ammogirl

So.  Today I am 3-holy crap I’m getting old-7 years old.

How did I celebrate it, you ask?  Well.  As a matter of fact, that Rockbandapalooza/80’s party on Saturday night happened to be a surprise party for me, and it was awesome.  Nearly all of my favorite friends were there, and totally ignoring the fact that I had built up in my head this huge conspiracy that resulted in my sister secretly showing up here and surprising me, which she did not, I had an awesome time.  I even had an awesome time the next day, because I wasn’t hungover, despite the possibly multiple drinks I had, with many different types of alcohol, and which included jello shots, because we are all 21 and in college.  And totally mature.

Also, I had finished all my papers, all of them, AND done all the laundry, so yesterday we spent hanging out not doing much.  Oh, and that was because while I wasn’t hungover, my much younger husband was, no matter what he says.  Anyway.

The 80’s night theme rocked, of course.  I even used half a can of hairspray teasing my hair, but I will admit it wasn’t like riding a bike, the 80’s hairstyling.  I had forgotton how to do it, and as a result, I think I looked a little messier than I ever did back then.  But my outfit was totally radical and jammin’.  The funny thing about that, though, was that I got all my accessories:  big chunky earrings, bright chunky necklaces, bangles, low-slung hip belt, and legwarmers, from Lindsey’s room.  Lindsey, if you don’t remember, is 14.  What comes around, goes around in the ol’ fashion world.  Oh, wait–the pink fingerless lace gloves?  Those were all mine, fortuitiously sent by my mother many months ago with a note that read, “I thought you might want these”.  Those are the real thing, right there.

I am trying to upload some pictures to my flickr, but it’s not working, and that is irritating, but I do want to just show you my totally awesome cake, made completely by hand by my friend Saori:

(this is supposed to be a picture of a cake, right here.  but it is not.)

Ughhh!  Stupid stupid stupid.  Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out at some point.  It’s worth the wait, believe me.

Oh.  Mother.  You can call me now!

Tschuss!!

You know why today was awesome?  Because even though I had to wake up early and write four papers for school, I got an early birthday present from Greg.  What did this birthday present consist of, you ask?  1600 Xbox live points (to download more ROCKBAND!!! songs) and a set of rubber drum tips (to better dominate at ROCKBAND!!!).  Clearly, Greg is awesome. Even better, this present wascompletely timely, as tonight Matt and Leila are hosting Rockbandapalooza, and as always, I plan on winning everything.  Especially with my newly customized drum sticks. Thanks, Greg.

I’m four weeks in to my classes right now, and you would think that it would have only taken one frantically spent Sunday trying to get my papers done to learn my lesson.  Well.  That is not the case.  I’m such a procrastinator!  I’ve always been bad on that count, but it was cancelled out by my severe worrying and anxiety about not getting things done.  Since Zoloft (which I will now refer to as ‘S.Z.’), I leave EVERYTHING until the last minute.  Work, school, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, sleeping…EVERYTHING!  I can’t say I’m unhappy about it, but it does cause for some self-hate (in the nicest way, of course) when I realize that instead of completing things in a timely manner, I have to churn things out as quickly as possible.  I could argue that this increased pressure forces me to actually concentrate on the task at hand but, hm.  I would say that just results in six of one, half-dozen of the other, as if I did things early, I perhaps wouldn’t have to concentrate as much.  Oh well.

I had a dream last night that I was walking through a high school courtyard with Bobby, my coworker/friend.  I was wearing my letterman’s jacket, with my cheerleading letter displayed prominantly along with my graduation year: 1989.  Bobby was wearing…well, I don’t actually remember, and really, our clothes totally aren’t important.  Anyway, this highschool boy was walking parallel to us, and at one point spoke to Bobby, yelling out some random question.  After Bobby answered him, and they had a laugh, the boy then said, “What grade are you in, anyway?  Why is your MOM walking you to school?”

I was instant sadface, all ‘aw.’ but we did get a laugh out of it after Bobby corrected him, because it was funny, after all.  But it’s coincidental, having a dream about being considered old three days before my birthday.  I always say turning 27 was much, much harder for me than turning 30, and I’m hoping 37 is not the same.  Still, regardless of how I feel, 37 is almost 40, no matter what.  Sigh.  I think I will have a mid-life crisis now.

Tschuss!

It’s hot here right now.  Like, HOT.  Maybe not as hot as it is in Arizona, or California, or Nevada, but it was 92 degrees here today, and humid, and it’s ridiculous for it to be like that, because there is no A/C in these houses.

Our bedroom is on the second floor, and while we leave all the blinds down during the day, the heat is still rising up and collecting in this big pocket of hell’s flames around our bed.  Since I’m a hot sleeper anyway, and spend any number of nights waking up in a puddle with sweat dripping between my boobs, this extra heat just adds to the misery.  I’ve kept John awake many, many nights with my tossing and turning, and while he is the nicest man in the world, I can tell it’s sort of irritating.

The other night, long after John had fallen asleep, I realized it was going to be particularly bad, with the tossing and turning and adjusting and dripping and sighing, so I had this conversation with my husband:

me: “John.  John.  John!”

John: “…”

me:  “Hey, so, it’s pretty hot tonight, so I might go sleep downstairs on the couch.  If I wake you up with my tossing and turning, let me know and I’ll head down, okay?”

John: “…”

me: “Okay?”

John: “…”

me: “…okay?”

John: “You WOKE. ME. UP.”

I quickly got the hint.  I didn’t sleep any better on the couch.

~~~

The next morning, I woke up and started my morning routine–John gets the coffee pot filled with water and puts a filter in before we go to bed, I grind the coffee beans and start the pot when I wake up.  Usually when I do this, both the cats are following me around, rubbing on my legs, eager for their morning scratch.  However, that particular morning, I just had one friend.  I was instantly worried, because the girl cat discovered she could get outside through the laundry room last week and since then has been Harry Houdini.  I was convinced she had gotten outside, and after a quick search headed to the side door.  The minute I opened it, however, two things happened:  one, my missing cat came all feliney down the stairs, and my not missing cat bolted out the open door.  Immediately after that, a bird flew down and swooped him, and he jumped into the empty lot next to our house.

I panicked because while I like both of our cats, it’s not an even amount, and this one is my favorite.  I ADORE my cat.  I didn’t want him lost.  So I ran upstairs, threw open the bedroom door, and said this to my peacefully sleeping husband:

me:  “John.  John.  JOHN!”

John: “…”

me:  “Hey.  Sorry, but Peanut got outside! He is in the field!”

John: “…”

me:  “…I can get him.”

I don’t know why my husband loves me so much.

Tschuss!!