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Saturday, July 18th, 2009
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Last night could not have been more intriguing, amusing, hysterical or bizarre if Tim Robbins had written it. I went to a pajama party, all girl, all adult, with 3 women I love, 3 women I hate, 2 women who hate me, and 7 women I didn't even know. It was probably the most freeing experience I've ever had - I was drunk, exposed by my outfit and smiling way too high over my gums right in the faces of vicious cat-women, and to the heart & soul & core of me I did not care. Not in the, "I'm going to say I don't care because if they get to me they win" sense, either. I was just too happy, too content, too drunk to give a damn - I was happy to let them see me at my goofy, giddy, hyperactive worst. I wanted them to see me that way, I wanted them to join me.
A sudden downpour sent everybody running inside, but Brandi actually agreed to go play with me in the rain. We held hands and ran shrieking down the street, danced to our own poorly-sung version of Cotton Eyed Joe until I stumbled off the curb, and returned completely soaking wet.
The only irritations, besides the general behind-the-back whispering of a couple of the no-names, were Vicky (who is far too old to be doing it) made fun of me a couple of times for being flat-chested, and when I was laughing a lot, people were saying things like, "Oh, you tiny thing, you need to eat something, you're so wasted! Omg, you're sooo drunk, you tiny little thing!" I hate the way overweight people treat thin people. (Yeah, that's right, I said it. I know, I know, ALL WE THIN PEOPLE DISCRIMINATE AGAINST THE OVERWEIGHT. Bullshit. I've had more insults for being thin than I've ever even said behind the BACK of someone who wasn't).
Laura pulled me aside and said, "Doesn't it piss you off that they're acting like you can't hold a drink? They just don't realize that you act like this all the time." I laughed and was happy to be commiserated with, but I don't know how I feel about being told that I ALWAYS act like I've had 2 beers, a Smirnoff, 5 cape cods, 2 dreamsicles and a rum & coke. :P
( Read more... )
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, July 16th, 2009
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I was enlightened tonight. Apparently the Jefferson/Adams ship I've had rampaging through me since I finished the HBO miniseries and have been feeling so guilty about. . . is a common ship for we founding fathers violators to have. o.o
Also, ow, getting nostalgic about way too many things all at once tonight, and still haven't even sorted out the feeling. Ow. Ache. Missing. Ow.
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Things left to buy for New York trip, if possible:
A haircut!
A pair of red heels.
A pair of gold heels.
A pair of dark jeans that actually fit me.
Other than that, a visit with Brandi today (woah?) completed my NY wardrobe. She and I traded clothes - my stuff that was a little big on me even before I started dieting, and her stuff that she relied on to look sexy in night clubs, pre-babies. I did a trial run of packing my suitcase (which is a lie, I really just wanted to start packing) and everything fits perfectly. I know I'll regret only wearing/bringing high heels once I GET there, but if I can do it in 4 feet of snow, I can do it on the streets of New York! I'm getting more excited by the day, and also more nervous. I don't know how to do anything in New York! I don't know how to hail a cab or get into a nightclub or where anything is actually located. Scared! Another brilliant and memorable adventure for Savannah and I, no doubt!
This is what I don't understand about Brandi. In person, she's the SHIT. Funny, goofy, sincere, talkative, playful. Then on MySpace, she just gets WEIRD. And on the forum, she just gets WEIRD. So I don't know where the real Brandi ends and the crazy Brandi begins.
Either way, some of the girls and I have started a group power walk. Today was the first session. Feel healthier, happier, more energetic. Had fast food for dinner, but still stayed within my calorie limit for that meal, and had chicken rather than beef, with no fries and a diet soda. I discovered the danger of internet trolls on a local forum, because a man was waiting there for our walking group, who exhibited unsettling behaviors at a yard sale, so we just drove away and went somewhere safer. Just because I'm armed doesn't mean I want to shoot somebody, I'd rather find any other means of escape - hear that, UK and California? Having a gun and being a proud American does NOT make me a dangerous ignoramus. In short, eat me.
Tried working a little bit on my story, but my hormones made me skip ahead to a sad part, and I wound up teary-eyed and couldn't finish. :( I've cried a LOT today, it's pathetic. I'm so sick of having a period.
Going out next Saturday again with the girls. Same place, same deal. Won't be the same without Vannah. Wanna blackmail her into a drive up here just to go dancing with us again. :P Anybody have any dirt on her?!
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Comments: Read 39 or Add Your Own.
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120!!! 22 total pounds of weight loss!!
I COULD PISS MYSELF WITH GLEE. Five more to lose before New York, and my PIN UP DRESS FITS AGAIN.
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Comments: Read 15 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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Deciding to take control of our ever-growing list of, "Yeah, God, I want that. Someday." Start out by listing each of the things, then arranging them in order of priority.
A house.
An elliptical machine.
A nice grill.
An RV or camper.
A big-screen, flat-screen tv by Sony. We've been together almost 8 years and still have the same shitty little tv. Time to move it on up, folks.
A new set of quality pots and pans.
Nice dish set, that WE picked out, not that was chosen for us.
New bedroom furniture, because ours blows.
An entertainment center, followed shortly thereafter by matching coffee and end tables.
Carpet steamer.
New, much softer mattress.
This is, roughly, the complete list of high-dollar items we've talked about owning in the future. In my mind, their list of importance goes something like this -
A house.
An entertainment center and matching furniture.
TV.
Elliptical machine.
Bedroom furniture.
Carpet steamer.
Pots and pans.
Dish set.
Grill.
Mattress.
Camper.
God knows I'd love to have ALL of these immediately, and the camper well before I'm 30 and too old and responsible to enjoy it, but this is how I prioritize my desires. My entire life can be broken down into an attractive shopping list, because I'm not spending any of my time, money or energy on children, and feel that David and I have awarded ourselves a prime opportunity to be selfish and live, one day, in semi-luxury.
When I come home from New York and pay Vannah back, I put my whole heart into saving. I want a pile of money to move on when and if we move. I want to wind up in Texas in a few months and be shopping for a home, and by our ten year wedding anniversary (just 3 years away!) I want to have a vow renewal ceremony in our own backyard. Where David will be cooking after the service on our own nice grill. Which I will have prepared to look pretty for on our own elliptical machine. <3 From now on, after my beautiful vacation, I will not buy ANYTHING unless it's on this list. =D
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Shopping for New York. Have budgeted 15 dollars to spend on my entire New York wardrobe. It's entirely doable around here with the yardsale obsession, but the amount makes me so sad to look at - most people spend that much on a single item. Mmf. I wish this were coming at a better time.
Just the same, found two cute dresses and a darling little top. Can't wait to pick them up!
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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The weekend went nothing like I pictured on account of my hormones and some very uncharacteristically annoying NC friends, but I still had an amazing time, and was so happy to see Savannah again after everything. My favorite part of the entire trip, I think, was dancing. We were all so drunk and careless and excited. Every time I've ever gone out dancing, I've looked back on the experience as a fuzzy, orgasmic, almost enlightening event. I danced until my legs were screaming and my head felt funny and it was amazing.
We played in the ocean at midnight, ate at - duh! - a Chinese buffet, and strolled the streets of an historic downtown city that I love. Sat staring at a pretty church, stumbled on a courtyard garage sale and encountered a delusional old lady who was celebrating her birthday, but must've thought that we were, as well.
All in all, splendid.
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Wednesday, July 1st, 2009
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I am exhausted, worn down, and a little agitated that nothing I wanted to get done this week has been accomplished. Not AT anyone, it's just the way the situation worked. Nicole was locked out of her house and had to come here just as Laura's early-morning visit was over, which I'd planned to clean after. The girl who had Nicole's key decided, after the fact, that she'd go to dinner with her husband at a steakhouse in a city 30 minutes away before giving Nicole BACK that key. So she was with me for a while. With her dog. Was too tired to clean by the time she left.
Next day, Lori called and I got her over here (with her dog!). We went to quit her job, pack her house, talk. Phone calls and crying and driving all over town, obviously nothing got done. But in the end, she decided to stay at her house, because he promised to stay at the barracks. By the time Annie came over to watch our weekly round of Tori & Dean (which turned into last week's episode, this week's episode, Paris Hilton's My New BFF and Is She Really Going Out With Him?), I was too tired to even consider the amount of work I require myself to do when someone comes to see my place for the first time. At least I got the living room straightened. Sigh.
Today, I have plans with Candace and India to go to the beach - can't possibly take that long, right? And with Annie to see her feats of rearranging MANY pieces inside a very small space. And to shop for 4th of July supplies, which is turning out to be just as steeped in drama as any other situation involving many women, and my plans for that day have taken a drastic shift.
As of right now, I've had a healthy breakfast (which did nothing to fill me up) and read 4 chapters of Mommywood, but accomplished little else besides unloading the dishwasher, throwing away the evidence of Annie and I's ill-advised candy cravings from last night, and put on clothes.
Mmf. Where did my motivation go?
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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We joked about it at the bar last night, and it was funny. Today he actually tried to hit her. I couldn't think of anything to say but "Come over, get in the car and come over." But what now? I want to see him, not her. I want to talk to him, yell at him, hurt him.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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My musical idol's quote about Transformers: "Transformers 2 - everything I hate about CGI in one film. Literally a movie about blowing shit up. Pointless. On to cook dinner now!"
. . . Yeah, cause, you know. The children's cartoon had so much psychological and political significance.
I'm reacting with an almost petty loss of respect to those slamming this movie, partly because I think intelligent people in general overlook anything done simply for fun, either to maintain their status as obscure and interesting or because they've numbed themselves to stimulus that doesn't have some sort of uber-important point, but also because I entirely object to the idea that this movie was useless, CGI fluff.
I agree with whoever said that art is only art if it moves you. Some of the most "important films" I've ever seen left me wondering what the fuck the big deal was, wondering if people only said it was amazing because they felt they had to, and in some cases, -knowing- so. I feel no shame in admitting that these two movies, about "blowing shit up" and "Megan Fox's boobs," made me feel more excited, energetic and engaged than I have in a long time at the theater. Like Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married, they were a sweet and unexpected surprise that re-awoke what years of mainstream cinema had deadened.
They were quick-paced without being confusing. They used fabulously childish dialogue in the machines to pay homage to the cartoon (again, CARTOON, people, if you're expecting social commentary from a cartoon movie, perhaps you ought not to go?) that these movies were derived from. When taking something straight from the original storyline made no sense for that of the film, they found other ways to work it in, to make little suggestions to it for the die-hard fans without losing the interest of those who'd never watched.
There's something childish and eager in me that was exhilarated during their transformations, as well as during anything recited by Optimus Prime, who is my favorite, and who is still voiced by the same man who was such a huge part of my early years, from his contributions to Pooh to the fact that he was almost EVERY male voice in my favorite little-girl movie, Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer. Oh, and piss on the lot of ya', when Sam screamed for Bumblebee in the beginning, . . . well, I don't know why I bring that up, because I can't actually pinpoint why I was so touched and delighted by that little moment. I suppose it's worth mentioning simply for the fact that it happened, and I'm exhausted of hearing about how there's no emotion or purpose to these movies, when I felt plenty of it both times, without being a redneck or otherwise poorly-educated in the world of films with psychological impact.
I argue that, regardless of Shia's occasionally lacking script, he's still a beautiful actor with a ton of throw-yourself-into-it talent. He panics perfectly, and I'm going to go ahead and say right now that anybody who didn't laugh at his effeminate screams during the dorm scene has simply forgotten non-political comedy. If they'd thrown in a few digs about Bush being stupid to this flick, a whole SLEW of anti-Transformers patrons would suddenly be on my side of the fence.
Was the movie absolutely perfect? No. There were a couple of stumbles, and, duh, there were some needless shots there exclusively to attract men. . . to which I say, so what? It's something else I'm sick of - the idea that playing up the sex appeal of either gender when there are people who want to see it is somehow this hateful, negative thing. And at root, despite the fact that I can argue several points of usefulness, it wasn't -meant- to be some weighty, artistic black & white that comments on, I don't know, the inevitability of death, or a Spike Lee crockumentary about the impact of racism on children. It was neither completely mindless nor was it an epic love story for the ages. It's a movie about robots from outerspace! WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?
In closing . . . damnit, I'm still walking to the Honda every day in the aftermath and thinking, "Man, I wish my car was a fucking Transformer. :("
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Comments: Read 8 or Add Your Own.
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Saturday, June 27th, 2009
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This one came a LOT easier! Also unfinished. The most glaring issue is that I changed tense halfway through it and didn't realize it until I read back. I'm in no rush to fix it, though. It doesn't screw up the flow TOO much. A small glimpse onto something brief is in one of these paragraphs, and it's the only way to tell that it took place. . . mm, I'm guessing two years and some odd months before the last one.
( Read more... )
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It worked in three installments when I tried it with Kerian! Somehow, that was easier than this, even though it dealt with running her through emotions she'd never been able to handle before.
This story was infuriating to write. The longer I went at it, the more frustrated I became with religion, in general.
( Read more... )
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Thursday, June 25th, 2009
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I want to write so much tonight, want to type and keep typing. Want to say a lot, want to express a lot, want to finish the story that can never be finished and talk about the most significant changes in my life. That I have Savannah back, and react to it like new love, that my husband and I don't have an income, that I no longer have a career in mind for myself, that suddenly Annie is a part of my daily life again after 3 months of non-communication. That I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen :P
But I don't know where to start. And I never know what to say.
I feel like I've been carrying around a suitcase full of language for 23 years and I dropped it sometime this winter.
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adgleWBK$BH OMG OMG OMG OMG
TRANSFORMERS 2 WAS THE SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!!!
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Going to a nightclub tonight, without any money for drinks. My way is being paid by the friend who invited me. Lovely.
Going to New York this summer, again, without any money. My way is being paid by the friend who invited me.
Sick of this, sick of being broke, sick of being taken care of, and now with a whopping $0 a month coming in, it should be an interesting couple of months.
I don't know what to do. I can't make absolutely nothing for much longer, but I don't have many options. They're hiring up the road for a hotel housekeeper, I'll apply.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, June 11th, 2009
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My weekend plans just got shot to shit and I'm furious.
I'm starting to break out, partly because I haven't resisted fast food in two weeks, partly because I'm PMSing.
I want equally to clean up my house and to curl up under the covers in my big, soft bed and fall asleep with a candle burning. I also want a cup of tea. But I can't make tea unless the house is clean. I know, I know.
There's a new Jell-O commercial with pink props and a girl in a white, fringe-y flapper dress who looks just like Ayresae. I get affectionate everytime I see her.
I'm looking forward to seeing Up, Public Enemies, Transformers 2, Land of the Lost. . . I can't remember the last time I wanted to see so many movies at once. I saw The Hangover with Annie and Cindy last night and thought I' piss myself laughing.
Filling out a correspondence book. If we've met in person/hang out at all, send me any info of the following - full name, mailing address (plz, I love sending out Christmas cards!), home + cell number, email address, etc.
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A couple of pictures from my horrid journey.
Sitting in the airport in Atlanta. So blissfully unaware. That look of affectionate rapture on my face comes from listening to We Are Smug, which is also the reason the laptop is tipped up at me - the speakers are underneath.
Me goofing off with the Flight Safety Information.
Making dinner. Lol, notice that I'm not smiling. We've officially landed.
My pretty paintjob, that I stayed up until 4:30 am to complete.
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Comments: Read 11 or Add Your Own.
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Sitting in the TV lounge of an airport in Michigan, waiting for the Delta counter to open up so I can finally go home. I won't bother detailing the grand shittery of the final two days. I'm just so relieved to be leaving. I want to kiss my husband. I just want to kiss him so much, I've been thinking about it in little nips and tugs and trickles all day. And my darling baby kitties, I miss their beautiful faces. And my home, my own space, my sanctuary and a REAL BED.
Flight leaves way late in the AM, and I should be back in my house no later than 1 pm. My party is at 6, and as far as I know, 8 other girls and a handful of hubbies are coming. Sunday belongs exclusively to David.
Lol, me, Julie, Laura, Emmy and Sarah have started a morning gathering at Julie's house, where we drink too much coffee and watch stupid movies and talk about nothing. Emmy named us the Breakfast Club, then we all commiserated about how shitty it was that nobody OWNED that movie, but everyone loved it. I'm buying it when I get back and bringing it to the next gathering, which will be Monday morning. I'm Allison. Emmy's Andrew. I think Sarah's Claire, personally. Which leaves Bender (my ideal man) and the nerd, between Julie and Laura. I love these games. <3
I think I'm gonna see if I can find The Breakfast Club on YouTube, now. Need to drool over some Bender.
Thank God I'm coming home.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009
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I've been up all night, painting for my second 4-hour burst of the day. From the six neon colors here before, I've painted it a clean, CLEAN CLEAN CLEAN white called "Chalk," with trim in a soft, dusty, baby blue.
Let me tell you this: I am NO master painter. In fact, I slightly suck at it - there'll be a lot of itty-bitty nit-picky touch-ups for me to do tomorrow. Just the same, covering the mold, knocking down the flies and turning each of the walls the same crisp color has done so, so, so much for this room. I wish I'd remembered to take before pictures.
The living room furniture arrived late yesterday afternoon and I rearranged for maximum effect - Cindy was speechless, and it was a beautiful moment. Today some hardware-type-guys are laying laminate, and it is now my responsibility to BEG them to do the linoleum they promised us in the bathroom, because I've stained the entire thing with blue and white paint - it looks like a sailor threw up in there. For some reason, the fact that I painted made them say they couldn't possibly lay linoleum now, and I'll need to convince them otherwise. I'm not leaving this place with a gorgeous wall and an awful floor.
At the moment, I'm sitting on the floor of the hallway - which will be vigorously cleaned by a professional carpet cleaner on Friday morning - and although it smells like cat piss, it's better than any alternative. A wasp wandered in while the door had to be removed for SIX HOURS, and even though it was killed for me, I don't know how many MORE of them there might be. Which is why I begged Cindy to sleep in the living room with me, lol, but then found that I was simply too paranoid and upset to sleep. So I painted. And now I'm almost entirely finished. So yeah. Living room and kitchen are out. Upstairs, there's the craft room - which we packed full -, the master bedroom, where Ken is snoring, Annie's room, and a sitting room, which is is CONNECTED to where Ken is snoring.
Either way. I just needed to sit for a few minutes on something soft.
Hey, what does it mean when your feet hurt, so you sit down, and then they hurt A LOT worse?
Finally got someone else to plunge the toilet, and I swear, there was an annoyed look at the fact that I didn't do it. I'm sorry. Was arranging your furniture, doing your dishes, making you dinner and painting your bathroom not enough? o.o Then I guess hauling boxes full of DISHWARE and lawn bags full of old clothes down three flights of stairs, out the back door and through the garage wouldn't make a difference. Or sweeping 6 times. Or mopping twice. Or cleaning the downstairs bathroom, etc, etc, etc.
I'm just grumpy, but yeah. They unplugged it. However, there's a . . . moistness on the seat, and the whole thing is filthy. I want sooo bad to give it a scrub because it's legitimately bothering me, but omfg, germs.
I have to pee, though. So I have two choices. Downstairs with the wasps, or upstairs with the germs. Wtf. Why is is this happening to me?
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Woke up weirdly early with a burst of energy, cleaned one bathroom top to bottom, re-Windexed the Grandfather clock, mopped the downstairs floor, folded two loads of laundry and swept + attempted to mop the stairs in the back entryway. That part didn't work out so well. The no-slip grooves are just encrusted with dirt that would only come up if you went through and scraped it out one teeny little line at a time.
The only thing that halted me was the upstairs bathroom - just as I got set to clean it, I opened the toilet. Someone decided to take a big, juicy shit, stop up the pipe with too much toilet paper, and LEAVE IT THERE BEFORE GOING TO WORK. EW EW EW. So I came downstairs, scalded my hands clean, and sat down. I'm temporarily on strike. There are some fucking lines I'm not going to cross.
I came up with a list last night of everything that's left to be done before we go home. Looking at it now, staring at me from across the table, it seems impossible to accomplish, but Annie has slept COMPLETELY through her alarm today and is still up there snoozing, so there's a chance she'll be energized when she comes home from what will now be only a few hours at the clinic. Perhaps we can both get her mother on board for a late night of work.
Tired of killing spiders. Tired of wondering which towels are the ones Cindy had diarrhea on when she got the flu. Tired of walking on dead flies and cat shit. Tired of feeling like every piece of me is filthy even after I get out of the egg-scented shower water. Just, in general, tired.
Later today, workmen are coming to measure four rooms. Annie and I talked her mom into redoing the floors in her bedroom and sitting room, which are connected, and the master bath and linen closet, which are also connected. Laminate wood for the bedroom, linoleum for the bath. The problem with the bedroom is that the cats have used it as a litter box. The smell in the closet is so overpowering that walking in there gives you a headache, and it's not too much better in the actual room/sitting area. Meanwhile, the bathroom. . . lol.
There's red shaved shag carpet under the bright orange tub, but everywhere else it's been ripped up, to expose a dirty, sunken, stained and water-damaged linoleum from the 70s. The walls were painted by Annie when she was 13, in orange, pink, yellow and lime green, but now the paint has peeled and chipped, there's cracks in the walls, a GRAVEYARD of dead flies stuck to the ceiling, and mold on one wall. I'm also trying to convince her to let me paint it tomorrow or Thursday. Getting a fresh coat up there and a new floor down will make SO much difference in that God-awful space. Though I'm not setting foot in it until someone unplugs the toilet.
The new furniture is also being delivered today. We'll go from GIANT, cracked, green leather couches that don't fit in this narrow room to clean, bright microsuede ones, though they're not the ones I thought would look best and I think they made a giant mistake in choosing a chair-and-a-half to replace her dad's recliner. He will NEVER go for it, he'll bitch his eyes out and then they'll keep his old recliner. And the chair-and-a-half. Leaving them once again with three pieces of furniture in a room only big enough for two, only now, one of them will be purposely oversized. I wish they would just LISTEN TO ME. Also, we have nowhere to PUT the old furniture. The front door is being refinished, so we're boarded in that way, and there's no way the green shit will fit out the back door. Ugh. I'm just so stressed and annoyed.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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wicked_abandon's journal
