Monthly Archives: August 2007

Self-inflicted slap on the face

Sitting here, wishing someone would not agree with me on this.  Hoping that someone has the balls to step up and tell me that I just made a big mistake.

Then I realize the only one I know who would have the balls to do that is the person I just broke up with.

Sucky.

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Filed under Love

It’s the ones I can be retarded with that I love the most

Hanging out with a friend yesterday, I showed off my new key chain.  It’s a little apple that covers the top portion of the key like a hat.  She saw it and got really excited and then of course I realized how much I love it and how much I loved just not thinking about the current woes in my life resulting in me scrunching my face up and exclaiming “yeah I know!  it’s such an aaaangry aaaaapple!” And because she is a good friend she quickly called me on my excited retardation and how I sounded like I was learning my vowels for the first time. 

And I appreciated that.  And I still love my angry apple key chain.

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Filed under Life

Those symbols of peace just also happen to be god’s most ignorant creations

Because they’re bird-brained. 

A few years ago, shortly after potting all of my plants in April, I noticed the flowers in my hanging basket were smushed.  The dirt had been pushed around and twigs, grass, and random strands of yarn were hanging off the side.  I think I pulled all the crap out of the basket and fluffed up the flowers about 3 times before I realized what was going on.  I saw the doves hanging around on the fence and then one evening I noticed the dove sitting in my flower basket, and it didn’t move for 3 weeks.  I’ve probably gone through $200+ worth of plants before finally establishing a patio garden that I could keep up, and now a dove thought it suitable for a home.  How sweet.

So for three weeks I tiptoed out onto the porch to water my plants, ducked underneath the hanging basket so the birds wouldn’t feel threatened.  I wouldn’t turn on the patio light in the evenings.  I’d open the blinds gently so as not to startle them in the morning.  I’d peak through the blinds on rainy evenings to ensure they weren’t getting soaked in their nest.  I made the effort. 

One morning I noticed the doves had left the nest.  I checked back in the afternoon and the dove was on the edge of the basket peering in.  When the dove flew away again I took a mirror and hung it over the basket so I could peer down – fully expecting to see little baby birds saying hi.  Not expecting to find 3 baby chicks smothered and squished down in the dirt.  Little frickers killed their babies and left me to deal with the mess.  I got on boy’s shoulders so I could take the basket down – the basket smelled and I probably shrieked.  Boy took the basket from me, walked to the dumpster and tossed the babies, dirt and plant out.  All the while the two doves sat on the fence and watched us eerily. 

And doves have harassed me ever since.  They pick at my wreaths and try to nest in my patio plants.  I hop out of bed at 7 am on Saturdays when I hear them cooing on my porch railing so I can shoo them away.  And tonite when I walked up to my apartment, a dove startled me by flying straight up, hitting the ceiling, then straight sideways into the wall before exiting out into the open where it once again flew sideways into the side of the building.  Maybe they’re a gift from god meant to warn atheists of eternal doom if they don’t repent.  God would have been better off choosing wild turkeys.  Because turkeys are awesome.

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the pencil makes the man

There’s a guy in my calculus class who has all the right answers.  He volunteers solutions when the professor stumbles, he works ahead of the problems being discussed, and he thwacks his pencil on that 10 pound calc book.

His pencil is this fancy mechanical bright orange wand that has white adornments all over it and I’m pretty sure it was created in a 007 lab in Europe. 

I’m going to Target to see if they sell ’em – because really, passing calculus is all about the proper pencil.

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The Papa Effect

I know I’m an adult now and these little things shouldn’t matter as much.  Decisions I make now are for me. 

But when Papa says “I’m proud of you, darlin'” I still glow for a few days afterward. 

papa-al.jpg

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Pulling out all the resources

A teary-eyed phone call to a friend at 11 pm, a bad tummy on a foggy morning, and being the girl who was spat upon on the way into work. 

no, not me.  it’s gonna take more than that to get me down.

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Filed under Job, Life

Morning Downer

Someone did a search for this and ended up at my blog:

“everyone i have cared about has left me ”

Really? 

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