Coming at ya from the parking lot of "All About Dem Wangs" in Memphis TN! Woot!
Oo, Lost was good last night. My vote is for gigantic mechanical island left by its creators to its own devices. A watchmaker theme. Or a civilization of radioactive polar bears. Good stuff.
I am having a bout of insomnia. I wish this meant I was being really productive while staying up far too late, but unfortunately it means I am staring into the television for hours on end. It sucks. I am tired.
This is Timmy's last week at work. He is looking for another job for the summer, but not very hard. I don't blame him, looking for work sucks. However, being painfully poor sucks more, but he has a couple more paychecks coming before we are dire. And before I start pimping him on the corner.
So preparations are underway for our trip. We are really pinching pennies for this one. Here's a list of things I need to do before we leave, because it is so damn interesting:
Crap that is a long list. Heavy sigh.
Aw, big goofy guy with a tiny baby. That's Timmy with Marley Alejandra. I get stupid around babies. And not in a cute way. Like all I can say is "she's so tiny" over and over. And not in a cute way. In a 'oh jebus, I could break this thing so easily,' scared way.
And Timmy is all, "I want I baby."
And I am all, "Good luck with that, dude."
I am biding my time here, fella. We can not afford a baby. And I am not healthy enough to have a baby. And we are both idiots.
I digress. Cass is doing really well for having a big ol' slice in her belly. Far better than I would be. I am a wuss when it comes to getting sliced up. Tony likes to make up little songs to sing to Marley. They both look pretty tired.
Marley is cute and tiny, as I have already said many, many times, and she screams like a champ and has a head full of dark hair.
I didn't get home until late and putzed around even later. Again, I am pooped this morning. Didn't I say I was an idiot?
****One more thing. I will be unavailable to the world from 7-9pm tonight. The season finale of Lost is on and I will not be answering the phone, getting out of my comfy chair, heeding tornado sirens or possibly breathing much. However, I might pee my pants. Yay.****
That's what $65 in change looks like. While we have saved some money for our anniversary trip, every little bit helps. I CoinStar-ed this on my lunch break. It was a little disappointing because the last time I turned in a big bunch of change we had over $100. I think someone has been sneaking quarters out of the change jar to buy sodas. *coughTimmycough*
I am going to use part of it to buy some dinner for my friend Cassandra and her husband, Tony. They had a little girl baby on Thursday and I am going over to visit. She had to have an emergency c-section so I figure if I am going to impose myself on her to get my hands on her babe, I should at least bring dinner.
We are leaving for our anniversary trip on Saturday. We are driving down to Memphis and camping at a park across from Graceland. Neither one of us are big Elvis fans, but heck, it looks like a kitschy good time. We are also going to visit the National Civil Rights Museum, the Peabody Ducks, the pandas at the zoo and maybe walk down the Mississippi at Mud Island. And eat barbecue.
Geez, people. We got home at 2am. We are not very good at travel planning, but when you make a stop at a truck stop to eat cake or to let the dogs poo or for Timmy to pee in the bushes every hour or so, it slows you down.
Speaking of dogs, our pups have a problem. With overeating. I have no idea where they would learn such a thing. Timmy's mom open feeds her dogs, so when we visit the pugs eat 100% of the time. It is embarrassing. When we got there, Timmy's mom commented that the pugs had gotten quite slim. Not so on the way out the door. Leelah was so suddenly fat it looked painful. But boy did she look happy.
I stayed up until 4am on Sat with Timmy's chums. Oh, I am so not a 4am type of gal. There was drinking and drunken sing-alongs and drunken climbing on the roof and drunken cake eating and did I mention drunkenness? As always I was quite the prude, though I was really slamming those Mountain Dews. Rock.
Timmy was glad to see his friends and we talked more about more about moving to StL. Whether it was better to be miserable a few more years and come out with a free education or move now and maybe be happier. Stay the course and risk nothing, or move off into the unknown. I dunno. I did say, if and when we move, there can not be a whole lot of 4am night, because well, I would die. I love sleep. Sleep sleep sleepy sleep.
We went to lunch with Timmy's dad and finally got to meet his brother's girlfriend. We window shopped, ate cheetos and played with Duds (Timmy's dog) in the backyard. Oh and we went to Star Wars. Oh, holy cheese. I think we offended some people with our giggling. All I can say is, Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
And Leelah is now DARTH LEELAH!
Can you see it? Spooky, eh? (Though it seems like when you become a Sith lord you change you name, kinda like the pope, but we felt "Leelah" is just about as scary as "Vader".)
Timmy and I will be going to StL this weekend for his family birthday celebration (he is getting a dinner with my family next week, talk about milking it for all it's worth). I will try to set up some auto posts, but I wouldn't lay any bets on it.
I thought you all might enjoy the view from my hammock. To really get the idea, enlarge the picture as much as you can, lay back and hoist the monitor above your head. Then imagine a slight breeze and a sway. And puppies playing and tumbling behind you. And the sounds of a neighborhood, cars, kids and a train passing far to the north. Nice.
Well, yesterday was full of significant anniversaries, it is only fitting that today is as well. Today is the one year anniversary of whittycism - officially the longest I have kept anything resembling a journal.
I thought it might be appropriate to post a bit about why I started my blog. Like I said, I have never been successful at keeping journals, even daily writing assignments for classes were done hurriedly the night before they were due, if at all, of course. I don't know if I consider myself a "writer" anymore, but even when I did give myself such grandiose titles, I was a lazy writer. I started this blog after being a faithful reader of other blogs and the occasional reader of stupid, inane blogs, both of which where inspirational. Heck, if they can do it, blah, blah, blah.
And I was a week away from our wedding, I thought I should document that in some way. Those first posts were kinda sparse and lame (at some point I will transfer them over from Blogger, I swear), but they were a start.
So, why do I keep at it? Is it the promises of book deals? A movie of my life? Do I just like to see myself write? That last one is probably true. But really, it has just become a habit. I still have to force myself to remember to brush my teeth in the morning, but this habit I picked up in no time. That being said, I am glad of my habit, it isn't nearly as horrible as some of my more unmentionable habits I have picked up over the years.
So, here's to the habit! Cheers! And Congratulations, whittycism, on a good year!
In a similar vein, here is a phone call I received last night:
So-and-So: Whitney? This is So-and-so?
Me: Buuh, wha?
SandS: So-and-so. From high school. From Rinkydinkville.
Me: Oh, hi.
SandS: Me and a few people are getting together to plan our reunion.
Me: Oh, crap, really? Is it ten years?
SandS: (clearly horrified I said crap) Um, yeah, ten years. I just needed to get your address.
Me: Oh, no problem, it's (insert address in crappy part of town here). Wow, ten years!
SandS: Yeah, I am just here with So-and-so, So-and-so, So-and-so, So-and-so, and So-and-so (ie half of the cheer leading squad, no kidding). And also, So-and-so and Hose-beast*. We are just getting together and planning something soon.
Me: (calculating which would be faster, losing 5bajillion pounds or becoming a bajillionaire) Soon? Oh, when are you guys thinking about?
SandS: Maybe late September.
Me: (Oh, crap!) Oh, great!
SandS: Do you have any numbers of anyone in our class or keep in touch with anyone?
Me: (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!) No, sorry, not anyone in our class.
SandS: Yeah, thanks. Bye.
Yeah, is that the scariest thing you have ever read or what? Unless something spectacular happens, there is no way in high hell I am going to the thing. Not that have any bad feelings about those people, but I have very, very few good ones. And I have gotten gigantically fat since high school and I'd rather not have them contemplate the volume of my girth. So, meh. Much as it was then, it is now, their loss.
*Hose-beast, while wholly unpleasant in high school, she was an occasional friend. I did see recently at a bar and when I passed by quickly so as not have to make eye contact I heard her say to a woman with her that was in my sisters class, over the loud din of the bar mind you, "Is that Whitney? She has gotten fat!" Way to confirm that you are, indeed, a bitch! Later she came over and drunkenly told me how awesome Timmy's performance was. Bitch.
I do find it hilarious that she is hanging out with cheerleaders as she was as far as imaginably possible from such a crowd in HS. In fact she was a Flag, and while in some schools I am sure the marching band axillary is cool and they have a spectacular reputation, this was so, so not the case in Rinkydinkville HS. If being in band was geeky (which I was - French Horns, represent!), being a Flag was the penultimate of lame**. Ha ha, to you beeotch!
** the exception I will make for my sister, who while I am sure she will even admit to be geeky, also played an instrument in the marching band before she was a Rifle and went on to march/Flag in her college band as a Flaming Marshmallow which I thought was really cool. When Hose Beast became a Flag, she lamed/skanked it up quite a bit.