The New England Society for Tea Fetishism

Aha! I figured out what was wrong with my Yahoo mail. I had a lot of stuff in my trash that it didn't like and in my saved drafts folder. I just deleted it all and I am now using 1% of my storage space. Problem solved.

Steve Madden strikes again! Yes, they are clogs, and yes, they are wooden, but they were only $20 and my mom paid, lovely woman that she is. And just before that we bought $105 worth of brassieres. Penney's was having a sale. It was my intention to buy a pair of shorts and a cute tank top at Express for $50 and use my fast-cash to take the price down to $25. However, to use the fast cash your total must be $50. So I bought a pair of $29 flip-flops that were 20% off to take me over the limit, my pre flip-flop total being $35. But the sign lied and they ended up being $14.50, leaving me just 50 cents shy of the ever elusive $50 total. So now I am the proud owner of a pair of shorts, a tank top, a pair of flip-flops, and a cheap necklace that is quite nice actually, but god only knows when I'll wear it, all for $31. It takes a lot of work not to spend money.

You know what's great? Pineapple and Cool Whip (tm). You know what else is great? Not being skewered by a gigantic psychotic mutant killer wasp. I spent about an hour this morning with a broom in one hand and a can of Raid in the other, waiting for it to show itself. I was sitting in the living room enjoying a cup of tea when I heard a buzzing noise. It was flying near the ceiling, all wings and dangly legs, and I ran into the kitchen to find something to smash it or poison it. Once I got the Raid I ran down the hallway closing all the bedroom doors in case it got any funny ideas. By the time I got back to the living room, the damn thing had vanished. So I grabbed a broom and started smacking the couches and ruffling the curtains with the handle. Keep in mind, every time I walked into the living room I was crouched down and looking wildly at the ceiling like an aborigine hunting some kind of flying warthog. Finally I saw it crawling up the sheer curtains and got it good with the Raid, which came out as a solid stream of liquid death, hitting the wasp, going through the curtain, the screen, and ending up all over the window. There was some clean up to take care of, but the Muise residence is once again safe for children and puppies and all things wholesome.

So um....what the hell? You all remember when I left hotmail in a fit of rage because I had two messages in my inbox and it kept telling me I was past my storage limit? Well, yahoo is doing the same damn thing now. I don't understand how I had three pages of mail saved and it was fine, and now that I've cut it down to half a screen I'm using 105% of my storage space. How shifty! I despise these unsavory businesses that fool you to get your money.
But, good news, Debbie McCollin sent me a letter the other day! She had pictures of me from the Honors lunch at Brewer's Alley that she thought I might like to have. So now I have her address and her email. It was a quite a nice surprise.

Who knew that veggie dogs could be so dangerous? I was dropping one into some boiling water and I misjudged the size of the pot. The edge was quite hot and left a nice little welt on my middle finger. But the veggie dog was good.

I had a really good cup of tea today, as Kirsten can attest, so I made myself another, equally flavorful cup, which was a mistake. Since school ended my caffeine intake has fallen drastically, so I'm quite jittery and light-headed right now. I feel like a tiny rabbit being chased by a maniac. And I probably deserve that.
Also for Kirsten--I'm updating my resume, I'm updating my resume. Actually, I'm making it for the first time with Brian's handy-dandy little resume program. I can get an assistantship at grad school that will pay for up to 12 credits. It shouldn't take too long, having had just the one job.

There's too much construction going on around here. The lights just went out for about five seconds. Those of you who remember will note that my computer is located in the basement. Some of you may also be aware that the dark and I go way back. It's a love-hate thing--the dark loves to freak me out and I hate it. So I had to run upstairs and do some deep breathing before I could come back down and restart the computer. Yikes, man. Independent woman, indeed.

I made snickerdoodles for two hours today. They are yummy. Oh, and I can cook. Hooray! I'm an independent woman (who just weasled her way into one more physical with her pediatrician). Boy, my feet hurt. I have to remember to put on shoes if I'm going to be standing around the kitchen all day.

In other news, I'm happy to report that my mind still works. I came up with a story idea while I was sitting in the car the other day, but I didn't know what to do with it. Last night I realized I can incorporate it into a story I've already started that I really liked but didn't go anywhere. Salvage! It's nice to have an idea.
Is anyone else having trouble with their comments? I haven't had mine for about a day now. I guess you can tell me once they come back.

I am voluntarily watching the new season of The Real World: Paris. Yes, I am as horrified as you. But you see, there is the most beautiful little Irish boy living in the house. He's like a cherub with a faux-hawk--big blue eyes, little pouty lips, baby-faced, and the accent only increases his cuteness-quotient. And he's 18. Rock that cradle o' love. The problem is that from what I've seen, he's way too nice and down to earth to get any camera time between the other five castmates who want to sleep together and the sixth guy that is frustrated because the girls don't like him. So I have to watch whole episodes in order to get a glimpse of the child. Here's to you Mrs. Robinson.

Mysterious Tokyo
Take it easy Dangerous Night
Mysterious Tokyo
Pick me up Foxy Night Game

There is hardly anything better than Japanese translated into English by the Japanese. This is part of the theme song to an anime called Blue Seed that is on one of the really obscure channels that you get with digital cable (it's called WAM!). You think getting around 300 channels is a great idea, but what you really end up with is foxy night game.

I love you guys. 200 miles away and you still take care of me. How did you know I like Radiohead? I thought that was one of my closet obsessions. And thank you for the boyfriend. We're going golfing this afternoon. My Mom found him very amusing. Also, you might want to know that it's Richard Road, not Richard Way.

I have a new obsession, or rather, a new appreciation. Have you ever seen Samurai Jack on the cartoon network? Pretty repetitive story lines--he's looking for a way back home and has a battle that lasts about fifteen minutes every episode. But the animation! It's very still, simple, and beautiful. One of the first episodes I watched takes place in a forest that is alternately flooded and on fire. I was looking at these linear trees going, "Dammit! If I had a studio right here, those are the prints I would make."

Speaking of obsessions, I spent most of yesterday morning with my recently purchased Donnie Darko dvd. Ohhhh, how I love Jake Gyllenhal. Who knew psychosis could be so endearing? Anyway, in the deleted scenes portion of the dvd there's a part with his psychiatrist in which she tells him that his medication is a placebo, which probably means that he isn't crazy after all. And in the audio commentary option he does a Christopher Walken impression during a very serious and creepy scene that will now probably make me laugh. I've decided to put it away for a little while so it won't get old.

My mom and Brian keep almost getting a dog and then they think about the expenses and back out. God Dammit! I want a doggy! I keep saying, Hey, I'm home all day, I'll make sure he gets used to the house and doesn't pee on things. I'll walk him. I'll love him mightily. But noooOOOoooo. I want a doggy....sniffle, sniffle.

Hahaha! And might I add, shpedoinkle! Say it with me everyone--Shpedoinkle! Ah, I love Joss Whedon. Too bad he's married. And unattractive. Okay, back to hahaha! Amy, remember that very cute, quite expensive little white dress from Express that we couldn't find in my size anywhere this side of creation? I got it! It was at the mall in Danvers. There were two of them, a 1/2 (I was ready for disappointment) and a 5/6 right behind it. Perfect fit, and it went very nicely with my black socks with the hole in toe. And I got 25% off and a fast cash thingy for $25. So next week--cargo pants!! I just need a little pair of sandals and some white underwear and the outfit will be complete.

My dad is re-financing, or something like that, and he says that if all goes well next week he'll be able to start paying me back the money he owes me. We'll see. He says a lot of things. The bank messed up and now he has someone else's student loans on his credit report. However, he didn't say anything because it makes his credit report look good, because whoever Robert Weiss is, he's been very responsible with his payments. So, thanks to this Mr. Weiss and some creative documentation supplied by an accountant with few scruples, my mother and I should be getting our money soon.

Well, good friends, it was almost time to take out your best black attire, bake a casserole, and head on over to Massachusetts to bid a fond farewell to your hetero-life-mate, Sarah: true friend, brilliant scholar, and sexy, sexy private dancer. You've had it happen before; you're minding your own business, reading or watching tv, when you start choking for no other reason except that you breathed in. Last night I was chewing gum, (and doing other things--I'm a multi-tasker) when I began to choke. Not on the gum, but on the startling minty-fresh flavor coming out of it. I coughed, and coughed, and coughed a little more, but every time I coughed my throat closed and I swallowed air. It was like a vicious cycle--coughing would cause me to swallow air, which would cause me to cough--you get the idea. So there I was in the kitchen, gum in my hand, my mom pounding on my back, not really breathing, wondering if this hell would ever end. Finally I was able to stop and get the air out, which came out as a burp. My mom laughed, hopefully out of relief that I was okay and not because gas is funny, which, I have to admit, it almost always is. The rest of the night every time I coughed I tasted Wrigley's spearmint.

Okay, so I really didn't think my life was in danger at any point. But I did think I was going to throw up, completely wasting the mulit-vitamin that I had with dinner, and that, my friends, would have been a tragedy.

I was in the living room reading when I heard the accordian part to that awful Jewel song coming from the tv in the kitchen. I got up to look just in time to catch the end of a commercial for the new "Intuition" lady's electric shaver. I think she's made some kind of transaction with the devil, possibly involving her soul and a Mastercard.

I got a birthday present! Gee, big dykes sure do make dainty little jewelry. I took it out of the box and I started singing, "there must be 50 ways to kill a plover." Thank you, Amy and Annie. Oh, the rock was nice, too. What is that, granite? Makes me think of the Old Man in the Mountain, may he rest in peace. Your note was deplorable, but readable. I held it close and read slowly, and it all became clear.

It's 67 degrees in my house. I'm freezing! It's about 56 in the basement. This will be short.
I was in the car with my mom the other day and this awful song was on the radio. I'd never heard it before but my mom was humming along. Apparently there really is no accounting for taste. I recognized the voice but I couldn't place it. The singer sounded like one of those flash-in-the-pan pop chicklets who have their radio hit and then disappear (thankfully) forever. But it was Jewel! Jewel I tell you, singing some teeny-bopper dance-ditty about intuition! I saw the video today. There were dancing people in tight leather pants. It was supposed to be tongue-in-cheek (I hope) but it wasn't very funny. Kind of like the Moby/Gwen Stefani video for South Side. Thank God I have WBCN to go to when the radio landscape gets bleak. They play Radiohead all the time.

Okay, a couple of random things to blog about:
My Mom keeps asking me about Russell, like, have you heard from Russell yet? and, has Russell called you? or, have you talked to Russell? And the other day she said to my cousin Kerryann--I'm still waitng for her to bring a boyfriend home. I told her, in time mom, I've been at an all female residential school for four years. The good guys are taken, or at least the one good guy I knew about was taken, and all the others aren't taken for a reason.

This morning I woke up in a bit of pain--my female troubles again--and I pulled my blanket over my head to block out the sunlight. It was neat. The light came through in a pattern since my bedspread is kind of thin and my blanket is knit with square holes. It was very peaceful and relaxing, and eventually I got back to sleep. I've been okay all day today, probably because I started taking Motrin two days ago. So, uterus---good. My liver, however, is most likely getting tired.

Yesterday I went to the movies with Brian to see the new X-Men movie, but we were late and the line was long, so we saw The Matrix: Reloaded instead. The dialogue....left something to be desired. Like meaning. A lot of it was esoteric double-talk that didn't really explain anything. The love story part was intense. If I had a jones for romance the other day, I am now fixed for months. Every time Neo and Trinity were together it was like they were never going to see each other again. And I guess within the bounds of the story that could indeed be possible. In the last act the movie turned all "Empire Strikes Back" when Neo meets "The Architect" (all these names have a "the," like "the Oracle" and "the Key Maker" and "the One"). "The Architect" is the sentient program or whatever that built the Matrix and he says a lot of inscruitable stuff that basically boils down to "Luke, I am your father." Not that he's Neo's father, but the same kind of hideous revelation without the whining and dismemberment. After the movie, when we were eating lunch in the food pavillion at the mall, Brian commented on the coat Keanu Reeves wore, likening it to a dress. It is rather long and fitted about the torso. I said it made him look like a priest. What I didn't say was that I thought it was sexy. Ahhh, sexy priests. That's going to get me in trouble some day, I'll wager.