Some Crazy Mumblings

I don't have anything specific to say right now, except that it was a lovely warm 55 degree day. I was inside all day working of course, but I opened all the windows. Rabbit Cat knew what was up, and immediately claimed all the windowsills as hers for Spain. Mouse Cat looked very confused, like she didn't remember freedom or maybe it was memories of being stuck outside all summer living off my parents porch, thin like a serpent, that clouded her eyes with fear. At first she jumped up to the window gladly, then she scurried away scared under my legs. Coward. By the end of the day they had both chilled the fuck out. I think everyone in Cleveland had chilled the fuck out. It took us a minute. We were confused.

My head is full of ANTM. I keep thinking about how Raina totally looked better before when she was Denise Richards. But then they dyed her hair black and it made her eyebrows look ogreish instead of unique. I think Gabrielle will probably be annoying, but do really well. Nuaduah totally got screwed on her eyebrows. You don't take a bald girl who is naturally dark haired and therefore has a dark shadow on her skull, and then bleach her eyebrows unless you hate her. Also, her name sounds like something she made up to cope with the repression of her terrible cult days, like Zircha or Willowa. Like it's written in her own backwards language the cult children created to communicate secretly at night, chained to their beds. But anyway, those eyebrows are going to screw her and take away any softness she had.
Next week's recap will be longer. It's just that hey, first week, there's so many girls, who cares?
Also it's funny that either a) Tyra still uses Myspace or b)Tyra doesn't want to piss off Facebook. Fiercespace indeed.

I finally got out of the house on my lunch break today and took my time going to the store to buy maxi pads and motrin. What a winning combination. I thought to myself in the store, what else can I buy to make myself even more of a menstrual stereotype to the counter clerk? Acne soap? Check. Discounted Ben and Jerrys? Check. Big bag of Cracker Jack for a dollar? Check and mate. Only it turns out my bag of Cracker Jack only had 5 peanuts in it. 5. And my prize was a pencil topper with a picture of ants. What the hell is a pencil topper? Why would any kid in the world know what it is? Who still uses pencils? I think my hand would go into seizures and spasms if I tried to use a pencil for writing.

If I were a cute gay guy, I would get a tattoo of the Cracker Jack sailor and his dog. Their names are Sailor Jack and Bingo. I didn't make that up, it's on the bag. Some trust fund kid out there tells people his family is the Cracker Jack family. He should have that tattoo for sure. Ungrateful bastard.

What else? Today none of my customers are listening to me. I say "do you have your reference number?" and they say "blah blah blah everything under the sun about this case except the reference number" and I say "do you have your reference number?" and they say "what?" and I say "your reference number sir" and then they read it to me. All day. It's not normally like that, so either the whole country has gone deaf from some crazy air pressure systematic workings, or I'm going hoarse. Hoarse with really really quiet warm weather joy. See, look how optimistic a worker I am! You should hire me to never have to interact with customers again.

The Boy keeps making me rap CDs in some attempt to get me to stop playing Mountain Goats every time he's in the car with me. It won't work forever dude. Drake and me, we have our limits. Because he is named after a duck, and he probably chose that name. But I still like when people make me stuff.

I wanted to clean out my whole house this weekend, but I forgot I made plans on my off day tomorrow to drive up to Marty's and have him look at my bike and eat dinner and things. Then I'm working Saturday and Sunday, and then Monday will be the only day I see The Boy. So probably nothing at all will get cleaner, which has been the case this whole winter. The problem is not my schedule. It can't be. I hardly see half my friends, I see my boyfriend only a few days a week. No, the problem is definitely me and my inability to do anything at all whatsoever responsible on a day I also have to work. Or on a day I have off.

It will never happen, but I wonder what kind of person I would become if I never had to work. Would I eventually morph into someone who cleaned because she had enough time, which is to say nothing but time? Maybe I just need way more space than other people, my motivations are moving at epochal rates. Or maybe I would just become dirtier and crazier and start sewing jackets for my cats out of layers of foil.

Finally, there is the Space Cougar.