I am home now.

It is 1:23 in the afternoon. At this time during vacations, I am usually just dragging my half-awake body out of the shower and upstairs. Then I stand dripping in front of the open fridge, blankly staring at its contents in a vain attempt to find something classifiable as "breakfast." I always settle for a Coke. Today my dad woke me up at nine to wait for the phone man, who is going to install a Pookie line for me.

Apparently Dad got used to having a functional phone line for more than three hours a day (during my post-lunch, pre-teatime nap).

Biskit came over last night. When she gets a busy signal, she walks to my house and knocks on my window. We had a great discussion about our past lives. She was a dirt farmer named Luis in Mexico and had a burro named Manuel. I was her/his wife, left her/him, and slept my way to some high government position. I think we decided Tootsie is the reincarnated burro.

In my most recent past life, I was Queen of something. Not an actual ruling queen, but the kind who is hopelessly spoiled and fed ice cream and swings in a hammock all day while everyone else does all the actual work and the King goes off to war. This is why I am so offended lately when people expect me to do things like wake up before noon.

I’m sitting here in a tiara and just spilled Coke on my shirt. It’s summer, all right..

Two hours until li’l Sailorendor comes home. I fixed her Pookie. Someone set its clock to 2099 instead of 1999. This house is a breeding ground for neuroses of all flavors. I hit town at about ten Saturday night, saw a half-dozen pick-ups in a parking lot, and wondered again why I didn’t opt for summer residence in a cardboard box anywhere else.

There is so much stuff in here. I don’t know how I could fit it all in half a dorm room and yet be unable to shove it all back in my own bedroom. It’s kind of shiny, though. Once I get the remaining posters re-hung, it will be like I never left.

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing.

It’s nice to have all my clothes back. My happy Lady Vader/Black Lady dress that I "borrowed" from Ginger is hanging here. The two hundred dollar one with apples and LIMES all over it that I conned Dad into buying me and then wore once. (Mom was pissed.) My SAILOR-FUKU. I must put that to good use. Assuming I can still squeeze into it. Punkie’s little black dress that has lived with me for three years.

My God. How has it BEEN that long? Biskie and I talked about that too, how horrible it is that she’ll be twenty in December. Eventually we’re going to be too old to wear pink and ponytails, and the glitter will look like we’re trying too hard.

 

Ah. Now it’s about a week later, and I can once more see the Pookie to type....

I condescended to call some of my ex-partners in crime. So many of them are working in nursing homes for the summer. Why the HELL would anyone voluntarily clean up old people spit for minimum wage? That has to be worse than McDonald’s...maybe.

 

Now it is even more later, and I just got off the phone with Pookie tech support. I’m damn sick of the freezing.

They are dumber than ME and should be shot.

The Pookie, it behaves rather badly, and I am living in fear of a format. I’m going to have to get more zip disks and back up my mp3 collection just in case. It has become a fun game we play to see if we’re going to load Windows or not during any boot. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. C:\win works every time...

Sailorsomething said it might be something wrong in the autoexec. That’s alllll a mother needs. We have pictures of Pookie’s first birthday; maybe soon we’ll have Pookie’s first format. Is that like a bar mitzvah?

I think I alarmed the phone support man. He wasn’t as nice as the Gateway one that I called once for the anti-Pookie when I was maybe fifteen. That one talked to me for two hours about Life, the Universe, and Everything.

I shall resume gutting of the anti very soon. The A drive and some other things are still intact. Not for long.

Gutting Pookie looks better and better all the time.

We’ve been to see the Phantom Menace every night it’s been out. (this being Friday after the Wednesday.) The Binky thing upsets me...Double-bladed lightsabers are wrong. Darth Maul’s got nothing on Vader. No GUH appeal at all. (or should we make that a Guuuuuhh, Biskie?) I want to have Amidala’s makeup. All of it. At all times. For the rest of my life.

 

WEEKS LATER...or maybe it just feels like it...

I realized one day that all the things I really wanted to be when I grow up are literally impossible. I can't be Sailormoon, and I can't be Lady Vader; I'm not going to be an astronaut and it's highly unlikely I will be recognized as a Princess in this lifetime. I got really depressed and ate a pint of fat-free, sugar-free frozen yogurt. This didn't actually help anything, but a spoon in my mouth keeps me from whining...I can still be happy, I'll just have to work at it harder.

Biskie and I go to Chicago with her parents next week. Thank Gourd. I would do damn near anything to get out of this town. I would go to MEMPHIS just to get out of Maryville. I had to go to Wal-Mart yesterday, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and unwashed children. I am afraid of these people. We had forgotten the blank stares and slack jaws and pickups with gun racks.

I did format the brat. Its digestion seems to be a little better now. My family leaves for Yellowstone the day after tomorrow, and we’ll both enjoy the peace and quiet. Those three people can be louder than a whole floor full of dumb girls.

Until next time, Scouts, keep a stiff upper lip and brush those teeth until it hurts.