ok i took a brief hiatus…

from many things, including but not limited to:

thinking, yr mother, personal time, being myself, writing, etc. etc. etc.

anyhow, i am partly back.
planning a move across the country with every plan i make falling through has taken it’s toll on me, but good. it’s been so effective, i have, in fact, lost pretty much all of my friends here. and that’s fine, because i think it’s what they wanted anyhow. i will reconnect and sew things up after i move, because there is no reasoning with  anything in this current state anyhow. the only thing i can do is pack up what’s left of my life and move on. especially since i will be essentially homeless as of july 1st. oh, pleasantries. 

i have, in my ridiculous working hours, managed to make appx three or four new friends, all of which have been absolutely fantastic to me. i will miss them. however, they’re all reasonable and know that people come and go and that’s just what has to happen, and you can’t put your life on hold just because it’s going to make people angry.

anyhow, my mother fully supports this move. i know it’s the right thing.

things that must be done before i leave:
-80s night
-starving artist vegetarian dinner
-help move typh back to school
-bloomfield bar crawl with capacola
-hurried packing that must commence by this sunday (three days eeeeeeeeeep!)
-many gluuteny brownies and oh yeah! ice cream servings

if you’d like to hang out anytime this july i’m all done working at the office, and i’m just waitressing full time now. also, you can find me in mt. washington aka my temporary home. 

this is AWESOME.

i never thought about that, but it’s totally a good point.

july, july, july

goodbye, pennsylvania.

i’m a [search] engine driver

i am curious as to why my blog is getting hits from search engines searching “cheese dick.” SRSLY. 

ew ew ew ew ew. ew.

           

well.

i date this boy now. a third of the world hates me, a third is happy, and a third is pretty much indifferent.  i am not sorry. 

tibet! tibet!

at least she has an opinion she’s not going to shut up about. more people should do shit like this, who cares if it makes a whole country mad?

oh, DADDY

single. and the only result i’ve seen is me taking up a rather bad habit of picking at my cuticles at work with a thumb tack. so far i’ve gotten away with a lack of cuts and minor stabs, but i was thinking about it and it was really grossing me out. this probably needs to stop.

and ok, it’s not the only result i’ve seen.

it’s been about a month and a half, two months and i’ve realized the following things:

• i am a flirt.
• there was a good reason ashley used to call me a makeout slut. i really, really enjoy it. and it’s even more fun to do when i know i shouldn’t be making out with that person and he is totally enjoying picking me up and pinning me to the wall. this could lead to bad news.
• i worry about the weirdest things. i.e. i worry my involuntary breathing actions will cease in the night and i’ll die, or that i’ve had to much to drink and my heart with just stop working, or that maga will get really mad at me for having other cats in the house and scratch my eye out and eye juice seriously grosses me out.
• i don’t care how many times justin told me i was selfish or a bad person. i have news for you: i’ve been asking you to take your shit home since BEFORE we broke up, and guess what? it’s still in my house. after asking you for months to remove it from my apartment, you never did it, and i ended up packing it all up and moving it with me to my new house. mind you, you left a ton of shit. instead of throwing it out (which, it would have given me great joy to throw your stuff on the curb and watch it rain and dogs piss on it) or selling it (which also would have been wonderful, i could have sold your shit and then reaped the drunken benefits after buying drinks with the profit) i have decided to take it to your friend, who i’ve realized is a really good person, the more i talk to her. you’re too afraid to come get your shit unless you have a sidekick? ok, i will not give you the pleasure of informing you of my new fucking fantastic address BYE.
• and the short attention span i thought i had? still there.
• lastly, whenever someone asks me “what is your type?” i never knew what to say. i didn’t think i had a physical “type.” WELL turns out i do. i thoroughly enjoy boys that are generally close to or above 6 feet tall, with dark brown or black hair and dark or blue eyes and a fucking fantastic smile. blonde guys just aren’t doing it for me. if you are emo and dye your hair black, you will not do it for me either. long hair doesn’t do it for me. facial hair can go either way, however if you have a soul patch, you will not do it for me and i will also laugh at you. and having just a moustache is creepy, i will tell you you belong on svu with my boyfriend christopher maloney.

in other news:

guys, some pillow talk is alright. mister x-rated chatterbox while i am messing around with you is awkward, and you are doing nothing but distracting me and i will not want to mess around anymore because my mind will be totally fixated on not laughing at you.

do not ask me to call you daddy. i will tell you right now, that my father is the last person i want to think of while i am trying to avoid the hickey you’re in the process of giving me.

do not ask me how badly i want it. seriously, you may have had a chance of me telling you before, but once that key phrase comes flying out of your mouth, my mind is not on how badly i want it, it’s on wondering if you’re serious and then realizing that yes, you are very serious. i might chuckle. if this happens, it means we’re pretty much done messing around. SRY.

also, there is a cute ups guy and a cute fed ex guy that delivers packages to us. there is also this one really charming fed ex guy. not so cute, but kind of cute. i like it when these guys come by, they already know my name.

tattoo?

i’m thinking of getting a few small tattoos, placed undecidedly around my body. probably concentrating on the areas of the palm side of my hands, in between my fingers, and on said toe (gross, kind of.) i need to pick out the celtic viking runes i like, and find then decide if i want to place them separately or if i want to connect them in the compass style. i also want a small star. and i’m also contemplating getting “ekki dæma bók af kilinum” done really small somewhere (it means don’t judge a book by its cover, in icelandic of course. i’ll want to double check that.) probably on the side of my wrist under my thumb. perhaps these will be my birthday presents to myself. anyhow. i need advice on a good place to go, and someone to come with me. 

wtf restaurant doesn’t have broccoli in it’s kitchen?

last night ryan and i went to dave & buster’s for a really fun night out for chelsea’s birthday. eating out at places like this makes me sad i’m vegetarian, because the only vegetarian things on the menu (besides a garden salad and fries) were the garden burger and artichoke dip. don’t get me wrong, spinach/artichoke dip is fucking good, but i can’t digest it due to a heavy lactose intolerance.<>

in any case i decide that one of the pasta dishes would be really good if i could substitute the chicken for broccoli. NOPE. they don’t even have any broccoli in the kitchen.

wtf restaurant doesn’t have broccoli in it’s kitchen?

either way, i hit that stupid storm chaser jackpot 3 or 4 times, giving us enough tickets to get two martini shakers + shot glasses. they’re pretty cute. the bartender there was a jerk. aaaaaaaaaaand i miss chelsea a lot but she’ll be over my house friiiidayyy <3