Portable

One thing that really irks me about using The Boy's computer is that it's a big bulky laptop. I can't blog from my comfy bed anymore. Or my comfy couch. I need to start saving up for a new computer/computer repair stat. Just like I need to save up for a car. I wish that a really rich uncle that I don't know I have but loves me dies tomorrow so that I can inherit his fortune and have money. That's bad. I don't want anyone to die. But you get the idea.

I've been working a ton of hours at Starbucks, but its still not QUITE enough, considering a laptop and a car aren't everyday expenses. I'm either going to have to get another job, or just keep saving and stop buying food at the food court and clothes just for fun.

Oh, and I also decided that instead of going in order in my quote book, I'm gonna jump around randomly, since they're all grouped similarly. It would be boring having nothing but quotes about love for two weeks.

QOTD:

I consider exercise vulgar. It makes people smell.

-Alec Yuill Thornton

My response: I agree. I hate sweaty smelly people. I don't get why girls like to watch men exercise. To me, its just watching some guy get all sweaty and smelly and disgusting. Blech.

Quoted

So, I was browsing around Waldenbooks tonight when I came across The 2,548 Best Things Anybody Every Said. I got this crazy idea to do a Quote of the Day here, for the next 2,548 days. I figure hell, it'll at least get me into blogging every day again. I'm also going to add my response to these quotes. So here goes

1. Why don't you get a haircut? You look like a chrysanthemum. - P.G. Woodehouse (1881 - 1975)

My response? This is what a chrysanthemum looks like:


I'm certain I've seen people with hair just like that. Which is not a good thing. Haircuts, people. Thanks. Ha.

So, that was fun, right? Stay tuned, because tomorrow I'll have another one. In fact, stay tuned for the next 2,547 days. That's what? 7 years? I doubt I'll get through all of them. And maybe I'll skip some un-funny ones or the ones I don't quite like/understand/have a response to.

Zen

For the first time in a long time, I'm perfectly content with my life. Not only that, but I'm becoming very hopeful. I'm glad. It's about time, I say.

I haven't really blogged very often lately because sad to say, I think my laptop is actually dead. I'm going to see if I can get at least the stuff off the hard drive and put it all onto an external for now, but I think that's all I can do. I don't have any money either, so buying a new one is sort of out of the question. At least until school starts. I'm going to need one then. I'm also wishing that I had the foresight to put some of the programs that I had on my computer onto a disc. Like Microsoft Office. That took forever to...get.

I am wanting a Mac though. The Boy says its stupid, because Macs are so difficult to repair and such. But really. They're user-friendly, come with great software, and all of the Macbooks come with built-in iSight cameras. And iTunes. I wouldn't have to download iTunes. And yes, I like they way they look. I like white things, because its very clean and classic. But noooo. He's having a hissy fit that I'm willing to plop down a grand on a laptop and I'm not even considering a PC.

I was going to figure out a way to work Fish Lips into this entry, just because I was talking to a couple girls at work about him and his code name. And why he has said code name. But I couldn't figure out a creative way to do it. Oh well.

I have to write a personal statement to Central now. That should be fun.

Centipede

Okay. So today I'm standing around in my apartment after work, I can't remember what I was doing. And I happen to turn around and look into the dinette. And there it was. BAM. A centipede. A really freaking GIGANTIC centipede. I had a small heart attack. But it didn't run. So I grabbed one of Eric's flip flops and smashed it against the wall as hard as I could. There is now a very gross dead centipede on the bottom of Eric's right flip flop. I didn't even scream. Be proud of me guys, cuz that's a MAJOR accomplishment for me.

In other news, The Boy and I got back together. It wasn't a very eventful or super memorable moment, but we did. I'm happy.

Also, I like how I've used both his name and codename in this blog.Haha. I'm consistent.

As soon as I'm done being flat broke I'm also gonna go visit Vici and get my hair dyed. I'm going to go with Espresso. Its really close to my natural hair color, so I'm hoping it'll work.

Aaaand, I'm hoping that The Boy will let me use his camcorder, because I'd like to start doing some video blogs, and my webcam isn't that amazing. Well, it is, but it does this really odd dark thing and then the video doesn't capture as fast as I'd like it to. Also, it picks up volume really weird. Not to mention my lack of laptop. Gah.

Well I'm pretty sure that's all for now. Ta!

Broken

So, its been a super long time since I've updated last. I came home on my birthday to my laptop sitting in a puddle of rain, because I didn't have the foresight to shut the window before Eric and I left. So...it hasn't been working since then. I got it to turn on once, but then the screen died. I got it to turn on one more time, but the screen still wasn't working. So I'm just praying that it'll spontaneously start working sometime soon. Because I'm pretty much broke and I can't afford to have it repaired. Or buy a new one.

I've been having this trouble sleeping lately. I can't seem to fall asleep ever, and when I do, I can't seem to manage staying asleep. I'm more or less certain that its because of the extreme stress I've been under lately, combined with the extreme amount of caffeine I consume on a daily basis. Curse you, Starbucks, with your energy packets!

For now I'm stuck using The Boy's computer. Oh, and he's recently decided he takes offense to being called "The Boy". Oh well, I know he doesn't read this, so I think I'm safe. Besides, I'm trying not to use names. The internet is a big scary place, don'cha know?

The only thing unfortunate about codenames, however, is some people know their names. Like I can't call a certain someone "quad grande mocha" because EVERYONE knows who that is. Hmm...I'm going to have to think of a more clever, albeit sarcastic codename.

Oh, and I did figure out a pen name for myself. Megan Lockk. What does everyone think? I was also thinking Locke, after John Locke, the philosopher. But The Boy says its pretentious to put a silent E at the end of it. And Lockk is a little more original, I think.

Okay, I'm going to go get back to my book (The Devil Wears Prada). I'll probably have the whole thing finished before I go to bed, which is impressive because I just started it tonight.

Ta.

Blackberry

Okay. So, the other day I've encountered this problem with my prized Blackberry Pearl. About every 10 minutes, it auto-erases my call log and text messages. For no apparent reason, because my memory doesn't ever drop to 0. So I completely miss messages and then the people who are trying to text me call me and I miss the call and never know who was trying to call me. That, my friends, is annoying as fuck.

Not only that, but as far as I know, I'm SUPPOSED to be able to plug my BB into my computer via USB port and be able to take pictures off of it and stuff. But I can't. No matter what I try.

I can't do anything else with it either. I can't download ringtones or anything. Sure, I could go to the T-zones thing but there isn't anything good on it.

I'm gonna have to go to the mall early tomorrow just to go to the T Mobile store to troubleshoot this. Because I'm sorry, I didn't pay over $100 to have a phone that doesn't do what its supposed to. I could have gotten the same phone as The Boy for WAY less and been able to do way more with it. This is shit.

Surname

I think if my dream of becoming a published writer is ever going to come true, I need to come up with a pen name. I mean after all, who's going to talk about a book by an author who's name nobody can pronounce.

Nobody, with rare exception, can pronounce my last name. I suppose, I could just drop half of it and go by the second half of my godforsaken 14 letter long last name(s). But "Brings" is so boring.

Maybe I'll give myself a really pretentious last name, like Windsor. Or something soft an unassuming, like Henderson. Lord, anything that isn't Slavic. Or excessively German. Or boring Irish.

I need something original, something that will stand out. Not over the top, yet strong.

While I'm at it, I might as well invent myself a new first name. After all "Megan" is just so plain. Everybody is named Megan these days. Well, not really, but it is a very popular name.

I wouldn't like to be called something plain, like, well, Jane. Or something popular, like Megan or Sarah. I like the name Siobhan, but its pronounced "sahvonne" and I don't like that. Perhaps something from another culture, or language? But that seems too assuming. It has to be modern, but not too trendy (after all, we're trying to avoid the whole common name thing here). Something that screams "artist".

I like Victoria. But that seems too..."hey, I'm named after a queen". Not to mention, people would want to call me "Vicky" and I hate that. I could be Genvieve, but that's too French. I like Penelope, but even that sounds too girly.

This is very difficult.

Letter

Dear ****,

I am not now, nor will I ever be okay with your friendship with *******. I understand you've been friends since kindergarten. I understand you've been there for each other through everything. I have a friend like that. Gender has nothing to do with it.

Fact of the matter is, you made out with her. I don't care that she kissed you. You didn't stop. You didn't say no. And your only excuse was that you were drinking. The thing about drinking is yes, it lowers inhibitions, and makes you do the things you wouldn't normally do. But the thing is, you only do those things when you want to do them sober, but have the self-restraint not to. I would never have cheated on you when drunk, because I have absolutely no desire to when I'm sober, thus no desire when drunk. The fact that you did that when drunk only leads me to believe you'd been wanting to while sober.

So you two worked out that you love each other in a sibling-familial way. That's great. I'm glad you have a friend that you can be close to. But still, I'm not okay with it. She makes you laugh. You worry about her. You hold her when she's wobbly. She gets to see you when you're having a good time, and you shut me out of that part of your life entirely. I'm jealous, plain and simple.

I'll never tell you not to see her. I'll never tell you to stop talking to her. I'll also never stop hating her. I'll never stop blaming her for what she did to you, to us. I know its unhealthy, but I feel that I can't help it.

So even though I'm willing to work on our relationship rather than leaving you for good, I'm always going to want to strangle her. I'm always going to want to hit you when I see pictures of you two together, doing things with you, when I'm blatantly not invited, told that I would never be allowed to come along.

Don't expect me to ever extend a hand of friendship to her. If I see her, I'll never even so much as look at her nicely. Know that while I may have my arms crossed, all I want to do is reach over and slap the shit out of her. I'm by no means a violent person, but the emotion that I feel in this circumstance makes me feel as if my body would move on its own volition. I can never be nice to her. I'll never have anything nice to say about her. Sentences including her will always be punctuated with "whore" and "slut". And I'm not sorry.

Expecting me to let it go is stupid. And while I'm willing to be stupid and forgive you, I'll never forget.

Yours,
*****

Coutoure

After seeing the Sex and the City movie, I feel the incredible need to be couture.

Funny thing is, that goes against just about everything I stand for. I mean, $505 for a Louis Vuitton Pen? C'mon ladies, there's more to life than that.

And still, I want to say that the pen I'm taking notes with is by Louis Vuitton and cost me $505.

If I were rich, you better believe I'd wear nothing but designer anything. Thing is, I don't know why. Usually I'm not concerned with who designed my pants or my dress or what label is on the inside of my shirt. I guess for once I want to be able to say "Oh, you like my dress? Prada."

I never had anything name brand growing up, maybe that's what it is.

Or maybe I'm really just a shallow bitch.

Ha.