Bored
Mood:  spacey
Now Playing: Radio
Topic: caffeinated
God, Starbucks really can kick your ass when you chug that shit down like there's no tommorrow! I feel very disoriented and weirded out right now.

It's been so hard to do anything at work, home, anywhere. I think I am still stunned from this weekend. I went out directly after work on Friday and was sloshed by seven, passed out on our bedroom floor by ten, throwing up by five a.m. All in all it was a good birthday, EXCEPT for the fact that someone managed to get their sticky, felonious hands on one of my debit cards and debit $600 before my bank caught on to the shenanigans and called me regarding the "suspicious activity."

The thing that is so strange, though, is I have NO IDEA where this debit card came from because I HAVE a debit card right now. Why would I have two cards? And the charges were in Champaign. AND the card was never used until the 27th (of course). Sooo, I am hoping the situation can be resolved as quickly as possible, but who really friggin knows. If they don't reimburse me I'm hauling in the big guns, being either my mom or any central Illinois senator with a law degree. Irritating.

I got a lot of cool shit for my birthday. My mom got me tickets to see David Sedaris in April (which is kind of far away and I'm a little nervous I'm going to lose the tickets/forget about the show). Actually, I know no one knows what they are doing in April, but if either one of you want to go to the show, let me know. I'm pretty sure Tone will not be interested in listening to a gay man's diatribe for an hour and a half, will get whiny and sulky, irritate me and ruin the experience. Although I may make him go for the cultural experience. But, seriously, at this point, if either of you are interested, let me know.

Anyway, T got me the Ashlee Simpson c.d. (LOVE her--it's really sick, I know), a big ass candle from that expensive candle place the name which I currently cannot remember (which is a good present simply because I wanted one of those candles, but could not justify the $25-$30 expenditure on scented wax simply for my own pleasure), a huge bottle of perfume and the corresponding scented lotion, a silver double-heart frame with our picture in it from "Things Remembered" (which isn't really my style but I loved it because of the sentimentality that boys usually do not regularly express) and a silver engraved Zippo (which I treasure more than words can express--thank you smoking, and all the joys you bring me). So, he did a good job, his motto throughout the entire shopping excurion being "bigger is better," I think. He later said he wanted to get me a watch, too, but then wouldn't have any money to take me out, which I thought was nice, but ultimately wished he hadn't have admitted because then I wanted the watch, too. I'm so sick.

His parents and sister gave me presents, too, and everyone at work gave me cards and took me out, so I felt very loved, which is all one can really ask for on a birthday. I think L is trying to replace BBB with me because she constantly emails me and is trying to set up a double date, god help us all. I on the other hand am trying to make T's sister a new best friend, to replace several that I have lost in the post-collegiate shuffle, and get the bridesmaid quota back up. I mean, at this point it is you two and...??? We can't have that! Planning for the future, planning for the future.

I'm also trying to find an new apartment/house which is horrible because T and I can never fully agree on anything. If there isn't enough floor space then the carpet's are too white (which doesn't work well with our gawky, uncoordination that causes us to spill something almost every night--usually something red or purple--fucking kool-aid drinking boyfriend) or there are too many transient-looking black people loitering on the porch next door or the rent is $200 too much. It's awful and T is absolutely no help, his part in the whole production consisting primarily of shooting down potentials. But he did wash all 700 dishes last night so I'm letting it slide for now.

I really need to get the F out of Springfield. God this town is depressing. And it is depressing to live in what could only being labeled a box, for an entire year. Work sucks. I'm all about grad school at this point. Totally given up any law school aspirations as the entire process sounds horrific and I'm not willing to sell my soul for three years of mental and physical torment.

Fatty fat fat
Mood:  hungry
Now Playing: Jewel - Jupiter
Topic: Fat
I feel like a huge fucking fat ass today. I would like to attribute that to the excessive amounts of fast food I've been eating, brought to me by my skinny boyfriend with the mediterranean metabolism.

Now, most people would find it hard to sympathize with the fact my size six pants are slightly snug, but it really is driving me nuts. I'm hoping this is something directly premenstrually related. I think it is, it's about that time. I can just literally FEEL my double chin growing as I type. It's really disturbing.

God, I'm tired. i was having the best dream, which was interrupted so I could come HERE.

Why are state buildings suck fucking cold? Just because the weather outside hits a balmy 62 degrees doesn't mean you gotta send the janitors running for the thermostat. I'm freezing my ass off in this place.

Pretty much everyone I work with is irritating me. First of all, they are republicans, which means that about 17% of them are intolerant to other races, religions, sexualities, opinions, etc. But, the thing that really kills me, is that they take no pains to mask their bigotry.

Now, some people might disagree with me, but I feel pretty strongly that if you are racist or intolerant, whatever, but for the love of God keep it to yourself! First of all, it doesn't make anyone else feel better if they know you arbitrarily dislike them for something they have no control over.

Second of all, it is 2004. While we still have a lot of strides to make in terms of discrimination and tolerance, people don't always take kindly to you referring to the predominently black area of the city as "Chocolate Town." Thanks.

One of the funniest things that ever happened to me hinges on the fact that my boyfriend is half italian-half spanish. Well, one day Jay was off on this tangent about how the mexicans are going to "take over" and then he threw the native americans in the mix for good measur. So, his arguement was that the mexicans and indians are well on their way to reclaiming what is rightfully theirs, i.e. America the Beautiful.

Riggght. Now, this irritated me because, first of all, there are about 32 native americans left and they're all in the shittiest part of colorado running casinos and attending AA meetings. Second of all, while there has been an impressive influx of latinos in recent years, they aren't rising to the highest echelon of the american socio-economic ladder. Let's all be real here. They are doing the shit jobs that the americans don't WANT to do.And to be perfectly honest, as callous as all of this sounds, they certainly haven't usurped any job I would want so it doesn't really affect me, thus I really could care less. Additionally, I feel sorry for the latinos because they get a bad rap,and I would venture to guess that on average the latino population in america has a little more respect for our country than most middle class white people.

Anyway, so after we argue about the Latinos and Native Americans for awhile, he leaves, and then my co-worker proceeds to inform him that my boyfriend is, in fact, considered a minority. As a result, Jay spends most of his time trying to backtrack and convince me that he is not a huge bigot and precursing his statements with something like, "Not that it matters what you skin color is, I don't give a damn about that, if you are a hard worker then that is what I care about..." But then he'll fuck it up and finish the sentence with, "it's just that most of the coloreds and these mexicans aren't, you see?" Oh, okay then. Sure.

Because I was an intern last year I have to SHARE my office with these PEOPLE who are working here for the summer. As a general rule both of them are very nice. But what really irritates me is the fact that they are HERE. They really can't win with me, no matter how personable and accomodating they are. It's the fact of the matter that they are in my personal space. Additionally, one of the men IS my boss' husband.

He is a decent enough guy, but he says this smart alec shit that irritates the FUCK out of me. My aggravation is heightened by the fact that I can't SAY anything to him because I can't decide whether or not he'll tattle on me. I'm peeved even further by the fact that because they are here I am not afforded the state worker luxury of falling asleep at my desk.

almost out of here
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Counting Crows - Long December
Topic: Money
I would like to add that there is nothing like having no money to make you incredibly, incredibly depressed. Which I am. Because I have no money.

I would also like to add that I saw a woman go into a stall today and immediately sit on a toilet that had a pube on the seat, which disgusted me to no end. I only know this because I saw the pube on the seat and LEFT because not only was I not about to sit there, I didn't even want to attempt to get rid of the pube.

WTF? Did she just not look? And who doesn't look when they sit down on the toilet?? There can be incredibly offensive things associated with toilets. I can't imagine not examining the area where I'm going to relieve myself. We aren't animals people. And, honestly, dogs spend more time choosing a place to tinkle than this broad did.

My friend just announced her bridesmaids, of which I am NOT one. I can't say that I am suprised because she never actually even called to inform me that she was engaged. That is a pretty sure sign that you're not going to be an actual part of the wedding. But I swear to Jehovah, that I BETTER recieve a gilt, engraved envelope 4-6 months before the debacle, or I will be RAGING pissed. At this point all she has done is save me a couple hundred dollars. Arguably, I am her real friend--the one she doesn't burden with obligations (emotional and financial)--at this point. Once the date passes and I'm not sitting in a pew critically appraising the whole affair it is over.

Hi Thursday
Mood:  down
Topic: Work
I really hate work. I mean, obviously that is why it is called "work" and not "super happy fun time." It is also why I am paid to be here, as opposed to being paid for what I would rather be doing, which is sleeping, watching digital cable and possibly getting some ass. Well, I guess some people do get paid for that, and they are called prostitutes or porn stars.

I had to go to lunch with my boss today to pick some stuff up. Can I just say that no one could irritate me more than that woman? I mean, seriously. AND she dropped a bombshell out of NOWHERE implying that I am soon going to be asked to leave work and go do something politically affiliated. Fuck that. I'll quit and work at chain restaurant before I go to the far reaches of the state so I can spend my Saturdays in August handing out bumberstickers and dragging my ass down upteen miles of parade routes in the end-of-summer heat.

Have a bachelorette party this weekend and I have secretly purchased a semi-scandalous outfit that my boyfriend would stroke out about--IF he knew about it. I feel like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house wearing lipstick or something. He's famous for seeing what I am wearing (which, I'm totally honest, is not particularly risque, c'mon, I am a state worker), his eyes slant, then widen, then his lip curls in and he says: "what-are-you-wearing??" I say, "Look! you can't see anything," which is the point where he makes me bend over, then takes the neck opening, holds it open and says: "Look! Look! You can see your tits! You aren't wearing that out..." Well, yes, you can see my breasts when you UNBUTTON THE SHIRT AND HOLD IT OPEN. Idiot.

My favorite is a smocked peasant tube top I wear. Aside from having no straps, it isn't particularly revealing. I mean, you see no cleave, which I think is the only thing that would back up any arguement in his favor. He hates that shirt, under the assumption that groups of roaming, horny men are going to be so presumptous as to approach me and then proceed to pull the shirt down, exposing my breasts. Now, honestly, what is the likelihood of this happening? I may be wrong, I will give an allowance for that, but I would say that IN GENERAL I would say the probability of someone de-shirting me is slim to none.

Our secretary broke up with her fiancee two nights ago and is pretty broken up about it. The thing is that I never heard her do anything but bitch about him and his kids, so I am finding it hard to be sympathetic. I did notice that I accidentally slipped in "music to slit your wrists to," (my collection of songs lamenting failed love and broken relationships)and blasted it 5 feet away from her desk. I mean, I like me a little Goo Goo Dolls, what can I say? "Well, I'd give up forever to touch you, if I know that you doh-doh-doh-doh-doh-doh-doh, don't want to go home right now" Ah that City of Angels soundtrack.

So I've been going out with my boyfriend for almost a year now, and we have been living together for ten months. God, I love the hell out of him. But he kind of drives me crazy. Do you know what pisses me off more than anything else HAS EVER PISSED ME OFF??? I can never outwardly get mad. I even attempt to act irritated and then HE gets mad at ME, and he is much better at getting mad than me. When I am pissed it is so ineffective that I just make myself ignore the feeling of aggravation brewing inside because I know it won't matter, it won't make him feel ashamed and repentent. Can you imagine how frustrating this is?

In addition, he was in a gang. He was addicted to smack and lived in the ghettos. He can spot shadiness from a mile away. This means I can't even tell a WHITE LIE, because he is ON to me. And what is even more disconcerting is that I usually won't even know I've been busted for months because he doesn't tell me, he just mentally files the knowledge away and brings it up at will. Now, I consider myself a pretty good liar. I mean, I'm no master of deception, but I can remain pretty straight-faced when fibbing. No, he can decipher the nuances of my voice and detect any fabrication, no matter how insignficant the magnitude of the "lie" may be. Not that I am lamenting the fact that I can't lie to my boyfriend, because I don't want to lie to my boyfriend on a regular basis, but I mean, c'mon, sometimes it is necessary to avoid hurt feelings. But I guess in those cases most people hear what they want to hear so it doesn't really matter how convincing I have been.