colleens to write some awse Haikus. Also according to Amy one Haiku (at least) must have mention of Judith Light or Meridith Baxter... I think that's her name. Check out Amy for full rules.

Have Fun

Wednesday, March 17, 2004


I think I just popped a fuzzy piece of chocolate in my mouth. Am I going to die now? If I die please dance on my grave in varying colored tu-tus. Thank-you.

Have Fun

Stories of the Past: Part Two

I told you I'd write about DFGD (Dad's First Girlfriend's Daughter) and my fight. So this will be that story. But I need names for everyone involved. So this is your key here. K so DFGD's the oldest of four children. Then there's MHAAB (Mentally Handicapped And Abused Brother) who was EXACTLY one month older than me. Then was BTB (Bad Temper Brother) who is EXACTLY two years younger than me. And ended by CLBB (Cute Little Baby Brother). Of course then there's DFG (Dad's First Girlfriend) and Dad. And D and I. Those are our main players. Try not to forget. Or refer back to here.

K so It starts out with DFGD and I sharing a room. Our brothers (D and BTB) share a room also. They got the one right next door. Used to be DFGD and BTB sharing a room with D and I in the other. But the adults decided it was better to have girl with girl and boy with boy. I was, after all, in 7th grade.

DFGD and I get along fairly well most of the time. But I hate how she treats Mhaab. She slaps him, shoves him, and just abuses the poor boy. He's just misunderstood. I take care of him most of the time so that she can't abuse him. He likes when I watch him. I let him watch Ghostbusters over and over. Then I play the electrocution game. Don't worry about that. It's a short story you don't need me to go into. BTB also abuses the poor boy. D, however, is like me. We try not to hit him at all. We coax him. However, Mhaab doesn't like D. So Mhaab treats D like DFGD treats him. D doesn't like watching Mhaab. No wonder there.

I'm busy trying to clean some of my room and DFGD wants D to watch Mhaab. D doesn't want to as it's not his turn. She threatens him. We've seen from Part One how I react when D is threatened. I held my temper a little bit. I was champing at the bit though. So I watched from my bed as they argued in his doorway. She then pushed him. Uh-oh. Look there went my self-control. Good-bye. Have a nice vay-cay.

I charge DFGD. We fight. She's punching, scratching, hair-pulling, and anything else she can think of. I'm scratching, slapping, hair-pulling, nipping, and anything I can think of as I've never HAD to fight before. DFG comes downstairs and just watches from our doorway what's going on. I start to get an upperhand, even though my nose feels broken and my eye is starting to swell. DFG kicks me in the ribs so DFGD can get the upper hand. DFGD wins the fight. I'm not happy.

She goes to take a bath as she's got my blood all over her face. She's also sobbing because she is now missing a lot of chunks of hair. I'm furious. DFG goes up stairs. I'm left all alone with access to our room. So what do I do? Can you guess? Come on.... It's not that hard. Remember how my nose was bleeding? Still is. Is that any help?

Fine. I'll tell you.

I took the blood as it came gushing out my nose and smeared it on her bed. On the walls. On her favorite white shirt. On her shoes. On the door. On the window. On anything I could touch. And then.... Then I crawled out my brothers window and walked away. When I got home three hours later Dad was waiting for me. I was grounded. Big surprise. I was also moving back in with D. Another big surprise. DFGD is still crying by the way. Just thought I'd inform you. Me? I've got a black-eye and multiple bruises. Her? No outward signs. NONE.

So Mom comes over and takes me to the ER as I've called her about it. No broken ribs. Nose not broken. But I do get a nice ice pack for my eye. Nice. Cold.

Next day: I go to school. What? You think I'd stay home? Whatever. I try to cover my eye by leaving my hair in front of it. I don't succeed. So, in my Spanish class (that contains all grades) my hair moves. The ninth graders notice. They're pissed. I guess they liked me. The wanted to pulverize DFGD for me. It was a nice gesture, but unneeded I told them. Then I told them my revenge. You should have seen the looks on their faces. Nice, calm, quiet, helpful me... destroying a bedroom with blood. They had a new-found respect for me. Nice Huh?

In a week from that day I moved back to Grams' house. A couple of months later DFG left Dad. She took her kids with her. Thank the gods.

Stay tuned for Part Three where fifth-grader me fights a principal.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

NOT another bitch-fest

I decided this post would be about last night. As I have nothing to bitch about last night. Well not that I really care about anyhow.

My little brother actually spoke to me and didn't shun my company. He sat in the livingroom with me and watched a movie. THEN he went downstairs to his room. Until his friend (we'll call him YSHB for Young Spike-Haired Boy) came over. YSHB was fighting with his father (who I know, from experience with that family, is an abusive jerk) because the school he goes to expelled him. For a stupid little thing. We won't go into that. So YSHB needed a place to stay for the night. I don't normally get involved much with that household. It's not mine anymore. But I couldn't let YSHB just wander all night. So when D told me that Dad wasn't happy with YSHB because of a misunderstanding that I'd fight for him. He's been D's friend for going on 4 years. Why wouldn't I?

So I call Dad and tell him YSHB is going to spend the night. Dad says okay cause he doesn't want a fight. We all hang out. I get hungry. We decide to go to 7-Eleven for drinks and then to Taco Bell for food. We laugh and talk. Talk and eat. I love listening to people. As long as they don't want real advice. YSHB just needed an ear to listen. I listened.

We finished eating and went back to Dad's. D asked me to drive him to school in the morning and YSHB asked me to drive him home after I dropped D off at school. Meaning: I have to spend the night at Dad's. No biggie. I can go home after I drop them off and get ready for work since I don't have to be in until late. YSHB and me talk until 10pm and then D and him go downstairs. Midnight comes around and I'm gonna try to sleep. Go downstairs to tell the boys to go to bed. Otherwise they'll stay up all night. Get to sleep around 1:30.

Wake up to a wailing half-Siamese cat. You CANNOT sleep through that wail. I don't care what you try. It's impossible. So I have to get up at 3am to let him outside. Wake up at 5:30 to D's alarm going off. He doesn't turn it off. I have to go downstairs at 6am to tell him to "Either turn off the fucking alarm or I'm gonna start killing someone." Then wander bleary-eyed back to bed. Wake up again at 6:45 and have to drive the boys.

Found out Dad's jealous of my step-dad. Said I went out with my "new father" and bought a car. I'm sorry Dad, but neither of you will ever fill the roll of father in my lives. You just don't care enough. Grow up. Get over it. Quit making a big deal over it.

Have Fun

Monday, March 15, 2004

Phew **wiping sweat off brow**

Things did not blow up. He thanked me for my concern. Thanked me. See it was good of me to run to my mommy. I feel like a little kid. Oh well better that than always being worried.

Kicking butt and taking names at work today. Worked through more accts in just the first 2.5 hours today than I did in all of Friday. I'm awsome. I deserve praise and prose. I demand praise and prose. Or cash. Or presents. Worship me and I'll smile. My smile can kick your smile's ass anyday of the week. Wanna fight? Huh? Fine meet me at the flagpole after school.

Have Fun

The Proverbial Shit and Fan Syndrome

The shit is deffinately hitting the fan right now. I'll post about how it goes later. Oh gods. I hope this doesn't blow up on me. I so don't need that happening....

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Stories Written

I was reading today the first 13 typed pages of a story I'd once started. As I was reading through it I noticed wonderful parts. I also noticed parts that were either too cheesy or just misplaced. I noticed that I had things in there that were very well written. And also things written so badly a second grader could have written them. And not a very smart second grader at that. After reading those 13 pages I had an overwhelming desire to shred them. ALL of them. It's a good thing I haven't a papper shredder at home. Could be a bad thing. Anyhow....

I'm sitting here wondering how it is that I can have such a mixture of writtings in one story. How can I have ranged that widely in my writting ability? It was all written with in a month. And the good is widly intersperced throughout as well as the bad. So it's not one of those over time I became worse/better. Was it a brain fart? Was it lack of a brain? Is this why I couldn't bring myself to write anything more? What makes me put those bad parts in there? Maybe I need to wash some dishes and get to know myself better. Or maybe I should stop worrying and just go have fun.

I like option two. You follow that advice also.

Have Fun

Saturday, March 13, 2004

Stories of the Past: Part One

I'm going to start writing a few of the more eventful moments of my past in here. They will be long. So if you don't want to sit through a long post, stop reading. If you don't want to know little things about me, go away. Otherwise, welcome to my memory.

I have to put a disclaimer on here. If only for my own self. What I write is only how I remember it. It could have been different or the years could have changed things. I don't know. I'm just telling what I remember.

Today will be the story about Dad's 2nd Girlfriend's Son. We'll call him d2gs.

K so to set it up d2gs smokes pot. I don't have anything against it. A lot of my friends smoke it. My mom smokes it. My only problem is when a person doesn't respect house rules about it. My dad doesn't like it smoked in the house. He says if you're going to smoke it go into the garage. Simple enough right? You can take chairs out there even. You can blast your music. It's just attached to the kitchen. What's the problem?

D2gs rarely if ever smoked it in the garage. He smoked it in his room. Which was upstair adjacent to the living room with the only good T.V. in it. Not a problem so far. Here's the problem: 4 friends and loud stereo while Damian (little bro) and me are trying to watch a show.

Damian and I got fed up with the music and new d2gs hated country music. So we popped in Shania blasted it (Dad has a kick ass system in the living room) and sat outside. A few minutes go by and the country stops. I go in and see it was turned off. So I turn it back on because Adam is still blasting his music. I go back outside. Another few minutes pass. Again Shania stops belting out her tunes. Damians turn to go in. He comes back out and says it was unplugged. Again a few minutes then silence from Shania. I send Damian again because I am LAZY. Damian walks in sees it's unplugged and goes to plug it back in when d2gs goes crazy. He was watching from the hallway. He started to threaten Damian telling him things like: "I swear to god if you turn that on I'll kill you." I freak. You do NOT threaten my little brother. and you certainly don't chase him around. It's my job to try and kill him and may your gods help you if I catch you messing with him. So I barge into the fight and yell at d2gs.

Now I have to tell you that he and I never got along to begin with. He called me fat and would tell me to join Weight Watchers and stuff like that. I'd call him a loser and ignore him. Or I'd do nefarious little things. Like flip the power switch to his room in the middle of the night to reset his clock, making him wake up late (not that he went to school or anything). I think I felt my territory was being encroached on.

Right back to the story. So I barge in and yell. D2gs yells back. Insults exchanged. Threats tossed about. Then I grab a folding chair. I was a mad Amazon Woman protecting my territory. I don't know if I would have really hit him. He grabbed the chair and demanded I let go. Tug-of-war begins. It's me and him fighting back and forth over it. And right durring the middle of it I see a picture of a cartoon in my head doing the same thing. Only in my brain one cartoon lets go just as the other character is pulling their hardest. Thus I copy. D2gs gets smacked upside the head with a foldable chair and Damian and I hitail it downstairs. Not gonna stick around for that. He's got big friends.

About an hour later my dad and D2gs' mom get back. Dad comes storming downstairs and demands Damian and I go appologize. I refused. I was threatened. I go upstairs under protest. Damian appologizes to D2gs who is now sobbing on his mom. I stand in the hallway in all my fury with my arms folded across my chest like some disapproving Mother Superior from a nunnery. I absolutely refused to appologize to him for any of it because of some of the things he'd said durring the fight. If he'd appologized for those I think I would have appologized. But he didn't. So I didn't.

And that is the end of story one. Tune in next week for Dad's first girlfriend's daughter and I duking it out. And my revenge.

Friday, March 12, 2004

Friday Feelings

Of all the people who's blogs I visit, I think about half of them have a friday post saying just exactly how much they love Fridays. My post... is not one of those.

I certainly don't hate fridays. They're just not my favorite day of the week. Next to Thursdays (gotta love the Haiku), I think my favorite day would have to be Saturday.

On Saturdays I wake up around 7 and go to the gym. I've been doing this for weeks now. I'm used to it. Crys, Mom, and whoever else I talk into going will stay there with me until around 11 and then we'll leave. After that, we can do whatever we want with the rest of the day. I've gone home and slept. I've scampered around like a chicken with her head cut off. I've done both in one day. But, for me, Saturdays are my Laugh Day. It doesn't matter what I end up doing for the entire day as long as most (or just some) is spent laughing with family or friends.

They say cancer people are very home oriented. I used to think that whoever "they" were had to be off their rocker. But now that I have the option of being away from my family when ever I want; I find... I don't want to. I love my family. They may exasperate me a lot, but I wouldn't be able to live anywhere I didn't have family close by.

Mom wants to move around the country (maybe the world) to find Archeological sites to work at. She does surveys. I'm pretty sure that's what it is. I know for sure she hates it when people call it "digs." Anyhow... when she told me that a few weeks ago I nearly cried. Right there. In her car. She's always complained that it's just to cold in Utah for her to be happy. And she spoken a lot about moving to Arizona. That would be no big deal. I can drive to Arizona. But then she says that for a few of her jobs (which can last up to 3 years) she might have to go to Europe. I can't deal with that. It'd be bad enough if she went to Georgia or Main. I will not be able to drive to England or France. Not unless they develop a bridge across the ocean. And I can't fly. I'm afraid of heights and planes go pretty high. I can't do by boat either, I get seasick. So I drive. But not to Europe. I have to let her go though. Cause I know she'll be happier when she's working. She deserves to be happy after everything she's gone through. She just does.

I find it funny how this entry goes from talking about other bloggers, to my favorite day of the week, to my mom. And it's all tied together. I think sometimes that if you try hard enough you can tie everything together somehow. Even Drunk dialing and your great great great great grandmother. Just be imaginative and use you mind.

Have Fun

It's the Sugar Rush From Hell!

So this morning I didn't get a chance to eat any breakfast. Not smart. So I get to work and instantly dive into my candy drawer. Just what I need huh? So now I'm typing this at like a bajillion words per minute and I couldn't even finish reading Zoot's post this morning. No offense. I just needed to DO something. Reading, to me, is doing something; but it's not moving. Typing. Now that is moving. And it requires a certain amount of restraint so you don't end up typing something like: klsajroaiwfgaslk. Wouldn't that just be a lovely post. If I could (i.e. I had the right shoes) I'd go run around the office building like a maniac. SUGAR RUSH!!!!!!!!! I'm so not going to be happy when the sugar runs out. I think I need to go find me something else to eat. I'll be back for a post about what I really ment to post. If I can muddle that thought back out from under the sugar.

Have Fun

Thursday, March 11, 2004

Wandering my mind again

For some reason everytime people mention drunk-dialing I think of prank calling. Or just calling random numbers with my female friends and pretending we dialed the wrong number when someone answers. I remember, specifically though, one time with Crys. We were prank dialing numbers we thought "off the top of our heads" and I made her call one I knew was a real number. I had heard a kid in my fifth grade class tell us the last four digits of his phone number were his last name. (okay so he told us the whole number, but you don't need to know it) So I had Crys call his number and ask for him. She thought that we wouldn't get anyone and be told we had the wrong number because he had an odd first name. She called, his dad answered, she asks for him, dad goes to get him, Crys squeeks, Crys hurridly hangs up. I am pummelled because I'm rolling on the floor laughing at the expression that passed over her face.

But for me prank calling isn't just calling strangers. For me it's calling people I used to know and having hour long conversations after 3 years of not speaking to them. It's calling up guys I used to hang out with and making them figure out who exactly I am now. It's laughing with strangers and friends over the weird stuff that can come out of my mouth when I'm nervous. And I'm always nervous on the phone. Always.

I'd hate to see what I'd end up saying if I was drunk-dialing. I'd probably propose to whoever I got on the phone. Either that or offer to clean their house ;)

I decided I'll just get in trouble for not doing accts today. I'm not really in the mood to work anyhow. And I need to update my links on the side. I've only got 1/4 of all my links over there.

I also need to say I will miss Lauren's site. I liked it. Miss you, Lauren!

Have Fun

How did you know that?

Last night I went to a class on Tarot. It wasn't teaching what each card means or anything like that. It was more about the best way to get results. The guy teaching it (we'll call him witchman) was fairly cool. Anyhow... Crys, Kryssie, and I were late getting there. Only 15 minutes... but we were still late. And he didn't bat an eye. Just went and got more chairs for us. Then he started in on the class. I swear over half of the class Witchman was staring directly at me. He was saying stuff like "You are a limitless, infinate being." "You deserve happiness" "Jesus said .... you deserve a boyfriend." I had the hardest time not laughing at Jesus saying I deserved a boyfriend. It didn't work. I laughed at it. I laughed alot durring his class. But that's not surprising since the entire class we used the metaphore of washing dishes. If you got the Mars card you'd do it violently and quickly. If you got Venus, passionatly and thuroughly (however you spell that).

Then we got on trying to know ourselves and why we do things by washing dishes. I said that I find that I loathe washing dishes when at home, but if I go to a friends house I'll jump to wash thier dishes or clean their house or something like that. And that I love to buy my family and friends expensive gifts. He kept saying that it's proof I'm doing things for the aproval and love of others and I need to realize I'm a worthy person even without those things. Then he told me I had to tell my friends no the next time they ask me to do their dishes. Kryssie asked me to pick up her mom. I picked up her mom. I'm not doing to well am I?

Please, whatever you do, do NOT ask me to clean your house. I might just do it. And I don't think it's cheap to get out to where ever you may live.

Have Fun

Do the 'Ku

Today is 'Ku day
so follow me to Haiku
Smackdown. Or else, yo.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

More Strange Dreams

Sometimes I worry about the dreams I have. And what they really say about me. Last night, sleeping oh so peacefully, I get smacked by one of the odder dreams I've had. And it included people I don't even know in real life. Just who's blogs I read. In my dream Zoot, Lauren, Amy, and of course Miss Doxie were the characters of the best selling movie of the year. I don't recall who played who in the movie. That wasn't important. What was important was that for some reason, in my dream, they lived in Utah. UTAH???? WTF?? Why would they live in Utah? Anyhow it was all about their whacked out lives and all the hijinx (couldn't think of a better word to use, sorry) that they got up to when they all got together. Have to say, in my dream, those four had some very funny times together. Right. Maybe tomorrow in the Haiku smackdown at Chris' site I'll make a Haiku and make them aware of it. Or maybe not. I'm not sure they'd want to know that a complete stranger is making them the main characters in a movie.

Anyhow enough of my crazy. Back to work!

Have Fun!

P.S. If you are reading this... I DEMAND you join the haiku smackdown!

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

New Blog

So I came over to the BlogSpot. Couldn't help myself really. Livejournal and me grew apart. So now... I can add links in the side bar (as soon as I learn how). And do a few other things as well. But first I have to finish getting dressed and head off to work. Isn't it lovely not having to be at work until 10??