posted on April 08, 2004 @ 5:31 pm
for some reason unbeknownst to me, i smell syrup. ponderous.
pon�der�ous (p
n
d
rs)
adj. worthy of ponder
and no matter how much detail she put into a session, they only wanted to pork and bone, slam and bump, shaft, hole, screw, drill, pound, pile-drive, core, and ride.
and sometimes a euphemism just isn't.
sometimes a euphemism is more true than what it's supposed to hide.
people always laugh at me when i tell them what time i woke up. the other night around 6:40 layla called. ":quietly: hello?"
"are you asleep?"
"yeah."
":laughs: i'll call you back. it's just about work."
this afternoon i was in the bank around 2:30 putting money into mom's account for my loan payment. after clearing my throat just to say hi and yawning, i was asked, "how are you doing?"
"i'm kind of tired. i just woke up."
":chuckle:"
and of course during my busiest time at work, the first two hours, people always ask how i am. "tired. i just woke up an hour ago." they always find it amusing.
i've become able to hold back my biting remarks toward customers, though. just now as a boy started to leave without his ticket, i only said with a sigh, "wait, you need your ticket," without appending, "it doesn't open with your mind power." huzzah for quasi-customer service.
i haven't been able to put pressure on my left wrist ever since that dude hit me, at least that's when i noticed it; i'm not connecting them. granted the only time i ever notice it is when i'm at work: i put my hands on the arm rests of my chair and pick myself up so i can fold a leg beneath the other. maybe it's a plea to stop putting such pressure on little bones.
i realized today that i don't really like guys in jeans. i mean, not never of course because most guys wear jeans, but they look so much better in any fabric other than denim. the little indie guys who buy girl jeans in a size 4, they look great in jeans because, and let's not kid ourselves, they're more girl than most of us females. as i was driving down my street, i saw a boy at the bustop nearest my building in dickies, a black shirt and tennis shoes, wearing headphones and reading the paper. i would have offered him a ride and just taken him home with me had i not been so damn hungry; he was gone when i came back. ;)
jennifer and i had a mini-conversation via text messages today. around 2:00, waking me up, she wrote: "there's an article in the texan about people who love fanny packs. they're in some evil club."
"aren't they all? i bet their pres. is german."
":nods: i bet they even have an evil plot to take over the world."
"and monocles!"
ah, bill and erik. the myriad of inside jokes you have spawned. sadly, the one where cobra commander wears a fanny pack and a monocle and we learn that only evil germans do that isn't in the archives. sadness. they're the best superhero/beaver duo out there for my money. i can't believe i've gone so long without reading them.
hopefully i can go home this weekend. if i do, i'm going to get my hair cut so others can get nervous and excited with me. maybe they'll even pay for it. ;) the last time mom paid for it; it was only like 20 bucks anyway. i made a promise to my hair that i'd not dye it for at least a year, and i'd cut off all the nasty ends and start over. are you prepared, world, to see chelsea's natural ugly brown hair color? it's sort of a non-color, like a mixture between mousey brown (i now understand lucy's disgust) and grey. ooh i found a few grey hairs the other day. it was so cool. dad started going grey in his 20s; that'd be lame if i did. :^o
i hadn't noticed just how long it actually is until last night when i was in the shower. with it wet and completely straight, it's about four inches from my ass. i started bending backwards and could actually get it to touch my thigh. that's way too much hair, especially for the summer. my hair length will finally be coordinated with the season; i usually get nine inches lopped off when winter starts.
"there are girls that you can't seem to stop thinking about and then there are those you think about even when being severely beaten by a robot."
<3, chels.
p.s. more choke:
plus the sexaholic recovery books they sell here, it's every way you always wanted to get laid but didn't know how. of course, all this is to help you realize you're a sex junkie. it's delivered in a kind of "if you do any of the following things, you may be an alcholic" checklist. their helpful hints include:
do you cut the lining out of your bathing suit so your genitals show through?
do you leave your fly or blouse open and pretend to hold conversations in glass telephone booths, standing so your clothes gap open with no underwear inside?
do you jog without a bra or athletic supporter in order to attract sexual partners?