Dear Mr. Not so Religious:

Thanks :)

Eat that you haters.

Seriously enought though, thanks a lot. I love getting comments, and i adore ones that are a bit more than "yeah so and so is a real jerk" Or "Oh my gosh i never would have thought", ect. In the deepest recesses of my heart, what some might call their soul, I desire nothing more than to be a writer, poor in pocket but rich in spirit, with a currency of words; the human souls only trade. But to be completely honest, I have all of 4 readers and I am well aware that the are all my close friends who merely delight in that fact that i poetically represent everyday events while utilizing my SAT list which, ironically, I refused to do in High school as a form of not-so-silent protest against my crazy, mua-mua wearing english teacher. I think that as far as paid journalism or novels that last a lifetime, their is only room for a few Kevin Cowherds and even fewer Charlotte Bronte's in this world. Though your compliment is sweet and uplifting, I highly doubt any editor would well recieve this pitch for a novel:

"Well, see, it's about a young girl with a quick wit and slow heart who comes upon many snafus and loves word like "Conjecture" and "obsiqious", "Counterintuitive" and "Quadratist." Plot?! Who needs plot, she's adorable and ditzy!"

Thanks anyways, and stay tuned, there's plenty more blog coming your way :)

Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We’re asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It’s unfair.
Chorus:This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred NUMB our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
(Chorus)This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

This entry is all about PRAYER REQUESTS.

A good friend of mine (Jen) has a sister in law who has struggled for some time now to get pregnant. She finally, with the help of invetro fertilization, is pregnant with triplets. She is about 22 weeks along and saturday night she went into labor. One of her babies was born and subsiquently died from prematurity. Please pray for her that not only her other two children should be healthy and to term, but that the sorrow of losing a baby not hold her back from the joy of being a mother. And please pray for Jen, as this is the third child in three years that she has seen this happen to, one her own, another her best friends.

The prayer request, gentle reader, for my aunt continues. I know she is well contented in the notion that whatever God deems to be the proper time, she will obey, but please pray that she not suffer and that the devil not make her feel any sorrow or shame in the fact that she is dying to us and gaining ever lasting life.

And a finally praryer request for my mother. I don't know what for, but I am sure she'll need it eventually.

Let me know if you need any prayers, I am always happy to oblige.

many new thing so little time to type.

This week is officially heck week. (In an attempt to make up for my past transgressions this week, wvery thing will be PG... good luck reading this entry with a straight face.) In an apparent atempt to kill myself (ok not so PC but I didn't know how else to say it and save it's artistic integrity...) I tried to make it through this weekend with approximatly 3.4 hours of sleep while trying for the world record of "most ridiculous out-of-character tasks acomplished in the world" Well, ok only one thing was all that out of character, and that was drinking too much apple juice saturday night and getting completly... full. Honestly, I have no clue what came over me. It got to the point where i couldn't stop the apple flow and I didn't care to. The sad part of this whole experience is that Everyone at the apple party I attended wanted me to get a sugar high, but when i did They all said how "obnoxious" and "inconsistent" I am. Another exaple of why I don't understand people. I CONSISTANTLY try to do what you (the reader, my friends, my mother ect...) want me to and you are persistently displeased with my actions and or reactions to you and life in general. (I know insert Blosom moment here about how I should be consistent to God, but thats why this weekend was so totally out of character for me.)

So, Before the apple incident, I went to a party my mother held for one of her close friends and schmoozed with the elitest of all baltimore celebridiom; Radio DJs. My mother parties are alwasy fun but this one was particularly cool because I don't live with her anymore so I didn't see the 72 hours frenzy she goes into of non stop cooking because heaven forbid the Hun army show up and we would be caught short of baked ziti, and because I think everyone there thought I was much older than i am, so i had so riviting conversations about Parenting, Working, and Umpa- Lumpas... Don't ask. There's out of character mess #2 right there: I actually LIKED being spoken to like i am 26. Most people do it just because they look at me and see a grown woman and then they are dissapointed when i act like an 18 year old, but these people were fairly pleased with my youthful quick wit and general 18ness while still being contented that i am a grown donkey woman. (figure that one out yourself.)

So after work friday night, Work Saturday morning, my mom's soiree, my friends apple party, three hours of sleep, church and special music, and of course ignoring Mr. And Mrs. AND the ridiculous jack-donkey who decided to ask ME (not the happy couple in question) "What's up with Miss. Woowoo and Mr. Future Millionaire, are they a thing?" I was a pretty ticked off and tired little puppy.

They i met the brunt of the most crazy baltimore traffic jam ever and finally made it home at 9 last night and have been sleeping soundly ever since.

Oh, Soundly that is, aside from my nightly visits from el Diablo. But thats a whole seperate blogger issue we will tackle together NEXT TIME ON SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL...

I told Mi.ss Locquacious that we might have a funeral to attend if i saw, heard or had any inkling of anything going on between Mr. Future Millionaire and his new chick. Then i nearly killed her in the church parking lot... WOOPSIES...

Seriously though, DEATH was not my intention, but it nearly insued when i confronted her about the whole "let's rub it in Super Footwear Girls Face" Phase that life has entered. In my defense, She nearly died laughing at one of my classic break-down-and-tell-a-joke moments... but nontheless...

I'll spare you the ridiculous details and put your fears to rest. Let's just say she lost her breath, but she found it and she's fine. Hurray for that, she lives to be my infamous archnemesis for another episode...

I suppose i should feel bad knowing that they both probably read this and talk about how awfully drab I'm being about the whole thing. I suppose I should not broadcast my life on the world wide web for all to read and think horibly of them, that is if they ever figure out who THEY are. Then again, let's consider the facts:

• I am Super footwear Girl, and undeniable icon of modern Super retail heroes, and therefore my story must be heard
• THEY are the bad guys who are trying to ruin my life
• THEY have eachother and I have (cricket, cricket) NO ONE (Because, in case you forgot, they;'re sabotaging my LIFE.)

Honestly, they can suck an elf. My sincere hope is that they read this and feel bad and maybe STOP SCREWING ME OVER. But I doubt that will happen. Maybe a fight to the death on top of a rainy building with only our cunning use of our gadgets and super human powers is the way to solve this dilemma. OR MAYBE THEY SHOULD STOP SUCKING.

I walked through the mall today to window shop and stopped at the pet store which usually perks up my poor mood. But no such luck today. I just ended up walking past a jewlery store which only made me feel poor and alone.

How did Holly Golightly survive with all those Rats and super rats?

Exciting mews everyone: I finally had a chance to stop thinking about the super duo of life ruining madenning "friends" this week and I actually had some fun in the process!

I get a call friday night (I think it was friday... maybe thursday.... anywho..) Here's the extended short and tall of things:

Me: "Hello?"
Mysterious Mr. "Hey, How've you been?"
"Fine... and Yourself?"
"Good..."
"So what's new?"
"Nothing much, I'm in town on leave and I found your number so I thought I would call you up and see how you were doing..."

At this point I am completly baffled. I ran through a very short list in my mind of who might call me while on leave and came up with one promising response and any number of other rather disapointing alternatives, including wrong number scenarios.

"Home on leave?... who is this?"
"Mr. Navy Dude, of course..."

My greatest expectations fulfilled, I spewed to his kind ear a great deal of excited exhlations of joy and surprise and after about five minutes of me going "I can't believe you're not butter," We agreed to spend the next 3 days together non-stop. But that fun ended and he is now back in Japan for another 6 months. :(

So begins the next great adventure in Super Footwear girls life:

The rest of this blog is to be entitled:
JUST ADD OCEAN.

That is just what I did. I gathered all my Czech anemones, packed them in my car and I was their Sea Queen for a day as we carted ourselves down and around Ocean City.

Miss. (Mrs.) Woo Woo works with a gorgeous foreign man at her lifeguarding job. The other day, Miss.Locquacious happened to be at their pool working a couple of extra hours and she got to talking with Mr. Czech and she decided to take him and his 4 Czech buddies to the Ocean for a day. But, how ever will 4 growing boys and Miss. Locquacious fit in one car on a three hour tour de Maryland??? Quel Domage, who will save them? But wait, look. It's a flip-flop, It's an Espedrill... NO IT'S (dun-dun-dun-dun) SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL TO THE RESCUE!

So two gorgeous foreign men piled into my car and we headed down to the Ocean, Hon' for some fun and sun. I swear to Mattel if they ever made a line of International Ken Dolls, the one from the good ol' C-Z of%2

Soon I will begin adding pictures to this ere blogspot wonder. But I fear that this new approach to life will severely affect the anonymity of my blog and there for alter it's entire intended purpose. An aside to this disinterested audience, when I was a chile I thought that the word p-u-r-p-o-s-e was, in fact the spelling of "porpoise." a sea mammal resembling a dolphin. But that is not the case.... It's weird how skewed your perception can become when you're the only one who is allowed to alter it. I might have gone on thinking all my life that direction and meaning were interchangeable with dolphin and whale had I never had an English class...

I'm not really sure what I might like to see tonight's post develop into, as I feel I have exhausted introspection and international reflection far too many times. But what does one conversate about if not the view of the world through the scope of one's own perspective?

I had felt nearly two weeks ago that my life as I knew it had caved in on me and I might suffocate under the rubble of my bruised hubris. But now I think that I have decided yet again that life is not over...

So maybe the gold wedding dress is back in the proverbial closet. Maybe the Buick to fit twelve and the white picket fence have been exchanged for Adidas running shoes and a headset loud enough to mute a sonic boom. And maybe that's not so bad. Maybe it's time I start being me and stop waiting for someone or something to be my defining characteristic. Maybe it's time I stop wanting to be a "Mrs." and start being a "Ms." Maybe I need to find a niche of my own that I might be quite content to person all alone or with someone should the right someone reveal himself.

Yea... Right after I make a tiny kingdom out of sea anemones from a bag labeled "SEA KING IN A DAY!! ALL YOU NEED FOR YOUR UNDERWATER ADVENTURES! JUST ADD OCEAN!"...

Who knows... Maybe one day Super Footwear girl will take off the mask....

After having some time off from my social life and getting some perspective from, of all places, national news stations, I have realized something.

None of this matters. I have been so blind and I have lost my focus so much in the past year that I am just now remembering what I was supposed to be doing. I am supposed to be in the Navy. I am supposed to be seeing the world. I am supposed to be defending my country. I am supposed to be serving my God.

Not whining, not deliberating, not doubting, not questioning. Just doing.

If, in 4 months, I am still in town, someone smack me and hand me a copy of Time.

P.S. The new happy twosom had a wonderful time on MY camping trip...

Dig me a whole and type me out a paper headstone.

I am exhausted. I am lonely. My life has been kidnapped.

This whole being an adult thing blows monkeys. All my friends suck, my money is gone and my life has shriveled down to housework and work work. In short, I am in need of a vacation. One where you change your name and never come back.

One good thing about this week has been Mr. Poupon. Mr. Poupon is a new mr and I think I and right in saying that he has a thing for me... even though he has a girlfriend...

So it's not such a good thing after all.

Horrible hair, extreme Tardiness, a blown tire, two spilled cups of coffee, two uncontrollable store alarms and one life altering argument later...

All of which add up to one brilliantly horrible day in the life of Super footwear girl.

I want to write about everything that has happened and every feeling I have had since Mr. Future millionaire told me that I am not the one, but for once I think I'd rather not ponder, discuss, thinkl about or reiterate it. It happened, it is, and I am the only one having a hard time dealing with it.

yup... ain't life grand?

Fine. Take it. You want it so badly it's yours, topped off with a silk ribbon.

QUICK! Call Scotland Yard, Alert the Navy, call Maury Povich, send up the Bat signal! I have been hijacked of my life by a blonde lifeguard and I don't know what to do!

Ok, so as usual it's not as bad as all that. But I do feel miserable. I do think Miss. Woo Woo is content with the fact that she has stolen my crown and demoted me to scullery maid in my own home...

You know whith friends that are willing to rip out from beneath you your one love, your friends and your hang out scene, who needs a wicked step-mother?

Screw it. If I am to live I must first find, divide and conquer some sweet REM cycles...

Deliberate. Yak. Gammer. Discuss. Conversate. Linguistate.

Ok so theat last one might not be a real word, but we all know the focus of todays SPEECH; The uses and abuses of the human tongue.

Use: Liking a lollipop
Abuse: Getting it stuck to a frozen light post (your tongue, not the lollipop)

Use: French Kissing
Abuse: Kissing the french prime minister on television on a double dare.

Use: Telling someone you love them
Abuse: Telling someone you love their best friend
OR
Telling someone they've "gotten worse."
OR
Yelling obscenities at your boyfriend in a crowdedtheatre when everyone is preparing to watch the best theatrical display EVER, Batman Begins.

A recap of this weeks "girl meets worls (and doesn't like it)"

Best friend A tells Best friend B that he's in love with Best friend C even though he's supposed to marry Best friend B. B cries a river runnin' while C says "it's a pity this has to happen know, you're so much crazier than you were 4 years ago..." Best friend B is preparing to be written out of the soap opera...

And scene....

I've listened to Matchbox20's You won't be mine 875 times. I have cried 96 tears and thought of 300 other torturous scenarios I would prefer to the present predicament i find myself in, including, but no limited to being stuck in a telephone booth for all eternity with my mother and when I finally clear my eyes and open my mind it is all still too true.

Mr. Future millionaire still want her more than me. My heart is still cut into seven peices and scattered around the Famous Footwear nation. I would still rather run away to Asia Minor than reconcile with my two closest friends.

They still think I am just "overreacting." They're impatient for me to "grow up" and "move on." By not throwing every shoe I own at them and screaming "WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?" I am being as mat ure as I can fine the strength to be. By not digging a tunnel to Turkey, I am trying to move on. By not giving him the ultimatum of loving only me or forgetting i ever existed, I am being as rational as I can be expected to be FOR A WOMAN WHO JUST LOST EVRYTHING SHE EVER THOUGHT WAS REAL TO HER BEST FRIEND.

Even my mother isn't appalled by my behavior.

Being DEVESTAED is understandable. GRIEVING OVER THE LOSS OF MY 2 (only) FRIENDS IS OK.

I can't help but be in love with him.
He can't help liking her more.
She can't help being unaffected and callous.

What is the weather like in east germany this time of year?

True. Life doesn't get much more fun. UNTIL THAT IS YOU GET A WRITTEN CITATION FROM A STATE TROOPER FOR DRIVING 22 MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT.

What is to be done with me?

Someone wake me when the world isn't upside down and mars isn't in retrograde...

MORE TRUTH TIME with Little old me...

I am not really a superhero but Batman is.

Not that batman really has anything to do with the rest of this post, but I just saw Batman Begins with (SIGH) Christian Bale and Batman is my favorite superhero, so he was bound to be eluded to eventually...

I gave Mr.Future Millionaire and Ultimatum: Tell Miss.Woowoo or I will. (Dramatic aside to the audience; I had already told her not 2 minutes from the end of the phone call from mr.Future Millionaire...) He, against his own better judgments and will, told her. Then they both procceeded to chastise ME. ME! THE VICTIM... If there even is a victim when someone has feelings for another person...

He said it was between him and I, and that i shouldn't have dragged Miss. Woowoo into it.

She sid that no matter how DISTRAUGHT, DEVESTASTED, DESTITUTE, and DESPERATE I was that i should not have betrayed his confidence.

And I calmly and respectfully reapeated:

THE MAN I LOVE AND WANT TO MARRY HAS FEELING FOR SOMEONE ELSE AND I CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT IT.

NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR!!!

As far as I am concerned I am the 3rd party. I shouldn';t have been dragged into this. I shouldn't have been the sole barrer of this life-ruining, soul-crushing, hope-twarting secret.

I also think that this backstabbiong, out-of-proportion, saddistic, "et tu brute" CRAP shoiuld have been locked up nice and tight and burried within the confines of HIGH SCHOOL.

Another aside to the audience: I just talked to Miss.Woowoo and she posed the question:

"Do you feel at all uncomfortable hanging out with all of us?"

My best response, "I am heartbrokena nd that is going to take sometime to get over..."

(My INWARD RESPONSE "YOU F&^%ING IDIOT? WHAT THE F*&^ IS YOUR PROBLEM? OF COURSE I AM NOT OKAY, YOU LIFE STEALING SORRY WHENCH")

Her next Connie Chung moment: "What about seperately... 2 and 2?"

My best response, "You two can hang out I just don't want to hear about it."

My inward response was much more colorful and full of tears... so we'll save that for later..

A part of my wants to forget all about it and move on with my friends at my side.

The other half of my wants to run away to mexico and never look back. Still another part has a urge to go the way of my hopes on I-97...

Arrogance took human form this week in a one Mr.Fleck. (This is his real name so don't go calling every Fleck you know and asking them if they're jerks... on second thought...)

I was formally dis-invited to Mr. Flecks party Friday night because I "am in love with him and there were a great number of girls there in love with him as well and I might be want to start something..." (his words VERBATIM)

Allow me to fill you in, Mr. Fleck. You may be cute, but this bisch ain't fightin no girl for some stupid, arrogant SPECK that I just met and (hopefully) will never see again. .. Super Footwear girl has more important main plotline drama to worry about POUR EXAMPLE...

Tell me why I have a broken heart AGAIN? I swear if feelings could be insured, any collector would be proud of the tidy sum my life would grant him. Wanna know what happened this week? Well you can't you'll just have to buy the book...

Ok fine I'll tell you, but only because I have no one else to talk to. First some backstory for those of you who can't keep up.

Mr.Future millionaire is my latest Mr. Bunny, and things have been going pretty well. We've been friends for about 5 years now, since the moment we met, and we've been in and out of Love and War ever since. Just when I thought things were coming to a comfortable resting place for our back and forth, I get a phone call...

Him:"Hey whats up... small talk small talk small talk... "
Me:"Hey everything Yakka Yakka Yakka... You're not talking so I am going to let you get some sleep, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Well i have something to tell you but I don't want to start anything and I know you'll run your mouth..."

"Ok well, I won't tell anyone but it sounds like you're not ready to talk about it anyways and it's your business anyhow, so call me when you are ready and I'll be ready to listen..."

"But you're going to bug me about wanting to know and you'll be upset when I tell you but I have no one else to tell and WHINE WHINE WHINE I know you'll start something"

(To My self) "Start what? (DON'T BE GAY DON'T BE GAY DEAR GOD DON'T BE GAY)"

(To Him) "Well it's your business and thats coole, but if you need to talk I'm happy to listen-"

"I shouldn't have said anything because now you're going to drive me insane about not knowing and you're going to make me tell you.."

"... no I'm not-"

"FINE I'll tell you already. There I told you-"

"OH DEAR JESUS YOUR GAY!"

"No...I'm not..."

"Phew okay seriously then what is it?"

"I think I have feelings for Miss. Woowoo..."

Nothing prepared me for that. there it went. My sould climbed out of my ear, my heart dropped out of my butt and every hope I ever had was lying spread eagle on interstate 97. My response?

"I think this is a conversation for you and Miss. Woowoo. This is not my business. Please leave me alone in a padded room for all eternity and take the key and my bleeding, bruised, broken heart along with you...."

Well, ok, just the first two lines made it out.

Super Footwear girl has a special power aside from her mad footwear skills. That power is the power of intuition. It is the power of knowing who her very best friend in all the world has feelings for.

In short, I have no right to be surprised. I knew about it. I knew about his feeling and his secret smile for her and his hearts direction. It still broke my heart. I spent so much time knowing and trying to figure out false reasons that it couldn't be true, but i knew.

Now I am presented witha dilemma far beyond crying myself to sleep everynight. I am sworn to secrecy by Mr.Future Millionaire to keep this ridiculous news a secret. THE MAN I LOVE AND WANT TO MARRY TOLD ME HE HAS FEELINGS FOR SOMEONE ELSE AND I CAN'T BE ANGRY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT ALL BY MYSELF.

Life doesn't get much more fun than that.

People have the right to fly
And will when it gets compromised
Their hearts say "Move along"
Their minds say "Gotcha heart"
Let's move it along
Let's move it along

I am moving out of "the House." For those of you who know, smile and nod, for those of you in the dark, sorry about your luck.

Aside from the stress of yet again packing up all of my wordly possessions to move out of somewhere I never thought i would be into another house that represents not one of my dreams, I don't quite remember sleeping this week. I just keep going and doing and and being and I am exhausted. I just want one sweet dreamless night of sleep where I can drink up all the nothingness and be completely aloine and unstimulated in my own little world. But like the great and powerful traceria once said, "You mgiht as well deal with it, because it only just gets worse."

So much for that power nap, I'm off to do more packing and conoodling with Mr.Future Millionaire...

Hey! Stop that! I don't even have time to THINK about that let alone DO it...

I would like to provide you with an extended version of the past few days, provided I can remember everything accurately.

Thursday night was (thankfully) quite uneventful as far as the life and times of Super Footwear Girl. Aside from driving home in front of a tractor trailer that refused to turn on his headlights, all was well.

Friday is where the story lies. Friday was Mr. Future Millionaires surprise party, hosted by moi, of course. I got him the cutest cake and invited a whole slew of poeple that I was sure he hadn't seen in a while. We took sickeningly cute pictures and played uno and trivial pursuit and, much to everyones delight and my perplexion, Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I did not however follow through on my promise to Hott Stuff of a Pinata, and everyone was kind of bummed about that (in case you were wondering, he was turning nineteen... hence my quizical state...)

All in all, I'm pretty proud of myself. I think this will have been a memorable moment for all involved.

Here's to another year....

As usual I wrote a really great post which I cannot remember last night about Mr. Future Millionaire and something else but I erased to with the swift click of my fingers. Honestly I think I aught to switch to a typewriter...

I am pooped right now and that is about as intellectually stimulating as I can be. I have stayed up WAY past my bed time every night this week and I am POOPED. Tonight was Mr. Future Millionaires surprise party. AS USUAL, things did not go as planned, but I think he was thouroughly surprised and excited. I nearly melted the cake (well, not nearly... a second longer and it would have been too far gone even to make smores.. and yeah, I said MELTED and I meant it...) The honoree was an hour later than expected and half the guest list disapeared out of our time space continum, but I think all in all everything was fun for all.

Thats all I have for you tonight/ this morning. Like I said... WAY PAST MY BED TIME.

i was going to come home as quickly as I could and then collapse on my unmade bed and sleep until the cows come home after the last two days have been the worst thing EVER. Then I decided to take 695 home instead of 895 because I am the BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD.

I thought, "Hey, it's late, the only people taking 695 at this hour are truckers, and they know how to drive so i can hide from the cops, floor it, and make it home in time for a camomile tea and some PJs before I hit the bed, sleepy face first..."

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. SO WRONG. WRONGER THAN WOOL COATS AROUNG LAMBCHOP. WRONGER THAN "NEWLYWEDS: THE LIFE AND TIME OF JESSICA AND NICK." WRONGER THAN HIGH HEELS ON THE BEACH.

2 and a half hours later, I walked in, well deserved slurpee in hand and I sat down to blog.

Well, not really. i sat down and instinctually checked my computer for any messages or new goings-ons, and found this message waiting from Miss.Loquacious:

you should write a book and try to get it published. and i am so serious about that. your blog cracks me up while wondering the whole time what is gonna happen next, lol, even though it is your real life. you would be a millionaire. lol, and if not, at least i would buy a copy

A big thank you to all my fans, but I have to say, I don't think I could write a book. I'm not capable of making this stuff up. FOR INSTANCE...

TODAYS ADVENTURE OF "SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL"

"See you later, super footwear girl, I'm heading out"

"Bye district manager guy who tries to ruin my life every chance he gets. It was nice to see you as always..." (BIG FAKE SMILE ON MY FACE WITH A BLINKING SIGN OVER MY HEAD READING "LIAR")

Suddenly, Super footwear girl feels a tickle in her throat! How will she remedy her latest ailment? A Drink, she thinks, a drink will do just fine. And she has one, in the back office... So, super footwear girl traverses the long and arduous journey all the way to the back of the store, careful to not exhaust herself in the process. She reaches the back door, walks through the porthole, attempts to walk inot the office and SMACK! CRASH! SHE HITS HER NOSE ON THE COLD, FLAT, CLOSED OFFICE DOOR. Silly district manager man, he shut the office. No problem, I'll just turn the handle and---AHHHH! OH NO!! THE DOOR IS HOPELESSLY LOCKED!! AND YOU'RE UTILITY BELT (purse with the keys to the store) IS IN THERE! A key in the safe... There must be a key in the safe... BUT NO, THWARTED AGAIN BY FATE, SUPER FOOTWEAR GIRL. HOW WILL YOU SAFE YOURSELF NOW?

I ended up spending an hour dragging a ladder bigger than my house out of the stock room, popping out and breaking 3 ceiling tiles, and using the autopole adjuster to James Bond my way into the back office. Needless to say, the last two days have afforded super footwear girl more trouble than an entire season's worth of kiddie super hero shows. And on top of it all, the drive home are just the icing on a tradgically horrible cake o'life right now.

But Mr. Future Millionaire makes it all ok with the little things sometimes. He told me last night to call him today and I didn't get to before he could reach me. 2:300 and 3 o'clock saw him calling and the 4 o'clock hour was strictly phone tag. Finally, he leaves a message that sounds a little like this:

"Hey, I think you got kidnapped... Cause the last number was not the work number I know and I keep trying to call you and you keep not answering. If you have been kidnapped, don't worry... it's ok. Just call me back and hang up when you get a chance and I'll get someone on that... I mean, I'm probably not going to go to it right away, I'll probably be to busy for the next like two days... But I will send someone to find you, I promise. So just call back and hang up... yeah..."

Gold. Memoirs Gold right there people...

Thats why he's going to be a millionaire...

I started working at a new store today and I am officially a "commuter," which, lemme tell you, sucks. It sucks even more when there is a ridiculous lightening/thunder/rain storm that rumbles up out of nowhere and pounds every inch of road way from her to egypt.

When my mall started having black outs and my windows were shaking with thunderclaps, I started theorizing the buiilding of an arc out of cardboard shoe boxes and Famous Footwear tape. Then I realized that Noah started building a lifetime before the rains actually hit and I would have no chance in a blue hell to make it out alive... At that point, I climbed into my car/river named (insert one of my cars many names here) and hydroplaned my way out of Bowie and Northward... oh yes, INTO the storm...

A funnier weather occurance though I think was the emmsene amount of fog that blanketed the land this morning at 7:30. I set my alarm early, thinking I could have time to prepare You-Know-what for You-Know-Who (laughable, I know, seeing as I stayed up until 12 last night with You-Know-Who, not preparing You-Know-What and loving every minute...) I left Mr. Future Millionaire a text message this morning telling him to be careful and good luck on his new promotion :) :) :) Then I called him tonight to see how it went but or conversation went something like this:

INTENSE POUNDING RAIN IN THE BACKGROUND
"HEY, HOW WAS YOU'RE DAY?"
"Fine yours?"
"FINE... I JUST WANTED TO SEE WHAT YOUR NEW JOB WAS LIKE"
" I can't talk about it, but it was fine"
(can't talk about it because he's going to be a millionaire and he's in millionaire training...)
"Well, ok I was just calling to say hi I guess"
"Ok, well call me tomorrow and maybe I can tell you more... be careful coming home..."
"I will"

Nothing big. But nothing little either.

I just like recording everything. It'll be great for our kids to read :)

Wow.

I don't know how to describe what i am feeling. I am content and anxious all at the same time. I am free and chained to something/someone/some idea. I am unyeilding yet sofly giving in. I am a mass of enigmatic matter, raveled in and around myself.

I am in love.

Maybe not. But I surely wouldn't be surprised. No, I really don't know what this is. If it is love I can admit that I know nothing of love nor life and I must recant all that I stand for and humble myself to my barest resemblance.

It was Mr. Future Millionaire's birthday yesterday and we went to see and movie (we being him, myself and Miss.Woowoo) and then we went to a late night denny's hit up for a birthday sundae and a turkey sandwich. I gave him a funny card, we took cute photos together, the kind that only best friends take at one in the morning in the middle of their court when they can't think of anything better to do, and we had some moments in the car, just him and I. NO, not those kind of moments... just talking moments. Moments where we thought, in depth, about the fact that we have been friends for 5 years now. Moments of encouragement as friends where we all but said "I love you and I stand by any decision you should choose to make because I know you'll succeed"

Now I am having (twice as many) dreams about him. Dreams about him and I, married with twins that look just like him and a dog the looks like like his and a picket fence. But they're just dreams and that's ok... Or maybe it's the worst thing in the world because I have no idea what i am feeling. And I have no idea what to tell him. Is it ok for me to tell him I love him? Do I love him? Is it proper for me to tell him that I want to be with him even after all I have put him through?

Last night he called me princess. In a joking way ("What would you like to listen to on MY radio, PRINCESS?") But when i said, "I am so glad I am a princess..." He didn't object. And it wasn't mean or patronizing, it was nearly natural that he should call me princess and then do exactly what I ask... This is where I get so confused... because of the little things. The driving when I ask him to drive and just because I ask him to. The adjusting of the temperature because I'm cooler than I'd like to be. The flowers when he's mad at himself for making me slightly annoyed. The smile I get when I smile at him. The softness when I answer his phone calls. The candid conversations about life and money and future and love.

I guess I am resovled in thinking that he just wants a good friend... Someone to hang out with and talk to whenever.... That's natural, Right?

But it just feels so... so small, compared to what I see just beyond all this small talk and the casual outtings. The desire that I have to be with him is growing in the most unusual way. I want to see how he turns out in 20 years. I want to see what business he has, what his kids look like, what car he drives, what jeans he likes... I want to see the next 20 , 30, 70 years with him as my best friend. My date to every wedding, my partner in crime, my "I know everything about you" person, My other half while still being wholly me...

It feels like I have come home and like I am on the biggest adveture of my life all in one.

Wow.

Fathers be good to your daughters daughters will love like you do...

I was thinking today of changing my blogging format. You know, mixing it up a bit. I was going to have one of those "What I am listening to" tag lines and a blog that is filled with poigniant social commentary such as the importance of Pop 40 radio in north eastern America and the pop culture movement that is Lindsay Lohan. But then I re-thought. I think the world has enough useless people talking baout enough other useless people and I think it is safe for me to remain in my annonomity and free-thought filled, self centered blogging genre. Sorry if all that "what-ifing" was a tease for you few and faithful... Guess you'll have to give in and buy an US weekly.

i wonder sometimes if the peole who I write about A) KNow their names in this format and B) care. Mr. Hampster, do you hate the way I tell the world about your evil doings? Mr. Future Millionaire, do you not like me as much as I like you and do you hate me referring to you so frequently and with unwaivering devotion? Miss. Woowoo, do you hate that name? Well I know that last one's not true, because you made it up... But at any rate, the things I think about when I think about Blogging in general...

Maybe I should let my days play out before I try writing a blog entry, but in any case here's the rest from yesterday...

Mr. Future Millionaire called me at five oclock but I was at my mom's and left me a pathetic, whiny, desperate message, wanting to see me. I called him back at like seven and left a message. He calls me back (our usual game of phone tag) and wants to know hwat I, Hott Stuff Baby and Miss.Woo woo are doing for the night.

I don't know why?

"Well you call Miss. Woo woo and I'll call Hott Stuff and you find out what we're doing tonight..."

Ok fine... So Woowoo worked until 8 and wasn't prepared to hang out until 9:30. When I told Millionaire about this he was fine with it but he said that he would call me at 9;20 to make sure that I called Woowoo in time. I resigned to take a nap (All these late nights and excitement are killing me...) and who calls and wakes me up a half an hour early? Of course, I can't be normal and just ignore his call I have to answer and see what he wants and invite him to come over and hang out until I hear from Woowoo... Which meant that I had to clean my room, doo my hair, change my outfit 8 times, feel how warm it was outside, make sure my room smelled good, Make sure I smelled good... The list seemed endless and I had approximatly 28 and a half minutes to do all of this before he showed up on my doorstep... But he came and we went and it was fun (I a never again playing Maonopoly with a future millionaire...) And we left Woo woo's house at, oh yes, one am in the friggin morning. Truthfully I was too tired to drive and soooo thankful that the deal involved his driving us around, but just as I htought that and reclined my chair to sleep on the car ride home he turns to me, yawns and says "I'm too tired to drive you home, why don't you just come and spend the night?"

...

While that was a genius idea at the moment, I knew "ca va mal finir" So I just told him "no thanks, I don't think your mom would like too much to come down her stairs at 8 in the morning and find me sleeping on her designer couch..." And he just answered, "You know that's not true... if you slept on the couch my mom would probably yell at me for not offering you Aaron's room..." While this is completly true in the tired puppy loving man's mind, in actual practice I can bet things would have played out much differently had Mr.Future MIllionaires mom discovered me on her designer couch sleeping at eight in the morning. I suppose it would have gone somehting like this:

"WHAT IN THE -PROFANITY PROFANITY- IS GOING ON HERE!? WEEZY GET YOUR SORRY -PROFANE- OFF OF MY -PROFANITY- COUCH AND GET THE -PROFANE- OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU -PROFANITY, FEMALE DOG PROFANITY- RIGHT NOW!! AND TAKE YOUR -PROFANITY- GLASSES WITH YOU!!!"

The above is a specified general reaction of any mom to any over night girlfriend stay of which they are uninformed.

TRUST ME.

Then I would have been stranded at Mr. MIllionaires house in the middle of Bum Essex with no way home and undoubtably broken glasses.

Thank goodness I can think on my tired toes. No matter how much I might have liked to accept his offer...

So I have some good news.. and I have some bad news...

Bad news, I had that dream again last night. The dream where my grandmother is still alive but she is in perilous danger. Actually, it was a bit different this time. This time, she was very much alive and we were talking on the phone and I could drive over to seeher if I wanted. She reprimanded me for not keeping in touch the last 8 years, but "no matter since I had called now, she wouold forget the whole thing if only I would come and visit for a while." So I jumped in my car, I turned the key and... nothing. I was in White Marsh and I neded to get to Parkville in 20.32 minutes or my fully alive grandmother would disown me. I called my mom and explained that grandma had never died, thank God and she had invited me over but my car wouldn't start, could she please some get me and take me there? Her response: "we're on our way to grandma's right now.. and of course she's alive,w hat'd you think she had died? she only just moved across the street.." just as my mother said that, my car gave a great heave and a puff of smoke and micaraculously came back to life. No bother, ma I can get there myself, just please tell me where she moved "8300..." was her response. 8300? 8300 maple wood? 8300 Townhill drive? what apartment was 8300? was it an apartment? No big deal, I drove my happy (dream) self to Parkville in record time (because Apaerently I am a dreamy speed deamon as I am in real life) and I see a new condo development right across the street from where she used to live. By this time she has called me back but all I have heard on my line was "CRRRRRRRRR-LOUI-CRRRRRR-OK?-CRR-BYE" So much for asking her where i might find her. But 8300... ok. I look through the whole building, top to bottom. the doors are numbered in single digits... 20 all together. So it's not the right building. Again, no big deal. I call my mother again and plead for direction "8300 what ma?" "I've told you a million times and YELL YELL YELL" Then my father picks up the phone "LEAVE YOU'RE MOTHER ALONE YOU SORRY HALF BREED YOU'RE GRANDMOTHER DOESN'T NEED YOU" I couldn't find her. I traveled around everywhere and the sun went down and everyone I passed in my panting, smoking heaving car screamed "8300 LAME ASS" and "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, SHE'S THAT WAY" While this was, by far, not the worst perilous grandma dream, (one had a plot line of poisoned milk that everyone was try9ing to give her and I was the only one who could protect her. Another still involded arson and clowns... boy was that one a doosey...) but nontheless, it was a bit distressing.

To solve my distressful grandma dreams and maybe to finally show my mind that I know where she is and that I can't lose her and that she can't die again and that clowns had nothing to do with her eternal salvation, I decided to take a solo trip to the cemetary today. I was going to leave some flowers (which are part of the good news half of my day) and I was going to kick and scream and wrestle with God and cry and laugh and talk to her and talk to God and tell her everything and walk away realizing that she's gone and that's ok... And then I got to the cemetary. And I never really realized this, but there are like 8,500 graves there. And all of them are gravemarkers that sit in the ground, not headstones that protrude like landmarks... And then I realized that I haven't been to her grave since I was 9 years old and that there are approximatly 256 trees and 37 different views of the Virigin Mary holding Jesus and of the marble carving of the Last Supper (my only concious land marks) So I wandered around the cemetary for an hour and a half with my flowers, sunglasses, and sweater in hand and no I never did find her. The search continues in my dreams, I suppose...

Now for some Good news that I would love to tell my grandmother:

Mr. Future Millionaire brought me flowers last night. Pretty daisies of all sorts of unnatural colors. Don't get too jealous girls, it was one of those "what did he do wrong?" kind of things, but still very sweet. So what did he do wrong? Nothing really. He called me like 8 times between friday night a saturday afternoon "just to talk" and to invite me to the O's Game. The last time we talked on saturday I told him that I was going to crash his home in about a half in hour to bug him while he watched Star Wars. He said "Fine but you can crash with my mom cause I'm not leaving my room" Sure enough I got there and his mom made great company, but he had nothing to say but "Hi." Well, I turned my happy (real) self right around and left answering his "Do you want to hang out later?" With a terse "Why don't you call my whenever you're ready and I'll think about it..." He never called. Instead I get a mysterious late night call from Hot Stuff Baby (a good looking friend of my who named himself that...) during my viewing of Legally Blonde.

"What are you doing?" (Actually this was his girlfriend talking)

Nothing.

"Well, where are you?"

Miss.Woo woo's, why where are you?

"I don;t know, Hot Stuff, where are we? Mountain road. Hot Stuff says Mr.Millionaire has been looking all over for you"

Really? Why? He hasn't called me or anything...

"I don't know, Hot STuff said he called and he was being a jerk or something... (Hot Stuff Pipes up in the background, thats not was I said you're putting words in my mouth yadda yadda yadda...)

After all the confusion, all I got from the rest of the toss-off-phone contest was that Millionaire was looking for me and he was/did/was going to act like a jerk and I was instructed to answer the phone when he called. Ok fine.. Then I got a call not two minutes later (Hot Stuff AGAIN) saying to disregard the previous call. What call? Exactly...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Miss Woowoo: "If thats hot stuff and his girlfriend, kick them out"

Lo and Behold, out pops Mr. Future millionaire, flowers in hand. :) "I was being a real jerk earlier and I hope you forgive me..."

OF COURSE I DO, AREN'T YOU THE CUTEST THING THE THE WORLD? I'D LIKE TO ORDER 12 BABIES TO GO, THANK YOU!!!!

Yea, I'd say he's back...

I am taking a cue from Jeff Foxworthy here (a fact which may cause my weekly readership to drop by a whole person...) and I am going to make a "You might drive me crazy if..." list. Here goes. If you answer yes to any of these, stop sucking. (LOL: Disclaimer- Think about who I am before taking too much of this seriously)

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You walk crooked when walking with me down a hall way, in a mall, on a promenade, at the beach, ect..

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF.... You talk over me in the middle of a story

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You DRIVE in the left lane of the highway at 42.5 miles an hour.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You sleep til 2PM, stay up till 5AM and still wonder why I'm too tired to talk to you at night and too busy during the day.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You provoke someone else to anger and then yell at them.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You get mad at ME because you fit one of these descriptions.

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You don't have a job but you have mommy and daddy's credit card.

YOU MGIHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You're my ex-boyfriend just calling to tell me you're gay

YOU MIGHT DRIVE ME CRAZY IF... You stop reading my blog because I make to many crazy lists.

Yeah, there are more, but Mr.Future Millionaire is calling and yeah, he's more important than this crazy list.

Blowing a tire... well, blows.

It took 2.4 of my family members to come rescue me at the local mall and change my tire after I rammed it (yes RAMMED it) into the gayest cobblestone median strip in the entire world. Did I know it was there? Oh yea. Do I pass it every night and hit it 26 out of 27 times? Yep. Was tonight the night my tire decided ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, I CAN'T WORK FOR THIS BISCH ANYMORE? Yyyyyeeep. Yessir. Yeperoni.

I am going to bed now.

Am I changing out of my grungy pavement encrusted pants and washing my luge-nutty hands? Nope.

I am recalling dreams I have had.

Of the sweet southern sun kissing my cheeks while pairasailing in Panama. Of blowing foam off of the top of a yard of German beer. Of walking the beaches in the french Riviera. Of Desert Storm and all it's torments.

Surely it's true these are not my dreams, or my memories. They are a gift, memories on loan from my brother. I don't think I talk about my brother much here, but I think it's about time.

My brother is 13 years older than me (I have two, the other is 10 years my senior) Being so much older, we find it hard to have a common ground on any issue. He's democratic but has conservative viewpoints, I'm republican and have view points that make sense. He's atheist, I'm baptist. His dad is rich and left our mom with nothing when he married his cousin, My dad... well, il est disparu. We grew up seperatly, worlds apart. He was raised by my youthful mother and a maid in a huge house with a farm, I was raised by a woman who was burned out and left bankrupt in a three bedroom apartment. But despite or differences, we have the oddest similarities. I look like he spit me out, we're both giants with dark brown hair and uncommonly good skin and grossly dispropotionate noses. We both love our mother, we both wish we had better dads, and we both miss our grandmother more than life. But other than that, that's about all I know about my big brother.

He left for the Navy when I was 5 (he was 17.) And all I remeber was having him one day and seeing him again in August, twice his size and all about me. He used to pick my up from school ealry as a treat and take me out for snowballs. When he was home, we would sleep together, eat together, and talk... Well, he would talk and I would listen. All the adults would bustle about, bringing by his favorite foods and saying how big and strong he'd gotten and I would watch, knowing he had just returned from doing something really important. He would talk about pairasailing in Panama, drinking in Germany, and walking the streets of Italy where our great grand parents came from. Everything in his short but treasured letters from him would unfold with gifts, pictures, and live interpretations of his travels. He would talk about the pretty girls and friends he'd made. He would talk about how much he missed us, and how glad he was to be home. Everyone else would pat him on the head and tell him how proud they were of him and how much they envied him in his travels.

By the time I was old enough to understand what my brother was doing, I was old enough to hate him. His temper and racism cut through my admiration for him like a warm knife through butter. He opted not to re-sign for a third term in the Navy and moved into our mothers town home, brining his bi-polar, pain-killer addicted wife and grumpy countenance. He told me how much he hated me for ruining his rich lifestyle and how if only I had never been born...

Something had changed in him. To this day, I don't know how he came to hate me. He used to be my big brother and now he's Gar, my half-brother who holds dual ownership of my mother with his brother. He has cut me out of our inheritance and kicked me out of our small family.

But I remember seeing him smile in those pictures in the Gulf Coast. I remember when he was tan and muscular and all the girls loved him, even me. I remember when I thought "When I grow up I'm marrying a man like my brother" I remember the letters and the 3 AM phone calls from the air craft carrier and the weekends on base and the vacations on the military resorts. I remember seeing him cry at my grandmothers funeral and wanting no one else to comfort me more than my big, strong older brother.

I don't know hwere to find him like he used to be. But maybe if I were as I used to be, adoring and quiet, maybe he'll come to me in a dream.

Some people think i can't leave well enough alone. They think that I can't take a hint. They might even think I am crazy.

But on the quest to prove my sanity, I think that I might have made myself out to be padded room, drooling mouth, in need of sedation, certifiable insane.

I just wanted him to tell me he lied to me. i just wanted him to say that he never loved me and that, even though he said it, he never wanted to be with me. I just want.... the truth... just this once.

But he denied it, he said basically that I heard what I wanted to hear and that he never was really in love with me he just said what he felt in that moment and that I can do whatever I want in regards to keeping in touch with him. He apologized 2when he was forced to, but included the comment, "What, are you traumitized by this?"

Yes.

"what do you want me to say?"

You're sorry. And that you suck.

"I'm sorry, I lied to you. I am a liar and a cheat. You never deserved to be treated like that and I recognize that I hurt you. I never meant to do that. Never. I just wasn't true enough with my emotions and I was too naive to realize that what i said and did had such an impact on you. I wish I could take it back but I all I can do now is apologize and let you live your life without me. Please forgive me, but if you don't I'll understand..."

That's all I want... I guess that's asking too much of the man with the whiskers...

So long Mr. Hamster, Hello Mr. Heartache.

I cried a little today. just a little. A half of a tear.

Maybe it doesn't mean much to the untrained ear, but me crying a little is a sign of quick comfort and reassurance. A little cry means that I am not happy, but ok with that. or a little cry means that I am talking or goign through something difficult but I find comfort in whatever is at hand. My little cry today was all Mr.Millionaires fault and his blessing.

We got to talking (actually he got to asking... Sometimes he leads me into conversations that are seemingly unpointed and harmless, then when you're stuck in the middle of them you realier you have to admit your whole lifes sins and trangressions or hang up the phone and change your name)and he asked me if I was mad at him last year. Last year when his Miss.Bunny said "that's Mr.Millionaire, the kid that's in love with me" (in her usual snotty and underhanded manner, dripping with unnecessary detatchment and dismissal, as if he weren't a real person and my dearest friend) little did I know he really did like her, but I, in all of my infinite wisdom, retorted with "no, that's Mr. MIllionaire, the kid that's always been in love with ME..." (insert hair toss and smile here) He didn't talk to me the rest of the summer (when i thought we were on the track for a nice long hit) And his reason for ignoring me was that I got in a "fight" with her and I "started stuff." Neither of which were ever true. How was I to know he really was smitten with her? And how was I to know that she wasn't really a snob with no more interest in him than he has in chocolate (he's mostly allergic...)

We talked more and I explained that I could have never been mad at him because if I hadn't let Mr.Hamster talk me out of what i knew was right and seduce me for the sole purpose of having a date for prom, none of this would have ever happened. Then we talked about my prom and how much fun he had and about how I'm still all about a bonfire for the SOLE PURPOSE of burning my dress and all evidence of my going to prom.

I'm really glad that he and I had that conversation though. the little tear came somewhere in between the "I was never mad at you" and the "It was all my fault." I wish there had been a "I love you" and a "I wish you could know that I mean that with all my heart" in there. But he stopped me at my one little tear and said "You know I'm not good with words... it's said that men use 500 words a day while women use upwards of 2500 and I still have a little bit of day left so I have to stop hear before i use them up..."

I think I met my quota here and now, so I will leave you with a half of a tear...

Your potential is unlimited in all that you've chosen to do. Do not assume that a soul which has incarnated in a body which you call limited has not reached it's full potential, for you do not know what that soul was trying to do. You do not understand it's agenda. You are unclear to it's intent.
Therefore bless every person and condition, and give thanks. Thus you affirm the perfection of God's creation-and you show your faith in it. For nothing happens by accident in God's world, and there is no such thing as coincidence. Nor is the world buffeted by random choice, or something you call fate.
If a snowflake is utterly perfect in its design, do you not think the same coule be said about somehting as magnificent as your life?

Conversations with God, Neale Donald Walsch

And what of life, or of college, or of my family, or of marriage? What of this business of "making something of myself?" Who are you to judge that my station in life, that the place which I have chosen to stop short and reflect before reaching the fullest glory of my life that God has alotted me- is not in a state of constant motion, is not acceptable? Who are you to dismiss my choice for my fulfillment in God's plan for me?

Who are you to say that God gave me wisdom to go to college? Who are you to sya that I should conform to your level of "rightness" in order to succeed in this world?

That's all.

I don't get it...

I don't get how everytime I write a nice piece about my ex boyfriends, my fiance and root bear floats how the internet in all its wisdom can decide that it is not worth of posting. I am just plain baffled...

I also don't get how on my day off I always get the call "louise... can you work for a little while today?" Darn it people, just schedule me everyday and call me when you DON'T need me...

At any rate, Miss. Woo-woo and I went ring shopping yesterday. Yeha, that's right I went fake engagement ring shopping... Pathetic? No. Enjoyable? Very. And i decided that along with my non-traditional gold dress, I also want a non-traditional pearl ring. One perfect white Mikimoto pearl with four tiny diamonds on either side flat set in white gold (are you taking notes mr.bunny?)

I guess thats all, since I have lost my mojo due to an internal error in my stupid computer...

BAH

Mr. Future Millionaire is definatly back. I would like to cordially invite you all to the wedding, the second wednesday twenty years from now.

You know I was thinking that other day that he and I have nothing in common. He likes dogs, I like cats. He's a business only kind of guy, and I'm a art school kind of girl. He failed english, i can't stop my fingers from creating wordy masterpeices. He likes ice cream snowballs, I like ice cream. He wants no more than 2 kids, I wasn no less than 5. He likes fast cars, I like buicks. He wants a woman who can work beside him. I want to be a stay at home, Kool-aid mom. He's going to college, I'm freelancing life. I'm an ubber christian and he just doesn't get it. He's all abotu the $$$ and I could care less. (Well, not true. I do like my jewelry and my car.... but I would go without if I had to)

He's a hard worker and I'm... a hard worker. He likes my parents.. and I like that my parents like him. He is adorable, and I ... well, I am a goddess. (insert laugh track here) We both like scary movies. We're best friends and have been since the moment we met. He wants to protect me and I want to be protected. I can't get enough of him and he likes it that way. Everybody likes both of us. (well, not everyone, but enough that i can say everyone and not feel bad about it) He likes to fish and thinks that my only place in the whole process is next to the frying pan, and while I like to fish, I might be ok with being spared of touching the bait and of sitting on a boat for 10 hours and of scaling them.He likes to drive fast and I like to be driven fast.

As Miss.Salsbury has said "Similarities all around"

AN INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION ABOUT LITTLE PRINCES, FOXES, AND THE SAHARA DESERT:

Miss Salsbury: i forgot to tell you-the little prince was awesome

thebadgummybear: AHHH!
thebadgummybear: I'm so glad you liked it
thebadgummybear: once you said you were really going to read it i started doubting it
thebadgummybear: i thought maybe It was really just a book written especially for me
thebadgummybear: oh i am so glad you liked it!

Miss Salsbury: it was like reading everything you've ever know was true in life but no one else seemed to get

thebadgummybear: I KNOW

Miss Salsbury: everything the prince said was what is important in life

thebadgummybear: I know and I feel like if i were stranded in the sahara, I would find him
thebadgummybear: I knew if anyone would get it it would be you
thebadgummybear: what was your favorite planet?

Miss Salsbury: i liked the one with the king, he was just so typical

thebadgummybear: lol, my favorite is the tippler
thebadgummybear: and my favorite earth encounter was the fox, I reread that part all teh time

Miss Salsbury: i liked the well best

thebadgummybear: yeah, that part makes me cry...sybolically what did you think of it? (insert 10 page analysis here)

Miss Salsbury: lol i like it because like so many things in life you can tell someone that it exists and when it doesn't seem likely they don't believe until they see it, kinda like God a little bit for some ppl

thebadgummybear: yeah, that's what i liked about it... sort of like the wind thing, you can't see it but you can see the effects of it... I wanted all of my friends to read it at the end of high school... I think when it was all said and done, no one could deny the memories and the impact we had on eachother, and some, like you and brian, had your love in hand, like him and his sheep, while others only had the color of the wheat to remind them of joy

thebadgummybear: sorry, i love this book so much

Miss Salsbury: it is a great book

thebadgummybear: DISCLAIMER this may becoming a blog entry

Miss Salsbury: the comment about if i had 53 minutes to myself by the prince is a great line

thebadgummybear: yeah
thebadgummybear: the whole book is one great line

Miss Salsbury: i got into it much faster than i thought i would

thebadgummybear: i find myself wanting to quote the book but having to quote like whole chapters because it's so good
thebadgummybear: yeah there's only 82 pages to love it or hate it
thebadgummybear: thats why I'm not afraid to tell people to read it cause if they hate it at most the waste 2 hours

Miss Salsbury: i know, i wish it were longer

thebadgummybear: no, just re-read it
thebadgummybear: I've literally read it 100 times since I was 7

Miss Salsbury: i will have to get my own copy of it, it is on the ever growing list to buy

thebadgummybear: everytime you read it, it will sound different
thebadgummybear: what else is on your list?

Miss Salsbury: caribbean and tales of the south pacific by james michener (i love him), the old man and the sea by hemingway, that summer by sarah dessen, the whole series of hitchhikers books by douglas adams, the iowa baseball confederacy by w p kinsella, and a bunch more, the real list is home
thebadgummybear: the old man and the sea, how was that
thebadgummybear: i forgot about that one, that was on my list a while ago

Miss Salsbury: i enjoyed it, it is one that you have to get into, but its short and its very heavy on religious symbolism

thebadgummybear: I remeber somone talking about it, but i can't remember if they liked it or hated it, but I figure if they talk, that's enough to check it out

Miss Salsbury: i am leery of seeing it since i loved the books so much

thebadgummybear: it was good, I haven't rea dthe book yet but I went with a group of people who LOVED the books, and they liked it a lot

Miss Salsbury:i may see it, it kills me when they screw up a book terribly, they did a good job adapting the godfather, and the notebook was okay, but the butchered shoeless joe (movie version is field of dreams, good movie but so not the book) and they totally killed one of my fav books, that summer, when they made it into how to deal by combining it with another book by the same author titled someone like you

thebadgummybear: yeah I don't usually see to many book movies of books I've read because of that fear, but everyone liked it, and i think you will, atleast just for entertainments sake



SUMMARY:
Read the Little Prince, Tell me it's awesome, I will love you (if I don't already.)

:) :) :) :)

Ok I know I know, two blog entries on a day when I am supposed to be non-living...

I don't even know what I want this particular entry to say, but when called to speak or be heard, this is my only option as of late. I haven't really got anything to say but I know I could if I thought long enough...

hmpapapapa I could make another list... i could talk about on of my Mr.'s. I could be brutally honest about someone I dislkie. I could talk about God. I could discuss the pro's and con's of living on a tropical island. but none of this strike be as universe changing, life-altering, world spining topics and thats what I am game for right now.

Okay, God it is then. Not in the sense that I'm settling, mind you, but my readers are sure to be tired of "all this God talk" by now. (Hopefully not, but...) I've been reading a lot of C.S. Lewis for no particular reason other than the fact that I have a need to write a book report and no one to write for. Well, and the reason that somoen told me he was a pretty awesome writer which, as it turns out, is true. I read straight through the Chronicles of Narnia (which only took about 3 months, due to my rediculously long stop in between the Horse and His Boy and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader... for no particular reason) and now I am reading "A grief Observed" and "The Four Loves."

A grief observed may have admittedly been the reason for the outburst about my Aunt. I read it and started thinking that "if I had this book when my Grandmother died, perhaps my whole Christian journey would have been different.. perhaps I would have understood God more... understood prayer more" and then I got to thinking that I hadn't thought about my Grandmother in a while and then I got to thinking that my aunt has the same sickness and how dare God do this to another Mainelli woman and then I just stopped thinking. I just went completely blank. I had a mind halt.SCCCCCCCCCHREECH!!!! Maybe that's why I could sleep so long today. My mind sequestered itself.

And now for the Four Loves, by C.S. Lewis. Here's Miss. Underclassman to give us a dramatic reading of it: Just kidding I haven't actually read it yet... well I have... the first four pages... and it's turning out to be good.

And I think that's all the world changing I have left in me on this nothingness kind of day.

I don't really think I accomplished anything except for keeping my eyes open and my mind conscious.

i just spent the whole day in bed protesting life.

Well, not the whole day, seeing as it's 11:55 and I'm typing a blog. And not really protesting life, either. Just plain sleeping. Sleeping and enjoying the wicked dreams my brain came up with. I've been awake for about an hour just daydreaming in bed. I haven't done this since I was a kid.

The reason for my half-protest is half-exhaustion. I don't know whether it's a reaction to the emotion things I've been going through or the work stuff or just my body saying NO MORE LIFE! but I slept a good 12 hours and i feel as though i could stand another 8, but I'm so thouroughly disgusted with myself that i had to atleast be awake.

Wanna know what I dreamt about? Work. Family. Friends. The same things I live, only in fake distorted ways like only my subconcious minds can provide.

Wanna know what I day-dreamt about? Mr.Future Millionaire. Our perfect wedding. Our adorable kids. Him giving in to my whining and keeping the Buick that I love so much. Things only my semi concious mind can cook up.

Maybe I should just go back to bed and forget actually living today...

I hate having bad days. But what I love after having an awful day is coming home and seeing a random comment on my blog from someone I don't know. It makes a girl feel that much more heard, even if it's only about the activities of one's nostrils.

I also love steak. Flank steak, ribeye, skillet, skirt, cube... I just have a general affinity for beef. J'aime bien le biftec... biftec biftec...

So this entry is dangerously teetering on becoming another list of random thoughts only because today has been so awful, so horrid, so.. so forgettably bad that Imy mind is drawing a blank on how to communicate properly.

I have to share something on blogger that I have not yet. My aunt has cancer. My perfect, lovely, funny, sweet, awesome aunt who loves me more than life and loves life more than herself and loves Christ above all else has breast cancer. And I haven't called her. I haven't written her. I haven't made her dress (long story.) I haven't heard her tell me a joke since I found out because I'm afraid to call her and hear her be afraid. And I'm scared to tell her everything is going to be okay if in fact it turns out that even saints on earth have to die. I'm just plain selfish and stupid and young and scared that... that she might die. That the best christian woman I have to follow after and possibly the best I have ever known might be taken from me. forever. FOREVER. Well, okay not forever like eternity... but until I die and i see her in heaven... if she's even my aunt in heaven... if it even matters by then... FOREVER. FOREVER...

That's a long time...

I just put someone to sleep... That's a first for me.

I was having my nightly phone call from the previously un-aformentioned Mr... Mr... Mr.Cool, and we were making a list of things that annoy us/ make us cringe or generally ruin our lives when I noticed his voice getting fainter and fainter and finally, a light snoring sound on my side of the line. After a few "yoo-hoo"s and whispers of his name I finally smiled and bid him good night.

But, As for the list we made, here's just a small sampling of it:

1.) People who think Basketball is sponsored by the National Boxing league

2.)People who think that learning about culture and studying the world will make them demi-gods and therefore they are too self-sufficient for a Savior.

3.) People who think you owe them something. Or who think they own you. People who think that just because they're "nice enough" to you that you should bow to their will forever.

4.) People who think that You're selfish when you haven't got the time or energy to be there for them EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY.

5.) Hypocrites.

6.) The plastic sticky wrappy thingys on cds and DVDs.

7.) Friends who know nothing about you.

8.) People who complain when they are not perfect.

9.) People who complain when you're not perfect.

10.) When someone doesn't value your opinion as highly as their own.

11.) Brain freezes that hurt.

12.) Sneezing and never recieving a "bless you."

13.) Requiring that someone "Bless you." I know that 12 and 13 are seemingly in opposition, but if you're in the middle of a sentence and someone sneezes, or if they're on the telephone and you can't tell if they sneezed or coughed, or if you're on the telephone with someone else and they sneeze in the next room, there is no law that says you have to bless that person.

14.) Hearing people go to the bathroom.

15.) When people see fit to bring up embarassing/ hurtful/ horrid things from your past "just in jest."

16.) Smelly feet.

17.) People who sleep all day and are awake all night playing loud music or trying to get you to be awake all night.

18.) People who blame you for something they botched.

19.) People who are justified in their own minds about picking a fight/ picking on/ otherwise annoying and destroying peoples lives.

20.) People who make extremely long absurd lists about truths that everyone already agrees upon

There were more, but I can feel my readers dozing off "like the insesent out of tune of a violin"...

Night

I just had the worst possible dream. Worst only in comparison to life itself.

It was one of those dreams where you're so exhausted that your brain is too tired todream and now it's just reciting your days thoughts in the most random order. I was in Mr. Future millionaires room and he was showing me some paper only in dreams you supposidly can't read anything so I guess that doesn't matter. then he got down on one knee and started professing his love you me, most nearly the same way he did a year ago today. And then I said yes. But I said "yes Mr.Hamster" Then he pushed me off the cliff. And I woke up crying and apologizing to, oh yes, air.

Who does that? I would push me off the cliff too, Mr. Millionaire.

ok... Irony of ironies, I wrote a perfect blog entry today and a technical difficulty prevented it from being posted. (My computer ate it, atleast it wasn't an operator error this time) It was a perfect entry about a certain Mr's obnoxiously flighty sister, whom I have called both my bestf riend and my worst enemy, sometimes both in the span of a day.

But maybe I should take a hint that when blogger, my own hand, or my computer deems something I pour all of my heart and soul into worthless, that maybe I should change the topic or approach of that particular entry.

Instead of dishing the latest gossip and comtemplating the importance of the alliance that we sometimes form and how it affects life as I know it, I will list for you dilligent readers acceptable qualities for my Mr. Bunny, since I listed the qualities that he must not have in a former blog entry.

1. He must like creamy peanut butter. Miss. Loquacious would understand this reference. There is just no reason to have two types of peanut butter in one fridge, and I'm sure it means something if they would like crunchy peanut butter... But I'm not sure what that is...

2. He must live up to the name "Mr.Bunny" in it's simplest form. I'll refresh your memory: Mr. Bunny derives his name from the toppers that will be on our wedding cake. Any one who needs any more information than that is in obvious opposition to my needs...

3. He must be in love with me at first sight.

4. Non-christian applicants need not apply.

5. He must understand the humor and the rediculousness in #3.

6. He must like lip gloss. I wear it all the time and I don't plan on changing...

7. He must be ok with the attitude exemplified in #6.

And finally, #8. He must be able to ignore this whole list and/or make a list in strict oppostition to it.

If anyone wants more informantion on how to apply for the position of Mr.Bunny, call me.\

I have a bit of a dilemma that i would like to share with you all, without of course sharing names or any really specific details. But this is going to be difficult, so try and follow along and respond as best you can...

I have this "acquaintence." To be most specific, she is my soetime arch nemesis, sometime bosom buddy Mr.Hampster's sister. my problem isn't so much wioth her or how she treats people or her constant back and forth with me. My problem is with myself.

Mr.Hampster's sister is, in my mind, the number two reason why Mr.Hampster and I didn't get married and have 10 babies. (I am reason number one if you must know) She is coniving and backstabbing an self involved... But I feel for her. This world is cruel and it's easier to conform to it than anything. I feel like I could be exactly like her if I just gave up and gave in to the pressures of the world. The "You have to be perfect" pressure. The "You have to have a boyfriend" Pressure. The "You have to be too awesome or no one will even notice" Pressure. I feel like I could ruin people and then befriend them when they have no one else if only to turn them off to the world like i have been tainted if I only gave up... I guess that's why I have such a problem (when we're friends) when people talk about her. I have been caught in the gossip wave that is the topic of her and her behavior. But everytime I am "in her in group" so to speak, I feel this upswelling of compassion for her lost state. I feel like if she just had some dependable, steadying influence, she would stop being irratic and undependable and she would become the sweet, caring, funny person she can be when you're on her good side. But I don't know for sure if that would work for her because I can't seem to consent to being that influence. I can't seem to be nice to her all the time. I can't seem to have this compassion for her all the time. I am just not strong enough to help her.

What's a girl to do?

There is just no easy way to be completely loyal to someone who you hate for 9 months out of the year...

Ok so i know you all want to know about my blind date Saturday...

It was quite possibly the worst first-date experience I have ever had. He wouldn't talk to me. It was more like an interview really. We shook hands, we sat down, I asked questions, he answered, we went dutch, I went home an hour later than he did, we played dominoes with his sister and future brother-in-law, then i went to talk to my brother and went to bed while he watched anime with his sister and future brother in law. He's not even worthy of a mister title.

Ho-hum, the search for Mr.Bunny continues with no progress..

For those of you who might like to set me up with someone on a blind date, here are a few pointers for semi-success:

1. Don't set me up with someone younger than me... it just never works
2. Don't set me up with someone who can't talk. That's just lame.
3. Don't set me up with a gay guy. Been there, felt that...
4. Let me know if I can wear heels BEFORE i pick out my outfit for the date. There is nothing worse than meeting a 5'7'' guy in 4'' heels when we all know I'm tall enough.
5. If they're not christian, don't bother.
6. If they have the I.Q. of a colony of ants, don't bother.
7. If they use chopsticks as walrus teeth...
8. If they enjoy anime more than human interaction...
9. If they "want to beat"..
10. If they like talking ABOUT cars, jobs, school, The Civil War, Wal-mart, sex or any topic more than they like taling TO people...
11. If they are just lame...

As you can see by the ennumerated list i have supplied my future suitors and blind date set-ups, I'm not very particular. they don't have to be tall, handsome, genius, a certain age, or have particular hair quality/ color. They just have to be human. They hav to talk to me, they have to pretend to care about what i say, and they have to show some intelligent life. Other than that,it's free game. I'm low maintainence, I swear.

No more awful dates. Please.

AHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO! I JUST WROTE THE MOST PERFECT PROSE PEICE ABOUT MY LIFE AND I ERASED IT BECAUSE I'M A TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS WHORE!!!!!!!! DARN IT!

If I had a nickel for ever corn flarning time I have erased, deleted, or remove a file, Instant message or blog entry because of my fingers not listening to my brain lemme tell you how rich I'd be... RICH ENOUGH TO HAVE SOMEONE TYPE EVERYTHING FOR ME....

So I was just very thoughtfully reposed in the idea that I have known Heartbeaker for four whole years now and I had a very poignient social commentary on how switching bewtween sexual preferences changes everyones life, not just the homosexual, AND THEN I CLICKED A BUTTON AND IT DISAPEARED.

I would try and rewrite it as eloquently as it was intended, but truth be told I usually get so lost in my own unconcious writings that I can't normally recall their topics ten minutes or ten thougts later, let alone rewrite an entire perfect, thoughtful, stream-of-conciousness prose didactic on the world of love.

In short, Mr.Heartbreaker and I went on a picnic with his very nice, very smart, former christian boyfriend and had a very nice time eating gourmet food and looking out over the biggest mountain I've ever stood on. We chased geese, and talked about intelligent but not life altering things and took in the beautiful weather. But I can't help feeling awkward (or dare I say jealous?) when I think about the fact that someone that I might still be in love with (or just "in lust" with) is kissing another man. When I think about the fact that the definition of acceptable love has changed completely for him , I go a little spagetti brained, not to be confused with anything relating to spagetti stare...

The stress that his whole "life change" has afforded me makes me completely understand the reason for gray hairs and wrinkles. Does it make me crazy to be upset that the man to whom I almost offered my virginity to now takes comfort in his boyfriends kiss? Am I in the wrong for being upset everytime I see him kiss his BOYfriend and I think "Hey, thats not funny... I used to kiss him..."?

Truth be told, I believe that my life changes have offended his heart as well. I think me being a christian now is as hard for him to accept as his being gay is difficult on me. Four years and three failed attempts at perfect love later, and I think we know less about eachother than ever fathomable about friends who refuse to leave eachother for dead in this crazy world.

I may not get it at all and I may be thouroughly hurt and possibly disgusted when I see a man I gave my heart to kiss another man, but truth is i loved him. And you don't just stop loving someone or stop being attracted to someone when they've seen you through everything and they know every intimate detail about you for four years. There is a righteousness in loyalty.

I will not become a liar by my own actions. I promised him that I would always answer his call... and I can't go back on my word...

Bring on the gray, I have plenty of hair dye...

So I think I have finally found a dog that most likely represents my personality if I were, in fact, a dog.

This most annoying little pooch is named Patti. Patti is a bischon Frise (and that is french in case you never knew) Patti is a perfect specimen of dogness (as am I of humaness... as perfect as any pure-bred human can be...) she's tiny and jumpy and yappy and licky and fluffy like all bischons. She loves to love you in the most wet manner (doggy kisses are always french) and she hates it when you love someone more than her. She likes to be pet and she likes to be looked in the eye and she whines insesently when she feels as though you are not giving her enough attention. She never sleeps and she's never disappointed with anyones love. When told no, she tries harder, and when admonished, she loves longer. She's scared when she's alone and she hates to sleep in her cage. Patti has never been leash trained, but she rarely strays from heel position, because then she would feel to far away from things that she knew. Human's Love is Patti's only truth, and staying out of trouble is never an option.

Now if only I could be garanteed someones kindness just because I'm too cute and who else would take care of me if they didn't.... Then I would be as lucky as my annoying, licky, yappy, fluffy, tiny friend Patti.

Ok I get it. I just don't belong.

I'm like a round peg in a square hole, it may fit, but it doesn't really go there. Everywhere I turn, people welcome me with open arms, but then, it seems, they remember who I am or figure me out and they send me away. Because I'm not good enough. Because they don't need me. Because I JUST DON'T BELONG.

I read you loud and clear. I'm the only foster child with two living parents and who really wants the responsibility of raising an 18 year-old child who still needs a functional mother and father and a safe home and a warm bed and her freedom because she's grown all at once?

I've said it a million time, but I'll say it again fo those of you who missed it: I'm sorry I was born I can't fix it. I'm sorry I'm in your way, just say the word and I'll move. I'm sorry I love you and I'm not perfect, I'll try harder. I'm sorry for taking the air you wanted to breath and living the life you wanted to lead, but I promise soon I'll leave. As soon as I find another place where I can sort of belong until I ruin their lives.

Just wait a little while and I'll be dead, gone, or perfect, I promise...

But I will go to my grave with the life that I gave Not just a melody line on a radio wave it dissipates and soon evaporates... I'll come back for the home life...


Mr. Future Millionaire is back and why haven't either one of us learned that we always fall in love at the wrong time? That our heart are never on corresponding strings? That we need the exact opposite thing from eachother at the exact same time, EVERYtime? When will we be able to time or palipitations and weaknesses in order to atleast skip the same beat? I miss him and I love him and i feel like such a fool for ever causing him pain and for ever breaking anything of his... and he's glad that I'm happy. I want to curl in his arms and wimper an accepted apology and feel his strong arms around me and hear a quiet, steady "It's ok... everything's ok..."

Nope not this time little one... You missed the bus (Yes bus, I like boats far too much to ever imagine having missed one...Althougth that's another whole sob story...)

I recently attempted and pathetically failed a venture to the mall in search of a shirt to complete my Easter dinner outfit. Some of you may wonder, "Why does one need an 'Easter dinner outfit'?" while others (the lesser of the two phyllums, I do pray), will ask,"what is easter?" Well, my friends, I shall tell you a great story...

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, her momma, two old warlocks (who were also her brothers) and the girls father, King Norman the unfased. The little girl was beautiful by all accounts, but there was always something wrong with her. Depending on who you were, this flaw appered differently. Sometimes, she seemed too plump. Other times, her hair was too long. Some even thought she looked simple. So to hide her verious imperfections, everyone tried to dress her just so to hide her faults. The mother dressed her in rags to hide her pride and her curves. The warlocks also prefered rags so that no one would know she was a girl. The father, King Norman the unfased, had no say in this, for to him, the girls imperfections made no difference. (Mostly because, to him, she was invisible.)

One day, the girl was old enough to venture out into the market alone where she was greeted by a perplexing audience. True as it was she was fair, with red red lips and soft brown hair and eyes like doves, but the commoners in the markets too saw her flaws. They saw that she wore rags not befitting a princess and fitted her with the tightest corsets and longest skirts. They saw that she was too modest and they sold her the finest silks, woven fabrics, and lambswool they could muster in all the kingdom. They were displeased with her long, frayed, soft locks and encouraged her to cut her hair and die it the most unnatural colors, red like the robin, black as coal, and yellow like the sun. The very confused princess found her way home, delighted that she had found acceptance with her people, but worried about wqhat her family might do and say to her. She came into the courtyards of the castle, and her mother caught a glimpse of her short hair, colorful plummage and painted face and shrieked in horror "You stupid girl you were to perfect the way I had created you, why would you change?" So her mother forced her to change into her rags, take off the make-up she had been forced to wear, and pull her hair tightly to her head so that no one would see the shame of her short hair.

Everytme the girl went to the city, she felt as though she should dress like the commoners, for she was shouted aty and jeered in the streets "You simple girl, where is your jewlery, you make-up, your fine clothes! One can barly tell you figure under that sack-cloth!" The girl struggled for many years, going back and forth between her identities, beautiful in each place if only she wore what she was told, for her imperfections were too unbearable if handled in her own manner.

And such is my di-llama with easter dinner...
What to wear what to wear what to wear...

Man Jeremy Camp is the hottest one.

Now that that is out of the way I need to have a Seinfeld "Nothing but everything" matters moment. And as per usual, I have a few things to whine about.

What's up with people walking behind counters at retail estalishments as if they own the joint? I work at a shoe store as most of you know (And Those of you that are just finding out, do us all a favor and keep your worn l Bundy jokes under wraps, Ksies?) It's a regular store, in a regular out doors shopping strip center, with the average clientel, So why do people constantly act as if they can do whatever they want up in my store? I hate to be ghetoo, but people keep acting a fool and disobeyin'. There is a counter. The customer belongs on one side and I (The associate belong on the other side. Now, I work there (You remember) and I am allowed to be on your side (You being the customer) But please do not come in search of a trash can, shoe cleaner, footies/peds/those-little-things-you-put-on-your-feet, a beverage dispenser, or any sort of condiment. You do not own the counter. You do not get to invade my space in order to fulfill your crazy quota for the day. And please remember that your children are not allowed to throw away their trash, get footies, search for frosty refreshment or come up behind me and smack my butt like they own me either. Please thank you and goodnight.

There was more... There is more... only I forgot it... hmph...

OH! The worst possible way to address a girl when she has altered her apperance is "Well what'd you go and do that for?" Okay, maybe laughter is the worst, but the worst possible thing to do that you could possibly control (Cause sometimes jaunts be lookin a mess and they have to be laughed at) {Please excuse the ghetto....} Is to say the aformentioned statement. My sales associate today, upon seeing my newest hairstyle, which is very chic and clean, if I may say so myself, said "Why'd you go and chop your hair off?!" and he added a glare that could angrily shred ice. When my retort was a quite indignant, "You can't talk to me like that, that's just mean" He asked why I was so testy, added that HE liked girls with LONG hair, then proceeded to list reasons at my "sudden" and "Unprovoked" annoyance with his Person. First off, you've knownw me for a year and a half and you know you are not my type so you should know you preference makes no difference to me. Second point, if you are my father, my boyfriend or possible my brother, go on and say what you will, but if you barely know a b, back it up... My motto is if you raised me or you pay for me you can say anything you want, other than that , my hair is not your concern, daddy, so shut it.... Grr....

I think thats asll for now. I'm sure I have more but what will I write about tomorrow if all the livin' I've done has already been written?

Chew on that kids, I'll be back.
Oh if anyone knows anythig about the Philipines, email me, It's an emergency....

IT'S A PIECE! PASS OUT THE CIGARS! GET THE BALLOONS!

HIS NAME IS "THE WISDOM CUBE"!!!

Now that that is out of the way...

I just wanted to say that I don't know anything and nothin gmakes sense and I'm ok with that.

The End.

so i hope my readers don't see this as overstepping my bounds as a writer ( and hopefully as your friend?) but i need a favor. this favor may be the most important one of my life, please read closely and respond promptly for I become more and more desperate as the days go by. this is a dilemma of WMD importance, please read cautiously.


Here's the plot and the tragedy:

I have a car (plot, not tragedy.) I have a car and it's my first car and it's a piece (Using "piece" Here, I hope you, the reader surely understand that it is an abbreviation for a phrase {not suitable for the wee readers} that means bad, bolox, not-up-to-par, ect...) Again, pot not tragedy. The tragedy of my newest fortunate situation is that my newly acquired, not newly designed or desired car, is, in fact, nameless. Yes, I have a no-named car. Having adopted this car from it's previously owner who, no doubt treated it well (obvious by it's ripped interior, rust colored 16 year old paint job, neglected golf balls in the trunk and automatic window buttons that you must holw in your hand in order to operate) it has still arrived at my door step without a name. I want this new car to know how much I really love it. It is imperettive that it feels at home and loved.

The best name in the running is "sir lotty of the piece family, upper marlboro." While this name is fitting and certainly acceptable, I would like to run over a few choices with the said "Piece" in order to find the best for him/her.

Please help. I need you...

The one-l lama
He is a priest
The 2 l llama
He is a beast
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
3 l lllama.

So yea.

Oh and one more thing...

If you have the time
To listen to me whine,
Then when reading this little ryhme
don't begrudge me love, be kind
Consider, for once, who I am
and be a friend, the best you can
To read is to choose
To leave is to lose
Loyalty you can't buy
Is awaiting any friend of mine.

Here's the cleanest window into my heart, O ye disbelievers and scorners, o yea of little faith and great condisencion...

Psalm 116
1I love the LORD, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.
2Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.
3The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.
4Then called I upon the name of the LORD; O LORD, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.
5Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.
6The LORD preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.
7Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the LORD hath dealt bountifully with thee.
8For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.
9I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
10I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted:
11I said in my haste, All men are liars.
12What shall I render unto the LORD for all his benefits toward me?
13I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the LORD.
14I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
15Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
16O LORD, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.
17I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the LORD.
18I will pay my vows unto the LORD now in the presence of all his people.
19In the courts of the LORD's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the LORD.

Prasie Ye the Lord Almighty, God of Heaven and Earth...