June 26
I didn't mean to turn this journal into a once every two weeks thing, but really, I try and wait for something to OCCUR before I write. I understand that a lot of you LESSER WONDERFUL (heh, lesser wonderful. I go to community college!) journal keeping people don't abide by my rule, but YOU SHOULD. That's right. YOU SHOULD. You heard it.
Have you ever had a time in your life when so very little was going on, having someone dust you off would not be a weird request? That's where I am. I'm doing you all a favor by not trying to describe for you, in excruciating detail, maybe even including photos, of what I've been (or, more specicially NOT BEEN) doing. (Look out, Harry Potter!!)
My car--my almost brand new car--purchased in DECEMBER--has been in and out of the dealer FIVE TIMES for the same problem. The 5th time might not have infuriated me as much as it did, if, after the 4th time, they hadn't told me that the problem was that I'd left the GAS CAP loose (which I hadn't. Talk about dimissive). When I called for the 5th time, I expected a little ass kissing. I got none. I really like this dealer, so the whole situation was beginning to wear me down. I called Volkswagen directly, and told them my sad story. About 10 minutes later, I called the dealer back, and finally I got the ass kiss I wanted. I dropped my car off, they loaned me a car and I was happy.
I was, that is, until I realized that I liked the loaner car more than my own car. Isn't that just like life? To be fair to my own car, I didn't actually like the CAR more than my car, but the ENGINE. They lent me an '02 Jetta with a turbo diesel, and that thing was fast fast. I mean, my Golf is a poky little pony in comparison. Also, the loaner car wasn't coated in dog fur.
Damn them for fixing my problem!
So, I wrote about how Nicole and I are going to see Christina Whatsit (last time, i looked up the spelling of her name. This time, you all know who I mean, right?) and Justin Whosit. Well, the next in the list of Terrible Concerts We Want To Attend is, obviously, Mariah Carey. Now wait, wait! Before you question the motive, understand that the show is at Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. A kook playing in a city filled with the insane. What could be better!? I told Nicole that I'd scream out "GLITTER RULED, MARIAH!!!" if I thought it would help our chances of getting to hang out with her. Sadly, I don't think it'll matter.
Does the fact that I think I'm going to see Radiohead again balance this all out? Radiohead twice vs. Christina/Justin & Mariah. I think it just might!!
Next week is my cousin's wedding. I'm sure I mentioned this--Nick and I are flying WITH ANGELO AND ELEANOR out to Indiana. Control your jealousy! Indiana on the 4th of July! Flying with ANGELO AND ELEANOR!!! Now is the time for people who have any spare valium to offer them to me, thanks.
I briefly touched on this, but I'm really sort of fed up with the class I'm taking. The drive out to Dildo tonight--to SUBMIT A QUIZ I DID THIS MORNING--is really, really dumb. However, I don't quite feel like asking her whether or not it's okay for me to just take the rest of the class as an online thing. She stressed in the beginning that it was NOT AN ONLINE class, but seriously, I can't figure out why it isn't. When I say that I will be there for 5 minutes today, I'm probably rounding UP to the next minute. Here is the timeline for tonight:
5:00-6:00: Walk to car, drive to class. Park car. Walk to classroom.
6:01-6:01:45: Sit, turn on computer, log into school's website.
6:02-6:02:50: Upload quiz.
6:03: Leave.
Yeah, I can't wait till it's over. Ugh. Know what our final is? Write a memo. A MEMO, people. Someone in the class chose that (she gave a choice of what thing we wanted to write of all of the stuff we'd written already). Know why this guy chose the memo? Because it was the shortest.
Not to knock you if you went to Community College, but GOOD LORD. My final is "write a memo"? If college had been like this, I might--MIGHT have gone to class, not spent all of my time stupidly drunk, and done a whole hell of a lot better. Maybe not. Probably not. I've gotta be me.
Finally, the summer is here. My policy statement, as you all might imagine, is this: The Hotter The Better. There is no amount of hot you can throw at me that I can't take. I won't even wear short sleeves! Yesterday, I ate lunch at my desk and decided I'd go outside and read for an hour. I positioned myself on the ground, took out my sunglasses and sat. In my black pants and long sleeved shirt. Crazy or just in love with summer? YOU TELL ME.
Okay, really--wasn't this enough to prove that this is a not much going on time in my life?! Let me close with a joke, so you don't feel totally cheated:
Q: What's the easiest way to count a herd of cattle ?
A: Use a cowculator!
Har har!
I'll be back, and not nearly so dumb, very soon.
Oh, shit! I just remembered! I never told you all that Johnny Shutup (if you don't know, I'm not reminding you...) is a GIRL. Heh! (ps: No, she didn't grow tits, Smartguy.)
the other day - home - mail - oh, you know...