This Ramen isn't Hitting the Spot

I am pretty lame at posting in my blog I have here, not to mention I have not necessarily been in a writing mood as of late. Typically I feel like like if I can't write anything wonderfully, I'd rather be that lazy person and just avoid the work.
This week my husband is out of town working, and I am in the routine of shower, work, sleep, when he is gone. I understand a healthy relationship requires some personal space every once in awhile, but a whole week of "space" far exceeds said recommended amount. I will be one of those pining women if I please and openly admit that I miss my husband constantly when he is away. I miss him talking in his sleep to me, (Having whole conversations about the need to purchase insurance for our cat) not to mention he is a great space heater in drafty rooms. I miss coming home to him after work and doing mundane things like watching re-runs of House and The Colbert Report on www.hulu.com. (Though I can not seem to force him to watch re-runs of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with me.) I miss him cracking jokes about the most random of subjects and the quick come-backs. It's also his birthday this week, (March 3rd) and I will not get to be there with him in Panama City and bake him a cake or give him his present or anything.. which makes both of us sad.
I thought about sending flowers, or a super-lame singing telegram, but I figured he would probably be less annoyed with not having a present on his exact birthdate, as opposed to me spending nearly forty bucks on something that is going to wither in a week, or show up singing at his doorstep wearing a fruit basket on their head. ...I'll just wait for the weekend.

On another note, I am working at a place called MatchMaker International. No, it is not an escort service. Yes, it is a match making company, and I don't mean the things you light a fire with. My title within the company is that of "Telephone Counselor" which is actually not much more than a receptionist who goes a little bit above the call of duty. What happens is that people submit their dating profiles to us directly via internet at www.gulfcoastsingles.net, or call us from signs we have put out, or just from flipping throught the Yellow Pages. I receive and make calls, establish contact with the individual, relay the details of our introductory service (Confidential, memebership program, criminal background check, making sure everyone is financially stable, etc.) and I take a loose history of their dating life, past, and current desires. Upon doing so I set up an appointment time, in which they will hopefully show up to and purchase one of the packages we offer. I receive commission based on the sale etc. Currently I am not the crappiest employee, I am actually ranked in the No.1 spot amongst other associated who perform my same job description.
It's a pretty fun job, not to pyschotic and I am not miserable to have to go to work everyday, but of course it is not fulfilling to my ambition or future educational desires. It works for now, and hopefully will work right toward that education I look forward to, amongst other things.

Lance and I also have a house! Unfortunately, it will be a while before we are able to completely move into it. It is located in Coden, alabama. (Coden is beyond bayou la batre) It is not our "dream home" but it is a home and we are attatched to the wrecked, little thing. Working on it has been like completly rebuilding a new home, which in the end is not too bad... We will definitely get more than what we paid for it when we choose to sell one day.. It's just going to be nice to have someplace to call OUR home. We have my mother's house which feels like my home, and his mother's which has been his home for a long time too... But we've not really had a place to call our own.. and It's going to be so nice to have that. It's out in the boonies a little bit, but I don't care! With some TLC, it's going to be wonderful. Maybe I will try to get some pictures up here of our gradual progress.

This blog is boring, I know.. Maybe I will try to get something a little less junky up here this week. I am sleepy now, and I am not quite looking forward to snuggling a pile of unfolded clothes, when my cuddle partner is a state away. I need to get up in the morning and work on my house, tear down some more walls and whatever else I am capable of doing without breaking it.

Debbie Downer

It's been over a year since i have taken time out to write in this little blog. I am still reluctant to put it all back out there, but I think it's time i take on a positive form of communication that I feel at ease with, and writing my thoughts out has always been my ideal form of expression. So here I am again, plucking away at a keyboard and trying to bring out all the "tangible" in head that always seems to have thoughts strewn in every direction. I always imagined that the artistic portrait of my mind would look alot like my room, disorganized with random crap stuffed into whatever corner or cubby that would keep it somewhat concealed. I don't really have a method to my madness, it's just your run of the mill chaos that you promise to clean up, but never get around to doing it. That's right folks, I'm the panty drawer that you lost your keys in. Or is that the refridgerator? Whatever the cliche is, I buy into it like it's Wal-Mart stock.

I feel as if something needs to be said in regard to my last entry I had made, about my baby Zoe. October 27th was her 3rd birthday, and I really had not realized until then how deeply rooted grief is, and how long it stays with you. I had never intended to push the process of grieving to the side, but I believe it is most human's nature to try and put it off as long as possible.. but now it taken double the time for the heartbreak to even ebb away. This October 27th was a complete breakdown of my defenses against going through this process, never have I so acutely felt the realization of what my life is like without her physically here with me. And someone who has never experienced the realoty of losing a child, can not fully understand the depth of what i am trying to write.
Everyday I feel like i am clawing myself out of a pit and trying to go completely insane. My world often feels surreal to the point that it's as if I am watching myself from a bird's eye, and this unrecognizable person is performing routines and going through the motions of life. I will be at work, and suddenly I am nearly toppled by this desire cry and scream and punch holes in wall. Otherwise, My mind is so far away from tasks that days begin to blend seamlessly together, and the biggest and smallest thoughts are shadowed by my memories and the grief that follows soon thereafter. I often wonder how will I ever be able to get anywhere close to getting past not having been able to finish raising her, and watching her grow.. her life would never have been anything similar to a normal child but way of her hydranencephaly.. but if anything, it makes it that much harder.
Every holiday and event is peaked with this overwhelming knowledge that I will be unable to do these wonderful things I loved doing when i was growing up, and still enjoy into adulthood. Carving a pumpkin, cooking thanksgiving dinner, decorating a christmas tree... These events are monumental attestations of something I will never have. I see other parents partaking in these tasks with their children, and all I can feel is the sting of loss, forcing myself to accept this over and over again. I don't think many people truly understand how it feels, and the extent of which the loss of a child affects a parent.
And I feel so guilty for admitting this, but I have let this grief transfer onto the people I love, and damage my relationships. I have become so untouchable at times, that I can't even believe the way I act and react. It's so alien to me, but it's like a train I can't stop. I know, for a fact, that Zoe would not have me feel so torn and detached from everyone I love, and maybe it's of my own guilt and selfishness that I continue to feel this way. But one day i began to forget the exact way she smiled and I felt devastated, as if I were forgetting her.. The human mind can be such a stupid thing, time making us gradually forget all the things we hold so close to our hearts. A couple days later i had a dream about with her in it, nothing long or drawn out, but it was wonderful, and heartbreaking at the same time. I dreamt that my mother and I were standing outside of some insignificant store, and I had zoe in her stroller. I looked at her and stroked her cheek, and she smiled at me. That was the end of the dream, and I recall it everyday when i feel like i am losing bits and pieces of my memories.
I know to honor her, I need to keep moving on with this process of grief. She would not have me be broken all the time, but I miss her so damned much that there are days that I just can't stop it from running me over like a semi-truck. I expected to have bad days and good days, and hours and minutes in between of happiness and complete, uncontrollable sorrow.. But not even the best words can express how exactly I feel, and grieve, nor how difficult it is for those on the outside of my own existence who love and cherish me dearly to have to take a path in this road with me.
But like always, the words I get so tired of hearing, are true.. One day at a time. I hate that stupid, overused, phrase, sounds like a gentler way of "Just get over it." But I really know no other way of living.. Just to live life as it comes with all the crap it brings, and all the greatness it can posses.
I wonder sometimes, as much as I ache to have more children, if i could do it again.. Risk my heart to such uncertainty.. It seems like such a bad idea, having children. But My sister is having a baby soon, and i think it's the most beautiful thing in the world, and I hope one day I will be so lucky again to have another child in my life I can love as much as I love my Zoe. Which if anything, I learned I need to hold close and love my family and friends.. And I have not been doing a good job at that, and i suppose it starts with loving myself again too, which I have not done for a very long time.

I love you baby Zoe, and you are the most perfect thing I ever had enter into my life. And if I can have nothing else in this life to call mine and be proud of it, and if I never do anything beautiful ever again.. I will have had you.

I don't write it the way I want it. But I'll do it anyways.

I have been mulling the contents of this posts over in my mind for the past week and a half, almost. Several times over, I have decided against even writing this due to the fact that grief paralyzes any writing skill I possess. I hate to even risk cheapening the way I feel with some words that spill out of some part of me. There is no objectivity here, there is no sarcastic defense for me to fall back on. But I think it is necessary that I write about this, because I can think of nothing more important. So here I am, trying.

For those who know me, they know that I had a child named Zoe. Although she was the product of something violent and without-consent, she was beautiful and I would have had her no other way. Zoe had a severe birth defect called Hydranencephaly, a defect where one's cerebellum and brain stem were intact, but the cerebrum was missing and in it's place was cerebro-spinal fluid. Upon prenatal diagnosis, my family was informed that this defect was incompatible with life, and she was sure to die before birth.
When she was born, we were told that she would not live past a few days, and did not have the ability to suck a bottle, or even learn at all. But Zoe was always a bit of a stubborn girl and learned how to suck a bottle, and although she was only expected to live a week, she lived nearly a year and five months.
Zoe passed away last tuesday in her grandfather's arms.
And the grief, at times, is overwhelming to the point of surreality.
Since then several friends have asked me how I feel. I have lost my child, sometimes I feel as if I could not be truly happy ever again. I know that this is the dynamics of grief, but that does not make it seem any less honest. I am inconsolable, and I miss her. I miss her crooked smile, playing the hands game with her, watching ER on the couch every morning with her, watching her yawn, seeing her grimace every time I fed her a green colored baby food.. I miss putting on her pajamas, and her powdery smell.
And even though there were times that loving her meant accepting a part of my life that was hurtful and nightmarish, I loved her like any mother would love their baby.
She was the closest thing to perfect I have ever touched, or loved.. and she taught me how to love myself in spite of my guilt and faults.
Zoe taught me that somethings things happen in our lives that are unexpected, and unasked for, but these things shape us in every definable, tangible, and intangible way.

And sometimes I do not even know what I feel. I just feel... Mostly I am just grief-stricken, or angry. Anger is a funny thing when it becomes a result of loss. But we are all wild when we take to another arms.. later realizing we would have it no other way.
I am devastated, and I am furious... but I am thankful. I am thankful she was ours..

The days do not get easier, there are just bad days and good days.. It has not reached a progressive stage yet. Sometimes I come across a sock, or a bonnet, or a little plastic spoon..or even a baby food label, and I weep because sometimes it feels so unfair... And sometimes I miss her so much, I can hardly stand it. I miss her chubby toes, and multiple chins. I miss her crazy red hair (the shark fin) and her pretty blue eyes. My god, she was so pretty.

I just wish this were more coherent.. and explained half of the enormity of what I feel. I am less without her.
i love you more than these stupid words.. I love you more than anything, my littlest girl.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home

I swear to God I just saw Steven Spielberg in a beat up Chevy truck. He stopped right next to me at an intersection on University. It was Stephen, I could tell by the facial hair growth.

'Someone call 9-1-1, this man is unconcious!"

Needless to say, I have been busy with school, etc. and have not been able to write in here very much. An excess of interesting and humorous events have not occurred, so I do not even have all to much to write about. However, I will find something to talk about, as usual..

In regards to The Juggernaut, lately it has been making this "Squeeee!" noise. This noise is not simply restricted to acceleration, or braking; it is a constant,"SQUUEE!!!" and frankly, I would find it mildly embarrassing if I cared anything for this particular automotive. Speaking of all things vehicular, eventually I am going to attempt to learn how to drive a standard so that I may rapidly destroy the transmission of another car. (Actually, I have no idea if shifting and transmissions have a direct correlation. Oh well.)

For the past two weeks I have been battling some sort of disease, I don't know which one. Last week during (geez, these are great shrimp I am eating.. just had to interject that)our mardi gras break I decided to come up with a 101 temperature, and a sore throat. Of course I put off going to the doctor.. um, because I do that. After three days the temperature and the worst part of the sore throat was gone, I thought I has just cheated strep.. or something. More currently, yesterday I woke up with a swollen throat and a high fever. Here I come, shot of penicillin on my right butt-cheek.. Fantastic. What is better about this whole situation, I passed this to my mother, so now I am not alone in my throat-misery. She may now writhe in agony as we both try and swallow macaroni-n-cheese.

Lastly, I am officially Adult/Child/Infant CPR, and first aid certified! Slantz and I woke up at the proverbial "buttcrack" of dawn and drove to the Red Cross center. May I just say that we has one of the best classmated EVER. For the story's sake, I am naming her Latressa. Yes, of course I am being facetious. Latressa was ridiculous. First of all, her hair was reminiscent of a porcupine with gold highlights; these highlights matched her "Ali Babba" type footwear, and very "attractive" gold tooth. She came in late, and then our teacher was talking about the importance of CPR etc. and our classmate's phone rings. Not only does she ignore it for the first few rings, she actually ANSWERS it in the middle of a lecture!
..What?! She does this twice, throughout adult CPR.
Then after this, Slantz and I are sitting at our table watching the CPR video (or something), and I hear something that sounds like a freight train, right next to me. I look over in the direction of the noise, low and behold Latressa has rested her head on her own bosom, and is snoring. Upon performing CPR on her dummy, she falls on top of it.
I love these sort of individuals, they make me realize that I am not always as unintelligent as I may occasionally feel. At least I do not trip, while stationary on my knees delivering CPR to a dying mannequin.

Embrace the truck that you are.

Last week, in my AP I, class... the creepy know it all guy, struck again. I think by just hearing this conversation, my IQ dropped a few points. This is the conversation, and yes, again, in screenwriting style.

CKIAG
Don't humans breathe in carbon
dioxide, and breathe out carbon monxide?

Teacher
..No. Not at all. We breathe in
oxygen and our bodies expel carbon dioxide.

(beat)

In fact, our bodies completely
reject both of these gases..

CKIAG
(haughtily)
Well, I heard some chemical reaction
can take place in the body that
allows for us to do this.

Teacher
(disbelievingly)
No.. this can not biologically occur.

CKIAG
(now angry)
Yes it can!

Teacher
(even more so disbelivingly)
No..

(beat)

No, it can't.

It went on like this for, no joke, about two whole minutes. And yes, for some reason I can not get out of italics.
I do not claim to be any sort of expert on biology, or anatomy, nor physiology.. But honestly, if we happened to respire carbon monoxide, global warming would come as no surprise and every human being on earth should possibly plunge their bodies off a tall building/mountain/bridge. I do no know any case where carbon monoxide did the human body much good.

Of course I am no narcissistic radiologist major, so I could be wrong.

Valentine's Day is coming up. I plan on engorging myself on my mother's candy that she receives from her students, as any self-respecting teachers daughter would do. I am proud to do my part for commercialism.

New on screenwriting:

Last Wednesday we had to deliver our movie pitch to the class. Again my suspicions that only crazed sci-fi freaks, and crazies in general, were reaffirmed as the other nine of my classmates pitched their story.

These are what SENIORS, and GRADUATE STUDENTS came up with.

1) A scientist is on a ski-trip with his brother, and his brother is accidentally killed in the process (I suppose by flying headfirst into a duck.. or mountain goat... depends on what kind of skiing we are doing). A few years later, scientists finds out how to harness the power of a solar flare to go back in time to save his brother, where he finds out his brother was being used a pawn in a terrorist plot.

Wow, solar flares!

2) **this one is animated.. more specifically it is ANIME!** Moses the cat-detective must fight to unite the dog and cat world before the sewer rats come out from the depths to take over! (Comes complete with a sexy lady-cat, who poses a possible romantic relationship)

3) A man is a vigilante pedophile killer, who brutalizes the pedophiles and broadcasts the torture over the internet as a warning to the other pedophiles. This business is going great, until the biggest-baddest-pedophile kidnaps about 5 kids, and is taunting the pedophile killer with this, with similar pirated-internet broadcasts.

..What?

4) A girl must choose between love and money, when her family's flooring business goes under. She may either pick the love of her life, or the guy that can save her family business.

Not only is this unoriginal... it's flooring.

5) A good girl, has had bad luck all of her life. She is currently working at a world commerce bank and just happens to be sitting next to Moira; aka the mother of the three fates. (mmhmm.) Moira fills out a report of this bad luck for the girl, to Karma (yes, karma has been personified). Karma has misfiled something, and now this good girl has been stuck with someone elses bad karma.

Cheesy! But at least no solar flares.

6) The world is a wasteland, and a pregnant woman is captured by a group of rebels, then sold into slavery.. but not before she births a boy. Boy is raised as a rebel in this group, then finds out about his mother. He is now on a quest for revenge, and to save his long lost mother.

One question.. is Kevin Costner or Mel Gibson in this movie?

8) An agoraphobic murder-mystery novelist is forced to go out and solve one of her own mysteries, when a murder seems to be manifested from her very own pages. Really, it is her other twin brothers (they were triplets, her mother liked her the best.. so she gave the last two triplets to some aunt.. ?? wait.. what?) who are enraged with her success and now must kill.

okay. Hey, what happened to the italics?

9) A hitchhiker that kills the people that pick him up, is picked up by a man who kills the hitchikers he picks up. Now they join forces and go on a killing spree.

It had some comic potential until they go on a killing spree, instead of going around trying to kill each other.. ..very King Kong vs. Godzilla, Freddy vs. Jason.. Rosie vs. Trump?

I do not claim to be a great screenwriter of any sort, my pitch was somewhat Royal Tennenbaum'esque'... But I did expect a little more from graduate students.

And after we pitched our stories, we were individually asked to talk about someone else's movie that interested us the most, no one picked mine. I do not take this personally, since I am the "outsider" of the class, seeing as how I came in on the second part of this course, and Lakeman talks to me the most.

The only feedback i received from my classmates was:

*stare*

"That's complex."

Thanks guys.

And above you will see weave we found in a gas station parking lot.

Ich bin die Hammster

I resort to apologies again, because I have been pretty busy with school work. Frankly, I am glad I did not get a job this semester, I do not think I would have been able to find any sort of balance between the two, and have some left for a remaining extra-curricular being. In other words; here I am in my non-being functional in the economy- glory.

Unfortunately, yet again, I do not exactly have the time to write anything that would be entirely of interest. I need to go re-study for an Anatomy and Physiology lab on pH I have this afternoon. I think it would be great if in the middle of said lab, I could call my sister and have someone other than "creepy know-it-all" guy as a lab partner.

I do, however, have time to elaborate on "creepy know-it-all" guy. I will be telling this story in Screenwriting format, in order to get some practice in. To give some background on this peevish character, he is that weird guy we know that shouts out random answers in class, using what he thinks is an extensive medical vocabulary, and acts as if they have all the answers to all the question.. and 99.9% of the time, they are wrong.. and 99.8% of the time, they will protest the professor for rejecting their answer.

INT. ANATOMY PHYSIOLOGY CLASSROOM

DINA walks into room 260, a large auditorium-like room in which an Anatomy and Physiology I class is being held. Class has not started yet, and she files up the center aisle in order to make it to the top, backmost, row where she habitually sits. She passes the row directly below the row she sits on. CREEPY KNOW-IT-ALL GUY (CKIAG) is sitting here, and watches as she sits.

CKIAG
So.. How are you today?

DINA
(politely)
Fine, thank you. Happy it's friday.

CKIAG
Oh yes, at least it is not Monday.

DINA
ha.. Well, you're right. It's not monday.

CKIAG
I'm going to come sit by you. I hope that's okay

By this time CKIAG is already seated in the seat right next to her.

CKIAG (CONT'D)
(dripping with narcissism)
I'm a chemistry wiz. I guess I had to come
and learn the biological aspects of chemisty,
you know.. because I might need to know that,
seeing as how I am a radiology major.

DINA
(feigning interest)
Really, that's nice. I really dislike most
chemistry. Well, at least in highschool I ---

CKIAG
(cutting her off)
Yes, you see; I had brothers who were 15
years older than me. So I began to defend myself, chemically.

(beat)

DINA
..Chemically.

CKIAG
I would put vinegar and baking soda in
my dogs mouth and sic him on my brothers.
It was hilarious, he looked rabid.
Ahahaha! Ahhaa!

(beat)

DINA
Oh. Poor dog, yeah?

CKIAG
Not really, it was hilarious.

(beat)

DINA

Oh. I have a younger brother who--

CKIAG
(cutting her off again)
I know all the cuts of the body. This is the
saggital cut of the body, right here.

At this point CKIAG begins to run his hang along DINA'S shoulder. Dina scoots to the edge of her seat immediately.

DINA
Okay, well, yes.

CKIAG
(again with the narcissism)
I don't think I could ever be a teacher.

DINA
(trying to make it a two sided conversation)
Really? My mother is a teach--

CKIAG
Because for the past four or five years
I have been taking young boys out
into the wilderness, and teaching them
how to shoot guns; you know, defend
themselves in the rugged wild.

(Beat)

DINA
Uh. Wow, that's really.. Unique?

CKIAG
I stoppped, I wanted to have some teaching
left in me, for when I have children.

(beat)

DINA
..
......
Yes?

By this time in the conversation, class has started, and momentarily CKIAG is quiet. Unfortunately, all throughout class, he interrupts her notes, in attempts to explain the most mundane of biological anatomy to her. (E.g. The rate of an enzyme reaction.)

END

Anyways.. I am not sure what it is about me that the strange ones like. I did not know I wore my own signs of "weirdness" so blatently.

(Beat) I like cheese?

I apologize, since school has started I have not had much time to myself to sit and write. This will not be long at all either, mostly this is just a note that I have not forgotten about my fun, little blog I have got going on in here.

My schedule, and opinion for this semester is as follows:

Computer Applications - (I hate this online class with passion. I have a feeling my teacher dislikes me as well. We participate in weekly discussion, and it seems that my humorous sarcasm is not understood by all. Honestly though, something needs to be interesting about this class to keep my attention.)

Anatomy and Physiology I - (The first part of a Ant.Phys. sequence I need for Nursing school. I took Ant. Phys. in highschool, and it was once of my favorite classes. I think I am going to start off somewhat ahead. I hope. Unfortunately my teacher is about as dynamic as a shelf.)

Western Civilization II - (The second part of a sequence, I have not done West. Civ. I, so i am going somewhat our of order. I had forgotten how much I love history, and Professor Macaluso makes my tuesdays and thursdays much better with his inability to control his voice inflection.)

English Composition II - (I love composition, so hopefully I will enjoy this class just as much as Comp. I. My teacher is no Lakeman, but I like her. Too bad for me, this class deals mostly with argumentation, something I seem to lack the skill of. I like this class though, my best friend is in it, and I get to edit papers.)

Screenwriting II - (Obviously the second part of a two part course. It is a level 400 class, and I am the only freshman, amongst 8 other grad-students. We have ten people in total, the other student is a senior. I was extremely intimidated, until I realized that the only people getting english majors are Sci-Fi wacks, and Dawson's Creek idolizers. We had to write a reveal scene, that plays to the audience only.. One girl came out with a dog-police department, all the other were either set on a different planet, a spaceship, or the far-off future. Mine just has a couple of guys, on a back porch. Not that Lakeman minded, it seemed mine was less criticized than the golden retriever chief of police.)

Above you will Lazy, she pees on my arm, she meow's all night.

Ell oh Ellz

For an in-class assigment in my English class, we were required to write a free-style poem on something we felt was a societal problem, or something we were simply passionate about. Since I do not have much time at the moment to write a full-out blog composition, I am writing the poem down instead. This is the one my English teacher is trying to submit for publication in The Oracle, a art/shortstory/poetry book South publishes every year. Publication is pretty much strictly available to Senior english majors, so statistically it won't happen, but it was an unwarranted boost of some self-esteem.

Sometimes grown ups forget you're down there
On the floor with the ants and the loose wiring.
It would be wise not to chew either one. He will
wake from his stupor, she will tire of her old Sinatras.
Best to forgive them now, before it gets worse;
That way you will have some forgiveness left for later.
When he remembers he is a parent, you'll have a better
shot at Kix, or popsicles, or his keys if they find you
wearing a funny hat instead of shredding papers
at the mail slots. If they wake
and go straight to the medicine cabinet, or each
other's throats, grab a fuzzy and get scarce. Put your
shrieks and tears into the cheap blue fur.
When his eyes happen to fall on you the moment
they hate themselves the most (you can smell it),

you must play very

but not too

dead.

Try to leave your body in their hands - without it

you can climb the window ledge and look out.

Just don't forget the way back into your bruised

skin, you will need it with you if you find a time

to run, or tell. If all the life is beaten out of you,

red dragonflies with wings half air, half spun gold,

gazillions of them, will rise up and bear you to the

warm basket waiting beside the stove of God. Well.

Whatever death turns out to be,

it will be one good father.

On Cheese and Bowling:

Good early morning, Blogger! I am sitting in a computer chair, eating beef jerkey and drinking Yoohoo. I find this combination to be disgusting, yet satisfying. Chocolate milk(ish) drink, and dehydrated meats do not exactly make for a perfect coupling, but I am willing to look past that for the time being. I really ought to be brushing my teeth, putting on some PJ's and getting into bed. Actually, I will be getting "into" the couch, my bed for the time being. I like it there, Freddie and Penny repell off my butt in order to get onto the uppermost part of the couch. There's nothing like a butt-pounce at 3:30 in the morning.

Tonight I discovered two things. One of those things being that there is such a thing as too much cheese, and the other being that I have come into the realization that I am an extraordinary bowler. Okay, so by "extraordinary" I mean extraordinarily bad. It's definitely not my fault though, I think I am going to blame the superfluous amount of gutter-balls on having to bowl right after Dr. Chris. That's a tough act to follow, man! Do you practice on your technique during office hours? I personally like my way of bowling, so whenever I knock over a pin, the victory is extra sweet because it is a seldom occurrence that any pin falls. Had we been playing soccer, or possibly even dancing to Zydeco, I can guarantee that I would have come at everyone with a flaming vengeance.

Also, it does not help to move your body in the general direction you want your ball to go. I discovered this as well.

I think I regard myself as a boring person outside of my writing. A random thought. Psychologically speaking I think I am so use to writing out everything to get it into order, that I fear not being verbally articulate enough. Either way, I like being personal with people, but of course most people want that type of intimacy. I guess that's why I have gotten so picky with relationships? Being comfortable with someone, and to still have a mutual appreciation for each other is difficult. Or maybe it isn't and I have just been around examples in which comfort turns into not having to try. ..Maybe that's what is referred to as a "rut"?

I'm not so sure what I am rambling about now, honestly. I think because I recognize a habit within myself to condemn myself and my expectations into sorts of desparity. Being human, so many people do this because it's easier. It's easy to live up to the mediocroty of your own expectations; it doesn't get you hurt. Of course you won't be loved either, technically speaking. Happiness can not always be inate, sometimes we must be pro-active I suppose.

I am still rambling, hm. It's late and I think my thought processes are becoming a bit disjointed, unfortunately for this blog I also get very chatty at night. The abstract quality of my thoughts, and said chattiness mix together about as well as Yoohoo and beef jerkey.

Just so we're clear:

I like to shop for clothes at Old Navy now. I like it because it makes me feel skinny, whereas usually I wear a size 6-9 in jeans, at Old Navy I fit into their 4. I like that. Even though, technically it's the same thing. The number makes a difference.

I don't get that.

This is will be short.ish. maybe.

Tomorrow I will be going up to Birmingham with Kaleigh and Bobbert, this excites me. I haven't gotten much time to spend with my sister, and I think I will have her all to myself for most of friday! I like that. I will be staying up there through New Years, and taking a bus home on the second. I am interested in what this ride will be like, I am unnacustomed to public transportation and I hear that the B-ham bus ride to Mobile can get more or less.. sketchy, or the people are sketchy? Something to that effect. I am sure it will be interesting, in a life threatening way of sorts! If anything it gives me time to write? I do not believe I have a portable c.d player, and I KNOW i do not have an ipod. Hopefully something better than Snoop Dog and Friends will be playing.

Yesterday, Kaleigh, Bobbert, my mother, and I went to go see Night at the Museum. Our original intention was to see Happy Feet, but it was sold out. Fortunately for us, Night at the Museum kick the provebial butt, and despite it occasional slapstick comedy, it was better than most of the movies I have seen as of late. (granted there have not been many) I find it annoying that Stranger than Fiction has moved out of theatres without me having ever seen it.

Bobbert has made some coffee and I plan to drink some of it now. I also need to pack up and take a shower, mostly take a shower though. One side of my hair is sticking out horizontally from my head. I like that, but only when trying to scare small children.

(and above you will me doing the bobbert dance.. in his sweater vest and jeans. Yeehaw.)

10,000 points to Christmas!

Merry Christmas fellow Bloggeracians. I hope your holiday, if you chose to celebrate it, went without a hitch, kink, or anything else related. Santa Claus (who looks wildly similar to Mr. Ray) left me a punching bag beneath the tree; Santa thinks I have anger issues. All joking aside, that punching bag kicks butt, I have been asking for one since the dawn of mankind. I have also been asking for tap shoes since I was in first grade, but apparently Santa thinks I am better suited for kickboxing instead of tap dancing. I happen to enjoy making percussion with my feet, I'll go on somehow.

I am also the proud owner of a new digital camera of which I would not mind taking out somewhere and seeing what I can do with that little slice of photographic heaven. Park trip = soon.

My mother tried to make banana pudding for christmas dinner. It was a great try, but unfortunately ended in something that could have passed for banana soup, with vanilla wafer crouton/crackers. We prayed that when refridgerated it would firm up a bit, whatever chemical reaction or whatnot that it would take to do such... did not occur.

My mother's banana pudding was not the only dessert suffering from technical difficulties. I made an apple strussel and when I had put the finishing sliced of butter on top of the dumped cake mix, I realized I had forgotten to mix some water in with the apple filling so as to prevent drying. There was no way I could dump it out to add the water without destroying the cake and butter layer, so I pulled a McGyver. I found an old cajun turkey- injector needle and syringe, filled it up with water, and proceeded to inject the water into the apple layer of the cake.

Of course only select spots got the neccesary water. We can infer from this that my strussel was not as good as it usually is. This too, is a testament to my poor short term memory. I'm going to make a great wife for some lucky male! As long as said male has the capacity to find it endearing when I store an object of some sort in a place where I think I could never forget it being, and then forgetting the supposed unforgettable spot where it is located, and subsequently tearing the house apart on a daily basis to find these items. I'm a catch.

Christmas eve was very fun, my grandmother entertained us with stories of pretending to be a hooker at casinos, and getting away with it. My grandmother is pretty hardcore.

I might go visit my father tomorrow, I have not talked to him in quite a few months. Maybe I can witness my half brother acting as a conduit for satan. That's what the word is.

The Juggernaut has not gotten a gas cap for christmas yet, but that's a good thing. I hope he just sits there in the driveway, in all his decrepit glory. I'm sure if he got a gas cap, the first thing he would do is drive away from a Circle K without it; as is the way. I honestly hate the Juggernaut, when accelerating, the engine roars so loudly that it sounds like I need to shift into another gear. What is this, another ploy to rob me of my dignity? The looks I get when I am driving next to someone as the Juggernaut voices that ungodly noise, sounding like I should be going 60 mph when I am peaking out at 30 mph.. These looks are dripping with vehicular superiority, and disdain as if I am the one who is responsible for these noises.

Thank you Kia, for sucking so badly.

I also played dress up in Bobbert's new sweater vest and jeans. I think I am planning on wearing men's clothes from now on, they were so comfortable. Alright, so I may not have been exactly aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The pants sagged in every spot possible, if I had been wearing boxers I could have easily sported a gangster look. With the sweater vest and pants all rolled into one, I admittedly had a bit of a butch look to me. I'm sure I could find me a great woman at a softball park somewhere.

It's officially 2:09 a.m.. I am not the best of sleepers, but I'm going to give it a try. Micro-fiber couch, here I come baby.

HAPPY KWANZAA(ish)!

Yes. This will not be a long post at all, we are about to head over to Bobbert's momma's house and see what is going down in the house of Naylor. After that we head over to Biloxi to visit these people in this order:

1) Aunt Bobby (her cajun-self makes awesome gumbo.)

2) Grandfather. aka Pa Paw (also a master gumbo makes, despite his origins in West Virginia)

3) Grandmother, aka Ma Maw (another gumbo specialist, amongst other food. I plan on truly devoting myself to weight gain in this establishment.)

Afterward we will come back home. I may possibly join kaleigh and bobbert at 10:00 mass, and I am sure eventually we'll go to sleep, so as to invite Santa down our chimney/window/front door. He won't use the back door because the porch is still suffering from post-Lily poopfests.

I look forward to wathcing the Christmas Story, all twenty-four hours of it, baby! I also am uber-excited to sing christmas songs in the car. I like that. ..except for when the play Nsync christmas, or celine dion christmas, or josh groban christmas. Or Marshmellow World (damn you Mobile Singing Children. Like that song was not bad enough to begin with..)

Last night was spent in redneck paradise! It was hilarious! I went with a friend to a company party in Irvington, I was offered several shots of Patron that I turned down. Not because I am elitist, but because it smelled something like rubbing alcohol. I do not think I have ever heard "Sumbitch", a derivative of "Son of a Bitch" uttered so many times!

I ought to leave now! I hope we all manage to attempt to have a great christmas-eve-day, and rejoice in our families dysfunction!

*above you will see my nuclear-radiation-mutant-two headed- six eyeballed- mouse, and then my Prostitute Bin. (actually made of graham crackers) Notice the burlesque(ish) booby-tassles my artistic genius (cough..) added for a little extra pizazz.*

Der ner ner ner ner... Neo... dernernernernnernernerner.. Sporin.. BLEEDDEEDEE!

The other night I happened upon an awkward situation. I was having dinner with a couple friends and suddenly our server came to our table (we were sitting in the bar area, not because any of us smoke, nor drink, but because another buddy was just a server in that zone) with a drink on his tray. We looked at each other trying to figure out which one of us was dumb enough to try and procure alcohol at an illegal age. The conversation went as follows:

me: Um..

Server: This is yours, ma'am.

(Stunned looks from friends, shot in my direction)

Me: I'm sorry, I uh.. I don't think that's for me.

Server: No, it's definitely yours. (proceeds to put it in front of me.)

me: No, really! I did not order a drink, I can't even legally order one!

server: Oh, my bad! I thought you were 21! Well, that guy over there at the bar ordered it for you.

at this point I look over to the bar to see who said "guy" is. I am immediately apprehensive, I have this way of attracting old hispanic men, or very manly women (which is the most frequent outcome.) I see who he is pointing to, it looks like an regular, normal, guy wearing an OfficeDepot shirt. Of course this makes me even more apprehensive because at a table full of my girlfriends, I assume one of the others would be flirted with first. They are all petite and long-haired, men like that! (I guess. Men also like frito chilli pies, so I am unsure on whether or not that logic is flawed..) Whoever singles out the lanky red head at a table full of petite blondes, must be strange. Aside from that, only moments before, I had danced to Black Betty in the middle of the aisle..

me: What am I supposed to do? You have to tell him something!

server: I'll tell him you're seventeen and illegal!

me: ....uh, sure.

I'm glad we worked that one out. It was a bit of an odd experienced, I am very unnacustomed to the "turning drinks down" ettiquette.

Also, I have this odd feeling of being insulted! Should I take it as a compliment that someone mistook me for being two years older than I really am? I am just going to go for the old self-esteem booster than I act older than my age.

Though I hardly think breaking it down to Black Betty constitutes as an act of maturity. But what else was I supposed to do? The Chosen One danced to it! I should be able to express my taste in movies, artistically.ish.

I think I am going to watch Kung Pow now. Maybe I will save it for later, Mumsy hates that movie with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

"I'm falling,

You're falling,

We're falling!

...WHHAALLEE!!"

Tomorrow night is arts and crafts night, I am very excited. I seem to be at least mildly artistic, but when it comes to crafting together christmas birds, mice, snowmen, and gingerbread(more like graham cracker) houses.. They turn out to look more or less (for lack of a better word) "ganked up". Mice end up looking like two-eyed, mutant-radioactive, creatures, that have crawled up from the depths.

People laugh at me, I like that.

"Come on baby jaguar; you saved the condors!!"

Okay, friends and family, I am tired. I was going to write something that was actually interesting, but then I decided to leave that for tomorrow. (maybe.) However, I really felt like typing up random junk tonight, so here I am!

Before I start, I would just like to state that today I spent three hours with middle school, female, cheerleaders. This is a very interesting breed, if by interesting you mean they are completely bizarre. I also have "Who Let the Dogs Out," replaying in my head, along with some countey song about football. I hate you, Capital One Pre-Game Show. I also recently watched Saw, and Pitch Black. Vin Diesel is gay, I just found this out. I feel happy now that the gay community is going to be associated with such a talented actor. (lies.). Saw was.. special. It was like the special friend that stays and stays, and won't go away. It made my feet hurt.
I still can not recall why I watched either one. Someone should have warned me.

Today whilst on my way to teaching the cheerleaders, I was listening to music and noticed this annoying habit I have of listening to particular songs over and over again. So here we are, this is a list of my top favorite songs, or at least some of the ones I can listen to on repeat and be perfectly okay with it, or even better are the ones that still manage to emote me each time I listen to it.

In no particular order either:

1) 17 Years - Ratatat (I just like to rock out to it.. and dance in the Juggernaut)

2) To Be With You - Sufijan Stevens (Robby showed me some Sufijan, i pretty much liked each song, and decided on this one because it was the first on I thought of..)

3) Summer in the City, On The Radio, Fidelity, A Field Below - Regina Spektor (I am in love with her music. I could not pick just one.)

4) Never Going to Die, Whispers - Hamelin (They're perfect, or close enough for me)

5) Blackbird, Yesterday - The Beatles (self explanatory)

6) CandyCoatedWaterDrops - Plumb (rawr!)

7) Blinded (When I see you) - Third Eye Blind (Because it makes me feel special.)

8) The Sound of Settling, What Sarah Said - Death Cab for Cutie (for completely different reasons. Sound of Settling is not a lyrical masterpiece, but it's catchy as hell. What Sarah Said can almost always reduce me to tears on a emotional day.. I'm such a wimp.)

9) Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet - Relient K (It has a way of justifying paticularly bad moods)

10) This District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Nothing Better - Postal Service (It's like really awesome club music. aka TEMO)

11) Reasons Why - Nickel Creek (woohoo?)

there are in fact, many others. I was not even going through my classic rock songs.. except for The Beatles.. it just snuck in there. I am stopping for now, because the list was about to go on for another ten. I decided to stop for the sake of my eyeballs, they're starting to wander in that special sleepy way.

okay.. so I am really very tired and some TNT original movie is on, it's disturbingly bad. I want to turn it off, as I would a small blender or other kitchen appliance.

And lastly: Some childrenses, or something, vandalized our blinking mini-snowmen. Come one, at least go after the satan tree or something.. or least destroy the larger ice-cube snowman. Stomping a miniature snowman is so not hardcore. I found this choice to be psychologically fascinating.
okay.. so not that interesting.

i lack sense now.

aarrrrugula!

That is IT, I am done with baking! Last night my buddy and I tried to bake a cheesecake, we followed all of the directions perfectly! We baked it for 40 minutes, just like the recipe said to do, and when I got up to have a piece this morning... the inside is not all textured like a cheesecake is supposed to be. It is quite "jigglish", if you know what I mean. It does not even really TASTE that good either.
So I am hanging up the baking mits, and leaving it to the proffessionals, like my mom. Alright, so of course I am going to bake again sometime (probably again tonight), but I just wanted my moment to feel vincdictive toward the lack of good food I have made recently. I really can cook, honestly! My red beans and rice are definitely kickin', and I have been known to make good rainbow chip cupcakes too.
I also make great rice-a-roni, but I guess that does not count. Does it? Hm.

Another exciting thing I have managed to learn how to do is wrap presents. Alright, I have not quite gotten it down to an exact science, and the presents do end up looking a little ganked up... not to mention the absurd amounts of tape. THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT! The point is, however, that I do not sit the present in the middle of some wrapping paper, roll it up, then twist the ends. To give you a better mental image of what this might look like; think of how a peppermint is rolled inside of its plastic.
Yeah, that's what it looks like, probably even less festive.

What do I have planned for today? I plan on learning the rest of that ridiculous cheerleading dance I have to teach my middle school cheerleader childrenses, and that's it. I really am interesting, honestly! None of my pals are as easily entertained as I am though. For example: I felt like going to municipal and feeding the ducks. I find this activity to be quite satisfying, and exciting when it comes to me running across the park from particularly grumpy ducks. I asked my gay man if he wanted to go with me, he declined by saying, "That sounds boring, Dina," and then requested I join him in "clubbing" that night at some club named Atlantis.

Needless to say, I declined in return. Aside from the fact that I am not exactly the "clubbing" type, I am especially not the type who would want to spend her saturday evening surrounded by a bunch of drunken weirdos, being groped at by the drunken weirdos, while the drunken weirdos initiate a bar fight that breaks out right behind me. For some strange reason, I never found this appealing. I'm such a spoil-sport.

I think I am getting to the point where I need to invest in a new cell-phone. If it was linen, it would be ragged.

If you catch my drift.

I think I will leave now.. Agh!

Last night went on fairly uneventful, aside from the most awkward trip to Cracker Barrel ever.

I usually have a load of classes on Thursdays, but my finals were finished on Tuesday so yesterday was spent in wind shorts, a t-shirt, and my mom's bathrobe. The momma has Tuesdays and Thursdays off, and she spent her day in the same capacity (minus her bathrobe), devising finals for her classes. We did not really eat all day, aside from some oatmeal that morning and some moderate snacking. When six o'clock rolled around, we figured it was time to eat so we called in an order to Cracker Barrel. I happen to appreciate their macaroni and cheese.

I had to make a quick run to Winn-Dixie for some diapers, and then I headed toward the Barrel. As soon as I walk in, I hear, "Robertson," over the intercom thingy. I look up to the cash register area, and low and behold, there he is staring back at me just as surprised as I am. This guy happens to be my ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend. Yes, you read it right. Of course as soon as we make eye contact, both of us diverted our attention to other areas. Also, to add another layer of awkward, my ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend's, current boyfriend was working the cash register too.

So as nonchalantly as possible, I walk up to the counter to pay for my food. The ex-boyfriend looked at me disdainfully and handed his boyfriend my check and food and said, "Here, you take care of her." His tone was not exactly friendly. We have never been introduced to each other, and I was unsure as to whether or not he even knew who I was.

Just an observation: I do not recall at what point my "dating" life took on such gay undertones. I like it that I have this affect on men and their romantic gender affiliations. I am not sure whether I should take it as a compliment or as a roundabout insult that a gay man was interested in me enough to date me. Either my personality must be super neat, or I reminded him of a man..

anyways.

I think he knows who I am, something about the tone, and the way he stood over in the corner throwing annoyed looks in my direction, kind of gave it away. It must have been a sketchy break up, I can relate! I am not a big fan of being automatically hated, I really am nice; i swear!

To make things worse, my brain stopped working on a mathematical level when I tried to add the tip to the total. I was only slightly embarrassed.

At least the ex-boyfriend's, ex-boyfriend's, current boyfriend was nice!

Man; good times, great oldies. I sure do get pick out some winners!

Anyways, tonight another attempt at cookie making may occur. I really want some Christmas cookies, damn it.

As bad as those cookies were, their "badness" can not compete with the sugar cookie disaster I am responsible for, nor the cake incident in which I thought I might could substitute Bisquick for baking soda. I do not recall why I thought this ingredient exchange would work in the same capacity.. In my defense, I was a bit deranged due to illness.

The sugar cookies we textured like glass, and if they were able to be bit into, I am almost 100% sure they tasted like glass as well.

This post is not all that interesting, but I am bored and figured I would take a couple minutes of your life away.

All this talk about food, and now I am hungry. Unfortunately we have not grocery shopped in awhile, and my choices are between pop tarts and chicken broth.

I think I am going to go with the pop tarts. Nutritionally, the broth is probably a better choice, but the pop-tarts are probably more substantial.

I really don't feel like shaving my legs today. I shaved them yesterday, but last night I think I had a dream about climbing a mountain of ice (or something to that effect..). I woke up freezing my butt off, and now my legs are prickly, I don't like this.

...I now think I have surpasses the point of too much information. Sorry about that, guys,

"Ya'll, I'm Stupid, Yall!"

The past couple evenings have been interesting. Okay, so maybe the usage of the word interesting is a little more polite that I intended it to be.

Originally, I figured one of the most important things to base a good friendship off of was a mutual concept of respect and trust toward each other. "There is no life without love, there is no love without trust." (Cupid to Psyche). Of course that has a tendency to come across as cheesey as "Roses are red, violets are blue," poems (which I happen to appreciate under some circumstances). Regardless, I do not think many people are going to argue me for the aforementioned point. ..Except for maybe the people who have crossed that line.

Girls are a unique gender. Men are too, undoubtedly, but most of my friends are female. Or gay.. these sometimes can correlate.
Anyways, a rule amongst females who have a strong friendship relationship, (at least in my gang), was to never consider dating your best friends' boyfriend of four years, regardless of the fact that they are now not seeing each other in a romantic capacity. No female likes to be put in that awkward position, and I for one, would not be able to have a romantic relationship with an ex-boyfriend of my best friend. (This wording is getting confusing for me, I think I am being too general.)
But with this situation and having a really great friend of four years, going about dating an ex-long term committed relationship of another four years, gets a bit sketchy.
I am unsure if I would like to discuss the same relationship I had, but transposed to another person. Undoubtedly I am a great source of advice and information on the topic.. And I do not think I am being self-righteouss about the "awkwardnessity."
Girls talk about their relationships. Alot. Too much. So now what is there left to talk about, now that I am being unreasonable and refuse to discuss the inner workings of said relationship?
I am guessing... soccer and college, food, and music? Well, maybe not music, no one listens to my music that I assosciate with on a daily basis. I think I have great taste in music! Why does it have to be my generation that has this ridiculous affinity for really bad country, and rap?
Old school rap, I can listen to this; I find it humurous.
I am off topic now.

I am also tiring quickly of the, "But I can't help the way I feel," defense. I do not accept this as an overly valid excuse. I "help" the way I feel on a daily basis, really! Sometimes I would not mind letting go of my diplomacy and sense of empathy, and maybe saying something that may not exactly be charachteristic of my nature. However, I refrain from doing so; just because you feel an emotion to a high extent, does not give you automatic permission to act on that feeling without regard to the people that it might have some kind of a detimental affect on. (or is is effect.. Linguisticly speaking, sometimes i mix the two up.) It's a bit of an odd feeling; being the second choice. I guess I should be thankful for that reaffirmation of my friendship, or lack thereof.
Maybe if I felt like I was being selfish, or just all around wrong, then maybe I would feel worse. But in this case mostly I just feel just somekind of self-righteouss betrayal. I'm allowed to be right, sometimes.
Maybe it would also be different if I was a crappy friend. I'm a damn good friend though. I'm good at that. I'm good at loyalty.
"I just want you to be happy," is a pretty loaded response.
Sometimes I like feeling taken for granted though; it reminds me that there was something worth taking advantage of to begin with. It's a roundabout way to feel self-worth, but it works.

ON ANOTHER NOTE:

Last night my buddy and I tried making some cookies from this recipe Jana gave us. The recipe called for a package of cream cheese. I figure, "If it has the word cookie and cream cheese in it, how could itpossibly be bad?"
The cookies tasted like tupperware, and when we cut one with an exacto-knife, the interior was like a flakey biscuit.
So bad... They were really bad. We should have just taken Kaleigh's advice, and made the damned sugar cookies.
They did look pretty though. We went to Winn-Dixie to see if they had any chunnakah cookie cutters so our christmas cookies might be politically correct... We found no manora or star of david. Very dissapointing.

Jeebus, those cookies were bad.

Picture details (from bottom up): Picture number eins: Cookie that somehow got baked with an insect wing on it.. we tried to give it to my mom.. she noticed.

Picture number zwei: panoramic o' cookies. YUM, you guys!

Picture number drei: Lance Zirlott enjoying one of the cookies... I just told him to look excited about it, so people wouldn't think we're sorry bakers..

Picture number vier: THUMBS UP TO JESUSMAS COOKIES!!

What? ..You said you didn't like me? Oh, okay.

(YOU CAN'T FOOL US, DONALD!)

IT IS THE EVIL WEEK OF FINALS. Yes, I have two down, two more to go. I kicked off finals season with drama. To my distinct surprise, the exam was difficult due to the weird random facts that have a tendency to go in one ear and out the other.

This morning I enjoyed a Finite Math final, I think I did better on this exam that the drama exam. We have it figured that if I at least make a 60 or so, I can pass the class with an A. No one else may be impressed with this, but shock waves reverberrate throughout my house when I announced this to my mother. I have a mental block against math, and the last time I made an A in a math class was my 8th grade year. I struggled with a couple questions, and I forgot the standard deviation formula.

This is okay, standard deviation can kiss it.

I find it amusing that I can hate certain songs, until I turn the volume up so high the Juggernaut has a little added vibrations... It's the only way I can like these songs.

Every time I drive around blaring 17 years by Ratatat, I feel like such an elitist. It does not have the same effect when the volume is below 22.. In fact when I first listened to it (at a regular decibel) I regretted illegally downloading it.

It is the same with Make.Damn.Sure by Taking Back Sunday.. This song is outrageously bad, until you it have shaking your steering wheel. It is a good song to sit in your car, and stare vindictively out of a window.

Sometimes I ride around singing along with I Touch Myself by The Divynls, but only to be obnoxious.

Today was the first day in a couple months that I have taken my Regina Spektor c.d. out of the player. Okay, so it actually rotated between Regina and whatever christmas music I can find on the radio... but I can only take so much backstreet boys christmas album, especially when they sing "Noel". Wow, something inside of me dies each time I hear it. I also hear way to much Celine Dion Christmas. I do not think it is neccessary to hear her sing O Holy Night, Silent Night, Ave Maria, and Do You Hear What I hear, all in the same hour. I can't take that much Dion. If we could cut that (at least) in half it would be appreciated.

Soon I will be heading to my English final, and after that my Psychology final. I am not too worried about the English Comp., we are writing an in-class essay. The only problem I foresee is a lack of time. I studied extensively for Psychology, but I tend to freeze up on the scan-tron. THEN, upon completing these two I will be meeting some homies and starting a bar fight. Alright, so maybe I am not doing that exactly. There has been a violation in the code of ethics amongst certain individuals, I like that. If by "like" you mean "that annoys me."

Despite the cold, I would really like to eat some ice cream; more specifically I would like some frozen yogurt from TCBY.

I just wanted to make that point.