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staunch the blood of countless tiny cuts
I've been running around with a chicken on my head these past couple days, trying to get done in a couple days all things I had a month to do but did not. Because, really, why do things with efficiency and order over the course of 30 days when you can do them sloppily and haphazardly in a delusional sleep-deprived haze over the course of two?
I was going to tell you about how my mother now wants to leave TOMORROW, a day early, thus wreaking havoc with my detailed last-minute-squeeze-everything-in plan, but I started to black out while typing this and I haven't packed anything yet, so I really have to go.
As long as I don't get killed, hospitalized or arrested for a drug crime, I will be back in ten days.
Half of all languages will have disappeared by the end of this century.
save me from my subconscious
Last night my dreams involved an art gallery in a prison; some kind of tax fraud scandal involving the prison somehow; the father of a friend of mine, who is a minister, being lifted to the window of a prison in a forklift; wrecking balls smashing walls of a prison; Jay Leno introducing Britney Spears at a concert taking place in my mother's bedroom (they standing in front of the dresser, my mother and I sitting on the bed, and a crowded stadium between us); Jay Leno exposing Britney Spears's nipple; Britney Spears crying, running out of the room, down the stairs, out of the house and driving away in a black SUV; and some people in my parents' kitchen laughing about how much they hate Britney Spears. And those are only the parts I remember vividly. I woke up this morning with the desire to break open my skull and beat my brain to mush.
Today I saw Hukkle. I really hope I don't remember my dreams tomorrow morning.
Watching Hukkle made me tired, because of the lack of dialogue and the constant close-ups of the "guess what this is!" genre. I was paying so much attention because I kept thinking the big important event that explained everything would happen if I closed my eyes.
lucky 13
Today was awesome because my 365 Days Project CDs came in the mail.
There is a song on the CD called "I Like Cheese," which is just these two kids shouting "I like cheese!" and various other things. It reminds me of my friend Heather. In a good way.
hearing voices
D. looks over the wall of my cubicle as he walks by, to say hello, and trips over the barrels of water stacked around the water cooler. "That's what you get for not looking where you're going," he says.
"That's what you get for being too tall," I say.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, slightly defensive, peering over the cubicle wall at me again.
"I don't like all these tall people looking over at me as they walk by, it's freaks me out."
"Oh, ok then," he says. "From now on when I walk passed I'll be sure to go like this." He steps away and walks around my cubicle, still talking. "How is this? Can you see me now?"
"No, I can't, that's perfect. Do that from now on."
"Isn't it more freaky to have someone talking to you when you can't see them, though?"
"Actually, I'm pretty used to the disembodied voices; I've learned to deal." There's a pause. "You know, because of doing transcription," I explain. He looks over the wall again.
"Oh, I thought you were going to say, 'Because I'm treating them with medication. You think that they're the voices of people walking by that you can't see, but really they're the voices in your head."
"Yeah," I say. "And they all sound like you."
"That's funny," he says, "the voices in my head sound like me too!"
"Ooooh, spooky," I say. "Maybe it's God talking to us. Maybe God's voice just sounds like you."
He doesn't say anything, just walks away.
mushrooms, green pepper and olives - no meat!!!
Pizza Party U.S.A. International. I'd vote for it.
this just seems wrong
One of my co-workers is vegan AND on the Atkins.
stress
The only thing scarier than ME THE NERVOUS BAD DRIVER driving on the highway without windshield washer fluid is MY FATHER THE INSANE AND RECKLESS SPEEDER driving on the highway without windshield washer fluid when he is late to the airport and about to miss his flight. We were virtually blind and he's barreling along at 120km/hr, bobbing his head around all over the place trying to find a piece of window he can see out of.
Sweet mother of mercy it's not even noon and I have experienced both these awful things. I am more stressed out than I have been in a long time. How long does it take for adrenaline to leave one's body?
I have to go to work.
Carry on.
overheard
"If I had to be in a room with ten graffitti artists I would start lecturing them on the classics and form and design and they would mug me and lock me in the closet. It would be bad." -- A really obnoxious girl on the 80 bus.
note to self: dig more radishes
The Anagrammed Bible! Whoa. Maybe this ties with Eunoia for most amazing feat of word play.
Ecc. 5:19:
Every man also to whom God hath given riches and wealth, and hath given him power to eat thereof, and to take his portion, and to rejoice in his labour; this is the gift of God.
Anagrammed version:
Four things - make that five - are a high point in life: to have many nice things; to sow cheer while hoarding them; to dig radishes; to adapt to the hard road; to love one's own job.
Is it just me, or is the anagrammed version not way cooler?
f y i
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis is the longest word in the English language.
This has been another edition of interesting facts brought to you by my little sister.
ps. this word is fictitious
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"The mind of the thoroughly well informed [person] is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, and everything priced above its proper value."
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