I could write a nice memorial entry for my grandpa (on a softcore porn site, which I know he'd appreciate) or I could talk about how everything going on affects everyone else I care about.. but for a nice change of pace (TASTE the sarcasm, bitch) let's talk about ME for once. let's totally completely fuckingly martyrize ME.
Monday: grandpa dies.
Tuesday: I receive offensive comment from sculpture professor, spend remainder of day crying my melodramatic little ass off.
Wednesday: I crash my mom's car (and everyone I know drives by, looking concerned, and I don't have my driver's license on me so I get a ticket, and I fuck up the fender such that the wheel makes a terrible sound when you turn, and I'm not sure how much this is all going to cost me but it's most likely upwards of $500 yay!) and on my way home, my supervisor from the library calls me, all pissed off and asking me if I'm going to be missing work again. why yes, yes I am, because you see, my whole fucking life is about three times as silly as dorkoff library patrons who forgot their card or want to argue with me for twenty minutes about how they suddenly owe sixty whole motherfucking cents they don't want to pay. no ma'am, I'm not dealing with that shit tonight.
Thursday: the funeral. giggling in church with my big brother (talking about going up to communion: priest says "the body of Christ" and I think I should ask, "is this kosher?" or say, "sorry, I'm a vegetarian.") in the eulogy given by my eldest cousin, I notice that nothing about who Grandpa was is discussed, but what he did. great line: "I was asking around for funny stories about Grandpa Ed, but nobody really had any. so finally, I went to my grandma and asked her for some funny stories, and she assured me that there weren't any." later, we have an early Thanksgiving at my aunt's since everyone's in town for once, and I eat some turkey. and it is all kinds of wrong. I watch Dazed and Confused with a handful of my cousins, and it feels like normal family shit once more. good times.
Thursday night: I finally begin the paper that is due Friday morning, an appreciation of "Vesti la Giubba," a famous aria from the opera Pagliacci. Mark calls, I take a break and talk with him for a while. after getting off the phone, I lie absolutely motionless for twenty minutes because I am so sad and tired. upon my triumphant return to the computer, blahblahblah has happened, so I drink a mint mocha frappuccino to keep myself awake. immediately following this, I fall asleep. I wake up an hour later and am too tired to continue with my paper, so I go down to bed. as soon as I set foot in my room, I step on something. I still don't know what. a thumbtack, a needle? whatever it is, it makes me bleed horrifying amounts of blood. huge drops of it all over my carpet and my new blue pajama pants. I can't find anything embedded in my foot, but it hurts a lot.
Friday: I wake up at 6:00 to finish the paper that is due at 8:00. I finish, and it is the worst thing I have written, by far, by far. I have, however, ceased to care. it hurts to walk, so I look at my foot before leaving for school. a pinprick is definitely visible, but there is also some darkness shooting out of it, kind of looking like a vein. this afternoon the darkness has gotten worse, like some absolutely unbelievable bruise is forming deep below the surface of my skin.
I don't really want to think about it.
a truly weird week.
today Mark said, you know bad luck is supposed to occur in threes, but you're on like number 16 now, so you should just say fuck it and do whatever.
[edit as of11/16/06: BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP]
excuse the excessively long and whiny entries of late. I will say something witty and seductive as soon as it comes to me.
"uh, I don't eat the Christ-meat."
okay, there it is.
bye.
Monday: grandpa dies.
Tuesday: I receive offensive comment from sculpture professor, spend remainder of day crying my melodramatic little ass off.
Wednesday: I crash my mom's car (and everyone I know drives by, looking concerned, and I don't have my driver's license on me so I get a ticket, and I fuck up the fender such that the wheel makes a terrible sound when you turn, and I'm not sure how much this is all going to cost me but it's most likely upwards of $500 yay!) and on my way home, my supervisor from the library calls me, all pissed off and asking me if I'm going to be missing work again. why yes, yes I am, because you see, my whole fucking life is about three times as silly as dorkoff library patrons who forgot their card or want to argue with me for twenty minutes about how they suddenly owe sixty whole motherfucking cents they don't want to pay. no ma'am, I'm not dealing with that shit tonight.
Thursday: the funeral. giggling in church with my big brother (talking about going up to communion: priest says "the body of Christ" and I think I should ask, "is this kosher?" or say, "sorry, I'm a vegetarian.") in the eulogy given by my eldest cousin, I notice that nothing about who Grandpa was is discussed, but what he did. great line: "I was asking around for funny stories about Grandpa Ed, but nobody really had any. so finally, I went to my grandma and asked her for some funny stories, and she assured me that there weren't any." later, we have an early Thanksgiving at my aunt's since everyone's in town for once, and I eat some turkey. and it is all kinds of wrong. I watch Dazed and Confused with a handful of my cousins, and it feels like normal family shit once more. good times.
Thursday night: I finally begin the paper that is due Friday morning, an appreciation of "Vesti la Giubba," a famous aria from the opera Pagliacci. Mark calls, I take a break and talk with him for a while. after getting off the phone, I lie absolutely motionless for twenty minutes because I am so sad and tired. upon my triumphant return to the computer, blahblahblah has happened, so I drink a mint mocha frappuccino to keep myself awake. immediately following this, I fall asleep. I wake up an hour later and am too tired to continue with my paper, so I go down to bed. as soon as I set foot in my room, I step on something. I still don't know what. a thumbtack, a needle? whatever it is, it makes me bleed horrifying amounts of blood. huge drops of it all over my carpet and my new blue pajama pants. I can't find anything embedded in my foot, but it hurts a lot.
Friday: I wake up at 6:00 to finish the paper that is due at 8:00. I finish, and it is the worst thing I have written, by far, by far. I have, however, ceased to care. it hurts to walk, so I look at my foot before leaving for school. a pinprick is definitely visible, but there is also some darkness shooting out of it, kind of looking like a vein. this afternoon the darkness has gotten worse, like some absolutely unbelievable bruise is forming deep below the surface of my skin.
I don't really want to think about it.
a truly weird week.
today Mark said, you know bad luck is supposed to occur in threes, but you're on like number 16 now, so you should just say fuck it and do whatever.
[edit as of11/16/06: BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP]
excuse the excessively long and whiny entries of late. I will say something witty and seductive as soon as it comes to me.
"uh, I don't eat the Christ-meat."
okay, there it is.
bye.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
tinyelvis:
What kind of girlfriend forgets to leave a testimonial for her man? waaaaa waaaa
sentri:
I once knew a guy who smoked Christ-meat.