And so, it begins

... It's a little disconcerting to check one's email only to find a message from one of the various crack dealers [and in this case, crack would be any of my infinitely legal addictions] saying my credit card was declined. A) If your site is going to make a big song and dance about it being a debit card, then when you give me a morning heart attack, it shouldn't mix the two up, and B) something seems screwy as there's plenty o' moolah to pay for one measly comic book. So I don't get it. If the card was denied, something is screwy somewhere. If not, then why send me a strange email telling me so? Unless, you know, there's something wrong. Oi. So we filled out their little form and now we're waiting to hear back from them.

In the meantime, I'm thinking I'm gonna Obitsu some of the Pullips. Evie went back to her normal body, under protest, and ditched the blond wig. It's annoying the hell out of me that I can't find a wig I like more than I like her bald, and I don't love her bald like I do Ainsley. So thus, she needs hair, damn it. Anyway, with the lone Obitsu roaming free, Isa snatched it, claiming her broken leg gives her cuts in the dolly line. Not sure the boobs from hell will fit her any better than they did Evie, but Evie had fun for awhile, until Ainsley demanded the normal wig back. Then it just got weird.

And for those who don't live in my head or keep up with such things, Evie is my Eternia. Isa is my China China. Ainsley you should know, as she's one of the RIDa twins.

Various plans for my vacation:

Cake. There shall be cake. Not every day, but come Tuesday, there had best be CAKE, damn it. I think my goal is to try most of those nifty frozen drinks at Krispy Kreme and see if any of them are tasty. Unless the first is beyond nasty and then I'll find something else to lust after. I will not sleep away all my mornings, nor will I waste all my afternoons on sleep either. Somehow, I fill find a balance. Maybe I'll tell midday to kiss my ass. Sunday may or may not involve a trip to the beach, and I think I'm to call Tracy Monday or Tuesday. Remind me to check with her again, k? Well, actually, you can't, as I won't see her again until tomorrow morning and by then it'll be too late. But, if I don't check, remind me to check when her days off are. That is almost as good. However, that's a lot of maybes and ifs so... what else? Hmm. Oh, Cass is supposed to show up Tuesday to bring birthday joy!*

I'm covered in bright band-aids today. I sliced my arm at work so I had to clean it numerous times. Not. Fun. It's
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that big. I could have gone and taken a picture, but it's under a giant blue bandage. Awesome, I know. The other band-aid is purple and on my thumb. The toilet is wonky and when I went to take the back/top/however you wanna look at it off, I was so ticked at people for not shutting the fuck up so I could get some sleep that um, I accidentally dropped the top/back/you get the idea. Somehow I sliced my thumb, though maybe that was bound to happen when the you/get/the/idea shattered. I'm debating another for my ring finger which is infected [nail biting bad!] and one of my toes [shoes are pain] but the only person who would appreciate my rainbow goodness isn't here. So, maybe not.

How does one politely point out that the idea of spending a day at the beach with THREE couples [one of whom I don't know at all] is on par with dental work? Lower down the ladder than dental, in fact, as you're talking to someone who didn't lose too many teeth naturally. I had most of them yanked, so I'm good with the dentist and all. Seriously. Couples at the beach tend to fall into the obnoxious category. Sure, they differ in which form the obnoxiousness chooses to manifest itself, but in the end, you're left wondering if you'll be able to lure a jellyfish or twelve to sting the hell out of them. Will they grope one another? Will they do that, "Oh, honey, could you get me..." thing? Will they fight? Will you suddenly find yourself in the midst of a TMI conversation and wish that a sandstorm would come along and blind as well as deafen you?

Dunno. Also, going to the beach at 11:30AM is just stupid. You might as well go at noon, expect a good spot, and oh yeah, would you like an extra helping of skin cancer with that?

* Not happening. Someone has to work.
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See, I'm gonna bitch big time beforehand, in an effort to minimize "woe is me!" time during my actual vacation. That's the plan, anyway. Still, it kinda sucks.

Tired. Bored. BORED.