alphabet catch up

Allo.

I realized that I yearned to get down n dirty with all the details on the cluster that is my life right now.

Immediately afterwards, I realized that I'm too tired for that shiz.

So here's what the fuck is up now.

A. my car still refuses, adamantly, to reverse

B. I HAVE A HEEL SPUR

C. mai birth control has made me gain weight (Kitty's working on words for the unjust-ness that is THAT, rest assured)

D. i need my hair colored, stat, pronto,  ewwy grey bangs are sic (unless you're into that whole "old" thing...)

E. mai favorite watch was broken, got fixed, (shanks, New boy) and has now broken again (boo for a bare wrist)

F. i got new headphones for christmas; this = happy kitteh

G. i miss stuff hard

H. i have zero resolutions for twenty-ten

I. mai toenails ABHOR me, because i do not pay them enough attention

J. our patio has a garbage stain that leads one to belive that we bludgeoned the stray cat that was shredding our trash last month

K. for the record, the cat is not dead

L. i love coffee                   ..                 ..           ....    (um..always and forever)

M. mai roomie and i plan on having an affair with the gym starting Jan 1. (an affair DNE a resolution, btw)

N. mai family is the total and absolute shiz. mai parents/brothers/extended family are rather HIP, from what i can deduct

O. i would give New boy his own bullet, but he reads this.... so i can't gloat on him w/o having to deflate his head later in the day (total J/K, he's humble as pie)

P.what i can give New boy is TWO whole bullets, because he's so dang sweet. ooo, I hope you smile a little, ninja.

Q. my bed has written me a love letter asking me to come back

R. i left my dang camera cord in missouri, whoot for 9.99 usb cords

S. i spent an evening with my 86 year old papa and his 86 year old new bride two days ago. sharp as tacks

T. i have been thinking HARD on my med school secondary applications

U. i am eagerly awaiting a coworkers head-zit, it's premature as of late

V. the past is the past, and there is no sense in being an ass about it

W. i got new running shoes

X. Mess with me, and I will do the total opposite of kiss you pink and softly fluff your soul with pillows
Y? Cause,

Z.  I am a rock, I am an island.

Oh, that's inappropriate.

OH hai. How was your Christmas? Was it inappropriate? Did you find yourself censuring your every topic of conversation whilst spending those limited hours away from the house and in public?

 Cue snapshot, Rolla Walmart 12:12 AM.

Catch the shocker in the background? Yeah, mom was too busy talking to notice we were snapping a photog.

Chatter..talktalk..blahblah..ohwait..no..that's..I'll get that tomorrow...forthe..blahblah...sandra...oh your aunt would love this...yadayadayada..chatter...where's the....with....remember...I had that thing.....the rolls.....rolls are near the cheese.....talktalktalktalk...Nick's got those at home....Sarah, come here and lookatthis,we had this last yeardidyoulikeitornot...nevermind....stay there.....hey,callconnorandtellhimtoruntotheothersideofwalmarttoget......um...the..wait, no....nevermind, it's right here....yada. yada. yada.   Literally. LIT UR ALLY. Literally.

   There was a running commentary on every thought in her mind that both did and did not pertain to the three of us that were acting as her GOPHERS for the night. Chris (stage left here) would pry his attention away from looking up raunchy jokes (WITH which to entertain us) on his iPhone long enough to glace in my direction to ask if she was talking at any of us in particular. (TO which the answer was always no)

But her running commentary wasn't the funniest thing about the midnight walmart adventure, na, Beezie, (stage right) kept another running commentary PARALLEL to my mother's. It consisted mainly of "that's what she said" 's, snarky asides pertaining to her inablility to finish thoughts, and completeing her sentences himself with what could only be considered mad libs. All for my listening enjoyment, folks.

And, OH the bowling alley. This actually occured before the trip to Wally World, but is second because it's comedic grade pales in comparison. the only thing that was really funny about this little event was the ball dance my OTHER brother, Billy (for BillyBadAss) felt inclined to do every time that house ball traveled down the lane. First of all, can we all apreciate what he's squeezed his nuts into? Yep, those are honest to goodness nut-huggers. They adore nuts, love em, stick closer to them than saran-wrap. Above that ball-debacle, he proudly displays a large belt buckle holding together a CINCH belt complete with metal studs, only lacking his name in burnt calligraphy...etc, etc. So when this skinny bitch wiggles his appendages and shouts obscentities downwind at the bowling alley, he tends to draw a lot of attention.

K then this also is bit more mild. My poor jack russel is getting a bit old. We used to hold him in this position when he was younger, and it was funny, because he was just a wee bit uncomfortable. Now COMMA it's just gross. His body has successfully aquired a FAPHA (Pronounced FAP-HA) ((Fat Around Penis Hole Area)) So his penis has essentially become an afterthought to his anatomy. Poor dog, as if imasculation after birth wasn't enough...

And then, because we can't take a family sibling pic without snapping a shot we can't show our grandparents, I leave you with this:

Bless your family, but mine is better :)

Kitty OUT.

Mi hermano, y cheer de xmas

Assorted holiday sayings via my brother and his talented single serving friends:

Get hay, get christmas, get nugs.
Spread Holiday Nugs, make girls dreams come true, real. One day at a time.
Peace, Love and Christmas nugs.
Merry Christmas and a happy holiday shmead.


You have a blessed ass-holiday. :)

Personal Essay Take 7, final

Hey, HO. I realize I'm going waaaay overboard on the December updates, but whatevs, I got shiz to say.

I realized, talking to New boy last night, that I hadn't updated this thingie on my status in the med school process. As a matter of fact, I realized, I hadn't even posted my final version of the personal statement I decided to go with. So here that is: 

Famous car capitalist Henry Ford once said, “Genius is seldom recognized for what it is; a great capacity for hard work.”  As a small overstatement, according to this I believe that I am the next Einstein. My background story is not one of pity or impossible tasks or anything that would make a good movie; but it is a good tale that might make you smile, and it is mine to tell, so tell it I will.

The best place to start would be junior year in high school in Rolla, Missouri. It is here in my life where a lot of things converged. For instance on any given Wednesday, I would open the pool at 5 AM for the assiduous lap swimmers, and guard them until I bolted for school at 8 where I soaked up the wisdom and knowledge until 3 PM. From there, I swung by my house to grab my cleats, a twenty dollar bill, and a sandwich from my mother quickly so that I could make the 2 hour drive to practice in St. Louis by 5:30. After practice was over at 7:30, ten dollars went into the gas tank, and ten dollars worth of food went into my body for the trip home. This was my regime three times a week for two years. If you know any high schoolers, you will realize just what a feat of endurance this was. Let me tell you the reality of necessity behind my drive. I needed the job because my parents had just divorced and money was short. I needed the elite training because I traveled to soccer showcases that exposed me to collegiate athletic scholarships. Lastly, I needed high school, to quell my urge to learn, to study for the ACT, and well, because it is illegal not to attend public school five days a week. For me, no other option than to go to college on a scholarship of some kind was available. So I was extremely aware that I needed to capitalize on every possible opportunity that I could in high school. In hindsight, I realize just how rare my mentality was back then. None of my friends put as much effort into their prep for college as I did, and even today I find it hard to muster the endurance that I enjoyed then. 

Due to the drive that led to my good grades, athleticism, and admirable ACT score, I was recruited to play soccer at Newberry College in South Carolina. The challenges I faced during this stage in my life, gave me more emotional and mental strength. While in college my grandmother was diagnosed with ALS, but she absolutely insisted that I stay in class. At the time I had decided to double major in Biology and Chemistry. This decision was a difficult one, heavily affecting much of my free time. Between my rigorous Division II soccer schedule, my classes and lab schedule, my days were literally non-stop. But, through her unselfish actions, my grandma taught me to work despite my emotion. She hardened my resolve that I should pursue a career involving heavy thinking. She passed away one month before I graduated cum laude and received a rather prestigious award. The W.L. Laval award is presented to one male and one female senior student athletes per year. Its winners are acclaimed to be outstanding in athletics, scholarship, character, and leadership. The award served as a reminder of how much work it takes to shine in crowd. 

Which brings me to now; a rather uncertain period of my life that is failing to fulfill my strongest yet unusual desires. Most of my peers want that rewarding job which yields the top salary, fancy cars and other tangibles. I, on the other hand, possess an insatiable thirst for knowledge; despite my inability to regurgitate such intellect on the MCAT. Nonetheless, success in life for me is defined by the daily pursuance and acquisition of a higher level of acumen.

I am used to putting the effort into a task and reaping the benfits.. My perseverance is being challenged in the application process for medical school. I have not been accepted for a couple of years now, which has been getting mentally, emotionally and financially exhausting. My desire and determination to be accepted has brought me back time and time again. Since graduating college I have been putting in a forty hour work week as well as a full time MCAT study schedule and I maintain such a rigorous workout schedule that I was able to complete a marathon.  I have shadowed numerous doctors, specifically surgeons such as Dr. David Lee, of Columbia, SC in preparation for the day that I am accepted into medical school. I am not certain of the exact qualifications of the people accepted, but I do know that a demonstrable ability to handle a stifling workload is smiled upon. Let me reassure you that my drive and ability for consistently going the distance and beyond is unwavering.  I have already prepared myself for the hardships that every matriculate struggles with. The only thing I ask of you is to recognize my potential and allow me be your next genius, as Mr. Ford would say.

More on the process of application paperwork later, when I feel like it.

Life and Times of Clawed

Everyone say hello to Clawed. He's about 15 minutes old here, and I'm sure there is no place he'd rather be than back on his stump some 200 meters downhill in the field.

This post is more or less an update on the lovelyness that is Clawed. A small biography on the thing that is now our personal air freshener/ ornament holder.  I first wrote about Clawed here. That post was more about the boy than the tree, but it was his first appearance nonetheless. I digest; you may have noticed something rather odd about the name that we chose to bestow upon our Christmas tree (Well, more likely, you're wondering why we thought we had to name it in the first place. For this, I have no answer, it just seemed like a cute idea at the time) However, I do have an explanation for the spelling. That is my doing, and I'd like to take a paragraph to  brag about it.

The question of what we should name it was posed, and I, of course, offered up many a great name, but was ousted, as usual, by the bubbly dictatorship that is my roommate. From the second the four of us began pulling odd names from our memory banks, mine were doomed to fail. And so it seemed that only three people were in the running for the best name for our dear tree. New boy hit the ringer first with a name that Roomie liked, thus, Claude it was. Little did they know that "Claude" it actually wasn't. In my head I mentally booted up how exactly I was going to have a say in this ordeal, and I came up with an annoyingly correct misspelling. I figured that since I was the only one of us that was ever going to write anything about Clawed, and everyone else would be merely pronouncing it, I had regained the upper hand.  Paragraph END.

Clawed had a rather rough trip back home. In the rain.

And once he was on the porch, becoming UN-soaking wet, he was met with yet another hacksaw because we had neglected to have the forsight to fall in love with a SHORT tree. Poor thing.

So yeah. Clawed is happy in our living room. He stands cosily between the TV and the wall, with a small sliver of window to peek through during the day. He is fed daily by New boy who's taken a liking to.. well.. all of our well-beings.

Worst picture ever, best FIRST tree ever. Woo. Go Clawed.

RUUNNINN

 I want to run again. I haven’t run long in months.

I have a heel spur that is really preventing me from getting into the zone.  It used to be so easy, just to lace up shoes in the morning, and walk outdoors. My mind didn’t want to do it, but my body was craving the endorphins.

Now I have to be at work at 7, usually before the sun rises, and I don’t fancy getting up at 4 in the morning to get my workout in. Seeing as I have to drive to wherever it is that I’m going to run, because the major road that I live on is/was known famously for prostitution and drive-by shootings, I can’t manage the wake up, the drive, the run, the drive back, and the shower all before it’s time for me to leave at 6:38 in the morning.

But oh. Those runs. The runs where the sun is just coming up. Those runs where ice forms on the back of your ponytail. Those runs where your legs and lungs begin to believe you’re strolling through the park when, in reality, you’re cranking an 8 minute mile, on mile 9. Those runs where your ipod dies and you don’t give a fuck because you’re already at that mentality; the mentality where the slap of your feet sounds better than any song that could rustle through your shuffle. Those runs where all you see in front of you are the bobbing heads of others as they run. Those runs where you return to the club house to see nothing but smiling, happy, genuinely elated people. Those runs where your mind and body begin to operate on the exact same wavelength, each one working in harmony with the other with such concordance it's nearly unbelievable.  Those runs that are so long you begin mapping out the state in your mind to see which towns you could make it to in a single day. Hum… I could get to Newberry on foot in three hours. Hmmmm….halfway to Florence, SC in four hours, or all the way if I got two good days of running in. Those runs where you feel, literally, like you have not a care in world because you are RUUNNINN.

Oh, geez. Those runs. I want them back

Christmastree-nut-in-my-pants-have-a-great-time-fest cues feministic critical analysis

Ah, ok, what is today? Wednesday December the ninth. Got it. I don’t  feel  funny today, but I do feel like writing. It’s a shame that those two feelings don’t go hand in hand.

So, here’s the latest in MY life.

I cut down a Christmas tree yesterday, for the first time in my life. It was jaunty and wet and fun. Where was my biological father to be found when that sort of thing would have been the highlight of my friggin YEAR? Peaced out. Might have been drinking.

I digress. As it stands, it definitely was the highlight of my MONTH! I had a great time yesterday, and it was all a part of a bigger more  ob⋅se⋅qui⋅ous⋅ly active plan than I had anticipated. He, as in, new guy, planned this Christmastree-nut-in-my-pants-have-a-great-time-fest, all by himself.

Recently I kicked the BF, the one that had the memory of a goldfish, to the curb. For a while, nobody really cared, I milled around for a month with my thumb up my ass wondering if I was going to adorn the back of a holographic deck of Old Maid cards in the year 2020. But then, poof, just like that I got noticed? (end that sentence like a question, because it is one)

Because really I had been seeing this guy every time I went out to have a good time. *wink*That, my friends, was intentionally misleading.  Hahaha, I am tricky.

But no, really, for a whole year, I saw him because he brought me every drink I ever ordered.  Some smiles, some ah, oks.  But nothing that a BARTENDER wouldn’t normally do for a tip.

Cue poof.

 Now… we are in like. We’re in some serious like. We are bordering  obsequiousity. ( not a word. Leave me alone, it illustrates a great point.)  From his region, not mine. This would usually worry me very much. I dislike it when someone likes me more than I like them because I feel, then, that I owe them attention or I owe them some ‘like’ in return. But I really don’t have any real ‘like’ for them so I use my backup supply of fake ‘like’ and that makes me feel guilty about the situation.

Never. Ever. have I had a guy go out of his way like this. I don’t have to use any of my fake ‘like’ on him. I genuinely, really like him. I don’t know what to think, what to say, what to do. It just seems that all the things that used to coincidentally piss me off when penises are in the vicinity, don’t make me as ill anymore.

1. I’m usually very prejudice about any guy girl relationship. I can have all the events up to and including the means and mode of breakup figured out, weighted and statistically analyzed for likelihood, before the appetizers are ordered on the first date.

2. I typically feel like I need to prove myself. I suppose to appeal to their evolutionary subconscious that I would be the best mate and mother of their children should a zombie attack threaten to wipeout normal human beings. (Look at me boys, I can run for hours, I can solve complex efficiency problems under anxiety-ridden, sleep-deprived circumstances, and I can also cook you lasagna out of leftover trashcan Chinese) I’m a total nug. Fo shiz.

3. I also have this superiority complex.  There are about a billion tasks that we as humans perform over the course of a lifetime. Things such as driving, fitness, cooking, drinking from the sink, cleaning a toilet, using adjectives correctly, yada, yada, yada. Out of these billion things, I must be better at at least HALF, or the guy gets the boot.  Like I have to win. At fuckin tying shoes. I literally must be more efficient and quicker with a tighter, less misshapen bow on my gaddamn tennis shoe, or I am ill. And the guy gets the boot if he’s new or a stern stink eye if he’s a regular.

These are a few of the gems that my dysfunctional twatty mind has defended over the years, but lemme describe how this guy has single handedly broken all the rules… almost without me noticing

He circumvented number one by all of a sudden deciding to glue his sweetheart hat to his head the same week I vowed to live in the moment. Lucky him. I did this purely out of breakup spite.  He doesn’t know that he is the official guinea pig of me planning only into the next 24 hours. This preferred method of handling things is working well so far, but if I begin to think further ahead, I get sick to my stomach, and wheezy. ( like I was ever THAT kid in elementary gym class!? Psssht, I wasn't. Which is why it's baffling now that I get queasy on cue of certian thoughts. I'm tougher than that, I assure you.)

He acts nonchalant about the fact that he is about the same size as me. He never tries to pick me up, or act like I’m light as a feather, and he doesn’t try to out lift me. He just kinda watches me, and seems to be thinking.  Perhaps it s admiration, perhaps it s irritancy. But I’ll never know. Because when he catches me looking at him, the fun is on again. He doesn’t outright EXPRESS his dire NEEEEEED to feel manly in front of me. Which totally quenches my need to prove myself worthy. I think he doesn’t do that because in some areas, he would lose. I’m a pretty girl and I have a nice toned figure/shape, but I am sorta manly.  I’m a manly nug. Uh HUH.

Lastly, about this superiority complex; it’s really the straw on my camel’s back. This is where I become very difficult to deal with. Because I have to be better at EVEN the arguments that are a result of such trifling matters. For example, he feels my boot in his ass or my stern look at him for doing something better than me is unjustified; we argue; I must argue like the best defense lawyer in the history of time.  If he’s a good guy, he sticks it out or he dissolves the situation by handing me a glass of wine. (I.E. SEE HERE) But THIS guy, makes it seem like this problem doesn’t exist, like it’s he’s running on 1 Cuil ALL THE TIME. Anytime I get a whiff of a feeling of this 'betterness' he cracks his back six ways to Sunday, the loud pops completely distracting my building fury. ? He uses a word I don't know... I get a pang of attitude... then he's handed me a coffee mug and we're each chewing on our lip rings watching the rain.  ?
Do you see how that kind of NONSENSE....doesn't even... like....come together in a complete thought??

I don’t even notice that the problem was a problem and isn’t anymore, until I sit down here and analyze the sitch. Then I see it. Refer to #1 here. Trying to live in the moment, for my own feelings, and no one else’s, right now.

But let’s break this down just little bit more. What does it mean for all these general rules to be circumvented all at once? Does that mean that I’m losing sight of the things that my evolutionary dating eye has made me remember over the years to avoid heartbreak? Does it mean that I’m doing something that I know I shouldn’t? Or is it going the total other way; that this bartender has potential? The fact that none of the rule breaking is bothering me would seem to vouch for the latter, that this may just be the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. But I don’t know. Because I’ve got the Great Wall of China up between my real honest to goodness, honest Abe, honest to Blog, down and dirty, it puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose feelings... and the feelings I tell/show everyone else. There is a massive, massive difference between what I attempt to convince myself my true feelings are, and my actual true feelings. Ergo, even I don’t know what I think about this situation.

I think, though, that it would be very best just to sit back and watch it all happen from behind a smile.