A little test…

In the last forty eight hours I…?

A. Touched an Indian man’s underwear.
B. Drove through snow, hail, rain, and beautiful 72 degree weather.
C. Pissed in the boys bathroom.
D. Made friends with three lesbian women over forty.
E. Unintentionally fasted.
F. Got 16 hours of sleep one night then got 1 and a half hours the next night.
G. Learned to speak a little Mandarin.
H. Talked about porn for over seven hours straight.
I. Was nicknamed “smiley” by around twenty corporate businessmen.
J. Discovered a heard of buffalo.
K. Counted over thirty squished animals in less than forty minutes of driving.
L. Heard on the radio: “Jesus is like so cool, he’s always there for you, he doesn’t judge, Jesus just wants to be your friend.” and said out loud, “no, I think Jesus just wants in my pants.”
M. Hung out in the OSU library for almost 12 hours.
N. Taught someone to drive stick shift at 3 a.m.
O. Set off two fire alarms, sadly, without fire.
P. Or, all of the above.

First off, be glad this wasn’t a fill in the blank kind of question. Second, if you answered “P”, you answered correct. Yay, a gold star for you!

And... http://signsoflife.goose24.org/?sign=15

Also nice... http://signsoflife.goose24.org/?sign=93

Took my Zane into the vet this morning for his chest X-ray. Lordy, that was heart wrenching. Poor Zane has had ouchy surgeries for his ears before, and seen our other dog Clair taken to the vet, and not come back, and is all around terrified of other animals and new places. As we were standing in line he was shaking so hard he couldn’t stand, he kept falling down. Then I have to take him into the back where there are all these other big, young, tear your throat out, probably cross bred with mutated, violent bulls, dogs in tiny cages. And Zane is shaking and pacing and looking up at me like “don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I’ll be better. Don’t leave me. I’ll be a good dog. Why are you punishing me?” Ow, my heart. So I sit on the ground and hold him, and pet him, and talk to him, try to get him to calm down and know that I’m coming back for him, but it kill me because I know he doesn’t understand. He’s such a good pup. Never growls or bites or is anything but a sweet cat lovin’ child-face-licking canine. He wouldn’t get in the cage on his own, but I put his front paws up there and he didn’t fight it. I picked up his back legs and maneuvered him into the cage and he just shook and accepted it. Poor baby. I wish I could stay and sit with him so he would know that we’re not abandoning him because he’s old and can’t walk like he used to. I know it’s just an X-ray, but it’s all sad.

Do not deprive me of my fish!

Ooooh, good Angel. Don’t know that I can say anything that won’t be all spoilery, but yeah, whoa, good Angel.

And, you might want to sit down for this one….

Bob the Fish Guy has closed down! No more of “the best fish in Ohio”. Wipe your tears and blow your nose, we might survive. There’s another Bob the Fish Guy’s on the south side of town, but for us northerners, no more fish. Boo.

To undress... or not to undress...

My art teacher just called me from her life drawing class. The nude model that was supposed to come in and pose is sick, so they’re kinda in a pinch. She just asked if I’d mind coming in and posing. Euh… to who ba wha ba? Good lord, that was an awkward phone call.

Bury your own damn grapes.

Today I woke up at the ass crack of dawn, was running late, hurried off to school, drove thirty minutes, was 10 minutes late, found out that my class changed rooms, finally made it there, and my professor gave us the day off. All that work, all that driving, for nothing! Can I get a communal growl please? Grrrrrrr!

I ended up spending some fun time hanging out with Geoff and Joel, then came home early to spend some quality time with the sun. In an attempt to avoid doing dishes (that later failed) I rested in the grass, feeding grapes to my pups, for over three hours. Those are the most entertaining, yet weak minded animals on earth. I’d throw a grape, they’d hunt, not find it, then later sit on it. On one occasion the evil beagle Lou (soon to be renamed Baloo because of his habit of rubbing his butt on things) found a grape, then spent the next five minutes digging a grand hole, burying it, and carefully covering it up for safe keeping. Later, when I dug up his buried treasure, he sneezed towards me, and is still, six hours later, ignoring me.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about the hole. Do you remember, as a child, any holes you’ve dug? You know, the ones you hear about in the movies “Jimmy told me he dug a hole to China”. Have you ever tried to dig a hole to China? Or have you tried to dig for buried treasure? Well, my brother and I never really dug any great holes. So, a few days ago we just grabbed some shovels and started digging. Oh, it was a beautiful hole. We found all sorts of broken glass, china, old pots, plastic cat toys, rusty nails, and pop can tops. Our parents weren’t too thrilled about the large hole in the middle of the yard, but it was worth it to have a nice childhood memory of a hole dug.


The hole:


And my garland, made with daydreams of Mag on the Moon running through my mind. When we get to go on our trip, Mag, we’ll have to make many more.

Care of Geoff...

http://ebaumsworld.com/milkandcereal.html

Dance puppet chicken, dance!

I just got my ass, well… more specifically my face, kicked by my own bloody umbrella! One of the thin wire strips that hold up the umbrellas shape snapped in the wind and whipped me in the face. I was expecting blood but I didn’t even get a sweet looking red stripe. Bah.

I’m feel like gushing about Mag. So, prepare yourselves. This shouldn’t be taken in a stalker--esque manner, but I was thinking about her all last night. She’s really uber cool and interesting to thinking about, but mostly I was thinking about her because I was thinking about Spike doing Buffy in the butt. Did Spike do Buffy in the butt? Did Buffy do Spike in the butt? And then the mini shoulder Spark sprung up a question: were there vegetables involved? The shoulder Spark then tried to get a peek under the covers but I wished him away. I bet Riley never did Buffy in the butt. Though I bet Faith isn’t new too it… did Xander do Faith in the butt? What about Angel and Eve? Oh, it’s just a big circle of theoretical butt sex. But other than the fictional butt sex, I just had Mag on the mind.

And I’ve finally got an abbreviation I work with! JWL, Jehovah’s Witness Lady. She’s my supervisor at work. Lovely lady, but scarily sweet. I think I know what the sweetness front is for though… “let me explain, no, there is too much, let me sum up“--“I’ll drink the cool aid. Is that what this is leading up to? Ohhhh, but you can’t off me because then I wont be around to do your bidding”.

I can’t quite quote but I can’t stop paraphrasing.

I’m still in a bad ass mood, but it stopped raining, that made life better. Oh, and I was also thinking about Sarah last night and had “The Natural One” song playing on loop in my head…but then I was kind of going nuts all night because I couldn’t think of what that song was called and then I couldn’t check from where I knew it was written on the BC’s but talk of the BC’s disappearance is quite googleable. And Sarah? Why is your picture missing from Sarahetc.com?

There is so much I have going on that I want to write about but it’s just… well, I have so much going on. I’ve been kinda busy lately and I’m super lazy.

Fun link: This is odd and a little scary. I like to have him dance and swim.

http://www.subservientchicken.com/

I am in such an unbelievably bad mood for no reason whatsoever.

Fun with bush murder.

1. Put on garden shoes.


2. Hack away.


3. Get tired and leave the nasty stumps still sticking up.


Then, if you’re lucky,

4. Find treasure.

(If you know what this thingy is, or you want to guess, please do, because I wanna know. So far I think it’s the top part of a lock on a treasure chest buried under the evil bush sometime before the Spanish Inquisition. There is all kinds of treasure the Spanish left behind in our house.)



And, the truck the drove in front of me on my way to school today read “Rush’s Fucking” instead of “Rush’s Trucking”.

Oh, another “and”….does it make me a bad person if I think Brittany Spears’ Toxic music video is kind of cool? I’m having guilt abut liking it.

I got a haircut today. It’s the shortest it’s been in years. Probably the shortest I’ve had it since sixth grade. It’s also my brother’s first haircut. Not that his hair was cut for the first time, but it’s the first time he cut my hair.

You know those plans you get? Those complex plans that can’t fail? Well damn, they do fail.

Now I wanted a hair cut today, but nothing is open on Sunday, so what to do? What to do? I asked my mum, she‘s cut my hair many times before in a pinch and does a pretty good job. No go. She insiss that I drive to Columbus and get a proper hair cut. Well I’m just too impatient for that.

So starts the plan that cannot fail.

The last time a hair cut plan went into action my dad just started to cut my hair with some zigzagged craft sizzors after having a few vodcka shots, and that prompted my mother to jump in and do it right herself. So, being the logical ones that my brother and I am, we figured if he, being the awkward 14 year old boy he is, started hacking at my hair my mum would jump in and work her magic. Sounds like it’d work…. right? Well think again. My brother starts cutting, keeps cutting, mum looks away. More hair falls to the floor and my mum just keeps working on making dinner. There comes a point where Jake stops and mutters “whoops”. Does my mum jump in to save my head of hair? Nope. She shakes her head and denies me help. In the end I lost about four or five inches of hair, but it looks even to me. I think he did a pretty good job. It’s all one length, but I thought layers might have been a little too advanced for his first try. Maybe next time.

I have tummy butterflies. Gross.

Life can just be really odd sometimes. I want to say ironic but I don’t think that’s quite the word I’m looking for.

Just a few minutes ago I got a phone call from business offering me a job, and yesterday, I got one another one. What the hell? Why did these nice, close to school, few hours, more money, no thinking type jobs wait until I got another job to offer me one of their own? There were four years of no job offers and then they all wait to call me the week I start at the Holiday Inn? It’s just not fair.

Countdown: thirty minutes till work. Then 8 fun hours of standing around pretending I know how to do all the things I wrote about in my resume. My ubersexy blue work shirt is an XXL in men’s. Now I’m not a twig by any stretch, but the three janitors and I could work comfortably in this shirt. And now I have cat hair all over my fancible navy pants. Is calling in sick on the first day bad? Aw boo.

I got nothing.

Here we go. Last post… well, unless I write one tomorrow morning… before I go to work and hopefully, cross your fingers for me, get fired! I have high hopes.

Next, I got flowers today. Not from a sexy someone, but from my mum and dad. The napkin under the vase read, “Congrats Chicken lips.” My parents were so desperate for me to get a job that they had to congratulate me with flowers. Sad, but I won’t argue. I got flowers. They smell pretty.

Next, next, thanks to Mag and Spark, I’ve got new sexy Wes icons. Now all three of my icons are Wesley kissin' ones. Sigh. And also in this “next, next” thing, I've got to say, Wonderfalls rocks. I think there were other things I wanted to write about, but I’ve forgotten them already, so I guess they were all lies.

And this is amusing in a disgusting kind of way.

In the past year, I have eaten up to:
- 11 insect larvae
- 27 whole insects (or insect parts)
- 28 fly eggs
- 6 maggots
- 27 rat hairs
- 3600 mites
- a can or two of 'honey-combed tissue' in your tuna (whatever the hell that means).

Yummy.