September 04, 2003 :: 12:58 a.m.
ah, the sweet smell of bitterness in the evening...
Oh, yawn. Me so sleepy. And yet here I am, awake and writing in my online diary. What a world.
The damaged RAM has been exchanged for a new stick of RAM, complete with unbroken freshness seal. Hopefully things will work properly now, but I really shouldn't get my hopes up. We are talking about my cursed and satanic computer here. Adam also presented me with a completely illegal but fully functioning copy of Painter 8 tonight, so I've been playing with my new toy for many hours. This program is SO. MUCH. FUN! Too bad I can't really paint. Maybe it'll help me learn.
I did manage to tear myself away from the computer for a bit just now, though, to work on my sculpture for Glass. It's... interesting. I'm not too far into it, but most of the basic assembly has been taken care of. Thank you, Hot Glue Gun. You will always have my heart.
Speaking of hot glue... am I the only one who likes to squish my fingertips into little puddles of freshly squeezed hot glue? It burns, and yet still I love it. I have undeniable masochistic tendencies, it would seem.
Cutting up CDs leaves little sparkly bits all over the place. I do hope they're not toxic or anything, because my bed is full of them. And my hands are covered in them. And I'm fairly sure that I got some in my mouth at one point. Hrm. So if you don't hear from me for a few days, maybe just assume I'm dead. "She died of sparkly CD dust poisoning at tender age of 20." Oh, and then my family can sue AOL for millions of dollars, since it was dust from their CDs that got into my lungs and led me to my festering death. Score.
I didn't start my fourth rendition of The Wire Monkey Wrench, which is due on Tuesday. I think we're doing something else in class tomorrow, so I should be okay. I hope. Sixteen-gauge rebar wire needs to go straight to hell and burn forever in a boiling pit of something uncomfortable. Perhaps feces of some kind.
My doggy went swimming at the dog pool tonight, and then he got a bath with his special oatmeal shampoo. He smells nice now. He has special shampoo because he has dry skin, or so my mom says. I'm seriously the most neglected child in this house. The dog gets better treatment. Mason gets new clothes like every four minutes (including several SIXTY DOLLAR hoodies and football jerseys that really are ugly as sin), the dog gets frou-frou shampoo because he has delicate skin... pfft. I've gone shopping twice in the last year or so, and do you know what I've gotten? Four pairs of pants and a shirt. I don't have delicate skin, but I do have that obesity problem; do I get special food? Nooo. I have to forage for edible bits among the packages of meat and potato chips. Bastards.
Anyway. Goodnight, all.
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