My Life: An Exercise in Hipness

In case you missed the boat on how tragically uncool I am, a few pieces of circumstantial evidence:

1) I have a tape player in my car. In my defense it came in the car and I really just don't care enough to replace it, but nonetheless, a tape player.

2) In that tape player is a Beach Boys tape Brother left when he was here last weekend.

3) This tape is the same tape that was constantly playing in 8 track form in my gramma's basement when we were kids, thus I know all the words to every song.

4) Lab Partner and I went to the 'City' today to pick up uniform nursing crap and halfway there I flipped the radio over to the above mentioned tape.

She will confirm how tragically uncool I am lest you hesitate to take my word for it.

And just to seal the deal:

At the crapalicious mall where we had to get our nursing crap there is one of those big cheesy candy stores with bins and scoops and plastic baggies. I now have a bag of little bits of artifically flavored, artificially colored, high fructose corn syrup heaven also known as jelly beans.

Like crack for sugar addicts.

The Dr. Pepper flavored ones are my favorite.

How gross is that?

Is it poor classroom etiquette to update your blog during class?

Possibly.

Oh well.

Class is snoooooooze worthy.

There is no basil. At any store. In this town. It is frustrating to me.

It's why there are people coming to my house for dinner and I have no menu. Because even if I plan something, odds are there will be at least one ingredient that just isn't to be had.

And it isn't like I'm looking for exotic ingredients.

Basil for chrissakes.

But there are at least 24 varieties of hamburger helper.

Fuck it.

I'm running away.

If you need me I'll be at a very cozy makeshift youth hostel in Texas.

Saturday

No one should have to work on Saturday. Ever.

So it isn't practical, big freakin' deal. Let the poor sap working at the mall have the day off. Close the post office. Do self-service check-in at craphole hotels.

No one should have to work on Saturday. Period.

Stay at home. Snuggle down in bed with your lover. Pay attention to your cat. Take a walk. Make brunch. (Better get to the store on Friday, all the checkers are home pretending to watch movies and getting some action on the couch.)

Sit outside and have your fourth cup of tea. Make a cocktail and take a bath at 9 in the morning. Look at your watch at 11 and marvel at the fact that you still aren't dressed, and you really don't mind all that much.

Take a page from the grocery folk and get some action on the couch.

Make it like the Sabbath. Only with more sex and less of that religion schmaltz.

God won't mind.

She likes for people to get off.

Honest.

Dinner

Bits

The cat hates it when I give him kisses. But he likes to sit in my lap. So we play this game where I smash a kiss on the top of his head just often enough to annoy him, but not quite often enough to make him get up. Ok, well, maybe it isn't really a game, so much as me being obnoxious. Semantics. Whattaya gonna do?

It's brrrr cold in the mornings lately and makes me move slow. The weather is kinda chilly and the air smells nice. Have had to delve into the winter closet for fuzzy sweaters. Leaves changing soon. What happened to summer?

Semester is in swing now and it is one thing due after another. Keeping up thus far. Was all excited not to have class tomorrow until my lab partner reminded me that we get to spend all day at a conference. Gag me.

In a coupla weeks get to see my Pomegranate baby. Then coupla weeks after that get to see Boyfriend. Thrown right in between is Cunty Pie housewarming extravaganza during which too much liquor may or may not be consumed.

That's a whole lotta big crazy love shoved in one little month.

How lucky am I?

Pretty darn lucky.

Everytime I fall asleep some whacked out dream starts me awake feeling more tired than before I slept. The workings of my warped mind. Not sure the exact hours have spent sleeping this weekend, but fairly certain it is a single digit number. Makes me emotionally volatile, leaves me feeling fragile. Homework that needs to be done, but no concentration. Just can't. All the words run together on the page. Moving now from the bed to the couch. Less empty space to make you feel alone. Leave a light on, keep the darkness at bay. Turn on some music to fill the silence. Mix a cocktail to numb what's left. Try to get some rest. Wish me luck.

Just so ya know...

In case you may have missed it... (and if you have then maybe you should be a more thorough reader of my amazingly insightful and entertaining blog. Jeez. What kinda friend/internet stalker are you anyway?)

Fat girl has a Boyfriend. (Capital 'B", no 's'.)

Put in this order. Everything seems to have arrived as requested. (Though exception is made for the specific type of tea to be sipped during rain storms.)

Makes me laugh, makes me feel warm. Safe. Loved.

I dig him.

So...

Two things:

1). He has somehow been convinced that I am sweet. (Stop snickering.) Let's not tell him otherwise.

2). He's been known to hang around the blog so if you see him, play nice.

I'd really like to keep him.

PSA

If you have a little bathroom, one where the counter space runs behind the toilet, always remember to close the lid before you rest your (plugged-in) blow dryer on the counter. Eeeeeek!

Bedtime Story

Lest any of you fine folk mistake me for a nice person:

Once upon a time fat girl had a roommate. Said roommate got knocked up and turned crazy. She "might maybe be moving out."

The day that her rent is due she disappears. With only her bed and all of her crap still everywhere.

A week later when she still won't return phone calls or come get her shit fat girl maybe kinda gets a little pissed at being stuck with the whole utility bill from last month instead of just half. (Fat girl is poor...just as an aside...she can't really afford to just have to pay twice the power bill she was budgeting for. Strange, I know.)

The day comes for replacement roommate to move in. Replacement and fat girl pack crazy knocked up not roommate's shit. This involves picking through a giant mound of dirty laundry to get out fat girls towels. This maybe kinda makes fat girl a little irritated. A little cranky.

So Replacement and fat girl set said shit on the front porch. (Fat girl lives in a little house...there isn't a whole lot of extra space for people to just use it as a storage unit. Also strange, I know.)

Crazy knocked up not roommate comes to get said shit. She and her crazy prescription pain killer addicted mom say nothing.

Today fat girl's phone rings. Is crazy pain killer addicted mom. There is a little bag of crap that crazy knocked up not roommate didn't get. Crazy mom comes over. Musta got a new prescription today. Gets bag. Seems one of crazy knocked up not roommate's picture frames got broken in the move.

Well, golly gee, I'm really sorry that while I was packing up all of her shit that she wouldn't come get, after she screwed me over, something got broken. There is, unfortunately, not any kind of insurance or money back guarantee for free moving services and I haven't got a lot of sympathy.

Crazy mom wants to know why it's gotta be like that. (Why do crazy, trashy people always wanna know why it or you's gotta be like that? Don't know what I mean...watch an episode of cops. You'll see.)

So I explained, using very small words, that in the real world, where grown-up people live, it isn't really acceptable to disappear the day your rent is due with no notice. Ignore someone when they try to call and have you come get your stuff. Show up to get it only after it is already all packed up. Pop back in two days later and want to start drama over a picture frame. Especially when there is a utility bill that needs to be paid sitting on my table, half of which should be paid by you.

Crazy pain killer mom looks at me like she is a little confused.

"Well...did you try and talk to her...?"

"I tried to call. I don't have time to hunt her down and make her talk to me. I don't have time to fight with her about a bill that she should just pay because it is her responsibility."

Blank stare from crazy pain killer mom. But she still isn't getting her crazy ass off my front porch. So...

(And here is the part where it gets shitty and fat girl is not a nice person...)

"I work, I go to school. I don't have the luxury of sleeping all day and deciding to just not pay my bills because I got knocked up. And I really don't have time to stand here and fight with you over some shitty two dollar picture frame from Wal-Mart."

Then she left.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Overheard

From one stall over during class break:

"God, I'm glad I can pee in the toilet and not through a catheter."

It's the little things in life that make all the difference.

Sitting around in my pajamas. Not the ones I slept in. No, today am making an art of being a complete bum. (This could be related to the significant amount of vodka that was consumed last night. Just a guess...) Took a shower and put on fresh pajamas. Soft flannel ones that Cunty Pie gifted me. Trying to reorganize my drawers. Ass cat thinks he needs to pile himself into every drawer pulled out. Threats seem ineffective at getting him to move. I'd pick him up, but, well, he'd just bite me. So guess he's takin' a nap there. Odds of me leaving the house today are low. Though may need to do a laundry run. Should also hole up and study for some hours tonight. Passed the first three exams of the semester last week. Should maybe try and make a habit of that...passing. Don't think they give tuition reimbursements if ya flunk out.

After today I have two days left working for Craphole Hotels, Inc. Which basically means will be doing not a blessed thing during my shifts. Today my manager came into the office to find me sending text messages on my cell phone and dicking around online. But it's Friday night. And she's on call. So I smiled sweetly and kept right on. She gave me a death look and left without saying a word. Smart girl. Also today, in class, demonstrated the proper technique for smothering a bothersome patient in their pillow. Some call it protective prone positioning, I call it convenient asphyxiation. Funny how it's always the cranky ones who wind up having tragic freak accidents...

Glamour

Today's nursing humor. E-mail correspondence with prof:

Me: Blah, blah, scheduling crap. See you in class Friday. (Administering Enemas: YES!)

Prof: 'Tis better to give than to receive.

God my life is glam'rous and highly enviable.

Volunteer now for enema practice and I won't hit you up next week for catheter insertion.

In a section on personal space in one of my snoozariffic text books:

"Intimate distance is 0 to 18 inches, such as in intimate conversations and maximum sensory stimulation."

Maximum sensory stimulation. So that's what they're calling it these days. Interesting.

Hope that's a test question.

Get Your Sexy On

I may or may not have spent half the afternoon drinking too much tequila that didn't have to pay for and pretending to study. And the other half of the afternoon sleeping it off. Now am settling in to study. Under direct orders from Boyfriend to work the Big Brain. So much for vodka Tuesday. Beat up copper kettle on the stove. Waitin' for the whistle. Little hit of caffeine and will be good to go. A small fortune and my approximate weight in text books spread out on the floor. Listening to one last highly questionable song before switching to something soft and unimposing. (Side note: A line in this Justin Timberlake song "I'll let you whip me if I misbehave." JT really kinky like that or is it merely the lyrics? Just curious...) Song ending. Kettle whistling. Enthralling nursing blather calling my name. Gotta run.

Stroke 9

Don't you hate it when people post the lyrics to some lame song and call it a blog entry? Get over it. It's five am, I can't sleep, and this song is cracking me up.

You instantly awakened my imagination
Old fashioned infatuation
I can be anything that you want me to be
And you can have me in every position that you dreamed
I know you've got a wild streak
You're a freak
You're alone in your bed with graphic images in your head
Let me do what I want to do with you
Let me tie you down pick you up and
Flip you all around

Let me tell you how sexy you are
As I'm going down on you in the car
If feeling this good is a sin
Let's do it all over again.

Just when I thought this might get boring
Wake me up in the morning by pouring
Honey on my body and licking it off
You're taking me to concerts and you're taking off your top
I know you've got a wild streak
You're a freak
Then you're back in our room with the bride and the groom
This is it
This is great
This is what I always wanted

Where do we go from here?
That's the question of the year
I think you're fine
I think you're hot
This is what I always dreamed of
The one thing I forgot
Was to get to know you

Let me tell you how sexy you are as I'm going down on you in the car? That one musta taken some really deep thought to crank out. Jeezus.

Though if someone's offerin' I'm not complainin'