Elaina

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 22:33:22 GMT

So I drove to my parents' house today to pick up my Grandma for lunch. And the street in front of the neighbors' house is torn up, and there's a backhoe blocking the road. So I park in front of the house, because if I get in the driveway, I won't be able to get out of the driveway, and I pause to take a picture for my mom with my phone.

Some guy appears out of nowhere, foreman looking. "Is that your car?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, you need to park it in the driveway."

"I don't think I can get out of the driveway once I get into the driveway. Besides. I'll only be in the house 10 minutes."

"Well, you have to move it! We won't be responsible if we hit it!"

"Yes, you will. Hold off hitting it for the next 10 minutes or we'll sue. Because my insurance company will certainly hold you responsible."

Gustav Evacuation

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 23:40:05 GMT

I'm in Athens, GA, with my roommate. We decided that our best option for evacuation was to go to Dragon*Con. Because evacuation is boring, and hey. Why not? We don't have school until Thursday, assuming there's a university to go back to.

OPERATION PIRATE

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 22:47:12 GMT

Having been fully debriefed regarding OPERATION PIRATE, I hereby state that I am in complete support.

The Queen of Crazyland and the Escalator of Doom

Wed, 02 May 2007 06:43:46 GMT

So we get up early, because we have to go to the outpatient lab at the hospital so that they can take blood because the Queen is going to the doctor next week to make sure all of her medications are working. There's an escalator and we go up it. Papers are filled out. Blood is taken. It is entirely uneventful, save for some mild complaints about the waiting room being too cold (and we bring a sweater everywhere for a reason).

So then, we go to leave. Standing in our way is the Escalator of Doom! At this juncture, I do not know that it is the Escalator of Doom. I step onto it. She does not. "It's moving too fast!" she complains.

Now I'm jogging the wrong way up the down elevator, about two steps down. Mind you, the up escalator is moving just as fast, but there was no hesitation about stepping on that one. I'm trying to coax her out onto the escalator, but she's panicking. She keeps touching the handrail and not getting on, and that pulls her forward and makes her panic more.

Momentarily, two people ride up the up escalator, trying not to laugh at the two of us, because there's just something pathetically comical about someone walking the wrong way up an escalator and trying to coax an old lady out onto it. Well, the young man walks over to offer her a hand, because it's become clear that she's not getting on the escalator unless someone throws her on the escalator. And, in essence, that is what he does. I catch her in both arms, and she wails to him about how fast the escalator is! And why must they make them go so fast, surely people aren't in that much of a hurry!

It's a conspiracy by the people who build escalators!

Oh, and today was Tuesday, so we had Chinese buffet and she smuggled yet another eggroll out of a restaurant wrapped in a napkin. No thoughts on its current whereabouts.

The Queen of Crazyland loses it

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 19:38:50 GMT

We have lunch. We walk across the parking lot to the drug store. She buys herself two packs of cigarettes and a bag of mints. I put the receipt in the bag and hand it to her. We go home.

We walk into the house. I go into the kitchen to put away our leftover chicken for lunch. She puts her purse in her bedroom and then joins me in the kitchen so that she can steal a bit of chicken for that dog of hers. I have a brief conversation with my father, which she interrupts to inform me that she has lost the bag of cigarettes and mints.

It is not in the kitchen. It is not in the bedroom. We go out to the car, but it is not in the car. We go back in the house and she inquires if perhaps it is in the car. I assure her it is not and wonder how she can manage to lose something between the car and the house, because I know that she had it when we left the drug store. She inquires if perhaps it is at the restaurant, and I point out that we didn't have it in the restaurant. My father has to go to the drug store, and he offers to look for it for us.

We go back into her bedroom and she discovers the cigarettes, which have been put away in the place where she stores cigarettes. I am initially concerned that they are not the same cigarettes but they turn out to be the lost ones when I momentarily lay hands on the receipt, dated today. But where are the mints, she wails. I ask, did you put them away? As it turns out, the answer is yes, and I take my father off the case.

If only the damn rings were so easy to find.

Friday Night's Scene in a Bar

Mon, 09 Oct 2006 00:23:52 GMT

We walk into a bar and sit down at a table near the back. The bartender, who seemed like she probably owned the place, was a bulky bull-dyke with tattoos on her arms. She served us a couple of beers. The short-order cook was a short pudgy little fag with too much hair, and he asked us if we wanted food, but we did not. There was a small crowd in the bar, and it was a little after midnight.

Three girls walk in and walk straight to the back. All three are nicely dressed and well heeled, with hair and make-up done. They head immediately for the one-stall bathroom and the three of them enter it together. Time passes, and a girl gets up and heads to the bathroom, presumably because she's got to pee. She can't get in, but she can smell pot, so she summons the bartender. The cook comes to back the bartender up.

"POLICE! OPEN UP!" the bartender yells, banging on the door. There's a scramble, and she laughs, and then calls through the door, "Just kidding. Get your asses out here."

Momentarily, the door opens, and the three girls emerge with a cloud of pot smoke. "Get out of my bar," the bartender tells them, and two of them slink towards the door. The third one loiters a bit, apparently not believing that she, the pretty little princess, is being thrown out of a bar by an angry bull-dyke and a flaming short-order cook. The bartender turns on her and yells, "GET OUT!" and she went scrambling after her friends, trying to look dignified and haughty, pretending that a bar full of people weren't laughing at her.

The Queen of Crazyland Buys Shoes

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 00:23:42 GMT

Today, I took the Queen of Crazyland to the shoe store. She had been resisting going to the shoe store because she claimed she did not need new shoes, but she wears these scary white sandals with a heel on them that I'm terrified she's going to fall off of, and the last thing she needs is another broken hip. So we went to the shoe store.

The first thing she picks up is this pair of wedges that have about a 4" heel on them. "These are cute!"

We started out trying on loafers. Not one of those were short enough and wide enough and bizarrely shaped enough to fit her weird little feet. Then I found a pair of cream colored sneaker-like flats which fastened across the foot with velcro. Those fit perfectly, so I started digging around for a black pair.

"Oh, no," she says. "I'm not buying /two/ pairs of shoes." So we shuffle over to the counter, because we found something, at least.

"How much do these cost?" "Twenty-five dollars." "Twenty-five dollars?! I've never paid that much for a pair of shoes in my life!" But you're paying it today...

Then, the girl who was trying on shoes down the aisle from us comes out with a black pair like the ones we just bought. I was thrilled. They fit just like the cream colored ones, and we proceed with these to the checkout. The guy at the counter says, "Oh, you're buying another pair?" And she says, "No, just this one pair." Apparently, she'd forgotten about buying the cream colored ones already. I motion to the cashier to hush up, because she needs both pairs. There is no discussion about price this time, thankfully.

At home, no surprise about there being two pairs of shoes, though.

The Queen of Crazyland and the Mystery Mail

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 18:29:41 GMT

I get home from the gym at around 12:30. The mail has been brought in. Neither of my parents' cars are at the house.

"Who brought the mail in?"
She gives me a sort of furtive look.
"Did you bring the mail in?"
"No."
"So who brought the mail in? This mail wasn't here yesterday. I've been waiting for this textbook."
"Ah, well, who was here? Earlier?"
"You and I were here earlier, but I didn't bring in the mail. I just walked in the door. Who's been here?"
"Well, maybe your father came home."

Maybe my father came home. No, as it turns out, my mother came home, and the Queen of Crazyland forgot all about that. They apparently had a conversation while my mother had lunch. I know this because I called my mother.

The Queen of Crazyland and the Haircut

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 21:28:56 GMT

My grandmother needed a haircut, so I made her an appointment for today. I dropped her off a little after two, and the stylist said that she'd be done in about forty-five minutes. So I go home, eat a little something, and go to fetch her. I turn into the parking lot and I can see her wandering about at the far end, heading across towards the drugstore. By the time I catch up with her, she's turned around and is heading back towards the salon. I blare the horn at her, and she doesn't even turn her head. So I roll down the window and start yelling at her. This she responds to. By this time, the woman in the SUV behind me is entirely confused about what I'm trying to do, but before she gives up and tries to go around, I've got the little grandma in the car.

So I ask her what the hell she was doing in the parking lot, and she tells me that she thought she'd just slip right over to the drugstore while she was waiting and buy a bag of mints, but admits she was afraid I wouldn't be able to find her if she did. No kidding. I was pretty angry that she'd wandered off, but I'd have been really angry if she'd have been more difficult to find. She's like having a five-year-old sometimes.

The Queen of Crazyland and the Eggroll

Thu, 06 Jul 2006 01:01:35 GMT

So I took my grandmother out to lunch at a Chinese buffet today. Well, she grew up during the Depression, so food absolutely does not go to waste, and when she finished eating, she had an egg roll left over. She sure wasn't going to leave it to be thrown away, and they don't give to-go boxes from buffets, so she wrapped it up in her napkin and put it in her purse. So tonight, after dinner, I said to her, "Did you ever get that egg roll out of your purse?" And she acts mildly insulted and says that she did, and that it's on her dresser. She goes and fetches it. My mother inquires whether she intends to eat it, and she replies in the affirmative, then rolls it back up in the napkin and heads back towards the bedroom. So my mother suggests she puts it in the refrigerator, and she wants to know why. My mother suggests that otherwise bugs will eat it. My grandmother demands to know what sort of bugs we have in our house, and informs my mother that certainly bugs will not eat it. It is, to quote her, "hard as a baseball," and to demonstrate this, she tosses it and catches it.

I have no doubt that she will consume it later.

Thu, 08 Sep 2005 14:54:43 GMT

1. Reply with your name and I will write something random about you.
2. I will then tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I will pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I will say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I will tell you my first memory of you.
6. I will tell you what animal you remind you of.
7. I'll then ask you something I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this in your LJ.

And, because you ALL wanted to know... Jenni said I had to.

Thu, 07 Apr 2005 06:54:15 GMT

♪♫♪ I've got my tinfoil hat on... ♪♫♪

Anakin is a TKing n00b

Insanity must be shared!

Pie!

Wed, 06 Apr 2005 18:23:05 GMT

Yay for quiche! I ♥ spinach pie! I made it this afternoon so that it'd actually be fairly solid by the time we have it for dinner. I just took it out of the oven. It looks very tasty. It smells awesome.

My mother's quiche recipe:
3 eggs
1/2 pint whipping cream
1 cup grated cheddar
3/4 bag of fresh pre-washed spinach
3-4 green onions
salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaf
frozen pie crust

Pre-bake pie crust at 350 for 8 minutes. Whip together eggs and cream. Then stir in everything else. Pour into the pie crust and bake at 350 for 45 minutes. Then let it sit awhile, otherwise you'll have a runny, spinachy mess. But it'll be a tasty mess.

At least there was no hail going home from the grocery today. My car is down for the count, so I'm driving TilR's car. And that makes me nervous.

Purple Puppy!

Wed, 13 Oct 2004 16:15:30 GMT

Another dream...

Sun, 25 Apr 2004 18:11:43 GMT

I only write about dreams here, so here's one:

I had gone to see a movie with friends. It was a much talked about blockbuster. Everyone said it was completely brilliant, so we were going to see it. So we went. I found it mostly mediocre, but in my way, I needed to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle. I come back, and the movie's mostly over, but my friends are raving about it. All of them have apparently been brainwashed by some weird dark god.

Well, one of my friends allows his screwy wife to offer their small child as a sacrifice to this weird dark god. But I couldn't allow them to leave this baby to die, so I picked him up and left with him. The dark god apparently had dictated that we were all to move to some desert kingdom, and since everyone nearby had seen all of the movie, they were all compliant. As I didn't want to be left behind, I moved along with them.

People would ask me who the father of the kid was and I would have to tell them that I wasn't his mother. In this new city, his former father was named king, for he had proven himself a great leader. He realized who I was and who I had with me, but didn't offer to take the child back from me. He allowed me to live at the palace with the little boy. I took the kid to see the horses.

Another Dream...

Sat, 31 Jan 2004 18:41:32 GMT

In my habit of rarely doing my livejournal, but when I do, recording dreams:

We were at a hotel room, my family and I. I'm not sure that my brother was with us, but my sister was, at the least. We were tired of being cooped up, and so we decided we'd take a swim. We needed to bring play dough with us, so I balled up a large sphere of green, tucked into my jacket pocket, and went swimming down long hotel hallways with my sister.

I don't know if we ever got to use the play dough, because we were dressed and at the funeral. Also boring. The man who had died was a priest, maybe a bishop. They were talking about how to divy his plants. He had all sorts of plants and planters. Although some of them were really nice, I was not interested in owning any of them. I decided to take a walk.

I walked through a business park, past large office buildings. I turned a corner, walking beside a building, towards a hedge-lined parking lot. Suddenly, knights wearing blue and riding white horses came leaping over the hedges, so I took shelter against the side of the building. I could see similar knights in red coming from the other direction. When the two groups had met, their leaders verbally sparred.

In the meantime, a horseless knight came over to sit by me. He was holding a basket, and two little baby feet were hanging out. I reached in, grabbed the sleeping baby by his ankles, and lay him against my breast. He stirred, but remained asleep, looking quite a bit more comfortable.

The two leader knights stopped yelling and looked at me. A woman dressed in red carrying a baby walked out of the red knight's ranks and stood there, looking contemptuously at me and this baby I'd picked up. The blue knight looked delighted, though, and brought me over to stand beside him. Apparently, he'd just found the baby, too, so we were representative of an Emotional family, one that had no biological bonds, only love. The red family was a family of Reason, and since the blue knight had completed his family, they had no more quarrel with him. We all went to a party.

The only time the baby fussed was at the beginning of the party. He was hungry, and he settled right down once we fed him. He was happy and slobbery, as babies are wont to be. He was about a year old, and thus was being curious and alert. People kept wanting to give him candy.

After the party, we were tired, so we were going to take the train home. The baby and I got on the train with some of our knights. But the train driver hated our sort, and tried to kill us with a spear.

And that was my dream.

I almost forgot about this...

Wed, 03 Sep 2003 08:03:31 GMT

People keep telling me that I ought to LiveJournal. I have not added anything for 87 weeks, according to the record on my profile. But I am terrible about writing down my thoughts and feelings. I do seem to have added a lot of incredibly bizarre dreams, though.

What to say?

I still exist. I'm back in College Station, having graduated from UNO. Masters in Applied Math now. Ought to be doing homework. Don't have anything but afternoon classes this semester. So I stay up late, sleep late, but generally function pretty well otherwise.

Weeks are lonely because the Boyfriend lives in Dallas. Sad for us. After I graduate I'm moving to Dallas. If not for him, I'd go home to New Orleans. I love New Orleans.

I went for a week between summer and fall semsters. I stayed a week in Dallas, too, and I saw Ben. I live in the same city as Kari, but I hardly ever see her.

And that's it. I could continue to update, but... 87 weeks? We'll see.

Sun, 30 Dec 2001 20:18:16 GMT

This is all Ben's fault.

If one looks through my journal entries, half of them include the phrase, "This is Ben's fault." This is generally because he tells me, "You haven't written in your journal. Write in your journal." And this prompts me to write in my journal. But he doesn't nag me often, so I only write every six months or so.

I don't have anything interesting to say. My New Year's plans fell through, so I'm kind of making due. Everyone's invited to my place for Mardi Gras, though.

Thu, 27 Dec 2001 05:09:40 GMT

Ben says I should write in my journal more. I never write in it any more. I guess I don't think about it. Don't really know what to write, either.

So I guess I'll start with a where-I-am: In May, I'll graduate from the University of New Orleans with a degree in applied mathematics, and minors in economics and physics. I work on-campus at the Math Tutor Center, and periodically work for GVA Engineering as a draftsman. I am single, having dumped my last boyfriend in a fit of utter frustration several months ago, and I have desire currently to saddle myself with another such burden.

My grades are pretty good. Got an A in Fourier Series, which I thought was a really cool class, and an A in Mathematical Physics, which is one of the reasons I'm going to minor in physics. That, and I had plenty of time in my schedule. I missed December graduation by 3 hours. One class. Advanced Calculus II. Got a B in part I. So that's all good. And I took the GRE. I'm pleased with my scores. So it's off to graduate school. Don't know where yet.

What else is there to tell? I don't know. I feel as if I've done nothing interesting for months, yet I've kept busy and been relatively happy. I guess I'll try to keep this up. In case anyone cares.

Mon, 11 Jun 2001 02:47:53 GMT

It's raining again, and the backyard is flooded. Once again, the weather prevents my being social. It's really rather depressing. It was depressing at Hallmark today. Just stood there and watched it rain. Nobody wants to buy knick-knacks when it's flooding. It's depressing to be surrounded by expensive cute crap. I hate that job. Retail. Ugh.

My old boss from the engineering firm called up on Thursday, so I'm back to drafting. But they pay really good, compared to what I was making, so I'm really not complaining. It's dry, tedious work, but it's inside, in front of a computer, and I don't have to deal with the public.

I still have to figure out what hours I'm going to be working at the tutoring center this summer. That's a great job. I get paid to sit and do my homework. I have homework for tommorow, but I think I'll not bother doing it until tommorow morning. I lack energy. I already fell asleep once tonight.

Anyways, I'm writing this because Ben said I should.

Spring Break!

Wed, 28 Mar 2001 17:29:20 GMT

I'm going to Austin for Spring Break! This is arguably so that I can check out UT as a graduate school. But I am really going so that I might party. I mean, it's spring break. Even if I am accomplishing something, I get to do some of it all night and drunk, right?

I'll be in Texas from Friday until Wednesday. That's like... 4/7 until 4/11. I think. Either way. I'm trying to get in touch with all of my friends there, cuz I miss everybody. Like Kari and Cary and Ben and Eve and everybody.

I'm so happy!

Thu, 15 Mar 2001 17:36:24 GMT

I know I don't write much, but I had to share this dream:

Kari had just created the newest craze on the internet. It was a video of her interpretation of Hamlet as a gothy angsty lesbian. I had helped her with some of the animation, as Ophelia was played by a slinky yellow crayoned cat. Kari herself had played Hamlet, and various others had taken other roles. In this, Kari had a large fan following, and they tended to show up at her mother's house, where there were no working toilets.

When I arrived to visit Kari, I had come to pick up some of the props I had leant her and to congradulate her on her sucess. At that time, some of her fanboys showed up to express their adoration and to try to seduce her. She was unseducable, and tossed red wine all over the larger of the two.

At this point, I was called away to help a friend of mine dig up her father's grave, because her mother had buried him alive for the third time that week. Tired of having to dig him up regularly, we knocked her over the head and called the police. She had buried him with a large stash of Doritos, so I took a couple of bags back to Kari's.

At Kari's, there were many complaints over the fact that nobody could go potty, but we all changed into club clothes and went down to the local goth club.

And then my dog jumped into my bed and woke me up.

Tue, 02 Jan 2001 03:22:15 GMT

I had a dream... but I barely remember it. It was about throwing a party on a large boat in a swimming pool with Ben and Kari and others... I do not know what it meant. I have been having odd dreams of late.

The new year was nice. Cammie and I went to this place called Cafe Brazil and watched a group called Anti-jazz. They were pretty good. It was diverting. Yet another New Year's without a midnight smoochie. I shall be single forever.

Tue, 19 Dec 2000 05:28:14 GMT

There's just something about retail...

I'm working the register, ringing up people's purchases, 90% of which is just shit. Most of what Hallmark sells is shit. Really pretty expensive shit. Up comes this mother and her six year old, the mother having an armfull of stuff. As I'm ringing up her purchases and as she's writing the check, the kid's playing with a fancy ink pen we have on display and prattling to the mother.

"You're feeling so much better after your shot," the mother praises the little girl as I shove her expensive pretty shit into a bag.

The kid looks up at me and grins. "I have strep!"

Eventually, they leave, and I'm starting to ring up my next customer. Another sales rep walks by. I call to her, "Lynda, bring a disinfectant wipe from the back. There was a kid with strep playing with this pen."

My customer backs off, and really, I can't blame her. She signs her credit card receipt with a 'clean' pen.

Mmm. Nothing like Christmas shoppers to put you out of the Christmas spirit. Hrmph.

Tue, 12 Dec 2000 08:39:40 GMT

Ben and I talked via NetMeeting. It was pretty nifty-keen. I have not seen nor spoken to Ben in a long time. I miss him. He is a very cool wacko.

I miss Kari. I have no other friends like Kari. I have Cammie, but she is not like Kari. They are both intense, but in different ways. Cammie is sillier.

I miss Aaron. I used to call him on Fridays, but I am terrible about oversleeping and missing him. I should call him this Friday. I have the day off of work.

I work at Hallmark. I spend my days selling people expensive cute shit like Christmas villages and resin angels and designer bears, telling children "DON'T TOUCH THAT!" and taking things out of and putting things back in styrofoam. It is an okay job. Most of the customers are rich with too much time on their hands and lots of storage room. I wish they'd spend their money on shrinks. Some of them sorely need some heavy drugs.

On the upside, I am doing well on the drugs I am on. Yipee. I should take them more regularly, but they make me pukey some days.

I have finished my shopping. A purple butterfly picture frame for my sister ($10). A wrought shelving unit for my brother ($27). A DVD player for my father ($108). A VCR for my mother ($65). A book for Paul ($11). A purse for Cammie ($16). A pillow thing for Maw-maw ($17). A windchime for Grandma ($11). Might change my mind on those last two. Have all my receipts. My siblings owe me between $50-70 for the parental gifts, which are still in my trunk. I must wrap things.

I consider getting things for my friends out of town, but these I would have to mail. They will have to wait for my next paycheck. And perhaps the after-Christmas sales. I am already tired of shopping.

I wish to visit for New Year's. I miss people. Perhaps someone would put me up. I must see what plans are. I will either road trip or fly. I am not sure.

I go to bed now.