March 19, 2003 :: 10:32 p.m.
Amanda, the diarist who knew no fear
Diaryland is down, so down, and I am forced to write my little entry in Word and add it later instead of indulging in a steamy finger-pounding session with Mr. Box. Why must these most precious of moments always be wrenched away from me like a tattered security blanket or a stranger�s stolen undergarments? Alas� I shall always live with the knowledge that my most beloved possessions will inevitably be torn from my side and sold for exorbitant amounts on Ebay. Sniff.
Yeah� I don�t know. I�m in weird mood. Weirder than usual, even.
There was a new episode of Angel on tonight, which was just nine kind of fabulous. I�ve been suspecting it for quite some time now, but as of tonight, right this moment, it�s official: I love me some Angel. The first season DVDs will be mine as soon as I get my grubby little hands on 45 bucks. So when I get my tax return, then. Or my check from the school for the few hours of work I did for Dr. Pettice last month, whichever comes first. I should really stop in and ask this Dana woman about that. I didn�t get it into the business office before break, due to extreme not being there on their part, not mine, so I just took it in when I got back. I�m hoping that I�ll still get my money at some point, because while it�s not much at all, it�s more than I�ve got right now. Actually, I�ve got 30 bucks in my wallet right now, but it�s for my anti-baby pills, and there�s not much that comes before stocking up on those little miracles.
So I�ve emailed about half a million (read: two) people about various aspects of dropping 2-D Design, and the consensus is that I can do it without any unpleasant consequences. Well, let me rephrase that. I can do it without any changes to my current housing situation. Leaving the dorms would not, in any way, be unpleasant, but for some reason I wish to avoid it anyway. Because I�m a sick and twisted individual like that. No, it�s more about the fact that Adam is here, and as Adam goes, so goes my nation. Or something like that.
This cracks my shit up. Seriously. I have been laughing unashamedly for the past 20 minutes.
Oh, come on! I�ve been having a decent evening, watching Angel with Adam and making my own fun in the form of wacky diary hijinks. But does it last? No. No, it does not. Emily just reheated the Chinese food she ordered tonight. Reheated Chinese food smell is much worse than french fry smell, I think. Definitely worse. And to add insult to injury, as they say, it�s making me hungry. Why? Why is this horrible smell making me hungry? It�s unnatural, I tell you. It defies all the laws of god and man. It�s an evil minion, sent by satan to lure me to the dark side. He wants me to be his resident baby-eater, you know. He sent me a letter. But I told him very politely that I don�t eat meat, not even the succulent flesh of newborn humans. It was hard, but I had to reject him. A girl has to stick by her beliefs, after all. And in my case, that means abstaining from meat and radiating as much hate as possible in the direction of people whom I would like to see die horrible, painful deaths. Which is sort of most people, so it�s a big job. I should be salaried.
Please forgive the insane ramblings that seem to be making up the majority of this entry. I am under the influence of terrible, devious substances. Nah. I�m just feeling ramble-prone, unfortunately for you. I probably wouldn�t talk so much if I were under the influence of substances. Chances are I�d be just like my mom, with the violence and the puking and the occasional shouting of profanity. Fun! And they wonder why I don�t drink.
My mom is actually in AA right now, which is the only reason I can poke at her drinking problem like that. She hasn�t had a drink in months. I�m proud of her.
I want to curl up in bed with tea and a book and Rod Rottie, the stuffed Rottweiler that lives on my bed. I would actually prefer to curl up with Adam, of course, but he�s upstairs finishing a paper. So it goes. He�s sleeping over tomorrow night, though, and all weekend, which gives me the warm fuzzies. His roommate�s boyfriend is coming down to visit this weekend, starting tomorrow, so Adam is taking refuge in my room in order to avoid any hot gay lovin� that may occur. I do not mind in the least, of course. Maybe if I�m really lucky, Emily will go off someplace for a while so that we can actually, you know, have sex or something. But I am not lucky, and so I will surely remain sexually frustrated until the end of the semester. If you hear a noise like a balloon popping, it�s probably me, exploding. There me be some brain splatter action, also, so the more squeamish among you may wish to wear protective gear. Just a warning.
Hrm. Not too much else to say, I suppose. I�m going to make several trips home this weekend, to do a variety of things. On Friday, I�m going to take Buddy to meet Adam�s dog Sam. I have visions of the two of them romping through fields of dandelions together, but I have doubts about their validity. There are no fields of dandelions in Beaumont Square (where Sam lives), Buddy isn�t well acquainted enough with the concept of �come� to be allowed to run free, and Sam doesn�t really run much at all. He�s an older doggie, and more of a trotting kind of guy. Sometimes he kicks it up to canter, and on those rare spring days when he gets in touch with his inner puppy he�ll go for a bit of a run, but mostly he trots. These are his golden years � he�s earned it. On Saturday, Spongebob Squarepants will be visiting a local nursery (as in plant life, not babies). An odd choice of venue, yes, but we will be going out to see him regardless. I promised Adam that I�d get my picture taken with Spongebob. I think that was a bad promise to make. I don�t photograph well. But on the other hand, who wouldn�t look at least acceptable when standing next to a guy in a giant sponge costume? Ah, the bright side. We don�t see each other very often.
Anyway, I�m running out of steam. I�m going to putz around online for a bit and then head off to bed. Adieu, gentle viewers. Beware the vamPIRES.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005