I lay awake practically all of last night thinking about something. It was really stupid. I must have thought about it for hours. I kept telling myself to quit thinking about it. But my brain just kept on. Kept on thinking about it.
It wasn't even real.
It was something that I had made up!!! It was a fantasy!!! My brain was spinning and spinning and it came up with this whole series of events. What would I wear. How would I act. Would we do this or would we do that.
It was driving me crazy but I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was so insane. And I had no control. I could not stop it.
Does this make any sense?
Probably not.
I'm dreading going to bed tonight.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Stupid Fork Thing
Good things are no fun to write about. I like dumb things. They are much more interesting.
So, here ya go.
I was emptying the dishwasher and I dropped the big fork thing. You know, the big jabbing fork that if you cooked a big hunk of meat, you might use it to poke and prod it with. Or if you were going to grill, you might jab a big slab of steak and turn it over. Thats the fork i'm talking about.
Anyhow, I dropped it on the floor as I was emptying the dishwasher. I said, "Aw, I'll pick that up in a minute".
I forgot it was on the floor and ran into it with my foot. It stabbed my second toe. It made me bleed. It didn't hurt right away but eventually it did. I put a band-aid on it. Then i put on my slippers.
My dog got all excited because he saw me putting something on my feet. He came running over wagging his tail. He thought we were going for a walk. "No Scout. We're not going for a walk. These are slippers. I cut my foot" He got really really depressed and plodded off to his bed.
Now I'm limping around like a dumb ass.
Stupid fork thing.
So, here ya go.
I was emptying the dishwasher and I dropped the big fork thing. You know, the big jabbing fork that if you cooked a big hunk of meat, you might use it to poke and prod it with. Or if you were going to grill, you might jab a big slab of steak and turn it over. Thats the fork i'm talking about.
Anyhow, I dropped it on the floor as I was emptying the dishwasher. I said, "Aw, I'll pick that up in a minute".
I forgot it was on the floor and ran into it with my foot. It stabbed my second toe. It made me bleed. It didn't hurt right away but eventually it did. I put a band-aid on it. Then i put on my slippers.
My dog got all excited because he saw me putting something on my feet. He came running over wagging his tail. He thought we were going for a walk. "No Scout. We're not going for a walk. These are slippers. I cut my foot" He got really really depressed and plodded off to his bed.
Now I'm limping around like a dumb ass.
Stupid fork thing.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Father's Day
I think I did really good on my Father's Day gift this year. I know this because when i called my dad to wish him a happy father's day, he actually talked! He talked for at least 3 minutes. He was thrilled with the gift.
March of the Penguins. It was either that or Micro Cosmos DVD. Evidently I did good picking the penguin one. Because he just couldn't quit talking about it.
My dad does not talk on the phone. He never has. My dad doesn't really talk much off of the phone either. When i call, and he answers, I automatically think that my mom is in the hospital. That's how rare it is for him to pick up the phone. I try to get him to talk and he does for a second. He tells me about the weather, asks me how I am and then say's "Let me get your mother".
But it's okay. I'm use to it. That's just the way my dad is. I think everybody's dad has something weird going on.
The phone thing is actually only one of the weird things going on with my dad. But I don't feel like writing about it.
I'm glad he liked the penguin movie. His excitement wore off on me. I've queued it up in my Netflix.
March of the Penguins. It was either that or Micro Cosmos DVD. Evidently I did good picking the penguin one. Because he just couldn't quit talking about it.
My dad does not talk on the phone. He never has. My dad doesn't really talk much off of the phone either. When i call, and he answers, I automatically think that my mom is in the hospital. That's how rare it is for him to pick up the phone. I try to get him to talk and he does for a second. He tells me about the weather, asks me how I am and then say's "Let me get your mother".
But it's okay. I'm use to it. That's just the way my dad is. I think everybody's dad has something weird going on.
The phone thing is actually only one of the weird things going on with my dad. But I don't feel like writing about it.
I'm glad he liked the penguin movie. His excitement wore off on me. I've queued it up in my Netflix.
Outside
I tried to be an outside person today.
I put on my overalls and my garden shoes. My hair, up in a pony tail and my head jammed into a red baseball cap. I looked like an outside person. I had good intentions.
My first idea was to stain the new arbor, on the side of the house. Green. Okay, I can do this. I got the can of stain, a new paintbrush and a stirring stick. I thought that shaking the can back and forth was sufficient but Carlos said that I really needed to stir it.
Staining the arbor meant that I had to climb a ladder. I had forgotten that part when I volunteered for the job. I hate ladders. But I somehow convinced myself that this ladder was safe, even though I knew deep down that no ladder is safe. They all have stickers on them showing men falling off. I had to stand on the next to the top step. It was a miracle that I didn't fall and kill myself.
If you've ever stood on a ladder and held a bucket of paint and a brush all at the same time, then you know what I'm talking about. It's hard. And I hated it. There was no way in hell that I was going to do this job.
I told Carlos that I didn't like the green stain and that I'd rather paint the top section turquoise. He, thinking that I was being sincere, agreed.
Whew. Got out of that job. I cleaned out the brush and put the stain away.
That whole project took about 15 minutes. And in those 15 minutes, I had been bitten by 4000 mosquitos, I was sweating como un puerco and beginning to itch. But, DAMMIT, I was going to stay outside. I was going to be an outside person today.
Next idea: I decided to cut back the grass around the front flower-bed thingy. How difficult could that be?
I got the shovel. Carlos "suggested" that I put on gloves, I waved him away. What? Does he think I don't know what I'm doing! I jabbed the shovel all around the bed, creating a sort of half circle thinking the whole time how it was going to be so pretty.
After having created a new clean anal edge with the shovel, I realized that I had to get down on the ground and start shaking the dirt out of the big clumps of grass and back into the garden. I could just throw the dirt away, along with the grass but I figured that that would get me some really bad karma.
After realizing that I did indeed need gloves, I got down on the ground to begin the surgery of separating dirt from grass.
Uh Oh. This isn't dirt. It's mud.
As it turned out that there would be no shaking off of the dirt. What I had were these big clumps of mud with grass on the top. What do gardeners do when this happens. I knew what to do. I threw the mud and grass clumps off to the side in the sun to dry. I leaned the shovel up against the fence and took off the gloves. "Nothing I can do here"!
This project took about 12 minutes.
I walked up to Carlos and asked him to look at me. "Do I look like I fit in out here"? "Do I look like an outside person"? "I have on overalls, garden shoes, a hat. My hair is in a ponytail. Why don't I feel like I fit in"?
"No" he said. "You don't look like you fit in. You should go in the house and do yoga or something".
"I hate it out here". That was all I could think of to say.
I chunked my shoes off in the garage, came in the house, stripped down and got in the shower.
I will never do that again. I hate it out there.
After this shower, I think I'll pluck my eyebrows, or I might work on a drawing, or bake a cake.
One thing for sure though, I absolutely will not try to be an outside person again.
It's not in my genes.
I put on my overalls and my garden shoes. My hair, up in a pony tail and my head jammed into a red baseball cap. I looked like an outside person. I had good intentions.
My first idea was to stain the new arbor, on the side of the house. Green. Okay, I can do this. I got the can of stain, a new paintbrush and a stirring stick. I thought that shaking the can back and forth was sufficient but Carlos said that I really needed to stir it.
Staining the arbor meant that I had to climb a ladder. I had forgotten that part when I volunteered for the job. I hate ladders. But I somehow convinced myself that this ladder was safe, even though I knew deep down that no ladder is safe. They all have stickers on them showing men falling off. I had to stand on the next to the top step. It was a miracle that I didn't fall and kill myself.
If you've ever stood on a ladder and held a bucket of paint and a brush all at the same time, then you know what I'm talking about. It's hard. And I hated it. There was no way in hell that I was going to do this job.
I told Carlos that I didn't like the green stain and that I'd rather paint the top section turquoise. He, thinking that I was being sincere, agreed.
Whew. Got out of that job. I cleaned out the brush and put the stain away.
That whole project took about 15 minutes. And in those 15 minutes, I had been bitten by 4000 mosquitos, I was sweating como un puerco and beginning to itch. But, DAMMIT, I was going to stay outside. I was going to be an outside person today.
Next idea: I decided to cut back the grass around the front flower-bed thingy. How difficult could that be?
I got the shovel. Carlos "suggested" that I put on gloves, I waved him away. What? Does he think I don't know what I'm doing! I jabbed the shovel all around the bed, creating a sort of half circle thinking the whole time how it was going to be so pretty.
After having created a new clean anal edge with the shovel, I realized that I had to get down on the ground and start shaking the dirt out of the big clumps of grass and back into the garden. I could just throw the dirt away, along with the grass but I figured that that would get me some really bad karma.
After realizing that I did indeed need gloves, I got down on the ground to begin the surgery of separating dirt from grass.
Uh Oh. This isn't dirt. It's mud.
As it turned out that there would be no shaking off of the dirt. What I had were these big clumps of mud with grass on the top. What do gardeners do when this happens. I knew what to do. I threw the mud and grass clumps off to the side in the sun to dry. I leaned the shovel up against the fence and took off the gloves. "Nothing I can do here"!
This project took about 12 minutes.
I walked up to Carlos and asked him to look at me. "Do I look like I fit in out here"? "Do I look like an outside person"? "I have on overalls, garden shoes, a hat. My hair is in a ponytail. Why don't I feel like I fit in"?
"No" he said. "You don't look like you fit in. You should go in the house and do yoga or something".
"I hate it out here". That was all I could think of to say.
I chunked my shoes off in the garage, came in the house, stripped down and got in the shower.
I will never do that again. I hate it out there.
After this shower, I think I'll pluck my eyebrows, or I might work on a drawing, or bake a cake.
One thing for sure though, I absolutely will not try to be an outside person again.
It's not in my genes.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
Thursday, June 1, 2006
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