Hoping. . .each time. . .that his next leap will be the leap. . .HOME

Today, after many months of not watching, and a solid week of at work watching, I finally finished season three of Quantum Leap! YAY! I must admit, I had a slow start on the season, and I went a long time without watching it at all, but then either I got into it or the episodes got better, because I got way into it. I left it up at work over the weekend, and I kept thinking about how if I brought it home with me, I coulda fit in a episode here and there. Now at the end, I think it might be my favorite season so far. Especially the last episode where Sam leapt into a mental patient and immediately got hit with a huge electroshock that fried his brain and made him revert to various former hosts that he had inhabited. It was sad and touching. And then, at the end when he leaps out, it showed that the next ep is my favorite one where Al is solid and Sam is the hologram. Now I need season 4. Dammit! And I need season 3 of Buffy. And season 2 of Veronica Mars. Grr. And Christmas isn't for months! Am I doomed to have to spend my own money on these things?!? The horror! The ignominy! The brokeness of my bank account! *sigh*

Dance Mutha Fuckers, Dance Mutha Fuckas, Dance

I got new muuuusic! I got new muuuusic! I'm so HAPPY! I was getting absolutely sick of the radio, and my cd's have gotten a little stale, so I needed more, and now I have them!

I bought 2 cd's to replace some of the scratchy ones that I had already:

Madonna: The Immaculate Collection
They Might Be Giants: Flood

I also bought cd's that I DIDN'T previously own. These are they:

Banarama: Greatest Hits (Bland bubble gum pop for when I don't feel like having a brain.)
100% Pure Dance (I thought this cd had different songs than it does. I'm pretty disappointed with it)
Material Issue: The Best of Material Issue (I bought this for "Valerie Loves Me," and it's a good thing, cause I'm not terribly impressed with the rest.)
Franz Ferdinand: Franz Ferdinand (What can I say? It's Franz Ferdinand. It's what you'd expect. I'll probably listen to this one when I'm tired of Fall Out Boy.)
The Magnetic Fields: i (So good. Very offbeat, though. You'd definitely have to be in the mood. Cainnum would probably really like this one.)
The Darkness: Permission to Land (I really like "I Believe in a Thing Called Love." Now that I've heard the cd, I can honestly say. . .I really like "I Believe in a Thing Called Love.")

Now I have the new music bug. I want MORE! Oh dear. I wonder if there's a 12 step program for this sort of thing.

What would Freud say?

Since most people don't wanna touch my last post with a ten foot pole, I thought it was time to write something a little more disturbing. It just makes sense really. You all know that I've had an unexplained fever for 5-6 days, and with fever comes weird dreams. Last night I had the weirdest. dream. ever. I dreamed that Steve Irwin tried to seduce me. Yes. The Steve Irwin. He wasn't dead in my dream, thank heavens. Understand that I do not find Steve Irwin attractive in any way, at all, ever. So it's particularly strange that I would have a naughty dream about him now that he's a goner. He didn't succeed in the seduction, by the way, but that's mostly cause my alarm went off, thank the gods. So, ya know. That's the sort of thing that I would normally just shudder and try to forget, but thanks to technology, I can share it with all of you. Aren't you so happy!

We're both tiger's on the Chinese zodiac, that's where the problems come from

*Sigh* My life hasn't exactly been sunshine and flowers lately. I've been running a fever for no apparent reason for three days. As a result, I am cranky and keep taking things the wrong way and getting into fights with people. Also, yesterday I had a pretty big altercation with my mom. Here's the gist of it. I told Ethan to get in the parent pick up line yesterday. I even did it by the numbers and sent his teacher a note saying that he should not ride the bus home, but should get in the parent pick up line. The reason I needed to pick him up at 3:15 is because mom had a doctor's appointment at 3:45, which would be cutting things pretty darn close. So I go to pick him up. After waiting in line FOREVER, we get to the front of the line, and. . .I bet you can see it coming. . .no Ethan. The people who are running the line are no help at all and just keep calling his name over and over even though I can see all the kids and have told them that Ethan in not there. Finally I get them to reveal to me where a kid would wait for the parent walk up line. I go to the spot, and I ask a lady if I can park on the side to walk up to the right spot and she says yes. So I park and go to the doors, and they are locked. I look around inside and can't see anyone. I go back to the lady and ask how you get to the kids if the doors locked. She tells me that the kids that are left are the two standing right there. Ok, what the fuck did she think I wanted to know where to pick up kids for?!? So I realize that Ethan has gotten in the bus. At this point, I realize that my 9 year-old son who has NEVER stayed home by himself before ever is going to arrive home to find no people and no explanations, and that mom is going to be late for her doctor's appointment. I tell mom to call her doctor and cancel. She FREAKS OUT hard core. She starts crying and saying she can't miss this appointment because of blah blah blah. So I say FINE, I'll take her to her appointment and Ethan will just be home all alone. Now I have no problem with Ethan being home alone, he is nine for pete's sake. My problem is him being home alone with no preparation or warning. Ethan is a worrier, and I knew that if he came home and found no one there, he would freak out and think that someone got sick or died or something. I think that because that's exactly what I thought when I was a kid and would come home to an empty house. So she comes up with the idea to call dad (who is a telephone man driving around our town all day) and ask him to go by the house between 3:45 and 4 and explain to Ethan what's going on. OK, fine. So I'm still pretty pissed at mom, and eventually I tell her that, "I just thought my son was more important than your doctor's appointment. I guess my priorities are all screwed up." This starts round two. She was all screaming that she's had to reschedule appointments three times and she has to go today because it's so horrible for her to get people to take her because they always get mad and I don't know how horrible it is to be her and so on and so forth. First off, she goes to the doctor like every week, so I don't see what the big deal of missing one is, and then I ask why she can't just call because she's going to get lab results and she can get those over the phone and she tells me no, they need to draw more blood. I tell her that I can't speak for anyone else, but the reason I get mad when I have to take her to the doctor all the freaking time is because she did this to herself. She has refused to lose weight or to exercise and she has let herself get sicker and sicker and now WE are the one's having to pay the price. I said that it has taken the doctor telling her that her kidneys are failing and her losing her sense of taste for her to even start cutting back on her eating, and that I know there's nothing she can do about it now, but it still doesn't seem fair. She said well maybe she should just kill herself so that she's not such a bother. I just rolled my eyes. That's her kind of highly emotionally charged fighting tactics that just make me want to leave and never come back. Some time passed, and she starting talking about the conditions that being fat or skinny wouldn't have any affect on, and I told her that it was true, but being skinny sure would make dealing with those problems easier. (There was more to that, but it's boring, so ya know.) So some more time passes with her crying quietly until she finally says, "You can't judge me until you've walked in my shoes." By this time, I'm feeling like I should try to lighten the mood a little, so I say, "I have walked in you shoes. They're very uncomfortable." She says bitterly, "You HAVEN'T walked in my shoes!" So I reply in a harsh tone, "You're RIGHT. I haven't walked in your shoes. Because when I hit 260 pounds, I decided to LOSE WEIGHT!" Yeah, I know. Low blow. So I got her to the doctor's office and drop her off and tell her that I will go get Ethan then come back. I immediately start calling the house every three minutes. Finally I get dad, who tells me Ethan isn't there yet. I ask if he's gonna wait for him, and he says he's out of area and he's supposed to be in Bartonville right now. So I ask him to just leave Ethan a note and I will keep calling. Then he calls me back and he's told Ethan he has to stay in the house and can't have visitors. Shew, that's taken care of. Then mom calls and the doctor's office says she doesn't have an appointment. WHAT THE FUCK?!? So I tell her that I'm still in Denton, I can turn around and get her, but she finds her appointment card and goes to show them. They admit that it's their fault (Well, yeah!) and they work her in. Of course, they can only draw the blood because THE FUCKING DOCTOR ISN'T FUCKING THERE. AGAIN. He's never fucking there. GAR. Apparently this time he had to fly to San Francisco suddenly. I keep telling mom she needs to change fucking doctors. There's always a 3-4 hour wait and that's just to see the Nurse Practitioner! Anyhoo. So, that was all pretty stressful. Then Lawrence didn't want to get together last night because he'd had a really hard day and was tired, and I started crying on the phone. I tried not to and a I tried to hide it, but he could tell, and he came over. But because I've been running a fever and have a cold sore, he wouldn't kiss me at all. I guess he doesn't want to get sick for some reason. Geez. So, all in all, I've had better days in my life. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Fiddle dee dee.

raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Well, the worst has happened. I am in full-on nesting mode. I've been planning and plotting all along about how I'm going to decorate Lawrence's house when I move in, (I say decorate rather than RE-decorate because his house is completely bland and beige. Sad but true.) and I've given a little thought to his landscaping. He lives in suburbia, and all his neighbors have landscaped yards, but he just has weeds. Well, last night we invited a girl from church over for ice cream, and we got to talking about his yard and it turns out she is hardcore into yard work. She knows all about what plants to use for what sunlight and stuff like that. Stuff that I have no knowledge on what-so-ever. But she was talking, and it got me all excited about landscaping. I spent all my lunchbreak looking up information on the internet about plants and trees. I got so engrossed that I looked at my watch and realized that I was ten minutes late and I hadn't even left my house yet. We're thinking about planting some kind of tree in the front and putting up a trellis against the wall along the walkway for some kind of vine. I'm thinking morning glories and sweet peas. Also, Lawrence wants to plant flowers to attract butterflies, which I think we would put in a raised bed under the bay windows in front. I'm so excited, I want to start today, but I know this isn't really the right time to start planting things. Grrr. Isn't this bizarre and weird? I guess the second I get the whiff of a place to call my own, my cancerness kicks in full force. Who woulda thunk?

Road Raging

Over the past few months I have noticed an interesting phenomena. I am an aggressive driver. I drive fast. I take the lane when I need it. I pass drivers who are going slow. I don't believe that I am a dangerous or crazy driver, just that I drive at the more aggressive end of the driving spectrum. I always have. I drove that way when I had a grey Ford Taurus. I drove that way when I had a beat up Sunbird. I drove that when when I had a older model Ford Explorer. Now I have a new, somewhat sporty bright blue/purple Chevy Impala with windows that are practically black and a black car bra on the front. And suddenly drivers are responding to me in a completely different way. Before when I would try to pass someone, every once in a while they would speed up to make it more difficult for me, but usually they would slow down and let me by. Before when I wove in and out of traffic, people usually let me in. Suddenly, I find that people are speeding up to block me or creating a purposeful moving road block or racing me almost 95% of the time! It's weird! I am the same person, driving the same way I always have, yet now that I drive a nice looking car people act like I'm an asshole. I don't even have to DO anything and I find people road raging at me! It's the most bizarre thing. It's really interesting the psychological effect your vehicle can have on people. It's also interesting the effect it has on me. I'm getting a bazooka installed next week.