August 24th, 2012

TB || Tara vampire.

(no subject)

So sleepy. Multiple nights with little and frequently-interrupted sleep. But not all from bad things--one from a trip to the zoo. Elephants, giraffes, red pandaaaaas!

Living. Today drove two 14s around and my charge (the one I was being paid to drive) again played Justin Bieber. And this time I knew the voice well enough to ask, "Is this Bieber?" as I was pulling out of McDonald's (where they had asked to go for lunch). I also carried around some hay, cleaned two stalls, and fed two horses. And visited with the guy whose collectibles I'm selling--got a big new set of Huge Arse Collectibles (bigger than the ones I just successfully sold) and laksjdlfkjasdf. I don't understand people who collect these things. I try to, since I'm selling them to other people who collect these things. But huge figurines of random Halloween things that stay around in boxes? Little ceramic houses and animal treasure chests? Trying, trying. But I got free dinner out of it and got to play with two great labs (one who is a cone-head for the moment) and two great cats (one who patted me on the shoulder, randomly, and the other who decided to be a slinky on the stairs).

I loved the human animals well enough, but the quadruped animals were the shining stars of my day.

I've also come to the realisation that I basically run a ridiculous version of Kiki's Delivery Service. And that since I hate shipping so much, I'm just going to pretend that every time I bring a parcel to the post office, it's brought into the back and handed off to a fast-flying witch or wizard on a broom--many of them ex-Quidditch players who still like the chance to get paid some to fly fast.

Because that is how the world has to work in my head for my personal world to function. And for me to not hate the US postal service with all my mental might grrr.

Also I feel like the only person in my generation who doesn't want a touchpad-Internetted-can-do-everything phone. I just like having, you know, a phone. That calls. And texts (which is newish, I guess, but mobile phones have been texting for as long as I've had one). I have a laptop, a netbook, and a Kindle Fire ( father is a software developer, technology's his thing, and my laptop frequently breaks down?); do I really need a phone that does all the same things? My friends have them, so I know they're fun, but it also seems like too much constant distraction in my palm at all times. Sometimes I Facebook stalk, but I don't want Facebook stalking me. I shan't have you, WiFi-or-whatever phones! Thou shalt not take me! Qwerty phones with no Internet for the less-procrastinating win! The guy at Verizon Wireless thought I was crazy. And kept checking his touchpad-mini-computer-phone as I asked questions. Great service, I tell you.

When alone, I have started making long groaning sounds in which I just let my body get all the frustration out. It's like "ohm"s for less well-adjusted and -trained people. Just a nice long "uuuuueeeeeerrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh" in the car on the ride home.

I also feel as though I've caught a bit of a head cold off a friend, but it isn't as bad as what she seemed to have (she has a teeeeeerrible immune system) so that's good. *Shakes fist anyway.* But I am not as bothered as usual, which is odd. It seems to come and go.

And my hip operation scars need to stop itching.

That's me, checked in for the moment with random stuff that came to my tired-arse, Bieber-tainted mind. One more frustrated groan before bed.
GA's || Callie || Drunk.

(no subject)


That was Mike's Harder Lemonade, not just Mike's Hard Lemonade.


Going to try to kick myself into a "clean everything" mood for a bit anyway, and if I end up putting some strange stuff in my bra drawer, so be it; strange stuff ends up in my bra throughout the day anyway. (Sometimes I'm glad I can trust that I give just as many TMI details about my life when sober as when anything-past-sober.)

My father and brother made burritos for supper. Before consuming any alcohol, I nearly tripped over the dog (who loves placing himself wherever he is most likely to get trod on) and said quite clearly, "Pucking fug!" I'm not sure I live a sober life to begin with.

Icon: *Strike's "drunk" and replaces with "giggly-tipsy" as they say in her Providence household.*
Rainbow || OLSB-rocker-lady.

(no subject)

I could pretend that I didn't just get distracted by a nude-in-a-bath Amanda Fucking Palmer (with The Flaming Lips) music video, but then I would be lying. (I could also not post about it, but then how would I have a reputation for posting bizarre things about TMI, nudity, and body hair?)

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Seeing body hair, especially on a famous American woman, makes me happyyyyy. I, uh, didn't actually pay that much attention to the song. AFP songs tend to grow on me rather than be immediately my favourites, and at that not all of them; I'll see if this one grows on me.

Also I have pit hair like AFP and that made me smile. (I mean, if people can get happy over having head-hair like celebrities, shouldn't we be able to do the same over other hair? Don't care, going to anyway. :D Not as though I get the chance to do so very often!)

Now we've seen AFP's Map of Tasmania again. (And if you haven't seen that music video in a while, here's a copy Collapse )

And now, since I frequently put that song on for dancing around, I shall put it on for some dance-cleaning.