The Latest

Not much new going on… My debate with Cleric turned to the irresolvable debate of choice vs. nature for sexuality (as I suspected it would eventually). I say nature (although you can choose your actions/lifestyle that are based on that nature), he says choice for it all (as in, he chose to be attracted to women and not to men, etc.). It’s an interesting twist, but I suspect the whole debate shall fizzle out for a while. Sorry, dude.

Friday I went to work with Michael; essentially, we dug for eight hours. Actually, there’s no “essentially” about it: we just dug for eight hours with a couple of breaks (and really good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches). It’s interesting how hard and how easy that sounds and is. It’s physically hard, but not mentally difficult or intellectually challenging. But I tend to underestimate how physically challenging work like that will be (and, apparently, the monetary worth of such work). You’re working, and digging, and you hate to even look at a clock (I carefully didn’t bring one), because you just know that, although you started at 07:00 and have been digging hours and have that tightness building up in your back and that throbbing going on in your feet, that it’s only 07:05. Unfortunately, it usually is. And yet, it wasn’t killer, like to the point that I thought I was going to injure something (like myself or Michael) or not being able to finish the day’s work (it didn’t help that Michael kept making me laugh, though, which is quite a tiring act in and of itself). It did leave me just sort of sitting fairly still all day Saturday, though. Well, I stretched a little (or tried to), but the sedentary life was the life for me yesterday. There wasn’t a muscle that didn’t hurt, which gave my parents quite the laugh as I trudged/limped around the apartment; even my thumbs hurt and didn’t want to move. And the mosquitos had three full meals and some snacks from one of my arms.

Michael and I decided to hang out that night, though, ‘cuz it was Friday and… well, ‘cuz it was Friday. Turns out we were really too tired to do anything other than play a game of Star Wars themed-Strate-go (through which I cheated like a bum, laughing giggling hysterically the whole time). For some odd reason, I simply could not convince him to go see the sexy pirate movie… Hmph.

Luckily for me, my mother was game last night. Michael was right: it’s high time I obsessed about something; how else can I live up to my full obsessive personality-type potential? Bru-ha-ha.

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I Feel Short

I’m just about sick of being examined. Yesterday was my first doctor’s visit in two years, and my first physical in about three years. Contrary to the sage advice of my friend Jenny, I did not have my pap smeared (ew, ew, ew). Rose-Hulman requires a battery of tests, however, including (and this surprised even my doctor), an exercise test, in which the doc measures your resting pulse, then you jog in place for a minute, then your pulse is measured again immediately after, then again two minutes later. But all in all, the exam went well. Apparently, there is nothing to be done about the icky sac of fluid on my knee; it’s been there five years now, and there’s apparently no damage to cartiledge or anything, so it just sits there, more disturbing than painful (unless pressed). Um, yeah. Ew.

What was disturbing about the exam was the height measurement. I had no real idea of how tall I am; I figured I was about 5 feet, 6 inches, maybe even 7 inches. It turns out that I’m 5 feet, 5.5 inches (1.66 m). Now, a half an inch doesn’t sound like much difference, but there’s a big psychological difference between 5 and a half feet and anything less. That makes you short. Damn.

I may be short, but that’s okay, ‘cuz short people kick ass too.

I visited the optometrist today for an eye exam, and to see if I needed new glasses. Turns out only one of my eyes has worsened in prescription, and that’s only a single level. So I used my visit to get a second pair of lenses in my old nifty Jeep frames to take to college as backup. I would seriously hate to get eleven hours away from home, melt my glasses to slag doing some funky chemistry experiment, and be without a pair for the length of time to mail a backup pair from home or find a doctor in Terre Haute that has accepts my insurance, etc., etc. I got out el-cheapo, even though I got all the scratch-resistant stuff and transition lenses on the second pair (shh, don’t tell Dad).

Continue reading I Feel Short


Sometimes I wish that someone could forcibly ban me from using all communications devices after, say, midnight. Almost an entire post dedicated to the sexiness of certain pirates, complete with bad, sick jokes? Ugh.

It’s kinda funny in a “Dear god, I wrote that?!” type of way, so it stays.

Who needs alcohol/drugs to fuck them up? Just learn to get a bad case of the giggles when you’re tired, and you’re a walking entertainment center. And it’s much worse in person than in writing, I assure you.

I found myself watching the History Channel today (which is not an odd phenomenon in and of itself), and in particular a two-hour show on the history of Nazis in America. It was odd. I kept noticing little things, like how the narrator showed clear bias when talking about the history (against the Nazis), and how they kept throwing up bleach-blonde bimbos and rednecks as examples of modern neo-Nazis. But they actually had some of the former leaders commenting and telling some of the story (pulled straight from jail, I believe). I thought that was particularly interesting; it didn’t even hit me that when they said so-and-so (I don’t remember his name) was the author of the Turner Diaries in the little box under his face that it was really that guy, until they got around to the more modern stuff. Then all his racist commentary took on a different light. I mean, this guy was one of the major leaders of the neo-Nazis (unless I’m mixing up the guys), and his book inspired Timothy McVeigh to do the Oklahoma City Bombing (I was so young when that happened that even now I know very little about it).

Continue reading Well…

Sexy, sexxxy!

I went to see me some sexy pirates tonight. That is, of course, a reference to the movie Pirates of the Caribbean (I never know which movie site is best to link to, so I shall link to none). Those are some damn sexy pirates. Oh, and the lady was pretty, too, so the hetero guys and lesbians and… folks who dig chicks won’t be too bored with all that fighting.

For some reason, I think Johnny Depp is such an amazing actor. He’s one of those that can play (and has) in such a variety of roles very damned well. He played the goofy pirate in Pirates of the Caribbean (wait, are movie titles italicized?), and although I couldn’t tell if he was a lush or just… odd, he did the part well. He also played the studious guy (although also funny) in that movie about Hell and a book, the drug addict guy in Blow, etc., etc. All I can say is that he will probably never get into one of those ruts that other actors seem to. Actually, “rut” is probably a harsh word; I mean the actors like Clint Eastwood or maybe even John Cusack (and upcoming ones like Jason Biggs and that Prince, Jr. guy) who get stuck playing pretty much the same role in every movie. They have “successful” careers (i.e. they make a lot of money), but they’re the ones who, if you ever saw them in a movie that wasn’t their typical type, you’d have a hard time seeing them as fitting for the role. You can kinda expect Depp to just pop up.

But those were some sexy pirates.

Of course, I am just talking about Depp and Bloom here. The guys with the rusticated (of course that’s a word) teeth were entertaining, but not sexy. I have to state for the record that the whole dead/alive, lack of hygine thing just was not working for me, given that I’m a two-showers-a-day chick. But the fact that Depp could pull off even wearing gold teeth (sorry, I can’t do that whole gansta thing) says a lot for him. What it says other than the fact that he’s sexy (and for clarification for a buddy who I’m sure will ask, yes, he is indeed a sexy beast), I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s something deep. But who needs depth, right?

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