| Birthday meme |
[Apr. 9th, 2006|12:12 pm] |
Go to Wikipedia and look up your birthday (excluding the year). List three events, two births and one death in your journal, including the year.
EVENTS:
1865 - Abraham Lincoln dies after being shot the previous evening by John Wilkes Booth.
1923 - Insulin first became generally available for use by diabetics.
1945 - The Bergen-Belsen concentration camp is liberated.
BIRTHS:
1452 - Leonardo da Vinci, Italian artist (d. 1519)
1977 - Chandra Levy, American Congressional intern (d. 2001)
DEATHS:
1990 - Greta Garbo, Swedish actress (b. 1905)
If you'd all like to note, my birthday is Saturday. Woo and Hoo. |
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| Impatient... |
[Mar. 8th, 2006|10:07 pm] |
So not only have I not posted since before the wedding, but now I'm asking for a favor on top of it.
My mom had to have a biopsy on Friday. The doctor told her it looks like Paget's disease, which is a form of breast cancer. She went to her OB/gyn after that and he told her it was most likely either Paget's or a tumor on her pituitary gland. They did blood work to see if her hormone levels were elevated, and it turns out they are. That most likely means a tumor.
Worst case scenario, she has both a tumor in her head and breast cancer. We have to wait to get the biopsy results and get the MRI on her head. The MRI should be scheduled soon, but the results of the biopsy come back either tomorrow or Friday. I'm pretty pessimistic, so you know what I'm thinkin'.
I never post. I know only 3 people read what I write anyway, and I'm totally cool with that. I'm not religious, so I don't pray very well, and usually feel like a liar when I try to talk to God. If you are even slightly faithful or remotely religious, please keep her in your prayers. If you're not, just keep your fingers crossed. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 13th, 2005|11:15 am] |
I'm getting married in two days. TWO DAYS. I kinda feel like this little guy. Weird.
Also, I was trying to introduce my friend Eva to the joys of Urban Dictionary, when she found my name. At least the definition is good. On an unrelated note, this woman should be shot.
NO ONE should have this many children. Adopt, for fuck's sake. Pick a
kid with cerebral palsy, one who's got Down's, or a child who's
blind. Quit producing more of your unfortunate progeny.
I can't wait to see all of our friends, take a deep breath(which I
haven't done in a month or so), then relax, drink, and dance. Saturday
will be great. I get to change my name! That's the best part!
While Shawn and I love our dog Stella, she killed two baby bunnies in
our backyard, only one of them took about an hour to die. It was very
sad, but we knew there was no way it would live, even if we took it to
the vet at 1 am. We know it's instinct, but I couldn't look at her for
a day or two. Now I just randomly remind her she's a ruthless killer.
I hope no one laughs at me Saturday when "Thriller" comes on...
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| Updates |
[Sep. 29th, 2005|08:39 pm] |
Ok, so I haven't posted in a while. I meant to do so after my bachelorette party but my fingers and brain wouldn't cooperate for several days after. My maid of honor makes me drink, and usually it some noxious concoction with many different types of poison in one glass. I had a great time. I'm amazed that I got hit on, much more than usual. Especially since I was there celebrating the fact that I'm off the market.
We have 15 days until the big shebang. Knock on wood, everything's been running smoothly. As long as there's a minister, a cake, and a place to dance I'm a happy camper. Having Shawn there is definately an added bonus. Tomorrow is marriage license day! Hurray!!!
Today I got into an arguement with an attorney who told me that if everyone in St. Louis is a mean as I am he would never be visiting my city. I love affecting people's blood pressure. |
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| The D word |
[Aug. 30th, 2005|09:39 pm] |
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One of my closest friends is getting a divorce after 3 years of marriage. I'm really bummed, not just because divorce is depressing, but also because I had hope for them. They were one of the really comfortable couples, ya know? Just seemed comfy together, completely content to simply exist in each other's company. That, and I loved the fact that he was an Israeli kung fu instructor with a fun name. Will someone please give me an example of a successful marriage? |
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| Creole my butt |
[Jul. 31st, 2005|04:55 pm] |
I hate Cajun cooking. It's gross. I've decided it's nothing more than
strange river shellfish, dirt, and spicy crap. Regardless, I did have
fun at the dinner, and that's mostly because it was gross. I ate
alligator. Ew.
In other news ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) lacking_pulse
was kind enough to kidnap me and get me a manicure. Really, it was
great. She and Shawn both kept it a secret, and it's hard to do that
with me.
This is cute.
Also, Polarized Mind was
kind enough to play with us last night at Cafe Louis on Washington.
Good show, a little hot, but overall not bad. Cafe Louis used to be The
Studio Cafe, where I used to play with my old band when I was younger.
Nothing has changed, the sound's still difficult,
it's really hot, and the drinks are strong. It made me feel a little
old. I really appreciate everyone who came out, though. Lots of friends
there makes
us feel important. Hee! |
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| On the subject of cell phones |
[Jul. 20th, 2005|06:14 pm] |
Here's the dealio. While I do still have possession of my old cell, I got a new cell with a new cell number and everything, right? So far, so good. I can take pictures of my dog, play lots of games, and best of all it plays "I Ain't No Holla Back Girl" when it rings (no, it didn't come like that). MAJOR DOWN SIDE, YOU ASK?!?!?! Every single night, at ONE o'clock in the morning, it rings. On the other line is some SBC Call Notes recording of some drunk dick screaming in my ear that it's time to go to the bathroom. I've had the thing for 4 days now. Every night, same deal. I really used to like the Holla Back song, but I feel it's wearing thin now, especially at that ungodly hour.
I tried to call the number on the caller ID, however, it's just an SBC Call Notes line asking me to enter my password, which I obviously don't have. I called SBC, they agreed to dismantle the alarm that this guy had set up to CALL this number every night at 1. Great. I'm happy. Last night, at one, it rang AGAIN. Called SBC, they said they dismantled it and the customer reactivated it. They can't guarantee me it will stop. I had to call T-Mobile and get another new phone number. That's my weird little story.
If anyone is available on Friday and feels like they should give $10 to a good cause, please feel free to come see me and Shawn play a Tin Ceiling Fund Raising benefit. It should be fun. For more details, let me know!!! |
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| Weird... just weird |
[Jul. 9th, 2005|08:54 pm] |
Weirdo...
Horse Hater!
Is he kidding? If not, should he seek help?
Also, if you have a good, solid, uninterrupted 15 minutes I HIGHLY suggest you check out the newest installment of the R. Kelly is fucking crazy
soap-drama-stream of consciousness collection of videos. It is truly
fascinating. It's called "Trapped in a Closet." After I watched it I
made a batch of chocolate chip cookies and took a hot shower to try and
feel wholesome again.
We're in the new house, life is great. We'll have a party soon. Quit asking.
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| 7 days left |
[Jun. 23rd, 2005|09:16 pm] |
7 days left in this house. I'm happy, but bummed, you know how it is. This is the first house that made me feel at home since I actually lived at home, and there have been plenty in between. This is the house that Shawn and I locked ourselves in for an entire winter in 2003 and didn't come out. It was the best couple of months of my life.
Packing, packing and more packing. We have a lot of shit. The new place is big. Big, and the walls inside are lavender. Very cute. Giant deck, finished basement, a real dining room... God, I feel like an adult. I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that the whole thing happens. You never know, at the last minute the deal could fall through.
Wedding countdown, three months, three weeks and two days. Hurrah. |
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| Wipes the sweat off the brow in an overly dramatic fashion |
[Jun. 12th, 2005|05:19 pm] |
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Shawn and I were, again, part of the 48 hour film project this weekend. If you're wondering what that is, the name says it all. You have 48 hours to pull a genre out of a hat, write, film, and edit a movie that is due on Sunday at 7:30. It went well. Shawn slept for about 2 hours all weekend, I slept about 8 over the span of two days. I pulled off a stellar preformance as a french nun named Claudette. It was a hot warehouse in the ghetto, in a nun's ensemble. After very little sleep, small amounts of food, and the heat, around 2 am gets a little sketchy. That's when you seperate the men from the boys. A lot of people snap, others get giddy and I am happy to say we only had 3 or so of the snapping variety. Unfortunately, giddy isn't much better when you're trying to get things accomplished. It's 5:30pm now, we have two hours, and the boys are putting on the finishing touches. This year, maybe we'll walk away feeling a little better than last year. |
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| Balls on that. Period. |
[May. 23rd, 2005|08:31 pm] |
So not only is this whole house deal slowing me down mentally, but today I was heckled by my neighbor.
I'm walking Stella on my street, and this guy with his two kids on their respective little bikes goes on the OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET with his children warning that the "CRAZY" neighbor (I can only assume he meant me) is approaching. He said it twice, mind you. TWICE.
I am of two thought processes on this one: the first is, "What could I have ever done, immediately outside my house, in front of this man to ever make him think I'm crazy?" I only know the dude and his kids live about 3 or 4 houses away from me. Other than that, don't know him from Adam. I don't like being outside, and don't smoke anymore, so I'm quite sure he's never even heard me talk. I walk from my car to my house, which is about 14 steps. I just can't imagine I'd done anything warranting the crazy title in that short span of time.
The second thought...? Inner smirk.
Just what I've always wanted: to create a completely unapproachable facade that grown men use to scare their children into following them to the other sidewalk. Tonight my uniform of comfort was a t-shirt and fat pants(old navy drawstring style, yo) so I don't think it was my clothing. Tattoos just don't have the same "scary person" factor that they used to, so I don't think that's it. Stella's a lab with a broken tail nub thingy, not a doberman or pit bull so that can't be it either. Clearly, it must be the entire package. All 5'6 of me: red hair, tattoos, fat pants, scowl and all. I'm off to the basement to sacrifice a virgin at the alter of our dark lord and saviour. |
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| More on the subject of my knee... |
[May. 13th, 2005|10:45 am] |
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The surgery went fine. I'm hobbling happily through my house. The worst part is that I didn't wake up so easily from the surgery and started coughing and vomiting as soon as I was given oxygen. In the melee I bit my tongue so hard I left teeth marks and it's now swollen and numb. The knee's fine, but my tongue is killing me. Off to my couch. |
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| Pain and the like... |
[May. 5th, 2005|08:32 pm] |
Those of you who know me know I have serious issues with my knees. They crunch and pop, and sometimes, mostly on important or special occasions, my kneecaps knock out of place due to BOTH knees having floating patellas. This usually occurs in crowded restaurant lobbies on a Saturday night, or at school in junior high in front of boys I like. The pain is so excruciating I usually can't talk or breathe for about 20 seconds, then all at once my voice returns and I scream. The right's always been worse than the left, but I'm still embarrassed if anyone hears me walking up the steps. I've waited my entire life to fix the problem, and now at the tender age of 27, I am.
I tried physical therapy for a while, three and a half months to be exact, before my doctor finally did an MRI and informed me that the PT was probably exacerbating the problem. I have a torn meniscus, which wouldn't be so bad except that it's developed a cyst over the tear and it keeps me from bending my knee. I can't walk my dog, or shop for too long without the fear creeping in that I'll have to spend the next day with my leg up in the air and an ice pack on my knee. Believe it or not, I'd like to use my membership to the gym. I'm walking down the aisle in 5 months, one week, and two days. I would like to do just that... WALK. My surgery is Thursday, one week from today, the 12th of May.
Being the monster baby that I am, I cried and tried to plead my way out of it to no avail. I was comforted when my doctor suggested he can keep me awake and just stick a bit in my mouth for the pain, but I think he was kidding. There's a one in ten million chance that the patient will die during surgery, regardless of what type of operation it is. I'm not self-absorbed enough to think I'll be one that croaks, but the thought had crossed my mind.
If you read this, just keep your fingers crossed around 8:30 am on the 12th, for my sake. Horror stories of your cousin's botched knee surgery are appreciated, but no thanks. |
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| Stuuuuupid |
[Apr. 23rd, 2005|11:39 am] |
So </a></b></a>lacking_pulse and I used to make fun of our friends for creating LJ's. We
always just thought it was a way to keep track of what our metaphorical
cats were doing. In reality, I'm just using it to vent about how much
non smoking sucks, which it still does.
You know that feeling when you walk out of the house and instantly feel
like you're forgetting something? That's how I feel all the time now.
It's like I'm constantly forgetting I don't smoke and therefore don't
need to run back and grab my smackers. Clubs are hard, too. The
combination of my birthday and the Bachanacalaca ball almost got me.
In other news, we put our house on the market. I need to move out of the city before everything is stolen from my blessed yard.
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| Yar |
[Mar. 28th, 2005|07:47 am] |
I've made it past the one week mark, but still wish I could tape my coworkers' mouths shut. Every stupid thing that spews forth from their tiny little minds is pretty useless goo. Here's a good description of the cross section of my coworkers:
*They live for "Survivor" and know everyone's name on that effing island.
*They dare not travel out of St. Charles, for everyone who wanders into big, bad, St. Louis will most likely get shot.
*They listen to light jazz sung by skinny white women and feel cultural.
*They own an excess of Khaki and shop at Lands End almost exclusively.
*They allow their children to run freely, no matter where they are.
*They ALL own SUV's with a "W" sticker prominently displayed in the back window.
I'm sure I think of more things that annoy me about my fellow employee's and will add to that list. |
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| Day 6 |
[Mar. 25th, 2005|09:49 pm] |
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It's finally dawning on me that I will never again be able to rely on smackers to put me in a good mood. I will never again ask the dude behind the counter for a pack of Camel Turkish Jade Lights. I fear I'm entering the final stage of loss, acceptance. It is a dark day. |
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| Day 3 |
[Mar. 22nd, 2005|07:44 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | I hate the mood thing | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Dave Navarro-Rexall | ] |
Today is the 3rd day of my anti-smoking war.
I find myself driving really fast to avoid being in my car for too long. I couldn't ride with my smoking friend when we went to lunch today. I'm not looking forward to leaving work as much as I used to.
Today I bought a Cosmo for no good reason. I have oodles of books I can't concentrate on. If I lack the capabilities to focus on a $500,000 demand from some random attorney whilst at work, I certainly can't summon enough brain cells to wrap themselves around "6 New Tricks He'll Go Crazy For," which is actually an article in said Cosmo. Shawn explained that it's because my body isn't used to getting this much oxygen, that I've been depriving my brain for so long that it's used to working in a fog and now that the fog is lifted my mind is starting to function again at full capacity. Clearly this is not working for me.
I'm crabby. Today I put a large sign outside of my cube indicating that all coworkers should probably avoid me. At least it was in a cute little stop sign. The Rachel bites. |
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| This sucks... |
[Mar. 21st, 2005|09:01 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  bitchy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Mos Def-The Boogie Man Song | ] |
The only reason I started a stupid live journal dealy anyway is just to add one more thing for my fingers to do in the evenings when I'm alone (I know what you're thinking, perverts: I'm one step ahead of you).
This is my 6th or so attempt at quitting smoking.
I keep looking at cheesy anti-smoking websites, staring for hours at the countless corpses lying in beds, trying to get the message across that smoking kills. Ya know something? Smoking is cool. I don't care what anyone says. It has to be. The campaign against smoking is so tragically unhip that by comparison, smoking is uber chic. Non smokers have NO conceivable idea of what I speak. You shall never know that like most hardcore drugs, there is a detox period that truly hurts, like a physical pain. Currently, my skin itches and is all crawly, I've got an upset stomach (your blood pressure drops when nicotine leaves your system), and I'm dizzy. Also, the PMS-like crabbiness is back in full force and my bleeding stopped a week ago.
Combined with the emotional factors, which are too many to count here. There's the oral fixation, for starters. I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MY HANDS WHILST IN PUBLIC. When you quit there's a hole in your soul. It feels like something's missing and you're never going to get it back. I've had a pack by my side since I was 12. They've gotten me through breakups, bad days at work, and many a long night drinking coffee at Uncle Bill's with my friends. They've been there in good times, celebrations, while drinking booze when I turned 21. When I couldn't stop shaking, they were my blanket. When I couldn't stop crying they were my Kleenex. You don't have to worry about them leaving: they will always be there.
Did I mention I'm only on day two?
So tonight I've knit a scarf, played piano and video games, and exercised. My hands are threatening to leave. If I was a religious girl I would pray, but I'm not so I'll just hope. Wish me luck. |
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