| The meme according to beldar. :D |
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| 10:42am 02/10/2007 |
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mood:  drugged
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Copied from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) beldar:
The classic directions for this meme are, "Leave a comment; I give you a letter; You post 10 things you love starting with that letter."
But here's MY instructions:
If you want to play this, your letter is your middle initial; post in your LJ 10 things that you love or are otherwise significant in your life that start with that letter; encourage others to play along; lather, rinse, repeat; have a nice day.
So, um, my letter is L. There are abstract concepts that start with L, such as love and life, but I think I'm going to stray away from those obvious two and try to keep it light and non-philosophical.
Lemons: This is the first food that my mother tried to torment me with. She gave me a lemon wedge off her seafood platter, ready to cackle at the face I made. I made the face. She laughed. I kept on eating the damn thing. My tastes have evolved since then to lemons with salt and straight lemon juice. In my opinion, lemons are just sweet enough and highly misunderstood.
Laughter: Lighten up, y'all. There's fun to be had everywhere.
Lauren: My daughter's middle name, and what we were going to call her full-time until I realized it might cause her some confusion later on. Still, it's a kind of trendy name that she can choose to be called during her sensitive high school years, or whenever she gets tired of Nancy. Eleven years ago on September 26th. I had no idea how my life would change.
Literature: I knew I wanted to be a writer ever since I read The Poky Little Puppy. Roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble. At once I had myself fooled that my taste in literature matured, but hell, that never gets old.
Latrodectus: The scientific name for the family of black widow spiders. I've only seen a couple in my life, being a Hoosier. One was at the Indianapolis Zoo when they had their Creepy Crawly exhibit. The other was at the Eastgate Consumer Mall, outside on one of the verandas. The mall widow was only a brown juvenile with a perfect white hourglass. I've always been fascinated with widows, but if I ever came across one in its natural habitat (or my bed) I would turn into a girl and shriek.
London: The only time I've ever left the country was in 1992, to spend a week in London, England. I wish I remembered more of that trip, actually soaked it in and breathed it, but at the time, I thought I'd be going there every year When I Grew Up. About the only thing that brings it back to me is the smell of diesel exhaust, which was the first smell that caught me dead in the face when we left the airport.
Lilo & Stitch: It was a milestone. When my eldest daughter actually ate a bowl of macaroni and cheese (she's the pickiest damn eater on the planet), we took her to see this as a reward. We have the DVD now, and we still drag it out and watch it repeatedly, even though she hasn't tried a new food since then.
Latin: I took four years of Latin in high school. It's helped me in ways I can't even imagine, expanding my vocabulary and exposing me to the Romans, a culture I wouldn't have held the slightest interest in otherwise. Still, I wonder if I shouldn't have taken Spanish instead.
Luck: You have no idea. Really.
Lost: No, not the show. I have my own sense of direction, and the sense is usually wrong. However, being lost has led me on adventures I never would have had otherwise, ushering me into towns that only have one ancient gas station, and into scenery that I had no idea was so close by. If you don't get lost once in a while, how do you know when you're on the right path? |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| I am wiped. |
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| 01:28am 16/06/2007 |
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mood:  chillax
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Had to go to my parents' place up in Morristown (5 miles away from BFE). Left at 8 this morning. Got home at midnight.
What was I doing? Computer work. See, Pop has Quickbooks. Pop doesn't know how to use Quickbooks. Therefore, I have to balance his checkbook (entering in about six months' worth of statements) on three checking accounts (personal, business, his dad's guardianship).
Best part? His accountant, on doing the taxes this year, somehow managed to fuck up the personal account, gave him the fucked up backup of the fucked up account on a jump drive, told Pop to install the fucked up backup. Pop did.
Result? NINE MONTHS of entries GONE.
So, that's what I got to do today. I got two of the accounts done, and will be working on the business account Sunday (Happy Fathers' Day *sigh*). Tomorrow, I have to put together the digital pictures Pop took of the stuff he did on his dad's house, get them on a single page, and put relevant text beneath them for the benefit of the insurance company who did an estimate and refuses to pay the actual cost of replacing a pile of rotten wood. And A's planning on driving through on her way to Paoli, wanted to know if I can do lunch.
I will drop everything to have lunch with A. I would drive to Paoli to have lunch with A. When your best friend lives 60 miles away, you do not pass up the opportunity.
Anyway, it's a three-day weekend full of... work.
On the upside, my brother works at a nursery. Today, said nursery tossed out a bunch of plants that were slightly wilted thanks to the bone-dry weather. I have no idea what the plants are, but two of the hanging plants like shade, and the giant flowering bush and two trays of flowers like sun. I guess that's the important thing. There's still a ton of plants at Mom's house, so if they're still alive Sunday, I'll probably give the other flowering bush a good home. Our car is just way too small.
Note to self: If you don't have to pee for twelve hours, you're dehydrated. If you don't quit being dehydrated, you'll have to be on dialysis by the time you turn 40. Drink more water. |
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| I'm starting to think... |
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| 11:04am 04/04/2007 |
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mood:  nerdy
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...that I'm the nerdiest nerd that ever nerded.
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works.
It's okay. I understand. | | Gamer/Computer Nerd | | | Science/Math Nerd | | | Drama Nerd | | | Artistic Nerd | | | Musician | | | Social Nerd | | | Anime Nerd | | What Be Your Nerd Type?
Quizzes for MySpace |
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| Been a while. |
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| 05:49pm 17/03/2007 |
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mood:  curious
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The Everything Test There are many different types of tests on the internet today. Personality tests, purity tests, stereotype tests, political tests. But now, there is one test to rule them all. Traditionally, online tests would ask certain questions about your musical tastes or clothing for a stereotype, your experiences for a purity test, or deep questions for a personality test.We're turning that upside down - all the questions affect all the results, and we've got some innovative results too! Enjoy :-) | Personality | You are more logical than emotional, more concerned about others than concerned about self, more atheist than religious, more dependent than loner, more lazy than workaholic, more rebel than traditional, more artistic mind than engineering mind, more idealist than cynical, more leader than follower, and more extroverted than introverted.
As for specific personality traits, you are adventurous (95%), intellectual (73%), artistic (69%), horny (58%). | | | Stereotypes | | White Trash | 77% | | Punk Rock | 73% | | Hippie | 70% | | | | Life Experience | | Sex | 33% | | Substances | 22% | | Travel | 14% | | Politics
Your political views would best be described as Libertarian, whom you agree with around 79% of the time. | | Socioeconomic
Your attitude toward life best associates you with Middle Class. You make more than 0% of those who have taken this test, and 54% less than the U.S. average.
| If your life was a movie, it would be rated PG-13.
By the way, your hottness rank is 55%, hotter than 78% of other test takers. | TAKE THE TEST brought to you by thatsurveysite |
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| Hooray! |
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| 04:58pm 02/11/2006 |
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mood: relieved
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Obnoxious PMS = Cutting my own hair.
I shed like crazy at certain times of the month, and today I got tired of seeing 2+ feet long hairs all over the freaking place. Luckily, I have curly hair, which is resilient and forgiving of female-crazed scissors hacking.
I can still put it up and pull it back, which is the important thing.
Off to write! |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| 04:00pm 22/08/2006 |
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mood:  pissed off
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Fucking goddamn homework. Fuck me. I just terrorized J. What's the number that comes after five? She can't answer. She's the SMARTER of my kids. Fuck fuck fuck. I just sent her to her room for fear of myself, then busted my hand, shoulder, and head on the door.
Suicide is against my philosophy, but I'd pay someone to check me out right now. |
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| 04:17am 07/07/2006 |
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mood:  sick
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Thank you, bronchitis (or something like it) and NyQuil. You saved me a lot of frustration today. Sleeping for twenty hours out of twenty-four is a good way to avoid everything real and imagined.
My house is so untidy, not even Death will come visit. I wonder if Death would be satisfied with a cookie shoved through the mail slot. |
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| An update! Gasp! |
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| 09:14am 26/06/2006 |
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mood: confused
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Yes, I know it's only been about a million years since I updated. Fear not, I still lurk about and comment when I have something to contribute.
The writing is not going, I'm sorry to say, and I don't think I could do anything else. There's no other job where it's actually a requirement to be as full of horseshit as I am (well, there is, but I'm not ready for politics). Anyway, if I could get myself to sit down and write, things would be fine.
I'm pulling myself together, finally, after three weeks of depressive hell. Does anyone besides babies and pregnant women really need sixteen hours of sleep per twenty-four hour period? Probably not.
And now I'm drawing a complete blank. It's like I don't even know what's going on in my own life right now. Ah well. |
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| 09:02am 15/02/2006 |
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mood:  bouncy
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| Guilt | What is yours? | Explain yourself | | Culinary: | Buffalo Strips from Tumbleweed |
Why must I love something that causes me so much pain? The sauce is amazing, and totally worth the heartburn and running nose. |
| Literary: | Weekly World News | Something about those tabloids; maybe it's the splashy headlines (SIAMESE TWINS BORN PREGNANT!). Aw hell, I just love Bat Boy. | | Audiovisual: | Kung Fu Hustle | I am the Fat Landlady, and I kick so much ass just by yelling, it's not even funny. |
| Musical: | Polyphonic Spree | Sure, their lyrics are a little odd, but the music is amazing noise. And if they could bottle their energy, they'd be a lot more popular. It's like watching a big group of kindergarteners on Pixy Stix. |
| Celebrity: | Angelina Jolie | I am not a lesbian. But I'd totally do her. |
I'd tag someone for this, but my brain hurts like a bitch this morning. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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| 12:34am 07/02/2006 |
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mood:  lethargic
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I think I'm going to die of food poisoning someday. Seriously. I have got to pay attention to expiration dates and stuff. I just had a reuben with fat-free Thousand Island dressing. The dressing has been expired for three and a half years, yet I don't notice this until I've consumed half the sandwich. Then I eat the rest of it, because wasting food is a no-no.
This is not the first time, either. There was an incident with fat-free cream cheese, which was a two years over the date. It seems to just be the fat-free stuff, because the fat-free doesn't age the same way, or grow fuzz. So far, the worst I've had is heartburn, but I get that anyway. I really need to clean out the fridge once a week.
On top of this nonsense, I think I have a cold. Nothing to report, except lots of sneezing and sinus drainage.
Edit: I speel gud. |
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Read 4 - Post |
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| TMI, probably. |
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| 01:07am 30/12/2005 |
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mood: content
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Having horrible cramps after a trip to the gynecologist's office for my yearly exam. My gynecologist is popular, I think, because she's the only one in town with a speculum warmer.
Had a blood test to check for thyroid problems (it runs on both sides of the family). Been having hot flashes and night sweats, which I think are ridiculous at my age, but the doc says it's okay and somewhat normal.
She pokes around my abdomen, checking out the organs. This is hilarious to me, because a) I hadn't had any sleep, b) I'm extremely ticklish, and c) I'm trying my damnedest not to fart.
Speculum ahoy. "You'll feel a little bit of pressure," she says. YIKES. "You may bleed a bit after this," she says. Again, YIKES.
It wasn't so bad, but after having a nap and dinner, suddenly I feel like my guts are going to slide out.
Anyway, we talked about depression and the craziness therein (last time I saw her was two years ago), and she asked if I'd taken her referral or gone to Quinco. I'd gone to Quinco, but related the story of having started there in August, making an appointment with the psychiatrist (who couldn't see me until March), March rolls around, and then the psychiatrist wouldn't see me because I wasn't in therapy (I was feeling better and didn't need anyone to sit and nod at me while I railed and ranted and cried in her office). My doc expressed a concern about bipolar again (come to find out, it's actually on both sides of the family and not just Dad's), and so tomorrow, I'm going to call my insurance company and see who's authorized to provide in my area, etc. Hopefully I can get my shit together.
On Prozac: My husband's ex-girlfriend (now a lesbian, his secretary, and a really good friend of ours) gets free Prozac. She gets more Prozac than she can take, and she sandbags the rest. She gave me some to try out. I took two, and gave the bottle back. This is what it does to me: ANXIETY. I have had seriously high anxiety my entire life. I didn't think it was possible to have more anxiety.
"Are you sure you don't want to try it out a little longer?" asks my man. Then he takes another look at me and reconsiders. Because I am sitting perfectly still. And vibrating.
I think I need the opposite of Prozac. I need anti-Prozac. If I could take, say, Tylenol PM for the rest of my life, things would probably be better. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| I don't give a fuck. |
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| 10:12am 15/12/2005 |
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mood:  drained
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I'm running a fever this morning, and I'd like to think that had some small contribution to the strange events that just took place.
To start with, last night, I set the kids' clothes out. I set Bossy's shoes on Bossy's clothes, so that she would know which ones were hers, and Fang's shoes on her clothes. No confusion there. I packed lunch and went to bed.
I woke up this morning, feeling like crap, but everything was under control, as far as I knew. I heard Fang coughing and sighed. They've had drainage lately, congestion, then drainage, then the coughing. The decongestants and cough suppressants make the kids either drugged-out tired or hyperactive, which is something I don't want to put an overworked teacher through.
So I call them in, and get set to relax. I get dressed and put my shoes on. Sitting on the bed, trying to decide what to do first, and Fang walks in. I Stare at her. Not a stare, but the Stare. The "what the hell?" Stare. She's wearing the clothes I set out for Bossy.
Just... no. I'm suddenly having chest pains, and I lie down, trying desperately to figure out where I went wrong. We've been through this so many times before. And if Fang is wearing Bossy's clothes, then Bossy will be wearing Fang's clothes, which are two sizes too small. You'd think she would realize this.
I keep my eyes closed, because I just don't want to see another thing. I really don't. And I walk down the hallway. "Bossy, Fang," I call. I hear them padding up the stairs. "Bossy, give Fang the clothes you're wearing. Fang, give Bossy your clothes."
Two minutes pass, then screaming. They can't do this simple task without fighting. I storm off down the hall. There is more screaming. They haven't noticed me in the doorway yet. They notice me finally, and continue screaming, with fingers pointed.
The only thing I do about this, is the most logical illogical thing. I grab the door and swing it rapidly, slamming it into my own head. They fall silent, and I stagger out of their room and down the hallway, the house spinning around me. I have fought and kept my title as the most insane person in the house.
I hate what I did. I hate what they must think of me. I hate to think what's going to happen when I start to have more bad days than good days. |
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| 09:15am 08/12/2005 |
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mood: drained
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Turned out to be an interesting morning. Getting the kids ready for school, they're in there getting dressed. I hear N coughing. This is not new; she's had a bit of a cold. The next thing I hear is *cough, cough* *SPLAT*.
Apparently, my kids can't wait for me to wake up before they do this sort of thing. In fact, I have to be in some form of semi/unconsciousness for them to hurl at all.
I walk in, tell N to go to the bathroom in case she yaks again. She does, and I start cleaning up. I have a stong stomach, yes, but I also have a strong sense of smell and a strong gag reflex. I realize that I'm too close to the actual effluvium (fruit juice, milk, Rice Chex) and start to high-tail it out of there for some air. N pops up in the doorway. "What are you doing?" she asks. I wave her away, afraid to open my mouth.
Once I get out of the vicinity and into the hallway, I tell N to go back to the bathroom. She does, but not before puking again, a la Stand By Me (only pink instead of purple). Fuck, I just can't win today.
So I go downstairs for some gum. Chewing relieves nausea, strong mint taste/smell, etc. I grab some foaming bathroom cleaner while I'm there and head back upstairs.
"I've never seen it spray like that before," N informs me.
"Me neither," I tell her, and start cleaning up the hallway first.
J is watching me with wide eyes. I know that look. "J, if you're going to barf, go barf downstairs," I tell her. She runs.
I get N some clean clothes, toss them at her, then stare at N's bed. Puddle of vomit. I make sure it's not moving, then I strip the sheets. Oh God, it's warm.
Next on the list today: laundry.
I call the school, and let them know that no one's coming in today. I would take J in (she hasn't puked yet), but I get the feeling I'd be picking her up from Kindergarten again in half an hour, with an admonishment of, "You shouldn't send her in when she's this sick, what kind of parent are you, you stupid ass?"
And, I hear the call of the Whimpering Puker upstairs. Gotta go. |
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Read 2 - Post |
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| Woohoo. |
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| 10:44am 13/10/2005 |
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mood: cheerful
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Sinuses are feeling better today. Sort of. I was confused by my sinus headache since i didn't have any congestion or anything, but apparently the Sudafed is doing its job this morning.
In other news, two of my best buddies from Indianapolis are on Yahoo! chat, which is the best news ever. One of them runs a dog grooming salon, which I think she was born to do.
These two friends have also spawned again since the last time I saw them. |
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| I'm thinking it's about time... |
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| 05:12pm 12/10/2005 |
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mood: sick
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... for an update.
There really is no update, other than I love this weather, but I hate my damn sinuses for not letting me enjoy it. Also, Sudafed is wonderful, but the little red pills often blur the fine line between Good Idea and Bad Idea. For instance, the pressure in my head right now is making me think that trepanning is a Good Idea. And there's a power drill just across the room. Also, a circular saw.
NaNoWriMo is the big project I'm getting myself worked up about right now. I will do it again this year, damnit.
Also, I'm tired of being in debt to the government. My oldest daughter gets SSI because of her disability. Every month, Uncle Sam sends a check. Every month, they send a letter that says, "OMG, we overpaid j00!" It makes my brain hurt. It makes me want to give up SSI altogether. However, if we give it up, then we have to pay the government back in one lump sum out of the whole three hundred dollars we have after bills every month for stuff like food and gas. Actually, I think we may just have them stop with the SSI and let them take their chunk out of our next tax refund. Again, I can't tell if this is a Good Idea or a Bad Idea.
My man met this guy that I think I want to talk to. He's an anti-Semitic, anti-female conspiracy theorist, who believes that the Zionists are controlling everything. He has a gun holster on his walker. Why I want to talk to him, I don't know.
I feel the need to cover the stairs with plastic sheeting so I can slide down them on a snow saucer. I have had a fixation with indoor sledding for months now, and I don't know why.
Off to lie down and tremble violently. |
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Read 4 - Post |
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| 06:28am 25/09/2005 |
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mood: exhausted
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Rate My Bunny. So cute. Dying from the cuteness. Dead. |
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