I just repaired this link ----> I should do this to people

After three weeks of it being wrong. BOY I'm fast :P

Just a couple quick notes for posterity:

the night before last I had a dream where I was riding on a train next to Ian McKellan. Methinks it was the Two Towers trailer in front of MIB 2 that triggered it, except Ian looked a lot more magneto than gandalph in the dream.

I hung out with the girl who lives by the corn again. And again, we had fun. She told me stories about kroger, I whined about my mom, we contemplated following around this cop car at one point and pretending we were plainclothes Internal Affairs agents (we were driving around aimlessly and thought of maybe making that our aim), it was a good day.

Good: Wanda e-mailed me, I've also found out that I'm not supposed to have a seat designation anyway

Bad: parents will prolly wonder about seat designation thing, because I'm sposed to be part of a group

Bad: I lost the list of things I should take my prof gave out, it came with a letter full of dates of meetings we had six months ago. I finally winkled up the courage to ask him for another copy and he gave it to me, with the addition of, "You treat letters like they're food with expiration dates. You're the only person I've ever met who does that. There was a lot of important stuff in there." Blah blah blah. Sometimes I wonder if he actively trys to make people feel bad, because this is not the first time he's given me a long hurtful lecture on some minor thing I've done wrong.

Good or Bad, depending on your perspective: I'll prolly have no further posts for awhile, because of my trip, the ensuing business beforehand and the double hecticness afterwards.

On a whim, I sent this e-mail to the creator of Sinfest:

Dear Mr. Ishida. Me and a friend filled out your http://sinfest.net/d/20000813.html strip mad lib style with:

Speaking in Tongues

Push up Daisies

Boing

Narwhal

Narnia

Pookas

All-Kosher Yeal.

Yeal is a delicious reptile meat specially blessed by the first Rabbi we could find in the phone book.

Also: What do you think of this quote?

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come. "

Yea, that's what O tj.

I get bored quite easily.

Phoe: yea.

I said yeal instead of yea at first. I hope yeal catches on and I can trademark it and be rich.
Kin: lol...I like yeal. I think it should be a kind of food. And once it's a food, I think it should be kosher.
P: Okay. And it has to have a slogan (like behold the power of cheese or beef: it's what's for dinner) How about: Yeal: it's kinder than veal. And then one of those little sunbursts where they usually say "new" or something, but put "kosher" in there
K: lol...Yeah. It'll be like...yeah. "Kosher". =P
P: Should Yeal be made of Avians, reptiles, or people?
P: or by the unsavory bits of all three, following in the fine tradition of the hot dog?
P: Avians, reptiles, and people are kosher, right?
K: I'd sau...Hmm...Sau. I think that would be fish. And kosher as well.
K: Anyway, I'd say reptiles. No one eats reptiles anymore...Or did they before. Oh well. Reptiles.
P: lol. Yea, I don't like pork in my fish
K: Well they're all kosher if they're blessed by a rabbi.
P: Yeal: made of maneating kosher reptiles. It's either us or them. And they taste better in a white wine sauce.
P: Ooooh! Lets have our own personal rabbi to bless our Sau and Yeal!
K: Yeah, that's a good slogan.
K: Yeah! We'll hire one out of the phone book.
P: Yeal: Don't kid yourself. If you gave them a chance, the reptiles would eat you and everything you ever loved in a second*

* Kosher; blessed by the quality rabbies at Phin Enterprises.
P: LOL....oh, we have to change the last part then

* Kosher; blessed by the first rabbi we found in the phone book
K: Sau: Who has the time to go fishing anymore? And is your catch of the day kosher? I don't think so my friend.
P: oooh ooh, that one's good!
K: I dunno, I kinda like "Phin Enterprises."

I am seriously dying inside. Lying to my parents, the prospect of having no one to pick me up when I get there (i.e. having to search through a huge city I've never been to for a cheap motel or living on the streets of the same for three days), my mom not letting go of the terminal thing, not knowing my seat number, another sort of close call where the prof phoned me up about telling me how to get to the place we're going to stay, but I managed to cover it because we'd also been talking about theater tickets....all filling me with anxiety to the zillionth degree.

I've not been able to sleep well for ages, and my stomach constantly feels ill. FREAKING READ YOUR E-MAIL AND E-MAIL ME BACK, WANDA. And, WORLD, STOP PUNISHING ME FOR LYING. I'VE GOT THE POINT, I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Ugh.....I go through roommates like........something that goes through a lot of roommates. This fall, I'll be on my 3rd one. My 3rd. Once you get up that high, people know no one wants to live with you.

Actually, my current roommate dillemna is probably the fact that I'm too picky. Though people have told me I can be annoying. (Though I'm not going to admit that to the new roommate, she'll find out sooner or later) My original roommate was great in every way except that she stayed up till 4 every night on AIM, and I'm an insomniac. Also, she'd do the "many hits of the snooze button" thing at 6 a.m., when I didn't have a class until like, 10, and she'd kept me up all night anyway. I was pretty suicidal/homicidal that semester.

I chose the new roommate on the contingency that we'd get to bed at 12, and the fact she was a friend. We did pretty well, though near the end she kind of got more and more annoyed that I was so strict about bed-time, and I got more and more annoyed by the long naps she would take during the day where I'd have to try and be quiet. Also, she wouldn't let me play any music whatsoever not on headphones, and pretty frequently did the same when I'd watch TV. But we were good friends, we complimented each other, a match made in weirdo heaven.

Now, however, my roommate is an RA, and they live alone. She's actually moving away to the farthest away dorm on campus (from everything, not just my dorm. The only thing out where she'll be living is like, the ag building). She said when she heard that she felt like, "Someone prepared to move to Russia being told that I'm going to Siberia now." I was sad too. And, I'm quite full of trepidation at the aspect of getting a new roommate.

I mean.....I've heard so many stories about awful roommates. When I first started college, I had no idea how many people here were jerks. And, I don't even have to be saddled with a jerk to be unhappy, i could end up with another one like the first, perfect except for one aspect that would REALLY get under my skin. Roommate says that if the new one irritates me that I can squat in her Siberian dorm until I can get re-assigned to another person.

Then, I was thinking: I feel sorry for the person that's going to have to live with me. I mean, old roommate knew what she was getting into. Back when I hooked up with first roommate, I wasn't near as bitter, I was trying really hard to make a good first impression, and I've developed quite a few quirks (defense mechanisms because of the horror of ISU) since then.

Things that will make a bad impression on new roommate:

• I have a pretty imposing picture of the Ringwraiths from LotR on my wall now


• I've got too many stuffed animals


• I have aquired the admittedly disturbing habit of making the stuffed animals (and occasionally other inanimate objects) talk


• Frequently what I make the stuffed animals say is abusive to myself and/or others as well as being chock full of profanity


• Star Wars/Star Trek paraphanalia


• I'm a slob. No human or even animal should have to live the filthy way I do. Being stuck in a tiny room with me is hell


• I talk in my sleep. I get up to use the bathroom like 80 times a night, even when I haven't drank anything for hours.


• Apparently, according to College Student standards, wanting to go to bed at 12 every night makes me a mean Amish woman.


• I just don't care about concealing my weirdess anymore. She's going to have to endure my Miss Cleo impression, my abusive stuffed animals, and the fact that I'm the only female student at ISU who doesn't listen to N'Stank

Anyhoo, I can't go on with my system of calling roommate "roommate" and my old roommate "old roommate," so I guess it'll go:

First roommate for first roommate
Siberian for middle roommate
Roommate for new roommate, after I meet her.

Ugh, I'm getting really worried: Wanda has gone incommunicado the last week, and has had no explanation. She BETTER be there to pick me up is all I have to say. I have a feeling that I'm a bit too soft to survive 3 days alone and poor on the streets of London. Which I'll have to do if she doesn't pick me up.

I'm using my mad voodoo psychic powers on her now. PICK ME UP. REMEMBER TO PICK ME UP. WOULD IT KILL YOU TO CHECK YOUR E-MAIL ONCE IN AWHILE AND REPLY TO ME TO LET ME KNOW YOU GOT IT? ARE YOUR FINGERS BROKEN? PICK ME UP.

I'm worried though. I know this'll suprise you, but I don't really have mad voodoo psychic powers.

Oh and more later: I've also found out I have to break in a new roommate this semester today. When the metaphorical shit hit the fan, it kind of seemed more important to vent about.

I AM SO GODDAMNED FRUSTRATED! Lying is beginning to take up SERIOUS mental strain. I mean, earlier today we went to Barnes and Nobel (site of the previous almost find-out), and I was like, lurking behind bookshelves and stuff the whole time.

But that is not even the big deal. The world is conspiring to make it impossible for me to lie. Honest.

They change the arrival and departure times of my trip. Prof e-mails us this, and adds something or other about my terminal number.

This freaks me out. I have no idea what my terminal number is. I (stupidly) ask my mom. Finally, I found it by myself, but now my mom is all intrigued. AND, pissed. It turns out we don't go to the terminal she thought we did, and there is no nearby parking.

She frets about this. She asks to see the e-mail that sparks this whole thing off. I say that I already am off it, and mention that it doesn't have anything really relevant. She frets some more: my mom is really NOT a walker, and she thinks we'll get lost, and blah blah blah because of the new location. She goes on and on and on. I just want to shout at her to drop it, beg her to shut up. I get more and more blustery and abusive, "we have to walk, dammit. That's all." Or "Aren't there shuttles? I'm sure there are shuttles. Look for shuttles. That'll solve our problem." Apparently the shuttles go to hell and back before arriving at terminal 3. She asks (much more imperatively) to see the e-mail again, and I want to cry, or shoot myself. Because how much more incriminating can you get than:

London Program Participants:

I've just learned of changes in flight number, terminal number, and departure time
for our flight out of O'Hare on Saturday, 20 July.

Flight number is now ##### (instead of ####)

Terminal number is now #1 (instead of #5)

Departure time is now 5:20 PM (instead of 5:30 PM)

Although further change is unlikely in regard to our departure, it is still recommended
that you phone 1-800-241-6522 in the middle of the week to make sure.

Also, changes have been made for the return from Heathrow, London, on 10 August:

Same flight number as previously assigned (#####)

Terminal number at Heathrow is #3

Departure time from Heathrow is 10:55 AM / Arrival time at Chicago, O'Hare is 1:25
PM.

Arrival at O'Hare will be at Terminal 5. (NOTE: THIS IS NOT THE TERMINAL YOU WILL
BE FLYING OUT OF ON YOUR ORIGINAL FLIGHT TO LONDON. MAKE SURE ANYONE PICKING YOU
UP IS AWARE OF THIS.)

We'll confirm these return flights before departing London. Anyone planning to meet
you upon arrival at O'Hare should call the confirmation # above to see if there have
been any significant changes.

Enter these changes on your DAILY ITINERARY so you don't have conflicting information.
Again, except for Phoe and Tiffany, I'll be bringing your flight tickets with me.
(Morgan and Jaime are already over there preparing for us a proper reception.)

WM

PLUS, the e-mail's title is "departure change" which my departure doesn't change, but fortunately she didn't see that. Also, I managed to scroll down below it enough, and she didn't notice. She did notice, however, I was trying to hide "Again, except for Phoe and Tiffany, I'll be bringing your flight tickets with me." When she asked me to go back to that point in the e-mail, I wanted to scream. I NEVER lie. I'm the greatest person ever in that respect. Never ever ever ever, except now, and it was a small lie, but I'm being punished. The world is full of people having affairs and cheating the government out of millions of dollars, but it won't let me get away with adding 2 freaking days to a fucking trip. She was like "Why are you the only one who got your tickets?" I was like "Uh....Tiffany got them." "I mean you and Tiffany." *strangled voice* "I don't know. Do you want me to e-mail him?" "No....I guess not."

WHOOSH. Another razor-thin escape. My nerves can't handle it, though. By the time this trip happens, I'm going to be a melted pile of goo. I pray, pray, pray (except I don't. And if I did it'd probably be to the same damn god that's punishing me) that the time moves quickly and this NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN. Speaking of which: though my flight home has a seat number, the one I have on the way there doesn't. I don't even want to begin opening that can of worms. I want to ask the stewardess when I get there and raise holy hell if they try to bar me from the flight because they don't know my seat either. I do NOT want contact with ANYONE involved in my web of lies.

To make insult to injury, I don't even want to type this out until she goes to bed, but she stays up REALLY late to watch a taped copy of Passions (bleh) and some show that's on in the afternoon before that, where some alien ship lands. I'm staying up to type this, because I'll go insane if I don't vent. I probably will anyway. I want to take it all back and never have lied. I want to stop being tripped up by the stupidest things. I want to know my damn seat number without making this worse.

I want to cry.

BEST SITE EVER (courtesy of my homegirl Talia, who also sent me the best picture ever once)

You have to view the site (which, sadly, is serious) before you read my sarcastic comments about it, because otherwise it's just ruined.

Quotes:

"and the product is a mug with a picture of their customized baby."

I can't WAIT until I can find that special someone I can settle down and have a mug with. It'll be some time, though. I know I don't want to commit to a mug that lightly.

Some of the emailed information will include:

sound file of the eBunBaby's heartbeat
sonogram of the eBunBaby
choice of finding out the sex of the eBunBaby
how much weight they are gaining - women love this!

Yea. Because women love to hear how much weight they're gaining. Even virtual weight is a touchy subject with us, I'm pretty sure.

Why would you want to e-impregnate someone?

1) Your wife wants a real baby, but this is a cheaper option
2) You always wanted to have a lovechild with someone
3) Your girlfriend will think this is a form of commitment, so you get mucho brownie points
4) It's a bizarre concept, and people will think you actually have a sense of humor if you e-impregnate them
5) You want to show your husband what it is like to be pregnant
6) It's cheap!

1) Man you're twisted
2) Man you're extra twisted if you secretly e-pregnate someone
3) You have no contact with reality. I can also see this scenario:
Guy: Look honey. I'm ready to have a child!
They get the mug. A couple months later:
Girl: Can we have a REAL baby now?
Guy: Awww....but what if "mug's name" gets jealous of the new baby? I think it's best to wait.
4) Maybe the only thing Al Gore needed to win that election was to e-pregnate an intern.
5) Because getting a mug is just like having morning sickness, swollen ankles, and labor pains.
6) First you're too cheap to have a kid, now you're too cheap to get someone a decent gift?

The ordering individual will fill out who they want to eImpregnate, and list their own and the recipient's physical traits (eye color, hair color, and skin tone). This information lets us create a customized baby for the two parents based on a random algorithm of their physical traits.

The mugs have cartoon people on them. Cartoon people. They can't really blend your features unless you're Daffy Duck and want to E-pregnate Pepe la Pew or something. Eww....I just got an image in my head, there.

You get all of this for the low price of only $29.99 (plus $5 S&H). To order, click on the Order Form button!!

I dunno. $35.99 is a bit steep for a mug.

Next week: Nads!

I now have the new RHCP CD today (the first day it was available) It is GOOD. Though, I think I'm at the point now I'd buy their stuff if they put out albums of like, phone books put to music. (If you were one of the numbers it would be both a blessing and a curse--No one would forget your number, because they'd have a song to help them, but drunk and/or high people listening to RHCP would probably start calling you up just to see if you were a real number all the time).

This is the first time I've ever gotten an album the day it dropped. Generally I'm a bit sluggish, but I wanted to make sure I picked it up before I went on my trip. I can even listen to it on the 8 hour plane ride. This makes me think yay, because while I would not normally yay an 8 hour ride, I am because it's taking me to England and I get to listen to RHCP during this time because *whoa* I picked up their new CD.

P.S. I think I pretty much keep the music industry in business.*

* Not those bastards N'Sync, I keep the cool people driving Ferraris and Jaguars.**

**N'Sync really aren't bastards, but I wish they'd admit they were gay already. I mean, they're alone together on a tourbus a lot. There's nothing better to do. I was going to also admit their outfits as exhibit B, but I'm pretty sure gay people have better taste.***

***I have nothing against gay people, other than some gay artists (N'Sync, Emenem) put out crappy music. But plenty of straight people release bad music too. I mean, it's statistically improbable that every recording artist during the 80's was gay, right?****

****Not that gay-produced music doesn't have it's highlights. Elton John, man. I love the songs from the Lion King.*****

***** No, I'm not 8, though my IQ is******

******I stole that from Red Dwarf, kinda. The original quote was about a walrus cleaning kit. I love Red Dwarf.*******

*******Why am I bothering with the stars anymore?

If I ever had any children, I'd certainly let the Brunching Shuttlecocks raise them.

Perhaps that's why I shouldn't be a parent.

My roommate has a theory that no one is normal, and the only difference between "normal" people and "weird" people is they work harder hide their quirks. Roommate and I are definatelly the "weird" people.

Why else would we sing "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park" at the top of our lungs on the quad at night?

Anyhoo, roommate and I had a nice phone conversation today. We've decided to form the Angry Neuter Hermit(TM) cult out in the woods somewhere. I'll run the Angry Neuter Hermit(TM) radio station and she'll teach history to the little Angry Neuter Hermits(TM). I do believe it'll be a little slice of Angry Neuter Hermit Heaven(TM).

And she expects me to bring Alan Rickman back from England for her. I'll do my best.

I have rugburn on my knee. I feel like a Barenaked Ladies song waiting to happen.

I went to get a makeover today, it's so that I'm wearing proper make-up at my sis's wedding.

My mom was HAPPY. I think she's a bit embarassed to have a daughter not interested in makeup, shoes, hair, and who can't rope a guy to save her life. Though, I don't think she cares about clothes. She's always regretted the day I started wearing non-baggy clothing that didn't feature baby animals. She was gleeful that I was willing to do this.

It was interesting. It looked decent, but I'm sure when I try to put the stuff on I'll prolly mess it up.

And though it was very downplayed and "natural," it looked really un-natural to me. I probably would be happier with heavy clown or goth makeup actually, because it doesn't pretend to be natural. Plus...I began to feel annoyed after awhile. Don't I look good enough on my own? Do I really need to spend like an hour to put all this stuff on because my bare face is a horror show? And I resent men for never having to wear it. (As well as not having to shave their legs, wear skirts/pantyhose, or have cramps)

Makeup feels like I'm hiding. I don't know why dressing nice or doing my hair nice I don't mind, but makeup makes me feel like a phony. I guess it's because (though there is a bit of chance involved) your face is part of who you are, it houses your expressions and when you get older, wrinkles tell a story: did I laugh more, or cry more? I'd rather have my pasty face that says "Well, I guess I'm not that outdoorsy" then tan-ish fakey makeup.

I'm still going to try it out for awhile, though. Maybe I'll get over the above feeling and love the stuff.

Hey, has anybody ever seen the play Da by Hugh Leonard? It's playing near where I'm staying in Ireland while I'm in Ireland, but I don't want to waste my time if it's crappy, and I was wondering if anyone could give me any ideas of what it's like (though I do know the general outline from the theatre company website)

Today was fun. I went to a high school friend's house today. She actually moved recently, and now: (this gives me shivers) her lawn borders a corn field. How cool is that? See....it's not so much that I'd actually do anything with the corn were I in her place, but the feeling of knowing that I virtually have a cornfield at my fingertips for frolicking purposes at any time would be priceless. AND, you can see it out the bathroom window, so you can watch the corn as you take a leisurely bubble bath. I mean, I don't really take that many bubble baths, but I can guarantee I'd start if I had some corn to watch while doing so.

We had fun. Not corn-frolicking fun, but damn near as good.

AIM CONVOS II

Me: oh, btw: Are you into Incubus now, and is it my doing? I like to pat myself on the back about things like that.
K: Yeah I am. And yes, partly. Though I did like them before I talked to you about them. Just didn't listen as much.
M: whoo! :P I'll take that as a "You've changed my life forever (in a good way this time) and have given it meaning and a sense of fulfillment"
K: Okay. If you think so. =P
M: *sigh* So ungrateful, you
K: Well hey, I love you enough to come all the way out there to chop you into a million and three tiny pieces and mail them to random people over ebay under "Gardening supplies".

Our garage door opener is busted. Last night, my Dad was trying to fix it, and one thing he tried was cleaning some of the parts off with gasoline. The smell ended up all throughout the house. We actually had to stay outside in case it was harmful, it was that strong.

Anyway, I had a headache and neither the smell nor the humidity outside was doing anything for it. Then, I went to my sister's for the night. But then, the headache came back today this morning (with a vengeance) and nothing I could do would make it get any better. Finally I went outside, and it did. Apparently, the gas smell was still around doing it.

Boy this has gotten more and more boring :P

Okay, more logs: Why? Because it's my blog, dammit

Someone clicked through quite a few links to find me as: picture of israeli's severed head. I'm not sure I want to know.

Hit 9 for "stuckeyville enjoy books"

No. 1 for "anakin lightsaber pen for sale" baby, I have arrived!

Why is it that when you have some sort of leg injury it never fails that people want to drag you around everywhere? And of course I mean drag figuratively, because dragging wouldn't involve walking, which is where the pain comes from.

Anyway, Mom and Dad have been dragging me all over stores, it's kind of painful. First it was Farm and Fleet, another delightfully midwestern chain. Sells hardware and any number of other things. Aaaaaanyhoo, my mom wanted some fungus killer for her rose bushes. Dad wandered off as usual. I followed her in order to read things, because her eyes were too dilated to focus properly. (She'd had an eye doctor appointment earlier) And she sat there for ten minutes trying to read the can (large exaggeration, I admit) until I finally manage to wrestle the can out of her hand to read it myself. Anyway, she spent a lot of time trying to decide between fungus killers. Oy..... Then dad wanted to go to some vitamin store.

Then today at Jewel (grocery store). Following her around, and around. And the aching.

Oh, and I've had appointment after appointment. Ear appointment, teeth appointment, hair appointment, second hair appointment, makeup appointment. (Half of them for my sis's wedding when I get back from the UK) This is just general whining, I guess.

Man I'm whiney.