You Pick The Story...Again

I don't really have very good material right now so I'm going to give you guys 3 topics to vote on. Whichever has the highest number of votes by the end of the weekend gets written.

1. My first memories
2. My unhappy tenure at Jersey Mike's Subs
3. My 25th birthday

Vote. If no one votes like last time then I don't write one. That'll be a good punishment. That'll show you.

Promise

I promise I haven't gone anywhere. I've just been really busy with school, napping, & work & unfortunately my blog has fallen to the wayside. However, I am hoping to change that. In my head I'm formulating a list of different posts I want to do soon.

In the meantime, here is the scariest picture of my dad that has ever been taken.

He didn't have his beard for long & thankfully he was rid of it by the time he dated my mom. I'm pretty sure if he had that when they met I wouldn't have been born.

Day 1

Today was the first day of my intensive. To say that I was unenthusiastic about this would possibly be the worst understatement of...everything. Just...everything.

As soon as I get into the classroom I take the seat closest to the door in the back row. It pretty much completely lived up to my expectations, which is to say I was miserable & bored the majority of the time. The women sitting in front of me were trouble from the start, what with their laughing at stupid comments & looking just as pleased as punch to be there.

Trouble

As the class proceeded, I began texting more & more. I did not learn a single thing today because this is my 4th damn time taking this stupid class. When I wasn't making this face...

That face

I was making this face...

I seriously wasn't trying to be a turd. I talked to a few people, but I just wasn't very outgoing in approaching my classmates as the other people were. Because I'm always SO outgoing. I talked to the maternal black lady who sat next to me & a few people on my lunch break. The same lunch break where we were all given a speech about "Jerry Falwell's vision" (the only time the entire day I rolled my eyes!).

Then the bus left without some of us. Whatever.

However, once we split into smaller groups & got to actually do counseling stuff I came out of my shell. And everyone who I was in a group with, as well as one of the professors, told me how good I was. Well, I sure as shit better be as many times I've taken this damn class.

But seriously though, it feels good to know that I have something I'm good at since I don't feel so hot at most things. We'll see how the rest of the week goes.

Where I Was

This title has two meanings.

The first is in regards to why I haven't posted or commented in almost 2 weeks. I honestly just haven't had much of anything to talk about. On top of all of that I've been ridiculously overwhelmed by school. In fact, I'm currently in Virginia until Friday because I have to do in-class training for a class I already took in Florida. But they wouldn't take the credit. I'm not bitter.

But anyway, that is something of a segue because the next part of this post is about 9/11. Because of course.

It's kind of funny because exactly 10 years ago today I was in Virginia on a family vacation with my parents. In fact, it was one of our last vacations we ever took. Not because my parents divorced or one of them died. No, we just never went on vacations. But that's another post entirely.

ANYway. My story about 9/11.

I was 15 & still home schooled. My parents & I had gone to Williamsburg because I was a nerd, loved history, & loved seeing underpaid actors dressed in humiliating outfits even more. Our plan was to just do the Colonial Williamsburg thing for most of the week. My dad & I might go to Busch Gardens at some point. And on September 12? Oh, on September 12 we were going to go to Washington D.C. 

On that fateful morning, I woke up at exactly at 9:00am. My first thought? "Oh! 'Regis & Kelly' is on!". So I turned on the TV to see what wacky hijinks those two were getting themselves into that day. Only when I turned the TV on...it was Bryant Gumble talking & they were showing video from New York of some buildings smoking. What the hell? I went into my parents' room where they were watching HGTV & told them to turn on the news. Then we all just watched the rest of everything happen in complete shock. After both of the buildings had fallen & things had sort of calmed down my parents decided to go to Colonial Williamsburg (I think they were trying to protect me in case something else happened) where my mother was in tears a few times when she saw patriotic things.

As the week progressed, I became more & more irritated. Those terrorists were so selfish, ruining my vacation. I almost threw up one night while watching the news & they showed a video of people falling out of the Towers. Disgusting. It's still imprinted on my brain.

And I still haven't been to Washington D.C.

Guess Who May Be Moving...Again

You'll never figure it out.

As the situation stands, I can stay where I am until April/May of next year. That's until my roommate's girlfriend moves in after she graduates & they get engaged. However, I have the opportunity to move in with Sam & Madison (who are now friends, WTF?!) this fall, & I think I may take it up. I just don't want to be in a position when it's time to move where I don't have anyone to live with again because if there's anything I've learned in life, it's that people are not dependable.

As you may remember, Sam is the one who I was going to move in with last year & then got cold feet, which resulted in me moving in with Skidmark (*shivers*). However, he's more financially independent, mature, & hates living at home. Madison has never lived away from home before, but she makes enough at our job that she should be fine. Especially since everything would be split 3 ways.

I have some reservations, mainly being that this particular combination won't be the best, living with someone who is 19, & having to move in general. I also don't want to screw over my roommate now, but he micromanages everything too much. I don't have hardly anything downstairs but if I leave something out or use it, he takes it upon himself to clean/move it. Everything has to be put away the instant it's not being used. I'll make some spaghetti (successfully) & go upstairs to eat it. I'll be up there for maybe 15 or 20 minutes. I come back down? He's already cleaned everything. I just hate feeling like a slob because of it. And instead of talking to me about stuff he just leaves notes. The dryer was too full. You didn't clean the beer-spill well enough. Make sure the detergent gets in the washer (I still have no idea what the hell he's talking about with that). Plus, I feel so awkward when his girlfriend is here. The very same girlfriend who has lived here since May. Sigh.

But yeah, I don't want to screw him over. He's nice & I enjoy his company (when I leave my room & we feel like talking to each other). Luckily I didn't sign a lease & we just agreed I'd give a notice if I was leaving sooner than the expected time.

Who knows what'll happen. We're going to try to see a place over in the area where I used to live with Skidmark. It sounds pretty awesome.

Mac & Cheese Fail

This post is inspired by a cook who may be worse than I, the Vapid Vixen over at the Ginja Ninja.

In my mind, I've always considered myself to be a decent cook. Oh look! Those noodles turned out fantastic! And I added just the right amount of canned sauce! Boom!

In reality though, I'd say I'm slightly sub par. I try to be creative! When I was about 11, I invented a salad that had chewing gum in it. I thought I was hot shit with that, too. My poor mother....trying to eat it...(that's what she said).

As I've gotten older, my skills haven't improved; if anything, I've just become more dangerous. When I was 14 I tried to cook a grilled cheese sandwich & didn't know to not to cook it on high. So I did. Then I came back into the kitchen to find it & the connected den were filled with smoke & the sandwich was essentially charcoal. We learned 3 things that day: not to cook sandwiches on high, that the smoke detector didn't work, & that I was dangerous.

Then there was the time I substituted soy milk for regular milk in my oatmeal (I despise milk). Judging by the size it grew to & the taste, that was unsuccessful. Also? That's what she said. I tried to use soy milk when making fettuccine alfredo as well. Epic, epic, EPIC fail.

There have been other kitchen disasters between then & the story I'm about to share, but this one was quite dangerous so I'm going to skip to it...it was Friday night & I was craving some Kraft Deluxe mac & cheese. That junk is banging. Anyway, I start the water & go upstairs to my room to finish watching the episode of "Big Brother" from the night before. After I'm done, I go back downstairs because Sam had come over to watch a movie & that's when I hear the rumbling in the kitchen.

Shit.

The burner was such a beautiful shade of bright orange, I almost didn't want to turn the stove off. But I did, because duh. After the dust had settled, I was left with these images...

In this one, if you look closely, you can see where the pot began to bubble.

So now I have to go buy a new pot for myself & a new...whatever that thing is that goes on the stove. I don't know. I still want my mac & cheese.

This Is What Happened....

It looks like I'm going to have to change my phone number.

I told Christy today that I had gotten her texts while my phone was "broken" & that I thought it was best we didn't talk anymore. That we didn't have anything in common. She called me immediately. I didn't answer & texted her back to not call me. She left me a 3 minute long voicemail, most of which was her forgetting to hang up. Sigh....

She started texting me again tonight when she apologized. I told her that I didn't think that was necessary because she hadn't done anything wrong. My whole thing with responding was that I didn't want her feeling bad when she didn't need to. But that opened up the floodgates again...

Then she started asking me why I said what I said, & that our old pastor told her he misses me & wants me to come back. I ignored that one.

Then she told me she had two questions for me. The first was if we were still best friends. I asked her what the second question was as my response. The other was why I told her not to call me. Sigh.

She's currently pestering me about forgetting her birthday & not going to her birthday dinner.

What drives me crazy about all of this is knowing that her grown-ass parents are there probably encouraging this. I mean, I told your daughter that I didn't want to be friends anymore & you're still giving her help on what to say?! Then again, letting her have a Facebook & giving her a phone with texting is much better than actually spending time with their handicapped daughter.

This has to get nipped in the bud pronto.