About Me
- Name: Carrie
- Location: Denver, CO, United States
Unemployed and loving it! Every great ride has to come to and end and I need to figure out what to do when I get off this Ferris Wheel.
Links
Archives
A playground for my inner Ralph Wiggum.
Thursday, August 12
Today should have been a very happy day, seeing as how it was my last day at ATA and I am now forever free from that hellhole, but I am too grief stricken to celebrate as I had planned. I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends today. The worst part about it all is not the fact that she died, but rather the fact that she should have been gone way before she ever had a chance to suffer. She had a very full life and lived to be almost 120 years old, in dog years of course, but her life should not have ended as it did today. I have to tell the story because I think that it teaches a valuable lesson about selfishness and the way that irony always seems to wriggle itself into daily life. I also want to tell a story about a damn good dog who was my friend.
Chloe was a sister to my first dog Sophie and came to my family when she wouldn't stop eating the wallpaper off of my aunt Karen's bathroom walls. Supposedly someone was also allergic to her, but I think it mostly had to do with the wallpaper. Chloe was an extremely obedient dog and being the complete opposite of Sophie, who was one of the worst behaved dogs in the history of domesticated canines but was so tremendously sweet that we always forgave her, soon earned the nickname "goody two-paws" around our house. Chloe loved to go on walks and camping trips, and spent an entire summer laying out on the deck with me.
As well as being a fellow sun worshipper, Chloe also shared my love of sweets, especially Pez, which was the only thing to ever bring out her "dark side". The only time she ever even came close to biting me was once when I was leisurely dispensing some Pez into my hand she swooped in from out of nowhere and snatched the Pez right out of my hand. If I had flinched or even twitched slightly, I might have lost a hand.
We all loved Sophie dearly and when she died a couple of years ago we were all very grief stricken but at the same time we were looking forward to some time alone with the "good one". We were in for quite a surprise. It seems that all those years miss "goody two-paws" was not so good after all. There were many years in our household where you could not have a pack of gum, a pair of earrings, candy, foil, chicken bones, grease, Barbie shoes, or hardly anything else anywhere within Sophie's reach, which was suprisingly long for a medium sized dog, without it being consumed. Every time anything was ever snacked on or chewed up, it was always Sophie, who had the guiltiest face of any creature ever, who took the blame, while Chloe sat looking innocent and appalled at Sophie's deeds. Well, a couple of months or so after Sophie was gone my sister noticed that a ten pack of baby Butterfingers had gone missing in action. When asked where my sister had left said candy bars she replied that she had last seen them on her bedroom floor. Suspicion then began to drift away from me and more towards the small dog that seemed a little too boisterous that day. We waited and a couple of days later there appeared to be some bright yellow papers scattered about in our backyard. Our suspicions were confirmed, but yet we didn't learn our lesson because we were so glad that she didn't die from all the chocolate. So, Chloe bided her time and put up her good dog front until Christmas time.
My sister and I had both received boxes of those delightful little Celebrations candies that morning and were looking forward to gorging ourselves on them later. Chloe had a different idea. We got home that evening after visiting relatives and were welcomed at the door by a very peppy Shetland Sheepdog that hadn't had the energy to greet anyone at the door for about five years. There was some talk of the "Christmas Spirit" having gotten in to Chloe, but we soon realized that she had gotten into something herself. All that was left of the package of Celebrations was one tiny piece of cardboard with a couple teeth marks on it. At the time Chloe was fifteen years old and had ingested an entire package of celebrations, wrappers and all. Needless to say Chloe wasn't very peppy the next day, her sugar high had worn off and the constipation had set in, but she didn't seem to be near death. Now, I've never studied veterinary medicine or anything, but I was beginning to doubt that whole "chocolate kills dogs" theory. I think that chocolate really isn't bad for dogs and that the whole myth was started by a group of hateful cats trying to keep dogs from enjoying the delicious confection, because obviously, dogs love chocolate. I don't recommend testing my theory on your dog, but hey, who knows, cats are jerks.
The Christmas incident made us all feel a little guilty because Sophie might have taken the fall for some of Chloe's hijinks, who knows how many times, but we eventually forgave Chloe, even though we never really trusted her again. As Chloe entered her twilight years she became somewhat of a wanderer. Just this past Christmas Eve she decided to strike out on her own and find, at least what I think, was a better family. My mother had let her outside that morning to use the facilities but Chloe liked to take her time and drive whoever was in charge of taking her out to the brink of insanity while she alternately sniffed every blade of grass and stared off into space for thirty minutes, so my mother retreated to the house for warmth and sanity. She must have gotten involved in something because she forgot to let Chloe back in. By the time somebody went "Hey, where's Chloe", she had already hobbled off on her merry adventure.
Luckily (luckily?) I was working that day and missed out on all of the hubbub, but I got the whole tearful story when I got home. After they had discovered that she was missing my parents proceeded to franticly search for Chloe. While they were putting up signs around the neighborhood they noticed a sign out on 86th street for a Shetland Sheepdog that had been found. Sure enough the old dog in the picture was Chloe. They called the phone number and discovered that these kind people had picked Chloe up in the middle of 86th street and that she was safe and sound. My parents went to pick her up and found her sitting serenely on an oriental rug in a very nice house near Geist. They had brushed her and cleaned her eyes and my mom tearfully said that she felt like the worst pet owner in history. All was well and my parents promised those kind people that they would do the same if they came across an animal that appeared to be lost. There was some talk that maybe it was time for Chloe to be put down, she was already taking twice as much Tylenol with codeine than she had a month previous to that for her arthritis, but my parents decided to wait a little longer, she had just come home, we can't just take her in right away, that would be cruel... That was back in December.
Just a couple of weeks ago the same thing happened, someone let her out, got tired of her dilly dallying, and then forgot she was out. This time I was home and had been given the duty of giving Chloe her evening pill because my parents had gone out. I went downstairs, got out the cheese to wrap her pill in, which she somehow seemed to be able to almost sense the unwrapping of a slice of cheese, but she didn't appear in the kitchen as she usually did. I could not find her anywhere so I called my dad and asked the fateful question, "uh, did you guys let Chloe out?" Again there was a frantic search and signs were made and there was even more talk of how she should have been put to sleep before something like this could happen and blah blah blah... In a way I kind of hoped that Chloe had wandered off into the sunset, never to be seen again, just because I knew that my parents would lose their nerve again and delay putting her to sleep. It seemed kind of romantic, a old dog wandering off towards the horizon to meet her maker. When the people who had found her called later that evening I was happy of course, who wouldn't be happy to see their shaggy old dog make it home successfully after yet another harrowing adventure. She earned a new nickname after that second homecoming, we began calling her the "Lazarus dog".
My parents also decided that it was time for Chloe to wear tags so that this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. Now, I love my parents and I do not think that they are bad people, I just think that sometimes people do things for selfish reasons, even if their hearts are only full of love and their denial prevents them from seeing things clearly. I mean come on, it was a bit silly for her to start wearing tags, I mean if she wandered off a third time it was probably just meant to be. Of course the subject of putting her to sleep came up again, but it was the same story, How do you put a dog to sleep when she just got home?
I woke up today with the cat meowing at me like he was being tortured, which usually means his food bowl is almost empty or he wants to play outside for awhile, but he was not silenced by me throwing a tee shirt at him, so I finally got out of bed. I heard the dog cough downstairs a couple of times, but she's being doing that a lot lately anyway. I figured that cat wanted to go outside because he wouldn't leave me alone even after I filled his bowl, so I decided to follow him downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and saw smears of blood all over the floor and Chloe laying on her stomach shaking and coughing with her back legs jutting out sideways. I tried to help her up because her legs looked so horrible but her back legs were totally limp and they would just go sideways every time it tried to get her on her feet. I got a towel and wrapped her up so that her legs would stay under her. I looked to see where the blood was coming from and noticed that one of her front paws was actually hung up in the chain around her neck that her tags were on. She was coughing up blood because she was choking herself while trying to get her paw free. I don't know if it was shock or maybe a stroke that caused her legs to give way. Once I freed her paw she calmed down a lot and I called my dad and cleaned up some of the blood. She kept trying to get up so I just sat with her and petted her and waited for my dad. I looked in her eyes and felt horrible. I had no idea how long she was down there like that or how much pain she had suffered. I wished that I had spoken up and put my foot down all the times my parents changed their minds about putting her to sleep. This was not right, she was such a good dog and we just had to put those damned tags on her! I don't know, maybe if it hadn't happen like this it would have been even worse, who knows. Needless to say when my dad got home we made an appointment to put her to sleep and I got dressed while he sat with Chloe. My mom got home a couple minutes later and the three of us took her in and stayed with her until the end. My parents were a wreck and the vet tech even started to cry. I just kept thinking, I'M SORRY, I'm so so sorry Chloe... 17 years and this is how it ends.
I am glad that she is not in pain anymore. She lived for many years with very bad arthritis, and hey maybe she did intend to end it all each time she ran (hobbled) away. Maybe I'm just still upset because I still have that terrible image in my head of what I saw when I walked into the kitchen this morning. Maybe that's why I felt the need to write this, so that wouldn't be that last image I had of her, bleeding and suffering. It felt really good to think about how great of a dog she was and how she was always my little dog-shaped shadow. Its hard to let the things you love go but its a lot harder to see them suffer or whither. This is a lesson I will take with me for the rest of my life, not to love selfishly, no matter how hard it may be.
It is truly lovely how the process of writing can be like drawing poison from a wound. I think that I can see that little old dog now, and she's made her decision. She's headed off towards the sunset, going west, and I send her off with love.
Chloe was a sister to my first dog Sophie and came to my family when she wouldn't stop eating the wallpaper off of my aunt Karen's bathroom walls. Supposedly someone was also allergic to her, but I think it mostly had to do with the wallpaper. Chloe was an extremely obedient dog and being the complete opposite of Sophie, who was one of the worst behaved dogs in the history of domesticated canines but was so tremendously sweet that we always forgave her, soon earned the nickname "goody two-paws" around our house. Chloe loved to go on walks and camping trips, and spent an entire summer laying out on the deck with me.
As well as being a fellow sun worshipper, Chloe also shared my love of sweets, especially Pez, which was the only thing to ever bring out her "dark side". The only time she ever even came close to biting me was once when I was leisurely dispensing some Pez into my hand she swooped in from out of nowhere and snatched the Pez right out of my hand. If I had flinched or even twitched slightly, I might have lost a hand.
We all loved Sophie dearly and when she died a couple of years ago we were all very grief stricken but at the same time we were looking forward to some time alone with the "good one". We were in for quite a surprise. It seems that all those years miss "goody two-paws" was not so good after all. There were many years in our household where you could not have a pack of gum, a pair of earrings, candy, foil, chicken bones, grease, Barbie shoes, or hardly anything else anywhere within Sophie's reach, which was suprisingly long for a medium sized dog, without it being consumed. Every time anything was ever snacked on or chewed up, it was always Sophie, who had the guiltiest face of any creature ever, who took the blame, while Chloe sat looking innocent and appalled at Sophie's deeds. Well, a couple of months or so after Sophie was gone my sister noticed that a ten pack of baby Butterfingers had gone missing in action. When asked where my sister had left said candy bars she replied that she had last seen them on her bedroom floor. Suspicion then began to drift away from me and more towards the small dog that seemed a little too boisterous that day. We waited and a couple of days later there appeared to be some bright yellow papers scattered about in our backyard. Our suspicions were confirmed, but yet we didn't learn our lesson because we were so glad that she didn't die from all the chocolate. So, Chloe bided her time and put up her good dog front until Christmas time.
My sister and I had both received boxes of those delightful little Celebrations candies that morning and were looking forward to gorging ourselves on them later. Chloe had a different idea. We got home that evening after visiting relatives and were welcomed at the door by a very peppy Shetland Sheepdog that hadn't had the energy to greet anyone at the door for about five years. There was some talk of the "Christmas Spirit" having gotten in to Chloe, but we soon realized that she had gotten into something herself. All that was left of the package of Celebrations was one tiny piece of cardboard with a couple teeth marks on it. At the time Chloe was fifteen years old and had ingested an entire package of celebrations, wrappers and all. Needless to say Chloe wasn't very peppy the next day, her sugar high had worn off and the constipation had set in, but she didn't seem to be near death. Now, I've never studied veterinary medicine or anything, but I was beginning to doubt that whole "chocolate kills dogs" theory. I think that chocolate really isn't bad for dogs and that the whole myth was started by a group of hateful cats trying to keep dogs from enjoying the delicious confection, because obviously, dogs love chocolate. I don't recommend testing my theory on your dog, but hey, who knows, cats are jerks.
The Christmas incident made us all feel a little guilty because Sophie might have taken the fall for some of Chloe's hijinks, who knows how many times, but we eventually forgave Chloe, even though we never really trusted her again. As Chloe entered her twilight years she became somewhat of a wanderer. Just this past Christmas Eve she decided to strike out on her own and find, at least what I think, was a better family. My mother had let her outside that morning to use the facilities but Chloe liked to take her time and drive whoever was in charge of taking her out to the brink of insanity while she alternately sniffed every blade of grass and stared off into space for thirty minutes, so my mother retreated to the house for warmth and sanity. She must have gotten involved in something because she forgot to let Chloe back in. By the time somebody went "Hey, where's Chloe", she had already hobbled off on her merry adventure.
Luckily (luckily?) I was working that day and missed out on all of the hubbub, but I got the whole tearful story when I got home. After they had discovered that she was missing my parents proceeded to franticly search for Chloe. While they were putting up signs around the neighborhood they noticed a sign out on 86th street for a Shetland Sheepdog that had been found. Sure enough the old dog in the picture was Chloe. They called the phone number and discovered that these kind people had picked Chloe up in the middle of 86th street and that she was safe and sound. My parents went to pick her up and found her sitting serenely on an oriental rug in a very nice house near Geist. They had brushed her and cleaned her eyes and my mom tearfully said that she felt like the worst pet owner in history. All was well and my parents promised those kind people that they would do the same if they came across an animal that appeared to be lost. There was some talk that maybe it was time for Chloe to be put down, she was already taking twice as much Tylenol with codeine than she had a month previous to that for her arthritis, but my parents decided to wait a little longer, she had just come home, we can't just take her in right away, that would be cruel... That was back in December.
Just a couple of weeks ago the same thing happened, someone let her out, got tired of her dilly dallying, and then forgot she was out. This time I was home and had been given the duty of giving Chloe her evening pill because my parents had gone out. I went downstairs, got out the cheese to wrap her pill in, which she somehow seemed to be able to almost sense the unwrapping of a slice of cheese, but she didn't appear in the kitchen as she usually did. I could not find her anywhere so I called my dad and asked the fateful question, "uh, did you guys let Chloe out?" Again there was a frantic search and signs were made and there was even more talk of how she should have been put to sleep before something like this could happen and blah blah blah... In a way I kind of hoped that Chloe had wandered off into the sunset, never to be seen again, just because I knew that my parents would lose their nerve again and delay putting her to sleep. It seemed kind of romantic, a old dog wandering off towards the horizon to meet her maker. When the people who had found her called later that evening I was happy of course, who wouldn't be happy to see their shaggy old dog make it home successfully after yet another harrowing adventure. She earned a new nickname after that second homecoming, we began calling her the "Lazarus dog".
My parents also decided that it was time for Chloe to wear tags so that this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. Now, I love my parents and I do not think that they are bad people, I just think that sometimes people do things for selfish reasons, even if their hearts are only full of love and their denial prevents them from seeing things clearly. I mean come on, it was a bit silly for her to start wearing tags, I mean if she wandered off a third time it was probably just meant to be. Of course the subject of putting her to sleep came up again, but it was the same story, How do you put a dog to sleep when she just got home?
I woke up today with the cat meowing at me like he was being tortured, which usually means his food bowl is almost empty or he wants to play outside for awhile, but he was not silenced by me throwing a tee shirt at him, so I finally got out of bed. I heard the dog cough downstairs a couple of times, but she's being doing that a lot lately anyway. I figured that cat wanted to go outside because he wouldn't leave me alone even after I filled his bowl, so I decided to follow him downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and saw smears of blood all over the floor and Chloe laying on her stomach shaking and coughing with her back legs jutting out sideways. I tried to help her up because her legs looked so horrible but her back legs were totally limp and they would just go sideways every time it tried to get her on her feet. I got a towel and wrapped her up so that her legs would stay under her. I looked to see where the blood was coming from and noticed that one of her front paws was actually hung up in the chain around her neck that her tags were on. She was coughing up blood because she was choking herself while trying to get her paw free. I don't know if it was shock or maybe a stroke that caused her legs to give way. Once I freed her paw she calmed down a lot and I called my dad and cleaned up some of the blood. She kept trying to get up so I just sat with her and petted her and waited for my dad. I looked in her eyes and felt horrible. I had no idea how long she was down there like that or how much pain she had suffered. I wished that I had spoken up and put my foot down all the times my parents changed their minds about putting her to sleep. This was not right, she was such a good dog and we just had to put those damned tags on her! I don't know, maybe if it hadn't happen like this it would have been even worse, who knows. Needless to say when my dad got home we made an appointment to put her to sleep and I got dressed while he sat with Chloe. My mom got home a couple minutes later and the three of us took her in and stayed with her until the end. My parents were a wreck and the vet tech even started to cry. I just kept thinking, I'M SORRY, I'm so so sorry Chloe... 17 years and this is how it ends.
I am glad that she is not in pain anymore. She lived for many years with very bad arthritis, and hey maybe she did intend to end it all each time she ran (hobbled) away. Maybe I'm just still upset because I still have that terrible image in my head of what I saw when I walked into the kitchen this morning. Maybe that's why I felt the need to write this, so that wouldn't be that last image I had of her, bleeding and suffering. It felt really good to think about how great of a dog she was and how she was always my little dog-shaped shadow. Its hard to let the things you love go but its a lot harder to see them suffer or whither. This is a lesson I will take with me for the rest of my life, not to love selfishly, no matter how hard it may be.
It is truly lovely how the process of writing can be like drawing poison from a wound. I think that I can see that little old dog now, and she's made her decision. She's headed off towards the sunset, going west, and I send her off with love.
Thursday, July 1
"And I want a bike and a monkey and a friend for the monkey..."
I am now one year older than the last time I posted. Carrie 23 is great! Half the carbs of 22 and twice the enjoyment! See if you can tell the difference!
I think that 23 is going to be a great year for me. My practically two week long birthday celebration, in which I went to an awesome concert, rode roller coasters with my dearest friends, had a wonderful manicure/pedicure, received some much needed spooning, enjoyed the fabulous company of family and friends for a cookout, and had a plethora of birthday drinks bought for me at the bars, was magnificent. Not to mention the fantastic radio/cd player my parents got for me. So far 23 has really kicked ass, but of course, as is my true nature, I feel as though something is still off kilter slightly. And we all know theres only one way for me to possibly hash it out... thats right mon I gotta make a list.
23a) I would have to say that in my life right now the most major gripe that I still have is with my job. I hate and loathe it, but hey, who doesn't hate their job? Still though, my job wouldn't suck such serious ass if I didn't have to drive thirty miles everyday to get there, if I could actually use my travel benefits (no open flights, no vacation time, no happy), if I didn't have to talk to about 85 assholes everyday, and if I didn't feel like I was wasting my life working there. My problem might be solved soon though, ATA is experiencing "economic restructuring" right now, so they are laying people off. Its pretty bad when you go into work everyday with the hope that you'll get fired.
23b) I have always had a tendency to drunk dial, but lately it has escalated to a point that is just out of control. Its one thing to call a couple friends and aquaintances while smashed and have some funny drunk conversations, but I have been venturing into drunk dial territory that is just plain moronic. I've been digging up ooooolllldd shit, numbers that I didn't even know I still knew, that while drunk I miraculously remembered. I shouldn't feel so bad though, I mean a lot of these people I don't even see anymore, and even if I did, it would at least give me an ice breaker, albeit and awkward and embarrassing one. Maybe all those free birthday drinks weren't so great after all... Oh Well, screw it, the only thing really hurt is my pride, and you'd think I would be used to that by now...
23c) This next one is sorta tricky, I don't quite know exactly what I feel. Here goes... My sister's boyfriend recently moved into his own place and my sister has since taken up unofficial residence there. I am of course ecstatic that she is out of the house (and the bathroom- the toilet paper wars might have actually ended, for now... mwahhahaha) but I can't help but feel a little sad too. I kinda miss the gal. I also can't help but be a teensy bit jealous. They got a kitten, my sister got to name barney's weed plant, they buy groceries together, I don't know its all those little things... makes me feel a little tug in my chest. Partially because it makes me so happy that my sister has that kind of happiness, she deserves it after all the bastards she has put up with. The other half of that "partially" I don't know... Hey, does anyone remember when my blog posts were funny? It's like I've turned into a whinny, second-rate Jacqueline Susann.
Well, that list was probably the shortest list I have ever made, except for the one time when I sat down to make a grocery list after not going for about two months and just simply wrote "everything". As usual , I also don't really know if I figured anything out, but do any of us every figure any thing out about ourselves. If we did we wouldn't need blogs. Oh and before I go I must give a shout out to all those who made my birthday so fabulous!
Was that the actual shout out or was I supposed to say some thing else? I suck at that! Anyway, I gotta go, Ralph has his hair caught in the pencil sharpener again.
Peace In The Middle East!!!
Don't cry, dry your eye... so just chill, to the next episode:
"(Twenty) Three is the magic Number" or "The Call of the Wild (Turkey)"
I am now one year older than the last time I posted. Carrie 23 is great! Half the carbs of 22 and twice the enjoyment! See if you can tell the difference!
I think that 23 is going to be a great year for me. My practically two week long birthday celebration, in which I went to an awesome concert, rode roller coasters with my dearest friends, had a wonderful manicure/pedicure, received some much needed spooning, enjoyed the fabulous company of family and friends for a cookout, and had a plethora of birthday drinks bought for me at the bars, was magnificent. Not to mention the fantastic radio/cd player my parents got for me. So far 23 has really kicked ass, but of course, as is my true nature, I feel as though something is still off kilter slightly. And we all know theres only one way for me to possibly hash it out... thats right mon I gotta make a list.
23a) I would have to say that in my life right now the most major gripe that I still have is with my job. I hate and loathe it, but hey, who doesn't hate their job? Still though, my job wouldn't suck such serious ass if I didn't have to drive thirty miles everyday to get there, if I could actually use my travel benefits (no open flights, no vacation time, no happy), if I didn't have to talk to about 85 assholes everyday, and if I didn't feel like I was wasting my life working there. My problem might be solved soon though, ATA is experiencing "economic restructuring" right now, so they are laying people off. Its pretty bad when you go into work everyday with the hope that you'll get fired.
23b) I have always had a tendency to drunk dial, but lately it has escalated to a point that is just out of control. Its one thing to call a couple friends and aquaintances while smashed and have some funny drunk conversations, but I have been venturing into drunk dial territory that is just plain moronic. I've been digging up ooooolllldd shit, numbers that I didn't even know I still knew, that while drunk I miraculously remembered. I shouldn't feel so bad though, I mean a lot of these people I don't even see anymore, and even if I did, it would at least give me an ice breaker, albeit and awkward and embarrassing one. Maybe all those free birthday drinks weren't so great after all... Oh Well, screw it, the only thing really hurt is my pride, and you'd think I would be used to that by now...
23c) This next one is sorta tricky, I don't quite know exactly what I feel. Here goes... My sister's boyfriend recently moved into his own place and my sister has since taken up unofficial residence there. I am of course ecstatic that she is out of the house (and the bathroom- the toilet paper wars might have actually ended, for now... mwahhahaha) but I can't help but feel a little sad too. I kinda miss the gal. I also can't help but be a teensy bit jealous. They got a kitten, my sister got to name barney's weed plant, they buy groceries together, I don't know its all those little things... makes me feel a little tug in my chest. Partially because it makes me so happy that my sister has that kind of happiness, she deserves it after all the bastards she has put up with. The other half of that "partially" I don't know... Hey, does anyone remember when my blog posts were funny? It's like I've turned into a whinny, second-rate Jacqueline Susann.
Well, that list was probably the shortest list I have ever made, except for the one time when I sat down to make a grocery list after not going for about two months and just simply wrote "everything". As usual , I also don't really know if I figured anything out, but do any of us every figure any thing out about ourselves. If we did we wouldn't need blogs. Oh and before I go I must give a shout out to all those who made my birthday so fabulous!
Was that the actual shout out or was I supposed to say some thing else? I suck at that! Anyway, I gotta go, Ralph has his hair caught in the pencil sharpener again.
Peace In The Middle East!!!
Don't cry, dry your eye... so just chill, to the next episode:
"(Twenty) Three is the magic Number" or "The Call of the Wild (Turkey)"
Saturday, June 12
Tied to the whippin' post... Tied to the whippin post... Oh lord I feel like Im dyin.. Sometimes I feel , some times I feel...... like i'm tied...to the whippin post... tied to the whippin post.... Oh lord I feel like i'M dyin'.... I love the Allman Bros band ... Sweet Melissa... what ever shall I do...
Wednesday, June 2
"When I grow up I want to be a principle, or a caterpillar."
It's been a long, long... long time... I have missed you.
Questionatory Thinkamabobber--> Why in the heck has it taken me so long to write a new post, OH! and what the hell am I ever going to do with my life... of course that's assuming that I will someday actually have a life. Well, here goes nothin!! Brace yourselves, its the list to end all lists!!! well, at least until my next blog entry...
Why I have taken forever to write a blog post and other stuff about my life as of late:
Tantalizing Tidbit #1: Well, this really isn't very "tantalizing" so to speak, but I figured I'd start out with the most boring of my list entries. One of the reasons I have not updated my blog in eons is that our computer decided to become schitzophrenic for about two weeks. Now granted, that only accounts for two weeks of my month and a half long hiatus from the blog,but it at least provides somewhat of an excuse and it did also provide me with hours of enjoyment listening to my dad cuss at the computer and be at the mercy of some tech support guy from HP for hours on end. Hmmm... You say it sounds like there's an axe to grind there... that I probably shouldn't chuckle every time I hear "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M CLICKING, IT JUST SAYS SYSTEM ERROR, DAMN IT!"... that just possibly there's tensions mounting between a certain overbearing, controlling, nosy, unsympathetic father and his daughter...?! Maybe.
T.T. #2 : Now that that bit of insanity is out of the way, let me delve deeper into the real reason why I haven't been able to squeeze a drop of creativity out of myself for a month. One of the biggest reasons why I haven't been able to write is that I have been suffering from a debilitating case of Blog Performance Anxiety. Otherwise know as B.P.A., it can be triggered by multiple factors, including the intimidating awesomeness of other peoples blogs, the lack of anything even remotely amusing occurring in one's life, and the fear that the audience will not think the material is interesting, become agitated, and hunt me down with torches and pitchforks shouting "Burn the monster, find her, she is so lame!!". There are medications that can treat B.P.A., but since they all cause itching, dry mouth, fatigue, anal leakage, dyslexia, projectile vomiting, and sexual side effects, I figured I was better off trying to heal on my own. Hopefully, my writing today means that I am on the road to recovery.
T.T.#3: I've also had a bit of difficulty writing because I have been in such a huge funk lately that my cloud of negative energy could probably be seen from space. I think I'll have to break this Tidbit down a little in order to make it more readable; call it a list within a list... oooo yeah, I think I like that. Here goes, the list I have been dreading, its been a leading cause of my B.P.A. and other mental disorders lately... its.... the "What the hell is wrong with me list" (or sublist if you will):
(A @;( My car has been trying to make me lose my mind, and this is more than the just regular anxiety about the noisy fan and the tortoise like speed of my car, this is the kind of stuff that makes you want to start screaming and never, ever stop. Let me just give a short summary of the insanity. One blissful evening as I was innocently driving home from work, everything in my car suddenly started to flicker poltergeist style after which my radio cut out, and an annoying dinging sound started(you know the noise your car makes when you leave you keys in the ignition, that annoying ding ding ding ding...aaaaahhhh) and would not stop.
This little electrical storm caused my dome light, power windows, and power locks to also go belly up. $100 later I had the electrical short traced to my power antenna and everything was "fixed". All seemed well for a while and then one day my radio died again and my dome light only worked when I would open the back doors, not the front doors. I decided I could live without a radio, or a dome light for a while, and so I put off going back to get it fixed. Soon though odd things started happening again. My windows stared to only work when I had my car in a certain gear, and not the same one everytime, sometimes I can roll them down in reverse, sometimes I have to be in park, and sometimes I have to turn my car off and start it again to get the windows to roll down at all, heheheahahahaha..... My car has also been revving itself a lot while I'm sitting in park, which also leads me to believe my car contains the angry spirit of someone I wronged in a past life.
Well it turned out that it was actually my radio that was causing all the hubbub and that it was completely shorted out, making it beyond fixable. The greasemonkey couldn't find anything wrong with my power windows or my dome light though, interesting. I must be hallucinating or something I guess. But anyway, the silence on the 40 minute drive to work was beginning to make me batty so I commandeered a small transistor radio that belongs to my dad. Unfortunately, trying to drive and listen to music on a transistor radio is about the most absurd thing one can ever attempt. If you can actually manage to find a station that comes in at all, you will make yourself half insane trying to keep it from fading out, as every time you pass a semi-truck, telephone pole, overpass, stoplight, or kid with braces, the station turns to static. The other day I was absolutely overjoyed when I got the Nelly/Kelly Rowland song to come in for more than two minutes. Sob... sob...sob...sniffle...
My driver's side window has now also decided to only go down about an inch and a half before it runs into something inside of my door that makes a horrible crunching noise and causes the speaker bulge out. I don't know what kind of a calamity went on inside my door in the thirty minutes between the time I put up my window and then went to put it down again, just lucky I guess.
Now, none of these problems make it so that I can't drive my car, but I think that my car is going to keep self destructing in a manner that will eventually lead me to be driving a vehicle with four wheels, two pedals, a steering wheel, maybe a seat and windshield if I'm lucky, but not much else.
(B 8`( Enough about my car already! On to bigger and more bad mood inducing things. The whine fest continues... I've been going through a very severe case of the "I miss yous". I have been depressed lately because I have all these great people in my life but I can never see any of them due to either distance (my car is NOT fun on a road trip) or my sucky work schedule. It's really quite pathetic. Its bad enough that my car prevents me from going to see my friends in b-town, but my work schedule also prevents me from hanging out with my friends and family in Indy. Its hard missing people, especially if you are insane like me and you are convinced that everyone you know is having a great time without you and will eventually have no memory of you whatsoever. Carrie? Carrie who?
(C ;0 I still hate my job with a passion but I cannot quit. Back in March I wanted to quit in April. In April I said I was only going to say until May. In May I decided that I am just going to have to suck it up and stay until I really can find a better job, if one actually does exist(highly doubtful). I should just be happy that I have a job with insurance and travel benefits (Vegas anyone?), but I can't. Oh yippie skippie! I get to drive thirty miles to work where I sit in a little fluorescent lighted cubicle and talk to people on the phone for eight hours. Joy of Joys! I get a thirty minute lunch, but if go over by thirty seconds I get a "severe talking to". Yay! I get yelled at for fifteen minutes by a guy who is pissed off because I cannot personally find his luggage for him, in Los Angeles. Hot Dog! Ah yes... four years of college, for what? I should have picked a more practical major than anthropology, like education or accounting or philosophy.
Here's the last few little reasons why my life sucks some serious ass right now:
a)somebody stole my favorite jeans, the replacement car radio that my cousin had given me, and my new pack of gum out of my car one night last week. Gum for Pete's sake!!
b)I caught pink eye from my sister. Nothing makes you feel more attractive than boogery, puffy red eyes.
c)I thought that I had made some serious headway getting my credit card paid off, but it turned out that there were $500 in pending charges from three months ago that finally showed up on my last statement. Somebody up there likes me!
d) I've fallen, and I can't get up....
Well, that ends my sublist of why I hate my life right now, but never fear, the Tantalizing Tidbits continue...
T.T. #4: There have been a few topics lately that I have wanted to write about, but they are a little too personal and emotional for the blog. Not to say that I don't have a sophisticated audience that can handle grown up topics dealing with complex emotions, but I just don't wanna be bustin' out all my shit, yo!, for anyone and everyone to read. Plus, nobody really wants to read all about my sappy emotions and crazy girl fears and doubts. It all would have been a little too "Dear Diary" for even me to stomach.
T.T. #5: The free time I have to sit down and write an amusing blog post has been greatly reduced due to the fact that I have been inundated with bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, engagement parties, and other things of that sort, that I find no time to write a blog post. Or if I did sit down and attempt to write something it would probably just be a lot of nonsensical ramblings about babies and china patterns, and bitching about how I wish I could bite the face off the next person who sidles up to me at one of these events and says, "So, when are you next; you're not getting any younger you know", in a smarmy singsong voice full of malice.
T.T. #6: As much as some people (such as the a-holes describes in T.T. #5) like to think that I have forgotten, I am extremely aware of that fact that yes, I am getting older. I am going to be 23 years old in less than three weeks, but I am dreading it. I think it is mainly because I am crazy and have had all of these preconceived notions about what my life would be like when I am 23. I have always felt like 23 was kind of a deadline age where I should have a plan for what I want to do with my life, live on my own, and possibly have a special someone. Unless the next three weeks prove to be completely life changing, I will accomplished exactly NONE of these things, and be right where I was when I turned 22. Although, when I turned 22 I was technically living on my own in Bloomington, I thought that I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and I did have all my amazing friends in the same town as me, so actually I was better off then than I am now. Sorry, this is getting really mopey, where's Morrissey when you need him? Oh well, I need to just accept my aging with grace and dignity and focus on the positives in my life... yeah, positives...hmmmm,
I'll have to think on that and then use it in my next post so that this sappy, depressing, never-ending post shall not be repeated. You want to know whats really sad? I have to whisper, come closer, whoa! not that close! okay, here goes... It actually took me an entire week to complete this post! Crazy huh? It says June 2, but really I finished it tonight, on good old June 9th. B.P.A. , its a sad disease.
Well,if you actually made it all the way through this post, I offer you my thanks and apologies. Cheers!
If You're a Glutton For Punishment, You Won't Want to Miss The Next Gut-Wrenching Episode:
"It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To" or "The Days of Whine and Roses"
It's been a long, long... long time... I have missed you.
Questionatory Thinkamabobber--> Why in the heck has it taken me so long to write a new post, OH! and what the hell am I ever going to do with my life... of course that's assuming that I will someday actually have a life. Well, here goes nothin!! Brace yourselves, its the list to end all lists!!! well, at least until my next blog entry...
Why I have taken forever to write a blog post and other stuff about my life as of late:
Tantalizing Tidbit #1: Well, this really isn't very "tantalizing" so to speak, but I figured I'd start out with the most boring of my list entries. One of the reasons I have not updated my blog in eons is that our computer decided to become schitzophrenic for about two weeks. Now granted, that only accounts for two weeks of my month and a half long hiatus from the blog,but it at least provides somewhat of an excuse and it did also provide me with hours of enjoyment listening to my dad cuss at the computer and be at the mercy of some tech support guy from HP for hours on end. Hmmm... You say it sounds like there's an axe to grind there... that I probably shouldn't chuckle every time I hear "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M CLICKING, IT JUST SAYS SYSTEM ERROR, DAMN IT!"... that just possibly there's tensions mounting between a certain overbearing, controlling, nosy, unsympathetic father and his daughter...?! Maybe.
T.T. #2 : Now that that bit of insanity is out of the way, let me delve deeper into the real reason why I haven't been able to squeeze a drop of creativity out of myself for a month. One of the biggest reasons why I haven't been able to write is that I have been suffering from a debilitating case of Blog Performance Anxiety. Otherwise know as B.P.A., it can be triggered by multiple factors, including the intimidating awesomeness of other peoples blogs, the lack of anything even remotely amusing occurring in one's life, and the fear that the audience will not think the material is interesting, become agitated, and hunt me down with torches and pitchforks shouting "Burn the monster, find her, she is so lame!!". There are medications that can treat B.P.A., but since they all cause itching, dry mouth, fatigue, anal leakage, dyslexia, projectile vomiting, and sexual side effects, I figured I was better off trying to heal on my own. Hopefully, my writing today means that I am on the road to recovery.
T.T.#3: I've also had a bit of difficulty writing because I have been in such a huge funk lately that my cloud of negative energy could probably be seen from space. I think I'll have to break this Tidbit down a little in order to make it more readable; call it a list within a list... oooo yeah, I think I like that. Here goes, the list I have been dreading, its been a leading cause of my B.P.A. and other mental disorders lately... its.... the "What the hell is wrong with me list" (or sublist if you will):
(A @;( My car has been trying to make me lose my mind, and this is more than the just regular anxiety about the noisy fan and the tortoise like speed of my car, this is the kind of stuff that makes you want to start screaming and never, ever stop. Let me just give a short summary of the insanity. One blissful evening as I was innocently driving home from work, everything in my car suddenly started to flicker poltergeist style after which my radio cut out, and an annoying dinging sound started(you know the noise your car makes when you leave you keys in the ignition, that annoying ding ding ding ding...aaaaahhhh) and would not stop.
This little electrical storm caused my dome light, power windows, and power locks to also go belly up. $100 later I had the electrical short traced to my power antenna and everything was "fixed". All seemed well for a while and then one day my radio died again and my dome light only worked when I would open the back doors, not the front doors. I decided I could live without a radio, or a dome light for a while, and so I put off going back to get it fixed. Soon though odd things started happening again. My windows stared to only work when I had my car in a certain gear, and not the same one everytime, sometimes I can roll them down in reverse, sometimes I have to be in park, and sometimes I have to turn my car off and start it again to get the windows to roll down at all, heheheahahahaha..... My car has also been revving itself a lot while I'm sitting in park, which also leads me to believe my car contains the angry spirit of someone I wronged in a past life.
Well it turned out that it was actually my radio that was causing all the hubbub and that it was completely shorted out, making it beyond fixable. The greasemonkey couldn't find anything wrong with my power windows or my dome light though, interesting. I must be hallucinating or something I guess. But anyway, the silence on the 40 minute drive to work was beginning to make me batty so I commandeered a small transistor radio that belongs to my dad. Unfortunately, trying to drive and listen to music on a transistor radio is about the most absurd thing one can ever attempt. If you can actually manage to find a station that comes in at all, you will make yourself half insane trying to keep it from fading out, as every time you pass a semi-truck, telephone pole, overpass, stoplight, or kid with braces, the station turns to static. The other day I was absolutely overjoyed when I got the Nelly/Kelly Rowland song to come in for more than two minutes. Sob... sob...sob...sniffle...
My driver's side window has now also decided to only go down about an inch and a half before it runs into something inside of my door that makes a horrible crunching noise and causes the speaker bulge out. I don't know what kind of a calamity went on inside my door in the thirty minutes between the time I put up my window and then went to put it down again, just lucky I guess.
Now, none of these problems make it so that I can't drive my car, but I think that my car is going to keep self destructing in a manner that will eventually lead me to be driving a vehicle with four wheels, two pedals, a steering wheel, maybe a seat and windshield if I'm lucky, but not much else.
(B 8`( Enough about my car already! On to bigger and more bad mood inducing things. The whine fest continues... I've been going through a very severe case of the "I miss yous". I have been depressed lately because I have all these great people in my life but I can never see any of them due to either distance (my car is NOT fun on a road trip) or my sucky work schedule. It's really quite pathetic. Its bad enough that my car prevents me from going to see my friends in b-town, but my work schedule also prevents me from hanging out with my friends and family in Indy. Its hard missing people, especially if you are insane like me and you are convinced that everyone you know is having a great time without you and will eventually have no memory of you whatsoever. Carrie? Carrie who?
(C ;0 I still hate my job with a passion but I cannot quit. Back in March I wanted to quit in April. In April I said I was only going to say until May. In May I decided that I am just going to have to suck it up and stay until I really can find a better job, if one actually does exist(highly doubtful). I should just be happy that I have a job with insurance and travel benefits (Vegas anyone?), but I can't. Oh yippie skippie! I get to drive thirty miles to work where I sit in a little fluorescent lighted cubicle and talk to people on the phone for eight hours. Joy of Joys! I get a thirty minute lunch, but if go over by thirty seconds I get a "severe talking to". Yay! I get yelled at for fifteen minutes by a guy who is pissed off because I cannot personally find his luggage for him, in Los Angeles. Hot Dog! Ah yes... four years of college, for what? I should have picked a more practical major than anthropology, like education or accounting or philosophy.
Here's the last few little reasons why my life sucks some serious ass right now:
a)somebody stole my favorite jeans, the replacement car radio that my cousin had given me, and my new pack of gum out of my car one night last week. Gum for Pete's sake!!
b)I caught pink eye from my sister. Nothing makes you feel more attractive than boogery, puffy red eyes.
c)I thought that I had made some serious headway getting my credit card paid off, but it turned out that there were $500 in pending charges from three months ago that finally showed up on my last statement. Somebody up there likes me!
d) I've fallen, and I can't get up....
Well, that ends my sublist of why I hate my life right now, but never fear, the Tantalizing Tidbits continue...
T.T. #4: There have been a few topics lately that I have wanted to write about, but they are a little too personal and emotional for the blog. Not to say that I don't have a sophisticated audience that can handle grown up topics dealing with complex emotions, but I just don't wanna be bustin' out all my shit, yo!, for anyone and everyone to read. Plus, nobody really wants to read all about my sappy emotions and crazy girl fears and doubts. It all would have been a little too "Dear Diary" for even me to stomach.
T.T. #5: The free time I have to sit down and write an amusing blog post has been greatly reduced due to the fact that I have been inundated with bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, engagement parties, and other things of that sort, that I find no time to write a blog post. Or if I did sit down and attempt to write something it would probably just be a lot of nonsensical ramblings about babies and china patterns, and bitching about how I wish I could bite the face off the next person who sidles up to me at one of these events and says, "So, when are you next; you're not getting any younger you know", in a smarmy singsong voice full of malice.
T.T. #6: As much as some people (such as the a-holes describes in T.T. #5) like to think that I have forgotten, I am extremely aware of that fact that yes, I am getting older. I am going to be 23 years old in less than three weeks, but I am dreading it. I think it is mainly because I am crazy and have had all of these preconceived notions about what my life would be like when I am 23. I have always felt like 23 was kind of a deadline age where I should have a plan for what I want to do with my life, live on my own, and possibly have a special someone. Unless the next three weeks prove to be completely life changing, I will accomplished exactly NONE of these things, and be right where I was when I turned 22. Although, when I turned 22 I was technically living on my own in Bloomington, I thought that I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and I did have all my amazing friends in the same town as me, so actually I was better off then than I am now. Sorry, this is getting really mopey, where's Morrissey when you need him? Oh well, I need to just accept my aging with grace and dignity and focus on the positives in my life... yeah, positives...hmmmm,
I'll have to think on that and then use it in my next post so that this sappy, depressing, never-ending post shall not be repeated. You want to know whats really sad? I have to whisper, come closer, whoa! not that close! okay, here goes... It actually took me an entire week to complete this post! Crazy huh? It says June 2, but really I finished it tonight, on good old June 9th. B.P.A. , its a sad disease.
Well,if you actually made it all the way through this post, I offer you my thanks and apologies. Cheers!
If You're a Glutton For Punishment, You Won't Want to Miss The Next Gut-Wrenching Episode:
"It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To" or "The Days of Whine and Roses"
Saturday, April 17
WHEEEEE!! Ow, I bit my tongue!
M edrunk ee!! Yay1!!1
I have yet to write a blog post when I am completely smashed, so okay here goes...
Todays thinkertitious ponderable--> When i am drunk, do I act like a different person? HMMMM... I like capital letters today, but I still don;t like capital punishment, but I DIGRESS, today this is really all about how I am when I am either drunk or otherwise "messed uP". Let us look at some past examples:
Drunk Drama #1: I should not EVER get drunk on cheap red wine, as it causes trailer trash-like behavior that I am quite ashamed of. FOR example when I was a sophomore in college I drank a large quantity of the cheapest red wine in existence (it was $$6.99 for a gallon of this "vintage Chianti"). I t was a vet fun night until we got into that wine, which not only caused all hell to break loose, but also resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life (2 and a half days, my god!) I concluded the evening by kicking my ex-boyfriend in the mouth and my best friend ended up making out with one of our friends on the sun porch. The next day we discovered a huge wine stain and a bunch of crushed pretzels on the sun porch, and received a rather unpleasant phone call from his girlfriend. Those were the days.
D.D. #h: When I am drub=nk I have a tendency to sing and dance as if i actually had said talents, hence the crazy night at the Free Spirit when i danced with a crazy cracked out woman who told me the meaning of life, and the instances at Bears in which I sang songs that I really shouldn't have sung. But we all do that from time to time.
D.D. @6^: Awwwww peaches! There's gold in them thar hills! I knows it! Oh yeah, New years eve, that was a cool night. Iwas originally supposed to meet my boyfriend at the time at a bar in broad ripple but I ended up going to Michaels party because my "boyfriend" decided to go do something else. I had a fabulous time at the party, bravo Michael, bravo..., and I got riproaringly drunk and made out wit a certain someone in my aunt's bedroom. Now, that all turned out well and good, but I certainly felt like a disrespectful sonoffabitch the next day, I mean what the hell...
DD35f(: I'm wasted and the shift key doesn't want to work. Damn... double damn. When I am drunk I have a lot more "girly" tendencies such as being dramatic about other female friends problems, getting my feelings hurt when my fella doesn't want to snuggle, and being all around too damned sensitive. But what can I say, its that extra x chromosome, it doesn't mix well with alcohol.
Well, hell. I don't know what started this blog, I was just online seeing if was approved for a car loan, but i guess it was about time I updated anyway. Anyhow, I think that I need to go to bed, getting drunk with my parents friends takes it out f me.,..0ops I forgot one more
D.D #4: When I am partying with my parents friend's I have a tendency to get really bombed, Michael... you know what i'm talkin bout.. two words moo tai. I think this is because they get some kind of sick enjoyment from watching me do shots of weird alcohols form around the world because they can't do them anymore. Needless to say, I don't like to disappoint my fans. Well my little cowpokes, this varmit has gotta hit the hay... but seriously this was fun, Its a damned goo =d thing blogger has spell check or this really would be incoherent. OOHHH!!! AN D PS. This weather is freaking awesome!! AND my birthday is only two months away. Yeeehaa!! see ya later alligators,
Love Drunksee Mcgee
Stay tuned for scenes from our next pants -peeingly exciting episode:
"Alcoholism- A Disease... or a Sport" or "The Good, The Bad, and The Slutty"
M edrunk ee!! Yay1!!1
I have yet to write a blog post when I am completely smashed, so okay here goes...
Todays thinkertitious ponderable--> When i am drunk, do I act like a different person? HMMMM... I like capital letters today, but I still don;t like capital punishment, but I DIGRESS, today this is really all about how I am when I am either drunk or otherwise "messed uP". Let us look at some past examples:
Drunk Drama #1: I should not EVER get drunk on cheap red wine, as it causes trailer trash-like behavior that I am quite ashamed of. FOR example when I was a sophomore in college I drank a large quantity of the cheapest red wine in existence (it was $$6.99 for a gallon of this "vintage Chianti"). I t was a vet fun night until we got into that wine, which not only caused all hell to break loose, but also resulted in the most debilitating hangover of my life (2 and a half days, my god!) I concluded the evening by kicking my ex-boyfriend in the mouth and my best friend ended up making out with one of our friends on the sun porch. The next day we discovered a huge wine stain and a bunch of crushed pretzels on the sun porch, and received a rather unpleasant phone call from his girlfriend. Those were the days.
D.D. #h: When I am drub=nk I have a tendency to sing and dance as if i actually had said talents, hence the crazy night at the Free Spirit when i danced with a crazy cracked out woman who told me the meaning of life, and the instances at Bears in which I sang songs that I really shouldn't have sung. But we all do that from time to time.
D.D. @6^: Awwwww peaches! There's gold in them thar hills! I knows it! Oh yeah, New years eve, that was a cool night. Iwas originally supposed to meet my boyfriend at the time at a bar in broad ripple but I ended up going to Michaels party because my "boyfriend" decided to go do something else. I had a fabulous time at the party, bravo Michael, bravo..., and I got riproaringly drunk and made out wit a certain someone in my aunt's bedroom. Now, that all turned out well and good, but I certainly felt like a disrespectful sonoffabitch the next day, I mean what the hell...
DD35f(: I'm wasted and the shift key doesn't want to work. Damn... double damn. When I am drunk I have a lot more "girly" tendencies such as being dramatic about other female friends problems, getting my feelings hurt when my fella doesn't want to snuggle, and being all around too damned sensitive. But what can I say, its that extra x chromosome, it doesn't mix well with alcohol.
Well, hell. I don't know what started this blog, I was just online seeing if was approved for a car loan, but i guess it was about time I updated anyway. Anyhow, I think that I need to go to bed, getting drunk with my parents friends takes it out f me.,..0ops I forgot one more
D.D #4: When I am partying with my parents friend's I have a tendency to get really bombed, Michael... you know what i'm talkin bout.. two words moo tai. I think this is because they get some kind of sick enjoyment from watching me do shots of weird alcohols form around the world because they can't do them anymore. Needless to say, I don't like to disappoint my fans. Well my little cowpokes, this varmit has gotta hit the hay... but seriously this was fun, Its a damned goo =d thing blogger has spell check or this really would be incoherent. OOHHH!!! AN D PS. This weather is freaking awesome!! AND my birthday is only two months away. Yeeehaa!! see ya later alligators,
Love Drunksee Mcgee
Stay tuned for scenes from our next pants -peeingly exciting episode:
"Alcoholism- A Disease... or a Sport" or "The Good, The Bad, and The Slutty"
Sunday, April 4
Wow, I don't know how I feel about that. I do date someone who lives at the Jewish Academic Center though. Coincidence... I think not.
Wednesday, March 24
"Ow, my face is on fire!"
Who are you and what have you done with my self? I need some answers. There have been some interesting goings on in the life of one Caroline Davis lately and it has me wondering if I am just being dramatic or if things really have gone bizzaro! My immediate impulse is to begin a list... but wait! I think that this post heralds something different, something... new. I shall make a pie chart, NO! a flow chart, yes... and it will be the greatest flow chart THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN!!! MWAAHAHAHAH!! AAHAHA..HA haha...ha. Whoa, that was weak. Maybe a flow chart isn't the best idea, I think I'll just stick with the list, it really has worked well for me in the past... good old list.
Exhibit A:90% of the people I know who were always single, well pretty much single if you don't count the um, "friendships" (wink wink nudge nudge) that many of them engaged in, are now in deep committed relationships. Looking back, just a little over a year ago, NONE of my girlfriends had a serious boyfriend. Now I can only think of two who aren't currently attached. I don't know what this really has to do with anything in particular, but it does strike me as odd that everyone seems to be finding somebody. Maybe its just another clue that yes, I am getting old.
Exhibit B: Last weekend my sister and I had the opportunity to be models. If that isn't a sign that the end times are coming, I don't know what is. Granted, it was just for one day, for a hair show, and we didn't get paid... but I still felt extremely weird doing all that glamorous* model stuff.
*By "glamorous" I actually mean "shitty" seeing as how being a model just means that you have to wear tons of make up, wear a tacky costume, get your hair dyed a freakish color (see next exhibit), and spend hours sitting around starving in a cold room with other models(who are used to starving) while you wait to go on stage.
Exhibit C: For my modeling debut in the aforementioned hair show, the flaming diva of a hairdresser, excuse me, Hair Colour Design Expert , decided that he was going to transform me into a redhead with some brown low-lights. I was excited to try something new, but I was still a bit scared to let go of my blonde locks. I should have been fucking terrified. The end result was a hair color that made me look as though I was the ill-fated love child of Ronald McDonald and Elvira. My hair was flaming red with blackish brown streaks. I will admit that my first impression was that I liked it, but I soon became less thrilled when the reality of the hair set in. I just don't know if I'm cut out to be a hip, edgy redhead. I feel as though I need to join a Goth rock group or get some facial piercings in order to pull off this hair color. So far people's reactions to my hair have been very positive (with the exception of my father who let out a terrified shriek, not unlike that of Homer Simpson, when he first saw my hair) and that has really helped me not want to burst into tears as much when I see myself in the mirror.
Exhibit D: An intangible, unexplainable, unidentifiable feeling that my life has changed in some way that makes me feel... odd. Ever since I got back from Mexico I feel like something is different, as if while I was gone the planets shifted ever so slightly; just enough to cause the area around Indianapolis, IN to feel really... wacky. Maybe it is because of Exhibits A through C, but I really think something else is going on that I just can't put my finger on. Hmmm.... another blog post with a long list of boring things about my life with no real conclusion or coherency whatsoever... at least some things never change.
Kick your own ass if you miss the next intriguing episode:
"Ch-Ch-Changes" or "Girl Gone Wild?"
Who are you and what have you done with my self? I need some answers. There have been some interesting goings on in the life of one Caroline Davis lately and it has me wondering if I am just being dramatic or if things really have gone bizzaro! My immediate impulse is to begin a list... but wait! I think that this post heralds something different, something... new. I shall make a pie chart, NO! a flow chart, yes... and it will be the greatest flow chart THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN!!! MWAAHAHAHAH!! AAHAHA..HA haha...ha. Whoa, that was weak. Maybe a flow chart isn't the best idea, I think I'll just stick with the list, it really has worked well for me in the past... good old list.
Exhibit A:90% of the people I know who were always single, well pretty much single if you don't count the um, "friendships" (wink wink nudge nudge) that many of them engaged in, are now in deep committed relationships. Looking back, just a little over a year ago, NONE of my girlfriends had a serious boyfriend. Now I can only think of two who aren't currently attached. I don't know what this really has to do with anything in particular, but it does strike me as odd that everyone seems to be finding somebody. Maybe its just another clue that yes, I am getting old.
Exhibit B: Last weekend my sister and I had the opportunity to be models. If that isn't a sign that the end times are coming, I don't know what is. Granted, it was just for one day, for a hair show, and we didn't get paid... but I still felt extremely weird doing all that glamorous* model stuff.
*By "glamorous" I actually mean "shitty" seeing as how being a model just means that you have to wear tons of make up, wear a tacky costume, get your hair dyed a freakish color (see next exhibit), and spend hours sitting around starving in a cold room with other models(who are used to starving) while you wait to go on stage.
Exhibit C: For my modeling debut in the aforementioned hair show, the flaming diva of a hairdresser, excuse me, Hair Colour Design Expert , decided that he was going to transform me into a redhead with some brown low-lights. I was excited to try something new, but I was still a bit scared to let go of my blonde locks. I should have been fucking terrified. The end result was a hair color that made me look as though I was the ill-fated love child of Ronald McDonald and Elvira. My hair was flaming red with blackish brown streaks. I will admit that my first impression was that I liked it, but I soon became less thrilled when the reality of the hair set in. I just don't know if I'm cut out to be a hip, edgy redhead. I feel as though I need to join a Goth rock group or get some facial piercings in order to pull off this hair color. So far people's reactions to my hair have been very positive (with the exception of my father who let out a terrified shriek, not unlike that of Homer Simpson, when he first saw my hair) and that has really helped me not want to burst into tears as much when I see myself in the mirror.
Exhibit D: An intangible, unexplainable, unidentifiable feeling that my life has changed in some way that makes me feel... odd. Ever since I got back from Mexico I feel like something is different, as if while I was gone the planets shifted ever so slightly; just enough to cause the area around Indianapolis, IN to feel really... wacky. Maybe it is because of Exhibits A through C, but I really think something else is going on that I just can't put my finger on. Hmmm.... another blog post with a long list of boring things about my life with no real conclusion or coherency whatsoever... at least some things never change.
Kick your own ass if you miss the next intriguing episode:
"Ch-Ch-Changes" or "Girl Gone Wild?"
