alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

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Deeply Moved But Moving On

Miami Sound Machine \m/!!!



My interview with Nil today was cancelled because Nil is sick. I think she's stalling because she doesn't want to put me on the payroll until August because that's when the position actually opens, but whatever. I'm glad. I wasn't able to get to sleep until around 4.30, and after that I was still a bundle of nerves and nightmares, insult added to injury when I bore witness to and old pattern. My roommate's alarm woke me up. The downstairs roommate. Say hello to one of the lightest sleepers in the world. Guess I didn't have enough booze to sleep. I might have to try being ultra glam and begin an addiction to sleeping pills.

So the insomnia and stress coupled with any sort of responsibility begins. I despise office jobs, and though retail pays shit it is a lot better for me because I have the option of working nights and distracting myself from the corporate values of it all by fucking around with the customers.

I stole this from Sylvia but it made me laugh so now I share it with you:



BEEF IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER M'KAY?

Now you caption it.

My mother is obsessed with The Real World, and last night I trekked to her house to pick up some clothes for the interview. She was watching some behind the scenes special, and when it comes to television, you put me in front of one, it doesn't matter what is on (cooking shows, reality tv, commercials, Sinbad cowboy movies on mute, old people), I cannot break away from it and I can't hear what anyone else is saying to me, and I can't talk. It is evil.

Anyway, so she's watching this thing, and the Southern girl is on there really drunk and they're telling her to yell at boats, giving her all these dirty things to say. Then one of them proposes that she come up with the dirtiest thing she can think of to yell at the passing boat (their house was right by some marina) so she yells, "EAT A FART!"

What the fuck? Eat a fart? Granted, that is dirty, but who thinks of that besides an 8-year-old boy? I know me and Sophie aren't much better, with 'eat a fat bag of dicks' or 'do you guys sell poop?'... but really. Even the word 'fart' is just so... so... a word for little boys only.

Craig with a peg leg who begs to drink the last dregs of kegs, eats eggs, works at Kragen, and drives and Integra... is my friend. He hates it when I call him Billy.

When my roommates were all home yesterday, I heard my favourite thing being put on, so I went downstairs to watch it with them, and after it was over, I heard them singing 'maya hee, maya ha' for the next two or so hours. Oh god, it ruled. Then they cut up a pineapple and gave me some. It was so good. I don't know if I have ever had a fresh pineapple that wasn't from a can, but it was delicious. I got my hands all sticky and as I was watching this Sinbad cowboy movie on TV on mute, I realised that they have probably never seen me eat before, except Tom who I think once saw me eat spaghetti. It made me feel like Patsy from Ab Fab. They kept trying to get me to take more of it to eat, but I felt too weird. They have cable downstairs and I want to watch Ab Fab at home because I can but unfortunately I don't understand how to work the remote because it's digital cable.

The frugal gourmet died recently and that makes me sad. I used to watch him and Bob Ross all the time when I was little. They both have beards, so does my dad, and so did Jim... maybe that's why I always feel so safe around people with beards. They're all comfortable and soothing and can paint and know how to make good food for cheap. I still hate rice, though.

Not looking forward to this weekend. I have to go to a wedding. Granted I have a nice dress and elbow length satin gloves, but just playing dress up won't do. I plan on getting shit-faced at the reception to teach them not to invite me places anymore. I hate weddings, I hate the bride, I hate the groom, I hate the stupid toasts and traditions and throwing the bouquet and all of that horse manure. If god forbid I ever do get married, I'm not paying more than $150 for my dress, it will be blacklit indoors with a rave theme, my fucking garter will be made of beads and my bouquet will be blow-pops. All of my bridesmaids will wear fluorescent hoop earrings and I want Glenn to perform the ceremony, as he is a fellow ULC reverend.

Do you have a car? Did you name it? What is your car's name?

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