In which it works!

I used to use Gallery rather than Flickr, then shit happpened, and I started using Flickr. But now! Finally! Gallery is back up on the box! (I’m still importing old albums, so the content will increase as time goes by.)

In which I’m entirely too old for this meme, but wtf.

[PREP]
[ ] You’ve been to a tanning salon.
[ ] You watch The OC and/or Laguna Beach/ The Hills.
[x] You own a cell phone
[ ] You own something designer.
[ ] You love going to the mall.
[x] You take your cellphone everywhere.
[x] You own an iPod and/or an MP3 player.
[x] You love Starbucks.
[ ] You love flip flops.
Total x’s= 4

[GOTH]
[ ] Red or black is one of your favorite colors.
[ ] You have thought about death.
[ ] You wear chains.
[ ] You like heavy metal.
[ ] You love/ like Hot Topic.
[ ] You have worn black lipstick.
[ ] Your hair is dark.
[ ] You dislike preps.
[ ] You’re an atheist.
[x] You have/Want piercings in unusual places?
Total x’s= 1

Continue reading Nerd. Emo. Prep. But Mostly Nerd. →

In which my head is like a sieve.

I applied a new template today. I like it. I’d gotten sick of the last one, because I have a short attention span.

I think I’m almost caught up on my blogroll. Having sketchy connectivity got me way behind. (If I haven’t been reading you lately, I’m sorry and I’ll try to be better, my babies!)

I’m missing having a real kitchen. Eating out and grilling, while fun, are hard on a vegetarian. (Er, mostly vegetarian. I eat fish under duress, and there’s been a lot of that lately.) I miss meals with side dishes. I miss spinach. I miss being able to cook what I want to eat, instead of having to find something on the Denny’s menu that isn’t pork.

I think I need to buy some vitamins or something.

I can’t think of anything clever to write. I think of clever things all day, but when I go to write them down they’ve fallen out of my head.

I intend to start every paragraph with “I”.

I want to go swimming and lie in the sun, but it’s become overcast and breezy outside.

I’ve been sending random pics to my Flickr account, though, so you can go see for yourself how exciting life in Indianapolis is for an office chick living in a motel.

In which I hate my period, and the best part about marriage is having to share everything. Plus: grandmas are always right.

(Yesterday I was bitching to BoSe that the worst part of being married is having to share everything: cigarettes, food, cash. The bed. It’s a pain in the ass. But then…)

It’s a damn good thing I’m not a 12-year-old girl, or I’d be dead of embarassment.

In my old age I’m now systematically living through all of those nightmare period horrors you think about when you’re 12 (for my male readers: the fear of being caught bleeding is probably roughly equivalent to being called up to the board sporting a huge boner). For instance, a couple of years ago I bled through onto someone’s couch. During a fucking football game, surrounded by dudes. Yay.

And just last night I bled all over the hotel sheets and mattress. When I woke up this morning I enjoyed roughly 4.2 seconds of drowsy morning comfort, and then I realized I was basically lying in a puddle of blood and I became instantly, horribly, fully awake.

I jumped up, arranged the bedding artfully to hide the giant red splotch, and took myself to the bathroom to deal with my own cleanliness issues. I stripped and showered, and Bread came in.

“What are you doing!” I snapped. God damn it, can’t I have any fucking privacy? EVER?

“Using the bathroom,” he replied, frowning at me.

I twitched the shower curtain closed and completed my rinse. Okay, he’s gotta pee. I’m in the shower. He’s hardly trying to invade my fucking space. In a more reasonable voice, I asked, “You want to use the shower?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” he replied.

“I gotta get out now,” I said.

“Okay,” he said.

I suppose I could have waited 45 more seconds so he could finish up and get in, but I was in a hurry to clean the huge stain off the hotel’s white mattress. I turned the water off and hopped out.

I explained to Bread why I was freaking. “I bled all over everywhere last night,” I told him as I was dressing. “Myself, my clothes, the bedding, the mattress. I bleed like a stuck pig.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Then: “You’re wearing frog underwear.”

I looked down. Yup. White panties with green frogs all over them. “One can’t take this bleeding-to-death shit seriously,” I told him.

Then I picked up my jammies from the floor, getting ready to leave the bathroom, and the bundle fell open. I sighed and showed Bread the giant stain all over my flannel pants.

“Damn, baby,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to go through all this.”

And there you have it: I showed a boy the blood all over my jammies – the quintessence of embarassment, yeah? – and he not only didn’t make fun of me, he made me feel better.

In other news, I got some detergent and kleenex and a small glass of water, sat down on the mattress, and I did the blot-with-soap-and-then-with-cold-water cleaning thing your grandma taught you about. And it totally worked! Grandmas are geniuses. Thank God I had a container of laundry detergent with me because I don’t know if shampoo would have worked as well.

The moral: I hate my fucking period. And I have every one of these symptoms.

In which my ass is asleep.

After sitting on my ass in the big black truck for 6 hours and 40 minutes, I find that my ass is asleep. Mmm, yoga.

But we’re here, and we have a sweet suite with a king-sized bed, a couch bed, and a spa tub. And it’s right next to the pool, and there’s a little ‘yard’ right outside our door where we’ll be grilling because we don’t want to eat drive-thru for a month and Bread brought — I shit you not — a gas fucking grill.

It quite rocks, verily.

So Bread and Bowling Jesus are standing in the doorway. Bread says, “What took you guys so long to get here? We left Mi-T-Mart at five.”

“Well,” Truck answers, “first, we got stuck on a draw bridge…”

Update 2:21 am: There’s a White Castle right at the edge of the parking lot. I’ve heard of them, of course, but never eaten at one in my life. Bread and BoSe walked over and came back with more condiments than God and three bags of Slyders. I had a fish sandwich (I eat fish when I’m starving and there’s no other option. Or if it’s sushi, of course). It was… square. And little. And square. And one and a half sides of fries. And two Beam and Cokes because Truck and Bowling Jesus showed up with cocktails because they’re superior.

In which better late than never.

I watched the season finale of Dr Who last night. I know it’s been on my TiVo for awhile, but whatever. The point is, HOW HOT WAS THAT EPISODE?! “Rose, you were fantastic. And so was I.”

And the new Doctor? Cute!

In which I’m alone!

Bread went to Iowa City with BoSe to visit Best Buy (for electronics) and Paul’s Discount (for clothes) and I am alone in the house for several hours! I’m so excited!

So naturally I’m using the time to surf, do laundry, and scrub the bathroom.

But still!

In other news, they want six hundred clams to fix the truck. Christ on a crutch, y’all.

In which we pull another all-nighter! Egad!

After the class on Saturday, we went to BoSe’s house and lounged around. For hours. And hours. And hours. I surfed. Finally I got Luna settled as a pillow and Kaia settled as a footwarmer and the guys suddenly wanted to leave.

We went to the Dead Cock and ate — upstairs and everything — and then went back downstairs for Rockstar’s gig. I waited and waited and waited for Raybo; she finally showed up sometime after eleven. I also hung out a little with Gorgeous and AmmZon and and an unusually gregarious Ya.

I danced. I drank. I sat in with the band and sang. I drank water. It was super fun.

The bar closed at two, Ray had afterhours again because she’s cool and she has a big old house. We stayed up til four, then I passed out suddenly and unceremoniously on the basement bed. I remember Bread snuggling in with me…

…and Bread woke me up at ten-something, mumbled those words: “Gotta let the dogs out.” We walked to his truck, hit the store for breakfast ingredients, texted everyone we knew, and drove home.

I made sausage & gravy for Bread and BoSe; White Trash Breakfast From Hell for me. Bloody marys. By two I was passed out in bed.

Right now I’m blogging from the 2nd Street coffee house on our new laptop, which I adore and love. (Yes, I’m fucking dork. Yes, this is the second entry in a row with a stupid cell phone shot of my laptop. Yes, I know I’m a corndog.) NLW came and bought me breakfast and everything; Bread’s off seeing if anyone can fix his damn truck for him, then he’s having lunch with BoSe.

We found someone to house- and dog-sit for us while we’re gone and man is that a relief.

Now all we have left to do is clean house, stock up on pet food, pack, and get the hell outta Dodge. Oh, and I have to finish paying bills. And we have to get Indy cell phones ’cause our carrier doesn’t work there. Whee!