Umm...yeah...whaterever.

Anyways...so right now I'm watching The Shemm Show and Tell, which is a bizarre show starring a guy named Shemm on public access. Public access brings me such joy. Hours and hours of pure joy and glee...but today, Shemm is just jibber-jabbering in Spanish with a drag queen, and not performing, which is disappointing...

Ah well, I have an entry to write.

So...Newcastle is history. I haven't heard from him in a few weeks. I've seen him around now and again, but we don't talk. He doesn't even acknowledge me, which sucks, but he served his purpose.

Our car is amazing. I adore every second we spend in it. I took pictures last weekend, after we washed it. Here it is from the passenger side, the back with the doors open, and the driver's side with both doors open. I'm disgustingly proud of it. Can you tell?

Currently I'm on The Bleed, but a few weeks ago I had an entirely different problem. We'll call it my little bladder stone. Seriously, I've never felt pain like that in my life. The pain itself was...well...if you haven't had it happen to you, then you can't imagine, but it was this intense pressure that felt like...I don't know...imagine...a knitting needle being shoved up your urethra every time you peed. After about a week or so of this, I passed the stone, which was the most painful part of all. Picture this...a hard little rock the size of a pinky finger nail squeezing out of your pee hole. Yeah...that. Fucked up shit, I'll tell you! Drink cranberry juice. Take supplements. Anything you can do to lessen your liklihood of forming bladder stones, DO IT!! You do not want to pass a bladder stone. At least mine was small enough to pass, and I didn't have any complications.

Now, I'm stone free, but I'm on The Bleed. I'm up to about 400mg of ibuprofin every 5 hours or so. About 600mg before I go to bed or else I'll wake up writhing in agony and pain. And this isn't nearly as bad as some have been. I've also discovered an aversion to eggs when I'm on The Bleed. They sound appetizing sometimes...sometimes...but I just can't keep them down. Every time I eat eggs, they come right back up, without exception, without fail, regardless of how they're prepared.

In other news...since I last wrote, I've drunkenly made out with about 5 guys, one of which is a fairly new acquaintance. Interesting...I haven't really hung out with him since, but seeings as how he puked and then asked for my water to rinse his mouth out. Pretty ballsy...you meet a girl, you're hanging out, watching movies, feel the need to puke [hey, it happens], and then come back and say, "Hey, lemme see your water bottle." I, well, I was drunk. So I handed him my water bottle, thinking he only needed a sip as I had no idea that he had just puked. So I hand him me bottle and then he hands it back to me. My next sip tasted a bit...funny. I thought it was me, and took a few more sips, trying to figure it out. Finally, I put two and two together and realized, "Yo! Homeboy just fuckin' yacked and drank from my water bottle!" WTF?! Ballsy, yeah? I'll say. Who the hell pukes and then puts their bile-fouled lips on someone else's water bottle. I mean, he might as well have puked and then tongued my earlope. Oh...wait...he did. Umm...he might as well have puked and then shoved his tongue down my throat. Umm...oh...yeah...he did. Hmm...well...he has pierced nipples, and he smelled good, and he kissed...well, if I think about it too hard, he kissed so nicely that it makes my abdomen feel a little fluttery just to remember. That's something I like to call, "Making my uterus throb." Yeah...

I've also recently been getting back to my Pagan studies. I've decided to go back to the basics and re-evaluate the basis of my beliefs. Kind of starting from scratch. As such, I've stocked up on so Pagan basic books, and am working my way through them. I also bought The Complete Idiot's Guide to Paganism for my mom, as she is still completely clueless as to what exactly Paganism is, though she accepts it because she accepts me.

And, in preparation for my participation in this year's NaNoWriMo I've picked up some creative writing books. As I mentioned in my NaNoVodka diary, I've been blocked for about 3 years...basically since I came home from Germany. Sure, I get the occassional poem out now and again, but as far as actual, original, writing, pure blockage. So I've been doing daily writing exercises to try to get the creative juices flowing again. In fact, I think I'm going to start posting some of the products of my writing exercises in my NaNoVodka diary. Speaking of which, only 2 of my lovely kiddies have added that diary to their favorites. I'm fawningly devoted to my kiddies, and those two [plus some real life friends, including my ex-fiance] will have at the least a walk-on part in my work of art. Lovely...

This keyboard types really, really nicely. I can't wait to get back online and take care of the stuff I've been sorely neglecting. I miss chatting, and being able to see my own freaking diary. I also miss tha ability to look at things the web nanny at work finds objectionable. Can you believe I've stumbled across pages that are blocked because they are "tasteless"? Yeah...they wouldn't let me go to the Spike and Mike's homepage because they considered it tastless. I say, that's all a matter of opinion, and by that standard, I shouldn't be working there. Ah well...it's a job. It could be worse. Granted, it could pay more and be better, but at this rate, it could be much worse. Technically, thanks to Bush and his love for the country's economy and extreme empathy for the working [wo]man, I'm damn lucky to have a job at this point. And granted, I dick around most of the day, I only work about 3 hours of my 8 hour day. That leaves 5 hours to stare off into space, chat secretely on Yahoo, and surf the net on the company dime.

Oi, and remember my mention of Evilena? Yeah, the bitch is sitting next to me now. We share a cube wall. Holy fuck, she's ghetto. She belches and cusses and yells and argues and laughs like a beast and generally does not shut up. I don't know who she's on the phone with all day, but that person doesn't seem to get a word in edge-wise. She's insane I tell you. And I sit next to her, which means I'm going insane. And damn, she's just unpleasent. She blatently ignores you if you say good morning to her. The only person she talks to is another stupid bitch who is just as ghetto and obnoxious as her. What we need is some testosterone in our department...ease up this situation. Not that the testosterone has to be attractive or anything, I have enough boi problems as it is and I do not need any bois falling for me before I leave San Diego, because that would my my departure from my home town all the more difficult.

Don't get me wrong, I want to leave. I desperately want to leave. San Diego is tired. It's too expensive, too plastic. I need a change, my soul needs a change. I need more depth to my life, and more life experience. Still...I will miss San Diego, especially during the cold, rainy winters in Seattle. I know that I'm especially going to miss the ocean, even though I don't seem to get to the beach too often now that I have a full time job. When I was a nanny, I often spent mornings at the beach or the bay. It was my happy place. Staring at the waves beating themselves against the sand, or watching the ripples splash on the shoreline, that would make everything better. Everything was okay when I was watching the water. Rain is soothing too...rain is healing and cleansing...so I should be okay in Seattle.

Hmm...how to change to topic cleverly...

Eh...that works as well as anything...