June 30th, 2006

livejournal satchel

(no subject)

it came to my realization last night that for this entire quarter, friday is going to be the ONLY day that i can fully sleep in, the only day that i can allow my body as much slumber as it requests.

i realized this as i was lying in bed at 530 am, unable to sleep.

i went to sleep around 11, looking forward to a night filled with odd dreams and innocent slumber.

- i was kept awake from midnight to 2 am while a group of people were setting off fireworks in the park directly behind my apartment window.

- i was kept awake from 4 to 6 am from roommates slamming doors.

now, they weren't SLAMMING them, per se. you see, when they leave their bedroom, if they allow it to close by itself, it closes with a resounding BOOM, much like it had been mini-slammed. whenever this happens, it completely resounds in my room across the hall, almost as if they had slammed my own door, or if it had come from within my room. what need on earth they had in order to go in and out of their bedroom THAT MANY TIMES within those hours is beyond me. i realized they had guests here (which is also a mini peeve, but i won't go into that now), which wasn't the issue - i could barely hear the guests, but whenever i would FINALLY be almost to sleep again, i would hear the door BOOM shut, not only waking, but also scaring the bejeezers out of me.

i was on the verge of actually getting up and YELLING (yes, actually YELLING), which is a major feat for me, because once i'm in bed, it will take a LOT to get me back out of bed, such is the laziness that smarms over me once i'm under my GIR comforter. it also takes me a lot to actually get to the point where i'm angry enough to yell. and i mean a LOT. (which is also why i didn't call the police for the fireworks people. instead, i lay there and mentally proclaimed "YOU WATCH OUT!! YOU'RE SO LUCKY I DON'T HAVE MY PHONE UP HERE!!! AND THAT I DON'T KNOW THE NUMBER TO THE POLICE DEPARTMENT THAT ISN'T 911!!! YOU ARE SO LUCKY!!" so instead of getting up and actually doing something about it, i mumbled evil words like 'jerks' and 'hose-wads' under my breath, as i tried to console myself with the thought that either a) one of the neighbors certainly would take care of this for me, and b) if i actually went to find the number and actually called the police, surely the hosers would run out of fireworks before the police ever arrived.

which is what i said even right up to the 2 hour mark.

so i made up for my interrupted night of sleep by sleeping until 1130, much later than i normally would do, waking with not really enough time to accomplish anything before having to leave for work.

but after realizing that fridays are my only mornings of Perfect Sleep In, methinks i'm going to become MUCH bitchier about it being interrupted.
disco star

(no subject)

i love Supergrass videos. you should, too.

dreams last night of working at a store. Better Than Ezra came in, and I kept trying to aggressively sell them appliances. and meat.

time to go to work. meh. if anyone is bored and feels like purchasing overpriced office supplies, you know where to find me.

(no subject)

home from work, home from work.

i desperately need to do my math homework, since it's due on - gulp - monday. i also have about 200 medical terms i need to memorize for this wednesday's test. but the math comes first. or something.

freaking algebra, anyhow.

i keep meaning to tell you stories of people that i have been running into at the bus stop, so i suppose i'll start with Meth-head Martha.

I'm waiting for the bus down the hill from my college, in front of the McDonalds there, lost in the music of my mp3 player. I see this woman who looked like a very stereotypical meth head meandering around the corner. she looks as if she was very pretty once, but her skin is sagging, her face sunken, her teeth missing. i see her pouring something into a mcdonald's cup, and then scoosh the can into the bushes. i step to the side to see if it truly was what i thought it was. Yup! a 211 Steel Reserve. (for those of you not living in the Pacific Northwest, Steel Reserve is a cheap arse beer that has a higher alcohol content than normal beer and tastes roughly like rusty piss.) Martha attempted to stand there non-chalantly and almost succeeded. she would stand stock-still for a moment.... then suddenly weave over to the side, sloshing her beer all over the sidewalk. she kept sipping it while we waited for the bus, right before she would slosh it again. i saw her talking to herself, but thought nothing of it.

i turned away from Martha to look up the street in the opposite direction from where the bus normally comes. when i turned back around, i saw Martha had snuck up behind me and had her face almost hovering over my backpack. when i turned, she jumped back and looked as if she were concentrating on something somewhere else, as if she hadn't just been all up in my bid-ness. oookay.

i take a few steps away from Martha and continue to wait for the bus.

Meth-head Martha then walks to the other side of me and starts talking to a guy that always seems to be waiting for the bus at the same time as me, no matter what time of the day i am waiting to catch that bus. he has long, wavy brown hair down his back... and a long, wavy brown beard down his front to match. he always carries various umbrellas with him, but they're not pedestrian umbrellas, they're the type of umbrellas that screw to patio furniture.

i see the bus pulling up, so i turn off my mp3 player (i have this weird 'thing' that i have to be able to hear everything around me when i climb onto the bus, in case the driver asks me something or i run into someone i know, etc.), and realize that Martha has come back up to my side and was hissing viciously to me:

"you deserve to diiiiiie. YOU DESERVE TO DIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE....."

then turns to climb onto the bus, but is detered by the bus driver making her wait for an elderly man to get off the bus. she starts dancing around and waving her hands at everyone to move back "oh, watch out now, here comes GRANDPA, trying to get off the bus! screw us for wanting to get on! God forbid we need to GO somewhere, come ON grandpa!" then hurries on board.

i climb onto the bus (or would it be 'into'?) behind her, show the driver my pass and mouth the words "she's REALLY drunk" accompanied by my right hand yoinking up and down and making the international sign for drinking. he mouthed the words just as largely back to me "i know."

(no subject)

i'm addicted to watching random stuff on YouTube.com. i almost peed my pants when i just watched an interview with OK Go, and they talked about the glockenspeil and how they need it (aka the 'rockenspeil'.)... um.. remember a couple of months ago when i dreamed that i crashed their practice and was going to steal their ideas, mainly one involving the use of a glockenspeil, though i hadn't heard that word IRL since like the fifth grade? holy fuck. get the fuck out. i used to have psychic dreams all the time, but they always pertained to music. good to see i haven't lost 'it'. to make matters even MORE interesting, their glock is the SAME exact instrument i have been chosen to play in Doormat (aka 'the bells'). dood.

IIII'M certainly highly entertained by this.

also, here's the Doodlez cartoon series thingie that my icon in my last coupla posts is from. not the same ep, but the same general series. i loves it, i do.