And so it has begun.

I have a cup of coffee sitting next to me again. It cooled to a drinkable temperature, and then somehow, 3/4 of it disappeared down my throat in two minutes. And this time, it actually tastes... dare I say it.... good (though, really, that might be the seventeen teaspoons of sugar in it).

This is terrible. I am already trying to plan out my next cup, and I am quite horrified by the fact that we appear to be just about out of sugar here at the office. I will later try to talk the redheaded boy into a trip to Dunkin Donuts when I see him later -- he is going to laugh maniacally, because coffee is one of his things. Also, he finds amusement in corruption. Either way, my response will be mock anger, which will probably change to ill-contained joy when he agrees to go with me.

The Devil's Cup. I know absolutely nothing about this book other than the title is quite apt for this awful stuff. Good work, Mr. Allen.

Stay tuned for updates on my energy level, inevitable crash, and slow leveling out. Yesterday, I had about three full hours of hyperactivity, followed by an hour of yawning and dropping eyelids, and then I came back to normal for the rest of the evening. We'll see how it goes on a full night's sleep.


Edit (10:12 AM): About an hour after I wrote this, I was lamenting the lack of sugar here when a little voice in my head piped up with, "Hey, hey, yo, hi, hey! Woman, there is a Dunkin Donuts right down the damn street." And I was all OH YEAH, I'M RETARDED! I'm so going there for lunch. And for lunch, I mean my very first store-bought coffee ever. Oh muh gah I'm excited about that, and that makes me cry a little. On the inside.


Edit #2 (11:35AM): I'm starting to calm down now, but it seems really gradual this time. I'm perfectly okay with that. I'm a bit concerned, though, because now I just keep glancing at the clock, waiting for an acceptable hour to make the DD run. Like a crack addict. If they sold crack at Dunkin's. Hmm.


Edit #3 (12:51PM): I just returned from Dunkin Donuts with a medium cup of coffee. Yes, seriously. This is a bad sign. Did you know they make coconut coffee? Yeah, it doesn't really taste like coconut, but it is hella tasty. Also, please slap me for my use of "hella."

It's the Devil's juice...

Let me tell you a story about a little girl. Said little girl lived with her mother, but used to spend every other weekend over her grandfather's house. Grandfather was a slave to several vices, including gambling, smoking, and a funny little thing called coffee.

Little Girl was a curious little creature. She and Grandfather would watch television in the evenings, and when Grandfather would leave to make them some awesome buttery popcorn, Little Girl would steal a sip from his unsupervised coffee mug. Grandfather would pretend not to notice, despite Little Girl's shit-eating mischievous grin when he returned to the room.

Over time, Little Girl sneaked bigger and bigger sips, finally getting to the point where a half full coffee cup would become mysteriously empty. This may explain why she only grew to be 5'2", but that is another tale. Eventually, Grandfather took his mug with him, because he believed caffeine was unhealthy for sweet Little Girl.

I was, at most, five years old when this occurred. Since then, I have never had another drop of coffee... until today. Today, I decided that since I'd had only 3 hours of sleep and quite a few glasses of wine last night, I would choke down a cup of awful, awful coffee. And I grudgingly admit that I feel pretty good after having it.

But now I want another.

Look at it. Just sitting there, trying to be cute, trying to lure you in. Don't let it fool you. It's the Devil's juice, that stuff! It's all, "Yeah, you wanna drink me. Yeah, I'll make you feel good. Yeah, I taste pretty awful, but you get used to it. Yeah, do it. Have another. Dooooooooooooo it."

Well, you shut up, you monster! I don't have to listen! I can cover my ears and sit on the floor, rocking back and forth and singing under my breath to drown you out. Don't think I won't -- you don't know what I'm capable of!

To all non coffee drinkers: don't be tricked by the tricky coffee's tricky trickery. It's all a clever ruse for a conspiracy that I don't dare pretend to know what it is. Also, beware of tea -- I began drinking tea only a few months ago; it is a gateway beverage. It opens you up to other beverages. Consider this your warning.

Trust no drink.

Edit: It is now 12:06PM, and I am SUPER hyper. Like, bouncing my leg 75 times a minute hyper. This is awesome Beware the side effects!

Now I have to pee again.

"You put your tongues in each other's mouths?! Gross!"

The title of this post is a sentiment that I related to one of my friends back when I was fifteen or sixteen and in high school. My friend loves to embarrass me tell that story to new boyfriends. What can I say? It seemed pretty gross to me at the time.

I didn't actually have my first kiss until I was almost seventeen, probably because my middle school and early high school years were full of fashion mistakes and bad haircuts my super shy years. It just so happens, I'm still not big on the whole use of tongue.

I've had a fair amount of different boyfriends since that first kiss, and I've noticed that they all have one thing in common -- each one of them kisses differently.

Have you ever experienced that person that seems really intent on licking your tonsils? I've had him, and it's the most awful thing ever. I think the sailor in that picture was going for the esophagus. I mean, who ever taught them that choking your date to death is a good idea?

I find that the only way to handle this is to pull your head back. I absolutely do not recommend kissing them while laying on your back -- then you're trapped! Beware accidental suffocation!

How about the type of kisser that just kind of puts their slug tongue in your mouth and it just lays there, like it's dead? I have never actually kissed anyone who does this, but I've heard stories. And been grossed out by all of them. I don't understand the reasoning behind it, myself; how could that possibly be a pleasant sensation?

Then there's the non-participating kind of kisser. You know the type: they don't really open their mouth much, don't turn their head when you do, don't put their hands on you, and do not react at all if you do manage to get your tongue involved. They're always tense, too, like they're scared of what you're doing to them. It's super creepy because it feels like you're making out with someone very inexperienced (i.e. a child).

Or, there's the kind that opens their mouth far too wide and eats your face. THAT is also very unpleasant.

Of course, on the other hand, there is my favorite type of kisser, the relaxed type that just sits back and enjoys the inappropriate groping making out. That would be the one that sticks mostly to lips-only kisses with a half-open mouth, changes head positions (right? left?), gets hands involved with the neck, hair, and... et cetera, varies speed and pressure, and makes it generally clear that they are enjoying it and having fun, which is really the whole point.

I don't really have a point to make here. I've just been fantasizing about the boy's lips bored at work and thinking about the subject.

NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

We're having a little goodbye dinner for my friend tonight. He is moving all the way to Chicago to go to grad school for public administration. Apparently, the appropriate goodbye is a plateful of fajitas (Fah Jee Tas) with a small group of your close friends.

I am very proud of him and think the path he has chosen is a great one, but it really blows that he's leaving. We have all come to a consensus on this. So to him, I say good luck, and also, if you don't come back I'll break your legs be upset.

A boy I know.

There is a boy I know who is sweet and helpful and funny and smart. He loves his family very much and does his best to take care of them and be there for them when they need him. This boy is artistic and polite, creative and caring, hilarious and thoughtful, all at the same time.

As you may have ascertained, I think very highly of him.

Unfortunately, this boy has an awful lot on his shoulders at the moment. From my perspective, it almost seems as though he is the adult of his household, and things are sometimes expected of him that shouldn't really be his responsibility. He appears to be expected to take care of things that he shouldn't be, or blamed for things that are not his fault. His family is working through some issues now, and I really feel like he is getting a lot of flak and unnecessary stress from everything going on around him.

Of course, I know very little about the situation, as I am not involved. I could easily be wrong -- and I am most certainly biased -- because I don't know the situation other than what I have seen recently with my own eyes. I want this to sound like a disclaimer, because it is.

All I am trying to accomplish here is to let this boy know that I am one hundred percent there for him if he needs someone to talk to, or just lend moral support. I will not ask questions that don't need asking, I will never judge, and I will always lend an ear, arm, or shoulder without hesitation. He has many other wonderful friends, as well, and I'm sure they would all do the same.

I just want him to know that I will be right here if he needs me, and there is absolutely no need to apologize.

Fuses and breakfast and cloudy days.

I set my alarm for 6:30am, as I always do. But when it went off at 6:22am (I set my clock to be 6-8 minutes fast for some reason), I did not get up. No, I reset it for 7am and went back to sleep for a useless half hour.

I realize for most people, that's not a big deal, but I, while not being a morning person, am one of those people that's on their feet the moment the alarm sounds. So for me to reset it to a later time was very unusual, and only means I was very, very tired because I was out being irresponsible until 2:30am.

Anyway, this development has, thus far, thrown my entire day off. Whenever I don't sleep enough, I wake up famished, so my first thought after some angry, I-hate-life-right-now cursing was FOOD. I stumbled downstairs, filled a mug with water, threw in a teabag, and popped it into the microwave. Before I could even push the 2 button, the electromagnetic static jumped from my finger to the machine and the power suddenly decided it wanted to fuck with me, too. Everything in the kitchen turned off.

I've only had a frown to rival this morning's once or twice ever.

I lean to my left and reach around the corner to flick the bathroom lights. Nothing. Is it the whole house? No, definitely not, I can hear the fan in the living room still on. The 'fridge is still running so I went to go catch it. I go back upstairs and find that EVERYTHING in my room is off. Everything, even my computer (a surge protector won't save you from power outages).

At this point, I am pissed. No microwave for tea, no computer for entertainment while I drink it, and no power for the flatiron so I don't look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket (the humidity does it to me). Everything I start my morning with is out of service.

I have realized by this point that I have blown the fuse that controls the northern side of my house. Problem is, I'm a super chick when it comes to matters like this -- I have no idea how to change a fuse.

..... *Continues being pissed and eats cold cereal*

As it turns out, in our house, you don't even have to change the fuses, or something. There's a switch that you flick once, then flick back on, and magically the lights return. That's it. I almost missed my morning tea, left the house late, arrived at work less early than usual, and now cannot focus on anything (it's seriously taken me forty minutes to write this little post). And all I had to do was go into the basement and flick a stupid switch.

Seriously. I'll never be able to live alone.




Note: I realize that I changed tenses at least once or twice. Here's the thing: I don't care I'm tired and cranky. Leave me alone.

Just a brief note...

See this? This place houses a company called Athena Diagnostics. This, my friends, is the place where, in two weeks, I will be WORKING FULL TIME AND FOR GOOD MONIES (and how cool is that building?!)! I went in for an interview at 9am this morning, left at 10am, and got a phone call about coming on board literally a half hour later. The lady was all, "Yeah, [the interviewers] just loved you, and they told me to call you right away, and our benefits are AMAZING and there's even a signing bonus and we'll pay you an absurd hourly wage will you please work for us?"

Of course, I was all, "FUCK YEAH, LADYThat would be wonderful, thank you very much!"

I may elaborate more later. Or not. Who cares, I'm wicked (yes, wicked - I'm from Massachusetts) excited!!

Here's why Stephen King is amazing.

So yes, I'm actually going to post a quote from a book. Trust me, though, it's a good one. This man is a genious - hell, the title of this blog is something I stole from his Bag of Bones (really good, by the way).


Anyway, if you have the same copy of Lisey's Story, this is from page 17 to 18. I don't think I even have to say anything about it. It's just so... perfect.


"She lay there for a long time, remembering a hot August day in Nashville and thinking--not for the first time--that being single after being double so long was strange shite, indeed. She would have thought two years was enough time for the strangeness to rub off, but it wasn't; time apparently did nothing but blunt grief's sharpest edge so that it hacked rather than sliced. Because everything was not the same. Not outside, not inside, not for her. Lying in the bed that once held two, Lisey thought alone never felt more lonely than when you woke up and discovered you still had the house to yourself. That you and the mice in the walls were the only ones still breathing."

Interviews, interviews.

I've been busy this week. Well, busy for me, which means just slightly more obligations than work alone. As a matter of fact, at 7:30am today, I had one interview (Job #1). Tomorrow, I will be calling my high school to get transcripts for the nursing program at Quinsigamond (WHY ON EARTH they want high school transcripts when they have my final college transcripts, I do not know) in the morning before work and also plan to scout out the place of my Friday morning interview (Job #2) if I don't today. Plus, I have to attend a 'Health Session' for Quinsig on Tuesday morning, even though they're not accepting people to the nursing program until Fall 2011. (Yeah, three years. Seriously. How much does that suck?)

I also have a friend's I-finally-quit-my-job celebration cookout and another friend's birthday party this weekend, but those are good opportunities to get drunk fun things, so they don't count. I'm also hoping to get some make out chill out time with a certain redheaded boy (I need to come up with a good nickname for him) and possibly get some semblance of a tan at my friend's lakehouse while I'm at it.

Poor, busy me.

Anyway, the interview this morning went quite well, and I am relatively positive that I will be offered a position fairly soon. It pays more than my current one and I get to interact with people instead of the horrorshow that is the Internet. They even have some part time positions, which would be awesome, because then I could talk my current boss into letting me turn this job into part time as well, so I could have both and make money and not be guilty!

YAY HOORAY WOOT so what's the problem, lady? Weeeeell. Let me just tell you.

I don't want it.

Yeah, that's right. Good job, probably not too hard, pay isn't bad (I get a $1.25 raise after 3 months, too), MUCH closer to home (goodbye 45 minute commute) very good experience opportunity. Why wouldn't I want it?

Because I want Job #2! I haven't interviewed for it (Friday at 8:45am), I don't really know what I'd be doing, I'm not even exactly sure where it is. So why would I want this mess? Oh, because it's a big company and they have AMAZING benefits! Health, dental, vision - I haven't had that kind of insurance since... forever! There's vacation time, sick leave, and even personal days. On top of that, they do 100% tuition reimbursement including money for lab costs and textbooks as long as you're going for something related to the job - hellz yeah I'll go back to school for them! I want to have, like, 4 different degrees. Show 'em what else they've won, JohnnyAND, as the cherry on top, they put 4% (based on your earnings) into an automatic 401k plan... even if you don't put any money into it! I might be the only person really, honestly impressed by this.

Also, I suspect that they have cubicles. I've never worked in a cubicle. I am also the only person on earth excited by the idea of 'personalizing' my cubicle. I have issues. I, apparently, am some kind of corporate whore (but I swear, only for money and power). Perhaps it is the kind of job with promotions. I've never had a promotion before.

...... Promotionnnnnnnnnnsssssssss.

Self realization?

I've been learning things about myself lately that I didn't realize before. For example, it turns out I have a thing for redheaded boys. This preference did not actually occur to me until I discovered how much I love [boy's name]'s hair. Obviously, he is a redhead. Following this discovery, I put the pieces together and realized that I have adored reds since meeting ex-boyfriend's redheaded brother. I don't know if that triggered my sudden magnetic pull toward redheads, but I can't remember having a preference before him. Either way, I can confidently admit that I dig redheads (mainly male, but there are many hot redheaded females, as well) without throwing in an "I think" after saying so.


Somewhat in relation to that, it has occurred to me just today that I am an incredibly stubborn person. See this?:

Yeah, that's me. I'm not so much talking about little things -- I can admit when I am wrong, usually, and even apologize for it. But I am most certainly the kind of person that, if pushed, will refuse to budge. Push harder, I'm going to fight harder. Pull on my face... well, I hope no one pulls on my face like that.

I don't care what it is, I just hate to be pushed on anything, even something I'm interested in. If you said, "Jamie, you have to go play in that pit of plastic balls and then come have a seven scoop ice cream cone," I'll claim that ball pits are retarded and I'm not hungry. The former statement is a bald-faced lie, and the latter is illogical -- you can NEVER be too full for ice cream.

"Jamie, you have to go to college." Fuck college. "Jamie, apply to grad school." Screw that. "Jamie, write a fucking story." Stories are for assholes. "Jamie, take this free money and go buy a Ferris wheel to keep in your yard." ... Okay, no one actually said that one.

The good news is that I almost always come around if it is something I want to do or think will be good for me to do. Obviously, I did go to college, and I did apply to grad schools. I still write when I want to (the only reason I don't love school is that I hate being pushed into doing homework and papers), but at least I'm writing.

And who wouldn't want their own, personal Ferris wheel?

I do the same thing in relationships. I dated a guy for a short period (a month or two) who was always accusing me of not putting enough effort into things. He tried to push me into contacting him more and spending more time with him and being generally more aggressive. Needless to say, when I rebelled and did the opposite, we didn't stay together much longer. You just can't do that to me.

You know, I think this could be related to how pissed I get if a guy pushes on the back of my head during a blowjob - not that anyone likes it, but most women settle down after a bit. Not me. I get angry and defiant and that's that.

I guess, in conclusion, I'm just saying: don't tell me what to do and don't choke me with your penis. I am fully capable of making my own decisions (and deep throating), but I will do so on my own terms.

Sweet, cute, innocent... death metal?

I am at work right now (there is a reason I don't deserve a raise). I'm sitting at my desk, in the office that I have all to myself, with torture devices files to my left, tea in my hand, and my iPod in my ear. I can almost imagine my brother's picture smiling with me when some heavy Shai Hulud comes on. It occurs to me that any coworkers who happen to notice the iPod will likely assume I'm listening to some Paris Hilton girly pop songs. Those of you who know Shai Hulud will see how ridiculous this mental picture is. Those of you that don't, well, picture this:

You work in a very small office (5 people total). You and the other three people have been there for years, but in February, you decided to hire someone to enter all the files into the database. This girl is quiet and shy. She generally only responds to conversation, never initiates. Today, she is wearing a fluffy skirt and her hair down. When you bid her a good morning, she turns and, with a sweet little smile, squeaks out the same to you. You happen to notice she's listening to her iPod.

Now, think about Shai Hulud. If you don't know them, think of heavy guitar, fast bass, and the singer screaming, "I'm prepared to fight humanity every day FOR THE REST OF MY LIIIIIIFE!"

I had Shai Hulud on during my morning commute, and was happily singing along to A Profound Hatred of Man. Cheerful, upbeat, childlike me was singing/screaming at the top of my lungs, "If these hands could only kill, I'd cleanse the world with IT'S OWN BLOOOOOD!" Good morning, Massachusetts.

I just think it's a funny that people think I'm so boring innocent and naive. People, I am not.

Possibly the best conversation ever (slightly abridged).

Friend: What are those round candies?

Me: ... What, like Lifesavers?

Friend: No, no... they're all round and in a stack in the packaging

Me: ...... Gummi Lifesavers?

Friend: No, hard candies.

Me: Creamsavers?

Friend: Smaller than those. Different colors.

Me: ......... I don't fuckin' know.

Friend: Oh right, they're Smarties!

Me: ..........

Friend: This kid has a belt that holds about 20 or 30 packets of them.

Me: .......................... That is awesome.

The speed of light society.

There's no doubt that the one recurring theme in today's America is obesity speed. Everything has to be fast: fast cars, fast service, fast sex food. People are always in a rush, even when they have nowhere to be (I've admittely been guilty of such). We exceed the speed limit, tailgate, get angry when our waitress forgot something small and has to run back to the kitchen to get it, complain loudly when our meal takes more than ten minutes, and make those annoyed sighing sounds when someone takes too long to pay for their groceries and holds up the line all of four seconds. Look, lady, I don't care if you're seventy and have a broken leg but still have to take care of your ailing husband and your granddaughter's year old love child -- I GOT SHIT TO DO!

Okay, so I might be exaggerating. A little. Maybe.... or maybe not at all. Either way, food and driving and such are not the only things that are moving too fast for my tastes. There are also the big Rs.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Remember back in the sixties? Women used to wear those stupid poodle skirts and short-sleeved sweaters (who ever invented those ridiculous things?), and guys used to slick back their hair and dress nice:


(This picture is not actually from the sixties, and I didn't get him to sign a release, so let's hope he doesn't deny the verbal agreement and sue me. Handsome, though, ain't he? :-D )

Back then, people used to do this thing called dating. I know that may sound kind of foreign to some of you, but listen here: it exists! No, no, it's not the same as "going out" -- going out suggests an exclusive relationship. See, dating is just what it sounds like - going on dates! You go on dates, get to know each other, and then decide if you want to begin an actual relationship.

Yes, yes, I realize that sounds old fashioned and boring. But let me tell you -- it's a lot easier to stop seeing someone you're not interested in if you're just dating, as opposed to having to go through the break-up process. Easier and less emotionally messy.

All I'm saying is slow the hell down, people. There's absolutely no reason to leap headfirst into a relationship with someone you hardly know just because you "kinda had fun together that one time." I'm just saying it's a little quick to go out once, then talk about moving in together and all the children you'll have and where you'll live and what the wedding will be like.

Puke sequence activated: *gag*

What ever happened to taking the time to get to know someone? To enjoy their company for a while before putting all the pressure of a relationship on the two of you? I happen to find that taking things slow makes me like a person so much more than if we jump right into it (in all honesty, if things move that fast, I often lose interest). A little mystery adds an element of excitement to everything! Not knowing when you'll see each other next adds a bit of sweet longing for that next meeting!

Does anyone follow me? At all?

Eh, screw you guys. You're all dirty whores.