Posts Tagged ‘birthday’
It’s my birthday. I get to post today! It’s the only day Jamie will let me legitimately post anything here, so here’s my contribution for my twenty-sixth year on this spinning rock in the middle of space:
I stopped with the Krystal shit. She’s stupid and fun to play with, but she got boring quick.
I don’t admin on Insanejournal.com anymore. They revoked my admin privs when I broke into Krystal’s journals.
I edit the shit out of Encyclopedia Dramatica entries and I still make entries every now and then.
No one here on the west coast is interested in my screenplays. I might as well be sucking cock on the street corners for my income.
I witnessed my first robbery in San Francisco. Saw a person get shot. I don’t know if he lived or died.
I’ve been shot. What?! Jamie didn’t tell you?! That bitch!! Um, I survived.
But don’t cry for me. I feel fine. Jamie’s sick with a fever and domestic violence and seeing red and hallucinating in the middle of the night. She called me at 4 in the morning claiming to see someone standing at the foot of her bed. If you piss enough people off, those people start to die, and they haunt you. It’s only naturale.
Enjoy the rest of the year, everyone! I update here only when Jamie absolutely can’t, but this is my day, my Delmonte Day. Let’s hope I don’t have to update anymore until I’m 27.
There was a downpour today while I was gone to get the dessert for dinner. Rain covered the car. The windows steamed up. A semi zoomed past me on the interstate and caused water to be splashed over the windshield; the cascading water made it impossible to see. I considered pulling over until the storm let up. Lightening danced on both sides of the street. It wasn’t safe for me to be out there. Luckily, there wasn’t much traffic, and I was able to wipe a small section of the fog off the windshield and creep home. No wrecks. Just some annoyance. It seems unrealistic, now, that there was ever a storm. There’s not a cloud in the deep blue sky. The stars are out, twinkling in the sky. The wind is calm. The air is cool. Only the puddles in the street remind me of the rain storm today.
I almost want to ask my husband if he wants to go out for a night ride, but I won’t. I’ve thought about climbing up to the roof and gazing through the telescope mounted there. Just to see the rings of Saturn. I haven’t dared look for it since my eye operation over five years ago. Mucking through my past files brought up my old list of things I wanted to do now that I was able to see clearly now. Seeing the rings on Saturn, which is possible through my telescope, was near the top of the list. I was never able to see them before because my eyes were so bad. I fear the roof. It’s silly. I have nothing to be afraid of, but I can’t get up my courage to climb the stairs and just use the telescope or gaze around the neighborhood.
My birthday is complete today. I got the last of my presents today. Another book and a pair of navy blue Chucks. It seems my boss wasn’t too keen on me wearing white-with-iridescent-stars Chucks in the lab. At least now I won’t be annoying my boss. I love Chucks. I could live in them. Some people joke that I do live in them.
I think I need a night out with my husband. For one night, that’s all I ask. We deserve it, right?
Remind me to hurt whoever is behind the database on Dreamhost. I can’t do shit today, concerning my blog. It’s pissing me off. Almost as bad as the traffic on the side streets here.
But I blame that, mostly, on my already-foul mood and the fact that my dad’s car has no air conditioning and I was hung over. Now that I’m home and have no where to go, the sun is hiding behind the clouds and the threat of rain is heavy. The bad things started the night before my birthday. I’ll start from the beginning.
Around 10pm on Sunday night, Chloe came to me as if she were going to give me a hug, but when she got on my lap, she puked buckets of sticky spaghetti on me. She puked two more times before I rushed her to the bathroom. Out of frustration, I flopped a feather bed in the tub and told her she was sleeping there. I showered in my bathroom and went to bed. A thunderstorm was rumbling by outside.
I woke up at 4am on my birthday because I had a wet top sheet in the bed. For those of you who weren’t following my blog in April of 09, my water bed mattress exploded (the second one in three years) and I broke my knee trying to drain it. So when I woke up to a wet top sheet and the fitted sheet drenched at the corner of the mattress, I assumed that the mattress had a leak in it somewhere. I jumped out of the bed, tried to wake up Dennis, with no success, and raced downstairs to get the siphoning hose to start draining it, assuming that he would be pissed that we’d have to spring for a new mattress. I couldn’t find the siphoning hose, just the old hoses from the washing machine. It was pouring rain outside now. For some reason, I went back to bed. I turned on the light. Dennis was still sleeping good, the wet stain on my side of the bed had turned into a puddle. Fuck. I unplugged the bed. Just then, I saw a drop of water fall from the ceiling. The bed wasn’t leaking, the ceiling was! I was so happy the ceiling was leaking! Weird, I know. But it’s going to be cheaper and easier to hire someone to fix the roof rather than buy a new water bed mattress, drain our mattress, haul it away, and fill up a new one.
The ceiling in the bedroom leaked before, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before hand. For the time being, I put down a towel, and drifted back off to sleep. I woke up an hour later, water logged, and had to get up and put a bucket down on my side of the bed. Then I had to put my feather pillows in the dryer because they were soaked.
My birthday went by pretty uneventful. Chloe got well, and became a terror today. She’s been pinching her little siblings, and then poured Vitamin Water on my desk, so I had to go and buy a new modem today. She’s on perma-punishment until things calm down. It’s nothing cruel. She just can’t hang out with me while I play on the web and watch Saw movies (she doesn’t really watch them; she usually “writes” in her diary, but the menus of the DVDs played all day yesterday). Baxter is still alive. We can’t find a vet to put him down. He doesn’t seem to be suffering, just weak. Lethargic. With a scar on his face. He eats, he sleeps, he pisses frequently. I guess if he were a human, he’d be in his 60s or 70s, so he’s earned the right to be a sleepy, hungry, pissing old man. Other than that, he’s not cold or has weak lungs (rats tend to get weak lungs). His colour (in his tail and paws) is good. He doesn’t have any abnormal, offensive smells. Still, there’s one more vet I want to try, in the next town over. They closed at 6pm today, so I’m taking him tomorrow. If nothing else than for a check up.
I ordered a custom dessert for dinner tonight, but I was four minutes late getting to pick up dessert for dinner, so they canceled my order. FOUR MINUTES and they CANCELED a PRE-PAID order and told me to come back TOMORROW. WTF?! I blame that on the bad traffic here. Every bridge and highway to the bakery is torn up, and there are “detour” signs everywhere. Plus I got lost and had to drive through the back roads home. I chose to take my dad’s car rather than my Ninja because I didn’t want to balance boxed brownies and cakes on my lap while speeding through these back roads. Guess that was a fool’s error. It’s ninety-eight degrees here and that’s multiplied by the greenhouse factor when you’re in my dad’s car because the air conditioning doesn’t work, so the windows are down. There goes the UBV/UVA protection from the windows. I had to buy a 100+ SPF waterproof sunblock so I wouldn’t die of sun poisoning from riding in that car. Three days ago, I rode as a passenger in it, and my arms were so sunburned they blistered, peeled, weeped and turned deep red. Now they’re covered in freckles. I don’t have “normal” freckles. They’re little brown rings. My freckles don’t have centers.
I got my birthday present(s) today. They came in a day late, and I have a couple more on the way. Mostly books. Although I did get sex last night. Drunk sex is better for me lately. But only if I get drunk with the booze mixed with Coke (soda, genius) and before Star Trek comes on. Star Trek is better when you’re drunk.
Bitch, bitch, bitch. Complain, complain, complain. I’m not aging gracefully, am I?
Actually, it has to do with me being off the narcotics for a couple of days. I can’t take anymore until Monday. That’s a long ways off when you’re going through withdrawal. I can’t even say that I’m thinking clearer because I’m not.
I’m uploading birthday pictures to Flickr. All of you who are spectators need to add me as a contact. I don’t bite, much. Plus, I have several pictures that are members/friends-only.
In the meantime, I’m going back to dumping the tables in MySQL. It’s driving me nuts that I can’t do anything with WordPress because I get errors or it flat out lies to me and says one thing is done, but that doesn’t show up on my site and when I log back in, it’s back. Be it a comment that is not screened or an entry that I was told was deleted is still there. Unlike Greymatter/MovableType/Blogger, I can’t just log into FTP and delete the page manually. It’s stored in the database, and I hate dealing with Plesk databases. Think warm thoughts for me.