Thursday, August 28, 2008

Sleeeeepy

Oy, I'm tired. And my butt hurts from driving too long.

Just got back from Anchorage, picking Rye up from his trip to visit his mom. He seems happy to be back. Cool, I'm happy he's back too, even though I'm leaving in just a few days anyway.

Friday at lunchtime, I have to take my modem back to GCI, since I'm leaving first thing Monday morning, which is a holiday anyway, and the store will be closed all weekend. So if you want to send me an e-mail or comment on my blog or whatnot, don't whine at me if I don't respond till I'm in Fairbanks.

I've been packing up my stuff, but I keep getting distracted. At this rate, I'll probably end up just frantically throwing loose stuff into my car at the last minute. Ha. Actually, that might not be a joke if Rye seriously wants to monopolize ten hours of my remaining free time at the resort by making me watch Cowboy Bebop Remix. Granted, I've kind of been wanting to watch it anyway, but ten hours is a lot of time to spend in front of a TV, especially in the course of only two or three workdays! On the other hand, if I get done packing and cleaning early, what else is there to do? Oh yeah, study Latin. Boo, I should get on that, I'm only halfway done reviewing my Latin book....

I'm really too tired to think of anything else to write. And if I said something ridiculously stupid in this post, forgive me. My brain's off. Just wanted to let you all know why I won't be updating in the near future. Also, if you happen to use Facebook and you're kind enough to drop by and feed and play with Ninja and Specter while I'm internetless, I'd love you forever.

Toodles!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

I feel better now! :D

Much appreciation out to those of you who expressed concern about my health and well-being.I didn't end up going in to the doctor, but I took yesterday off work and slept most of the day away, drank like six gallons of water and lemon-honey water (that stuff tastes nasty, by the way... or maybe it's just the way I make it...), took a few Advil when I thought my head was going to implode into my lungs, and today I feel better than ever! Well, mostly. Sometimes I have a little trouble getting my throat working, but once it gets started, it's fine.

But of course, there always has to be complications. Now I've got a boil starting on my lip... again. This is the third time getting one in the exact same place within the last three years. The last two times, the right half of my bottom lip swelled up to about twice its normal size. It was enormously painful and pretty embarrassing, too. So this time, I went to the pharmacy and asked them if they knew any good remedies for boils besides going to the doctor for an antibiotic. (I hate doctors, remember?) She recommended warm water and Epsom salt. Oh, wonderful! So I got some Epsom salt and cotton balls, which I'll unfortunately have to hold in place because you just can't tape or bandage something to your lip... and then I read the package on the salt. Apparently, Epsom salt is a laxative. I'm sure most of you knew that already. Well, as my sister would say, "That nervouses me." I really don't want to be putting laxatives anywhere NEAR my mouth, now, do I? No. No, I don't. Do I have a choice? Well, yes. I could have a tennis ball-sized bottom lip. Okay, slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean.

So, too much information for you yet? Tee-hee!

And more complications, this time not health related. Turns out that not enough people enrolled in one of my classes, so they're canceling it, and I have to find another class. Unfortunately, it would appear that the only classes I still need for my degree... overlap with the other classes I'm signed up for. Rawr, I hate schedule shuffling! My previous schedule looked so nice, too. Whiiiine. Oh, and the other lovely thing about this arrangement is I'm not even really sure which of my credits transferred for what classes, so I don't know exactly which classes I still need and which I've already gotten credit for.

Guess I have to find my academic advisor's phone number again. Boo.

Five days till my birthday! I think I'm going to call up Kamryn's family and see if they'll let me come over and make brownies or cake or something as a kind of good-bye party... thing. I think that would be a fun way to spend a twenty-first birthday, don't you? Playing with little kids and eating Ghirardelli double-chocolate brownies with chocolate chips? Mmmm, brownies....

Last time I was in Anchorage, I stopped by the Burlington Coat Factory to look for a winter parka so I don't freeze to death and get eaten by polar bears. They had this nice little sale thing going on. I spent like an hour and a half in there, going through fur, leather, down, wool, et cetera et cetera. There were like a million coats, but none of them were what I was looking for. Well, there was one that was almost perfect, except for two things: One, it was a boring color, and two, it didn't have a hood. Then I found a similar version of it that had the hood, but it didn't feel like it would be warm enough. Warm enough for anything you could throw at me in Virginia, probably, but probably not Fairbanks. Darn it. That's okay. I'd rather have a dark green coat than a gray one anyway. So there. Gray's a very pretty color--one of my favorites, actually--but it's not a very good standalone color. It's more of a highlight color, or a trimming color. So anyway, after an hour and a half in the coat factory, I came away with... a vest. It's a very warm vest, and it looks snazzy. Of course, it looks silly now that I only have one arm, and I owe the coat factory my first-born now, but that's okay, I didn't really want him anyway. And on the plus side, they only took ONE of my legs, and hopping to my classes will help keep me warm too, right?

Oh yeah, also, I'm starting a new cult. We worship the Almighty Cough Drop, which is the Savior of All Mankind. Thrice a day, we do a one-legged indian dance, then lie flat on the floor, hack on the carpet (or tile, or grass, or cement, or whatever), pop a cough drop, rise to our feet, then howl at the moon. Or the sun. Or the clouds. Or whatever. After that, we sing the Alpine Porcupine's Hymn of Ode to le Drop de Cough. Any want to join? Tee-hee!

I told you I feel better. :D

Monday, August 25, 2008

I can't talk! :O

I'm trying to decide whether or not to go to the doctor. I'm also trying to decide how I'm going to call in sick to work when I can't talk. Seriously, I've never literally lost my voice before. Had a scratchy voice for an hour or three, sure, but I've never had a sore throat so bad that when I tried to talk, nothing came out.

Well, okay, to be more accurate, only sometimes does nothing come out. Other times, I'll get out a low rasp, but I can usually say the words. It sounds pretty terrible, though, and it hurts to listen to it. Ha, and when I was driving to Chevron to get some Advil for my headache (Safeway was closed), I tried singing with the radio, more out of habit than anything. Yeah, that didn't work at all.

I'm about 85% sure it's not strep, though. No spots, and lymph nodes aren't that swollen. And I'm coughing up stuff, which I believe isn't very common for strep. I think it's just a sore throat. Maybe a cold or the flu or something. Hence why I think seeing a doctor would be a waste of time and money. Thoughts from all you health nuts (cough Dianna) who probably know more about this kind of thing than I?

Saturday, August 23, 2008

The name is CATHRYN!

lol, this is a funny game. Thanks, Queen, this one always gives me kicks. :D I'll go ahead and add comments like the Queen did.

Rules
Step 1: Go to Google
Step 2: Type in ((your name)) + needs
Step 3: Post the results on your blog


Cathryn needs:

Cathryn needs some free time. [Nah, I have way too much of that right now. Wish I could bottle it up and save it for finals week.]

Cathy needs a bit of cheering up today. [Not today. Maybe some other time. And it's Cathryn, not Cathy.]

Cathy should get a boyfriend. [...Yeah, I'll get right on that.]

Cathy needs an angel. [Can I have a puppy instead?]

I want to hug cathy. [Oh, how sweet. And it's "Cathryn"...]

Cathy needs chocolate. lots of chocolate and a name change. [I don't object to the chocolate, but why the name change? Can I change it to Bob?]

Cathy needs a cell phone. [I already have two, but thanks for the offer.]

Cathryn needs you to be strong. [Rawr!]

Cathy needs to stop feeling like a victim and take responsibility for saying no. [But I AM a victim! Whiiiiine!]

Cathryn tells you everything you want and need to know. [How nice of me.]

If you need honest and friendly advice and someone who will cater to your financial needs, then call Cathryn today [and she'll transfer you to someone who actually cares.]

Cathy needs a Bathy. [Heh, it rhymes... but it's CATHRYN!]

Cathy needs to evolve. [Yeah! I want a tail!]

Cathy is very DUMB. [See, I TOLD you I'm a victim.]

Cathy needs pain medicine. [Nah, but I could use a cough drop. And... my name isn't Cathy.]


Stupid Google.

Friday, August 22, 2008

A-haha!

Okay, I know I already updated today, but I gotta write this....

I got the box the King and Queen sent me today, which contained some of the books I need for school (Latin books, dictionary, editing style guides, that kind of thing), my blankets, and my trumpet. (Incidentally, now that my blankets are here, I feel so much more at home than I ever did before. I guess home is where your blanky is.)

So I was looking through my old papers and found the final exam for my English Usage class. Best essay I ever wrote. I went off topic every paragraph and rambled about things like platypi and lightning bolts and my dad in a thong. But I got all the information in there, and I knew what I was talking about, and not only did I get 100%, but my teacher actually thanked me personally for writing her an essay that was fun to read.

Anyway, the reason I felt it absolutely necessary to write again was because I just flipped open my Latin book to a random page to study. My Latin is... very well-used, let's say. I got the hard cover taken off and spiral binding and soft green leather covers put on. The green covers have torn off from over-use, but the pages are still intact. I wrote almost all of my Latin notes inside the book--the important stuff is in the cover, and other notes are in their respective chapters. Very few pages in the book actually HAVEN'T been written on. I also had a tendency to doodle. So. I picked up the Latin book, flipped to a random page, and there, in the right-hand margin, were three drawings. The first drawing was a smiling stick figure, with an arrow pointing to it, and a label that said, "Student." The next drawing was a stick figure with fangs, wielding an enormous chainsaw. The label said, "Student on finals." The last one was a stick figure hanging from the gallows, clearly dead. The label said, "Student after finals."

I laughed so hard it hurt.

Old

You ever have those days when you blow your nose and about eight ounces of soggy boogers come out? And it just keeps coming? Seriously, what a waste, though. I mean, think of all those poor people dying of thirst out in the desert. They could've drunk that and maybe lived for an extra few seconds.

...Ew.

I dropped Rye off at the airport yesterday. He's visiting his mom and will be gone for a whole week. A whole week! How are we supposed to function without Rye for a whole week? Seriously, mate, we're doomed!

So I dropped him off at the airport, turned around to go back to Wal-Mart to get socks, and immediately got very lost. I couldn't even backtrack because I ended up on one-way roads. A few minutes later, I was in the back of some obscure neighborhood and it was pouring rain hard enough to make me feel like I was in Virginia again (Yay, it rains for reals in Anchorage!!) and I no longer knew which direction was north or where I was in relation to the airport. Or anything else, really, except that house over there. I was in front of the house. Yeah. And that Doberman chasing the car. I was in front of him too.

I eventually figured out where I was, obviously. Well, not really, but I did find my way to a place where I did know where I was. And now I have new socks! :D I should probably get new shoes, too. My hiking boots are falling apart pretty bad. But I don't want to get new ones just yet because the old ones are still wearable. And they're only two years old! Two years and four months, to be more precise. That's not that old! In humans years, that's like... two years old! And in whale years, it's not even that!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Buh-bye

I had something really clever I was planning on writing today, but now I can't remember what it was.

...I hate it when that happens.

Today was Emmelie's last day. Rye announced she would be gone after today, and I gave her a half-hug mostly-pat-on-the-back. Then after I took a step back, I decided maybe that wasn't dramatic enough, so I threw myself forward onto her and started sobbing hysterically and proclaiming that I couldn't live without her and she couldn't leave! She shoved me off and I threw myself around her knees and went on for a bit. But... I kind of missed and smashed my face against her knee. I think I gave her knee a concussion. And I bent my glasses. Daggumit.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

What a silly man

I was in line at the grocery store when this guy pushed his shopping cart into line behind me. His face had a lot of laugh lines and quite a few wrinkles and his hair was white, but he still didn't look that old. Maybe fifty. Anyway, he pushed his cart into line behind me and said, "I snuck up behind you."

Um, no sir, you didn't, I thought. Hard to sneak when you're pushing a cart. "Yep, you sure did," I said out loud.

"I used to do that to my dad all the time when I was little," he said. "He always got mad and said things like 'If you're going to sneak, you should be up to no good! No sneaking unless you do something sneaky!'"

I laughed obediently.

"That was when I was ten. Then he had to go and get himself drowned before I was twelve."

"Drowned?"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well, he was a great dad. Taught me how to be a kid. I play with my kids all the time to teach them how to be kids. My wife used to say, 'Darn it, you always act like a child!' and you know what I said to her?"

"I give up."

"'Yes, Mom.'"

"Haha."

"Then she wised up and divorced me. Can't say I blame her. I wouldn't want to live with myself either." He laughed again. "But I guess I'm forced to."

At that point, I finished paying and left. I heard him still chattering away as I left. What a silly man.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Darwin's a liar!

Darwin can't have been right. His survival of the fittest theory can't be true. Know why? Because humans are human because we're intelligent, and if Darwin's theory were true, I know some people who should have been dead some fifty or sixty years ago.

There's a lady at work (we'll call her "Gwen") who, although she constantly acts superior to everyone else and struts around like she has more authority than God, has an IQ that's lower than her pants size. That's really saying something, since she's scrawny and wears clothing so disturbingly tight I expect it to burst at the seams every time she moves.

No, she couldn't name the two countries that border the United States. Furthermore, she was telling us a story about the time when her cruise control got stuck and how she was going 114 mph before the cops finally came and got her car slowed down. No, she hadn't bothered trying to turn off cruise control or tap the brakes or even put the car in neutral and turn off the ignition. Another time, a lamp wasn't on, so she changed the bulb and then reported a problem with the electricity because the lamp still wasn't coming on. Want to know the problem? ...The lightswitch was off.

Fortunately, ever since the pillow incident, Rye tries to keep me and "Gwen" in separate groups. (I tossed a pillow underhanded to Steven one day, and this lady stepped in the way. We all laughed about how I hit Gwen with the pillow and forgot about it. Five days later, I learned that she had tried to go to Scott and get me fired for beating her nearly senseless with a pillow, giving her a black eye and a three-day headache, and laughing at her as she lay semi-conscious on the floor.)

Today, as we were clocking out, Zac made fun of me, saying I was a Jew because I was a Mormon.

"Yeah, that's it, Zac. I'm a Jewish Mormon."

We were all laughing about that when Gwen proudly announced, "Ya know, they do exist! You're looking at one right now!"

We all just stared at her blankly and she nodded proudly and pointed to herself with both thumbs. "I'm a Jewish Mormon."

I shook my head. "You can't be a Jewish Mormon. They're conflicting religions."

"It's true."

"No, Gwen, I promise you it's not."

"My grandmother was a Jew, and--"

"It's a religion, not a race! Just because your mom or grandmother was Jewish doesn't mean you are!" I didn't add "And a thousand bucks says you're not Mormon." It didn't seem kosher. Heh.

She just kept nodding. "Yep, my grandmother was a Jew and I was baptized Mormon Catholic."

"...Mormon Catholic."

"Yep."

"...You mean Roman Catholic?"

"Yep. So I'm a Jewish Mormon."

Rye made us stop talking about it at that point. I waited till Gwen left the room to start smacking myself in the forehead.

What. An. Idiot.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

What Storytellers Hate

Know what's the best way to absolutely infuriate a storyteller? Act like you're being a good listener till they get to the climax and then say, "What's the big deal?" I hate that!

I was telling Lita a story today and she totally ruined all of the drama of the moment by acting like "Big whoop. Why are you so special? What's the big deal? I don't see how that's any different from this." I was most disgruntled! So finally, after trying to explain just how my story was obviously far more dramatic than what she was attempting to compare it to, she finally said, "Okay, fine, whatever. You were scared. Then what?"

...That was it! That was the whole story! There isn't much more after that other than, "Well, I lived after all," which is already obvious. Geez! Some people have no sense of drama!

Incidentally, if I were a super powerful evil villain, one of my titles would be Destroyer of Souls. Doesn't that sound intimidating? It almost makes me want to put on a black cape and cackle maniacally.

Um... that's about it, really. The end.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Hot!

It felt ridiculously hot today. So I turned off the heat inside, opened the window, then went outside for a walk, thinking maybe fresh air and a breeze would cool me down. Well, no. The sun was shining, and any cool breezes were counterbalanced by that evil ball of fire we orbit. Rawr!

So, two hours later, I came back, and I'd swear, my room was still ten degrees warmer than the air outside. Boo.

A-ha! thought I, I'll just go get a cold drink and maybe ice cream from Safeway. Theoretically, eating very cold things is the fastest way to cool down. Right? Of course right. So I went outside to my car and SURPRISE!!! it was like sitting in an oven!

I loathe heat.... I appreciate the fact that the sun is our ultimate source of energy and powers our very existence and without it, all life would terminate... but does it just have to be so darn hot and bright? Seriously....

Stupid 65 degree weather.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

That's what my sister is for!

This morning, when I found out I was doing in-house with Zac all day, I kind of groaned a little inside. Zac tends to make jokes so filthy that he even shocks Beth and Rye, and that's saying something. I can take dirty jokes to an extent, but Zac's used up all his dirty joke points for the next six years.

As it happened, he actually wasn't too bad, though. He was pretty polite, and he knocked so I didn't have to, and he's a good worker, and he didn't make any dirty jokes until the afternoon when we were around Beth and Rye again. He also got a new haircut, so he doesn't look like he's got a mop on his head anymore. Frankly, he looks really darn hot. If he weren't usually a rambunctious, perverted jerk, I'd probably have a massive crush on him.

Anyway, as we were finishing up the in-house for the cabins, the people from cabin twelve passed by and said, "By the way, there's some blood on the carpet at the foot of the stairs. We had a little accident last night." The lady motioned at the guy standing with her. "He's fine now, but we thought you should know."

"Yeah, okay," I told her. "No problem." (Ew, I thought.)

I was half expecting a few little spots. The other half of me was expecting a massive pool of blood three feet across. Both halves were expecting dried blood, not blood that was still wet and glistening bright red on the dark blue carpet. (I couldn't tell you if it was still warm because I didn't touch it, okay?) But wet it was, and there were four or five pools of it and streaks across the carpet in a big semi-circle at the bottom of the stairs. Each of the little pools of blood was around six inches across. So Zac and I called up Rye to ask how he wanted us to handle it. He headed over himself with the carpet wet-vac, and we went in to finish the in-house.

"Oh my gosh, Beth is going to be so mad," Zac said from the bathroom.

"Why will she be mad this time?" I asked, following him in. "Oh."

We just got new towels. Beth is the laundry lady and is very protective of her towels--more so now because they're new. By the bathtub, there was a pile of at least five or six bloody towels. "Bloody" means they were almost entirely soaked in blood. There was also dried flecks of blood all over the floor and sink. Wow. What a bleeder!

This kind of thing is my sister's job, not mine! We clean up barf and urine, not blood! It was like something from a horror movie or something.

I'm mildly curious to know what happened. Tripped going down the stairs and hit his head, maybe? Hmm, maybe. Maybe he had that disease (leukemia, maybe?) where when you cut yourself, your blood doesn't clot, so you keep bleeding and bleeding and practically need a tourniquet if you scrape your knee. I don't know. Pretty cool, though. Terrifying? Gruesomely fascinating? I don't know. Zac and I didn't really know how to handle it, so we just made jokes about it the whole rest of the day.

When Rye dumped out the water from the wet-vac, it looked like he was pouring out gallons of pure blood. Very dark and thick. Really gross.

So that was my excitement for the day. Woot!

...or WAS it?

After that, I got a new cell phone. Apparently, Verizon just added several key parts of Alaska to their coverage list thingy, so Mom added me to her phone plan and got me a new phone. If you want my new phone number, send me an e-mail or something and I'll let you know. This weekend, I'll probably be very busy calling several old friends to let them know my number changed too. This phone makes my old phone look insanely ghetto. All sorts of weird flashing lights and various doohickeys, knick-knacks, and doodads. I feel like an old lady from the 1700s being plopped down in front of Windows Vista and being told "Here. Work it."

A few days ago, Spider lost the ring her boyfriend gave her for their six-month anniversary. It was silver and had a sapphire in it. She cried hysterically for the rest of the day when she lost it. I don't think it's going to turn up. I feel bad for her, although frankly, two years from now, she'll probably never want to see her boyfriend again and will have entirely forgotten about the ring. She vehemently denies it, of course, but what do you expect from a sixteen-year-old? What do you expect from anyone who thinks they're in love, really? (Solid marriages don't count.)

Anyway, I was thinking about the ring today, hoping it would turn up. Sapphire, huh? Spider said it was a real sapphire, not a piece of colored glass. Sapphires are pretty. So are emeralds. So are most gems, frankly. I don't know what fool decided that diamonds are the ones that should solitarily adorn most rings, because diamonds, while they look stunningly beautiful when they're accenting other colored gems, are pretty colorless and dull by themselves. Sparkly, yes, but dull.

No, I'm really not trying to hint that anyone should buy me gems. I don't do gems. It's like wearing a big sign that says, "I'm rich and foolish! Rob me!" Maybe someday, but definitely not today.

After work, I got thirsty and decided to wander over to Safeway and get some chocolate milk. Sadly, the only brand they had was Lucerne, and as I reached for it, I remembered that Lucerne's chocolate milk tastes pretty terrible. Well, not terrible, but not good enough to justify the price. So I thought, "Hey, what the heck, let's try something new," and grabbed a coffee-flavored milk.

I've never liked coffee. It doesn't smell good, and spending years scrubbing out burned coffee pots has kind of turned me off of it forever. But, I thought, it has been years since I last tasted it. Maybe my taste buds have changed or something. So I got the coffee milk and wandered off to drink it.

I opened it and started chugging. Hey, this isn't so bad, I thought. Then I stopped drinking and the aftertaste hit and oh my gosh! Anyone got any Listerine? Schnikeys! Gah! Ptooey! Obviously, my taste buds haven't changed after all.

People say that coffee and tea (and beer) are "acquired tastes." Well, they taste nasty and they're fairly expensive and not really all that good for you. Why would you bother acquiring it?

People are strange creatures.

Geek question

I have a question for all my geeky computer-nerd friends.

I got my Maxtor external hard drive for Christmas two or three years ago. For some reason, when I plug it in, sometimes it makes weird beeping noises. In addition, if I plug it into the USB port in the front of the computer and try to move on or off a file of, say, 500 MB, it says it'll take half an hour. So I wait a minute or two and it says "Now it'll take 53 minutes." So I wait, and it says "Now it'll take 160 minutes." And then, "Now it'll take 7 hours and 43 minutes," at which point I just say "Ugh, forget it!" and disconnect it.

Now, if I plug it into the back of the computer, it copies the file in twelve seconds, no problem.

Theoretically, both the ports go to the same place, though, don't they? Why does it mess up in the front but not the back? (It doesn't beep when I plug it into the back, either.) Now, when I tried to connect it to Rye's computer, it gave me the same problem. But Rye doesn't have any open USB ports in the back of his computer and he won't try disconnecting anything because he says it shouldn't make a difference.

I don't have this problem with my thumb drive or camera cord or Zune cord or anything else I plug into the computer. What's the problem here? Rye theorized something about the hard drive being USB 1.0, for all the difference that'll make. If that's the problem, could I get a converter or a different cord or something to fix the problem?

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Mountain Dew != Coca-cola

My dad always said his family used Coca-cola instead of Pepto-Bismol, since it does essentially the same thing. Apparently, Mountain Dew doesn't. My lunch and my stomach are having a heated argument, and the Mountain Dew I drank just seemed to make things worse. Frankly, I wish they would either set aside their disputes or at least hurry up and take it outside so I don't have to put up with it anymore.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Knock knock (who's there)

Besides being constantly reprimanded for things that, half the time, I'm not responsible for, the thing I hate most about my job is knocking on doors. Know why? Because I don't like talking to people. I'm one of the least eloquent people I know, and my verbal communication is sometimes hardly more than point-grunt. This doesn't go over well with military people on vacation who are woken up earlier than they want to be by someone insisting on giving them towels and coffee, saying they can't come in to clean and make beds unless the guests leave, and insisting they can't come back later because they're "too busy." It's really irritating, being a jerk and knowing you're being a jerk, and not being able to do anything about it except try and be pleasant or quit your job, which isn't really a viable option because if I quit my job, I lose my housing. One of the downsides to living at work.

Here's a typical conversation between me and a guest.

Me: Housekeeping!
Man in pajamas: What? Who are you?
Me: Oh. Good morning. This is housekeeping. Is there anything we can get you today?
Man in pajamas: Yeah, yeah, come on in.
Me: Um... well, we're not actually supposed to come in with guests in the room... um... is there anything we can just give you through the door? Towels or coffee or....
Man in pajamas: Well, can you come back later?
Me: Um... we can try, but we can't really guarantee... we're pretty busy today...
Man in pajamas: Well, we're not ready yet. Come back in an hour.

Sigh. Now here's the same conversation if, say, Beth was the one knocking.

Beth: Housekeeping!
Man in pajamas: What? Who are you?
Beth: Good morning, housekeeping. Is there anything we can get you today? Towels, coffee, take your garbage out?
Man in pajamas: Yeah, sure, come on in and do your thing.
Beth: I'm sorry sir, but technically, we're not supposed to come in if there's guests in the room. Is there anything we can give you through the door?
Man in pajamas: Uh... one sec. Hey, do we need anything from housekeeping? We're good for today.
Beth: Okay, have a nice day, sir.
Man in pajamas: Uh-huh, you too. Thanks for coming by.

How does she do it? I don't understand!!! I guess it's her obvious lack of ellipses and my terrible overuse of them. It's not my fault I'm unsure of myself and terrible at communicating with people in general! Well, okay, maybe a little bit... but still! I'm just a kid! It's to be expected that I'll be nervous about talking to generals in their pajamas!

Anyway, despite my loathing for knocking on doors, I have to do it almost every day because I'm nominally "in charge," mostly because I've been working here longer than Emmelie, Zac, Steven, or Lita. There have been a few times in the past when I've said "You know what? I'm sick of knocking. I'm not knocking today." And everyone else said, "Well, I'm not going to knock," and then everyone just kind of stood around doing nothing until I finally gave in and knocked anyway. I take that back. One day, Steven knocked instead.

Anyway, the whole point of this rant is to celebrate because today, I didn't have to knock! That's like the first time in ages that I haven't had to. Second time all summer, I think, that I've done in-house and haven't had to knock. So it was a wonderful day!

I nicked some songs from my sister's computer and found this one. I really like it a lot. Simple Plan's songs are pretty good, I think. They're upbeat and fun, and the lyrics amuse me. Like this one, and God Must Hate Me, which is about a kid who messes up a lot and says it's because God hates him. Like, he borrowed his dad's car without permission and crashed it. And he didn't study for a test. "God must hate me, he cursed me for eternity." Yeah, sure. I hope the singer's being satirical, although it'd be even funnier if he were trying to be serious.



Anyway, there's the song. Five points if you know the name of the anime they took pictures from (without cheating), ten points if you know the main character's name, and twenty if you've actually watched the anime.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Peanutopolis

Rye and I went to Anchorage yesterday to drop off his roommate Tom at the airport. Summer's starting to end and people are trickling away. About two and a half weeks till we lose Emmelie and Steven to school. Only about four weeks until I turn twenty-one and move to Fairbanks. And on some days, it seems like that just can't come fast enough.

I really didn't feel good today. My head hurt and my tummy hurt and I was in a really grumpy mood. It was one of those grumpy moods where you're well aware you're in a grumpy mood and you're not even really justified in being in a grumpy mood and you could cheer up anytime but you just don't feel like it. At first break, I actually went home to lie down for fifteen minutes. The dark and quiet was nice, and the ten minutes seemed to last a really long time, but I didn't really feel any better. After lunch, I tried eating a candy bar, thinking maybe I was having chocolate withdrawals or something -- I'll admit I may be addicted to chocolate and/or sugar -- but it didn't help. At all. In fact, it kind of made me want to throw up. So Beth sent me home. Fine with me. I was ready to start biting heads off anyway. So I zonked for seven hours. Now I'm awake and my head still hurts, but my tummy feels a bit better. I'm never eating anything ever again.

Inside the Snickers I ate, it defined "Peanutopolis" as a feeling that makes you feel important and powerful, almost mayor-like. I would disagree with that on two counts. One: The suffix -opolis usually refers to a city, not a feeling or state of mind. Two: Mayors really aren't powerful. In the stories, mayors are stereo-typed as short, chubby men who don't do much except wear funny-looking vests and hats and make it difficult for the main characters to achieve whatever they're trying to do. They're usually pompous and somewhat stupid, and most of the time, they're rude and ungrateful for whatever the main characters do for them.

Maybe I should write a story breaking the mayor stereo-type. Maybe the mayor could even be (gasp!) the main character! ...Or maybe I should finish my Princess Eliza story first.

...And what do mayors have to do with peanuts, anyway?