Thursday, June 30, 2005

But the bathroom is clean

Was lazy ALL day. Moved from the chair to the couch to the chair again while rotting my brain with 101 More Celebrity Oops. I am a vegetable. Maybe a carrot or rutabaga.

Then I cleaned the bathroom. When I clean the bathroom, I go all out. I wash the walls, behind the toilet paper, the sides of the sink cabinet and I even took out the stopper to the sink and cleaned that -- yuck. As I was cleaning the underside to one of the soap dishes, I thought about why I wait to do this until it is pretty much disgusting. Is it because I'm so obsessive that it is so much work? Is it because I don't know how to clean the bathroom without covering everything in bleach and washing the sink three times (it gets dirty again from washing other things). I mean, I took the shower head apart and cleaned the inside of that too. And now I can't shower . . . I would just get dirt on it again.

I borrowed one of my parent's Dysons. Yes, my parents have more than one Dyson (the most expensive vacuum in the universe). They have one for each floor. My mother loves her vacuuming. What's it to ya?

Anyhow -- bagless vacuums are so cool. Look there's more dirt. Who knew their would be dirt there. Look how much dirt there is . . . it's just an amusement ride of cleaning or like watching Survivor on television. So tomorrow (or tonight, since I will be up) is the cleaning of the living room and I may even get to the kitchen by Saturday. So you are all welcome to come over on Sunday . . . as long as you help with the washing of the dining room walls. Or with the wiring of the doorbell. Or if you can put a light above my kitchen sink. But the bathroom is really, really clean.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Poser

So after all the fun I had being a proud union member today (Nashvegas, you should be so proud) I went for a drink in Royal Joke with Princess. But first we stopped in Noir leather so I could get some hair dye to try to fix the perpetual red fading problem. So we go in and while Princess is distracted by the place being "not quite clean", I look for the dye. I find liquid latex (good to know, never know when you might need that) but not the hair dye so I have to go talk to the only employee who is behind the counter looking . . . well, she looks like a Noir leather employee -- the conscious "I'm cooler than you" bored sighing look. I know I probably have it sometimes. Princess is now distracted by the used T-shirt rack, that she does not know is a USED T-shirt rack and she proceeds to look for something for her brother.

"Hi . . . I'm looking for the Manic Panic", I say.
"We don't have Manic Panic", the blue haired girl (who is probably my age actually) says.
"Well, then I'm looking for the hair dye."
"What color hair dye?"
Now I'm getting annoyed . . . so you have hair dye but we have to play twenty questions?
"I'd like a bluish red", I say, meaning that I would like a red with blue undertones rather than yellow undertones. (Okay, I know I may not have communicated that very well)
"So . . . . purple?"
"No, a red with blue undertones . . . rather than orange undertones"
"Well we have (some other brand name), which is like Manic Panic."
"Fine, that will do."
"It comes in a color that looks like blood."
"Fine, I'll look at that."
"Oh, the case is over there, under the liquid latex . . . "

All that for "look down idiot"?

So she walks over with me and opens up the case and they DO have Manic Panic in exactly the color I wanted (Vampire Red) and then she can't ring it up because it doesn't show up on the computer and it takes forever and Princess is getting bored and desperately trying not to touch anything including the floor.

It was way cheaper than going to the mall but still . . . I was the only customer in the store. (Princess doesn't count as a customer, despite the T-shirt shopping) I know this is very, very Republican of me (he, he, Republicans goin' to Noir) but that is no way to run a business. It's not like business was hoppin'. And unlike when I used to be a regular shopper . . . I actually HAVE money to spend.

So the woman at Noir leather thinks I'm a poser. She, however, has to sit inside Noir leather all day . . . making, I assume, slightly above minimum wage. I may have gotten the better deal. Besides, according to Princess, it's very unclean in there and they really need to dust their stock.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Must . . . not . . . succumb . .

The freaking yearbook is done, in the box and in the mail bin and yes, when I really speak I don't say freaking but this is a family show . . . my nephew could be reading this (He's not but he could. He's up to chapter books.). So I don't have to go into work for awhile. Good news.

Bad news. Have to keep my life structured or will totally lose focus and sit around and stare at the T.V. while drinking coke zero and eating cinnamon crispas (you can find them at Meijers). Today I napped from like, 4 to 7, which means I'll be up all night. I do love vampire time. My body was meant to be on vampire time . . . however, vampire time is not how the world works. You can only shop at Meijers and 7-Eleven and though I do like a occasional slurpee, I need more of a shopping "experience" than those facilities can provide. Plus Meijer was out of yogurt AGAIN. On vampire time you can only hang out with other people on vampire time . . . and, well . . . I'm not saying anything about people who are up and out at 3 a.m. but your mother probably wouldn't approve.

I'm supposed to go to Nashvegas but have to refinance my house first. And refinancing my house just hurts my brain. Be so much easier if someone just a said: use this company, pay this, get this rate. But that doesn't happen.

Must keeping making lists to keep moving. Laundryfest tomorrow. Whee!

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Creepy Car Wash Man and the Skunk


I've officially switched to summer (vampire) time, which means I'm just starting my day. Sure, I was up at 8 a.m. and had a horrible social interaction at the car wash by 11, but I was feeling ill by 1 p.m. and took a long nap. Must be the allergy shots I had at noon.

So the horrible social interaction . . .

Backstory: I kinda forgot to drive the "skunk" for a couple of . . . um . . . weeks. Due to my neglect, the skunk got crabby and wouldn't start last Thursday when I had a "oh shit I don't want to get gas for the truck it's easier to move cars" moment. The beepers wouldn't work to open the doors, which was a big clue. I suppressed the urge to call and whine at my brothers immediately and went and bought gas for the truck. Drove out to Milford that afternoon to get the hair fixed -- since the ends were turning pinkish blonde -- and borrowed the battery charger. Managed to hook up the battery charger without electrocuting myself and voila! working skunk car. So I have to drive it to charge up the battery more, so I won't be in this situation again . . . did I mention that the skunk does not have air conditioning? (well, it's broken) So I'm driving the skunk everywhere and pushing the limits of 4 x 40mph cooling.

Story: It irks Mr. Crabbypants when cars are dirty. The skunk is very dirty because it sat for, let's just say, "a while". It sat at the front of my driveway, which happens to be under an out-of-control, some sort of berry, tree. I don't know what kind of berries they are . . . let's just call them the "incredibly messy berries". I don't think they are supposed to come from a tree. I'm sure, once upon a time, it was a plant or bush somehow. (the previous owner paid little to no attention to landscaping arts, so it's a "natural" jungle) I'm sure I'll eventually get around to cutting it down, really, I will. But when you have an incredibly messy berry tree over your car, you have birds . . . who are interested in the messy berries. They eat them and eat them and eat the incredibly messy berries and then you have another kind of mess on your hands. This was all over the skunk. This was upsetting Mr. Crabbypants enormously. This was getting me stares at the gas station. So I decided to stop by the quarter car wash.

I only usually go to the quarter car wash near my house at night. It's, like, a place you sneak into. A place you don't want to be seen. Certainly not a place for social interaction. But this was morning and there were actually other humans at the quarter car wash. I pull into a bay and go to the change machine. I try to put a dollar in and the machine doesn't work. It doesn't try to grab the dollar. It doesn't make any noise. I try a couple more times, mutter a swear word or two, and walk back to my car deciding to go to the "real" car wash next to my allergist's office. Problem solved, won't have to get wet, I'll go to the real car wash . . . and there is knocking on my window.

There is a very tan man, in the thinnest dress shirt with a gaping hole in the armpit. I haven't showered yet (on advice from the hair stylist) and this man looks more unwashed than I do. Tap, tap, tap. I roll down my window. "Change machine not workin'?" I am now thinking that this is another customer that wants to confirm that the change machine didn't work for me either. "Let's go see if we can fix that." Okay, now he's either an employee of the quarter car wash (didn't know they had those . . . why is there a phone number posted everywhere? Where does he sit?) or a random guy who wants to show me up at the change machine. We walk to the change machine while I'm thinking that I should have just stepped on the gas but I didn't want to run over his toe. He is lecturing me about the change machine . . . "folded money from your pocket doesn't work, money from a wallet is better" . . . "here give me that dollar" . . . he feeds the machine with one of his wallet dollars and two of my folded dollars and then observes, "you aren't very trusting are you?" Which makes me want to punch him and then makes me think . . . wow, that's exactly what a serial killer would say . . . so he motions for me to pick up my quarters and I go back to my car calculating how foolish it would look to just drive off after going through that lecture and getting the quarters. I feed the quarters into the machine and spray off my car, keeping my eye out for him to come back.

"You aren't very trusting are you?" How does one respond to ripped shirt mystery change machine gurus who are trying to examine your trust issues? Call me crazy but I don't trust random men who rap on my window? I used to live in Detroit? Umm. . . I don't usually come to the quarter car wash to pick up older men? Please don't kidnap and rape me?

So the "real" car wash it is from now on, I guess.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

I have been developed

No "how to fix red eye" lecture (though I probably wasn't paying attention) but a whole lot about cropping. The presenter was very sympathic to my situation. I actually helped out the two people next to me . . . but I think I may have made the one lady feel dumb. At least she kept saying that she felt dumb. We did the whole "I'm sorry . . . I just don't get this" . . . "No, No it's a really hard program." like eight times as I started her over again because she botched it so much that I couldn't edit undo anymore. But then again, the other guy didn't know what the wheel on the mouse was for . . . "oh, wow . . . is that cool!"

Why is it that Mr. and Mrs. Crabbypants can function with technology when I was in a room of their peer group who didn't have a clue. These were all very educated people . . . they all had master's degrees. Mr. Crabbypants usually scoops me . . . found the current wireless mouse I have for $12.50. That man can shop the internet better than anyone I know . . . hopefully he never takes the time to figure out Ebay or they'll have 18 cars at Stately Wayne Manor. So why do my parents get that you just have to sit and figure it out? What makes them different from the people I sat with today, who are, quite frankly, afraid of the computer. I need to teach technology to 50 year old businessmen evidently.

I mean he didn't know that the wheel on the mouse would scroll the screen up and down. He just didn't know what that was for. . .

Why is it that I'm the kind of person who immediately tries something if I don't know what it is for . . . I mean, what could happen?

What is on my shirt

Not wasting the white bra

So I'm going to be "professionally" developed by a class in Photoshop Elements. Never mind that I use Photoshop 7.0 usually . . . these are not the droids your looking for . . .

(M2's plan B was Jedi mind control)

I'm trying to keep an open mind, thinking that I'll learn something . . . however, I bet the first hour is going to be on removing red eye. Speaking of positive, I'm just writing this morning because C is impressed when I have an entry before 8 a.m. She also gets really thrilled when she is mentioned in blogs. I guess it is all my fault. I did give her the address.

When you see me today in my geeky white T-shirt (with the messy Kliban art cat on it), it's just because I didn't want to waste the whiteness of the bra. It's not everyday that white shows up in the rotation.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Plan B

Scene: Evening, outside with full moon, fish flies buzzing toward the lights

Person B: So what we really need to do is get them together on the issues. I want you to think about how to do that . . .
Emily: So we are going to give them all lobotomies?
Person B: I was thinking more that we would appeal to their intelligence and common sense.
Emily: But the lobotomy plan is still plan b right? Cause your plan isn't going to work.

Lobotomies all around, I say.

Supposed to be @ work

Totally blowing off my promise (to myself) to go into work early everyday this week. I'm using the excuse that I was at a meeting until 9:45 p.m. and since it's summer I should be home for more than 12 hours. So I slept in . . .

I promise to get a picture of the hair soon. The red dye is fading out already so I have to call to get it fixed. I've thought about just getting some "Manic Panic" in Vampire Red but I'll defer to the salon first.

I have no food in the house. I need to do piles of laundry. Lawn mowing should be in the plan. So I have to get going. Ugh.

Oh, and ringtones are $2? What a rip.

Monday, June 20, 2005

I still feel like a blonde

Got the hair redone this weekend - black underneath and red on top. Had to find a red that was "interview" worthy and I think it may be fading faster because of that. Will look very cool once I get the red fixed. When I told M, she replied "So, like, Strawberry Shortcake?". Strawberry Shortcake hair it is . . .

For father's day, I took Mr. Crabbypants to buy a new phone. We were buying a new phone for me so he got to shop without spending any of his money. I ended up getting a Razr, which was NOT the most expensive phone in the store . . . it was close though. I think it was the "aircraft aluminum". J purchased one for the future sister-in-law and is pretty happy with the shiny thing. It is very pretty. Now I have to figure out how to download ringtones.

Perhaps because I spent 300 bucks for a phone (with accessories), my voicemail didn't work all weekend. No one really calls me, so I think this is okay, however, every time I was in the phone store getting things set up or fixed, someone would call. I looked so popular to Nikki the phone girl. So if you happened to call me this weekend . . . I apologize for the lack of voicemail. It is fixed now. If you call back, I'll talk to you on the little Star Trekky bluetooth earpiece I bought.

So between the Strawberry Shortcake and the "oooh pretty" phone, it was a very consumer weekend. And then I went to the mall.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Girly, Girly, Girly, Girly, Girl . . .

So I'm obsessed with nail polish. And I bought a toe ring. I now own things like "non-chipping top coats" and "vitamin-based base coats". I'm painting my nails while listening to the call-in car repair show and occasionally shouting a diagnosis before they can answer it. Currently, I waiting for "Poetic Peony" to dry. I don't know about the poetic part but it is bright "hello kitty" like pink.

And I'm going to get my hair done in an hour. With highlights, I think. I must be possessed. Perhaps by my Grandmother. Soon I will be craving turquiose and pant suits. Wait, I just bought a turquiose hand towel on sale at Target. ACK! Soon I will be repeatedly adjusting my lipstick and vexing about my lack of white shoes.

The toe ring is a sparkly skull . . . so I might not be possessed that much.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Roadtrippin and the last day. . .

Tomorrow is my last day of school. . . okay, maybe not my last day but it's THE last day of school. Have yearbookin' and I have to be professionally developed for 9 more hours. So that's all next week, as long as there is a computer still in the room. Then I'm going to get in the truck with a duffle bag bungeed in the bed (I'll even clean out the Sprite cans, I promise) and maybe a sleeping bag (do I think I'm in college? I'll never use a sleeping bag). To Nashvegas for a couple of days and then to NC -- evidently a more fun part of NC than I visited previously. I have to be back for the 4th of July weekend, so time might be tight, but we'll see.

4th of July my Aunt Leona (the sweetest woman in existence) wants to go to the family party so I'm going to help with wheelchair driving, oxygen carrying, and other needed activities like stair maneuvering. It doesn't help that the family party is the least wheelchair accessible building made . . . it might be easier to rent a helicopter and drop her through the roof than to get her through this weird side door. You can get a wheelchair into the door but then have to levitate the wheelchair to turn inside, since the space is about the same size as say . . . a wheelchair. And the house is a trilevel, which is always the way to go with wheelchairs, with all the stairs and all. It is on a lake and there will be fireworks over the lake (yes, I am related to "boat people". I just pretend not to be). And Aunt Leona will get to go out and spend some time with the family, which will be what is important.

I stopped biting my nails for some reason . . . though I don't know why. I've been biting my nails since I was at least two years old so it's quite an adjustment. First, poking yourself in the eye hurts more. Taking out contacts is a dangerous and perilous experience. Writing is uncomfortable, because somehow my nail digs into my other finger. Typing is weird. And I know love to talk with my hands and click things. Love the clicking. So annoying to others I'm sure. Can't keep nail polish on them to save my life though.

Monday, June 13, 2005

On the train . . .

to spinster city, baby. So now I'm not just an eharmony dropout . . . I may, in fact, be a nerve dropout also. Got this tip about nerve from my friend E and made a profile this weekend . . . after going to the senior all night party. Perhaps it was that I spent the night with eighteen year olds (and I did enjoy myself, don't think I don't dig Euchre) but I feel I probably should be more proactive about changing my life. I think I might want to have someone to call, early in the morning, to tell about the adventures of an all night party. Maybe some upstanding citizen that could go and stand with me at all night party (or prom mostly . . . it's good to have a date for prom if you have to go six years running). Or maybe not . . . but I filled out this profile and made it super snotty. Like the real me on a particularly cynical day. Like the rest of the profiles on nerve, that I looked at anyway.

So I got a response right away. Great, I think, some older punk guy that I can at least email. Nope . . . instead the nicest guy in the world. Wholesome goodness . . . profile says that he likes to meet people and he treats women well. Ugh. So he either a serial killer or, maybe, he really does treat women well. Now what would I do with either? And why, in the world, would he respond to my profile? My profile practically screams "I am not nice . . . not nice at all! In fact, I may be a neurotic jerk." (okay, take out the "may be" and put am and replace the jerk with . . . ) What's up with that?

Really learning my grandmother may be right . . . I shouldn't wear so much black, I should wear lipstick when I'm in public (Flora wore lipstick at all times, even to bed) and I shouldn't be so damn picky. So I am on the train to Spinsterville and it's going fast.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Darn it

I am in a state of artificial nostalgia.
Must get over it.

A Little Matt Good (-ness)

Hey alice
i'm caving in
i know it's not allowed
but sometimes i fantasize
i'm peeling off my skin
enough to fill it up again
hey rabbit
into the pavement
i'm caving in
mother told me to be something so i'm afraid
enough to stay wide awake
hey rabbit
i came to win
i know it's not allowed
but sometimes you might find
it feels like nothing is
and it's everything you've been
hey alice
into the pavement
i'm caving in
mother told me to be something
so i'm afraid enough to stay wide awake
this ain't real baby,
i've got a better excuse for myself
i'm always here.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Me at "Class Night"


don't know what I was doing but . . . hilarious. -- Photo courtesy of N.D.

Misinterpret FERPA again . . .

and I will kick your ass.
I'm tired, and sticky, and really, really want to punch some people in the face . . .

and I don't care if that makes me sound like Holden Caulfield, damnit. I'm tired of people not being able to (or maybe not bothering to, I'm never sure) see all of the possible reactions to their actions. Come on folks, I didn't play that much Stratego . . .

It's not that I think I 'm all knowing or anything - despite the URL - but I'm tired of people being surprised that they have pissed people off or are all shocked when I point out - hey that's going to piss people off - Maybe it's just because I have so much experience in pissing people off?

Oh, and by the way, I have actually read FERPA and done a bunch of FERPA quizzes and you people are shouting FERPA for all the wrong reasons, my friend.

I want to road trip NOW and can't . . . but I dug out a flower bed and planted a lilac, so it might be okay. My brother's new website (see links) has a big bunch of spelling mistakes and I've given them a list, so now it's just funny. I'm all dirty (from the digging) and sweaty from a day with no air conditioning. I have to go to graduation in 10 hours and stand around in the heat, or the rain. Want an assistant principal's job . . . like yesterday. M2 says that we can just live in fantasy land, pack up all our stuff and pretend that we are never coming back. Sounds good to me.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Things I heard today

"So what you're saying is that there is no horizontal alignment?"
"You're not as funny as you think you are."
"Oh my God, your office is air conditioned!"
"I heard you the last fourteen times you said it."
"She's not like other girls. Other girls are all flitsy and stuff."
"Can I go get a drink?" (x27)
"I'm just crying because it's Nick."
"They even had glass on the floor."

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Random

My staff is gone . . . gave them all their mini gumbys and sent them off to college, or at least graduation. Learned how to make shirts with my printer, so I may make a shirt for every occasion. As though I need more clothes. I did, however, make a shirt for M that we have been talking about for weeks. I hope she likes it.

My former student made a polo shirt at his clothing company, so I can now wear Blame and be work appropriate. Thanks Neil!

Matt Good is playing in Sault Ste Marie in July. That's only, like, seven hours away. I think
Windsor may be too American or something . . . or too small. I don't know. How big is the Canadian side of Sault Ste Marie? I also can't find anything, even import, at any store. I'm going to have to break down and use the internet . . . but I so like to touch things before I purchase them.

I think I have to move my room at school next week. Ugh.

Monday, June 06, 2005

Trying to be tired

Amazing what I will do to avoid grading journals . . . clean, change the sheets, rip all the CDs in the "car case", comment on some blogs . . .

The fun fair was exactly as it was when I was 12. Same games, same tickets, same prizes. It was awesome. Of course, when you are an adult, you just get to pay for the tickets and then watch your nephew burn through them. Unfortunately, I was unsure how many tickets to buy and overbought (better than underbought, I guess) so there was alittle forced ring toss toward the end. They had a new booth called "mad doctor" where you got all wrapped up in gauze and painted with fake blood. Took all my adult resolve not to participate in that one, so Z got to go twice.

I am now just tired enough to go to bed and stare at the ceiling. I broke down and turned the air conditioning on . . . and bought a dehumidifer. My basement now smells much better. Now I can have that "grotto opening" party but that will have to be another entry . . . must look at the ceiling.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Genetically stubborn

Book came in and was distributed . . . looks awesome -- I'm so glad they decided to go with all color. Our graphic design skills have improved tremendously from years past. Start with an all new staff next year (two returning) and changing over to web publishing (blog your yearbook basically). Of course, everything has been picked apart . . . but it took a good twenty-four hours.

In other news . . . the "Fun Fair" is this weekend at my nephew's elementary school. Can't wait for the cake walk! If they even have cake walks anymore. The fun fair was the best when I was in elementary school . . . couldn't wait every year. My nephew has no clue, however, my brother and I will go and spend 50 bucks on tickets, I'm sure. (actually I have no clue how much tickets are . . . my parents bought them . . . and it was the 80's) So much nostalgia to be had.

I'm refusing to turn on my airconditioning, in some weird, genetically driven Grandpa B weirdness and it is really, really hot in my office. My grandfather did not believe in air conditioning, which I experienced fully on a trip to Kansas when I was young. I remember thinking, while trying to hang my head out the window ("get your head back inside") WHY DOESN'T HE JUST TURN ON THE AIR so I don't die in this backseat? I had alot of time to think about it because the drive to Kansas doesn't have many highlights. I never did come up with an answer but it was somehow connected to the fact that Grandpa didn't like any "fancy" gadgets in his cars because it was "just more to break" in his opinion. I personally am using the dual excuse of 1. it's Michigan, so tomorrow it could be cold again - in fact it could snow and 2. I haven't changed the filter. But those are really just rationalizations . . . I'm telling you, it's this weird genetic thing where I need to be stubborn and hot, evidently.

Finished a sleeve on the skull sweater . . . it looks sweet.