Thursday, September 13, 2001

FieryGwenivere: Mr. Leighton (librarian at my schoool/my mentor) gave mr. Nunnery (guidance counselor at my school a copy of something from my website
FieryGwenivere: Nunnery and floyd (teacher I'm really close to) had a meeting or whatever, they dragged me in five minutes into first period and told me they needed me to have a psych evaluation, I had a little mental breakdown, SCREAMED in nunnery's face, cried a lot...,.
FieryGwenivere: floyd skipped all of pre-cal to be there but left at the beginning of pre-algebra, I ate lunch...brb
FieryGwenivere: After lunch I came back, my mom came in, we left. so I only went to one class today. We went up to saint mary's emergency to get the psych evaluation (which I needed before being able to go back to school, as they somehow view suicidal people as being a danger to others, as well or something) and I saw, like, two nurses, a doctor, and a really cool guy named...chris I think who assessed me as being not only not a danger to myself, but the "smartest 17-year-old he's ever met"
Elorza: well, it is Maine.
Elorza: ooohhh low blow
Elorza: heh, anyway
FieryGwenivere: wanna go fuck yourself?
Elorza: so.... are you crrraazzzyy?
Elorza: I have already twice today thanks
FieryGwenivere: try it up the ass this time.
Elorza: where else would I do it
FieryGwenivere: touché

So, yeah, fucking longest day EVER. I guess I could continue to explain it, but I don't really want to just yet. Suffice to say that they seem to be pushing for me seeing Mr. Ladd again, pardon me while I give you all looks you can interpret as you like, and I'm going to wear my hospital bracelet to school for a while as a constant reminder to Mr. Nunnery that he's a liability-concerned buttfuck.

Don't get me wrong- I like Mr. Nunnnery, he's just doing his job, but you do NOT mess with my psyche and get away with it.

Jeremey and I empathize with each other with the subtle but profound communication of typing lyrics to each other, line by line. We've been doing it this way for a long time, and there is nothing in the world that makes me feel closer to him than being able to tell him what comes next in something he has just randomly decided to quote. It's a feeling, for me, of enormous belonging with him. Today, when the crisis team guy asked me my reason for living, I said Jeff, among other things, and there was no mention of the rest of the fab five, but as much as Jeff means to me.....Jeremey is someone that I could not go a day without loving. I've given him as much as I know how to longer than anyone else, and I want to until the day I die. And then I want him to give my eulogy.

"A little out of touch
Little insane
It's just easier than dealing with the pain
I can go where no one else goes
I know what know one else knows
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train."
-Soul Asylum

My name is Linda and I will do anything I can for you, babe. Just give me the word. On with it.

Wednesday, September 12, 2001

SmarterChild: You Two Are a Perfect Match

You and your boyfriend have similar values, interests and personalities. You get along well most of the time and find that if you have a conflict, you can resolve it. Being compatible doesn't necessarily mean being able to read each other's minds, but it does mean being on the same wavelength most of the time. It appears that you and your boyfriend see eye-to-eye on important issues, which is a good sign for your future together. Congratulations on your compatibility.

Why thanks SmarterChild!

Yes, friends, yet another terribly irrelevant, not-relating-to-anything-that-has-or-would-happen-in-my-relationship survey has told me that, indeed, Andrew and I are the ideal couple. How quaint.

If only everything could be the way it is in these surveys! If the really defining things in our relationship could all be matters of liking the same music- I like all of it and, from what I've seen, so does he- not having trouble renting movies together- I dominate entirely. He is simply there to object to any videos he'd rather use as an ass-cleaning device than watch (normally the ones I'm most inclined to rent) and to help me out whenever my estrogen prevents me from making a decision. ("Oh, I just can't decide! Do I want 'Terms of Endearment' or 'How to make an American Quilt?' *Andrew promptly slaps me* "You want 'Death's Radioactive Screams of Fiery Hatred, part II', dear." " read my mind!" *Linda promptly gives Andrew another six hickies*) A question in the survery I found PRECIOUS:

You enjoy having intimate conversations in which you discuss your relationship (or other intimate matters). Your boyfriend:

1 Also believes that it is good for couples to frequently talk about these things.
2 Responds with one-word answers when you try to initiate this kind of conversation.
3 Is willing to talk about his feelings, but not as frequently as you would like.
4 Will talk about the relationship and intimate matters, but only when you bring them up.

I chose 1, but the part of the question I found objectionable was the first part: "You enjoy having intimate conversations in which you discuss your relationship (or other intimate matters)." I do???

I really think it would be a lot more productive to have taken the male version of this test. I'll have to try under one of the screen names smarterchild doesn't know yet.

I'm downloading "Proud to be an American" from Brandon Bernard who has, miraculously, figured out how to share files with people through aim without needing to send them to the specific person. I find this fascinating. Brandon is the type of person that I would actively deny my somewhat apathetic opinion of all this to, he's the older, more intellectual kind that I would want to believe that I was absolutely passionate about it in the same way that he was.

This song was playing in Chucky Cheese's last time I was there, on the way home from...somewhere. With my sister and my father and Austin. We just stopped in for pizza, but my sister and I managed to find a whole bunch of tokens strewn over the floors to play games for a while with. I really do love this song. I always have. Once, in........third grade, I think, me, susie, and I think jocelyn started singing this at Recess and just decided that when we came in, we would perform it for our class. We even wrote another verse ourselves, the only part of which I can remember being the line "We gave each other tips!" rhyming with "ships" and referring to the pilgrims or something.....yeah...Too bad I don't believe in God, our this song would melt me. Not that I'm all that proud to be an american, but it beats being a.....hahahaha! I almost said something REALLY derogatory, I'm gonna NOT type that now.

I wonder what I would be willing to do for my country, if it came right down to it. I see myself going to a "UN club" type thing and beating up a whole shitload of sniveling Europeans because they were mocking us- we're proud of our waning work ethic! Our dumb humor! Our love of the dumb humor of "our" ancestors, the English! Monty Python! THAT'S American!

Yup, I don't know either, think I'm pretty doped up.

So, yeah, I had no idea I had actually posted the post from 10:35 last night, being that I never ended it at all, or pressed "post". Weird computers, doing everything without my consent! (THAT'S American!) This is why I repeated the line about trading sex for getting to Standish. I REALLY wanted to go today, but the lack of public transportation around here left me fucked over and in Lisbon. (THAT'S American!)

I AM PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN, GODDAMN IT! LET'S KICK THOSE MIDDLE-EASTERN ASSES! Let's take all the Terrorist women and forcefully strip them until their ANKLES AND FACES ARE SHOWING! MWAH HA HA! And break all but four of Vishnu's legs!!!! HA!!! And FORCE THEM TO EAT BIG MACS!!!

And just in case you don't think I do, I know very DAMNED WELL I'm mixing up all the cultures without even the slightest idea of the actual culture of the terrorist group. You know why? Because ethnicentric ignorance is DAMNED AMERICAN!!!!! AND I'M A PATRIOTIC MOTHERFUCKER!


I gotta burn CD's for Emily- piracy! Piracy is American!!! So I'm out.

MY NAME IS LINDA AND I AM PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN!!!! Vishnu bless the USA- with only four legs!!! HA! How do you like that, you dirty box-cutter-wielding BASTARDS??? On with it!!!!!!

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

My finger is burning (accident at work)
My loins are bleeding (go ahead and guess this one)
I will sell my soul for long distance minutes (I need his voice)
I would fuck someone for a ride to standish (I need his hands)
I can't catch my breath (I need HIM)

I miss Jeff.

On with it.

I would give anything to have not forgotten to save the conversation I had with Jeff the other day when he gave me his number and address at St. Joe's.

I will give sexual favors to anyone willing to drive me to standish. I need to see him.

Nick is disappointed in me because I'm not mourning for thousands of strangers in New York. Greg's alright. All of the people that Elorza knows that might have been in danger are fine. And therefore I go back to my primary concern- needing Jeff right now. I'd sell my soul for long distance minutes. *MCI cocks an interested brow*

I have to miss his play....fucking's no where near as important to me, but I've been waiting to auction myself off for four years won't be worth it, but.....jesus. Maybe I should just go to Oak Hill and tell a gang there Lisbon was saying shit about them.....could work, actually.

Sunday, September 09, 2001

Hmmm....why isn't this working?

ANDREW'S GRANDMOTHER: What happened to your neck, Andy? Do you have some kind of disease?

As if that wasn't precious enough, here's Jeff's take on it:
"Heehee... yeah, he's got nookimia."

Man....can you imagine Ms. Grant's reaction to this one? Andrew and I are in for it.... :-D

My name is Linda and I bite. On with it!


Okay, now not only has my librarian, my ex-counselor, and various friends who are getting randomly offended read my site, but MY AUNT has. Jill, Nooo! I'm NOT pregnant!

This is kinda screwed up....I create a site in which to blow off unhealthy BS that doesn't mean enough to be expressed anywhere else but means just enough to need to express at all, and EVERY ADULT I'VE EVER MET suddenly wants to take care of me. Or congratulate me on my happy news!

Okay, my attentions are spread rather thin right now, but I promised Rich kid I would put this on the site, and for good's just too good! Hmmm, how to kick this off- I laughed for, like, an hour straight tonight. We did. It felt so good. It was......the weirdest shit imaginable, but the story must be told: He came over after I was out of work and my parents left, so we watched "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"- because that's what us bad kids do with the house to ourselves (no wonder I'm "pregnant"). Afterwards, we went to the kitchen and I proceeded to take a wooden spoon from the drawer and dub it a "swacking stick". He then informed me that I was combining "whack" with "swat", and that swack wasn't actually a word. So I swacked him. After this, I began swacking a still-wrapped Little Debbie Brownie sitting out on my table. When I had, through my swacking, streched it out to roughly the size of a hersey's bar, Andrew decided to try his hand at brownie abuse and through half of it, rather emphatically, onto the floor. At this point I looked at him disgusted and, not wanting to waste my energy on retrieving the brownie, took out my aggressions further by swacking a half-empty, somewhat tied up bag of popcorn kernels also on the table. This was vaguely dissatisfying, so I picked it up and batted it across the room with a nice healthy SWACK, not foreseeing that the kernels would leak out onto the floor. Andrew and I went to pick up the popcorn kernels, but when he attempted to sweep them into a dust pan I cried out "No! If it touches the dustpan, we won't be able to eat them!!!". Desperately. After receiving the appropriate amount of retribution for saying something THAT dumb, we sat ourselves down next to our fairly controlled pile of popcorn kernels, wondering, as only we would, what do to with them. It was at this point I decided the only logical action was to swack them, which I quickly found out made them scatter beyond our reach. Andrew started flinging them about the kitchen, attempting, mostly unsuccessfully, to flick them behind the radiator at the opposite end of the room. They were fairly well scattered when we started musing as to how we would explain this to my parents upon their return, at which point I expressed my desire to lay their among the kernels until they came in and then tell them that we were attacked by the corn- the children of other corn, no less- and the brownie tried to save us but failed. And to make them think we believed that. Andrew then begin to attempt to fling kernels into my belly button- the one sacred place on my body- so I defended myself rather violently. In this he managed to hold both of my arms behind my back in ostensible victory...for him, defeat for me, at which point I performed this amazing, un-imitatable kungfu-style move by hoisting my legs up, grabbing a large plastic magnet house- a toy that other magnets, spefically steve and blue of "Blue's Clues", with my feet, and flinging it into his head. While he recoiled in pain, I managed to free myself. We then discussed, in rather vivid detail, how the steve magnet, in the chaos, had been rotated and looked somewhat dead now, which lead us to our discussion of Blue's revenge, the sequel to the situation that we were now making into a movie in our mind, as we tend to do with many things. Somewhere along this point, I lay down onto his lap and he tried to leave, which I would not allow, so he started sort of dragging us about the kitchen. He stopped when his hand was about two inches away from the now previously forgotten brownie, which he then threatened to throw onto me. As I was somewhat held back by him once again, I defended myself by reaching over and hitting him, somewhat painfully, with the door of one of my cupboard, repositoning myself quickly, and pusing him into the brownie on the floor. I can't remember the events after that with much clarity, only that there was a massive struggle for the brownie which led to the majority of it getting smeared all over our bodies and in our hair. At one point, having gotten into the spirit of defending myself with things around me, we were under the table and I tried to attack him, in what I see now would have been in an extremely painful matter, but pushing the thing that holds up the extension in, thus allowing the extention to fall directly on what would have been his head- fortunately for him, when it was almost completely pushed in, a box of cake cones I had purchased earlier that evening fell and he made a big production of it, exclaiming excitedly that it might have killed him. His concern wasn't for nothing, however- we checked afterward and, yes, there was, sitting on that table extension, a knife that may have very easily injured one of us. We then entertained the notion that had there been two knifes, situated perfectly to fall into our eyes and kill us both, the police would never, in a million years, be able to figure out how the whole thing happened- us, violently intertwined on the floor, adorned with a little debbie brownie and surrounded by popcorn kernels, a spoon, a magnetic house, a box of deadly cake cones, and dead, with knives in our eyes, underneath a table. We figured they'd probably mistake the brownie smeared over my fingers for bile and come to the conclusion that I had given him, quote,"an ass job". Maybe none of you will find any of this amusing, but we couldn't help our hysterical laughter throughout any of it.....or, ya know, the stuff that happened afterward on the kitchen floor that I won't go into.

Suffice to say he went home with a VERY red, and somewhat bruised, neck. After the fact, we cleaned up in a rather odd way. Taking a sharpie with which we re-labelled the cake cones "deadly cones" and drew several skulls and cross bones on it, we emptied the box and sweeped and scraped all of the kernels and brownie bits into the box, which we replaced in the cabinet. This, however, was just for the reaction....we intend to save the box. With the mushed brownie, popcorn kernels, and various dust bits from the floor, forever inside it. We're that sentimental.

You know, if I wanted to come off as MORE sane than I previously had, I probably shouldn't have related that story. But whatever. If there's more to it that I'm missing, I'm sure Andrew will help me with the rest....but I'm pretty eager to end this post, how about you?

My name is Linda, and I fear "Blue's revenge!" On with it!