nirix5: (marie antoinette cake)
This week I'm a receptionist. The office I'm working for does social work. They have 15-20 various programs dealing the the justice, youth, and health systems.

This has its ups and downs. I answer phones. I hand out stickers that say "visitor." I route calls where they're supposed to go. I surf the internets. I have unlimited access to the water cooler. I open the mail and stamp "received" on it. I am a receptionist prodigy, apparently, because I picked all of these things up in a matter of hours. They still poke their heads into the front, asking if I'm sure I'm handling this okay?

I get hit on a lot. In three days, I've had three invitations to lunch, five "what's-your-situation" discussions, two "call me's?" and an innumerable amount of moo eyes and attempted flirting.

I don't particularly like it. Generally I get that sort of thing on the bus stop, but at least there I'm somewhat protected by my giant headphones of death and my amazing ability to look at nothing and pretend I don't hear anything. I can't really do that behind a desk. Thankfully the people that come in are ususally headed to the back quickly, so they don't have an excuse to stand around and chitchat.

Everyone there is nice, both the employees and the clients. I really hope this assignment lasts more than two weeks.


I've had the sinus headache from hell this week. Is it the weather? (Probably.) Is it being in stale office air all day? (That too.) All I know is I'm sick of feeling sick. I've thrown up every day. I'm feeling a little better right now, but only when I don't move for a while, and how the hell is the laundry going to get done and the house going to get cleaned when I'm in this condition?


Quinn still looks like Duncan. More than ever, now. Phil and I were watching Edward II on Sundance last night, and at one point Edward (Duncan/Steven Waddington) walks out of the shadows dressed in a tuxedo. We started screaming because it looked exactly like a picture of Quinn in his tuxedo. Tamara thought it was eerie and went back downstairs. Quinn was amused until Phil blurted out that Edward II was gay, and then Quinn was like, I look gay to you? and pretended to be hurt.

At some point I'll get screencaps and that picture posted.


This morning I was accused of looking like a stripper. I had on pajama pants and my hoodie zipped most of the way up. The only thing other than my hands and face that was showing was the top of my left shoulder.

This isn't the first time people have told me that. My shoulder must have been a stripper in a past life.

It's just my cross to bear.


Cornell: In order to finish processing your application we need [holy random list of shit batman!] Also, in order to waive the use of your parents' financial information, we need all of your parents' financial information.

Me: Bzuh?


I need some cake.
nirix5: (sara- shower)
Happy New Year. Akemashite Omedeto Gozaimasu.

I apologize for the Xmas meltdown post. The computer at school had frozen and I'd lost my entire philosophy paper, which a) was due in twenty minutes; b) was the equivalent of a final exam and c) is the one grade that's a graduation requirement. Got an extension, but only til the 26th... and with working retail, that meant that my Xmas night was taken. Wound up crying hysterically and demanding valium while my mother yelled at me to just plagarize something of the net- because those professors never check that stuff anyway!

Made it. I've officially graduated from OCC with a 3.525 cum. GPA. (Got an A- in Philosophy.)

The best part, though, was Jeannette coming home for Xmas (kinda.) I went to Xmas dinner at her house on New Year's Eve, and then we came back here to the apartment. New Year's was SO MUCH BETTER THAN LAST YEAR. No almost-alcohol-poisioning! No incoherent, sucky drunkeness! Just chillin', getting tipsy on cosmopolitans and snarking at the spending on Platinum Weddings. We cried over this and that and Dick Clark not being what he used to be, rocked out to Christina Aguilera and made several drunken resolutions.

Then everyone trucked off to bed, and Jean and I shot the shit till 2:30. This is were it gets, um, complicated.

I tucked Jean in on the couch at exactly 2:28. When I went downstairs in the morning, Jean was gone and Gerard was passed out on the couch in her place. Come to find out, he had let himself in at quarter to three. Jean freaked and was about to "protect my hovel" by beaming G-funk in the head with the empty champagne bottle. Thankfully, they figured out who they were- "You're the Navy guy?" "You're the Army chick?" and they told each other war stories before Jean went back to her mom's.

We hung out a couple of days later, too, which was nice because we had the whole day to just kind of relax. Goddamn, I miss her when she's not here. She's the one who really keeps me sane and grounded and all, better than anyone other than my mom can. We had a weird kind of talk about the shit that's been going down lately. I think I might acutally go and try and get outside help about my reclusive streak- it's gotten really bad. It's to the point now that when the phone rings, I look at it and can't physically make myself pick it up. My heartrate goes faster and I can't breathe easily. It's fucking pathetic. The theory is that now that school is over and work has calmed down, I can find the time to do something about it.

Now I just need a new job. Wheeeeee job search in a depressed market.

So, that's where I've been.

Time to do college apps. Go me.
nirix5: (padme zombie movies)
Been up since exactly 3:57 due to Quinn's computer antics. I swear to god, if this shit doesn't stop, I'm going to wind up in the loony bin. Between bad sleep, insane amounts of stress, and the seasonal depression that's just around the corner, I have this feeling that they're getting a room ready for me at Hutchings.

Told him that if he doesn't change his hours by the end of the week that I'm breaking up with him and moving the fuck out.

It's not so much that he's always playing fucktarded CoV. It's that he loses track of time and plays it into the wee hours of the morning. Now. This is a problem for me because I can't sleep; I can only really doze. It's like... trying to dive into deeper water while wearing a life jacket. The life jacket keeps pulling you up to the surface, so even though you can still stick your head under water, you really can't get down deep to where you need to be. That's what it's like trying to sleep with Quinn at the computer.

And so I'm miserable the vast majority of the time.

Bah. It's not like I don't tell him I have to be up at 5AM at the latest most days.

Whatever. I don't even fucking care anymore. Life is nothing but numb, unless I'm pissed, in which case the urge to beat the everliving shit out of things reminds me of the fact that I'm turning into my father is enough to barely restrain me.


Fuck it.
nirix5: (ANTP)
"Oh. You will come home and I will greet you at the door in my corset. I will say: come into the basement with me. Then take off your clothes and lie down on the bed. I put on my wizards robe and hat and then I will cast erotic level 8 on you and you will turn into a beautiful woman."


"You turn into a beautiful woman. I then cast level 6 cock of the infinite and DO YOU. Then Lara walks into the basement and says 'mew?' I cast level 18 pussy of wow and turn Lara into a cat. I then kill her, and sell her corpse to the local chinese restaurant, who turn her into Chicken Chow Meow. I bring the TASTY NOODLES back to the basement and dump them all over you. You writhe sexily in the noodles and I dump soy sauce on your ass. You like that, don't you bitch, and I suck the soy sauce off you. Then I stick a chopstick up in an UNCOMFORTABLE PLACE and you like that more. At this point I go upstairs and order a pizza, and ask for a THICK, HOT SICILIAN. They send me over a pizza with lots of pepperoni and I eat it and get it everywhere, since you got boring and I got stick of chinese food. Meanwhile, you're stuck in the basement with a chopstick up your ass. The end- purple. ....staaaaaaars...."

- Overheard on the Front Porch


Aug. 26th, 2006 10:07 pm
nirix5: (Lucia Techno)
And now it's time for some pictures. These are of my friend/roommate Christie, The Bringer Of Celery Soda. They're inspired by the painting "Gold and Fog" by Luis Royo. Hair by me, makeup by me (and my trusty eyeliner), sword by me, photography by me, sexxy by her.

Christie 2
Read more... )
nirix5: (tainted love (odile))
Token statement: I'm always thinking of things to write in here, but then never write them.

It's like a disclaimer. My personal disclaimer. I say it all the time and never really act on it, because by the time I sit down at a keyboard I'm too exhausted to do anything but read shit.

News and Recaps:

~ Getting my wisdom teeth out Friday morning. My teeth have been giving me massive amounts of hell all semester, and it's been getting progressively worse, from pain to massive headaches and nausea to infections and dizzy spells and all kinds of crap. Finally I went to the dentist and then the oral surgeon about it. Turns out, the roots on the top teeth are tangled in a nerve. They're also caught in the curve of my molars, so as they're trying to come in, they're being turned to the point that if the did come in the bottoms would be facing straight out to the sides of my head. The bottom left one is half in my mouth, half caught in my jawbone. The bottom right one is actually fine; I had a molar pulled a couple of years ago and they decided to just let that wisdom tooth come in and take its place. I thought it was hurting a lot because it was sliding in, but actually I have a huge cyst in my jaw on that side, or something. While I'm knocked out they're going to do exploratory surgery to find out what it is. I let him get as far in his explanation as "so we're going to drill a hole in your jaw" before telling him that if I was unconscious, I didn't care. Go to fucking town.

~ I'm totally going to bomb watercolor. And I have such a hard time caring. Why the hell did I take the classes I took? Two are worth salvaging, the rest are pointless. I have become a stellar French student. Take that, Madame Guillet! I can totally conjugate avoir now.

~ Quinn, Katie and I are doing a photo shoot with Alisha tomorrow night. It's going to be all Jack The Ripper themed. We're shooting downtown after eight, so I Mike has become the official babysitter for all of our stuff. And speaking of tuxedos...

~ OMFG THEY ARE DOING CARMEN AND LUCIA DE LAMMERMOOR NEXT SEASON. THIS TOTALLY GIVES ME AN ORGASM. I don't care how much I have to shell out, I'm so getting a box for Lucia. OMG OMG OMG.

~ Pat's birthday party was fucking awesome. I love riding crops. I love my friends to fucking death.

~ Still searching for the perfect layout.

~ My family is still stark raving mad.

~ Silent Hill is fucking freaky.

~ My mother just called. Apparently I have an overdue book at the OCC library and my dress has come in at David's Bridal. Could I please pick it up within seven to ten days.

(DITTO... hee)

Life continues at its normal pace, I suppose. Blah and exciting at the same time. Random. Totally, completely random. Yep.
nirix5: (slut (belle))
"Do you want the salad special for today?"
"What is it?"
"Salmon salad. You'll love it."
"Is it green?"
"Is it green? For St. Patrick's Day?"
"...No. It's Protestant salmon."

Had a long, rambling thought about St. Patrick's Day as the bus wound its way through Tipp Hill this morning. It's because I've never been in that particular area around St. Patrick's Day before. Man, they go all out. Not as all out, however, as my mother, who took it upon herself to make an orange-flavored green pound cake which is fucking AWESOME.

I have no green anything.

There was a lot more I wanted to write about in here. It eludes me.

Oh yeah...


Which is really, REALLY freaky, because she usually doesn't. But today, she did. Even she couldn't deny it. It was the color her hair has become, with the way it fell, and the lighting in the kitchen, and the leather jacket she put on because she was chilly, and the nice pants and sandal-type shoes. Like WHOA. I am not even kidding.

Cue the jokes about Quinn being Greg and Catherine ripping on him and threatening to paint him with liquid latex and beat him. Hee. I loves me some CSI.

And apple martinis!
nirix5: (maromi (paranoia agent))
...said Shizuka Arakawa, as she carefully dusted her gold medal for incriminating fingerprints, certain that Irina Slutskaya had been trying steal it during the night. She was absolutely sure that she had heard the Russian skater eyeing it, muttering "It's ours, my precious, and we wants it," under her breath.

Now there's a fic for you. The ladies' gold medal is forged from the One Ring. Let the free-for-all begin.

In other news, the week has been kind of bleh. Been sickish through most of it and then didn't really get any sleep last night. The apartment is fantabulous, now that the downstairs bathroom has a curtain and we are no longer mooning/sunning the neighbors. The upstairs bathroom, though, is a different story. Ask Sheldon, who wound up waving to the family across the street as he was taking a piss, or the family across the street, who saw me in my birthday suit when I went to take a shower one morning. I have since realized that the trick is to climb into the shower, close the curtain, and then take your clothes off. By the time you get out of the shower, the windows are all fogged up. Everybody wins.

Quinn has given me the gift of RENT. I am counting down the hours until I get to torture him by making him watch it with me. He will learn it all, dammit. Then we can make beautiful music by having an apartment-wide-and-also-Woody RENT singalong. It will be lovely, and very La Vie Boheme-ish.

School is alright. I feel like I'm not in school at all because I don't have any study-intensive classes. Creative writing, poetry, history, French, and watercolors, for god's sake. I've become adept at making myself go to class, though. At least they're fun classes; however, I feel that if I'm not taking harder classes that require some angst and elbow grease on my part, that it's almost not worth it. Bah.

My creative writing professor recommended me for a scholarship at the New York State Summer Writers Institute at Skidmore College. I just got the information today, and it's kind of overwhelming. I'd like to try for it, but I don't really think I've got a shot in hell and since money is kind of tight, I'd rather not waste the $35 application fee. Just looking up the school was kind of intimidating, if only from a financial standpoint- the place totals to $41,000 per year, although room and board is included in that. But still. Forty grand is a whole degree at SU.

It's kind of got me depressed. I'm starting to realize that I've got to make a descision about what to do with my life. I think I'm closer to jumping over the CRJ fence as opposed to sitting on it, now. The odd thing is that when I talked it over with my parents, they were relieved by my descision not to do it. Quinn doesn't really voice an opinion on the matter other than the standard, "You should write. You're really good at writing." I, however, am interested in making a living, and doing exciting things. Ultimately winding up an English teacher doesn't really appeal to me.

So, here's what I'm looking at. Figuring that I can do writing on the side, if and when the mood strikes me, and let that go where it will without counting on it.

Plan A: Major in Egyptology/Biological Anthropology. Because I've always wanted to be an Egyptologist, working in a museum appeals to me, Egypt is warm, I'd get to hang around with dead people and their skeletons, and it would be fairly easy to switch to forenseic anthropolgy and work in law enforcement if I so chose.

Plan B: Major in European History/Art History, specialize in Medieval Art and the Crusades, get a Master's in reconstruction of textiles from NYU and carry on with my plan to take over the directorship of The Cloisters or [insert random art museum in a major city here.]

Plan C: Say fuck it and become a librarian. Then be proud of it.

Plan D: Give up on academia entirely and get my scuba diving certifications. Somehow get a job at Weeki Wachee Springs in Florida working as a mermaid. Seduce and marry some rich old guy and spend the remainder of my years getting too tan and wearing gaudy jewelry. Towards the end of my life become an eccentric recluse, kind of a crossover between that lady in Great Expectations and Grissom. Die. Leave all my money to my pet kittens Isildur and Dim Sum.

Either way, I've got to start applying to places soon. I've got about a semester left after this one before I graduate. After that, I might take a semester off so I can start the following fall. Or not. Maybe I'll just bite the bullet and start in the spring, but that really puts a crunch on the time. Goddamn it. *bangs head into table*

Maybe Dad will lend me $35? And I'd better write something. Oh, shit, this is pointless. Hope is a cruel, cruel disease.

Oh. Another recent highlight is that Quinn drew me as a zombie. It came out fucking awesome. Will try to post it at some point. Whee!
nirix5: (v. weird day (brass/sexy kitty))
OMG the Olympic Opening Ceremonies Cirque du Olympics!

Waltzing cow people! Tree men! Alp horns and children in leiderhosen! Sparks of passion or bad Rocketteer impersonators! A human heart made up of people wearing electrical tape and roller skates! RANDOM LEGS COMING OUT OF THE FLOOR!!!

This shit is teh craziness. I love watching it because it's so symbolic and takes itself so seriously that it always comes off a little bit fun and ridiculous.

In other news I missed CSI last night, and although Kelsey taped it for me, the first half of it didn't tape because our VCR sucks beyond all human comprehension.

In other other news, I've been living at the townhouse since Tuesday. There's soup but no pot, a toilet but no TP, soap but no shower curtain, and blankets but no bed. It's been great. Except the whole using napkins thing... that gets real old, real fast. The taking baths thing would get real old, real fast except that Quinn pouts so much about it that it's too cute to be annoying. Note to self: get towels. Sheets are great for togas but not for drying off.

School is kind of ridiculous. I feel like I'm not doing any work at all.

Step 1: hand in shitty story/poem/painting
Step 2: ???
Step 3: PROFIT!!!
nirix5: (slut (belle))
OMG. Heart CSI totally.

Yesterday was good, although expensive. First thing in the morning I went to the ($75 for five minutes) doctor's office, where they told me that I do in fact have teh dreaded scabies. This, going way back, is the fault of a ferret that I had never met from two or so years ago. Ferret had scabies. Ferret gave scabies to Christie and a whole lot of other people by proxy. People got treated, except for Christie's parents or something, who gave it back to Christie and then to Quinn and then to me. Bleh. At any rate, I got stuff to put on them and now they are DEAD.

Easily taken care of, except for the fact that Dad went nuts and decided that everything in the house had to be bleached. Mom and I are, of course, ignoring him on that since it's stupid. No one else caught it from me and all of my stuff is now washed.

Then I managed to get the car and Quinn and I went to the mall. We saw Tristan and Isolde. It was pretty good, and Quinn was happy since it wasn't as Romeo and Juliet as he thought it would be- he didn't know anything about the story at all, so he was pretty "riiiiiiiight... well, if you really want to, honey," about it. But it had lots of blood and gore and double crossing and strategy and PWNED, BITCHES! stuff in it, so there was much squeeing.

Then Quinn bought me a dress at Express. I squeed. It's so cute- short, black, flowy. I have to have it adjusted a little bit, because it's a little too big. But SQUEE!!! I love Express stuff.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...

The whole apartment thing is getting going at this point. Except that it's not an apartment, it's a townhouse. I think we start moving in on Feb. 1. Er... yay? I'm more excited about classes starting next week. This will be the first time in over a year that I don't have to be there at 7:45 unless I want to be, although I think I will anyway because Christie wants me to go to the gym with her or somesuch.

Man, I really need to figure out what I'm doing with school after this.

nirix5: (B-A-N-A-N-A-S)
Q and I went to see Casanova yesterday. That movie is teh shitz. And the period costumes... *drools, eyes roll back in head* The point is, I need some Casanova icons, and I need them now, before I go into some kind of medical shock.

Life otherwise continues on as it has for the past semester. Which is to say, crazily.

Quinn is now living with Christie and her parents, since they are no longer living at the apartment and are in the process of getting a new one. Hams have been thrown out. Angst has been had. Q at least has spectacular shiny garnet-colored knee high goth boots of DOOM with which to console himself. They make him drastically tall. Like, my-eyes-meet-his-chin tall.

Meanwhile, work calls me and tells me not to come in on Wednesday and Thursday. Thursday morning work calls my house fifteen minutes after I'm supposed to be there, wondering where the hell I am. I make frantic calls from the WalMart parking lot to straighten shit out. This is the kind of thing that happens when the bosses forget to talk to each other. I can just see Audra rolling her eyes, somewhere off in the background.

Other work is functioning normally. For them. Bill gave me a New Testament thinger the other day, explaining very nicely that we're all works in progress. John tells me that I don't eat enough, that I eat too much chocolate, that I'm messy and a child and he can't believe that at my age he still has to clean me up when I eat s'mores on break.

(John. HELLO. I was totally going to lick the chocolate off of my fingers; you didn't have to attack me with a wet paper towel.)

Christie and I went skating at Clinton Square a few nights ago. It was fun, if weird. I haven't been on the ice in about five years. Luckily we got to get on right after they cut it, so we had some smooth ice for about five minutes before it got torn to hell. Some random man with a giant fro stood to one side of the rink, exhorting us to "find a corner and claim it, girl. You just claim it. Those hockey brats will cut your ankles off. They go so fast! ...Cut your ankles off."

I did better than I thought I did with finals etc. Grades were:

Psychology: A
Anthropology: A
Special Investigations: A
Ballroom Dancing: A
Algebra: B
Criminalistics: B

Final Average: 3.6
Made the Dean's List. Whee.

Next semester's classes are as follows:

French I (with Q)
Watercolors (with Q)
History of Western Civilization
Creative Writing (fiction)
Creative Writing (poetry)

The schedule itself sucks; I'm going to be at school from six in the morning to ten at night on Tuesdays and eight something on Thursdays. M,W,F are reserved for work. This whole thing both enables and forces me to move out. So, I'm moving in with Q, Christie, and Gerard at some point in the near future. My mom knows. My dad does not. GAH. Not a conversation I'm looking forward to.

OMG! It's Friday the 13th. Way to be perceptive, Feath.

Quinn and I went shopping for everyone on Christmas Eve. This was one of those DOOM holidays for me- i.e., I've never had a serious boyfriend over Christmas. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. How to handle presents? At some point during my minor fit over this issue, Quinn logically pointed out that we should just get a joint gift for each family. (Holdiay splitting! I'm becoming a pro at this! Thank god for different dinner times) For his family we got room scent stuff and a Santa candle. For mine we got a candle in a glass holder and a bag of rocks. The bag of rocks was supposed to be a joke gift, but my mother just went into raptures over it. She loves rocks. Loves them to the point that she moved the rocks from our old house to our new one. It was yay.

Dropped Q off at work on the way home from the mall. Then I collapsed on the couch and took a nap parallel to the Christmas tree, which was taking its own nap on the floor. At some point the tree got put up. At six, I picked Q up from work, came home, decorated the tree, half-watched 1941, and went to church. The pook kid just wanted to sleep. SLEEP!!! HA! Not in this household. He's lucky there aren't any relatives around here; then there seriously wouldn't be any sleep.

Christmas was fun. Got lots of stuff- CSI Season 2 from Q OMGWHEE!!!!! "Tiaras" and a cool royal shirt from Kirstin SQUEE!!!!! Jeannette sent me a giant book of Elizabeth Taylor's jewelry. Kelsey got me a necklace and pickles (which were all eaten in like, two days.) Quinn's mom got me a bouncy Christmas tree candle. There are other things, too, and although I'm looking right at the pile of them, I'm too lazy to list them all. I gave Quinn a necklace and the Skeleton Key ST; he got slippers and gloves from my parents.

We went to Q's mom's house for dinner. It was really nice. Quinn got lots of stuff there, and picked up some stuff that he had left there when they moved. After everything was finished, we went back to my house for Chinese food and zombie movies, which has got to be the best Christmas tradition ever. At some point I made cookies. They were very good-tasting failures, however.

Exeunt Christmas. On to New Year's.

New Year's
Got totally, incredibly wasted. I only remember bits and pieces- mainly, the angst over the fact that they kept moving the damn champagne bottle out of my reach.

Had my first hangover ever.

Hangover aside, I had a great time.


Is that enough of an update for you? I'm going to start hitting this thing up every day again, or else I won't remember all the crazy things I did when I'm eighty.


Dec. 23rd, 2005 08:27 pm
nirix5: (YEAH! (jorja))
I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever, and when I do, it's bad news or angst or I'm sick or something. Good news is, school is over with. Quinn is still yay. Jeannette's wedding in July is yay. She's going to carry a short sword (a kaiken) at the service; how fucking cool is that? Lisa came out to visit and that was all kinds of weird shit yay. Other yay:

- Dylan.
- Long late nights at the diner.
- Fetish photography. (Congratulate me, I made the cover of Christie's fetish/bondage magazine.)
- Work.
- Work subcategories:
Audra. Deborah. Rox. The usuals. Hockey players. The creepy basement. Happy crouton dances. Kickass hot cocoa. Cakes. Discussions on urban yodeling and Russian studies. Literature. Art. Being let loose on a giant box of chocolates. Live music. Making stuff. It's a very La Vie Boheme kind of place.
- Getting my license renewed so I'm not hobbled to the buses on a reduced holiday schedule.
- Kelsey's birthday.
- Crazy plans.
- Quasi-figuring out what to do with myself.

Not yay:

- Christmas. The tree is still languishing away in the backyard, the kitchen is full of icing tubs filled with ornaments and doodads, no cookies are baked, nothing has been rearranged furniture-wise, I'm going to be up all night cleaning, no one has gone shopping yet, Quinn is spending Christmas Eve over here (great, but mildly complicating), JOINT PRESNTS THIS YEAR OMG, I'm so behind in correspondence, comments, emails, etc. that's it's neither fair nor funny, and I only have $80 in liquid assets.

wOot, adventure? Perhaps?

Also on edge about grades. The blade drops on Tuesday.

Arrgh. Spent too much time on this already. Gotta jet. More later.

(Lise. If you axe me flist wise, I keels you! And cries. *insert moo eyes here* Also, I have the negatives now. Next week, you get prints. Heheheheheh.)
nirix5: (me!)
Still sick, tired, and pretty much miserable, but it's a temporary version of sick, tired, and pretty much miserable- the kind that can be cured with a day of sleep. At least that's turned the corner.

This is due in large part to my lovely shiny new job. I now work in at the Lucky Moon Cafe, a pretty little place that's very ecclectic, plays NPR on the radio, and pays in cash. Yeehah. Today was my first day, and it rocked. It totally made up for losing the $30 that was left over from the money I lent Jason for opera tickets (read: all the money I had to my name. Gone, in one swell foop. Alas, my pretty chickens.)

Last night was mine and Quinn's eight month anniversary. After much drama, work bullshit, school bullshit, and mad rescheduling, we wound up having a romantic dinner in the living room of the apartment. Ultimately, this made Quinn extremely happy, me extremely blushy, both of us really chatty, and Christie ascended to the level of goddess for putting the whole thing together. Phil helped too- without his manliness we would never have been able to uncork the wine.

However. I have to figure out what's going on tonight. We're taking the bus over to the apartment, but we've got a two hour window minimum before anyone gets home. Right this second, I'd just opt for skipping everything and sleeping, since I'm working on a headache right now. Must make phone calls and figure this out. Must. Must. Must.



Nov. 2nd, 2005 10:28 am
nirix5: (mute pageboy)
Exhausted. Sugar-coma'ed. Cranky, hungry, unmotivated, anxious, mildly frustrated, on edge, and with peeling fingertips. Also, hideously behind in journal updating- because I know all of you want to read about my hyperexciting life.

Tosca was a lot of fun, aside from the constant worrying brought on by various people's deficiencies in timing and ability to follow directions. (Read: Quinn and Kira are never going anywhere in the same car together without a handler. Ever. Not only do they leave the start getting ready/leave the house hella late, they have directions to B'ville written down and wind up in Cazenovia.) Then there was the whole screw-up with the diner bill. Someone, somewhere, owes me money. Like, twenty bucks worth of money.


Last Thursday, I wound up donating blood. Quinn's idea initially, because Mike was doing it, and yay helping people, blah blah woof woof. He talks me into doing it and we get all signed up and then Oops! Can't give blood without ID and mine is under the mattress, honey! So I gave blood all by myself. Mike tried, but they couldn't find a vein.

Almost passed out, apparently. Actually, all I got was nauseous. They made me lie down for a while anyway. Bah, said I, lying down is for sissies. I will just take a quick nap in the cafeteria and then go to ballroom dancing as planned.

Blood loss + ballroom dancing = not good. The whole class was pretty hazy, and I made it to almost the end. I left five minutes before it let out. Quinn was really mad and upset that I went at all, and at one point refused to merengue with me over it. He just stood there in protest as I merengued around him. Silly thing.


The Halloween party was a blast. I think. People seemed to enjoy themselves, at any rate. The house looked nice and there were tons of food, although I didn't buy enough soda, forgot to buy ice, and Mike and Katy didn't show up with the cups until 10:30. Bobbing for apples didn't work out because Dustin forgot to bring the washtub. Ghost in the Graveyard shouldn't be played over a one-block area using people's front yards. It just doesn't work, although it turned out that Woody was hiding in a really easy place.


Halloween itself was awesome. Quinn, Katy, myself, and Katy's friend Owen went trick-or-treating in Skaneateles, heretofore known as The Land Where They Give Out King Size Candy Bars OMG.

Quinn as Mr. Hyde is teh sex.

Which should explain why there is quite a lot of photographic evidence of Indiana Jones making out with Mr. Hyde. Yep.

I'm done. Exeunt.
nirix5: (YEAH! (jorja))
When you mix rice pilaf with orangeade, it tastes kind of like Chinese food. Strange.

Stranger is the fact that I am now the Vice President of the OCC Drama Club. I also hold the offices of Girl In Charge of Bake Sales and Leader of Creative Recon.

Schwartz is the President. He's using this as a first step in his quest for world domination.

Anyway, it's every Monday in A284 at 11:15, so join. Because there will be cookies. And make out scenes.


Been splitting my time pretty evenly between Quinn's and my house. Thankfully all of the drama is over the electricity usage and not interpersonal relations. Opera tickets are also paid for; now I just have to extort money from the people that owe me. Note to self: call goon squad, shine baseball bat. Mayhap shall use shiny red one. Muah ha ha.

Aced my psych test, amazingly. We had a fire drill on Friday that ate up a half an hour of a fifty minute class. With 67 questions, we all thought we were going to fail. I think the class average turned out to be a C in the end. I got a 95. wOOt!

On the other hand, I'm relatively sure I totally bombed my homicide investigation test today. I missed the review on Friday morning because I had to skip class to leave money for Dad in the office since he was being a total infant about it. I studied and all, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what the three characteristics of cutting wounds were. Figures, I'd read up like hell on the guns and all that, and totally forget about the knives. I hope I got the bit about defensive wounds right. If I did, I'm going to write a thank you note and send a fruit basket to the writers of CSI, because I sure didn't get that iformation from class. Bah.

Should probably do the smart thing and switch my major back to English.


Oct. 12th, 2005 09:02 am
nirix5: (smirk (sara))
I'm really fucking tired. Got up at 4:45 yesterday to catch the bus to work, where I hot glued boxes from 7 AM to 4:30 PM. As a result, I can barely move my hands or hold on to things. Christie and Quinn picked me up, and after a while and a game of Magic in which I got my ass beat severe, we went over to Marcellus to get Quinn's stuff.

Six boxes, one giant TV, three people, and a lightsaber. In a Jetta. In the rain. I'm not entirely sure how we did it, but we did. It all went pretty smoothly, except when the giant box Christie and I were carrying bottomed out, dropping video games and Yugioh cards all over the parking lot.

Then we got food and watched some really bad hentai. Slave Doll is really kind of ridiculous, but it's really funny to watch. All this chick does is give blowjobs- there's no actual sex until the end, when she magically grows a penis and fucks another android-girl.

Well, yay for porn, at any rate. And lots of lovely warm blankets. And yay for Christie, who gets up earlier than she has to to get us to class on time. Lovely lovely Christie- I already promised to be her sex slave; I don't know what else I can do for her except to make her cookies or something.

Also got into a fight over whose property I am; Christie's or Quinn's.

Homicide class was all cutting and stabbing wounds today.

I need to track down some food or I'm gonna die.
nirix5: (oh hell no (sleeping beauty))
Today was high drama in math clas, OMG!!!

Annoying people have been talking through class almost every day since the semester started. It pisses off the people who are actually there to learn something, myself included, and the teacher as well; although she hasn't said anything about it. I mean, these people talk right through tests and everything- it's really distracting. It all came to a head today.

Girl behind me: "OMG. This math is so hard, blah blah woof woof."
Girl in the front row: "It's not supposed to be easy. It's math, hello."

Cue various back and forth sniping for about ten minutes, including Girl Behind Me mouthing off to her friends ("I'd better be quiet now... SOME PEOPLE IN THE FRONT won't like it if I make noise," etc.) and Girl In Front Row mouthing right back ("If you can't see the overhead, maybe you should move to where you can, so you would LEARN something" etc.)

Finally the girl in the girl in the front row had enough. She whips around in her chair, glares at the girl behind me, and yells- not says, yells-


OH SNAP!!! says I. Right in front of the teacher, omg. She was loud enough to be heard in the hall. Holy shit on toast, drama!

Professor doesn't say anything, just kind of looks put out. Predictably, Girl Behind Me is all scandalized and gaspy. "What did you just say?" she asks.

"I SAID, take your fingers out of your cunt and use them to--"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!!" shouts the teacher. At the end of class, she said that this was why she stopped teaching high school, and that everyone should shut the hell up with the giggling, and that she owed the rest of the class an apology for letting it go on so long. But damn! Girl just got pissed and let out with the C-word. Whoa. My jaw hit the desk with a resounding thud and in that moment I realized what a tight-laced dinosaur I really am at heart, my crazy parties aside. If I ever said anything like that in front of an authority figure, I'd probably die.


In other news, Quinn is moving in with Christy and Kira. I'm unofficially moving in part time.

This is a twisted manga-in-the-making. But someone else is going to have to write it.

Quinn. Moving in with Christy and Kira. Dooooom?

Doooom. Some small part of my brain is still saying that. Shut up, brain. It's better that he's there than at his mom's where she charges him $350/month to sleep on a metal cot in a dirty basement. Right?

nirix5: (evenstar (sara/grissom))
Quinn and I saw the Corpse Bride yesterday. However, I'm jumping ahead of myself here.

I fell asleep again in Criminalistics. When I wasn't nodding off, I was watching the clock, praying for the hands to speed up so I could get the hell out of there and on with my life. We're doing the photography unit, so it's kind of tedious. I might have failed photography in high school; but it was because I didn't hand in my work on time, not because I didn't know how to develop film. Listening to the whole "how to use the darkroom" thing is boring. Plus it's way early, and I never seem to get enough sleep these days, so I'm always tired.

Anthropology was cancelled, so I hung out in the cafeteria (Pit #3- we got kicked out of the last one again) for the rest of the day. Manda brought Dylan into school, so I got to hold/watch him for a while. This would have been fine, except that Manda and Lisha decided that they would say "tick, tick, tick" at me almost constantly, as a vocalization of my biological clock. They insist that I'm going to have kids one day, I insist that I'm not. Then Lisha brings up the whole curse she put on me so I'd wind up having them anyway, and goes on to talk about how I'll be in the unfortunate 1% of the population that the Pill doesn't work for.

Which really, really wasn't funny, because who knows if she jinxed me or not? And if she jinxed me and the Pill magically stops working or something, I am seriously going to flip my shit.

Told them that if I really wanted kids I'd just clone Dylan. Manda reminded me that at this point, clones still need to be brought to term in a uterus. Wound up asking Quinn which he thought was better- clones or normal babies- and he said normal babies. BAH.

I talked about it with him later, though. Turns out that he prefers normal babies to clone babies because normal babies have less of a tendency to mutate and take over the world, leaving nothing but flaming death, destruction, and mayhem in their wake. (That's the abridged version of what he said. He was very vehement about it. Replied that as long as he didn't like clone babies for his reasons and not because he wanted a normal baby or something, that was fine with me.)

Also, Manda got yelled at for bringing Dylan into school by some random quasi-pit geek who is Jason's cousin in law or something. Everyone told him to basically STFU.

After Manda got out of class, Quinn and I took off for the mall, bringing this entry back to Corpse Bride. It was good. I liked it. It got out fifteen minutes later than we thought it would, which made me miss the bus. The last bus to B'ville. By like, two minutes, dammit! Quinn had to talk his mom into giving me a ride home.

Ride home conversation consisted mainly of "when are you guys getting an apartment?" Erm. Well. Yeah. About that, uh. Dunno.

(I am way too poor to move out. Christie and Kira want me to split their apartment with them, and the rent would come to a grand total of $82.50 per month. I can't afford that. So...)

Anyway. Got home, got sick, went to bed. Nothing too exciting, really.
nirix5: (politik (coldplay))
Fell asleep during the autopsy video today. When I woke up, they were poking at *something*, but I couldn't tell what it was until they folded it back up. It was a brain. Then I went to sleep again.

I really need to do something about my userinfo.

Missing Vampire. Again. Too tired to care right now, though. Also, with my new LARPing philosophy, it wouldn't have worked out anyway. (If I can't get the car that night, I'm not going. I'm sick of relying on other people for rides and stuff. It's kind of embarassing, and gas money for them is hard to come by these days.)

Uncle Dave had a massive stroke. He's still alive, and conscious at this point- but the only things he can do are open and close his eyes and squeeze your hand if you hold it. Dad went back to Staten Island this afternoon to go be with him and Uncle Mike.

All of you flist people in Texas or going to Texas (J, I'm looking at you) take care of yourselves, all right?
nirix5: (iharthdarth: kittens!)
Yesterday was so a day for heart-wrenching kittens it is not even funny.

First, we've got Jason pointing out this news story about French fishermen using live kittens and puppies as shark bait.

*eyes get wide*

Then we've got an entire day full of Quinn talking about a basket of hypothetical kittens. Orphan kittens that are lonely and hungry and wet and cold because they've been splashed by passing cars since some hard-hearted person left them on a curb. Some mean kid kicked them, so they're bruised and mewing pitifully. Their basket is broken down and their blanket is thin and full of holes.

*eyes get wide and teary*

Now, he's been talking about these Little Match Girl kittens ALL DAY. With SOUND EFFECTS. Which he happens to be VERY GOOD AT. Then we went and saw The Brothers Grimm.



*bursts into tears*

Kittens, man. They make me die from the cute and the helpless.

And on top of everything else, the Gulf area has completely gone to shit )



nirix5: (Default)

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