Friday, February 27, 2004
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Happy, happy, joy, joy
I’m alive.
Hun, that’s always a comforting statement to make.
Well, the not so fun week became the not so fun two weeks and you better be listening Powers that Be because it’s over! You hear me. No more of this not so fun crap. We’re moving back to happiness and flowers and cute puppy dogs. (For another day- the new puppy at work, not so cute and sweet.)
So, to recap, Chloe fell last, last (whatever) Saturday and broke her nose, chipped her teeth, bloodied her lips, and scraped up her face and arms. So they took her to the hospital. Not fun. Not fun. But patch her up, send her out. Right?
Nope.
Her chemical stuff was all out of wack, she had a urinary infection, and her diabetes stuff was just plain wrong. So the hospital has kept her since yesterday morning and that‘s just because John threw a hissy fit and took her home. Since Chloe is missing a large chunk of her brain and can’t remember anything new they put her in the crazy-in-the-brain wing of the hospital while she was there.
Oh yeah, it was really great to be able to look down the hall about five or six doors and see the room my grandmother stayed in while they “treated” her for terminal brain cancer just over a year ago. Fun.
Also since Chloe is kinda crazy, and when her chemical stuff is all screwed up she’s even more nuts, the nurses were unable to tell when she was telling the truth. When she said she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. When she said something hurt. When she said she wanted to check herself out. Or, one of my favorites, when she said she needed to get to Mexico. (I think the nurses figured that one out) So somebody has to play interpreter.
Then, come Saturday, John got back the results from his medical exam he took just before Chloe fell. He has cancer. Wow. Just more freaking fun. The good? Supposedly it’s completely treatable, fixable, gonable. The bad? I get to be crazy Chloe translator.
The nurses looked at me like I was crazy every time I told them something. “No. She does have to go to the bathroom.” “No, she doesn’t have to go to the men’s club.” “No, don’t call her mother, she’s dead.”
So while the Ohio shindig is going on I got to walk Chloe down to get an MRI as she tells me about the Christmas decorations we’re gonna put up in a few hours. I’m still coping… maybe I’ll skip the coping and keep right on with pissed.
You know how much sleep you can get when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag on a couch in the loony wing of a hospital? Not that much. You know what kind of food you get? Bad egg rolls. Never eat hospital egg rolls. Why the hell do they even make egg rolls? Stick to what’s in the vending machine. Monday I got bored so I only ate orange things from the vending machines. You’d be surprised how many orange things there are. Orange pop, orange juice, cheese crackers, cheetos, orange ticktacs, cream swirls, those nasty honey bun rip offs, cheese lay’s chips, and orange skittles (I gave the rest to Kenny). There were more orangey things but not quite orange enough to fit my strict criteria.
Also, the longer you hand around crazy people the easier it is to think you’re nuts.
I got home yesterday, after they let Chloe go home, and slept all day. All day. Got home around two and went to bed. Didn’t wake up till this morning. Ahhhhh.
Hun, that’s always a comforting statement to make.
Well, the not so fun week became the not so fun two weeks and you better be listening Powers that Be because it’s over! You hear me. No more of this not so fun crap. We’re moving back to happiness and flowers and cute puppy dogs. (For another day- the new puppy at work, not so cute and sweet.)
So, to recap, Chloe fell last, last (whatever) Saturday and broke her nose, chipped her teeth, bloodied her lips, and scraped up her face and arms. So they took her to the hospital. Not fun. Not fun. But patch her up, send her out. Right?
Nope.
Her chemical stuff was all out of wack, she had a urinary infection, and her diabetes stuff was just plain wrong. So the hospital has kept her since yesterday morning and that‘s just because John threw a hissy fit and took her home. Since Chloe is missing a large chunk of her brain and can’t remember anything new they put her in the crazy-in-the-brain wing of the hospital while she was there.
Oh yeah, it was really great to be able to look down the hall about five or six doors and see the room my grandmother stayed in while they “treated” her for terminal brain cancer just over a year ago. Fun.
Also since Chloe is kinda crazy, and when her chemical stuff is all screwed up she’s even more nuts, the nurses were unable to tell when she was telling the truth. When she said she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. When she said something hurt. When she said she wanted to check herself out. Or, one of my favorites, when she said she needed to get to Mexico. (I think the nurses figured that one out) So somebody has to play interpreter.
Then, come Saturday, John got back the results from his medical exam he took just before Chloe fell. He has cancer. Wow. Just more freaking fun. The good? Supposedly it’s completely treatable, fixable, gonable. The bad? I get to be crazy Chloe translator.
The nurses looked at me like I was crazy every time I told them something. “No. She does have to go to the bathroom.” “No, she doesn’t have to go to the men’s club.” “No, don’t call her mother, she’s dead.”
So while the Ohio shindig is going on I got to walk Chloe down to get an MRI as she tells me about the Christmas decorations we’re gonna put up in a few hours. I’m still coping… maybe I’ll skip the coping and keep right on with pissed.
You know how much sleep you can get when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag on a couch in the loony wing of a hospital? Not that much. You know what kind of food you get? Bad egg rolls. Never eat hospital egg rolls. Why the hell do they even make egg rolls? Stick to what’s in the vending machine. Monday I got bored so I only ate orange things from the vending machines. You’d be surprised how many orange things there are. Orange pop, orange juice, cheese crackers, cheetos, orange ticktacs, cream swirls, those nasty honey bun rip offs, cheese lay’s chips, and orange skittles (I gave the rest to Kenny). There were more orangey things but not quite orange enough to fit my strict criteria.
Also, the longer you hand around crazy people the easier it is to think you’re nuts.
I got home yesterday, after they let Chloe go home, and slept all day. All day. Got home around two and went to bed. Didn’t wake up till this morning. Ahhhhh.
Friday, February 20, 2004
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Monday, February 16, 2004
Ah hell. Let me be cliché, when it rains, it pours.
This week has to go down in Kayt history as… the… really not fun week.
I’m really busy so I’ll skip the good stuff and school stuff and the little bads and go to the crappy part. Chloe is in the emergency room. She fell Saturday and busted up her lip, teeth, nose, and arm and has been talking really slowly and walking like she’s drunk these past few weeks. It makes me feel sick. On top of feeling scared for Chloe it freaks me out because this is just how it started when Nana got brain cancer. She sounded like she was drunk. Talked slowed, swayed when she walked. The last day she was pretty much normal I stayed with her. The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to be alone. We sat alone at my Aunt’s house all afternoon. She make dinner, spaghetti I think, and we watched art history programs and shows with that tattoo guy from star trek playing a cow boy. She was having a really hard time talking then. I remember as she spoke she used hand gestures… the right side of her body seemed slower than the other. For lunch we ate bagels. She had hers dry. I thought it was odd, but she said that was how she wanted it. Later that evening I got a call, she was in the emergency room. She had been left alone. She ate another bagel and choked because the right side of her body was becoming paralyzed because of the brain tumor that they didn’t know about at the time. I’m just so scared that’s what might happen to Chloe. She’s already had an aneurysm. She’s missing a big chuck of her brain, and her ability to remember anything new because of the aneurysm. She’s a diabetic. She’s seventy something. Oh, and on top of that John, her husband, the eighty something year old Hungarian man spent Saturday wielding without the ventilation on so he inhaled all that crap and couldn’t breathe and his circulation went all to hell and he was all icy last night. Damn people, you couldn’t wait till I turned in my sociology and English papers, hun?
And argity, arg, arg, my computer is broken. The screen part of my lap top doesn't stay upright without a support because I broke the hinge. Grrrrr...
In an attempt to end on a happy note, Jake waltzed with me in the kitchen today and made my mom incredibly happy.
And lastly, lastly, I just gotta post this. She'd kill me. Heh. Chloe's angry face.
http://img2.photobucket.com/albums/v11/Kaythryn/chloe.jpg
This week has to go down in Kayt history as… the… really not fun week.
I’m really busy so I’ll skip the good stuff and school stuff and the little bads and go to the crappy part. Chloe is in the emergency room. She fell Saturday and busted up her lip, teeth, nose, and arm and has been talking really slowly and walking like she’s drunk these past few weeks. It makes me feel sick. On top of feeling scared for Chloe it freaks me out because this is just how it started when Nana got brain cancer. She sounded like she was drunk. Talked slowed, swayed when she walked. The last day she was pretty much normal I stayed with her. The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to be alone. We sat alone at my Aunt’s house all afternoon. She make dinner, spaghetti I think, and we watched art history programs and shows with that tattoo guy from star trek playing a cow boy. She was having a really hard time talking then. I remember as she spoke she used hand gestures… the right side of her body seemed slower than the other. For lunch we ate bagels. She had hers dry. I thought it was odd, but she said that was how she wanted it. Later that evening I got a call, she was in the emergency room. She had been left alone. She ate another bagel and choked because the right side of her body was becoming paralyzed because of the brain tumor that they didn’t know about at the time. I’m just so scared that’s what might happen to Chloe. She’s already had an aneurysm. She’s missing a big chuck of her brain, and her ability to remember anything new because of the aneurysm. She’s a diabetic. She’s seventy something. Oh, and on top of that John, her husband, the eighty something year old Hungarian man spent Saturday wielding without the ventilation on so he inhaled all that crap and couldn’t breathe and his circulation went all to hell and he was all icy last night. Damn people, you couldn’t wait till I turned in my sociology and English papers, hun?
And argity, arg, arg, my computer is broken. The screen part of my lap top doesn't stay upright without a support because I broke the hinge. Grrrrr...
In an attempt to end on a happy note, Jake waltzed with me in the kitchen today and made my mom incredibly happy.
And lastly, lastly, I just gotta post this. She'd kill me. Heh. Chloe's angry face.
http://img2.photobucket.com/albums/v11/Kaythryn/chloe.jpg
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Gimpy Gimpy Bo Bimpy...
I dreamt of a little black kitten with mismatched eyes and only three legs. I loved him and squeezed him and hugged him and called him Gimpy. I took him to the Columbus Shindig with me and he slept in the bathtub.
If only in my dreams…
Ah, and more about the Shindig. In theory it sounds like a great plan to spring the “can I go downtown alone and meet my internet lovers for three days of sci-fi craziness and all around incestuous orgies” when they’re a bit tipsy, but the flaw there is that the don’t freaking remember the next day that they said yes. Ah, hell. My mother and father looked up the address to the hotel we’re planning to stay at and are now concerned that it’s in a bad part of town for me to be running around in alone. So their solution?
Mom: Well I’ll just go with you. It’ll be a good excuse if you don’t like it there. You can say your overpowering lesbian girlfriend is making you go home. Oh! And we’ll take John and Kenny with us! Kenny can be… oh what’s the name… the prostitute…oh…. (I‘m sure she‘ll blend right in not knowing the characters names)
Twenty minutes later…
Mom: The Companion! That’s it! Kenny can be the companion and John can be little Jayne. They’ll be our body guards. (Point of interest, Kenny is the exact opposite of Inara except he does have long curly black hair, and John is an almost 80 year old Hungarian man.)
Me: We could… or you know… not.
28.5% downloaded and I bet you can’t guess what I’m gonna say… yeah, they cancelled Angel. And just as I was starting to get into it and know the characters names. Fuckwits. I also really like that word, fuckwits.
And this makes me want to scan in the writing I find on money... maybe all the reported Browncoat bills found.
http://keaggy.com/grocerylists/
If only in my dreams…
Ah, and more about the Shindig. In theory it sounds like a great plan to spring the “can I go downtown alone and meet my internet lovers for three days of sci-fi craziness and all around incestuous orgies” when they’re a bit tipsy, but the flaw there is that the don’t freaking remember the next day that they said yes. Ah, hell. My mother and father looked up the address to the hotel we’re planning to stay at and are now concerned that it’s in a bad part of town for me to be running around in alone. So their solution?
Mom: Well I’ll just go with you. It’ll be a good excuse if you don’t like it there. You can say your overpowering lesbian girlfriend is making you go home. Oh! And we’ll take John and Kenny with us! Kenny can be… oh what’s the name… the prostitute…oh…. (I‘m sure she‘ll blend right in not knowing the characters names)
Twenty minutes later…
Mom: The Companion! That’s it! Kenny can be the companion and John can be little Jayne. They’ll be our body guards. (Point of interest, Kenny is the exact opposite of Inara except he does have long curly black hair, and John is an almost 80 year old Hungarian man.)
Me: We could… or you know… not.
28.5% downloaded and I bet you can’t guess what I’m gonna say… yeah, they cancelled Angel. And just as I was starting to get into it and know the characters names. Fuckwits. I also really like that word, fuckwits.
And this makes me want to scan in the writing I find on money... maybe all the reported Browncoat bills found.
http://keaggy.com/grocerylists/
| Marriage is love. | |||||
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Yo, I have 9% of Angel: Season One downloaded.
Almost 9.1%
Just another week and I might be able to watch some of this... and then I'll find out that I've seen all of the eps from season one and have to wait another week for season two and it'll probably be in French or something else and then another week of downloading to find it in English and then it will be that someone labeled it wrong and it's really season one all over again and then there will just have to be bloodshed.
Or maybe not.
And maybe I'm alone on this but making this lady wink at me just too much fun.
http://www.alterfin.com/dominique/
It's rumored that she plans to ask the Wizard of Oz for a body someday.
I'm still not at 9.1%.
Almost 9.1%
Just another week and I might be able to watch some of this... and then I'll find out that I've seen all of the eps from season one and have to wait another week for season two and it'll probably be in French or something else and then another week of downloading to find it in English and then it will be that someone labeled it wrong and it's really season one all over again and then there will just have to be bloodshed.
Or maybe not.
And maybe I'm alone on this but making this lady wink at me just too much fun.
http://www.alterfin.com/dominique/
It's rumored that she plans to ask the Wizard of Oz for a body someday.
I'm still not at 9.1%.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Little story, lots of mush
I made every green light between home and school today. Well, some were yellow, but I made it through every light without stopping today. That’s almost twenty street lights. I was very proud. So of course I hit almost every red light on my way home. Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to boast about the green light drive.
And I gotta say, I love all my #firefly friends. Seriously. Hearts all around. Before I started chatting I wouldn’t of thought that people I only knew from the internet could surprise me, make me laugh out loud, cry, jump up and down, or make me smile until my cheeks hurt. But they do. The other day I got to see something from a #firefly-ee (“pounder“? “#fireflyer“? You know who.) that made me squeal, smile, jump around, clap and cover my eyes to peek between my fingers because I couldn’t bear to be so surprised. There’s so much I’ve learned from the friends I’ve made at #firefly and so many things I’ve been introduced to. It’s octo-fabulous and mushy. I think about it a lot, think about my friends, quote some of their lines when I talk to other people, (“Fuck me pink and purple” “Affle house?” “I blame all the world troubles on the uterus” ) and when I watch Angel, Buffy, Firefly, Family Guy, or Futurama it’s not show quotes I hear, it’s quotes from people in #firefly I remember that just so happen to be said in this show. I was watching Buffy the other day and Dawn said “Everyone likes a slim ankle”. I yelled at the TV, “Mag said that!”.
And if you’ve ever thought your home or apartment was cluttered, well, this will make you feel better… or scared for the world.
And I gotta say, I love all my #firefly friends. Seriously. Hearts all around. Before I started chatting I wouldn’t of thought that people I only knew from the internet could surprise me, make me laugh out loud, cry, jump up and down, or make me smile until my cheeks hurt. But they do. The other day I got to see something from a #firefly-ee (“pounder“? “#fireflyer“? You know who.) that made me squeal, smile, jump around, clap and cover my eyes to peek between my fingers because I couldn’t bear to be so surprised. There’s so much I’ve learned from the friends I’ve made at #firefly and so many things I’ve been introduced to. It’s octo-fabulous and mushy. I think about it a lot, think about my friends, quote some of their lines when I talk to other people, (“Fuck me pink and purple” “Affle house?” “I blame all the world troubles on the uterus” ) and when I watch Angel, Buffy, Firefly, Family Guy, or Futurama it’s not show quotes I hear, it’s quotes from people in #firefly I remember that just so happen to be said in this show. I was watching Buffy the other day and Dawn said “Everyone likes a slim ankle”. I yelled at the TV, “Mag said that!”.
And if you’ve ever thought your home or apartment was cluttered, well, this will make you feel better… or scared for the world.
Monday, February 9, 2004
Boob mints for all
I love Mulan. I’ve probably seen it a hundred times. And come on, what could be better than a cricket playing drums while the ancestors spirits rock out and play volleyball with someone’s head. I hope I don’t need to say it, but you know the rules to head throwing.
I think I’ve managed to dump the family come shindig time. It takes lots of oysters and more than the usual amount of alcohol but I think I’ll be attending stag… well… I’ve already promised to hang with Jake at COSI, but other than that, it’s just me baby! Also, just as a notice to all you with boobs, don’t drink with my friends ‘cause somehow we all end up with mints in our bras and stuck to our boobs at the end of the night. Go figure.
This is the link to the artsy craft festive we went to Saturday before dinner at our favorite bar. We got some of this guy’s stuff, and a bunch of other goodies, but I can’t find any links for them. This is the guy I got these funny little oil lamp heads from, thus the need for lamp oil. There isn’t any in Ohio. None. Nada.
And lastly, it's just 9:00 and I'm fighting to stay awake. I don't think I've fallen asleep this early since junior high school. It's freaky I tell you!
I think I’ve managed to dump the family come shindig time. It takes lots of oysters and more than the usual amount of alcohol but I think I’ll be attending stag… well… I’ve already promised to hang with Jake at COSI, but other than that, it’s just me baby! Also, just as a notice to all you with boobs, don’t drink with my friends ‘cause somehow we all end up with mints in our bras and stuck to our boobs at the end of the night. Go figure.
This is the link to the artsy craft festive we went to Saturday before dinner at our favorite bar. We got some of this guy’s stuff, and a bunch of other goodies, but I can’t find any links for them. This is the guy I got these funny little oil lamp heads from, thus the need for lamp oil. There isn’t any in Ohio. None. Nada.
And lastly, it's just 9:00 and I'm fighting to stay awake. I don't think I've fallen asleep this early since junior high school. It's freaky I tell you!
Sunday, February 8, 2004
Friday, February 6, 2004
An amazing wonderful title that I just can't think of, insert here
My cat, Cleo, the bitch, woke me up, like she does every morning, at 6:30 a.m. by squeaking her paws on my door, and for some reason I’m still awake and now enjoying my gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich, luke warm hot chocolate, and the only thing that’s showing something other than news, VH1.
The tambourine rocks and most music videos really suck.
There’s a terrible over abundance of tall black women in bikinis and high heels that only want to wiggle and gyrate with half a dozens of their cookie cutter friends next to some short pimp guy in tacky clashing bling bling. I wanna get famous, wear plaid and a hat with a feather in it and have unusually endowed men giggle around me then show it to the world as a music video. Yeah, maybe my video will have music in it, still not sure about that bit.
Seals song from Living ‘till the End is on. Humm… yeah, this video also sucks… it could use just a little more boob giggling and some hip smacking tambourine.
It’s starting to get bright out. It’s a very wet and gray day, warm though.
Yesterday I was feeling all violent so I took it out on the three inches of ice that was covering our driveway. One girl, one hoe, lots beating and hacking at the ice. Twenty minutes later, it became, one girl, one ice chip in the eye, lots of whining and “Ow, ow, ow, look at my eye! Is it bleeding?”. It hurt like all hell and I had visions (only in one eye) of that poor guy from Ariel, bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
Of course I was told to shut up and sleep it off. Amazing how “sleeping it off” heals everything. When I woke up we were all congregating in my parents room on their bed. My mum was trying to sleep, my dad trying to watch tv, I was trying to suck sympathy, and my brother was causing trouble, stiring up the cats and dogs on the bed and threatening to poke my eye.
DAD: “Want me to rub your back, honey?”
MUM: “Let me sleep.”
DAD: “Are you sure?”
MUM: “Want me to pirece your ear with my teeth?”
So friendly.
Somehow we got on the topic of man makeup and the next thing I know Jake’s sitting on the end of my bed and I’m applying sea green and pinkish purple eye shadow to my 6 foot tall wrestler brother.
Oh dear, so much fun.
I used to dress him up like a girl tons of times when he was little, but when he got taller than me, there was no way in hell I’d be able to threaten him into a dress.
Now I’m too nice, or scared, or something to post pictures of Jake, and believe me, there were pictures, but he looked like a cross between these two pictures.
http://web2.iadfw.net/harlow/blonde.jpg
http://andreazuill.com/images/zuill/op-gretasmall.jpg
Curly blonde wig, pearls, pink shawl, fire engine red lipstick and all done by a girl who couldn‘t see out one eye. Heh, it really doesn’t take much to make me happy.
And while I was searching for “scary blonde man/woman” pictures I found this. Don’t you think with boobs that big you’d need some kind of bra?
Take Free Advanced Big 30 Personality Test
Snatched from Maystone.
The tambourine rocks and most music videos really suck.
There’s a terrible over abundance of tall black women in bikinis and high heels that only want to wiggle and gyrate with half a dozens of their cookie cutter friends next to some short pimp guy in tacky clashing bling bling. I wanna get famous, wear plaid and a hat with a feather in it and have unusually endowed men giggle around me then show it to the world as a music video. Yeah, maybe my video will have music in it, still not sure about that bit.
Seals song from Living ‘till the End is on. Humm… yeah, this video also sucks… it could use just a little more boob giggling and some hip smacking tambourine.
It’s starting to get bright out. It’s a very wet and gray day, warm though.
Yesterday I was feeling all violent so I took it out on the three inches of ice that was covering our driveway. One girl, one hoe, lots beating and hacking at the ice. Twenty minutes later, it became, one girl, one ice chip in the eye, lots of whining and “Ow, ow, ow, look at my eye! Is it bleeding?”. It hurt like all hell and I had visions (only in one eye) of that poor guy from Ariel, bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
Of course I was told to shut up and sleep it off. Amazing how “sleeping it off” heals everything. When I woke up we were all congregating in my parents room on their bed. My mum was trying to sleep, my dad trying to watch tv, I was trying to suck sympathy, and my brother was causing trouble, stiring up the cats and dogs on the bed and threatening to poke my eye.
DAD: “Want me to rub your back, honey?”
MUM: “Let me sleep.”
DAD: “Are you sure?”
MUM: “Want me to pirece your ear with my teeth?”
So friendly.
Somehow we got on the topic of man makeup and the next thing I know Jake’s sitting on the end of my bed and I’m applying sea green and pinkish purple eye shadow to my 6 foot tall wrestler brother.
Oh dear, so much fun.
I used to dress him up like a girl tons of times when he was little, but when he got taller than me, there was no way in hell I’d be able to threaten him into a dress.
Now I’m too nice, or scared, or something to post pictures of Jake, and believe me, there were pictures, but he looked like a cross between these two pictures.
http://web2.iadfw.net/harlow/blonde.jpg
http://andreazuill.com/images/zuill/op-gretasmall.jpg
Curly blonde wig, pearls, pink shawl, fire engine red lipstick and all done by a girl who couldn‘t see out one eye. Heh, it really doesn’t take much to make me happy.
And while I was searching for “scary blonde man/woman” pictures I found this. Don’t you think with boobs that big you’d need some kind of bra?
| Advanced Big 30 Personality Test Results
|
Snatched from Maystone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)