Saturday, August 21, 2004

I was censored last night in a public forum for posting a pic of a t-shirt that says, "no means maybe". I posted it in a thread that was talking about BYU football players accused of raping somebody. I thought it was apropos and funny to post the shirt. Someone who bandies around the word "slut" didn't. I don't understand.

Friday, August 20, 2004

I would like to say that paying tithing is sort of like using Discover. You give some money, and sometimes get HUGE paybacks. That's how I feel about the grant I got for school. I was feeling so guilty about thinking about asking my dad for tuition money. Then I went to the financial aid office on a whim and found out that I was eligible to receive all of this money. It's awesome! And, boy, am I glad I got that grant because this morning I went to buy books. I bought books for 5 classes, and a book for another class is still on order or something. So books for the 5 classes cost me $358.72! That's an average of $71.74 per book. The cheapest was $5.15 and the most expensive is $102.45. That's just disgusting. I wonder what the other book will cost. It will obviously be new since it's on order. I'm SO glad I'm getting money. Woo! Hoo! I also got a free 1 subject college-ruled notebook from the bookstore. How generous IS that?!

Thursday, August 19, 2004

I have a new love. His name is Money Given To Me By The Government To Go To School. It's like the best thing that has ever happened to me this week because I was expecting to have to pay for everything myself. I stopped by the financial aid office to get a short-term loan to help me out and also to find out my options for aid. Mr. Man was setting me up for a student loan, and I said, "Naw, I don't want that. What other options do I have?" So he clicked some keys and said, "Well, you are eligible for a grant for $2025 for each of the next two semesters." So I said, "Uh...I pick option B. I'll take the money." So I am sooooooooooo excited! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehawwwwww!!! I heart money given to me that I don't have to pay back!

I get googled pretty often here. Some of the search terms that result in hitting my blog are pretty sterile, e. g., "manager and bitch." I had a "name of the day" one time, Shataka Figgins. I believe Ms. Figgins googled her own name because a few days later, "Shataka Figgins" was a search term someone used to reach me. I think it's funny when people google their own names like they are huge, important people. But then again, it could have been a former lover looking her up to find out where she is because he's sad that he let her get away. I wonder what the name must be of someone who dated a person with a name like Shataka Figgins. Jeffri'andré "Tron" Newton, maybe? That sounds pretty good.

A few days ago, I noticed a most peculiar and disturbing google search that brought someone to my blog. "Orgasm and 'Crest spinbrush'." Ewwwwwwww...sick! Some person with a jones to "clean" his/her area thinks a good way to do that is with a Crest Spinbrush. O. M. G! I use my spinbruse religiously to CLEAN MY TEETH, and when the battery is juiced up, the brush has a tendency to be rough with my gums. Sometimes they even bleed. Now, the snatch is a rather tender area. Why in THE hell would anyone want to take the brush down there?!! Holy crap! That would hurt! And was this person actually hoping to find someone online with the same hopes for the spinbrush? I'm going to go throw up now.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

I only went to the office for a few minutes on Wednesday because I missed Muffy and Prudence. They are fun folks. But a few minutes was all I could stand. One cough from Dianne, and I was all tensed up again. Muffy told me that DD was mad because I hadn't told her that I was going to be gone Monday and Tuesday. "I want to kill this [office manager]. I can't believe this violence in mind. And is her power all in [writing checks]. But I believe in peace. I believe in peace, bitch!" (I really love Tori Amos. She just knows what to say at times like these.) Why does Dianne feel like my travels are her business? This just really bugs me. Have I mentioned that I hate her?

Basically my job right now is making sure that my grandmother is comfortable and that she has everything that she needs. I put her on her range-of-motion machine, I take her to physical therapy, I cook three times a day unless she wants me to go somewhere to get something, I get her water and drugs and icepacks. It's a pretty good job because I eat good food, I don't spend money, I have my own room, she doesn't cough or smell, she isn't crusty, and she wouldn't mind my messing up her rubiks cube if she had one. We watch a lot of "Golden Girls", the funniest show ever made for senior citizens, "JAG" (mmm...that one guy...) and every Braves game that comes on TV. I love the Braves, and I'm happy that they are really rockin' right now.

So yesterday, I was dreading having to go to the office to get my check because I didn't want to talk to DD. I really lucked out because when I got there Pushy was walking out of the door, and Dianne was following her. DD saw me and asked, "Oh. Are you staying here this afternoon?" And I triumphantly said, "No, I'm going to get my check. I'll set the alarm." That was all. I'm sure she was pissed, and that's what I like to evoke in her.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

I had a wonderfully long weekend that is still going on as far as Dianne is concerned. It started last Friday after I completed my final. I aced that class, by the way. I drove up to Memphis to play with my friend Rachael and her husband Nate. I had never been to Memphis before, and everyone kept telling me to go to Graceland. But guess what. I don't particularly care for Elvis. Sure I respect his rock royalty because he was a pioneer for the white man in rock, but I just don't care for 99% of his songs, and his movies are chee- to the -easy! So there.

We ate food and went to see Napoleon Dynamite, the funniest movie of the year...perhaps the funniest of the decade. I was depressed that it hadn't been released here, yet I was constantly teased by the trailers on TV. I was so happy to know that it was in Memphis. In fact, my only real goal for Memphis, besides seeing Rachael, was to go see this movie. I can't wait until it finally comes to Monroe. I will probably go see it everyday.

I was also told that I should go eat ribs at a place called Rendezvous. The ribs were great after I had drowned them in barbeque sauce. I guess I'm not much of a dry-rub person. Happiness was mine when we went to eat at a Thai restaurant on Saturday and when Rachael cooked Indian on Sunday. Mmm...chicken tikka masala...mmm... We also ate the best macaroons ever at a casino in Tunica, Mississippi, where I won 20 bucks. That's always awesome 'cause hey, free meal.

Sunday night I went with them to other friends' house to play what is apparently THE mormon, cult boardgame (I hate to use "mormon" and "cult" side-by-side like that because we're not a cult, but I lack the sufficient vocabulary tonight to say anything but "cult"), Settlers of Catan. It's sort of like Risk, as I understand it. I'd never played that either. Anyway, it was such a fun game, and I have taken on the duty of getting that going here in Monroe. I just need to find the game first. Also, I need to buy a case of sunflower seeds. Eating those seems like a good during-the-game activity.

Monday morning, I got up and drove straight down to New Orleans because my friend Bonnie was going to be down there for a conference. It was going to be her first time in the city, and it was a good reason for me to go down there...not that I need a reason. I can go anytime I want to, DIE. ANNE.!! AND I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT I'M GOING EITHER!!!

Anyway, so Bonnie and I basically sweat a lot because it was really hot and muggy. It was disgusting. We ate beignets and fudge and po-boys and waffles and nasty ice cream and stuff. The funniest part to me was when Bonnie wanted to go see the NASCAR "movie" at the IMAX theater. It was in 3-D, and we figured that it would be a pretty wild, almost amusment park ride type of thing because the brochure warned those who suffer from motion-sickness not to go. So I was sold. It would be a harmless, stupid, and fun thing to watch for an hour. HOWEVER, it turned out to be a history of the "sport" and Dale Earnhardt number 3 hooey, blah, blah, blah... But the good thing was that we cooled and dried off while watching the thing.

I am in awe that anyone would go to a race track in the hot, sweltering sun for four hours to watch cars go around and around and around hoping for a crash or something exciting because that's just wrong. There is nothing else to do there either but get drunk, take off your shirt and holler some yeehaws every now and again. A car race probably isn't even that dramatic until the last 5 or 6 laps. So what's the point? I really want to know. I'm dying for anyone to tell me, and if you're a hick, I don't want to hear from you. You probably throw tires around for fun.

We went to eat breakfast at my favorite place to eat in New Orleans...not because it is authentic Nawlins cuisine or anything, but because the people who work there are having fun. It's called the Camellia Grille, and they serve breakfast food and hamburgers and some of the yummiest pecan pie ever made. If you're ever down in The Big Easy, go there to eat breakfast and have you some pecan pie. Bonnie doesn't like pecans, so she just doesn't know what I'm talkin' about.

Body hair generally disgusts me, especially when the body hair in question does not belong to me (hair that covers the scalp being the exception). But I hate my own body hair as well. I feel like a woolly bear, and the thing is, I'm not a hairy person. The hair that covers my arms and legs is blond and very fine. I can't even see it unless I'm holding a limb up to my face in front of some source of light. But when I do that, I feel like my name should be Sasquatsch or something because I don't know why. I have this hair on the edge of my hands that just grosses me out, and so I have to find my dad's clippers and clip it off. Remember: this hair is not visible to anyone unless it's being searched for, or you happen to be Angela, my nail person. She likes to make a point of clipping off the two hairs that grow on my little toes. I would shave it off when I shave my legs, but one false move, and goodbye little toes. My toes are so little that I don't risk setting anything sharp on them. But OH MY GOODNESS! There's so much on the edge of my hands. I feel like if I had just the right tweezers, I could braid it. Today, I need to go find my dad's clippers and rid myself of it.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Update number two: When my cohorts at work and I determined that none of us had changed the cube, that my dad most likely had not done it, and that Dianne's sister wouldn't have done it, that only left us to conclude that the computer guy, who was there earlier in the day had done it. I'm sure DD thought, "Oh yeah, blame it on the guy who can't defend himself, you little wenches!" BUT...tonight at church, the computer guy was there. I wasn't sure that the guy I saw was our computer guy until I realised that he works for our normal computer guy. When I found that out, I asked him, "Spencer, did you work on a computer in a dental office today?" He said, "Yes." I asked, "Did you mess with Dianne's shmubiks cube?" He answered in the affirmative. I proceeded to relate him the shmubiks cube drama. He laughed and said he'd apologize to her and fix it, but then I told him that she had thrown it away. He almost peed his pants. And then I said, "Don't worry about apologizing. I like letting her think that I did it and that I'm vindictive. That means I'm dangerous!" So we will see what happens with this tomorrow.

Shmubiks cube update: After I got back to the office after typing the earth-shattering shmubiks cube story, my dad asked me privately, "Did you mess up Dianne's cube?" I said, "Dad, you know as well as anyone that I wish I had messed it up. The sad truth is that I didn't. It makes me sad to know that someone besides me has caused this ridiculously childish behaviour." He just walked off laughing. He later told me that in a display of anger and two-year-oldishness, she dramatically threw it in the trash. What a waste of a human being! My goodness! If she were my child, I'd give her a what-for...and a bath.

I got 100% on my test again today. No...please...stop...I know I'm great.

Anyway, Muffy, Prudence, and I went to lunch this afternoon, and when we got back to the office, I heard Dianne bellow my name. So I went into her office, and she asked me if I had messed up her shmubiks cube. I told her I hadn't (I would take the credit if I had, but I didn't even realise she even had a puzzle cube on her desk.) And she huffed back, "Well, whoever did it better come and fix it!" I laughed IN HER FACE and said, "Okay." I don't think she has any clue about how ridiculous she is. I told Muffy and Prudence of the accusation, and the both laughed. At the same time, they both said, "I wish I had!" It is a funny time right now. DD is sulking in her office; she has her door shut. Hee! I wish I had known that such a trivial thing would set her off. This gives me some ideas. Woohoohoo....*devilish laugh*...

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

I've let that stupid bitch get to me, and now I'm depressed. I don't want to go to work because she's there hacking up lungs and smelling up the place and talking shit about me to people who ARE going to tell me everything she says. I have a sorta victory, however. I was getting paid $8.50/hr. I was just put on the office insurance plan, and Bitchy O'Bitch was probably pretty happy that 87 bucks would be deducted from my check each week for that. I'm sure she was just drooling at the thought. She was probably cackling an evil cackle while writing out my check for this week. WELL, STOP CACKLING, BITCH, 'CAUSE I'M GETTIN' A RAISE! GO BACK AND WRITE ME A BIGGER CHECK YOU FAT, WRETCHED, HOG!

Even with that victory, though, I still feel depressed because I hate her so much that the thought of her makes me want to lock myself in somewhere where I will never have to see her or hear her hacking cough or her annoying voice or smell her unbathed, rotting self. I swear she's got gangrene somewhere. If I lock myself up, I will never have to hear her say, "God, I'm floodin' today!" I will never have to hear her complain about her lunch. I will never have to see...OH MY GOODNESS!!! I have never written this, and I need to.

Dianne (AKA Ursula; screw protecting the innocent because she is guilty on all counts!!!) is fat. That is not an exaggeration; that is not bias; it is pure, un-messed-around-with fact. But she apparently doesn't see herself as such. She sees herself as a Playboy centerfold. I mean, she thinks she is a sexy beast. Normally she wears shirts with sleeves on them, or she will wear a sleeveless top with a light, breezy jacket. But SOMETIMES when she wears the latter, she likes to go without the light, breezy jacket, and I don't want to hear that it's too hot because it's made of a very thin, meshy fabric. Her arms are FLABB. Y., and they swish around even when she's not moving. She discusses business with patients while her arms are carrying on their daily routine of sloshing around. It is repulsive.

So, if I lock myself up, I will never have to see that again. I will never have to see her lick the inside of the cap of her soda (I swear that if she had a knife at her desk, she'd cut the bottle open, too, and lick up every remnant of soda when finished.) I will never again see her clean the inside of her ear with a pen cap and then lick it clean. I will never hear her say that she can't eat chocolate because she's allergic to it, yet she has M&Ms in her drawer. I could go on and on with this. The bottom line is that I have no love for her charity, no sympathy, no patience, and if she died on the way home in a car crash, I'd be happy. And if I go to hell for saying that, so be it. I can't wait to kick her ass when I get there.

Monday, August 02, 2004

There are words that I never say, and I rarely even think of them, because I think they are absolutely disgusting. The office manager, Ursula Braunstaen, has the power to provoke me to digusting action. She is a big, fat, rotted-out, ...