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Apr. 28th, 2008

(no subject)

oh, fuck, today.

(6:03:53 PM) seblake79: now I kinda wanna be a lesbian AND I want ice cream.
(6:04:06 PM) dbunderscore: welcome to my world.
(6:04:38 PM) seblake79: srsly.

between hotdog buns jokes and butterfingers hilarity, my sides have been aching for HOURS.

Apr. 18th, 2008

(no subject)

it was totally preposterous to imagine it snowing today when it first hit the forecasts, and yet HERE IT IS, SNOWING.

what the shit, canada.

Apr. 16th, 2008

(no subject)

1) oh, brainfailure. so, so bad.

2) drinking! yay!

3) went to driver services. apparently there is a law against air conditioning in such places, and oh, crowded rooms full of cranky people with screaming toddlers are SO MUCH MORE FUN WHEN OVERHEATED.

4) I am marking my calendar for friday being the LAZIEST DAY EVER. seriously. I will sleep till noon. I will not leave my pjs, let alone my house. so, so needed.

Apr. 15th, 2008

(no subject)

1) the world's WORST MIX CD EVER is being played at nauseating volumes upstairs. so far:
- unidentified achy-breaky country music about how HE DUN ME WRONG
- gin blossoms, "till I hear it from you"
- generic cryface lilith fair crap about HE DUN ME WRONG BUT BY THE POWER OF UTERUS I FORGIVE HIM
- I wish I were making this up, but "straight up." paula fucking abdul. I haven't heard that song since I was, like, 9, back when that was the ONLY non-Jets cassette I owned.
- another unidentified country song, this time HE DUN ME WRONG AND I SHALL RETALIATE WITH FANCY NEW BOOBS AND SLEEPING WITH ALL HIS FRIENDS.

Ok, I get it. Someone up there has been cheated on, dumped, or suspects such a thing is imminent. Need related angst be conveyed through bad music? Can i expect a 90210-esque REM fest next week? (Am I the only one who feels a serious need to cry and wear vests every time I hear "losing my religion"? I mean, really.)

2) today, I found a puppy. !!!! a white one, no less, cute and wiggly and unowned and freezing cold and soaking wet and dirty and alone and I - yes, I! - DID. NOT. BRING. IT. HOME. This is a miracle on nigh on fucking EPIC scale, because hi, have you seen my apartment? with the three rescued cats? and the two dogs? and the giant neon sign over the door announcing "SUCKER WITHIN, HAS MUCH FREE KIBBLES"? I did, however, scoop up the little wiggler, stuff it in my sweatshirt to dry it off and warm it up, snorgle it till it stopped shivering, and then took it to my next door neighbours, who also have a sucker sign, but who have so far only been suckered 2 cats and 1 dog deep, and whose 1 dog is substantially more size-approximate to the little wiggler's measurements - not to mention I knew damned well they'd been waiting for the right second dog to come along, so if the puppy DOESN'T wind up being claimed, no one there will mind one smidge.

Still, point being: found a puppy. didn't keep it. this, I think, reflects MONUMENTAL growth on my part. Next step: resisting kittens and cute purses. It could seriously happen.

3) still undecided on my scholastic conundrum this morning, I called my mom for input. I did not even get as far as explaining options A., B. and C. - just said I'd found a hook for the unapproved paper I wanted to write, but only had approval for the paper I didn't want to write - and her dead serious response was "so, you write the boring paper first and fast, and then use the extra time to write the other one, and hand them both in."

Is crazy a nature or a nurture thing? Does it matter, when I am clearly so very, very doubly damned?

On the upside, another facet of the nutso around here is that I highly resent being told I should do things, so having her suggest that it would make PERFECT SENSE for me to follow that option-c-like inclination was pretty much exactly the best way to make sure I no longer want to do anything of the sort.

yeesh.

4) Plans for celebrating the completion of the semester with booze and sloth have been materially damaged by finding out that I have to renew my driver's license before Monday. Celebratory Canadian-DMV-equivalent just doesn't offer the same promise of cathartic joy.

Apr. 14th, 2008

educational crisis

all my test-taking-type exams are done; all I have left to do is write a paper by Wednesday afternoon.

should be so simple, right?

AU CONTRAIRE.

So this is the paper that I wrote the two-option proposal for, and as it happens, the teacher liked the snotty option - provisionally. She worried, and totally rightly, that I'd have a hard time finding a really good hook for the paper, and that without a really good hook, it would be an english paper, not a philosophy paper. We struck a deal: I find a hook, I email her with it, and I have approval; if not, I work with the less-preferred but totally-approved topic.

she was right, I DID have a hard time finding a hook, and being eyeball-deep in first an abnormal psych exam and then a human bio exam, I really wasn't in a position to devote much attention to it. So, I caved, went with the safe topic, and culled a stack of articles and journals in support of it (sidebar, how the FUCK did I write research papers before the internet? I'm fairly sure I only ever went into SFSU's library the one time ever, so I can only conclude that I didn't so much "research" as "make shit up.") and sat down this afternoon to read them.

Read 'em all, found a ton of very dry support for and boring argument against the topic of my very dry and boring fallback topic.

And then. Oh, oh, oh and then.

In the very last article in my stack, I found THE fucking hook for the paper I wanted to write in the first place. It's there, it's glorious, it's NOT an english paper, and it's so, SO much better a concept than my fallback.

Except I didn't get it soon enough to really do the requisite professor-emailing, so technically my topic isn't approved. It's due on Wednesday. I have everything I need to write the other paper quickly and well.

but oh, man, do I ever want to write the other paper.

As I see it, my options are as follows:

a) I write the safe paper. It's my last, so I can suck it up and write a boring paper on a boring topic just this one last time. I'll get a solid, dependable, respectable grade, and finish the class strong (current standing: A+ on every assignment.)

b) I take the leap and write the paper I want to. I might get dinged for not having the topic approved; I might get dinged further for not escaping the iron jaws of english paperdom. I potentially blow a as-yet-perfect record for this course.

or option c. - or, as I like to call it, the "this is where you find out how obsessive and insane I really am" option - I write both papers. Somehow, in the next 36 hours, I write not ONE 20pp research paper, but TWO, one of which is only tentatively outlined and and nowhere near adequately researched. Worst case scenario, total failure on BOTH versions, leading to crushing academic defeat; BEST case scenario, I somehow manage to write both papers, and suffer imminent and crushing brainsquish immediately thereafter.

I'm going to sleep on it, and hope tomorrow brings a resolution that doesn't involve me indulging in the dirty, dirty inclination of option C.

Apr. 12th, 2008

(no subject)

it's 75 degrees outside right now. there is a shiny thing in the sky. idk what that's about.

lest anyone get too excited - or, you know, a sufficient amount of vitamin D - it's supposed to start raining tonight, and keep on raining straight through to the predicted SNOW a week from today.

canada, I kind of hate you.

this particular spat of whining brought to you by the fact that it's the first unsweatery, undamp day that we've had since like JULY, and I am stuck indoors because I have a do-or-die miserable 24 chapter cumulative bullshit human bio final monday morning. and a 20pp paper due on Wednesday. By the time I have time to go out and see daylight again, it'll be a days-gone issue.

on the upside, I got carded last night because the clerk at the store thought I was fourteen. FOURFUCKINGTEEN. Never mind that I am twice that, and very shortly to be MORE than twice that. Ridiculous.

Apr. 6th, 2008

(no subject)

for brian:

(no subject)

BREAKING UP WITH TELEVISION.

hand to god.

Also, am now officially ass deep in final exam prep. Ass deep. I COULD be crankier, except, in fact, not. This is as bad as it gets.

Operation: Empty Out My Beer Drawer, commencing shortly.

Apr. 4th, 2008

(no subject)

1) I'm pretty sure I ate my own weight in lumpia today. that's not a bad thing, except for how I'm out of lumpia now.

2) every time I see commercials for this movie I seriously get screaming giggle fits. cannot even begin to figure out why, but hey, thanks for the free laugh riot.

Apr. 3rd, 2008

(no subject)

why is happy dog happy?

IMG_1729

because he is showing his peener to the room.

IMG_1728

and, ladies and gentlemen, that is my NORMAL dog.

also, how my morning went:
3am: Jasmine gets a case of the wiggles. this is annoying when I'm awake, but outright fucking ludicrous when I am sound asleep. took her damned near an hour to settle down, too, through out which I faked sleeping and let her tap dance all over me in a TOTALLY FAILED attempt to get me to wake up and play.

4:15: nonspecific cat barfs on dog bed. I say nonspecific because cats are like cockroaches; they scatter when the lights come on, especially when they come on while I am yelling and swearing.

5:03: not to be outdone, Finnegan barfs. ON A CAT. Ya know what? trying to keep Finny from licking the cats is tough; apparently they are snacktastic. And trying to keep Finny from eating his own vomit is also tough going - he is smart for a dog, but dog-smart does NOT involve a chapter on how JESUS GROSS YOU THINK MAYBE YOU REGURGITATED THAT FOR A REASON YOU RETARD. Trying to keep Finny from eating vomit off a cat just about took cattle prods and hand grenades. Or, you know, more yelling and swearing.

5:10: vomit cleaned up, cat rinsed, arms bleeding, I decide to take the dogs out to pee/poop/barf on the vacant lot across the street. Finnegan takes this opportunity to decide that the man standing on the neighbour's front porch was NOT, in fact, his super-bestest-snack-giving buddy, but instead a super-evil bag-toting hat-wearing man-beast. Which is to say he barked. Have I mentioned Finnegan's bark? It's like a german shepherd was taught to speak beagle, and then kicked in the sphincter with something sharp, and possibly coated with bees. It's AWFUL, and I suspect the entire neighbourhood now knows it.

and again, I must point out that bee-stung butt and all, he's the normal one. And that includes the cats: I bought them a cat tree yesterday, and so far the score goes: FatFat, tipped it over once and fallen off it twice. Emma, tipped it over 5 times in one hour, falls off it at least once an hour. Tibbie, has not tipped it over OR fallen over it, but only because he is scared of it, and thus busy howling at it.

Unfuckingbelievable.

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