FOR CHRISTIAN

I woke up, I painted my ceiling, I ate some cheese, I went to bed.
THE END.

TODAY IS TUESDAY, TOMORROW'S WEDNESDAY.

When I'm working, hopefully grading diamonds and making more than 12.50 an hour, I'll look back on this time and wish for a day or two of boredom. Right now I'm bored. There's stuff to do, and I'm doing it, the usual dishes, laundry, studying, general tidying etc.. trying to curb my obsession with playing Bejeweled. I need something big to happen. I know not what, hopefully something good. It seems everyone else I know is so busy with exciting life changes right now. I'm excited for them, but I seem to be in a holding pattern. I am going to have to go out and find IT I guess, cuz IT aint findin' me. Just wish I knew what IT was. Hmmm.
In the mean time, the bathroom needs cleaning.

MATH IS HARD, or WHY MY BRAIN DOESN'T GO TO 11

Numbers hate me. They always have. I'm trying to study my Gemology and be all smart and shit and I just keep thinking about my stupid, useless flashcards in the sixth grade. I should have saved them and sent them to a poor child in a third world country who would appreciate pieces of cardboard with numbers on them. Instead I threw them out. There wasn't a recycling program at that point, so the ink probably poisoned the soil in the landfill. The soil was used to grow something that something ate, that someone ate, and pooped out, which was treated and released as water which is used in ink.
The numbers are still there. I may have some of them in my house right now.

I DON'T GO TO MOVIES ANYMORE, SOMEONE WILL HAVE TO GET THEIR PHONE SURGICALLY REMOVED FROM THEIR ASS, SO YOU SEE, I CAN'T GO.

Good. It's about time. Read this. You, Mr. I'llkeepmybabyquietbyjinglingmykeys.
You, Ms. Snortlikeapigbeingcornholedevenduringtheseriousparts.
You, the Letsbringpaperbaglunchesforallsixofusandtradesandwicheswitheachother family.
You, Mrs. Whatdidhesay?Whydidhesaythat?Whatdidtheydothatfor?
Little Billy Seatkicker and his older sister Cindy Gumcracker. And most especially, the members of the sacred society of I'mtooimportanttoturnoffmyphone.
You know who you are.

I SHALL WORSHIP NO FALSE IDOLS

Leif Garrett is in rehab again. Ah, Leif. LeifLeifLeif. What a lovely picture of you. The orange prison jumpsuit accents the receding hairline and the giant scab between your eye brows quite nicely. Did somebody in jail beat the crap out of you for being the biggest thing to hit Tiger Beat magazine in 1978?
I was among your followers, you had kissable lips and tight satin pants, who could not go crazy for that? in 1979...
I saw you on stage at the Puyallup fair, you with those lips, you with those pants, surrounded by screaming 13 year olds all high on Bonne Bell lipgloss and a dream TO BE MRS. LEIF GARRETT. Yes we all wanted to marry the tight satin pants and be introduced to what was in them. Does any body want what's in your orange jumpsuit?
This part of my youth did not go fleetingly, it most certainly did not go gracefully.
It laughed so hard it farted loudly in front of a bunch of people and then curled up in a ball and died from shame.

SOMEONE TOLD ME NOTHING HAPPENED TODAY

Nothing special or even interesting to report today. Still sick, but much better than a few days ago. Starting my Colored Stones class this afternoon. It might snow, might not. Yesterday, I read two blogs and saw one TV show all about farts. That's about it.

MY EYE!

Laurie Notaro is one of my favorite writers. A funnier woman you will not find anywhere. I'm thinking about her now because my eye won't stop twitching. She calls it "squinky eye" and even gives an acurate description of the noise it would make, if it made noise. Bllllmm, bllm, blllmm. My squinky eye is driving me crazy as it's been going on since my sinuses freaked out. Blllmm. At least I can laugh about it. Thank you Laurie. Bllmm.

SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBS AND PELT HIM WITH BEADS. SHARP, POINTY BEADS.

We've all seen what the evil monkey has been up to. If anything good can be said about the latest headlines, at least it's keeping a national tragedy in our minds. Once it's not front page, us 'mercans tend to forget about things rather quickly. This was sent to me by a family friend who lives there, and sees it every day. Thanks, Michelle!

These look like pictures the Sun Herald newspaper has been printing everyday. They are going to be releasing a book of the "before & after" photos in May. It can be ordered at www.sunherald.com.

THIS IS WHAT BLOGS ARE FOR

Note: 5:30 am Saturday March 4th 2006. This is when I finally figured out what to do with "racing brain". I'll blog it to death and go back to sleep.
So I'm thinking about the song "Alone Again Naturally" by Gilbert o' Sullivan.
In a little while from now- If I’m not feeling any less sour-I promise myself to treat myself And visit a nearby tower- And climbing to the top will throw myself off- In an effort to make it clear to who Ever what it’s like when you’re shattered -Left standing in the lurch at a church Where people saying: "My God, that’s tough She's stood him up"No point in us remaining- We may as well go home As I did on my own- Alone again, naturally..."
The only reason I know this cheery hit from the late 60's, is thanks to Ms. S. Her full name is the only thing I don't remember about her. She was short, about my height now, 5 feet or so, and round. In a bold fashion stroke frequently immortalised years later in Far Side cartoons, Ms. S. wore short sleeved house dresses, cat eye glasses on a chain around her neck, a tightly done beehive and red lipstick perfectly applied in the shape of a three leaf clover. You know what I mean, mimes do this all the time. It's what you'd draw for a mouth in Pictionary if you wanted to indicate what you were drawing was female. Or a mime.
She was my third grade choir teacher, and this was one of the songs we learned.
Children really don't get irony.

IDES OF MARCH or ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DOCTOR

Still sick, Chris isn't feeling well either. Someone's been using one of our credit card numbers to go on a $1,200.00 shoe shopping spree. Luckily, the credit card people are on top of it. We won't have to pay. On the way to the doctor we got a ticket for rolling through a stop sign. At the doctor, they told me they had scheduled me for the 30th instead of today, I put my foot down, and they 'got me in',.. at the time I was supposed to be scheduled for in the first place. Then I sat in an exam room waiting for half an hour. In the end here's what I know:
My CT scans are normal, but I'm sick as a dog. Once I'm well thanks to giant pills and many nose sprays , we'll look into immune system issues and why this keeps happening.
I hate today.

MIXED MEDIA: SILK AND PREMATURE KITTENS

You think I'm kidding?