Too Much Chocolate Milk

I think I'm going to vomit. Made a HUGE glass of the stuff and now I am too full to focus on my writing, which has been going extremely well.

I helped Fallon shop today. I didn't help really. I merely watched her stare at things and make comments.
While at Wal*Mart, she had one of her husband's friends mix her paint. He had on a tie that had a bunch of old 90's cellphones covering it.
Fallon - Look at his tie.
Me - That's funny.
Fallon - He made a call earlier from it.
AND THIS IS WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID:
Me - Fallon, the fashion interrogator.... 'What, are you making calls on that stupid tie, boy?!'
OR
Me - Did you have decent signal strength?
Mayyyyyybe the former sounds funnier in my head.

I am going to help the lass paint Sunday and stay the night at her house Saturday. I will blow the roof off the place, ha.

Did see a duck in the parking lot. I tried to get it to look at me, but the woman's car I was standing behind was getting aggravated since she wanted to back out. Ha.

Already bought tickets to this. A dream of mine is going to come true. Next is Swan Lake (the music is amazing) and an Opera, and a broadway (preferably Sweeny Todd or Chicago). Or The Mouse Trap. I love Agatha Christi -- but I would take my mother with me, alongside my sister, since my mother is a HUGE fan of the woman. the biggest.

Anyway, Background music for my writing because I am suddenly very tired.

Sexy Eyes

Just now....
Amanda - *knocks on door*
Me - What?
Amanda - Do you work tomorrow?
Me - No.
Amanda - Oooooooooh.
Me - But I'm planning on doing everything without you tomorrow.
Amanda - But Heather... Kingdom Hearts, Assassin's Creed, Doctor Who....
Me - Too bad! Made plans with myself.

Earlier today...
Amanda - I did tell you how horrible of a comedian he was before he went redneck, right?
Me - *not wanting to hear it said...* Yes, you have.
Amanda - *skeptically looks at me* No, I haven't.
Me - Yes, you have. What makes you think I would lie?
Amanda - I know you. I've lived with you for my whole life. You just don't want me to say it.
Haaaaaaaa.

When I arrived home from work, my mother and my sister were watching Bridezillas (go ahead and groan, I know). Except, the sound cut off every two to three minutes or so. They then told me that the internet was awful. So, they were just watching TV with it loading everything two to three minutes for at least two to three minutes. This is how bored we become. It's very, very sad.

I finally came up with a game plan to Seven Relics (title still in the works). Very excited.

In other news, wearing some white pajama pants. What's so special about that you may ask? They have pigs all over them, and in sporadic places, the words, "oink! oink!" written in cursive. Very happy I invested seven dollars. Downside.. They're kind of see-through. So, pink panties work, no?

On a brighter note...

I bought this absolutely horrid (and awesome) mug today with Alex:

That is all.

Can I get a 'Hell Yeah'?!

Last night was game night with the guys. Nothing really eventful but the game.

Alura and I are very, very sad that both our friends are leaving. Kristina (Alura's friend) is moving to Alabama. Marina is moving two hours away to Louisville (it isn't that far but I know we'll grow apart because of this). Anyway, I just thought I'd link to past entries for Marina, for our stories that Marina and I still laugh at today, like when I stole that cart from her apartment parking lot, "GO TO HELL" incident where I still believe they were going to come back and do something to us, the HUGE grasshopper incident, or when she took the picture of the monkey.

The one story I haven't spoke about was the "MR. BROWN!" one.
We were sitting at Western at, I want to say, 1:30AM and just at the patio tables, looking at the fountain. From afar, walking down some steps was an old man. Marina was squinting, just trying to make him out because she said he looked familiar.
I was just sitting there, uncaring, talking about something.
When he stepped closer, Marina, who had just rolled up one pant leg and had switch to flip flops, stood. "That's Mr. Brown, my Professor."
"Seriously, at this hour?"
And before I could stop this girl, she jogging up to him, just yelling (literally), "Mr. Brown!! Mr. Brown! What are you doing here?"
This man was not making eye contact and he looked to his feet. His pace quickened.
"Mr. Brown, what are you doing here?" She was at the table again, kneeing the seat.
He grumbled, "I work here." And nearly ran off the scene.
Then Marina started to laugh.
This is the day it happened.
You know, we were completely sober.

She has actually changed my life. I told her this, but I want other people to roll their eyes at this.
1. I stopped caring about weed because of her.
2. She MADE me go to college.
3. She has helped me through any situation.
4. She's taught me how to better talk to people.
5. And, this is one is long, but I believe if you never go out of your comfort zone of what your world is, then you'll never realize your full potential. She was out of my comfort zone and, since I met her, I felt more independent.

She invited me, and really tried, to get me to move with her to Louisville, but I don't want to transfer colleges, and I would have to leave everything behind. I'm not saying what I have to leave behind is grand, but I want to finish a few things first before I move off and leave my sister behind. I am very, very close to Amanda and I want to stay with her as long as possible before life divides us, I guess.
She's at my doorway right now, trying to coax me into the living room.

Blah, the more and more I try to translate my sentences in French, the more anxiety I get over learning two different languages.

I guess today is not the day for my comedy. I'm just not in the mood. Been aggravated since last night. I just think that I need more gal pals than guy friends. All guy friends have me do is be bored and think I'm ugly because some "model" (and I use that word very loosely) fucking chick is "fucking hot." Well, every time they say something like that, I counter with a dude.
I am really uncaring, but it's called fucking respect.
There's another eye roll.

Anyway, been having more and more nightmares.
I blame reality.
Ha, how Matrix is that?

Red and Purple Do Match

Today has been nothing but an onslaught of my thoughts and everything in between.

At work, I walked into a conversation with Janet (a sweet old woman) and Jose (the cleaning crew).
"...then I told them I was going to leave and talk with my husband."
"How did you find out?"
"Jack told me it was the wrong bank. Good thing I didn't get ill, otherwise I would have looked more like an idiot."
Janet then turned to me, "Hey Heather! I went to the wrong bank and demanded my money."
Bernie walked back there also, changing out batteries in her equipment.
Jose was asking, "So, do you have anymore stories?"
Janet looked up to the side then said, "Well, there was this one time I didn't know I was getting pulled over."
Bernie laughed, "I love this one!"
Jose asked, "You didn't know you were getting pulled over?"
Janet laughed, watching Bernie, "Well, no. I was just driving down 31W, from Kroger when he came up behind me and flashed his lights. I just thought he needed to go around so I slowed down and kind of pulled over to let him around me. He didn't; he just kept flashing those lights. Then he kept following me farther down, so I stuck out my hand to wave him around."
Bernie laughed, face turning red.
Janet finished, "That's when his sirens went off and I thought, 'Geez, what does he want?' Eventually though, I did pull over, after driving ALL the way down 31W."
Jose laughed and I was shaking my head.
Janet continued, "I one time paid at a drive-thru and left my food there. I once paid for gas and just drove off without it. One time at a job I got lost coming back from lunch. They called me back to work twice. After about half an hour I just left. I said, 'Forget this, I can't even find my way back!'"
Jose looked stunned, "How old were you?"
"Oh, I was teenager with that job thing."
"Oh, so this has always been an issue and not recently?"
"Oh no, I've always been like this."
Janet is Janet.

Todd and I have an ongoing tradition of harmlessly pranking one another at work. He'll come by and turn my shoe carts around when I'm actually working. Or, he'll pull my cart down one of the main aisles while I distracted in another. Or, call me at the fitting room and say something nonsensical and hang up.
Sometimes I pull his carts away, or slide things away from his grasp, or give him calls over the walkie for phone pick up when nothing is on the line.
It's on, little man.
For working in mens, when I wanted to be in shoes (that's right, Todd, I WANTED TO BE THERE), he gave me this (well, not gave, but let it flutter over my shoulder in the breakroom):

Man my legs hurt so badly. I'm sitting and they're still throbbing.

I actually organized all my French papers from past semesters and organized the ones I needed to study by the dates I wrote down in my planner. I should really be a planner because I have mad skillz.

Fallon and I hung out today at Barnes and Noble.
She had me buy a book, The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane. I will immediately read it after I finish Sacre Bleu!, which I'm going to read after this entry.

Perhaps I'll have something interesting later.
Ha, doubt it peeps.

My Ode To Female Readers

(This is actually interesting.)

Men have done nothing but make me feel guilty for the way I look. Year after year they sneer at me, or make fun of my weight, or my face, or any part they feel would hurt me more in the moment. I am not saying girls are innocent, but women, most of our gender, seem to think men could only love with an image on it. So, we douse ourselves in make-up and perfume, change our clothes to show cleavage so the idiot cannot take us seriously.

Please, gentlemen, I know you are not all like this. I have met boys in my short lifetime that have proven me wrong, but they are not what women naturally want. They are not the douchebags, or the studly man who feels as if he is entitled to something - they are the blokes we see our guilty-selves in.

Women, we all change our weight so he couldn't feel "disgusted" in bed, or "disgusted" if he touches us. Are we all not guilty of that thought? I know I am. I know if I eat around certain men that they look at me weirdly and their jaws twitch. I feel as if I do not eat a little amount that I am proving what they are thinking: that I am disgusting. Recently, though, under much self-induced pressure, I consider myself less caring than when we were all children - unknowing to different classes of weight until we learned it from television, peers, or family.

Women, men are simply there. They are not what make the world turn. What I would not give to show women of the past what we are today. We have choices, and reasoning. We no longer have to fit an image and live by it - thinking that is all we are worth - to pop out more and more boys. Without us, there would be no them.

Homo sapiens are a species - a mammal on this earth that was made to breed, but we have evolved. Our cranial size surpasses that of our ancestors for a reason. We wanted to learn, to move out of the forest and better ourselves. Humans steadily continue to make lives easier with technology, entrusting our lives in it. Yet, how is it that we can duplicate another living being, but not see that gender is not what makes us weaker?

We are plagued with changing hormones to make a human life. We are plagued with the "moon's cycle" and having to be worried if he will agree to put on a condom, because that is all we want in the moment - to feel wanted by that one boy. For one fleeting moment we want him to be thinking only of you and how wonderful that one fleeting moment truly is.

Men, I am not saying women are forever innocent. I meet some that ruin what I am trying to translate in my own words. Some are manipulative, crude, and abusive. We all have our faults, but I am looking at the bigger picture. Those women are never alone, no matter which perspective you are trying to look. No matter if the guy is just as abusive as her, they are never alone and never feel as if they can be. Some, I believe, just need to feel as if someone will want to see them every day.

I wish I could prove to many female lives that men are not what make them, but how they live their life with how strong they are.

Shotgun!

Todd and I, outside of the gaming atmosphere, have been arguing about the "death" of House, the antagonist of the game. Well, it's actually one-sided because he listens to me raving about it and either shakes his head or just says, "Okay." I say he's not dead because it's halfway in the game and I thought it was weird. It's tying in nicely (I'm impressed, Todd-ster) but I knew something else had to happen.
Today, this happened:
Todd - Want a hint about the game?
Me - Oh, that he's still alive?
Todd - No, he got shot in the face. He's dead.
Somehow, this tickled me. It was in such a matter-of-fact tone.
Todd, I do want to write up some of the scenes of the game - especially last night's with the bar talk.

So.
My mother left their work legal pad out with a pen just lying on top of it. What is a girl to do but write a line of a song, then decide that wasn't good enough and write a primary poem:

Leave my girly handwriting alone.
My mom saw it as she passed, raised her head to me and said, "Really Heather?"

I'm thinking of drinking tonight - let's hope my stomach allows me to. I am tired of vomiting and having to take acid pills but boredom overrides health most days.

I'm going to eat and then read.
I am so cool I should wear sunglasses at night.

Shook Me All Night Long

What I like about Fallon is that she thought of me and then bought me something:

Isn't it grand?! I fucking love pigs. I ordered me some pig checks the other day too. I feel loved. I honestly fucking love it. I am using it until its legs fall off. Right now it's in the book Gates of fire by Steven Pressfield.

In other news....

See that shit? I actually finished weaving in all the fucking ends to the sweater. There were twenty-something. It's finished and I'm washing it here in an hour with my work clothes. My mother beat me to the washer. DAMN YOU, MOTHER.

Oh, I won a free gift card to Barnes and Noble. I won first place in the fiction contest at school. Well, hardly anyone submitted and it's not like I'm a prodigy, but it can be argued. The first story I ever wrote was about a Goosebumps story line. All I remember is that I squirted ketchup on the monster's shirt or something. I think it's the book where the parents turn to plants or something - someone help me out here. Whatev. I'm thinking about buying some Sylvia Plath. Maybe one of the other books on my list.
I texted my classmate and she said she made second place in fiction. Bam bitches.

Oh fuck yes

I baby sat for the first time since the beginning of my life in the womb. Now, I know you guys know how awkward I am around kids, and if you don't then... I'm fucking awkward around kids. Todd's girl is 2-years-old. Potty trained. And a very good listener. That's right, Todd, I make her sound like a puppy.

Todd, you're my friend. If you find this distasteful I will, by all means, take it down and keep it for me, alone.

It started at 7:30PM with her having to poop. I'm like sure, I don't care, go do your business. But she's two, I need to remember this. She's only been on this earth for two years and for one year she was helpless as a legless and armless Homo sapien. She tells me to wait in the doorway.
"No, I'll wait in here. I can still see you."
"But I can't see you."
"No, you can." I was trying everything to not watch some small girl poo.
"No, come stand right here!" She leads me to the doorway to the small hallway that is less than three feet away from the bathroom. I oblige and grab a book off Alura's little library. I start to read it with my back turned and I hear her; a little while later she's done. She gets off. I tell her to wipe. She argues and I think, 'I am not looking for proof,' so she wins.
Five minutes later she has to do it again.
We have the same routine.
As I'm standing there and hear her, she suddenly giggles and says, "I made a tortilla!"
Only in my head do I ask, 'What the fuck is a tortilla? That doesn't make sense with a human's shit.'
She gets off and stands there looking at me with her shorts down. I ask, "What?"
"Wipe me."
"No, wipe yourself."
"No, you have to do it."
"No, you can do it."
She rips off one square of toilet paper and brings it to me, with her shorts still down. "Here, wipe me."
I take it, "No, little one, this isn't enough."
She then argues she's not a little girl. I tell her she's right, that she's a big girl.
I take her back to the bathroom where I get more toilet paper, an adequate amount for her toddler butt and say, "Here, stick this between your cheeks and move up."
She does so and then looks amazed that she had. I then tell her to put it in the toilet and flush, but not before I had a gander at her shit and wanted to puke. I am squeamish to poop for some reason, but not vomit. I am trying hard to not even show my signs of gagging but she's still holding the nasty toilet paper. I now understand the meaning of tortilla poop. I tell her to drop it, then I close the lid and flush. She does so. I tell her to pull up her pants and wash her hands.
"They're not pants."
"Oh, I'm sorry, shorts."
"I don't only have shorts on."
"And panties. Please pull up your shorts and panties before you go wash your hands."
She listens and then happily plays Break the Ice for the fiftieth time that night. I still had an hour a half to go.

Oh me. I asked my mother if I had done stuff like that. She said yes and I apologized. Sincerely apologized.

Other than that nothing much has happened nowadays. Finals week but it doesn't feel final -- maybe because my esteem ran out and I just don't give a shit anymore. Pun intended. I am worried over me studying French this summer.
I am going to copy Fallon and show you guys a list of things-to-do-during-the-summer:
1. STUDY THE FUCK OUT OF FRENCH.
2. Read until my eyes pop out. I think that's pretty fair. I read 14 books last summer - I want to break that record with this one.
3. Find an exercise that doesn't have my piriformis muscle rubbing against my sciatic nerve and causing me severe pains. It's real, google "Piriformis Syndrome."
4. Clean the entire house from top to bottom.
5. Finish Fallon's socks. (Which reminds me I have scarf pics to put up!)
6. Finish weaving in the ends of my sister's sweater.
That's it, nothing too big so I don't think too large and then feel really small when I don't finish anything.

This one is rather old but it's been forever since I posted so I'm assuming it's never been shared. It's for Amanda. Look at my cat, ha. And my room is now COMPLETELY different.

Only took me a day and a half. Watch Jane Eyre (2011 version) while doing so.

I love this scarf. Sadly, I couldn't wear it since it was a warm winter last/this year. Took me forever to find the time to knit it. it's taller than I.

This is just fucking cute. My sister told me to look over and that was waiting for me.

Oh, watched a romantic movie (STFU I am on my period). It is called, The Ghost and Miss Muir. I liked it, for what it was. It was funny when the ghost said he had been with three women and Miss Muir was all like, "OH HOW FUCKING GROSS - BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, SIR!" Ha. "Blasted" and "Blazes" were curse words. Took me forever to figure that out. I couldn't figure out why she continuously told him to stop with the cursing.

That's it, my little fuckers.
Until next time...

And then she's like...

So, a couple of days ago it was Target's 50th birthday. In the break room, our HR guy put up a giant Target-sent paper with a place to put your favorite memories of working at Target. On one of the tables there were boxes and albums of just pictures, hundreds upon hundreds, of events and just random days at Target. Well, Todd comes up to me and asks, "Hey, has it been you that's been putting up random pics of me?"
(His pics are hilarious because he was no receding hairline and looks ten years younger.)
"No, wasn't me, swear."
He gives be a disbelieving look, so I take him and show him the one picture that I did put up. It was of Scott Bath Tissue, haha. Then he and I were talking as he was looking through pictures. He shows me one of an old woman being strapped into an ambulance bed. Todd was like, "Haha, this is my favorite memory."
So, I tapped it up there.
When I went to take lunch my pictures were gone, haha. I believe they'll mention it in future huddles because once I made Marina a great team card that read, "To Marina for brightening up my dad :)" it was taken down later too and the HR guy said, "Guys, let's try to take great team recognition seriously."
When will people learn how much I give a shit?

Then we have a board for "Bad Hair Day" pics. Todd brought his. I don't know when it was taken, but it was hilarious - I'm voting for it. He had bushy, curly hair. I told him later that I was going to draw "GIANT NERD" with an arrow to his picture. I then told him he looked like Screech off "Saved by The Bell."
He replied, "I would love to see older pictures of you."
Me, "I just looked like a dyke - I'll own up to it."

Wow, I have nothing else.

Well, I can't get my hair to look not-fried whenever I straighten it. Hm. I may have to try different chemicals because it's making me angry.

I've taken up running again despite the protest in my lower nerve-endings in my back. They're screaming, "FUCK YOU!" However, I don't care. I miss running. I'm trying to get to running a mile and a half by August 27 - which I'm sure I could do it. I just want to before school so I could run inside their gym after classes. Two for one?

Been watching "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" while I run. I miss it. I know they tried resurrecting it recently and it sucked. So much. Do I sound like a teenager when I say things like that? I want to actually speak like a man who has a bar mustache in the 19th century.
"Cheerio, o' Chap."

4 Non Blondes

So, curls are out, did you guys know that? So last week. You all should see the different layers - they're not just like "here's a layer, and here's one," there's no start point - love it. I said, "70s shag." Besides, it'll never look as good as it did walking out of the salon, but that's always the case.

Christopher Moore came out with a new book. Didn't know that until I walked into Barnes and Noble. I bought it (that's why I texted you, Fallon, ha - seven dollars off with discount and 20% off). Sacre Bleu. Can't wait to read it. Two more weeks of school, well, should be saying ten days! I am so excited. I need to get started studying for my finals next week - not that hard - only two, but still. I want this fucking semester over with.

For class we had to write plays (ten-minutes). I wrote about woman liberation. Ha. Just three bitches sitting at a table. My sister said she's heard it all before about men and that made me sad. Well, I guess the theme of it all.

My father has to play his fucking games with max volume. What an ass.

Oh, we have to submit at least one poem to a publication tomorrow in creative writing. What I found with trying to find a publication is that everyone is electronic and he's making us mail it. I think young men and women everywhere should have a giant intervention for people over 40, telling them how the world has changed - more than HD and having remotes that work for every electronic in the house.

Stormed all last night. Wasn't bad because I didn't have to be up at 5AM, but lightning hit something and this loud crashing sound happened, shaking our floors. My poor dog almost died of fright haha. After that, both animals slept with me (well, dog on floor).

Anyway, I have to continue making notes on an already boring video with a bunch of white scholars talking about Hemingway. I am already tired from all this PMS. Go me.