Altering my brain chemisrtry with miracle whip and cayenne pepper

I'm helping Theresa drive to Arizona. The flights are booked. The notes will be booked. I get to see Adam in NC, and i get to freak all my Arkansas family out with my tat and piercings. Maybe I will find some 2 gauges for my ears before I go, or while on the road. Photos will be taken, notes will committed to paper.

Laundry part one is done. Packing needs to happen. I even cleaned out my car, ditching the last evidence of tobacco use. I found an empty booze container, which would have gone swimmingly if discovered while I was gone. Or if I was pulled over. Containers have been appropriately disposed of.

Still not preggo. High five!

Finished a book without pictures on every page! Now its back to those.

Things that will be read before my birthday:

1. Ultimate Zombie Survival Handbook - Max Brooks
2. V For Vendetta
3. Anything else I have on loan from Matt.
4. The Girl With Curious Hair - David Foster Wallace (to be purchased/borrowed from the library)

I'm extending my US tour. Originally, the final gig was July 29 (30), as I return to Detroit. July 31 I'm taking off for Chicago, then Kalamazoo. I return August 4. After that, I will have to learn to cool my jets. But that's the problem with wanderlust: the more you feed it, the more it grows.

When I want to creep myself out, I think about the fact that I've been with Matt for 8 months. EIGHT. That's almost a baby. That's 1.3333333333333333 seasons shy of a year. When the big 1-2 rolls around, you might find me passed out on the couch.

I've got to get out of here. I'm going to ask for my old job back and see if I can pick up another part time. This living at home shit is not working. I'm getting fat (from not walking anywhere), bored (from having a grand total of 3 friends in the area)and depressed (from living at home and the previously discussed reasons) all the time. I'm too far from most of the things that mean anything to me. I'll try applying for grants and grad school, because I want to be as unemployable as possible.

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told...

I may have two side view mirror by the time August rolls around. Hells yes.

Commands to a Whore Headed West.

In other words, westward ho!

*silence*

Thank you, thank you, don't forget to tip your waitress.

I've been trying to write, but I feel mentally constipated. The fact that its summer and I would much rather drive, and drink and eat and be merry and read and play with friends, lovers, and fire doesn't help anything.

I am still jobless, but I have resolved to head back west, a couple hours at a time. I am the last rat on the sinking ship known as the Detroit Job Market. Abandon ship!I can swim. Its already July, and I am seriously considering asking for my old job back. I can move back in with Jill, I'm pretty sure and that will keep me safe until December, if not beyond. I can work at KVCC and find a drinking job. Then onward to Chicago, which will become Austin.

I'm pretty bad at math, but 2.5 is less than 5. And 0 is less than the two of them put together. I don't like being far from friends. And boyfriends. And porches that are good for drinking.

Sometimes I worry that boyfriend drinks too much.

Sometimes I worry that I'm a horrible person.

I love my boyfriend's family.

I've been waiting for this moment all my life, but its not quite right

Last night I had a dream. What I remember now is fuzzy. I remember the main ideas though. Okay, main idea. I'm standing at the corner closest to my house, with my mom. My mom is talking to the neighbors while I scream at people who don't stop at stop signs. Like full blown Tourette's yelling, screaming, swears. I made up a few good ones, but I can't remember them now. My voice was getting all hoarse and chipmunky and a few people laughed, including a douchebag who did up and down finger point gun as he drove away. Don't ask me how he did it. I yelled some more, and my mom got mad at me for saying "goddamn".

At the moment I'm listening to Shawn Mullins sing "Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)".

Matt keeps lending me books faster than I can read them. No, really. My queue:

Sin in the Second City - Karen Abbott
The Zombie Survival Guide - Max Brooks
V For Vendetta - Alan Moore/David Lloyd
book that I can't remember the title or author. I think its a memoir.
books #2 and 3 in the Fables Series by Bill Willingham

I also am re-reading Jpod by Douglas Coupland.

Had a job and then I quit. Might take a gig in Ann Arbor with clean water people.

Maybe it was the kind of day the last couple days had been, but I came to the realization that I hate the suburbs, and most of the people that they produce. This is a sweeping generalization. A lot of my favorite people are from these obnoxious sprawling lands. Or maybe its just Detroit's suburbs that bother me. In particular, the eastern ones. Everything's so far apart. Everyone just looks stupid. I just found the whole area obnoxious with its dog-friendly stores, orange skin, and teenagers listening to country. I was hanging out with a friend yesterday, driving all over the landscape covered in bright, pale gray clouds. Maybe it was the friend. She was rubbing me the wrong way yesterday. Maybe it was the fact that I spent most of my time in the north or west parts of town: Royal Oak/Ferndale, Farmington (Hills), Novi, Southfield. Maybe its because I have devoted most of my legal adult life in pursuit of the west. Maybe its because I still pursue the west.

I need an oil change.

plea from a cat named capitalism

I got a job. That's a lie. I got a place to go to for 8 hours a day with no windows (except in the bathroom), where I sit and wait for people to call. In the meantime I have a phone book where I dial a lot of "wrong numbers" or disconnected ones. I was always aware of the economic situation in Michigan, but it didn't hit me until I found out firsthand how many businesses have gone belly up since the publication of the yellow pages in feb 2009.

What I do: sales for a fledgling internet radio station. Strictly commission. Strictly suckage. I can't even close my eyes and pretend its an internship.

I mentally quit yesterday. I'm pretty sure I'm physically quitting today. I need more return on my investment. They're in Ferndale, right next to the WAB (Woodward avenue Brewery). I should have known better. I have to fight the urge to get drunk at lunch on a daily basis. I have to pay $4.25 a day in quarters for parking. I am 8 soon to be 12 dollars in the hole. $12 is close to 3/4 of a tank of gas for me (thank you very much Saturn). I could have gone to Kalamazoo on what I paid to sit still. I need more security than that. I guess its back to the mall. And Monster. And Craigslist. And standing by traffic lights by the expressway with my sign that says in glitter: will work for money.

When I write it all out like that, it seems like a no brainer that i should quit.

Maybe I can get my mom to sponsor my next reading excursion after I finish these 4 other books I've got going right now, courtesy of Le Boyfriend. I have an overwhelming urge to read Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney

Will the Postal Service ever put out a new CD?

fml.

Doing a little D.A.N.C.E.

Still not preggo. I was scared for a minute because I was closing in on 3 months with no word from uterus-land. One month was stress and the other was...who knows weight loss/gain from the smoking and the quitting, maybe? I should just get on the pill and save myself from this monthly anguish, but something's stopping me. Sheer laziness, probably.

I'm not too lazy to make a compilation of summer jams though.

1. "I Got You Dancing" - Lady Sovereign
2. " D.A.N.C.E." - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.
3. "Cappuccino" - The Knux
4. "Day N Nite" - Kid Cudi
5. "Sex On Fire" - Kings of Leon
6. "If I Ever Feel Better" - Phoenix
7. "Come On and Get It (Up in Dem Guts)" - Zach Galifinakis f/ Fiona Apple
8. "Bitches Ain't Shit" - Ben Folds
9. "American Boy" - Estelle
10. "D.A.N.C.E." - Justice
11. "Fame < Infamy" - Fall Out Boy
12. "Why Must You Always Dress in Black" - Ben harper and Relentless 7
13. "Show Me Love" - Robyn
14. "Bang on A Milli" - Team 9
15. "Summer Never Ends"- Har Mar Superstar and Northern State
16. "If U Seek Amy" - Britney Spears

that's enough to get us started, yes?

This is going to be a brilliant summer. I can feel it.

the number of lines on my hands is directly proportionate to the number of directions my life could take.

I'm listening to Spoon. At work. Drinking pretty gross tea. It's pomegranate green tea, whose flavor perhaps does not lend itself to deliciousness when served cold or lukewarm. I need a spoon to eat yogurt.

It will cost $300 to repair the brakes I'm driving to Chicago on. It's the rear brakes, don't worry.

Theresa gave me really awesome art paper. Perhaps I will paint my resume on it with watercolor paints.

I think I'll miss Kalamazoo when I go. nay, I know. I like the option of walking places. Woodward Avenue Brewery, meet your newest regular.

I still don't have a job lined up.

My dreams are haunted with open roads. Alton, Memphis, Philadelphia, DC, Truth or Consequences, Yuma, Joshua Tree.

I STILL don't have a job lined up.

The amount of patience I have for the people who come in to work is directly proportionate to the amount of time I have in Kalamazoo.I'm reluctant to leave.

I don't think I'm as fat as I was. Smoking: the one thing I can do right.

Apologies for the personal pronoun abuse.

this modern love

I love the way my bed smells. It smells like Matt and dryer sheets. If I could capture that smell in a bottle, it would be great. I could just spray it whenever I miss him. It's kind of a catch 22 though, because while I could just conjure a facsimile of his presence almost instantly, it would still occur to me that he's not there and I'm just pretending.

For the first time in a long time, (long time = ~4ish weeks) I feel okay. I'm not worried/anxious or stressed. I'm mellow for non-chemical reasons. Business plan's not bugging me, I'm not worried about being fat any more than normal now, and Matt has made it apparent that I'm not going to be alone for awhile.

In the words of The Eels, everything's going to be cool this Christmas.

Ask me if I started packing for an early May moveout.

There is hummus in my fridge. It whispers to me from across town.

Let's look for jobs today.

Now playing: "Fa-Fa-Fa" - Datarock

the tension and the spark.

More secrets:

I am not mad about the snow. On the contrary, it's actually gorgeous. I wish I had time to take pictures this morning, it really is soooooo pretty. Besides, it is not that cold out, which kind of adds to the not minding ~2-3 inches of actual cold, wet snow in April.

Michigan weather: the meteorological April fool's joke.

This morning seems even more appropriate for soup and trip hop than friday afternoon. I needed a lot of things on friday.

Freakout update: no longer ticked about the AWOL boyfriend, and have officially moved on to the future. In about 5 weeks, I will be staring down the barrel of a six-month old relationship. Excuse me while I don't know what the fuck to do with that. brb.

That is why God gave me Tricky.

A conversation with my mom yesterday (via phone):

mom: did you go to church today?
me: no
mom: did you think about it?
me: yeah.

I'm leaving out the parts after because its funnier this way.

I bought a lot of groceries yesterday. I'm so stoked.

There is still pasta salad that needs making.

when I think of heaven, deliver me in a black winged bird

I get anxious, and I abuse whatever I can get my hands on.

Abuses in the last seven days (in no particular order):

1. Coffee (panera. hazelnut.)
2. Cigarettes (cloves. 2-3 a day.)
3. Hydroxyzine (possibly the only word I will ever get to type with xyz in it. For those who don't know, its my prescription for that itchy skin thing I had. Its primarily given as an antihistamine, but it is also used to treat mild anxiety. It helps on two fronts: a) I feel like everything is gonna be cool this Christmas, and b) it keeps the post nasal drip at bay, which has come back with a rampant vengeance ever since I decided smoking is cool again )
4. the internet (I wholeheartedly throw myself into the not for profit industry of nerdlicious distraction.)
5. my friends ( I feel I talk about myself and my problems way too much)
6. my job (I am no longer little miss nice tutor. I am just this side of "who pissed in her cheerios?" bitchy when I work)
7. the music of Fall Out Boy (I've been feeling just that bummed and self-indulgent lately.)

Have not heard from Matt since Sunday.

me < thrilled. I think this may be the beginning of our first fight. I wouldn't be so upset if we lived in the same state, or even the same time zone. We don't, therefore keeping in touch is important. I am pretty sure I'm not talking to him at the moment, which is pretty fucking childish, but that's the only way I can articulate things right now. It's really hard to do though.

Jesus, my communication skills suck.

I'm thinking of getting a tumblr account. I'd take more pictures then.

Super happy funtime now!

1.

2. I'm turning into a type nerd. Maybe I should have pursued graphic design or visual communications.

3. six words about a song, yo

4. scrabble, son

Can't Tell Me Nothin

Secret time:

I started smoking again. I'm doing my best to keep that ish on the stealth, but I'm not trying very hard either. I've just been having crazy cravings lately, even though there's no real trigger. If its any consolation, they're cloves. The Djarum Blacks I will always love, which are actually worse for you, but sometimes, I just have to.

Okay, I lied. Twice. Lie #1: (from the post immediately prior to this)I will not discuss sex today. I know I said I would, but I have no real profound thoughts on the subject at the moment. Lie #2: I think I know the trigger to my great American nicotine comeback. I looked at my naked body in the mirror, and decided I am getting too fat for my own good. So its not that I am feeding an addiction per se, but fulfilling a dietary need.

Smoking also keeps the crazy at bay. The crazy is a relatively recent development, and may be at least a partial case of PMS. The anniversary of my first formal dumping was this week. Matt and I are on approximately the same timetable we were on the first time we dated. Almost to the point of deja vu. So I'm anxious like whoa, waiting for that text/im/phone call that ultimately says I'm always wrong about everything ever, and no, I'm not good enough. It's been about 36 hours since I heard from him, and I just keep fearing the worst. Like soap opera coma. Okay, maybe not a coma, but maybe a coma. I can't believe I've turned into one of those girlfriends. In all likelihood, homeslice is just busy. Or tired. Or some combination. Or maybe his phone broke. There are a multitude of reasons that are more likely than the ones in my head. But the scenarios in my head are no less valid.

I would like to smoke now, please and thank you.

maybe I'll try my hand at writing serials. I'm addicted.

I'm going to a donkey show tonight. I'm wearing heels.

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

I bought candles yesterday. My room smells like Pier 1. I like it.

Visiting Chicago was a gas. I met a puppy. Well, Matt's puppy. Her name is Ruby, and all I can think of whenever they call her is the Kaiser Cheifs song. I think they named her after the kaiser Cheifs song. I can't be 100% certain though. She's a sweet thing, and seems to like me. She picks up on my chill vibes, and likes to cuddle. It's kind of funny how dogs can be smart and stupid all at the same time.

I decided I couldn't live with someone I'm dating. I know I will have to get over that shit when I get married, but as it stands right now, I like having my space. Maybe that's why long distance relationships aren't such a big problem for me. I like having an escape hatch. It also makes me appreciate the time I spend with that person so much more, because we're not bickering about actual stupid shit. (not to be confused with kind of stupid shit, like how tall Macaulay Culkin is)

I've never lived in the same city as someone I've dated before. Okay, that's a lie, I did once, and it was a disaster. I was in high school, and the relationship was the byproduct of a blind date. It lasted two weeks, and culminated with my dumping him on the night of his prom. I want to say it was in the limo, in front of White Castle. That may be dramatic embellishment on my part though, even though I can't say for sure. He wouldn't give me my space. But, to be fair to him, I never said give me some space. But to be fair to me, I was 17 and didn't know what I was doing or how to articulate my feelings. So it doesn't count right?

I still want a (more or less) traditional wedding. It hasn't come up lately, so I can't really gauge my progress.

Damn being a girl is hard work.

...it feels good to be a gangster.

Coming soon: more thoughts on sex.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate

I'm back from Mississippi, and I am proud to say nobody died.

I also got to see Memphis the hard way. On Saturday, we missed our train out of MS, which I had nothing to do with. (I realize it's catty, petty, and childish to say that, but its true.) I blame the fatty, fried and relatively instantaneous food pit stop. As we saw the train pull away, we plan to head it off at the next stop. Three hours, one daylight savings related freakout, one pill, one massive nicotine, several involuntary face twitches on the right side of my face, and one state line later, I am gazing at the lights of downtown Memphis, Tennessee through a train window, sipping a delicious vodka tonic.

I decided I'd like to go back to TN under different circumstances. I'd like to see what Paul Simon saw in Graceland. I want to take in downtown Memphis from outside the car.

In other news, I'm manning the turntables once again. I know it will be a beautiful reunion. I can't hardly wait.

This just in: four months later, we're talking forever.

From him, 2:46 AM: so yeah it'd be ever so lovely to be with you for as long as you'll have me

I can't help but think about sex. Not just in the horny early 20s way, but in the sexual satisfaction psychology sector too. If one were to enjoy being restrained or even knocked around, I'm curious as to what it would implicate about their inner issues, why that would trigger pleasure for them. Part of me has to learn that not everything has a motive. 98% of things do, though. This is why anarchy does not agree with me.

I want to be disinherited from my shyness that is criminally vulgar.

Furthermore, I need to start making peace with the fact that I want to start collecting MA and MFA degrees. I can think of three that I want already, but I have a phobia of the word thesis.

Haze of Love

Jesus Christ. I think I got spoiled at work. I think its the PMS, but the temper and the attitude I have to actively work to check lately. Lady came in today wanting to know what her assignment was. I gritted my teeth, and hoped she thought it was a smile. She lumbered off to ask her teacher what she was supposed to be doing (who'da thunk that the TEACHER would know what she needs to do?)She came back. She's supposed to do 4-5 pages on "a debatable topic". Obviously, this will require research with the aid of a computer. Did I mention she's COMPLETELY FUCKING COMPUTER ILLITERATE? Like, I had to show her how to log in, how to get to the internet, where to type the web address, why she couldn't click on the sponsored links on Google...this paper's due Friday. She, of course, is a one finger hunt and pecker. She should have started typing this paper last Tuesday.

I officially advocate the fuck out of placement tests for anything lower than master's level courses.

But other than that, my life has been lovely. I like Barbies and crossword puzzles and tea and blankets and CSI and America's Next Top Model in marathon form (like there is any other!).

I dyed my hair with the idea that eventually it will lighten, redden and do its thing. I think I'm going back to braids.

I need to write more.

I need to finish The Watchmen.

Also, I still have no idea what to give up for lent. ideally something to make me thin. Maybe I will give up not smoking.

There you are, wild and free

So, I (kinda) put myself out of my misery and took a pregnancy test. Good news: I dropped clean on that shit.

Downside: I still have this mystery rash on my torso mostly, and it itches sometimes, but things didn't start itching until this week. There's a kind of rough layer of skin on my lips too. My hands are starting to look weird too. My skin on my face is not looking the way it usually does, and I feel like I just look toxic overall. I also might have a UTI. Great. I see the doctor on Saturday. I can just see it now:

SCENE: INT. Doctor's office exam room. Day. Not that it matters since exam rooms have no windows. ENTER DR. L.

Dr. L (not my regular doctor, but he is the other doctor my regular doctor practices with): what brings you in today?

Me: this occasionally itchy rash, UTI symptoms, and an overall diseased look.

Dr. L: I see. We're going to need backup, a dermatologist, and a cigarette. (into walkie talkie) Breaker, breaker, 1-9, this is Dr. Manhattan to the front, do you read me, over?

Walkie talkie: (indeciperable gibberish)

Dr. L: go ahead and get the skin man, a cancer stick, and a slice of your mom's fantastic pie. We're also going to need all the backup we can get.

Me: does the cigarette do something for the rash?

Dr. L: no, but judging from the look of things, we could be here awhile.

Me: oh (starts nicotine lust)

(ENTER FABULOUS BACKUP SINGERS, in tight magenta sequinned dresses. They should be hefty black women, like Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls, but far fatter. There are three of them. All parts delivered by them are sung.)

Fabulous backup singers: be here awhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile!

Me: Can I at least have some pie?

Dr. L: may as well, looks as if you're going to die anyway.

Fabulous backup singers: you're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!! (jazz hands)

END SCENE.

But on the upside, the sore throat and overall shittiness is going away.

And...still in love. Still mentally going places I have no business going. Like entertaining the notion of having a family. What is wrong with me? All I do is judge people who start that kind of talk three months into a relationship. I had issues with other people dropping the l bomb as early as we did. And now all I can see is a yard full of kids with crazy curly hair and caramel skin. Jesus Christ, stop me.

Even if you counted the 4 months we were together prior to 2008, that still only puts us at ~7 months. Which is still kind of early for that kind of talk.

Dammit, love is a cynic's kryptonite.

And now, to remember what kind of person I was like before I became a total sellout, I'm reading The Watchmen. I like it. It's dark, and reminiscent of the noir Hammett novels I used to read and adore.

I want snacks.

It's cold.

Excess ain't rebellion. I'm drinking what they're selling.

Turns out I am paranoid without even partaking in herbal activities.

I'm fine. I just like to give myself a good scare, just to see if I can still be scared.

Good news: I can.

The internet/server ate my last two (possibly three) attempts at publicly expressing myself. Let's go for the gold son!

Apparently "Sex on Fire" won a Grammy. You go, Kings of Leon!

When money talks, I hate to listen, but lately it's been screaming in my ear.

I wish that people who are in charge of doling out the jobs were cool. It's just like, judge me on how qualified I am, and not how many holes I have in my head or the colors I've added to my skin and hair. I need a job that pays well and does not mind a few extra holes or visible tattoos.

I love this record, baby, but I can't see straight anymore.

As long as the soda cans are red, white, and blue ones!

I'm excited for the weekend. To the point where new, cute underwear was purchased. Well underwear was one part excitement, two parts necessity, and one part lazy. I need to laundry.

He is just that into me.

I swear I'm the marrying kind.

And none for Gretchen Wieners, bye!

hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ

I am in a panic. Not even on the streets of London.

Right now I need to clear my head and contact a health care professional. I'm going to talk to my friend who is a nurse this afternoon, and I really need to shake this only slightly logical paranoia. This post is about clearing my head.

My body is doing weird things....well, let me rephrase. I can't tell if my body really is doing weird things or if its only acting weird because I'm acting weird because I only think its doing weird things. The words make sense in that order, I promise.

In the last couple of months, I have become hyper aware of my body almost to the point of (okay, definitely to the point of) paranoia.Things like "I'm getting fatter, is that winter hibernation weight or is that pregnancy weight?", "my period was a day late, oh god what does that mean?", "my period tapered off really abruptly, what the French toast does that indicate?" are all followed by or punctuated with "ohmigodohmigodohmigod". Now as I type, these thoughts look silly in visual words. I mean, I have never been dumb about a sexual encounter. But you know, things happen. Condoms break, rip, slip, tear. I am 95-7% sure that a mishap didn't occur, but you know, what if? Moral of the story, I really should get on the pill and eliminate this shit for good.

There, I said it. Moving on.

I would like to peace the fuck out of Kalamazoo, Michigan. My lease is up at the end of April and I would like to move back to Chicago (I love the city tonight, I love the city always). There are jobs, its just a matter of moving costs. I have found decently priced apartments in okay neighborhoods, and I could always room with someone from craigslist or something if it came to it. Well, "decently priced" can run anywhere from 5-600 for a studio if I am lucky. Good thing I am not claustrophobic. Some are cheaper, but require people skills which, now that I think about it, would not be so bad. I am always looking to expand my social network, especially in cities where I have a very small circle of friends who live there. I feel like there's a catch-22: living spaces require money, aka a job. Jobs require a place to live. And the cycle begins anew. I can't find my pants, film at 11. Stay tuned.

I have chosen to accept a mission. Yes, that mission.

It's pretty funny that for the second time ever, I have a valentine on valentines day. Also funny: I've either spent valentine's day with Matt or nobody at all. Ideally, this v-day would be spent looking at sharks at Shedd Aquarium.

I'm happy and I'm writing. we'll see where this goes.

okay, I'm done brain vomiting.

life may sometimes be sad, but its always beautiful

Yeah, everything's back to normal now. I have my job back. That was a hellish and unnecessarily dumb five days.

More sap from my super sweet boyfriend:

12:29 AM: i miss seeing the top of your head on my chest
12:31 AM: i miss your complete shock at all the noises my intestines can make


1:14 AM you know what i really miss?
1:15 AM i miss the fact that even when i chat with you and use all my stories up on here, if i see you the next day im so excited to talk to you, even when its totally about nothing

... but he doesn't believe in marriage in the conventional sense, he says.

New insanely impossible mission.

But do I choose to accept it?

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you, I'm out!

I've been canned. Sacked. Pink slipped.

FUCK MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE.

Tonight and this weekend are not going to be pretty. I suspect there will be crying and drunkeness and hardcore feeding involved with the money that was supposed to be for bills.

I'm probably applying for unemployment and letting the government take care of me for awhile.

Kinda funny how I didn't get fucked by the god-awful economy until the VERY end of Bush's term.

And by funny I mean shitty as fuck and I want to harm somebody.

But my hyperactive sense of entitlement as a twentysomething American female tells me that means I don't have to play nice for the time being. People that take certain kinds of energy to deal with are coming to visit this weekend. I make no promises that I am playing nice. If anybody even looks at me funny, I swear I'm going to unleash a world of fury they didn't even know I had. Jackie, crazy twat Clara, Richard, the homeless bums that panhandle, anybody. I'm not planning to be mean, but I'm just saying, if things are pissing me off, you'll know. Full blown Diva mode has been engaged.

So much for SXSW 2009 magical road trips. So much for spring break.

I started kissing the nicotine smokestack yesterday.

But on the upside, Theresa and I are job hunting tomorrow.

I would love it if the snow stopped, thanks.

There's always the titty bar.

I think it's 80s night. Somewhere else, not at the titty bar. That would be kinda epic though.

Two hours left at this job and I don't care who I offend.

ello ello ello vee eee

Courtesy of Matt, and the reason I am tired this morning:

1:43 AM: when i take time to think about it, i'm liking the idea of growing old with you. although im hesitant to say so, cause it sounds like a total creeper line

when you are broke, the money-problems ratio is inversely proportionate, regardless of what Puff Daddy, Mase, and Notorious BIG would have you think

Good grace, that was a long ass post title.

It's the truth. I've been cut seven hours at work, and even though that doesn't sound like a lot, its my sole source of income for the time being. Fuck part-time jobs.

So I've been looking into leaving. My lease is up in April, and armed with craigslist and not much else (not even a resume, shitty as that is), I've been looking for a job and a place to live. Going home sounds like a stupid option and I'd rather live in a cheeseburger with no money for groceries. But it's still an option, a viable one at that.

I am fully aware of how ridiculous that sounded.

Also fuck not living in a college town. I have gotten spoiled with my less than $500 rents and my downstairs coffeeshops. As I search for places to live that fit my budget, I start thinking I'll apply for loans and just live until I die. Or run out of money. Whichever comes first.

I keep using google maps to ascertain how far apartments are from Matt. My friends think its cute. I think it's creepy.

I found two foxy little places in the $500 range.

Suddenly I am a little more optimistic.

But still chunky. Also trying very hard not to make out with the nicotine smokestack.

Just discovered I am not broke as I thought. Still on a tight budget, but not as tight as previously thought. Thanks, God.

I consider myself a Christian, but I still have sympathy for the devil.

I should go to the movies. I still have not seen The Spirit, and that depresses me greatly.

Also depressing:

Graduate Student Academic Year Cost of Attendance 2008-2009

Tuition and Fees (full-time)

$15,992
Books and Supplies

$1,400
Room and Board

$12,000
Personal Expenses

$3,600
Transportation

$1,800

Total


$34,792

Yeah.