kdiddy.org

Tooling around on LJ, I came across this snippet of a bio of girl who was born in 1988:
“I've been listening to Nirvana since I was 2 or 3…”

*death rattle*

I've been thinking lately that I need to remove “writing” from my list of interests. My reasoning is this: if I wasn't interested in writing why would I have a journal? To write about how much I hate writing?

Or I could be full of shit. Who knows.

Humidity can go fuck itself.

That's what my son is screaming at the moment. He stands at the front door and talks to the old woman across the street for hours. She has Alzheimer's so their conversations are kind of strange…
Baby: Hi, Cass!
Cass: Hi!
Baby: Hi!
Cass: Are you going to the beach?
Baby: hehehehee
Cass: Are you eating breakfast?
Baby: Hi, Cass!
Cass: I went to the beach.
Baby: Dog!
Cass: Squirrels used to live in that desk.
Baby: Hi!
Cass: Are you going to the beach?
Baby: Diga-duka-diga-duka-MOM!
Cass: Breakfast.

I'm definitely going to film it one day and send it to the Independent Film Channel. It sounds very arty, doesn't it?

I had my main interview last night for my article. It went really extremely well but it's very long. Very long. I have two 90 minute tapes full of stuff plus half of another 90 minute tape. It's going to take forever to wade through all of it. Oh, well. I have to call the guy at the PG this morning to let him know that I'm ready to write. I'm apprehensive. Phone-phobia. I could just email him but that would be kind of lame. Hmm…

Other stuff:
Yesterday morning my son participated in this infant/toddler study at Pitt. It was pretty funny. They just basically tried to get him to play with all of these different toys to see how he would react to them. He, of course, did not play with anything in the prescribed manner. Then he started flirting with the researchers which got them all distracted. What a little player. But he got a cute little tshirt and a certificate for all of his hard work.
After that we went to CMU so that we could get a ride home with my mom. She let me drive but was a total asshole about it the whole way home. Now, I'll admit that I'm not a very good driver yet but it makes it much harder for me to concentrate when the person next to me is screaming or heaving deep sighs or praying under her breath. I really wanted to punch her. But I've decided that I'm no longer afraid of driving…now I just really fucking hate it. I hate dealing with other people especially when there are no IQ/social skills/manners prerequisites. Driving is like a total state of nature experience. I don't understand why people like it so much. If I ever leave Pittsburgh it'll be for a city that has a really dope public transit system…you know, one whose funding doesn't get cut every year like it does here.

Alright, I'm going to be a total puss and just email that guy…done.

There's some drama unfolding on my street at the moment. I can't tell exactly what it's about but a guy screaming sentences that start, “Hey, Shannon! You tell that little fuckin' brother of yours…” is never a good sign.

Well, there's a poop situation that requires my immediate attention.

Oh, and one other thing, Happy Birthday (Yesterday) to !

I hate when I do things like finish reading Fast Food Nation and then read about a beef recall in the same day. E. Coli is a motherfucker.

Anyway, last night I went to Zythos to hear the Technoir Audio folks play around with records and shit. I chalked it up to research. I didn't take any notes or anything but at least I have a scene to put into the article. For the most part I sat at one of the tables doubled over in pain. I came down with a very sudden stomachache on the way over and nursed a ginger ale very slowly throughout the evening.

I'm looking at the shirt that I'm wearing and realizing it's one of the ugliest articles of clothing that I own.

Ugh, okay it's too hot to be in this room at the moment.

Yeah, they're late but I wanted to answer them anyway:

1. What were your favorite childhood stories? Goodnight Moon, The Runaway Bunny…there's one book that I've been trying to remember the name of but it's been eluding me…Miss Rumphius or something similar…another favorite was this old book of my mother's called Little Black Sambo. I was looking at it the other day and marvelling at how much I liked it when I was little. It's seriously the most racist children's book I've ever seen.

2. What books from your childhood would you like to share with [your] children? Goodnight Moon and the Runaway Bunny are current favorites with my son. I'm sure that I have a lot more children's books packed away that I would like to share with him…although probably not Little Black Sambo…perhaps only for educational purposes.

3. Have you re-read any of those childhood stories and been surprised by anything? Yep. Goodnight Moon and the Runaway Bunny, since they're both by Margaret Wise Brown, share characters and some scenery details that are really cool. I've also been able to look at them from an English major's point of view and have been very surprised by their metaphors. I'm also surprised at how easily I cry when reading the Runaway Bunny. With Little Black Sambo, like I said before, I'm surprised that my mom let me enjoy such a racist book.

4. How old were you when you first learned to read? I think I was four. The earliest concious memory that I have of reading is sitting at the coffee table in my living room with my friend Anthony and reading these Smurfs books. Half of it I was making up by looking at the pictures and interpreting it my own way, half of it I was actually reading.

5. Do you remember the first 'grown-up' book you read? How old were you? I'm not sure what's meant by “grown-up.” Like with chapters and junk? I started reading tons of young adult books when I was around 9 or 10. At my little Catholic school we had a yearly book fair and I can remember buying a bunch of melodramatic 150-page novels geared toward pre-teens with horrible titles like, “13 Is Too Young to Die” and “Too Young to Die” and “Totally Way Too Young to Die” and “Megan the Klutz.” They were always about teens with cancer or in car wrecks or social misfits…stuff I could relate to…yeah.

Anyway, actual post portion…
The good: My mom got her new car today, the Honda Civic. Nothing fancy but a very nice little car. I think it's going to be a fun drive. 29 mpg in the city. Not too shabby.

Went to my doctor's this morning to discuss different birth control options. I'm pretty much sold on the IUD. I'm almost certain that my insurance isn't going to cover any kind of contraception, and in the long run the IUD is less than half the price of buying pills every month so I'm just going to try to hook up some kind of reasonable payment plan…put my IUD on layaway. kidding. My mom, however, is certain that I'll get some kind of horrible disease and have to have my vagina amputated. In her day, IUDs caused all sorts of trouble (I know that from when I used to sneak in chapters of her copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves when I was little…hee!). But they're supposed to be the bomb now. And I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies.

Last night the boyfriend and I watched Waking Life, which I liked. Linklater's flicks sometimes get on my nerves because I have this sneaking suspicion that he failed his existentialism classes in college and is just writing out of his ass. But it was cool to watch if nothing else.

I finally got a piece written for www.wintermittens.com which is a huge relief…and the CD that I reviewed was really good, too. score.

The bad:
I taught the baby a new word: shit.

I gained two pounds. fuckety fucking fuck. No, I'm not getting all ballerina on you guys it's just annoying. I have to get back on track, I've been kind of slacking the past week and a half.

Uhhh, I'm having a sneezing fit and need to go.

'Til Tuesday
ha.

One of those huge, irridescent green flies is buzzing around my head.
Last night, as I was falling asleep, I killed a mosquito that was fixing to give me West Nile virus.
There is also a moth and at least one fruit fly in my kitchen and about a dozen or so ants feasting on crumbs and shit in my dishwasher.

pesky insects suck.

Another one of my friends is getting married. That's exciting.

I think the boyfriend is due for his period. I'm considering getting him fixed.

July 4th is kind of poopy.

I need pizza. and beer. and canoodling.

Barry White died.

I don't think I'm going out anymore. People have just been acting far too crazy lately. Must be something in the milk.
Last night I:
-accepted a drink from a male friend, which irked the boyfriend (I chalked it up to resourcefulness as opposed to potential infidelity…neither of us have any money and I needed a cocktail…what's a girl to do?)

-was hit on by a 50-year-old Jamaican man while the boyfriend and Akil stood by, watching and laughing their asses off…thanks guys

-ran into a Russian girl I used to work with. she was there with about 15 male friends, all of who she kept making sexual innuendos toward.

-laid the smackdown on one of the Russian's friends who, seconds after meeting me, tried to kiss me. blech. a) I have a boyfriend. b) I don't kiss people who drink Rolling Rock and Jagermeister.

-listened to one of the Russian's friends go on and on about his job/education, “I was a professional snowboarder for 6 years but now I have a 4.0 and am a double major at Duff's Business Institute. I work for Alcoa doing accounting and I make SO MUCH MONEY. It's unbelievable how much money I make and I haven't even graduated yet. I really make so much money. And I'm going to make even more money when I go to work at Mr. Small's Theater after they get their liquor license. I have one of the nicest offices at Alcoa because I make SO MUCH MONEY…”

-decided that I will NEVER go to Mr. Small's Theater for fear of running into this jackass and any Mexican/Icelandic slaves he brings with him from Alcoa

-met Goose. That was exciting.

-looked around for the W.I.T. electroclash girls that Ed Um said he was bringing. I wanted to check out their outfits. Alas, they were a no-show.

-scoffed at the poor electroclash girl substitute and her boyfriend. She had pink and blonde hair, he had a faux-hawk. Their dance routine was as follows: step, step, girl puts hand on boy's chest, turns her head left, turns her head right, dip, roll up, repeat while sipping drink.

-got annoyed at the fact that the people who were ravers stopped going to raves, stopped doing e-pills, started dressing nicer, but still have the same fucking dance moves…shuffle, shuffle, arms akimbo, raver two-step minus the baseball cap. augh.

-stood outside when the music got a touch too loud and watched Akil and Shawn judge the girls who walked by. That got old quick.

-watched Akil go across the street to the Shadyside Saloon (what a joke) where a bunch of frat brothers and sorostitutes were gathered to work on their sincerity. Akil stood on top of utility box and promptly got screamed at by the Saloon patrons.

-went back inside, not caring to see whatever hilarity would ensue.

-saw Ani. Did not make eye contact. Her appearance apparently came and went without incident. cool.

-went back outside to find Akil about to get into a fight with a guy in a wheelchair.

-decided that we needed to leave right away, tried to convince Akil to come with us, he told us to fuck off, so we did. I hope he didn't get his ass beat but in a way I kind of wanted to do it myself.

-came home, tried to get frisky, fell asleep before it went anywhere. Ain't that always the way?

The baby went down for a nap a little while ago and I wanted to read a little bit. I sat down on the bed and literally passed out…not like I fainted or anything I just fell asleep very suddenly. I just sort of slumped over onto my stomach with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed at the knees. I slept for about an hour, woke up covered in drool and with my legs all creaky from being hyperextended for so long. I was so confused. If I remember correctly my half-dreaming thought process went something like this, “Oh shit…it's morning…no…I'm in London…I should go check out the city I've never been here before…no wait…how could I be in London?…ow…”

I sat there for awhile then shuffled around the house trying to figure out what my problem was.

grumph.

My keyboard is truly disgusting. There's like, pubes stuck to the keys with dried up goo. How the hell did that happen?