"I'm gonna build me a boat with these two hands"

Ahhhhh!

Wait. That wasn't good enough. I can do better.

AHHHHHHHH!

That's more like it.

Why is it that I can't get a moment's peace no matter what I do? I mean, I'm seriously considering that coma thing again. Maybe I've never blogged about that. I've always had this theory that a safe coma would be kind of nice: No one would bother me, I could get some sleep, you know, normal coma stuff.

There is that threat of not waking up, though. I'm almost to the point of accepting that.

Granted, this has been a long time coming. Now I'm just sitting up listening to depressing music and wishing I could just cry, but I don't have time. And I haven't the energy, either.

I'm too busy trying to placate the rest of the planet. Sometimes, I wonder why I even get out of bed. I guess that explains why I sometimes don't.

So tonight I completely obliterated a target with the air pistol. Now there's a very large hole in the paper where the target used to be. At least I'm a decent shot.

I feel so overwhelmed right now. I was like that last night, too, so I went to Manderson's and threw darts for an hour. Enemies beware: I'm much better with the air pistol than with the darts.

It's so hard to be strong for everyone else. I'm used to being strong for a few people, but having to keep myself together for a large group isn't something I'm equipped to do. I just need a shoulder, and I want a drink. Which is why I didn't drink last night at Manderson's: It would've just been to feel better, and I don't want to drink to feel better. I only want to drink to get drunk or to have a good time. It's better that way. So last night I threw darts, and tonight I used the air pistol and danced. I wish I had some math homework to do - that always relaxes me.

In the meantime, I'll just be lying in bed, trying to let my mind go to sleep so my body can follow suit. To quote Chris Knight:

Someone cryin' in the hall
Good Lord help us all
While we try to stay afloat
If you would, Lord, send a boat

Spice Rack Strikes Back

Hmm...what did I do today?

Class, tap, pilates. My legs are killing me, but in a good way.

Then I went to the office and worked/threw football for, oh, five hours now. My right arm is starting to get sore. The good news is that I'm getting better at throwing with my left arm. I hope to have my left spiral down in a few weeks. As Jon said, I've got the right one down. Damn right. At least I don't throw like a girl.

Feeling jockish because I've impressed guys with my football skills. Feeling half-naked because I'm still just in tight workout pants and a sports bra.

I made some reference to being Sporty Spice, but I quickly switched to Posh Spice - she gets to marry David Beckham. I could make some reference to bending it like Beckham, but I won't. A while ago at Starbucks we all decided to come up with spice names for ourselves. Mine was Spice Rack. Don't you wish you thought of it first?

I got my car back yesterday. It's fixed now. Well, as fixed as it's going to be. I'll do without AC - I don't much care for spending $1000 on it.

"I never knew what you all wanted, so I gave you everything"

Today sucked.

It started out all right. I got the highest grade in the class on my test I took Friday, which is amazing, because my "studying" consisted of far too much drinking and hanging out with Robert, which both, while enjoyable practices, don't usually result in good test scores. I should've learned a lesson from this, and instead I was rewarded.

Then it all went downhill. Drama, drama, more drama - it's quite frustrating. I don't much feel like going into it, but I will say this: Thank God we have an air pistol. I'm gonna shoot the hell out of a target tonight.

Do you ever just need to be held? That's me now. But, alas, it is not in the cards, so I'll settle for the air pistol, some ice cream, a long drive, and getting walked on by the cat.

Please, hug me the next time you see me. And if you're feelin' lucky, go for the ass grab. Well, maybe not - it depends who you are.

I bought some more Cool Water incense today. I also bought Exotic Rain. The good incense store is back, so that was good. I also got my new cherry phone faceplate put on, and I bought some bondage. I could specify, but it's more fun not to.

Currently listening to: "Pacing the Cage" by Jimmy Buffett
Currently feeling: Like disappearing for a while

My Alcohol Has A Liver Problem

Yes, I'm still alive. Quite possibly still drunk from this debaucherous weekend. God bless ending a rough week with some alcohol.

I heart SigEp. Here's what their Bid Day shirts said:

Our drinking club has a fraternity problem.

SigEp wins for best shirts!

Also, this just in: I am so turned on by hot guys breaking down doors. And Cherries and Handcuffs (my new MySpace name).

My sister had a birthday. She's still older than I am. And I drunk-dialed her from the SigEp house. Then I drunk text-messaged her.

Malibu and Bondage

I'm far too busy. Three of four classes were cancelled today, so I took the day off. It helped.

Tomorrow my mom is coming to take me to lunch and drop off my car for some radiator fixing!

I bought some new handcuff earrings and bellyrings today. Apparently I want my image to be "I'm Wendy, and I'm OK with bondage." Also there was a thong sale, and I fell victim.

Drinking Malibu and Code Red Mountain Dew, listening to "Every Rose Has Its Thorn."

I'm pathetic.

My Frat-tastic Day OR I Heart AGR OR MUDWrestleMania

Friday, I slept through my first class. I didn't mean to, but I did. Then, after my second class, I went to get my check and then was going to go to the bank so I could pay my electric bill, but I had a FLAT TIRE!

So I called Brian Doesn't Know, but he didn't answer (he was at work), so I called The Tina, who called Nathan (an AGR), and he and one of his brothers came and put my spare on, and then Brent (an AGR) fixed it at Wal-Mart. God bless frat guys - this is the second time in a few months that the AGRs have fixed my car woes.

Remember: Save a horse, ride an AGR!

Then Jon from way back in English my sophomore year and I had lunch and played catch-up. It was big fun. Jon is awesome!

Then I went to work freaking out because I didn't make it to the bank, but Whitney let me go. Word!

After work, me and some Sidelines kids went to the AGR party because the party we were going to go to was over (although I did get a Cuban cigar along the way - totally by accident), where we ran into Robert and some of the Sig Eps. I got stud numbered so I could go through the house. Bitchin' - I feel so popular. In order to get into the rooms of the house during a party, you have to have one of the brothers' stud numbers Sharpied on you.

Brian doesn't know
That The Tina and me
Were in his room at the party...

So we hopped to the Pike house, but their party was already over. Next on the list: random Greek Row wandering. Then Robert said I had to come to the Sig Ep house (not an option), which I didn't mind because the parties were winding down.


At the Sig Ep house, I'm drinking whiskey and I got Robert some Budweiser because I knew he'd have cheap beer (he did). I took a shower while Milad (I'm sure I didn't spell that right) shaved, and Robert was in there, apparently making sure Milad wasn't watching me shower. What a swell guy!

Some random chicks were all, "Do you want to run naked out there with us?"

I said to ask me when I was done with my bottle of whiskey. Well, they went to the big mud pit and wrestled in underwear and one had on a tank top. Some of the guys wrestled, too.

I told Robert I wouldn't wrestle in my pretty thong. Around 5 a.m., I put on one of his shirts and some boxers, and we went and wrestled in the mud topless.

TOPLESS!

It was big fun. Also, this just in: I'm crazy. So I get out and these boxers are barely hanging on to me now, and I'm COMPLETELY mud-covered. I looked really good, though, like a human statue. The mud was cold so the girls were cold, but you couldn't really see anything because I was so covered in mud - you could just see the shape. I wish I had a picture of it.

Then we hosed off our hands and feet and took a shower, but when we got in the shower, we realized we didn't have a towel. Milad finally got us one after I made the excellent point of, "You've already seen me topless so what does it matter?" because he was in the hall when we came back in all muddy, and I'm pretty sure he could just imagine me sans mud.

Robert and I watched some of Eurotrip and went to sleep around 8 a.m. Then I woke up at 11 and left the Sig Ep house at 11:30. I'm sure I'll regret later.

We Interrupt This Blog to Bring You a Complete Mental Breakdown

There's nothing like breaking down crying in the Sidelines office at 11:20 in the morning to get the day started off right. It's all uphill from here.

Currently listening to: More overspill chatter from the adviser
Currently feeling: Like ripping my arm off so I have something to throw

The Botched Execution of a Non-Plan OR Our Failed Attempt at Petty Larceny

Saturday night after work I hung out with some friends who shall remain nameless for the purpose of this blog.

For a few months now, we'd been discussing the haunted church of Chapel Hill. For the full story, click here.

The short rundown is that this church is haunted, and it has a haunted Bible in it - one that cannot leave the church. Stories we'd gathered about the Bible included a worst-case scenario of someone dying a month or so after touching the Bible and someone's car not starting until the Bible was removed from it. Yes, taking this Bible must be some back-asswards rite of passage.

Well, I met these nameless friends after work, and as soon as I come in, they say we're going to church.

Now, I haven't gone to church in a while, so I'm really confused about Saturday night church. Then they say it's the haunted church, and we're going to take the Bible.

We all pile in someone's vehicle (I have to ride bitch in the front seat), and we're off to Chapel Hill.

On the way, I decided to do some investigating on this little adventure.

"Does anybody have a flashlight?"

Nope, but someone did have a GameBoy Advance. We can light our way via Zelda - apparitions be damned!

"What are we going to do with the Bible?"

Well, no one thought that far ahead. I suggested dropping it off at a different church. I mean, we can't actually KEEP the Bible if we do get it. That's just inherently wrong.

"Do we have any weapons?"

Nope.

"Jesus! This is a poor planning! You should've let me draw a diagram or something before."

Next item: How we're going to enter the church. GameBoy Advance Friend suggested I go in the back of the line, to which I responded, "FUCK YOU!" Yeah, I'm not going in last.

We then pondered our scary movie characters, and somehow I ended up being the slut, although I was quick to correct that I was not the slut but the tease - a totally different character. The slut's gonna die - the tease might have a shot. I got that title because I was wearing a tank top and black pants that make my ass look GREAT! I mean, really, it's amazing.

I, of course, was fixated on all the ways this haunted caper could go wrong. We passed a sign reading "Narrow Bridge" and I responded with "It won't be there on the way back!"

This went on for however long it look to get to Chapel Hill and was great fun. When we actually got to Chapel Hill, one of the two cops was parked in front of the Dollar General, and we had to drive by him/her at least three times.

We couldn't find the church! We did, however, pass a Church of Christ, the marquee of which kept going off when we drove by. That was weird.

We stopped at a gas station for cheap gas ($2.83!) and asked about the church. The chick working told us one of her former coworkers had gone with friends, and six of them couldn't lift the Bible. They had also videotaped the event, and a woman was up in the pews.

[Insert ghostly woooing here]

That sounds like a Lindsey blog title. Anyway, we couldn't find the church, but we now have precise directions and plan on going back to temp the fates once more.

Currently listening to: "Justy My Imagination" by the Cranberries
Currently feeling: Tired. Oh so very tired.

This Post Brought to You by Sidelines

Thanks to Manderson for giving me permission to reprint my column on my blog. Don't forget, kids, I don't own my brain - Sidelines does! Also, Manda wrote the headline, if anybody cares.

Evacuees not just victims, but people; Finger-pointing, blame unneccesary

After the disastrous Hurricane Katrina has left, people have started attempting a new life. This, of course, means that government officials have been touring the wreckage, saying all sorts of stupid things.

Politicalhumor.com has listed such quotations, begging the question, "Why are these people in charge?" It really puts the whole disaster thing into perspective.

"I don't think anybody anticipated the breach of the levees." This one belongs to none other than our commander in chief, George W. Bush. This, of course, is laughable. Granted, the notion that Bush is somehow responsible for the hurricane is far-fetched at best, but warnings came. Do a simple Google search of "levee warnings Katrina," and the faithful search engine returns about 214,000 hits. But nobody anticipated it.

"What I'm hearing which is sort of scary is that they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this [insert chuckle here] - this is working very well for them."

The chuckle really gets me. This was former first lady Barbara Bush, and normally I'd be inclined to leave her out of this, but I couldn't ignore this one. I highly doubt evacuees are actually thinking, 'That cardboard box wasn't work well for us - let's just live in the Astrodome!' This is why rich people should never be in charge of anything that involves people who aren't rolling in money. They just don't have the capacity to understand or even attempt to fathom the horrors that these people deal with on a daily basis. It's nice that Texas has opened its doors to those in need, but I'd hardly consider being uprooted to the Astrodome because your city has just been obliterated to be "working very well."

"Considering the dire circumstances that we have in New Orleans, virtually a city that has been destroyed, things are going relatively well." Federal Emergency Management Agency Director Michael Brown gave us these words of wisdom. So, yes, aside from the death, destruction and mayhem, it is a beautiful day in the neighborhood. By the way, Brown also said that residents who didn't evacuate bore some responsibility for their fate. That's right, folks, if you don't listen to government warnings, your fate is a watery grave.

"Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job." This was Bush to Brown. How cute. He has a nickname for him. Pardon me for not rushing to pat him on the back. I'm a little distracted by all the cadavers.

"There may be a need to look at tougher penalties on those who decide to ride it out and understand that there are consequences to not leaving." Sen. Rick Santorum, a Republican from Pennsylvania, said. There are penalties for those who didn't evacuate - they lost pretty much everything, if not everything. I think they've learned their lesson. Get them help and quit pointing fingers.

"We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn't do it, but God did." Rep. Richard Baker, a Republican from Louisiana, said, though I can't imagine what would make him think it was a good idea. That's right, kids, the hurricane was just God's way of cleaning up New Orleans. Hurricane Katrina brought about the kind of devastation we are not used to dealing with, and perhaps that's what led to all the ridiculous quotations. However, it seems far more likely that the people in charge just don't want to get their feet wet or get their hands dirty.

Helping people varies by the individual, but huge governments ought to do more than discuss legislation, point blame and tell the press how sad they are that New Orleans will never be the same again.

If there ever was a time that was completely inappropriate for PR spin, this is it. This isn't about trying to make one group look good and one group look bad. It's hard to come out on top when everything is under water. But genuine compassion goes a long way. Taking time to play with children in the Astrodome would probably mean more to them than a robotic government action of forcing canned goods and grief counselors upon them. The victims of Hurricane Katrina aren't just victims - they're people.

CNN's Anderson Cooper probably put it best with this response to Sen. Mary Landrieu (D-LA), after she went on thanking politicians for encouraging words and harping about Congress "going to an unprecedented session to pass a $10 billion supplemental bill."

Cooper's response: "I haven't heard that, because, for the last four days, I've been seeing dead bodies in the streets here in Mississippi. And to listen to politicians thanking each other and complimenting each other ... it kind of cuts them the wrong way right now, because literally there was a body on the streets of this town yesterday being eaten by rats because this woman had been laying in the street for 48 hours. And there's not enough facilities to take her up. Do you get the anger that is out here?"

Precisely my point.

Check it out online here.

I got a comment from a reader. Naturally, he criticized the headline (something many readers do), which, as I mentioned before, I didn't write. My favorite part is how he thinks I'm married and keeps referring to me as "Mrs."

I've Just Been Diagnosed with a Lindsey Complex

...and the only cure is more cowbell. Please, someone had to have gotten that.

Tonight we had a celebration for Khall's new job with the AP - they're associated!

In the midst of the debauchery, I thought it would be a great idea to call Lindsey sometime around 2:30 a.m. to tell her what I'd just discovered: I have a Lindsey Complex.

It's true. Every day I read her blog and think, "Wow. I'm such a self-centered asshole." Then I keep reading and marvel at her way with words. Yet again, thoughts come to mind: "Lindsey is so much better than me," and "I should be more like Lindsey."

So, tonight, I offer my tribute to Lindsey. It also comes with a disclaimer: Don't worry, Lindsey, this isn't a half-assed attempt to get in your pants. It's just a friendly reminder that, you know, you're better than most people.

Here are a few reasons why Lindsey is better than most people and why we should all strive to be more like Lindsey (provided, of course, that we maintain some sense of self).

*Lindsey hired me as a copy editor, promoting me from smart-ass columnist to smart-ass columnist and style dictator.

I remember when I handed in my style quiz. She said, "Wow, you marked some shit up." That's right. I marked some shit up.

*When Patrick was editor and he gave us a style quiz (no books allowed), Lindsey and I tied for first place, finding all but two errors. Yes, my friends, Lindsey knows her style and grammar, and frankly, that matters to me.

*Lindsey can design damn near anything and do it better than damn near anyone.

Ask to see some of her stuff if you don't believe me. It's Quark-tastic. OK, pretend like I didn't type that. Let's move on...

*Lindsey named one of her ferrets Gonzo. That's just cool.

*Lindsey let me read her copy of The Passion, a fabulous Jeanette Winterson book. Lindsey has great taste in books, so anything she likes is a must-read.

*Lindsey is a great writer, and I don't just mean newspaper articles. She has a natural talent that cannot be taught.

*Lindsey reads my blog and leaves the occasional comment so I know she stopped by. I'm OK with that. I also get referrals from her blog, so thanks for linking me.

Well, I could keep going, but I fear a restraining order would follow. Lindsey, the remaining Sidelines kids miss you. We think of you often, and sometimes just sit around talking about your greatness. I swear - that's actually happened.

Here's hoping Memphis is treating you well, and if not, you will always have a home in the Boro.

Aww...tear.

"It seems like the daylight is coming and no one is watching but me"

I'm creating a wish list. Maybe someday I'll get to check some stuff off. We'll see.

1. I wish I were more intelligent.

Since I got to college, I feel that my IQ has dropped significantly. Naturally, I've learned a lot, but I just don't feel smart. I know I am, but I could be better. I try to surround myself with people who are smarter than I am, but they are gone now, working in the real world, overseas, in grad school, making the world safe for whatever is endangered: freedom, ideology, revolution, progress, change.

2. I wish I took more time to myself.

I do this for a while, but it soon takes a back seat to everyone else in my life. Why do I feel I am the least worthy of my time?

3. I wish I read at least one book for pleasure each month.

I usually have so much to do between school and both jobs that I barely have time to not do my homework and sleep through class. There are so many books that I want to read, along with all the ones I want to read again. I imagine being a workaholic will pay off someday, but I'm not convinced that it will be worth it.

4. I wish I were beautiful.

It's shallow, I know, but I grew up with a perfect sister, so I'm taking a little license here. Contrary to what my narcissism suggests, I don't think I'm that great. I'm not that impressed with myself. I wish I were, though. There are days when I'm completely satisfied and others when I know I'm just not there yet. I'm working on it, though.

5. I wish to publish something.

I've always loved writing, and it's one of the things I think I'm good at. I have inhibitions about sharing it with others, though.

6. I wish to get my PhD in mathematics.

I'm fascinated the more I learn, and I don't think I'll be satisfied until I make a valiant effort at learning all I can, or, at least, all I can at this moment.

7. I wish to get married someday.

I think it would be nice to have someone. I really don't know what that's like - being with the right person. I know what it's like to be with the wrong person, which is why I'm not married yet. I want to have a career, but I also want a family. I imagine some would say it's in our nature to further the species, but I think it comes down to one thing: It's not that I need someone to complete me, but I want someone to complement me. It's a different concept. However, it's becoming increasingly obvious to me that there is a good chance this will not happen. It seems to fit with anyone (at least, that has been the case thus far), I would have to alter who I am, and I'm not willing to sacrifice myself. I at least hold myself in that high of a regard. I have an ability to end comfortable relationships because I know they aren't right for me, and I find that trait to be a useful one.

8. I wish to dance in the rain.

I swear, I'm going to do this someday. I might as well, because I've been harping about it since at least middle school.

Bonus points for knowing what song the title comes from.

Who's the Big Winner? Galileo! Galileo!

I had a LONG afternoon at work, followed by entirely too much fun working drive-thru with Kevin and coming up with ridiculous coffee songs to the tunes of such favorites as "Any Man of Mine" and "Bohemian Rhapsody." Kevin broke out with "Soy to the World," and I about lost it. I think my "Bohemian Rhapsody" was the big winner.

Who's the big winner?

Mikey's the big winner!

Hey, JR got it.

If I could remember all the lyrics to one of the crazy coffee songs, I'd post it. Perhaps I'll write one sometime. I mean, really, what else am I going to do?

I slept through stats today and was half an hour late to calculus. Luckily, Dr. Kholodnyi didn't care. Here's my Calc IV homework: ∫sin²θdθ on the interval of π/4 to π/2. Argh. It's more complex than most integration because it's a product and has to be integrated as such. It's painstakingly tedious. Gone are the days of ∫ 3x²dx. How I miss you, x³.

There are fraternity boys in the house. I should be more bothered by people randomly coming into my house and bitching about crime log at 1:24 a.m., but I'm not. I'm used to the masses thinking that rules and public flow of information should not apply to them. Oh, will they ever learn? This is not just a shot at the Greekdom that tends to dominate crime log, but it is rather amusing that the groups who end up in the situations always blame those who find out instead of those who are actually at fault. Sigh.

In other news, Arnold's going to use that veto power he has to stop the same-sex marriage bill. Oh, people of California, why did you elect the Kindergarten Cop?

At least Bush didn't let Katrina cramp his vacation style. That was my sarcastic voice.

Before I go, with all the list-making going on, I had to add a few more things about me, an ode to the tomboy in me, or, more accurately, the part of me that is less indicative of me having a vagina. VAGINA! That was for you, Lindsey.

* I scream at my television when I watch football. I don't think there's anything wrong with this.

* I sometimes do it while watching NASCAR. This is slightly embarrassing.

* I don't think I could handle it if I actually got to meet Tom Glavine, El Duque, Frank Wycheck, or Drew Bennett.

* I know I couldn't handle it if I got to meet Don Schula.

* If you want to get me really riled up, bring up Eddie George and Steve McNair playing together. I once went on a tangent that had my dad frightened.

* I once had to work during the Super Bowl. I brought a radio and an assortment of chips and asked every drive-thru customer what the score was. I now ask off well in advance for Super Bowl Sunday.

* My uncle taught me how to throw a spiral on the beach when I was 13.

* I've been told I drink liquor "like a champ."

* I can eat more steak than my father.

* In high school, I challenged the men in my family to a catfish eating contest and won.

* To the surprise of many, I don't chase my shots. I never have, and I never will.

Check out the new photo. I picked it only because I like the way my lips look in it. Is that weird?

Happy Anniversary/Antianniversary to Michaela

Well, I feel I should make some sort of list, because I like doing that. So here are some things that have actually happened to me lately.

1. I've become convinced that someone in the Sidelines office is out to get me by erasing my board every day.

2. I let Michaela mix me a really strong drink. This was a bad idea.

3. On the same night, Michaela and I declared that we were spouses.

4. Still the same night, we divorced over Star Wars Monopoly.

5. I walked from Murphy Center to Mass Comm in a sports bra.

6. I threw a half a block of Post-Its at the wall six inches away from me.

7. I spent 12 hours in the Sidelines office on a tab that didn't get printed due to miscommunication with the printer.

8. I got invited to a TKE party by a complete stranger.

9. I went to Marble Slab Creamery twice in one week.

10. The second time I bought a quart.

11. I bought Katie dinner twice in one week.

12. I donated to Hurricane Katrina victims.

13. I spent more than $8 on dinner at Mrs. Winner's.

14. I went to bed before 2 a.m.

15. I didn't make it to my first class today because I was too tired. I woke up at 8:30, and I considered it "sleeping in."

If You Would, Lord, Send a Boat

This was shamelessly stolen from Manda's blog, and she shameless stole it from someone I don't know.

Go to your media player/mp3 player and put it all on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and after each one press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question.

What do you think of me?
"Fuck Her Gently" (Tenacious D)
You don't always have to fuck her hard. In fact, somtimes, that's not right to do. Sometimes you've got to make some love, and fuckin' give her some smooches, too...(other verses)...And then, I'm gonna fuck you hard!

Will I have a happy life?
"Angels in America" (Counting Crows)
She says I'm OK.

What do my friends really think of me?
"Simple Man" (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Don't you worry, you'll find yourself. Follow your heart and nothing else.

Do people secretly lust after me?
"Disease" (Matchbox 20)
I can't leave without you, tell me, what am I supposed to do about it?...(other verses)...You taste like honey, honey, tell me, can I be your honey?

How can I make myself happy?
"Miami" (Counting Crows)
Make a circle in the sand. Make a halo with your hands.

What should I do with my life?
"Anna Begins" (Counting Crows) - This song is SO ME that it's frightening.
We're always changing...(other verses)...I am not worried, I am not overly concerned.

Why must life be so full of pain?
"Call Me the Breeze" (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
I ain't got me nobody.

How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
"Black and Blue" (Counting Crows) - Yikes. This song is about suicide.
I'm tired of feeling nothing, goodbye.

Will I ever have children?
"Could I Be You" (Matchbox 20) - I can't make this work. Let me try again.
"So Sad, So Lonely" (Matchbox 20) - This is a stretch.
I don't need no backup plan.

Will I die happy?
"Mr. Bojangles" (Harry Chapin)
Dance.

Can you give me some advice?
"The Kids" (Eminem) - Perfect!
Children, drugs are bad.

What do you think happiness is?
"The Ballad of Curtis Lowe" (Lynyrd Skynyrd) - This is my dad's ring on my phone.
Play me a song Curtis Lowe.

What's my favourite fetish?
"Damn" (Matchbox 20) - Good song, doesn't answer the question.
"Turn Me On" (Norah Jones) - Better.
I'm just sittin' here, waiting fof you to come on home and turn me on.

Currently listening to: "Send a Boat" - Chris Knight
Currently feeling: Exhausted

I'm about to Go All Home Alone on Your Board-Erasing Ass

It's Labor Day! That means I don't have class, which is always good. I slept until 1:15. I have to work from 5 to close. Yikes. At least it's time and a half.

Well, a lot has happened lately: New Orleans is more or less obliterated and Rhenquist finally kicked it. If Scalia is the new chief justice, I'll be crying.

I'm out for blood. Some jackass has been erasing the story board in the office. Now, this board has not been erased since we've been in this office, nor was the old office board ever erased. I use this board to write out story ideas and to note who is writing which story for which issue. I had copy schedules for an 8-page tab, Wednesday's issue, and Thursdays issue. While I had some of them transposed onto story assignment sheets, I was coming up to finish it all on Tuesday. Well, no. Because I got up there, and everything was erased, including my board of every sport event in September. And we don't even HAVE an eraser up there. What a determined little prick.

Well, I tried my best to remember everything, but I could only recall two things I'd assigned for Thursday, and I know I had at least 7 on the board (see - it's also used for brainstorming). I then wrote all kinds of notes on the board, including "DO NOT ERASE OR WENDY WILL INJURE YOU!" and a lovely picture of a stick guy coming out of a volcano with the caption "This is your brain on fire. Any questions?"

Well, the next day, it was all erased again. I've been given permission to maim the culprit once he or she is caught, and I'll be catching the bastard this week. I have a plan to ensure the person is caught red-handed, so ha! If this is you, be afraid, as I will personally remove your legs (and any other valuable appendages) with a pair of rusty pliers. And don't you dare ask for morphine, either. I'm not feeling nice right now.

Last Wednesday night, the Sidelines kids had a delicious dinner, followed by Michaela mixing me a really strong drink. That was bad. Very very bad.

I need a new radiator. I went to get my transmission serviced last Wednesday (Manderson was going to pick me up while they worked on my car), but then these guys said they couldn't do it because of the radiator. Apparently, the radiator is leaking, and flushing the transmission involves removing the cap, which would have been all kinds of bad.

I did get my oil changed, though. The guy comes in and was all, "Do you know what kind of car you drive? I know it's a Saturn." NO SHIT, GENIUS. It says "Saturn" all over it - of course you know it's a Saturn. No, I don't know what kind of car I drive. I drive a total fuckin' mystery. It's red - does that count?

Why the hell would he even suggest that I might not know what kind of car I was driving? Do I look like some kind of idiot? Hell, if I'd had some ramps and an oil pan and a wrench and some extra time, I'd have changed the oil myself. This is why I hate going into car places. It's like I'm wearing some sign that only men can see that says, "I have ovaries. I don't know how my car works."

Then he comes in with my air filter.

"This is your air filter."

I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that it needs to be replaced. I don't need to see it, just change it. I mean, I don't need a doctor to show me my liver and say, "This is your liver. Don't drink anymore."

I don't need to see it. Just fix it. Then, for the umpteenth time, he interrupted my reading to bring me out to look at my radiator.

Again, I don't want to see it. I don't care what it looks like. Fix it, and send me on my merry way.

Well, I had to call Manderson and tell him not to come get me because they weren't doing the transmission after all. Bastards. Now I have to get a new radiator this week. The fun never ends.

Neighbor update: The truck's temporary tag is expired. Again.

Currently listening to: Destiny meowing and Buffy chirping
Currently feeling: Like I wish I had a new car

Whoopee, We're All Gonna Die!

Can anyone guess where the title comes from?

So we're all gonna die. Anarchy will come. We're running out of oil. Well, we've been running out of oil, but now it's painfully obvious. Luckily, some of my co-workers and I have a fail-safe plan for survival. Woot!

Here's a fun tidbit from me and Tracie:
Me: If we run out of oil, we shouldn't bother repopulating. Who wants to live without oil?
Tracie: But what would we do for fun then?
Me: We're not running out of Latex.

So I went to get gas on my break from work, but THEY WERE OUT. Every fucking pump. I had to call The Tina to bring my a gallon of gas so that I could get home. Then I found it for just $2.99, but there was a $20 limit. And I had to prepay inside, even though I was using a card.

Send help. Or gas. Or oil. Surely someone around here can refine it.

This Public Service Announcement Is Brought to You by Common Sense and Lack of Desperation OR Just Another Reason Why I'm Still Single

Here is something I cannot stand:

"hey babe. whats good? how r u? hit me back asap. i'd like 2 get 2 no u better."

Grievance The First: "hey babe" Babe? Excuse me? Did I lose a few decades or something? Now, this doesn't apply to all of you, as people who know me can pretty much get away with calling me whatever they want, but complete strangers beware: I am not, nor ever will be, your babe.

Grievance The Second: whats good? I don't know whats good, and I don't know what's good, either. The answer, of course, cannot be your grammar or spelling, nor can it be your general grasp of the English language. It's paltry at best.

Grievance The Third: how r u? I'm fine, but I'd be better if you'd take the time to spell out three-letter words. It helps your case. I mean, if you can't even take the time to type out the word "you," what does that say about your character? Are you that negligent in all aspects of your life? Luckily, I don't care.

Grievance The Fourth: hit me back asap Hit you back? Why? Are you going to hit me first? God, I hope not, because I'm quite certain the best case scenario would be a slow, painful death at the hands of my father and one of his guns. However, by this point, I'm really wanting to hit you, so maybe I'll take you up on that offer.

Grievance The Last: i'd like 2 get 2 no u better The only correct part here is "no" - as in, that's the answer you'll get from me. I'm amazed you didn't say "gooder." So many errors, so little time.

Please keep these simple guidelines in mind when attempting to contact me, as I am obviously an elitist who insists my companions not totally fuck up a five-sentence message.

21 Classmates - 3 Classmates + Sacrifice = Fun!

Well, I survived my first two days of class, and I've come to one conclusion: My stat teacher is NUTS!

But he's nuts in a good way, which is great because that's my 8 a.m. class on Tuesday and Thursday.

So we're in class doing some basic permutations and combinations and whatnot, and he comes up with a problem:

Suppose we have to sacrifice 3 students to the God of Statistics so that everyone else can do well on the test. It's like the one we just did, but this time they all have the same job: sacrificial victims.

Dr. Walsh makes math fun!

Then I had Dr. Kholodnyi, who is my adviser and is teaching my Calculus Part The Last class of only six people. And we talked about improper integrals and summations of infinite series and whatnot, and it was all fun. I mean, where else but in math (of all things) can you add up a lot of zeroes and get one? If you think really hard about that, you'll get it. I'll even give you a clue: probability density function.

I'm having dinner with Katie and Alison (one of the founding sisters) tonight. That should be big fun!

More on all this later...it's food time!

Current mood: Chipper
Currently listening to: "Here by Me" by 3 Doors Down

I Didn't Buy Drunken Bitch Insurance

School starts tomorrow. Ugh. Here's what my day looks like:
6:30 am - Get in shower. Hot oil hair. Wash hair. Condition hair. Wash self. Rinse out conditioner.
7:00 am - Put on clothes. Gather all school shit, plus all sorority shit for meeting.
7:15 am - Leave for school.
7:30 am - Curse the terrible parking. It's 7:30 am! Park at Murphy Center because I don't feel like driving around other lots.
8:00 am - ASCI 4200: Intro to Math Investments. I cannot pronounce my teacher's name. I can't even spell it.
8:55 am - Class is over, unless this guy is like all math teachers and tries to keep us longer. I'll really be cursing at this point. I'd like to think I'll be productive during this window, but I'll probably just nap in the Mass Comm building.
10:20 am - Honors biology. One of these days, I won't get mono and killer migraines, and I'll actually FINISH this fucking class. Round four, here I come! Seriously, I've taken the first test three times.
12:25 pm - Class is over. I know it will be. Then I'm gonna kill some time in the Sidelines office typing up the meeting agenda. Then I'll head over to Student Orgs to make many copies.
1:50 pm - Thank God, it's time for tap dance with Claire. And I know Angela won't keep us the whole time, which is kind of a shame, because my next class is immediately following this one, and it's in the other dance studio.
3:00 pm - Pilates. Woot! Again, Angela won't keep us the whole time today.
4:00 pm - Fill out story assignment sheets and photo assignment sheets.
5:00 pm - Give out assignments to my writers.
5:30 pm - Eat something. I'm starving by this point.
7:30 pm - Arrive for sorority meeting.
7:45 pm - Start meeting.
9:00 pm - End meeting. Go to Starbucks to get my tips and my success profile thing I have to fill out by Tuesday. Damnit.
10:45 pm - Arrive home. Read The DaVinci Code. Lose mind.

So, in order to soften the blow, here's some cool shit: I met Aron Ralston today (if you don't know who he is, just Google it - I'm sure you'll get plenty of results).

And, finally, the story of the weekend and the reason for this blog title.

After work on Friday I was on the phone with Claire and about to turn into my driveway when I noticed a car pulling out of it, stopped by the mailbox. The car had no headlights on. I should also mention that the crackhead/meth lab neighbors (these are wild speculations, but if you ever talked to them, you'd see how I draw these conclusions) had several people over, and we have adjacent gravel driveways, so they aren't realy separated.

I stopped in the road, waiting for the car to pull out. After waiting a while, I turned on my signal to indicate to the driver that I was trying to pull into the driveway. Instead of pulling out, however, the car opted to back up to let me in. Still no headlights.

I pulled in and parked in my front yard so the car could still get out. Well, as it was backing up, it hit the neighbors' blue truck (they got a new temporary tag, by the way, so it expires Sept. 3 - it always bothered me that until recently the tag had expired June 25).

Well, I get out of my car to go inside, because work was HELLISH. Then this woman gets out of the car, obviously missing some teeth and obviously under the influence of at least alcohol and possibly more.

"Hey! I just hit this truck!"

Yes, I saw you hit that truck. I'm not really concerned with it, as it is not mine.

"It's not my truck," I replied.

"Well, I'm pretty pissed! Do you have insurance?"

Not for you hitting other trucks. I do have insurance, but it only covers me and my vehicle. I didn't ensure all of Murfreesboro. And if I'd hit a parked truck, I'd be pissed, too. I should also mention that she wasn't standing too well.

"Yes, but it's not my truck."

"Well, it's going to be your ass!"

Um, yeah, not seeing how that'll happen, being as though I wasn't driving any of the vehicles involved in the accident, nor do I own any of them. However, if you're really set on filing a claim, I should let you know that in order to do so, you must have a police report. If you'd like me to call the police, I'd be happy to tell them how you were on my property without my permission driving a car while intoxicated without having your headlights on when you backed into a parked truck. Then, if you'd like to turn it over to your insurance (if you have it), I'm sure they'd be glad. They could probably use a laugh. By the way, did I mention I'm an insurance minor? Yeah, you picked the wrong person to be an idiot to.

She said some more things in an effort to threaten me, but I just went inside to recap it for The Tina and Brian Doesn't Know. Then a knock came on the door, and one of the Crackfest 2005 participants was standing there, apologizing repeatedly about the incident and inquiring about it. The Tina and I were happy to reiterate it. The drunk bitch had apparently gotten out of the driveway finally. Maybe she careened into something shortly thereafter. It wouldn't surprise me.

"I'll pay for any damage to his truck," the guy said.

Again, I don't give a shit about the truck. It's not mine. I have no emotional stake in what happens to the truck. Just because I witnessed the hitting of the truck doesn't mean I'm involved. I'm not. I don't care. Just keep your dumbass drunk friends from acting like idiots around me, and I'm usually pretty happy.

So now, my favorite question I've been asked lately is "Do you have insurance?" I still laugh whenever I think about it.

Today, The Tina told me that the female neighbor had banned the drunk bitch from their home and kept apologizing. I really hope I don't run into her, because she wants to apologize to me, too. Apparently, the drunk bitch tried to tell the female neighbor that I hit her, which would have been quite an accomplishment as I would have had to drive through my yard, turn around (my turning radius is not great), and rear-end her. Brian was parked behind Tina in the driveway, so there wasn't any room for me to do this if I wanted to.

Luckily, female neighbor knew drunk bitch was full of shit, as apparently her car had left a bit of paint residue on the truck bumper. She then came out with a hammer and said she'd just take it out of her car because she knew the drunk bitch didn't have insurance.

So the moral of the story: Buy insurance. And if they have insurance for wrecks that happen in your vicinity, I'd be impressed.

"You had a wreck near me? No problem - it's covered!" Thanks to Manderson for that contribution.

GO GRSSK

I haven't been blogging lately, but I have good reason: I haven't been blogging. That's basically it.

Class starts Monday. What a shame. And I've been told I can't ask off work until my birthday (which is December 20 for all you people to forget). What fascism.

I'm bumming in the Sidelines office waiting for pages to be done for me to do heads and cuts. I have to leave for work in an hour and a half. This isn't looking good.

I'm thinking I might buy a Go Greek shirt. They used sigma as the "E," so it really says "Go Grssk." I've been telling people to "Go Grssk," and they're much more willing to do that than Go Greek.

Read Lindsey's blog. I have nothing new.