Wednesday, February 06, 2002
ARRRRG. I just played ten games of Furious Freecell- playing Freecell while angry about things that violate one's bullshit-free zone, including, not limited to, traffic laws and doctors who tell you NOTHING- NOTHING- about test results or future surgeries or the health of a beloved woman who has done nothing but devote her life to loving her family. Yeah. I am frustrated and angry.
Tuesday, February 05, 2002
WHAT IS MY LIFE? WHAT. IS. MY. LIFE?
How do I even begin to describe my day? HOW?
As a little teaser, I will tell you up front that this story ends with my having to go to Traffic School. Or at least take a special test or something.
Anyway, I guess I will start by telling you that I booked a hotel for Romantic Valentine's Day Weekend... As a part of the Grand Starving Artist Package, Stephen and I are staying at the Howard Johnson Express on 34th Street. I know. It's sad. I am spending Valentine's Day at the Manhattan HoJo.
I hate Valentine's Day. I do. It makes everyone greedy and competitive and/or unhappy and lonely. I hate that. Even though this is going to be my fourth Valentine's Day with SuperBoyfriend, I have ended up either being forced to work in a fast food restaurant by a guy named Lloyd, practically putting a tourniquet on aforementioned Boyfriend, getting into a fight with people I really love (although not Boyfriend), or nearly having a nervous breakdown in the Olive Garden and having to chug 2 Ativan with a glass of wine before leaving in a sluggish synergistic haze of tears and alfredo sauce.
That was meant to be funny. You laugh now.
Anyway, then I went to Wal-Mart with my Grandma (not Nanny, she is still in hospital- it's fun to say it the British way- Hi Jo!) to buy old lady things like wreath rings, hemming measure-thingys (don't ask), insoles, ear wax remover kits (ew. ew. ew.) and potatoes because "Angie, they have the most beautiful potatoes at Wal-Mart." Hey, if you say so. So I gotta say that just being in Wal-mart in Hanover, Pa, (Population: 320. Percentage of Population involved in local chapter of KKK: 65%) is a cultural experience unto itself. Sigh... And Grandma gets her hair cut there by a really Interesting Person named Antonella, at least since the lady next door who styled it once a week since 1948 officially went blind last year. Right. So we get to Wal-Mart at 1:15. Antonella doesn't get there until 2. No problem. We sign up for her 2:00 spot and begin to shop.
At precisely 1:55 Grandma finishes her shopping, but she doesn't have time to check out, so I keep the cart, throwing in a few things that we need, including a Dr. Pepper. Then, I check out, explaining to the Very Bored Wal-Mart Cashier that half of these things are my grandmother's, and I only want to pay for my items at this time, and is it okay if I push the cart through with the remaining unpaid items to sit at the bench near the Wal-Mart Family Hair Salon to wait for her? Yup, he definitely doesn't care. So I sit, and wait, and knit, (I am really into this knitting thing, can you tell?) and make phone calls using my cell phone and ear bud (Thank you, Heather!). I schedule a dentist appointment, try to get in touch with Wetzel (a friend from high school to whom I haven't spoken in a few months) and place an order for a dozen Famous Hot Weiners with Everything from the Famous Hot Weiner Shop (My mom and dad LOVE these really gnarly chili and onion hot dogs. They buy a bunch and freeze them. I enjoy them from time to time as well, actually. Shame on me.)
And then I REALIZE that I look like the Scary Wal-Mart Lady, sitting on a bench with half of her items in bags, half not, knitting, drinking Dr. Pepper and (since cell phones are still unheard of in Hanover; let alone those newfangled ear buds) talking to herself. Wal-Mart employees take turns approaching me- Are you okay, ma'am? Did you want to pay for those things, ma'am? Is someone meeting you? Then I realize how funny this is and start to laugh. AND THEN- I spill my Dr. Pepper EVERYWHERE.... Seriously,this is Classic Angie. This is at least as good as the "GOOGLY GOOGLY" Squirrel Story (best saved for another time, I think). Sigh....
Then I take my Grandma home, deal with the eccentricities of my extended family (best explored in a different forum), and get on the road. I am driving down the back country roads when I get pulled over for speeding. I wasn't really going that fast, actually, but it's my third ticket in 8 months (although the police officer let me off without any points for the first one). I have accumulated 8 points. I suck. I have to take a special test. Has anyone out there in CyberLand had to take this test? Is it hard?
Hence, this begs the opening question- WHAT IS MY LIFE?
By the way, donations to the "Angie Has to Pay Traffic Fines and Is Already So Poor She Has To Spend Valentine's Day at the HoJo Express" Fund will be gratefully accepted.
Just kidding. :)
How do I even begin to describe my day? HOW?
As a little teaser, I will tell you up front that this story ends with my having to go to Traffic School. Or at least take a special test or something.
Anyway, I guess I will start by telling you that I booked a hotel for Romantic Valentine's Day Weekend... As a part of the Grand Starving Artist Package, Stephen and I are staying at the Howard Johnson Express on 34th Street. I know. It's sad. I am spending Valentine's Day at the Manhattan HoJo.
I hate Valentine's Day. I do. It makes everyone greedy and competitive and/or unhappy and lonely. I hate that. Even though this is going to be my fourth Valentine's Day with SuperBoyfriend, I have ended up either being forced to work in a fast food restaurant by a guy named Lloyd, practically putting a tourniquet on aforementioned Boyfriend, getting into a fight with people I really love (although not Boyfriend), or nearly having a nervous breakdown in the Olive Garden and having to chug 2 Ativan with a glass of wine before leaving in a sluggish synergistic haze of tears and alfredo sauce.
That was meant to be funny. You laugh now.
Anyway, then I went to Wal-Mart with my Grandma (not Nanny, she is still in hospital- it's fun to say it the British way- Hi Jo!) to buy old lady things like wreath rings, hemming measure-thingys (don't ask), insoles, ear wax remover kits (ew. ew. ew.) and potatoes because "Angie, they have the most beautiful potatoes at Wal-Mart." Hey, if you say so. So I gotta say that just being in Wal-mart in Hanover, Pa, (Population: 320. Percentage of Population involved in local chapter of KKK: 65%) is a cultural experience unto itself. Sigh... And Grandma gets her hair cut there by a really Interesting Person named Antonella, at least since the lady next door who styled it once a week since 1948 officially went blind last year. Right. So we get to Wal-Mart at 1:15. Antonella doesn't get there until 2. No problem. We sign up for her 2:00 spot and begin to shop.
At precisely 1:55 Grandma finishes her shopping, but she doesn't have time to check out, so I keep the cart, throwing in a few things that we need, including a Dr. Pepper. Then, I check out, explaining to the Very Bored Wal-Mart Cashier that half of these things are my grandmother's, and I only want to pay for my items at this time, and is it okay if I push the cart through with the remaining unpaid items to sit at the bench near the Wal-Mart Family Hair Salon to wait for her? Yup, he definitely doesn't care. So I sit, and wait, and knit, (I am really into this knitting thing, can you tell?) and make phone calls using my cell phone and ear bud (Thank you, Heather!). I schedule a dentist appointment, try to get in touch with Wetzel (a friend from high school to whom I haven't spoken in a few months) and place an order for a dozen Famous Hot Weiners with Everything from the Famous Hot Weiner Shop (My mom and dad LOVE these really gnarly chili and onion hot dogs. They buy a bunch and freeze them. I enjoy them from time to time as well, actually. Shame on me.)
And then I REALIZE that I look like the Scary Wal-Mart Lady, sitting on a bench with half of her items in bags, half not, knitting, drinking Dr. Pepper and (since cell phones are still unheard of in Hanover; let alone those newfangled ear buds) talking to herself. Wal-Mart employees take turns approaching me- Are you okay, ma'am? Did you want to pay for those things, ma'am? Is someone meeting you? Then I realize how funny this is and start to laugh. AND THEN- I spill my Dr. Pepper EVERYWHERE.... Seriously,this is Classic Angie. This is at least as good as the "GOOGLY GOOGLY" Squirrel Story (best saved for another time, I think). Sigh....
Then I take my Grandma home, deal with the eccentricities of my extended family (best explored in a different forum), and get on the road. I am driving down the back country roads when I get pulled over for speeding. I wasn't really going that fast, actually, but it's my third ticket in 8 months (although the police officer let me off without any points for the first one). I have accumulated 8 points. I suck. I have to take a special test. Has anyone out there in CyberLand had to take this test? Is it hard?
Hence, this begs the opening question- WHAT IS MY LIFE?
By the way, donations to the "Angie Has to Pay Traffic Fines and Is Already So Poor She Has To Spend Valentine's Day at the HoJo Express" Fund will be gratefully accepted.
Just kidding. :)
Monday, February 04, 2002
Bleeeh. Am ridiculous slug with zero energy. I go to the hospital, I come home, I knit, I make long distance phone calls. We got more bad news about Nanny. She has a psuedo anorhysm in her leg. I don;t know what the difference between an actual anorhysm and a pseudo one is. Perhaps the anorhysm is pretending to be a man when it's actually named Nellie Bly? :) That's a psuedonym. Har, har, I am funny.
The only good thing about this new diagnosis is that Nanny got moved to a private room. Which is good, because her old roommate was this very interesting Mennonite woman named Elizabeth who would have- I kid you not- 15 visitors at once, 7 of them children, and they would all stand around the bed and sing about being "washed from the Sin by the blood of the lamb." Huh. And then the kids would get antsy and start peeking under the curtain and stuff. Which is fine, I guess, but there were like 18 other annoying things that I won't bother to recount, like the Mennonite lady's husband opening the window like, a foot and a half in the beginning of February, etc, etc. But she's in her own room now, so that's good.
I really, really want you all to remind me that I had this Lazy Time when I am running around like a mad woman doing my internship this summer. The summer I was in Allentown I worked so hard for such long, ridiculous hours that it was all I could do to drag myself up my three-story walk up and microwave a bowl of Spaghettios before passing out while watching Seinfeld re-runs. I feel like I already wrote about this. Forgive me if I am repeating myself.
Well, I just don;t have much to say. Will write more soon.
The only good thing about this new diagnosis is that Nanny got moved to a private room. Which is good, because her old roommate was this very interesting Mennonite woman named Elizabeth who would have- I kid you not- 15 visitors at once, 7 of them children, and they would all stand around the bed and sing about being "washed from the Sin by the blood of the lamb." Huh. And then the kids would get antsy and start peeking under the curtain and stuff. Which is fine, I guess, but there were like 18 other annoying things that I won't bother to recount, like the Mennonite lady's husband opening the window like, a foot and a half in the beginning of February, etc, etc. But she's in her own room now, so that's good.
I really, really want you all to remind me that I had this Lazy Time when I am running around like a mad woman doing my internship this summer. The summer I was in Allentown I worked so hard for such long, ridiculous hours that it was all I could do to drag myself up my three-story walk up and microwave a bowl of Spaghettios before passing out while watching Seinfeld re-runs. I feel like I already wrote about this. Forgive me if I am repeating myself.
Well, I just don;t have much to say. Will write more soon.
Saturday, February 02, 2002
Hmmm.... Okay, some bad news. Nanny is back in the hospital. Boo. She had a weird reaction to one of her medications, so they are keeping her in tthe hospital for observation for a few days. On one hand, it doesn't sound too serious, but these problems could be indicative of larger problems, so.... Sigh. I am trying not to worry too much. She is still very, very worried that "her hair looks like hell," which I am taking as a good sign. I am going into the hospital in a little while with some hot rollers to try and do her hair. I am quite sure that it isn't going to look right, because she was a hairdresser for 60 years and she knows how she likes it, but I will do my best.
In other bad news, Susan B. Anthony (my goldfish) was sucked into "the Patriarchy" yesterday. ("The Patriarchy" is the filter; I have begun calling it the patriarchy upon Jo's very funny suggestion.) Unlike Andrea Dworkin, she was not sucked the whole way in. Her little lifeless fish carcass was just plugging up the hole. It was terrifying. Also, with my dad living at Nanny's and/or being at the hospital, I am "in charge" of the house. Mostly meaning that I clean it once a week in exchange for not paying rent, but it sometimes means that I am also in charge of dealing with things that would otherwise be Dad's Job- like dead goldfish. Ew.
I finished my first knitting project. I finished my rainbow scarf. I am very proud of it, thank you very much. Like all things I love, I will probably misplace it in a matter of weeks, but I will try and enjoy it until that happens. Next, I am going to attempt to knit a blanket for Project Linus.
What else did I want to tell you? Oh yes. It's soooo nice to know where I am going to be jobwise in a couple of months. (Still waiting to hear about location, however) I have this online routine. Check email, check friends' websites, check National Press Photographers Assoc job board, check JournalismJobs.com, write in my blog, check hotmail, sign off. Now it's just friends' sites and email and voila! Done! I no longer check the NPPA job board and get depressed about the fact that there are no new listings and/or the only listings are in Fargo, ND. And then I would become all conflicted about whether or not I WANTED to apply for a job in Fargo and I would have this whole debate with myself about whether or not I was too desperate for a job to have standards and/or be choosy, etc. Well, no more! Take that, Fargo!
Last night I had a dream that I was friends with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. We were running around their huge apartment in New York. Brad Pitt started to cry because this guy I sort of knew in college whom everyone called John O. was stalking him and following him around. Then, I told Jennifer Aniston that if she wanted to give me an extra one of her millions of dollars I would not be opposed to that. Hmmm....
Well, must get dressed and go to hospital and have productive day. :)
In other bad news, Susan B. Anthony (my goldfish) was sucked into "the Patriarchy" yesterday. ("The Patriarchy" is the filter; I have begun calling it the patriarchy upon Jo's very funny suggestion.) Unlike Andrea Dworkin, she was not sucked the whole way in. Her little lifeless fish carcass was just plugging up the hole. It was terrifying. Also, with my dad living at Nanny's and/or being at the hospital, I am "in charge" of the house. Mostly meaning that I clean it once a week in exchange for not paying rent, but it sometimes means that I am also in charge of dealing with things that would otherwise be Dad's Job- like dead goldfish. Ew.
I finished my first knitting project. I finished my rainbow scarf. I am very proud of it, thank you very much. Like all things I love, I will probably misplace it in a matter of weeks, but I will try and enjoy it until that happens. Next, I am going to attempt to knit a blanket for Project Linus.
What else did I want to tell you? Oh yes. It's soooo nice to know where I am going to be jobwise in a couple of months. (Still waiting to hear about location, however) I have this online routine. Check email, check friends' websites, check National Press Photographers Assoc job board, check JournalismJobs.com, write in my blog, check hotmail, sign off. Now it's just friends' sites and email and voila! Done! I no longer check the NPPA job board and get depressed about the fact that there are no new listings and/or the only listings are in Fargo, ND. And then I would become all conflicted about whether or not I WANTED to apply for a job in Fargo and I would have this whole debate with myself about whether or not I was too desperate for a job to have standards and/or be choosy, etc. Well, no more! Take that, Fargo!
Last night I had a dream that I was friends with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. We were running around their huge apartment in New York. Brad Pitt started to cry because this guy I sort of knew in college whom everyone called John O. was stalking him and following him around. Then, I told Jennifer Aniston that if she wanted to give me an extra one of her millions of dollars I would not be opposed to that. Hmmm....
Well, must get dressed and go to hospital and have productive day. :)
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