2.0.0.7.

Well...when I first started this blog just before the start of freshman year I made myself a promise that no matter how crazy life got, I'd post at least once a month. I also told myelf that I'd never revise or edit an entry post-publication. Well...4 or 5 backgrounds and about a million titles/taglines later I've stuck to my oaths fairly well. Never have I ever edited content or fixed spelling or grammar in a post and never have I ever deleted a post due to backlash of any kind. I'd also managed to stick pretty well to posting relatively regularly...until this semeter. Posting effectively stopped in September, though I did manage my "once a month" rule up until December. I guess, in the end, 2006 changed my entire perspective, right down to my journal-writing ethics.

I'm still not sure if the change was for the better or for the worse. I guess that I'll be better off for the changes, even if I won't necessarily be happier because of them and I think that when you hit a certain age that comes with the scenery.

At the end of the day, I came out of this year with a new perspective, a favourite author and a theme song. Not a bad haul, I suppose.

And you know what? Between the lines of fear and blame I'm still the kind of person who's sucking up all their fears and worries and going to live in abroad for 6 months. I'm not ashamed to boast about that though I am kind of disgusted that my pension for quoting overly played songs has managed to stick it out through it all. Oh who am I kidding? I'm a bit of a tool and I love it.

PS: I still haven't decided if I'm going to start a new blog for my tenure in Scotland. If I do I will most certainly post the new address here and will more then likely resume writing in this one when I return to the States.

Well then...

But my God woke up on the wrong side of his bed.

I am alive and, depending on the definition thereof, well. Life has decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon of Amuck and occasionally it's all I can do but sit back and giggle.

We only have one 21st because the second would kill us.

Shea and I

I really think she might kill you if you try and take that drink from her

Shots

I honestly don't know

Still terribly confused...

More shots

Dear god was there ever not a drink?

Sam, Kat, Shea and Amanda

My very first drink as a legal (bought by Sam)

Adam being awesome

Terrified of Red Lion...

I pretty much left for DC the first day the dorms opened (Aug 18). After a quick drive and an interesting dinner where, for the first time ever, my dad sat down and enjoyed a long conversation with another human being (Kat's dad) I unpacked my worldly possessions and shortly thereafter I arranged my room . Please note that the Wall of Memories is already slowly starting to accumulate just above my pillows. I then proceeded to spend the week driving frantically around the city in one of these...

And eating here (Congressional Country Club off River Rd)...all the while making copious amounts of money. Don't you wish you were me? (The correct answer there is no...no you do not). And then there was the day I spent in West Virginia rafting down the Shenandoah...I capped off the week with a special breed of fun known as...
And just for fun's sake...I did have my first class today. Gangs and Gang Violence. I walked into the darkened classroom to a video of a pregnant teenager undergoing a beat-in somewhere in a small town in the Midwest. Apparently this kind of behavior is "too common to be truly shocking or terrifying." Damn, my major is just straight up possessed by the devil.

I used to say...

...you know you're at a low point when talking to Earle is the only thing that makes you feel just a teeny bit better about the direction of your life. I can now safely say that on my jetplane to rock bottom, I passed that particular level of pathetic about 2,000 feet ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the newest phase of the Rock Bottom Strip Mall: When canceling plans with friends seems like a fair trade considering the fact that you wouldn't have to actually get dressed and could remain in your running shorts/tshirts for a few more days.

Yeah, that's right. I'm that person.

More disturbingly, I'm getting that "last week of summer...I don't really want to go back to school" vibe that always rolls up in a pimped out Escalade around this time of year. I know the second we make the turn onto Wisconsin off of East-West Hwy I'm going to start bouncing excitedly in my seat but for now I just keep thinking "who really needs a BA anyways? Masters? HA! I scoff at thee, higher levels of education!"

As a general rule, I attribute this feeling of "just 5 more minutes...please..." to several months spent as an unproductive waste of space. Yes, I survived and managed to have fun doing so but surviving/having fun is a far cry from doing something worthwhile and last semester I was so damned productive that Dr Bennett felt he should send me a letter congratulating me on my achievement. The downshift, which was very much needed in May and June is now just plaguing me with doubts of my own self worth and, ultimately, that's just not good for the psyche.

So, in order to maintain the semblence of mental health that I've managed to create for myself these past few months, I'm going to suck it up, keep my plans and maybe even put on a skirt. But I'm still going to grumble about paying $3.00/gallon. Sept. 15 price break, you haunt my soul and one day you will pay for your endless taunting, crazy-guy-who-wears-lipstick-in-Billy-Madison style.

Felony? Theft? Cup of coffee?

...I feel that I can adequately tell this tale...

So on Sunday morning everyone who had...how shall we say...drank themselves silly at the party the day before was feeling kind of...off. Without exception to this, my mother was feeling "ehhhh...god hates me...must die...." and requested that I run down to the gas station (on base) to pick her up a cup of coffee. She handed me my dad's credit card and I figured, "eh, why not? It's right down the road and she's too ill to drive right now..."

So I walk into the store, fill up my little cup of coffee and proceed to the checkout queue where I had the following conversation with a cashier.

Ash: Good morning

Cashier: Hi. Credit, debit or cash?

Ash: Credit

Cashier: Ok, with a credit card I need to see ID.

Sidenote: The day before my mom had purchased a similar cup of coffee (on the same credit card) without ID. The back of the card is signed so, by civilian law, she can't request identification. Also, please note for future reference: on base, you can't use any credit card that's not your own. Continuing on...

Ash: Uh, I don't have ID and it's my dad's credit card, at any rate.

Cashier: I can't take that then.

Ash: Well that's the only way I can pay, I don't have my purse with me...

Cashier: Well, that's stealing and I'm going to have to call...

the MPs...

Ash: *blind panic* Uhh...*stutter* Umm...

Cashier: *picks up phone*

Ash: *thinks fast* Listen, I'm really sorry, I'm visiting my cousin who just got back from Iraq and I'm not usually on military bases. Let me leave my credit card here with you as collateral and run back to his house on Jacksoon Loop to get cash for you...

Cashier: *hard stare* *2 minute pause* I'll just dump it out this time, but make sure this doesn't happen again

Ash: Absolutely not. *Exit stage left* *Que tears and shock*

Now, most of you probably aren't familiar with the military, much like me, so let me pull you into the loop as to why this was so utterly and horrifically horrible. When you're on a base, any crime committed is an automatic felony resulting in immediate detention in a federal prison until such time as your bail can be posted. My cousin Ruthann actually got thrown into a federal prison for about 4 days once for driving 2 mph above the speed limit on base.

So for you slow students out there let me break it down for you...I nearly...

-Got thrown into federal prison for at least a day for attempting to buy a cup of coffee

and

-Almost had my entire future destroyed because, as you're probably aware, the FBI and government in general will not hire anyone with a felony on their record. I'm over 18 so that little incident would not get expunged and you can be damn certain that all it would say would be "Felony: theft on a military base." I'm pretty sure they would neglect to mention the fact that it was a cup of coffee that I had the money for.

I think there's pretty much only one way to sum up that particular occurance in the life of Ash...

http://mewing.net/meinkampf.shtmlGo ahead. Click it. I dare you.

Who spiked a watermelon? Yeah...that'd be me.

In typical Ash-fashion I really don't have the words to describe the NY soiree I went to this weekend. I (and everyone else) had a fantastic time. In this spirit..let's go through some of the highlights, eh?

-"Don't drop the baby!"
-Shots of liquid cocaine
-1 PFC who had to be dragged to his car
-a Sgt. who had to be wheeled to his car (on a chair...that had wheels)
-Brian falling head first into the keg
-Brian then proceeding to crash into the drinking table to avoid spilling his shot
-Lt. Matt
-God knows how many passed out guy's I walked across to get to a water tap the following morning

I think I drank approximately 15 shots of everything from rum to vodka to Crown from around 4 in the afternoon to 8 in the evening and stayed on my non-British feet the entire time. Notice the eyes? I'll choke the bitch who tries to take my margarita.

Pictured (left to right): Row 1: Jose Cuervo, Rum, Whiskey

Row 2: Jaegermeister, Vodka A, Kahlua, Vodka B, unidentified

Row 3: Margaritas, ice container, pepsi

Missing: Keg, bottles and bottles of Crown, crates of Jaeger and Red Bull, unidentified liquors of varying genres.

Welcome home, EM.

It only hurts when I laugh...

...if by laugh what you're really trying to say is breathe.

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, the return of the infamous Plague has mysteriously coincided with my glorious return to the North. Luckily I've got some Penacillin left over from having my wisdom tooth taken out. Incidently, I was supposed to take them all but panicked when I reacted so badly to the vicodin and just stopped taking everything. Dammit, I do NOT miss those hallucinations.

After spending about a day and a half in Pennsylvania after South Carolina/Tennessee, I went to DC for a few days to work.

Now the drive down to DC is seldom entertaining and never life threatening, but this time was clearly the exception. Let's just say that the area we were driving around in was poverty stricken like its hot and I was abandoned in the parking lot of a McDonalds. I shall not mention the name of the person responsible for this, mostly out of spite. You know who you are. I know where you live and I will get you back one day. Then there was the glorious discovery that M Street dead ends somewhere around Georgia Avenue...into a dirt pile and, also, that there's a street in DC called, I kid you not, Quackenbob Road. Also, people around Howard U are so fond of Eddie Murphy that they named a road after him...incidently I'm pretty sure they misspelled his name.

Having finally gotten into a part of town that was neither life threatening nor absolutely lacking in parking, I hopped the metro to head to Dupont for lunch...only to have my pants eaten by the damn escalator.

Fast forward a few hours and a few hysterics later and I'm hanging out with some rather amazing chicas and then proceeded to finally settle in for the night at James' where some mild debauchery took place. And by mild debauchery what I mean is having my ribs crushed by 6'5" Scottish man who clearly hates his life so much he's dying to encourage me to put another vendetta on his head. I'd like to point out that my last name is MacVEIGH for the love of god and there is no one on the planet who is less Jewish than me. Or less Mexican.

My plans for working in DC for a few days fell apart rather unceremoniously and, to say the least, I was unhappy. Frustrated and angry, I left DC to go to Avon to relax/chill/sunbathe for about a week. And relax/chill/sunbathe I did. I'm now pretty much as tan as I (being horrifically Scottish) can get, and despite a rather unpleasant train ride and coming home to constantly feuding parents, I'm pretty damn mellow.

This mellow-itude is not particularly characteristic to me. If I had to guess, those who know me best would probably have a few choice words to use in describing the essense of me and I highly doubt "mellow" would be near the top of the list.

I'm wondering if maybe intense blood loss has something to do with it.

Say hello to Anopheles gambiae more commonly known as the mosquito or skeeter. This little bastard is apparently pretty damn fond of Yankee blood and came close to sucking me dry in a rather vampiric fashion. Then, when he had gourged himself in a manner that would have made Henry VIII cringe, he called his little bastard children in for the feast. That's right, your daddy can't pay mommy child support, but he can leech off the blood of innocent bystanders and pretend that he's "providing" for his family. I may make it my personal mission in life to eradicate these creatures from the face of the planet. I'm pretty sure they're the only of god's creatures that he doesn't love, so no harm no foul.

I think my record for bites was 5 in 1.5 minutes sustained while walking across the yard. Incidently, one night I subconsciously itched a hive so badly that I scratched the hive and the first layer of skin underneath it off.

Despite the little bloodsucking monsters that plagued me, my tenure at the beach was both necessary and fulfilling. Tomorrow afternoon (August 4) I'm leaving until Aug 7 for upstate New York/Canada. Then I'm back for good. And I hope you realize that by good what I'm really trying to say is until I pack up to leave for fall sometime on Aug 18.

Does Pedro sleep? No, no he does not.

Around 4 am this morning we crossed the Mason -Dixon after having been in the Deep South for slightly over a week. Our first stop was the beaches of South Carolina where we stayed in the condo pictured below which I named (quite aptly) the Giant Condo of Doom.
Myrtle Beach was pretty much a pathetic, soul sucking tourist trap, but I got a nice tan and got to relax a bit. Somewhere during the course of our stay, my parents purchased a time share in Florida. I'm still not entirely sure how this happened, truth be told. They just came home one morning (I had taken the opportunity to nap on the top deck) and informed me of their purchase. If you're noticing a mildly stoic tone in my voice, it's because I'm still shell shocked. I'd like to point out that this purchase happened approximately last Tuesday. Who's up for Florida sometime around Christmas, 'cus I'm damn well not checking that thing out by myself for the first time.

So yeah...Myrtle Beach...yeah...words really can't describe that place so I'm not even going to try. However; I would like to point out that our GCoD was located on a golf resort and (oddly enough) very close to some marshy area. So one day I was wandering around outside , chatting on my phone, when suddenly the guy next door starts screaming "Blonde girl on the phone! DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP FORWARD! DON'T GO DOWN THOSE STAIRS!" Confused, I looked out slightly over the ledge I was standing on and, focusing intently, was able to make out a slithering shape blending into the drying grass. Pictured below is a pretty close representation of what I saw. Ladies and gentlemen, please let me introduce you to Agkistrodon piscivorus more commonly known as the Cottonmouth. For those of you unfamiliar with snakes and other creatures of death, it's one of the deadliest snakes in North America. And it was about 6" away from eating my foot. South Carolina was, by no means, a bad trip. On the contrary, aside from the moment when I was nearly poisoned to death I had a great time and I'm truly glad I went. But if you think that's the end of my tale, you clearly have no concept of my histrionic tendencies...or god's wrath on me.

On approximately Wednesday we lit out for Tennessee, because my dad hearts the mountains like whoa and because we're expected at the Gathering of Rednecks that is to take place a few days later. I drove most of the way on the Strom Thurmond Freeway cackling maniacally at signs that describe Pedro's insomnia as well as entire counties called Waccamaw. Somewhere in North Carolina, my dad finally wrenched the wheel out of my hands and steered us through the Great Smoky Mountains Nat'l Park. NOTICE THE PRETTY!! NOTICE IT!
Tennessee was great, everything I've come to expect from visits down there. One of the high points of the trip was learning a lot about my family and solving The Great Mystery of Ash's Heritage. To date I am:

.5 Scottish (obviously)
.25 Native American (way more than I anticipated...rock on)
.25 Dutch. Apparently my grandpa was Dutch. Who the hell ever saw that one coming.

Like I said, the trip and the party was a huge success, everyone got pretty damn drunk on everything from Bourbon to Allegrini to moonshine. Dion sang that god forsaken Statue of Liberty song (dedicated to me) while occasionally taking swigs from his hip flask. I personally opted for half shots of the XXX all night with my cousin and learned...well...you get good and drunk but it's an entirely different kind of drunk. The only way I can describe it is a "batshit crazy" kind of drunk. Let's just put it this way...I finally passed out around 1am, and some of the stronger hillbillies were still going strong. Sidenote: The party started at 12pm and everyone was drinking by 3. A family friend (Charlie) came 'round to check on me and my cousin Amanda around 2:30am and, apparently (as I have no recollection of this) I sat up (very wobbily) said (in a perfect southern accent) "YOU AIN'T GOIN' KILL ME!!" and punched him with a hard left in the jaw. Yeah...like I said, batshit crazy.

Another example of the debauchery is pictured below. I'd like to point out that these women are blood relatives of mine, in their 40s-50s and, yes, your eyes deceive you not, wearing my bras on their heads. They were stone cold sober. Things like this are common at Kope(ki)-Fuller/n gatherings. Don't you wish your family was as cool as mine? Probably not, no one should ever have to see that.

The real creme de la creme of the trip was my encounter with yet another deadly creature. This time, it was not a cottonmouth, but rather his close cousin, the copperhead. This one would have struck out and hit my knee if my cousin Dion hadn't tackled me to get me out of the way. I'd like to point out that it was not my incompetance that brought all these deadly snakes into my presense this fateful trip, I'm just absolutely convinced that god flies the Rebel, drives a pick up and still holds a grudge against Sherman for the whole buring down Atlanta bit. My damn family's from the South though, so you think I'd catch a break. But no. Rest in peace, deep South, for I am so done with you.

Look this way, will you marry me?

Well, I'm back from Rhode Island. Suffice it to say I had a magnificient time. At some point or other I may give details and I'll certainly post pictures sometime this week, but until then I've decided to do one of those current loves/hates lists.

Love

+Black Horse and the Cherry Tree (if you can figure out why the second stanza of this song reminds me of DC you'll win a prize)

+Greg Maguire

+Nick Hornby

+Red Hot Chili Peppers (momentarily Dani California)

+Nutella on graham crackers

+Applesauce

+Supreme Court (specifically the recent Gitmo and DNA exoneration decisions)

+Russian politics (Putin does, in fact, hunt wolves. You don't get more awesome than that)

+Gargoyles (infant and non infant...real and non real)

Hate

-Hips Don't Lie (I think I liked this song the first 20 times I heard it. 21 just pushed me over the edge)

-My cell ringers

-UN resolutions (slowly, the word resolution is stripped of any connotation of conviction)

-Westphalian order (That's right...I somehow hate the UN and Westphalian order simultaneously...your multitudes don't have ANYTHING on mine)

-feathered hats

Not exactly an art gallery...

Last semester I had this ridiculously amazing professor of urban ecology and sociology. He would often regale us with tales of his debauchery...and by debauchery what I mean is "accidently" catching drug deals on camera, then having to scale fences to escape the overlords as they chased him around the streets of the Bronx.

I'm sure he was only exaggerating a little bit.

At any rate, in a similar fashion, when Jo and I had to go to the Gallery (inner city Philadelphia, for those who aren't familar with the terminology) for some debaunchery of our own, I decided to hang out the car window snapping pictures of various incidents of urban disorder and decay. Broken windows theory, anyone? I'm sure that I'll use these somewhere along the way in a paper or presentation, and I'm sure that I came damn close to getting shot to get some of these so I thought I'd share them here, such an obvious forum for open discussion on justice theory.

Without further adieu, I give you the Gallery. Some of the pictures are a tad blurry. We were two white girls in an SUV in one of the worst areas in the country. Of course we were going 50 mph.

I love the BMW...parked next to a dirty sidewalk and a building with metal gates over the doors.
The further into the ghetto you go, the bigger percentage they take out of whatever check you're cashing. Incidently, there's also a disproportionately high number of fine establishments to buy chicken fried steak. Apparently it sells well with shrimp lo mein and gumbo.

By this time next year, I'll be able to read that writing and know exactly what it means. Undoubtedly it's a gangland turf war of some sorts.
I think the grey overcast says it all.

This was by far my favourite picture of the day. If memory serves, it was taken while speeding past one of those fine cuisine establishments I mentioned early, but I believe they specialized in a combination of Jamaican, Ethiopian and cheesesteaks.

I really need a hobby...knitting anyone?

When Ash is bored in Pennsylvania she...

Takes bad pictures of herself while wearing a tshirt that supports a fraternity she has no affiliation with whatsoever. Furthermore, aforementioned tshirt was stolen from her hall during move out...mostly because she was bored.

Steals innocent stop signs from strip malls, gives them harsh German names and calls them her own. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Johann van Bitte, the product of some Saturday night debauchery with Jo.

When Ash gets bored in DC she...

Dances on her bed, much to the fear of her laptop and the detriment of her laundry.
Drinks far too much, speaks only in a British accent and threatens to have Earle's head chopped off a la Marie Antoinette.

Sketches cracked out drawings and deragatory remarks on people's arms in the metro. I'm fairly certain that took a good week to come off Kat's arm.

Considering that there were grammatical errors in the test itself...

...I suppose it's not a half bad assessment of my political leanings. Though considering the black and white nature of the response choices, I strongly suspect that the moderates who should be running the country are getting lost in the shuffle of polarized politics.

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 20% Conservative, 80% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Now that I'm back in York for the time being, I seem to find myself caring more and more about the world around me. I think it's because I'm more isolated from that world here.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I've lost my ability to sleep in and get bored pretty easily.

It's understood that Hollywood sells Californication

I was reading through journal entries from the summer before I left for DC (2 years ago for those well acquainted with the interior decor of the short bus) and I just can't believe how very different I am now. The changes have all been very gradual, so I only notice them when doing a comparison of...say...dates or events, but they are there.

Sure, there are some aspects of me that are pretty much the same...Botticelli and Rembrandt are still my favourite artists, Shinedown's 45 will always remind me of my dad and I'll probably never figure out the correct usage of the comma, but the overarching theme of the past two years has apparently been change like it's hot. Some of the differences I can identify...I've curbed my rampant liberalism a bit in favor of moderation on many issues, my academic focus shifted from medieval European history to justice theory and public policy and...let's face it...I have friends whose livers could give Chernobyl and Three Mile Island a run for their money. But there are some changes in me that I wouldn't (and don't) notice unless they're pointed out to me by some sort of third party (the advice of whom I typically ignore out of a gradually strengthening fear of being controlled).

Overall, I guess I have a pretty good idea who I was and who I am now and, for the most part, I'm OK with that (both people were/are approrpriate for their life situations and when I stumble to a mirror to brush my teeth in the morning (I still do that obsessively) I don't want to gouge out my eyes with a Q-tip (that I still buy en masse) ). What I'm completely lost on is who I'll be and what I'll be doing two years from now.

I can't even begin to speculate on who I'll be. The greatest influences on my life have always been the people I'm closest with and god only knows who's going to come along and shove me in another direction. That's not to say I'm going to forsake those I hold in my heart. Far from it. Experience has proven to me that those worth their weight in gold tend to have some pretty impressive staying power and right now I've got a few front runners that are pretty much straight money.

Where I'll be and what I'll be doing is a little easier to speculate on. Given my personality and background, there's only so many avenues one can take and be able to sleep at night. With (I hope) a bachelors in hand will I be enjoying the final summer of my undergrad work as I prep for the long haul that is the definition of every juris doctorate program in the State's that's worth it's salt? Will I be in graduate work, honing my public policy skills and training my mind to think like a scholar? Will I forsake academic integrity and legitimacy for the all mighty dollar? Or will I just say screw it all, move to a commune in California and start smoking a lot of marijuana?

I guess, at the end of the day, I'm finally admitting to myself that I don't know where I'm headed. I've got a compass though, and a taser, so I think I should be able to find my way without too many problems. Setbacks I can handle, creepy truckers are an entirely different matter though.

It scares me that I can't say, with absolute certainty, where I'll be in two years, but it's also exhilarating. Fear's one of the biggest driving forces in humanity and, since I'm not lacking in that anymore, I think it's a pretty safe assumption to say that I'll go pretty damned far.

At the very least, this means I don't have to kill $30 on LSAT prep books yet.

Don't make me live for my Friday nights.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to the official mascot of the Empire of KatAsh. His name is Jabba and, if you value your limbs, you will show him respect. Notice that menacing stare in his eyes? This is one very very bitter, angry turtle. If you got hit by a semi you'd be a little touchy too. While in the Banks (just shy of Nags Head), Kat, an incredibly helpful local, and I rescued this "little" guy from the side of the road where he lay belly up after getting hit by a truck. I feel it necessary (out of respect for Jabba) to indicate that when I use the term "little" I use it in the sense that an F 16 is smaller than a 757. Also, I'd like you all to recognize the fact that an F 16 has a good deal more fire power than a 757, what with the attached bombs and guns. At any rate, after dragging the turtle out of the pond we'd stupidly put him in with a stick (he latched onto it like a Rottweiler latches onto a steak) we dragged him via plyboard (pictured below) to the local's truck where she transported him to a vet's office to get "fixed up." I can only hope those vets sedated him properly. Otherwise there is no doubt in my mind that he'd retaliate. And by retaliate I do in fact mean mutually assured destruction. You'll all be happy to know that they plastered his shell and he's fine, happily released back into the wild, none the worse for the wear.

Jabba, I salute you, and one day, we will meet again. Fates such as ours are sure to be inextricably intertwined.

(Mis)adventures in the General Vicinity of Camp David

Having successfully thwarted a few F 16s, there was just enough time to teach Ash a quick course in aerodynamics...so that she could avoid flying the small plane straight into a nearby ski resort

Camp David's in there somewhere

Emittsburg, MD
The airfield
The towing plane + Unidentified flying blue thing

Terrorist threat? Possible communist alliances? I think not.
The plane
Dave and I

Champagne - July for Kings

...I'm going to sum up the rest of my summer. Oddly enough, it hasn't felt like summer's really begun until about 5 minutes ago when I read Kat's journal and realized, hey, it's just about time I get started on that whole productivity thing.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

May 22-June 7: Lived la vie de hobo in Avon and DC
June 8-June 12: Entertainted Kat in Penn
June 12: Received most unexpected call ever. Still don't know what to do with that.
June 13: Removal of wisdom tooth (singular).
June 13-15: CRACKED OUT AS ALL HELL.
June 16-July 3: Relaxing, working on Red Line, spending time w/ people from Penn
July 4-July 5: FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR
July 6-July 10: ADAM!
July 11-July 20: Returning to Penn
July 20-July 24: Tennessee
July 25-July ??: DC to work for les Wackadoos and live la vie de hobo once again.
Early August: To AVON
Mid August: Penn to pack, participate in the ungodly event known as the Fuller/Fullen-Kope(ki) Family Reunion and say g'bye to family and friends
Late August: Return to the city as a college junior

Goals for Penn:
-Spend time w/ friends
-RED LINE
-Get my back and head straightened out
-Raquetball, tennis and everything in between (which, granted, isn't very much)
-Learn how to fly a plane (hell yeah)
-Become proficient at sailing (and by that what I mean is tip the catamaran)

Once the vicodin has worn off and I can think a little more clearly, I think I'll be tempted to say it's not shaping up to be such a bad summer after all.

Not gonna lie...I really miss Durkheim right now...

Just so you're all aware and can stop fretting and worrying horribly over my condition and whereabouts, I am alive, well and currently taking up residence on a futon in van Ness. We left the beach a bit early and headed up to the city for a few days of "hanging out" w/ friends (and by "hanging out" I do in fact mean consuming excessive amounts of alcohol...except no, not at all) and working for les Wackadoos. I'll be back in Pennsylvania for a stint (god knows how long) on Thursday (6.8) and will be available for hanging out sometime after that.

These past weeks have been filled with everything from relaxation to Star Wars characters manifested in animal form to rats with wings. A very long and tedious entry to follow this one, perhaps sometime after it's all sunk in and I can officially stop thinking did that really happen?

Exactly one month from today I will be in Rhode Island with M. l'Adam, and we all know how very special that will be. I swear to god if the TSA makes me miss my flight there will be hell to pay. And by hell what I mean is approximately one year of college tuitition.

Now just to give y'all a tiny preview of my life since May 22...let me just say that during my time away from the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania I managed to shoot my boss (an ex-MARINE) in the shoulder.

Adieu

Send me back to hell, I've had my fill of heaven.

First things first, I've changed screenname's yet again. I really hope this one sticks, I'm quite fond of it. trifectaofcrazy or rather trifecta of crazy once Rasputin stops being a prick and lets me format it. Most of you who read this probably know the story behind that one, however; feel free to ask, it's a rather amusing story of pain and woe.

Off to the Outer Banks until approximately June 7. If I remember correctly, cell phone reception down there is sketchy at best, and Kat's place has no internet hook ups, so have fun getting in touch with me if you have to. But before that we're stopping overly briefly (for appx a day) in DC where we'll be seeing the Boondock Saints in the theatre, for whatever reason its playing, with some of the ICP. I'm sure many rounds of asshole will ensue afterwards.

Jo, just so you know how very special you are, the only reason I'm coming back on June 7 is to be here for Cake Day, which will be glorious. Margaritas?