My life's been completely boring today. Not much on my mind worth mentioning, but pfft. I've just been letting everything wash over me. That's how it is. Whatever. I haven't gotten much done these days, but what can I say?
And for all of you bloggers with little time.
http://www.brunching.com/journalgenerator.html
Sunday, November 16, 2003
Saturday, November 15, 2003
“The only way to get rid of nuclear weapons is to use them.” Heheh.
Ahh. You just don’t know what a good night’s sleep is until you’ve gotten 19 hours of it after four days without it. Yes, sleep is good. Sleep is very good.
I had a lovely little doctors appointment yesterday. Before I went in my mother had the gall to blame my aliments on allergies. Ha! Like I would be weakened by allergies. Made to stay up for days on end sneezing my brains out because of allergies. Bed ridden by allergies. Well… not bed ridden, but in bed a whole lot. Pfft, allergies, preposterous!
So I went in, whined about my aches and pains, got poked and prodded, stuck and squeezed. Then my doctor left to do the mysterious things doctors do while I sat on that funky shaped bed covered in crinkly wax paper. Now you’d think since I was at a hospital, in the doctors office, that they’d had some tissue paper for their sniffling patients, but no. All they had were those buy-cheap-by-bulk brown paper towels that you find in elementary school bathrooms that are made out of recycled cardboard boxes. Euh, my poor nose. By the time I went though a short stack of those my doctor came back in and sat down on her stool, a serious look on her face.
“Rabies?” I asked.
She looked up, “does your mouth foam?”
“Only when I brush my teeth.”
She shook her head and continued looking at my chart.
Okay, no to rabies.
“The plague? It’s the plague isn’t it? I knew it, I’ve had this feeling in my chest…”
“Have you been having hallucinations, is your body covered in boils?”
“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean…”
She shook her head again.
Alright, it’s not the plague.
“Well… what is it doc?”
She doesn‘t even look up to answer me-- that’s a bad sign. “I think you've just got a bug.”
A bug? What the hell does that mean? A bug. What bug? Why do I have it? I don’t want it. My doctor is much too vague and matter-of-fact for my comfort.
“We’ll give you some hefty antibiotics to take, should clear it all up in a week or so. If you’re not better by next Friday come back in. Keep in mind though, you’ll probably feel worse before you begin to feel better.”
And that translated to: “We’re going to pump you full of drugs that you don’t need. They probably wont do anything since you’re likely to heal on your own eventually. If you’re not dead by Friday then the unknown bug is more than likely not fatal, darn. Also, the useless, pricey pills that you’re going to be sucking down for the next two weeks are going to make you feel sick and amplify all the ill symptoms that you have now, enjoy taking your exams with that.”
Yay.
Ohhh, new fun site.
I’ve been making gun toting BC characters on that site all day. Yeah, I really know how to party.
I had a lovely little doctors appointment yesterday. Before I went in my mother had the gall to blame my aliments on allergies. Ha! Like I would be weakened by allergies. Made to stay up for days on end sneezing my brains out because of allergies. Bed ridden by allergies. Well… not bed ridden, but in bed a whole lot. Pfft, allergies, preposterous!
So I went in, whined about my aches and pains, got poked and prodded, stuck and squeezed. Then my doctor left to do the mysterious things doctors do while I sat on that funky shaped bed covered in crinkly wax paper. Now you’d think since I was at a hospital, in the doctors office, that they’d had some tissue paper for their sniffling patients, but no. All they had were those buy-cheap-by-bulk brown paper towels that you find in elementary school bathrooms that are made out of recycled cardboard boxes. Euh, my poor nose. By the time I went though a short stack of those my doctor came back in and sat down on her stool, a serious look on her face.
“Rabies?” I asked.
She looked up, “does your mouth foam?”
“Only when I brush my teeth.”
She shook her head and continued looking at my chart.
Okay, no to rabies.
“The plague? It’s the plague isn’t it? I knew it, I’ve had this feeling in my chest…”
“Have you been having hallucinations, is your body covered in boils?”
“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean…”
She shook her head again.
Alright, it’s not the plague.
“Well… what is it doc?”
She doesn‘t even look up to answer me-- that’s a bad sign. “I think you've just got a bug.”
A bug? What the hell does that mean? A bug. What bug? Why do I have it? I don’t want it. My doctor is much too vague and matter-of-fact for my comfort.
“We’ll give you some hefty antibiotics to take, should clear it all up in a week or so. If you’re not better by next Friday come back in. Keep in mind though, you’ll probably feel worse before you begin to feel better.”
And that translated to: “We’re going to pump you full of drugs that you don’t need. They probably wont do anything since you’re likely to heal on your own eventually. If you’re not dead by Friday then the unknown bug is more than likely not fatal, darn. Also, the useless, pricey pills that you’re going to be sucking down for the next two weeks are going to make you feel sick and amplify all the ill symptoms that you have now, enjoy taking your exams with that.”
Yay.
Ohhh, new fun site.
I’ve been making gun toting BC characters on that site all day. Yeah, I really know how to party.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Tip of the day: Kids, if you see a bear, don’t fall to the ground and play dead. The bear is not that stupid, he will know you are still alive. D’uh!
Today I was fed (almost) the scariest damn thing I have ever seen. Think back to any alien movie you’ve seen. Remember the eggs? Those off white, gooey, translucent, spider egg looking thingies? Yes you do, they are in every alien movie ever made. Well, someone cooked one and tried to fed it to me. They said it was a cabbage roll. Pfft, I know better. It could just be the fever talking, but that wasn’t a damn cabbage roll, it was a freaking alien egg and it smelled like the inside of an old pumpkin! I'll be scared for life.
You are spoon guy. You should have planned ahead
buddy, or packed a bigger lunch.
which rejected character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yup, that seems fitting.
Today I was fed (almost) the scariest damn thing I have ever seen. Think back to any alien movie you’ve seen. Remember the eggs? Those off white, gooey, translucent, spider egg looking thingies? Yes you do, they are in every alien movie ever made. Well, someone cooked one and tried to fed it to me. They said it was a cabbage roll. Pfft, I know better. It could just be the fever talking, but that wasn’t a damn cabbage roll, it was a freaking alien egg and it smelled like the inside of an old pumpkin! I'll be scared for life.
You are spoon guy. You should have planned ahead
buddy, or packed a bigger lunch.
which rejected character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yup, that seems fitting.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Ah well, the first sign of winter is here at last-- vile ladybugs.
Ladybugs must be natures most misunderstood bug. I see them in cartoons as nice little grandmother bugs, chubby around the middle, rosy red, and cookie baking. Some people think it’s good luck when one lands on your shoulder, they think they’re harmless and cute. Ignorant fools.
Anyone remember the movie “Arachnids”? Some guy’s house gets overrun by thousands of poisonous spiders, people are dying all over the place, and the main characters have to fight to get out of their own home alive. Well, around winter time in Ohio, ladybugs do the same damn thing.
First it’s just one you hear flying around the room, or one crawling on the counter. Then there’s one on your mirror, in your closet, on the computer, crawling around the book case. Soon those little “ones” multiply into hundreds. And these are selfless bastards too, if some have to die to make you uncomfortable, fine with them. Sacrifice part of the group so the rest can feed off your disgust and anger.
They climb into your light fixtures and die leaving dozens of brittle little corpses that will fall into your hair when you have to change a light bulb months down the road. They delight in crunching under your bare foot, floating in your bathtub, crawling around the rim of your drinking glass, or flying into your face. Also, they bite. No stinging or hissing, just tiny bites, then a little bit of yellow spit up just to really make you feel sick.
We no longer just kill one, or try and shoo them out of the house like we did the beginning of our first winter-- we vacuum them up by the dozens. Suck them from the curtains, out of the little corners in rooms, or off the ceiling.
When they land on our shoulder there are no “ohh”s or “ahh”’s or “what good luck!”. We simply flick them. The one and only good thing about ladybugs are their hard exoskeletons. They flick wonderfully and make clear and satisfying little dinks when they hit the floor or wall. It is really fairly enjoyable.
Okay, enough about ladybugs.
Here’s a fun kiddy site full of flash games if you’re bored.
http://postopia.com/games/index.aspx
Ladybugs must be natures most misunderstood bug. I see them in cartoons as nice little grandmother bugs, chubby around the middle, rosy red, and cookie baking. Some people think it’s good luck when one lands on your shoulder, they think they’re harmless and cute. Ignorant fools.
Anyone remember the movie “Arachnids”? Some guy’s house gets overrun by thousands of poisonous spiders, people are dying all over the place, and the main characters have to fight to get out of their own home alive. Well, around winter time in Ohio, ladybugs do the same damn thing.
First it’s just one you hear flying around the room, or one crawling on the counter. Then there’s one on your mirror, in your closet, on the computer, crawling around the book case. Soon those little “ones” multiply into hundreds. And these are selfless bastards too, if some have to die to make you uncomfortable, fine with them. Sacrifice part of the group so the rest can feed off your disgust and anger.
They climb into your light fixtures and die leaving dozens of brittle little corpses that will fall into your hair when you have to change a light bulb months down the road. They delight in crunching under your bare foot, floating in your bathtub, crawling around the rim of your drinking glass, or flying into your face. Also, they bite. No stinging or hissing, just tiny bites, then a little bit of yellow spit up just to really make you feel sick.
We no longer just kill one, or try and shoo them out of the house like we did the beginning of our first winter-- we vacuum them up by the dozens. Suck them from the curtains, out of the little corners in rooms, or off the ceiling.
When they land on our shoulder there are no “ohh”s or “ahh”’s or “what good luck!”. We simply flick them. The one and only good thing about ladybugs are their hard exoskeletons. They flick wonderfully and make clear and satisfying little dinks when they hit the floor or wall. It is really fairly enjoyable.
Okay, enough about ladybugs.
Here’s a fun kiddy site full of flash games if you’re bored.
http://postopia.com/games/index.aspx
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
I’ve been feeling a bit off lately so my little brother, Jake, decided to cheer me up. A few minutes ago he knocks on my door...
Jake: You wanna hear my Sponge Bob Square Pants song?
Me: Uh...
Jake: No, you wanna see my Sponge Bob Square Pants song?
Me: See...?
He opens the door and is standing there in his underwear, a big yellow tee-shirt and his blue jeans wrapped around his head like a turban and starts singing the theme song to Sponge Bob Square Pants while dancing the snoopy dance.
After my hysteric laughter subsided...
Me: You’re a freak
Jake: Why?
Me: I don’t know. You’re just kinda freakish.
Jake: Oh... give me a hug.
Me: HA!
Jake: You wanna hear my Sponge Bob Square Pants song?
Me: Uh...
Jake: No, you wanna see my Sponge Bob Square Pants song?
Me: See...?
He opens the door and is standing there in his underwear, a big yellow tee-shirt and his blue jeans wrapped around his head like a turban and starts singing the theme song to Sponge Bob Square Pants while dancing the snoopy dance.
After my hysteric laughter subsided...
Me: You’re a freak
Jake: Why?
Me: I don’t know. You’re just kinda freakish.
Jake: Oh... give me a hug.
Me: HA!
Chicken lips hearts 00?
Did you know that the musical group “Sugar Ray” was going to call themselves “Chicken lips”? I think it would have been a marvelous band name. It’s also my mums nickname for me.
Oh, fun with flash sites, here's an entertaining one. I wish I had some kind of musical talent.
My best friend Stacey came back to Ohio the other day from her Naval post in Virginia. I hadn’t seen her since July when we were ducking fireworks together. Sunday I baked her a cake and gave her a driving lesson in my car-- stick shift. I honestly don’t know how my car is still running after all it‘s been through. It’s pretty fun though, when my car sputters and starts to die it bucks like a horse and throws you around the cabin.
Newest extreme sport: Mazda bug sputtering. Look for it at the next Olympics.
While we were all sitting around eating confetti cup cakes and spice cake I caught Stacey up on the local gossip.
“Satan had a baby with Frankenstein, she already knows you’re divorcing Skinny Bastard. Sam’s and 00? are still living with their boyfriends down by the tracks. Help Me’s baby is getting pretty big, I saw him last week. Wilted Flower head is in jail again and Parrot Face left town, nobody knows where she it. Mom’s dating a new girl, Skinny Bitch, because Tony dumped him, and oh, is your Sis still dating Bean?”
The look on her cousins face was almost as fulfilling as the look on strangers faces when their hear us talk like that in public, scream it across crowed rooms, or call for each other over the mall's loud speaker.
Ah, wacky fun.
Oh, fun with flash sites, here's an entertaining one. I wish I had some kind of musical talent.
My best friend Stacey came back to Ohio the other day from her Naval post in Virginia. I hadn’t seen her since July when we were ducking fireworks together. Sunday I baked her a cake and gave her a driving lesson in my car-- stick shift. I honestly don’t know how my car is still running after all it‘s been through. It’s pretty fun though, when my car sputters and starts to die it bucks like a horse and throws you around the cabin.
Newest extreme sport: Mazda bug sputtering. Look for it at the next Olympics.
While we were all sitting around eating confetti cup cakes and spice cake I caught Stacey up on the local gossip.
“Satan had a baby with Frankenstein, she already knows you’re divorcing Skinny Bastard. Sam’s and 00? are still living with their boyfriends down by the tracks. Help Me’s baby is getting pretty big, I saw him last week. Wilted Flower head is in jail again and Parrot Face left town, nobody knows where she it. Mom’s dating a new girl, Skinny Bitch, because Tony dumped him, and oh, is your Sis still dating Bean?”
The look on her cousins face was almost as fulfilling as the look on strangers faces when their hear us talk like that in public, scream it across crowed rooms, or call for each other over the mall's loud speaker.
Ah, wacky fun.
Friday, November 7, 2003
I’m sick. Euhey
It’s not so much about feeling crappy, but I fit my list, and I’m only ever like this when I’m sick.
How to tell if you’re a sick Kayt:
1.) Do you sleep fully dressed? If so, you’re sick.
2.) Do you sleep during the day? Yes? Then you’re sick.
3.) Do you whine and say “gah” and “pouchy” a lot? I’m sorry, but you’re sick.
4.) Do you find yourself running errands? You are certainly sick.
5.) Do your innards feel like they were pulled out, tied in little knots, braided into little friendship bracelets and stuffed back in, and does it feel like too much blood has been pumped in your head, like a can of spray paint in a fire? Yeah? You might be sick then.
Oh, I have nothing interesting to say, I’m just sick, gah.
It’s not so much about feeling crappy, but I fit my list, and I’m only ever like this when I’m sick.
How to tell if you’re a sick Kayt:
1.) Do you sleep fully dressed? If so, you’re sick.
2.) Do you sleep during the day? Yes? Then you’re sick.
3.) Do you whine and say “gah” and “pouchy” a lot? I’m sorry, but you’re sick.
4.) Do you find yourself running errands? You are certainly sick.
5.) Do your innards feel like they were pulled out, tied in little knots, braided into little friendship bracelets and stuffed back in, and does it feel like too much blood has been pumped in your head, like a can of spray paint in a fire? Yeah? You might be sick then.
Oh, I have nothing interesting to say, I’m just sick, gah.
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