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| I used to love Pee-wee’s Playhouse. I watched it every Saturday morning. I watched an episode recently; I can’t believe my parents LET me watch it. It explains Everything about my mental state. Not just everything. Everything. So kudos to Pee-wee. You warped my mind. *toasts* Cheers. Following along this stream of consciousness thing, Merry Melodies, aka Loony Toons. Went over to a friend’s house, and they were watching really old Daffy Duck cartoons on a DVD they bought at a dollar store. I couldn’t stop the silly grin from taking over my face when I sat down and watched it with them, immediately recalling that I used to watch Merry Melodies every morning on regular television around 4:30 or 5:00 AM. I used to wake up when my mom would wake up because I’d hear her getting ready for work, and I wanted to be with her. I mostly wanted to be with her because she would have to leave me with Grandma, since all of my brothers were in school and couldn’t take care of me. At first, my youngest oldest brother used to go to Grandma’s with me, but he started kindergarten when I was four, and anything before that is just a tad bit hazy. Anyway, I was lost in the past before I finally realized that there was something tweaking me about the Daffy Duck cartoons we were watching. Finally, it dawned on me when a random skit came on, showing a dog sniffing out stocked food next to an empty cupboard. "Food hoarder!" the dog bellowed, pointing accusingly at the old woman. "Food hoarder!" "War propaganda?" I blurted incredulously. "Aha!" Duckie exclaimed triumphantly. "She got it!" Then he went on to explain, even going as far as to showing me an episode featuring an episode of Daffy making an idiot out of Adolf Hitler. Suddenly that episode of South Park where Cartman goes Loony Toons on bin Laden makes so much more SENSE. It was funny before, don’t get me wrong; and I may be looking too deeply into things, but there’s something like cosmic justice to it. *grins* Eheh. So. Anyway. Got a job now. Yeah, yeah, hold back the dramatic gasps. I like my job. Pay could be better, I don’t get to spend a lot of time with my family, and I hardly have any time for "leisure" activities anymore, but I couldn’t ask for better coworkers. Sure, sometimes they annoy the hell out of me, but that’s just par for the course for anyone stuck in a small room in close proximity for eight hours a day. (I wouldn’t be surprised if I annoy them at times, either. I have that effect on people.) And they’re funny. What more can I ask for? Now I have enough money saved up for a new computer, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m trading this hunk of junk for my brother’s big-ass TV (because, let’s face it, his computer is old and is in worse shape than mine). Then I can get a DVD player, rearrange my furniture a bit... Finally get rid of this stupid bulky, room-stealing broken bedframe... I also have to think about what ELSE to do with my money. I saved a lot to get a new computer and still have enough to feel "safe" with. Next month, I’m going to have to pick up the car payment, which is going to cripple me a bit. I pay for my cell phone and my insurance already, but that’s only something like $45-50 a month. The car is a freakin’ Miata -that’s an additional $265. I’d get rid of it and buy something used and useful (The Miata -a "party barge" it is not), but that’s just such a hassle, and the Miata gets fan-fucking-tastic gas mileage. Twenty bucks gets me sixty miles every day for five days. Include the student loans I’m going to start paying off in January... That’s most of one paycheck, not including gas (at least $40 for two weeks), food ($100-150 for two weeks) and cigarettes (the math would make me cry on this one). And yet, I still think it’s amusing that I’d give up food before I give up cigarettes. I really am a pathetic addict. *shrugs* Oh, well. *lights up* I think overexposure to McDonald’s has warped my brain. Hear me out on this. When you start seriously craving French fries -and not just ANY French fries, but MCDONALD’S French fries -at three in the morning, you would start to agree with me. But it’s the only way I can collect those Monopoly game pieces. I know it’s impossible to win these things (well, unlikely, in any case), but damn it, it’s a nice dream. Coincidentally, I decided to skip out on Mickey D’s today. Munched on some Chinese food today. Mmmm... I miss semi-normal food. *sighs* (... I still want French fries... ) Ooh! Ooh! Random "Cappie" rant now! *grins excitedly* I decided it would be funny if I posted a chapter on Friday the 13th -superstitious, I know, but hear me out. I wanted to see if breaking the 600 review barrier on Friday the 13th would be "unlucky." And I did it! Mwahahah! And look. No bad luck in sight. *grins* I’m ridiculously pleased about this successful goal. It was a stupid goal, but a fun goal. Also reached another goal recently. I’ve successfully gotten my brother addicted to Bleach. Not only that, he’s gotten his non-anime friend to like it, as well. That show kicks so much ASS. *grins* Now I just gotta find some time to sit down and start recording the episodes I have on the DVR to a DVD. Not like I wouldn’t want to watch through them again, or anything, but I hardly have the time to do much of anything accept work, watch the shows I missed while at work, write, eat, and sleep. That last part is optional. Speaking of food, time for "dinner." Yay, bananas. Ciao! Kel of "My symptoms never sleep." Mayhem | | |
| I'm not dead.
A little cranky. A little tired.
Not dead. | | |
| Today, my friend called me at some ungodly hour of the day (I say ungodly, but it was probably more like appropriate; gah, I need to stop waking up after two in the afternoon) to chit chat about various things. I don't remember most of them, as I was kind of stuck in some semi-delirious state about cannibal babies gnawing at my ankles.
Best not think too hard about that one.
Anyway, I think she invited me over to do something with her. Or she mentioned doing something without me. I don't quite remember, but I do recall replying, "Nah. I'm going to get my ears stapled today."
There was a long, drawn out pause on the other side of the line. And then she said incredulously, "To what?"
I love my friends. They know just what to say to keep me amused for the rest of the day.
So my mom paid sixty bucks to staple my ears today. (Heheheh...) It's this new fad to help people sleep better, stop smoking, lose weight, etc.; basically all the things I have problems with, I suppose. The staples are attached firmly onto the little pertruding lumps of cartiledge in the inner shell of my ears; they twinge every once in a while, and they really irritated the hell out of me for about an hour after having the procedure done. The first five or ten minutes were the worst, and I blame the Gum Chewer for it.
Let me explain.
There were a lot of people holed up in this tiny little hair salon, just lining up to have their ears stapled. (And to think I had been wondering if there would be anyone else in the area who would fall for something that sounds like such a scam. Talk about having high expectations.) I watched them do the whole stapling thing several times before it was my turn. The only reason, mind you, that I was doing this in the first place was because my mom wanted to do it, but she was too scared to do it alone.
Well. That, and how many people do YOU meet on the street that can truthfully say they have their ears stapled? I haven't met any, and I live for the moment when I make a strange announcement about myself and people look at me strangely. but I digress.
I was promised that it didn't hurt at all. "Just a slight pinch, and then she'll teach you the proper stimulation techniques, and you shouldn't too many problems after that," the Gum Chewer informed me gently, trying not to scare me away. I'm sure her real goal wasn't so focused on trying to comfort me, but to insure that her cash flow was sixty bucks heavier. The ones who did it before me didn't seem to be having any problems, so I assumed there was very little pain involved.
The very second the first staple went in, I wanted to make a face. It hurt, damn it. This wasn't a mere pinch; it was a stinging lance of pain that made the inside of my ears throb. I tried to soothe my irritation by thinking that the reason it hurt so bad was because I'd been tense, but when the second staple went in (and I was completely relaxed, mind you) and hurt worse than the first one, I wanted to look at the Gum Chewer and accuse her of lying to me.
If there's one thing I hate most in this world, it's being lied to. This is especially so when I'm doing something that may be painful. I don't mind pain; I can deal with it rather well when I expect it. However, this woman made false promises of a relatively nearly-pain free procedure that turned out to be a little more than "just a slight pinch." I want to be told exactly what to expect, and to hell with kind words and gentle encouragement. Instead of lying to me, she should have looked me straight in the eye and said, "It hurts for a little while, but that eventually goes away." I would have been fine with that, and I wouldn't be as irritated as I am now.
Unfortunately, there were almost over a half a dozen people waiting in line, and I didn't want to freak them out. My mom, however, realized almost instantly that the pain was a little worse than what the Gum Chewer was making it out to be; apparently, immediately after the first staple, my face paled despite my conscious decision not to show how much it hurt by flinching. In any case, that comforted her; she knew exactly what to expect judging by my reaction. I hate being her human test rat.
At least I have staples in my ears. Now I can enjoy the expressions on people's faces when they do a double take after catching a first glimpse of the staples, or the bland disbelief when I suddenly announce, "I have staples in my ears." It's so petty, but I enjoy collecting such vaguely surprised expressions.
Heh. I lead such a simple life.
If this isn't a scam and I do start noticing differences in my sleeping patterns, weight loss, or a decrease to how many cigarettes I smoke a day, it can only be a bonus. In the meantime, I'll just be pretty much satisfied that I did something nobody I know has done. Heh. Such cheap thrills amuse me. ^_^
Ciao.
Kel of "To err is human. To forgive is not company policy." Mayhem | | |
| I beat Kingdom Hearts 2! Finally!
Mwahahahahahahahah!!
Well, I'm on an impromptu vacation visiting my brother and sister-in-law in Lafayette right now. This highspeed internet stuff is so cool. I think I'm going to cry when I go back home to my crappy dial-up... Actually, I kinda want to break down in tears just THINKING about it. When I go back home, I'll be absolutely heartbroken.
Seriously.
Since coming here, I've been able to watch anime over the internet. I can't do that at home. It's so cool... But, on the other hand, I die a little more on the inside because I know it won't last. *is sad*
... Happy thoughts... Think happy thoughts.
Ah, well. Enjoy what I have now, right?
Meanwhile, I shall be off to do bigger and better things while this highspeed option is still available to me.
Ciao!
Kel of "Don't judge me based on your ignorance." Mayhem | | |
| I had a strangely sad dream earlier. In my dream, my family and I decided to take a vacation. I distinctly remember a lot of forestry and a fair amount of steep inclines -hiking? Nature walks? I can't remember. What I do remember is that I thought I was Willow Rosenberg, my brother was Xander Harris (possibly with a sexually transmitted disease), and the reason we were characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer was because of some weird time paradoz that changed things.
It made sense when I was unconscious.
Anyway, the SAD part of the dream is that, while taking a vacation that largely included a lot of difficult walking/hiking and whatnot, my parents thought it was a brilliant idea to bring my ninety-four year old grandma along. What a stupid idea; Grandma has a hard time walking on level ground as it is, what with her being old and all. She fell behind a lot, and I remember one point where I actually cried in my dream because Grandma was having such a hard time, and my parents kept saying something like, "She just enjoys spending time with the family. She's not bound for this world for long; let her enjoy herself."
I'm going to take this as a sign that I need to visit my Grandma more often. It's like my subconscious decided to wack me over the head repeatedly with a Tire Iron O' Guilt. I'm a horrible, horrible granddaughter.
In other news, I'm currently in the strong grips of an incurable disease I call HELL. The rest of the world, however, refers to it as the common cold. Joy. I'm beginning to realize why I don't actually like getting sick. This last week has sucked balls.
At least my nose isn't dripping snot against my will anymore. That's something like progress, right? Now I just gotta remember not to breathe too deeply unless I want to incur the wrath of this vicious cough that's gripped my chest.
So I went to the doctor for my long overdue monthly check-up and blood test (Heh. I haven't gone in five months. Really shows how much I'm really starting to care about my health, doesn't it?) I went to the lab only to find that the woman who usually draws my blood either no longer works there or didn't work today. It made me sad because, when one has to have blood drawn as often as I do, one really starts forming a bond of trust with the one drawing blood. But I digress...
The new lady went about doing her thing, but she seemed to be having a spot of trouble. "Do people usually find it difficult to find a vein?"
... Well, damn. THAT'S comforting, isn't it? "Not really. In fact, my veins tend to be rather eager." Thank you, God, for gifting me with veins that are close to skin surface.
So she tried my other arm in hopes of finding a willing vein, which was a no go. At her wits end, she poked her head outside of the door and asked a random nurse that was passing by if she would be willing to draw my blood. "That is, if it's all right with you," she said to me as an afterthought.
"Whichever you're more comfortable with," I replied politely. No. Really. Whichever route caused me the least amount of suffering.
So the new lady prepped my arm and found a vein (yay). She happened to mention that I would be the first person she'd ever stuck.
... What? "What?" I yelped, looking at her with wide eyes as I jerked my prepped arm back out of reflex. She actually started LAUGHING at me when she saw the expression on my face. Not meaning to be rude, I held my arm back out and said hurriedly, "No, go ahead. I trust you. Get it over with."
For someone who'd never drawn blood before, she was pretty ace. Just a small pinch, and it was all downhill from there. "Not bad for my first time, huh?"
"Oh, marvelous," I said, watching as she strapped a cotton ball to crook of my elbow. "I'd applaud you, but my arm is otherwise occupied."
God, I love being me. Well... most of the time.
Ciao.
Kel of "I'm like a superhero, but with no powers or motivation." Mayhem | | |
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