sleepless and stoned-looking in seattle

It's a clear night and I sadly just got back from a quick smoke. Sad because I like the view from my balcony: city lights blanketed across Queen Anne Hill and even a glowing Space Needle in the distance. Quick because motherfuck it's cold out there. It's 39° and for wimpy Californian me, that's just too fucking cold.

On a random note, it's exciting to see how many colorful words are making it into my spellcheck (motherfucker, Motherfuck, motherfucking, etc). I'm surprised anything still gets caught.

Let me again point out that I'm still bitter that my complaints about the cold largely fall on deaf and frozen ears since so many of my good friends are struggling to breathe under 8 feet of snow. As Sarah pointed out earlier, "It's more than 46° colder here!" I need to make more friends in New Mexico. Yes, so please, no more midwest/east coast people need apply, K? Thanks.

At first I was concerned about my Therapy via Victor Hugo because that shit also depresses the fuck out of me. But happily, I'm perky now. This is the positive half of being so damn bipolar.

I finished watching the rest of the Fawlty Towers discs earlier this week. Parts of it were damn funny, other parts were just too over the top. And it really bothers me how badly abused poor Manuel is! I think the abuse of Baldrick bothered me less in Blackadder. The episode with the Siberian-hamster-rat and cat completely freaked me out at first, because I absolutely flip out if animals are hurt in movies. Yes, I know it's not real, but I'm a sap and it unhinges me. Happily, nothing happened.

In other exciting news: I burned my finger. There isn't even an exciting story with it. It's just a steam burn, but I found that my cousin Mo was absolutely right: toothpaste quells the pain instantly.

baby you're much too fast

There's something hilarious about Prince crooning Little Red Corvette as you frantically careen about the streets. Of course I was running late this morning. When the alarm went off, I smiled indulgently at it. Chuckled to myself, "Eight o'clock. Isn't that sweet." And closed my eyes again happily.

However, somewhere in the back of my mind another alarm was sounding: this isn't right, something is wrong, we're supposed to do something. It finally connected and I bolted upright. It was only five after, but I'd only given myself 7 minutes to get dressed to begin with.

Raced around the house tossing on clothes while brushing teeth. Hustled downstairs and prayed for green lights. I made it to the parking garage by 8:57am and ran, ran, ran to class.

Today was our final exam/final project. We had to design a help system using all the various bells/whistles we'd learned thus far. That section of the class went by fast. Didn't we just start? Wasn't this class 3? Or was it 4? I can't remember. Anyhow: it wasn't hard, we had plenty of time, and I finished early and was able to come home.

Am in that weird place where you're exhausted and will more than likely collapse, but are unwilling to sleep because you have other plans you need to be awake for. Also, I don't really take naps and they usually just make me more groggy. Tonight is a late night with much driving so I'm apprehensive about my ability to not die.

Should go to Sitch n Bitch. Must shower. Need to make dessert for tonight.

Mmm maybe I'll lie down for just a few.

@#$%^&*!

.... 3 hours later.

Lie down for a few. Hrm. Right. Threw self down on top of bedcovers completely clothed and was out cold. Woke up burrowed completely under covers, startled to find had groggily flung off all clothing, including watch, and launched it to all corners of room. No shower. Stitch n Bitch had ended early so couldn't have made it anyway. Fuck cooking dessert.

( Melodramatic Pissiness )