...to say that Flogging Molly was quite excellent would be a horrible horrible understatement. They were...amazing...and who knew that Gypsie punk rock could be so damn good? Gogol Bordello...I salut thee...and anyone who gets the irony in the name Gogol Bordello...
At any rate, the concert made me ridiciulously happy...good music, great friends, awesome memories..."If you want to, we could totally go crawl into the neighbor's hot tub at 4 am...just don't drink their beer or use their kitchen sink"...thank you, Mr. Paul, for entertaining conversation between sets and thank you also for the invitation to get RAPED, but I think I'll pass, as I don't think I could live with myself if I dated a guy who had intelligence on par with the average snow crab.
Yay for 8 hours of work on 4 hours of sleep! If you will just please come and chop off my feet, I'll be your slave forever (though, granted, I couldn't really offer that much as a slave..)
05 August 2005
No, David, I am not trading sexual favors with Flogging Molly for an autographed CD for you!!!!
Yeah...I feel like that shouldn't have been my header but hey...whatever...
SO! Today (or rather tonight) I'm here to talk to y'all about a pair of pants. Yes, you heard me correctly, a pair of pants. NO! This is not a magical pair of pants that miraculously fit everyone who wears them...they fit only me...however...I would like to tell you their story...
Let us first begin with a description of said pants, yes?
These pants are stretchy jeans...supposedly coloured black. They're just slightly too long for me in the back, which is actually how I like my jeans. By "supposedly coloured black" I mean that these jeans are approximately 2 years old and they've been through the mill...a lot...they've been hit with bleach and are oddly discoloured in places and have been washed so many times I think they are more appropriately described as grey than as black. They've been washed so many times that they are developing holes everywhere...holes that I am desperately trying to ignore for the next 15 days or so...At any rate...I really hope that y'all are smart enough to have come to this conclusion by now..but for those slow puppies out there...yes...I am describing my work pants.
Now...these pants have seen me through 2 tours of duty safely...that is...employment at 2 different fast food restaurants, Wendy's and Arby's respectively (god help my poor poor soul). And they've certainly bourne the war wounds of my endeavours at attaining money...however, because of the horrible memories attached to fast food for me, I feel no loyalty to the pants...none what so ever.
So...basically...my time as a minimum wage slave at fast food is coming to a close...I already have a job lined up for next summer, and I have no intention to work over breaks. So, with any luck AT ALL (felix felicis, I NEED YOU!!) I will never have to put on those pants again...
...to commemorate this incredibly special occasion...and to make sure that I never put on those damn pants again...I am going to burn these pants. If you think I'm kidding..you are horribly mistaken...and yes..in my head I said that with my Pennsylvania accent. I'm setting these damn pants on fire to attempt to purge the horrible summers of fast food from my memories...
On some random notes...thanks to Steve and Kat for commenting on my last entry, your opinions mean a lot to me...however, Steve, you have made me realize that I'm going to hell because I would, in fact, leave a boyfriend if someone better came along (depending upon the current relationship, of course).
Let's see...ummm...I officially hate people who punctuate every sentence with "yo." Not that I didn't before, mind you, but now it's official. Seriously, do you know how stupid you sound? I hate even more the people who declared ebonics an official language. Fuckers.
Is it sad that AU (sorry that isn't AU red and AU blue by the way..I guess that's the SOUL BENEFIT FOR SPENDING THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ON THE PATENTS FOR COLOURS! STUDENTS CAN'T USE THEM TO MOCK YOU IN THEIR BLOGS. Oh wait, I just did that. You officially fail, though I still love you so very much) has given me no choice but to put my advisor in my cell phone contacts list?
FLOGGING MOLLY on Saturday. Can you say woot?!?!?!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to a very special ADAM! My dearest husband, much love, though I have no idea what to get you.
NICHOLAS! Good luck on Saturday, you'll do great (as you always do) and then can finally get sleep again.
SO! Today (or rather tonight) I'm here to talk to y'all about a pair of pants. Yes, you heard me correctly, a pair of pants. NO! This is not a magical pair of pants that miraculously fit everyone who wears them...they fit only me...however...I would like to tell you their story...
Let us first begin with a description of said pants, yes?
These pants are stretchy jeans...supposedly coloured black. They're just slightly too long for me in the back, which is actually how I like my jeans. By "supposedly coloured black" I mean that these jeans are approximately 2 years old and they've been through the mill...a lot...they've been hit with bleach and are oddly discoloured in places and have been washed so many times I think they are more appropriately described as grey than as black. They've been washed so many times that they are developing holes everywhere...holes that I am desperately trying to ignore for the next 15 days or so...At any rate...I really hope that y'all are smart enough to have come to this conclusion by now..but for those slow puppies out there...yes...I am describing my work pants.
Now...these pants have seen me through 2 tours of duty safely...that is...employment at 2 different fast food restaurants, Wendy's and Arby's respectively (god help my poor poor soul). And they've certainly bourne the war wounds of my endeavours at attaining money...however, because of the horrible memories attached to fast food for me, I feel no loyalty to the pants...none what so ever.
So...basically...my time as a minimum wage slave at fast food is coming to a close...I already have a job lined up for next summer, and I have no intention to work over breaks. So, with any luck AT ALL (felix felicis, I NEED YOU!!) I will never have to put on those pants again...
...to commemorate this incredibly special occasion...and to make sure that I never put on those damn pants again...I am going to burn these pants. If you think I'm kidding..you are horribly mistaken...and yes..in my head I said that with my Pennsylvania accent. I'm setting these damn pants on fire to attempt to purge the horrible summers of fast food from my memories...
On some random notes...thanks to Steve and Kat for commenting on my last entry, your opinions mean a lot to me...however, Steve, you have made me realize that I'm going to hell because I would, in fact, leave a boyfriend if someone better came along (depending upon the current relationship, of course).
Let's see...ummm...I officially hate people who punctuate every sentence with "yo." Not that I didn't before, mind you, but now it's official. Seriously, do you know how stupid you sound? I hate even more the people who declared ebonics an official language. Fuckers.
Is it sad that AU (sorry that isn't AU red and AU blue by the way..I guess that's the SOUL BENEFIT FOR SPENDING THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ON THE PATENTS FOR COLOURS! STUDENTS CAN'T USE THEM TO MOCK YOU IN THEIR BLOGS. Oh wait, I just did that. You officially fail, though I still love you so very much) has given me no choice but to put my advisor in my cell phone contacts list?
FLOGGING MOLLY on Saturday. Can you say woot?!?!?!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to a very special ADAM! My dearest husband, much love, though I have no idea what to get you.
NICHOLAS! Good luck on Saturday, you'll do great (as you always do) and then can finally get sleep again.
03 August 2005
Excuse me while I weep into my hoodie...
...so, most of you are aware of the fact that my mom wrecked my car while I was in California...if you're not, well, you suck...but anyways...it's currently at York Crysler getting fixed and it's going to take between 2 to 5 days to get it back...
I miss my car so much it HURTS MY COLD, DEAD SOUL!!!
No, it's not because I don't have a car...I currently have a rental car for the next few days...and it's not because I have a sucky rental car...it's actually pretty nice and brand new. Do you want to know why I'm dying here?! The rental car is TOO BLOODY EASY TO DRIVE...
So...my dad and I went to drop of the Jittney and pick up a rental car...we took the Viper and every time dad stepped away for a second I got assaulted by some random sales guy or mechanic saying "trade you *insert random crappy car here* for that Viper!!". Wow. I'm so proud of all of you, you're so original. Did you sit back in your little break room discussing the perfect tactic for coming over here? Fuckers. I wouldn't have been so agitated but not for the fact that I had to be at WORK in 30 minutes...
Eh, whatever. Eventually, we finally got the rental guy to talk about business and he was all like "well...the engine specs on this are similar to a BMW..." (granted, this was after attempting to convince me to rent a Dodge Durango...with a HEMI...thank you but no, I'd rather not deplete my bank account attempting to fill it with gas every 2 miles!) so I was all like "cool..this should be fun to drive..." How ridiculously wrong I was...
THIS CAR SUCKS. It's no fun at all, not even remotely a challenge. It's too smooth, turns too easily and doesn't need to be bullied into doing anything...the Beamer...at least that's a challenge since it has wicked acceleration and it's hard to keep it under control..but this...god...Now granted, my car is not the best thing in the world but at least it's fun to drive...I like having to bully it into turning, I love nailing the accelerator and brake when necessary, hell, I TRULY MISS hearing my tires squeel when I make a turn too fast and I want to go around a corner on 2 wheels LIKE WHOA.
On a plus side...ordering my laptop soon!!!!! I think I've decied on either Johann, Amadeus or Rasputin for a name..ideas? Questions? Comments? Concerns? (Only those who knew the horror of Mr. Sahd's class will understand this..."can you REDEEM yourself, Ms. MacVeigh? *grumble mutter* I practically taught that class for him....)
Yay!
I miss my car so much it HURTS MY COLD, DEAD SOUL!!!
No, it's not because I don't have a car...I currently have a rental car for the next few days...and it's not because I have a sucky rental car...it's actually pretty nice and brand new. Do you want to know why I'm dying here?! The rental car is TOO BLOODY EASY TO DRIVE...
So...my dad and I went to drop of the Jittney and pick up a rental car...we took the Viper and every time dad stepped away for a second I got assaulted by some random sales guy or mechanic saying "trade you *insert random crappy car here* for that Viper!!". Wow. I'm so proud of all of you, you're so original. Did you sit back in your little break room discussing the perfect tactic for coming over here? Fuckers. I wouldn't have been so agitated but not for the fact that I had to be at WORK in 30 minutes...
Eh, whatever. Eventually, we finally got the rental guy to talk about business and he was all like "well...the engine specs on this are similar to a BMW..." (granted, this was after attempting to convince me to rent a Dodge Durango...with a HEMI...thank you but no, I'd rather not deplete my bank account attempting to fill it with gas every 2 miles!) so I was all like "cool..this should be fun to drive..." How ridiculously wrong I was...
THIS CAR SUCKS. It's no fun at all, not even remotely a challenge. It's too smooth, turns too easily and doesn't need to be bullied into doing anything...the Beamer...at least that's a challenge since it has wicked acceleration and it's hard to keep it under control..but this...god...Now granted, my car is not the best thing in the world but at least it's fun to drive...I like having to bully it into turning, I love nailing the accelerator and brake when necessary, hell, I TRULY MISS hearing my tires squeel when I make a turn too fast and I want to go around a corner on 2 wheels LIKE WHOA.
On a plus side...ordering my laptop soon!!!!! I think I've decied on either Johann, Amadeus or Rasputin for a name..ideas? Questions? Comments? Concerns? (Only those who knew the horror of Mr. Sahd's class will understand this..."can you REDEEM yourself, Ms. MacVeigh? *grumble mutter* I practically taught that class for him....)
Yay!
31 July 2005
Dilemma 2.0
OK...so...after being chastized by a few loved ones for dropping off the face of the planet so frequently, I have finally decided to give valid reasons why I've been doing this so often of late (to those of you who don't talk to me often enough to know exactly what's been going on in my life). However, I'm doing this for very selfish reasons...
...basically, some of those who read this are among the smartest and most emotionally mature people I know...some aren't...however; all of you know me pretty well and can probably give me relatively unbiased answers to my question.
So...Dilemma 2.0...let's start in the beginning, shall we?
Monday of the week before last, I was in California and around 8am, I got a call from the JCC saying that one of their counselors quit and the position was open to me if I wanted it, I said I was in CA at the time (and I use the term "said" very loosely...that early in the morning I can barely put two syllables together let alone coherent sentences) and would get back to them the following Monday, when I returned to Pennsylvania.
OK, cool.
I get back, go in and decide to take the job. The JCC, of course, I knows that I can only work around my Arby's schedule for my first week and they're OK with that.
I'm not going to lie to you people, you don't deserve that..I LOVE my JCC position. The kids are great, it's a lot of fun and it's a LOT less stressful than Arby's. I do believe I just saw Satan ice skating on Lester's pond, Ash finally found a job she likes!!! GASP!
No, I do not get to skip off into a ruby sky, for god is cruel and mocks me with his lightning rod of death.
I told my managers that effective immediately, if at all possible, I could only work nights and weekends, but since I wasn't able to give them 2 weeks notice, they couldn't accomodate my needs.
Basically...the long and short of it is...I'm scheduled to work 2 jobs at once next week...
Now, let me lay it out for you people...we'll get this into the most basic of terms...
Arby's is a horrible job. It's stressful, one of my managers is the world's biggest bitch and it's not going to enhance my career. At all. However, they did give my a job when no one else would (because I'm only going to be here for the summer, after all), the money's OK and I get a lot of hours.
JCC is a great job and I really enjoy it, I make slightly less money then at Arby's and get slightly less hours, but I don't think its enough to make the decision for me in favor of Arby's. JCC was a bitch to me back when I first applied, having me chasing paper for 2 weeks and not even having the decency to tell me that I didn't get the job, however; I'm trying to look past that as I did get one in the end.
Neither job is going to enhance my resume, though JCC is certainly more worthwhile and both provide me with a job for next summer.
The straightforward and obvious answer is pretty simple...QUIT FUCKING ARBY's. Non? I hate it, I now have the opportunity to do something that I enjoy, so why should I stick with it?
It's a complex answer...but it's all because of my dad. Daddy was the one who taught me work ethic, the value of having your own money and being able to do with it what you wish. Half the time, talking with him is the only way I get through my day's at Arby's because he'll always be here when I get home, exhausted and angry, telling me, "it's just for now...remember, you were meant for greater things than this (I almost cried when he told me that)". So, along with my very very strong work ethic, I also got Dad's loyalty to companies. You must remember, this is the man who was almost destroyed by Harley Davidson, before he finally escaped. At the end of it all, I feel loyalty and obligation to Arby's. I know that they existed long before me and will continue to exist long after me, but at the end of it, I still feel tied to the place. I felt this toward's Wendy's too, remember how long it took me to finally quit that place? Remember how far they had to push me before I finally get fed up?
My question to y'all, therefore; is WHAT SHOULD I DO? My options are...
1) Tell the JCC that I don't think I can provide them with what they need and quit
2) Quit Arby's
3) Call off work at Arby's every day that they schedule me to work during the day time and just do my weekend hours.
I ask you to take all points into consideration.
...basically, some of those who read this are among the smartest and most emotionally mature people I know...some aren't...however; all of you know me pretty well and can probably give me relatively unbiased answers to my question.
So...Dilemma 2.0...let's start in the beginning, shall we?
Monday of the week before last, I was in California and around 8am, I got a call from the JCC saying that one of their counselors quit and the position was open to me if I wanted it, I said I was in CA at the time (and I use the term "said" very loosely...that early in the morning I can barely put two syllables together let alone coherent sentences) and would get back to them the following Monday, when I returned to Pennsylvania.
OK, cool.
I get back, go in and decide to take the job. The JCC, of course, I knows that I can only work around my Arby's schedule for my first week and they're OK with that.
I'm not going to lie to you people, you don't deserve that..I LOVE my JCC position. The kids are great, it's a lot of fun and it's a LOT less stressful than Arby's. I do believe I just saw Satan ice skating on Lester's pond, Ash finally found a job she likes!!! GASP!
No, I do not get to skip off into a ruby sky, for god is cruel and mocks me with his lightning rod of death.
I told my managers that effective immediately, if at all possible, I could only work nights and weekends, but since I wasn't able to give them 2 weeks notice, they couldn't accomodate my needs.
Basically...the long and short of it is...I'm scheduled to work 2 jobs at once next week...
Now, let me lay it out for you people...we'll get this into the most basic of terms...
Arby's is a horrible job. It's stressful, one of my managers is the world's biggest bitch and it's not going to enhance my career. At all. However, they did give my a job when no one else would (because I'm only going to be here for the summer, after all), the money's OK and I get a lot of hours.
JCC is a great job and I really enjoy it, I make slightly less money then at Arby's and get slightly less hours, but I don't think its enough to make the decision for me in favor of Arby's. JCC was a bitch to me back when I first applied, having me chasing paper for 2 weeks and not even having the decency to tell me that I didn't get the job, however; I'm trying to look past that as I did get one in the end.
Neither job is going to enhance my resume, though JCC is certainly more worthwhile and both provide me with a job for next summer.
The straightforward and obvious answer is pretty simple...QUIT FUCKING ARBY's. Non? I hate it, I now have the opportunity to do something that I enjoy, so why should I stick with it?
It's a complex answer...but it's all because of my dad. Daddy was the one who taught me work ethic, the value of having your own money and being able to do with it what you wish. Half the time, talking with him is the only way I get through my day's at Arby's because he'll always be here when I get home, exhausted and angry, telling me, "it's just for now...remember, you were meant for greater things than this (I almost cried when he told me that)". So, along with my very very strong work ethic, I also got Dad's loyalty to companies. You must remember, this is the man who was almost destroyed by Harley Davidson, before he finally escaped. At the end of it all, I feel loyalty and obligation to Arby's. I know that they existed long before me and will continue to exist long after me, but at the end of it, I still feel tied to the place. I felt this toward's Wendy's too, remember how long it took me to finally quit that place? Remember how far they had to push me before I finally get fed up?
My question to y'all, therefore; is WHAT SHOULD I DO? My options are...
1) Tell the JCC that I don't think I can provide them with what they need and quit
2) Quit Arby's
3) Call off work at Arby's every day that they schedule me to work during the day time and just do my weekend hours.
I ask you to take all points into consideration.
24 July 2005
What I really meant to say...is I'm sorry for the way I am...
So...to all of those who tried to text message and/or call me these past 9 days, my apologies. I tend to drop off the face of the planet when I'm out of town, even moreso when I'm hanging out w/ the best friend. Thus is life.
Anyways...a quick rundown of my excursion to LA...
1) Airports without terminals are cool.
2) Matzah ball soup
3) Wedding Crashers. 'Nuff said.
4) Irwindale...home of a brewery...Azusa...home of those who keep the brewery in business.
5) The Huntington was completely worth it...
6) Insomniac Music Theatre
7) Panda song. Don't even ask...you don't want to know...
8) Bob and Ron
9) Living with a psychiatrist for extended periods of time messes with your head...
10) Cabernet Sauvignon
11) Motorhomes
12) Fighting back the morning by curling up into a little ball
and finally...le piece de resistance...
13) You walked right in to that wearing a big hat that says "fuck with my head"
Let's see...in related news...while I was away...my mom managed to wreck both my car and my dad's car simultaneously...in our driveway...that takes wicked skill...
A longer or more interesting entry when I'm not a) jetlagged and b) feeling horribly horribly disoriented...
But just for good measure...apparently I pronounce certain words (orange, bagel, horrible) with a Pennsylvania accent. Woot.
Anyways...a quick rundown of my excursion to LA...
1) Airports without terminals are cool.
2) Matzah ball soup
3) Wedding Crashers. 'Nuff said.
4) Irwindale...home of a brewery...Azusa...home of those who keep the brewery in business.
5) The Huntington was completely worth it...
6) Insomniac Music Theatre
7) Panda song. Don't even ask...you don't want to know...
8) Bob and Ron
9) Living with a psychiatrist for extended periods of time messes with your head...
10) Cabernet Sauvignon
11) Motorhomes
12) Fighting back the morning by curling up into a little ball
and finally...le piece de resistance...
13) You walked right in to that wearing a big hat that says "fuck with my head"
Let's see...in related news...while I was away...my mom managed to wreck both my car and my dad's car simultaneously...in our driveway...that takes wicked skill...
A longer or more interesting entry when I'm not a) jetlagged and b) feeling horribly horribly disoriented...
But just for good measure...apparently I pronounce certain words (orange, bagel, horrible) with a Pennsylvania accent. Woot.
11 July 2005
Don't wanna bite the hand that's feeding...(if for even 2 seconds you thought this was a reference to 9" Nails, you need a good ass kicking)
...So...I'm watching my neighbors (the Gloriosos) animals for them while they're at the beach. It's kind of an inconvience, but it's actually quite awesome...you have to understand...the animals I'm watching are
a) Chloe. Beagel. Very rotund, very similar in appearance to a rather large sausage.
b) Blackberry. Black cat (all black). This cat is so damn weird it's hilarious...he rolls on to his back and bats at you with his paws then lets you scratch his stomach.
Now Chloe is a nice, sweet little puppy but she just cannot compare to Blackberry's awesomeness. I mean...it's an all black cat...you really just don't get any better than that. Add into it that this thing is like the kamikaze cat and you just get a pet that is cooler than belief. Never will I forget the first time I watched this cat...I walked into Emily's room to feed it, glanced to my left and it was hanging off the wall. It glanced at me with its golden eyes and dared me to question it's motives and continued to happily claw its way up the wall toward whatever end it was seeking.
So I've decided...if I can't have Blackberry (and somehow I think that the Gloriosos would notice if he was missing) I'm going to have a black cat. If I have to get allergy shots every week and train it to crawl up walls myself, I am going to own a cat that is as cool as Blackberry.
Somehow, I don't think my gramma would be very happy with this. She was a ridiculously superstitious woman (I think I'm the only family member who doesn't flip out over broken mirrors and will happily walk under a ladder). If she had a grave to roll over in, she would at the thought of someone in the family owning a black cat. Luckily, she was cremated...well..maybe not so lucky...those ashes will be mine one day and I can see her coming back to life just long enough to beat me over the head with a broom (she was infamous for doing that). I can see the conversation now...
Gramma: *smack* WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!
Ash: *confused* Wait...you died...OMG!!!
Gramma: *smack*
Ash: OWW! I have so many questions!
Gramma: *smack* Don't *smack* care *smack*
Ash: STOP THAT!
Gramma: *smack* GET RID OF THE CAT!
Ash: NO!!!
*Smacking continues for hours, neither relenting*
Gramma: Dammit...gotta get back to the afterlife...but don't think this is over missy!!!!
Ash: *calls Kelli* Hey sis...so you said you've been wanting to keep gramma's ashes for a little while....?
a) Chloe. Beagel. Very rotund, very similar in appearance to a rather large sausage.
b) Blackberry. Black cat (all black). This cat is so damn weird it's hilarious...he rolls on to his back and bats at you with his paws then lets you scratch his stomach.
Now Chloe is a nice, sweet little puppy but she just cannot compare to Blackberry's awesomeness. I mean...it's an all black cat...you really just don't get any better than that. Add into it that this thing is like the kamikaze cat and you just get a pet that is cooler than belief. Never will I forget the first time I watched this cat...I walked into Emily's room to feed it, glanced to my left and it was hanging off the wall. It glanced at me with its golden eyes and dared me to question it's motives and continued to happily claw its way up the wall toward whatever end it was seeking.
So I've decided...if I can't have Blackberry (and somehow I think that the Gloriosos would notice if he was missing) I'm going to have a black cat. If I have to get allergy shots every week and train it to crawl up walls myself, I am going to own a cat that is as cool as Blackberry.
Somehow, I don't think my gramma would be very happy with this. She was a ridiculously superstitious woman (I think I'm the only family member who doesn't flip out over broken mirrors and will happily walk under a ladder). If she had a grave to roll over in, she would at the thought of someone in the family owning a black cat. Luckily, she was cremated...well..maybe not so lucky...those ashes will be mine one day and I can see her coming back to life just long enough to beat me over the head with a broom (she was infamous for doing that). I can see the conversation now...
Gramma: *smack* WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!
Ash: *confused* Wait...you died...OMG!!!
Gramma: *smack*
Ash: OWW! I have so many questions!
Gramma: *smack* Don't *smack* care *smack*
Ash: STOP THAT!
Gramma: *smack* GET RID OF THE CAT!
Ash: NO!!!
*Smacking continues for hours, neither relenting*
Gramma: Dammit...gotta get back to the afterlife...but don't think this is over missy!!!!
Ash: *calls Kelli* Hey sis...so you said you've been wanting to keep gramma's ashes for a little while....?
06 July 2005
I am...the most...ridiculous person on the planet...
Would you like me to present the evidence? OK...here goes...
1) I almost got thrown into jail in a third world country (Costa Rica)
2) My first experience with intoxication/hangovers was in Barbados
3) I almost got stranded in Jamaica because I got distracted at a water fall
4) I dance in the rain to music that's in my head
5) I have befriended profs in the line at SubWay
6) I once made 2 or 3 horrible mistakes that ended up in me and Jo walking the entire way around a mall to get to our movie (through a torrential rainstorm)
7) The ENTIRITY of the Anderson 348 (not that any of it actually STAYED in Anderson 348)
8) I have been told that I'm cute by a gay man in a bathroom at a club in Dupont..while we were both using it and then proceeded to have a conversation with aforementioned gay man about UVA vs AU
9) I have walked around Dupont at 2 in the morning...and proceeded to get lost in a bookstore looking for the bathroom (Kramer's, yeah, that place is crazy...who the hell puts a bathroom on the 4th floor...and who actually uses a TOKEN to get in!?)
10) Senior Week. 'nuff said. (Jo...I will love you forever because of this week alone...)
11) Senior Week 1.5 (Jo...you will OWE me forever because of these 2 days alone!)
12) I have passed out in a friend's bed...only to wake up in aforementioned friend's roommate's bed (w/o the roommate in it!)
13) I have debated universal principles...at 2 in the morning...on the track...
14) I love red wine and white roses.
15) I've watched the sun rise over the city...without ever having gone to sleep
16) I am condemned to work in fast food. FOREVER.
17) I want a fedora. A lot.
18) One of my dreams is to get kicked out of the Vatican by the Swiss Guard for wearing short pants
19) I learned how to drive a stick out of boredom.
20) A guy once offered me oral sex...at the drive thru window I was working @ Wendy's...
21) I once got held up at LAX for almost 2 hours because they thought I was a terrorist.
22) I had prom pictures taken with my high school principal/AP US History teacher
23) I got 3 detentions in high school. They were all for uniform infractions.
24) A car I was in nearly flipped in a slippery field...we were saved only by Benj's weight in the back seat.
25) I retrained an abused ex-racehorse named Clyde.
26) Aforementioned ex-racehorse threw me into a fence.
27) Oddly enough, spending a summer studying European prisons sounds amazing to me.
28) I will always have a crush on a least one of my professors
29) I failed my permit test, but aced my driver's test without any points. They thought I bribed my tester (who was about the size of Shamu)
30) I have an unhealthy obsession with a panda in San Diego named Gao Gao
31) I want to marry a Russian
32) I have detailed plans to take over the world
33) I lost my shoes and nearly had my arm broken in a mosh pit.
34) I have the entirity of the movies "Bio Dome" and "Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story" memorized...
35) I find the term "Coke! No Smoky!" utterly hilarious
36) I have a sitting room.
37) I have a friendship based entirely on insulting and kicking each other in the ass (ahem Dillon)
...and the be all, end all...the utter proof that I am too ridiculous for words...
38) A tornado hit my car. While I was in it...and a window nearly got shattered into my face.
1) I almost got thrown into jail in a third world country (Costa Rica)
2) My first experience with intoxication/hangovers was in Barbados
3) I almost got stranded in Jamaica because I got distracted at a water fall
4) I dance in the rain to music that's in my head
5) I have befriended profs in the line at SubWay
6) I once made 2 or 3 horrible mistakes that ended up in me and Jo walking the entire way around a mall to get to our movie (through a torrential rainstorm)
7) The ENTIRITY of the Anderson 348 (not that any of it actually STAYED in Anderson 348)
8) I have been told that I'm cute by a gay man in a bathroom at a club in Dupont..while we were both using it and then proceeded to have a conversation with aforementioned gay man about UVA vs AU
9) I have walked around Dupont at 2 in the morning...and proceeded to get lost in a bookstore looking for the bathroom (Kramer's, yeah, that place is crazy...who the hell puts a bathroom on the 4th floor...and who actually uses a TOKEN to get in!?)
10) Senior Week. 'nuff said. (Jo...I will love you forever because of this week alone...)
11) Senior Week 1.5 (Jo...you will OWE me forever because of these 2 days alone!)
12) I have passed out in a friend's bed...only to wake up in aforementioned friend's roommate's bed (w/o the roommate in it!)
13) I have debated universal principles...at 2 in the morning...on the track...
14) I love red wine and white roses.
15) I've watched the sun rise over the city...without ever having gone to sleep
16) I am condemned to work in fast food. FOREVER.
17) I want a fedora. A lot.
18) One of my dreams is to get kicked out of the Vatican by the Swiss Guard for wearing short pants
19) I learned how to drive a stick out of boredom.
20) A guy once offered me oral sex...at the drive thru window I was working @ Wendy's...
21) I once got held up at LAX for almost 2 hours because they thought I was a terrorist.
22) I had prom pictures taken with my high school principal/AP US History teacher
23) I got 3 detentions in high school. They were all for uniform infractions.
24) A car I was in nearly flipped in a slippery field...we were saved only by Benj's weight in the back seat.
25) I retrained an abused ex-racehorse named Clyde.
26) Aforementioned ex-racehorse threw me into a fence.
27) Oddly enough, spending a summer studying European prisons sounds amazing to me.
28) I will always have a crush on a least one of my professors
29) I failed my permit test, but aced my driver's test without any points. They thought I bribed my tester (who was about the size of Shamu)
30) I have an unhealthy obsession with a panda in San Diego named Gao Gao
31) I want to marry a Russian
32) I have detailed plans to take over the world
33) I lost my shoes and nearly had my arm broken in a mosh pit.
34) I have the entirity of the movies "Bio Dome" and "Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story" memorized...
35) I find the term "Coke! No Smoky!" utterly hilarious
36) I have a sitting room.
37) I have a friendship based entirely on insulting and kicking each other in the ass (ahem Dillon)
...and the be all, end all...the utter proof that I am too ridiculous for words...
38) A tornado hit my car. While I was in it...and a window nearly got shattered into my face.
02 July 2005
Tests have proven that PA drivers are better than both Maryland and New Jersey...recent experiences verify that information
...Today, I stared evil straight in the face...Today, I was stuck behind a soccer mom in traffic...
Blasphemy, you say. Pure evil? A soccer mom? Surely not. They are everywhere and while evil runs rampant in places like Tanzania and SE DC, surely evil is not prevelent in Red Lion...the town named after a bar...There are a few things I'd like to point out...and I'm going to systematically go through all of them...and I think, in the end, you'll agree with me...this was pure evil in a nutshell.
1) Soccer mom driving a massive SUV, a Ford Expedition or something. Don't lie to yourself. This is inherently wrong. There's some sort of genetic marker that just SCREAMS whenever I see a soccer mom talking on a phone with about 5 kids in the back of her car. What I love is watching them fill up their gas tanks...at around 2.20/gallon, they could probably put at least one of their mediocre kids through college AND grad school if they got a fucking Civic.
2) This was no ordinary soccer mom. THIS SOCCER MOM WAS FROM JERSEY. Yes, it's true I live in Pennsylvania, and yes, it's true, we do actually share a common border with the Garden State. HOWEVER, much to my dismay, we're not in Philly people. WTF are they doing in York, 2 hours away? Visiting family? A dying relative? I don't care. Get away with me, you horrible horrible drivers you. A friend of mine once observed that Jersey-ians are actually excellent drivers, in Jersey. Once they cross a state line though it's like they become unaligned with the earth's electro-magnetic field or something and they go into a panic...they're like birds off course, going off the road, swerving, slamming on brakes. Honest to god, I thought I was going to die....
3) She apparently did not know the proper use for brakes. By this I do not mean she didn't use them...I mean she used them in excess. Apparently she was never taught the concept of "tapping" so to make up for her lack of knowledge...she rode her brakes. All the time. Going up hill. Apparently she also never learned the general rule of physics...that rule being that GRAVITY will naturally slow down a car that's moving against it...but hey, whatever, it's OK that you have a line of traffic 5 miles long behind you...you just keep riding those brakes...then go to get them replaced and have the mechanics cheat you out of money. That's right...just another way to keep your kids out of college!!!
4) She had vanity tags. Anyone who actually has vanity tags should be get a) a swift kick in the ass followed immediately by b) a Glock to the temple. As you can tell...I have much, much, much hatred towards vanity tags and those who own them.
5) She had STICKERS ALL OVER HER CAR. It does not matter what the stickers said (though I feel it necessary to point out that it was pro-life and Bush/Cheney stuff)*, people who put an absurd amount of stickers (aka more than 2) on their car really just need to die. It's tacky and completely classless. Furthermore...if you need to show your support in things by putting it on your car...well then, a) you really don't care about it that much or b) you just want people to believe that you care about something besides yourself and your sad, pathetic life. Congratulations, I don't want you supporting ANY organization that I do. I also don't want you breathing my air...people who aren't quite as vapid/shallow as you need it.
* I feel it necessary to clarify, I hate anyone who puts more than 2 stickers on their car...doesn't matter what thos stickers say or what ideas they convey or what ideologies they support...whether its Kerry/Edwards or Bush/Cheney...pro life or pro choice...I hate stickers on cars.
So...in the end...a simple mathematical equation sums it up...1+2+3+4+5+*=EVIL EVIL EEEVVIIILLLLL
On another note...the other day...I was driving behind a Marylander...this is actually a commonly accepted occurance...I mean, I am, what, 20 minutes from the Mason Dixon? Anyways...yeah...so...this guy was driving along on 30 west at around 65 mph...watching TV. As he drove. I'm not kidding. He had a little TV attached to his console and was watching it. How could I tell he was watching it? Well...he was swerving all over the road...and when I passed him...well...his attention was clearly diverted at something slightly downward and to the right...oddly enough...I find myself hoping to god that it was the TV and not something else entirely unseen.
I feel like I shouldn't be thinking, in my head, that this guy was a better driver than Jersey Soccer Mom, just because he didn't cover his car (a BMW) with stickers...
Will someone please hold me while I cry?
Blasphemy, you say. Pure evil? A soccer mom? Surely not. They are everywhere and while evil runs rampant in places like Tanzania and SE DC, surely evil is not prevelent in Red Lion...the town named after a bar...There are a few things I'd like to point out...and I'm going to systematically go through all of them...and I think, in the end, you'll agree with me...this was pure evil in a nutshell.
1) Soccer mom driving a massive SUV, a Ford Expedition or something. Don't lie to yourself. This is inherently wrong. There's some sort of genetic marker that just SCREAMS whenever I see a soccer mom talking on a phone with about 5 kids in the back of her car. What I love is watching them fill up their gas tanks...at around 2.20/gallon, they could probably put at least one of their mediocre kids through college AND grad school if they got a fucking Civic.
2) This was no ordinary soccer mom. THIS SOCCER MOM WAS FROM JERSEY. Yes, it's true I live in Pennsylvania, and yes, it's true, we do actually share a common border with the Garden State. HOWEVER, much to my dismay, we're not in Philly people. WTF are they doing in York, 2 hours away? Visiting family? A dying relative? I don't care. Get away with me, you horrible horrible drivers you. A friend of mine once observed that Jersey-ians are actually excellent drivers, in Jersey. Once they cross a state line though it's like they become unaligned with the earth's electro-magnetic field or something and they go into a panic...they're like birds off course, going off the road, swerving, slamming on brakes. Honest to god, I thought I was going to die....
3) She apparently did not know the proper use for brakes. By this I do not mean she didn't use them...I mean she used them in excess. Apparently she was never taught the concept of "tapping" so to make up for her lack of knowledge...she rode her brakes. All the time. Going up hill. Apparently she also never learned the general rule of physics...that rule being that GRAVITY will naturally slow down a car that's moving against it...but hey, whatever, it's OK that you have a line of traffic 5 miles long behind you...you just keep riding those brakes...then go to get them replaced and have the mechanics cheat you out of money. That's right...just another way to keep your kids out of college!!!
4) She had vanity tags. Anyone who actually has vanity tags should be get a) a swift kick in the ass followed immediately by b) a Glock to the temple. As you can tell...I have much, much, much hatred towards vanity tags and those who own them.
5) She had STICKERS ALL OVER HER CAR. It does not matter what the stickers said (though I feel it necessary to point out that it was pro-life and Bush/Cheney stuff)*, people who put an absurd amount of stickers (aka more than 2) on their car really just need to die. It's tacky and completely classless. Furthermore...if you need to show your support in things by putting it on your car...well then, a) you really don't care about it that much or b) you just want people to believe that you care about something besides yourself and your sad, pathetic life. Congratulations, I don't want you supporting ANY organization that I do. I also don't want you breathing my air...people who aren't quite as vapid/shallow as you need it.
* I feel it necessary to clarify, I hate anyone who puts more than 2 stickers on their car...doesn't matter what thos stickers say or what ideas they convey or what ideologies they support...whether its Kerry/Edwards or Bush/Cheney...pro life or pro choice...I hate stickers on cars.
So...in the end...a simple mathematical equation sums it up...1+2+3+4+5+*=EVIL EVIL EEEVVIIILLLLL
On another note...the other day...I was driving behind a Marylander...this is actually a commonly accepted occurance...I mean, I am, what, 20 minutes from the Mason Dixon? Anyways...yeah...so...this guy was driving along on 30 west at around 65 mph...watching TV. As he drove. I'm not kidding. He had a little TV attached to his console and was watching it. How could I tell he was watching it? Well...he was swerving all over the road...and when I passed him...well...his attention was clearly diverted at something slightly downward and to the right...oddly enough...I find myself hoping to god that it was the TV and not something else entirely unseen.
I feel like I shouldn't be thinking, in my head, that this guy was a better driver than Jersey Soccer Mom, just because he didn't cover his car (a BMW) with stickers...
Will someone please hold me while I cry?
30 June 2005
A word to the wise...
...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
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
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.
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