Sunday, March 31, 2002

So I guess today was Easter or something? My family doesn't really celebrate. We're not a celebrating type of family. Once a year my mom drags us to church to hear the handbells at the Christmas service, and to make up for not going to church the other 51 Sundays of the year. If I didn't need to do laundry, we probably wouldn't have gotten together. Don't feel bad for me, it's actually quite fine. This morning I finally got out of bed around 1. It was 3 when I went to bed the previous night, and Tosha called and woke me up today. We are so going out. She's the last one I talked to yesterday, and the first one I talked to this morning. Each conversation was around an hour. And the eight hours in between were spent sleeping. So absolutely nothing had happened since we last spoke, but we still found stuff to talk about. Yeah. We should get married. So we get off the phone, and I figure it's about time for me to get up and showered. Then my folks call and we plan our day. My sister went to church with her boyfriend, then ate with his family. So much food. She brought an Easter basket, half of a two-layered cake, and some teryaki steak home from Greg's. She could barely move she was so full. I had made some feta cheese biscuits for my fam whilst my laundry was laundering. She had a few bites of that. Then my dad and I went to see Panic Room. Holy crap! I would watch anything David Fincher directs. I mean, he could film an elephant pooping and I would be biting my nails saying, "oh-my-god-what's-gonna-happen-next?!?" The film was excellent. So, I had a nice time with my dad. Then we head back home and called to see if my mom wanted us to pick up the pizza on the way. Yeah. Pizza for Easter dinner. Like I said, we're not really into that. There's no answer, so we just head home. Well, Lindsay and Mom are both there, and we ask why no one picked up. The cordless had been taken downstairs, so there was nothing in the room my sister was in for her to answer. And she figured my mom would get it. Apparently Mom was outside. My dad gets back in the car and goes to Papa Johns to pick up our spinach pizza. Which by the way is damn good. But before he leaves, my mom tells us what happened while we were gone. I guess because she hadn't burst, Lindsay decided she needed to eat more. She had one and a half of my biscuit thingys, some of the steak, and the rest of the cake that we hadn't wolfed down. My mom walkes by the bathroom and the entire contents of my sister's Easter day were being deposited into the toilet. Which is what the Greeks used to do. Eat and drink until you puke, then go back for more. Which is exactly what she did. Ten minutes after she got done vomiting, she was back in the fridge. Now, my sister is not a big girl, by any means. She's tall, and she eat's like a horse, but she's in damn good shape (read:"bitch"). But it was still funny to see her looking for food right after she "let some go." My dad gets back with the pizza, and we basically aren't ever going to let her live this down. As we ate the pizza, she heated up some onion soup, put my dad's crust in it, had some more steak, filled a bowl with a banana, whipped cream, and sugarfree chocolate syrup. I mean, the girl never stopped.

Dear Lindsay,
Please slow down. I need time to regroup. Or at least time to breathe. Don't hurt me and I won't hurt you.
Your Stomach

At least, that's how I would guess that conversation would go. And now, here I am. Typing on their computer, waiting for my second load to come out, waiting until 9 so I can tape last week's episode of the Osbournes for Paul (not the evil one I dated, the one I graduated with). So, Happy Easter, everyone. I hope you laughed today as much as I did.

Saturday, March 30, 2002

The Shawshank Redemption is by far the best movie ever made. I cry harder each time I see Brooks carve his name into the wall before he tips the table. And the next scene with the Italian Opera. And the incredible writing. The words of the narrative of Red. And I miss my friend. I wish we were watching this together. And I cried harder. And the ending. Oh God. It's beautiful. Hope. Above all things. Hope. Don't think about the fact that you don't have a job yet. Don't think about your broken heart and the bills that won't stop. Dont' think about the future that is beginning to terrify you. Or the fighting at home.

"There's something inside that they can't get to, that they can't touch. It's yours."
"What are you talking about?"

I think I've finally got everything up and running. I'm not too thrilled about the colors yet, but they may grow on me. It looks too much like Easter at this point, so they may be changing soon. And I'll be adding pictures as soon as I can steal some of Tosha's time (and scanner and burner). It's very empowering to go from not knowing anything about the web except how to email, to actually designing your own website. (Read: "changing the colors from the template") I actually figured a few things out all by my self and had fun doing it. So, thanks, zha, for getting me into this in the first place. Efreak is where it began. For a lot of us.

I bet you've been wondering what's going on with Person Upstairs. Well, I haven't heard much noise, except for the fact that she's been taking a shower every time I want to hop in. But this morning I was awakend at 8. To what? Well, apperantly she was practicing for her upcoming Riverdance audition. (P.S. It's actually a cool intro if you don't mind waiting)

Friday, March 29, 2002

I was supposed to have a comments section, but that's kind of showing up when it feels like it. We'll see.

Wow. I actually understand a little html now. What do you think of the changes?

Tuesday, March 26, 2002

8:00 a.m. The alarm won't go off for another thirty minutes. But the damn phone is ringing.

-hi. how are you?
again, still half in the dream that perhaps involved some sort of red food,
in a deep, soft voice,
-hi, how are you doin'?
-um, I think you have the wrong number.
-so? who's this? (still trying to be sexy)
-not who you're looking for.

thirty minutes more to dream about something else. thirty minutes more of sleep. thirty minutes more until the damn alarm will go off. and the fucking phone rings and it's some sleaze bag doing an early morning booty call. may as well get up and pee.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everyone should watch the Osbournes. That is a command, mind you. It is so hysterical. I would link to it, but mtv.com is "undergoing a lot of changes". So in five to seven days the bleeding will stop, and you can once again surf their site. Anywho, as I said, it's hysterical. The premise is "Real World meets Ozzy Osbourne". Or, at least that's my take on the premise. And let me tell you, Ozzy Osbourne is my anti-drug. You can hardly understand what he's saying and he shakes all the time. You notice it the most in his arms and hands. Next week's episode should be great. He's getting ready for his tour, which also means he's working out. His wife is absolutely fabulous. Tonight she violated her son's teddy bear and threw a rotting ham over their fence into their neighbor's back yard. You kind of had to see it. AND YOU SHOULD. So tape it, or watch it Tuesdays at 10:30 p.m., or do what I do and go over to your parent's because you don't have mtv you have twelve-dollar cable and that only gives you vh1 and the history channel. (p.s., my boyfriend was on a few episodes ago.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I don't think I mentioned this, but last Saturday, my brandnewcarthatilove was hit. So I have a big fat dent in the bumper that can't get fixed yet because the kid that hit me's insurance people haven't called. And the police are avoiding me. Which makes me sad, because the officer who is/was handling my case was yummy. I'll call tomorrow.

Thursday, March 21, 2002

This is why I love zha so fucking much. No one will ever understand.

My boyfriend is on Conan tonight. This is my sad life. Recently I've become, how you say..., obsessed with Lord of the Rings. I saw the movie twice, then decided to read the books. All four. Let's just say it's been really dead at work. So then I had a dream a while ago that I had moved to LA with Tosha, and I was at a coffee shop doing my mailings when who should walk in but Elijah Wood. So we talked and ended up hanging out. He became sort of a stand-in zha (who is living on the east coast currently and I miss him). P.S. my dreams are like tv episodes. So each night is a new installment. OK, so we eventually end up dating. And it's like my ER fascination. You know, where I think I'm a doctor because I watch 11 hours of ER every week. So I refer to Elijah as my boyfriend. And Tosh plays along. I had to break up with Joey McIntyre (which I would link to, but the site is down), but we're still friends. It's cool. So I'm watching Conan, and I'm loving my boyfriend even more. He's such a dork, as am I. He's still talking with an accent from LOTR. Yeah. I have it on tape. OHMYGOD!!! I Have It On Tape. I'm going back to my hole for a few more years. Call me when New Kids get back together.

Friday, March 15, 2002

Sometimes when I have nothing to say, I write anyway. For Tosha. Knowing that she reads this five times a day. So I almost have my comedic routine laid out. Did I mention that? I'm going to do an open mike nite at a club one of these days. One of these days in the distant future. Well, sometime before September. Ahh, September. That month is slowly creeping up on me. And I've decided not to think about it until June. I'll just live in my crazy-neighbor-ER-watching-dream-obsessed world. There are people laughing and talking in the apartment diagonally above me. And sometimes I want to go to the coffee shop and hang out and meet new people. But mostly I want to remain a hermit. I've grown bored of life here. zha has taught me many things. And one of the things I respect about him the most is his ability to move. I've lived here my whole life. He's lived (and I use the term loosly) all over. This fall he got in his car and drove. Just left everything behind to find something else. But I know what I'm looking for. I guess I'm just afraid it won't be everything I dream of. And sometimes I'm afraid I'll never get there. I'll just stay in this apartment forever. But I don't want that. I want to live on the west coast. Every time I run into someone from the past and we exchange future plans, the response is always the same. "Oh, man. That's so great! No one ever follows their dreams, and you are! I wish I had your guts. That's so cool!" Et cetera, et cetera. Yeah, folks, but I'm not there yet. I've done one show since we graduated, and turned two down. Why? Many reasons. But I haven't been actively auditioning. But I don't want to do theatre. So here I am, alone on a Friday night. Getting ready to finish my dishes and fold my laundry. And then on to some serious spring cleaning. And now they've turned on music. I've changed so much. I just don't have the energy to socialize anymore. And I keep thinking all that will change once I get to Cali. That everything will magically be perfect. But I don't really want to go by myself. And I may not, we'll see. For the first time, I'm really afraid. Of what's out there. Of what I'll become. Of what my future holds. I'm so much of a Dreamer. And a Planner. I need to make the transition to a Doer.

Wednesday, March 13, 2002

It has been established that I work at a camera store. OK. So. There's this guy who used to work there but does so no longer. A) I don't think he knows this site exists, so I'll write about him all I want. B) Even if he did, that's fine too. See, I don't ever say anything here that I would later regret. P.S. You guys are missing out on some of the best stories. Sex. Drugs. Rock'n'Roll. OK. So. When he was still working with us, he asked if he could take some pictures of me when it warmed up outside. I said sure. Hey, free headshots, you know? Then he left at 1 (because that's when he always left to go to his other job) and some pictures he had taken were just being printed. And I'm pretty sure it was the lab tech I love who handed me these pictures to look at. They were of an ugly girl with a crazy eye (which, quite frankly, frightened me) and she was all trying to pose sexy-like. Except it wasn't working. All I could stare at was the fact that her huge bulbous eyes were not quite focusing on the same spot. And then her shirt was off. And she really should never have done that. So I'm thinkin' "What the hell kind of pictures do you want me to pose for, 'cause I ain't gettin' nekked for you!" Months pass, he quits/gets fired, and every once in a while he'll come in and remind me of my binding promise. Fine, no problem. Well, he came in today, and I swear to god this is what he said:

"So, are you still interested in posing for me? Because it's starting to warm up outside, and I was thinking that maybe some weekend we could get together. We could go to Cox Arboritum, or, acutally, I have some backdrops at my place, and we could shoot at my apartment. Do you have any special outfits or poses you want to do? Because I'm single now, so it won't be a problem. See, before, when I had a girlfriend, I was kind of limited in what I could do, but I don't have a girlfriend anymore. I'm single now. So if you have any poses or special outfits you want to wear, you know, you can. Because I'm single."

And I think he wanted my response to be:

"Acutally, I was hoping to start my own porn site, so if you could take provocative pictures with me and some broccoli, that would be fabulous."

And he said some similar things to my lab tech I love, which I will not print here, seeing as I haven't asked for her permission to spout stuff on the web. But you get the picture. On another note, Heather got her wedding dress. So that answered the question of how formal this is going to be. I'm a bridesmaid for her and she sent me a swatch of fabric. Well, I got this great idea to make my own dress, seeing as I already spent $250 on a seafoamgreen dress for Meredith's wedding (in April, p.s.). Besides, I never figured Heather for an actual wedding dress kinda gal. Not that she would wear a tux, I just thought it would be less formal. I don't know, I've never attended/been part of/know anything about gay homosexual weddings. So I'm not going to try to make this fancy-shmancy dress. I'm actually going to buy it. But I really like how they (her and Amy) worked that part out. I got this swatch of material and was told to match the color and fabric. Which means I get to buy something that I like and that I look nice in. Not that I look bad in Mem's dress. I actually like it a lot more than I though I would. But the fact that I get to be in charge of that aspect makes me happy. So, that's that. My eyes are going crazy from looking at the computer screen for so long. I need to go to bed.

Monday, March 11, 2002

On my way home from work tonight I passed the Neon Movies and glanced in while sitting at the stoplight to see if you were there. Then I smiled and remembered you moved yesterday. I think it will be a long time before I stop looking.

Sunday, March 10, 2002

Last night as I was driving away from our most recent good-bye, my eyes welled with tears. But I wasn't sad. It was just a new time. I wish he could stay until I left for LA. I'll miss him so incredibly much. And I turned on the radio and "our song" was playing. That crazy song by Outcast that we both think is funny. And I thanked the universe for that small gift. And I smiled.

Friday, March 08, 2002

At 7:30 in the morning people are yelling at each other outside my window. And running up and down the stairs and opening and slamming doors. And I think more neighbors are moving in. Can't I just live in an empty building? And then I remembered spring. And the kids who screamed and the dogs that barked and the horns that honked. And I don't need to be up for another hour and a half.

Tuesday, March 05, 2002

I'm walking from my car to my apartment. In my arms are my huge hot pink purse, a purhcase from Victoria's Secret, my 64 oz water bottle, my book (Return of the King, JRR Tolkein), and my keys. There are two steps up to my building. I miss the first one and fall, dropping everything. My right knee and top of my left hand are bleeding a little. And then this flashes into my mind: I've just won an Oscar and I'm walking up to the podium to give my acceptance speech when I step on the hem of my dress and go down. Now this is very possible. Maybe not the winning of the Oscar part, but the falling in front of millions of people on national tv. So, please, if you see me, don't laugh. Or at least don't bring it up when we meet.

Monday, March 04, 2002

This winter in Ohio has been so off. One day I'm wearing short sleaves, the next it's snowing. And everyone is sick. I'm finally over the second round which lasted three weeks. zha is not so lucky. And I don't have magic powers, so I can't do anything about it. He was the last person out of everyone I know to go down. I hope you get better! I hate being sick. Good lord, is it spring yet?