...because I love all of you, dearly, I'd like to warn you of something horrifying and disgusting to the extreme...but, in typical Ash fashion...obviously I must tell you the story...
So...late-ish last night, I decided to take a shower after a long, exhausting day at work...only to realize, that I was completely out of shampoo and conditioner. Well yay. So...selling my soul to corporate America even more than I already have...I go to Wal-Mart (damn you "early to bed early to rise" people. DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL YOU BASTARDS) and purchase aforementioned sanitary products. So as I'm starting to pay, I'm chatting on the phone with someone and bump into the one and only George, which was awesome because I haven't seen him in forever. So we talked for about an hour and that was cool...then he to leave and I had to pay and head home...
At this point, it's still really hot and muggy outside and I'm waiting in line so I decide to buy a bottle of water. Glancing in to the convient mini refridgerator I see 3 choices for water. A part of my subconscious mind screams at the fact that there's three choices...for water...but I shove this voice to the far reaches of my thoughts and quickly decide on a bottle of Dasani flavored with lemon. I figure..hey...water with lemon is good...this should be good too...
If only I had know how utterly and horribly WRONG I was...I got back to my car and took my first sip of my tangy drink, completely ready to enjoy it, but when the contents touched my tongue I SPIT THEM BACK OUT. It was syrupy and sweet and in general, disgusting. It tasted a great deal like Propel Fitness Water. I don't know what planet Coca-Cola inhabits, but in the physical world that we occupy LEMONS ARE SOUR. Jackasses. Splenda sweetner has no business being in water flavored to taste like lemon. Did the Coca-Cola execs have the part of their tongues that recognize sour tastes cut out during Vietnam? Did New Coke rot their teeth and their ability to taste anything besides syrupy sweet soda? Did they do so much cocaine that they forgot where you're supposed to shoot up and stuck the hypodermic in their tongues?
I love how, of late, my answer to people's stupidity is always "they must have been on coke..."
At any rate...so...heed my advice, ye lucky children who have never tasted the nastiness that is Dasani Lemon Water...DON'T TRY IT. It's not worth the pain. Plus...I'm fairly certain that in about 10 years, it's going to be discovered that Splenda is actually more cancerous than saccarine. It'll be like cigarettes...you know how at first everyone thought they were great and OK, not bad for you at all? Well..that's how it's going to be with Splenda...only worse...because at least cigarettes supposedly made you look cool...splenda just makes you look like an uptight jackass who likes the colour yellow. Congratulations...people hate you and you're going to die....by Splenda...that's almost as bad as getting hit by a Ford Taurus.
Now some mini convos...for your amusement...I'm too lazy to edit the names for anti-stalking purposes...so I'm just going to plea to the decency of the masses...please don't stalk my friends, I'd like to keep them as friends and somehow I think if there's an assassination attempt indirectly linked to me, that might somehow sever the bonds we've created...it also might hurt my chances of getting in to law school...
egybert: schweeer
egybert: yozers ;-)
catori sedai: lol, oh dave, if only you made sense...
egybert: if only I made sense what?
catori sedai: yozers?
catori sedai: you used the words YOZERS
catori sedai: no makey the sense!!
egybert: from inspector gadget!
catori sedai: thats YOWZERS
egybert: duude
egybert: well sorry can't spell
egybert: take it the meaning intended
catori sedai: :-P i expect greater things from you
catori sedai: lol
egybert: like spelling?
catori sedai: exactly
catori sedai: !
egybert: well that was misplaced confidence on your part wasn't it
30 June 2005
28 June 2005
L...is for the way you look at me...
As my away message currently reads...I am taking stroll down memory lane...
August 21, 1991. I was 5 years old at this time...almost 6 actually. This was the day that I experienced death for the first time in my life. This was the day my grandmother (known as gramma) died. I won't pretend that I truly understood what happened that day, I was too young. I also won't pretend that I remember every second in vivid detail...it was almost 13 years ago...but there are three events that stand out as clearly in my mind today as the movie I saw last week. Maybe it's because those events that I remember are like a movie. I sat there, floating in my child naivete, just sort of watching, not understanding the finality of it. The first thing I remember from this day is watching 2 paramedics carry a long black bag past me out of the room my gramma had been inhabiting. Somewhere, in my mind, I knew that it was her in there, and that I would never see her again, but that part didn't get the voice it deserved. I didn't really feel the pain of everything until I saw my cousin Jason screaming and sobbing with his head against a wall. That was the second thing I remember about this day...watching Jason sob and cry as if his entire world had been destroyed. And it had been. A lot of people loved and needed gramma and when she left they felt desolate and alone in a way they'd never experienced before. But my world wasn't shaken. I cried and sobbed, but it was more in imitation of the others. At that age, I just couldn't feel her death the way others did, but I felt as though I should, and so I put up a front.
The third and final event I remember of this day was watching my uncle Davis tell my grandpa that gramma had left us. Grandpa had been sent to the store to get gramma's medication, because my aunts and uncles knew that he wouldn't leave her side and she wouldn't leave him while he was there. And she had to go. So they sent him to the store. When he came home, my uncle Davis walked across the stone driveway to meet my grandpa half way to the house. Eldest son breaks the bad news...tradition. Uncle Davis was standing a little bit apart from my grandpa, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying from the lanai, I knew when grandpa finally comprehended what had happened. His entire body slumped. He didn't shake like Jason had, like his world had been rocked, he slumped like he didn't have the necessary parts to stand up anymore. It was literally like a part of his body and being had been ripped from him. And it was. My grandparents were together for over 50 years. They had 10 children and over 30 grandchildren together. They were no longer seperate people, they were the embodiment of the word "we". It's often said that at the end of the day, sometimes all you have left is yourself. Grandpa didn't even have that anymore. He was so thoroughly tied to her and she to him that without each other they would cease to be themselves.
The sun was shining that day, in fact, it was beautiful out and oddly cool for mid August. In stories, when something so tragic happens, the weather reflects the tragedy, it's gloomy, depressing and sad. It's never that way in life. The sun, moon or stars always shine. Why? Is it like salt in the wounds? No. It's a promise of tomorrow. Of a day after love lost. Because even when you don't have yourself or your love anymore, there is always tomorrow. Whether you want it or not, there is always tomorrow.
I've often wondered if my grandpa knew why my aunts and uncles made him go to the store that day. I've come to the conclusion that yes, he did. He had to. He knew that gramma had to go, and that she never could while he was present. Gramma would hold on forever, to keep him from the pain of seeing her take her last breath.
My grandparents had the most perfect love I can imagine. I won't pretend for an instant that they never fought, or that their lives were perfect. But at the end of it all, even when they were ripped apart and no longer had even themselves to rely on, they still had their love. Even though grandpa wanted nothing more than for gramma to live and even though gramma wanted nothing more than for grandpa to be there when she left, each put aside their own wants and needs for each other.
I don't remember August 22 1991, I wish I did. But maybe it's good that I don't. I like to think that grandpa woke up the next morning slightly before sunrise, the way he always did, made himself a cup of coffee with just a little bit of milk and watched the hummingbirds and bluejays feed in the huge oak tree by the lanai, the way he always did. Why do I like to think this? Because this was the first day of my grandpa's life, a life he would have to face alone, despite our huge family, comforted only by memories and a love that's stronger than I can imagine. I like to think that he started his life the same way he ended it, on September 2 2000. For that day, just a few hours before he would find his love again, he sat on that same lanai and watched a thunderstorm roll in and out, the way they do only in the mountains in central Pennsylvania. And on that day, just after the remnants of the storm moved east...the hummingbirds and bluejays came back.
August 21, 1991. I was 5 years old at this time...almost 6 actually. This was the day that I experienced death for the first time in my life. This was the day my grandmother (known as gramma) died. I won't pretend that I truly understood what happened that day, I was too young. I also won't pretend that I remember every second in vivid detail...it was almost 13 years ago...but there are three events that stand out as clearly in my mind today as the movie I saw last week. Maybe it's because those events that I remember are like a movie. I sat there, floating in my child naivete, just sort of watching, not understanding the finality of it. The first thing I remember from this day is watching 2 paramedics carry a long black bag past me out of the room my gramma had been inhabiting. Somewhere, in my mind, I knew that it was her in there, and that I would never see her again, but that part didn't get the voice it deserved. I didn't really feel the pain of everything until I saw my cousin Jason screaming and sobbing with his head against a wall. That was the second thing I remember about this day...watching Jason sob and cry as if his entire world had been destroyed. And it had been. A lot of people loved and needed gramma and when she left they felt desolate and alone in a way they'd never experienced before. But my world wasn't shaken. I cried and sobbed, but it was more in imitation of the others. At that age, I just couldn't feel her death the way others did, but I felt as though I should, and so I put up a front.
The third and final event I remember of this day was watching my uncle Davis tell my grandpa that gramma had left us. Grandpa had been sent to the store to get gramma's medication, because my aunts and uncles knew that he wouldn't leave her side and she wouldn't leave him while he was there. And she had to go. So they sent him to the store. When he came home, my uncle Davis walked across the stone driveway to meet my grandpa half way to the house. Eldest son breaks the bad news...tradition. Uncle Davis was standing a little bit apart from my grandpa, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying from the lanai, I knew when grandpa finally comprehended what had happened. His entire body slumped. He didn't shake like Jason had, like his world had been rocked, he slumped like he didn't have the necessary parts to stand up anymore. It was literally like a part of his body and being had been ripped from him. And it was. My grandparents were together for over 50 years. They had 10 children and over 30 grandchildren together. They were no longer seperate people, they were the embodiment of the word "we". It's often said that at the end of the day, sometimes all you have left is yourself. Grandpa didn't even have that anymore. He was so thoroughly tied to her and she to him that without each other they would cease to be themselves.
The sun was shining that day, in fact, it was beautiful out and oddly cool for mid August. In stories, when something so tragic happens, the weather reflects the tragedy, it's gloomy, depressing and sad. It's never that way in life. The sun, moon or stars always shine. Why? Is it like salt in the wounds? No. It's a promise of tomorrow. Of a day after love lost. Because even when you don't have yourself or your love anymore, there is always tomorrow. Whether you want it or not, there is always tomorrow.
I've often wondered if my grandpa knew why my aunts and uncles made him go to the store that day. I've come to the conclusion that yes, he did. He had to. He knew that gramma had to go, and that she never could while he was present. Gramma would hold on forever, to keep him from the pain of seeing her take her last breath.
My grandparents had the most perfect love I can imagine. I won't pretend for an instant that they never fought, or that their lives were perfect. But at the end of it all, even when they were ripped apart and no longer had even themselves to rely on, they still had their love. Even though grandpa wanted nothing more than for gramma to live and even though gramma wanted nothing more than for grandpa to be there when she left, each put aside their own wants and needs for each other.
I don't remember August 22 1991, I wish I did. But maybe it's good that I don't. I like to think that grandpa woke up the next morning slightly before sunrise, the way he always did, made himself a cup of coffee with just a little bit of milk and watched the hummingbirds and bluejays feed in the huge oak tree by the lanai, the way he always did. Why do I like to think this? Because this was the first day of my grandpa's life, a life he would have to face alone, despite our huge family, comforted only by memories and a love that's stronger than I can imagine. I like to think that he started his life the same way he ended it, on September 2 2000. For that day, just a few hours before he would find his love again, he sat on that same lanai and watched a thunderstorm roll in and out, the way they do only in the mountains in central Pennsylvania. And on that day, just after the remnants of the storm moved east...the hummingbirds and bluejays came back.
27 June 2005
Polonius to Laertes (Go ahead...try and figure out what song I'm talking about here!)
For some odd reason...there's a lot of things that I'm missing right now...not all of them are related to school or to DC...hell, some are just from a few weeks ago. But I find myself in a very different state of mind now...so here goes...Things that I Miss...in no particular order...
1) Music. A good bit of my favourite music was stolen from friends and just burned on to my hard drive...a hard drive that is now packed up, not to return until this computer crashes. Every time I turn on 105.7 and they're playing "Happy" by Mudvayne, my soul dies a little bit as a I scream out in pain (literally). Seriously. It makes be bleed from the fucking ears. It's not a good song. It's not a good band. STOP PRETENDING. YOU'RE NOT COOL. You're not even angsty in the good way, the way that makes you seem like deep individuals, you're angsty in the even-people-who-love-you-would-shoot-you-in-the-head-if-they-have-to-listen-to-your-whining-anymore. You know what!?!?! YES! I AM HAPPY WHEN YOU'RE IN PAIN! YOU DESERVE IT!!! STAIND is better than you. Do you realize exactly what that means?! IT MEANS YOU SUCK. Do you know what I want right now? Louis Armstrong, Billy Joel, Sting, Rob Thomas, MORE Better Than Ezra ("Deluxe" is just not enough). Hell, I'm even craving AEROSMITH for the love of all that is good and decent.
2) Reading. Yes, I've been reading a lot lately, but mostly it's been skimming old favourites. At the beginning of the summer I was on a hellish crusade to read as many books as I could. I finished 3 in about 2 weeks (The Virgin Suicides, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time). Now, I have no such desire. I'll pick up Harry Potter and reada few chapters, maybe a little bit of Oscar Wilde when I'm feeling intellectual.
3) DVDs. I want to watch movies. Lots of movies. All the time. Not even necessarily new movies, I want to watch old favourites. Dodgeball, Fight Club, Wag the Dog, As Good As It Gets. Yet in my house we only have 2 DVD players...one in the sitting room (that's right, I actually have one of those) and one in the basement. The only one I can use any time I want basically is the one in the sitting room...and it's broken...the basement is only available during the day (when Dad's not home...) and guess what...karma, cruel mistress and bitch that she is...HAS ME WORKING DURING THE DAY. I also have the worst desire to have a Quentin Tarantino fest...rejoice, rejoice in the violence.
4) Exhaustion. I really really miss being so exhausted at night that I collapse in to bed, dead to the world as soon as my head hits the pillow. I don't remember the last time that happened to me. Usually I just stare at the ceiling for an hour or so before my body gives way to the boredom of sleep. It doesn't matter what I do...I could go horse back riding, work a 6 hour shift and then go kayaking for the love of god...still I will have to force myself to sleep. I associate exhaustion with a vigorous life and it really worries me that I haven't had that in so long. I don't want my life to ebb away slowly...I don't want boredom to be the predominant emotion of my life...Hopefully I'll get the camp counselor job and that will change...we shall see...we shall see...
I guess part of all my issues right now is that my mind and body is idle most of the time...sure I have a job, but I'm still home a good bit. So I'm taking up some projects to avoid that...mastering the manual transmission for one...writing the novel (make no mistake about it...this will be an insanely long project)...now I think I'm going to take another stab at reading the classics...
1) Music. A good bit of my favourite music was stolen from friends and just burned on to my hard drive...a hard drive that is now packed up, not to return until this computer crashes. Every time I turn on 105.7 and they're playing "Happy" by Mudvayne, my soul dies a little bit as a I scream out in pain (literally). Seriously. It makes be bleed from the fucking ears. It's not a good song. It's not a good band. STOP PRETENDING. YOU'RE NOT COOL. You're not even angsty in the good way, the way that makes you seem like deep individuals, you're angsty in the even-people-who-love-you-would-shoot-you-in-the-head-if-they-have-to-listen-to-your-whining-anymore. You know what!?!?! YES! I AM HAPPY WHEN YOU'RE IN PAIN! YOU DESERVE IT!!! STAIND is better than you. Do you realize exactly what that means?! IT MEANS YOU SUCK. Do you know what I want right now? Louis Armstrong, Billy Joel, Sting, Rob Thomas, MORE Better Than Ezra ("Deluxe" is just not enough). Hell, I'm even craving AEROSMITH for the love of all that is good and decent.
2) Reading. Yes, I've been reading a lot lately, but mostly it's been skimming old favourites. At the beginning of the summer I was on a hellish crusade to read as many books as I could. I finished 3 in about 2 weeks (The Virgin Suicides, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time). Now, I have no such desire. I'll pick up Harry Potter and reada few chapters, maybe a little bit of Oscar Wilde when I'm feeling intellectual.
3) DVDs. I want to watch movies. Lots of movies. All the time. Not even necessarily new movies, I want to watch old favourites. Dodgeball, Fight Club, Wag the Dog, As Good As It Gets. Yet in my house we only have 2 DVD players...one in the sitting room (that's right, I actually have one of those) and one in the basement. The only one I can use any time I want basically is the one in the sitting room...and it's broken...the basement is only available during the day (when Dad's not home...) and guess what...karma, cruel mistress and bitch that she is...HAS ME WORKING DURING THE DAY. I also have the worst desire to have a Quentin Tarantino fest...rejoice, rejoice in the violence.
4) Exhaustion. I really really miss being so exhausted at night that I collapse in to bed, dead to the world as soon as my head hits the pillow. I don't remember the last time that happened to me. Usually I just stare at the ceiling for an hour or so before my body gives way to the boredom of sleep. It doesn't matter what I do...I could go horse back riding, work a 6 hour shift and then go kayaking for the love of god...still I will have to force myself to sleep. I associate exhaustion with a vigorous life and it really worries me that I haven't had that in so long. I don't want my life to ebb away slowly...I don't want boredom to be the predominant emotion of my life...Hopefully I'll get the camp counselor job and that will change...we shall see...we shall see...
I guess part of all my issues right now is that my mind and body is idle most of the time...sure I have a job, but I'm still home a good bit. So I'm taking up some projects to avoid that...mastering the manual transmission for one...writing the novel (make no mistake about it...this will be an insanely long project)...now I think I'm going to take another stab at reading the classics...
23 June 2005
*Insert random lyrics from Sahara here*
Today was...mildly entertaining at best...Work was slow as hell until around 1215 and then people just came en masse. It was kind of horrifying. You haven't felt fear until an angry business exec nearly ripped your hand off with his black Audi A6 stick shift...while he talked on his cell phone...And still I had to say "Thank you, have a good one, please come see us again soon!" Damn customer courtesy. Damn it straight to hell. I just want to scream "LIES! I don't want ANY OF YOU to come back! EVER! And I hope you go home and find your house burned down so that way maybe you'll leave me alone. MWAHAHA!"
Oh...aforementioned customer in black Audi A6 avec stick shift hit on me. He was like 50. Well yay. I think my reaction of "LIES! etc etc etc" was approrpriate. C'est la vie. Nothing could be as bad as the time I got hit on at a gas station at 1 in the morning...that was just bbaadddd.
So anyways...after my shift I had to head over to see Dr. Friedrich about the little bump on my arm. This little bump is in no way, shape or form painful. It's slightly raised and slightly discoloured, but I've had it as long as I can remember so I never really gave it any thought. My paranoid mother thought it "changed" in shape or colour or something and insisted that I see a dermatologist. For some odd reason she seemed to think that she knows the little bump on my arm better than I do..even though, you know, it's on my body. But hey, whatever. I only fight the battles that are a) worthwhile and b) have a good chance of winning. This particular battle had neither possibility and therefore wasn't worth the effort...sure it inconvienced me a bit, but whatever.
So...Dr. Friedrich...actually, he's my neighbor and I've known him since I was about 10 years old. I don't think I would recognize him if we were walking on the street, but since he had my chart and I knew I was going to see my neighbor we were all chatty chatty chatty once he finally came into the office (30 minutes late). Basically...I think this particular visit to the doctor can only be given full dialogue to be really appreciated...
*note: My mother insisted on going in to the doctor with me because she was afraid I would "downplay" the severity of the bump*
Me: Hey Dr. Friedrich, how are you?
Dr F: Good Ashley, yourself? Alvenia, how are you? It's been a while.
Me: Oh pretty good. Loving college
Alvenia: Fine as well, thanks.
Dr F: Ok Ash, what's going on?
Me: Well I've had this little bump on my arm since forev....
Alvenia *interrupting*: She's just recently developed this bump and then it CHANGED (even though Ashley says it didn't). And I think it's cancerous, even though I've had no medical training and I think my daughter's going to DIE!!!!!
Dr F: Yeah...you're psychotic...that's just some scar tissue...nothing to worry about!
Alvenia: But the bump cha...
Dr F: Ashley...did it change?
Me: Temporarily, but it went back to exactly as it was before.
Dr F: See? Nothing to be concerned about...
Alvenia: She doesn't know what's going on...
Dr F: I think she does, actually...
Alvenia: *waves arm around angrily*
Dr F: WAIT! What's that on your arm? That's a mole dear, not a freckle, and it could be cancerous...I need to remove it...make an appointment for the middle of August for surgery.
Alvenia: *silent*
Ashley: *gloats* I find it kind of amusing that you were so worried about something that I KNEW was absolutely nothing, but you wouldn't list to me, that you completedly neglected your own, hazardous moles.
No. I am not a cruel person for finding amusement in my mother's hazardous mole. She will be fine as it was not dangerous YET but only on the road to becoming as such. I gloat because even though I chose not to engage this particular battle...I still won. And do you know why I won? Because I was right...the bump was exactly what I said it was...a bump, nothing to be worried about. And I finally proved to ma mere that I know myself better than she does. Mwahaha.
Oh another note...of late, I've been driving the BMW around, rather than my SUV. That car makes my little heart SING. I was driving down East Market and I could actually WEAVE TRAFFIC. On East Market. Oh it was beautiful...absolutely beautiful. I looked every cop right in the eye and DARED him to give me a ticket...well, actually I begged and offered sexual favors for a clean record but hey...same difference, right? The only dim part of this excursion was getting on CBW. This is one of my favourite roads in the world...when I'm not behind GERIATRICS WHO DRIVE 13.5 mph!!! Friggin mutter grumble friggin mutter.
On another note...I invite everyone to give RICK a nice golf clap. He escaped the 13th layer of hell yesterday (also known as high school). Rick, darling, congratulations and much love. May you terrorize Susquehanna the same way my brother did (well...not quite the same way...I don't know if the world is ready for you as a frat boy jock...please never become a frat boy jock. Though you would make a damn good addition to my army...hmmm, I will have to contemplate this at a later date). After a day of Starbucks and a night of Family Guy and getting locked out of a dorm building...you can crash on my floor any day. Hell, I'll bring a sleeping bag next year just in case you decide to visit (and I think you should...picture it..you, me and Kat...it'll be glorious. Hughes will EXPLODE).
Oh...aforementioned customer in black Audi A6 avec stick shift hit on me. He was like 50. Well yay. I think my reaction of "LIES! etc etc etc" was approrpriate. C'est la vie. Nothing could be as bad as the time I got hit on at a gas station at 1 in the morning...that was just bbaadddd.
So anyways...after my shift I had to head over to see Dr. Friedrich about the little bump on my arm. This little bump is in no way, shape or form painful. It's slightly raised and slightly discoloured, but I've had it as long as I can remember so I never really gave it any thought. My paranoid mother thought it "changed" in shape or colour or something and insisted that I see a dermatologist. For some odd reason she seemed to think that she knows the little bump on my arm better than I do..even though, you know, it's on my body. But hey, whatever. I only fight the battles that are a) worthwhile and b) have a good chance of winning. This particular battle had neither possibility and therefore wasn't worth the effort...sure it inconvienced me a bit, but whatever.
So...Dr. Friedrich...actually, he's my neighbor and I've known him since I was about 10 years old. I don't think I would recognize him if we were walking on the street, but since he had my chart and I knew I was going to see my neighbor we were all chatty chatty chatty once he finally came into the office (30 minutes late). Basically...I think this particular visit to the doctor can only be given full dialogue to be really appreciated...
*note: My mother insisted on going in to the doctor with me because she was afraid I would "downplay" the severity of the bump*
Me: Hey Dr. Friedrich, how are you?
Dr F: Good Ashley, yourself? Alvenia, how are you? It's been a while.
Me: Oh pretty good. Loving college
Alvenia: Fine as well, thanks.
Dr F: Ok Ash, what's going on?
Me: Well I've had this little bump on my arm since forev....
Alvenia *interrupting*: She's just recently developed this bump and then it CHANGED (even though Ashley says it didn't). And I think it's cancerous, even though I've had no medical training and I think my daughter's going to DIE!!!!!
Dr F: Yeah...you're psychotic...that's just some scar tissue...nothing to worry about!
Alvenia: But the bump cha...
Dr F: Ashley...did it change?
Me: Temporarily, but it went back to exactly as it was before.
Dr F: See? Nothing to be concerned about...
Alvenia: She doesn't know what's going on...
Dr F: I think she does, actually...
Alvenia: *waves arm around angrily*
Dr F: WAIT! What's that on your arm? That's a mole dear, not a freckle, and it could be cancerous...I need to remove it...make an appointment for the middle of August for surgery.
Alvenia: *silent*
Ashley: *gloats* I find it kind of amusing that you were so worried about something that I KNEW was absolutely nothing, but you wouldn't list to me, that you completedly neglected your own, hazardous moles.
No. I am not a cruel person for finding amusement in my mother's hazardous mole. She will be fine as it was not dangerous YET but only on the road to becoming as such. I gloat because even though I chose not to engage this particular battle...I still won. And do you know why I won? Because I was right...the bump was exactly what I said it was...a bump, nothing to be worried about. And I finally proved to ma mere that I know myself better than she does. Mwahaha.
Oh another note...of late, I've been driving the BMW around, rather than my SUV. That car makes my little heart SING. I was driving down East Market and I could actually WEAVE TRAFFIC. On East Market. Oh it was beautiful...absolutely beautiful. I looked every cop right in the eye and DARED him to give me a ticket...well, actually I begged and offered sexual favors for a clean record but hey...same difference, right? The only dim part of this excursion was getting on CBW. This is one of my favourite roads in the world...when I'm not behind GERIATRICS WHO DRIVE 13.5 mph!!! Friggin mutter grumble friggin mutter.
On another note...I invite everyone to give RICK a nice golf clap. He escaped the 13th layer of hell yesterday (also known as high school). Rick, darling, congratulations and much love. May you terrorize Susquehanna the same way my brother did (well...not quite the same way...I don't know if the world is ready for you as a frat boy jock...please never become a frat boy jock. Though you would make a damn good addition to my army...hmmm, I will have to contemplate this at a later date). After a day of Starbucks and a night of Family Guy and getting locked out of a dorm building...you can crash on my floor any day. Hell, I'll bring a sleeping bag next year just in case you decide to visit (and I think you should...picture it..you, me and Kat...it'll be glorious. Hughes will EXPLODE).
19 June 2005
Tales from the Crypt...
All of the York Catholicers and many of the Yorkers are familiar with the tradition of the annual book burning. The evolution of the tradition began in what...8th grade? When none of us knew anything about fire or the proper way to conduct the flames. However, by the last true book burning (aka Senior Year) we were experts, conducting massive flames for hours on end. Much like raining down sulfer, a proper bon fire is a true test of endurance. It's almost as exhausting as soccer. (Wicked props for whoever gets this).
Somehow along the way, our tradition eventually began to include Laura and her friends (3-4 years younger than us). They sat back, idly watching us carefully burn our memories away. We thought they were absorbing the technique and style that is absolutely essential for a good fire...
Apparently they were actually snorting coke, cool aid 0r some other slightly toxic substance.
Everything they could have done wrong, they did. They started about an hour and half before sun down and burned EVERYTHING AT ONCE. I know it's hard to believe that it gets worse, but it does. THEN they ABANDONED THE FIRE TO EAT SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE WHILE THERE WAS STILL MATERIAL LEFT TO BURN.
Fucking amateurs.
All in all, a fun night, though my disappointment in the next generation of York Catholicers knows no end.
On to the next topic! As many of you are aware (ahem Kat), today is Father's Day and I took my daddy out to lunch (Panera, yummy). Upon coming home, I walked into the sitting room (yes, we actually have one of those, sad, eh?) and found my mom sleeping on the couch, very peacefully, I might add. As I glanced at her face, I noticed something awry. Covering her face, in perfect, identical proportion, geometry, size and colour, were small reddish brown dots. Not raised or irritated, they were obviously manufactured by some great feat of human engineering.
Yeah, so my mom drew little dots all over her face to form the measles or mumps or something by using an odd combination of lipstick and powder.
WHO DOES THINGS LIKE THIS? Recently, Jessie described me as "quirky." While that may be true...I think it's fairly obvious where I get it from.
My mom's rationale for doing this? SHE WANTED TO BE LEFT ALONE (that's verbatum from the source itself). Yes...had either my father or I actually fallen for this and believed she had some sort of life threatening disease, undoubtedly our first instinct would have been to leave her sleep on the couch. Because you know what? Doctors are all QUACKS.
I think I'll write a book. Title ideas anyone?
Somehow along the way, our tradition eventually began to include Laura and her friends (3-4 years younger than us). They sat back, idly watching us carefully burn our memories away. We thought they were absorbing the technique and style that is absolutely essential for a good fire...
Apparently they were actually snorting coke, cool aid 0r some other slightly toxic substance.
Everything they could have done wrong, they did. They started about an hour and half before sun down and burned EVERYTHING AT ONCE. I know it's hard to believe that it gets worse, but it does. THEN they ABANDONED THE FIRE TO EAT SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE WHILE THERE WAS STILL MATERIAL LEFT TO BURN.
Fucking amateurs.
All in all, a fun night, though my disappointment in the next generation of York Catholicers knows no end.
On to the next topic! As many of you are aware (ahem Kat), today is Father's Day and I took my daddy out to lunch (Panera, yummy). Upon coming home, I walked into the sitting room (yes, we actually have one of those, sad, eh?) and found my mom sleeping on the couch, very peacefully, I might add. As I glanced at her face, I noticed something awry. Covering her face, in perfect, identical proportion, geometry, size and colour, were small reddish brown dots. Not raised or irritated, they were obviously manufactured by some great feat of human engineering.
Yeah, so my mom drew little dots all over her face to form the measles or mumps or something by using an odd combination of lipstick and powder.
WHO DOES THINGS LIKE THIS? Recently, Jessie described me as "quirky." While that may be true...I think it's fairly obvious where I get it from.
My mom's rationale for doing this? SHE WANTED TO BE LEFT ALONE (that's verbatum from the source itself). Yes...had either my father or I actually fallen for this and believed she had some sort of life threatening disease, undoubtedly our first instinct would have been to leave her sleep on the couch. Because you know what? Doctors are all QUACKS.
I think I'll write a book. Title ideas anyone?
16 June 2005
I've been wandering sideways, I've stared straight into the sun...
...and it hurt...a lot...
OK, away from randomness and on to the topic at hand...As many of you know, my Uncle Donny and Aunt Noni (my dad's brother and his wife from Atlanta) are coming to visit for a few days. Their arrival is T-appx. 6 hours and to say the least, this should be an interesting weekend. (See Angsty Entry Number 4 aka 6.6.2005 "The Sources of All Angst"). Frequently my away messages will read save meeeeee. You can help in the campaign to keep Ash from being indicted on murder charges by calling me often so that I may slip away from family actitivities to talk on the phone. Any and all help will be appreciated and revered at a later date.
For anyone who's seen my house when we weren't expecting company, you'll know place of residence is usually a wreck. Both my parents and I are pack rats and we have huge amounts of accumulated stuff that none of us can bear to part with. C'est la vie. However, when we're expecting company my mom goes into cleaning melt down and frantically cleans till the wee hours of the morning (god I wish I was joking about this) to get the house ready for viewing. It's kind of scary, but something that I've gotten used to over the years...
...this morning, she hit a new low. At approximately 7am, my mom burst into my room in something near a panic attack declaring loudly "WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH PILLOWS FOR THEM! GIVE ME YOUR PILLOWS! NOW!!!!!" Had I actually been able to see through my exhausted gaze, I'm guessing her eyes would have been shooting sparks and changed in colour from a nice, calm green to ANGRY BRIGHT RED.
At this point I'm confused, bewildered and more than slightly agitated. Damnit. I love my pillows. So I put up a valiant fight attempting to keep her from ripping them out from my head but, of course, I lose horribly. I weep a little bit as she marches triumphantly out the door with 3 new pillows in hand. I prop my head up on my arm and go back to sleep until 9:30.
Finally, I return to the world of the awake and living, still not entirely convinced the episode of this morning actually happened (seriously...who does that?). After half a cup of coffee, I wander from bedroom to bedroom in the house, looking to see exactly why my mom felt it was necessary to punish me in such and a cruel and unusual way. After inspecting all the bedrooms (including the basement, my room and my parents room), would you like to take a guess at what I found? NOTHING. My pillows were not in any of the places where Donny and Noni could possibly sleep. In fact, several hours later, I still have not found them. At this point I'm just hoping she didn't set them on fire.
Do you see now why I think my mom is trying to kill me?
So, I decide to ask my mom why she had such desperate need for my pillows when a) Donny and Noni would not be arriving for several hours and b) as far as I could tell they were not in any place where a person could possibly sleep. I hear her moving around in the foyer and I go to question her about her actions and the whereabouts of my pillows. When I find her she's staring (with great concentration) at the bust of Alexander the Great that sits on a pedastol by our front door, shifting his position very slightly every few moments. Before I even get a chance to open my mouth, she turns, looks at me with great focus and seriousness and says "If I cock Alexander a little bit to the side, does that make us look more or less pompous?" I muttered something incoherently, promptly turned 'round on my heel and walked back to the kitchen, where I made a bagel
Some of the things I do don't seem half so crazy now, do they?
OK, away from randomness and on to the topic at hand...As many of you know, my Uncle Donny and Aunt Noni (my dad's brother and his wife from Atlanta) are coming to visit for a few days. Their arrival is T-appx. 6 hours and to say the least, this should be an interesting weekend. (See Angsty Entry Number 4 aka 6.6.2005 "The Sources of All Angst"). Frequently my away messages will read save meeeeee. You can help in the campaign to keep Ash from being indicted on murder charges by calling me often so that I may slip away from family actitivities to talk on the phone. Any and all help will be appreciated and revered at a later date.
For anyone who's seen my house when we weren't expecting company, you'll know place of residence is usually a wreck. Both my parents and I are pack rats and we have huge amounts of accumulated stuff that none of us can bear to part with. C'est la vie. However, when we're expecting company my mom goes into cleaning melt down and frantically cleans till the wee hours of the morning (god I wish I was joking about this) to get the house ready for viewing. It's kind of scary, but something that I've gotten used to over the years...
...this morning, she hit a new low. At approximately 7am, my mom burst into my room in something near a panic attack declaring loudly "WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH PILLOWS FOR THEM! GIVE ME YOUR PILLOWS! NOW!!!!!" Had I actually been able to see through my exhausted gaze, I'm guessing her eyes would have been shooting sparks and changed in colour from a nice, calm green to ANGRY BRIGHT RED.
At this point I'm confused, bewildered and more than slightly agitated. Damnit. I love my pillows. So I put up a valiant fight attempting to keep her from ripping them out from my head but, of course, I lose horribly. I weep a little bit as she marches triumphantly out the door with 3 new pillows in hand. I prop my head up on my arm and go back to sleep until 9:30.
Finally, I return to the world of the awake and living, still not entirely convinced the episode of this morning actually happened (seriously...who does that?). After half a cup of coffee, I wander from bedroom to bedroom in the house, looking to see exactly why my mom felt it was necessary to punish me in such and a cruel and unusual way. After inspecting all the bedrooms (including the basement, my room and my parents room), would you like to take a guess at what I found? NOTHING. My pillows were not in any of the places where Donny and Noni could possibly sleep. In fact, several hours later, I still have not found them. At this point I'm just hoping she didn't set them on fire.
Do you see now why I think my mom is trying to kill me?
So, I decide to ask my mom why she had such desperate need for my pillows when a) Donny and Noni would not be arriving for several hours and b) as far as I could tell they were not in any place where a person could possibly sleep. I hear her moving around in the foyer and I go to question her about her actions and the whereabouts of my pillows. When I find her she's staring (with great concentration) at the bust of Alexander the Great that sits on a pedastol by our front door, shifting his position very slightly every few moments. Before I even get a chance to open my mouth, she turns, looks at me with great focus and seriousness and says "If I cock Alexander a little bit to the side, does that make us look more or less pompous?" I muttered something incoherently, promptly turned 'round on my heel and walked back to the kitchen, where I made a bagel
Some of the things I do don't seem half so crazy now, do they?
14 June 2005
Blog: 245874 Livejournal: 0
...my blog is a fairly simple and straight forward place where I rant, rave and undoubtedly make people wonder about my already questionable sanity. Livejournals, however; are angsty and overly emotional. You "friend" other people, are offended when they don't "friend" you back and remove them from your lists of "friends" when they make you angry. You can post private entries and entries readable only by those you consider to be "friends" and those left in the shadow are confused and angry at the thought that they might not know everything in your life. And lets not forget those sad individuals out there who undoubtedly rank their social standing to the amount of "friends" they have on livejournal (in all honesty, that's as bad as saying "I have *insert random number here* of friends on facebook! I MUST BE LOVED). To me...livejournals are a huge and unnecessary source of drama.
To give the devil his due, I will say that I like the feature of being able to read everyone's entries at once. Undoubtedly, it saves a lot of time. However, I must say that I still believe the cons outweigh the pros.
Make no mistake, I harbor no ill will against those who have livejournals, especially if they are even remotely amusing and can make me giggle. Giggling is always good. And yes, it's also true that I myself have a livejournal. However, it exists souly for the purpose of reading the aforementioned private/"friends only" journal entries and for commentary purposes. However, I make this declaration now: I WILL NEVER POST JOURNAL ENTRIES/UPDATES IN MY LIVEJOURNAL. Never.
Now, to make matters worse, livejournal has recently created a new feature (at least I think it's new). "Tagging" invovles making lists/entries about random topics (favourite vacation spots, songs, etc), filling them out and then asking other people to fill them out as well by "tagging" them. Oh the drama...I can see pathetic little high schoolers (and sadly...some college students) curled up in their beds at night...thinking "WHY DID *insert random name here* TAG *insert random name here* AND NOT ME?! I've totally been ______'s "friend" for like, months!"
That said, I've been "tagged" by my dear friend Sara (much love). The topic: 6 favourite songs. And yes, I will answer this question and possibly any other "tags" I receive, depending on the topic (becuase quite frankly, I don't give a damn about livejournal "infamy" (their words, not mine)).
So...6 favourite songs (at the moment, as this changes frequently).
1. Be Yourself - Audioslave
2. Life on a Chain - Pete Yorn
3. Holiday - Green Day
4. River of Dreams - Billy Joel
5. Something's Always Wrong - Toad the Wet Sprocket (seriously, were they on crack or coke when they came up with this name?)
6. Good - Better Than Ezra
This turned out to be a much harder endeavour that I thought it would be...I nearly just listed favourite artists, because piecing through my favourite artists to find my favourites was insanely hard...but here ya go...a little mainstream...a little not so much at all...Much love for all of it.
I think I'll go lay a dozen white roses on my grandfather's grave, and then I'll spend some time alone in the city. I could go walking in the middle of the night, to the river of dreams (ha. The Potomac. Not so much at all). Say, hey, that could be the dawning of the rest of my life. Even though it was good, something's always wrong...
To give the devil his due, I will say that I like the feature of being able to read everyone's entries at once. Undoubtedly, it saves a lot of time. However, I must say that I still believe the cons outweigh the pros.
Make no mistake, I harbor no ill will against those who have livejournals, especially if they are even remotely amusing and can make me giggle. Giggling is always good. And yes, it's also true that I myself have a livejournal. However, it exists souly for the purpose of reading the aforementioned private/"friends only" journal entries and for commentary purposes. However, I make this declaration now: I WILL NEVER POST JOURNAL ENTRIES/UPDATES IN MY LIVEJOURNAL. Never.
Now, to make matters worse, livejournal has recently created a new feature (at least I think it's new). "Tagging" invovles making lists/entries about random topics (favourite vacation spots, songs, etc), filling them out and then asking other people to fill them out as well by "tagging" them. Oh the drama...I can see pathetic little high schoolers (and sadly...some college students) curled up in their beds at night...thinking "WHY DID *insert random name here* TAG *insert random name here* AND NOT ME?! I've totally been ______'s "friend" for like, months!"
That said, I've been "tagged" by my dear friend Sara (much love). The topic: 6 favourite songs. And yes, I will answer this question and possibly any other "tags" I receive, depending on the topic (becuase quite frankly, I don't give a damn about livejournal "infamy" (their words, not mine)).
So...6 favourite songs (at the moment, as this changes frequently).
1. Be Yourself - Audioslave
2. Life on a Chain - Pete Yorn
3. Holiday - Green Day
4. River of Dreams - Billy Joel
5. Something's Always Wrong - Toad the Wet Sprocket (seriously, were they on crack or coke when they came up with this name?)
6. Good - Better Than Ezra
This turned out to be a much harder endeavour that I thought it would be...I nearly just listed favourite artists, because piecing through my favourite artists to find my favourites was insanely hard...but here ya go...a little mainstream...a little not so much at all...Much love for all of it.
I think I'll go lay a dozen white roses on my grandfather's grave, and then I'll spend some time alone in the city. I could go walking in the middle of the night, to the river of dreams (ha. The Potomac. Not so much at all). Say, hey, that could be the dawning of the rest of my life. Even though it was good, something's always wrong...
13 June 2005
Reason Number 859 to Escape Oakwood Estates
For those of you who are not aware of a situation that has been brewing since mid April, let me enlighten you...
...in the early afternoon in mid-April (before I was home) my mom was walking my dog (Cody). For those of you unfamiliar with my house/neighborhood...let me detail...there's pretty much two nice areas to walk a dog around here...on the road or along the fence line of the Henry's property (which is about 6 acres and has a pretty expansive fence). Typically, I walk Cody on the road, because it's longer and that way I might get to stop and chat with one of the 4 or 5 families of this god forsaken neighborhood that I actually like and get along with. My mom, however; choses to walk along the fence. So, it's a pretty well known fact that when I'm at school my mom walks Cody down this fence, at the same time, every day. It's also a well known fact that Cody wears a) a 6 ft leash attached to a collar and b) a shocker collar with my mom holding the controller in her hand. Cody's settled down a lot in his old age and the shock collar is only used when he decided to get crazy and chase a rabbit, so it's more for effect than anything else, but make no mistake, it works if it's needed...
...now, y'all know Cody. He's kind of...intimidating and frightening, though at heart he's actually a pansy. For the most part, if he's off of his own property (and doesn't feel the need to defend it) he's OK with humans but not particularly fond of other dogs. So, when Cody's walking (at the same time, every day, everyone in my neighborhood knows this) people don't let their dogs run free in their yards...
...anyways, April. My mom is following her usual habit, walking Cody along he fence and is behind the Hoeft's yard when the Waltz's Great Danes (Sook and Bower) come tearing out of the door to the house like hell itself is on their heels and run immediately over to Cody. Cody freaked out. As I said, he doesn't like other dogs and Sook and Bower were barking and yapping and jumping all over him and my mom. Cody, feeling the need to protect my mom ripped the leash out of her hand and proceeded to chase Sook/Bower back to their own yards (remember, they were all on the Hoefts property at this point)...
...it's for odd situations like this that we have the shock collar. Mom gave Cody a quick jolt that made him jump and snap his jaws a bit. Unfortunately, his teeth nicked Sook's side and she started SCREAMING. Literally. Mom got Cody quickly under control again and brought him back to our house, before going to the Waltz's to check on Sook...
Now, you may ask, if everyone knows that Cody is going to be out this time of day, what kind of morons must the Waltz's be to let their dogs out of the house, without leashes, invisible fences or actual fences, while he's in plain sight? Don't get me wrong, the Waltz's are morons, but in a much less direct way. They were on vacation and their dog walker apparently decided to be lazy at her job and just let them out on their own without supervision. Apparently she was not informed that the dogs were not to be let out of the house while Cody was out and apparently she thinks it's OK to just let dogs roam around free without anyone watching them. Yep. She's an idiot.
At this point both my parents have expressed their concern over Sook's well being and about 2 days later my parent's get an incredibly rude voicemail from Beth Waltz stating, in her incredibly haughty voice, that this situation was entirely our fault and that they would bring the vet bill over immediately for full compensation. Mum immediately called Beth stating that full compensation was ridiculous to ask as, obviously, they themselves were partially at fault (or at least their dog walker was), however, they were willing to pay half the bill. At this point Bob Waltz, kind of the Jackasses, storms over, THREATENS TO SHOOT MY DOG and nearly breaks our front door from slamming it (I was only recently informed of this). Yep. That's right. You heard me. Threatening our property (Cody) and damaging our front door. Congratulations, you know nothing of diplomacy, Dr. Waltz.
Despite the verbal threats, my dad still wanted to do the right thing and pay for half the bill. So, he left a check for $50.00 in their mailbox along with a note saying that he wasn't sure what our half of the total was, but if the amount exceeded $50.00 we would gladly pay it. This was about 2 weeks ago. Earlier tonight my dad walked over to the Waltz's and asked Bob if he had received the check, as we had no indication from him that he had. Bob's reply was (without any pleasantries or even a glance up from the work he was doing) and I quote "Yes but my lawyer says I have to return it to you."
For those of you who need this spelled out...they're sueing my family for full compensation for the vet bill.
#$%@%&@$%^@$#%@#$^%@#&*^&%^#@@%!$#!@#$!@#$!@#$!^#@%^@#^@%^@%
Who DOES this!? Don't these people have any class or integrity? Character? Ever heard of that? I guess not. I mean, we are referring to the family who wrote the Curry's (who are genuinely good human beings) an absolutely horrible threatening note, didn't even sign it and stuck it in their mailbox in the middle of the night. The Waltz's didn't even have the courage to say those things to Mr. Curry's face and wouldn't even admit that he wrote the letter but let Col. Meighen take the fall for him. Seriously, this is something I'd expect from TRAILER TRASH, not supposedly intelligent doctors (and yes, Bob Waltz is a doctor. Apparently all that caffeine he drank to get through his MCATs affected his brain).
This is seriously pissing me off, I'm going to have to go to court because of this. Do you realize how insanely embarassing that is going to be? I have no doubt that the case will be dismissed or at best we'll be ordered to pay part of the vet bill (which the letter and check clearly indicate that we were planning to) but it is literally a mockery of basic human decency for my family to have to go and stand there while Bob rants his little redneck head off. Can you say defamation of character? I can just see the judge laughing his ass off at this whole situation in his chambers and I get so pissed off its not even funny. My dad and I are going to have to take off work for this fiasco, more then likely.
You know what? This isn't just a mockery of basic human decency. It's a mockery of the justice system. While there's murderers, rapists and drug dealers wandering free or waiting to be prosecuted, we're wasting the judge's time and tax payer's money so that El Presidente de la Jackasses can indulge in his ego fest and bullying habits. BAH.
Oh...on another note...Jacko got off scott free. Yay for ridiculously good lawyers who charge ridiculously high prices even though they could be putting their service towards people who actually are innocent and can't afford decent representation. Apparently there's a tribute to today on his website as one of the days which will go down in infamy as a fight for civil rights. Yep, you heard me, according to Mr. Jacko himself, today, 6.13.05, will go down in history as a great day for humanity, right along side the fall of the Berlin Wall, the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and the release from incarceration of Nelson Mandela. Excuse me while I go padlock my nephews into their room so you can't touch them and give them alcohol.
So..all in all...
Idiots: 3947292749273732
Basic Human Decency/Justice: -2
...in the early afternoon in mid-April (before I was home) my mom was walking my dog (Cody). For those of you unfamiliar with my house/neighborhood...let me detail...there's pretty much two nice areas to walk a dog around here...on the road or along the fence line of the Henry's property (which is about 6 acres and has a pretty expansive fence). Typically, I walk Cody on the road, because it's longer and that way I might get to stop and chat with one of the 4 or 5 families of this god forsaken neighborhood that I actually like and get along with. My mom, however; choses to walk along the fence. So, it's a pretty well known fact that when I'm at school my mom walks Cody down this fence, at the same time, every day. It's also a well known fact that Cody wears a) a 6 ft leash attached to a collar and b) a shocker collar with my mom holding the controller in her hand. Cody's settled down a lot in his old age and the shock collar is only used when he decided to get crazy and chase a rabbit, so it's more for effect than anything else, but make no mistake, it works if it's needed...
...now, y'all know Cody. He's kind of...intimidating and frightening, though at heart he's actually a pansy. For the most part, if he's off of his own property (and doesn't feel the need to defend it) he's OK with humans but not particularly fond of other dogs. So, when Cody's walking (at the same time, every day, everyone in my neighborhood knows this) people don't let their dogs run free in their yards...
...anyways, April. My mom is following her usual habit, walking Cody along he fence and is behind the Hoeft's yard when the Waltz's Great Danes (Sook and Bower) come tearing out of the door to the house like hell itself is on their heels and run immediately over to Cody. Cody freaked out. As I said, he doesn't like other dogs and Sook and Bower were barking and yapping and jumping all over him and my mom. Cody, feeling the need to protect my mom ripped the leash out of her hand and proceeded to chase Sook/Bower back to their own yards (remember, they were all on the Hoefts property at this point)...
...it's for odd situations like this that we have the shock collar. Mom gave Cody a quick jolt that made him jump and snap his jaws a bit. Unfortunately, his teeth nicked Sook's side and she started SCREAMING. Literally. Mom got Cody quickly under control again and brought him back to our house, before going to the Waltz's to check on Sook...
Now, you may ask, if everyone knows that Cody is going to be out this time of day, what kind of morons must the Waltz's be to let their dogs out of the house, without leashes, invisible fences or actual fences, while he's in plain sight? Don't get me wrong, the Waltz's are morons, but in a much less direct way. They were on vacation and their dog walker apparently decided to be lazy at her job and just let them out on their own without supervision. Apparently she was not informed that the dogs were not to be let out of the house while Cody was out and apparently she thinks it's OK to just let dogs roam around free without anyone watching them. Yep. She's an idiot.
At this point both my parents have expressed their concern over Sook's well being and about 2 days later my parent's get an incredibly rude voicemail from Beth Waltz stating, in her incredibly haughty voice, that this situation was entirely our fault and that they would bring the vet bill over immediately for full compensation. Mum immediately called Beth stating that full compensation was ridiculous to ask as, obviously, they themselves were partially at fault (or at least their dog walker was), however, they were willing to pay half the bill. At this point Bob Waltz, kind of the Jackasses, storms over, THREATENS TO SHOOT MY DOG and nearly breaks our front door from slamming it (I was only recently informed of this). Yep. That's right. You heard me. Threatening our property (Cody) and damaging our front door. Congratulations, you know nothing of diplomacy, Dr. Waltz.
Despite the verbal threats, my dad still wanted to do the right thing and pay for half the bill. So, he left a check for $50.00 in their mailbox along with a note saying that he wasn't sure what our half of the total was, but if the amount exceeded $50.00 we would gladly pay it. This was about 2 weeks ago. Earlier tonight my dad walked over to the Waltz's and asked Bob if he had received the check, as we had no indication from him that he had. Bob's reply was (without any pleasantries or even a glance up from the work he was doing) and I quote "Yes but my lawyer says I have to return it to you."
For those of you who need this spelled out...they're sueing my family for full compensation for the vet bill.
#$%@%&@$%^@$#%@#$^%@#&*^&%^#@@%!$#!@#$!@#$!@#$!^#@%^@#^@%^@%
Who DOES this!? Don't these people have any class or integrity? Character? Ever heard of that? I guess not. I mean, we are referring to the family who wrote the Curry's (who are genuinely good human beings) an absolutely horrible threatening note, didn't even sign it and stuck it in their mailbox in the middle of the night. The Waltz's didn't even have the courage to say those things to Mr. Curry's face and wouldn't even admit that he wrote the letter but let Col. Meighen take the fall for him. Seriously, this is something I'd expect from TRAILER TRASH, not supposedly intelligent doctors (and yes, Bob Waltz is a doctor. Apparently all that caffeine he drank to get through his MCATs affected his brain).
This is seriously pissing me off, I'm going to have to go to court because of this. Do you realize how insanely embarassing that is going to be? I have no doubt that the case will be dismissed or at best we'll be ordered to pay part of the vet bill (which the letter and check clearly indicate that we were planning to) but it is literally a mockery of basic human decency for my family to have to go and stand there while Bob rants his little redneck head off. Can you say defamation of character? I can just see the judge laughing his ass off at this whole situation in his chambers and I get so pissed off its not even funny. My dad and I are going to have to take off work for this fiasco, more then likely.
You know what? This isn't just a mockery of basic human decency. It's a mockery of the justice system. While there's murderers, rapists and drug dealers wandering free or waiting to be prosecuted, we're wasting the judge's time and tax payer's money so that El Presidente de la Jackasses can indulge in his ego fest and bullying habits. BAH.
Oh...on another note...Jacko got off scott free. Yay for ridiculously good lawyers who charge ridiculously high prices even though they could be putting their service towards people who actually are innocent and can't afford decent representation. Apparently there's a tribute to today on his website as one of the days which will go down in infamy as a fight for civil rights. Yep, you heard me, according to Mr. Jacko himself, today, 6.13.05, will go down in history as a great day for humanity, right along side the fall of the Berlin Wall, the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and the release from incarceration of Nelson Mandela. Excuse me while I go padlock my nephews into their room so you can't touch them and give them alcohol.
So..all in all...
Idiots: 3947292749273732
Basic Human Decency/Justice: -2
11 June 2005
Down with the moral majority, because I want to be in the minority...
...please raise your eyes slightly and take in the new title and subtitle of my beloved blog. Much as I would love to claim the insanity and genius of these words, I cannot. I'm tempted to offer some sort of prize for whoever can tell me first who wrote this and where it came from. However, I really don't want to mess with some sort of international patent and copyright laws (god knows there's got to be some sort of ridiculous law that would allow the real author of the words to feed me to chickens or something, after all, medicinal marijuana is now a hell worthy trespass, much like eating meat on Fridays)...so, without further adieu (though I am damn good at it)...The man to first present the idea of rejecting the tyranny of socks is none other than...
...Mil Millington...brilliant, witty, sexy and too English for his own good...Author of two books (with a third underway, which I eagerly await), this particular line comes from Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, though A Certain Chemistry offers some excellent prose as well...
...Kudos to me, I'm officially one of the saddest human beings on the planet...
...so, I'm re-reading Harry Potter in anticipation of book VI: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and my trip to California. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury...in defense of the previous statement made ("I'm officially one of the saddest human beings on the planet...") I present to you exhibit A...). At any rate, though I'm going to be 20 in September, I still love these books as much as I did when I first started to read them and dressed up to be Trelawney at Katie's sister's HP party in what...8th grade? 9th grade? I don't remember...
...I also saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night. Not as bad as Star Wars Episode 3: Return of the Sith (OK...seriously...if someone had just told him it was a dream and given him some xanax to help him sleep, the whole situation could have been avoided. FURTHERMORE, WTF was up with the Egyptian-God/Dog-like-thing that had a freakin' smoker's cough? How could anyone fear that thing? *mimicing Gen. Grevious* I'm going to kill you *hack hack* wait...let me hook myself up to my oxygen and I'll get back to your demise in 2 minutes, when I can breathe again hack hack* WAIT! Don't run! I can't chase after you as I drag my oxygen behind me!). Though not as good as Madagascar (Remember boys, cute and cuddly. NATURE'S ALL OVER ME. GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!!).
...Audioslave has been in my car's CD player since I got it at the end of May. LOVE. Nothing but love for Audioslave...
And now I'm going to go stare into the sun...adieu!
(One of these day someone's going to get all of my obscure references and then the world will just EXPLODE!)
...Mil Millington...brilliant, witty, sexy and too English for his own good...Author of two books (with a third underway, which I eagerly await), this particular line comes from Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, though A Certain Chemistry offers some excellent prose as well...
...Kudos to me, I'm officially one of the saddest human beings on the planet...
...so, I'm re-reading Harry Potter in anticipation of book VI: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and my trip to California. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury...in defense of the previous statement made ("I'm officially one of the saddest human beings on the planet...") I present to you exhibit A...). At any rate, though I'm going to be 20 in September, I still love these books as much as I did when I first started to read them and dressed up to be Trelawney at Katie's sister's HP party in what...8th grade? 9th grade? I don't remember...
...I also saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night. Not as bad as Star Wars Episode 3: Return of the Sith (OK...seriously...if someone had just told him it was a dream and given him some xanax to help him sleep, the whole situation could have been avoided. FURTHERMORE, WTF was up with the Egyptian-God/Dog-like-thing that had a freakin' smoker's cough? How could anyone fear that thing? *mimicing Gen. Grevious* I'm going to kill you *hack hack* wait...let me hook myself up to my oxygen and I'll get back to your demise in 2 minutes, when I can breathe again hack hack* WAIT! Don't run! I can't chase after you as I drag my oxygen behind me!). Though not as good as Madagascar (Remember boys, cute and cuddly. NATURE'S ALL OVER ME. GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!!).
...Audioslave has been in my car's CD player since I got it at the end of May. LOVE. Nothing but love for Audioslave...
And now I'm going to go stare into the sun...adieu!
(One of these day someone's going to get all of my obscure references and then the world will just EXPLODE!)
09 June 2005
Wake Me When September Ends- Green Day
Today was the worst day I've had in a very very long time. I woke up this morning, strangely aware (for the first time) of a bubble of apathy that's been in place in regards to a specific person for about 10 years...and I'm ending today in tears as that bubble is gone, hopefully forever. But for the first time, I know what I need to do. True, I don't want to do it. I want to walk away from the whole situation with a huge "FUCK YOU." I wish I could say it's just not worth the effort. But it is. God I wish it wasn't. But I know this needs to be done. True, I could just let everything be, return to the status quo. Do I want to do that? YES. Can I do that? Probably. Will I do that? NO. Sadly, no, I will not. I will fix this. I will get a grip on myself and I will be a better, stronger person for doing this.
But, god help me, I just want to walk away.
Good bye feigned apathy. Good bye wonderful, colourful little boxes in which I hid my pain. Hello road to emotional stability.
But, god help me, I just want to walk away.
Good bye feigned apathy. Good bye wonderful, colourful little boxes in which I hid my pain. Hello road to emotional stability.
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