So. This is not another one of those weird Alex's Life days. It's not at all amusing, but it's true. There's no other way than to just spit it out and state what happened. If you're not a fan of bad things happening, then I'd advise against reading this. Also, if it seems like I'm whining, I truely don't mean to, it's just really hard not to.
So, on with the show. Saturday morning, I was planning to go running with my friend Kelly around Hartwood Acres. If you remember, it was rainy and shitty out yesterday. It was damp and slippery, and all the leaves falling off the trees just makes it worse, especially when you're going around bends.
Well, I was on my merry way, singing along to the radio, driving along Butler Plank Rd, when I noticed that I was too close to the guard rail. I did the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life. I jerked the wheel. I can't tell you how many times my parents have told me that jerking the wheel is the absolute worst thing you could do, just easily move the wheel over. Well, if you jerk the wheel, it's slippery out and you're going around a bend, you will lose control of your car. I did. My car went headfirst into a telephone pole. The hood is bent, the airbags popped, the front grate fell off; I totaled my car.
Right after I jerked the wheel I knew it was coming. I started screaming like there was no tomorrow, and I could see that damn solid telephone pole straight in front of me, and knew I couldn't get away. It's a horrible feeling knowing that you're going into something that could hurt you really bad; you know the outcome when wood is against metal, and wood always wins. After the initial hit, I didn't feel anything. I think I went into shock. The impact of the crash didn't hurt at all, neither did the seatbelt when it dug into my neck and left a burn. I've heard that the airbags can do some serious damage, but I didn't feel anything. The first thing I actually felt is, "Get the hell out of here!" I ran out, and though it was raining and about 50 degrees, I wasn't cold...or feel the wetness.
It was the worst day of my life. It stunk like bloody hell in there. All the smoke from my ruined engine, the airbags, everything was just surreal. I could say that it was like a movie, but it wasn't. I jumped out of that car like I was on fire, and this man who was working on the Glenshaw Vally Presbyterian Church across the street from where I wrecked, ran over and asked if I was ok. I was crying and freaking out, wondering what in God's name my father was going to do to me, considering how I haven't had my licence for even a year and I've hit someone's car in my school's parking lot in our SUV and totaled my own car. My life was over. A very nice lady also pulled over, while I was calling my dad and offered to call the police for me. Both the lady and the carpender tried to console me and told me that at least I was okay, and that my dad would be happy that I was alive rather than my car(which technically is his car because he paid for it) was totaled.
We got one of those neon orange triangles out of my emergency equipment thing in my trunk to tell people to watch out. Of course, they slowed down and stared at me until I glared back so they jerked their heads away and pretended they weren't staring. Accidents bring out the best people and the biggest jagg-offs.
The police came, and were very nice to me, asked what happened, asked if I was okay. Even though I said I was fine, they called the medics just to be safe. They grabbed my licence and my insurance card (thank God I decided to run back to my room and grab my wallet that day).
My dad finally showed up about 15 minutes after the initial accident, because he was waiting for my neighbor, who is a mechanic to get ready so he could check out the car. It was futile, because my car is dead. I sufficiently killed it. Which my sister says is a good thing because she dispised that car anyways, and someone had to do it.
All in all though, I was incredibly lucky. I wasn't hurt at all, neither was anyone else, excepting the considerable crack I put in the telephone pole. It was very close too. If any of you have driven down Butler Plank, you know where the guardrail stops, there's a telephone pole and...the creek. If I hadn't hit the pole, I would have been in the creek, and possibly flipped over...and we don't need to go into the 'what ifs'.
All I know is that I'm out of a car, but I'm alive. I'd rather be out of a car and just shocked than hurt. I wish I could say that this has been a near-death experience, which it has, which would make me a better person and realize that I need to live life at it's fullest, but I don' t think it has. I'm just the same old Alex and I don't think I've changed at all. But I'm glad I'm not dead.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Devil shoes
Today's story is one of those I-can't-beleive-I'm-her-friend-why-did-I-decide-that-she-seemed-normal posts. Oh get ready, it's fun stuff.
So. This morning, I woke up at the standard, six AM. I was getting ready to do the standard, a boring tee-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. But no. I decide that I need to be preppy, I guess the word is, yank on the pink and white shirt with my black 'wink wink' shirt and a skirt. But, if you've ever talked to me ever, you'd know that I'm a shoe girl. I love new shoes, buying shoes, wearing high heels, envying over other people's shoes that I want, stealing my mothers really awesome high heels (my mom's over 40, she should be wearing sensible beige colored pumps with a small heel, but no. She wears the beastliest shoes known since Sex and the City, so I steal them...and give them back without her knowledge before she comes home from work hee hee), the whole nine yards. In a nutshell, I love shoes. So to make my outfit perfect, I threw on my 4.5-5 inch, blue, pointy-toed (which I was told a fancy word for them, but I can't remember what it was), slightly too big so my foot was sliding in and out the whole day shoes. I thought they were pretty dandy, and they just made the outfit. I was slightly more than a bit happy with my outfit, the hair and makeup are a different story; one, for the sake of causing mass fright, I shan't mention here, but if you go to Shaler, you've seen me and...well, let's just leave it at that.
So I get to school and nothing worth mentioning happens until right before second period, I had a double Physics (groan, Piv for 80 minutes followed by Zyhowski. Puke, puke, puke) and in-between periods, me and a friend were going to get some food because I was pretty darn hungry. Whenever I was sitting down, I would yank off my shoes and just go barefoot in the class. I never participate or move out of my seat so it doesn't matter really. But anyways, we basically needed to leave as the bell was ringing so we'd be back on time, not that it would matter, because Piv doesn't really care if we're late. But anyways, I was whining about getting my shoes back on because my feet were basically aching by then and then I had the brilliant idea: I just wouldn't put them on.
"EWWW! How GROSS! This floor is NASTY! Why would you want to do that?!?!"
"Have you ever worn shoes like this? No. I'm the crapface who thought it was okay, so I'll just carry my shoes and put them on when we get to the Titan Shop."
Walking there passed without incident until, "Where are your shoes?" I turned around to see some teacher giving me the highschoolers-are-discusting look.
"Right here." I raise my hand to show her Satan's shoes.
"Oh, I thought that you just decided not to wear shoes today. You do know that guys spit on the floor-right?"
"Yes, but I also know that my feet have never hurt so bad. So I would rather not wear shoes and walk on a dirty floor. I shower, it's okay." She gave me one of those weird searching looks, just to see if I was mocking her I think, and walked away.
So that was weird. Then I got to European History and someone said how cute my shoes were. My response? "They hurt sooo bad."
"They're cute though."
"I knooow, but they huuurt." I whined like a six-year-old wanting candy. Thankfully, they thought it was funny, and laughed rather than giving me weird looks.
By the time ninth period rolled around, I was limping like I couldn't feel my right leg, and stomping like I was out to kill each and every bug that would be so unfortunate to come underneath my beast of a heel. Thankfully, it was Chorus, and they have carpet in there and everyone with painful shoes take them off anyways, so I was saved...until the final bell rung.
I decided by that point, my feet were damaged enough anyways, so I took them off and started walking down the hall. I would have skipped except that skipping and mini-skirts don't mix.
This is the only pair of shoes that I can honestly say that if they 'accidentally' got thrown into my fireplace and burned, I wouldn't cry. Every other shoe, open the floodgates. I would throw them out, but I have a thing for shoes. Will I ever wear these again? Nooo. Should I throw them out? Yes. Will I? Noo. Why? Because I can't. I bought them, I'm keeping them until forced to be parted with them. Yes, that is how attached I am to Satan's shoes. Or all shoes for that matter.
But other than that, I've been in a super-Christmasy mood, watching Home Alone 2 yesterday and this morning (I used to be convinced I'd marry Mcally Calkin someday...then he got gross and greasy and wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole.) and currently have "It's beginning to look alot like Christmas" stuck in my head, which I just belted out for the whole neighborhood to hear while I was taking my dog outside. But it's not Christmas for another few months and there aren't any good Halloween songs (excepting the Nightmare Before Christmas songs) so might as well make the best of it!
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me. Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight...
So. This morning, I woke up at the standard, six AM. I was getting ready to do the standard, a boring tee-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. But no. I decide that I need to be preppy, I guess the word is, yank on the pink and white shirt with my black 'wink wink' shirt and a skirt. But, if you've ever talked to me ever, you'd know that I'm a shoe girl. I love new shoes, buying shoes, wearing high heels, envying over other people's shoes that I want, stealing my mothers really awesome high heels (my mom's over 40, she should be wearing sensible beige colored pumps with a small heel, but no. She wears the beastliest shoes known since Sex and the City, so I steal them...and give them back without her knowledge before she comes home from work hee hee), the whole nine yards. In a nutshell, I love shoes. So to make my outfit perfect, I threw on my 4.5-5 inch, blue, pointy-toed (which I was told a fancy word for them, but I can't remember what it was), slightly too big so my foot was sliding in and out the whole day shoes. I thought they were pretty dandy, and they just made the outfit. I was slightly more than a bit happy with my outfit, the hair and makeup are a different story; one, for the sake of causing mass fright, I shan't mention here, but if you go to Shaler, you've seen me and...well, let's just leave it at that.
So I get to school and nothing worth mentioning happens until right before second period, I had a double Physics (groan, Piv for 80 minutes followed by Zyhowski. Puke, puke, puke) and in-between periods, me and a friend were going to get some food because I was pretty darn hungry. Whenever I was sitting down, I would yank off my shoes and just go barefoot in the class. I never participate or move out of my seat so it doesn't matter really. But anyways, we basically needed to leave as the bell was ringing so we'd be back on time, not that it would matter, because Piv doesn't really care if we're late. But anyways, I was whining about getting my shoes back on because my feet were basically aching by then and then I had the brilliant idea: I just wouldn't put them on.
"EWWW! How GROSS! This floor is NASTY! Why would you want to do that?!?!"
"Have you ever worn shoes like this? No. I'm the crapface who thought it was okay, so I'll just carry my shoes and put them on when we get to the Titan Shop."
Walking there passed without incident until, "Where are your shoes?" I turned around to see some teacher giving me the highschoolers-are-discusting look.
"Right here." I raise my hand to show her Satan's shoes.
"Oh, I thought that you just decided not to wear shoes today. You do know that guys spit on the floor-right?"
"Yes, but I also know that my feet have never hurt so bad. So I would rather not wear shoes and walk on a dirty floor. I shower, it's okay." She gave me one of those weird searching looks, just to see if I was mocking her I think, and walked away.
So that was weird. Then I got to European History and someone said how cute my shoes were. My response? "They hurt sooo bad."
"They're cute though."
"I knooow, but they huuurt." I whined like a six-year-old wanting candy. Thankfully, they thought it was funny, and laughed rather than giving me weird looks.
By the time ninth period rolled around, I was limping like I couldn't feel my right leg, and stomping like I was out to kill each and every bug that would be so unfortunate to come underneath my beast of a heel. Thankfully, it was Chorus, and they have carpet in there and everyone with painful shoes take them off anyways, so I was saved...until the final bell rung.
I decided by that point, my feet were damaged enough anyways, so I took them off and started walking down the hall. I would have skipped except that skipping and mini-skirts don't mix.
This is the only pair of shoes that I can honestly say that if they 'accidentally' got thrown into my fireplace and burned, I wouldn't cry. Every other shoe, open the floodgates. I would throw them out, but I have a thing for shoes. Will I ever wear these again? Nooo. Should I throw them out? Yes. Will I? Noo. Why? Because I can't. I bought them, I'm keeping them until forced to be parted with them. Yes, that is how attached I am to Satan's shoes. Or all shoes for that matter.
But other than that, I've been in a super-Christmasy mood, watching Home Alone 2 yesterday and this morning (I used to be convinced I'd marry Mcally Calkin someday...then he got gross and greasy and wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole.) and currently have "It's beginning to look alot like Christmas" stuck in my head, which I just belted out for the whole neighborhood to hear while I was taking my dog outside. But it's not Christmas for another few months and there aren't any good Halloween songs (excepting the Nightmare Before Christmas songs) so might as well make the best of it!
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me. Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight...
Monday, October 10, 2005
Fall festivities
So my sister and her boyfriend came home for the weekend. Carinne had a whole plan for the weekend, including just about everything-from going to the Homecoming parade, visiting family, going shopping, and more. Let me tell you this: my sister was more excited to go to the parade than anything I'd ever seen before; my sister is band dork through and through. She told me that her and her friend already planned what instruments their kids will play what seat they'll be to if they become drum major or not. For that, I told her that my children are forbidden to play instruments.
But anyways, yesterday I woke up to my sister yelling that we were going to play pinocle and I had to wake up and play. Yee-haw. Actually, pinocle is a great game, definitely better than any other card game, mainly because you don't have to be a good lier to be good at it, but after me and my sister successfully beat the old folks (the parentals) twice, Carinne informed us that we were going to a corn maze. It turns out that it takes a good two hours to get seven people ready...just to go to one of those lame fall festivals. But finally we got out there, after a good half hour of me cramped next to my little brothers, one of which is not nearly so 'little' anymore. He's taller than me, and thats without the good four inches of hair, and he is one of those guys who beleives that his legs should be open all the way, the whole way, all the time. In a tiny car that we drove (why use the SUV with the room when we have my dad's little car that we can cram everyone in-yay!). So I'm in there completely smushed until I decide to be the horrible sister and tell him that if he doesn't close his legs and move over I will throw my little brother (who was sitting in between us) at him. Which started an entire fight which ended with my parents freaking out and me throwing on the headphones and blasting Fallout Boy at top volume and glaring out the window.
So we get there, and we were going to have a race: whoever can get out first...um, wins. Carinne's friend, Ellen, was suppossed to come but couldn't at the last minute so the even number (we were going to split up in groups of two) was completely screwed. So we had two groups of two and a group of three. We did the boring, pick a paper out of the hat and it ended up with Carinne and Dad, my mom and both my brothers, and I was with Dan, Carinne's boyfriend. For some reason, I don't think he likes me. I don't know why, I just don't. For one reason, he goes, "AWWW! I'm with Alex?!? Cam, switch me!" I know he was just kidding and that I have never won anything ever...but jeez-oh-man the ego is definitely down. But anyways, so we go in the corn maze, and I don't think I've ever seen Carinne so excited. She litterally sprinted in the maze yelling, "DAD! DAD!! Let's GO old man! Hurry yo' lazy butt up!" and ran in.
Me and Dan went in next, not nearly so thrilled, just walking. About 20 seconds in I hear, "I caught up to you!!!! " My little brother, Nate, apparently sprinted in just so he could catch up to us. "Can we pass you guys? "
"No."
"Aw, come oooon! You guys are soo slow."
"Bite me."
"Run, Dad, RUN! I can hear them! They're catching UP to US!!! WE'RE GOING TO LOSE!" I look up and I can see my father's head running down a path somewhere in front of us.
We get out of the 'maze,' if you want to call it that, because it was more of the cornhusk path than actual maze. You had no decisions, you just followed the path. But anyways, we got out of the maze, and Carinne was standing there, hands on her hips going, "Well, that sucked. MY high expectations was ruined. You didn't have to decide anything! You just followed it. I'm very dissapointed. It was a complete turn-around from the Carinne who was yelling at my dad only minutes ago to hurry his sorry butt up.
After that, there wasn't much else to do. Those fall festivals were only for like age 6 and under, and none of us were that. We did buy two bags of freshly-made kettle corn and that was, most definitely the best kettle corn ever. I'm eating some right now. Yum.
I wish this post was more interesting, because I know it's not, and it's not really all that funny either, so sorry, but I have so much homework to do, and there'll be something more entertaining all the way because the weirdest things immaginable happen to me, and if nothing does, well, that's when my good storytelling comes in (some call it lying, I call it storytelling).
So root for the Steelers tonight, plot to kill off European History forever and ask yourself why you got fake nails on because they're a mother to type with (this post took a half hour to write-and it's a short one! It should have taken 15 minutes...Oh, what I do to have pretty fingernails...)
So until next time, you're corn mazing, still European History hating, very very lame short girl. (Good God, I think that's my like title. I need a new one.)
P.S. If I made some spelling mistakes, sorry, my spell check thing won't work, which is why the last entry was so bad...oops! I need an editor...
But anyways, yesterday I woke up to my sister yelling that we were going to play pinocle and I had to wake up and play. Yee-haw. Actually, pinocle is a great game, definitely better than any other card game, mainly because you don't have to be a good lier to be good at it, but after me and my sister successfully beat the old folks (the parentals) twice, Carinne informed us that we were going to a corn maze. It turns out that it takes a good two hours to get seven people ready...just to go to one of those lame fall festivals. But finally we got out there, after a good half hour of me cramped next to my little brothers, one of which is not nearly so 'little' anymore. He's taller than me, and thats without the good four inches of hair, and he is one of those guys who beleives that his legs should be open all the way, the whole way, all the time. In a tiny car that we drove (why use the SUV with the room when we have my dad's little car that we can cram everyone in-yay!). So I'm in there completely smushed until I decide to be the horrible sister and tell him that if he doesn't close his legs and move over I will throw my little brother (who was sitting in between us) at him. Which started an entire fight which ended with my parents freaking out and me throwing on the headphones and blasting Fallout Boy at top volume and glaring out the window.
So we get there, and we were going to have a race: whoever can get out first...um, wins. Carinne's friend, Ellen, was suppossed to come but couldn't at the last minute so the even number (we were going to split up in groups of two) was completely screwed. So we had two groups of two and a group of three. We did the boring, pick a paper out of the hat and it ended up with Carinne and Dad, my mom and both my brothers, and I was with Dan, Carinne's boyfriend. For some reason, I don't think he likes me. I don't know why, I just don't. For one reason, he goes, "AWWW! I'm with Alex?!? Cam, switch me!" I know he was just kidding and that I have never won anything ever...but jeez-oh-man the ego is definitely down. But anyways, so we go in the corn maze, and I don't think I've ever seen Carinne so excited. She litterally sprinted in the maze yelling, "DAD! DAD!! Let's GO old man! Hurry yo' lazy butt up!" and ran in.
Me and Dan went in next, not nearly so thrilled, just walking. About 20 seconds in I hear, "I caught up to you!!!! " My little brother, Nate, apparently sprinted in just so he could catch up to us. "Can we pass you guys? "
"No."
"Aw, come oooon! You guys are soo slow."
"Bite me."
"Run, Dad, RUN! I can hear them! They're catching UP to US!!! WE'RE GOING TO LOSE!" I look up and I can see my father's head running down a path somewhere in front of us.
We get out of the 'maze,' if you want to call it that, because it was more of the cornhusk path than actual maze. You had no decisions, you just followed the path. But anyways, we got out of the maze, and Carinne was standing there, hands on her hips going, "Well, that sucked. MY high expectations was ruined. You didn't have to decide anything! You just followed it. I'm very dissapointed. It was a complete turn-around from the Carinne who was yelling at my dad only minutes ago to hurry his sorry butt up.
After that, there wasn't much else to do. Those fall festivals were only for like age 6 and under, and none of us were that. We did buy two bags of freshly-made kettle corn and that was, most definitely the best kettle corn ever. I'm eating some right now. Yum.
I wish this post was more interesting, because I know it's not, and it's not really all that funny either, so sorry, but I have so much homework to do, and there'll be something more entertaining all the way because the weirdest things immaginable happen to me, and if nothing does, well, that's when my good storytelling comes in (some call it lying, I call it storytelling).
So root for the Steelers tonight, plot to kill off European History forever and ask yourself why you got fake nails on because they're a mother to type with (this post took a half hour to write-and it's a short one! It should have taken 15 minutes...Oh, what I do to have pretty fingernails...)
So until next time, you're corn mazing, still European History hating, very very lame short girl. (Good God, I think that's my like title. I need a new one.)
P.S. If I made some spelling mistakes, sorry, my spell check thing won't work, which is why the last entry was so bad...oops! I need an editor...
Thursday, October 06, 2005
PetCo'R'Us
Ok, so this morning, as I was doing the morning ritual of which shoe should I wear that will make this outfit, my mother walks in. "Alex, we need you to go to PetCo. For a plant."
"Mum? PetCo's for, um, pets. As the name implies." I figured that she didn't get the allotted eight hours of sleep recommended by all and every health teacher.
"Well I know that! We need a plant to go on top of Oscar's fish tank." We have two beta fish, who I really think hate me because one of my favorite pastimes when we got them was to stick my fat mug up next to their bowls and stare at them. They'd get pretty freaked out and blow out their fins and puff up like a blowfish, which was quite amusing to a 14-year-old.
So, after school, I headed over to PetCo because I'm a good person, and my dad gave me $20 and told me that I could put the change for gas for my car instead of giving it back. Pretty awesome but really unusual, I just figure it's because today's my parents' anniversary (21 years, holy crap!) and he's feeling generous today. Or because he knew the chances of me giving the change back were slim to none anyways.
Back on track now, I get to PetCo, and I don't know if it's because I'm a huge pet-lover or what, but I walked in there like a kid in a candy store. Don't ask me why, it's just one of my little peculiarities that you have to deal with if you want to be my friend. I don't know what it is about pet stores, but I love it. God help me when I buy my requisite dog after I get my own place. Whatever money isn't spent on clothes and shoes, will be spent on my dog. Who cares about bills? They're overrated.
Anyways, I'm wandering around, acting like I'm 12, looking at anything and everything like I've never seen it before. I stared at the little cage of kittens until the little black one started staring at me, and I left. Finally, I get around to actually asking about what I came in there for. The plant-thing. So I go over to the person in the fish section, but, unfortunately, she's helping out this woman who cannot decide what fish to buy. Now, I'm not one to judge, Lord knows I'm horrible at decisions, but she spent 20 minutes deciding between two fish. Two. I nearly died. So, I finally get my plant. It took a good 30 seconds and I get in line.
Who's in front of me? Fish Woman and the Wee Ones. Now, for reasons I do not understand, the littlest one grabbed like a container of dog treats that were in a cylinder thing and went over to the Dog Bar thing, grabs a dog treat and starts smashing it was the dog cylinder. Her mother casually calls, "Honey, come on back over here! We're getting ready to leave!"
"No!" the little beast yells back. "I want to pound things." Now my shocked face has changed into one of those badly disguised cough-laughs. The poor man at the register either had selective hearing or was simply ignoring the little monster 'pounding' what he was supposed to be selling. Obviously the mother didn't care because they left soon after without her saying a word. Weird people in these here parts.
So, I got out of there, unscathed and was waiting for the light to turn green to turn on McKnight. McKnight at 5:00 is a fearsome thing. It was one of 'those' driving days, when everyone does something wrong and you're always stuck behind the old bitty with blue hair who believes that anything going over 15 MPH is un-Godly, you know those days. I was at the light next to Staples and Kohl's when after waiting for a good five minutes for the light to turn green, it finally does. A good three or four cars go and this old man from the lane to the right of me, who had a red light for some time, cut off the car in front of me. He just decided to go. I thought it was hilarious because this man must have been 80 years old and he's probably a few marbles short of a whole set. The car in front of me didn't see it quite the same way. He honked and flicked the bird, which made me laugh harder. I think I have issues. Then I was behind one of those 15 MPH old women. I was just turning on Seibert, and I thought maybe she drove a stick and needed to change gears. By the time we were next to that private school and she hadn't gone any faster, I realized she wasn't going to. And the crappy red mini-van behind me was tailgating me like it was my problem. How very annoying. Exciting day, hmm?
Well, this weekend is the either highly anticipated Homecoming. Everyone with a date looks foreword to it, everyone without it has to stand listening to everyone talk about their plans and their dresses and feel left out. I fall into column two of this weekend. Don't go around pitying me, because I did get a date, but stuff happens and I found myself dateless. Am I bitter? Well I was, but then I realized what would I rather do: dance my life night away listening to rap music to which I don't know the words and cheesy pop music to which I also don't know the words while screaming, "Oh my GOD! You look FABULOUS!" and "WHAT?...WHAT?...Oh...haaahaa...I SAID HAHAHAHA!!!...OH NEVERMIND!" or spend some quality time with my DVD player and some very high sugar foods? Plus, my dancing could use some work too. But my little brother's going to his first Homecoming ever. He's in eighth grade and he's going stag. One of the very few guys who will ever do that, and more power to him.
So I'm going to enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, doing very little. But I'm not upset-tomorrow's my first payday. I haven't gotten a paycheck for an entire month, and it's taking serious will power not to go shopping because I have no money. Also the older sister and the boyfriend are coming home for the weekend and I haven't seen them for a while so it'll be exciting. Actually, I think my sister is more excited to see my dog than me, and Dan could care less. But he's a Physics major and I happen to be doing not so well in that class, so he gets to listen to me jabber on about everything I hate about that class...Oh, what fun this shall be...Just kidding, I wouldn't do that!
But, I probably won't post for a few days simply because I have nothing to talk about, so have fun to all going to Homecoming, woot woot for all the floats that I don't enough school spirit to help out with, and yee-haw to everyone who's brave enough to face the freezing weather in those convertibles, driving down Mt. Royal, pretending like they're enjoying yourself.
So Happy Homecoming to all, and to all a good night!
"Mum? PetCo's for, um, pets. As the name implies." I figured that she didn't get the allotted eight hours of sleep recommended by all and every health teacher.
"Well I know that! We need a plant to go on top of Oscar's fish tank." We have two beta fish, who I really think hate me because one of my favorite pastimes when we got them was to stick my fat mug up next to their bowls and stare at them. They'd get pretty freaked out and blow out their fins and puff up like a blowfish, which was quite amusing to a 14-year-old.
So, after school, I headed over to PetCo because I'm a good person, and my dad gave me $20 and told me that I could put the change for gas for my car instead of giving it back. Pretty awesome but really unusual, I just figure it's because today's my parents' anniversary (21 years, holy crap!) and he's feeling generous today. Or because he knew the chances of me giving the change back were slim to none anyways.
Back on track now, I get to PetCo, and I don't know if it's because I'm a huge pet-lover or what, but I walked in there like a kid in a candy store. Don't ask me why, it's just one of my little peculiarities that you have to deal with if you want to be my friend. I don't know what it is about pet stores, but I love it. God help me when I buy my requisite dog after I get my own place. Whatever money isn't spent on clothes and shoes, will be spent on my dog. Who cares about bills? They're overrated.
Anyways, I'm wandering around, acting like I'm 12, looking at anything and everything like I've never seen it before. I stared at the little cage of kittens until the little black one started staring at me, and I left. Finally, I get around to actually asking about what I came in there for. The plant-thing. So I go over to the person in the fish section, but, unfortunately, she's helping out this woman who cannot decide what fish to buy. Now, I'm not one to judge, Lord knows I'm horrible at decisions, but she spent 20 minutes deciding between two fish. Two. I nearly died. So, I finally get my plant. It took a good 30 seconds and I get in line.
Who's in front of me? Fish Woman and the Wee Ones. Now, for reasons I do not understand, the littlest one grabbed like a container of dog treats that were in a cylinder thing and went over to the Dog Bar thing, grabs a dog treat and starts smashing it was the dog cylinder. Her mother casually calls, "Honey, come on back over here! We're getting ready to leave!"
"No!" the little beast yells back. "I want to pound things." Now my shocked face has changed into one of those badly disguised cough-laughs. The poor man at the register either had selective hearing or was simply ignoring the little monster 'pounding' what he was supposed to be selling. Obviously the mother didn't care because they left soon after without her saying a word. Weird people in these here parts.
So, I got out of there, unscathed and was waiting for the light to turn green to turn on McKnight. McKnight at 5:00 is a fearsome thing. It was one of 'those' driving days, when everyone does something wrong and you're always stuck behind the old bitty with blue hair who believes that anything going over 15 MPH is un-Godly, you know those days. I was at the light next to Staples and Kohl's when after waiting for a good five minutes for the light to turn green, it finally does. A good three or four cars go and this old man from the lane to the right of me, who had a red light for some time, cut off the car in front of me. He just decided to go. I thought it was hilarious because this man must have been 80 years old and he's probably a few marbles short of a whole set. The car in front of me didn't see it quite the same way. He honked and flicked the bird, which made me laugh harder. I think I have issues. Then I was behind one of those 15 MPH old women. I was just turning on Seibert, and I thought maybe she drove a stick and needed to change gears. By the time we were next to that private school and she hadn't gone any faster, I realized she wasn't going to. And the crappy red mini-van behind me was tailgating me like it was my problem. How very annoying. Exciting day, hmm?
Well, this weekend is the either highly anticipated Homecoming. Everyone with a date looks foreword to it, everyone without it has to stand listening to everyone talk about their plans and their dresses and feel left out. I fall into column two of this weekend. Don't go around pitying me, because I did get a date, but stuff happens and I found myself dateless. Am I bitter? Well I was, but then I realized what would I rather do: dance my life night away listening to rap music to which I don't know the words and cheesy pop music to which I also don't know the words while screaming, "Oh my GOD! You look FABULOUS!" and "WHAT?...WHAT?...Oh...haaahaa...I SAID HAHAHAHA!!!...OH NEVERMIND!" or spend some quality time with my DVD player and some very high sugar foods? Plus, my dancing could use some work too. But my little brother's going to his first Homecoming ever. He's in eighth grade and he's going stag. One of the very few guys who will ever do that, and more power to him.
So I'm going to enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, doing very little. But I'm not upset-tomorrow's my first payday. I haven't gotten a paycheck for an entire month, and it's taking serious will power not to go shopping because I have no money. Also the older sister and the boyfriend are coming home for the weekend and I haven't seen them for a while so it'll be exciting. Actually, I think my sister is more excited to see my dog than me, and Dan could care less. But he's a Physics major and I happen to be doing not so well in that class, so he gets to listen to me jabber on about everything I hate about that class...Oh, what fun this shall be...Just kidding, I wouldn't do that!
But, I probably won't post for a few days simply because I have nothing to talk about, so have fun to all going to Homecoming, woot woot for all the floats that I don't enough school spirit to help out with, and yee-haw to everyone who's brave enough to face the freezing weather in those convertibles, driving down Mt. Royal, pretending like they're enjoying yourself.
So Happy Homecoming to all, and to all a good night!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Running is suchs a fun thing
So, my writers' block has been officially killed. Woot. Now for the story of the day. Yee-haw.
I decided that running was the thing to do today. The last time I went running was a good two weeks ago. I have all these hilly back streets near where I live so I normally go "running" there. Running, for me, is aka run all the down slopes, run a good half-way up the up-hill slopes (if I'm feeling especially overacheiving, I'll run the whole hill, it's fun stuff) and jog slowly for some of the flat, huffing and puffing like I'm the big bad wolf. The rest, aka most of it, I walk. Slowly. Like I'm walking along in the mall, and that soccer mom in the mini-van full of kids isn't behind me, honking. My walkman is a wonderful thing. I turn an astonishing color of red, which is why I never get honked at when running. Yes, everyone, I look an amazing balloon hopping along, having a grand old time. The color is another reason why I run along the back streets, I firmly believe that the public should not be subject to such things as me lumbering along, pretending I'm in shape. Also, the only times when I seem to feel like running is when its at least 80 degrees outside, so I get really dehydrated and am generally glued to a water bottle for the rest of the night.
So, there I was, after running up the hill (yes, I did the whole thing, overacheiving is my thing today) walking away, gasping for air, and I walk past this house where a family is putting up decorations for Halloween. They have a little girl, and she was standing right in the middle of her driveway, staring at me like I was a new toy. She was probably only three years old, and the art of running seemed to mystify her. That made me giggle, which is always a fun thing to do. Then, I started running again, and passed a house where they have a dog, who was chained outside. It started barking at me, which nearly scared the living crap out of me because I was humming along to a Fall Out Boy song (to which I don't know the title because all of them are so long...Go look it up, it is) and that barking dog, set out the one in the house next to it, and the one across the street, and the one next to that...The moral of this story is that I was running down the street with a good four or five dogs simultaneously barking at me. It made me think either I was unwanted or I didn't smell too lovely (it was really hot out there!). Either way, it was sort of weird. But I saved the best for last! Today, it seemed, was National Middle-Aged Shirtless Men Watering Flowers Day. I saw a good eight middle aged men, minus a shirt or at least tank top, for crying out loud, some that were none too skinny watering the flowers. But I figure, if they don't care, more power too them. I could never do that. Most people are grossed out, but most people wouldn't have the guts to do that. It also made me giggle to see all the shirtless middle-aged guys watering the flowers next to the family putting out Halloween decorations. This weather's something, eh? I'm temporarily Canadian.
But I'm in for some good father-daughter bonding time, watching After the Sun Sets, with Bond, James Bond's Peirce Brosnan.
So, until next time, the out-of-shape, AP European History-hating, still short, attempting writing, person who is still emotionally attached to my glass of water for the rest of the night.
I decided that running was the thing to do today. The last time I went running was a good two weeks ago. I have all these hilly back streets near where I live so I normally go "running" there. Running, for me, is aka run all the down slopes, run a good half-way up the up-hill slopes (if I'm feeling especially overacheiving, I'll run the whole hill, it's fun stuff) and jog slowly for some of the flat, huffing and puffing like I'm the big bad wolf. The rest, aka most of it, I walk. Slowly. Like I'm walking along in the mall, and that soccer mom in the mini-van full of kids isn't behind me, honking. My walkman is a wonderful thing. I turn an astonishing color of red, which is why I never get honked at when running. Yes, everyone, I look an amazing balloon hopping along, having a grand old time. The color is another reason why I run along the back streets, I firmly believe that the public should not be subject to such things as me lumbering along, pretending I'm in shape. Also, the only times when I seem to feel like running is when its at least 80 degrees outside, so I get really dehydrated and am generally glued to a water bottle for the rest of the night.
So, there I was, after running up the hill (yes, I did the whole thing, overacheiving is my thing today) walking away, gasping for air, and I walk past this house where a family is putting up decorations for Halloween. They have a little girl, and she was standing right in the middle of her driveway, staring at me like I was a new toy. She was probably only three years old, and the art of running seemed to mystify her. That made me giggle, which is always a fun thing to do. Then, I started running again, and passed a house where they have a dog, who was chained outside. It started barking at me, which nearly scared the living crap out of me because I was humming along to a Fall Out Boy song (to which I don't know the title because all of them are so long...Go look it up, it is) and that barking dog, set out the one in the house next to it, and the one across the street, and the one next to that...The moral of this story is that I was running down the street with a good four or five dogs simultaneously barking at me. It made me think either I was unwanted or I didn't smell too lovely (it was really hot out there!). Either way, it was sort of weird. But I saved the best for last! Today, it seemed, was National Middle-Aged Shirtless Men Watering Flowers Day. I saw a good eight middle aged men, minus a shirt or at least tank top, for crying out loud, some that were none too skinny watering the flowers. But I figure, if they don't care, more power too them. I could never do that. Most people are grossed out, but most people wouldn't have the guts to do that. It also made me giggle to see all the shirtless middle-aged guys watering the flowers next to the family putting out Halloween decorations. This weather's something, eh? I'm temporarily Canadian.
But I'm in for some good father-daughter bonding time, watching After the Sun Sets, with Bond, James Bond's Peirce Brosnan.
So, until next time, the out-of-shape, AP European History-hating, still short, attempting writing, person who is still emotionally attached to my glass of water for the rest of the night.
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