God, I’m annoying.

First of all, oh man. I don’t know if you’ve already seen the new button on the sidebar, but just in case you haven’t, and just in case haven’t heard me bitching and moaning and just in case you haven’t been one of the ones asking me about it:

The Squishy Store is open for businessGod, I hope everything works.

And thanks to Ray for being a good sport and being my t-shirt model. For all of you out there that write me letters of love for Ray, it’s practically a Ray porno in those pages.

Well, at least now you’ll go and look, right?

I’m tired. It’s very late and I’m not going to sleep anytime soon. I just can’t. I did it to myself, and here I am, at almost two in the morning and I’m not done and I’m not going to be done and I have a full day of crap tomorrow that makes it so I have to stay up late tonight finishing things.

So, tonight I stayed up finishing the store and now writing this entry and then I have to finish my Popstars recap and then I have to get up early tomorrow morning to cram the last information in for my driver’s test.

And they’re going to take my Texas ID, so basically I’m a sucky-ass homebody for the next few weeks. People, that includes my birthday. I’m going to have to have people buy me cigarettes and beer and I can’t get into any clubs and I’m going to hate life for a few weeks. But I assume I’ll get massive amounts of work done. I always assume that. Right now there are three projects that seriously need to be finished that I haven’t finished, and instead I sign on to do new projects, always moaning that I haven’t finished the last ones yet. I think I’m just terrified to run out of work to do. I like to always have something I haven’t finished.

So today, instead of finishing things, I went to the grocery store. These days I only go to the grocery store when the cats need food. That seems to be how I know that it must be time for me to buy food. And I swear I got home tonight, opened the fridge and thought, “I have nothing to eat.” What is wrong with me? I buy meals and juice and salads and healthy things and all I wanted to do was stop at Burger King on my way home after class. I’m fifteen.

I’ve been feeling like my work monopolizes the living room, so I have a tv and a vcr in my bedroom and moved an internet connection down here. It looks like I have a fort in my bedroom. I sit on my bed writing all afternoon and the cats are lazy and I end up just wanting to nap. I probably won’t keep this as a workspace. As a rule I like to leave the bedroom for only things that have to do with a bedroom. But having a roommate makes you want some of your own space. But I’m not enjoying the current smell in my bedroom and I think it’s because me and two cats are hanging out here all day and night. I need the living room back.

I’m also concerned about something else. I was thinking of it today as I drove my car (the last time it’ll be a Texas car). I was thinking about my terrible sense of hearing. I really do have bad ears. I blame my dad, who also has some bad ears.

I have a hard time with competing noise. If I’m in a noisy restaurant, I’ll sometimes have a hard time hearing the person I’m talking to.

And I do this thing I hate. I do it every single time and I can’t stop myself and I wish I didn’t do it and I hate it about myself so much. When I don’t hear what someone just said to me, I instantly go:


All loud and obnoxious.


Like I’m eighty-six years old. I think I squint and my mouth opens, too. Just to add to the sex appeal.


Or sometimes it’s an, “Eh?” I’ll catch myself sometimes and say, “I’m sorry?” But I find myself making up new ways to ask the question “What did you just say?” because my damn sense of hearing is so bad that I have a third of the things said to me in a given day repeated. Sometimes more than once.

And I’ll just be totally honest here. There are some people in my life that I’ve never heard a word they’ve said on the first try. I’m pretty good at reading lips, so that helps. And sometimes I’ll just assume what they’re saying.

God, I did it tonight, too. I thought I saw a comic outside class that did a hysterical show on Comedy Central I saw recently. My friend and I debated for a while and then decided it was him. So I wanted to tell him that he did a great job in his show. I went up and asked if his last name was the same as the comic in question.

He mumbled something.


And he’s all backing up going, “No, that’s not me. I’ve never done a show for Comedy Central. Get away from me, Scary Lady.”

He didn’t have to say the last sentence. I heard it. And my friend and I then pretended to see Will Smith walking down Hollywood so that the guy didn’t feel special anymore.

It’s just too loud. “Huh?” And it comes out of my mouth before I can stop it and I hate it and I just wish I could be all, “Andrew, please speak just a tad louder. Mommy’s not using her good ears today.”

But I’m all, “HUH?” And sometimes people shout it right back because it’s obnoxious. “HUH?” And I feel so dumb when that happens.

But I’d do it to them if they sounded like I do when I can’t hear something. It makes me sound like I’ve lost all sense of dignity.


I might as well start calling people Sonny Boy.

Oh, man. I’m still only twenty-five. Hey, now that I live in Hollywood, I’m pretty sure there’s a service I can pay for that keeps me legally twenty-five for ten years, right? I’m gonna go find that.

So buy a shirt today and contribute to the Pamie’s the Youngest Deaf Girl We Know fund. You might just make a difference on this awkward dorky non-celeb girl.

My new Gilmore Girls recap is up.

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