how much I love my sister. I love her more than Ginger, and Jonathan and everything in the whole wide world. That is all. :)

(Hi, Kat.... Emily didn't post this or anything......)

Nina! I got her! And Sage! But I don't have any clothes for Sage yet. And neither of them have wigs. :( I need to find out how to make fur wigs for myself.

Here are photos. You need photos, don't even lie.

( KLIK HIER PLS. (yay nina) )

I had another dream last night.

I was a little kid (like 9-11 years old) and my family was rich and powerful and we owned a huge, nice old hotel. Apparently it was haunted or cursed or something because before we moved in, a little girl was playing with her friend and got hurt/bloodied up by tacks or nails or something. I guess I grew up in the place, so it was no big deal for me, but a class full of college paranormal investigators or something. They were talking to me as they boarded our elevator, and they asked if I wanted to join them and I laughed and said no--of course not, since it's my damn hotel. Later, my mother (who was away with her/our bodyguards), drove up into the hotel and I was so ridiculously excited to see her and I ran to her car, and my dad yelled at me because I could've been hit by a car.

We go to pick her up from the train station, and everyone's standing by to watch their relatives come off the trains. I get a bad feeling, like a car is going to derail, so I hide in the corner. A bodyguard comes to talk to me and I thank him and say how glad I am that my mother was protected by so many people. (Maybe the bodyguards represented Mom's brothers maybe). As people get off the trains, that bad feeling of mine starts to grow, so I fight my way back into the hallway/building. As I'm running, someone pushes me, hard, and I stumble. She (I'm thinking an au pair? A nanny? A family friend?) tells me to keep running, because I cannot see my mother like that. I just Know that she got hit by a train.

In slightly more disgusting news, I went to shower this morning, and noticed that there was a familiar but naaaasty smell at around face level. I shrugged it off at first because my sinuses have been little bitches this week, so I guessed it was just snot that I was smelling. Until I looked at one of the sponges that--oh, hey, I threw out last week. How weird. I realize that Joe must've dug them out of the garbage today. How classy. Whatever, though, I roll my eyes because Joe is just nasty.

Then disaster strikes. I look more closely at one of the sponges hanging there. What is that squirming on the loofah thing? HELLO, MAGGOT! That explains the smell.

Joe also just said that he uses that loofah sponge thing to clean the bathroom. I hate my family.

Things to know:

-I don't like working 12-8pm, but it is decidedly better than 11-7. I love love love working in the mornings, starting anytime at/after 5 and getting off no later than 3pm. People are more relaxed in the morning, and starting at 2, workers get pissy. If I had to, I would work 2-10. But sadly.

-I love how attached my dog is to Emily and me. Today she's following us around the house.

-I love popsicles.

-The shirts I bought from AE arrived today. I also got the smocked tube dress and it is actually long enough for me! Their stuff is never long enough.

( Of course I have to show you my stuff )

-I love the character twitters: Bones and NCIS. Yay!

This isn't going to be a real update, and if you're dear_bradenton or Jonathan it's not even news, but there's this girl at work with whom I am in love because she's really nice and stuff, and she and Jordan help make my days there not so shitty. In any case, I could have made her cry today.

At some point I think she was up in front booth with me, talking, when a car came to the speaker. I told her that she had to go take their order, and that she had to hurry because she didn't have a register up here. Her retort was a very innocent "Your mom doesn't have a register." I might've flinched, but didn't say anything because dude something like 90% of the people in my life don't know about Mom. Later we were slow again and we were teasing each other, and I told her that her face looked funny, or she smelled funny, or something like that. It was early in the morning, so the details are kind of fuzzy. Her response, again, was something about 'my mom.'

I hear the phrase all the damn time, and I know that in almost every case of a "your mom" response, it's innocent and doesn't even reference anyone's real mother, but sometimes it gets sort of grating to hear it. I don't mean because it's overused or really insulting: it just gets really hard to be reminded over and over that my mother's not around. It even starts getting to me on (the very rare) days when dear_bradenton uses it frequently, and she was her mother too! So I think eventually, I'll have to tell the girl that it sort of makes me uncomfortable/depressed to hear the phrase used so often...and hope she doesn't fall all over herself with sympathy/pity. Because I wouldn't be telling her that to try to get pity or anything. Bah.


On a similar topic, I had a really intense dream the other night. If I were still in school I think I might've woken Brittany up with sleep-noises, but since only Jonathan was there with me, we'll never know. I was walking down the hallway in Mom's old house, into the living room, and saw Mom laying on the couch in there. She smiled at me and out of nowhere I started crying. I knelt next to the couch and told her fiercely (I remember NEEDING her to hear/believe/understand the things I was saying) that I loved her no matter what I said, and how even when I said that I hated her I never meant it and just general apologies and "I love yous" and everything that people always want to tell dead relatives. I think she replied, in the dream, but now that I think about it, I cannot remember what she said. I do remember that we were going to go onto some platform floating in the air or some water and talk, but then I forced myself awake because I was afraid of being late for work.

I never know what to do with intense dreams like those, where they're not really that sad or happy or scary. Because I didn't wake up sad. I remember a huge sense of desperation like a knot in my chest/weight in my stomach, and the downright mindless NEED for her to hear what I was saying. I'd like to think that in dreams like those (I've had two others, and they both involved Mom), I'm actually getting through to her somehow, but then the logical/realistic/Brennan side of me breaks in and reminds me that the odds are pretty great that she's just straight up gone, instead of lingering around me.

The day after her funeral was windy and I feel the urge to write that down right now.

I still haven't found my purse, but I called and got my Chase card replaced, and my ChaCha debit card (even though Dad wishes I wouldn't use them anymore). Best of all, I found my license! I was looking for my social security card to take with me to the secretary of state to replace my license, but then I picked up my student ID off my desk, where I put it when I got home on Thursday, and bam, there was my license. I have no idea why, but I don't care, because that's what I was dreading the most!

This lost purse thing means that I can, without guilt, go looking for a new wallet and a new purse. I loved the old ones, but if they're gone, they're gone. :( I'm going to be looking for a hinged wallet now. (Yes, like yours, Brittany: I'm such a copycat). I don't know what kind of purse I'm going to want though. Better figure it out soon. In the meantime, I'll just use one of my fifty-three million other ones.

I'm selling stuff on eBay to get enough money to buy the wallet/purse, so hopefully that'll work out. I'm eyeing some wallets at HotTopic.com, but we'll see.

I know that the purse isn't stolen. I know that without a doubt it is in this house (or in the garage for some reason). I just hope I find it at some point this summer, because there are gift cards in there, and something like $10 in the wallet. :(

LMFAO, I was going to be all "hey guise I'm totally joking but do you want to donate to meee" and then I remembered that all of my LJ friends are broke. So it's all good. I found out I need to be really careful about my joking, whiny wishlists: I post stuff like that in my Facebook statuses sometimes, and, without fail, my Uncle David offers to help me out. I feel really bad about it, because I know he feels obligated to help take care of my sister and me, because of Mom. He's taking me to IKEA on Saturday to buy a wardrobe/armoire thing for me, which is going to be mildly uncomfortable since I hate watching people spend money on me. But I need the wardrobe pretty intensely. He's also bringing me a desk, but that's because it was just taking up space in his room.

All I know is that I'm going to be whining a lot less about wanting Nina over there. I might mention her one last time around my birthday, but only because I know he makes six figures. ;)

In other news, my period is late. I'm not worried, because...well, I don't need to be worried. I was completely safe this month. I can only assume that it's because my diet has changed drastically now that I'm home (so much more salad, so much less deep-fried stuff) and I have been so ridiculous stressed out, what with finals and papers and tearing my house apart to find that purse.

I live in a house full of Chelseas, Brittany. Seriously. It seems like I am always repeating myself or answering stupid questions. Every person here with a Y chromosome is deaf, has an IQ of about 80 (on a good day), and like to produce bodily noises as loudly as possible. This includes burping, farting, and coughing.

I want to stab these people.

Still haven't found my purse, but I WILL FIND IT TODAY. I WILL HAVE IT TODAY.
I swear to Jeebus and Saint Anthony and that ghost that followed me home from school, I will have this purse by the end of the day.

Guess who decided, last night, that she should bring her calculator with her to her science final, having noted that she missed several points on all of the previous exams for simple errors? (Apparently I wholeheartedly believe that 6/4 reduces into 1.3333. Moron.

Guess who left her calculator packed tidily away in her stuff at home. I have time to go get it, but then I'd have to trek back up the hill to Strong, and it's just not worth it. Growl.

In other news I've fallen back in love with Billie Piper, having watched her behave very much like a normal human being (with amazing glasses and fantastic hair) on the Paul O'Grady show. Just like when I was watching Doctor Who every day, I'm currently narrating this post in my head in her accent.

Oh and also apparently I've become dependent on George the iPod to fall asleep at night. My ears were ringing/felt weird all of yesterday so I decided to forgo the earbuds last night, and damn I just laid there for hours. :( I don't want to say I was hearing voices but okay I was hearing voices. They weren't telling me to burn the place down or anything: it was like there were people in the room yapping and I didn't want to listen but couldn't make them shut up. And then there was an electric guitar playing weird music.

I'm not crazy, guys...I just need Death Cab to make my brain shut up/calm down every night. *shiny*

Dayum, I put a box of my desk detritus/crap I didn't want to lug home on ebay and started the bidding at 45 cents (juuuust enough to cover the Paypal fees that I'll get charged for the amount they're sending for shipping). I didn't expect any bids at all, but I just checked and there are two bids, with three days left. The price is up to $1.25.

Yay. :D


In other news I am definitely PMSing. I wanted to cut bitches today.
And right now I am craving fruit like nobody's business.

So there's this test that foreign-language students in the States have to take. It's called the STAMP: Standards-Based Measurement of Proficiency. It's supposed to measure your fluency in whatever language you're taking. Basically, it's in three sections: reading, writing, and speaking.

-In the reading, you're given selections or menus or tour description and you have to answer a question about whatever you've read. This is to measure your literacy/reading level. The more you answer correctly, the more you get, and they get harder. When you miss a question, you get an easier question, and so on, until it either takes pity on you and stops or decides that you're adequate and stops.

-In the writing, you're given several topics to write about, and you're expected to write as much as you can, as well as you can, using as many cool words, tenses, et cetera as possible.

-In the speaking, you're given three or four topics, again, and you're supposed to talk for a minute or two about each one. Again, you're supposed to use as much of your skills as you can.

When you're done, you're graded on a 1-6 scale: 1 is the lowest, and 6 is the highest. I don't know about the other language departments here, but my professor says that Eastern's Spanish students tend to score really effing high on this exam. We took it last Monday, and apparently the results came in, because my professor was just about bursting with pride today. He told us that half of the class got 6's, and (I think: he speaks funny sometimes) that the lowest score was a 4.8. I think he also said that the class scored in the 88th percentile in the nation. Woo. :) At one point in class, he points at me and asks me a question, and says "I think you were one of the ones who scored a 6."

:D Yay! :D

Okay, I mean, that's not actually a guarantee that I got a 6, because he might've been thinking about someone else. Also, I guess the test is also fairly inaccurate most of the time. And I wasn't really super-confident during the writing/reading sections (mostly I rushed through the last two writing sections, and I felt really silly speaking out loud in the lab during the speaking portion. I don't know that I'm fully fluent in Spanish yet, and I'm certainly not entirely confident when speaking in front of people (especially not native speakers and the students in my class who are better than me), but I had to listen to my speaking sections before I could move on, and there are times where I think I have a pretty good accent.

I was going to say that I'd be happy having the lowest grade in the class...not entirely true, but close enough. (Also, it's really hard to mix up who got the 4.8 and who got a 6, at least in my opinion, so if I did have the lowest grade, the professor wouldn't have said that he thought I'd gotten a 6).

But still.

:D

EDIT:Okayyy I get it now. I was reading on the website that scoring of the writing/reading sections takes approximately three weeks. You can pay to get them graded faster, but even then I doubt it takes less than a week. In that case, I just got a 6 on the reading section, and in thaaaat case, my writing/reading is most likely going to bring my score down. It's all good, though. I still feel good about the whole thing. Yay I am proficient at reading in Spanish! :D

I have for sale a white iMac computer. I will not ship it, so you'll have to pick it up, either at my house in Southgate or my dorm at Eastern (will have to buy it quickly, though, before the end of the school year).

I'm kind of deficient in knowing what the vital specs to computer lovers are, but here are what I feel are the basics:

Memory: 256 MB
Processor: 600MHz PowerPC G3

Mac OS X Version 10.2
(it's an iMac, version 33.11)

This computer might come without a mouse/keyboard/power plug, but the keyboard/mouse should be rather inexpensive (I might have one mouse floating around, but it's one of the older, crappy circle mouse...s), and supposedly the power cord is just a generic three-prong cord? It may come with these items, though, depending on whether my sister keeps hers. I'll keep you updated.

Let me know if you're interested, and, if you are, what you're able to pay.

Nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps to perpetuate love.

'this was so wonderful...a really great story...I would love to read more of it...I hope it doesn't end here"

Lady, you just reviewed a crimefic wherein the criminal was caught. This story is several months (if not years) old and hasn't been updated since. Of COURSE it ends here.

Morons.

I want my mother.

Today Brittany and I both got voicemails/calls from someone with a blocked ID. Her was a scream. Like, literally: someone screamed, and then hung up. I checked mine before Spanish, but couldn't listen to the whole thing since I was running late already. It was someone talking dirty, which freaked me out and pissed me off but then whatever.

I came back today and decided I was going to transcribe it to post here in this journal. So I open Notepad (faster than OpenOffice) and go through my voicemail box and get ready to type, but then I just couldn't do it. He talked about being horny and jerking off and then a girl/porn started moaning in the background and he started talking about sticking his fingers places and what he wanted me to do to his girlfriend and it just got grosser from there.

Ordinarily I would let it pass...be squicked out, but let it pass. The thing is, after the ordeal with Nathaniel Perry and John whatshisface, I realized that with Facebook and everything, it was really easy to look up my number and what I look like and where I live, so I took that sort of information down. I've been googling myself and variations of my name/number to try to see if maybe I forgot about a place or if someone posted it somewhere as a joke, but so far I haven't found any real hits.

Whoever this was, he knew my name and my nickname, and okay it's not that far of a stretch to get Kathryn from Kat or vice versa, but...really? He didn't sound familiar...I'm not stellar at voice recognition over the phone, but I'm pretty sure I've never heard his voice before. He sounded African American, I guess, which would coincide with his mention of his black...dick.

I'm kind of freaked out, you know? Not only do I feel really dirty that a stranger spoke to me like that, but I also have no idea where he would have gotten my number. Sam? Maybe. I mean, she hates me and apparently I'm a really bad person...and now that I think about it, there's a black guy she sort of hangs out with at the E-Zone, but he seemed like a nice guy... That would also explain the call to Brittany's phone since she's a bad person too BUT I FORGOT. She got a new phone (and number) long after Sam got her ass out, and she definitely doesn't post it everywhere so Sam doesn't know it. I'm kind of irrationally scared to leave the building, which is stupid because dude it's just a voicemail and even if this guy does go to school here, chances are he's harmless...but nasty.

I don't know. No one put anyone up to prank-calling LJ friends, right? You haven't heard of, like, a recording or something that you can send to people's phones for April 1st?

Ugh.

EDIT: It's probably coincidence that when I filed a request for the Physical Plant to come out and fix our sink, they asked for my cell number and there was a black guy who came out right?

15 text Bones icons under here.
( Bones icons...mostly for linking to people: ignore this lovelies! )

In other news, my neck hurts and I should go read Measure for Measure.

It's like I knew it was going to be cold outside before I even checked the weather this morning.
I just wanted to huddle down in my comfortable nest of blankets and sheets and never get up.

DOES ANYONE ELSE REMEMBER THAT TIME WHEN I WAS REALLY LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS IN THE COMMONS ROOM BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW MEAGAN WAS HERE?

DOES ANYONE ELSE REMEMBER THAT TIME WHEN I FELT LIKE SHIT? :(

(Brittany opens the fridge with her bowl of uncooked ramen noodles.)

"Heyyyy that's not the microwave."