amplified to rock
It has been snowing all day, and the roads are slippery. When I left work this afternoon, I had to take little teeny mincing steps so I wouldn't slip and fall flat on my ass in the snow. I spent ten minutes cleaning all the snow off my car, making sure that everything was warm and defrosted, and I figured the drive home wouldn't be *too* bad.
The road around my workplace is really curvy. There's one very sharp curve that scares the crap out of me in bad weather, mainly because I've managed to skid on it when the pavement is dry. Anyhow, I went around the curve at about 10 mph, and it went all right. The second curve was fine as well. Then, on my way out, I must have hit some sort of slick spot, because my car spun. Twice. And as the car was spinning, all I was thinking was "oh shit oh shit please don't let my car fly out into a field please let me just get stuck before I hit that tree or that pole...and please don't let another car hit me..."
I got stuck in a snowdrift. My adorable purple very low-to-the-ground Saturn coupe made a really icky noise as the bottom of the car scraped the petrified mixture of ice, snow, and dirt.
I just sort of sat there for a minute laughing. I mean, what else are you supposed to do? I was alive, my car was all right, I didn't run into a tree or a pole or a person or another car...it was all good, except when I put the car into reverse, it wouldn't move. It was stuck, and stuck good.
Of course, I left my cell phone at home, so I was completely at the mercy of passing cars. Fortunately, everyone was leaving work because it was just after 5 PM, so a very nice woman stopped and helped me dig out my car a little bit. Soon after, several other people stopped, and after about five minutes I had a group of seven or eight people, all ready to help me get my car out of the snow. It was all futile. The car was really, really stuck.
Eventually, someone came up with the idea of calling university security. They came promptly, with flashing lights and everything. It was exciting! Officer Hunt (who I have met in the Writing Center) somehow attached the security vehicle to the back of my car and pulled me out of the drift. It was quick and easy, and of course he was very friendly. I thanked all the awesome people who stopped to help me out, and slowly but surely I headed back home.
It was all very funny. But now I'm not going to go out tonight because I think I've had enough excitement for one night. Besides, I would have to put gas in the car, and I don't feel like doing that. I'm just going to stay home and talk on the phone, I think. I had a nice conversation with Steven, who is going to meet Matty and I for some record shopping fun on Sunday afternoon. He lives right near Matty, which is pretty cool.
So now I'm off to do some reading and stuff. Now that I've had one automotive semi-disaster today, I think that's quite enough. So I'm staying in.
Do you like making fun of dorky goth webpages? We all do. I mean, who *isn't* amused by boys in poorly-applied chalky-white foundation and clumpy black eyeliner? Well, the
Catty Goths have cornered the market on snarky play-by-play commentary on cheesy goth sites. The Gothic Reality Check of the Week has been running since 1998, and it just gets better and better. Marvel at the legendary
Cryptie! Be amazed by the terrifyingly spooky
Mistress Whiplash. Read the hilarious dissection of
Chauncey's treatise on what it means to be goth! There's hours worth of entertainment here.
First of all:
Tom Sawyer? Bob, you wound me.
I just spent an hour and a half stuffing folders for some university function that is taking place tomorrow. First, I had to collate, then I had to stuff the collated papers into folders, then I had to check the folders, then I had to put the folders into bags. It was kind of a no-brainer job, so that was nice. It got my mind off heavier matters for a little while.
Now, lunch. On my way to the cafeteria, I looked outside. It's been snowing all morning now, and it's really kind of pretty out there. Of course, driving home won't be pretty, but hopefully everything will be nice and plowed by the time I go home.
I think there's some sort of a field trip here today. For the past twenty minutes, I've heard the sound of little-kid chatter and some teachers (or just adults in general) admonishing the little kids for chattering so damn much. There must be something going on in the Center for Performing Arts, which is just down the hall from Student Development.
Anyway, I'm tired. I stayed up way too late last night talking to Brian. It actually started to remind me of the conversations I was having with Ray about a year ago, conversations where I was staying up too late talking about similar things. Yes, I'm being purposely vague here. Sorry. I think I'll just drop the subject entirely for now.
It's snowing. I watched the weather last night and it wasn't supposed to start snowing until after the morning rush hour. (Keep in mind that "rush hour" isn't really a factor for me because I work about an hour *south* of the Chicago Loop. But anyway...) I wasn't expecting to go outside this morning to be slapped in the face by some cold, wet snow. The walk from my car to the building really sucked because the wind kept blowing the snow right in my face, so I had my head turned all funny so I could try to see where I was going. Plus, I forgot my hat, so I was especially cold.
Once this next herd of noisy children has passed, I'm going to go over to the cafeteria and get myself some coffee. I don't usually indulge in coffee, but this morning, I think I need it. I've only got one appointment today, so I'm sure there will be plenty of posts around these parts.
Okay, one more post, and then I'm off to study and read (and I'll turn the cam on so you can hold me to that): Milk Magazine's
Shoot to Kill column. Proof that sometimes a reviewer can say more in one or two sentences than in a long, rambling essay. And they're funny, too.
Return of the Thesis: Well, people, it's finally under way. That thesis that has been hanging over my head for a year is finally in the Official "I'm Really Working on It" Stage. I got my survey questions approved by my ever-patient advisor, and I sent them out to eleven people. I've got my fingers crossed that I'll hear back from all of them, though that's probably unlikely.
So here it is, folks, for the last time: If you're an online journaller or weblogger who is female and who graduated from high school in 1999 or 2000 and you're interested in taking my survey, which deals mainly with reader-writer interaction, email me and I'll send it to you. I will also love you forever. I'd like to have ten to fifteen responses, so every little bit helps.
Also, would you like me to call you on the telephone? Do you live in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, or Kentucky? Well, I have time to kill on the ol' cell phone before the end of the month, and what better way to kill cell phone time than talking to the people who read this stuff but never hear my voice? First...hmmm...two people to email me will get an exciting phone call. Wait a minute...I can't promise exciting, but I'll talk to you for ten or fifteen minutes. Sorry to all of you awesome people who live outside of those six states--my cell phone package only gives me free long distance for *those* states. And talking to me on the phone isn't that damn exciting anyway. Just ask Brian's drunk pay phone friend, who hung up on me after I said "hello."
From the Department of Who Gives a Shit About the Love Lives of Celebrities?: Puffy and Jennifer Lopez have
broken up. No, I don't really care, but Brian sent me the link and I figured I might as well use it or something. Hopefully Jennifer Lopez will now quit music forever and stick to acting and showing off her (as Matty would call it) "assets," which are on full display in the picture that goes with that news story. (
Note: I don't think Matty has ever referred to the "assets" of Jennifer Lopez, but I have heard him refer to the "assets" of other young female stars. Always in a joking manner, of course. I don't want you to think that Matty is some lewd, base, leering, filthy creature.)
Also, there's something going on with that whole Puffy-and-a-gun trial. It was on the Music News on MTV2, but I was too busy staring at the glorious Gideon Yago to pay attention to what he was saying. It's the glasses. He has indie rock boy glasses. You know, those black plastic frames... Sadly, he's not wearing the glasses in any of the pictures on the MTV website. He's just not cute without them.
My brother and I used to play a board game called Payday when we were kids. One of the cards or spaces (I don't remember which) involved a sudden, unexpected amount of money being given to a player from the bank: the coveted windfall. Well, I received quite the windfall today when a registered letter from my Evil Former Employers arrived. It seems that they have to pay me the 40% of my pension that I had accrued during my four and a half hellish years in their employ. This amounts to about $5000.
Of course, I'm going to roll it over into some sort of a retirement thingy so I don't have to pay taxes on it, but still...that's a big ol' chunk of change, and I'm very thankful for it. Knowing that they're probably very unhappy to have to give it to me makes it worth that much more.
Currently, I'm watching Eric from us|against|them talk on the phone. He just got a webcam. I tell you, there's nothing like a cute indie rock boy with a webcam...I think that ALL cute indie rock boys should have webcams for my consumption. That would be the best.
Poor, misguided Paul. Everyone knows that
birthday season begins one month before the big day and ends one month after. At least, that's how *my* birthday season works. It's the biggest holiday of the year for me, and it requires adequate preparation and plenty of time to get back to normal post-birthday life.
I'm still at work. It's my long day. At 7 PM, we get to close the main door to the Student Development office (oh no, now my freaky stalker knows what part of the building I work in! Oh well, as long as she doesn't get my boss's AIM screen name, I guess I'm safe...) so people won't walk in wanting something. I don't mind leaving the door open, but the people in the back wanted it shut, and who am I to complain? I think LaTonya forwarded all the phone calls to the back somewhere, which is probably a good thing because I can't transfer a phone call without hanging up on the caller. Earlier today, she was away from her desk and the phone started ringing, and I stepped out of the office and just looked at the phone like it was some sort of futuristic alien space-object and willing someone--anyone!--to pick the stinking thing up before I had to.
I've been reading Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein. I'm imagining the enlightening conversations that are likely to take place in class next week. It's going to be...something else. I know I'm really bitchy about my classmates, and I shouldn't be so awful and judgemental and cranky, but when people consistently make idiotic comments it drives me crazy. I suspect it will improve when we finish with the Stein portion of the class and move on to Hemingway.
Here's Stein's description of a feather:
A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive.
I'm surprised that some band hasn't set Tender Buttons to music. It's pretty much all weird abstraction and language games. It's fun stuff to read out loud, but if anyone hears you reading it out loud, it's kind of foolish because it's pretty nonsensical. For my response journal for next week, I'm supposed to present "10 Ways of Reading Tender Buttons." I intend to eschew all conventions of syntax and meaning, just like Gertrude Stein. I'm going to write it in puzzle.
There is this informant, we will call him (or her) The Source. The Source speaks to a number of people, but most recently, The Source has chosen to speak to me. The Source has imparted the following information:
The Transmission 3000 live radio stream is functional, and it contains a show that isn't even available on the Transmission 3000 website.
Oh, and The Source would also like you to know that your significant other is trying to kiss someone else. Of course, The Source's information is occasionally dubious in nature...
Well, I finished my reading just in time. I have to go to class in about ten minutes.
Two out of my three morning appointments showed up, which was nice. For some reason, I always feel slighted when my appointments don't show up. I know that it has nothing to do with me, but still...
In an attempt to keep from slacking off further, I'm going to spend part of my evening shift working on next week's reading. We'll see if I can stick to this plan. I'll probably end up on AIM or something. Typical.
I'm off to class.
I'm still not done with the reading for my class today. Yay me. Fortunately, I have a couple of hours with no appointments this morning, so I can finish what I need to finish before class. It shouldn't be too bad.
I have it on good authority (it came from the SOURCE, baby!) that Transmission 3000 will soon have one of those streaming radio things. I've also heard talk that there might be a new show added very soon. Let's hope that this is true, because it's been a while!
Flowerbuilder is kind of cute, but somewhat limited: you can build your own flower arrangement and send it to someone along with a little greeting. They only have purple and pink flowers, though, so if the object of your affections dislikes both purple and pink, you're out of luck.
I have five appointments today! I actually have work to do! That means I'd better get back to my reading, though I'm sure I'll find excuses to slack off and post off and on pretty much all day.
I feel like a total slacker. Not only did I not finish my reading for my class today, but I have about 150 pages of reading to do for tomorrow. This means that I won't be doing the usual "sit in front of AIM all night" tonight. Bah! I could probably use a break from it, anyhow.
I would like to publicly give great thanks to my dear friend Colin for buying me the F. Scott Fitzgerald A to Z book from my amazon.com wishlist.
Sorry about the scarcity of posts today. I'll be at work all day tomorrow, sitting in front of a computer, so I'm sure I'll have more to say then. I'm feeling kind of...blah...right now.
My finger hurts. Paper cut. I work in a business where paper cuts are the big occupational hazard.
Also, I can agree with Laura on the subject of our shared brain. It's funny. She likes Sifl and Olly, she didn't watch Survivor, she recently read Music for Torching, and she counts Guided by Voices among her obessions.
I've been gathering online writing resources for the webpage of my place of work (which I would link, but it seems that I have wacky stalkers who would probably email my boss and tell her that I pick my nose on the job or something). If there's anything you use, particularly in the area of grammar/usage and documentation, let me know. I'd appreciate it. I'm already adding Brian's beloved spellcheck.net.
Weekend highlights:
Matty referring to a gathering of the three cats who live with Colin as "the Yalta Conference."
Stirring up the crowd at Kiki's (or Gilligan's, or whatever that place is called) with my amazing karaoke rendition of "Like a Virgin," complete with dancing. (Marsha took lots of pictures, so as soon as I get them developed I'll find a way to post them. Heh.) My "...Baby One More Time" wasn't half bad, either.
Announcing that my feet smell like popcorn. They do! And it is not unusual. Colin explained that it has something to do with buteric acid, which is in butter *and* in foot sweat. A simple search on Google proved that other people have the same problem.
Romping around Colin's living room drunkenly to "Once Around the Block" by Badly Drawn Boy.
Getting drunk on Strawberry Crush and gin and having a giggly good time with all my Decatur friends. (I'll have you know that Matty and I drink Seagram's gin, which is the gin that Snoop Dogg namechecks in "Gin and Juice.")
Driving around Champaign with Matty looking for REO Speedwagon Way.
"Stop your cryin', heifer!"
Going to buy "package" at the Winery drive-up window.
Colin referring to the Dismemberment Plan as "that Weird Al band."
Singing along with Pinkerton.
What a weekend. I haven't had that much fun in Decatur in YEARS. I went down there for the purpose of relaxing because I've been very wound-up and high-strung lately, and it worked. I may not have slept much, but I laughed a lot and had a kickass time. I have wonderful friends. Thank you all.
Matty: "This cat doesn't have the benefit of modern conveniences like toilet paper. Let's see how you'd fare with just a box full of rocks."
Damn you. Damn you, inflatable air mattress!
You were completely filled when I went to sleep at 4 AM last night. When I first fell asleep, you were nice and inflated. I was even comfortable. Then, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I noticed that you were starting to sag in the middle. Every time Matty or I would roll over or move, you seemed to lose more air. As of 8 AM, most of my body was on the floor. I believe that Matty and I exchanged some sort of grunted, half-asleep conversation about the state of the air mattress, and then Matty took the green blanket and went and slept on the couch. As soon as he got up, the balance was shifted and I was completely on the floor.
Hence, I woke up at 10 AM, which means I had a grand total of six hours of fitful sleep.
I'm back in my own bed, tonight, though, so that makes me feel somewhat better.
