Whine Another Day
X-chan has returned from having exciting adventures in Latvia (where she saw a lot of Stalin Gothic architecture, which we both like in a kitschy nostalgic way but objectively can admit the ugliness of) and Denmark. In Copenhagen, she saw the Glyptothek, which is apparently as pwnz0rz as I had always believed, the Little Mermaid statue, and forgottensanity. (I may be lying about one of these.) X-chan also encountered Cat's Creepy Guy, or one of his clones; he was some sort of fishing regulatory official in Greenland, apparently, and could totally arrange for her to get the necessary permits, if, like, she were into fishing. She told him that it was 4 a.m. and she had to catch her plane home, plus he was creepy and she was getting a taxi now, kthxdie.
I went to Bloomington yesterday, because abusing my University library privileges is SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS, and was mad when I couldn't find Giving Up the Gun OR The Many Faces of Homosexuality. Also, it poured down rain, which should come as absolutely no surprise. I realize that the sun can, and often does, shine in Bloomington, but it hasn't done so in recent memory (it probably waits until I've left). Most of my memories of the place involve inclement weather of some kind.
Later this month, I start Apartment Quest '07-'08. Already I've gotten into it with Mom about how I flatly refuse to live on the fucking south side because I dislike Indiana 37 intensely, and also none of the things I'm moving to Bloomington for are on the south side. (MapQuest assumes that the quickest way for me to get to Bloomington is to go up 37. This would be true if I lived in goddamn English, but I don't. Also, I've clocked it and my preferred route is actually more efficient. I wish MapQuest had a "Disallow this route" option.) Also, frankly, when the dust settles, Mom's not the one who's going to have to live there, so I'm going to have what I want and all other factors be fucking damned. And what I want is a two-bedroom, all-electric, preferably ground-floor apartment, with on-site laundry at least, which allows pets, ON THE FUCKING BUS LINE.
If I can afford it, I'm going to look into paying someone to move my shit, rather than packing it all up myself. Either way, it's not a picnic, but I'd vastly prefer not to pack my own crap. One just doesn't realize how much crap one owns until one has to move it all.
Also, it's about time we replaced this computer; it is 9 years old and is starting to think that it doesn't need to actually open programs when the icon is clicked. Still, I really haven't got the money at present, and I don't know when I will; we'll see.
God, I'm going to be so glad when this shit is OVER and the dust SETTLES and I'm home again. Yeah, I'm not happy here. Can you tell?
On a happier note, behold my pretty seahorse. ♥
I went to Bloomington yesterday, because abusing my University library privileges is SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS, and was mad when I couldn't find Giving Up the Gun OR The Many Faces of Homosexuality. Also, it poured down rain, which should come as absolutely no surprise. I realize that the sun can, and often does, shine in Bloomington, but it hasn't done so in recent memory (it probably waits until I've left). Most of my memories of the place involve inclement weather of some kind.
Later this month, I start Apartment Quest '07-'08. Already I've gotten into it with Mom about how I flatly refuse to live on the fucking south side because I dislike Indiana 37 intensely, and also none of the things I'm moving to Bloomington for are on the south side. (MapQuest assumes that the quickest way for me to get to Bloomington is to go up 37. This would be true if I lived in goddamn English, but I don't. Also, I've clocked it and my preferred route is actually more efficient. I wish MapQuest had a "Disallow this route" option.) Also, frankly, when the dust settles, Mom's not the one who's going to have to live there, so I'm going to have what I want and all other factors be fucking damned. And what I want is a two-bedroom, all-electric, preferably ground-floor apartment, with on-site laundry at least, which allows pets, ON THE FUCKING BUS LINE.
If I can afford it, I'm going to look into paying someone to move my shit, rather than packing it all up myself. Either way, it's not a picnic, but I'd vastly prefer not to pack my own crap. One just doesn't realize how much crap one owns until one has to move it all.
Also, it's about time we replaced this computer; it is 9 years old and is starting to think that it doesn't need to actually open programs when the icon is clicked. Still, I really haven't got the money at present, and I don't know when I will; we'll see.
God, I'm going to be so glad when this shit is OVER and the dust SETTLES and I'm home again. Yeah, I'm not happy here. Can you tell?
On a happier note, behold my pretty seahorse. ♥