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Dec. 10th, 2004 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nirix5Bleargh. Got a whole lot of nothing done today, at least so far. I'm going to write something- I just don't know what yet- and post it in the next hour or so. I hope. I've gotten all my distracting stuff out of the way (no new kimono on Ichiroya) and Oliver has finally relenquished my headphones.
I really need to get a computer at home. I always forget the stuff I mean to put in this journal. Like Jeannette sending my tiara back (I'm going to post the letter she sent me with it on Monday- my tiara saw action!!!) and Mr. Christopher dying. Mom's going to send a mass card and Nana's probably going to go to the funeral on Monday. It's really, really sad. I love the Christophers, although I didn't know the boys as well as Allison. I still miss them, sometimes.
CHRISTOPHER Charles F. Christopher of Livingston on December 7, 2004. Beloved husband of Barbara (nee Wood). Loving father of Mark, David and Allison Christopher. Funeral from Harmon Home for Funerals, 571 Forest Avenue, West Brighton, Monday 9:15 A.M. Religious Service St. Phillip's Baptist Church 10 A.M. Interment Fairview Cemetery. Friends will be received Saturday and Sunday 2-4 and 7-9 P.M.
I hope when I die they have my funeral at Harmon's. They probably will. That's where everyone has their funerals.
Don't let Manhattan decieve you. The rest of New York is just like one big small town. Everyone knows everyone else, and everybody goes to Harmon's. Aunt Doris did.
I should really write out the story of Aunt Doris's funeral one of these days. I still think about that whole fiasco and crack up laughing. I found the pictures of it again the other day. I find it horribly ironic that one of the best pictures I've ever had taken of me when my hair was really long has a dead woman in a casket in it. Shame- it looks all pretty and shiny and stuff. Anyway...
Found some random crap floating around a notebook of mine from over the summer. Here it is.
“If you open the door, Romania will eat you alive.”
~ Gymnastics commentator
“I only get nervous when someone ties me to a chair and sticks a hand grenade between my legs. The rest is pretty much irrelevant after that.”
~Rob
Commentator: “As the captain of this team, can you tell me their emotional state?”
Mom: “Yeah, we’re all freaked out, you stupid old bitch!”
“I don’t know what kind of kid you were, or your brains are so old that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young.”
“WHAT?!?! I work my fingers to the bone all day for you, woman…”
“Yes, yes. …Do you want some teddy grahams?”
~ Mom and Dad
Okay. I cannot fucking believe this… soccer mom central and everyone is headed to the little league game. No one will even take my clipboard and it’s five thirty and my net is 0, I’ve been attacked by a Scottish Skipperkee and followed around by the village idiot, who jumped in on my rap. I’m also responsible for a poodle being set loose, when the little girl opened the door and let it out cause the mom was gone chasing another little girl who had peed in her pants. Now there’s a huge clump of people right next door and I am SO FUCKING FREAKED OUT ABOUT IT. Tomorrow will be better than this. Tomorrow will be better. Anything after 6:30 will be better, it’s like 5:30 now… Everything will be better in an hour.
HOW MANY FUCKING KIDS CAN YOU HAVE IN A LITTLE LEAGUE?!?!?!
Plus have spot on my jeans, possibly from when kicked with hack.
Bloody unbelievable night, this.
Will eat Mounds bar. Then will feel better.
Some kid just asked me if I was working on math homework. He let the indoor-only cat out of the house (GAH!!!) and then screamed right in my ear- the other kid was going around very brightly saying, “Hi! I have to urinate!” and then going on about peat bogs and factories in England and the importance of quagmires. Got $36 though. Huzzah.
As if this night couldn’t get any worse, Megan covered the ass end of my turf- major suckage, as the two people I talked to would have contributed. Not her fault though, these things happen sometimes.
Now all I have to do is get four more $36 donations and I’ll be all kinds of set. And I’ve got 2 more hours- yay! With that I can raise standard for tonight.
I really hope the people who live here don’t come home, as I’m sitting on their porch. But there’s nowhere else to sit and my shoulders are killing me. Also this stupid pen is leaky.
---Also got yelled at by girls on a trampoline, who shouted things like “the environment sucks!” and “let’s go cut down trees” at me.
Bleargh.
"Ode to the Baliff"
Oh! Love’s wings are light
And airy
That bailiff is quite
The fairy
Prince, that is, I’ve seen him about,
In the park, at a ball,
At Lord Chumley’s, a rout.
But never at Almack’s, no sir, not he,
He is not born ton,
Though he be a dandy!
And I gaze and I sigh
And I long and I crave.
This fribble is going to send me to grave.
So staid in his corset,
In his blue waistcoat,
His cravat so extravagant,
Upon’t I dote!
I swoon as he issues
His forceful commands,
I find it a pity
That I cannot see his hands.
Oh my love, oh my beauty,
My dear pink of the court!
Your legs are SPEC-TACULAR,
As smooth as fine port.
And if you do not love me,
I fear I shall die,
Or languish in muffler jail,
Forever to cry!
-exeunt-
America is:
~ Jenna and Barbara Bush trying to be witty, failing miserably, and all of the Republicans laughing anyway.
~ reading the personal ads and not answering them.
~ people who are American telling everyone they’re something else and people who were born elsewhere telling everyone that they’re American.
~ possessed of an army of people who just joined up to get money for college.
~ porn. In other countries it’s sex, but in America it’s porn.
~ canvassing door to door without shame.
~ a giant crime scene, complete with angsty G/S, C/W, AND N/G overtones.
I really need to get a computer at home. I always forget the stuff I mean to put in this journal. Like Jeannette sending my tiara back (I'm going to post the letter she sent me with it on Monday- my tiara saw action!!!) and Mr. Christopher dying. Mom's going to send a mass card and Nana's probably going to go to the funeral on Monday. It's really, really sad. I love the Christophers, although I didn't know the boys as well as Allison. I still miss them, sometimes.
CHRISTOPHER Charles F. Christopher of Livingston on December 7, 2004. Beloved husband of Barbara (nee Wood). Loving father of Mark, David and Allison Christopher. Funeral from Harmon Home for Funerals, 571 Forest Avenue, West Brighton, Monday 9:15 A.M. Religious Service St. Phillip's Baptist Church 10 A.M. Interment Fairview Cemetery. Friends will be received Saturday and Sunday 2-4 and 7-9 P.M.
I hope when I die they have my funeral at Harmon's. They probably will. That's where everyone has their funerals.
Don't let Manhattan decieve you. The rest of New York is just like one big small town. Everyone knows everyone else, and everybody goes to Harmon's. Aunt Doris did.
I should really write out the story of Aunt Doris's funeral one of these days. I still think about that whole fiasco and crack up laughing. I found the pictures of it again the other day. I find it horribly ironic that one of the best pictures I've ever had taken of me when my hair was really long has a dead woman in a casket in it. Shame- it looks all pretty and shiny and stuff. Anyway...
Found some random crap floating around a notebook of mine from over the summer. Here it is.
“If you open the door, Romania will eat you alive.”
~ Gymnastics commentator
“I only get nervous when someone ties me to a chair and sticks a hand grenade between my legs. The rest is pretty much irrelevant after that.”
~Rob
Commentator: “As the captain of this team, can you tell me their emotional state?”
Mom: “Yeah, we’re all freaked out, you stupid old bitch!”
“I don’t know what kind of kid you were, or your brains are so old that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young.”
“WHAT?!?! I work my fingers to the bone all day for you, woman…”
“Yes, yes. …Do you want some teddy grahams?”
~ Mom and Dad
Okay. I cannot fucking believe this… soccer mom central and everyone is headed to the little league game. No one will even take my clipboard and it’s five thirty and my net is 0, I’ve been attacked by a Scottish Skipperkee and followed around by the village idiot, who jumped in on my rap. I’m also responsible for a poodle being set loose, when the little girl opened the door and let it out cause the mom was gone chasing another little girl who had peed in her pants. Now there’s a huge clump of people right next door and I am SO FUCKING FREAKED OUT ABOUT IT. Tomorrow will be better than this. Tomorrow will be better. Anything after 6:30 will be better, it’s like 5:30 now… Everything will be better in an hour.
HOW MANY FUCKING KIDS CAN YOU HAVE IN A LITTLE LEAGUE?!?!?!
Plus have spot on my jeans, possibly from when kicked with hack.
Bloody unbelievable night, this.
Will eat Mounds bar. Then will feel better.
Some kid just asked me if I was working on math homework. He let the indoor-only cat out of the house (GAH!!!) and then screamed right in my ear- the other kid was going around very brightly saying, “Hi! I have to urinate!” and then going on about peat bogs and factories in England and the importance of quagmires. Got $36 though. Huzzah.
As if this night couldn’t get any worse, Megan covered the ass end of my turf- major suckage, as the two people I talked to would have contributed. Not her fault though, these things happen sometimes.
Now all I have to do is get four more $36 donations and I’ll be all kinds of set. And I’ve got 2 more hours- yay! With that I can raise standard for tonight.
I really hope the people who live here don’t come home, as I’m sitting on their porch. But there’s nowhere else to sit and my shoulders are killing me. Also this stupid pen is leaky.
---Also got yelled at by girls on a trampoline, who shouted things like “the environment sucks!” and “let’s go cut down trees” at me.
Bleargh.
"Ode to the Baliff"
Oh! Love’s wings are light
And airy
That bailiff is quite
The fairy
Prince, that is, I’ve seen him about,
In the park, at a ball,
At Lord Chumley’s, a rout.
But never at Almack’s, no sir, not he,
He is not born ton,
Though he be a dandy!
And I gaze and I sigh
And I long and I crave.
This fribble is going to send me to grave.
So staid in his corset,
In his blue waistcoat,
His cravat so extravagant,
Upon’t I dote!
I swoon as he issues
His forceful commands,
I find it a pity
That I cannot see his hands.
Oh my love, oh my beauty,
My dear pink of the court!
Your legs are SPEC-TACULAR,
As smooth as fine port.
And if you do not love me,
I fear I shall die,
Or languish in muffler jail,
Forever to cry!
-exeunt-
America is:
~ Jenna and Barbara Bush trying to be witty, failing miserably, and all of the Republicans laughing anyway.
~ reading the personal ads and not answering them.
~ people who are American telling everyone they’re something else and people who were born elsewhere telling everyone that they’re American.
~ possessed of an army of people who just joined up to get money for college.
~ porn. In other countries it’s sex, but in America it’s porn.
~ canvassing door to door without shame.
~ a giant crime scene, complete with angsty G/S, C/W, AND N/G overtones.
