Inner Musings

Friday, July 06, 2001

Billie Jean is not my lover.

Yesterday Lucretia and I went shopping down on Broadway. It was quite successful. Shirts all around. No pants, though. And Wesley is a big piece of crap. He hasn't called me back. Let alone called me of his own free will. He told Aeran's (my sister), friend to say "hi" to me. Stupid slut. Grrr.

Bigger piece of crap: Jordan. Fucking dumb ass didn't even call me on my birthday. Or any of the days surrounding it, for that matter. Yes, that means I didn't get a present. I didn't get a freaking phone call. And while he has a rather ugly track record, no pun intended, of forgetting me at places for long intervals of time, I figured the real reason wasn't that he'd just forgotten. While shopping yesterday, I ran into Jennifer, the awkwardly polite and interested Current Girlfriend, who was quite chatty. I could tell she had good intentions, but it was so freaking annoying. She said that she was waiting for Jordan to get done with work, since he works at an athletic store right off of Broadway.

And while I don't mind the chick too much, it certainly bothers me that I hold no other light with Jordan other than slight acquaintance. I think he pays more attention to Jehovah Witnesses than to me. Good god. Really, I don't ask for much. Just as simple phone call. If he drove by and threw a barrel of trash at me, it'd almost be preferable. At least I'd be acknowledged. But no. I just get to see Ms. Perky bounding up to me in a store reminding me just exactly where I stand with God's Perfect Asshole.

Just for the record, I don't really, truly dislike her.

I may also be in a foul mood because I had to go and sit in a small, claustrophobia inducing room for nine hours straight, no exaggeration, with ten other irrate people all trying to get registered with the stupid airport so they could go ahead and pay us already. I sat next to a guy who was one of those people that take table mints and just gargle them, you know? I had the intimacy of stereo sound that is usually reserved for ones' back molars. By the time it was all over, I was ready to eat my foot. Also, we had to watch about seven hours of a horrible power-point type presentation.

But: something interesting may be developing with Eli. Hm...Anemone Ra and her many men. Seriously. At least I can console myself with the knowledge that I am no where near as big of a hoochie as Wesley is.

She's just a girl who thinks I am the one.

Anemone Ra 6:52 PM

Wednesday, July 04, 2001

Well, my birthday has come and gone...the festivities, however, (read: familial "celebratory" torture) have been reserved for this afternoon...about one o' clock, methinks. So far, I've amassed this in material wealth:

1. A Mossimo tank and necklace from my sister (very posh)
2. Several vigorous backrubs from Olsen (summerly friend)
3. A 4-disc German language instruction program from the rents (very cool)
4. Gratuitous amounts of food and appeasement from Moon.

Ironic, surely. My parents say: "Hey. We're going to throw you a birthday party."

Me: "Cool."

Them: "So we want you to clean the house. Then, go outside and hose down the millions of spiders vacationing in our lawnware."

All right. Whatever works. I'm trying to karmically align myself. So far, I'm really tired but optomistic for the 4th. I have several options, some savory, some rather reekish. For instance:

1) going out with Katia tonight...more than like spending the evening listening to sordid tales about...herself.
2) hanging out with Olsen and Moon, watching "Shrek." How? My hackerly bud Olsen has somehow managed to pilfer a DVD copy.
3) going out and blowing stuff up with Oasis.

We'll see what progresses. In the meantime, an interesting tidbit: When I was checking my statsmeter account, apparently I've gotten a fair chunk of hits from the Google/Yahoo! searchword "hairy armpits." I'm grateful for the traffic, but somehow someone thought my page was about hairy armpits. It's not! Only sometimes. They're quite bald now, actually.

I'm off.

Anemone Ra 11:29 AM

Monday, July 02, 2001

Oh, Jesus.

I saw Marty again last night. Things happened. Things always happen with Marty and me. What the hell can you do? Seriously. My parents leave today for Mt. St. Helens'. That means I get a total of: 1 night/s away from parental bondage. Woo-hoo.

I'm off to eat some cereal.

Anemone Ra 10:27 AM

Sunday, July 01, 2001

At last, I am home from the Queen Charlotte Islands! It was, all in all, a pleasent venture, but a little bit taxing being away from home for so bloody long. Also, I have returned looking somewhat like the Elephant Man; both my sister and I suffer a bit from facial heat rash. I of course, took the blunt end of the deal and have somewhat of a more gruesome mug. All acquaintances assure me that they can still look me in the eye, but I'm unfortunately rather sensitive about my appearence, and doubly sensitive about my facial skin, as I have battle the scourge of teenage acne for as long as I can remember. Well, up until about a year ago. But no matter. I must look deeper within myself, but if I want to get some action, I figure that it's better to let said skin disfigurement clear up before I put the moves on any prospective Don Juans.

It was kind of sad to come home and find that I have no pager messages, no phone messages, no love notes or anything of that sort, save for one from a forty-plus guy named...Chris?...calling about my prospective employment at Starbucks, and a listless message from Moon complaining that she was bitterly bored...probably midweek and with nothing to do. I'll ring her tonight.

I want to go out tonight, but meh. Am feeling less than attractive. Inspired by my Canadian surroundings, I forewent the usual hair-removal routines and went the hairy route for the past seven days. I'm quite disappointed. Instead of a thick, furry forest covering each leg, I have what can be optomisticly described as "peach fuzz," only discernable when I'm back lit by a powerful natural light of sorts. The armpit hair is pretty gruesome, though, but softer than I expected and not immediately noticeable. That is, it doesn't bulge out from underneath my arms. But I think it will go tonight. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm a slave to the razor.

The aforementioned missive depicting my Northern experiences will be up shortly. To whet your appetite:

The Beginning.

Anemone Ra 6:41 PM