thinking we’d watch the hockey game and then play cards until the wee hours, i went up to meghan’s after finally finding the last fucking dream key in 40 winks. we did watch the hockey game (we lost, but shouldn’t have), had dinner (they had perogies, i had frozen pizza), dean fell asleep, meg & mark were yawning every 40 seconds, so i came home at ten thirty and watched my tape of survivor.
hopefully they’ll all have naps tonight so we can actually play cards.
today, i’m going to finish drinking my quota of caffeine then i’m going to go see bridget jones’s diary this afternoon. i’m of two minds about going to see it. i’ve read the books and really, really enjoyed them, so i’m worried that they’ve butchered it and i’ll once again be disappointed by a celluloid rendition.
i have one concern though. in the second book, bridget has to interview colin firth. well, colin firth is actually playing the man bridget is involved with in the second book. if they film the sophmore offering, who will play colin firth? they can’t substitute him, it’s integral to the story (who else can they film glistening in the sunlight?). it’s a horrible, confusing logic loop.
there’s a hole in the bucket, dear liza.
i renewed my car insurance & got the oil changed. my insurance payments dropped a whopping $.14 a month, despite my collision deductable is now $200 less. yay. the oil change was free. the garage didn’t replace my oil cap the last time i was there and the coupon was their meager attempt to cow me after returning to them with my engine covered in crude.
then i came home and ate a bag of potato chips. good thing i did some aerobic work this morning, huh?
it will have been 85 hours since i’ve had a cigarette.
i haven’t decided if i’m going to smoke this weekend. i’ve been vacillating between wanting one *now* and thinking that it might just stick this time. i haven’t gotten any of the initial benefits of non-smoking yet, other than the improved morning breath. my sense of smell hasn’t returned, nor does anything taste significantly better. i’m blaming that on the slight stuffy nose i’ve had for the last week, though.
i’ve actually done rather well this week. yeah, i can hear you: “three days, man. that’s not quitting.” shut up. my victory may not be majestic, but it’s mine. even if i smoke a pack this weekend i know i’ll be able to put them away during the week again. that was my first milestone: not smoking when i’m alone.
sitting in my pajamas, drinking coffee, watching talk shows… yes, i’m digging this having thursday off gig.
how is your day going? =)
although i’m feeling decidedly better about circumstances which have surrounded my personal life, i’m still not mended. i just wish the flashbacks would stop. they hurt too much.
may i have a lobotomy, please?
rumour has it that the bus drivers are going to picket us tomorrow knowing that the labour relations board won’t be able to rule on it until tuesday at the latest. this sucks for everyone because no one knows if they’ll get paid for the statutory holidays which fall friday and monday. i should, since i’m on vacation before and after. but, just in case i don’t, i will not be buying my video card this weekend, dammit.
i’ve noticed that when i wear a skirt, my hips seem to take on a renewed joy in their existence. they sway back and forth with each step in a decidedly seductive manner, never seen when encased by denim or flannel. a very gyspy rose lee rhythm.
ba-da-da-da-dum ba-dum ba-dum
this in turn makes me more aware of my hips and their biological purpose in being plush.
sex
my pelvis is a fertile field, ripe for the sowing. come, ole macdonald, show me your hoe! spring is here, time for the planting. the harvest will be all the greater this year if you can germinate your very own seed.
this is what i think about when i wear my skirt.
i was in my mid-teens. as i lay in bed one night, almost asleep, my door opened and a man walked in. he was drunk. i could smell it even before he got near me. the bed creaked a little as his weight was deposited on it. i kept my eyes closed and my breathing even. i didn’t need to look, i knew who it was.
the bed shifted as he moved his hand to my hip. it sat there, unmoving, as he started to talk.
“you’re a very good girl. don’t let boys do things to you. you’re smarter than that.”
his hand moved. it could have been an involuntary twitch, but it felt like a blow.
“such a good girl.”
i thought that if i just pretended to be asleep he’d get bored and leave. please let him leave, i thought.
he sighed heavily and the bed moved again. it felt like his head drooped against his chest.
please let him leave.
he started to stroke my side through the covers. i fought to keep from flinching. sleeping people do not flinch. i don’t know what else he said. i only remember his telling me over and over and over again what a good girl i was.
the next thing i realized the door was closing and i was alone again. i started shaking. i couldn’t cry because he was in the next room. i didn’t want him to know i was awake.
it’s been almost fifteen years since that night. i’ve never told anyone about the night my mother’s boyfriend almost molested me. yes. almost. i got off lucky, you might say.
one of my all-time favourite movie scenes is the one from office space when all the geeks take the printer/fax machine out to a field and kick the living shit out of it.
only certain people can understand why that means so much to me. they usually feel it, too.
i couldn’t sleep last night. it was bedtime, i was tired, but i couldn’t get to sleep. i tossed and turned for a while, then rolled over onto my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows and stared at my glow-in-the-dark stars as they faded. i kept obsessing about what i’m going to say and how i’m going to act.
instead of torturing myself, i gave in to impulse and phoned tyler. he was busy doing work-related stuff, but he put it away and got into bed and talked me to sleep. i started to cry when i realized what he was doing. i really needed someone to put me first and take care of me.
i gave in. i’m eating the muffin. very, very tasty. probably because i waited so long to partake. mmm. denial is such a powerful spice.
speaking of spice, the space channel is airing the remake of dune. yes, the one i paid $4.99 to rent and never watched. well, they’ve broken it up into three two-hour parts. i can handle that. it’s still bad, but i’m two-thirds of the way through and will be watching until the end.
i’m rather grumpy today. actually, i’ve been rather grumpy for about a week, maybe more. i feel a little used. i feel a little stressed. i feel a little restless. i feel unloved. i feel unmotivated. time is whipping by and i don’t feel like i’ve accomplished anything. ever. the only things i look forward to are going home, playing cards and june.
have i mentioned i’m attempting to not smoke during the week any longer? i know better than to try not to smoke while with meg & mark. i’m controlling the controllable. we’ll see how long it lasts.
i want a cat. something soft, warm, and affectionate which will love me and keep me company when i feel alone. how sad i am. but at least i’m not a jerry’s kid looking for a sperm donor to knock me up so i can gestate something to love. i don’t want to be that white trash.
it won’t be the same ever again, you know.
there’s one blueberry muffin left. i was good and didn’t take it when irene offered it to me, but now it’s an hour closer to lunch and i’m starting to think it might taste very good with another cup of coffee. i suppose i’m writing about it so that i won’t go eat it. let’s hope it works.
he’s the one having sex, but i’m the one getting fucked.
i’m halfway to my conversion back to the evil operating system. i spent yesterday reorganizing, deleting, discovering files, directories and partitions. today, i picked up another 64mb of memory. it’s always funny how men treat a woman buying computer parts.
the very lovely, blond, accented (i’m not sure if it was new zealander or south african) sales associate at future shop looked at the ram, looked at me and then asked “are you going to install this yourself?” i took a mental deep breath, smiled and said “yup. i build my last system.” i’ll give him credit, his eyebrows went up only a little. we bantered back and forth a little about installation and it’s possible problems.
i wondered why he was being so nice, then i remembered i was wearing mascara. men always seem to be more friendly when i wear mascara.
now, i haven’t had to physically do anything to my computer in a long time. it’s run almost flawlessly since i built it two years ago. so, there hasn’t been any need for me to open up the case and poke around inside. well, i’m going to have to peek in there more often. two years worth of dustbunnies are *not* pretty. i first made the mistake of taking the compressed air to it while it was still on my desk. little tufts of fuzz went everywhere. at that moment, i mentally thanked nature for not bestowing allergies upon me.
grumbling because i hadn’t wanted to disconnect everything just to do a memory installation, i started diconnecting everything to take it out on the balcony to finish the dusting. i sprayed it until the air can had frost on the outside and there were still spots of fuzz on the power supply. considering it was a vast improvement on the state i found it in, i left the can outside to defrost and brought the box back in for the actual procedure.
snapping the dimm into place wasn’t major surgery, but i was somewhat worried linux wouldn’t pick up the extra memory. although, i believe now i was mistakenly worried as it was known to not register memory above 128mb, not 128mb itself. not that it’s going to matter soon enough, i suppose.
sir mix-a-lot just came on. shake it! shake it! shake that healthy butt!
the procedure was successful, the improvement was almost immediate. i can’t believe i waited so long. this week i’ll find my new video card and set about finding my windows cds so i can finish this all off next weekend and then wait for the cable company to install me some bandwidth. mrawr.
last night in my dream, i was sitting at a long table with a lot of other people. we were all talking and laughing and somehow the conversation turned to mullets.
well, billy ray cyrus was there, right behind me in fact. he still sports his mullet, so he lept to their defense. i brought up the point that at least his (now) wasn’t near as horrible as it was when he first became famous. the length of hair in the back kept him warm and having the hair short on top kept it out of his way. with each point i made he’d exclaim “yeah!” and wave his fist in support.
when the conversation reached it’s climax, he grabbed me by the shoulders, tilted me back in my chair and proceeded to kiss me in a most sloppy manner. i was more shocked than offended, and the cheering was quite distracting.
that’s when rick came barrelling out of the crowd, completely enraged that billy ray would do such a thing as *i* was *his*. he took my head in his hands, tilted it back and kissed me quite thoroughly.
later on that same evening, after the police photos which were given to my father didn’t show me smoking and the body they found behind the 62nd street station was taken to the morgue, i got a note from jason which said “hey… nice going. so do you want to shag again?”
this is what i get for thinking “gee, it’d be nice to do some smooching” before i go to bed.
i want a camera.
rhonda was worried about my overstuffed in-tray, so she pulled me into her office with sandy to “discuss our workload”. what she obviously hadn’t taken into account is that: 1) if she hadn’t fucked around all yesterday morning instead of giving me stuff to do, half of it would have been done already; and, 2) i’ve easily done twice that amount of work in one day. piece. of. cake.
but, i find myself sitting here with just over an hour left in my day with no work to do (the in-tray is so empty it echos) and my left wrist wrapped up because whenever i go on a data entry binge such as i did today, i pay for it with repetitive stress injury pain. if i was at all inclined to go visit a doctor, i’d get it checked out. but, i’m of the ostrich persuasion when it comes to medical care: if i don’t know about it, i’m perfectly healthy.
playing ping-pong with marie managed to while away half an hour, but i’m still horribly bored and there are only so many web sites i can read before i get monitor tunnel-vision. i’m thinking i should go downstairs and bug garth to give me some cold packs for my wrist. he needs to know i’m aware he’s working days again. the poor man. *snicker*
glad it’s friday — this has been a very long short week.
it’s a fantabulous hair day — bouncy, soft, straight and full. i feel cute — i attribute that to the working out. there’s something about being aware of the musculature under your skin because it’s mildly sore from using it that makes me feel strong and beautiful.
i’m absolutely ecstatic that the canucks have guaranteed their playoff spot. whether or not they make it anywhere, i’m just happy they made it into the post-season. i’m seriously thinking of investing in some playoff tickets.
i have a lot of work to do today because i spent yesterday morning waiting for work then yesterday afternoon training. all i really want to do is talk to ide and eat my sloppy joe. oh, julie is coming back to work after six months off for her knee injury. that will be interesting. i’m not sure if i’m happy about it or not, and that’s making me wonder how horrible of a person i must be.
yesterday, marie said “your dad really loves you. he gets this soft look in his eyes every time he talks to you.” i don’t have much to say about that, except it made me smile.