sometimes it takes all day to say a little
Every time I have gone to start typing today something has taken me away from it. For some reason I am busier this week at work than I usually am. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating some facts.
I am in love with hissyfit. You should check it out.
I won at Trivial Pursuit last night. All hail me. It was only a sweet victory because I was playing with the “Champion,” a friend of mine who rarely loses and when we play on teams he sometimes is his whole team. He only had two pie pieces. I beat the tar out of him. I did not choose to make a big deal out of it last night, but rather wait until my web page entry where I can say Check me out, baby. The world knows you can be defeated. I feel better now.
He’s not even one of those players that make you feel bad for losing. He’s not a gloater or anything– I just make these personal goals and desires that I get a bit obsessive with. I feel better for beating him at this game, knowing full well that this game means nothing to anyone, but somewhere inside I can answer the question, “But can I beat him?” Yes, I can.
It’s sick, I know.
Don’t even challenge me to a game of Sorry!, because I’ll whip up on your card-flippin’ ass.
I hadn’t gotten any mail from my Best Buy credit card lately, so I was getting worried that they messed up my account, so I gave them a call. The post office was returning my letters saying they had the wrong address. They had, they didn’t have an apartment number. What amazes me is this has been going on for two months, and they didn’t try and call me to find out what my address was! They were just going to keep accruing interest and fees and such and wait for me. Unbelievable. Pamie raised holy hell, and got those charges knocked off. It’s not my fault, I’ve been telling them for three months that I moved. You can only beat it into them so many times.
Gosh, I’m volatile today. Like a lit fuse. I don’t know why. I’m not really in a bad mood or anything.
Man, I had the worst headache last night. Kept me up really late. It only hurt when I would lay down, so I was feeling like Rocky Dennis all night, waiting for Cher to come in and pet my head. Of course, my Cher was snoring in the next room, so it wasn’t so much of a warm fuzzy.
My cats are capable of pure evil and malice. This morning I was looking for the script that I am rehearsing with tonight– I was learning lines last night and driving the cats crazy because since no one was home they thought I was yelling at them– and when I finally found the script, I found lots of cat vomit. All over the script. “Yell at me again, bitch,” it might as well have spelled out on the pages.
So today I must re-type the script, as I need it tonight for rehearsal, and your fellow actors do not appreciate yellow stains and fur on your pages.
I have a terrible obsession. I like to burn candles, and once the wick is all the way down and there’s just that piece of metal with a flame on top, I like to see how long I can keep the candle going by melting wax around the flame, moving the metal piece to higher wax ground, putting string in there to simulate a wick, and taking old pieces of metal with small wicks and adding them to the melted wax to try and get the ultimate candle. I cannot stop, lighting wax on fire with matches and digging around with pencils… until a piece of wax flips up and hot wax lands in my eye. Then I’ll stop for about fifteen minutes to nurse my wounds, and then the candle calls me again. I don’t know where it comes from. Part of it is just playing with fire, I guess, keeping the fire going against all odds… the rest of it is knowing I paid nine dollars for that candle and there’s all this perfectly good wax sitting there not burning or contributing to the candle anymore and I don’t think that’s good manufacturing.
Another terrible obsession: popcorn. I can eat popcorn any damn time of the day. I love it. And I worked in a movie theater for a couple of years. No one that has worked in a movie theater still eats popcorn. In fact, most times it makes them gag. But I will pop it and eat it every day, in many varieties. Give me microwave popcorn, lite popcorn, or authentic movie butter popcorn. I make popcorn at my house with a pan and oil. I had a hot air popper, but it was just a waste of air… that’s what the popcorn tasted like. I’ve been known to giggle making Jiffy Pop from having so much fun. I don’t know what it is. The way popcorn sort of melts a little in your mouth… and then in the center it’s crunchy… the salt lingering on your tongue… popcorn. good.
Man, I’m turning into a freak before your very eyes. I can feel myself slipping, just a little.
When I was younger, whenever I had a crush on a boy, I’d write him notes. Not even love notes, just letters telling him what’s going on… blah, blah, blah. And these weren’t your boring, “I’m in third period. I’m bored. How ’bout you? Circle yes or no–” type of letters. It was pretty much what you guys see in these entries… except longer. One friend of mine received a 200 page letter (on a dare that he said I couldn’t write one), he got it in three days. Another friend of mine was sure I couldn’t beat that record… three days later he had a 205 page letter. I would fill up notebooks with my thoughts to keep them entertained throughout the boring school day. It also kept me busy during tedious classes. If you’re looking to impress someone, nothing leaves an impression better than a stalkeresque ramble and rant about how the cafeteria sucks and “my parents aren’t home tonight by the way I love you.” Just reels the boys in, let me tell you. So I wrote a lot when I was younger, and I still wonder what was in those long notes I gave to random boys throughout the years. Do they still have them (as I know 200 page and 205 page boys have theirs (they kept in touch… like I said, it leaves an impression)), or did they throw them away with all the other love notes they got throughout their lives? Even if they did, I made a few boys more literate than they normally would have been… and that makes a difference, I guess.
So, due to work being so busy, it has taken me all day to make this entry, and I’m sure it’s just as scattered in thought as I think it is.
But I guess that’s fine, as I’m feeling pretty scattered myself. Gotta fix the cat vomit script.