In Your Pants

My sister reading this after November will read the title of this and think i am talking of the game “In your pants” where you add that to the end of book titles. This game doesn’t always work, for those of you who want to try it, but for many books it works. I learned of this game from the vlogbrothers, specifically from John Green. One of my friends is reading a rather religious sounding book for one of her classes… “The Hand of God”(in your pants). Other examples that I can think of are “The story of E. E. Cummings” in your pants. “Storm Warning” in your pants. “Thief of Time” in your pants.

Just walk around your house and look at book titles with this thought in mind, you will find some funny ones.

But no, this post is about a different matter.

I’ve mentioned in other posts that I dislike people thinking that they’re fat (as in disliking the thought, not the people though they can get irritating), but I recently had an experience that made me think a bit hypocritically.

I was going through my clothes, mainly my skinny jeans because I wanted to wear a particular pair of boots, and was noticing that one or two didn’t fit. That was okay, as they were rather small on me anyway.

I went for my light blue skinny jeans, and it was alright, I shimmied into them and used the belt loops to tug them a bit higher–

ZTCCHHHHHT

That is the sound that DOOM makes. Coincidentally, that is also the sound jeans make when they rip.

The back of my pants, thankfully, didn’t rip, but I just about ripped the belt loops off.

Not just the belt loops though. The fabric that they were attached to. There’s a square little bit that looks like I was trying to cut around it and gave up halfway through.

You can’t rip a pair of pants while trying to wiggle into them without having some unsavory thoughts.

Aside from a mantra of swear words, I was also thinking… other things.

Oh my god I just ripped my pants… Seems like you did. Yes

I am so FAT! Yep. Fatso, fatty fatty fatso~! You aren’t fat.

Oh my god, I’m never going to be able to fit into any of my pants…. Nope! Never! And you’ll have to wear skirts all the time too! Shut up! You aren’t fat. Calm down. Think rationally.

I’m going to rip all of my pants when I try to get them on, I will never be able to wear my boots! NOOOOOO! No you won’t, but hey, a bright side is that a fatty like you will get big boobs! Quiet! You won’t, skinny jeans are the only things you have that are at that fits and is slightly too small stage.

I’m going to have to buy new pants… HAH! But you’re poor aren’t you? Buy more paint sets instead. We can paint on clothing instead. No one will notice! Just wear different pants. Calm down. 

I’m poor… I hate pants shopping… Don’t forget that you also have to buy really big bras too, since now that you’re turning into a fatty you’ll have bigger boobs! Go pants shopping now! You heard the other one, skinny jeans is all you have! I didn’t say that! You DO have other pairs of pants. Calm down already, you’re wasting time. You have to go meet friends.

Oh jeez, I DO have to meet them in–HOLY SH*T I’M LATE! Dooon’t wooorrry…. Your friends won’t care. Just bring out the paints and you’ll be ready to go I’m telling you, NO ONE will notice if you walk out with painted pants. Just do it.. Don’t paint yourself. It isn’t good for your body. Just put on that new pair you got last time we were at home. 

Oh right, I DO have those pants… Paint is cooler! Just get changed already…

That went on for a while, even as I was walking to the bus station. Insanity was certain that it would be fun to tell the friends that the pants were actually painted on, and Sanity was putting her foot down and it seemed as though she had pre-recorded a mantra of “Calm down, calm down already, calm down…” with random points of body self-esteem boosts throughout.

Occasionally I found myself wondering how cool it would be to paint one of my pants all whacked out colours, and Insanity suggested bleach as well, and I was well and truly distracted until I actually reached my friends and blurted out what Insanity suggested.

Hey guys, I just ripped my pants!

There was silence, and then they sort of leaned to one side and looked as if they were looking for me to have a huge split down my ass or something.

Sanity and I caught up on the conversation after our shock that I had actually started a conversation like that and hurried to assure than that no, I didn’t walk all the way here with ripped pants (Insanity giggled and told me that my friends thought I would do that. “They must have a GREAT impression of you!“), but had ripped the belt loops when I was getting changed.

Still, thoughts about fatness floated through my head even as I was thinking about how I know I’m not fat and am in fact very comfortable with my body in almost every situation… It was just this pants situation that threw me.

It was ridiculous in my pants.

A Joke to Sanity and Insanity. 2

I liked the other one, so here’s another.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Me: Okay then, let’s try this one more time…

Sanity: Whatever you say… you should be studying for your midterm though, rather than trying to tell bad jokes.

Me: How do you know it’s going to be a bad joke? That’s kind of rude…

Insanity: Ahahahahaha! I totally got that one, great joke!

Sanity: that wasn’t a joke.

Insanity: Hah! That’s what you think! You just don’t have the mind to understand such sophisticated jokes…

Me: Um…

Sanity: And I know it’s going to be a bad joke. I know all of your jokes. They;re all written down. A joke someone already knows is a bad joke. You likely won’t be able to even finish a short cliche joke without being interrupted by this one. *points to Insanity*

Insanity: Hey! I’m not a bad joke!

Me: Whatever…

Insanity: Tell another joke already! Amuse me, Minion! *points at me*

Sanity sighs.

Me:  Um. Okaaaaay there… how about….

Sanity: Not that one. That one’s particularly bad.

Me: What? What do you know?

Sanity: A lot. Not that one either.

Me: *frustrated* Fine! Knock Knock!

Silence.

Sanity: Seriously?

Me: Yes. Knock. Knock. *raises eyebrows*

Silence.

Me: well?

Sanity sighs.

Sanity: Who’s the–

Insanity clamps hands down on Sanity’s mouth.

Insanity: SHHHHHHHHHHHH! *whispers* They’ll hear you…!

Sanity raises an eyebrow at Insanity.

Insanity: *still whispering* They’re following me. Don’t let them know anyone is home!

Me: But–

Insanity jumps and slaps a hand over my mouth as well.

Insanity: Are you insane!!!! BE QUIET!!!!!!!!! oops. I mean, *Whispers* Be quiet…….!

Sanity: But it’s just a joke, one person says Knock Knock, the other says Who’s there, and–

Insanity: AAH! You let them know that we’re here!!! I’m DOOMED! Flee! FLEE FOR YOUR LIFE! *runs away*

Sanity and I watch as she runs away, and Sanity turns to Me and raises an eyebrow.

Sanity: I told you so.

Me: shut up.

Sanity: couldn’t even finish a simple knock knock joke…

Me: ‘Snot my fault.

Sanity: No, it’s your minds fault.

Me: you’re part of my mind, so that means you’re partly to blame.

Sanity: Hah! Now that is a joke.

Me: …

-`-`-`-`-`-`

Well then, isn’t that refreshing? Anyone have any other jokes to try telling Sanity and Insanity?

A Joke to Sanity and Insanity.

Me: Okay, you’re a bus driver.

Sanity: I don’t have the required license, and I wouldn’t trust her behind the wheel.*looks skeptical*

Insanity: *grins* Ahahaha! Carry on. *Serious look*

Me: whatever. You’re the driver of a bus, and 10 people come on.

Sanity: okaaay…

Insanity: WAIT!

Me: What?

Insanity: *serious* Does the bus have four wheels…?

Me: Um, yes…?

Insanity: …Of cheese?

Sanity writes that down. I think for a moment.

Me: Yes, someone brought on 4 wheels of cheese onto the bus. CONTINUING! At the next stop, 3 people get off, and 7 people get onto the bus.

Sanity: Were there any people on the bus initially? Before the first 10 people came on?

Insanity: Did the person with the cheese get off?

Me: No, no one was on the bus in the beginning, and yes, the person with the cheese left.

Sanity nods.

Insanity: Ah. Continue.

Me: At the next stop, another 3 people get off, and… 13 people get on. At the next stop, 1 person gets off, and 7 people get on, at the next stop, another 2 people get off and 11 people get on, and at the next stop 3 people get off and a crowd of 16 gets on.

Insanity: Wow, popular bus isn’t it? and that’s AFTER the cheese lady gets off… how strange… *Shakes head* What’s the world coming to?

Me: um, okay… I’m going to finish this joke soon… um–

Sanity: Before you continue, please realize that most busses can hold 52 to 56 people at once. The current passenger count is– *checks notebook*–52.

Me: Um, okay?

Sanity: I’m simply making sure you’re keeping count. It’s important you know.

Me: Um… Okay there. It’s just a joke, calm down…  then three people get off, and another two people get on. Now I have one question for you.

Sanity waits patiently, while Insanity tries to peek at Sanity’s notebook for the answer.

Me: What colour is the Bus Drivers eyes?

Sanity blinks. Insanity is still trying to look at her notebook. Sanity thinks for a while. Finally:

Sanity: …Blue.

Insanity: What??? How could you know that???!?! *outraged* EEEEHNN! Wrong! *Insanity starts to count her fingers silently, lips moving*

Me: um, actually Sanity got the joke, you see I said–

Insanity: HAH! No, it’s a trick question! Trying to fool me like that, what do you take me for? Do you think I’m crazy or something?

Sanity: Yes.

Me: How do you figure that?

Sanity turns to a new page in her notebook and raises a pen, ready for the answer.

Insanity: Well how are we supposed to know what kind of pen the bus driver writes with? Hmm?

Me: what?

Sanity: What do writing utensils have to do with the question?

Insanity shoves a hand down the front of her shirt, rummages for a moment, and pulls out a handful of pens held together by an elastic band.

Insanity: Look, I use red pens for my ‘a’s and a green pen for my ‘u’s and this pretty orange one for my ‘x’s, but how am I supposed to know what colour to use for the ‘i’s? Hmm? That changes CONSTANTLY!

Me: what?

Sanity takes a deep breath after she finishes writing.

Sanity: When she said eyes, she meant eyes like what you use to look at things, mot ‘I’s like written letters. The joke is to make you forget that she said that YOU were the bus driver, and that you know your own eye colour.

Me: What?

Insanity blinks at Sanity before giving Me a strange look.

Insanity: Well how the hell would you expect anyone to figure THAT out?

Me: O_O…

-~-~-~-~

As you can see, sometimes I can’t keep up with either my Sane or Insane sides…

I haven’t written about these two for a while, thought I’d remind you all of them.

Also, I’ve figured out that there aren’t only two rooms in my head, there are three. One side for Sanity, the other for Insanity, and one in the middle as neutral (Me) territory. That way Insanity and Sanity don’t have to invade each others turfs, and therefore affect each other… No, they leave all that to me.

*sigh*

Good luck to all Nano-ers, and as an experienced Nano-er, listen to your Insane sides and let them loose on the page, but let your Sane sides help keep you from putting off working on it or from making a detour from your plan of having this character or that character introduced or killed off. (Insanity likes killing off characters, especially the ones you have due to necessity rather than like)

Also let Sanity into your life to tell you what time you should go to bed. Sanity is regularly poking me and telling me that if I want to get at least 7 hours of sleep, I should go to bed NOW. You won’t always listen (especially in November), but sleep is good and a great way to let your mind wander around Sanity and Insanity’s rooms without getting scared back to your own room. I’m not participating this year as I’m being… *sigh* RESPONSIBLE and dealing with school work over writing. Fanfiction.net followers know of what I am doing to replace that. Check out It’s Green on my profile, same username on ffn.net to see my replacement.

Everyone Wish a GOOD LUCK to Lexy0387 this year in her quest for NaNoWriMo dominance, and suggest things to buy Gwynn to distract him that WON’T be bitten in half and swallowed within the first 5 minutes 😀

Ciao

Family and ‘Family’

Time with the family is always fun, and as I’ve said before, I’m really glad for the new 2 reading weeks.

Currently, I am again writing on the go, this time in the car.

The family and I are heading out yonder to visit with other family and ‘family’ who all happen to live about 3 hours away.

‘Family’, if you don’t know the term (commonly said with ‘air quotes’) are family friends who you have known since you were little, or have become the ‘chosen’ family of the family.

The ‘family’ that we visit are people who when I was younger I thought that they were aunt/uncle and cousins.

They are still sort-of relatives, but in a secret way.

A ‘secret’ way.

(When I start to mention them, I still refer to them as family though I don’t call them my aunt __ or uncle__ or cousins __, __, and __, but instead call them family while a sort-of twitch/grimace overcomes my face, and then I repeat family with air quotes and then try to explain. It adds about a minute and a half to my explanations, though I’m getting better at shortening it to “They’re family friends”. ‘Secret’ family.)

This ‘Secret’ family has two cats now, the two most adorable tuxedo-ed balls of fluff I’ve see in a while, and Gwynn has very little cat-conversation skills.

This means that he goes ape-shit crazy over felines in general.

We are trying to civilize him to the manner of don’t-try-to-lick-or-drool-on-the-cat Cat manners.

It’s taking some work.

But some family of ours has farm country (I believe that Lexy has mentioned it in her blog at least once) and two dogs, so now that we have Gwynn we have to trust Sammy and Odie to teach our city slicker puppy to NOT go to the other farm turf, and to tire him out suitably. Farm dogs can do that.

In the cartoon world Insanity has made in my mind, cartoon country dogs always have a stalk of grass poking out the corner of their mouths. They’re relaxed, and tired, but turn into army commanders when the dog from the next property over tries to invade their Territory, and savage gang fighters when they meet raccoons.

Army commanders have shades suddenly.

Savage gang fighters style their now-raised hackles into punky spikes.

Insanity giggles.

Eventually I will figure out my scanner and will be able to post my own pictures…

We are also visiting Grandma. She has Alzheimer’s.

Sometimes it’s funny, but generally it’s sad.

One other thing about the relatives with the farm, they have a 4 year old.

We take turns amusing her. I’m posting this (we’re out of the car now :D) and she’s asking me if my laptop is magic.

I didn’t want to lie like I did when she was two, so I pointed to the lights and said that it was as magic as the lights. Of course, lat time I lied to her about electricity being magic, it was asking why a lightbulb works, sooo…

Young kids are adorable, but when you want to do something else, you don’t really want to hook monkeys in a barrel together. What a surprise.

Gabbie says ‘Hi’

ffffffffff FFFFFF fffff  (this is me showing Gabbie how the keyboard works)

Here is Gabbie typing her name:

gabbi sullivan

Isn’t it amazing? mom (also her spelling mom)

Oh, you should know, I Got an Abortion 2 Weeks Ago.

I have had a total of 2 roommates before coming to university and gaining 3, and it was a mix.

Signs of crazyness are fairly obvious... My last roommate was obviously crazy.

I don’t know much about my 3 roommates right now, other than the excessive shedding-and-not-caring-ness of one, and knowing what their majors are (business, law, and science, and me, in fine arts :|), so this post will be about my first roommate, who wasn’t crazy, and my second roommate, who was.

It would be fair to say that actually, my first roommate was Emma, but she’s my sister. And it happened when I was younger, so…

Yeah.

N was my first roommate, in Rangers. The rooms were small, didn’t have a door because it would be a fire hazard, and was set up with a bed, shelf, and hanging closet bit on either side of the room. N was great, though in the way that everyone seemed to get roomed, she and I weren’t very similar, were in fact very different, and the only real complaint I ever really had about her was that she would come into the room and immediately take off her shirt and strut around in her sports bra. Lexy once told me of her friend no-pants Alex, who was called that because as soon as he got home he would take off his pants, regardless of who was over, and strut similarly around in his boxers. N was like that too, but I feel that there is a difference. N had gigantic boobs, and complained about them often.

Hm.

But I mainly want to talk about my roommate from this summer, the one who shared a room with me for the two months I worked at Grundy Lake.

She was insane.

Insane in a fairly quiet way, but made her insaneness known within the first ten minutes of knowing her, before I had even finished unpacking. She’s insane in a way that makes you go “Whyyyy?!?”

Ten minutes in to unpacking, while my parents have gone to grab another box from the van, and she looks up from her own organizing, and mentions, in a casual voice “Oh, you should know, I got an abortion about 2 weeks ago.”

Me and sanity: What?

"Me NOT Want to Know!" "I'se just telling you--" "NOT WANT" "Youse should KNOW--" "NOT WANT!"

Insanity: *laughing* I don’t have anything to add.

On the outside though, I look at her and say “Um, okay? Good for you…?” What else am I going to say? WHAT would you say to someone who tells you this? I’ve known her name for less than an hour! Then, she ups the crazy.

“Oh, I didn’t want to have the abortion, but the babies were already dead inside of me.”

Excuse me?

“Um…”

Insanity, by this point, is on the floor laughing, and can’t get the breath to say anything, and me and Sanity are looking at each other and at this girl and thinking about how this girl will be sleeping in the same room as me for the next 60-odd days… oh boy…

But then my parents come in, and so the crazy is hidden away again, or at least she doesn’t really speak after that.

When walking down to the main gate to fill out some paperwork with a couple of my co-workers, one asks who has gotten the abortion story so far.

At least she isn’t restricting all of her crazy to me then…

She also, by tat point, had been talking about how her phone could go up to 50 feet under water, and how it could also then be shot ot of a cannon and still be usable. The girl at the store showed it to her, by putting it in a bucket of water and by throwing it on the ground. Bull.

I now have the same phone as she has, an Android Smartphone, and no, it will still be unhappy and broken under water, and I have a case around it because I’m not going to throw it on the ground. My phone will take enough abuse from me with out me testing for its aquatic abilities and shooting it from a cannon.

So I have a crazy, story-telling roomie… huh…

Later on in the summer, she tells me more about the abortion (I did not bring it up, and was in fact in the middle of reading). She admits that she was more than a couple of months along, and that she would have had twins, if she hadn’t had the procedure.

No really.

“By the way the doctor said that if I have a nosebleed, call the ambulance because I could die.” More crazyness O_O

She then goes on to talk about how it was her fault for getting the abortion, and her boyfriend has just texted her saying he wished she hadn’t. This boyfriend, by the way, is not the guy who knocked her up. She is now feeling guilty, but the babies were dead already with holes in their lungs. She says she thinks it’s because she was smoking.

Smoking while pregnant.

Holy Jeeze, she thinks that it’s because she was smoking while drinking.

Really.

It’s been a couple of weeks since I last saw her, and thinking back, I still have No Idea how I could have responded any better than the “Really”, “Uh huh”, and “Hmm” responses that I ended up giving when she decided to share.

I sometimes think that perhaps if I had stayed silent, MAYBE she would have dropped the idea of telling me of her crazyness. Maybe.

Occasionally we would have normal conversations, talking about what kind of work we did (Thank God we had different jobs– me in Maintenance and her as a Naturalist), and she took a lot of trips, either to her house which was like 20-30 minutes away, or she would go with her boyfriend, or she would go on an out trip with the other Naturalists… Entire nights without the worry that I will hear aout boyfriend troubles, about her worries about her post-abortion figure, about how she didn’t fucking swear….

Yeah… Normal roommate, and then the crazy roommate, and now I have three…. one of which is hairy and shedding.

But at least they all seem normal. And I haven’t heard any I-Don’t-Need-To-Know stories.

Yet.

Anyone else have crazy roommate stories?

Insanity and Sanity; The Two faces of the Same Turtle.

Oops, of course I mean the two erasers for the same coin.

But every Interesting Conversation Happens from Bad Listening

Loin?

What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying affection.

You have butt affliction? And Paid force it?

Neverwind.

Right.

I mishear many things when having conversations, and more often than not it isn’t because I’m getting old and losing my hearing, even though I’m not even 20 yet.

Wind, Hats with flaps over the ears, cars, traffic, trees, distracting things, music, people, and mumbling are all old frenemies of mine. Friendly enemies.

Because of that group I have had many conversations that has lead to much laughter, and a bit of going off topic, but it has also made me seem insane on more than one occasion.

“Hey, did you want to go to the park later?”     A friendly question.

“What?”     Startlement. Shock. Experience that says that they should be repeating what they said before I call the cops.

“Um, Did You Want To Go To The Park Later?”   Unsure, and curious.

“Oh, sure! I thought you said something totally different! I thought you’d said ‘did you want to bury the body later?’ hah!”    Relief. Confusion that my friend is backing away slowly.

I eventually developed a way to distinguish what people are actually saying from the insanity that my mind replaces their words with, but I feel it also caused me to develop something often seen in cartoons.

You know, the little cartoon Angle and Demon that poofs onto the characters shoulders? One suggesting you do the Right Thing, and the other saying To Hell With It! HAVE FUN! BWAHAHAHA!

But I don’t get the hallucinations, don’t worry.

Instead I have a small division in my mind with my Insane Side and my Sane Side.

Insanity translates what she hears to something she finds more interesting, shouting out to my consciousness what is being said.

Sanity Listens, writes down what is said, and then says what was actually said.

My Insane side is hunched over and grinning madly, giggling occasionally as the rest of the world goes by and fiddling with its thumbs. Occasionally Thumb Fights break out. Insanity only occasionally pays attention to the world outside of my head since it finds it so boring, but makes an effort to make it a little less boring by giving translations to what other people are saying to me. Of course she does it out of the goodness of her heart. After all, her heart was drawn onto her shirt really well, and even Sanity mentioned that it was pretty good.

My Sane side sits off to the side reading a book and listening to the outside world, a notebook off to the side. She occasionally looks up at Insanity to check what she’s up to, and often times writes down what she’s muttering to herself and her thumbs, and sometimes what she’s doing. Sanity makes sure that when Insanity pays attention to the outside world, she doesn’t try to affect it. When she does, Sanity writes it down and tries to fix whatever she’s done.

Sanity likes Insanity because Insanity is interesting, and writes down what Insanity does to laugh over later, and oftentimes what is in that notebook ends up in dreams and in my imagination. Sanity, as funny as it sounds, is my inner-novel-writer, even if she is a bit obsessive compulsive.

Insanity only likes Sanity when Sanity is being interesting, or when she’s managed to yell out translations loud enough to confuse Sanity and make her say “Yep, that’s what I heard as well… CONFIRM BEFORE CALLING COPS!” Insanity guides my hand when I’m drawing, and gets distracted easily, so my picture of a cow quickly turns into something abstract and awesome in a way that a normal bovine creature cannot be unless it is a CREATURE. Because of this distraction though, she also regularly finds new and more interesting things to think about, and is the voice in my mind saying “Lets do something else now… We can finish this later, kay? Bwahahaha…”

I will likely draw these figures before long, and will post them here once I figure out how to use the scanner on my printer…

Until then, I kind of picture them like Waldo and Odlaw (Odlaw, for those of you who don’t know, is Waldo’s brother.)

See? Two sides of the same Turtle.

See?

Oftentimes, even after I’ve finished getting over the fact that the person I’m talking to has not, in fact, invited me over for a Nazi party (:O), or jokingly called my a nipple (:S), or even asked me if I wanted to bury the body later, my insane side will still be muttering about how I should be worried, because They only corrected themselves because my reaction said that I don’t like Nazis and I would be a joykill rather than a jewkill at the party, and they called me a nipple because they have a malformed nipple that looks like a person–perhaps even like me personally–and They figure they can tell me about the body later, after they’ve buried it in my back yard.

This sometimes leads to more miscommunication, as my actual consciousness is busy laughing over the ridiculousness of what Insanity is muttering, and Sanity is too busy writing down what is being said to pay attention. Sanity likes to analyze these things later.

All in all, it leads to some interesting conversations, and an interesting mental picture of what Sanity and CRAZY would look like, as well as a kind of inside joke with my sister and a few friends who I’ve mentioned my sane and insane sides to.

Gone, Gone, Going…? Now? No. … Now?

I am currently waiting for laundry to be done, and feeling alternating feelings (no duh) of chest constricting stress and  fluttery anxiety, and chest constricting anticipation and fluttery excitement.

I leave for Grundy Park tomorrow, probably at the crack of dawn should I ask Dad now, and I am starting and finishing my packing today.

Yes I’m late, but I’m a procrastinator almost by nature. I’m procrastinating waiting for laundry to be done, because a while ago, I had my laundry waiting for me to bring it upstairs, and it was sitting in front of our freezer, which was left open, and it leaked.

I moved my stuff after it got wet, and left it down there to be done again when the washer was next free.

Mold grew.

I washed it twice.

I am washing it again, to get the sour-ish smell from it before I go.

I am not packing my stuff into a suitcase, because my Mom says that it’d be easier to pack in the car if it were in these huge, 3fx1fx2f ish plastic bins, so I have a plastic bin in my room, in the hall outside of my room, one downstairs by my nearly-done laundry, and one in the front room of my house.

Scratch that, I have TWO (Three) in the front room, because I need one separate for sleeping things such as sheets and pj’s.

It feels very much so as if I should be going right now, but then the chest crushing gets tighter with the feeling of Holy-I’m-Not-DONE-PACKING! untill I reassure myself and my insane part that no, we aren’t leaving right yet.

And then the sane part of me thinks of something.

What if I forget something!!!

Insane hears this as well, and slaps Sane on the head.

It’s because we’re not done PACKING! Get to work we’ve got like an hour to get everything together and in the car!

 Sane runs into a wall.

DOOM!

No, we aren’t leaving untill tomorrow, I reassure myself. And Laundry cannot be rushed.

And so I stand in front of the Door of Panic with my trusty Gandalf Wizard Staff solidly blocking the way.

From myself.

*sigh* Am I sure that there is actually an insane side, and it’s not just me?

Yes. I just happen to be strongly influenced by myInsane side when writing. Every writer has this part of them, it just so happens that mine feels the need to talk to me occassionally.

Insane people are in Sane people, and neither part are going past me to the Panic Room, because a)nothing gets done there, and b) NONE SHALL PASS!

All LOTR Gandalf the Grey jokes and references aside, I shall finish the Laundry of Impending Doom, cut it down to be hidden away in the Boxes of Plastic Containment, sealed away untill they are needed to fight the foe called Nakedness.

Shoot I gotta find myself some nail clippers, and perhaps a few more pairs of wool work socks.

Did you know that Costco has awesome underwear on sale? You wouldn’t think so, but they are comfortable.

A while ago, how many days ago matters not, Mum brought me to Costco to stock up on food items that will help in my quest of survival for the coming 2 months.

Working at a park is different from working as a Ranger in many ways, and one of which is that we don’t have chefs to cook and buy our food.

 For the last couple of weeks Dad has been storing away chili and stew and hamburger patties in the freezer, either in sealed plastic bags or in Tupperware , so that for at least the first two weeks of no-trips-into-town-to-buy-food I might be able to survive. I am extremely thankful that we get a lot of freezer space at Grundy (everyone, not just me, though I’d like to believe I AM that special).

I will also be leaving with print out and digital recipes of such things as stew, easy stroganoff (which is not a loose, sexually active Swedish general), salsa-couscous chicken, and many-layered salads.

We bought juice, meat, some veggies, cookies (the important things), underwear (they’re nice 😀 Sane: Don’t SAY that! Insane: BWAHAHA!) , and a whole slew of bread for me to make my main source of sustenance for during the day: Sandwiches.

To the sound of Pocahontas’ “Savages”:

Sandwiches! Sandwiches! Hardly ever Eaten! Sandwiches! Sandwiches! Where is my Mayonnaise?!

Credited to my friends (from rangers) sister. Google Map Delta. It’s a place. They live there.      😀

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!

No.

Food is packed away, and I think that I’ll go through the plastic bins tha I have already and sort out the mixes of shirts, sweaters, pants, and shorts from in them.

I will probably have way more than I need, but…

Rather have more than I need than not enough.

Right.

 BUT WHAT IF SOMETHING IS FORGOTTEN???!!!

No. Grundy is 4 hours or so away, and the Parents will be visiting fairly regularly! Back!!! Back from the gates of Panic!

YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

 So tomorrow I’m gone, or going, or whatever, and I’ll probably be freaking out.

By the end of the first week I’ll likely be fine, but then I’ll start being paranoid about what, exactly I’ll have forgotten.

Because I will have forgotten SOMETHING.

But that is edging around my Gandalf staff, (BWAHA!), so we shall move on.

I was procrastinating a bit earlier, reading one of the books I liberated from my Mom’s school (they have a better library, and because she’s a teacher there, she can take them out over the summer), called “The Book of Lost Things” by John Connolly. The link will bring you to his site on it.

It’s good.

Like, Really good.

Most times I can predict what will happen at the end of the book by the time I get through the first 3-5 chapters, and I had a bit of a feeling about what would happen, but so many things happened that promised a slightly different outcome, I couldn’t put it down.

Of course, since Lexy probably won’t be reading this untill I’m long gone, I can freely admit that instead of folding laundry a bit earlier, i was reading this. I put it away any time someone came down to the basement, and started fiddling with laundry.

I still got a lot done, even while reading it.

…Weird.

The dryer just made it’s “I’m-done” jingle noise (sounds a bit like a small part of an ice-cream truck’s jingle), and this is getting kind of long, so I’ll bid you all goodbye for now. Whether I post small segments about my work for the next 2 months depends on if the claim to internet access is true or not.

Ciao!

~Doodled93~

Insane: THERE’S NO MORE TIME!

P.S. Afterthought: It is now about 10:28 pm, and I pretty much have everything packed, but I look at my 2 bins of clothing, my 1/4 bin of work clothes, and my slightly bursting bin of sleeping stuff (it has a sleeping bag and pillow in it), and I feel I am missing a lot. Clothing-wise. I know I am not anywhere done my toiletries packing, as i currently have only JUST put the all-important nail clippers in my tinier toiletries bin, and I have no swim towel, no shower towel, and all of my electronics (including an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT digital alarm clock) are scattered around my house. Mostly uncharged too. Anyone else finish packing and look at your stuff and thing “nope. Not done.”? Also, pj’s is underlined in red, as well as bin. That is rediculous!