Tuesday, March 31, 2009

I wrote something about you

I wrote something about you when I was drunk and on vacation
and I texted it to myself so I would remember it.
But then my Blackberry got all jacked up
and it got lost,
along with all of my other saved messages.

It was basically about
how we like each other's eyes
and make each other laugh
and agree that if we made babies they'd turn out to be sexy-looking adults.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

"God will make more bunnies."

Early this morning, my car crushed a baby bunny. I was driving it. Annnnnd then my day got progressively worse.

But this guy Robert just told me, "It's okay, God will make more bunnies." I don't know Robert well, but well enough to know that he's awesome. He's a talented artist and it's incredibly easy for me to talk to him. He just has a good vibe going. And what he said made me feel WAY better for some reason.

God will make more bunnies. And more boys. And more friends. And more people in general. Soon God will even make the weather warm without these intermittent 25-degree days. I've been forgetting about God lately and worrying too much about the temporal. The selfish people and crappy situations we experience in this life aren't all that's out there. I'm finished dwelling on the unimportant. I can hold myself accountable, but I can't change the ways of others. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Bug War II

The bugs are back in full effect. Effffffff.

If you recall, the First Bug War took place in the late summer of '08, when the roaches started messing with me and the spider crawled on me in my sleep. (Some might argue that the bat in the shower was actually an allied force of the bugs. The truth remains to be revealed.) The turning point of BWI happened when I snuck this really toxic bugspray chemical over here that my grandma gave me. It was in her basement. The packaging screamed mid to late '80s. I thought I'd take my chances. I informed her of the situation and she plotted with me to spray the house while my dad was at work. My dad, who believes bugs are our friends and all insect repellants cause cancer, caught me with the spray container redhanded as he walked through the door early. But it was too late; the house had already been sprayed and the damage had been done. Thus, BWI turned in my favor. No bugs were seen for months.

Three incidents occurred recently that lead to BWII, and I've outlined them below:

1. The Drunken Mystery Bug: The case of the drunken mystery bug occurred late one night as I was tiptoeing up the steps from a night of mischeif. Actually, I was sprinting into the bathroom. Once I plopped myself down on the toilet, I noticed a squirming grayish dot out of the corner of my eye. As I was close to being blackout, naturally my vision was blurry and I could not fully make out what it was. However, it was most definitely an insect. I know this because, after running around haphazardly, it darted into a tiny hole in the corner of the bathroom where the base boards meet. At the time, I did not think much of this confused drunken little bug, being that I was pretty drunk myself. I suspect that it was a silverfish or beetle of some kind.

2. The Scurrying Ceiling Spider: The scurrying ceiling spider hit very close to home and is not to be taken lightly. Upon returning from a brisk run through the park, I immediately ventured up to my room to rip off my sweaty garments. As I walked over to place them nicely in my clothes hamper - ok, yeah right, I threw them on the floor in a huge pile of dirty clothes - I spied above me a quarter-sized crazy-looking spider. It was ready to leap down on my head and attack. My experience with various types of bugs over the years has taught me one thing about ceiling spiders: you must act immediately. There's no time for second guessing and no time for scared baby quitters. Right after I thought this, the spider started crawling all around, proving my point. I darted to my shoe rack and grabbed a sturdy flip-flop. One that I kind of hate anyway. I flopped the flip-flop hard and quick, crushing the scurrying spider, spreading its guts in a line across my ceiling. The fact that these imposters have made their way into my room means it's getting pretty damn serious.

3. The Floating Breakfast Roach: Today, the floating breakfast roach officially began the Second Bug War. A questionable bathroom silverfish and a quick ceiling spider are causes for alarm, but an inch-long, upsidown cockroach floating in a cereal bowl in the sink is strike three. NOT a breakfast of champions. I ran the water in the bowl in hopes of flooding the roach out of the bowl and down into the drain. It was floating, so it was obviously dead...or so I thought. As the water level rose, its sick stringy legs started clingy to the side of the bowl. "Quit resisting!!!" I thought (in a large, male State Trooperesque voice). Eventually it drowned and slipped away into the abyss. I ran the garbage disposal to chop its disgusting, dispicaple body up into little pieces.

And so, today marks a day of infamy. It's on now, bugs. BRING IT. I'll be dropping bombs on you shortly.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Yesterday=A good day turned bad

Yesterday in a nutshell:

9:00 a.m. Wake up. Take shower. Put on cute dress because it's warm out.
10:00 a.m.   Go to work. Boss is in a good mood. Gives me keys to the back door and security code, plus informs me of my raise.
5:00 p.m.   Get off work. Change into comfy clothes. 2-mile run inspired by Tech N9ne. Big accomplishment for me.
6:00 p.m.  Get home. Take shoes off. Ready to relax.
6:30 p.m.  (Note: This is when my day starts to suck ass.) Crazy, possessive friend calls. Angry with life. Takes it out on me. Says "Why would I listen to a spoiled 22-year-old bitch who still lives with her parents?" I'm 23. Threatens to ruin my life. Proceeds to insult me to the point of tears.
7:45 p.m.  Crazy person still sending me ridiculous text messages.
8:00 p.m.  Mom calls. Aunt has to go to hospital because she thinks she's having a heart attack. I have to speed over to Illinois to stay with my little cousins.
8:05 p.m.   Speeding over to Illinois. Still crying because of crazy person. Trying not to crash my car.
8:30 p.m.   Try to keep my little cousins occupied and happy. Read books. Help them get ready for bed.
9:30 p.m.  Little cousins asleep. Sit down and turn on TV. Still worried about my aunt.
9:35 p.m.  Ex-boyfriend calls. Chat about school, Lost, etc. Conversation takes a turn for the worse when I tell him I'm seeing someone he does not approve of. So much for being honest. Fight ensues. Brings up me cheating on him. Says I mistreated him the whole time we were together. Insulted to the point of tears again. Crying for about the 4th time today. Say I can't deal with this and hang up.
1:00 a.m. Still can't sleep because of my horrible day. And horrible, uncomfortable early-90s couch.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

The River

I remember the place by the river 
where Uncle Dan taught me how to shoot guns 
and Grandma helped me name the tadpoles 
and we'd float downstream in black rubber inner-tubes
and I'd always come home to the city with my fingers smelling like dirt and worms. 

We'd chase after butterflies for what seemed like hours 
and upon crushing their wings and killing them 
we'd look their pictures up in the nature book and discover they were actually moths, 
but we'd put them in jars anyway 
and pretend like they had a chance of surviving. 

We'd burn large crackling fires in deep pits 
and throw styrofoam plates and cups into them 
and roast marshmallows and hot dogs in the poisonous fumes. 
We'd make torches on the end of sticks 
and dance around like it was Lord of the Flies or something. 

And those were the best times of our lives.

Texting Etiquette 101

Do not text me, "Guess what?!" and still not tell me what hours later.

Do not say "LOLZ" or end any word with an unecessary Z.

Do not send me a booty text. Any text after the hour of 1 a.m. that says "I want you" will be automatically ignored.

Do not type a sentence and end it like this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One or two exclamation points will suffice.

Do not initiate a text conversation in which we are vigorously and instantaneously texting back and forth and end it without a reason. I will think you crashed your car.

Do not text if you're a grandma or a grandpa. Really, just don't. It's unecessary.

Do not text a sentence like this this sentence sucks this sentence has no punctuation stupid sentence I hate it blah horrible sentence where does one phrase end and the other begin

Do not solely text this: "???" Or this: "!!!" Or this: "!?" or any variation of the three.


You're like a little puppet
or maybe more like a little puppy dog that doesn't get petted enough.

Either way, your fate is left
completely in the hands of others.

If they don't pull your strings, you refuse to move.
You're content laying in your freakshow of a box.

If they don't throw you a bone-shaped treat, you starve.
You might even resort to eating your own poop.

In the end, you'll ultimately fail at becoming "a real boy,"
or maybe they'll just get sick of you and put you to sleep.

About Me

I'm just figuring things out.