poker? i hardly knew her!
Labels: I don't dust on the first date
silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.
Labels: I don't dust on the first date
subtitle: More inane facts about me which shall now and forever serve as a means of filling in the gaps when I've been too busy/tired/boring to write scintillating tales of mirth and merriment, but scratch those other two options because mostly I'm just a very boring person as evidenced by the fact that, well, I'm too boring to think of specific examples of how boring I am. Suffice to say I'm pretty damn boring.
Sorry I've been lax in the whole responding to emails and comments lately. Life's been busy this summer (and I mean busier than just sitting around for hours watching old television shows and crying)(though sometimes I cry when I don't even watch old television shows, so hey, hmmm...). Please know, however, that I am trying, and I appreciate them.
I'm also still pretty damn boring.
Oh, Internet, how you charm me with your constant reminders of how I must be fat and depressed (not necessarily in that order) when I turn you on and find every web page I visit bordered with ads for Weight Watchers and anti-depressants (not necessarily in that order)! You make me happy, Internet. So, so happy. It's like having an electronic version of my mother inside my laptop, subtly shaking her head and wondering where it was she went wrong. Yeah, Internet!
Labels: Seth says "Hey."
*Did I say wakin' up? I mean waking up would presume I've slept and I'm still sleeping for hell wherein the word sleep should be a verb, but instead it's something akin to the jackass 11th grade boy who mocked you relentlessly when you were a somewhat freakishly overdeveloped 9th grade girl who would've preferred the earth open up and swallow her whole when it was time for gym class and your uniform tshirt was grossly tight rather than endure his taunts and tirades while you kept one eye on the clock and the other on the other side of the volleyball net so as not to be smacked in the kisser when the smudged white orb came sailing over after being helped along by an overly aggressive boy from your homeroom who used to eat crayon shavings in first grade but now apparently has a mission in life to be remembered for being a tool.
Oh, Internet, you are so, so good to me! I love you, sweet collection of wires and pulleys! I don't know what the cat is all about, but apparently it's playing them out (is this some fad I'm unaware of as I fail to sleep?), but if that's the case, I should let it play me out of this post because it's far, far too long now and my son has a play date coming over in an hour and I'm still in my pajamas, which is funny because why do I wear pajamas if I don't sleep, and I'm laughing, laughing, laughing at the irony, but you're probably not because I'm the one who's exhausted and you? You're probably just exhausted of me. I completely understand.
p.s. - I just realized someone googling any of the Duggars may now get this post and believe my rampant use of the words douche and douche bag (shudder) relates to them. I assure you that will never be the case. At least as long as Michelle Duggar and her girls never buy any Ed Hardy tshirts at their local thrift stores.
So here's the thing. I'm tired. Actually, tired tapped me on the shoulder early this morning, I think it may have been somewhere around 2:29 a.m., maybe even later (it was so very much later), and told me I was being far too polite referring to how I feel as simply 'being tired.' I remember thinking "Well, then, I'm very, very tired," when I turned back toward the clock on the nightstand and saw the numbers 3, 4, and 5 lined up in a row (as in a.m., as in who the hell should be awake at 3:45 a.m.?). I also remember thinking, "Well, that's clever and a rather welcome change of pace from the usual 2:22 a.m., or 3:33 a.m., I've grown quite used to."
A typical night at a typical bookstore:
In the immortal words of the poet David Lee Roth, I heard you missed me! I'm back!
It was a busy week, and we were able to fit Tool Man into the action over the weekend when he was finally free, when we did decidedly 'boy things' like spent SIX HOURS AT AN ARCADE, which would have been tolerable had a trio of high school boys not taken the damn Dance Dance Revolution game hostage the entire time, busting their sweet dance moves while taking turns videotaping themselves for their MySpace pages and pretending I wasn't standing there wanting (nay - NEEDING!) to dance because let me repeat - we spent SIX HOURS AT AN ARCADE.
So now it's Monday and that means I'm back to the taxing task of my stressful work life. Four hours a night, three nights a week?! Don't ask me how I do it! It also means my Tool Man is on vacation for a few days, and that whole thing about crawling through caves? About an hour ago, he and the boys left to travel across the state to do just that. They'll also stay overnight in a hotel and enjoy a few more adventures tomorrow before making their way home. Fueled with a cocktail of powdered sugar donuts (which will later be infused with a variety of Lunchables, beef jerky, licorice, nuclear orange peanut butter crackers, salted nut rolls, and juice boxes)(because nothing gives you stamina for hiking and exploring in Iowa's armpit-like weather like unnatural food products), my youngest son sped around the house this morning looking for his sneakers and yelling about how ENSHOESIASTIC he was for the adventure.
I just realized that maybe there was something scarily prophetic about my 'Sex With Jon Gosselin' dream (can't wait for the Google searches that land here because of that) as Tool Man and I totally just pulled a Jon and Kate this week and will be living separate lives. Except, how exciting, I'll be doing his laundry while he's away! I'll bet Kate washed her hands of that task the first moment Jon came home drunk (allegedly) and excited at getting a young girl to smile at him. I would've the first time he showed me those Ed Hardy jeans, but whatever.
Anyway, this post is all over the place. Probably because I'm exhausted from the lack of sleep I got last night dwelling on how I have to stay alive through tonight while alone in the house, something I've only done twice before in all the time we've lived here, and I'm not so sure that second time wasn't just because an intruder or Bigfoot just took pity on me as I huddled up in bed with the covers up over my head and a bathroom light blazing in the hallway. I'd also find it acceptable to blame it on my head compensating for the utter (and yet surprisingly delightful) silence around here. Silence I must now go break up by turning on the washing machine. Assuming I survive this night, I'll be around to catch up with you as soon as possible. Let us never be away from each other this long ever again!