Let’s see if I am inspired to cough up one last rant for the millennium....
...no.
Oh well. We’ll give it a go anyway.
Pookie is now decorated with Chibiusa, Sailormercury, and Luna. This is a small precaution against Dad wanting Pookie after that glorious day in the far-distant future when Pookie II comes to live with me.
Not to mention that it’s adorable.
Home is scary. The downstairs (my extended lair) is in a state of turmoil due to the upcoming carpet removal. At last, the suspected main cause of my allergies is going away! Nearly twenty years of dust, cat fur, Kitty- and Endor-hair, cooties, mites, small burrowing mammals...out of my living space. YAY. I cleaned out my closet in celebration of this momentous event, which ended with the garage acquiring a few more garbage bags of nasty junk and me being full of Sudafed.
The mold men live on.
Mum and Daddykins are also testing paint for the upstairs. Perhaps they finally intend to do something about the eighteen years’ of fingerprints up and down the hall, from floor-level to as high as I could reach when I was five.
I was kind of tall then, too.
I am highly pleased with all these improvements, because I might import some Spluts this summer. They don’t need to know the disgusting condition this house has fallen into since Mother was overworked into apathy and I became a part-time inhabitant. Dad is a one-man demolition team.
I hate split-level.
Men are dumb. Biskit, Sailorstartwirler, and I played with our dear old infuriating friend Rob tonight. He whined (as usual) about how he will never find a counterpart and that everyone ends up hating him...You nugget, it’s your own fault. I chased you so hard in high school that I blush to think about it now. Do you think I ate twice my weight in Spam because I liked it? Don’t you think that most people who chewed my nails and tied my hair into endless little knots would have been spitting teeth? Don’t whine about being alone to me, because you had hundreds of chances, and you knew it. I’m prly the only girl in the world who would have been patient enough to put up with you, too.
Hell hath no fury...but that was a long time ago. It turned out for the best, anyway, because I would most likely have ended up stuck in this awful town forever and sucked into a Southern Baptist cult to boot. Rob is a sweet boy and not nearly as obnoxious as he thinks he is, but that would have been a strange life and incompatible with what I’ve turned out to be...some applications just don’t port well to operating systems other than that for which they were originally written. My Chamelaeon-boy was waiting. I just didn’t know it yet. Goddess knows I love him a thousand times more and way too much for his own good.
Victoria the Lava Lamp is burping away cheerfully.
I wonder what havoc we shall wreak for New Year’s. I want to wear my Mistress Twenty-three dress, but it might incite riots as people run away screaming. I am going to have some kind of Happening with three of the girls, and Pookie-pie will rest overnight. No, I am not afraid of Y2K, but I take absolutely no chances with my only baby’s health.
Especially since my zip drive just went to pookie-heaven, so my backups are a little inaccessible at the moment.
At least the modem is functional once again. I have never known any company as psychotic and paranoid as the one that produced the silly thing. Not only must one have the FCC number (considerately placed on a sticker on the underside of the modem, out of sight unless the whole thing is removed) to access the list of drivers to download, but the actual files are passworded with the same number (and named such descriptive things as "8.exe"). I can’t figure this out. There cannot possibly be any reason anyone would want any of them unless they had one of their modems with the right number anyway, so what’s the point?
I washed my hair in the sink today, in practice for my next Terre Haute run. If my parents had been smart, they would have had a big sponge with a pan underneath it for the bathroom floor, instead of carpet. Actually, if they’d really been thinking, they would have had cement floors in every room with big drains in the middle. Then we could hose everything down once a week. Mom wouldn’t have had to make us eat in the back yard when we were little. ("Picnic" my sweet arse.) We haven’t improved with age, anyway. I somehow managed to explode a can of diet Coke all over the kitchen and hall even though it had been open for ten minutes already...there was the spaghetti incident...Erinn tripped and flung melted candle wax everywhere...We should just put vinyl siding on the inside of the house.
Hair mascara or anything similar is a bad idea. It has basically the same effect as that weird stuff that’s supposed to make your hair look like you haven’t washed it in a few days...There is a much less expensive way to achieve that look. I should start a training program for supermodels. Lock girls in tiny rooms and don’t let any of them bathe or eat for three weeks. Sure, they’ll be all over zits, but they wear enough of the wrong kind of makeup that no one could tell anyway.
Ginger used to put Elmer’s glue in my hair before she made little beaded braids. (No more than two at a time, because they are hell to take out.) I assumed this was a convenient alternative to hair gel but didn’t want to ask. I hate that stupid cow on the glue bottle. I thought it was some kind of demon when I was in kindergarten.
I was extremely upset over Thanksgiving break when I discovered someone had taken away the (very old and prly not very safe) bridge over the creek near here, by our favorite cow fields. Someone is systematically destroying all my sitting places; they took away the (same kind of) bridge over the river further down the same road and have not yet bothered to replace it. Will they leave me no safe places in this awful town? I used to walk all the way down to the river and watch things. It’s kind of amusing to look at where the road just stops. Someone dumb like me is not going to notice that and keep driving...It isn’t a very big river at all, but it has always fascinated me. Maybe I drowned in a past life.
Prly not the one in which Tootsie was the burro.
Happy New Year, for what it’s worth. We all shine on.