A pirate's life for me!

As dorky as being solitary-natured makes me feel sometimes, it can be a good thing when there's no-one around for company. I don't mind so much when I end up doing stuff by myself, and I can be selfish about doing exactly what I want. Went to the MK this morning for a check on traffic before next week's family visit. Shouldn't have worn flipflops (but they looked cute!) cause now my feet want to fall off, but other than that it was alright. Talked to some nice little kids, went on the rides I like best, rode the train for a bit, roamed back home. Now I'm debating whether to hit the pool- it was GROSS and scrungy yesterday, but the pool guy might've come by? Nothing else to do 'cept some dishes, and they can wait 'til after dark.

There's a Lyle Lovett song called "If I Had a Boat" that just exactly fits where my head is at today. Chilled out whether everyone else wants to let me be or not.

Boombastic, tell me fantastic

Something very unusual just happened. I woke up happy. Not worrying about my six-dollar paycheck, not sad about the nonsense intelligent men come up with, not moltogrosso about my weight. I can deal with money stuff, men ain't nuttin' but a hobby, and my weight is dropping steadily. I don't need fixing, I don't owe apologies- thank you very much, I'm rockin'! My mum and sisters will be here next week, and I'm really looking forward to that, and- don't tell anyone, it's just a thought, but.... I'm kind of, sort of thinking about considering getting back in school. Kinda. I'm tired of people giving me the "you're too smart to _______" speech, tired of working dead end jobs, and I hate never having finished my worthless degree when I'm still paying for it. So... maybe. I just looked outside, and it's beautiful, all I hafta do is decide whether to go to the AK or to the pool, or the pool and then maybe the MK for fireworks. I can do anything I want, without consulting anyone for input. I own myself again, and it's about time. So I'm cranking up the beach music, highdosing on caffeine, grinning from ear to ear. If ya wanna call me today, ya better be happy too.

(Later)
GUESS WHAT? I just put on my swimsuit (aka The Ugliest Garment Ever, aka The Fat Tent), and the top is loose! Like, trying-not-to-fall-out loose! I may have to buy another one this summer! YESSS!

Ernie's having another party!

It's 3 am, and I'm wiiiiide awake. I was headachy and nauseous and drained all day again, and my body pulled the plug on me at about 8, so I guess that's actually a pretty decent chunk of sleep. 'Sokay, I've got a lovely book (one of those "best-evers" that I try not to open too often), and a warm blanket- and I just checked my weight and discovered it's definitely slipped down to the next decade (I thought my shorts felt slidey!), which is pleasing/scary. Got no plans for the holiday today except chilling at the pool. Should be nice, if I'm not asleep again by lunchtime.

(Later)
"Margaret... could not concentrate on details... all demand some comment or response. It is impossible to see modern life steadily and see it whole, and she had chosen to see it whole. Mr. Wilcox saw steadily. He never bothered over the mysterious or the private.... Yet she liked being with him. He was not a rebuke, but a stimulus, and banished morbidity."

"He desired comradeship and affection, but he feared them, and she, who had taught herself only to desire, and could have clothed the struggle with beauty, held back, and hesitated with him."

What a great book.

When I said I'd give anything...

... to get rid of the horrifying weight I've put on, an attack of emotional bulimia REALLY wasn't what I had in mind. One nasty aspect of my weakness for certain types of guys is an inability to stay nourished when the bullshit starts. When I had the first of several extremely ugly splits with the cross-dressing redneck, I lost 20 lbs in SIX DAYS, while drinking beer and eating Doritos with onion dip every night. (I briefly considered whether I might've caught something from one of his yard dogs- he had six, any of whom probably woulda been a better BF). I'm beginning to wonder if this bout is gonna be equally extreme. Of course, the measure of my hopelessness re: losing 58 pounds can be taken from the fact that I kinda wouldn't mind if this were a bad bout. I figure, at least I'm not confused by what's happening, I saw this train coming and chose not to step out of the way. Of course it hurts like a bastard, but I've just gotta wade through the sad stuff. I'm not drinking- hiding from this pain won't help, and will drag the process out unnecessarily- but a few hours (days, weeks) of unconsciousness seems tempting when I allow myself to stop analyzing and just feel. So I'm not doing much feeling. I'm analyzing the non-emotional stuff (with a little help...etc ) to pieces and watching as much Spongebob as possible. And I've lost six or eight pounds in the past two days. It's awfully nice to see my cheekbones again- and, hell, I might as well LOOK good if I can't FEEL good, right?

Insomnia!

I am so freakin' tired. Got a couple hours' sleep after the work thing last night, but I need about twelve more to get my head back to normal. Working a weird split day, so there's at least the chance of naptime later. I'm tired of thinking. I'm REALLY tired of thinking. Damn squirrels (both kinds).

Friday night dinner and a show isn't always an interesting proposition

It's kind of a bummer when you get free food and it turns out to be worth exactly what you paid. But fireworks are cool, I guess.

This old house

I swear, I HATE maintenance men. This is the second day I've waited around the house for them to show up- and yesterday was SO GORGEOUS- and they haven't bothered. The main one even stopped in late yesterday to apologize (and stare at my boobs) and promised they'd be here to re-do the vinyl today, and have they come by? Of course not. Well, tomorrow I'm doing whatever I please, and if it interferes with their hectic schedule of not keeping appointments, that's just too freakin' bad!

(5 minutes later)
I'll be darned, they just got here. I should've posted earlier.

(20 minutes later)
Y'know, the new vinyl's a nicer color... that's kinda cool.

(2 hours later)
DAMN IT, you can totally see a slant in the line of squares alongside the bathtub. And this guy wasn't nearly as neat with his caulk as Borat was. I coulda done better, and I'm not good with caulk AT ALL. (stop that snickering!) But hey, at least I can stop envisioning the floor collapsing while I'm eyebrow deep in soap and singing "American Girl" and plummeting downstairs to land in the neighbors' john, terrifying their sweet little daughter (we recently had the best conversation EVER about why blowing bubbles is awesome) and putting her off Tom Petty forever. It's always nice to scratch a potential catastrophe off the list. So, like, bonus! Next I think I'm'a watch me a zombie movie.

Chuck Norris doesn't go hunting. He goes killing.

Yay for Swedish pop and insomnia! Woke up, WIDE-ass awake, forty minutes ago, with "Young Folks" blaring in my head. At least that's a song that makes me smile, unlike last time when it was "Night of the Living Baseheads" and my dreams had involved the Crips and werewolves and a demon baby.

It's not so much that I mind being alone in the house at night as I dislike waking up and realizing that either a.) I'm alone, or b.) I slept through the front door opening, closing, and locking, with the attendant tiptoeing around, which kinda reminds me of that Sesame Street where Bert is trying to sleep and Ernie's sheep-counting somehow devolves into this huge house party with sheep and a band and mimes and firetrucks and Lord knows what else. Dang, which song was it in that sketch?

One weird thing about living in 'the big city' is animal behavior. The big construction lights over on the bridge make the birds FREAK OUT tweetering from midnight 'til three, like some kind of damn X-and-Dust-Brothers-fueled nest party and then they fall asleep and I usually don't hear 'em again 'til like 10, and I get all weirded out in the back of my head about zombies and "Silent Spring" and stuff like that. I mean, it's coming up on dawn now- those little buggers should be singing their heads off, but instead they're hiding out, sleeping off the rave.

I hope it's sunny today. I wanna go do my Benjamin Braddock impersonation. Well, except for the Mrs. Robinson part- somehow I don't think it's gonna be that kind of day. Then again, if anyone feels like volunteering.....

The Volstead Act, the Golden Rule, and random irritating intangibles

I'm not a particularly moral person. I try to be "nice," and any injustice infuriates me, but I don't put in a whole lot of time worrying about ethics as, like, a topic of serious thought.
Got thrown into a situation yesterday where an acquaintance assumed I'd "be cool," and...well... I wasn't "cool." Upon hearing the story this morning, a buddy who knows everyone involved basically implied I'd been an asshole to turn this guy in when it's possible he'll get fired. I guess that's why I have this very After-School-Special-flashbacky uncomfortable feeling about the situation. My best friend calls me "the Zen Master of CYA," and he's got a damn good point. I frequently question my own motives, and it's a tough call. Was I a rat fink because I'm not risking losing my job for some jackass, because the jackass assumed without asking that I'd condone his behavior, or because his actions were inexcusable at a work function and just generally immoral bullshit? All of the above? And does it really matter, anyway?
I kinda think it does.

Life on Mars?

Hey, people. So I woke up thinking 'I'm not in the mood to be me today.' Long night, weird dreams, foul headspace. Things are really f'ing with me. There's a lot of stuff getting thrown at me that I don't want, and don't want to deal with, and there's no chance of getting the three things I do want, (which is just as well, really) and I just realized nobody's going to know what I'm talking about, and I don't care. I'm just kinda over dealing with my life right now. I need to do some thinkun'. So I'm gonna hop in the car and disappear for a minute- if you get the voice mail, leave a message and I'll call you when I'm no longer in screaming-Dalek-mode.

Let's do the newcartimewarp agaaaaain!

HAPPYHAPPY ME-OH!! I got the tardis-blue Kia. It's absolutely adorable- and I got it at a LOT less interest than it initially woulda been, like seven percent less. And they gave me seven hundred and fifty dollars for my POS Camry in trade-in, even after I saw two of the cute appraiser boys standing there and laughing at it! YAYYYYYY!

Here are the first twenty songs my iPod played in the new car, once I got the stupid adapter working properly:
The Who - Eminence Front
Front 242 - Headhunter
Johnny Cash - Cocaine Blues
Violent Femmes - American Music
Danny Elfman - This Is Halloween
JS Bach - Variation 12
Depeche Mode - Policy of Truth
Billie Holiday - The Mood I'm In
Jethro Tull - Aqualung
Louis Armstrong - Lovely Weather We're Having
Doctor Hook - Cover of the Rolling Stone
George Harrison - While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Neil Diamond - Solitary Man
Blue Oyster Cult - Burnin' For You
Depeche Mode - Little 15
The Kinks - Ya Really Got Me
George Michael - Father Figure
Aerosmith - Dream On
The Beatles - Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da
Dwight Yoakam - Crazy Little Thing Called Love

(You know what's weird about that list? I didn't tell it to play classic rock.)

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The entire concept of "credit" is such a friggin' scam. I've been looking at car stuff, figured I might as well bite the bullet and find out exactly how much lower the nonsense with the student loan nazis has driven my credit score, and- get this- because I couldn't confirm the name of the new bastards the SLN's sold my loans to (without, y'know, telling me or anything) from a multiple choice list of ACRONYMS, Experian blocked my access to my own credit report. Of course, if I download, fill out, print, and mail in their looooong form with copies of all my id and my "10-digit PIN code" (WHAT? WHAT PIN code?!!? Does everybody have one and I was out sick that day?), they'll consider mailing me the number in about 3-6 weeks. All this because I don't know the name of a company I never did business with! Please, spare me the lectures about being a responsible consumer- my point is, if you don't start the game knowing the rules (and I didn't) the system is set up to fuck you for life, and it makes me really frustrated and angry and depressed. C'mon, I just want a decent car without having to do anything illegal to get it. Then again, that would probably be less complicated.

(Later)
Realized I've never given Robert Piguet's Baghari a proper try since the large sample came, so I piled it on. Feeling much better now. Still pissed, but I smell terrific!

(Even later)
The Baghari's turned overwhelming in this hot weather- getting headachy- but it is a good scent overall. Watching "Blacula" in between family phone calls- it's a big weird day for us. Yay for divorces!

(Way, way later)
"Blacula" was GREAT! No, seriously, it's actually a good movie! Y'all should all go rent it right now.

Where's my money, Uncle?

If the tax bucks will just roll on into the bank, I've got two decently priced, low-mileage cars to go look at on Thursday (a TARDIS-blue Kia and a gold Saturn Ion, both 2007). Y'all cross your fingers- it'd be such a friggin' Murphy if the Camry were to blow me up now that I'm probly buying an improvement within the week- and I am ready-freddy to finally have a decent car again!

Fendi, Fendi, Fendi!

Well, I'm happy/pissed on the sniffa front: I'm furious that some lucky cow outbid me at the last possible moment for that cheap-OH Badgley Mischka last night- she snuck in to win literally 8 seconds from Game Over- but am v. happy that my Fendi Theorema came today. Weirdly, it's labeled Theorema "Leggero" - which I had assumed was the same as regular FT, since I have NEVER seen a review or a mention of a "light" flanker on any of the major perfume sites. Oops, I think. I'm kinda digging this "Leggero" - my one worry with the regular was that it might be overpowering in hot weather, and this does seem lighter... it's not less Christmas-y, but..... it smells like opening beautiful spicy prezzies at the beach. It's awfully good.... but I'm still mad at that sneaky eBay ho, and thinkun' I might do best to wait post-Mother's-day to bid on Badgley again.

The second-string plumber just left. He was very sweet and earnest, and I was DYING trying not to think of how like Borat he sounded. His verdict was that I can shower TOMORROW MORNING, "Around seven or eight- you will wait, yeah?" SHITSHITSHIT. SHIT! I smell like nachos, dammit! EEEUUUUWWW!!! He was really superdupernice, and covered the counter with a tarp, which the primary (sleazy, forward) plumber yesterday didn't bother to do- hence my need to buy a new toothbrush (its covered in sawdust!) But, dammit.... I feel dirty!

PS: I broke down and bought another record from iTunes. The Scissor Sisters album "Ta-Dah" is GREAT. If you like Erasure or the BeeGees or ABBA (ironically or not) or if dance music just generally makes you grin, download it NOW.