A Summer Waiting

I feel sometimes that I spend most of my life waiting for something. Waiting for a beginning, waiting for an end. Waiting for something to finally happen. Waiting, waiting. Waiting... Waiting for the summer to end, and for school to begin again. Waiting to feel healthy, for my cold to be gone. Waiting till when I can see N again. 21 days of work left, 30 days till I go back to school, the last two I've wasted being sick. Waiting for this latest infection to leave my body, hoping and hoping it will leave quietly without a fight, waiting for the fever to go down. Waiting to remember what healthy really is. Waiting to hear about the short story contest. Waiting for inspiration to hit me. I feel like I'm watching a million Seinfeld episodes... waiting for a plot. When am I going to stop waiting, wake up, and make my own storyline? Time for a shower and some phone calls.

Lunch and Laundry

Well well well. Just back from the best weekend of the summer with my boy! Weekends, to begin with, HAVE to be a BIT good when they start on Friday and end on Tuesday... but wait there's more: We ate a lot of lunch, took care of 4 weeks worth of laundry, and even did a little grocery shopping. Siiiigh.
Now topping it all off with a Buffy re-run. Willow: "But do they really stick out? Sore thumbs? I mean, have you ever seen a thumb and thought, 'Wow, that baby is SORE.'?" Xander: "You have too many thoughts."
So, anyway, this squirrel. A crazy mo-fo squirrel who says "boo" back at you. The thing is freaking tame. Not only does it attack the peanut butter knife in the dish bin while N is standing right in front of it (his fault really, he started feeding it, tsk tsk), but when I try to shoo it away, it stands up on the frying pan, puts its little paws on its little hips and makes this angry squirrel noise: "eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh" All high-pitched and squeaky. And I, slightly taken aback, say, "Excuse me?" So, to my great surprise, the squirrel sighs, shakes his head and comes out with, "Girl, don't you dare go chasin' my skinny-rodent ass away from your peanut-butter knife. Damn. You ain't lickin' that shit off yo'knife. Leave it for the little people, where yo'respect woman?"
"My respect? You're three inches tall. I'll sit on you."
"Well, shit. I'm fixin' to raise up and get my lame-ass-human-bitch beats on. You done pissed me off. You come over here and see what this three-inches has got for your dumb-butt. I got rabies, and I KNOOW how to use it."
At which, point, the author shame-facedly admits that she turned... tail, and ran. After surrendering the peanut butter knife.

Jimmy and Wayne

Cheers to the long-haired native guy I saw sitting in the square this morning. He was wearing nothing but a neon green bathing suit (shorts thankfully) and birkenstocks, and he watched me all the way to my bus. I know, because he stood up to keep watching me... for a minute, I thought I was the only one who could see him, and was feeling a bit like Jim Morrison, or at least Wayne. But then I realized that the girl walking beside me was getting kind of scared. I was just laughing. Oh the downtownies... how I miss them when I go to K-town. Anyway, advice of the day, for my own personal invisible indian guide, for the guy I saw eating a hotdog on the fountain who's ass was actually FALLING OUT of his cut-offs, and also for the annoying co-worker of the year: Short-shorts are out. Not only that, but you will not bring them back by constant use. There are many reasons for this. A) They're ugly. B) slightly offensive. C) (most important, I think) Short-shorts are tight, out of necessity because NO ONE wants to see... anything. And we all found out in 1992 what the tightness does to your boys... So, for the sake of my (now) hypersensitive gag reflex, and also for the sake of (god forbid) your future procreation, please, PLEASE stop wearing them. Plan B is this: If I can't get these testicle-offenders to cease and desist, I'm going to borrow a pair of horse blinders, and start wearing them to work. Seriously.

comments

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The one annoying co-worker

JN msgs me: "Why does he always think he's part of every conversation?"
Truth.... I don't presume to try and understand the creepy inner-workings of our requisite annoying co-worker's twisty little mind. There's always got to be one, and R is the epitome of all that is annoying and creepy in a co-worker...
If it were just that he butts into every conversation, we could possibly live peacefully in our environment. However, I do not make it a common practice to listen to the constant advice of a know-it-all who two days ago I watched systematically pick little specs of stuff (L asks: Was it crumbs from lunch? Or the crusties he's always picking off his head?) off his sweater and.... eat them. I kid you not. And while I would theoretically like to be the one who bravely takes the moral high-ground.... frankly, the moral high-ground is WAY up there, and I'm afraid of heights. Once in a while, the urge to divulge all the grossness I feel towards this person wins out, and I have to have a minor ranting session with JN over msn. I know, I know... "He who is without sin casts the first stone." But it's not like we're outwardly pelting the guy with verbal missiles. Just privately, among ourselves, over the internet, while he's sitting in the room. Yes, I am stroking the guilty conscience. On the upside, my ability to keep a straight face has reached new and uncharted territories. :)

Ordinariness

Once upon a time, there was a princess, or maybe an ordinary girl, who lived in an underground palace guarded by a fierce dragon. Mostly, the ordinary girl was happy. She had shelter, and food, and entertainment, and even some luxury. The only thing that bothered her once in a while was that she couldnt' get out and see the world. Not only did the dragon keep people out of the underground palace, but it also kept her in. But since the ordinary girl was never bored, she didn't think about it much. SO, the ordinary girl lived on happily under the world with her dragon.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to her, the world was moving on around her. The ordinary girl's family were very worried about the fact that they could no longer see their daughter. Thus, they issued a decree. They let it be known that whoever could slay the dragon and free their daughter from her underground prison would be well rewarded. The hope being, of course, that a prince or duke or someone equally important would complete the task. I.E. not an ordinary boy.
And so, noble after noble was incinerated byt the dragon (because after all, intelligence is not a condition of one's nobility), and still the princess (ordinary girl) remained imprisoned. The nobles became discouraged (not too mention dis-inclined to become incinerated), so the girl's father was forced to up the ante. To whom ever succeeded, he would award the daughter's hand in marriage. The efforts were renewed at this, and the nobles' ranks dwindled, which discouraged the king (ordinary father) in his turn.
While this was going on, a very ordinary young man was on his way to a very ordinary destination (his grandmother's house) through a dragon infested forest. He had heard the story of the girl underground, but being ordinary, he did not feel compelled to concern himself with her. Likewise, dragons did nto feel compelled to concern themselves with him because of his being ordinary, so he was safe from them as well. Unfortunately, he happened to walk over a weak spot in the forest floor, and fell through right into the ordinary girl's sitting room.
"Oh dear," she said. "Now the dragon's going to have to incinerate you, and I just redid these cushions."
"On the contrary," replied the dragon. "Look, he wears no armour, no horse, where is the challenge in that? Not to mention the fact that I've been trying to increase my intake of fibre."
"Well that's a relief," she said, and the young man was inclined to agree with her.
"Now," she said. "What do you suppose I should do with you?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," said the ordinary young man, looking puzzled. "After all, I'm just ordinary."
"That's good," she said smiling. "I'm an ordinary girl myself."
"Well," he said thoughtfully. "I suppose I could marry you and take you home to your family."
The ordinary girl made a face.
"No, I don't particularly want to marry you, and besides, if I went back to my family I'd have to be a princess, and I'd much rather stay an ordinary girl."
"Fair enough," he said. "Shall I tell your parents that then?"
"Yes please," she said. "It was very nice to have met you."
And so he left, and conveyed his message. Then he regaled his grandmother with the tale.

The first post is dedicated to my darling Black Panther, who has graciously agreed to be my fan.