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Yesterday was a good day. Not fantastic, but good. Even with that practicing parallel parking for an hour and a half. Which is something I only get once I manage to figure out where exactly I need to start turning the other way. I have a perfectly vivid imagination for everything but "imagine there's a big metal wall...that you just crashed through. It's okay. Pull up and try again." Now, I should like to point out that once I do get it, I tend to be really good. But I have to find my markers on whatever car I'm trying this little trick out on. And yesterday, I missed the Intrepid something awful. I had all my little mental marks cemented in my head. It's just I never managed to feel brave enough at the same time the car was working. Hence, I'm older than I should be without a license.
Granted, I still view most cars as nothing more than death traps that occasionally get you from A-Z, but every so often I want one of my own. It needn't go very far on a normal basis. Just needs to get me there and back again without killing me dead. Comfy enough for me, everyone else can deal. Y'know. So when my father asks what sort of car I'd like, I have no idea what to say. Not a boat of a car, nothing that's definitely a death trap [one must be concerned about safety in the event of an accident, given the way everyone else on the road drives], and comfy enough that I don't kill myself getting in and out of said car. They do not, however, advertise cars in this way. Pity, it would make things so much easier for me.
My MCR deluxe DVD/CD package showed up yesterday. It's lovely, and Dru will have pictures of it later, but it smells quite a bit like our old hamster cages because they thought pine shavings would be festive. It's not. I gagged at the smell and put the thing away before inspecting the mask I'd been sent. :P I made dinner [three different ones], did some dishes, and regretfully went to bed early. I wasn't tired until I ate, but then I was exhausted. I suspect it was the sun. This is all terribly boring, no?
So I poured my little out to someone in a moment of absolute weakness and complete annoyance, I'll admit, and how do they respond? "Can't talk. Husband's here. YAY! We'll talk later, k? When he's gone. He's here! Yay!" You've been apart a week. I could stab you with a motherfucking spork. But I won't. I can also guarentee that what I felt semi-comfortable enough to discuss on my day off I will not feel the same way about in the midst of working one last hellacious week before freedom. So, no, you can try and ease your conscience some other way, because I will not be around. This is assuming she will remember at all.
I hope I get the urge to clean sometime soon... particularly on a day when I will have time to do so.
The best thing about summer, besides that feeling you still remember from being a kid [freedom!] which is now all lies, is that there's a storm. Almost every day. Sometimes it's just the threat of one, which can be just as good, and sometimes it's so bad you seriously wonder if maybe you're going to die, right there, huddled with the dog who is petrified of thunder.
I've been trying to figure out what I want for my birthday. Some years this is so easy, it hurts. Some years, it's a little more difficult. This would be one of those years. I'm anxiously awaiting the new Bratz showing up, and I'd like some of the older Bratz Kidz [prior to that horrible plastic clothing idea. Really, what the hell is that about?] and I'm itching for books, but nothing is screaming, "BUY ME!" So this year, you're pretty much on your own. I like... shiny things.
I also really like this icon.
Granted, I still view most cars as nothing more than death traps that occasionally get you from A-Z, but every so often I want one of my own. It needn't go very far on a normal basis. Just needs to get me there and back again without killing me dead. Comfy enough for me, everyone else can deal. Y'know. So when my father asks what sort of car I'd like, I have no idea what to say. Not a boat of a car, nothing that's definitely a death trap [one must be concerned about safety in the event of an accident, given the way everyone else on the road drives], and comfy enough that I don't kill myself getting in and out of said car. They do not, however, advertise cars in this way. Pity, it would make things so much easier for me.
My MCR deluxe DVD/CD package showed up yesterday. It's lovely, and Dru will have pictures of it later, but it smells quite a bit like our old hamster cages because they thought pine shavings would be festive. It's not. I gagged at the smell and put the thing away before inspecting the mask I'd been sent. :P I made dinner [three different ones], did some dishes, and regretfully went to bed early. I wasn't tired until I ate, but then I was exhausted. I suspect it was the sun. This is all terribly boring, no?
So I poured my little out to someone in a moment of absolute weakness and complete annoyance, I'll admit, and how do they respond? "Can't talk. Husband's here. YAY! We'll talk later, k? When he's gone. He's here! Yay!" You've been apart a week. I could stab you with a motherfucking spork. But I won't. I can also guarentee that what I felt semi-comfortable enough to discuss on my day off I will not feel the same way about in the midst of working one last hellacious week before freedom. So, no, you can try and ease your conscience some other way, because I will not be around. This is assuming she will remember at all.
I hope I get the urge to clean sometime soon... particularly on a day when I will have time to do so.
The best thing about summer, besides that feeling you still remember from being a kid [freedom!] which is now all lies, is that there's a storm. Almost every day. Sometimes it's just the threat of one, which can be just as good, and sometimes it's so bad you seriously wonder if maybe you're going to die, right there, huddled with the dog who is petrified of thunder.
I've been trying to figure out what I want for my birthday. Some years this is so easy, it hurts. Some years, it's a little more difficult. This would be one of those years. I'm anxiously awaiting the new Bratz showing up, and I'd like some of the older Bratz Kidz [prior to that horrible plastic clothing idea. Really, what the hell is that about?] and I'm itching for books, but nothing is screaming, "BUY ME!" So this year, you're pretty much on your own. I like... shiny things.
I also really like this icon.
