"It is like killing one bird with two stones," she tells me.
"Wait. Two stones? Why would you use two stones? Are you really that mean?"
"What? Wait, no."
"I mean, the first stone would likely be fatal, so what is the second one for? I think a second stone would just be overkill. You are cruel," I told her.
"But, that's not what I meant!" She cried, "I meant to say 'kill two birds with one stone.'"
"Oh, I see. So now you want to take out a whole family of birds. You are sick. What next? Babies?"
1/22/2007
12/23/2006
Grab Bag
"I've been having unprotected sex with many strangers as of late" I told him. "I am trying to catch a variety of diseases, as well as accumulate a large pool of potential baby daddies. Not that I would choose to become pregnant by any of them, but so that when I mistakenly do my story will be much more attractive for Jerry Springer or Maury Povich."
- 08/11/06
The cigarette produced a scattering of orange embers as it hit the road. There was something beautifully frightening about the whole thing.
- 28/11/06
At first, I was glad to have my sister back in the country. I'd missed her, sort of, and I'd stopped having those nightmares in which she was eaten by angry camels. Soon after I returned to my parents house, I realized that my sister had left something behind when she returned from Africa. That something was her ability to flush a toilet. I'd initially thought she was just trying to conserve water. I applauded her effort, even though I was more than a little grossed out when the bathroom started to smell like urine. I decided that I would let it slide. After all, it would not kill me to flush the toilet upon entering the bathroom. The next day, however, my sister broke the cardinal rule of water conservation in a shared bathroom. That rule, obviously, being the strictly upheld "If it's brown, flush it down."
- 15/12/06
"I hate guys who are just attracted to me because I am Asian" she told me one night. "It is like they have Asian fever. They think Asian women treat them better and are more submissive." The thought made me laugh. "Submissive" is a word that would never cross my mind in association with her name.
A few weeks later, when my parents' puppy was jumping up excitedly in an effort to lick her, I would tell her that she is the first Asian person he has ever seen. "I think he might have Asian fever" I confessed.
- 17/12/06
"We are having a party" I declared as I burst through the front door. I have found, through experience, that it is better to make bold statements rather than ask permission. "We will celebrate the baby Jesus and I will get tanked in front of close family friends and people that you go to church with." Parents love it when you do that kind of stuff. I anticipated a poor turnout and because of that I made sure we invited a shit load of people. When they all showed up, I was both confused and elated. Did you know that people will bring you presents, even if you do not ask for them, when you throw a Christmas party?
- 22/12/06
- 08/11/06
The cigarette produced a scattering of orange embers as it hit the road. There was something beautifully frightening about the whole thing.
- 28/11/06
At first, I was glad to have my sister back in the country. I'd missed her, sort of, and I'd stopped having those nightmares in which she was eaten by angry camels. Soon after I returned to my parents house, I realized that my sister had left something behind when she returned from Africa. That something was her ability to flush a toilet. I'd initially thought she was just trying to conserve water. I applauded her effort, even though I was more than a little grossed out when the bathroom started to smell like urine. I decided that I would let it slide. After all, it would not kill me to flush the toilet upon entering the bathroom. The next day, however, my sister broke the cardinal rule of water conservation in a shared bathroom. That rule, obviously, being the strictly upheld "If it's brown, flush it down."
- 15/12/06
"I hate guys who are just attracted to me because I am Asian" she told me one night. "It is like they have Asian fever. They think Asian women treat them better and are more submissive." The thought made me laugh. "Submissive" is a word that would never cross my mind in association with her name.
A few weeks later, when my parents' puppy was jumping up excitedly in an effort to lick her, I would tell her that she is the first Asian person he has ever seen. "I think he might have Asian fever" I confessed.
- 17/12/06
"We are having a party" I declared as I burst through the front door. I have found, through experience, that it is better to make bold statements rather than ask permission. "We will celebrate the baby Jesus and I will get tanked in front of close family friends and people that you go to church with." Parents love it when you do that kind of stuff. I anticipated a poor turnout and because of that I made sure we invited a shit load of people. When they all showed up, I was both confused and elated. Did you know that people will bring you presents, even if you do not ask for them, when you throw a Christmas party?
- 22/12/06
12/17/2006
Jesus was a sailor
I do not remember my first kiss.
I realized this as I sat in the car next to my friend Nina and listened to her talk about the loss of innocence that comes with aging. "Remember when it wasn't about sex? When there was no pressure? Everything was so much more exciting then. Everything was so much more intense,” she said.
Of course, she was right. Nina is always right.
I tried to remember a time when things were that innocent, and, while I can come up with a few instances now, at the time I could not think of one.
Is it wrong to want to return to that time? Just the idea of holding hands was enough to make your heart pound inside of your chest and threaten to explode. I cannot seem to remember a kiss that was not laced with an ulterior motive. A way to get from point A to point B.
Cosmo told me that if you do not sleep with a guy by the third date he will start to lose interest. While I have never considered Cosmo to be the authority on anything, it terrifies me that this could be true.
I realized this as I sat in the car next to my friend Nina and listened to her talk about the loss of innocence that comes with aging. "Remember when it wasn't about sex? When there was no pressure? Everything was so much more exciting then. Everything was so much more intense,” she said.
Of course, she was right. Nina is always right.
I tried to remember a time when things were that innocent, and, while I can come up with a few instances now, at the time I could not think of one.
Is it wrong to want to return to that time? Just the idea of holding hands was enough to make your heart pound inside of your chest and threaten to explode. I cannot seem to remember a kiss that was not laced with an ulterior motive. A way to get from point A to point B.
Cosmo told me that if you do not sleep with a guy by the third date he will start to lose interest. While I have never considered Cosmo to be the authority on anything, it terrifies me that this could be true.
12/12/2006
Robot Santas and Dildos
The house on Spruce St. is shining like a beacon in the dark. We cannot help but float closer and closer to it. The rumour is that it is lit each year as a tribute to their deceased son, but I have never heard an official story. Their neighbours don't even try to decorate their houses anymore. It seems fitting, somehow, that all the other houses lay in darkness.
People flock around the house, taking pictures of overjoyed children, filled with wonder. A robotic Santa sings songs filled with voyeurism and threats. The children, oblivious, continue to clap their hands in amazement as they dance around him. Hard as I try, there is no disguising my fear of androids. My eyes never leave robot Santa; If he tries something, I will be ready for that robot freak.
Later on, we are walking next to the lake talking about everything and nothing. "It counts if there is oral sex or if someone gets fucked with a dildo,” she says, giving her answer to a question I posed months ago.
"I just always wondered if there was a definite moment when it could no longer be considered fooling around anymore. With heterosexual sex it is pretty well defined. It is fooling around up until the point penetration occurs, but with lesbians there is not necessarily penetration. Could a lesbian, after mistakenly spending the night with a gross looking girl, say 'thank god we only fooled around’, or is there a distinct line for lesbian sex too?"
People flock around the house, taking pictures of overjoyed children, filled with wonder. A robotic Santa sings songs filled with voyeurism and threats. The children, oblivious, continue to clap their hands in amazement as they dance around him. Hard as I try, there is no disguising my fear of androids. My eyes never leave robot Santa; If he tries something, I will be ready for that robot freak.
Later on, we are walking next to the lake talking about everything and nothing. "It counts if there is oral sex or if someone gets fucked with a dildo,” she says, giving her answer to a question I posed months ago.
"I just always wondered if there was a definite moment when it could no longer be considered fooling around anymore. With heterosexual sex it is pretty well defined. It is fooling around up until the point penetration occurs, but with lesbians there is not necessarily penetration. Could a lesbian, after mistakenly spending the night with a gross looking girl, say 'thank god we only fooled around’, or is there a distinct line for lesbian sex too?"
12/05/2006
And I don't even know his name
"Which of these binders is cooler?" He asked me, holding up two elegant looking binders, one in either hand. I studied them both for a minute. One was pure black, with the college insignia on it's upper left corner, while the other had an aged, red leather feel to it.
"It's hard to say," I told him honestly. "They are both very nice."
He nodded his agreement, "I know, it's so hard to choose. Wait, what about this one?" He asked, grabbing another binder out from the shelf. Truth be told, it looked like a cheaper version of the first one, and none of them were spectacular.
"No," I told him, "the red one. The red one is cooler." He slowly put back the cast-offs and then turned around and smiled at me. It was a winning smile. It was the kind of smile that made my heart beat just a little faster and caused the butterflies located in my stomach to start flapping their wings.
"Thank you for your help," he said shyly. "I could never have done it without you."
We both stood there for a minute, smiling at one another, before finally continuing on with our tasks for the day.
Three minutes in the campus shop and I was smitten.
I found it hard to concentrate on my midterm a half hour later. I kept wondering what kind of odds I had at running into him again. I promised myself then and there that I would start spending more time at the school once the new semester began.
"It's hard to say," I told him honestly. "They are both very nice."
He nodded his agreement, "I know, it's so hard to choose. Wait, what about this one?" He asked, grabbing another binder out from the shelf. Truth be told, it looked like a cheaper version of the first one, and none of them were spectacular.
"No," I told him, "the red one. The red one is cooler." He slowly put back the cast-offs and then turned around and smiled at me. It was a winning smile. It was the kind of smile that made my heart beat just a little faster and caused the butterflies located in my stomach to start flapping their wings.
"Thank you for your help," he said shyly. "I could never have done it without you."
We both stood there for a minute, smiling at one another, before finally continuing on with our tasks for the day.
Three minutes in the campus shop and I was smitten.
I found it hard to concentrate on my midterm a half hour later. I kept wondering what kind of odds I had at running into him again. I promised myself then and there that I would start spending more time at the school once the new semester began.
11/25/2006
Now, if he would only stop peeing in the sink
The President always has to be the center of attention. Forget that today is my birthday; there is no occasion when it is acceptable that someone else receive more attention than the President. If, for some unknown reason, someone does start to upstage the President, he steps it up a level.
His newest trick: peeing blood.
2 AM, I stroll in my front door and make my way to my bathroom to shower off a long night of pre-birthday celebration. It is only after I have taken my glasses off, and placed them on the bathroom countertop, that I notice the pools of yellow, with red swirls in the middle, resting at the bottom of my sink. The President had been urinating in the sink (and took a dump in the bathtub), but I had assumed it was because I was slacking on my cat box cleaning duties (which I am fairly confident the dump in the bathtub was about). It now looked as though the President had been urinating in the sink due to the relief the cold porcelain provided him as he did his thing.
The next five hours saw me calling every vet listed in the phonebook, before finally deciding that my city was useless and the best plan of action was to drive to my parents’ house so that El Presidente could see his regular vet.
Long story short, after examining a urine sample from my cat (the collection of which is easier said than done), the vet determined that he merely had an infection. An infection that, due to my speedy detection, merely requires two pills a day and should be gone after a week.
It may sound incredibly lame, but the best present I got for my birthday was the news that my cat was going to be fine. The flowers I got were a close second though.
His newest trick: peeing blood.
2 AM, I stroll in my front door and make my way to my bathroom to shower off a long night of pre-birthday celebration. It is only after I have taken my glasses off, and placed them on the bathroom countertop, that I notice the pools of yellow, with red swirls in the middle, resting at the bottom of my sink. The President had been urinating in the sink (and took a dump in the bathtub), but I had assumed it was because I was slacking on my cat box cleaning duties (which I am fairly confident the dump in the bathtub was about). It now looked as though the President had been urinating in the sink due to the relief the cold porcelain provided him as he did his thing.
The next five hours saw me calling every vet listed in the phonebook, before finally deciding that my city was useless and the best plan of action was to drive to my parents’ house so that El Presidente could see his regular vet.
Long story short, after examining a urine sample from my cat (the collection of which is easier said than done), the vet determined that he merely had an infection. An infection that, due to my speedy detection, merely requires two pills a day and should be gone after a week.
It may sound incredibly lame, but the best present I got for my birthday was the news that my cat was going to be fine. The flowers I got were a close second though.
11/19/2006
Sunday Confessional
Revenge, I have learned, is far from sweet. It is bitter and saggy, and looks a lot like a shocked, naked eighty-five-year-old woman. As I stood there, on my roof, I wondered if this is how she felt every time she had looked out her kitchen window only to see my naked, white ass.
- 11/18/06
Sometimes, I truly feel that I was born to hold signs high above my head, or maybe just directly in front of me, for a living.
- 11/17/06
Later, I would realize that frantic, rough sex with a relative stranger does not make your problems disappear. Instead, it causes your period to come five days early and leaves you walking like a bow-legged cowboy for the better part of a day. The thing about one night stands is that I inevitably find myself, at the end of the night, sitting on a foreign toilet, head in my hands, wondering what the fuck I was thinking in the first place and hoping that I have enough money left in my wallet to call a cab.
- 11/14/06
As I was re-enacting a scene from Flashdance (forgetting for a moment that I have never actually seen Flashdance), naked, in my bathroom mirror, I glanced towards the window and saw my elderly neighbour staring at me with her mouth agape. I stopped for a minute, panting slightly, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, finally, I thought "fuck it. she should be used to this by now." and continued on my adventure as a lonely steel worker whose dream it is to dance.
- 11/13/06
I am chasing the dog around the house, with a straw stuck up either nostril, when the doorbell rings. I pause, briefly, to consider who it might be. I am generally so content being a hermit that I sometimes forget I have friends.
- 11/11/06
"But why would someone name a secret crime organization 'the Foot'? It does not sound the least bit intimidating." I whined.
"You are just complaining because you dislike feet in general. Be quiet and watch the movie." She told me sternly.
And she was right, I do dislike feet in general.
- 11/09/06
No matter what any one else may tell you, the grapevine is an acceptable move to bust out at the bar.
- 11/04/06
- 11/18/06
Sometimes, I truly feel that I was born to hold signs high above my head, or maybe just directly in front of me, for a living.
- 11/17/06
Later, I would realize that frantic, rough sex with a relative stranger does not make your problems disappear. Instead, it causes your period to come five days early and leaves you walking like a bow-legged cowboy for the better part of a day. The thing about one night stands is that I inevitably find myself, at the end of the night, sitting on a foreign toilet, head in my hands, wondering what the fuck I was thinking in the first place and hoping that I have enough money left in my wallet to call a cab.
- 11/14/06
As I was re-enacting a scene from Flashdance (forgetting for a moment that I have never actually seen Flashdance), naked, in my bathroom mirror, I glanced towards the window and saw my elderly neighbour staring at me with her mouth agape. I stopped for a minute, panting slightly, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, finally, I thought "fuck it. she should be used to this by now." and continued on my adventure as a lonely steel worker whose dream it is to dance.
- 11/13/06
I am chasing the dog around the house, with a straw stuck up either nostril, when the doorbell rings. I pause, briefly, to consider who it might be. I am generally so content being a hermit that I sometimes forget I have friends.
- 11/11/06
"But why would someone name a secret crime organization 'the Foot'? It does not sound the least bit intimidating." I whined.
"You are just complaining because you dislike feet in general. Be quiet and watch the movie." She told me sternly.
And she was right, I do dislike feet in general.
- 11/09/06
No matter what any one else may tell you, the grapevine is an acceptable move to bust out at the bar.
- 11/04/06
11/14/2006
Monday Night Phone Conversation
"I am considering naming one of my children after a sexually transmitted disease. What do you think?"
"Megan. You cannot do that. You cannot even joke about that."
"Why not? I am thinking Gonorrhea. It has character. It is a strong name."
"You cannot name your child Gonorrhea. That is not even a pretty sounding STD."
"Well, I can't very well name a child "the clap" now, can I? What about Syphilis?"
"That could work. You could call it Philis for short."
"And its middle name will be Viral Herpes. Philis Vi, we will call it."
"That does not sound like such a terrible name, although she will still grow up hating you."
"Who said it was going to be a girl?"
"I just assumed. I mean - wow. A boy? Really? That poor child. What will you do if he ever asks you why you chose to name him that?"
"That is easy. I will just sit him down and say 'well, son, you weren't the only surprise mommy got that night.'"
"Megan. You cannot do that. You cannot even joke about that."
"Why not? I am thinking Gonorrhea. It has character. It is a strong name."
"You cannot name your child Gonorrhea. That is not even a pretty sounding STD."
"Well, I can't very well name a child "the clap" now, can I? What about Syphilis?"
"That could work. You could call it Philis for short."
"And its middle name will be Viral Herpes. Philis Vi, we will call it."
"That does not sound like such a terrible name, although she will still grow up hating you."
"Who said it was going to be a girl?"
"I just assumed. I mean - wow. A boy? Really? That poor child. What will you do if he ever asks you why you chose to name him that?"
"That is easy. I will just sit him down and say 'well, son, you weren't the only surprise mommy got that night.'"
11/13/2006
Memories
- A trailer somewhere in Florida. We were outside, playing on the front step, trying to catch lizards as they hurried by. Finally, my father, plastic cup in hand, captured one for us. My sister picked up the cup, slowly, and peered at the lizard hidden beneath it. It was scared, too scared to contemplate escape. My sister, oblivious to the creature’s terror, slowly took hold of its tail and lifted it closer to her face for further inspection. She sat there, staring at it, for several seconds. And then the lizard dropped its tail and made its escape. Still holding the discarded tail, and screaming at the top of her lungs, my sister learned that there are better places to hold a lizard than by the tail.
- In the middle of the night, on a hill that overlooked the entire city. We had diet Pepsi and fireworks. Several cars were parked behind us, filled with lovers and stoners, as we celebrated our country. We shook the pop cans and then opened them, releasing a sticky deluge upon us. The flashing blue and red lights alerted us to the presence of a patrol car. A uniform-clad officer slowly stepped out; his face gave no indication as to what his intentions were. Was it illegal to set off fireworks, unauthorized, on public property? Probably, but the officer only wanted to know if alcohol had been thrown into the mix. We assured him it had not, and, with a smile, he got back into his car and drove off into the night. We all burst into laughter, and then continuing on with our pyrotechnic display.
- On a bed, in a dark room, I laid and watched him. I'd always thought it slightly creepy to watch someone as they slept, but I was beginning to understand the appeal. He looked so innocent, his face relaxed in slumber. I took my finger and ran it slowly over the hair of his eyebrow. I remember thinking that I would be very sad when this all ended.
- Panic. I ran across the dam, frantically looking over each side. I saw him there, twenty feet below, sitting in a puddle. He was crying, but looked to be unhurt. It took me seconds to get to him. "Are you okay?" I asked, as I ran my hands over his head, arms and legs, checking for damage. I couldn't understand his response through his hitching sobs. I scooped him up into my arms and carried him back up the hill to my grandparents' waiting van. My grandfather looked helpless. He'd been too slow and too stiff to make it down the hill before I did. "He is okay." I told him, as I loaded my brother into the van.
Later on, we would laugh about this.
- In the middle of the night, on a hill that overlooked the entire city. We had diet Pepsi and fireworks. Several cars were parked behind us, filled with lovers and stoners, as we celebrated our country. We shook the pop cans and then opened them, releasing a sticky deluge upon us. The flashing blue and red lights alerted us to the presence of a patrol car. A uniform-clad officer slowly stepped out; his face gave no indication as to what his intentions were. Was it illegal to set off fireworks, unauthorized, on public property? Probably, but the officer only wanted to know if alcohol had been thrown into the mix. We assured him it had not, and, with a smile, he got back into his car and drove off into the night. We all burst into laughter, and then continuing on with our pyrotechnic display.
- On a bed, in a dark room, I laid and watched him. I'd always thought it slightly creepy to watch someone as they slept, but I was beginning to understand the appeal. He looked so innocent, his face relaxed in slumber. I took my finger and ran it slowly over the hair of his eyebrow. I remember thinking that I would be very sad when this all ended.
- Panic. I ran across the dam, frantically looking over each side. I saw him there, twenty feet below, sitting in a puddle. He was crying, but looked to be unhurt. It took me seconds to get to him. "Are you okay?" I asked, as I ran my hands over his head, arms and legs, checking for damage. I couldn't understand his response through his hitching sobs. I scooped him up into my arms and carried him back up the hill to my grandparents' waiting van. My grandfather looked helpless. He'd been too slow and too stiff to make it down the hill before I did. "He is okay." I told him, as I loaded my brother into the van.
Later on, we would laugh about this.
11/02/2006
Unfinished Thoughts
"I miss you." his voice echos through the phone. I nod for several seconds before realizing how ridiculous an action it is.
"I miss you, too." I whisper.
"You do?" He asks, sounding almost shocked. "You mean you haven't found another guy to take my place yet?"
His words sound harsh. Did he mean for them to? I decide to ignore his tone.
"Of course not. I am not looking for anyone to take your place." I tell him. "The position is already full." But what that position entails is questionable, to say the least.
A barely audible "I'm sorry" is his response. The funny thing is that he does not sound sorry at all. He wanted to upset me. I guess I should have been expecting this. "I'm not sure how to talk to you anymore." He confesses after several minutes.
I am taken aback by this. Shocked into silence, though I probably shouldn't be. "I'm still me." I tell him. "It's still just me."
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. It is incredibly saddening to think that the loss of a physical relationship is leading to the loss of an emotional one.
"How am I supposed to react to you? What kind of things am I supposed to tell you now? Where do I stop myself?" He says all at once. "All I think about is how I'm not supposed touch you or kiss you anymore."
And now it is me who does not know what to say to him.
- 10/18/06 5:06 AM
All I can think about is chocolate. Sweet, sweet chocolate. Chocolate cake. Chocolate mousse. Hot chocolate. I am not going to be picky about what kind of chocolate. All I know is that I am probably going to die in the next five minutes due to lack of chocolate.
- 10/19/06 1:37 AM
Last week, I ran out of food around the same time I ran out of motivation to do anything. All that was left, between my fridge and my freezer, was some daiquiri mix, an egg, and a container of margarine. I didn't want to eat the egg because it had been in there since the summer and the tub of margarine was obviously out of question as a meal, so I did what I had to do. I made daiquiris. One thing I learned: The more daiquiris you have, the less hungry you get.
- 10/23/06 1:53 PM
Each time I drive in my car, my turns are emphasized by the crashing of weights in the back. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful idea to start doing exercises that involved lifting a small amount of weight by way of barbell. Shortly after this idea, I drove out to a fitness store and purchased a barbell set so that I could put my plan into action. I know what you are thinking.. You're thinking that the weights have just sat in my car the entire time since I bought them, but that is just not true. They have sat in my car ALMOST the entire time since I bought them. Briefly, I took them out of my car when I was at my parents house and used them roughly five times before it was time to pack them back into my car and head home. And, even though I have been home for almost two weeks, that is where they have stayed ever since. Each day, I back my car into my driveway on the off chance that I might be inclined to take them out, but each day I find another reason to leave them there. After all, they are heavy. You are supposed to work up to that kind of weight, right? And it would be ridiculous just to bring in each weight individually, not to mention time consuming.
- 10/24/06 5:39 PM
Sex in the woods is not as hot as some might think it is. It is full of mosquito bites and unidentifiable decaying organic material in your hair. There is dirt, and there are bugs. There's poison ivy, not to mention slugs. There are sticks and rocks, and pieces of glass. And, if you're not careful, things get wedged in places that they were never intended to go.
There are also animals.
Raccoons. Deer. Snakes. Coyotes. Skunks. Squirrels. Possums. Porcupines. Beavers. Moose. Bears. Dinosaurs.
- 10/28/06 2:18 PM
It doesn't matter what you've seen in the movies, fire departments do not get cats down from dangerously high places. Instead of helping, they will refer you to the Humane Society. What they will fail to tell you is that the Humane Society closes at 6 pm, so you are pretty much shit out of luck.
- 10/31/06 5:49 AM
"I miss you, too." I whisper.
"You do?" He asks, sounding almost shocked. "You mean you haven't found another guy to take my place yet?"
His words sound harsh. Did he mean for them to? I decide to ignore his tone.
"Of course not. I am not looking for anyone to take your place." I tell him. "The position is already full." But what that position entails is questionable, to say the least.
A barely audible "I'm sorry" is his response. The funny thing is that he does not sound sorry at all. He wanted to upset me. I guess I should have been expecting this. "I'm not sure how to talk to you anymore." He confesses after several minutes.
I am taken aback by this. Shocked into silence, though I probably shouldn't be. "I'm still me." I tell him. "It's still just me."
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. It is incredibly saddening to think that the loss of a physical relationship is leading to the loss of an emotional one.
"How am I supposed to react to you? What kind of things am I supposed to tell you now? Where do I stop myself?" He says all at once. "All I think about is how I'm not supposed touch you or kiss you anymore."
And now it is me who does not know what to say to him.
- 10/18/06 5:06 AM
All I can think about is chocolate. Sweet, sweet chocolate. Chocolate cake. Chocolate mousse. Hot chocolate. I am not going to be picky about what kind of chocolate. All I know is that I am probably going to die in the next five minutes due to lack of chocolate.
- 10/19/06 1:37 AM
Last week, I ran out of food around the same time I ran out of motivation to do anything. All that was left, between my fridge and my freezer, was some daiquiri mix, an egg, and a container of margarine. I didn't want to eat the egg because it had been in there since the summer and the tub of margarine was obviously out of question as a meal, so I did what I had to do. I made daiquiris. One thing I learned: The more daiquiris you have, the less hungry you get.
- 10/23/06 1:53 PM
Each time I drive in my car, my turns are emphasized by the crashing of weights in the back. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful idea to start doing exercises that involved lifting a small amount of weight by way of barbell. Shortly after this idea, I drove out to a fitness store and purchased a barbell set so that I could put my plan into action. I know what you are thinking.. You're thinking that the weights have just sat in my car the entire time since I bought them, but that is just not true. They have sat in my car ALMOST the entire time since I bought them. Briefly, I took them out of my car when I was at my parents house and used them roughly five times before it was time to pack them back into my car and head home. And, even though I have been home for almost two weeks, that is where they have stayed ever since. Each day, I back my car into my driveway on the off chance that I might be inclined to take them out, but each day I find another reason to leave them there. After all, they are heavy. You are supposed to work up to that kind of weight, right? And it would be ridiculous just to bring in each weight individually, not to mention time consuming.
- 10/24/06 5:39 PM
Sex in the woods is not as hot as some might think it is. It is full of mosquito bites and unidentifiable decaying organic material in your hair. There is dirt, and there are bugs. There's poison ivy, not to mention slugs. There are sticks and rocks, and pieces of glass. And, if you're not careful, things get wedged in places that they were never intended to go.
There are also animals.
Raccoons. Deer. Snakes. Coyotes. Skunks. Squirrels. Possums. Porcupines. Beavers. Moose. Bears. Dinosaurs.
- 10/28/06 2:18 PM
It doesn't matter what you've seen in the movies, fire departments do not get cats down from dangerously high places. Instead of helping, they will refer you to the Humane Society. What they will fail to tell you is that the Humane Society closes at 6 pm, so you are pretty much shit out of luck.
- 10/31/06 5:49 AM
10/22/2006
Save(d) As Draft(s)
With only one eye opened, I stumbled to the bathroom. It's common knowledge that you're not officially awake until you've opened up both eyes. And if it wasn't common knowledge before it is now because I just told you.
- 10/01/2006
I patted the turkey, soothingly, and began to reassure it as I inserted my right hand into its rectum. "This is a first for both of us." I told it. I'd insisted on buying a turkey that provided me with a neat little package full of internal organs, but immediately, upon pulling the package out, I realized that I had made a big mistake.
- 10/03/2006
The best way to prepare a meal is to start by igniting the wrong burner on your stove top so that you set a plastic bag on fire in the process.
- 10/05/2006
I can't remember the last time that I was truly happy. I can't remember the last time I felt anything but indifference. If I could, I would stay in my bed all day long, just laying there. My bed is warm, it is comfortable, and in my bed I don't have to wonder why it is that I've forgotten what happy feels like.
I am not disappointed with my life. I am not disappointed with myself. I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel happy. Is that normal? Is that a regular way to feel? I tell people I'm happy. I laugh, I smile, I pretend that everything is exactly the way I want it to be. I keep hoping that one day I will wake-up and it will be. But it already is. Things are progressing just as I'd always planned them to, just as I'd always hoped for them to. So why do I feel so dispassionate? Why do I feel so apathetic?
- 10/14/2006
The song in my head keeps skipping. Three words repeating over and over again. Endlessly. Not even significant words. Not even for any reason, except maybe that they are repeated a few times in the song. I never get through the whole song on my own. I can never make it past those three words. It's a shame too, it really is. My favorite part of the song comes right after those words.
- 10/16/2006
"What is that noise? Are you peeing?" Her disembodied voice asks over the phone. Busted, I think to myself as I try to come up with something to say that will make the moment slightly less awkward.
All I can come up with is 'Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.' So I say that.
"I don't understand you. You won't eat while talking on the phone because it embarrasses you, and yet you have no problem going to the bathroom."
"I know, that is weird." I agree.
- 10/20/2006
My bed smells like beer, which isn't all that surprising considering I spilled almost an entire bottle of beer on it. For some reason, distracted by my enthusiasm to create a scary Halloween tape made up almost entirely of the dog groaning, I decided that the bed was a great place to leave my beer while I went to do something else. It wasn't though.
- 10/21/2006
- 10/01/2006
I patted the turkey, soothingly, and began to reassure it as I inserted my right hand into its rectum. "This is a first for both of us." I told it. I'd insisted on buying a turkey that provided me with a neat little package full of internal organs, but immediately, upon pulling the package out, I realized that I had made a big mistake.
- 10/03/2006
The best way to prepare a meal is to start by igniting the wrong burner on your stove top so that you set a plastic bag on fire in the process.
- 10/05/2006
I can't remember the last time that I was truly happy. I can't remember the last time I felt anything but indifference. If I could, I would stay in my bed all day long, just laying there. My bed is warm, it is comfortable, and in my bed I don't have to wonder why it is that I've forgotten what happy feels like.
I am not disappointed with my life. I am not disappointed with myself. I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel happy. Is that normal? Is that a regular way to feel? I tell people I'm happy. I laugh, I smile, I pretend that everything is exactly the way I want it to be. I keep hoping that one day I will wake-up and it will be. But it already is. Things are progressing just as I'd always planned them to, just as I'd always hoped for them to. So why do I feel so dispassionate? Why do I feel so apathetic?
- 10/14/2006
The song in my head keeps skipping. Three words repeating over and over again. Endlessly. Not even significant words. Not even for any reason, except maybe that they are repeated a few times in the song. I never get through the whole song on my own. I can never make it past those three words. It's a shame too, it really is. My favorite part of the song comes right after those words.
- 10/16/2006
"What is that noise? Are you peeing?" Her disembodied voice asks over the phone. Busted, I think to myself as I try to come up with something to say that will make the moment slightly less awkward.
All I can come up with is 'Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.' So I say that.
"I don't understand you. You won't eat while talking on the phone because it embarrasses you, and yet you have no problem going to the bathroom."
"I know, that is weird." I agree.
- 10/20/2006
My bed smells like beer, which isn't all that surprising considering I spilled almost an entire bottle of beer on it. For some reason, distracted by my enthusiasm to create a scary Halloween tape made up almost entirely of the dog groaning, I decided that the bed was a great place to leave my beer while I went to do something else. It wasn't though.
- 10/21/2006
10/11/2006
Very serious problem
I am at my parents house this week and I have already run out of clean underwear. Where did all the underwear I packed go? I counted each pair I put in, there were ten. And yet, six days into my visit there is no more underwear. This poses a big problem for me because I like to pass my time alone each day, when everyone else is at work or school, dancing in my underwear around the house. How can I dance around in my underwear if there is no more underwear to dance around in?
10/02/2006
Reflections on fisting poultry
As I stuck my gloved hand into the body cavity of the ten pound turkey, I thought to myself 'How did I get here?'
10/01/2006
Sleeping arrangements
The President is lounging across my legs as I type this. I should probably also mention that I am laying down across my bed. While, these days, we seem to be able to share a bed without too many problems, this wasn't always the case. For the first month after I moved into my house, without fail, every night I would awaken to a thump. For the longest time I could not figure out what the source of the thump was. I would look around my room, see nothing out of the ordinary, and fall back to sleep. After a while, it became apparent that I was to blame for the noise. More specifically, the thump was caused when I would move my legs, in my sleep, and knock the President off the bed and onto the floor. It made me laugh, but I also felt a little bad for the poor cat. I would imagine that getting knocked off a bed while you're sleeping is a pretty big piss off. Sometimes I am not even sleeping and I just accidentally fall out of bed (because I am borderline retarded) and that pisses me off. Especially when it happens more than once in the span of half of an hour.
To cut a pointless story slightly shorter, I have yet to determine whether I have become a less active sleeper, or if the President has just learned to beware of my flailing legs (and boy do those legs love to flail). I suspect that it is the former and not the latter. I base this suspicion on the fact that the President, without fail, falls asleep every night laying across my legs.
In other news, Stephen Harper (my pleco, not the Prime Minister of Canada) has died. I feel bad because it took me three days to notice. I just thought he was sleeping... Until I noticed that his eyes had turned white and there was slime forming around his body. That means I only have one fish left, Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.
To cut a pointless story slightly shorter, I have yet to determine whether I have become a less active sleeper, or if the President has just learned to beware of my flailing legs (and boy do those legs love to flail). I suspect that it is the former and not the latter. I base this suspicion on the fact that the President, without fail, falls asleep every night laying across my legs.
In other news, Stephen Harper (my pleco, not the Prime Minister of Canada) has died. I feel bad because it took me three days to notice. I just thought he was sleeping... Until I noticed that his eyes had turned white and there was slime forming around his body. That means I only have one fish left, Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.
9/29/2006
Snippets of Life
"Baby puppy!" I yelled, as I barreled in through the door. The fur ball that greeted me was much bigger than the one I remembered leaving a few weeks before. His whole back end was wagging with excitement as he bounded around my feet, alternately licking my toes and the floor. I dropped what I was carrying (read: the cat) and swept up the puppy in my arms. He immediately licked my face, and then proceeded to bite my nose. "Ow!" I exclaimed.
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
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