Finding Myself OMG: A Bullshit Quest

Well, where do I start? I'm struggling, I suppose, to find out who I am outside of who my parents want me to be, who my friends want me to be, or who my own perfectionist tendencies (totally personified) want me to be. I don't know if this blog will really document my progress in, ahem, coming of age, or if it will just basically be a place for me to vent and blab about nothing. We shall see.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Pssst...

Friday, June 30, 2006

Thanks a lot, Governor Pataki.

Our illustrious (soon to be former) governor of New York State is being a big help as usual. He's waiting to request federal aid. Personally, I would think the sooner we could contact FEMA the better. It's not like they're known for their quickness and efficiency is getting help. After all, they're still working on New Orleans.

The governor of Pennsylvania isn't waiting. Stupid Pataki.



floods, disasters, emergency, weather, state government, federal government

Thursday, June 29, 2006

See the devastation!

Still can't get at my house, but I did snap some pictures.

And, as if everything wasn't shitty enough, there's supposed to be more storms and more flooding tonight. Whoopee!

Speaking of shitty, the sewage treatment plant is broken. And will be floating in the river. Lovely, truly.




, ,

HOLY SHIT.

Um, yeah. Once again, I don't even know where to start. This is not a good year, that's for certain. First my dad dies and now... this.

Those of you who know me in real life are aware that last spring my house got flooded. (You can see pictures here.)

Well. We got through spring without being flooded again. We mistakenly thought we were in the clear. And then this last week it rained a lot. A ton. But we didn't think that much of it. The river was high, but then again, the river (the Susquehanna) is often high. My house is three up from the bank.

Monday my mom was taking the dog for a walk down to the river. She saw bicycles on the bank and could hear voices. Some teenage boys had swum out to the little island that's in the middle of the river by our house. Now, this is not a river you swim in. Ever. It's kind of toxic to start out with, and then it's got all kinds of currents. People who attempt to swim in the river generally end up being searched for a day or two later. Living as close as we do, we've seen a lot of search and rescues.

So my mom comes into the house and says, "Mar, there are kids on the island. What do you think I should do?" I told her she'd better call the police. So the police came and the boys made it back safely with just a GIANT lecture. As my mom said, "Why, if you were going to swim to the island in the first place, would you pick today to do it? The river's not exactly low."

Little did we know then what was to come.

So it's Tuesday evening. It is, as is usually the case in lovely Binghamton, raining. My mom goes out on the deck to start barbecuing supper. Our next door neighbor, Glen, is also out barbecuing. My mom makes some innocuous comment about barbecuing in the rain and Glen replies, "Yeah. Chip just told us the river's going to come up again."

My mom's all, Thanks for telling me, asshole. Although of course she didn't say that outloud.

We're able to enlist help to move our washer to higher ground, and we move our cars. There's the problem of the garage, though, which is currently storing all of this gorgeous antique furniture that my mom had just moved up from my grandma's house in PA but couldn't get into the house yet. We figure we'll move the furniture into the house if we have to, but don't worry about it yet.

At around midnight, a police officer comes to the door. He just wants to make sure that we know the river is rising. It's apparently 15 feet from the road at this point, which means it's not even up to the flat, grassy part of the bank.

My mom and I finally settle down enough to go to bed around 1, 1:30. I'm reading, I haven't even fallen asleep yet, when my mom comes in at 2:00. She says, "You'd better get up, Mar. The water's already filled up the field."

The field is on the other side of our next door neighbors' hous, so it's very, Oh shit. So we call some of our neighbors, and they're nice enough to come down and help us move all the furniture from the garage into our living room and dining room. By the time we get all the furniture inside, the water's up in the street past our next door neighbor's house and to our driveway. The backyard's totally filled. My mom starts taking stuff out of the freezer, I start grabbing clothes and toiletries, we gather my dog, and we head out to my aunt's house. (She lives in Vestal Center, on a hill, so she didn't get effected.)

Just as we're leaving, two fire trucks come down the street (it's about 2:30, 2:45) and start telling people to start the mandatory evacuation.

We wake up yesterday morning at my aunt's. There's a state of emergency in Binghamton and pretty much everywhere else around here, the Susquehanna is still rising and not supposed to crest until that afternoon (it turned out to be that night) unnecessary travel is prohibited.

My friends call me on my cell to make sure we're okay. My friend Caitlin who also lives on the West Side, but not near the river, takes her dogs for a walk down by my street. She says the whole street is under water and she can't see my house that well, but it's covered the front steps totally and our neighbor says it's in our first floor. Mind you, that was around noon, and it didn't crest until the evening.

So yeah, God only knows what condition my house is in right now. There's all kind of pictures on pressconnects.com of devastation, and they even talk about how bad it is in Binghamton on CNN.com.

My mom and I were able to make it to Target last night to get any essentials we forgot. Today, more of the roads were open, and they've eased the travel restrictions, so we're going to try to get over to our street and see if our house is still there. We doubt we'll be able to get to it, but hopefully we'll be able to at least see the house from a distance.

Egads.





, ,

Sunday, June 25, 2006

My Boobs Are Peeling; And Other Tales of Horror

Yes, it is indeed true. For several days now, my breasts have been peeling off. Just the skin, though, and just at the top of my cleavage, not my nipples or anything drastic. My shoulders are peeling, too. Indeed, I am still suffering the ill effects of last Saturday's sunburn.

I don't really have any tales of horror. I just thought the title was fun.

I should be working on cleaning my room now. Eh. Not feeling it. But then again, when am I ever feeling it?

Last night, at dinner with my friend Caitlin and her parents, I ordered a Rolling Rock with my meal. Now, I know I look younger than I am. I'm used to being carded. In fact, I would be shocked if I wasn't. But I like to imagine that I at least look sixteen, seventeen, maybe eighteen.

So I order my beer, and the waitress asks to see my ID, and Mr. and Mrs. P are all, "Oh, she's twenty-one, believe us." But I was like, "No, no, it's okay." The waitress looks at my driver's license for like thirty seconds, look back at me.

"I thought you were kidding! I would have thought fourteen, fifteen tops."

For the rest of the meal, every time she comes back to our table, she repeats, "Fourteen. Fourteen!"

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Four-fucking-teen. I know I'm always going to look younger than I am, and that this will be a good thing when I'm in my forties or fifties, but fourteen? That's just humiliating. I look like a freshman in high school.

I consoled myself that it was because I didn't have any make up on. I don't know if it makes that much difference, but I'd like to fancy that with make up on, I look at least sixteen. Damn.

Yesterday was a somewhat disturbing day altogether. I went to the book sale at the library, strategically waited until the bag sale started, and then went in to start filling up my bags. I ended up getting eight bags of books for eight dollars.

But the creepy part was when this weird old guy started talking to me. My mom was there, and we both thought he was strange but harmless at first, because he was talking about books. So then my mom wandered off to another table and left me, and as soon as she's gone the old fat weirdo moves closer and says, "I like your perfume. What kind is it? It smells good."

I'm like, "Uh, thanks," wait a few seconds, and discreetly hightail it over to my mommy.

I say, "Thanks for leaving me alone with the creepy old guy," and my mom's all, "He's harmless." I respond, "He said I smelled good! He asked me what kind of perfume I was wearing!"

My mom: "Oh. Move closer to me."

Now, with the fourteen comment hanging in my mind, I'm thinking he was probably a prospective pedophile.

Last night was better, though, as you can probably tell from my drunken post from the wee small hours of the morning. We went to Allison's house and had a celebratory girls' night in, since Roxy's leaving for Ukraine next weekend. We played board games and got drunk on White Russians. Fun times.

I think I need to go take my shower now, and then work on cleaning my room. Seriously. Or maybe clean my room and then take my shower, since I'm bound to get dirty in the process.





, , ,

The perils of alcohol.

I'm pretty drunk right now. Pretty tired, too. I don't know what convinced me it would be a good idea to write in my blog right now, or that I would be able to stay awake long enough to do this task.

I think I had something terribly clever I was going to write, but now I can't remember. The chances are slim that I will remember in the morning, then, I'd say. I don't black out or anything, but, well, specific thoughts can be very fuzzy.

I'm going to be mad hungover and/or throwing up in the morning. Unless, you know, God really does like me and my body and performs a minor miracle.

To bed, now, I said. All that wittiness I intended to write? I suppose, like darling Clementine, it is lost and gone forever.



Friday, June 23, 2006

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Blah.

The last time I updated was Monday. Today is Friday.

I really have nothing else to say, except I did update my booklist, and, well, life sucks. Just a tad. Blah.



Monday, June 19, 2006

Blaaargh.

I'm still seriously sunburnt. I'm also B-O-R-E-D. Cait said she wanted to do something tonight, but then she was too tired after babysitting, so now I'm planless. Ah well, the night's still young. And it's not so bad if I stay home and hang out with my mom and my dog. I haven't done that since... last Wednesday.

Last night I went over to Cait's and drank and played poker with her, Danelle, Thuc, and Teresa. Much fun was had by all.

Today I worked, went to the doctor, and went to an incredibly dull political fundraiser. Now, I need some excitement. And quickly! Gah.

I suppose I could always watch TV. Or read. And there are Coronas in the fridge. But I'd best wait to break into those until I'm absolutely certain I'm not going out, because I want to be able to drive.

Have I mentioned that I'm bored?

Also, it's the third day of my sunburn and it just seems to be getting worse. I'm in so much pain. Really, I need more alcohol. Copious amounts.




Sunday, June 18, 2006

Pain, pain, pain.

I'm wicked sunburnt. We had a garage sale yesterday, so I was outside most of the day, and I did not wear sufficient sunscreen. Stupid Mar.

On the bright side, I did make over $30. Woot.

But I'm bright red and in PAIN, yo. Ouch.



Friday, June 16, 2006

Think positive.

So, I'm trying out a new philosophy. Nothing too intense, just to think positive. Think happy thoughts and good things will happen to you.

I'm also trying to not stress about things. To be low key. If I believe good things will happen to me and for me, then there's no need to stress.

Implementing this philosophy? We shall see. We shall see.



Thursday, June 15, 2006

Encyclopedia Magenta: Spam Poetry Vol. 3

Note: It's been a while since I did this, so the spam had positively become legion in my spam box. Anyway, yes, for your reading, um, pleasure, I present another installment of spam poetry. All spelling and grammar has been left intact. Previous spam poems can be found here and here.


unseat
Order status, navy green
Wanna have a body like Cindy Crawford?
hi, olive gum
You have to decide
Diaper Survey
Coke vs. Pepsie WE NEED YOU TO DECIDE!
Cash, sheep bur
Chocolate!... Chocolate!... Chocolate!...
Cash, fire engine
Your cash, Non-chinese
Your health, momentum pump
Are you drowing in debt?
Amazing stuff, evenging lychnis
Mad bonuses!
Amazing stuff, sphere geometry
pay-day advance no credit check
Meet Singles In Their Prime
Wow check out this huge enlargement patch sale!
manor delay
this going to expload
Hi, pampas cat
Hi, nosegay tree
Hi, nine-tailed
Ave !
Huge jackpot!
Your cash, modern-looking
Your money, now-neglected
Cash, dock rent
Your future, pavilion hospital
Show Off your Love
test oaqu
Need some cash, just refinnance... square-marked
Do you want to do something useful in your life?
A rewarding career as a chef, caterer, baker, or pastry chef can be yours
This is most modern and safe way not to cover with shame
Hola
unfair
Order status, one-handed
American Residents
FAMILY ASSISTANCE
Your future, nothing off
narrator blimp
Cash out, box crab
Your money, passion-winged
Instead of having just one huge belly you have three of them?
Whats up
encylocpedia magenta
woe
Sleep we Love
Your health, narrow-mindedness
Poker, roulette, blackjack, etc.
Hi, Navy list
siphon
Fix your eyesight forever
Your health, oppossum mouse
We never get together anymore...
Your future, ox fence
ogre
everybody wins!
singularly
Win a Back Yard Makeover
Cash out, spring-blossoming
fright titillate
defector inland
We bring Vegas to you!
lol
Penis Enlarge Patch can enlarge your dick so much
single-handedly
paint-mixing
letsleave alone
Your cash, paraffin scale
Your health, night steed
Order status, mis-rely
Penis Enlage Patch can make your dick bigger than the Eiffel Tower
arise wreckage
sexy baby and bad erection?
Are you stressed? Unhappy? or Nervous?
Over paying, just refinnance, Un-romanized
propose ready
Refinnance your loan, pin-eyed
Cash out, motley-minded
Your health, Pan-germany
Order status, Millstone grit
Over paying, just refinnance, trench cart
If you want your dick to be bigger than you, try Penis Enlarge Patch.
mollify
Refinnance your loan, green-barked
Cash out, twice-undone
unawares scuffle
Re: Hi... foreign-bred
There's online dating and there's this
wafer torpedo
Amaze her vagina with your huge cock from Penis Enlarge Patch.
For your wife's b-day you want to make a sperm firework for her?
kill
call tablet
describe
predominate
confront
Attract he with the smell of Ultra Allure Pheromones and then she will
Are you ashamed to visit swimming pools because of your small penis?
Love is Waiting here for you
dramatization med
Serious Joke
Your family., unself-reflecting
hoax
travesty shoo-in
Milky Way adulteration
Independence Day
Re: Your wealth., leg art
Re: Your future., voice glide
utterly melon
prolonged additive
psychoanalyze unconditionally
Re: Your wealth., capillary water
insensitively




Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Weighty matters.

I have a lot to say, since I haven't blogged in an age. But I don't really want to start with anything too intense tonight. So I'm going to talk about my weight.

Oh my god, I'm such a girl. Don't look at me, I'm FAT.

But seriously, there is something majorly funky going on with my weight. I'm not normally the type of girl who is obsessive about how much she weighs. I don't weigh myself that regularly, because, for the last couple years at least, my weight has remained right around 130 pounds. Occasionally, it will dip down to 128 or ride up to 132, but it's always in the same ballpark.

Now, whenever my friends would ask how much I weigh and I would tell them 130, they'd be like "Oh my god! That's not bad at all!" as if they expected me to weigh more. Which, well, I guess I understand, because I'm one of those short, curvy girls. Extremely short (4 foot 11) and extremely curvy (boobs and hips both). My butt is about two sizes larger than my waist, so I always have trouble finding pants that fit me right (besides always having to shorten even the ones that are supposedly made for short people), and I have breasts that are, well, they've been called my best feature by some of my less tactful male friends. It's not like they're THAT big (36 C) but they're very round and perky... there's virtually no sag. I like my boobs. They're one part of my body that I have a positive opinion of. Anyway, yeah, they're not that big, but I guess they look bigger on such a short girl.

(I can't believe I just spent practically a whole paragraph talking about my breasts. *blushes*)

Anyway, I've never subscribed to the whole idea that a girl has to be stick thin to be attractive. Plus, I know it's not realistic for me. When I was in high school, I actually weighed 110 pounds. I didn't look that much different. I was still curvy. There was just a difference in the amount of the curves. And my boobs were smaller. They didn't really come in fully until last year, although I've weight around 130 since senior year of high school, after my first illness.

There are always things I'd like to change about my body, of course. I like my boobs, I've got a decent booty if you like big butts and cannot lie, but I always think my stomach is too round and my thighs are too thick and flabby. But generally, I'm content.

And then about two or three weeks ago, I started feeling really really really huge. Having trouble fitting in to my clothes, plus just feeling enormous and whale-like. So I stepped on the scale and it said, get this, 140. Now I know I said I don't weigh myself regularly, but I'd done it about a week before and it had been the usual (131 I think). So I kind of panicked. I hadn't been eating anymore than usual, or anything particularly bad for me, and well I wasn't Miss Fitness, I was excercising about as much as I usually do. So I told my mom, and she said, you'd better go see the doctor.

So I went to the doctor, and I had gained 13 pounds since the last time I was there, which was a month ago. My doctor thought it was the combination of my birth control pills and my antidepressants, so she took me off the birth control and switched antidepressants, and told me to come back in two weeks. That was on a Friday.

My mom and I bought a new digital scale on Monday, because we our old one was pretty busted and I wanted an accurate account of how much weight I was gaining or losing. On Monday, it said 144.0. It kept steadily getting higher over the week, until on Friday it was at 148.0. Then it dropped down to 147.6 on Saturday, 145.4 on Sunday, and then yesterday morning it was 140.5. Okay, and then here's the really ridiculous part--- not that I lost five pounds in a day but then it went back up to 148.0 today! Eight fucking pounds. Eight fucking pounds!!! There is something not right here.

I'm eating healthy (no junk food, lots of fruits and vegetables) and in moderation and excercising. What the fuck is wrong with me?!! I'm going back to the doctor's on Friday, so hopefully we can figure out what's going on. Meanwhile, hypochondriac that I am, I'm convinced I have some sort of truly terrible disease.

Basically I just feel like shit on a stick. A fat stick.

Other symptoms: my whole body aches like a motherfucker (which is nothing new, could just be the fibromyalgia), I'm constantly tired but I can't get to sleep, and I feel like I have to pee all the time, but most of the time nothing comes out. Oh, and I crave salt. Seriously. The other day I wanted salt but wasn't hungry to eat any actual food, so I licked my arm and put salt on it like I was doing freaking tequila shots, but THERE WAS NO LIQUOR. Also, I'm really cold all the time, but sweaty. I'm always in like this chilled sweat state. And I'm thirsty all the time, too.

So, peoples of the internet, do YOU have any idea what's wrong with me?





, , , , ,

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Why, America, why?

I'm shocked and disgusted that Taylor Hicks won American Idol. I think he's an affected, obnoxious, untalented phony. Kat McPhee totally should have taken it. Sheesh. And what was up with the results show? Not only did it last forever and a day, but they had all these unnecessary guests. The duet at the end was bittersweet, because Kat totally whipped Taylor's ass vocally and looked absolutely stunning to boot. She seems like somebody I'd be friends with, lol.

As my mom said about Taylor, "But he doesn't even sing on key!" Every time I hear the phrase "Soul Patrol" I want to shoot myself. I suppose it could have been worse, though. Kellie Pickler could have won.

But then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. This is the same American public that voted Bush president, after all. Which, how sad was it that more people voted in any presidential election? Or that fucking Ryan Seacrest was so proud of it? Although, let's be fare, you can only vote once for president. With American Idol, you can cast as many votes as your little heart desires.

Anyway, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. So You Think You Can Dance starts tomorrow! *squee* I love love love that show. I'll take it over Idol any day.

Ooh, and Harold won Top Chef. Which is cool, cuz I wanted him to win and Tiffani pissed me off royally. Also, they're showing a new season of Project Runway over the summer, which totally rocks my socks off.

I never thought I would honestly enjoy and care about so many reality shows. I think I have become a sheep.




, , , , ,

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Life sucks right now.

It really does suck quite a bit. It seems like everywhere I go and everything I do I'm reminded of my dad or his death. It's the first week of summer classes, things are busy at work, and I feel like shit. I have an ear infection/sinus infection thing. My throat's sore, my ear hurts like hell, and worst of all, my lymph nodes are all swollen making my neck really stiff and sore.

I'm writing this at work now. My boss is out, and when he gets back I have to do a job I'm not comfortable with (nothing sketchy).

I feel like shit.

The good news, though, (look for the silver lining and all that) is that my aunt's cat did not succeed in killing my puppy.



Good job, government!

You heard about the data on 26.5 million veterans being stolen, right? Seriously, what the fuck. If I were a veteran right now, I would be seriously pissed. SERIOUSLY. I mean, you put yourself on the line to protect your country and what do you get? YOUR IDENTITY STOLEN, LIKE IN THOSE FREAKING TV ADS WHERE THE VOICES DON'T MATCH THE BODIES. Those commercials may be funny (my fave is the leather bustier one) but identity theft is, as we all know, no laughing matter.

Another major government fuck up under the Bush administration. Color me not surprised.




, , ,