I'm sick. I'm tired. Does that make me sick and tired? Yes, but not in the traditional sense of anything other than moving. I've got a ton of stuff due at school Monday, need to be packed by Friday so the movers can pick up my stuff at 9 a.m., still need to go to school and work, Misti's coming (YEAH!), working on Saturday at the Jazz festival, and I have a frickin Ebola type flu. Where is the justice?

"Calgon, TAKE ME AWAY!"

Oh yeah, Misti...there is not just "that song" by Puff Daddy. He's had lots of top ten songs and even more on the radio. He even made some with Notorious B. I. G. And Tupac is a legend, and don't you forget it.

Word.

So this afternoon I was lounging around, buggin Vic to get up and goin so we could go buy boxes and start packing. The phone rings and caller ID says "out of area," which is typically my mother. I answer. It's work saying there is a rape victim at the hospital closest to my house, which is quite aways from the actual agency, and could I go. Now, last semester I took the Sexual Assault Advocacy Training classes, but I never did the exit interview. But now that I'm an employee, I am on back-up sometimes. So when the first in line volunteer person is either not reached or can't go, they call the employee on call to go take care of it. Today was the first day of my week to be on call. Which I had forgotten. Which, even if I had remembered it was my turn this week, I didn't think that I'd ever be called. So when I was just chillin, unshowered and all, and they called today...I freaked out. I was so nervous all the way to the hospital (I took a fast shower, btw)! So I called work and talked to this lady that I was in the SAAT class with who is now also an employee. She had taken some SAAT calls and she calmed me down, by the time I got there I was all good...but they time I was in there with the 19 year old girl and her mother--I was an expert. Oh yeah, I rocked. I new my stuff and had answers to all the questions. It's amazing how it all works like that. I hope that I was as much help as I feel like I was, but I guess that's something I will never know. In any case, I handled my first same day, very intense rape today and sailed through it with flying colors. I'd like to throw that in the face of a particular creep in OK. Rat bastard can't keep me down...this fat chick totally rules.

I'm moving Friday. There is so much to be done and no time to do it. I just called to have the house sprayed for bugs. I love bug spray, it kills my most dreaded enemy. I have to go to the city and pay $105 just to have the water transfered from the builders name to my name. Makes me crazy. I can't find anyone to do Nancy's hair on Friday either. She needs to go to the beauty shop bad. I can't stand the way she smells anymore. And the groomer could keep her while the movers are here on Friday so we don't have to listen to her bark bark bark bark.

Vic's back safe and sound. YEAH for safe and sound! He's sick and I think I'm getting that way too. Yuck. He brought me the cutest little butterfly and flower braclet from James Avery. SO sweet.

Today the SUPER HELPER AWARD goes to: Miss Teri Gunnels!!!!

She will be here shortly to try and make some sense out of this madness I/We live in! She is winning an all inclusive Nancy dance, all the sweet kitty bites she can stand, and (drummmmmm rooooollll pleaseeee!) a free night with my most honored concubine, Mandy!

So yeah, it's Friday night. Am I out on the town? Nope. I'm at work. Why, you ask? Because I have not one single thing better to do. I did all of my initial contact letters, all of my completion letters, and my monthly master log is completely up to date. I even called someone. She and I have been conversating for about 10 days now. She really needs some help, not necessarily because of her marital situation; but because she is mentally ill. She is being treated, but she doesn't understand her disorder AT ALL. I feel really sorry for her. Anyway, tonight there was a voice mail from her saying that her husband had been physically abusive and that she is filing for a protective order and a divorce. That means that he'll be kicked out of our program. I love being the first to know. I'm happy for her because maybe once she is out of the abusive relationship she can really focus on herself. The crazy thing about it all is that her husband is a big ol' powerful man in the community. Actually wouldn't surprise me if he lost his job because of her filing a PO. Fair? Maybe not. Fair that he beats her ass? Definitely not.

SO Vic is sick. He has a cold. I hate him being so far away calling me and sounding so pitiful. He wasn't feeling too bueno when he left, but I thought that he would continue taking the cold meds and get better. Nope, he continued taking them, but is not better. When I talked to him at 6:30 he hadn't eaten and he hadn't gotten anymore meds. I sent him to the Lone Star Oyster Bar so that Landon could keep him company and feed him and then to Walgreens for some theraflu and nose spray. We'll just see how that goes. I'll call him AND Landon to check later :). I'm going home. Nighty night.

I am so proud of Moe. Just like Misti coming of age with the world of pointless forwards, Moe is going to take time to better herself. I love to harp that no man is an island, but if you aren't going to get yourself together; no one else is going to do it for you. It's hard to set up limits, and it's even harder to stick by them. We are all pulling for you! Go MOE! If you need anything, I'm only a blog away. Speaking of needing things. I want a moe address. Please? When you have time, of course...and that may be next Christmas break, but if you will refer back to my very first ever blog post, I like to bandwagon :).

So today, in my Diversity in Social Services class, there were all these people with red faces and tears and stuff. It was really tense. So these two women walk in to speak. My gaydar pegged the meter. One was way obvious; the other would have only been about a 7.3 on the meter. They are late 40ish. They tell their stories about coming out, life as a lesbian couple, meeting at their (nondenominational, Christian, not gay) church, etc. So the class starts asking religious based questions (i.e.: But the Bible says...., so how do you claim to be Christian and gay???) This girl raises her hand, one girl that *always* talks and says, "This is my mom." One of the lesbians was her mom. It was cool. The whole class just stopped, like everyone held their breath. I love when people are taken by surprise and confronted with their own fears about people.

The teacher of this class always, always, always says "We are not afraid of the unknown, we are afraid of what we *think* we know." And that is so true. We fear our own what-ifs. We dream up these situations and if someone fits the description of our dream, or nightmare, we assume that they will fit the bill and play into our situations. This same teacher preaches that "Just because they look like you does not mean they are with you, and just because they don't look like you doesn’t mean they are against you." Again, very true.

One thing that I picked up out of the gay/religion debate was a cool quote that a girl said in defense of people saying that gay people couldn't be Christian. She said:

"Churches are not a haven for saints, but a hospital for sinners."

Beautifully spoken, but can't we all just get along? Back to work...

I forgot to ad a couple of other things to my "While Vic's Gone List." I watched Living Single (Queen Latifa's old show) in the living room. He hates that show and it's one of my favorites. If I watch it in the living room usually, he gets on the computer or something...so I never watch it, and instead we find something we can agree on. Not last night! I also slept with the fan on. He gives me this schpill about my allergies and waking up with a sore throat. He finally wore me down and I never sleep with it on. Not last night! I took a shower and got out, directly onto the rug, without ever touching my towel. I even stood there and dripped for a minute. Normally, he would have had a conniption fit had I not dried all of me, but especially the bottoms of my feet COMPLETELY before ever stepping out; he hates a wet rug. But damnit! Not last night!!!

And now, here I am. The reason I'm up? Because I had to poop the poodle. HE normally gets up when she starts barking. That's anywhere from 7 to 9. Today it was 7:42. And there was no one to get up except for me. SO then I had to find something to throw on, get her leash on, and make the trek down to the grass. Not that it's too far, but you never know what adventures we are going to find on the way, today it was only a wind-blown leaf; but we did have to bark it Good Morning!

I've recently spoken about my desire to be a morning person. Thanks to Nancy and Vic, I will live like I am for the next few days. I’m off to work!

Yeah! Misti is coming of age in the net world! She has found the literal disgust for forwards. I have to admit that I do love a good picture forward. You know the "Priceless" ones or "Will work for beer" kinds. If I can glace at it and get it, I will look. If it's long, it's gone. (I'm a rhymin' simon!). It also depends on who it's from. If someone that doesn't ever send forwards sends one...then I know it's probably worthwhile. But I actually very rarely get them anymore.

Vic's gone to Lubbock. Sad sad. He has to make up some army days tomorrow and Friday and then does the regular April drill this weekend. He hasn't been gone from me since he moved here back in November. I went home for Christmas for 4 days, and then went home when Paw died in February for 3 days. Other than that, we are together damn near 24/7. Not really, because he works at least 32 hours a week and I work 20-28 hours (but even some of those he is up there w/ me!). But I only have one class that he's not in. And neither one of us has a life. SO, I'm bored. Mandy is out and about too...God only knows where! And she too will be gone this weekend, so then I will be 100% on my own.

My plan tonight was simple: eat somewhere that Vic doesn't like to eat and bring it home and eat it at the kitchen table, another thing he doesn't like to do. La Madeline was my restaurant of choice, and they threw in a free loaf of sour dough bread. I love them. Clearing off a spot on the flat-filing cabinet was not as easy, but it was well worth it once I had a spot. Kitty even came and sat in the chair next to me and Fance Nance ate her dinner at the same time. I attempted to tell them about my day, but every time I would begin speaking, Nancy would stop eating and look at me. She needed to eat and they were just glad I was home, so I didn't tell them much.

Not real sure what's next. I MUST start packing. The movers will be here at 9 a.m. sharp on Friday the 26th. That's like 8 days from now and not a single thing has been packed. Aye carumba. I believe I will begin with some laundry tonight. Good idea.

Oh yeah. The storm. What storm? J-Ko is calling leaving me these paranoid messages about getting in the closet (has she forgotten Mandy is already out?) and Chicken Moe is hiding underneath pillows. I was busy at work, answering the crisis line, never noticed it. I did see that as people came in from outside they appeared to have droplets on their shoulders. I thought they had been smoking and trying to spit or something, that's what always happened to me when I used to smoke. Paranoia runs high in these here parts, I do declare. My car did enjoy the spit bath.

So this guy is pondering to one of my fat lists why he loves big women and this was one of his thoughts:

"...Or is it the xtreme american culture we are in....we do worship big cars, big houses, big entertainment. can you supersize it?"

I'll have a burger, fries, and extra large woman please. This tickled me. Add to the fact that I live in Texas where everything is supposed to be biggggger and better...and I should be the talk of the town!

It takes a lot to "offend" me. Need not be worried mi prima! I just simply had to set the record straight. I would like to someday be married, but I don't *long* for it like many pre-thirtysomethings do. And thanks Moe, I love to be linked.

Misti and Moe. Does that sound like a set of cartoon buddies (we'll have them be....CHICKENS! Cartoon chickens!) to anyone other than me? Kind of like Ren and Stimpy meet Pinky and the Brain. Chicken Moe the computer guru that manages the operation, you know, the one that sits quietly in the back ground working on something ingenious, all the while being every so slightly disrupted by the chattering of Chicken Misti and her crazy antics.

I see Chicken Misti more as the hen-type, with a silly hat and a purse like Ma on the Golden Girls. Chicken Moe is more the business-casul type, with chic specticles and a voice-recorder-reminder-note-to-self-stick-thing. Yes, and a martini, Chicken Moe should be drawn with a martini--shaken, not stirred--of course.

Sounds like a ween-ner!

Dear cousin just pointed out that I will be forever single. Thanks turd bucket.

Not only will I be married someday, I will have children. Most likely they will be small adopted Asian ones, but that's more than fine. I love them. I saw this Chinese women in Macy's carrying a little (I'd say 9 months old) girl. She was just precious. I wanted her. I have always been interested in Chinese history too, so having a Chinese daughter would give me more than enough inspiration to research it so that she may know her heritage.

Not to mention that in China they have that law which prohibits couples from having more than one child and when couples have a girl, they put her up for adoption (sometimes worse!). Couples always want boys, especially in cultures with such strong family structures. I want girls, I love them, they are wonderful. I will go get them someday. But not today.

Today I'm having issues with getting out of school. I don't feel like it is ever going to end. I'm so very tired of going and not feeling like I'm getting anywhere. Yeah, yeah...work harder. That's what they all say. I just want to have 12 Chinese daughters and get old gracefully. Is that too much to ask?

Southern Comfort was always just liquor to me. But apparently it's a gathering of transsexuals, I'm assuming in Atlanta. I just watched an HBO special (titled Southern Comfort) on Robert Eads, born Barbara, and his struggle with ovarian cancer. It completely broke my heart. I had never considered that a person would be denied medical care because of their sexuality/gender identity. Of course I'm not completely sheltered, I am aware of the injustice of discrimination, but this man died! He had a mastectomy years ago, and had been living his life as a man for some time. He had taken testosterone to bulk up, grow facial hair, the whole nine. So he starts bleeding and needs medical attention (he was past the age of menopause) and they couldn't find a hospital that would see him. He was flat out told by gynecologist that they wouldn't see him because they were afraid of loosing other clients.

This is not something that I claim to understand, and in all actuality, don't necessarily care to. But I love people, and I can't stand to see them in pain. Our society has placed such a stigma on difference that people don't just lose their lives due to hate crimes and AIDS (remember it's a gay disease, snort); they loose their lives to negligence. Turning the other cheek does not make it go away. Not to mention that part of being a Christian is to not judge; we *are* supposed to love one another. Not love one another IF and ONLY if _________.

Robert said at the end of the documentary, as they showed images of his lush, green farm: "Nature loves diversity; I don't know why people don't." Spoken like a true crusader.

R.I.P. Robert Eads

The house is just almost a home. There are a few minor touch ups, but in less than 2 weeks I will live there. I can't frickin' wait! This apartment gets smaller and smaller everyday!

Robson Ranch. Adult Living community. Neat. My brother Lance called it a mid-life crisis to grave community. You have to be *AT LEAST* 40 to live there and they prefer you to be 55. No one under 19 can live there at all. Three golf courses, a country club, restaurants, and everything else the active mid-lifer crisis-er could dream of. Lots of two bedroom homes with golf cart garages. My Bob was in heaven. We were there for 5 hours. We looked at 10 model homes. We looked at every available lot. We even looked at the carpet/tile/house samples. Let me repeat, My Bob was in heaven.

William better watch out, his parents may become TX residents and he'll be left behind. I don't know who he'd live with...maybe The Grandparents...Pinkie...Uncle Walker and Connie...NO!! NO!! I know! Cousin Randy and Cousin Jason!

We are meeting with the builder this morning. I'm ready to get this show on the road. WOB. That would be Waiting On Bob. He used to say "WOAAAAAA!!!" That meant Waiting On Amanda of course, and he just drug it out for extra emphasis, you know, how all west Texans do.

Bob and Kay are back. They left Hobbs at like 4 am and they are almost here and I just rolled out of bed. Morning people kill me. I try and try to be one, and I just can't. There is nothing like the stillness of the night. Even indoors you can feel that most people are in bed and that you really should be too. It's almost like a little rebellious thrill to refuse to give into your body and sleep. I am, however, very thankful that I am no longer one of those that closes her peepers and cannot sleep. Insomnia is a horrible disease. I know it's not really a "disease" physically, but it does plague one's mind, so I can call it a disease.

I hadn't done laundry in about one million years. This past week I have been wearing all of those things that I like to keep, but are really not worn anymore. I mean, they don't have holes or stains. They have just been in my closet the better part of a decade and are really very tired. I get attached to things, but I'm especially bad with clothes and shoes. I find favorites and keep them forever. Those are the things that I wore this week. The old things that really need to be dismissed from my closet, but I can not bear to see them go because of the fond memories attached to them. Most of which (this is the twisted part) are just fond memories of especially grand shopping days. "OH! I love this, I bought it in Las Vegas the summer I turned 21. I've never worn it, but someday!" Wearable souvenirs are hard to part with.

So AT&T has this new thing that you can pay like 20 bucks a month and talk unlimited to other AT&T customers. The fine print at the bottom of the screan says that it's 7 cents a minute to those who are not AT&T customers. That sounds like a swell deal to me. I just talked to Misit for 2 hours and 39 minutes. My current rates are 7 cents out of state and 10 cents in state. That means that since she lives in Midland, the one damn coversation was $23.90. Holy little smokies Batman. If everyone I know would switch to AT&T (including myself), I could talk as much as I'd like for less that one typical conversation w/ cousin Misti.

So what do yall say? Let's all make the switch! Here's the link to check it out!

http://www.shop.att.com/wrapper?portal=shopatt&bannerid=ILB011DRTTV&product=shopatt_orp2p#

Who in carnation was Murphy? And why did he make up this Law that has been in full effect in my life all day?

I am the most debt-free person I know. I don't owe anyone money, other than my current utilities bills. I have had several store credit cards (Pier 1, Target, Lane Bryant, etc.). I have a Master Card that is paid in full every month. I own my car, it is paid for. I have a job, two actually. So why the hell won’t Sears let me finance my refrigerator???

They say they can't verify my address. You know how I got the response from them as to why I was turned down???

That's right. BY MAIL. They mailed the rickin' frackin' letter to my frickin' rackin' address that they claim can't be verified.

I've got good credit, but I seem to live in a nonexistent place. My cable bill is about 5 days late, so by the time I move and have a verifiable address, my credit will probably be bad.

The last time they said that I had a "blemish" on my credit was because it showed that I owed Pier 1 the whopping amount of ONE DOLLAR. I freaked, called Pier 1 and they said that I owed 42 cents and that must be a mistake and waved it.

I hate credit. It is a stupid thing. I will go back to the way real women save money. In the piggy bank.

My last blog left something to be desired, so I should expand. My Saturday morning started with J-Ko and I splish-splashing from the Z Gallery to Crate & Barrel to Thomasville. There were so many beautiful things to look at; the majority of them I will never have; but it was wonderful to look. We then met Iesha at Celebrity Cafe, which was very cute and tasteee. There are a very of them in the DFW area, one address was basically in my front yard but I've never seen/heard of it before. J-Ko and I then made the drive out to my new house, and then to Target. We made the decision to be sure and do that at the very least once a month, because even though we do live close, both of us are too lazy to drive the 30-45 minutes. That must stop.

Saturday's rain was like Chihuahuas and kittens. By Sunday it was Great Danes and mountain lions. But I hadn't seen Miss Teri Gunnels in ages, so I ventured out. We went to the movies, as I said earlier, and then nothing. As for Rock Star, well...um…..It was hard for me to get into it because of the actors, Marky Mark replaced his funky bunch with some heavy metal men and Jennifer Aniston replaced her Friends for some slut puppy groupies. It was a decent 80's flick though, I was entertained and I suppose that is the goal.

The only note worthy event of yesterday was that I got my killer mondo midterm test/paper back. The one that I spent my spring break doing and I got!!!!!!!!!

(druuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum rooooooooooooollllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll pleaseeee)

100!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I rocked. Ok, so I just got a 95, but since I answered the bonus question correctly I got an extra 5. Wowzers.

AND, by the way, it's phosphoric acid in Dr. Pepper that is related to anxiety. Bad stuff, stay away.

Yesterday I spent my day w/ J-Ko and we shopped. It was good shopping, though I didn't by anything other than a bag of salad and some kitty-shitty bags at Target. We also had lunch w/ Iesha (Leasha). It was fun :).

Today, despite the flash flooding and tornados, Teri & Mandy & I went to the movies. Van Wilder is funny, but I think I'd wait to rent it if I were you. But I'm not, so do as you wish. Since then I'm not sure what we've done, but the time has passed quickly and we talked. So that was good too. We did go to On The Boarder, and I ate my salad...and if you've read in the past, you know my love for their taco salad. Now we are going to watch a movie. SO I will give my review of "Rockstar" later.

Peace in the Middle East. I'm out.

I learned a disturbing fact yesterday. It seems that Dr. Pepper has something in it that causes anxiety. Other soft drinks do not have it; it's my beloved DP alone. And seeing that I am a person that tends to suffer from mild anxiety, I should probably give it up.

I've always joked that it was my #1 addiction. I had also always joked that I was going to drink as much as I could before I had to give it up when I ended up diabetic like my Dad. Never in one million years did I imagine that it would be now, at 23 years and 10 months that I had to give it up.

Is there help for someone like me? I should know, it is what I want to do with the rest of my life. But I think a rehab center would be a little intense, not to mention that the heroine/cocaine addictions might be a little bitter. You see, my DP addiction is a hard one to understand. It is a combination of physical, mental, and convenience. The physical is the caffeine, but that can be gotten with a coke or mountain dew (another of my favs). The mental is similar to that addiction of the pot head, they just really really like it and *think* they need it. The convenience factor comes from restaurants, movie theaters, etc. I rarely know if it's a coke or pepsi place, but regardless, they typically have DP. I hate pepsi, and there are those sneaky places that when you order a coke; they bring you a pepsi. BUT, if you just go around ordering DP, that problem is avoided. With the exception of the addition of "Mr. Pib," which is a repugnant substance; but I digress.

I sat through 3 hours of "Stereotypes" today. My diversity class did an assignment last week in which the prof had everyone write down stereotypes about other races and gay/lesbians. But you couldn't write them about whatever you are (meaning, I can't write about white people).

Seems non-white people think white people stink when we are wet. I know, I know. Sounds crazy. But that is one of their stereotypes about us. They think we smell like "pee, bologna, or dogs" when we are wet. I think many of the white people were shocked and amazed, I know Vic and I were, and the class didn't really elaborate...but I couldn't stop laughing. I have never in my life heard that. Most of the rest of them seemed semily reasonable (rich, powerful, mean, arrogant); but I mean really! I think to say we smell like any of the said things just because of a little water is crazy. I think? Do I stink when wet? Someone let me know if I do.

I'm not real sure where Vic's gotten in his little head that I'm his "drinking buddy" but he seems rather disappointed that I am not intested in going to the bar. He doesn't drink, I don't drink...why would we go to the bar. Ok, so _sometimes_ I drink, but rarely and usually only w/ Misti. Misti needs to come down here and take Vic to the bar. Wait, she's not going to drink anymore either. Seems Vic may be out of luck or I am going to have to suck it up and take a trip to the bar. Where is Ms. Mandy Rue? She's the one that needs to be the "drinking buddy."

Birthdays are never good. There are only 3 that count. At 16 you are sweet, at 21 you are legal, and at 65 you get discounts for being officially old. Vic was 27 yesterday. It was just an all around crappy day. Too bad. Even the weather was dreary.

I have an appointment to get MFR (myofacial release, like massage therapy, but not) today, but I can't seem to figure out where. I hate places that only have answering machines. It wants me to leave a message and someone to call me back. I need to leave my house in 20 minutes to make it to Denton, where the appt. is, and I don't have time to leave a message and wait. AND I'm not going to leave if I don't know where I'm going. The logical thing is to look on the net or in the phone book, but I don't know what it's called...I only know the woman's name I have an appt w/. Figures.

This weekend J-Ko (aka Jamey) and I are going to chill. I need to go to Crate and Barrel in Dallas and that's not far from her casa, then I am taking her to see my house. That's actually a pretty good drive, but it must be done. She has named my house Martha's Vineyard. Funny funny.

Yesterday I cooked some cow for lunch. I threw the package in the trash. Later in the day I walked by Nancy's cage and it was it in there. She is a beast. And she wonders why she has to have a cage.

It's my least favorite class day (read I hate it passionately). I have something due and I have to clue what it is. Neat beyond neat.

I've been trying to think of something to call and tell my parents for April Fools Day, but all I can think of are I'm getting married or I'm prego and neither one are funny AT ALL.