What is it with cats and boxes?

Crisis averted re: the last blog. Hopefully my quick attention to the matter will override any ill impressions made.

So nice outside. Too bad a large chunk of today will be spent on The Bus going to The Store to buy The Cat

Food.

Ooops. Figures that would happen that way.

New pillows! Now I won't wake up every morning with my bed looking like I've massacred a goose.

I've got a new drawering on my arm. But it's not washing off anytime soon. Thanks Sara! (and Ren, but I didn't have to use yours this time...)

I could really use some dental insurance. And to win the lottery.

That is all.

God's way of telling me to just give up.

Why is it always something? Why can't things go smoothly for me just once? I've done everything I was supposed to do. It's the parts that are mostly out of my control that may just be the wrench in the gears. In short, I might have just gotten F'ed in the A.

Do I cry? Get so hammered I don't think about it? Or just not give a shit about anything anymore? All three fit but I can't decide.

All I know is that I am fucking freaking out right now.

Too far gone?

I couldn't see how this could be a good idea. But I thought I'd give it a shot. It did seem like too much too fast. A little over a week later, I'm already feeling the damage. I must take a few steps back, or everything I've worked for over the past 6 months will go out the window.

Writer's Block

Well, not that I've ever fancied myself any sort of writer. As a matter of fact, I usually only write things when I'm required to do so by some outside force. I'll get to that in a minute. I'm not creative. Or insightful. I blather along, spewing out in readable form the mental diarrhea that occurs every few days. The only reason people read these blogs (not just mine, but blogs in general. At least blogs in general like mine...) is because humans are voyeuristic creatures, and the online/public journal allows them to 'peek in the windows' in a way. Without being labeled a creep, since the invitation to peek is openly extended and the action encouraged. Instead of being a Peeping Tom, you're simply an Audience Member. I am just as 'guilty' (that word doesn't really fit since there can't be guilt involved in an activity that isn't wrong) as the next guy of this type of voyeurism. I enjoy reading even the most mundane of blogs, even those belonging to people I don't know. I can spend hours looking at other peoples' online photo albums. If someone were to invite me into their house just to have a look around, I might take them up on the offer (unless they seemed like the type to toss me down the basement stairs, etc. etc. etc... I try to stay away from those people).

But, my point here is that the online/public journal, blog, whatever, is a SPECTACULAR form of procrastination. I can put off so many things I need to be getting done by either reading or writing these things. And that is what I am doing right now. And now. Yup, still doing it.

The outside force causing me to write something (not this blog, procrastination has caused me to write this, the devil) is Athens Technical College. More specifically, my chosen program of study is responsible. They have two rounds of admissions, and for the second round, I'm required to write a 500 word personal statement detailing my understanding of the job I may have in the future, my previous experience in this field, and why it is I've decided to study this and take this career path. It's a bullshit essay. And it's been so long since I've written something like this, I can't figure out how to start. I need to mail it off to them on Thursday, though, so I guess I better get on it. Blech. Wish me luck.  

My New Career Objective

Goodbye Grill, Hello...

I mean, shit. I have thousands of these things right? And it's no big secret that I sure as hell aren't using them. May as well get paid.



Because you know the eggs of a 5' tall, 26-yr-old pot-smoking alcoholic with only slightly above-average intelligence, a family history of depression and cancer and fuck-upery, and no marketable skills have to be worth a CRAPLOAD!!

poop on a stick

Today at work, my manager was required to confront a customer and ask him "Sir, did you just call your server a bonehead?". This was after said customer had already shown his ass to both me and the manager for no good reason, other than perhaps having some sort of twisted sense of superiority.

    I inadvertantly brought him a fork that hadn't come quite clean in the wash, and rather than just ask me for a clean fork like normal people do, he proceeds to act like a complete jerk in front of his two kids. He basically had the adult equivalent of a temper-tantrum. This culminates in him calling me a bonehead, and me going to the manager and saying that I'm done with them. Mr. Bossman decides to go chat with him (he'd already witnessed a big chunk of this dude's theatrics, and knew that he was of the unreasonable persuasion) and inform him that he is not entitled to go around calling the staff members names. The guy didn't think there was anything wrong with acting like this. Meanwhile, all the other tables around him are staring because yeah, it's pretty funny. The manager tells him to cool it, so Captain Douchebag calls him a bonehead. So the manager tells him to get out. CD responds by calling him a jackass. Stand-up guy, this one was. I hope his kids learn better habits from their mom. I also hope he's embarrassed for getting kicked out of a restaurant for being a dick at 10am. And most of all, I hope that while we were all laughing at him all day, he's been at home stewing over his tainted fork. And that he's still pissed off about it later on tonight when I'm getting dinner and drinking a beer. One thing's for sure; I'd rather be a bonehead than a raging asshole.


I watched the Twilight Criterium yesterday. I didn't really plan on going this year, and only went to watch a particular person race, but once I was there I remembered how neat it is to watch. There was a huge crash at the second turn pretty far into the race. About 70 cyclists went down, and I believe they just had to sort of start over. When the race ended, there was a lot of controversy over who had won.

That particular person is once again trying to become my friend again, even though I've made it very clear why it's just not in the cards right now, even fairly recently. I still am not sure how I feel about this. We've gone a long time without really speaking outside of work, and I was finally healing. But now he's calling me and asking me to hang out and such again. I don't want to reverse what has taken me so long to get past. I don't know what his intentions are, but I am wary of going there again, even as just friends.

But now, I bowl.

floating upon the surface for the birds

I am supposed to be going to Gainesville today for a rehearsal. But the woman I am riding with has not returned my calls, and she was not at CCB rehearsal on Tuesday. So I guess I took a day off work for nothing.

Why is it that the only people (read: guys) who show an interest in me are people with whom I have absolutely NOTHING in common? Which therefore makes me not interested. Plus I suck at the whole flirting/hanging out/dating/whatever thing anyway, so when this situation pops up I tend to just sort of ignore it and hope it goes away. I also tend to never show my own interest in someone (read: a guy), which apparently has caused a lot of people who don't really know me to assume I'm a lesbian. NEWSFLASH: Erin likes guys.

No matter... MySpace advertisements to the rescue! This was the ad posted on my page when I logged in today:

Notice the location...  So that's where all the hot, rich young men have been hiding out!

My backyard is reaching jungle-like proportions. A few weeks ago, I went out there and collected all the dead branches that had fallen from my nasty-ass pecan tree (I hate those things. They aren't pretty and they drop shit constantly whether it be leaves or that stringy crap that gets stuck in your hair or actual pecans or then later the pecan pod thingys and then most of the branches... it never ends) and made a nice little pile of dead wood up against my back fence. First, I thought it would save the landlord a little time when he showed up to mow the yard; second, I want to get one of those firebowl things (because I'm afraid the landlord will freak if I just make a firepit in the yard) and figured that I'd just burn up the branches some nice night. Well, I get home the other day and notice the gate is open. The yard is still knee-high, but all my branches are gone! Duder took my sticks. And didn't cut the grass. Jerk.