September 11th, 2003

running, bomb tech

The Cheat. Is grounded.

Little Fayoumis turns seven today (the 11th).

votania and I met up at the grocery store to discuss plans. I shared my vision of a cake with her -- a lemon cake, with The Cheat on it.

I saw that sparkle in her eyes. "No," I said, pre-emptively. "We are not having The Cheat's Lightswitch Rave."
"Oh, yeah! We so are!"
"No, we are not."
"No, we are not having The Cheat's lightswitch rave... because I have a proper strobe light!"
running, bomb tech


Livingroom is almost presentable, thanks to votania. I am doing the bathroom, because theirs is not up to par, so mine will be used by the guest-type peoples.

Did I mention that today is Little Fayoumis's 7th birthday? Gods, I hope it goes better than mine did. I beat the hell out of the guy I was in love with. And got a stomach-ache, and had a situation where some friends were bullying some other friends, and had to wear a dress I hated, and had an altogether rotten day.

It would probably only make sense to another Suzuki family for me to say that I've been humming "Perpetual Motion" while cleaning the bathroom.

swallowtayle and I used to think it hilarious to read the directions on single-use, disposable products, and say things like, "... after each use," when it was really "... after use." We were silly.
  • Current Music
    47/ -)8 - 7()4% ("White Reflection")
exhausted, tired, Azzsleep

Yay! ...and not.

Bathroom has been whacked so the floor, at least, can pretend to be presentable. Jewelry has been put away out of the bathroom. (Did I mention that That Woman might be coming over?

Am amused: lacking another outlet to plug in air freshener, have plugged it into extra plug on room lights. Therefore, my room will smell freshest when the lights are on.

If only I had realized that the fudge recipe on the jars had changed since the last time I'd done this, I might not have volunteered to bring that. But, alas --

Therefore, I make mess in kitchen.
  • Current Music
    Counting Crows - Angels Of The Silences
running, bomb tech


That about does it. I'm all fudged out, all cleaned up, and gotta be up in the morning...

In the words of the Terrible Mister Grimshaw: "God-dammit mother fuck!"

I will survive. Even if it is the Terrible Sevens. I love him to pieces, especially now that he's becoming the sort of human being you can hold a coherent conversation with. As he's getting more coherent, I can spend more and more productive time with him...
  • Current Music
    Nobuo Uematsu - Garnet's Theme
running, bomb tech

Whoo boy. Sleep, lack thereof, family.

I get to deal with votania's biological hazards (maternal thing, and the other daughter of her father and maternal thing) on 3 hours sleep.

Not that That Woman shouldn't be called a crackhead whore, but it's nice to do it on purpose rather than irritably by accident on far too little sleep.

Gods, I hope Darkside shows up.
running, bomb tech

Dear $COMPANY...

...anyone who bills your plates as "heavy-duty" or anything like that? Is on crack. Serious crack. This is why I am avoiding your brand for disposable plates in the future after getting done with the product testing.


P.S. We may just ditch the rest of the plates after this. And we're getting paid to use them.
running, bomb tech

Day so far: fudge, muffins, hot gay guys

After making my fudge, and washing dishes, I went to bed at 4. I woke up at 7 am when someone called the Temple line. I stumbled over, recognized the first six numbers on the caller ID, and correctly gathered that it was Grandma, calling to sing a Happy Birthday on the answering machine to the birthday boy. I stumbled back to bed.

I woke up again to votania panicking about the cake pan, as it was nowhere to be found. "Fridge. Fudge." I said, or something approximating that.

I bleared out a little later, and cut and packed fudge in cellophane. I finally wandered off to school, late for my bake sale shift, after having dropped some of the fudge. Pissy, bitchy, sour... I was eventually cheered up by the sight of Mr. President, who was wearing a muscle shirt. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yum.

Someone brought cupcakes. Mr. Pres made about 3 different kinds of cake, plus cookies and brownies.

Now, I go to class. Peevish whining about music later.
running, bomb tech


Bake sale, success.

We pulled in $91.86, which is more than enough to cover the $75 total of the club shirts.

My fudge sold out, and, according to rumor, was passed around upstairs because it was just too sweet (but oh, so good...)
running, bomb tech

Oh, and yes.

Mr. President kissed me on the cheek. Twice. I distributed black lipstick. We had fun.
running, bomb tech

Teachers and friends

Burns asked me if I ever saw Darkside anymore, and if I did, to say hello for him.

He recalled that Darkside and I had been pretty close. I think what triggered the memory was me, sitting in the back corner, falling asleep during his class. Heh.
running, bomb tech

Don. Jersey City. Also, prayer.

This plea made me tear up.

I've always prayed in private. If not isolation from others, I don't tend to share the thoughts I share with Deity aloud. I was raised Quaker, for the most part, religiously. We have silence, with people being moved to speak occasionally.

I just don't get the thing where people gather and one or two people speak and everybody else shuts up or sings along. It's alien. It wasn't part of my upbringing. Heck, I don't get it for the religion that's nominally mine, either...

I don't see that anything spoken can be honor for the dead. It does not compute, to me. Prayers are silent. Comfort for the living can be spoken. That's something it's good for. But prayer is silent.
running, bomb tech

Movie, adult

Casting Couch Confessions was recommended to me, as I'd evidently find one of the actors very, very hot.

I'll find that flick one of these days...
running, bomb tech

Body do the weird/painful

So I have ungoods happening. First, tired. And then, nose started downloading much snot, leading to sinus headache in addition to random must-sleep migraine.

Add in a little possible dehydration, and you have an unhappy camper who feels fevered, in the "oh gods, I'm feeling a little too cold even though my body is hot" way...


Lightswitchless rave proceeding outside in living room.