So then when I went BACK to sleep this morning, after posting this subconscious projectile vomiting that makes SUCH OBVIOUS sense to me hours later, I had a continuance of that dream. Seriously.

These two fat police officers were getting back into their two enormous tan-colored SUVs outside my old house in Newburgh, parked on the street over by the mailboxes. this time I was aware that they were investigating a series of murders in my old neighborhood done by those same weird boys from the earlier dream sequence. Now, in this I could float around and be whomever I wanted, rather than being myself, which gave me the impression that I was dead or dying or something, probably those a-holes killed me while I was awake and typing the first half of the dream. (Dream continuity is a scaaaaaary motherfucking thing)

So I "was" this cop, and suddenly a large wild tiger stalked by, and I drove my SUV up into the driveway and over the bushes in front of the neighbors directly across from my old house and then around the far side of the duplex. Rounding the corner of the houses, I found that MANY more wild tigers and lions of all colors were running around, clearly having something to do with the bad guys being nearby. (Clearly).

Then (this has made me laugh hysterically all day) I saw a huge HOUSECAT with a normal-sized head and an extremely elongated cat body (we're talking something like eleven feet long) all puffed up and furry like it's pissed off or something, jumping gracefully down the hillside like some weird kind of deer. MAN, that was a weird creature.

Then I was riding my dirt bike down to the neighborhood behind mine back there (where Jeremy Roby used to live, and Andy Thompson, and Jay Cockrum) and I was having to ramp over all these obstacles, and in the middle of one I realized how silly it was that I'd gone back to this dream and then heard the phone ringing.

And then woke up

In other news, there's a mighty email train pulling out of the station with Thanksgiving plans in tow, check your email to find out more

Also, Chris is going to have to be out of my life for good in T-24 hours and counting, give or take 45 minutes.
He hasn't started packing his stuff yet, which is SO annoying

One of my professors (recommendation letter writer) told me it's a good idea to send a little tooting-my-own-horn email to professors I'm going to apply to work with to express my interest in the program and see if they're taking on students for next fall. And I did, and already MOST of them have written me back, been more than helpful about everything, and have made me WAY less worried about getting in (don't ask me why). My person from U of Chicago is trying to set up a time to CALL me and have a chat about things. Crazy, and I've been in the best mood all damn day because of it

Tonight JD and I went to Barnes and Noble and I read the new Glamour and the new In Vogue in their entirety, and there was something very nice and calming about blowing off any responsibilities I had for this evening. Tomorrow, however, is going to suck ass. Except for it being HALLOWEEN and Chris' last day as one of my (unofficial) roommates.

Anyway, I've done more than my share of updating for today and the rest of the calendar year, I think

Alright, I'm now convinced that too much MtV makes you crazy. I watched a couple hours of the slop last night and just woke up from this three-hour long you-go-back-to-it-even-if-you-wake-up-fifteen-times-during-the-night nightmare. And I mean I JUST woke up...I'm only even out of bed this early to try to make sure Raedy's awake so she can take the GRE this morning

OK, here's the dream:

At first I'm on vacation somewhere out west, somewhere that seems to include a hotel or casino type place but also has interesting things to do, like ice climb or snowboard or whatever. I know Mike and Keith are there, and the whole thing has the quality of the time the three of us went to Denver. Meaning for this part of the dream they're teasing me about something so I finally (I think I had the wrong shoes on) crack and agree that I'll go back to the hotel and change whatever it is that's disagreeable. I get there and our room's at the end of the hall. I leave the door unlocked while I'm putzing around, wondering why the relfection of myself includes perma-ho eye makeup (I happened to glance in the mirror in te dream--weird in itself---and I had dark black eye makeup all around my eyes but I remember thinking that it wouldn't come off last night so there was no point in trying anymore).

I putzed some more, taking a ridiculously long time to change shoes, and just as I was about to leave I turned to look out the window, standing by a bed. I heard the strangest muffled sound, like someone trying to talk through duct tape. I looked over to the bed, and saw that the covers were piled up so that someone could easily be hiding underneath. I yanked the blankets aside and found TWO people, wrapped so tightly in sheets they looked like mummies, under there. I freaked out and let them out, and called the police number on the hotel phone, who told me that it would be at least two months before they could come because I had just missed them the last time (cut to weird image of spokesperson girl for police wearing huge diamond ring around her neck repeating what they told me about it being two months)

So later I was telling the people I was there with, and they seemed to think it was not a big deal whatsoever, and that I was just being silly wondering how the bad guys had gotten in there in the first place, who they were, etc. JD and I were talking here and decided that they'd probably let themselves in the other people's unlocked room, attacked them, and then snuck them over to ours. Don't ask me why that made sense in the dream.

The middle of the dream is really blurry...I know that I figured out that the "bad guys" were two of boys who could change appearance instantly and reminded me of the guys from jackass...I remember encountering them in several different contexts, usually them appearing suddenly any time I was alone or almost alone and attacking me, which never really consisted of hurting me too bad, and me fighting them off as best I could. There was one weird scene where I was visiting my mom in her log cabin house that was nowhere near this hotel place, and her mother was there, and we were all having a nice jolly chat in a living room ,until I felt some danger....so I left them chatting obliviously in there about someone's terminal illness (it might have been oneof theirs) and went prowling around the house looking for the boys. I finally found them (they found me?) and we actually got into a scuffle this time, one of them choking me and shit...I remember beating the hell out of both of them, mostly because I was mad that they would come near my mom

So then I'm back in the casino type hotel and I've figured out that these boys are local kids, and that they play basketball for the university around here (even though they're both really short) so I go to the indoor basketball practice arena within the hotel and march myself up to the coach. The boys see me doing so and keep practicing but I know they're going to try to get away so I'm watching them. The coach I have to adress as "your honor" and he looks like brian dennehy crossed with that big white haired guy from coach

He listens to me more than i was hoping he would, when I tell him that I know who's responsible for all the attacks that have been happening, especially to me. He sits all the players down so I can show him the bad guys even though I've already given their names, and of course they're not there. I tell him this and he smirks at me like I'm an idiot and basically tells me to leave, even though it's clear that half the team isn't there.

I walk out of the gym into an empty hallway and realize I'm in trouble. I hear them saying more malicious things like headlines from a paper talking abotu how their crimes have escalated into murders and rapes and thngs, and in the dream I'm aware that this hasn't happened yet but is going to. I grab the nearest thing I can find, in this case the countertop and sink basin of a nearby waterfountain (yeah i don't know either) and chuck it over my head back into the gym to try to get some help. No one notices. Sure enough, they appear, and there's three of them now. The first two grab me and smack me around and I remember one telling me to kick him in the face as hard as I could as many times as I wanted because it didn't hurt, another letting me hit him, etc. The third one, who I soon realized was Eminem, beat the shit out of me and raped me (no, this wasn't extremely vivid or anything, I just got the impression afterward that this is what had happened) and then a group of my friends appeared and chased the boys away unintentionally. This group was all my girlfriends, and everyone was wearing peacoats. I was lying on the ground still, crying about what had just happened, and Ashleigh glared at me and called me a slut.

I got up to try to leave and discovered it was like trying to leave WalMart through the wrong doors, and that I was actually in some kind of super store trying to go out the wrong door with my face all bloody and my clothes a mess and me having to argue with the Wal Mart greeter, who I noticed at the same time I noticed I had that song from 8 Mile in my head was Eminem.

FUCKED UP, HUH?

No more Real World, Jackass, hapkido, etc. for me for a couple days. I'm going back to sleep

Hahahah

OH MAN

I am SICK to DEATH of thinking I can relaaaax for a couple days and then WHAM finding shit in my inbox that's like "Oh hey, Liz? And Raedy? Could you go ahead and do TWICE the amount of work you were already going to have to bust your asses to finish by next Monday? Thanks. And could you guys also redo some of the stuff you've already done on a digital (Degital, if you listen to Hanako) camera this time? Thanks." (Actually, no one says thanks ever)

Ok, we have NO TIME whatsoever to do ANY of this and I swear to crap they just DOUBLED the amount of kids they want for next Monday, and it's IMPOSSIBLE as is, and sometimes I just want to be like "Hey you know what, I am supposed to work for YOU 10 hours a week and I end up in here and stressing out for WAY MORE TIME in any given week than I do over ANYTHING else, so can you SHOVE this the fuck up your ass and get out of my face? Thanks."

And I have SO MUCH stuff to do, just this fucking week....so many errands and so much stuff for grad schools....oh and get this, I found someone else I want to work with at HARVARD, hahahaha, HARVARD, hahah, I can't even type it without dissolving into giggles at how big a waste that $80 application fee is going to be...I have EIGHT TRILLION little things that HAVE TO get done this week for ME, aside from my thesis or hapkido or the lab, and it's REALLY IRRITATING to NEVER FUCKING FEEL ON TOP OF THINGS EVEN WHEN I AM WAY THE FUCK AHEAD OF WHERE I NEED TO BE RIGHT NOW

Jeeze

It never fucking ends, is all I'm saying....it's not even "homework" type stuff, I'm a pro at juggling assignments, it's all this HUGE stressful shit that I don't see time to deal with....things like writing a sissy little note to all the professors I'd like to work with telling them about my interest and asking them questions, things like collecting and filling out all the freaking eight-part applications, some of which are due in a FEW WEEKS, things like writing a personal statement I couldn't be less motivated to do, things that are STRESSING ME THE FUCK OUT

AARGAHRGHHAH

Alright

It's been a fantastic 48 hours, although I'm now extremely bored and sick of waiting for JD to get off work tonight. I thought about driving to Louisville this morning to see Stace but decided that I had too much to do .....hahah, I'm kicking myself now

So the belt test went well, I can't complain....it was better than it was bad, and I didn't get hurt. I DID bruise the fuck out of my partner's shin on the very first kick defense, which left a nasty purple spot on my kneecap, but otherwise, it went well. I know what I need to improve

I asked one of my people for a recommendation yesterday, and the meeting went surprisingly well and she said sure, and gave me a bunch of advice for other stuff having to do with grad school. I'm starting to feel worse and worse about wanting to go away to school when JD desperately wants to teach here and they'd love to have him....maybe I won't be too torn up if I don't get in anywhere at all

I'm sure it'll all work out for the best, whatever happens

So yeah, nothing much happening here. A bunch of us went out to dinner after the belt test, and OH the highlight was when it was all over, Patrick (see photo) the extremely encouraging (adjectives like "pheNOMenal" and "out STANDing" are all he knows) and extremely funny (can place any of JD or my retardo vague references to any vague comedy sketch troupe, can then recite more specific sketches than either of us, thinks the "Hey, did you get your tickets" joke is funny, even added the HILARIOUS "click click boom" sound effects at the end (while flexing and then extending his bicep, obviously) to make the joke all that more hilarious) instructor who teaches both my advanced class and most of club, came over to me, looked me square in the eye and shook my hand, saying enthusiastically "good test, really good test....nice job, that was a GOOD test" even though he hadn't been my judge, and in fact was judging the temp test across the room. That made me feel fantastical about what I considered a middling performance at best.

OK, so the highlights of the test:

*JD having Yuvall pointing a gun at him and saying "gimme yer wallet" to which JD replied "I don't have a wallet, sir, I'm dressed in martial arts attire"

* Yuvall doing kick defenses to JD's kicking and JD throwing in a thunder kick, which Yuvall accidentally caught in mid-air, powerbombing JD's neck and head into the ground from a height of at least 6 feet.

* Me and JD being the ONLY people in the group of 6 testers to sufficiently clear the obstacle we were supposed to dive roll over without touching it or flomping onto it or crashing headfirst into the ground on the far side of it

* Mr. Burns seeing the GIGANTIC knot that swelled up on Lindsay's (my partner) shin moments after my knee connected with her and calling me "vicious" while shaking his head and chuckling to himself

* My second knife defense, which went flying into the wall behind us, where my friend Brian was sitting watching the test (he very nearly got hit in the face)

And so on. I don't remember the rest, but I feel bad ASS now that I have a nice shiny new belt. Red belt, December, here I come, heh ehe he he

So I wrote my infernal intro today, in something like four solid hours, and it's the absolute worst thing I've ever churned out, and I know it's terrible, and it's already 4000 words and I've only talked about a third of the stuff I need to, and it's basically half paper half outline half plagerize, and I know Dr. Smith's going to kill me.

Sigh. I couldn't stop myself from sending it to her in this extremely rough phase kind of just to see what she does with it.

So I go to club tonight, and JD and I are working on some basic things we want to run through a final thousand times before the test tomorrow, and we're doing gun defenses, and horsing around (he's pointing the gun at my head and saying things like "It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again") and then we're scrabbling over the gun and SOMEHOW I step my leg behind me, kicking his foot with my heel in the process, and BREAK HIS TOENAIL OFF

Completely. It started bleeding immediately, and I was giving him this quizzical "what's wrong with you" look because he stopped doing the serial killer voice, and finally I looked at his foot and JESUS CHRIST

Oh man it's gross, and what's worse, it's clearly quite painful, and I didn't even feel it happen...I didn't even realize I had kicked him....and to make things worse, this is his pseudo-broken toe, and both his knees are killing him, and now his shoulder and hip aren't working right either. I suck, and I feel REALLY bad....it's the night before the goddamn test for crying out loud

Fuck, you know? Just FUCK

We just went through an ordeal in the bathroom with me pouring capfuls of hydrogen peroxide over it and cringing as it bubbled and fizzled everywhere...I feel like a domestic abuser

Well, now at least I can't complain about feeling tired or nauseous or anything during the test, since JD is FALLING APART and is testing

hahaha, I guess the inflictor is allowed to tend the wounds every now and then

You're anakin. Congratulations.
You are the one who is destined to
bring balance to the force, Whatever the hell that means. Until
that time comes, however, you're happy
just being a really annoying and angsty teenager. Yeah, you might
end up being all kinds of awesome
once you're Darth Vader, but just cool it for now- you're likely
to make many more enemies being the
shithole Hayden Christiansen portrays you as.



Which Sith Lord are you? go to:the quiz!




Which Middle Earth race are you? go to:the quiz!



Which Soviet Leader are you? go to:the quiz!


What Egyptian Deity are you? go to:the quiz!

Yeah, that's right, I should be writing my thesis

OK, so once again I'd like to call everyone's attention to the fact that I have added some new (old) pictures to my photo thing, and done a little reorganizing, so now you can look at photos by category. I suggest using the "slideshow" feature for some real nerd fun.

This week is already shaping up to be extremely terrible or extremely kickass. Brown belt test Thursday, which is the major stressor...although I'm prepared and not really nervous about the test, I am worried very much about making it to the end of the test.

This weekend I vowed to do a bunch of important stuff for graduate school and for my thesis, I did none of it, choosing instead to laze around endlessly and eat myself into several comas

I think you'll find me to be in a much better mood after this week is finished. This is the time where I have to grow balls and ask for recommendation letters if I ever expect to have them in time to send out, and NOTHING about applying to grad school terrifies me quite like asking for letters, and it's really not because I don't deserve them, but because I feel like an ass marching up to people I respect and asking. I feel "schmucky" about it.

Anyway, I also have my thesis class to dread, which I had happily forgotten about until just now, in which I'll have to explain my method to a large group of hoity psych majors who erroneously think that by ripping into someone else's method, they are saving theirs from scientific scrutiny. Sigh.

I'm sensing a need for an extended visit to Louisville, heh heh. Don't know when the crap there will be time for that, and mother father, it's nearly Thanksgiving. Where did the semester go? Or at least, it's nearly Halloween.
Hahahahahahaha

I think I'll be around more when I get my freaking introduction finished, if ever I start on it. It's due a week from Tuesday but I have to have it done in a couple days so Dr. Smith can approve it before she disappears to some weird conference for a week...and I turned my grant proposal in last Friday, and I'm on top of the rest of the application procedure, so at least I still feel good about that.

So basically, this week consists of the three most stressful things I have to do all semester: write my thesis intro (the bulk of the theoretical part of the paper), ask for letters and pass a brown belt test. Piss.

Alright though, it's nothing I can't handle. Riiiiight

I don't even have anything uninteresting to talk about. I should be doing cardio stuff right now, but I got another violent case of the lazies right about when I was getting ready to go and decided that spending fifteen hours messing with those stupid photos was in itself a workout.

I miss everyone. I feel like I am very isolated and very boring, and that we all don't see each other nearly enough, and that if there is any general feeling of wanting to have some kind of thanksgiving get together, I would LOVE to hear something about it via email.

And that reminds me: Are we still going to Vegas or what? I wrote a big email that went COMPLETELY unanswered by EVERYONE I sent it to, so if no one else wants to go anymore let me KNOW so I can make alternate plans (like going BACK to Disneyworld), ok? Please?

Yeah, so I SHOULD go rinse the thin film of lazy off of myself and get to work on something. I've been tired for months, and it's starting to really bug me...I think there's something actually wrong with me...or maybe it's just burning out on everything in the whole world.

I went and saw Austin Powers Friday, and it was funny enough to cost 2 bucks. And JD and I got the Care Bears movie and watched it last night. Awesome weekend, even though I did NOTHING AT ALL and will PAY THROUGH THE NOSE for it later on this week.

Anyway, I'm going to go shower, or rearrange things, or putz
I need something interesting to happen

So I'm kind of a sap sometimes. Oh well.

Things are going swimmingly over here, I have decided that I can and will have everything stressful taken care of in the next two weeks, so keep a sharp eye out for Liz's TBA meltdown that will probably come along with that. I feel on top of everything at once, and that's just fantastic. Turns out grad school applications are going to cost me about 100 bucks less than I thought, which is awesome.And my thesis class met yesterday and I now feel like I'm very ahead of the rest of them and very on track to actually get this finished.

Mhmm, today's going to be me dicking around n the lab until I can run people in my thesis and then hauling ass to get to club, which is delightful free practice, and then going to "do some cardio" so I don't pass out during the test next week, and then coming home and sitting around and going to the grocery and such

No, not exciting. Why on earth do I even have a blog? I have no fucking clue either

I'm wanting to pour my heart out here instead of the small talky stuff, and rant about all the things I felt all weekend about all the people I thought about, but at the same time it's not thought-out enough to be public, and it won't be made any less a big deal to me by talking about it.
I realize things about how warped certain memories of mine are from time to time, and it naturally upsets me and my weird balance, and it takes me a few days to deal fully with them. This time it's got a lot to do with my father, and suffice it to say that I'm better understanding WHY I wait until it's far too late to start saying the things I'm feeling and then scramble to make up the ground and fix things...and not to be melodramaculous, here or ever, but I think about my father, and I think about how the world seems to be ending around us, in our lifetimes, and how Stacey writes an email on Sept. 11th saying she loves everybody, and I wonder why we don't all tell the people we love how we feel more often. I can't Shake this preoccupation with the fleeting quality of life, and I can't make anyone else see it as being as big a deal as I do, and I never want to feel again like I SHOULD HAVE tried to express something to someone I loved harder before it was too late. What's the point in waiting...what if tomorrow never comes? I'm not sure how I can make this relevant to people who have never actually lost someone (I mean lost for good, not the kind of quixotic "lost" that fuels middling poems and acoustic guitar songs), or if it will ever really matter until that loss
happens, but

The point is this: there are things that need to be said for all of us to find peace in our lives, and no one can make that a big deal until it clicks into place for YOU, but take it from me that there is no greater pain than regretting NOT having said what you needed to a person you care/d about before it's too late and you have a whole lifetime to be haunted by it.

and maybe that makes me too quick to speak my mind to people who don't care to hear it these days, but I'll take the years of measured silence knowing Keith can hear me if he wants to over coming around and getting over whatever hurt or anger at being left I felt as a 12 year old kid just in time to realize that it was too late any day


I have a lot of things to deal with yet about the loss of my father, and the 8 years that he was sick and the things I didn't say and hate myself now for, and my need to be the one leaving, and the one who can't open herself up to anyone for fear of being that vulnerable and that empty-handed and that fraction of a moment too late ever again...

I am suddenly aware of what a bad place I'm in for writing this and that i need something else entirely

Going home for the weekend. Anyone cool going to be in town?

Everything's comin' up Milhouse

OK, sometimes no one but my sister gets it.

It's taken me a long ass time to realize that she's been through everything I have, involving family, and that she's also happened to have gone through just about everything else I ever have. We talk about it, it's creepy. I'm not going into detail. Suffice it to say that she understands where I am now regarding certain relationships and I understand her situation as well.

Sometimes it's really hard not to feel like everything is completely out of my hands. Like no amount of random chance or genetics or environment could ever make us so parallel to one another, and that it has to be something bigger than that...

I've just been thinking too often about death these days.

Anyway, I'm grateful I have someone who knows what to tell me when everyone else can only say "that must be hard"

"I won't bore you with the insipid realization that the greatest emotional trespasses are only solved in dreams, and that waking to reality is painful because that notion hits you faster than your consciousness."

Right on, Shane. I've had that same feeling every fucking morning for the past 7 months. They're the most boring dreams ever, with nothing at all happening except things that will never happen for me in waking life. There's no sex, or violence (usually) or fear or running away or falling or being chased by anything, there's nothing but this vague feeling of things being right and usually a brief conversation that ends up meaning the world. I wish I knew a way to make them stop...and not because the dreams are unpleasant, but because I can't stand waking up from them every damn day, knowing that I'll have the same one again that next night. I'm tired all the time because of it. And they don't stop.

And the worst part is remembering them all.

I've been jonesing for a journal all damn day, and I have one, and I can see it, but I don't feel like it. I just feel like wanting an outlet and not finding one and harumphing around in that kind of mood

I open my Dove Dark Chocolate Promise to find this written on the inside of the label: "Music touches feelings that words cannot"

A fucking men to that. How many times have I wanted to compile a list of cds or songs to communicate with a person rather than having to talk things out? I get dumb when I talk, and I used to think that writing was the saving grace for me, that I could write and make sense when I write, at least when about something I find inspiring, and even that is seeming to be gone now. So I can't make sense even to myself, and I sure as shit can't make my point to other people, and wouldn't it be better if I could make comp cds of what I wanted to say to people I can't get through to and mail them off? what a brilliant, stupid idea, liz

Just to get the mood I'm in when I'm writing to them across, you know, to try to get rid of some of that annoying online ambiguity that pops up any time anyone wants to talk about anything deep, that i-can't-tell-if-you're-kidding-or-not that has caused SO MANY fights with so many of us over the years, that bullshit feeling of not being sure where the other person's coming from and what they're trying to say....I just feel like certain things should have a soundtrack

And maybe I'm too easily moved by music, but I can't see that as a fault. Certain songs make me cry every time I hear them, even now, and certain songs can prevent me from remaining in a foul mood no matter how hard I try, and there's something to be said for the power of music. If I have time and want a nice big pity party, I know which cds to go for, and I know you all do the same thing. It sounds so fucking juvenile, but it comforts me, and it seems like there's always an appropriate music choice for anything I would ever want to do.

It's been a long weekend, somehow.

Sometimes it's not the biggest problems that floor me. I keep having to recover from the realization that I am almost out of college and I have to grow up some more really really fast and it's not going to happen fast enough to stop this from being a nasty shock. Looking at apartments in other cities really fucks with me. I'm not old enough to be thinking about weddings and apartments and PhDs and compromise....I feel like I've just started understanding the most selfish things about me, and that it's going to take me longer than I have to completely feel at ease with the worst parts of me

Chris is moving out, which is fantastic only because he and I don't get along anymore, since that one little incident, and I can't say I'll miss him. JD's going to take over his spot on the lease, and he'll leave sometime this month.

I'm tired of having the same dream.

I only get like this when I have time to myself. I don't want to think about what that means.

Hahahaha

So I went to yoga this morning, which I'm realizing more and more is a FANTASTIC class to have on Friday, even early in the morning...but the story's not about how great yoga is, it's about this guy named "Dennis" who's in the class.
Now, as you may have guessed, there aren't a whole shit ton of boys in there, I think JD is one of three or four out of like 50 people. But anyway, there's this guy Dennis. He's huge, clumsy, LOUD, and always wears a bright yellow (I mean BRIGHT) t-shirt to class. And we're in the dance studio which means we all spread out facing the big wall of mirrors so we can vainly watch ourselves contort. Anyway, Dennis is a source of shameful hilarity to me, if only because not a day passes that he doesn't do something that totally breaks my yoga-focus and causes me to have to fight desperately to re-control my breathing and look ANYWHERE but at JD because we've had enough discussions about this guy out of class that I KNOW Jd's waiting for me to look over so he can make some sort of inappropriate face and I'll lose it in the middle of this meditative gymnasium.

So for example, Dennis is mildly retarded, but in that oh-my-god-you're-a-chem-bio-double-major-but-your-social-skills-didn't-make-it-out-of-kindergarten kind of way. So to me, it's not endearing, it's creepy, it's like the guy that (ahahah aha ah hahah) was in my metaphysics class....he was JUST like that weird guy from Office Space, I'm serious, have JD do his impression of him if you get a chance. And then have Jd ask you if you got your tickets, teehee

So today Dennis runs in late, and gets his mat, and proceeds to the very center of the room ANYWAY, even though we've already begun and there's NO space for him there, and three very pissed-off bitchy looking girls get all huffy and have to move their stuff, and he's oblivious, and then about 30 minutes goes by and there's this huge noise, and of course it's him, it's always fucking him, and he "fell over" doing one of the poses that requires NO balance whatsoever. So this is funny only because he falls over at least once an hour in there, and the teacher always has to stop what she's saying and ask him if he's ok, because he always does some cartoonish reaction thing like sitting up and comically rubbing his head with his palm UNTIL she asks him if he's ok, and it's really annoying.
So then what almost got me was when we were on our stomachs with our hands right under our shoulders about to do that one where you push up into a cobra-looking thing (you know) and we were first moving ourselves around just by pushing and pulling our palms to see how great the range of motion was, so everyone's kind of gliding around on the floor, but not Dennis....he's herking back and forth and from side to side like a (I'm sorry) beached whale, his t-shirt riding up just far enough that his stomach is what's sliding on the floor, and it makes this TREMENDOUSLY horrible sticking/pulling blubber noise and I avert my eyes so I don't crack up laughing only to find that JD is looking right at me, making a ridiculously inappropriate face.

Sigh.

I'm exhausted

But, there are new photos for you

Alright:

* I rocked the GRE, thanks, well enough to not have to worry about retaking it, which is all I really wanted out of it...now I can worry about other things pertaining to grad school, like applications and recommendations and personal statements

* If I hear the word "skater" or "boy" I get that STUPID Avril Lavigne "sk8er boi" song in my head for at LEAST three hours

* I posted my thesis online finally and made times for tonight and Saturday just yesterday afternoon, and LO they're all full already, which is crazy and so fucking awesome I don't know what to do with myself

* I slept through my only actual class AGAIN this morning, I think because I've allowed my sleep schedule to become severely off and will pay for it if I somehow ruin my GPA with this one lousy semester of no real classes

* I went to a club sports meeting last night and sat next to ORION wellinghoff, who some of you may remember from high school, and I thought of Stacey's crush on him the whole time he was saying things like "we use our club dues to buy beer" and "whoa, I totally sat in this exact same seat earlier today"
But he seems like a nice enough person, and he's JD's new best work friend, so that's....nice

* I was in a pissy mood last night and muttering under my breath and staring at the wall and

JD: So, did you get your tickets yet?
Me: What tickets?
JD: you know, your tickets
Me: (not looking at him) What the hell are you talking about?
JD: for the gun show?
Me: (totally confused now, turning to look at him like he's stupid) What?!? What fucking gun--

And then I die laughing as I see him flexing his biceps one at a time, lovingly touching them with alternating hands, making his best The Rock face (which is a pretty hysterical face to begin with), and he repeats "you know, the gun show"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It made me feel like an ass for being so cranky
That's a perfect example of why I like JD....I can't be pissed off around him

Anyway, I have to get my butt to the lab and get ready for ROUND ONE OF LIZ'S THESIS