You said north, I headed south; tossed overboard-- GOOD LORD THAT'S A REALLY LARGE MOUTH
What a day, what a day. SVETA called. The transcript doesn't begin to cover the actual experience. NO LIE!
Backtracking a little-- I've been at Jeanne and Ed's since getting back from Mardi Gras-- hmm, backtracking some more: Sunday night Dar and I pull into his house, whereupon his mother immediately and loudly vocalizes his induction into the ASSHOLE club, for not calling. I disinvolve myself as quickly as possible: "Yeah, I told him at every stop after the niggers stole our phone, 'DAR, YOU BETTER CALL YOUR MOM AND CHECK IN! SHE'LL BE WORRIED SICK.' And would you believe it?? He REFUSED, with the preposterous notion that you'd 'get over it!' I SURELY don't know where he picked up this attitude, noo ma'am. But, the boy has to learn his own lessons-- myself, I wouldn't say nary a word if you were to take down his trousers this very second and lay upon him a tanning the likes of which this historical district has never seen! Rightfully his by deed, I reckon."
Thus protected from my own guilty conscience by a wall of absurdity and outdated verbiage, I attempted and failed to set up the internet (painters fucked up Dar's cable router), peek into Stav's room (a sob-inducing black), set off fireworks (smoke-bombs were fine, but "exploding balls of fire" are pitifully weak during daylit hours), eat (Bertucci's leftovers that drove us to the Coach Grill), and wound up munching $30 steaks (well done filet mignon for myself.. yes, I DID send it back) and discussing a disconcerting blend of Lexi and current world affairs before retiring, with plans to drive Dar to school in the morning, and take a few people out to lunch after his 1/2 hour weekly "seminar." [Ironically, this is an educational step UP from homeschooling.]
Now, Monday did not turn out exactly as intended. I climb out of bed at 10AM, as his mother's pulling in the driveway. UM. "We decided not to wake you..." Oh that's nice. Thanks to some strategic manuevering (unlike Holly's, who managed to trip over the couch: KARMA'S A BITCH AIN'T IT nah, I kid only because I love, KEEP THOSE BUCKWHEAT PANCAKES AWAY FROM ME) I end up at Bertucci's on Route 9 (the one on US20 is much closer, asshats) with Peter, Phoebe, Dar, Dar's allowance (teehee), some fireworks (pictures of Petey and I strugging in the green mist-filled alley to follow: "no, Peter. Grapple THIS way!"), and a floppyass-bag (don't ask) full of small change. Let me tell you, folks, that's a recipe for disaster, and disaster is exactly what it spelled (pictures of Dar losing the Cracker Barrel peg game to follow: what an eg-nor-a-moose!) Miri ruined Pho's birthday by opting to stay away from school (but mention of her name extracted a round of meaningful glances as Phoebe explained who she was with over her cell), but we managed a good survivable time anyway-- examining the Mardi Gras pictures, flashing, considering flashing, and/or getting flashed, staring at people, considering the possibility of starers, and/or getting stared at, and generally eating like frightened deer (the doe who's been reading up on the benefits of free carbohydrates [esotericism and puns are your friends-- no, seriously. Read that again. Doe... dough. Dough... Doe. Okay, thanks]). Anyway, Graham shows up and ruins the fun by just sourly [sourdough?? D'oh :P] glancing out of his car (Peter made it clear that he'd be on my side in a fight, until I challenged him in aforementioned alley; sweet boy that Peter[picture of Peter's nipple to follow]). Losing Phoebes set the tone for the ride home: basically we listened to a He-Man readalong about snake-men, comet warriors, and slime pits while making slithering noises until SVS, whereupon I lit an m-180 and vamoosed (well,that's not strictly true).
Ok, wherever this entry turned into a play-by-play of a few days ago, that can go ahead and stop now. Suffice it to say, I'm at Jeanne and Ed's, my laundry is in the basement, my car is under a foot of snow on the lawn, and I'm on a laptop editing my LJ at quarter after 4 in the morning.
So, I took Anna (my 5 year old cousin) to see Jungle Book 2 which, I must make clear, the parts I've seen constitute the second best movie I've seen in the past year-- firmly yet comfortably (like a good mattress, speaking of which, MY UNCLE IS GYPPING ME OUT OF MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER'S BED) above LotR, just below Adaptation. Unfortunately, Anna decided to become horribly ill about 20 minutes before the movie ended, forcing our early exit (much to the chagrin of our lone theater partner, a delightful child named Molly) so I'm going to need someone to bring me to see it again. Any takers? I'll buy the skittles (gummy bears always end up lodged in my ear). I warn you in advance: if you don't like the song the Bare Neccessities, perhaps you even WEEP A PINT OF BLOOD when you hear my singing it-- well, you're gonna lose about a gallon with me, cupcake.
The day ended as well. We had my aunt "helping" Sveta (some true classics in here), reading LJ (probably yours), and asking everyone on my buddy list what bukkake is. My AIM profile on the laptop became almost as satisfactory as what I had before a wayward keystroke rid me of Dar's quotes, and I still have ABSOLUTELY NO PLANS AS TO WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.
My Mardi Gras diary needs some fill-ins, if Dar, Martina, and Ari (as well as anyone who may have been on the phone with me or my niggers) would care to be of assistance; I'm covered in ridiculous amounts of cat fur; and I was manipulated into making late night phone calls (only to find out all my stories had already been promulgated, and even my artistic variances weren't appreciated as they should have been!).
However, I DID go to Borders, and I HAVEN'T finished the Infinite Jest-- but I HAVE been reading a book called Personality Plus, which I found in the bathroom here.
Now this book barely delves into skims Aristotle theorizing, probably because the *woman* who wrote it can't get beyond the surface. Starts off interesting-- basically what she plagarized from other authors (sorry, she "cited" them) and then goes into what the ALMIGHTY CHRIST has to do with it. Interested me in learning more about it, as I analyzed everyone I knew from the perspectives this book gives (I mainly have the positive qualities of a "popular sanguine" and the "negatives" [pssh they're all good] of a "powerful choleric.") Everyone I've analyzed and then tested has been labelled nearly exactly where I figured them (guaranteed entry on it coming up, I find anything with sociological overtones like there remarkably fascinating). I dig the system, I'm going to do more research on it while I wait for AoS and a few others from Dar. I haven't read a good fantasy book in a long time -- George RR Martin's newest should be coming out soon, but I've been browsing the poli-sci and psych sections most often, along with the constant debate on whether to buy Bruce Campbell's autobiography. Found a book called In Defense of Elitism that I will probably go back and pick up; I'll admit the title suckered me in, but I agreed with the points I saw flipping through (equality of opportunity > equality of results sticks in my mind the most).
Raspberry tea and California rolls call, I'm satisfied enough with this to post without further editing. Toodle-oo!
Backtracking a little-- I've been at Jeanne and Ed's since getting back from Mardi Gras-- hmm, backtracking some more: Sunday night Dar and I pull into his house, whereupon his mother immediately and loudly vocalizes his induction into the ASSHOLE club, for not calling. I disinvolve myself as quickly as possible: "Yeah, I told him at every stop after the niggers stole our phone, 'DAR, YOU BETTER CALL YOUR MOM AND CHECK IN! SHE'LL BE WORRIED SICK.' And would you believe it?? He REFUSED, with the preposterous notion that you'd 'get over it!' I SURELY don't know where he picked up this attitude, noo ma'am. But, the boy has to learn his own lessons-- myself, I wouldn't say nary a word if you were to take down his trousers this very second and lay upon him a tanning the likes of which this historical district has never seen! Rightfully his by deed, I reckon."
Thus protected from my own guilty conscience by a wall of absurdity and outdated verbiage, I attempted and failed to set up the internet (painters fucked up Dar's cable router), peek into Stav's room (a sob-inducing black), set off fireworks (smoke-bombs were fine, but "exploding balls of fire" are pitifully weak during daylit hours), eat (Bertucci's leftovers that drove us to the Coach Grill), and wound up munching $30 steaks (well done filet mignon for myself.. yes, I DID send it back) and discussing a disconcerting blend of Lexi and current world affairs before retiring, with plans to drive Dar to school in the morning, and take a few people out to lunch after his 1/2 hour weekly "seminar." [Ironically, this is an educational step UP from homeschooling.]
Now, Monday did not turn out exactly as intended. I climb out of bed at 10AM, as his mother's pulling in the driveway. UM. "We decided not to wake you..." Oh that's nice. Thanks to some strategic manuevering (unlike Holly's, who managed to trip over the couch: KARMA'S A BITCH AIN'T IT nah, I kid only because I love, KEEP THOSE BUCKWHEAT PANCAKES AWAY FROM ME) I end up at Bertucci's on Route 9 (the one on US20 is much closer, asshats) with Peter, Phoebe, Dar, Dar's allowance (teehee), some fireworks (pictures of Petey and I strugging in the green mist-filled alley to follow: "no, Peter. Grapple THIS way!"), and a floppyass-bag (don't ask) full of small change. Let me tell you, folks, that's a recipe for disaster, and disaster is exactly what it spelled (pictures of Dar losing the Cracker Barrel peg game to follow: what an eg-nor-a-moose!) Miri ruined Pho's birthday by opting to stay away from school (but mention of her name extracted a round of meaningful glances as Phoebe explained who she was with over her cell), but we managed a good survivable time anyway-- examining the Mardi Gras pictures, flashing, considering flashing, and/or getting flashed, staring at people, considering the possibility of starers, and/or getting stared at, and generally eating like frightened deer (the doe who's been reading up on the benefits of free carbohydrates [esotericism and puns are your friends-- no, seriously. Read that again. Doe... dough. Dough... Doe. Okay, thanks]). Anyway, Graham shows up and ruins the fun by just sourly [sourdough?? D'oh :P] glancing out of his car (Peter made it clear that he'd be on my side in a fight, until I challenged him in aforementioned alley; sweet boy that Peter[picture of Peter's nipple to follow]). Losing Phoebes set the tone for the ride home: basically we listened to a He-Man readalong about snake-men, comet warriors, and slime pits while making slithering noises until SVS, whereupon I lit an m-180 and vamoosed (well,that's not strictly true).
Ok, wherever this entry turned into a play-by-play of a few days ago, that can go ahead and stop now. Suffice it to say, I'm at Jeanne and Ed's, my laundry is in the basement, my car is under a foot of snow on the lawn, and I'm on a laptop editing my LJ at quarter after 4 in the morning.
So, I took Anna (my 5 year old cousin) to see Jungle Book 2 which, I must make clear, the parts I've seen constitute the second best movie I've seen in the past year-- firmly yet comfortably (like a good mattress, speaking of which, MY UNCLE IS GYPPING ME OUT OF MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER'S BED) above LotR, just below Adaptation. Unfortunately, Anna decided to become horribly ill about 20 minutes before the movie ended, forcing our early exit (much to the chagrin of our lone theater partner, a delightful child named Molly) so I'm going to need someone to bring me to see it again. Any takers? I'll buy the skittles (gummy bears always end up lodged in my ear). I warn you in advance: if you don't like the song the Bare Neccessities, perhaps you even WEEP A PINT OF BLOOD when you hear my singing it-- well, you're gonna lose about a gallon with me, cupcake.
The day ended as well. We had my aunt "helping" Sveta (some true classics in here), reading LJ (probably yours), and asking everyone on my buddy list what bukkake is. My AIM profile on the laptop became almost as satisfactory as what I had before a wayward keystroke rid me of Dar's quotes, and I still have ABSOLUTELY NO PLANS AS TO WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.
My Mardi Gras diary needs some fill-ins, if Dar, Martina, and Ari (as well as anyone who may have been on the phone with me or my niggers) would care to be of assistance; I'm covered in ridiculous amounts of cat fur; and I was manipulated into making late night phone calls (only to find out all my stories had already been promulgated, and even my artistic variances weren't appreciated as they should have been!).
However, I DID go to Borders, and I HAVEN'T finished the Infinite Jest-- but I HAVE been reading a book called Personality Plus, which I found in the bathroom here.
Now this book barely delves into skims Aristotle theorizing, probably because the *woman* who wrote it can't get beyond the surface. Starts off interesting-- basically what she plagarized from other authors (sorry, she "cited" them) and then goes into what the ALMIGHTY CHRIST has to do with it. Interested me in learning more about it, as I analyzed everyone I knew from the perspectives this book gives (I mainly have the positive qualities of a "popular sanguine" and the "negatives" [pssh they're all good] of a "powerful choleric.") Everyone I've analyzed and then tested has been labelled nearly exactly where I figured them (guaranteed entry on it coming up, I find anything with sociological overtones like there remarkably fascinating). I dig the system, I'm going to do more research on it while I wait for AoS and a few others from Dar. I haven't read a good fantasy book in a long time -- George RR Martin's newest should be coming out soon, but I've been browsing the poli-sci and psych sections most often, along with the constant debate on whether to buy Bruce Campbell's autobiography. Found a book called In Defense of Elitism that I will probably go back and pick up; I'll admit the title suckered me in, but I agreed with the points I saw flipping through (equality of opportunity > equality of results sticks in my mind the most).
Raspberry tea and California rolls call, I'm satisfied enough with this to post without further editing. Toodle-oo!