I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. ~Jack Kerouac

I think I might just die if I don't have any icecream. Last night, Jenny and I came to a group decision that our overdramatic behavior is a result of religiously watching a soap opera. I only have one headlight. I was going to go get one today, but then I didnt. Killer story, eh? Right now, like most nights, I am avoiding homework. Not because I don't want to do it, but because all I can think about is icecream. And summer, and the beach, and the puppy I am hiding in my closet that Jenny doesn't know about. I wore a skirt today to encourage warm weather. The Hobby Lobby here in Oshvegas is expanding. I'm pretty excited. I work 9.5 hours tomorrow. I better be in a dancing mood, or find some way to keep myself entertained for such a long period of time. Hopefully the cashiers know some good tricks. The one who juggles went back to college. Supposedly, the cashiers believe I look like an evil Russian spy because my hair is always in my face. I have brought Sheila into the world of Dick's. The biggest tool in the whole store has wasted no time in hitting on her. Big surprise. I am going to wear my shiny copper heels on Friday cuz it's my birthday and I can do whatever I want. And I want to wear my shiny copper heels. And go out to the bars with my friends. My hands smell like soap and garlic. If there was a contest to see who had the most random thoughts occur in their mind within a 10 minute time span, I think I could make it at least into the top three. I have a button collection pinned to my bulletin board. It consists of all the emergency buttons that have come with clothes that I have bought recently. I bought the new Mr. Clean shower cleaner because, after seeing the commercial a thousand times, I thought it really would be a time efficient, easy way to clean the bathroom. I admit, I am a victim of pop culture advertising. I am going to attack my homework like a retail ninja grizzly bear would attack a shoplifter.

I have had a strangely entertaining weekend. I have a few souveniors, including a large, unexplained bruise on my thigh and a NASA shot glass. If my mom ever tries to tell you anything about me, just completely block it out. I had to spend the afternoon at my grandparent's correcting everything my mom had previously said about me before I got there. No, I don't get a parking space for employee of the month. No, I did not loose the most weight this month at Curves. No, I did not eat lunch at the 'Golden Bucket'. If my mom says it, I probably have not done it. My check from Studio 213 for Feb was bigger than I thought it was going to be, which is a pleasent surprise. She said our jewelry was selling even more this month, which is another good thing. I wish it were summer. This whole spring break thing is making me yearn for another week free of class and literary theory. Tomorrow we are reviewing Derrida, Iser, and Rabinowitz. Let me tell you, I am not excited. Usually around the third time we review a certain article is when it first starts making sense to me. Every day when class starts there is this constant feeling of being in over my head and unable to ever sort out this literary bullshit in my head. Which brings me back to the idea of a spring break extension. I could enjoy another week of sleep, Sex and the City, making jewelery, and drinking. Even though I did not leave the Oshkosh/Appleton area (for exciting places such as Hawaii, Florida, Cancun, or Alabama) it was a pretty eventful week. I have decided that it is best that I do not stomach mass quantities of hard liquor for awhile. And after two days of binge eating I can guarantee that tomorrow I probably won't even be hungry. It all started with the stolen burrito. 

Things that can only be said on a soap opera:

1. "Dad, you can't fall in love with Aunt Carrie."
2. "I thought I would take you to the orphange I volunteer at on the island of my vacation home." Since when does Patrick live on an island?
3. "Mom, if you won't sleep with Bo, I don't want you to visit me in prision."
4. "Mom, I think he likes you, and more than just as his land lady."
5. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I sell watered down drinks."
6. "I could never love Sami again. She pulled that Stan thing and almost got us killed; I mean, you lost your leg."
7. "How long do you have to go on pretending to love Marlena before you kill her?"
8. "I'm going to the pier." (That's John Black's code for scoring drugs)

Yet another beautiful day wasted away inside the insanely cold walls of the basement of Radford. Yes, I am spending my Sunday off doing homework on a computer owned by the state of Wisconsin in my navy pinstriped pants, a Packers jersey and a black sweatshirt. Khristin's logic: if my day is going to be horrible, then my clothes don't have to match. Then again, I don't shower on holidays. I also am too lazy to wear underwear most of the time. Like today. I spend so much time inside this room I feel like I should know everybody here. But I don't. When I got here, hours ago, I was having some difficulties bringing up the files on my (brother's) jump drive. I was thinking to myself, "WTF, BBQ!!!" when I asked the Abercrombie wearing, Ryan Cabrara-ish guy behind the desk for help. He was an arrogant jackass about it. I was like, "sorry, dude, I don't know that much about computers". Some day, I hope we are in a situation where he needs to know about literary criticism and I am going to be a total beotch. So there. I am close to completing this project, and when I say close, I mean another hour point five or two. When I print it for the final time and push down on the stapler, there is going to be this glowing light emanating all around me and the voice of angels singing, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh". It will be a beautiful scene. If you would like to witness it, I am on computer 23 in Radford.

I am trying to figure out my schedule for next semester. Life has become increasingly difficult. I may not be a full time student in the fall, or I might have to take some bullshit class to keep the full time status. Right now, being a full time student does not have any benefits since I do not have insurance (and have not had it in awhile) and will continue to be uninsured for at least 90 days. (Unless I get the benefits of COBRA and get a restitution check on everything that I have paid for and will pay for in the upcoming months). I am going to take an African American women's literature class (which may or may not be interesting) and a rhetoric class. I want to take another creative writing class but I cannot decide between fiction or poetry. Fiction is a night class, which means poetry would fit better into my schedule. I do enjoy writing poetry, it is just that I am not very good at it. I know, that's what the class is for. But I am just not sure if I could handle a whole semester of writing poetry.

Back to the insurance issue- I went to the pharmacy this week to pick up a bottle of pills. Topomax, to be exact, an anti-seizure drug. No, I am not epileptic, but this drug is ADA certified for other uses. Do you know how much a one month supply of this drug costs the average uninsured person? $166.99!! Again, WTF BBQ!!!

There were two days last week that I had driven to campus, both of which I had to use the "four hour parking" meters. Coincidentally, both times I left campus with 13 minutes left on the meter. Since the number 13 is seen as an omen, I am interpreting it as a stroke of good luck. I have been told repeatedly that I seem to have some bad karma. So, in my world, this sign of bad luck is going to mean good luck. If I was the Ho-Tung Buddha I would let you rub my tummy for some good luck. You can rub my beer belly anyways*. The boys at work do. No, I am not a prostitute and I do not sell watches or jewelry (or anything for that matter) out of a trench coat on the corner.

*Yes, I am aware "anyways" is not proper grammar. I have always thrown the 's' on the end and used it as a plural to piss Juliane off. I cannot remember why it upset her so much, but I think it had something to do with Joe. It has become a habit now.