7-Eleven, pierced dicks and checked nylons
First of all, I would like to open this entry with the most honest sentences I have ever written.
My neurologist is a dick. He is nothing but. He has failed to provide me with the results of my MRI and my EEG. He has also failed to provide me with the proper documentation so that I can get my lab work done without a million questions from nurses and registration.
Second of all.
My dad is a dick. Enough said.
Third.
My brother should probably catch the next plane to Georgia to escape unnecessary emotional abuse.
Fourth.
My roommate is passed out drunk in her bed. This is due in part to the celebration of her eighteenth birthday. I thought you were supposed to wait until you turned twenty-one to do this hardcore shit, but apparently not. The evidence is scattered about in the bathroom and in our dorm room. Sigh. Good thing I'm moving to third floor, where it is sane.
Tomorrow is the day that Erica and I go job hunting. Not location location location. It's application, application, application! I also will pick up my Brighton Beach Memoirs ticket so that I can do the stupid critique for it. I will also go with Ashley to Meijers to apply for a job. I will also do studying!
Much do I have to do tomorrow. Hoo hah.
Dan is back! Till thursday anyway. And with Kate. But the best thing is, is that he's back. And the four amigos are back together again, if only briefly.
Ashley and I went to Rocket Star and picked up Mochas and then headed to 7-Eleven to pick up some milk. But on our way past the WMU Apartments, a cop pulled her over. We immediately went into defense mode. However, the only reason he pulled her over is because her back tail lights were out. Fortunate indeed. We kept the emergency blinkers on and he sent us on our way. Thank god!
Then, the other Ashley and I walked all the way up to 7-Eleven AGAIN to get a slurpee. Beforehand, I hiked over to Shilling. Her roommate ended up bored and took her nose piercing out! And then, she couldn't get it back in. Insanity, I tell you. She tried her best, but in the end, after shining a flashlight up Ashley's nose and her own to see how it was done, she gave up. Sadly. That is when I directed Ash to the www.newaddictiontattoos.com site and told her to look at photos! I can't believe people can get their genitalia pierced. I think I peed myself a little when I saw them! Certainly my own "genitalia" hurt after seeing those photos. And those guy's penises were extra small. Go figure.
I know I'm doing this backwards, but I tried on my translucent black checked nylons with my short skirt, mary janes and a bright blue top. Wow. I have GREAT legs! I loved the look of them. They're so wonderful. I'm glad I have added them to my wardrobe. It's a feeling of great accomplishment. Style! Soon we'll have a photo shoot. Pat is planning to make me look like a heroine addict. Ha.
So, on the way home from my second trip to 7-Eleven, Ashley and I saw an ambulance and two police cruisers outside of Britton-Hadley. I almost had a panic attack. I was thrown back to the night I had a seizure at Fourth Coast...the day I had to call an ambulance to pick me up for my kidney stones, the day I had paramedics standing over me both here and in Georgia. My breathing sped up. Just seeing those EMTs terrifies me. I could even smell the sterilized unit, the crispness of the uniforms. I never want to be in a situation like that again.
I finally signed DJ's guestbook. It was long. Almost like a memoir, but more of a tribute. Afterall, would it not be awkward if I had not signed it? I only hope that Kori (his mother) lets it through. I want her to know how much I cared about this whole situation. I don't even know if I've dealt with it. I've so many issues left. I might actually need a therapist someday.
So. I'm changing my major tomorrow. Social work here I come. And I'm calling the YWCA. I want to be a part of the Rape unit...Sounds odd. But I want to do this. And so I will.
My neurologist is a dick. He is nothing but. He has failed to provide me with the results of my MRI and my EEG. He has also failed to provide me with the proper documentation so that I can get my lab work done without a million questions from nurses and registration.
Second of all.
My dad is a dick. Enough said.
Third.
My brother should probably catch the next plane to Georgia to escape unnecessary emotional abuse.
Fourth.
My roommate is passed out drunk in her bed. This is due in part to the celebration of her eighteenth birthday. I thought you were supposed to wait until you turned twenty-one to do this hardcore shit, but apparently not. The evidence is scattered about in the bathroom and in our dorm room. Sigh. Good thing I'm moving to third floor, where it is sane.
Tomorrow is the day that Erica and I go job hunting. Not location location location. It's application, application, application! I also will pick up my Brighton Beach Memoirs ticket so that I can do the stupid critique for it. I will also go with Ashley to Meijers to apply for a job. I will also do studying!
Much do I have to do tomorrow. Hoo hah.
Dan is back! Till thursday anyway. And with Kate. But the best thing is, is that he's back. And the four amigos are back together again, if only briefly.
Ashley and I went to Rocket Star and picked up Mochas and then headed to 7-Eleven to pick up some milk. But on our way past the WMU Apartments, a cop pulled her over. We immediately went into defense mode. However, the only reason he pulled her over is because her back tail lights were out. Fortunate indeed. We kept the emergency blinkers on and he sent us on our way. Thank god!
Then, the other Ashley and I walked all the way up to 7-Eleven AGAIN to get a slurpee. Beforehand, I hiked over to Shilling. Her roommate ended up bored and took her nose piercing out! And then, she couldn't get it back in. Insanity, I tell you. She tried her best, but in the end, after shining a flashlight up Ashley's nose and her own to see how it was done, she gave up. Sadly. That is when I directed Ash to the www.newaddictiontattoos.com site and told her to look at photos! I can't believe people can get their genitalia pierced. I think I peed myself a little when I saw them! Certainly my own "genitalia" hurt after seeing those photos. And those guy's penises were extra small. Go figure.
I know I'm doing this backwards, but I tried on my translucent black checked nylons with my short skirt, mary janes and a bright blue top. Wow. I have GREAT legs! I loved the look of them. They're so wonderful. I'm glad I have added them to my wardrobe. It's a feeling of great accomplishment. Style! Soon we'll have a photo shoot. Pat is planning to make me look like a heroine addict. Ha.
So, on the way home from my second trip to 7-Eleven, Ashley and I saw an ambulance and two police cruisers outside of Britton-Hadley. I almost had a panic attack. I was thrown back to the night I had a seizure at Fourth Coast...the day I had to call an ambulance to pick me up for my kidney stones, the day I had paramedics standing over me both here and in Georgia. My breathing sped up. Just seeing those EMTs terrifies me. I could even smell the sterilized unit, the crispness of the uniforms. I never want to be in a situation like that again.
I finally signed DJ's guestbook. It was long. Almost like a memoir, but more of a tribute. Afterall, would it not be awkward if I had not signed it? I only hope that Kori (his mother) lets it through. I want her to know how much I cared about this whole situation. I don't even know if I've dealt with it. I've so many issues left. I might actually need a therapist someday.
So. I'm changing my major tomorrow. Social work here I come. And I'm calling the YWCA. I want to be a part of the Rape unit...Sounds odd. But I want to do this. And so I will.