a day never goes by, without my life almost escaping my grasp. the reason for this? bicyclists and skateboarders. they are a dangerous nuisance.
i would be minding my own business, walking down a skinny side walk, when a cyclist speeds toward me, fully expecting me to move to the side. i do, to the minimal extent. i intend on not giving an inch to these irresponsible idiots. they ride by, so close, my hair whips up in irritated response.
take for instance, today. after lab at four, i began making my way back to the dorms, focused on the walk, when i heard a faceless someone struggling to pedal behind me. i huffed and moved to the side. only to be nearly impaled by a guy and his beach cruiser. apparently when i sided right, he sided right. right into me. well almost. i gave him a look, and he said sorry, but sorry doesn't make my heart go back to normal. i resumed my fast walking, and he trailed slowly along behind me, like a stalker, until we reached the pavement where he sped and passed me. grrrr....
the skateboarders are ten times as dangerous. they roll off at alarming speeds, down populated walkways, without any thought to all the lives they could crash into. i haven't had an instance yet, but i am just waiting. just waiting for the day.
Monday, May 18, 2009
the interrupted shower
i was sitting here blogging, when an memory suddenly assailed my senses.
it was awhile ago when i was taking a shower, perhaps at about ten o clock at night, and i was concentrating fully on getting my body and hair cleaned in a timely manner (thirty minutes is the quickest i get), when someone else came in to take a shower too. not surprising in the least.
both of us were absorbed within each of our cubicles, when i hear the door open and a masculine voice shout out.
i jumped and automatically covered my womanly parts, my heart racing. wtf?
i stood stock still and listened to what the voice had to say.
hey (girl's name) do you want me to keep you company?
my eyes bulged at this offer. i was silently going a little crazy at this unexpected turn of events.
then my heart quieted down, as my neighbor replied with a giggling, no.
perhaps then, the boy had noticed me, a stranger naked behind the rubber ducky shower curtain.
it was awhile ago when i was taking a shower, perhaps at about ten o clock at night, and i was concentrating fully on getting my body and hair cleaned in a timely manner (thirty minutes is the quickest i get), when someone else came in to take a shower too. not surprising in the least.
both of us were absorbed within each of our cubicles, when i hear the door open and a masculine voice shout out.
i jumped and automatically covered my womanly parts, my heart racing. wtf?
i stood stock still and listened to what the voice had to say.
hey (girl's name) do you want me to keep you company?
my eyes bulged at this offer. i was silently going a little crazy at this unexpected turn of events.
then my heart quieted down, as my neighbor replied with a giggling, no.
perhaps then, the boy had noticed me, a stranger naked behind the rubber ducky shower curtain.
the horrors of garage sale-ing
you know when at first you are really excited and upbeat about something, and then when you come upon it face to face, you back away and shrivel up? yeah. this is how garage sale-ing affects me.
so friday night, when the paper was brought up, courtesy of scary gary, i pounced on it at the first chance i got. i had the crazy whim to go garage sale-ing the next day. reminiscing back, i realized that i hadn't gone to a garage sale in nigh eight years. my nostalgia, unfortunately did not arrive with the requisite and remembered feelings that were coupled with the memory.
so armed with a battered newspaper listing all of the local garage sales, six highlighted with a big yellow box, i persuaded mother k to chauffeur me to all of my desired locations. she grudgingly agreed.
we headed down one street, then another, and then arrived at betty lane. the site of the first promising sale. as the car drove closer to the place, my temple began to ache, hands became clammy, and pulse reacted radically to a sudden "flight or fight" response. i crouched down in my seat and managed to painfully whisper out a "backup backup backup leave leave leave" to mother k, who promptly ignored my unexpected histrionics.
she ignored, parked, braked, and turned off the car. expecting me to unglue myself from the seat and leave my safe place. i finally made myself, and together we made our way to the scantily populated garage sale. and by scantily populated i mean scantily populated in people and items. i had nabbed a dud.
we forced ourselves to smile at the owners and provide the expected hello, and then we made ourselves take a quick and fleeting tour of the sale (remarking upon the slightly exorbitant prices of antique trunks and an old door) and then we made our escape.
afterwards, we laughed at the outrageousness that one garage sale can incur upon ones emotions, and then mother k rebuked me for unknowingly choosing a garage sale that had opened the previous day.
obviously, she said, there won't be anything good left. she was right.
so friday night, when the paper was brought up, courtesy of scary gary, i pounced on it at the first chance i got. i had the crazy whim to go garage sale-ing the next day. reminiscing back, i realized that i hadn't gone to a garage sale in nigh eight years. my nostalgia, unfortunately did not arrive with the requisite and remembered feelings that were coupled with the memory.
so armed with a battered newspaper listing all of the local garage sales, six highlighted with a big yellow box, i persuaded mother k to chauffeur me to all of my desired locations. she grudgingly agreed.
we headed down one street, then another, and then arrived at betty lane. the site of the first promising sale. as the car drove closer to the place, my temple began to ache, hands became clammy, and pulse reacted radically to a sudden "flight or fight" response. i crouched down in my seat and managed to painfully whisper out a "backup backup backup leave leave leave" to mother k, who promptly ignored my unexpected histrionics.
she ignored, parked, braked, and turned off the car. expecting me to unglue myself from the seat and leave my safe place. i finally made myself, and together we made our way to the scantily populated garage sale. and by scantily populated i mean scantily populated in people and items. i had nabbed a dud.
we forced ourselves to smile at the owners and provide the expected hello, and then we made ourselves take a quick and fleeting tour of the sale (remarking upon the slightly exorbitant prices of antique trunks and an old door) and then we made our escape.
afterwards, we laughed at the outrageousness that one garage sale can incur upon ones emotions, and then mother k rebuked me for unknowingly choosing a garage sale that had opened the previous day.
obviously, she said, there won't be anything good left. she was right.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
cornfl*ke
recently scary gary had a fit of impetigo. and when he has impetigo he HAS impetigo. not little mouth sore. but BIG mouth sore. poor man. poor wife who has to kiss it.
so last week i ventured home to hang, and when i walked through the door i was greeted with scary gary, his impetigo, the scab over his impetigo and his lips rushing forward to kiss me "welcome home."
i was horrified. i stepped back and in my startled shock yelled out
get that cornflake away from me!
thus his new nickname: affectionately, cornflake.
a brief personality summary of scary gary: he is tremendously vain about his appearance. quite succinct but it does the job. he must have been born with more than a regular amount of feminine genes evidenced by the amount of time he spends inspecting himself in the mirror. i'm surprised he doesn't use hair gel.
so after using his new name quite frequently (ex. dip that cornflake in some milk man!, mommy wants some cereal!, well you've got breakfast to-go today!)frustration began to mount in his attitude. and one night it erupted.
hey cornflake! i shouted. as we were gathered around the television. he turned to me and shouted back
hey buttflake!
and when scary gary resorts to such crude terms, its business time.
mother k interjected with a
don't say that scary gary, that is rude and uncalled for.
i smirked. scary gary blew up in an explosion that rivaled mt vesuvius.
tell her to stop calling me cornflake! i'd rather be called buttflake or even scab face!
he pouted.
me and mother k giggled at his obvious and unwarranted offense to my creative and grainy term of endearment.
so now, i try to alleviate his offense with saying hey cornfl*ke instead. censoring out the important a. yet still getting my meaning across.
point one june jaynes. point oh scary gary.
so last week i ventured home to hang, and when i walked through the door i was greeted with scary gary, his impetigo, the scab over his impetigo and his lips rushing forward to kiss me "welcome home."
i was horrified. i stepped back and in my startled shock yelled out
get that cornflake away from me!
thus his new nickname: affectionately, cornflake.
a brief personality summary of scary gary: he is tremendously vain about his appearance. quite succinct but it does the job. he must have been born with more than a regular amount of feminine genes evidenced by the amount of time he spends inspecting himself in the mirror. i'm surprised he doesn't use hair gel.
so after using his new name quite frequently (ex. dip that cornflake in some milk man!, mommy wants some cereal!, well you've got breakfast to-go today!)frustration began to mount in his attitude. and one night it erupted.
hey cornflake! i shouted. as we were gathered around the television. he turned to me and shouted back
hey buttflake!
and when scary gary resorts to such crude terms, its business time.
mother k interjected with a
don't say that scary gary, that is rude and uncalled for.
i smirked. scary gary blew up in an explosion that rivaled mt vesuvius.
tell her to stop calling me cornflake! i'd rather be called buttflake or even scab face!
he pouted.
me and mother k giggled at his obvious and unwarranted offense to my creative and grainy term of endearment.
so now, i try to alleviate his offense with saying hey cornfl*ke instead. censoring out the important a. yet still getting my meaning across.
point one june jaynes. point oh scary gary.
oh. go talk to a tree. and pretend its me.
ever since sister c has acquired a boy toy, i never hear enough of her voice.
he looked into my eyes. he held my hand. he whispered i love you. he kissed my neck. he said i was his beautiful girl. he said i was sexy. ooooh! he kissed my...
let me tell you my opinion on this romantic diarrhea of the mouth that this girl insists on spilling to me.
all i want to hear about her date night, is the bare minimum. not the oohey gooey names he called her or the sugary looks he gave her, just if they kissed (tongue, lips ect...)and if she had a good time. not the frou frou or sprinkles on the cupcake. just the cupcake. no. just the crumb of the cupcake.
so now i don't ask how the date went. i pretend it didn't happen. and when we are both sitting in a library study room (she supposedly studying and me reading) my ignorance gets her goat. and all is spilled. and all is revealed. every minute of her mouth makes me cringe inside and outside, makes my hands fly up to cover my eyes, and makes my mouth open in a desperate and hysterical laugh.
my present tactic to stem her never ending flow, is this:
sister c. go talk to a tree. and pretend its me.
all she does is her outraged laugh. and continues to force her monologue upon me.
he looked into my eyes. he held my hand. he whispered i love you. he kissed my neck. he said i was his beautiful girl. he said i was sexy. ooooh! he kissed my...
let me tell you my opinion on this romantic diarrhea of the mouth that this girl insists on spilling to me.
all i want to hear about her date night, is the bare minimum. not the oohey gooey names he called her or the sugary looks he gave her, just if they kissed (tongue, lips ect...)and if she had a good time. not the frou frou or sprinkles on the cupcake. just the cupcake. no. just the crumb of the cupcake.
so now i don't ask how the date went. i pretend it didn't happen. and when we are both sitting in a library study room (she supposedly studying and me reading) my ignorance gets her goat. and all is spilled. and all is revealed. every minute of her mouth makes me cringe inside and outside, makes my hands fly up to cover my eyes, and makes my mouth open in a desperate and hysterical laugh.
my present tactic to stem her never ending flow, is this:
sister c. go talk to a tree. and pretend its me.
all she does is her outraged laugh. and continues to force her monologue upon me.
the guy i see everywhere
so there's this guy. he's tall, wears vagrant reminiscent clothing, has brown midlength dredlocks, smokes, and wanders. and i see him everywhere.
and not just while walking to class, where i may see the same people every other day, but also when i happen to be going somewhere at an odd hour of the day to an odd location.
perhaps to the library at six thirty, or to the science building early, or maybe just on my way back from being late at the photo lab. i always happen to run into him. and this has happened such an inordinate amount that i have been unable to write it off as being coincidental. now, i write it off as being preordained.
sometimes, when i come upon him, i want to walk up to his face and say: gosh! i see you everywhere! but since he smokes, i have no desire to be surrounded by the toxic haze, even if its coming from his lips (or through his nostrils).
instead, i neglect making straight eye contact and go on my way, pretending i did not just see
the guy i see
everywhere.
and not just while walking to class, where i may see the same people every other day, but also when i happen to be going somewhere at an odd hour of the day to an odd location.
perhaps to the library at six thirty, or to the science building early, or maybe just on my way back from being late at the photo lab. i always happen to run into him. and this has happened such an inordinate amount that i have been unable to write it off as being coincidental. now, i write it off as being preordained.
sometimes, when i come upon him, i want to walk up to his face and say: gosh! i see you everywhere! but since he smokes, i have no desire to be surrounded by the toxic haze, even if its coming from his lips (or through his nostrils).
instead, i neglect making straight eye contact and go on my way, pretending i did not just see
the guy i see
everywhere.
Friday, April 17, 2009
the independent film festival
the first weekend of april, was the independent film festival. excited that i would finally be able to attend some interesting films, i persuaded daylily to buy some tickets with me. we decided to see a documentary called "in a dream" and a feature film called "reversion." we anticipated the day with excitement, until the actual day arrived.
daylily ended up not feeling well at all and that translated into her in a bad mood making me in a bad mood. the day was not going well. rules about the film festival were that ticketholders needed to arrive fifteen minutes prior to the showing time in order to retain their seats.
daylily had booked a wedding cake testing forty minutes before the showing time of our first film. frantically tapping my feet and throwing nervous looks in her direction did nothing to speed up the process. finally thirty minutes later we ran out of the place, my stomach rolling over itself and daylily placidly pulling out and driving on our way.
parking came relatively quickly. she spotted a space, swerved into it (neglecting to see if she was cutting someone off) and we ran hell-bent to the theater. long lines greeted us, and a helper directed us to the alleyway to our specific theater. easily in, we ended up in a puny theater that was nearly full. luckily we found a pair of seats and staked our claim.
to my left was an elderly man who made mysterious noises during the entire time and to my right was daylily. the movie was not really worth it. many people got up and left mid-way through, and daylily used the time to make up for loss of sleep.
the movie ended at about noon, and we decided to eat some lunch. the next movie didn't start until three twenty. mid-way through our soup of the day, it occurred to us that we had parked in a two hour zone. and it was past two hours. cornered by the need to finish our lunch, we had to wait to move the car.
biting our nails as we finally left the restaurant and ran to the car, we frantically searched for some sort of ticket tucked anywhere. again, we were lucky. by this time, we were getting nervy with each other and decided to go to the park, lay down a blanket, and sleep. we did so for an hour. by then, we were at loss for how to spend the rest of the afternoon. we were slowly getting tired of each others company.
we then preceded to go to starbucks for an hour, where we witnessed a person getting pulled over and given a ticket, and then we moved the car again to a four hour space. where we sat for the rest of the time.
a good twenty minutes early, we decided to go to the theater and stand in line. it ended up that everyone else got there thirty minutes early. there were so few seats left, it was ridiculous (it was a big theater too). and again we lucked out in finding a pair of seats in a corner niche.
as the film began, i discovered the lady to my left had a breathing problem (loud popping noises as she breathed out). and fifteen minutes before it ended, the lady in front of us stood up and stayed that way (she had knee problems) hovering for what seemed like eternity.
i was relieved and happy to see this documentary because it turned out to be a very good watch. again daylily made up for lack of sleep. her loss, for she missed some good parts.
afterwards, we both decided that we weren't ever going to repeat this experience. and if it turned out we did want to see a film, we would only see one and we would make sure it was a good one.
daylily ended up not feeling well at all and that translated into her in a bad mood making me in a bad mood. the day was not going well. rules about the film festival were that ticketholders needed to arrive fifteen minutes prior to the showing time in order to retain their seats.
daylily had booked a wedding cake testing forty minutes before the showing time of our first film. frantically tapping my feet and throwing nervous looks in her direction did nothing to speed up the process. finally thirty minutes later we ran out of the place, my stomach rolling over itself and daylily placidly pulling out and driving on our way.
parking came relatively quickly. she spotted a space, swerved into it (neglecting to see if she was cutting someone off) and we ran hell-bent to the theater. long lines greeted us, and a helper directed us to the alleyway to our specific theater. easily in, we ended up in a puny theater that was nearly full. luckily we found a pair of seats and staked our claim.
to my left was an elderly man who made mysterious noises during the entire time and to my right was daylily. the movie was not really worth it. many people got up and left mid-way through, and daylily used the time to make up for loss of sleep.
the movie ended at about noon, and we decided to eat some lunch. the next movie didn't start until three twenty. mid-way through our soup of the day, it occurred to us that we had parked in a two hour zone. and it was past two hours. cornered by the need to finish our lunch, we had to wait to move the car.
biting our nails as we finally left the restaurant and ran to the car, we frantically searched for some sort of ticket tucked anywhere. again, we were lucky. by this time, we were getting nervy with each other and decided to go to the park, lay down a blanket, and sleep. we did so for an hour. by then, we were at loss for how to spend the rest of the afternoon. we were slowly getting tired of each others company.
we then preceded to go to starbucks for an hour, where we witnessed a person getting pulled over and given a ticket, and then we moved the car again to a four hour space. where we sat for the rest of the time.
a good twenty minutes early, we decided to go to the theater and stand in line. it ended up that everyone else got there thirty minutes early. there were so few seats left, it was ridiculous (it was a big theater too). and again we lucked out in finding a pair of seats in a corner niche.
as the film began, i discovered the lady to my left had a breathing problem (loud popping noises as she breathed out). and fifteen minutes before it ended, the lady in front of us stood up and stayed that way (she had knee problems) hovering for what seemed like eternity.
i was relieved and happy to see this documentary because it turned out to be a very good watch. again daylily made up for lack of sleep. her loss, for she missed some good parts.
afterwards, we both decided that we weren't ever going to repeat this experience. and if it turned out we did want to see a film, we would only see one and we would make sure it was a good one.
the laundry note
yesterday, i needed to do laundry. i walked into the laundry room and spotted an open washer but an occupied dryer. yet again a lazy, irresponsible, and forgetful person left their clothes deserted.
i have developed many pet peeves this year while living in the dorms. two of which have to do with the laundry room. people who neglect to scrape off their lint, and those who neglect to collect their cleaned clothes. it has become the "done" thing to just carefully move the offending clothes to a clean counter or to the top of the washer/dryer in order to continue with one's own clean clothing routine. so after an hour of my clothes washing, and someone else's clothes still languishing in the dryer, i moved their clothes on top of the dryer and moved mine in.
an hour later (i set a timer so i don't commit this irritating act), i came in to collect my clothes punctually. i was assaulted with a note written on a large piece of paper. the note stated:
DO NOT TOUCH MY THINGS! IT IS NOT POLITE TO MOVE OTHER PEOPLES CLOTHES! THANKS A LOT!
i was utterly dumbfounded. and i had to use much effort to quash the impulse to write upon a post it note (THEN BE RESPONSIBLE AND MOVE YOUR CRAP ON TIME) and stick it on the obnoxious note. i really, really, really wanted to though. the audacity of people! astonishing!
i have developed many pet peeves this year while living in the dorms. two of which have to do with the laundry room. people who neglect to scrape off their lint, and those who neglect to collect their cleaned clothes. it has become the "done" thing to just carefully move the offending clothes to a clean counter or to the top of the washer/dryer in order to continue with one's own clean clothing routine. so after an hour of my clothes washing, and someone else's clothes still languishing in the dryer, i moved their clothes on top of the dryer and moved mine in.
an hour later (i set a timer so i don't commit this irritating act), i came in to collect my clothes punctually. i was assaulted with a note written on a large piece of paper. the note stated:
DO NOT TOUCH MY THINGS! IT IS NOT POLITE TO MOVE OTHER PEOPLES CLOTHES! THANKS A LOT!
i was utterly dumbfounded. and i had to use much effort to quash the impulse to write upon a post it note (THEN BE RESPONSIBLE AND MOVE YOUR CRAP ON TIME) and stick it on the obnoxious note. i really, really, really wanted to though. the audacity of people! astonishing!
the shit spasm
he who will remain unnamed recently had, what i have coined, a shit spasm. he usually never utters such crude curse words, but upon this occasion, we heard the rare words spewing brokenly from his spitting mouth.
here was the scenario. me and sister c were fighting over who was to wash dishes and who was to rinse (again), when mother k demanded that he intervene and make a decision. instead of deciding who was to do what, he, frustrated at this inconvenience to his golf watching tv, burst out in shit song.
you know i'm so tired of all this sh-sh-shit! all the time you guys start this frickin sh-sh-shit.
i try to hide a smirk at his stuttering barrage of insult.
get that sh-sh-shit eating grin off your face!
the moment he left the room we all burst out in laughter.
here was the scenario. me and sister c were fighting over who was to wash dishes and who was to rinse (again), when mother k demanded that he intervene and make a decision. instead of deciding who was to do what, he, frustrated at this inconvenience to his golf watching tv, burst out in shit song.
you know i'm so tired of all this sh-sh-shit! all the time you guys start this frickin sh-sh-shit.
i try to hide a smirk at his stuttering barrage of insult.
get that sh-sh-shit eating grin off your face!
the moment he left the room we all burst out in laughter.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
frisky business
last night's dinner conversation went a little like this:
pops: saw some elk today.
me: oh? where?
pops: sunny valley. and they were a little frisky.
me: oh? frisky eh? (me snickering)
sister c: oh june jaynes you perv! don't assume that! they were probably just running around! dad?
(silence)
pops: saw some elk today.
me: oh? where?
pops: sunny valley. and they were a little frisky.
me: oh? frisky eh? (me snickering)
sister c: oh june jaynes you perv! don't assume that! they were probably just running around! dad?
(silence)
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