doin me a solid. that just sounds dirty.

so i know i shouldnt talk preemptive shit on the upcoming snowstorm (which the radio is calling Son of Snowmageddon) but uh, it's not happening. And we even got sent home early so that we wouldn't die out there on the roads. I shouldn't complain bc that means I got to sit here in my coveted gray sweatpants, but, there is only so much -sitting here- i can handle. as you well know.

a ginormous thanks goes out to Piz today, who out of the goodness of my heart, i mean his heart, came over and shoveled me out for real and then salted everything down like... well... something that you put a lot of salt on. mashed potatoes? McDonalds french fries? I'm glad he and I are still generally good terms after all this time. And that he knows how incompetent i am when it comes to weathering the weather. So in theory, if the storm does come, I should be ok this time and wont have to drop an f-bomb or 30 in my driveway.

also, did you know it was a holiday on monday? where have i been. this could be good if the weather lets up and bert gets to come to town as planned, or if the project i'm working decides to give me the middle finger, it could possibly just be another work day. i'm trying to get as much done now as i can, and if nothing else, i'll use monday to go practice pottery, which was canceled tonight because of the impending doom. DOOOOOOOOOOM.

i know a guy who's last name is doom. he's pretty alright. i know a girl who's last name WILL BE doom sooner or later, and she's even more alright than the fellow. i may hold some bias on statement.

so my evil smart dog, in all her evil smartness decided to get back at me for throwing her in the snow bank by chewing apart her leash. in 3 places. now she has had this leash since i got her, and she knows what said leash stands for. so i fully beleive she did it on purpose so that she doesnt have to go back out in the snow. evil genius.

i'm trying to think of a fun andrea pre-1995 story for you, but am drawing a blank. for some reason all i can think about (between my hiccups that wont go away) is that dr. seuss book where they dye the snow and it dyes everything that glorious cupcake icing pink color. i wish i could do that in real life.

i wish i could have a cupcake in real life even more.

if i get stuck in this house tomorrow... no. i will not get stuck. even if i have to walk.

hrmph.

why i dont need access to the internet

all day today i could swear to you i smell like maple syrup. i have no idea. honestly. no idea. but every now and then i swear to you i smell maple syrup. and i havent been in contact with maple syrup since... well since that one time i sat in it, but we don't need to discuss that again.

and i was talking to the CRJ about this and how it is driving me nuts. and then he asks, rhetorically, if i'm a bit of a hypochondriac (which i think is a good way to put it. as we all know i'm usually convinced i have -something- but i'm too afraid of doctors and needles to actually find out if i do. see posts on Aspergers.). he then proceeds to show me what medical things that result you in smelling like maple syrup. prognosis is: i'm going to go retarded and die OR whatever happens to your body with diabetes and then die.

there is also secret option C where i'm just batshit crazy, and frankly i'm reeeeally gunning for that one right now.

baboon rising

when i was an age i care not to mention, i really thought the CCR song was not about a 'bad moon rising' but rather a 'baboon rising.'

because that makes so damn much more sense.




also, i'd like to thank subaru once again for making a rockstar of an old lady vehicle because i did not die on the way to or from work today even though i slid sideways down a hill and nearly hit this nice pretty new SUV with the dealer tags still on. thank you counter steering spidey sense.

even though it is still a mess out there it is so beautiful outside. i wish i could control my car and take photos at the same time because there are so many views that just take my breath away.


also, there is no also.

lovelovelove

thinking

you know that part in The Sound of Music where beautiful julie andrews, hero of my dreams*, is walking down the aisle to marry the man with too much makeup but a beautiful singing voice and they are singing 'how do you solve a problem like maria'? is it just me, or is that just a BAD idea for a wedding march. and this coming from someone who when she saves up the money for her mail order husband wants a string quartet playing Journey's 'dont stop believing' (like in the Wedding Singer). if -i- think it's a bad idea, then its really really got to be a bad idea.

right??? (genuinely concerned here.)



*julie andrews is right up there with warren miller and the editors of zoobooks, circa 1986-1995.

i managed to get out of the house, if only for a little bit today, which was a very good thing because i was thisclose to losing my mind. and as i slid sideways through the stoplight, i reminded myself why i wanted to move south. i can drive in this weather no problem. hell, i -like- driving in the snow. but this is just garbage and princess didnt buy in for this package.

and since the cable was out most of the weekend (it's fixed now, and am i watching the super bowl? no, i am watching the sound of music. smite me now, if you wish) i watched many many many dvds. all of the first season of boston legal. several other of my personal favorite movies. including darjeeling limited. however this is the first time i got to watch the ten minute mini-movie that starts it, the hotel chevalier. and let me tell you that mini-over the top-super ridiculous dialogue of a film hit me waay too closely. i might as well have been little jason schwartzman (how short IS he anyway?) at this point, i got the fbomb out of the house.

now. you remember that path i cleared in my hulk rage. it turned to a solid sheet of ice. my car just sat and spun. we were NOT PLEASED. but my super nice college neighbor was out there digging out his car and said if i would hold on a sec he had some of that ice melt stuff. so while my driveway melted i helped him dig out his car, further wrenching my back all out of place, but i couldnt just stand there and do nothing after he'd been nice to me.

if this snow doesnt get its act together by this weekend i am going to go ape. i am supposed to see ben folds and the pburgh symphony and i will be there even if i have to hire sled dogs.

so i was supposed to go to the doctor today to take the blue pill (not that blue pill) but since i dont have an insurance card yet, i couldnt. but it really is time. i'm tired of wonderland and i cant handle seeing where this rabbithole goes... because i know where it goes, and it is something i'd rather not witness. not only bc it is shameful and foolish, but because the more i let the logical side think, the more i realize what a terrible path to nowhere i was on. so we're trying. we're really really trying.

and i dont want you to ever think i say this stuff so you'll feel sorry for dear poor little andrea. believe me, its not. it's one of the few things i can do to at least get a little bit of it out. bc this is shaky ground and i've come way too close to slipping off way too often lately. and if i can tell you stupid stories about stupid things i did when i was little, or about how i smashed my boob off and made baby jesus cry, then i'll do that instead. bc i'd much rather make you laugh than see what a mess i really am curled up in a ball under my covers sobbing because i'm convinced i'm worthless and going to die alone of cancer or some equally terrible incurable disease and i hate valentines day for reminding me what a damn failure at life that i am. so. it is much easier to make fun of myself than deal with myself. but i am trying. i really really am.

and now for a funny story. my favorite song when i was little was Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles. i am pretty sure i just really wanted their hair, but that is not the point. but i would sing this song, and only this song, in the bathtub. i knew every word (though i have no idea how, because i dont remember the parentals watching mtv, which means my older cousins must have taught it to me). and most of you know, bc i've said it before, but i am a bathtub singer. a LOUD bathtub singer. so i would line up all my California Raisins, my Smurfs, my Sheera Princess of Power, and my mermaid barbie complete with color changing hair and legs beneath a detachable tail, and make them walk like an egyptian lemming right into the bathtub of DOOOOOOOM. because obviously i left them in the water after i let the stopper out because it was totally fine with me if they got sucked down the drain to china but i'll be damned if i would be bc i had walked like an egyptian right out of there. i kinda wish i had my california raisins now so i could line them up instead of eighty four thousand different kinds of shampoo. its just not the same kind of personality.

its official. i've always been crazy. only when i was little i could mask it as being theatrical.

one time

one time, when i was pretty small, i'd say in the 7 to 8 range, i broke a door with my ass.

granted it was one of those screen doors, but ithad the glass in it, not the screen part. and this was in the old house where we still had things like screen doors instead of yuppie doors. and i dont remember how it happened, only that in one minute i was on one side of the door, and the next my ass had visited the other side.

and i should point out that up until about 7th grade i had no ass to speak of. so the fact that i managed to do this is frankly amazing.

about the same time i accidentally terrified the mormons who came to our house to bring me jesus because i told them my mommy was in the shower but if they wait a few minutes she'd be out in her towel. they didnt come back for a long long time.

i have no idea in the world why i remembered these things. what is with me lately having childhood flashbacks. somehow i'm still totally blanking on all of high school, but believe me, i am very VERY ok with that.

what.the.snow.

A caution. there will be profanity in this post.

so i was tired of sitting around with the dog and decided it was time to go locate my porch and my car. i was presented with this:yes, i still have my christmas decorations up, lets get over that and look at the motherfucking snow. of course the dog shot out the door thinking it was a joyous occasion to be let out of her cage and immediately FROZE on the steps like this:


yes. she was stuck. she then turned around and gave me that look that said to me, if you dont get my frozen ass back in the house i will poop in your favorite shoes and chew up that thing you hide in the closet. so i booted her ass back into the house, kicked around some snow until i found the shovel and made a sorta path down the steps. i then decided to tackle the car:um, where the Shatner is my car? surely not under that gianormous pile. or in front of that even more ginormous pile behind it that is blocking my way to the main road. so as i dug out the subi i debated the pros and cons of digging out the driveway. now. -logically- it would make sense to dig it out so that nothing tore up the car. but that part of my brain that usually takes over, the part that sent my five year old self over the hill in the power wheels after i had been specifically told not to play evil knievel, told me to fuck it! that would be so much fun to drive over! but i'm supposed to be working on listening to that damn logical side, so digging to china commenced.

and now for the comedy. picture if you will that i am shoveling. if it helps with the image i am wearing pink and blue striped fleece pants and a hoodie. i am the epitome of haute snow fashion. and i hit this piece of ice/asphalt/whatever. a normal person would, i dont know, find a smarter way to get out of this situation than putting more force on the shovel, resulting in the scoopy part exploding out of the snow and hitting the self in the chesticle region, shattering the already frozen area into a million tiny titty icicles. now i have been walking on that shaky precipice that i like to call Keeping My Shit Together since the snow started. until this point. at which i put my english degree to good use and created a torrent of profanity that would make the father in A Christmas Story cry a tear of pride. luckily no one was around to openly witness this, even though i KNOW the old man next door had been laughing his ass off at me for the better part of an hour. luckily my Hulk Rage (trademark) kicked in and i cleaned out my whole motherfucking driveway. i then took this lovely photo, and collapsed in the bathtub.

i'm quite proud of my manly self and my newly aquired burly blisters on my hands. so proud that i'm rewarding myself with the new vera bradley poppyfield print motherfucking purse.

motherfuckers.