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I would like to say that you wouldn't think there'd be a huge difference in working nine hours compared to working eight hours. You would be so wrong, it'd be funny. What kills me is the knowledge that I used to do this every day [for a month once!] and it didn't bother me all that much. But I guess at the gas station where I could sit my ass down for hours on end and only had to walk around a postage stamp sized store [okay, and to and from the store itself] and, oh, being younger and smaller had much to do with this.
Yeah, last night I damn near died of boredom. I do not understand the need to shop at a drugstore n the middle of the night. I... just don't. I understand the people who are sick and need their meds or whatever. I understand the parents who rush in just before midnight because their kid just told them about some important project due the next day. I understand tourists who just realized they forgot their toothbrush. That also sort of goes for the people who are doing the obvious booty calls. I love those, actually, especially when they don't think you know why they're in at 2am buying a mini toothbrush, some mouthwash, and the mini deodorant. Usually there's another clue, like, I dunno, the nervous gigglyness of your average girl-type. Again, obviously other clues factor in to this, but I'm hungry and my brain ain't working at full speed at the moment.
I'm reading my way through the American Girl books. For the most part this involves re-reading, like Kirsten's series [geez, everything that could wrong did go wrong for that girl, huh? Short of killing an actual family member, where she goes, death follows. Ditto for Kaya. I'm thinking not such a coincidence they share the same author.] but some of the books are new to me as they appeared after I outgrew AG. Like Kaya. Most of Kit's books. Any of the best friends books. Currently the heiarchy of the best friends books goes like this:
1. Ruthie
2. Nellie
3. Elizabeth
Poor Elizabeth suffers through what we call really frickin' ugly artwork. At least Nellie's questionable artiste made me think Samantha occasionally looked like a very young Tim Curry for some odd-ass reason.
This morning my mother sent me into Publix. Alone. *gasps in horror* Normally this wouldn't be worth a mention at all, as I frequently go there after work as it is my preferred grocery store of choice. Clean! No frickin' card needed! Nifty magazines, but I think they need a new magazine person because they're failing with this lately! My tortellini! Tori music! Oh, and occasionally there's cake. You cannot underestimate the power of the Publix cake. Anyway, no, I'd forgotten that I am not allowed in stores during the month of October because my brain sees a sea of orange and black and I seriously consider, if only for a moment, not buying any of the food we might actually need and instead stocking up on pumpkins and decorations.
I bought cookie cutters instead. Mostly because around Ari's birthday I plan on attempting to make a monster cake of DOOM. If I fail in a spectacular enough fashion, I will share pictures. Ditto if I actually pull it off.
And if it's pretty and edible, I will resist the urge to find the boy's girlfriend and shriek "In your face!" Because I still think she's trying to poison me. I am that paranoid.
Speaking of ill, you know what's not fun? Waking up, standing up, and about three steps into your long trek across the room you have to clean over the weekend you realize you feel like you're going to die. The feeling actually gets worse as you continue the trek, do your morning rituals at 10-something at night, and wander downstairs. Still. Feel. Like. Crap. Can't call out because someone's on vacation they didn't even ask for and... can't call out.
I felt like crap until 2am.
Your job, should you choose to accept it or not, is to bug me tomorrow evening and ask how the cleaning of Bob's room went. I figure if I clean out Bob's room and make it neat again, I can put the extra Pullip boxes in there as well as other crap which will free up my actual room. Sooner or later I'll clean the bathroom, but this is not that time. The current plan is to make sure I have a clear walkway to Bob's room, and then start on the left and circle my way around. It doesn't make a huge difference, but this way I only have to deal with the Bratz display at the end instead of trying to figure out where to put it at the beginning of my mad march towards CLEAN.
Then you are to tell me to get the hell off the computer and go watch [and return] my damn Netflix movies. And make my Halloween lantern because this is the merry month of Halloween!
God, I'm hungry.
Oh, and evidentally the SATs were today. To all those suckers who must endure such hardship, I point and laugh. And encourage anyone else to share their tale of woe.
I think I took the SAT twice. I'm not entirely sure about that, though because the only thing I remember about the first one is that I was in middle school and at Bishop England for the test and there was serious confusion after the test as to how I was to get home. I stood outside for two hours until I hiked to a pay phone and called and asked if my parents had forgotten they had a daughter. My mother went with the, "You were supposed to call when you were done!" thing. I... pointed out that even had I been done six hours before everyone else, I could not have left early and everyone else's parents got there on time and oh how I cried because I sucked so bad at the math. 8th grade, I'm thinking. Maybe, maybe, maybe 7th. Thing is, I can't really figure out why they'd make us take it early, even as a Smart Kid thing. I'd assume it was the pre-SAT if not for the fact that they gave us that in class. I've got a trophy for that.
So. Yes. The second go round was less drama filled and I don't remember much other than thinking, "Ohshit. Shoulda actually studied." I don't recall having done fantastically on that one and I never did find out the first results, I don't think. Had I not been ready to bolt from the educational system at that point, I would have taken them again and studied. As it was, I think they were fairly close to someone I love [theirs were higher] and they were freaking out about how stupid they were and how they had to study and take them AGAIN and all I could think was, "yeah, no thanks." By that point even my competitive nature in all things graded had died.
Never did understand the competitive graded thing. I almost never ever actually came out on top. I kept picking people smarter/better/more well loved than I to compete against. Which, in retrospect does make you work your ass off in the hopes that today will be the day you leave them in your dust, but mostly it was setting myself up for failure. If one can consider decent grades for however many years failure.
But yeah, when I realized I was competing with someone who could whip out something so perfect that teachers were left speechless with joy the morning the assignment was due, I kinda died a little.
This tangent brought to you by parents buying their children's calculators AAA batteries in bulk. And the number 2 pencil.
Yeah, last night I damn near died of boredom. I do not understand the need to shop at a drugstore n the middle of the night. I... just don't. I understand the people who are sick and need their meds or whatever. I understand the parents who rush in just before midnight because their kid just told them about some important project due the next day. I understand tourists who just realized they forgot their toothbrush. That also sort of goes for the people who are doing the obvious booty calls. I love those, actually, especially when they don't think you know why they're in at 2am buying a mini toothbrush, some mouthwash, and the mini deodorant. Usually there's another clue, like, I dunno, the nervous gigglyness of your average girl-type. Again, obviously other clues factor in to this, but I'm hungry and my brain ain't working at full speed at the moment.
I'm reading my way through the American Girl books. For the most part this involves re-reading, like Kirsten's series [geez, everything that could wrong did go wrong for that girl, huh? Short of killing an actual family member, where she goes, death follows. Ditto for Kaya. I'm thinking not such a coincidence they share the same author.] but some of the books are new to me as they appeared after I outgrew AG. Like Kaya. Most of Kit's books. Any of the best friends books. Currently the heiarchy of the best friends books goes like this:
1. Ruthie
2. Nellie
3. Elizabeth
Poor Elizabeth suffers through what we call really frickin' ugly artwork. At least Nellie's questionable artiste made me think Samantha occasionally looked like a very young Tim Curry for some odd-ass reason.
This morning my mother sent me into Publix. Alone. *gasps in horror* Normally this wouldn't be worth a mention at all, as I frequently go there after work as it is my preferred grocery store of choice. Clean! No frickin' card needed! Nifty magazines, but I think they need a new magazine person because they're failing with this lately! My tortellini! Tori music! Oh, and occasionally there's cake. You cannot underestimate the power of the Publix cake. Anyway, no, I'd forgotten that I am not allowed in stores during the month of October because my brain sees a sea of orange and black and I seriously consider, if only for a moment, not buying any of the food we might actually need and instead stocking up on pumpkins and decorations.
I bought cookie cutters instead. Mostly because around Ari's birthday I plan on attempting to make a monster cake of DOOM. If I fail in a spectacular enough fashion, I will share pictures. Ditto if I actually pull it off.
And if it's pretty and edible, I will resist the urge to find the boy's girlfriend and shriek "In your face!" Because I still think she's trying to poison me. I am that paranoid.
Speaking of ill, you know what's not fun? Waking up, standing up, and about three steps into your long trek across the room you have to clean over the weekend you realize you feel like you're going to die. The feeling actually gets worse as you continue the trek, do your morning rituals at 10-something at night, and wander downstairs. Still. Feel. Like. Crap. Can't call out because someone's on vacation they didn't even ask for and... can't call out.
I felt like crap until 2am.
Your job, should you choose to accept it or not, is to bug me tomorrow evening and ask how the cleaning of Bob's room went. I figure if I clean out Bob's room and make it neat again, I can put the extra Pullip boxes in there as well as other crap which will free up my actual room. Sooner or later I'll clean the bathroom, but this is not that time. The current plan is to make sure I have a clear walkway to Bob's room, and then start on the left and circle my way around. It doesn't make a huge difference, but this way I only have to deal with the Bratz display at the end instead of trying to figure out where to put it at the beginning of my mad march towards CLEAN.
Then you are to tell me to get the hell off the computer and go watch [and return] my damn Netflix movies. And make my Halloween lantern because this is the merry month of Halloween!
God, I'm hungry.
Oh, and evidentally the SATs were today. To all those suckers who must endure such hardship, I point and laugh. And encourage anyone else to share their tale of woe.
I think I took the SAT twice. I'm not entirely sure about that, though because the only thing I remember about the first one is that I was in middle school and at Bishop England for the test and there was serious confusion after the test as to how I was to get home. I stood outside for two hours until I hiked to a pay phone and called and asked if my parents had forgotten they had a daughter. My mother went with the, "You were supposed to call when you were done!" thing. I... pointed out that even had I been done six hours before everyone else, I could not have left early and everyone else's parents got there on time and oh how I cried because I sucked so bad at the math. 8th grade, I'm thinking. Maybe, maybe, maybe 7th. Thing is, I can't really figure out why they'd make us take it early, even as a Smart Kid thing. I'd assume it was the pre-SAT if not for the fact that they gave us that in class. I've got a trophy for that.
So. Yes. The second go round was less drama filled and I don't remember much other than thinking, "Ohshit. Shoulda actually studied." I don't recall having done fantastically on that one and I never did find out the first results, I don't think. Had I not been ready to bolt from the educational system at that point, I would have taken them again and studied. As it was, I think they were fairly close to someone I love [theirs were higher] and they were freaking out about how stupid they were and how they had to study and take them AGAIN and all I could think was, "yeah, no thanks." By that point even my competitive nature in all things graded had died.
Never did understand the competitive graded thing. I almost never ever actually came out on top. I kept picking people smarter/better/more well loved than I to compete against. Which, in retrospect does make you work your ass off in the hopes that today will be the day you leave them in your dust, but mostly it was setting myself up for failure. If one can consider decent grades for however many years failure.
But yeah, when I realized I was competing with someone who could whip out something so perfect that teachers were left speechless with joy the morning the assignment was due, I kinda died a little.
This tangent brought to you by parents buying their children's calculators AAA batteries in bulk. And the number 2 pencil.
