Wednesday, August 31, 2005


Ah, the first day of school.

In the past, I've inevitably had to completely redo my schedule a week after school had already started. This semester has proved to be no exception.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means that I get to be screwed in the ass three times by the bookstore. The first time was when I picked up the books for my initial classes. The second time was the time I picked up my books for my "just kidding, I'm going to take these" classes. And the third time will happen tomorrow when I attempt to return my first try at textbooks. I think it's about time for the government to start regulating this shit. I mean, come ON. They change one picture in the whole damn textbook and re-release it as a new edition for an extra $100. It's time to stick it to the Textbook Man. Now... just how to do that.... hmmm...

Anyways, yeah. So another year starts. Another year of my love/hate relationship with BYU. Have I bitched about the parking tags? BYU is giving away free parking tags this year and charging for the pass to ride the public transportation system. They did the exact opposite of this last year. It seems some bastards didn't want to pay the parking fee and they didn't want to ride the bus, so they just parked south of campus. In an attempt to get them off the streets this year, BYU came up with the genius free parking tag idea. Except now everyone who rode the bus is now driving to school. There are no parking spots *anywhere* since BYU refuses to give the students some of the old faculty parking lots, even though they've built several large and new faculty parking lots recently. And all of the bastards who were parking south of campus? Guess what. Most of them are still parking south of campus.

Come on BYU. You're smarter than that.

It's funny how I forget certain things after having a luxurious summer off. I forgot how impossible it is to get lunch on campus at noon. I also forgot about how the average speed of traffic goes from 45 to 10 once all the shitty students return. And I forgot how large the portion of the student population is that happen to be subsidized by mommy and daddy.

I am so ready to be done. Ugh.

Anyhow, about my classes. There's a football player in one of them. I can't wait for some of the pearls of wisdom he's bound to produce. The others are so early I'm not sure I'll remember very much. The teacher in my earliest one kept catching me texting Husband... I assume he didn't like that too much as he kept giving me the stink eye.

Nothing else happened today. Except the girl decked out in Juicy Couture who asked if she could sit next to me at lunch. In my head I said, "No, anyone who buys the grossly overpriced pile of shit that is Juicy cannot sit with me. Also, I don't allow anyone who is wearing couture of any form IN COLLEGE to sit with me. Go screw the football team instead." But my mouth said, "Sure!" And so there was no doing of the football team by anyone at *my* table.

Also making a comeback this year is my love/hate relationship with hw and things-to-do lists. The part of me that's a slackass would much rather make no lists at all, instead opting to find out about important dates and deadlines *after* they pass. But the OCD/control freak side of me gets this perverse pleasure in crossing items off the list, therefore feeling in control and like I'm accomplishing things. So yeah. It's list making time for me.

Also, my schedule this semester is extremely conducive to snowboarding. I hope the season starts early.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

random and tired

HOT DAMN. Work is almost over, and you'd think that, as a grown-up, I could make it til midnight without longing for my bed. But that's really all I'm doing- sitting here, staring at the clock, wishing for nothing more than my puffy green blanket to wrap in and my husband to snuggle with.

Damn you to hell, Red Bull! Your promise of untold energy and excitement has fallen far short of my hopes and dreams!!!


In other news, school starts tomorrow, and I couldn't be happier. It's about damn time that I start my last year of school. About damn time. Plus it's going to be real nice- over the last few years I've figured out the right combination of responsibility and total lack of caring that lead to a maximum grade while allowing minimum class attendance at the same time. This means that I'll be going to about 50% of my lectures, which is no sweat off my back.

What other interesting things have happened..... Oh, another side-effect of muscle relaxers (besides the purple dots I see and the initial overwhelming sleepiness) is that I can sing like it's my very best voice day. That was a nice surprise. Not much help this year, even though my voice teacher guaranteed me a spot in Singers (nice to know I wouldn't have to go back to Sis. Hall.... love ya Roz, I just can't handle the contemporary bullshit), but my schedule is crap, and I wouldn't do it anyways since I don't want to tour for two months. But oh well. I'll have to save a few of those lovely pills for future auditions.

On a much more exciting note, I met one of my favorite actors (read:Oscar nominated) the other day. This man was a consummate gentleman. He waited in line, took his hat off to talk to me, drove himself around, and was completely pleasant and non-demanding. He made it a point to KNOW MY NAME. Who the hell does that anymore? That guy is an icon and will be rad in my book for the rest of my life.

Reason #268 why I'm going to hell.

We teach the 3 year olds at church (which, by the way, is the most effective birth control EVER). Even though they're a giant pain in the ass, those kids are so funny.

There's a kid there who *constantly* talks about his grandma, except he pronounces it "gwumma". I will purposefully bring up his gwumma just so I can hear him talk about her and his gwumpa for the next fifteen minutes while I laugh to myself about it. I'm evil.

This same kid today, when asked about his testimony, loudly declared that "I don't have a testimony!!!" You should have seen the shocked looks on the other teachers' faces. I thought it was hilarious.

The best one though is my best friend's son. He's barely 2, so he can't enunciate very well. As a consequence, every time he says the word "pushing" it comes out as "pussy", at which point his mother and I look at each other and crack up.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

I'll take the Mystery Box!!!

Here's my conundrum. I can-

A) Take a muscle relaxer and actually be able to function on a somewhat normal level, until I attempt to drive home, which would most likely end up with death, or at the very least, serious bodily injury.

B) Abstain for the next hour, writhing in pain and contorted into a very funny shape while trying to do my job. Drive home in the exact same condition, which hopefully would end by me staggering sadly up my stairs, popping some pills and going to bed.

*sigh* B very obviously wins. Shitty back.

45 minutes left. I can do this.

EDIT: I finally came to a solution! I'll take a pill right as I'm leaving. Since they take 20-30 minutes to kick in, maybe I'll get some bliss right as I'm about to contort myself up my front steps!


Interesting weekend.

We went camping last night with some people from Husband's work. Fairly awkward, considering everyone wound up drunk except Husband and I. Why people get drunk while they go camping is a mystery to me. "Hey, we're near a big ol' fire pit and a lake, let's impede our ability to act rationally!!"

Anyways, it was weird. But the actual camping part wasn't bad. Nice wind and a little lightning and thunder. I slept better than I've slept in a long time. The only downside was that instead of opening my tent door to a desert full of desolation and nothing else, I opened my tent to a state park campground, all full of paved roads, landscaping, "modern" bathrooms, and a shitload of campers.

Why people think that campers count as camping will always boggle my brain. But whatever.

Anyhow, my run of luck certainly ran out, as I managed to stretch wrong and pull a muscle in my back so badly that we had to end our camping fun and go to the hospital instead.

Here's a good question- why is it that all backwater ER docs are pricks? I think it's because they're pissed that you actually CAME to their hospital and made them work instead of letting them be very busy playing parcheesi or something.

Anyhow, here I am, trying to survive with a brutally painful back. I have muscle relaxers, but I had to work tonight, and I can't really do that if I'm all high on relaxy goodness. Hell. At least I'll sleep well tonight.

We'll try this camping thing again in a month or so. The right way, in the desert, full of cacti and such. Although I will DEFINITELY not make the same mistake I did last time we were all cactus-y. I took a midnight bathroom break while wearing my sandals and wound up kicking a cactus that was buried in the sand. Hard. You can imagine what happened after that.

Anyways, yeah. Only steel toes for me from now on.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Lifetime Learning

Lessons for me to learn:

-Stop going to Nordstrom.
-UVSC is a shit hole. Anticipate this before going there.
-BYU also is a shit hole, especially when filled with incoming freshmen.
-When BYU says to sign up for things online because it'll make life easier, assume they are lying.
-Also assume they are lying when they say their football team will be "really good this year".
-Stop eating out. Make food for yourself, lazy ass.
-After you make food for yourself, DO THE DAMN DISHES.

Leave it to me to spend $3000 in one week when we're trying to be "frugal". Granted, $1800 of that was for the demon apartment, and we've gotten that back. $400 of that was for textbooks. But whatever.

I deserve a spanking. Husband, please make a note of that.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I now have the best haircut I have ever had. Hot damn, I love this.

I need to relax. Spending a couple hundred dollars on my hair ought to do it.

(In case you're thinking I'm a spoiled rotten whore.... well, you're probably right.)

To anyone in the Provo area- if you need your hair done, go here. They are hands down the best stylists I've ever been to.

There is ALWAYS time for lubricant!


The bonus of making haphazard, spur-of-the-moment housing changes is that it's not impossible to reverse them.

I've got a meeting tomorrow night with the landlords. I'll see how much they're gonna try to bilk me, and then I'll start using big words. You know, the whole "failure to disclose" and "breach of contract". If that isn't enough nasty, then I'll drop that maybe they shouldn't have told me that their apartment is illegal. *then* I'll drop that I'd rather not give the Provo Housing Commision a call. Then I'll see how much they want to bilk me.

Don't dick with someone from the East. It's an unwritten rule. Even if you're a Monster Whore Bitch from Hell.

When bargaining hard, always cover your ass. Don't whip out the nasty right away, and if possible (ONLY if it's possible), don't whip out the nasty at all. But definitely *have* nasty that you could whip out if you needed to, and don't be afraid to do it if/when the time comes.

My thought is that it's better to leave a situation thinking that I was a hard ass instead of thinking that I just totally got screwed in the ass. Without lubricant.

Run! The herd is STAMPEDING!!!!

Last night, we discovered we've bit off far more than we can chew.

While taking my sister to see our new apartment, we experienced what at first we thought was an earthquake. But since earthquakes don't last for hours at a time, we figured it must just be a herd of stampeding buffalo. But then the question was posed: how does a herd of stampeding buffalo make it into the second story of a house?

Well, apparently the earthquake/buffalo is simply the little bastard children of our landlord, running around and jumping as hard as they can on the slate tile above our heads.

HOLY SHIT. I have lived in basement apartments before. I've lived in apartments on MIDDLE floors before where you get the noise from BOTH ends. I have NEVER, EVER heard noise like I did yesterday in our new apartment, not ever.

Our goal in moving somewhere rural was QUIET. Not stampeding buffalo-children.

Anyhow, the entire apartment has sound-proofing problems. As we were sitting there, we could hear the people above us talking, and even at one point heard their microwave *ding*. Granted, much of this could be drowned out by a stereo or a TV, but A) Why should I have to be loud just to crowd out the stampeding? and B) In our contract is a "quiet" clause that states that we have to be extra quiet in our apartment.

Anyhow, we went upstairs basically to ask when the stampeding is going to end at night, and if it's going to begin very early in the morning on Saturdays. I can deal with the noise every other time, mainly because every other time I just won't be at home. But damn it, little assholes, I am going to want to sleep in on Saturday mornings.

When we talked to the wife, I wasn't my typical self, and I even refrained from asking her to corrall her little bastard wildebeests. We were very polite, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Are you kidding me??? I'm not in the mood to deal with this right now!!!" And she turned around and stalked off, leaving me, my husband, and my sister standing there with gaping mouths. I cannot even communicate in writing the venom and hostility in this woman's tone. I have had plenty of people be rude to me- come on, I'm from the east. I have never had anyone treat me this badly, specifically anyone with whom I'd just entered into a business relationship.

As the Monster Whore Bitch from Hell stalked off, she grabbed one of her children and told him to go get daddy to deal with "these people". So "these people" waited for daddy to come and deal with us. The guy is a nicer guy, which leaves the mystery of how he ended up with the Monster Whore Bitch from Hell, but when we talked to him, it was pretty obvious that our definition of what constituted normal noise and his definition were not even in the same dictionary.

This sucks. Not only have we signed the contract, but we've signed it and now it comes out that there will be guaranteed problems with these people. We were a little hesitant to go into the apartment at first because it's a bit pricier, but we expected we were paying a premium for the location. DAMN IT, I AM NOT PAYING A PREMIUM FOR STAMPEDING BUFFALO OVER MY HEAD!!!!

Anyhow, we came home and thought about it and gave the bastards a call (they didn't answer, conveniently) and left them a voicemail saying we'd had second thoughts and wanted to back out of the contract. We haven't even stayed there overnight yet, and since there's normally a 3 business day period after you sign a contract where you can get out of it, and we were at 1 business day past signing.... well, we figure they'll let us go. If they don't, I'm going to have to start spouting words like "failure to disclose" and "breach of contract". Blah.

So yeah. We've put a stop on the big ol' fatty check we wrote them. I assume they're going to call us back today. Who knows what will happen. My only hope is that the wife was so pissed off by us that she doesn't want us to be their tenants anyways.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Moving Time!

Something interesting happened yesterday. Husband and I, on a whim, randomly decided to look at another apartment. We liked it so much that we decided to sign for it right then and there.

So I guess it looks like we're moving. Now the question is.... what to do with our current apartment. I'm not too worried, as BYU has a massive population of married students always looking for apartments. The units in our complex tend to go really quickly, so bueno.

This is going to be a really nice move for us. We're finally moving OUT of Provo, somewhere rural and beautiful and close to Dream Job. "There has to be a hitch!" you say.

Well. There is.

The place we're moving is SO rural that the only internet available is *gasp* DIAL-UP. Holy hell, I haven't had dial-up for the better part of a decade. It's gonna be interesting for sure. So I'm going to keep updating, but it's just going to be very carefully from either Dream Job or School. Heh.

I guess now is the part where I wonder what I was thinking when school starts in less than a week and we need to move out ASAP. No rest for the wicked, eh?

Monday, August 22, 2005

Fun Names

These people.... you gotta feel for them. And wonder why they haven't changed their names. There is a special place in hell for the parents who name their children these names on purpose.

Bill Bila (much like John Johnson, but a bit cooler)
Mr. Teet
Ms. Dyck (pronounced 'dick', of course)
any first and last names that rhyme with eachother

And my very favorite: Narly Crotch

That gem was a poor 80-something year old guy who I talked to a few years ago. Needless to say, he was somewhat unadjusted socially.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

What I hate most about church.

I *hate* skirts. As in church-esque skirts.

Ok, I confess. I don't really hate skirts. I just hate the fact that I've gotten too fat to wear all my cute ones and the only skirts available to me are, well, the kind of skirts that fat people wear.

It's funny that every time I try to type 'fat' I wind up typing 'fart' instead. I wonder if this is a subconscious thing.

Friday, August 19, 2005

$ = grovel

Sometimes I wonder. I wonder about people with money, and why everyone seems to give a damn about them. Today we all sat and drooled (we were forced) over this guy with money. Who the hell cares? The only thing he convinced me he had more of than other people were assholes. This guy had at least eight of them.

Money makes things easier. It sure doesn't make people happy though. Hell.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005


Has anyone else ever noticed that Claire Danes makes the exact same face when she cries no matter what movie she's in? I've seen that face before. It's the face of my two year old nephew Spencer when he's eaten something yucky.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Family Portrait


You hope that, at some point, your siblings will attain some semblance of maturity. That they'll be able to keep their damn mouths shut instead of opening up wide and trying to shove both feet in as far as they can get them.

Apparently, my sister has not yet reached this point. She's making good strides where her spending is concerned, yes. But her interpersonal relationships?

My husband makes a good point. She's great, she's fun... and she's 16. Although she is much older than this in real life..... in her head, she is 16. And he's right. She acts exactly like she's 16.

Point in case- my mom has some trouble because she had a brain tumor. You know, impulse and emotion control and things like that. Today my sister went over and said something to her that caused her to freak out. As if that weren't enough, Sister just kept on making it worse with her petulant little smart ass comments.

SISTER. STOP BEING A PIECE OF SHIT. Mom can't really control her actions, but here's a Newsflash- YOU CAN. Grow up.

Oh, and while we're at it? You're NOT picked on, you're NOT responsible, and you act like you're still in high school. Grow up. You would be super cool if you acted your age.

Saturday, August 13, 2005


Today was the most important day of my life.

Husband, I love you. For ever and ever.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I'm so glad when Daddy comes home!

My parents are flying in tonight. For the last few days, I've been thinking about/attempting to clean my house so they won't think I'm a total slob and anti-wife. What the hell, I've been working two jobs and going to school full time. It's not as if I come home after an 18 hour day and think, "Gee, I'd like nothing more than to clean right now!!" Shit.

Anyways, the upside of the parents coming to town is that 1) I get to see them (I'm such a daddy's girl), 2) We get to go to lots of restaurants that I can generally only go to once a month if that, and 3) It's always funnier when my parents are around. Especially when my mom swears. It's hilarious to hear my mother (the one who would get all sorts of angry every time I would say "pissed off" in high school) drop the words "shit" and "asshole" like they're going out of style. I love my mom.

The downside is that I have the slight pressure of feeling like my parents (especially dad) think my life isn't quite what it should be. It's not nearly as bad as it used to be. Now it mainly manifests itself in that I don't keep a perfect house and I am not SuperWife. Oh well, at least they're not pressuring us to have babies.... instead they want us to wait for a few more years, just like we want to! Thank heavens for small favors.

Oh, the other downside? I'm probably not going to post very much. Not like I've been posting a ton lately anyways. Unless we get in a big ol' family fight. Which tends to happen now and again, especially when my sister is feeling sick. She gets way cranky when she's feeling sick. And she's having her tonsils taken out tomorrow, so I'm betting she's going to be feeling pretty sick.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Bitch of the Day

Assmaster. If it's your JOB to be available to me and help me out, don't dissapear for a fucking HOUR and then get pissed off when I ask you where you were. Tool.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Talks with her hands. Hell.

To the coworker who wanted me to tell the maintenance man that someone's TV was "snow", verbatim.

Lady. If he can barely understand my english when I tell him the TV is broken, I think I'll only confuse him if I tell him it's "snow".

And you don't have to be a bitch about it either, you rotten whore.

Bitch of the Day

Holy SHIT. If it seems like I've fallen off the face of the earth, it's probably because I have. This is also known as working my ass off at work. My parents are coming in this next week, so I have a large vacation coming up. Unfortunately that also means that I get worked to the bone in the days prior to my vacation.

BUT... I haven't had a Bitch of the Day for so long, I've just gotta have one.

The ASSHOLE who was driving drunk in the canyon last night. I don't even have to explain that one.

Thursday, August 04, 2005


What the hell, Self???

You would think I would have learned to not go out to eat while wearing white.

Apparently, I have not yet learned that lesson. Nor have I learned the lesson about not spilling on myself.

Also, I need to learn that when I see someone I don't like, attempting to avoid them by hiding behind my husband doesn't work.

Confessions II

Since I've already confessed some of my flaws, here are some more:

I find Jessica Simpson somewhat fascinating. Her music blows chunks, but the way her waist is much smaller than her head is such a curiosity to me.

I also find Britney Spears' descent into whitetrashdom compellingly entertaining.

I sometimes wish I were anorexic so I could finally lose some weight. But not bulemic, because I can't stand throwing up.

Some people are anorexic because it gives them a sense of control. I get my sense of control from how obsessively I pick at zits.

Sometimes it tickles when I have sex, and I laugh uncontrollably the whole time. (Sorry, Husband. I know you don't mind, but I'm still sorry.)

If I could make it through life without showering, I totally would. That is how much I hate getting my hair wet. Thankfully for the rest of the world, I hate being smelly only slightly more.

Since meeting my husband, I find it almost impossible to fart or burp silently.

I love sushi even though it gives me really smelly gas, and sometimes I think it's funny to fumigate my husband out of whatever room he's in. (In retribution for all the Dutch Ovens, Husband!)

I am deeply ashamed of some of the bullshit that I said just to get attention while in Junior High. Especially the stuff I said in Gifted. Because I didn't mean it at all.

I once got all the gym locker combinations in 8th grade and trashed the stuff of people I didn't like.

From when I was 12-22, I lied all the time to try to make other people think I was cooler than I actually was. That was before I realized that the only people worth any effort are the ones that love you, warts and all. Plus, putting up a fascade is exhausting. It's much easier to remember the truth than to remember what lies you told to whom.

I love being short because it means I have small feet.

I totally had a lesbian crush in high school.

When I was 16, I accidentally backed into some stranger's car and drove off because I was so scared of what would happen if I left a note.

I worry that if I have ugly children I will not love them as much as I would if they were cute.

I am really whiny. But this is no secret.

I am exceedingly lazy. I think half of this is because I'm fat, and the other half is just because I'm lazy.

I am lucky I married the most kind and patient man in the world, because I don't think anyone else could deal with me.

I love to spend money. Even when I know I shouldn't.

I am terrible at putting CDs and DVDs back in their cases. My dad would be so ashamed.

I would go on, but Husband just got home and I am going to go smother him with fat, lazy, farty love.

Who am I?

So the question is... am I a good witch or a bad witch?

Talked to Ex online again today, where he told me about how his wife (the previously mentioned EasyAss) is no longer Easy, as he's gotten no Ass in the last two weeks. He also told me that she's putting on even *more* weight, which may necessitate changing her name from EasyAss to EasyAsses. She also seems to care nothing about her many Asses, because she refuses to do anything about them. From his description and from what I've seen and know of her, EasyAsses is heading toward a big unhappy coronary episode by the time she's 30. She is currently 28. Ex also keeps dropping hints that he misses me and our old relationship.

This is where my dilemma comes in:

I find this all perversely pleasing. I no longer want him and have not for quite some time, but I want to know that he wishes he could be back with me. I want to know that I am the best he has ever had. In fact, the major reason I talk to him at all is because I enjoy seeing him suffer in the hole he's dug for himself.

Am I a sadist? Or did he just abuse me so badly during the time I was with him that this is just my psychological equivalent of revenge- to know I am in a blissfully happy place while his situation is the shits?

Some will say that I can't be in such a happy place if I am feeding off the sorrow of others. I don't think that's the case, though. If Ex dropped off the face of the earth, I don't think I would wonder where he was or how he was doing. In the long stretches between the few times we talk, I don't think of him at all in my daily life.

I don't feed off his pain.... I don't need it to feel happy. When he pops online and tells me about his crappy life, it's a bonus. I snicker for a few minutes and then return to my daily activities.

So my question to myself is: why? Am I a bad person?

I can't quite decide. Here I smirk at the suffering of someone whom I regard as being a bad person.... but with almost everything else in my life, I try to improve myself. I try to be more patient, understanding and kind. The other day a lady came into my work with car trouble, and I gave her several hundred dollars worth of free stuff. I did that because I knew I could either make her situation worse or make it better, and I wanted to make it better. I wanted to help.

I spent my birthday helping my best friend with her two children. She felt bad for me "wasting my birthday" on her, and I told her that I couldn't think of anything I would rather do on my birthday than help someone. And I meant it.

So am I a good witch or a bad witch? The only answer I can come up with is that I'm a bit of both.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005


So a baby pooed on me today for the first time ever. Strangely enough, I didn't mind. I just shook my head and chuckled and thought "I wonder how much I did this as a baby."

Also, another first.... I FINALLY told Current Boss I would no longer be able to come in to work, since my two weeks' notice was over two weeks ago. WOOO!!!!!

In my religion class today, I learned that not only am I the oldest student there, but I am also the only one with all four grandparents still living. Strange.

One more first: If my best friend and her husband die, they want us to take their two small children. Scary, yet really flattering at the same time.