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Jan. 2nd, 2005 10:56 pmSo, great. This year is off to a ripping good start.
The year actually started at a very nice party at Ben's house, where, despite a lack of Daniel and Boyd, I got kissed by two people who really knew what they were doing. It went rapidly downhill from there, as I woke up thirteen hours later with...you guessed it...GOOD MORNING GUILT AND STOMACHACHE!
I think it may have to do with waking up late. My mom has been doing various things to get me to wake up early: pouring cold water over my head, dramatically pulling the blankets off, flashing the lights off and on, shoving hot coffee under my nose. The worst thing I've been in the past week or so is incredibly bored and frustrated at my own lack of writing ability. (Why is it that I think up great things to put down on pixels when I'm in the shower or eating, but as soon as my fingers hit plastic my brain goes blank?)
So off to the drugstore tomorrow to find some St. John's Wort, and also off to Aco Hardware to get some solder and flux for MY NEW SOLDERING IRON WHEE.
Anyway, back to whining. My grandpa on my dad's side is in the hospital, which sucks. My grandmother is in there driving him NUTS and has been for the past four days. They've put him on sedatives so he can try and get some sleep, but every time he closes his eyes she starts shaking him and whining "Wake up, Harold! MOVE YOUR BIG TOE! CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR TOES?"
I love my grandparents, but my grandmother is seriously scary in a smothering Portnoy's Mom way. I swear she's the leader of the Purple Gang now. Her dad was in the Purple Gang; we have a picture of "Whiskey" Goldfine with his arm around Bugsy Siegel. The Purple Gang hasn't died out, they just passed things on to their daughters, who are now blue-haired matriarchs who whine a lot.
Erm. Rants aside, he ain't doing so well. So there may be a mildly weepy funeral post within the next few weeks or so.
The year actually started at a very nice party at Ben's house, where, despite a lack of Daniel and Boyd, I got kissed by two people who really knew what they were doing. It went rapidly downhill from there, as I woke up thirteen hours later with...you guessed it...GOOD MORNING GUILT AND STOMACHACHE!
I think it may have to do with waking up late. My mom has been doing various things to get me to wake up early: pouring cold water over my head, dramatically pulling the blankets off, flashing the lights off and on, shoving hot coffee under my nose. The worst thing I've been in the past week or so is incredibly bored and frustrated at my own lack of writing ability. (Why is it that I think up great things to put down on pixels when I'm in the shower or eating, but as soon as my fingers hit plastic my brain goes blank?)
So off to the drugstore tomorrow to find some St. John's Wort, and also off to Aco Hardware to get some solder and flux for MY NEW SOLDERING IRON WHEE.
Anyway, back to whining. My grandpa on my dad's side is in the hospital, which sucks. My grandmother is in there driving him NUTS and has been for the past four days. They've put him on sedatives so he can try and get some sleep, but every time he closes his eyes she starts shaking him and whining "Wake up, Harold! MOVE YOUR BIG TOE! CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR TOES?"
I love my grandparents, but my grandmother is seriously scary in a smothering Portnoy's Mom way. I swear she's the leader of the Purple Gang now. Her dad was in the Purple Gang; we have a picture of "Whiskey" Goldfine with his arm around Bugsy Siegel. The Purple Gang hasn't died out, they just passed things on to their daughters, who are now blue-haired matriarchs who whine a lot.
Erm. Rants aside, he ain't doing so well. So there may be a mildly weepy funeral post within the next few weeks or so.