Caustic Cupcake's Creepy Cupboard

Today is significant for several reasons:

• Today is the last day of NaBloPoMo.
• This morning I got a text from Mr. Mollusk: he got together with the girl he's had a crush on for eight years. For three seconds, I was thrilled; he might finally be happy. Then, coincidentally, all the oxygen drained out of the room and I suppose I felt somewhat too occupied trying not to suffocate to give the text adequate thought. Rather than eat breakfast before school, I spent an hour or two developing the perfect balance of spite and affection in a 945,726-word email. You know, in response to his 23-word text message. The irony of this exchange being a microcosm of THE ENTIRE YEAR WE DATED is not lost on me.
• I spent two classes some time this morning drawing a comic strip for Logic Professor. This is significant because it's been a while since I did that; ExBf kind of knocked the comics out of me for a few years there because he didn't like me drawing them for other people. Because that would practically be cheating.
• In my literature class this afternoon, the professor asked if I would, along with another student (who is in her 60's and kicking academic ass, bless her heart), help some other students out. That's not the cool part, though- he complimented my writing (noting that he was disappointed in the unforgivable bullshit sub-par effort I turned in for the last test). He complimented it hard. However, in response to the complimenting, I gave him the address to this site, effectively limiting the extent to which I can publically gloat.
• Okay, fine: I'm awesome.

But the past couple days have included some bloggable moments, as well:

• Yesterday morning Logic Professor witnessed for the second time my propensity to talk either in my sleep or, at the very least, while not fully awake. I got up on my elbows on his chest and shook him.
  "Good morning," he said, blinking.
  "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?" I demanded suspiciously.
  "Because... I love you?" he answered. "...and... you woke me up?"
  "Oh," I said, or something to that effect, and felt suitably embarrassed when I woke up more.
• Last night we visited Jul and LoPro met JQ for the first time. Logic Professor is a big fan of little kids. I was worried that JQ would be afraid of him, but they bonded within minutes and are now pals. Cutest moment: when JQ was talking about how he didn't want to wear a diaper, then lowered his little head and said, sadly, "...but I have to." Most heartbreaking moment: when we put him in his crib and he implored me- because I am the gullible one- not to leave. "Stay here, Cupcake," he begged. "Stay here." I almost cried. While we were there, Jul cooked for us and I drank half a carton of chocolate cherry eggnog.
• Looks like I'll have to remove "Awesome Spelling Skills" from my Judgemental Bitch Toolbox, because it has just come to my attention, after months of making judgements and being judgey, that JUDGEMENT- I MEAN, UM, JUDGMENT- HAS NO E. (Also, it turns out that there isn't supposed to be a "D" in"refriDgerator", either, but that's much less humbling.

And that's pretty much the roundup. I can be a fairly prolific blogger, but fuck if I'm not glad NaBloPoMo is over.

Labels: Dr. Thumbscre.ws, Every Day Is Judgement Day, Family, Higher Education, Logic Professor, Lovelife

A few days ago I got a text message from one of the managers at the CPRB that the owner wanted to meet with me. I called him to ask if I was getting fired. It never hurts to ask. The answer was a partially confident "no"- "I don't think so," he said. "The owner wants to meet with all the b4rtenders to talk about their progress."

I sorely hoped that he wasn't refering to their progress to another job, and by "their" I mean "my".

So I was still a little nervous when the owner showed up unexpectedly last night and called me over. This could be bad, I thought. Maybe he couldn't wait until our meeting to get me off his fucking property and on to more, you know, progress.

"What's up?" I said.
"Do you have any management experience?" he asked.

We didn't talk in depth, I didn't accept anything, and I don't know who- if anyone- is getting fired. He said he'll give me a call.

Later, two customers were talking:
A: This b4r is great. It has everything. $1.50 beers, good music...
B: Cupcake's ass...
A: All b4rs have asses.
B: But not Cupcake's ass. That's unique to this b4r.

So I immediately climbed up and modified the sign where I write my name every night, and added something to my name so that it said:
CUPCAKE's ass: unique to this bar

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r

I really don't have anything to post yet, but... you know...

Last night: a Nekromantix show, then hanging out at Jul's until all hours.
Today: Going to school... with LoPro (why do his classes suspect something?!).
Tonight: a shift at the CPRB.
Tomorrow: probably complaining about a shift at the CPRB.

Some things Parsely has done in the past week or so:

• Knocked over a houseplant, then ignored it until I tried to clean it up and then decided that actually, he wanted everything to do with the houseplant.
• Nibbled the edges off the speakers in the living room.
• Stuck his head in an empty coffee mug on the computer desk and then, after I moved his mug away from him, immediately butted it with his head to push it off the edge.
• Followed me to the door when I was leaving for school, and then stood on his back legs beseechingly while I walked out, almost causing me to miss school entirely to stay home and pet him all day.
• Learned to go in the litter box. Mostly.
• Started trying to climb onto the first shelf of the refridgerator when I open the door. He knows from whence carrots come.
• Let me pick him up once.
• Hopped over while I was giving LoPro a kiss, and licked LoPro's eyebrow, leading the latter to wonder out loud if that counted as our first threesome.
• Crapped on the bed.
• Partook in a little crumb of Tastykake's new eggnog pie*.
• Laid down as flat as possible on the living room floor, with his little face between his paws.
• Ate his first piece of apple.
• Bit off the top edge of my anthropology syllabus.
• Immediately thereafter, refused to bite any of the quizzes LoPro was grading (even at the latter's dire insistence).

* Not as bad as you might think. Tastes like eggnog. Contains real nutmeg.

Labels: Bunny

This afternoon LoPro and I were at the godforsaken grocery store that moved all my shit around and I was having a hard time deciding what kind of bread to get. So I asked LoPro: did he like wheat? rye*? white? twelve-grain? raisin? pumpernickel?

And then he said the one thing I've been waiting to hear for most of my adult life:

"I'm just here to entertain you with my kisses, not influence your decisions."

Why yes, I did leap into his arms. Then I got wheat AND white.


* The first time I spelled that, I totally spelled it "rhy".

Labels: Logic Professor, Lovelife

"Damn, girl, you work fast," said one of the managers at the Cool Punk Rock B4r after meeting Logic Professor. "Didn't you just break up with that other guy?"

Yeah, and you know, I was thinking that same thing myself. Let's talk about timing.

I'm going through that sad, conflicted period after a breakup, so I'm still confronted with the usual post-breakup thoughts: what if we had tried harder? what if I had shut up and listened? why wasn't love enough? did it have to happen this way? what if something happens to them and I never get to say I'm sorry?

I have no answers for those questions.

It so happens that I am also going through that consuming, enthralling, light-headed period at the beginning of a new relationship. It's amazing, and he's wonderful, and we're happy. I'm so glad that we actually, unbelievably, against crazy odds, managed to get together.

It's tempered by that rock in my stomach that is the thought of Mr. Mollusk sitting at home by himself. The post-breakup healing process that I'm supposed to be going through has likewise been retarded by my new relationship. Nothing is healed, and nothing can heal, and nothing can be perfect at the same time, either. My fucked-up timing has tangled everything and I don't get to experience either of those things wholly and without the other.

Furthermore, I've put in a lot of time hating myself for the way my timing effects other people. Mr. Mollusk feels like he's been replaced, like our relationship didn't mean anything to me. Logic Professor is supremely mature about this, but I think that he deserves to experience that new-relationship feeling without being interrupted every so often when I get a text message from my very recent ex- You never really loved me. Then he sees in person what he shouldn't have to and doesn't need to, what Mr. Mollusk really should and doesn't get to: how untrue that statement is. That's when the self-hatred flares up, right when the irony is sinking in, and I feel like everyone would be better off if I hadn't entered their lives.

Or, alternately, since I can't reverse time and not enter everyone's lives, perhaps things would be better if Mr. Mollusk and Logic Professor got together instead. I mean, neither of them is homosexual but there's no denying that we all have a lot in common, namely the propensity to get fucked over by my horrible relationship planning. That would tie up all the loose ends and I could stay right here with my books and guitars where I belong.

I know how this happened, but that's for another post, I guess.

Labels: Insanity, Logic Professor, Lovelife, Mr. Mollusk

The scene: last night in Logic Professor's kitchen. Cupcake sits on the counter over the dishwasher while LoPro cooks... and talks.

LOPRO: ...and then he did [something] with [someone] and that's when they wound up going [somewhere] and...
CUPCAKE: (has completely zoned out because LoPro has walked over and she is playing with the strings on his hoodie)
LOPRO: ...but if he had done [something] it wouldn't have happened [whatever way it happened], because...
CUPCAKE: (puts up Logic Professor's hood, pulls the strings tight)
LOPRO: (pause) I can tell you haven't heard any of this. You don't care about anything I'm saying, do you?
CUPCAKE: (drops hoodie strings, feigns attentiveness) YES I AM!
LOPRO: That's not even the right answer!


The scene: this morning on LoPro's couch. He and Cupcake have just read an email that says that it's impossible to lick your own elbow.

CUPCAKE: (quietly tries to lick own elbow)
LOPRO: Are you trying to lick your elbow? Awww, that's so cute!
CUPCAKE: SHUT UP! Why aren't you trying it?
LOPRO: I already tried. At the end of emails like this, it usually says something like 90% of people who read this will have tried to lick their own elbows.
CUPCAKE: (blushes with shame, continues trying to lick own elbow as soon as LoPro turns away)
...
LOPRO: You almost have it! Let me try to turn the elbow a little more.
CUPCAKE: Get off my elbow! I can do it myself!
LOPRO: Try the other elbow!
CUPCAKE: (dejected) This one is worse.
LOPRO: I can lick your elbow. (licks elbow)
CUPCAKE: That doesn't count! (continues licking efforts)
...
LOPRO: Why is that such a turn on?!

(By the way, the email said that 75% of people would try to lick their own elbows after reading the email.)

Labels: Logic Professor, Lovelife

Today is laundry day because I'm out of pants and it's kind of cold for capris.

Happy Buy Nothing Day.

It was a beautiful day yesterday. I took a Literature exam and my essay was longest string of bullshit I've written in a long time. I wanted to put a disclaimer on it: yes, yes, I know this is total bullshit, and I wish I hadn't written it, but I had to write something to get a grade, and I just don't want you to think that I believe any of this. Blah blah blah, the human condition, blah, dramatic irony, blah blah, how the inherent symbolism relates to us and reveals our own true nature through the comparison of the OH MY GOD, NOBODY CARES, IT WASN'T EVEN THAT GOOD OF A BOOK.

After that, I decided it was too beautiful to go to statistics, and besides, it would be a long time before I saw LoPro again, so I blew off class and we went to the diner. Then he drove me all the way to work so we could spend an extra half hour together. It was wonderful.

That night, just as the b4r was closing, our customers started a minor brawl that spilled out onto the street and temporarily stopped traffic. There seemed to be a little confusion amongst the ranks as to who was on what side, but as far as I could tell, there was little or no blood.

Downstairs, counting out our register money, we were one chair short because there was an extra b4rtender working; I wound up without a flat surface to count on, sitting in a corner in a computer chair. After a moderately harrowing twelve-hour shift, while counting out over a thousand dollars into my lap, writing down how many of which bills I had and adding or subtracting comped drinks and deductions for grocery-store runs by juggling receipts and also trying to hold onto a pen, a calculator, bill wraps, and all of the appropriate forms, yeah, during all of that, I might have gotten frustrated and pissed off, and might have ripped off all my dollar bill wrappers, thrown them at a wall, and possibly frightened someone.

If our register is over or under by more than a certain amount, we have to pay back double to the b4r. We were all tired. I was over more than that amount, although given how much I rang in tonight, it accounted for less than one percent of my sales. "I don't fucking know," I said.
"I think you just accidentally gave me too much money," said the manager in an unprecedented burst of leniency, because he undoubtedly did not have the energy to sort it the fuck out either, and handed me a ten from my register to bring it back under the cutoff. I was too tired and pissed to thank him, but I should use that ten to buy him flowers.

When Logic Professor picked me up, there was a rather awkward moment when an ex-student of his walked me out intending to give him hell about his final grade, but nothing really came of it.

He brought me a snack. He's an angel.

When I got home, there was a series of heartbreaking text messages from Mr. Mollusk, and a brief, half-drunken conversation (it doesn't need to be said that my half was not the drunk half). The situation sucks. I was really glad- and relieved- to hear that he was with his family today.

Today I went to my uncle's house, and there were only a few of us there. I talked to my little cousin, who's not so little any more, and I think we're going to go look at some four-year colleges together. I'm going to bring over some old photos from Ohio, too, to share with my uncle, hopefully sometime this weekend.

I paid my parents back for that Latin class I dropped.

Family is awesome.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Labels: Logic Professor

... but I'd better get off the computer and get into my slut suit before school because I have to go straight from there to work. Thanksgiving Eve is the busiest night of the year in the b4r industry, it's a beautiful day, and we're on a popular bar-hopping strip. We'll see how it goes.

I'm a little disappointed that my family isn't all getting together for Thanksgiving.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r, Intoxicology

Text message from one of the managers at the Cool Punk Rock B4r:

Happy thanksgiving to all we will be open from 7pm to 2am thanksgiving day ALSO we would like our b4rtenders to highlight their individual beauty we encourge you to showcase your beauty the same way u would if going on a first date smiles ofcourse while wearing a cprb shirt

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r, Every Day Is Judgement Day, Product Endorsements

Last night I met Logic Professor's nephews- two vibrant little boys laughing and rolling around on their grandparents' carpet in an adorable deathmatch that will take approximately ten to twenty years to resolve completely. Then we had pizza with LoPro's parents, which was cool. I counted ten bibles- easy- while I was there. I don't mean that to imply anything; I just suspect that I might have to link back to this post sometime in the future, such as the inevitable evening when they drive me from their property with torches and pitchforks discover the nature of my religious beliefs.

No, really, they are super nice people who raised a super nice son and have fed me three times.

Later, Logic Professor and I went to the Cool Punk Rock B4r. It was the first time I'd stopped by to hang out since I started working there, and I wanted to show him off. Alas, it was dead there and there, nobody I knew was hanging out, and there wasn't even a b4rtender working upstairs. The good news is that we had the whole upstairs to ourselves, and he thoroughly kicked my ass at pool while I fed the jukebox five-dollar bills. I spitefully played a series of intensely long Type O Negative songs to drive out the few people who wandered up to shoot pool next to us; I recognized them and remembered their terrible taste in music. Afterwards, I felt terrible but I was still glad they left.

I was rather dumbfounded flabbergasted scandalized impressed by the speed and skill with which Logic Professor wiped up the table with me destroyed all of my billiards-related self esteem annihilated the competition, who, coincidentally, happened to be his girlfriend, who, coincidentally, is me won the first game, leaving most if not all of my balls still shivering on the table. What was I thinking, that his philosophy degree all but guaranteed that my pool-shooting skills would be superior? Yes. That is exactly what I thought, and how wrong I was.

The street was quiet, dark, and wet when we walked back to the Rollmobile. Everyone is saving their money for tomorrow night. I'll be working and it should be crazy profitable.

As we drove home, I thought about what we'd do in the morning: he'd have to go teach something-or-other at some ungodly hour around dawn, but if I stayed at his place I could sleep until he got back from class and woke me up for breakfast. I was already thinking snuggles and home fries; I smiled. "I can't wait to wake up with you," I murmured.

There was a long pause, and then he said "What?" and I could tell by his tone of voice that I'd said something very wrong. After it was all sorted out a few seconds later, I was happy to reassure the poor man that I had in fact said "wake" and not "break". It came up again briefly over breakfast at the diner this morning, when everything was safely snuggles and home fries.

Now he's off teaching something somewhere and I'm home with Parsley and my house smells like a thousand wet rabbits so I'm off to scrub the carpet. The litterbox training is going well in that Parsley is reliably crapping in one spot but badly in that his chosen spot isn't necessarily in the litterbox, but rather under the shelves where I stack my clothes.

Oh, the lengths to which I will go to accomodate my tiny roommate.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r, Logic Professor, Lovelife

One of my bigger fears at the moment is that Parsley will hop outside between my feet- without me noticing- when I open the door. There's a chance that instinct would kick in and he'd be fine, but I'm betting that he'd be dead or mortally wounded before he reached the foot of the stairs. Tiny Danger is completely domesticated. This morning when the alarm clock went off, I got up to turn it off and met Parsley as he came bounding into the room to say good morning. Do you realize what this means?! The bunny gets up with the alarm.

This is also the bunny who, while I was talking to Mr. Mollusk on the phone last night and therefore not scratching behind anyone's ears for ENTIRE MINUTES, contented himself to climb over to the computer desk from the bed and, one by one, push things off the edge- cd cases, guitar picks, pens, lip gloss, a dollar bill- until I paid attention to him.

A couple days ago I looked over and saw him stretched out on my bed, snuggled in amongst the bunched up blankets, quietly chewing on the corner of a book Logic Professor had lent me.

Whereas he was timid and somewhat easily scared when he first came here, now Parsley is fearless. Last night he was underfoot as I took out the trash and then, while I was pulling out a new trash bag, he stuck his face in the box, all "What's making that noise?!" He puts his paws up on my guitar when I play. If I drop something, he doesn't run to get away- he comes running to investigate (and possibly nibble).

He appears to like finding things, or, at least, moving things around. Every small object that once upon a time rolled under a bookcase, a desk, or a radiator has been delightfully dragged out into the open, or soon will be.

There's some kind of bad blood between Parsley and the floor, but Parsley seems to be the only one doing the attacking- randomly and without provocation, I might add.

When I leave the room, he follows me.

He plays in the laundry basket, and jumps up onto the bed from there. But now he's confident enough to jump straight off the bed to the floor. He sleeps on the carpet, in the open. And he slurps when he drinks [tea, apple cider, Diet Sprite] out of a cup.

Labels: Bunny

Labels: Bunny, Flat Life

This morning, Logic Professor and I got to talking about how guys name their more personal parts. He asked if I had named mine, and I was taken aback. You can't name that, I thought, and then after I'd said as much, I felt obligated to explain why.

"Because it's not a thing, like a dick is. It's more of a... locale," I said. "A place."

And then you know what had to happen next. Here is the list of viable names I've come up with for naming your own vagina:

• Vagville
• Bitchmond
• Cuntsburg
• Snatchington

Suggestions are welcomed. This coincides nicely with Jul's latest post.

Last night, when I'd finished counting out and was ready to leave the b4r, I went upstairs because I heard the owner was up there hanging out and I figured I should say hi before I left.

He wasn't up there, but there were a couple girls he brought with him, the usual type: young, blonde, obviously with money, the kind who drink appletinis and think nothing of being picked up in a limo (because that's how the owner rolls, see). Also, Another Customer was still inexplicably hanging out, by himself, an hour after we'd closed.

I figured the owner was on the third floor doing whatever it is that he does up there, but if he wasn't going to come down any time soon, I was just going to leave.
"Where's XXXX?" I asked Another Customer. One of the girls must have misheard me. She put down her martini, and without looking at me, snapped:
"Um, XXXX is the guy who owns this place."

I had to smile, but I managed not to laugh.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r

Next semester's schedule wasn't easy to make. I could have taken twenty-something credits and finally graduated. Like I could actually pull that off. That's the sort of thing I plan for ahead of time as if it's plausable and then when I actually get there I hate myself- like deciding that I'll be fine if I don't sleep for the rest of the week so I might as well schedule myself to work six shifts in two days, wheee!

So far, it's looking like I'll go three or four hours a day, five days a week. None of my classes will be online, because I've never had an online class go well, and four classes later I've finally given up on them as a realistic option for me. I admit that I only take them thinking I can slide by with a bare minimum of effort because nobody will be watching, and then I start the class and get all surprised that they require learning.

So it's looking this way:

Monday, Wednesday, Friday:
Statistics II
Health and Wellness (re-taking for a better GPA)
World Literature

Tuesday, Thursday:
Intermediate Spanish II
Biology For People Who Don't Have Anything Better To Do For The Rest Of The Day (Oh, You Did? Too Bad.)

Biology is three hours long, and that's why I wound up shuffling it over to my days off. I mean, my former days off.

After that, I'll have two classes left before I can get a degree of some kind. While I'm taking two classes, I think, I should try to pick up some others that might transfer. Besdies, looking through the online catalog, I noticed that some of the liberal arts degrees vary by only a couple classes. My question is this: if I take those couple classes, can I get two degrees for what is essentially the same coursework? I think so, and LoPro seemed to think so, too. My second question is this: do two AAs equal a BA?

Labels: Higher Education

I just got home from work; it's four o'clock in the morning, and my bunny is hopping around on the bed next to me, trying to get my attention. When I left for school this morning at 9:30, it was November 14th. Then I went to the CPRB for twelve hours, and as far as I'm concerned it's not a new day until you've gone to sleep and woken back up again, so although this may technically be November 15th, I consider this the 14th.

It was a pretty good night at work. But it's been a pretty bad couple days, actually.

This isn't a plea for your encouragement. This is an explanation of why I'm not being funny today. Maybe tomorrow... or later today, depending on how you look at it.

When I wake up, I'm going to do a lot of statistics homework, pay some bills, and try to convice my sister that hurting her was the very opposite of what I had in mind.

Labels: Family

This is me posting to fulfil my NaBloPoMo obligation and to say thanks for all your awesome comments!

Labels: Cleaning Out The Cupboard

Last night Logic Professor and my parents came over to my place for dinner; they were meeting for the first time. I'm pretty sure nobody was more nervous than Cupcake.

"You don't look like any professors I know," my father said. I can't remember if I had told them how old LoPro is, either in person or on the blog, so perhaps they were expecting some grizzled old man wearing all black and clutching a weathered philosophy tome. It turns out that Logic Professor is in his twenties, as well as tall, bright-eyed, and disarmingly cute.

The four of us passed the time by building little sculptures out of raw pork chops- there were plenty to go around. No, actually, we sat around talking at the kitchen table with our pizza and coffee while Parsley scampered around being as cute as possible. My mother kept drifting off into the other room after the bunny hopped that way, and my father noted that the bunny had licked his hand again, which, according to him, couldn't be a coincidence.

In addition to everyone liking the bunny, I think everyone liked each other, too. Well, I'm not sure if I like my father anymore, because he good-naturedly argued me to the point of mental exhaustion last night. Bear in mind that just a few hours before I'd had a meltdown over pork chops- PORK CHOPS, PEOPLE. His point of contention involved the truthfulness of an offhand comment I made about something I'd read on the internet, his point being something about whether an idea like that was even provable and my point being that actually, I didn't care if they got their conclusion from a Magic 8-Ball, I just thought it had been an interesting idea. You know how when someone doesn't get a joke and you have to break it down and explain why it was funny and by that point it's not even funny anymore, and you're wondering if it was even that funny to begin with? It was just like that, except replace "joke" with "idea I thought I read on the internet somewhere" and replace every instance of "funny" with "interesting" and while we're at it, replace "someone" with "Dad" and "you" with "Cupcake".

The subject of the theory? Father-child resemblance.

My parents also had a good time playing with fire. There were some candles on the table and it was my bad move to take out the little box of 1,000 toothpicks and put it in front of them, because before I knew it, the number of things burning on the kitchen table had tripled. I admit that after my mother started giving the pillar candle a little crown of burning toothpicks, I gave in to my impulses and commenced sticking some in what was left of my slice of cake. Yes, they were also on fire. We know how to have a good time.

I can't remember if all of the burning happened before or after the conversation with my father, but I'm disappointed that I didn't think to set him on fire, too.

So now we've both met each others' parents. The next step, says LoPro, is them meeting each other, but that's a ways down the road.

After they left, Logic Professor helped me clean up, and we played with Parsley, who discovered how to climb up on the bed from the laundry basket, then hopped around on us for a while. Some hours later, I was either sleeping or falling asleep, all snuggled up to Logic Professor, when he said "I have a confession." My heart stopped; I was instantly awake, and scared. I always say that as much as you care about someone, you harbor an equal capacity for being hurt by them, and it seems to me that confessions often preceed that kind of hurt. His arms were around me, my back pressed up against him.
"What?" I asked.
"I love you," he said.

Labels: Bunny, Family, Flat Life, Logic Professor, Lovelife

Tonight I'm having LoPro and my parents over for dinner; they will be meeting for the first time. My sisters were going to come too but for assorted reasons they totally bitched out on me will not be in attendance. That's okay. They don't get to play with my ADORABLE THREE-MONTH-OLD BUNNY.

So I was going to cook something impressive, and I even went to the grocery store and bought a bunch of impressive ingredients that don't normally hang out in my kitchen, like garlic and brown sugar and cream, and then between the grocery store and home I lost my shit and decided that we're having pizza instead. I hope rabbits like pork chops because I've got twelve of them to use up this week.

I mean, by the time I had loaded the groceries in the car I was thinking about throwing in the kitchen-towel. You have to remember that I have a history of freaking out at grocery stores. Today's shopping trip was kind of like being in one of those nightmares where you know where you are but nothing is where you can find it. Actually, it was that nightmare: they are renovating my local Acme, and nothing is where we can find it.

The shoppers were bumping into each other and saying things like "Have you seen the Tide anywhere?" and "What's going on?" and "I can't find anything!" Myself, I was asking everyone "Have you seen the Shake n' Bake anywhere? Anywhere at all?" Because I had just about everything I needed as far as impressive ingredients went except for the fucking Shake n' Bake.

I'd gotten started late to begin with, because I like to sabotage myself like that, and my half-hour grocery run had turned into an hour, and now an hour and a half, and still I'd found neither Shake nor Bake. I already had the fucking pork chops, and I wasn't sure what else I'd do if I didn't shake and bake them, and now didn't seem like a good time to start experimenting with radical new chop-based dishes. I found a young man wearing an Acme shirt and asked "Hey, have you seen the Shake n' Bake?"
"Ohhhhh... that got moved, like, three times," he said regretfully. "I think it's... over there?" And as soon as I turned in that direction he dove into a display of cereal boxes.

I went up and down a few more aisles that seemed likely to be harboring Shake n' Bake or other fine crumb products but the aisles were so torn up that it was hard to know what to expect. The pudding was across from the aluminum foil and the tampons were next to the corn flakes, and everything seemed to have a place except for the product I wanted. I considered feeding my boyfriend and parents bread and water, but realized that I hadn't seen water anywhere, either. That was when my eyes landed on a shelf of cat food and paused.

This was bad.

I asked a group of three Acmeites who didn't seem to be too busy putting my motherfucking store back the way I left it doing a whole lot, so I grabbed one of them by the lapels and screamed "WHERE'S THE FUCKING SHAKE N' BAKE?" Well, something like that. And they said something to the effect of "Dude, we haven't seen it since last Saturday. Find your own fucking Shake n' Bake."

A few aisles later I found another couple employees, these ones more industrious and responsible-looking.

"Have you seen the Shake n' Bake anywhere?" I asked.
"Aisle three, halfway down and on the left," one of them said.
"GOD BLESS YOU," I proclaimed.

So I hastened to aisle three and a half where I found pasta and vinegar. I was going to go back and punch him in the face but he, too, had probably sought cover in the cereal display. What else could I do to locate the godforsaken Shake n' Bake?! Hadn't I done everything in my power save taking the store manager hostage and announcing over the store's PA that if anybody wanted to get out of the store alive they'd come to the courtesy desk with a motherfucking box of Shake n' Bake (the kind for Pork, not Chicken)? I guess they wanted me to throw myself, sobbing, at the feet of the head stock boy, wailing "ALL I EVER WANTED *sob* WAS SOME SHAKE *hic* N *sniffle* BAAAAKE."

It was then that Jul texted me that she and Mr. Jul wouldn't be coming, and it didn't occur to me to put back some chops until I got out to the car I found myself thinking, well, shit, what am I going to do with all these fucking pork chops? I almost lobbed a couple of them at the store but couldn't summon the strength.

Of course, there's always Wawa to fall back on, so I went there. It turns out that there isn't always Wawa to fall back on, because they didn't have it, either. I was on my way to another store when I looked at a clock and realized that LoPro and Co would be here in a couple hours and I hadn't even started mashing the potatoes.

That's when I decided to get pizza.

Labels: Insanity

JQ dressed as a somber little "bacuum cleaner" on Halloween:

Oh, yeah: Jul told me on the phone that when Dr. Thumbscre.ws was asked how tall he is, he replied "tall enough." Furthermore, he has revealed that Dr. Thumbscre.ws can fly.

Labels: Dr. Thumbscre.ws, Family

This is me posting with nothing nice or appropriate to say (there are nice things, but they are inappropriate; there are appropriate things, but nobody wants to read them). I'm sure you'll forgive me because I'm throwing in a little Parsley to spruce up the post:

Labels: Bunny

Family Business

• Marie died with her daughter, my mother, and Junket by her side. The funeral is tomorrow morning.


• JQ has been correcting the women at daycare when they call him by his first name. "It's Dr. Thumbscre.ws," he says, and so that's what they're calling him now.


• I really miss that baby.


• My parents and possibly one or more sisters (but no nephews) are coming over for dinner on Sunday. I still don't know what I'm going to feed these people.

Logic Business

• Last night I met Logic Professor's parents for the first time, and it went well. I mean, I did wind up spending a few hours not looking at or touching their son for fear of doing something inappropriate (as if they'd blurt out "How dare you HOLD HANDS in front of us?!" and stomp out), but that wasn't so bad, and they were very nice.


• After they left, some biting accidentally happened. It was a good thing this happened after I met them and not before, because as the only other person there, I would surely have been blamed for the bite mark. However...


• Logic Professor is also coming to Sunday dinner at my place, so he and the bite mark will be meeting my parents for the first time. I hope they will remember how vicious I can be (they did, after all, raise me for 18 years) and will not attempt to infer anything unsavory about Logic Professor from the Mark of Cupcake alone.


• This morning he was met with giggles in all of his classes. Only his second class approached the subject of the Mark. He had promised to grade their midterms by today.
  "Did you grade our midterms?" one of the gigglers asked.
  "No, sorry," he said, and the room erupted in laughter. And speaking of midterms...

School Business

• Our history tests were returned today (by someone who, rather than accumulating bite wounds, stayed in and did his grading like good professors should). The professor had likely never read an essay about the Protestant Reformation that ended with "Yay Martin Luther!" Perhaps that worked in my favor.


• I'm still going to drop Latin, though.


• I have to pick classes for next semester. Hopefully I can take Latin- in person this time, as opposed to online.

Miscellaneous Business

• Now that capri season is over, I'm running out of pants. It's time to go shopping.


• Parsley is well, and cute and sweet.


• I saw Mr. Mollusk the other night and I've been working on a post about it but that might take some time.

Labels: Dr. Thumbscre.ws, Family, Higher Education, Logic Professor, Lovelife

We were done counting our tips and ready to leave last night when we got to see the surveillance video of that guy getting his ass rightfully kicked outside the b4r.

The narration was the best part, because there's no sound on the video. It was fucking great.

Then I got to see the video of what happened outside on Halloween night. I was inside working, and had no idea that anything had gone on out front.

We could see the guy standing around out front, with his back to the camera, take out a knife, keeping it behind his back. Then we saw another guy leave the b4r, walk past him, turn and look, see the knife, and come back to get a better look. Then the good samaritan went back in the b4r- not letting Knifey McKnifington know what he was doing- and got his friend, who later turned out to be an off-duty cop.

Dude probably never saw it coming.

They came out and without warning slammed him into the wall- then there was a struggle, and the cop's gun came out- and then they had him on the ground, then they took the knife and just kind of let him go.

I'm amazed that this could happen ten feet away without me noticing.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r

Here's my obligatory NaBloPoMo post before I scurry off to school, work, and beyond.

Although we haven't done anything overtly relationship-y when we see each other at school, perhaps it's more obvious than we thought: one of Logic Professor's students said "Good job with that" to him.
"With what?" he asked.
"With her," said the student. That made my afternoon. LoPro said thanks and told the kid that he should keep it on the down low or he'd fail like he'd never failed before, and should any of his friends and relatives ever decide to take that class, all of them would also fail before they'd even set foot in the classroom, and I guess that's a good idea, even though I'm going through that shout-it-from-the-rooftops infatuation stage and really want to wear a t-shirt that says "OH MY GOD, I'M DATING LOGIC PROFESSOR" because I'm still amazed by the whole thing, myself.

Last night he came over with a reciprocal mix cd (with liner notes), a typed sheet of notes on the one I gave him, and peanut butter cups taped to the cd case. (Good heavens, he needn't resort to bribery.) Mix cds are serious business, I tell you.

Then we made dinner while Parsley "Tiny" Danger Pseudonym hopped around tearing up the house.

Overnight, the bunny was allowed to roam free for the first time. I think he's getting a better sense of what's dangerous and what's not, although I almost closed him in the refridgerator this morning when he tried to climb in.

It is overwhelmingly true that at least one rabbit likes carrots.

Today I have a test in history.

Labels: Bunny, Higher Education, Logic Professor, Lovelife

• Responded to blog comments. Everyone here rocks.


• Counted the proceeds of the Great Money-Saving Death March of Aught-Seven, considered that the part-time money at the CPRB has been good enough to live off of while going to school full time, and debated whether or not to go out on a limb, bank on keeping my job for the next couple months, and put the GMSDMo07 proceeds towards my car loan. It came down to avoiding interest payments vs. having security in case I break a leg.


• Took my life savings to the bank that gave me a loan for the Rollmobile. Reluctantly relinquished it to them. Asked to see the balance of the loan.


• Cried.


• Stopped at parents' house, found it empty, and went next door, where my mother and sister were keeping vigil over the bed where Marie lay with a rosary wrapped around her hand. She's declining, for sure, but nobody knows how long this could go on.


• Called Mr. Mollusk to see if I could come over to talk; he was on his way to work, but hopefully we can get together soon. He called me late last night, upset, and inadvertantly scared the living fuck out of me (this was not his intention, and my phone line and door will always be open to him). It's not the business of the internet, so I was and still am hesitant to go into detail, but it's worth noting for the record that Mr. Mollusk is a lot more like me in some ways than I let on while we were together.


• Went grocery shopping for myself and my teeny-tiny dependent. I now have soda and apple turnovers and crabcakes, Parsley has mini-carrots, and we both have bruschetta.


• Cleaned out the refridgerator. There was food in there that I wasn't even sure was mine. There was highly-developed food that appeared to be only a few weeks away from self-awareness. There was food in there that wasn't recognizable as food anymore.


• Read a couple emails from Logic Prof. Swooned.


• Posted this, fulfilling my daily NaBloPoMo obligation.


• Decided about five minutes ago to drop my online Latin class, retake it in person next semester, and, if it's too late for a refund, pay back my parents. (They have funded the whole community college adventure with the understanding that I have to do well enough so that someone else will pay my way when I transfer.) I think I would love Latin as a casual hobby, but not as an obligation, and I want to keep taking it, but I'm sure I'd do much better if someone were standing in front of me explaining it. I'll pass, sure, but I'm not getting a whole fuck of a lot out of this course. Online classes require a certain measure of self-discipline that I don't possess. I can devote hours to things I'm interested in with no supervision, but not for Latin.

Labels: Flat Life, Higher Education, Lovelife, Mr. Mollusk, The Imminent Zombie Apocalypse

I ditched all my classes on Halloween except Statistics. We had our second test that day. (Have these people no concept of holidays?!) The only things we get grades for are three tests and a final. So I showed up covered in blood, with my sword at my side, and worked up until the last minute, after which I flew straight to the CPRB.

Statistics tests get me kind of worked up. There's only a few, so they're distractingly important, and so far they've exhibited a frightening tendency to require the use of formulas that don't have any actual numbers in them and look more like spiders crushed between the pages, like this one that cropped up on Halloween:
Even if I know what it's for, it's hard not to get intimidated, freeze up and think oh sweet merciful mother of christ what is that thing during the first couple minutes of the test.

So today we got our tests back. A lengthy explanation of the test scores and the meaningful statistics our professor has culled from them put a somewhat-tense extra ten minutes between me and my grade. He's big on the suspense, I suppose. He told us about how some scores had gone up, and some scores had gone down, and that some people had unfortunately scored in the single digits, and that they might have been among those who gave probabilities like -17 and 5482% (which would frankly be remarkable, were they possible), but that we didn't all get bad grades, as there were a number of Bs and As, although only two people got a hundred, and OKAY, GOOD FOR THEM, CAN THE REST OF US SEE HOW BADLY WE F-ED UP NOW? (You know, before we die, rot in our chairs, and are found a couple thousand years from now, still without our fucking tests, by archaeologists?)

After an eternity, or possibly a couple eternities, he handed out the godforsaken papers, and I damn near fell off my chair:

Why yes, I am gloating.

Labels: Higher Education, Statistics

Some interesting drama happened at the CPRB last night. The clocks turned back at the same time we were supposed to close by law, and although the owner decided from afar that this meant we could stay open another hour and called to tell us as much, the cops disagreed; in the face of a tremendous fine for serving after hours, the manager decided to close. The owner has a very good point about it not technincally being time to close, and I suppose it would have been his problem to sort out in court, not ours, so we probably just should have kept serving. Besides, because all the other bars on the street closed on time, we would have made a fucking killing when everyone came to our place.

I took my tips and left and still haven't heard how it all shaked out.

Parsley "Tiny" Danger Pseudonym is getting the hang of one thing, if nothing else: he knows where the snuggles come from. I like to sit on the floor and watch him hopping around the house, and sometimes he hops over and pushes his little face under my hand to be petted. If I scratch between his ears he'll stretch out on the carpet next to me and sit there getting petted, eyes half-closed, until I stop.

He is also trying to eat my shoes.

Today I stopped by my parents' house and found that their neighbor's Alzheimer's-stricken mother is finally dying, so I went over to see her for a little bit and have a cup of tea.

Then I went home, let Tiny Danger out of his cage so he could crap on every square inch of carpet roam free, and started making Logic Professor a mix cd. They're serious business, mix cds. A mix cd is a milestone. I have a lot to blog about in that department but have kind of been at a loss for words, and haven't had the time I'd need to come up with a post that would do the whole situation justice.

Labels: Bunny, Cool Punk Rock B4r, Lovelife

I made rent and a half in four hours.

I always think I'll panic in that type of situation, but when it came down to it, I was just too fucking occupied to panic. I don't know whether it was because we were one of the few b4rs (from what I hear) without a cover charge on Halloween, because of our good promotion of the night, or maybe just because everyone walking by on the street saw that everyone else was already inside.

In retrospect, it seems amazing that nothing happened. There were no fights. A couple hundred people in costume were packed into a space not much bigger than your living room, but with better music, dimmer lighting, more broken bottles and undoubtedly more alcohol, and unbelieveably, there was no drama; it was just a big crazy party.

I went dressed as a dead pirate, having made the costume that morning from my stash of potential costume parts. There was a sword, a flag, and boots... and there was blood. Most of it was dripping from my throat, but the bleeding eyes were a nice touch, too, I think.

It had been pretty quiet for most of the day, and as it got later, I was getting nervous. I'd been telling everyone for weeks that it was going to be mobbed, that everyone would be there, and all along I'd been banking on everyone believing that everyone else was coming when really I had no idea if anyone would be there at all. I heard everyone else who worked there had been promoting the fuck out of the night but I still didn't know what to expect, and anyway, by ten o'clock it wasn't looking that great. So I was just kind of standing around dripping blood, eating candy, chatting with a couple customers, watching a Halloween movie on the TV, and a second later we were slammed, five deep at the b4r, out of clean beer mugs and selling beer in soda glasses, then out of shot glasses and selling shots in rocks glasses, and out of the liquor you want so you'd better pick something else by the time I come back, and you'd better have the money in your hand or you're not getting anything at all. I never knew I could focus so well. I didn't know I had that many hands. I never thought I'd be able to ignore that many people without caring about pissing someone off. I didn't notice when the other b4rtender jumped behind the b4r to help on her night off until I practically fell over her.

When all was said and done, twelve hours after we opened and four hours after everyone showed up, when the lights came on and everyone spilled out onto the street, when they left behind a vacuum of broken glass, sequins, discarded candy wrappers and rows of dirty glasses to be washed, I felt so tense, awake, and absolutely ready to do it again. It was fucking great.

"You guys kicked ass tonight," said the manager. Yeah we did.

Labels: Cool Punk Rock B4r, Intoxicology, The Imminent Zombie Apocalypse

I will preface this by saying two things. Thanks for naming my bunny. It has been exceedingly bad this morning.

Now for the actual post.

Last night I took Parsley "Tiny" Danger Pseudonym to the awesome vet who used to see the rats. The girls at the office fell in love with her. They were impressed by the fact that Danger is her middle name (which was Junket's suggestion), and she was lavished with was much petting and cooing and adoration. She was weighed, and it was determined that she's about two months old (when they asked me on the phone how old she was, the best I could give them was "the size of a small shoe"). Then she was examined, and it turns out that not only is she in perfect health, she is also a boy.

That changes everything.

Afterwards, we stopped by her his grandparents' house, and whereas my parents didn't seem to be in a very good mood when we got there, they were pretty cheerful by the time we left. It's incredible what one pound three ounces of bunny can do for the general atmosphere. I will not embarass my father by telling the whole internet that he damn near went to pieces when Parsley deigned to lick his finger. My mother took up the bunny's cause and insisted that he be given a manly name, one with dignity, one that would inspire him to reach for the stars, one more like "Thor" or "Apollo", or actually any of the gods' names would do, as long as it would impart a sense of importance. She praised him for being the large and stately bunny that he is. "A whole pound! You're so big!" she said to him, perhaps to boost his itsy-bitsy ego. She also covered Parsley's cage with a towel so he wouldn't catch a draft.

This morning we started bunny training. As if on cue, he has spent the better part of the morning trying to kill himself. It works out well that his nickname is Tiny Danger because that's what he is. I thank him for his help in showing me what needs to be bunny-proofed around here, namely: everything. He nibbled a pothos leaf. He ate a Skittle. He found an old bug bait station under a radiator and carried it out to eat show me. He also has an insatiable lust for the cords behind the entertainment center and puts a lot of effort into overcoming the barriers I've put between him and them.

Parsley doesn't really get the concept of a litter box yet, either. "See? Look! Bunnies poop in the litter box," I told him, depositing him and all the pellets I could find in a little casserole dish that I've filled with paper litter. And then he immediately hopped away like "Why did she put me down here? I don't want to be in this thing."

So that's where we are with the bunny training. There's a lot more I want to post about (Halloween night craziness at the CPRB, the new paramour, etc.), but I have to go to school now. More later.

Labels: Bunny, Flat Life

Happy All Souls' Day.

You may have noticed that it's NaBloPoMo now. There is no way I'm trying NaNoWriMo this year; NoWri is far too serious an undertaking for me at the present, but I think I can handle the BloPo part.

So here I am. Hi.

Labels: Cleaning Out The Cupboard