Arrggh! I HATE doing Windows Updates PASSIONATELY.  ¶ 4/19/2002 09:40:00 AM

  Apparently, I wasn't the only one having an "off" day yesterday. Courtney called me at about 9:30 last night, just after Ryan and I had settled into pjs, a movie, and snugglies on the couch. Her entertainment center (this green wooden hulking wardrobe thing- quite nice, but quite large) was jammed half in her bedroom doorway, and it was blocking both the door to her bedroom and her office. Ryan and I went over, amidst much grumbling, to help her move it. The girl had decided that Thursday night was a good time to move the contents of her bedroom into the living room, and vice-versa.

Court has these mad fits of If-I-don't-rearrange-all-my-furniture-NOW-I-shall-go-insane. It happens about once a month. Ryan was stunned with the whole thing. I was mildly annoyed at having to leave the sanctuary of my living, but I'm used to Courtney and her oddities. They are pretty cute, actually. I did, though, make her promise that she would not, under any circumstances, attempt to move the sofa into the bedroom without help.  ¶ 4/19/2002 09:04:00 AM

  Today's Lesson: Don't Assume People Know What You Are Talking About

A real life conversation:

Bus Mik: you ready yo?
AliciaKathleen2: yeah.
Bus Mik: k
Bus Mik: I am parked down here. So you wanna just meet at brannons?
Bus Mik: Or are you taking it elsewhere
AliciaKathleen2: I'm taking it to that place out old 7
Bus Mik: k
Bus Mik: meet you there, then

Brannons is an auto repair shop out on Old 7, the place where I always take my car when it goes kaput. There is another place down the road, some random Muffler place.

Inflection is important, and lacking in IM.

"AliciaKathleen2: I'm taking it to that place out old 7." Inflect it one way, and it means, "No, you fucking Dufus. That other place. It's on Old 7."

Inflect it another way, and it means "I don't know the name of the place. But YOU know what I'm talking about. It's on Old 7... you go there...."

I feel like I've been transported into an alternate reality in which my life is an episode of Mr. Bean, or something equally ridiculous. I can only wonder what's next in this funny-to-everyone-but-ME (until tomorrow, when I'll probably think it's riot) sequence of events.
  ¶ 4/18/2002 01:20:00 PM

  I wish I didn't have to be here today. Grrr.  ¶ 4/18/2002 10:14:00 AM

  I am 23 years old. And I am losing my mind.

I took some movies back to Blockbuster before I came to work this morning. But when I was getting out the car to come to work, I realized that the 3 movies were still sitting on the passenger seat. I went to blockbuster. I got out of the car. I picked up the movies. What the hell did I do? Did I put something else in the drop box, or did I just wander up to the door and turn around and come back? I don't remember. I still have my purse, so I can't think of anything I could have dropped in by mistake.

I know that I'm absent-minded and flaky sometimes. I have a tendency, when driving, to just snap into auto-pilot. But sometimes the destination retrieved from the database that is my brain is completely random, and not where I was meant to be going. I can forgive that. But this is new, and this is a little too much. Am I overly-stressed out? Have I been getting enough sleep? I think I have. I have been less busy lately than usual. In fact, this week I've pretty much been home every night except for last night. There is all the excitement with Puck, and I guess that's probably it. But Jeez. What's going to become of me when I turn 50?   ¶ 4/18/2002 09:34:00 AM

  The ass has a lot of criminal toenails. These machines are really slovenly, because they're 78 years old. It's time to smack them, but nobody knows how. If you want a mischievous machine, stop by! We'll continuously give you one of these grotesque moonpies.



  ¶ 4/17/2002 02:28:00 PM

  Puck had another siezure last night. The last two times there were dubious circumstances. The first time he fell off the couch and hit his neck on a table. The second time, he was in the bedroom and there was a cat... anything is possible. Ryan and I were holding onto the insane hope that perhaps two entirely unrelated freak accidents caused him to go into seizures and it just happened to be a month a part. No such luck. Last night, he was napping on the living room floor, right next to our feet.

I'm going to let Ryan call the vet. Last time I was the one who did all the talking and whatnot, and Ryan kept asking me what he said, what did such-n-such mean, etc., and then he went and looked up idiopathic epilepsy. I think if Ryan is the one who talks the vet, he'll feel better about it. It's not that he doesn't trust me, I think he just needs to be involved. He's pretty torn up about this whole thing, and I hope that the vet will make him feel better about it. Because there isn't anything we can do except deal with it. He Definately has epilepsy. He is most likely going to go on medication, because the siezures seem to be getting closer together. It's only been about 3 weeks since the last one.

For more information on Canine Epilepsy, go here.   ¶ 4/17/2002 09:35:00 AM

  I dumped every quiz tag I bookmarked into the QA blogger today. Except for a few from sites that were no longer available. Please know that I did not take all those today, because even I am not that bad. Plus, at work.

I helped my boss grade her tests today. I enjoy grading tests immensely. I don't know why. It's very trance-y. You get into a rhythm, spotting keywords and phrases. Every now and then, you get some weirdo who answers a question completely inside outwards, and you have to establish a new rhythm. But that keeps it interesting. Plus, I like writing comments. It makes me feel important. Red pen and all.

Oh, and passport pictures. I am renewing my passport and I also needed pics to submit to the Amazing Race. But Alicia already talked about that. So I guess I don't have to. Although I have Harrison Ford smirk on one set. Despite the rest of the picture being awful, I'm kind of proud of that.

Ok, Five O'Clock. You should hurry up and come. I want to go home.   ¶ 4/16/2002 04:04:00 PM

  Now that the weather has decided to become Hot and stay that way, the shoes have come off. It's straight up flip-flops and slides now until October or so, maybe even November. My nice black slides from last year fell to pieces, and all I have right now that is work-worthy are these hot pink flip-flops. They're cute, but they're... well, hot pink. And hot pink doesn't exactly go with everything I own (almost, though. There's a lot of black and grey in my wardrobe). So I have these shoes in my head that I want. And I can't find them anywhere.

What I want:

Flip-flops, with a black leather thong. Slighty square in the toe. Substantial soles, but not platform-y. No skid.

Now, is that too much to ask? Why can't I find these shoes? I don't understand. I am picky, I will admit that. But this shoe that I have dreamed up in my head is really quite simple. I can find similar shoes. But maybe they are too smooth on the bottom, and I'm afraid I'll bust my ass. Or the toe is too pointy or round. I have to have shoes that go out a bit at the toe, or I feel like I look like I might topple over. I got pretty big hips, see. And the thighs are pretty sturdy. But from the knee down, I have chicken-legs. No calves to speak of. So if the shoes are too narrow, then it makes me look off kilter. Hence the widening at the toe. But no platform. Because I'm plenty tall already. If I get much taller I think Alicia will just up and quit talking to me altogether. Dammit.

I must have shoes. I haven't bought new summer shoes, and the weather is screaming at me that the time has come.   ¶ 4/16/2002 10:38:00 AM