So Evan and I were discussing...something...this morning. I'm not entirely sure what (honeslty I'm amazed that I can communicate with more than differently toned grunts at 7am). But whatever the subject, he started his argument with the word "irregardless".

"Irregardless--".
"Wait--did you just say 'irregardless'?"
"Yeah, so?"
"You know that's not a word, right?"
"What?"
"Irregardless. It isn't a word."
"What does it matter? You knew what I was saying."
"It matters because it completely changes what you meant. Like people who say 'could care less'."
"Huh?"
"People who say 'could care less' when they mean 'couldn't care less'. It's the complete opposite of--"
"That doesn't matter, either! As long as people know what you're saying, it's an accepted term of phrase."
"...Did you just say 'term of phrase'?"
"...I hate you."

Hahahahah. We really shouldn't talk to eatch other that early in the morning, ha.


In other news, I still have no idea what I'm going to do about tomorrow. I don't want to go to the grave. I just don't. I want to live the day like any other and just not think about it. However, that just seems so...disrespectful (even though that's pretty much what I do on the anniversary of my sister's death. I call my mom cos she expects me to and would be hurt if I didn't, but I pretty much just treat the day like any other. She also died 13 years ago, though, so it is quite a bit different). Evan said that if I feel that way I should still do something to honor him, and that doesn't have to be all sad and mopey, but I'm not sure what I could even do. I was thinking that, if I go to Ellwood I could ask Evan to come with me, so at least I didn't have to make the drive alone, but the one time he's come with me to the grave (which I think may be the only time he's been) it just kind of felt...wrong. Same with visiting the Mazzants, which I would do if i go. When we stopped by during Xmas it was just weird. "Hey guys, you remember your dead son's best friend that I'm shacking up with, right?" Ugh. I mean, they've been supportive of me moving on and of our relatioship (even if they did get him confused with Ashton at John Todd and Sarah's wedding, which was hilarious (and a rather easy mistake to make I guess with the whole identical twin thing, even though I don't see it)), so I know that all of this anxiety and uncomfortable feelings are mine that I'm projecting. But still....ugh.

Maybe I'll just sleep through the day. That sounds exciting. Except then I'd have nightmares. Fucking yay. Bah.

Please tell me this guy's blog is just satire? Please?

http://mikeeusa.pressword.com

A snippit:

Some Men’s Rights Movement (if there exists such a thing) commentators have, at diffrent times, tried to come up with a nice declaration of what the “movement” is all about, or what it should be all about, or what they would like it to be all about. They’ve drafted rather long documents containing points that they think men should agree with, stand by, and together fight for implementation, etc. These documents containined both “rights” and “responsibilities”; they were rather constraining, and really didn’t object much to the current pro-women’s rights culture nor say anything that was very benificial to men’s wishes at all (well, how benificial can words ever be?). Here’s my contribution to the haystack:

The prerogative of a Man is to find for himself a mate. So much as he avoids taking another man’s mate, no barrier (legal or customary) should be placed to obstruct him.
Females should be married off to men once said females are able to have children (usually at age 12, 13, or 14.)
The “penalty” for the rape of a young unmarried female should be that she is awarded to the man as a permanent wife of his (As stated in Deuteronomy 22)
Men should rape their wives at will.
Females should obey their husbands in all things, as if they were domestic servants.
If a nation seeks to opress its men by denying them these liberties, than it should be destroyed.

Death To women’s Rights
Viva Men’s Liberty
Liberty (for Men). Equality (amongst Men). Fraternity

–MikeeUSA–


He also thinks that men should be allowed to own whatever heavy weaponry they wish (such as tanks and machine guns), that any woman who dares speak up against or seek to imprison men should be killed and that the "fight" for "men's rights" should be one of violence and blood as "talking" isn't the same as "fighting", that arresting a man is the same as kidnapping and therefore the man has the right to beat a female officer unconcious, etc.

Please, please tell me it's not real?


In other news: I just got the following text from Evan:
I am currently wearing your pants that say "BADGIRL" on the ass.


Heeheeheehee

So...this is a weird situation.

Evan has this client whom he has become friends with. She came in to get massages from him a couple times and a few weeks ago called him at work to see if he wanted to hang out some time. He agreed and they've hung out once or twice. She seems to be a nice girl and everything, though it is a bit odd to randomly ask your massage therapist out for lunch.

The weird thing, though, is this: the last time they hung out, she asked him if he had a Facebook. He said that he did and she was like "yay! I'll friend you!" When he got home, he checked it (which he does, like, once in a blue moon) and, indeed, she had found and friended him. Not a big deal. However, when he checked his inbox on there he found that she had written him a message--after the very first time he gave her a massage. Before they started hanging out.

Does that seem weird to anyone else? First, she didn't know his last name, though I guess searching "Evan" and "Body Bar" (where he works) may have pulled him up (cos I really hope she didn't scour through every Evan who lives in Pittsburgh), and secondly-who does that? Who searches for and friends on Facebook the person who gave them a massage once at a spa?

Something about it all just rubs me the wrong way. Not because I care if he's friends with her or hangs or with her or anything dumb like that, but because that's just weird kind of stalkerish behaviour. I know that if that had happened to me (and it has once or twice on MySpace when I used to play open mics regularly) it would creep me the fuck out (and it did). Evan's not too worried about it--we joke that she's his stalker, but other than that it's not a big deal to him. Just odd.


In other news, my mom, for some reason, has decided that she wants grandchildren. And that the fact that I've been planning to adopt older kids since I was like, eight, and she knows this isn't enough--she wants grandchildren with her genetic material floating around in them. Oh, and she kind of wants them now. What the hell took over my mom's brain? She's only 45. It's not like she has the threat of death hanging over her head that she needs grandbabies before that. I heard something similar from my grandmother not too long ago as well--that it would be nice to have great grandchildren running around. I told her to mention that to my cousins. What is it about this relationship I'm in that people seem to think it's baby making time for me? Can't they at least wait until there's some kind of possibility of something like, oh I don't know, getting married before they decide to jump on the "you must breed!!" wagon? I'm only 26 for god's sake. I don't even have my Bachelor's, yet, never the less the Master's or Doctorate I'm planning on. Let me get into the career I want before you make me ruin it with maternity leave, please? Thanks.

Oh, and within the argument/discussion mom and I had over baby making, she offhandedly informed me that my dad wanted her to have an abortion. Nice, mom. Real nice.

Remind me to not try to teach Evan about Samhain again. He just won't get it. *sigh* Either that or he was being deliberately obtuse to mess with me, as he is wont to do. Either way, I'm a little annoyed that he thinks it's perfectly normal to have a tradition of eating chili on Halloween because someone did it as a kid before trick or treating every year (I'm having trouble finding the connection between chili and Halloween that it would have had to be made every year on that day), but finds the fact that the day is actually a religious holiday for some people odd. "That means nothing to me" is not really the right reply to someone explaining that Samhain = Halloween which is considered the "witch's new year" and is based in Celtic traditions which is where the holiday and everything therein comes from. :-/ He has to have been just being an ass to mess with me. He's not usually that ignorant.

As it is, I am really excited about the fact that there is a Mexican shop down the street from my work that will most likely have sugar skulls for Dia los Muertos. I'll have to remember to pop in there sometime this week.

>:-/ <--that is my irritated at Evan's doctor face.

Why am I irritated at Evan's doctor? Because he had an appt with her this morning and, once again, didn't actually speak with her. He spoke to the nurse practitioner who just wrote him a 'script for his meds (same dosage) and sent him on his merry way. Again. Just like when he went in June after his last seizure issue. Didn't order any tests or anything, just was like "man that sucks, see ya".

Now, granted, I wasn't in the room with him (I actually didn't even get to go as I had class at the same time and missing class = failing class due to this professor's attendance policy, grr), so I'm not sure how much he actually told the lady. He is pretty notorious for downplaying everything. However, they should have on record that multiple messages were left that day from multiple people (including the ER doctor) detailing that he had multiple seizures in a very short period of time along with atypical side/after effects, so that should be a clue that "hey, something serious may be up". At least one would think.

But what do I know? I've never been to a neurologist, I don't know how they work. It just seems rather shitty that I get more treatment and tests run at my general practitioner when I have a cold than he does at his brain doctor when he's spacing out and turning grey.

/rant.

Due to having to claim vacation days for next year soon, Evan and I are trying to figure out what we wanna do for Spring Break next year (also trying to figure out if we want to split up my vaca time between SB and summertime...I wonder if there's a way to tell how much I'll even be getting yet. Hmmm...).

Things that we do know--
-No more road trips, especially 20 hour ones, ugh (double especially seeing as how he won't be driving yet when SB comes around).
-We're staying in a damned hotel, ha. As much fun as hostels were, nothing beats room service (and mattresses that aren't covered in plastic), haha.

Our last two vacations were rather hectic (being London/Dublin/Edinburgh two years ago and New Orleans last year)so we're thinking something laid back and relaxing with a beach (though I really would still like to take in some history/culture while we're at it, as I tend to get bored quite easily just lying on the beach all day for a week). I would like to not spend more than two grand (though whether this will be total or each we're not sure yet--depends on how well we can budget/save and what we want to do, I guess) and Evan was able to find a deal at Sandals in Jamaica for about that much for four days, but the juxtposition of utter poverty and utter luxury kind of bothers me...I'm not sure I could go to Jamaica without feeling like an asshole, ha.

I dunno. Where should we go? I am super, duper up for ideas seeing as how I suck at planning things like this, ha.

Bad thing: that garage attached to my workplace and therefore the back of the store where my office lives for some reason smells like spoiled milk, old lunch meat, and barf.
Good thing: I was able to find some arisol air freshener to spray around to try and clear it up.
Meh thing: Now my office smells like spoiled milk, old lunch meat, barf, and flowers. Goodie.


Good thing: The company decided to give my store new computers since ours were all out of date, slow, and sounded like they would explode if you had more than three windows open.
Bad thing: They didn't give us any prior notice this was happening so as to save any information from the old computers onto flash drives and therefore all of my links and forms and contacts that I had saved to my desktop/bookmarks/Outlook are gone. Things that I use on a daily basis. Great. Thanks.
Meh thing: At least I don't have to worry about my computer freezing/crashing/exploding on a regular basis.


Good thing: Evan's insurance stuff finally went through, backdated to be effective Oct 1st--which was last Thursday when he was in the hospital. So hopefully that will mean that his hospital bills will be covered and maybe he'll even get a reimbursement for his prescription that I picked up for him that day (though I'm not holding my breath on the latter).
Bad thing: There is no bad thing. Just a breath of relief that he now has insurance which has been a huge worry of mine for the past year or so.


Good thing: I finally was able to get my car into the shop as it sounded like it would fall apart and the tail pipe was no longer where it was supposed to be. It also needed to be inspected, oh, in May and I hadn't noticed it cos I never look at those stickers. Oops.
Bad thing: It cost me a grand to fix as I had to replace the entire exhast system. Goody. So far I've replaced the exhast system, brake system, and engine. I've spent three times as much in repairs as I did to buy the damned thing. Stupid car. It double sucks that that took up everything I had saved, plus a good chunk of my last paycheck so I have just enough left to pay bills and then I'm dead broke for the next two weeks. Oh, and no Halloween costume/party for me, as there's no more money saved to pay for it. Boooo.


Meh thing: I've had dreams about Danny every night for the past week or so. Which is understandable seeing as how I had so many flashbacks last week with Evan's seizures and the hospital and such and also because our anniversary would have been this coming Saturday and as of the 25th of this month he will have been dead for three years. It's not uncommon for me to be pretty haunted during October. But still, these dreams aren't pleasant. They all have to do with me finding and dating some kind of Danny replica and getting fed up with him and finding that's not what I want. I know it's all based on the guilt I tend to always feel around anniversaries and things, but it doesn't make it any less upsetting.


Evan, Ashton, and I are going out of town this weekend to visit a couple of their friends in NC. The following must be completed by Thursday night:

-Psych test
-Sociology essay
-study for Chem
-pack (don't forget toothbrush!!)
-tidy up the apt so we have a nice, clean home to return to on Sunday night
-make sure I have enough food/water left out for the cats and their box is clean before we leave
-get my 'script for my Singulair refilled
-call Evan's mom to see if it's alright if I leave my car at her house (as they want to leave from town on Fri when I get out of work, but I can't leave it here because the store will be closed by the time we get home on Sunday)

So Evan had a seizure this morning. He ran out of his meds Tuesday night I guess and called in for a refill yesterday morning but they needed 24 hours to refill it (instead of the usual 15 minutes) for some reason, so he couldn't get them until today. Seeing as how he lasted nine months before while not taking them he didn't think it would be an issue. Obviously it was. He may have had one last night (well, really early this morning) in his sleep as well, I'm not sure. He was making odd noises and breathing strangely so I thought he was having a nightmare. He didn't react at first when I tried to wake him up and then complained of having a really bad headache and feeling weird but we both figured he was just getting sick. And then this morning the same thing occured (except it was daylight so I could see what was going on). So that would mean that he had two in a 3 or 4 hour period. Ugh.

I got him to call out of work (which was a chore in an of itself as he is Way too stubborn for his own good), so he's at home resting now which is good. Unfortunately, I had to come into work as I was specifically rescheduled to work today (originally I had it off) as both the managers have some meeting and so someone has to hold down the fort. I really wish I would have been able to call out or still had the day off cos I really feel like I should be at home in case something happens. I picked up his meds so he has them back in his system but I'm not sure how long it will take for them to kick in.

It was really frightening, though. I hadn't been there whenever he had his one in June and whenever I've asked him what I should do if it happens he's always just said to make sure he doesn't hit his head, which made me think that he had full blown out convulsion type things. But this was just...he just collapsed on the bed and was basically catatonic--staring ahead, didn't blink, didn't seem to be breathing, even--I had to check his pulse to see if he was even still alive. It was Way too much like what happened to Danny for comfort so I've been having really bad flashbacks all morning. This is not the time of year to be thinking about such things. But I just need to calm down and focus on work and not think about it. Damn all this adrenalyn freaking my system out. Why can't I panic during the actual incident like a normal person? I'm all calm and collected when things occur and then only after the situation is taken care of do I freak out. Rather inconvenient, ha.

Either way, it's prolly a good thing I have an appt with my shrink for today, ha (no, not really, I'm actually kind of annoyed by it). This day needs to go by quickly. Stupid worrying. :-/

Me: So either the computer system's being weird or I'm hallucinating.
Evan: The system's always acting weird.
Me: Haha, yeah I know. Just one of those times where if gives me errors and when I show someone else it works perfectly so I look crazy.
Evan: You are :P
Me: Crazy like a moose.
Evan: No, crazy like a fox ;-)
Me: Are you saying I'm foxy?
Evan: Yes, honey that was the implication
Me: Haha. Love me!
Evan: -_- of course I do
Me: :( that's not a love face :(
Evan: :<3)
Me: Haha I love you
Evan: That kinda looks more like a butt face
Me: Butt lover! ewww you love butts you weirdo! :P
Evan: I do love you :P
Me: haha touche

So I have this prescription for Zoloft which is currently living on my bathroom sink. It is the lowest dose possible (25mg) which the shrink wants me to break in half for the time being, which seems reasonable enough, but I'm honestly terrified to take the stuff. I'm just not sure what it's going to do to me, but I still know that, on some level, I do need the stuff. I've been able to keep a better hold on things lately, but my anxiety and depression and these constant ups and downs of me not being able to control my emotions is having a serious affect on everything important to me and that just can't happen. But pills? Fake prescribed happiness? Is that really the answer? To become another one of the overly medicated masses? Doing this on my own hasn't made any progress and it will only be a temporary crutch but I don't feel like it's a crutch I should have to be on. I should be strong enough to deal with this stuff on my own. So why aren't I?

Evan and I had a long talk the other night (before my asthma decided to hate me and send me to the hospital) where I told him that I'm not sure that I'm really suitable to be in a relationship right now and maybe taking a little break would be best as I know he's not happy with the current situation and it's not fair of me to be the cause of his unhappiness. He wasn't too pleased with that idea and says he has faith that we'll get through this and things will be better. And I have been better, lately. This week, aside from a few mishaps, I've been pretty much normal (which makes me wonder if this all is being caused by my BC afterall, but not the way I thought--this is the first time in four months that I've taken the placebos, as I thought that doing so in the past was causing emotional distress. However, the first placebo day this month I felt awesome. So maybe it was not taking that week off all this time that was causing things to be so extreme), which he did admit that he's liked me better this week than he has lately.

When I asked him if he thinks I should take the meds he, of course, said that I should do whatever I feel I need to. But I both don't think that I need to and do all at the same time. I want to be fixed and normal or as close to it as I can get but is the cost of being medicated and having to worry if my emotions are real anymore worth it?

And I want to take them. I do. I even asked for them. The shrink left the decision up to me and I said "yes" before my mind caught up to what my mouth was saying, but I'm just really, really scared to.

I'm not sure what to do.

So last night over dinner I was telling Evan about that article I read about PFOX and some of the things that I read on their site that made my head explode in confusion. His reaction was as follows, "Jenna, you're not gay. Had anyone told you that?" And this completely took me aback because a) he knows that I'm bi, at least where sexual attaction comes in (I'm not sure if I could persue a relationship with a woman seeing as how I have a hard time relating to them on a friends level, let alone a romantic one) and b) even though issues such as gay rights don't affect me directly as I choose to have relationships with men, they do affect several of my friends, as well as multitudes of people around the world, so why not care about such things?

When I asked him this, he said that there is no use in getting worked up about such things because debating and arguing solves nothing. People get so heated over such topics and it just causes more strife than personal happiness (which is what he's all about).

Now this really blows my mind because, while I know that he's content to live in a bubble where such things as politics don't exist (which I don't understand in the least), I would think that he would have Some strong opinions and beliefs that he would feel the need to defend. But...he doesn't (though he did concede that he strongly feels people should listen more, but I'm not sure if that's on the same level or not). It drives me a little crazy, if only because I Love to debate and have discussions/conversations where you bounce different ideas and viewpoints off of each other (and I think that such things are kind of key to being a well rounded intellectual) and he, well, doesn't. He said a lot of it he thinks has to do with the strife that split his household in two during the Bush/Kerry elections, which makes sense as his dad was in the hospital at the time (which I think may have contributed to why things were so bad as being emotional over that would have fueled any kind of negative emotions reguarding the election) so such negativity surrounding a debatable topic at such an emotional time would taint his views of such things.

But still. It confuses me as to how someone can just be content keeping their mouth shut, ha. I love him, but it does get a little frustrating feeling like I'm just talking at him, not to him when I go on little rants about things that I feel strongly about. Sometimes he'll engage--we've gotten into several rather heated discussions about religion (or at least religious music which I feel to be a waste of perfectly good melodies and chord progressions and feel that some lyrics are a bit unnerving, but I think a lot of that stems from my progressingly irritated feelings I'm having towards our church than anything else)--but a lot of times I feel like it's not really worth bringing up such topics. I know that he'll always listen to me but it would be nice if he were to engage once in a while, too.

I dunno. It's not a huge issue in the least, but it is one that I have a hard time wrapping my brain around.


On another note, I hate when I smell something that I know I have smelled before and reminds me of something that nags in the back of my mind that I recognize it but I can't for the life of me place what it is. And as it is, I've sat here for the past few minutes huffing a piece of paper, ha.

Seriously, though, what the hell is this smell?? It takes me back to my first year at UCF at some point but outside of that, I got nothing. Ugh. Gonna drive me crazy all day.

Sign Church sign for the week: "To prevent burning, use 'son' block." How witty.


I woke up this morning and went "shit fuck damn what did I do?"

I mean, it's not like a Livejournal community is that important, really, but like I said--entire basis of socialization there, and no matter how shitty I end up feeling sometimes (often?) based on the opinions expressed therein, I do have fun and I do enjoy it. I'm more anxious now than I was then, but what's done is done, so yeah. Bah. I wonder if this is what withdrawls feel like, ha. Maybe I'm addicted and didn't realize it. Interesting concept.

Highly possible.

Still, considering my mental health or lack thereof as of late, it is prolly for the best. I have enough stress and issues with myself that I really don't need any help from outside influences. Evan had mentioned this to me weeks ago and I shrugged him off, but really he's prolly right and it really isn't fair to have these little freak outs on him only to have him say "Where do you get these ideas?" and have to answer "...Livejournal" (because he does't know the specifics so it's easier to generalize) and then have him sigh and say "You need to stop spending so much time online".

Sigh.

I really am that pathetic, huh? Ha.


We're going out with some of Evan's friends from his massage school. I'm minorly freaking out a bit over it, if only because they're a rather intimidating group in that "been friends for years and therefore have all kinds of inside jokes and conversations that I'll never understand" way. I've only ever hung out with them twice before and neither time I felt comfortable or really welcome. We're going to Mad Mex for "Big Azz Margaritas" so ordinarially I'd at least be able to get a bit lubricated which would help but being that Evan can't drive (officially, now. He finally got in to see a Doctor after a ridiculous amount of running around trying to get his perscription filled--she's reporting it to the state so most likely they'll be sending a letter for his license soon) I'm DD so that's off the table (and tequilla is really not the best thing for me to drink period, never the less when I'm uncomfortable, so it's prolly for the best). But one of my goals with my therapist is to be more social and not be so freaked out at the idea of meeting new people and making friends (did I mention I went? That was an interesting experience. I never realized how awful my past sounds until I had to lay my entire life out in the span of an hour to give her a basic idea of how crazy I am. Lovely), so I suppose this is part of that.

Ugh. I really don't want to go, though. I promised Evan I would so I will, but yeah. Would rather not. Bah.


Random: Chai tea is awesome. And redundant seeing as how "chai" means "tea". Unfortunately I need to remember that chai tea Lattes have milk in them and, as I don't specify skim cos I have a strong dislike for anyone who says "skinny" while odering freaking coffee, it's prolly whole milk, too. I don't feel so good.


I can't wait till tomorrow. The only thing we have even tenitively planned is to perhaps visit Evan's uncle who has been in the hospital for quite a few weeks, now (but has finally been moved out of ICU--we weren't able to see him before cos the nurses got pissy about people visiting--even his wife was pretty much banished) and I'd like to get around to calling Beth back at some point since it seems she's now stationed back in the US (yay!). But yeah, I'm not planning on getting out of bed till at least noon.

Okay, maybe 11.

1030. I'll stay in bed till 1030. At least. And it will be spectacular seeing as how I've had to wake up before 7 every day this week for various reasons (including my day off, ugh).

Evan and I went to Kennywood Sunday night. It was loads of fun and surprisingly (or not so) we were able to ride everything we wanted (save for the water rides cos neither of us really liked the idea of walking around wet) between 6 and 11 when the park closed. Good times. The best part, though, was standing in line for the Thunderbolt. It's this awesome old wooden coaster where you wait in line under a little enclosure. So, as we're waiting for the first car, the girl in front of us happens to look up and then scream, cowering into her boyfriend and pushing as hard as she could to get the both of them as close to the wall as possible. Wondering what the problem is, I look up as well. And that's when I see them. Spiders. Dozens of them. There was probably at least fifty of them spread across a 10x10 space above our heads. And these weren't just little garden spiders, either. these things were freaking huge. Like, at least the size of quarters, if not half dollars. They were so big I could see every detail of their colouring and the stripes on their legs from six or so feet below them. Big. Monster. Spiders. They had obviously been eating all of the bugs that are attracted to the flourescent lights attached to the ceiling of the enclosure.

Now I'm not afraid of spiders. I don't mind them hanging out outside where they live and if I see one in the house, I catch it in a cup and put it outside. They don't frighten me. However, the idea that one of those monster things would be able to drop itself onto my head was absolutely terrifying. So I followed the example of the frightened girl in front of me and huddled as close to the wall as I could, taking Evan with me.

Slowly, the others around us seemed to be able to tell that something was amiss. They noticed two girls and their dates waiting in line for the first car huddled against the wall, their wide, horror struck eyes staring at the ceiling unable to break away from whatever was up there. So they started looking up. Screams began to fill the enclosure. Wide berths appeared in line under the most concentrated areas. Chaos ensued. And the poor 15 year olds sweating it out in the muggy August heat for minimum wage at a job that seemed like a fun idea at the time sighed into their walky talkies, cursed under their breaths and hearded us into the cars as fast as possible saying "the faster you load the faster you get away from the spiders" .

After what seemed like ages, but was really only three minutes, we were first in line and dove into our seats as I kept my eyes to the ceiling. And, as I watched, one brown, spindly legged little bugger lowered himself ever so slowly and gently down his sparkling thread attached to the glowing fluorescent lighting directly into the seat behind us where two frightened teenage girls sat. They screamed, trying to claw their way out of the seat, I jumped up, sitting on the side, making sure there wasn't a way he could crawl his way into ours and the kids working there again repeated "the sooner you sit down the sooner you get away from the spiders". The girls settled, the ride started, we went up a hill, down another and then the girls remembered-- that spider fell INTO their seat. Again their were screams and as I turned to look at them one of the girls tried to stand up and climb out of the car while it was moving. Her companion screamed again, I shouted at her to sit down and not be an idiot and told her some lie about spiders not even being able to live at such speeds and she finally settled and cried the next thirty seconds and two hills until the ride came to a full and complete stop and she took off like a bat out of hell.

Greatest rollercoster experience ever.

Not sure who I love more: Evan, or his subconsious, ha.

(from text)

Evan: I had a dream last night that you got a book published.
Me: Aww, what a nice dream! Was it successful?
Evan: Must'v been cuz there was a movie in the works. It was about that topic from that contest that you thought was dumb.


Now let's hope he has prophetic dreams, ha.


On a related note, the contest is from Good Housekeeping. The assignment is to write a short fiction piece on the topic they gave and grand prize is $3000 and (possible) publication. Two runners up get, I think, $750 and also (possible) publication.

The topic? "The lives of women today".

??!?!

How the hell does one write a short fiction piece on the lived of women today. An essay perhaps, but a short story? And with such a general topic? *dies* I figure if nothing else I'll rework the bartender piece I wrote for TDM a long time ago and mix it up with some snarky humor and see where it goes. I don't really know much about the lives of women--there are so many of them. Sarcastic bartender outside of her element? I can swing that. Prolly not what they want, and I doubt that out of the myrad of talented writers who will be submitting I'll win, but what the hell.

For others writers reading this, here is the contest infomation: http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/family/real/short-story-contest

Oh damn, the zombie walk was this afternoon. Yet another year that I miss it. Damn damn damn.

On the upside, I've spent tonight watching the first season of Weeds over again and drinking moderately priced Riesling from the bottle. I'm just buzzed enough to want to drink more, but am afraid that if I do I will pass out I'm so exhausted. 12 hours on my feet moving merchandising stuff without a break to sit down the day after dancing all night in four inch heels was not a good idea at all. I lost feeling in my feet around 6pm and I think my lower back is about to mutiny. Thank god Evan's coming home tonight instead of staying over at the resort his reunion is at. I need a massage. Hooray for dating a massage therapist. :P

I think I'm gonna have another drink.

Oh wait, pooh. He can't rub me if I've been drinking. Massages and alcohol are a bad combination. I wish I had thought of that three hours ago. Oops.