Inertia

My blog neglect has been weighing heavily on my mind for the past month. Almost every day I chide myself to just write something, anything, so as not to let my creative juices dry up. And every time the same response pops into my head, 'But I have nothing interesting to write about.'

My life is not what you would call interesting at the moment, so daily or weekly updates would be rather anticlimactic. I envy those people that draw, paint, sculpt, just create on a regular basis in order to express themselves. For me, writing is an exhausting process. The only time the words pour out of me is at times of great turmoil, and those words are certainly not for public consumption. Right now, I don't feel like I have the time or energy to sit down and work on a piece to post here, and even if I did, what would I write about?

Fiction seems completely unappealing at the moment. I could dazzle you with anecdotes from my life, but what parts of my soul do I feel comfortable baring to complete strangers? Perhaps movie or book reviews, but that seems so trite and self indulgent. At least it would get my fingers moving in the right direction. Maybe.

Regardless, I'm mulling things over, trying to come up with something interesting or entertaining to write about. I guess this post is a step in the write direction. Ha.

For all intents and purposes, 2009 has been a horrible year all the way around... Until September. Nine must be my lucky number! Not only have I just graduated from UW , I've been accepted into the master's program at King's College, they've offered me a spot for next year since they were so late in getting back to me on my application. I'm about to take a marvelous trip to Monterey, CA with a good friend to watch another good friend get married, and to top it all off, I've decided on a completely badass Halloween costume: Holly Golightly from Breakfast At Tiffany's! For the first time in a long time I can say that I am happy with my life and things are good!

Goodbye, Miss Maddie

My stomach became tight as the trees slowly began to disappear and the landscape started to turn to sand and tumbleweeds. Eastern Washington has never been one of my favorite places, not even while I was growing up there, but as I made the drive to Richland this time, a seething hatred started to bubble up within me. As irrational as it was, I just knew that if Maddie were on the west side of the state, none of this would be necessary... My little Maddie-Girl wouldn't have to die today. But as I said, that was irrational thinking, and there was no place she could be and nothing we could do to save her.

The closer I got to my mom's house, the worse my stomach got. My neck and jaw began to ache, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember the words to the songs I was trying to sing along with to distract myself. I didn't know what I was going to encounter once I arrived at mom's. She had just told me that Maddie had deteriorated very quickly, and that she didn't look like herself anymore. My mind raced with all the horrible possibilities, all the time worrying about how Gus would manage without his partner in crime.

It took me a long time to get out of my car once I pulled up to my mom's house. I wondered if I should run across the grass to get to Maddie as soon as possible, or whether I should pull my bags out of the car and go in as I would normally. My mom stepped out onto the porch and motioned me inside, but even then I felt myself lagging. I didn't want to see Maddie this way, and I felt like a fucking coward because of it.

I floated across the lawn, wondering how I'd managed to make the 4 hour drive down from Seattle in this condition. I could see her before I even opened the front door. She was lying on a pillow in the living room, panting hard and unable to even lift her head to look at me. Pugs are not the most flexible dogs to begin with, but her poor little body seemed so stiff and unnatural. Her ears twitched and her breathing changed, so I knew she was aware that someone else had arrived. I knelt down at her side and began rubbing her head. Her eyes were still liquid brown pools of affection, but they had become faded and dim and darted around in fear and anxiety. Her breathing was harsh and labored, and it made my chest hurt just to watch her.

It damn near killed me to see her like that. Maddie was always the one that was active and had to investigate everything, being immobile must have been agony for her. As I sat there stroking her ears, my mom wandered through the living room and dining room, talking on the phone and keeping herself busy with small little chores. It became apparent my mom wasn't going to initiate what needed to be done, so I suggested we go. I did this as much for me as for Maddie, because a tangible sense of pain had descended upon me as I sat there with her. My mom however, was unable to concede that it was time to put her out of her misery. For 3 hours I sat in my mom's front room, gently petting Maddie and growing angrier and angrier with each passing minute. While we dicked around, trying to come up with more excuses to delay the inevitable, her breathing was growing more and more labored and her eyes were filling with pain which I found unbearable, I don't know how Maddie managed to cope with it.

Finally Laura and I convinced my mom it was time to go, so we wrapped Maddie in a blanket and drove her out to a farm in Pasco where one of Laura's coworkers lived and would administer the shot. I held her on the ride out, and she was so stiff in my arms, it must have been uncomfortable for her. However she'd lost the ability to bend or move much at all. It was a lovely day with a beautiful blue sky and slight breeze to keep things from getting too hot. My eyes alternated from gazing at Maddie and staring at nothing out the car window. I know Maddie must have been scared, but I can only hope that she knew how much she was loved, and that we were going to take her pain away soon.

We arrived at Roberta's after a journey that seemed to take forever and yet be instantaneous all at the same time. We laid Maddie in some deep grass at the base of a lovely shade tree in the front yard. I was grateful that Maddie's last moments were here and not in some sterile, soulless office. We all gathered around her and the injection was given. The light faded out of Maddie's eyes and her breathing stopped as a gentle wind rustled the leaves above us and the hair on our heads.

And as simple as that, my dear, sweet Maddie was gone. No more quizzical looks or offended expressions, no more dry nose or the tongue that refused to stay in her mouth. Maddie came to us from an abusive and neglectful house at the age of 6. I wish I could have saved her those 6 years of unhappiness, but I hope that the 6 years we gave her helped to make up for unpleasantness she went through. I will miss her neurotic ways and playful spirit. She was a damn good dog, and she will be sorely missed.

Judy Garland Would Be In Heaven

I should be writing the final paper for one of my classes, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get the words to come out in the correct order. They feel awkward and forced, and not nearly as eloquent or intelligent as the concepts I have racing around in my head. I stare at my computer screen for what seems like endless amounts of time, but to no avail... The words just will not do what I want them to...

So instead, I'm going to laud the virtues of Tropical Rainbow Sherbet, my new favorite treat. It starts off so rough and icy, and melts into the most divine creamy liquid of deliciousness it's ever been my pleasure to encounter. I try to restrain myself from gulping it down in a few careless but oh so heavenly bites so I'll have more of that liquid joy to savor, but it's no use, I have no self control when it comes to this neon delight. It tastes just as bright and vibrant as it looks, but isn't nearly as heavy as regular ice cream.

I've found the elusive rainbow's end, and it's in my ice cream bowl.

You Are What You Eat

My milk has gone sour, my fruit has shriveled, even my carrots have become slick from neglect. Most disturbing of all, my cream cheese has become moldy. Strangely enough, my English muffins and bagels have maintained their integrity and not succumbed to the gods of food decay. I guess life really is full of little surprises. I've been living on an erratic diet of Coke (the soda, not the powder), Starbuck's Chai tea and Lean Cuisines...No wonder I feel so fucking fabulous.

I've always had a sharp mind, able to remember numbers, birthdays, appointments without the need for calendars or planners. Now I can't remember to grab my purse before I leave class. I lose my words, simple words that I've used thousands of times since I learned them.

I want to sleep all the time, but when it's actually time for bed, I just lie there. Too exhausted to get up, yet unable to let sleep find me. So I drug myself up, which doesn't actually lead to restful sleep, but at least it makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something. I alternate between being freezing cold and sweating, uncomfortably hot beneath my covers.

It scares me.

The 'Y' Factor

I hate everything with a Y chromosome right now... Dogs, cats, that chipper little bird chirping outside my window. In fact, I just went out and bought a magnifying glass so that when I'm in a particularly bad pique of rage, I can go outside and incinerate bugs that I think are behaving in a particularly male fashion.

There's something empowering about anger. I've wavered between depression and anger for quite some time now, and I always feel so much stronger, so much better about myself when the angry phase hits. Unfortunately, I'm not an angry person by nature, and so I'm not able to sustain the anger that gives me a much needed respite from my woes.

So, being the typical person who lacks a Y chromosome, I'm going to go drown my sorrows in some cake batter ice cream and then force myself to go out and be social. I don't imagine that plan of attack will work well, but anything's better than sitting in my room alone, with no one to notice my tears, wondering what's wrong with me, why I'm not good enough.

MIssed Planes and Just Plain Misery

Sooo, I missed my flight back to Seattle on Sunday night. I was going from memory because Christie's printer didn't work, and I didn't have my itinerary with me. I had Laura drop me off at the terminal I thought I needed, which actually turned out to be the terminal farthest away from the one I needed. By the time I figured out my mistake (almost immediately after Laura drove off) and the shuttle got me to the correct terminal, it was too late to check my bag, so they scheduled me on the next flight to Seattle, which was 4 hours from then. Dumbass Extraordinaire, at your service!

It actually worked out pretty well for me. I managed to get a hold of Laura before she had driven too far away, and she swung around and picked me up again. We ended up at a sports bar, watching baseball, feasting on a variety of appetizers, and eating a few Vicodin from her stash as dessert. This, coupled with great conversation about boys, movies and traveling made for a very relaxing afternoon. It made me even sadder to say goodbye to my new friend the second time around, but I was very grateful for the extra time I was able to spend with her.

The first part of the flight, from Dallas to Las Vegas was heavenly. I had a window seat, the whole row to myself, and no one in front or behind me. I was delighted that I had missed my earlier flight, and settled in to enjoy this peaceful haven that is so rarely found on cross country flights. The segment from Las Vegas to Seattle was a completely different story... A special hell reserved for particularly bad sinners in need of horribly creative punishments. I'm still trying to figure out what I did to merit such a horrible experience. There was guy in front of me that kept bouncing in his chair and causing his seat to hit my knees, screaming baby next to him, and screaming baby's uncaring mom who would only try to quiet down screaming baby after he had made shrill, prolonged noises for more than a minute. To complement bouncing guy and screaming baby was kicking toddler behind me...Fantastic. The best though, was unable to stop coughing lady who sat right next to me, and couldn't figure out how to cough without making the whole row of seats shake. During the brief moments when she did manage to find a moment of peace from coughing, she shattered our respite by whining about how much she was coughing...Oh, and the window was placed juuuuuust so I couldn't lean my head up against the wall because it had that little ledge that dug into my face. To top it all off, the head flight attendant liked to hear himself talk, so he kept getting on the speaker and babbling on about NOTHING! So basically, any time I would start to drift off to sleep, any one of these lovely traveling companions, or a combination of any of them would launch into a torturous, cacophonous ballet of bouncing, screaming, coughing, kicking, whining, shaking, well, you get the picture.

This was all going on from midnight until 3 am. I had to be to class at 8 am the next morning. No problem! Seasoned travelers understand that these minor pitfalls come with the territory of vacationing, and only add to the wonderful stories you're able to tell upon your return. Ha.

The Good Samaritan Strikes Again

This morning I had a flat tire. Some people might have been a bit upset about this, but I thought it was raaaaad. Woohoo, I get to change a tire, I actually get to do something real this morning instead of sitting in class talking about what other people have done! Granted changing a tire isn't going to change the world, but that really wasn't the point. With great enthusiasm I pulled into the nearest gas station and excitedly began uncovering the floor panel that hides the spare tire marked 'for temporary use only'. Awesome, I hauled that sucker out, now to find the jack. Uh-oh, a good Samaritan is approaching, and I know what's coming.

"Excuse me, do you need some help?"

"Uh, no thanks, I think I'm fine" I smiled and went back to searching the back of my car.

"It's no problem, just let me run my car through the car wash and I"ll come back and change your tire for you. Just 5 minutes, give me 5 minutes." I had flashbacks to a scary cab ride in London at the mention of 'just 5 minutes', but that's a whole different story.

"No really, I think I can handle it, but if you want to come back after your car wash to make sure I haven't done anything egregiously wrong, that would be wonderful" I smiled sweetly.

Somehow by this point he'd managed to nudge me out from behind the back of my car and was now rummaging around looking for my jack. "Ah, here it is!"

Dammit Dammit Dammit!

Now the gas station attendant comes walking over.

"Flat tire?" he asks?

"Yup" I reply flatly, thinking 'Way to state the obvious, Buddy'

Now I'm standing there watching two grown men pretending to be on a racecar pit crew, feeling like a kid let loose in a candy store only to discover all the treats are vomit flavored Bertie Botts jelly beans. I'd been sooooo looking forward to changing the tire myself, so I was frantically trying to think of a way to make them leave. For a split second I thought of grabbing the black feather boa that had been sitting in the back of my car for ages and garroting the well dressed man, thinking it would scare away the gas station attendant and leave me a small window of time to change the tire before the police showed up. I quickly dismissed the idea because 1) That would be a horrible way to repay their kindness and 2) A flat tire just isn't worth going to jail for.

The well dressed man worked quickly and adeptly while the gas station attendant hovered around him giving him advice and cheering him on. I stood off to the side trying not to look crestfallen and feeling guilty because I was not more grateful.

Within 5 minutes the tire is changed and the well dressed man stands up with a very pleased look on his face. Several things ran through my head at that point, it should have been me standing up with a very pleased look on my face, how many tires would I have to change before I would be able to get it done that quickly, and how would I ever be able to change them when no one ever lets me get past the point of getting the spare tire out of the back of the car.

"Boy, that almost really sucked for you! And you didn't even have to get your hands dirty!" he said

I thanked him, as I looked down at my hands, made dirty from wresting the spare tire from out of the back of the car thinking about how much fun it would have been to play with the jack and the lugnuts. Seriously, it's just fun to say the word 'lugnuts' let alone getting to play with them. And getting to jack the car up is the closest I'm ever going to get to possessing super human strength. I"m a ninja, not a superhero after all.

I know this sounds like I'm ungrateful, but that's really not the case. It's nice to know that chivalry is not dead, and that there are still people out there that will stop to help complete strangers, but why didn't they let me play too? I think I'm just going to keep a set of overalls in the back of the car from now on, so the next time I get a flat tire I can put them on and maybe if I pretend hard enough the good Samaritans will let me be on the pit crew with them.

Yellow Jesus, Western Midgets and Other Unexpected Surprises

Let me begin by prefacing this evening with how horrible the day started out. As hard as I tried, I could not for the life of me fall asleep the night before, but was too sick to get out of bed and actually accomplish anything. By 6am, I figured I should walk the dogs and get it out of the way in case sleep should decide to grace me with its presence in the near future. Once I had accomplished this small but very important task, I crawled back in bed, only to discover that not only could I not sleep, but was nauseous as well. Yay! 4 hours of throwing up every 30 minutes!!!

What a way to start off your Saturday morning. However, I was determined that I would get well and be ready for tonight, because tonight, was The Terror Of Tiny Town extravaganza at Julie and Brent's. For those of you that don't know about this movie, it's almost impossible to describe its pure awesomeness. Think old western, made in the late 1930's, with singing cowboys, brothels, barber shop quartets...But then add into the mix that everyone in the movie is a midget. Yes, you read that right, a musical western made with a completely midget/dwarf cast, and they even use Shetland ponies for their method of transportation and to draw the tiny stage coaches. I don't want to ruin it for anyone, but they even manage to throw in a penguin. I think they just searched the movie lots daily to see what random item/animal/person they could throw in just to keep things more interesting than they already were. But, I digress.

Tonight, Brent, Julie and I were going to watch this masterpiece of western cinema, and celebrate by having an all miniature food feast for dinner. This was something that I just could not miss, I would never be able to forgive myself. So, by 3:30, I had dragged myself out of bed, showered and forced myself to get dressed. I'd even tried to drink some Starbucks chai tea, but that was not helpful, in fact, quite the opposite. At 4:45 I headed to J&B's house, Bagel Bites in hand (miniature pizzas!), ready for a night of rip roaring midget fun. I felt pale, I looked pale, and my stomach, well, let's just say my stomach was not in a good mood. However, once I arrived, I got caught up in the glory that was our miniature meal. Besides the Bagel Bites, we had cocktail weenies, miniature corn dogs, 3 different types of miniature quiches, mini candy bars, and magical mini pop sickles! Now, I should remind you that it is now past 5:30 pm and I have not eaten anything yet today, but proceeded to gorge myself on this mighty feast of mini food.

On top of that, I decided that to rehydrate myself, I should drink as many mini champagne flutes of Jolt energy/caffeine drink as I could pour down my gullet in quick succession (no one has ever accused me of being terribly bright). Wow, I get woozy just thinking of nastiness coursing through my system at this point... But wait! It gets better. Julie pours me what I think is another energy drink...Rock Star 21. Yes, those of you out there that are perceptive will have picked up on the number 21 right away. In my preprocessed, fat laden mini food induced psychosis though, I missed it. You see, Rock Star 21 is very similar to Sparks. Yessss , basically beer with a whole shitload of caffeine and sugar added just to fuck you up that extra little bit. Have I told you this was the only sustenance my body had received so far today? And that I was basically running on 2 hours of sleep?

By this point we're half way through Tiny Town, and I'm simply losing my mind at how wonderfully surreal the evening is turning out. Of course, not being one to become complacent, I suggested Whippets would really get the night going. Oh boy, howdy! Julie, being my doppelganger, meaning she'll pick up the gauntlet of any challenge thrown her way, decides she's going to find someplace for us to acquire the lovely, lovely little nitrous canisters at this late point in the evening. She decides our best bet is the sex shop down the street from their place, so we pause the movie, jump in the car, and end up at a sex shop with mannequins with the largest breasts I have ever seen in my life. I would have thought they were padded if half the boob hadn't been hanging out from under the slinky little lingerie numbers the mannequins were modeling with such ennui. I wish I'd had my camera, but I don''t think they would have appreciated me bringing my digital camera into their Little Shop O' Sin. However, fate was shining on us, and this lovely adult store had just started caring whippets and balloons 2 weeks earlier! Joy of joys, Julie had achieved her goal! WE HAD WHIPPETS!

Of course the store sells the nitrous and the balloons, but no cracker...No problemo, got one of those at my place! Just have to get the ex hubby on the phone and figure out where he left it! So, while Julie is driving us back to my place and I'm on the phone trying to discern the location of the precious nitrous canister cracker, I vaguely make out J&B discussing Yellow Jesus, more about him later. We arrive back at my condo, the attack pugs, as usual, jump up and bark at us after we've made enough noise to startle someone in the middle of the mosh pit at a Slip Knot concert and sustained that level for a good 5 minutes. Panic! The cracker is not where it was supposed to be!!! No problem I say, maybe it's in the coffee table, not in the desk as I'd been advised. At this point Brent feels it is necessary to inform me that I'm not the type of person that should have lots of drawers, cubby holes and just general places to stash things, well, because I will use them. Thanks Brent. After some minor digging through the coffee table, the cracker is found, success is ours!!!

The lure of Tiny Town is calling us, so we jump back in the car and head back to their place. This is the point where they start to fill me in about Yellow Jesus, and their wish to "acquire" him. Initially, my mind conjured up pictures of a manger scene, with a dimly lit baby Jesus in yellow robes. No. Yellow Jesus is a banner for the ********* ******* Korean Church. It is, of course, a yellow banner, mostly in Korean with minimal English on it, 2 lambs, and a very large Yellow Jesus. Ohhhh, now it was my turn to be the driving force behind the corruption of the evening. You see, you can't tempt me with something like that and expect me to forget about it...

So, back to their place where Brent grabs his knife and backpack, I grab a sharp pair of scissors, and Julie plans our get away route. Now, let me explain about the placement of Yellow Jesus. He's tied to a fence on a corner of a VERY busy street. Right underneath a streetlamp. With a stop light at that intersection. Minor details I say! Brent and I ready ourselves, we turn the corner, we're poised to jump out of the car and start cutting...Wait! What the fuck is that car doing turning behind us and stopping! Keep driving, keep driving! HOLY SHIT! They're having a full on buffet in the fucking church right now at 10pm! Julie's nerves wavered, she suggested coming back later on in the night. I refused! We were there, we were ready, I didn't think we would have had the nerve to come back.

We drove around the block, but this point the other car had left. Brent and I again readied ourselves to jump out of the car when someone walked out of the damn buffet they're having in the there. Shit! Pretend like you're looking at a map! We're parked, with the dome light on, randomly shuffling through whatever book, paper, bag, anything we can find, pretending to be lost. Ok, once he's around the corner, jump out and go go go!!!! Things started off fine, except my scissors weren't sharp enough! And as soon as we jumped out and started to cut, another car turned the corner and pulled up in front of the church! "Brent! My scissors aren't working" 'Just cut cut cut!!!" It's ok, his knife was sharp, he managed to cut through 3 of the ties, and I scissored through one, but the point is, YELLOW JESUS WAS OURS!

Now we just had to escape from the prying eyes of the very suspicious car that had just parked in front of us. "Drive Drive Drive!!! Just turn, just turn, no right! RIGHT! Now Left!" Julie took the longest back way to their place possible...Seriously, we were 5 blocks from their house and it took us 15 minutes to get back. The whole time, Brent and I nervously watched out the rear window, trying to convince ourselves that even if caught we would only be facing a vandalism charge, how bad could that be. Of course, no one was following us. The driver of the other car probably didn't even have time to figure out what was going on, he probably just realized whatever it was, it was sketchy. We returned triumphant to their apartment! Brent withdrew Yellow Jesus from his backpack, and we proceeded to try to figure out how to make Yellow Jesus actually look Asian. Despite our best efforts, by the time we were finished, he still only looked like a yellow toned Jesus wearing a lot of eye makeup. It was still a wildly successful evening.

Whirlwinds, hurricanes and a lot of bluster

Tuesday Night:

I was packed, had checked in online, and made my bed so I could slide into its familiar, comforting embrace upon my return, and now I was antsy. I didn't want to stay at home, counting away the minutes until my impending departure, but really had no where else to go. Fuck it, I'll start driving towards North Seattle, someone will have to call me back by the time I've braved I90 traffic and made it to I5... Wrong. After calling everyone who lives in north Seattle and the surrounding area multiple times, I was still left driving around with no place in particular to go. Dammit! Why didn't I take the wardrobe box out of the back of the car before I came up here, it completely blocks my rear view... Oh yeah, it's heavy and I'm weak and girlie. Fine, I'll take it back to , Issaquah to hell with gas prices.

Just as I turn onto I90 from I5, not 1 but 3 people call me. Welllll, too bad, too late now, but I'll see you in about an hour. Oh and Greg, I'm sleeping over at your place tonight, just so you know. Oh, by the way, Kris, we're hanging out tonight at Greg's, just so you know.

Issaquah: Alrighty, I've backed into the garage, so far so good. Popped the trunk... Check. Pull on the wardrobe box... Slide, thunk. Ouch! Damaged... Toe. Bruises. Crash. Yup, that went as planned. Awesome. Back in the car and back towards Seattle.

I was quiet, I wanted to cry. I was certainly not looking forward to the 7 hour plane ride to dreary Florida and having to deal with a hostile army of estranged family. Hurricane Ike was even afraid of the scene waiting for me there and had decided to bypass the state altogether and head for Texas instead. Lucky bastards. 3 tropical storms and/or hurricanes in the vicinity and I can't even get one to come visit me in Florida as a distraction. Really? Yes, really Jaime, no hurricanes for you.

After picking up Kris, we headed to Panera Bread for a late lunch. Mmmm, creamy tomato soup in a sourdough bread bowl. The day was looking up, tomato soup makes everything better, much like bacon or chai tea. Or monkeys, but they're not for eating. Still sad, but talk of books and movies and life in general was starting to make me feel better. After much dallying, we decided it was time to invade Greg's, so off we went.

Right, everything is unloaded and sitting nicely in Greg's apartment.

Is your printer hooked up? I need to print out my boarding pass...

Riiiighhhht... About that, it doesn't actually work any more, sorry.

I look at Kris. Forget it, he hasn't had a working printer... Well ever. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Ring... Ring...

This is Justin.

Do you have a printer that works? I need to print some stuff out before I leave.

Sure, put Greg on first, I want to bequeath some stuff to him.

Fine. Babble.

I'm heading over.

I get to the place that had been home but is no longer my safe haven. Goddammit! I hate guru gadget guys who have two monitors set up with one mouse that runs back and forth between them. Freaks me out every damn time. Print damn you print! Justin is rustling around, putting together some stuff for me to take back to Greg's.

Really? You're giving him the Venezuela picture from Myles?

Well, yeah.

But it was a gift to both of us!

Well, I think Myles will be hurt if I didn't keep it.

What!?! You're giving it to Greg!

Yeah, but, he's only holding it for me.

Whatever.

Oh, can you cancel the cable and internet while you're here? It's in your name.

Fine. But I need to do this quick, I want to get back.

Just my luck... My representative is named Charity, and she's a talker.

Blah blah blah cancel blah blah blah I'm not paying attention blah blah blah. She mentions baseball, which catches my attention. Somehow the Yankees are brought up and I find myself blurting out, "Fucking Yankees!" I can't help it, it's like a Pavlovian response.

"Well, the Yankees aren't that bad"

Wow, I didn't think you could plummet any further in my opinion at this stage, but you've just sunk to new and undiscovered depths. I disagree firmly yet politely.

"Well, what about the Stellers?" Wow. Really? Wrong sport.

"Ok, I'll give you that one" I grit through my teeth, anything to make this phone call end.

Fine, done, canceled. Have a good evening!

Now I'm in a mood, a don't look at me or I"ll rip your testicles out through your ear type of mood. Ok Justin, grab the stuff I'm taking over to Greg's, I want to go now.

Um, I'm still getting it together.

What the hell were you doing while I was listening to Charity yammer away about sweet fuck all?

Ummmm, I don't know
*&%$^#&* &^^%$)*%%$ $#!@@#$%

I'm going to go move the car around front, I'll meet you there.

5 minutes pass.

Ring... Ring... Are you going to be down anytime soon?

Well you took off before I was ready.

I ASKED YOU IF YOU WANTED ME TO MOVE THE CAR AROUND FRONT.

Well I have all this stuff.

Do you want me to come up and help you carry it down? This said in my, "I'm talking to a retarded 4 year old" voice.

That would be awesome.

WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY THAT I screamed in my head.

Trip, crash, bruises, bang, OUCH. Fuck fuck fuck.

What's your problem?

All I wanted to do was come over and print out my fucking boarding pass and now I've been turned into cable canceling messenger girl. I JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO GREG'S!!!

Thwap. He opens the hatchback and starts throwing stuff in.

Just don't talk he snaps.

I'll snap you I think.

Everything is loaded.

Bye.

Bye.

Angry music. Driving fast. Tears of absolute frustration and blind anger.

Pull into a spot outside of Greg's place.

Pull out my phone to call the boys to come help me haul in all this crap.

New Text Message Received From: Justin

Great, what now.

Thanks for canceling the cable and bringing all this stuff over to Greg's.

Sigh.

Sorry for terrorizing you. Xx

Greg and Kris come out and we bring everything inside. The plant I'm carrying bites me twice, drawing blood the second time. I try to set it on fire with my Eye Lasers of Doom. Hmm, haven't quite perfected that skill yet.

New Text Message Received from: Justin

Haha, ok.

I want to cry again, this time from a place deep in my soul that I'm still afraid to investigate.