Rant #2

Dec. 29th, 2012 11:53 am
bouldersandbrews: (Sephiroth - Nice view)
Dear people: I don't care who you defriend on Facebook. I really don't. I don't even care at this point if you defriend me. So what the hell makes you think that writing a multiple-paragraph status update on the subject will make me care? The only thing it makes me is:

A - aware of the fact that you're a douche.
B - annoyed by the fact that you're a self-aggrandizing jackass.
C - aware of the fact that you want to be Arbiter Of The World.
D - astonished by the fact that you feel a need to write a freaking essay about this person and why you defriended him.

I could go on, but it kind of already seems like I'm doing the same thing here, except I haven't defriended this person, I just don't like them.

And it isn't like this person is the only one to go on on Facebook about who they've defriended. I see it all the time. And it bugs me. Because I DON'T CARE. It's YOUR business, NOT mine.
bouldersandbrews: (Schala)
Really, Christina? Really? This is how it's been your entire damn life? In a relationship you're okay, out of one you're a suicidal disaster? This is how it is?

I'm actually really pissed at myself. I never thought I was one of those chicks. One of those girls who has to be in a relationship or she goes to pieces.

But of course it's perfectly obvious in retrospect.

What a freaking twit.

I KNOW TWIT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE AN INSULT, DON'T FREAKING JUDGE ME.

(twit; noun
a weak or thin place in yarn caused by uneven spinning.
Origin:
1810–20; origin uncertain)


Good thing Dave'll never leave me. I'll fall apart and probably kill myself in a big shower of little emo tears.
bouldersandbrews: (Sailor Pluto - Dead Scream)
My head hurts. Bet you couldn't tell that from my subject line, though. :P

It has been a busy month.

Wow, I don't even know where to begin. Here are my major talking (typing?) points, though, and maybe I'll get through them:

New car.
New place.
Greg.
Balboa Park.
Passover etc.
Diet.
TMI type stuff.
Jess.
That might be all, we'll see.

So new car. The HMS was making funny noises, so Dave took it in to the mechanic, and it died a block before it got there. The engine was terminal, so we decided that, rather than get the HMS a new engine, it was time to buy a new car. Long story short, we're now driving a thus-far-unnamed Buick Century. Which runs. Nicely. And it's comfortable. And it looks cool.

Next... new place. So after the HMS died, we decided we needed to cut expenses (since either way, whether we fixed the HMS or bought a new car, it would be about the same amount, which was more than we could afford), and our place, while wonderful, is more than we can afford, so we started place-hunting again... long story short, Larry the Landlord knocked the rent back a bit, I'm going to get a part-time job, so we're staying here.

So Dave's brother Greg was arrested last month on a twenty-year-old DUI charge, he was extradited to California, so we've been going up on Friday nights, staying at Dave's mom's, and Dave and Cathy have been visiting Greg in the morning. Not a bad thing at all, just tiring, because it's almost a two-hour drive up and back. Apparently Greg's doing well, by the way, and we're hoping the judge will throw this out, since after the DUI Greg stopped breaking the law completely and it was twenty years ago.

Balboa Park. Hayden's been doing this parkour thing in the park every other Sunday, so since Sundays are our day with the kids, we've been going and hanging out in the park till Hayden's done parkouring. It ends up being a long day, but Balboa Park's nice. Linz and I are kind of getting a little tired of it, though, so we're trying to think up something fun to do tomorrow while Hayden's parkouring.

So Tuesday night we go up to Harold's for the Passover service (or, if you're us, it's the Lord's Supper and we just refer to it as Passover because we're... lazy? Less syllables. I dunno). Dave's excited because he's been asked to speak, and does a great job (I'm really proud of him). Drive back that night, get around the next day to have the Beatties over for Night To Be Much Observed or, The Old Testament Passover. Okay, this entire paragraph so far has been a bow in David Beattie's direction :-) Anyways, we have them over, I fail at the yams, Dave fails at the fire, but we all have fun anyway, and end up staying up way too late. Andrew stays the night with us, and the next morning we chat before he goes back home to LA.

What's next? Oh, the freaking diet of doom. So I've stopped with the garlic and the pills, and I've started with pau d'arco tea, coconut oil, and undecenoic acid. Since I have the worst memory evar, I can't say whether it's working or not, since sometimes I don't remember to take it. If I were to remember to do so, though, it might work, who knows? I really need to remember to do this, though. Honestly, how can I seriously expect to beat this thing if I don't remember to do the treatments? Blar.

The TMI is LJ-cut, I'm a merciful crazy person :P )

So my sister. I really don't even know what to say about this, but I'm obsessing. I just can't stop thinking about her. I'm sure this fact will piss her off, because she seems ultra-volatile lately, but she's my sister, and I love her, and I'm seriously worried about her. I think that's all I'm going to say about it, for now anyway.

So that might actually be everything now. I'm hungry. I know that. Yeah, so, food. Right on it.

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