Hmm.

I kind of feel weird about fat kids. I mean number one, they are extra cute when they are fat. But sometimes they are just fat. I am looking right now at a fat kid. There was only one kid that was qualified as fat in my grade school. Not like this, though. This is one of those Maury Povich type of fat kids. I wonder what the mom feeds her.

Tonight I am going to

wow...the grandfather just raises his hand as if to hit her, just cause she wanted to take her coat off. Sigh. Gross.

Anyway, I was going to say that I'm going to curl up on my couch with a cup of cocoa and some absurd movie that makes me feel good, and I'm going to watch it. I hope my apartment isn't 3957398 degrees as it has been the last 3 days. I think I'm the only one in the OWE who can complain about how hot the apartment is...everyone else is complaining at how cold they have to keep it or how their landlord keeps it so chilly.

Hot cocoa, man.

Dog Haus.

I'm feeling poetic lately. Not that I am able to write poetry, but that I could. Meaning, I'm coming up with interesting ideas in my head, or watching what other people do and reading what they do and wishing. I'm looking at the poetry in lyrics of a song, and wondering how they created them. I wish I knew where my terrible highschool poetry went, because that stuff was classic. Classic shit.

My party went with only a few hitches this year. First, people either got the date wrong (!!Marisa!!), told me I told them too far in advance for it (I'm to blame?!?!), or just didn't show up. No problem really, less food means more leftovers. I think though, I'm absolutely sick of green bean casserole. No no, I lie. I could eat more.

The turkey was the juiciest it has ever been. I used a bag which I did one year as well, but this time I followed a recipe online that had all this secret shizz like rubbing a lemon on the inside of the turkey and a handful of salt as well, or the olive oil and garlic salt on the skin of the turkey. Then I stuck half a peeled onion and some celery in the thoraxxx of the bird and threw it in the oven.

The person who was supposed to help me prepare everything bailed on me, which was to be expected. At least I got some potatoes peeled out of them. I think this weekend was another lesson learned. I need to, if I don't want someone to come, to tell them not to come. Because I can't manage having someone walk all over me especially if I know ahead of time that they are going to do so. How many life lessons can one learn before 30? I will keep you informed.

The problem is that I am becoming bitter. I'm becoming cynical, and the flowers are not looking like they used to look and the sunrise is being slept through.

I'm glad this weekend is over. Funny how that works out, that I'm happy to be off this 'vacation' and going back to work tomorrow. What a waste of my spirit.

My Friend Again.

Michelle: http://halbot.haluze.sk/images/2008-11/4585_Picture056.jpg

Michelle: just for fun

alicia: i just puked up last night's vittles because of that photo thanks

Michelle: dont you just wanna squeeze em? and say toot toot!

alicia: i wanna squeeze them with my tongue

Michelle: you gonna need a big tongue, sho!

Michelle: what if it popped and chocolate pudding came out?

alicia: mmmmmm

alicia: best scenario

Michelle: im laughgingigihging

Every now and then it is okay to have a pity party on your blog.

I'm so tired that my eyes are melting inside my head. After everything last night, and saying on twitter that I wanted to punch everything until it bleeds, I had the greatest phone conversation for over an hour with my friend Kate in Columbus. I forget how much I like our one on one time. The last couple times I've seen her its been with a whole bunch of other Columbus folks. So yeah, she cheered me up, and we made some crazy ass videos on a secret youtube channel, and I laughed so hard that tears were streaming like wet ribbons down my face, and I almost had a coronary.

Sometimes you just have to realize everything will be A-Ok. Now I see that Marisa finally updated her journal, so I'm gonna go check that out.

Exact Essence of BooHooing.

Is it too much to ask to be wooed? I'm so sick of being the wooer. Today, well tonight, I almost started crying over not being able to sign up for the converter box for this whole digital tv thing happening in about a month. The website said I had already gotten my coupons for it...but that is impossible. My neighbors probably didn't put an apt number, or STOLE my apartment number, and now I'm not getting a converter box.

That, and the fact that my hormones are at unruly and basically cannibalistic levels isn't helping either. I haven't had a good cry in months. I don't think I have cried in months. I think I started to or did a little bit after getting in a car accident, but it was only for a flush few seconds. There is a good chance that I am becoming the emotional robot my father is. That worries me a lot.

I'm sick of girls playing head games too. I don't like that. I want happiness and cuteness and stupid silly things being done for each other and secret smiles and shining eyes. We don't have to love each other, maybe not yet, but I want to feel wanted. Every girl I know is fucked up in some department, and I'm becoming more and more of a recluse of the heart. Well, it just isn't in the cards for me, another year can just go by again in such ways as it has for so long.

I don't feel I can be too real on here, I keep that for another journal. I feel like this one, although it is more secret than my other journal (how secret this one is, I'm unsure) has an emotional-depth halt on it. I poured my shit out to somebody tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal, just what I talked about here, and how I was made to feel like some sort of derelict for not going to my friend's birthday party. I found out about the party tonight at work, and I still don't have a car. Granted, I'm like 2 minutes driving from this bar, and fifteen minutes walking, maybe more since there was some sort of snow storm today. I would have to pass through the worst part of bancroft, and by myself at night in the winter time.

After I just heaved a wave or almost an onslaught of my worries to this person, they basically told me well see ya its getting late and I'm on my way there to this very bar for that same party. I'm laughing a bit now, because it is kind of looney. Why the fuck do I care so much. I just do. And I guess I expected more from this person. Maybe I expect too much from everyone. I'm tired of pulling the fiber out of my essence in order to give to others, and for something so simple to be so hard to ask for.

When I think of J, I think about how much I gave, and the emotional nights of crying in bed while she slept beside me, the heart break I wouldn't even allow myself to recognize within myself. I felt like a failure in so many ways, and it was the culmination of too many bad relationships. Shipwrecked in another, trying to fix it and hold onto it at the same time, trying to piece parts out of it that were still worth something, I lost something of me. And it has been almost four years since then and I still am not sure what I misplaced, all I really can feel is this sort of emptiness.

In a way, I don't want to be what I am. I wish I could change what would make life easier for me. Along the way of growing up, I didn't learn enough about love. My parents never were affectionate with one another, and I still suppress myself when it comes to showing too much affection to my friends. I grew up to look at love with a cynical eye, the lies within love, the calculation of love bridled by those that I thought I loved.

Maybe this is too much for a Saturday night. I don't know exactly what I am trying to say. I'm sad, but not enough for it to count.

Sorry, But...

It isn't me. She's the one who is killing it.

Hardly Handled.

There are very few things that immediately irritate me. One major one is indecisiveness. It is like, make a decision already. Just go for it, do it, and stop beating around the bush. If you've got something on your mind, say it. But at the same point validly I can proclaim that I as well will hold back from saying what I'm thinking, but only if it has to do with politeness.

I just hate sitting and waiting and getting ready and getting let down. I feel like all my days off are spent at home in front of the computer, watching a movie, or doing artwork. I mean, I love my apartment, but as soon as i get a car I am OFF! Where should I go? What does it matter! If I have two days off in a row, I'm going somewhere. When I owned a car before, I never really went for trips (I just wrote that as tricks on accident) because I was scared to travel on my own. Now I love it, and I will hoot and holler while on my way somewhere. I will not stop until everyone has seen enough of me in every city everywhere. Maybe not to that extent.

I'm trying to rent a car, but I supposed I should have reserved it on something other than the most busiest day of the year for renting cars (so they tell me). Oops. Well I might be taking a cab to work tomorrow. We will see. I guess, chalk it up to new experiences. I haven't been in a cab since the Cleveland crazy times. I just called them and they still don't have any cars.

She's FUN-nee.

I like talking to my friend Alicia on gmail. She lives in Alabama, but is moving to Boston. I equate Boston to be its own state....of minnnnnd! Anyway, this is how our conversations start off and usually go:

alicia: zooboomagoo
me: shitty titty bang bang!
alicia: ha!
me: ho!
alicia: bingbong wigwam huddle-huddle-foot-prawn
me: no.
i mean yes!
YES YES YES!
alicia: :(
me: OHHHHH YES
stoppit.
cut it out.
no more.
ouch.
ouch
ouch
ouch
ouch
alicia: i will never recover from this hurt
me: you better. OR ELSE
alicia: or ellllssseee...
me: dead...puppies.
alicia: i prefer kittens to puppies anyshit
me: fine. i just killed all of them.
30 puppies.
alicia: no skin off my lamp
me: that.......is terrible!
hitler youth.
alicia: gein youth.
me: there should be Duni youth.
alicia: i'd participate
me: coooool i wonder what my youth would do.
i guess they could have dance parties
alicia: that's all they should do
me: no eating
no sleeping
just dancing
and only to the charlie brown song
alicia: precisely
me: do da doo da doo DOO DOO...da doo doo!
alicia: and they'd sing the notes in doo-doo-da's aloud
me: yep.
alicia: what if they had their own language?
me: now i just need to abduct some kindergartners
alicia: just adopt some
it's less illegal that way
me: wouldn't be very hitleresque of me though.

Uh UH!

I had my picture posted asdfadhlahasdhf asdfas in someone's bulletin, and a guy said I look like this guy:

What the FUuuuuuuUuUUuuuck. No. I said NO. I do not look like him. AT ALL. I mean ok the glasses. but... hey... actually... You know what....I guess I can see it. Twice in my life I have been compared to someone, and both times its been a man. The first time was to John Lennon, the second time to this hairy faced man, who when he talks, his skin waddle probably vibrates and jiggles. DAMMIT!

I hope the girls who are being compared to Scarlet Johananahansen and Vivica A. Fox should be unusually happy about it, because you could have THIS for a celebrity comparison. We aren't even the same SEX. Crimony.

I was thinking about my Christmas party recently. Every year I have a Christmas party and invite my friends to join in the beauty of the food and atmosphere. It usually turns out to be a grand time, well the last two years have been so, and this year hopefully will be even better. Last year was ham, so this year is going to be turkey again. I need to start looking at some recipes to see if there is anything unusual I can do. I want to be totally prepared this time. Luckily this year I think I will have a friend to help a little. I guess Tracie might be coming but that isn't confirmed yet. The bad thing about my apartment is that every year more people come, and it gets more and more cramped. The other weird thing is that half my friends drink, and the other half doesn't so it gets kind of complicated to have that work out as well. Not that the non drinking can't handle it, but it can get expensive to buy drinks for both parties. I could do byob, but I hate that. I feel like at least the refreshments can be supplied.

Picking a date is always a problem too, but I think if I give everyone this far in advance, it should work alright. So I'm thinking Dec 21st because it is the weekend and a Sunday, and it could happen easily on that day. So much process for one day! Also this year, reminder to self: get a smaller turkey.

UUUUUUUUUGH

Things get better, things get worse, things get better, things get worse.

I just turned the t.v. on and Everybody Loves Raymond was on. Worse.

I'm really tired of the worse. I need to find the way out pretty quickly.

I thought for a second that I was...getting in a better way?...but maybe I was wrong. But you know, if you "give it up" (well 50% up) as I've said, people lose respect for you. I guess I was just the chase. Now that it is over, I feel a little bit used? Maybe I'm wrong. It just isn't how I operate. I like something more. I have never been good at this whole lady intrigue thing. Is it over? I don't know.

I spoke with my professor today and he told me I'm between a B+ and an A-. I wanted to barf when I heard that. I had a really good talk with him and he is quite an interesting man. Surely one of those people you can sit and listen to for hours. He told me I need to start reading things like the New York Post. I was like, HUH? But I guess my writing style needs to develop. Now I understand this, and I know this. I worry that maybe I've chosen the wrong path for myself yet again. I know I probably should have gone into art, but bygones are bygones, and my mother said to me that I can't blame my parents for not going into art.

On the contrary, I can, because her memory is selective when it comes to the past and how they treated me. Ah well. Bygones.

I just worry a lot about the future, even though I am already in the future, and I definitely can't go backward.

Snapping Paper and Singing

My car has been dead for a while now, and yet I haven't done much to find a new one. I've done some investigations and hopefully there will be some changes coming up soon to that, because I feel like I've seen so much of my parents and I'm so in debt to their kindness that I don't know how to repay them. That was a long sentence.

When I wrote a paper last Weds I had to struggle really hard to write a third line in the opening paragraph. Paragraphs consist of 3 sentences, but I couldn't come up with a third, and I wasted so much of our allotted time trying to make the opening paragraph work. I need to bring a thesaurus too, because I always can think of a word but not the actual word I want to use.

Work was a little slow this weekend. For one, I was training a pair of women and had to just sit there over their shoulder and give corrections where needed. One is slow, one is fast. They are both pretty much okay people. I think the health field attracts some odd folk though. I don't know how else to put that.

We played an alright show with Dressy Bessy. There really wasn't much of a crowd, but I can't say that Katie and I did hardly much promoting the show. It always presents itself when we don't work hard at getting the word out. Unfortunately the show was on a Weds, which really sucks for Toledo. Hardly anyone comes out for the weekend so having a show on the weekday really crimped any hope of a large crowd from the get go. The only band we played with that I was really impressed with was One For The Team, some minneapolis band which reminded me of Mates of State harmonies, happiness of Tilly And The Wall, and Rilo Kiley keywork and guitar. You can check them out at http://www.myspace.com/onefortheteam where you should listen to the song 'Apples.'

Dressy Bessy's lead singer/guitarist Tammy was drunk and probably bumped on cocaine and interrupted my story telling screaming, "Play some music!" Really rude, but how can you tell that to someone that is drunk? Oh well, people act how they like. I was just disappointed.

My new favorite band I've been listening to is a Toronto band called Bruce Peninsula. Stop fucking around and check them out. http://www.myspace.com/brucepeninsula and listen to Steamroller.

Definitely at 3am time for sleep.

I Like It When Yoh Bootie Goes

There's something nice in it. Do I talk about it here? I suppose I can. I have some conflictions right now about it. I mean, I like hanging with this person but we don't have too much in common. But last night was really nice, despite having to call off work today because I couldn't talk.

It reminded me of the first time Constance called me, after a time of hanging out with her. She had lost her voice, and I thought she had sounded (I know this might be slightly odd) incredibly sexy. And shortly after that we were dating. It hurt so badly though, having no voice. My throat was like someone had taken two large rocks and shoved them tightly against my larnyx. It keeps going in and out, I lose it shortly after I wake up, but it comes back after a little tea therapy.

Ok, last night was almost hedonistic. And ok, last night was almost Caligula. It was funny though, cause I knew who I wanted to make out with, but that wasn't how it was being matched up. So fucking funny. So I was trying to make myself be cool with it, but it was just too funny. I was drunk, yes, but even in drunkness I have this confounded logic. I didn't want to make out with (un)said person, and luckily I didn't have to do so. It worked out in the end, and I had some nice spooning, where, if there hadn't been a third person also crashing in the bed, I probably would have done better. I was pretty cold all night, and if that person hadn't of been there, I would have probably been uncomfortably cold.

The Caligula, which in my drunkeness I kept repeating outloud, didn't really happen. There were some intense moments where I was like what the fuuuuuuuuuuck I am really too old to start having these type of parties. And then, another part of me was all LET'S GO. I had a good night, pretty much. But please, you can know the rate of my drunkness if I AGREE TO KARAOKE THE THONG SONG BY SISQO. HOLY HELL. that was the worst thing ever.

In Which I Am A Complete Asshole.

This morning I woke up and there was this oogy feeling in my throat. It had been irritating me all the last two days, and then I coughed and it hurt and something felt like it was sliding around back there. I said outloud to myself, "Oh this is great," and it came out like a froggggg, man. It has cleared up, but I could hardly pay attention in my Brit Lit class. Fuck. Sometimes I sit in that class and just think about how stupid everyone in the class is, which I know is rude and crappy. I know. Yet when there is a poem, and in my head I am thinking this means this and the poet is conveying this, and everyone is talking about bullshit cliche subject matters, I want to slam my fists on the desk and scream, "NO!" Yet I haven't spoken once in class. The teacher knows, cause he writes 'well written' on all of my shit, but he also asked me one day after class if I would speak in class. I told him I have classroom anxiety, which I do. I wish I could get over it, but I also don't want to sound any smarmier than I already do in this blog posting.

I also look at what everyone wears and think about who they are outside of the class. I wonder about the girl who wears sandals when its 40 degrees outside. You ask me, and I would say hell no, my toes would get cold! But there she is in a hoody sweatshirt, jeans, and flip flops. Then of course, I look at all the girls. I wonder which ones are in sororities.

So they totalled my car. Which is good, and which is bad. I mean, it is bad because now I have to look for a new car, and its good because now I have to look for a new car. I mean, you got it? I dunno, nothing was wrong with that car except for some cosmetic stuff, so that is probably why the check from the insurance company was better than I expected. I hated cleaning it out though, and I'm not sure I did so well of a job cleaning it out. Oh well, I have to try to think of it less as an intimate object and more of an inanimate object. My next car will be just as fun, and take me to just as many wondeful places.

I drank 3 cups of tea and I'm vibrating right now.

Most Everything.

Today I woke up feeling like I slept pretty well. I think that was thanks to the muscle relaxer I took in the evening. Boy, that thing at first made me feel wonky and laugh a lot, and then I was all nodding off, so I layed down on my couch with a book and was asleep in 10 minutes. It was a nice little 2 hour nap. I woke up feeling very rusty and confused and like my brain was taking a bit more time to tell my arms to move. When I checked the computer to see what was goin on, I saw Tracie on and we ended up talking over Skype which was nice. I thought I was going to be up later and get some art projects done, but the drugs in my body said elsewise and I konked out right away.

This morning was nice, sleeping in and not worrying too much. The car had been picked up yesterday from the Rally's parking lot, and nicely I still had all my wheels with my car! Hurray for a little justice in the world! I had to ride my bike to drop the keys off to the flat bed towing crew, and on the way home my pedal broke. Boo, injustice snaps its wrist in my face again!

My mom had to take me to work, and first we stopped at Kroger so I could fill my scripts. I have a lot more muscle relaxers. I mean, more than I will ever need. I might take one before bed tonight, but we will see. I might just take a Motrin 800, which reminds me, its time for my next dose. When you are used to having a car, your days off suck. Why? cause where I live, I'm too far from a lot of things that I normally want to do. My favorite bookstore is way far away, I can't go to the zoo, and right now my bike is not operating. 3 broken bikes, see how they don't run.

Normally I would go visit my friend's lil twin babies. I really don't want to stick at home. I need something fun to do. I have to think about a halloween costume too. Maybe I should work on some music. Grumpy.

We Are A-OK!

I feel like a bird poop on the windshield of yoh car. Splat! actually i feel pretty stiff. I didn't take my muscle relaxer because i was worried I wouldn't wake up in time to call off work. I didn't want to call the on call boss at 4am, cause that would suck, so i left a message at her workplace so she would get it first thing in the morning, then called her at 9am. I woke up even before my alarm cause I could hardly sleep. The car ins place is handling everything. No worries...yet.

bing bong boom.

I want a hamburger with cheese and I want a hotdog with mustard and I want some ice cream and I want some soul food cause I lost my soul somewhere and I want it baaaaaaack. I also want some chinese food from wei wei noodles...i wish they were still open. No no no, i want some sushi from kotobuki. you know? fuck, i mean fuck. I want comfort food. Wah wah wah baby michelle.

Oh One Step Backward.

Today started off brilliantly. Interesting dreams, a long work day with fun people, two bites of cottage cheese for breakfast, last night was roasted red peppers in bed with feta cheese. I drove home from work late, had extra paper work I wanted to get done, and I thought about how I would like some feta cheese when I get home, just as a little treat before bed.

The stop light on Bancroft at Monroe had changed green, but no one was moving. The guy in front of me suddenly pulled into the right lane, and I thought he was impatient waiting for whomever and wanted to go in the lane over and pass them. As soon as he was out of the way, I saw the car coming straight at me from the other direction, head on in my lane. The car had to be going at least 45 to 50 miles per hour, too fast for me to do anything other than a knee-jerk reaction, turning my body slightly to the right. There was no where for me to go in that split second, and the car crashed into the front of me and sheared off to the right, peeling my driver side fender back like a can opener.

It was some sort of dark grey 80s hoopty type car, and there was no time for me to think about anything other than the single blinking type in front of my eyes "THIS IS IT." I didn't die, mercifully and thank God, but my body shook like the carnival flags in the wind at the Rally's to my right. I stood in the street, nearly midnight, and a guy got out and asked if I was okay. I told him yes and I remembered how the car had driven off like it had bounced off a metal pillow, rebounding and driving crazily off down the street. I called 911 and shakily gave garbled information about what had happened. The guy was shivering with me, it was cold like winter and sprinkling an inconsistent rain. I didn't want to get back in my car.

I called my mom and dad first, they didn't answer, I called my brother and left him a confused message. I worried about my insurance that I didn't pay this morning like I had planned to do, which is due either soon, or too late. Thats the worst feeling about this. I might be up shit creek, alright. I don't even really know. My paperwork never reached me because my drunk landlord fucked up my mail with the mail man (she put it with return to sender stuff for people that didn't live here anymore, and I didn't receive my mail for 2 weeks). But that is a poor excuse.

My parents arrived about 20 minutes after the cops, and took me to the ER, after their first questions were about the car, and not about how I was doing. I freaked out a little, screamed a bit at them, and my mom replied, "Well I asked you on the phone how you were!" Oh my parents. ANYway.

The doctor told me to take off from work today, since its 3.30am, and I have to be to work at 10.30am. No xrays, which is fine, nothing was broken. I was given a muscle relaxer, which I'm going to take, and a script for something or other motrin 800 i think and some more muscle relaxers. no big deal. I remember yelling about society and how angry I was. Seriously, second hit and run on that same car. Poor thing.

Pray that my insurance was covered through yesterday.



Meet the inside of my car.
Hello inner wheel chamber!
This poor car has seen so much and been through so much, I can only feel badly for it. I treat it like shit, and its had cans of pop explode in its interior and thai food poured all over its seats. I was thinking just recently about how it is time to think about a new car, but I get so attached to things. I really haven't had much of any trouble with it, and it has nearly 100,000 miles on it.

Being on the other side of the fence in the Er was not charming. I was embarrassed, and lets not talk about how I haven't shaved my legs for some bit. Then I had to have a cute resident, then the doctor had to touch my goddamn hairy legs, I had to wear a gown, and I almost started laughing when the resident was listening to my heart. I asked her if she could hear my mitral valve prolapse and she said, "Oh yes, I was listening to the clicks." See, my heart clicks. Yours beats. Mine, it clicks.

My mom and dad kept leaving the room when I was being examined, cause my mom knows about my tattoos but my dad doesn't, and I would never hear the end of it if he saw them. I have a feeling he might know, but probably not. I whispered to the resident about them and she and I laughed a little. Luckily, if you go to the same Er you work at, you get seen pretty quickly, and I was in and out of there in about 2 hours. Not bad, for Er time. Still, I don't like being the patient.

What Is This, A Freakin Dream Journal?

So I just woke up from this dream (I know, I know its almost noon) and in it, I was this very tall dark haired lady who was also into ladies. We were at this copacabana type deal that was right on a swamp. Well something had happened to me in the same swamp where some tribal ritualistic people had implanted some sort of hookabooka on my leg, and I had some sort of furry beast living on my leg. Now when it was inactive it looked like a really cool tattoo on my leg. But when I am doing my awesome comic book smash em bash em shit, it would kind of come alive. and i would push people into my leg? I know, kinda weird, but that thing has some TEETH on it.

So at the copacabana, I was half in and half out of the greenish water, and the leg thing kept trying to bite the fish underwater and what not. I guess I couldn't control that.

Then I was totally in this black swimsuit and everyone else was, and everyone was drunk. And there was a mom there and her three girls near my age and I was flirting hardcore (cause I could with a body like THAT) with one of them, and I'm pretty sure we were gonna ya know, and then I woke up.

But in a way, wouldn't that be a sweet comic?



(this took me forever to get drawn, because I was trying to draw ladies in swimsuits and it was impossible. I even tried looking up lady swimsuits, olympic swimmers, surfer, swimsuit model... and the results didn't help me at all)

This dream was much better than the one I woke up from where people had come to visit in Toledo, and nobody told me they were going to be there, so I accidentally saw them at the park (it was packed) and I just kept on walking and ignoring them because I was like eff that. Then I sat up on a weird tall man made hill that looked like an ant hill. And I played a guitar. Man, dreams are so weird.

Coat of Arms

I like her greasy hair and the way her eyes look soft and kind and yet devious at the same time. I like how her leg pressed against mine the other night and how I for once didn't pull away. But that is another story for another time. I like ghost stories and I like pizza parties and I like starting new bands that will only confuse people that come to see it.

I'm tired and I'm ill but tomorrow I'm going to the detroit zoo with my brother and then seeing Mates of State at the Magic Stick. It is gonna be good. I have never been to the ms, but lets hope its an easy venue to sneak up front. I want to eat from a hotdog stand. Why doesn't Toledo have hotdog stands? really. Maybe I should start one. I will park right outside Wesleys or Frankies and make some people happy.

It is getting cold out, so I bought a new winter coat. I like it, and I don't like it. I'm going to have to look at it again. It wasn't too expensive, but I have lots of coats. I just don't like any of those really. I really want a fall coat, but I am having trouble finding one that is warm enough. I'm just going to wear a hooded cloak and pretend I'm the grim reaper. The grim reaper of the supermarket checkout line.

In Other Words.

There are a lot of things I don't understand. I asked my dad once if when he dreamed he dreamed in Macedonian (his original flavor language) or in English. He never answered because he never answers any of my questions that would mean a lot to me. I always wonder what people sound like in their head. You know we sound different when we speak compared to what we hear ourselves sound like because of the vibrations in our head. Did that make sense? Anyway, thats why when you listen to yourself in recording, you might be like, "Is that what I really sound like?" And the answer is yes. That is what you sound like to me.

So what does your voice sound like in your head when you talk to yourself? I would think mine sounds like my voice, but since I will never truly know what my voice sounds like, I guess I have to say its what I would like to sound like.

I was thinking about pets today, and also yesterday. I think I wouldn't mind a pet skunk. I mean, descented of course. Either that or an italian greyhound or a king charles cavalier spaniel. I know, I like the pets that stink or the ones that are helpless. I also like the ones that balance on your shoulder but I don't think a skunk would do that. Pretty much at this point, any pet I would own would automatically be called Hazel.

Stipulation Hug.

At some point I took the point of not liking to be touched to the wrong level. Don't get me wrong, there are people who can touch me and I'm fine with it, and others who I just wish would quit giving me the bad shivers on my back. Strangers? No. Especially if it is followed with a "honey" or "sweetie." Then you might get my stink eye. Friends? Sure. Please. Hug the fucking crap out of me until my backbone splinters like a dry piece of wood.

Somewhere though, I said it enough where people will say, "Oops! Oh I forgot you hate being touched!" This came from my friend Dan whom I have known for 10 years. What the hell. I don't even remember telling him this. Yet we still hugged, and it was glorious. I waaaant to be hugged by Dan. We used to all the time. Maybe I sounded really serious. Then I'm getting it from everyone. Now no one wants to touch me and its giving me a complex and I feel like the hunchback of notre dame and I better go check the bell and make sure its shiny and nice and ready to be rung. I just pulled the cord and one of my teef fell out and oh boy its gonna go in my pocket for the toof fairy and gee oh whiz i'm gonna eat my mutton and drink my mead and then go watch them wash the horses down at the stalls. damn its fun bein quazimodo. (I obviously lost the zeal for this post.)

Well Here We Go Again.

I'm doing this for Marisa.

Now I have 9,000 blogs, 234 band websites, and 4,876 facespace accounts.

I'm at work. This little old lady came in and she had dirt all over her face because she had tried to escape the old folks home by digging under the fence. She has moxy. Because of this, and her sadness, I am going to see if I can volunteer at Sunset House. It is right across from my highschool, and I bet all the ladies will be dressed up in doilies and wearing shoes with velcro. That gets my blood goin' if you know what I mean. I hope you do, cause I certainly don't.

I had a really nice two days off, and this weekend is again two more days off. I had thought about going to Toronto, but like most of my travels, they just happen in my mind. I'm just basically trying to make it to the damn park by myself. I want to see the colors and run around. I wish I could find a field I could just scream-sing in and not worry about anything. I told Katie about how excited I was one night. I had this silly Etta James song (Somethin's Got A Hold On Me) blasting, and I was so happy and full of life that I started singing it at the top of my voice. But uh, it became kind of shrieky, and then it was punctuated by my laughter because I realized what it sounded like.

I want a burrito.