Rising Up From The Ashes

A few weeks back, I lost my email addresses to the ex. I had only a few hours to try to forward all the old messages I had saved and to notify folks of my new address. I was not successful and lost several people along the way.

Then my computer died. The first week without it I went stir-crazy at night when I could not sleep and was not able to check MySpace, email or chat. It was weird to not be able to keep in contact with people as often as I used to.

Saturday, some asshat stole my phone. Effectively severing my last bit of regular contact with people. Funny how much I had come to rely on that little piece of technology that I had resisted for so long. Interesting how I missed the ones who would check in with me to see how I was doing or just say "hi!"
The pictures of fun times, the texts I saved for long nights, all gone.
In an instant some fucker stole my security blanket.
*poof*
connections disappear.

Pathetic really.



Or is it freeing?

I find myself wondering how long it would take before someone noticed I was gone.

Throw a few of my favorite things in the truck and just take off.

Hmmm…where to go?
where to go?

When I arrived home this morning I was surprised to find a package waiting for me. I haven't ordered anything in ages and there are no holidays in the near future (my birthday, the most important of them all, is still a good two months away!)

I seems that I know some great people!

Earlier this week I was chatting with one of my online friends. We were discussing the arrival of autumn (yea!) and I was lamenting the fact that last spring I ran out of my favorite salt scrub only to learn that the manufacturer had discontinued it (boo!)

Next to a hottie to snuggle under the covers with, the best thing on a cold morning is a hot shower to start the day. The scrub was heavenly. It smelled of tangerines and, more importantly, it warmed up as it was massaged into the skin. Mmmm… energizing citrus scent, softer skin and extra heat. What more could I ask for in a jar? So, of course, the bastards discontinued it.

Well, it seems that my girl has some connections. I got not one, not two but FOUR jars of the stuff. Big jars. Enough to keep me toasty warm and silky smooth for years.
Lucky me!


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On an completely unrelated note, I love when people eavesdrop on a conversation and then get upset about what they overhear. [Amanda, stop reading now. Really.]

Friday is the '80s Zombie Prom. I am going with two couples. One is planning on going as car accident victims. The other is doing a murder/suicide (gunshot to the head and hanging). Damn! That fucked with my idea of being the girl who hung herself because her date didn't show up. Then I came up with it. My perfect idea. One so sick and twisted that it may even win me the costume contest. [Seriously Amanda, you should not be here!] Bloody thighs and zombie baby with a coat hanger around its neck. I am the D-I-Y abortion gone wrong.

People who overheard me talking about blackening the baby's eyes, smearing blood all over it and carrying it around by the leg were not amused. Oh well! Fortunately for me, I don't give a damn.

Okay, so a while back I posted a list of rules that people should follow when interacting with me. It was an attempt to minimize my frustration with people who want to get to know me as well as saving them a loud, and not particularly nice, reprimand. As one might suspect, it made no difference at all since it was only seen by people who (presumably) already know better.

Nevertheless, I feel I must bitch again. Feel free to move on to better things.

What the hell is it with people who feel a need to shout to me???
What makes them think I want to carry on a conversation by yelling across a parking lot, cafeteria, classroom or coffee shop?
Do you really want to get shot down in front of everyone within hearing distance? Especially since at this volume that includes quite a number of people?
Why would you think that I would be interested in getting to know someone who is too fucking lazy to get up and wander over to me?
Hell, for those of you in cars, couldn't you at least drive your sorry ass over instead of shouting from four parking spots away?
Or do you simply get rejected so often that you don't even want to put that minimal amount of effort into shit any more?

Fuck! Yesterday I had two different people shouting at me from two different directions at the same time. Not because I was about to get creamed by a car or some other emergency but because they wanted to talk. Wanted to know my name. Thought I might want to go out some time. Yeah, like I am going to carry on this conversation at the top of my lungs while yelling across the parking lot. I just ignored them. Today more were at it indoors. Today I was not so nice.

When people say, "Holla at me" this is not what they mean!