shame on ewe
17 April 2003 at 9:12 am

a very excellent name for a cat is tolliver, and this is so for many reasons. first and foremost, it is cute. second, but not foremost, it is fun to say. third, it is the last name of one of my absolute favorite series about one of my absolute favorite cities, "tales of the cities" by armistead maupin. fourth, the nickname of my beloved character is, of course, mouse, which is oh-so-perfect for a cat. i sense a fad coming on, and i hereby take full credit.

i will not write about a certain cunt coworker who has given herself the most heinous haircut i have ever seen. that is saying quite a bit, since i happened to go through a v. punk rock phase last year during which many a night was spent with a pair of blunt scissors. but yes. it brings me pleasure.

the most fabulous thing about last weekend was bonding with my brother. we had a great time, save for the last day when, en route to santa barbara municipal airport he was given a motherfucking seatbelt ticket, and he totally took care of me and let me sleep in his bed and everything. saturday night, i woke up at 2am and went to the livingroom to watch home videos of matt's friends skateboarding in 1997. hehe. he and his roommate and i all hung out, which is a big deal considering two years ago he wouldn't be caught dead in the same room as me and his friends. he told me how last year, after hanging out with me at college, he went back to his house and told his friends that he thought i was cool now. silly boy. oh well, i wouldn't have wanted to hang out with me in high school either. in short: i love my brudda.

everything's fine now. i'm getting along with my roommates fabulously, i have an ok job that i'm good at (it's surprisingly hard to be bad at bank telling, and yet, so many are) and that allows me to pay all my bills on time, aaron has somehow morphed into the most perfect boy ever (more on that in a mo), i have fabulous hair, i'm thin, and i'm practically a week into quitting smoking with almost no problems (i didn't want to jinx it).

SO WHY AM I STILL SO FUCKING SAD?!

it comes and it goes, but there's always this feeling that the present will never be enough. ever. the only thing that's getting me through this monotonous time is the fact that i'm moving to san francisco in september ... but then i'll just get into another tedious routine. life is a tedious routine! get used to it, me! and when life isn't one planned action after another, i get nervous and anxious and don't really know what to do ... and i want to go back into therapy but i don't want to waste my mommy's money when it's not life threatening and i can't afford it myself, especially with the brand spankin new inspiron 1100 i just bought. oh, it is so choice.

anyway, aaron: yesterday, for example, he had to come to wallingford for a job interview so we met at starbucks during my break. after i got off work, i found an orange flower on my windshield. it totally made my relatively shitty day.

i got home and discovered two packages all for little ole me: an old-school nintendo, complete with game genie, zapper, and 23 games. mother. fucking. woot. and the aforementioned notebook. i am in the best kind of debt ever.

we have employee reviews coming up, and i know they're going to tell me something along the lines of, "you'll never be a senior teller at this branch! hahah!" i hate employee reviews. i do my job. let's just leave it at that.

um. um. um. i'm trying to write about my trip but i was just sick the whole time. i really fucking wish i had gotten to sit down and talk with this lovely lady, but that didn't happen.

i'm wearing a khaki skirt that seemed like a good idea at 8am this morning. not so much anymore. it's dowdy.

but i got a doubleshot of eighties goodness on the two-minute drive to work today: the end of "bette davis eyes" and the beginning of "red red wine." how could today not be a good day? yay.

0 comments

mod l post-mod

|

New
Old
Profile
Notes
Extras
Contact
Image
Host
Trackback

About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.