Rave: Jesus christ there are a lot of photos of me from the Brisbane Slutwalk. I have no idea who most of them were taken by.
Rave: I just now realized Scootah also wears pink bonnets. My masturbatory visions just got amped up a notch.
Rave: On April 2nd, I won $5,000 at a Jays game. (<a class="postlink" href="http://twitter.com/#!/JaysCare/status/54258590738939904" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;">http://twitter.com/#!/JaysCare/status/54258590738939904</a>) The cheque was supposed to arrive in 30 days. Rant: It didn't arrive in 30 days, and now it has actually been 60 days... and still, no cheque. Any other day, I'd totally freak the fuck out and bitch about it, but because it was a 50/50 for charity, I can't bring myself to ruffle any feathers about it. Rave: Finally, after two attempts at mailing the cheque to the wrong address (their fault), they're letting my husband swing by their office tomorrow to physically just pick it up. Here is to hoping that by tomorrow, I actually have $5,000 in the bank, rather than just the dream.
Rant: Took a two week gig working in Islamabad, more like Islamanotverygood...wait...fuck...I wrote something better on the plane, give me a minute.
Rave: Found a 2007 Honda Civic for 8 grand. MINE! Rant: To check out the car, my friends and I drove down to Somerton, which is right next to the Mexican border. The place is pretty ghetto. We're driving along the highway, and a car next to us flips us off. My buddy, being retarded, sticks his finger out the window at the next stoplight. So they start following us. We immediately agree on the following things. 1. There's three of them and four of us. 2. We could take them in a fist fight, as they're pretty scrawny and three of us are pretty built (and the fourth guy in our car has a baton) 3. This is irrelevant, because this is Arizona and everyone has guns. 4. We are not interested in getting perforated. 5. We should probably ditch them. If this is not an option, we will go to the local police station. So we end up getting stuck at a stoplight. The car pulls up next to us and some bandanna-wearing kid motions for us to pull over. We shake our heads. So they pull behind us again. We wait at the light until it turns yellow, then pull away as the light turns red. Suckers! We then chew out our buddy for being fucking retarded. Rave: We didn't get shot. ??? Who the fuck goes looking for fights in a baby blue Camry?
Rave: This DiMaggio kid won the Bombers a championship! Hopefully there will be more to come? Rant: My polio is acting up. Rant: I'm not so sure about this "New Deal" nonsense. Am I doing this "current events" thingy right?
Rave: The weather is perfect. My weed is spectacular. I'm all prettied up in a dress that makes Mr P. drool. I feel good. We are going to wing the afternoon, which always guarantees an adventure. My kids are at their dad's. My biggest concern as of this moment is: Should I wear underwear? It's awesome. edited because I am stoned and typos abound then...
Rave: Totally surprised The Guy with a trip to the dive bar for his birthday. Got him happy drunk. Rave: Ate a yummy brownie. Rant: It was The Guy's birthday, we got drunk, and my pooper hurts. I promise, whatever you're picturing didn't happen. I don't want to fart today. Rant: I didn't get to do the calendar because I haven't had a day off since Mother's Day.
Rant, Part One: I'm on the Depo shot for many reasons, but one of the big ones is that I only have to deal with it every three months and then I'm in and out of the doctor's office in five minutes and don't have to think about it again. (And, I don't get my period.) It was so easy, until I moved here and it's like every three months I'm asking them to cure cancer for me. Every single time I've gone through some ridiculous shenanigans dealing with their incompetence. I could rant on and on about so many things, but for today, I'll stick with this one point. You can get the shot in the arm or the butt, and for whatever reason the shot always comes prepared with the needle for the butt, as in a really big fucking needle. I always have gotten it in the arm, because I'd like to save myself the awkwardness of bending over and pulling my underwear down for a stranger every couple of months if I can help it, and it was never a problem for the nurse to switch out the needle for a smaller one that made getting it in the arm pretty much painless. I'm pretty sure the place I've been going to is staffed entirely of nurses who have just gotten out of school and this is their first real job. Or maybe they're just all really unprofessional. Even though every time I tell them I've gotten a smaller needle for the past five years, they refuse to switch it out. So, after they sit there visibly uncomfortable with this huge needle, even commenting on "Wow, look at how big this needle is" every time, I've been getting the shot in the arm with the needle meant for the butt. And it's not pleasant. Rant, Part Two: So today I had already dealt with a lot of stupidity from them, and since I knew they were going to insist on using the butt needle, I asked to get it in the butt because I had been hearing for years how it was less painful that way. Who the fuck made up that rumor? I am in so much fucking pain right now. It's been about 40 minutes and I'm still woozy and on the brink of tears. Maybe it's just because I'm not used to feeling pain in my buttcheek or something, but DAMN. It feels like I'm being continuously stung by a bee. Wait, no. It feels like I was stuck with a fish hook and now I'm being dragged through the water toward my doom. Wait, no. It feels like a dog has chomped down and is refusing to let go. Waaaaahhhhh.
RAVEL: I seem to have locked down an apartment. And at a reasonable price for New York. Fucking baller.
Rave: WaldenBooks had some major sale going on. RavierRave: My mom was a high school English teacher for 20+ years, so it is easy to sucker her into buying me books. Fucking score.
Well I fucked up. We hung out once, made out a bit then I dropped her off. I made a fucking rookie mistake and made myself look over eager by asking her to hang out too soon I guess. Fuck. Atleast women are like busses, another one comes every 15 minutes.
Rant: It's been five fucking months and I still can't get over my ex girlfriend. She was my first one, and I ended up royally fucking it up because I am immature. I hurt her deep, so she came right back at me and hurt me just the same. She started dating a friend of hers, who's a year younger (we're in college), about two months after we broke up. My friends tried to tell me she's doing this just to hurt me as bad as I hurt her, well it's fucking working and I hate that. She's gone from boyfriend to boyfriend (me) to boyfriend, and had one right before college. Some weeks are better than others, and I know its up to me to determine how I feel, it just fucking sucks. Rant: Being a pussy.
Rant: I'm five days late and two pregnancy tests said not pregnant. Seriously?!? Make up your mind uterus! I just want to know one way or the other.
RANT: Pepper spray. It fucking burns. Lots of screaming, cursing and snot rockets. RAVE: Two more days of this training bullshit and I'm a certified PO. Thank Christ.
Rave: I think I just found my dream student job, next to the other dream student job I had as an Assistant Lecturer in 3D animation. My girlfriend pointed me to a University job listing looking for Behavioural Science students for a Sleep Technologist position in the new sleep centre at the private hospital. The job would entail taking client histories and utilising sleep habit questionnaires, and then hooking them up with take home sleep monitoring kits before they go home in the evening. It looks like a casual evening job, which won't interfere with my Uni and study work during the day and shouldn't be too hard on my back injury either. It also pays fantastically. I'm really excited about applying for this. I'm really interested in the mechanics of sleep, but we don't study it outside of first year Psychology and Abnormal Psychology. I'm going to try to throw in anything I can into my resume that isn't superflous. I really want this job. It states that experience isn't required at all, because they'll train you up, but they said some clinical experience is preferred. That's pretty hard to get when you're just a student in a small town doing a degree that doesn't involve internships until post grad. I've been studying counselling this last year and a half and I'm good at it. I've also built up a bit of practical experience from this and learned some good skills for interacting with people in the clinical setting. I just shot an e-email to my lecturer asking if she thinks any of that can translate, at all, to a certain amount of relevant experience for this job. Does anyone with any real clinical experience have any input? I'd really appreciate any offered thoughts about this. The applications don't close until the 30th of June so I've got time to make my resume look all purdy.
Rant: About 3.5 years ago, I went away for the weekend. My roommate happened to be having a party that weekend and some asshole stole my guitar. Never found out who and never got it back. Why is this a rant now?? Because last night I dreamed that my mom was cleaning out her house and found my guitar. Obviously this is impossible since the guitar was stolen from the apartment I was living at in Boston in 2007-08 and in the dream my mom found it in my childhood house in suburban Philly, but I was still really excited until I woke up. Then as if to rub it in, I'm watching an old episode of Always Sunny on DVD today (the one where Dennis and Dee find out Bruce Mathis is their real father) and one of the characters is playing a guitar virtually identical to my old one (I had an Epiphone Dot, he was playing the Gibson equivalent). God dammit.