Blaaaaaargh!

Getting paid is going to be nice.  Going back to work is going to suck.  Regardless of how this interview pans out, whenever I go back to full-time work, it’s going to suck.

-There is more to the musical world than that one Coldplay song, that “Hot and Cold” song, that one Cocteau Twins song, those three Breeders songs, and those two Joy Division songs.  Not that anyone would know it from what you play over and over and over and over again.  I hesitate to even introduce you to new music, because you would clearly not appreciate it, but if I have to hear that awful 8-song playlist one more fucking time I am going to absolutely destroy your computer.

-The microwave door closes without being slammed.

-Every single cabinet door will close - will, in fact, close better - without being slammed.

-Your ridiculous boots do not make it easier to get around the house.  Take them off.

-You are sitting in the same room as each other, there is no need to raise your voice to communicate.

-The dishes in the sink that have been there for 3 days are starting to grow things.  There are so many dishes in the sink that I can’t even get to the sink to do my own dishes, so I haven’t been using any.  This means that your dishes are costing me money to get food outside of the house.  DO YOUR MOTHERFUCKING DISHES.

-You are both in your late 30’s.  There is absolutely no reason I should have to be telling you these simple, basic tenets of life and human decency.  I hope you both contract MRSA and die extraordinarily nasty, painful deaths.  It would be fitting.

The hook in Speed is “if the speedometer goes below 55, everyone dies,” NOT “if the volume on the TV goes below 55, everyone dies.”  In fact, if the volume on the TV does not go below 55 sometime very soon, at least two people up in this motherfucker are going to die.

hrrrthrrr:

I have not seen either of my roommates since November 25th.  Their stuff is still here so I know they didn’t up and leave.  Maybe they were kidnapped but I haven’t seen any note. I feel like I should hang up posters or something. Or maybe I can just start renting out their rooms.

It’s been nice having the place all to myself but it’s getting a little weird.

update: after some text message investigation I found out that having a boyfriend means you never come home.

Both of my roommates are constantly home, in addition to being two of the most revolting, inconsiderate, horrible people you can imagine.  Don’t look your gift horse in the mouth, as long as they are paying rent.

but we really have to stop, as a society, rewarding stupidity, cruelty, extraordinarily awful behavior, and general uselessness by bestowing status upon those who exhibit these qualities.  Yes, the people on this show are not intelligent enough to quite realize that they are being ridiculed, laughed at, and derided, but that is where the problem arises.  They go on TV, have public appearances where we continue to laugh at them, but all they perceive is that they are being given things, have some measure of celebrity, and this serves to reinforce the deplorable behavior that got them there.  Their complete lack of self-awareness makes it dangerous to encourage them even in the slightest, no matter how entertaining it might be, because, however fascinating the train wreck of the TV show may be, the fact is that it is only enjoyable with the detachment of television, while the reality (and these are, unfortunately, real people acting as they do in real life) is a horrifyingly repugnant scene that nobody in their right mind would want to be around.

Found out I don’t qualify for Medicaid, but I can get my prescriptions from Canada for pretty cheap, and thought of you, and how I wish I had thought of that a long time ago.

Walked down the Fulton Mall this morning and thought of you.

Saw Stephen Earthman on the train and thought of you.

Also thought of how much I hated that job but how much I would like to still have it right now. Thought about us walking to the train together every morning down the Mall, on our way to that job, how absolutely, perfectly in love we were, to our own great shock and surprise.  How we would take the train back to Albee Square, shivering and pissed off from work, and make dinner, or cookies, and play Scrabble, watch Seinfeld, listen to music, and roll around on those flannel sheets of yours - which, btw, I still have.

It’s a good thing, now, that I don’t have very many pictures of you, because I would just torture myself staring at them and thinking about what could have, should have been.

Because I’m an idiot.

I need all kinds of new music, I have very little on this hard drive or on my iPhone.  Recommendations?