So i’m sitting here sulking wondering how the hell I went 4 hours over my allowed minutes. I have a pretty good guess. I started going over my minutes after Uncle Daddy died, cingular wouldn’t give me a break, so…… I’m sitting here eating crackers and cheese…no I’m not drinking wine because in a couple of hours i’ll be sitting among thirty kindergarteners, *Now that ya mention it…* Instead i’m drinking cranberry grape juice (100%) juice at that.
There…^%&%*^%*& …I’m better now…
First let me start off by telling you that this is a really petty thing to ask help on, but I just recieved my cell phone bill and there’s a mistake on it. It says I owe 190 dollars! I looked at the bill and sometime or other my phone connected itself to the internet and stayed connected to the internet for 244 minutes and at .45cents per minute that adds up to about 109.80. All i’m asking of you right now is to have cingular find it in their hearts to wipe that ugly charge off my bill…because the website that I supposedly connected to was: N368w0Was02124a;lsd…..
Thanks so much. Tell everyone up there I said hello.
Valentine’s day…..*blah* What is the point of Valentine’s Day? I need someone to explain this to me. It’s really just a day that EVERY STORE ON THE PLANET talks about and makes into such a big deal, then everyone starts thinking of all the romantic things that can happen on Valentine’s Day…..and are let down. For most people it’s just a depressing day filled with candy, singing roses, and bears full of fluff! Who needs it.
On the other hand my boyfriend got me a cool thing for my iPod. *love ya Colb* I’m taking Colby on a train ride and out to dinner, should be fun.
I have successfully made it through half of valentine’s day, the last half of it i’ll be at work. HOW ROMANTIC!
Come by and see me.
My little sister’s birthday was on February 11th. She’s 19 now! I feel very very old! She’s getting married soon and going to be having a baby. Time passes way too quickly! For her birthday my parents took all of us *me, Stori, Kyle, Colby* out to eat dinner at the Golden Corral, or the GC as Colby likes to call it, just so happened that it was Steak night. It was sooo good!
My little sister is VERY picky when it comes to eating everything has to be so-so nothing touching …blah blah blah. Well my dad had got some steak and my sister asked him how he likes his steak-he told her medium. *I prefer well-done* As soon as he tells her this she jumps up and hurls her pregnant body towards the man cutting the steak. He tells her 4 minutes and we’ll have some out here. She waits and then goes back 4 minutes later, asks her how she wants it-“medium,” she says. He hands her her steak and she comes back to the table.
IT WAS STILL MOOING! The poor thing cried every time she started to cut into it! EHHHH! I looked at it and almost lost the cheesy potato casserole I was enjoying. She looked at it and all of the bloody juices around it and said, “Dad is this safe?” his reply was, “well….” So she took a big bite and I gagged….Then she got another piece and started dipping it into the juice and then eating it. I’m sorry, but if being pregnant makes you crave partially dead animals then i’m definitely adopting! Her new name is “Roadkill”—Although I don’t think roadkill would be fresh enough for her new found craving for blood.
So for springbreak i’m going to ……. CHICAGO! I’m very excited. Colby and I are flying out of here on March 20th. If anyone has any imput as to what we should do while we’re there feel free to leave me a comment! What should I pack? We’re not staying for a long time, but I tend to over pack because you can never have too many shoes. *huh, Colby.*
We’ll be staying downtown, and we’re buying a Chicago city pass. It lets you get into 25 of the biggest attractions there without standing in line. I’m definately going to have a pizza pie while i’m there-can’t pass it up!
I was going through the Ipod the other day and ran into this “Bob and Tom parody” It’s freaking hilarious!!! Here it goes:
Pooh Goes Ape Shit, by A.A. Milne
Think reading this in a voice that you’d read to small children– complete with light music in the background.
– Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre woods. The trees whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Under a big oak tree lived pooh bear, from inside pooh’s house there came a steady BANG BANG BANG that was making his honey jars rattle on the sideboard. The light came through the window, and in the evening sun pooh raised the axe once more, and brought it down on the tattered remains of Christopher Robin. “Why Wont he Fit?”, puffed pooh to himself. As the axe came down once more there was a small pile of earth with a hole next to it which pooh had hidden with his favorite rug. And Christopher Robin, the selfish brat that he was, didn’t fit in the hole that pooh had dug, so instead of making it wider he decided to hack Christopher Robin’s legs off. “A far more sensible idea,” thought pooh, and hummed a little song to himself as he cut the last tendon and rammed the rest of the body in the hole. After covering it up with the rug. “Always too bossy,” thought pooh, “always too bossy, always grabbing me by the paw and saying ‘come on pooh lets have an adventure!’ in that effected cutesy spoiled brat voice and his stupid shorts, “I hate that bastard.” Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come around humming a little tuneless song to himself while gazing blankly into the fire and fondling the oaken handle of the axe. WHen Christopher Robin finally showed up with his squeaking child actor voice, “Come on Pooh open up!” Pooh answered the door normal as anything, talked about the weather and then went to the cupboard and fetched the axe. While C.R. had sat there, prattling on about what a silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brain (which wound Pooh up no end) Pooh had raised the axe high and brought it down with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin’s skull, cleaving it virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to keep the pieces upright, and freezing C.R’s eyes wide in horror that Pooh, lovable Pooh, could do such a thing! Pooh giggled a little and wiped some saliva from his mouth with a shaky paw. Then Pooh, calm as anything, had mopped up the blood, washed the axe and begun to dig the hole.
Piglet had wondered why Pooh had not called for him that morning, to have his tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead. He admired the evening sun, blood red, and listened to the birds singing. Pooh watched him get nearer and nearer, and plugged in the drill.
Piglet had no time to realise what had happened – the drill pierced his skull, sending a beautiful fountain of blood all over Pooh’s orange hide. He rubbed the blood in and all over himself, licking, licking, always licking. Then he pulled Piglet inside and put him in the cupboard. The syringe lay on the sideboard, and Pooh picked it up, paws shaking and sweating, and filled it full of solution of the funny white powder that had been given to him by a strangely spaced-out Rabbit. It was a strange effect at first, and Pooh thought he had seen many strange things, but then experienced a euphoric feeling of power. It made him irritable, and C.R. and Piglet had everything that was coming to them, no doubt at all. When night had fully fallen, Pooh dragged the bodies out and buried them in a makeshift grave.
“Still time to get that little dick-head Roo before he wakes up.”
Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Roo’s mum and saw Roo’s ear poking out of her pouch.
“Now I’ve got you, you little git”, Pooh thought, smiling, as he threaded a needle with extra strong cotton. He was jolly grateful for Piglet’s sewing lessons now, because he would be able to sew up Roo nice and tightly, so he would not be able to get out and his mum would not be able to rescue him. So very slowly and carefully Pooh began to sew Roo into his pouch and thereby suffocating the annoying idiotic twit. After the deed was done Pooh made his way back to his house wondering how Roo’s mum would take the death of Roo. Badly, hoped Pooh, as he began to cough uncontrollably and felt general nausea overcome him.
By the time Pooh got home he had puked up several times and was very desperate for some more of the white solution. He trembled as he picked up the syringe and gave himself the remaining amount. An awfully large amount, one might say, for a small little bear like Pooh. In fact too much, Pooh died of an overdose, but he died with a smile on his face: he was dreaming that he was the only teddy bear made with a willy and dreamed how he surprised Eeyore one day – but that’s a story for another day.
I’m currently working with a classroom of kindergarteners on their reading. This is something I have to do because of my Elementary Education major, but I enjoy doing this… Well…. I was sitting in one of those “Little People” Chairs when I see this little kid walking around with a baton in his hands. It looked odd, but I didn’t really think all that much about it, kindergarteners always twirl batons, don’t they? Anyways, all of a sudden I feel this sharp pain in my back… The little jerk hit me! He freaking nailed me in the back with that damn baton! I turned around to look at the little ass-wipe who hit me, and he looks at me with a big smile while he was walking away saying, “soooorrrry”, what it actually translated into was “I’ll be seeing you next Thursday….You better watch your back…beeeooootch!”
Honestly now, I’m not sure i’ll make it out alive! I’m kinda scared. I might need a restraining order.
After being away from the *fun blogging* for a bit, I thought I would talk about all of the things that have happened to me in the past couple of weeks.
Why on earth do the male species think that they have to hoot and holler to get a girl to like them? Here’s why I am pissed about this: I’m at wal-mart the other day buying ‘girly necessities’ and i’m tired, i’ve been working all night long and all I really want to do is get out of there. I take my purchases and i’m headed out the door. As I get out into the “lobby”-where all the carts are parked- I see this man and woman walking into wal-mart. I keep walking and then all of a sudden the man turns around and yells and I quote, “WOOOOoooo I’d like to get a piece of that shit!” (I was mortified…everything in the lobby echoes and all eyes were on me.)
Excuse me…What? Now honestly, do you really think that verbally molesting me is going to get me to turn around and say, ” Alright then have at it!” No. I really wanted to knock him out with the box of tampons I was carrying and give him the following pieces of advice:
- You’re wearing a truckers hat, because you’re a trucker sir. Do not yell obscene things at me. (I love truckers, my father happens to be one. I just don’t like being yelled at and disrespected by one.)
- You have on velcro shoes. Not that there’s anything wrong with velcro shoes, but again you want a piece of this S*&%!
- You’re missing teeth, and are wearing glasses that are taped on one side. Again this isn’t helping your “game”.
- Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?
- And finally don’t talk with your mouth open.
I really don’t understand the logic of catcalls… It pisses me off and i’m liable to go off the handle.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
For the past two weeks I’ve been dazed. I don’t really even know how to begin this entry, so i’ll begin here. Uncle Daddy. Uncle Daddy….. I gave him that name 20 years ago. I woke up at five in the morning to talking.. My mom, my late grandmother, and my “dad”. I was talking to him, looking for candy in his pockets..the usual greeting for my dad when he came home from the road. Another comes in that morning…. my “dad”. I was confused. It turned out that the first person there that night was my Uncle. My dad’s twin. It was the first time I had seen him. I thought he was my dad. So after a while my dad asked me who he was and stated, “daddy.” Then he pointed to my uncle and asked who he was… I said, “Uncle Daddy.” Its been with him ever since. Just a week and a half ago I had to relive that story at his funeral. The absolute heart break I feel is simply unbearable. Never did I think that I’d be without him. To me my dad and my uncle daddy have been invincible. To see a man of his stature fall…there are no words. I remember the day that he died. He was talking to me about a time when he came down from Alaska and I had him digging in my toy box for a certain toy….That toy happened to be at the bottom of the box. I can remember him telling me that story a lot through out all the stories he’s told me, and going through his pictures (I found the one to the right) of the very story he was telling me.
He went through so much pain and struggles thoughout his life, and he kept on going. Even to the very end. We watched gunsmoke the day he passed away- he had to have it on because thats what he did on Sundays. So we watched gunsmoke and talked about the past. That day he was put on oxygen and started to feel a lot better. I thought everything was going to be ok. He started feeling better and things started looking up. I left to go and find a game that he enjoyed playing and was in such a daze when I left that I didnt say goodbye. I thought that he was asleep in my room when I left. Later on my sister said he was wide awake. Did he wait for me to come to say goodbye too? That is something i’ll never find out. I just left and I’ll never get the chance to say goodbye. I’ll never ever forgive myself. How could I just leave without saying goodbye, kissing him on the forehead—anything? I will regret this for the rest of my life. I loved him with all of my heart, and I know that he knew I loved him as well. It’s just the pain that won’t go away. Everytime I see his pictures, his wooden jewelry boxes he made me, his shirts that are still hanging in my closet. Sometimes I walk into my room and open my closet because I can still smell his shirts. Everything reminds me of him.
My dad gave a great speech at the funeral. I know that he’s hurting. He told me that he feels that half of him has been ripped away. I can never say that I understand what he’s going through. I am just here for backup. I know that everything reminds him of Uncle Daddy. Looking in the mirror would be a reminder in itself. I guess all I really want to get across is how much life is taken for granted. People aren’t always going to be there. People fade away. Just make sure that they know that you love them and that you always tell your family that you love them and goodbye. I’ll never get that chance again. He had a heart of gold, and would have literally given you the shirt off his back.
So here’s to Uncle Daddy— May there be guitars in heaven. I love you.
Please look down on us.