I think my pores are leaking pineapple juice here at Wilson's. That and Bailey's and chocolate milk - they're fantastic together.
I'm actually writing this long-hand which is freaky. I could have typed it right onto the interweb, but I broke someone's computer. I don't know him so I guess it's okay.
All my consorts are sleeping. I'll wake them up when it's time to go home. That's not for another hour so I have time to write this bad boy, don't you worry. I've decided to wake Moses up by asking, "Did we fuck?" It's not so much a decision as it is something we agreed on earlier this morning. I'm gonna wake Turriffic up by singing "Good Morning, Good Morning" to her. Skywalker I'd tea bag awake, only I don't actually have any "tea bags." Hopefully my rousing rendition of "Good Morning" will get that job done.
I cleaned Wilson's kitchen and part of the living room. It was the least I could do since all my consorts were asleep. Mike may have offered to help, but he was in no condition to do so. It amazes me how they can sleep under such conditions. I guess I'm just a princess...
I got a shirt that said "princess" on it b/c Marlene called me one. I stopped wearing it b/c it was too long. I stopped talking to Marlene b/c... well, I don't know why.
Wow, how am I going to transcribe all this shit? Who writes long-hand anyway?!? Maybe I can pay the boy to do it. Or maybe the sultan.
Maybe it's the fact that everyone's sleeping and all I can hear is the air conditioning (which gave me a nosebleed, by the way) but I feel all hibernationy. Uh-oh, the air conditioning stopped. Now I'm alone with my thoughts. Good thing there aren't too many of them.
This stool, though once comfortable, is hurting my ass like a mofo. I also really dislike this pen colour. Well, that's the extent of my thoughts. I hope you liked them.
Man, I really have nothing to say other than, "I'm already dancing... with SWORDS," but my consorts - hi, if that's not gratuitous use, I don't know what is - still have about half an hour of sleepy goodness. I also have to go to work in three days and it sucks. Sucks a fucking lot.
I think I'm going to brush my teeth b/c they're feeling icky and then re-evaluate my finances. This will probably be typed when I get home. Well, unless I take a nap.
August 11, 6:37 AM.
PS: Just found out I'm not going to pay my full tuition by about $60. Yay me wanting to die!
PPS: WAIT! I forgot how much tuition was. I'll have about $200 left over. Then another goodly amount within a week. Yay me!!!
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I really wasn't going to write anything, but I feel it is my duty to explain the phrase "you can't have your cake and eat it too" to this young fellow that just doesn't have a clue. If you're wondering what young fellow I'm referring to, I turn your attention to this page. Objects are funny beasts. If you study them - even for just a moment - you will realize that things, like people, cannot be in two places at once. Therefore (and notice that word has a "e" young fellow), you can't at the same instant have your cake and have consumed it. It's a physical impossibility. It's either in front of you (or on the window sill or at Aunt Mae's house) or it's in your stomach and out your bowels. Certainly you can have a cake and then eat it, but you will never have your cake after you have eaten it. I guess we can make reference to having your cake in the form of energy, but let's just not go there.
I wanted to put this in historical context, but a cursory glance of the intermajiggy leaves me unsatisfied. To simplify the proverb, you can't have it both ways. That sounds less thought-provoking so some wise ass decided to include cake to illustrate. Judging by the other lost souls I found on the internet asking the same questions as the young fellow, that was a bad idea. Also, I was going to get all cerebral on your asses with some sort of crafty example of "cake" and "not-cake" but it's too late for that kind of thinking. I'll put one in later, if at all.
So I'm not going to email the guy where his explanation lies. I mean, that would just be weird. If he's truly a statistic psycho like me, he'll find it himself and perhaps will gain a new outlook on life. An outlook devoted to cake and all it's proverbial possibilities.
I think it's time for the first installment of pictures from Wilson's rocking all-night house party. There will be more, but I can make them last longer if I use them sparingly. Also, I want to go to bed.
This is Marla who I just met. I put a picture of her on the site only b/c it looks as if she's a floating head and I kinda like that about her.
I will never look at Mike (or his nipples for that matter) the same way again.
Neither will Lisa.
So that's all you're getting for pictures tonight. I guess I can copy and paste the quotes from my little blue book.
"I take so much fucking shit from these ppl. It's unbelievable." - Lisa
"mumble mumble cattle prod mumble mumble." - Mike
"My name is Julianna and I hunt bears."
"Stop it. I'm too happy - I'm too happy." - Lisa to Mike
"Take your penis out of that right now." - Julianna
"I noticed you were kinda floppy yesterday." - Mike
And now to bid you adieu with a weird story from today. I was at the bank finally cashing some checks and I overhead two guys talking. One guy's like, "All you have to do is say, 'I'm sorry for the way I conducted myself on the phone on Monday, but your attitude...'" That's all I got, but I almost pissed myself. Who talks like that? Answer: Two twenty-something guys hitting the bank machine together on a Tuesday night.
I've got to book my driver's test later which means I should look for the number. Gotta go.
August 14, 3:17 AM.
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There are a number of productive things I could be doing today. Instead I choose to sit in my chair, talk on the phone, and bake things intermittently. It's a good system and it works. It kind of breaks down when I have to change the laundry load, but otherwise it's aces.
I think I shall treat you with more party pictures. Life is phenomenal when you have access to a digital camera and its contents. Thanks Mike!
No.
No.
Almost.
Bingo.
Speaking of Mike, it's his birthday. He still doesn't have any cleavage, but I'm looking into getting him some. Now everyone say happy birthday to the coolest juggler this side of Ohio. In tribute to him I say one thing only - he's the !suckiest guy I know. (See, I wrote geek for him. Can't be more tribute-like than that. Hmm... I can't help but think that i may have screwed that up. To translate, he's super cool.)
Cute Tamasha conversation:
Lisa: "You know a lot about computers."
Tamasha (matter-of-fact): "Yeah. I know how to turn them off."
Speaking of children, there's nothing like a confused five-year old girl on a bicycle greeting you with "good morning" at 4:30 in the afternoon. It was nice, but weird. Decidedly weird.
I think it's time to blow this pop stand. Toodles.
August 19, 2:13 PM.
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