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"Loot's for spending" pt 2
Aug. 12th, 2003 04:15 pmWell, I have a job!
*pause for rejoicing*
I now am a proud team member or patricipant or partner or what the hell ever it is of Citigroup. Which basically means that I get to tell people how they should spend their money. Mind you, it's a damn successful company, which means I'm also earning money as I learn the best way to save and invest and do all those arcane things to my money. So, guess what? Unbelievably, I might actually have money in a year or two.
That's happy.
What's not so happy is the
Kitten Report:
Gretchen's sick. We're not sure with what. She's lying around and not playing like she used to and when you touch her stomach lightly she whimpers and she's meowing pitifully. It's really distressing. They think it's something to do with her distemper shot, which at best is a temporary stomach ache and at worst... well, it's a fatal allergic reaction.
This is not reassuring to your faithful writer, my friends.
Oh well.
I'm watching Cowboy Bebop. Old tapes. I'm thinking I need to make a list of things I want to get, and allot myself a certain amount a month to start acquiring them. No, better yet, I'll just cross things off as I buy them and replace them with other things, so I always have a list and I can try not to get too extravagent with it.
( The List, So Far )
There we go.
Oh. And when I get my own apartment I will also get another cat for Gretchen to play with. Something from the shelter, so a cat has a good home. And lots of silly kitty toys. Ah, I love having cats. I really do... I haven't had a cat in so long it's been driving me nuts. I'm so very not a dog person; I don't have the patience for it. But cats... I adore cats. And I've never really lived in a place except college where I haven't had one to three cats at a time. Now I have Gretchen (I hope) and soon I'll have another cat. Yay!
Apart from Gretchen, actually, things are going really well. April and I are writing lots of stuff and doing silly things like eating cookie dough for breakfast and making copious amounts of cinnamon rolls and toasting marshmallows over candles. We made stir-fry last night, it was wonderfully good. It's so much fun. Which, actually, I should wrap this up soon so she doesn't kill me, and so we can write pirate slash. And then we can write the LXG fics.
And the next person to call Henry Jekyll 'Jekkie' is going to get their spleen ripped out through their throat.
Damn. Fanfiction.net is down. That's moderately annoying.
Okay, I had a bunch of other stuff to talk about but now I can't think of any of it. Oh well.
Oh yeah.
For My Dumbass Ex Who Reads My Deadjournal
Which he does. I've seen him, when he hasn't furtively changed his screen over because I might be watching. God forbid. He's so... incredibly anal retentive and stupid. It's amazing. He locks everything that he can lock because I might get into it, which he's afraid I'll do because he goes rooting around in my room. I don't understand him. I really don't. Mr. Used-Condom-Stealing-Man. Sicko.
The loser brigade was over all weekend. Le Gaston and Orlando were particularly obnoxious, flirting with each other and whispering all over the place. Which is sad, considering Orlando's engaged to Le Gaston's best friend. At least, the guy whom he says is his best friend in public, and then whines about how much money the man owes him in private. I've heard him. It's highly pathetic.
What's scarier is the fact that, when April first saw Orlando, she couldn't tell if it was a guy or a girl. People do that, I've noticed. At least, everyone who hasn't been formally introduced to 'her' thinks she's a guy at first glance. I think she has a hormone problem, I really do. She absolutely hates being female, can't stand anyone who blatantly is... or maybe it's just that she can't stand anyone who's blatantly female and likes herself. She hates herself, I've noticed. And I think it's because of her mother, but I'm not sure. Or maybe it's just that she really does have a hormone imbalance, perhaps with other physical problems.
It's kind of funny. Of all of them, she has the most issues. She's terrified of driving, of leaving the house. I don't know how she's holding down this job she kind of has. Maybe she doesn't have to come in contact with that many people. She can't get into a confrontation without bursting into tears. It's like she's overhyped or overstressed all the time. She keeps all her associations but the five or so people in that little clique online. She can't actually relate to real people.
Oh well. The biggest losers in the loser brigade are her, my ex who goes stromping around in big boots like Gaston, and the Suppressed Serial Killer. It's the running joke-that's-not-a-joke. He's going to turn into a serial killer one of these days. Or a spree killer. One day he's just going to snap and kill people.
Bleh. I can't believe I ever was friends with them. And yet, I can. Because 500 miles from either your former home or your college home, away from all your friends and trapped in isolation by your current boyfriend who, since he's not threatening your life, looks really good by comparison... you take what you can get. Ah well.
Making new friends now, though. Going out, doing things. Mr Self-Amputee from Dayton (oh, that's a funny story. Remind me to tell you about that sometime) and Krishna and Pirate!John and my sailor boy and I might be going laser-tagging at some point, when my schedule settles down. Probably in a couple weeks. That'll be fun... I'd rather go paintballing though. Maybe I can convince John that he really wants to get hit with huge splatters of paint.
Oh well. On to pirate slash.
Toodles.
*pause for rejoicing*
I now am a proud team member or patricipant or partner or what the hell ever it is of Citigroup. Which basically means that I get to tell people how they should spend their money. Mind you, it's a damn successful company, which means I'm also earning money as I learn the best way to save and invest and do all those arcane things to my money. So, guess what? Unbelievably, I might actually have money in a year or two.
That's happy.
What's not so happy is the
Kitten Report:
Gretchen's sick. We're not sure with what. She's lying around and not playing like she used to and when you touch her stomach lightly she whimpers and she's meowing pitifully. It's really distressing. They think it's something to do with her distemper shot, which at best is a temporary stomach ache and at worst... well, it's a fatal allergic reaction.
This is not reassuring to your faithful writer, my friends.
Oh well.
I'm watching Cowboy Bebop. Old tapes. I'm thinking I need to make a list of things I want to get, and allot myself a certain amount a month to start acquiring them. No, better yet, I'll just cross things off as I buy them and replace them with other things, so I always have a list and I can try not to get too extravagent with it.
( The List, So Far )
There we go.
Oh. And when I get my own apartment I will also get another cat for Gretchen to play with. Something from the shelter, so a cat has a good home. And lots of silly kitty toys. Ah, I love having cats. I really do... I haven't had a cat in so long it's been driving me nuts. I'm so very not a dog person; I don't have the patience for it. But cats... I adore cats. And I've never really lived in a place except college where I haven't had one to three cats at a time. Now I have Gretchen (I hope) and soon I'll have another cat. Yay!
Apart from Gretchen, actually, things are going really well. April and I are writing lots of stuff and doing silly things like eating cookie dough for breakfast and making copious amounts of cinnamon rolls and toasting marshmallows over candles. We made stir-fry last night, it was wonderfully good. It's so much fun. Which, actually, I should wrap this up soon so she doesn't kill me, and so we can write pirate slash. And then we can write the LXG fics.
And the next person to call Henry Jekyll 'Jekkie' is going to get their spleen ripped out through their throat.
Damn. Fanfiction.net is down. That's moderately annoying.
Okay, I had a bunch of other stuff to talk about but now I can't think of any of it. Oh well.
Oh yeah.
For My Dumbass Ex Who Reads My Deadjournal
Which he does. I've seen him, when he hasn't furtively changed his screen over because I might be watching. God forbid. He's so... incredibly anal retentive and stupid. It's amazing. He locks everything that he can lock because I might get into it, which he's afraid I'll do because he goes rooting around in my room. I don't understand him. I really don't. Mr. Used-Condom-Stealing-Man. Sicko.
The loser brigade was over all weekend. Le Gaston and Orlando were particularly obnoxious, flirting with each other and whispering all over the place. Which is sad, considering Orlando's engaged to Le Gaston's best friend. At least, the guy whom he says is his best friend in public, and then whines about how much money the man owes him in private. I've heard him. It's highly pathetic.
What's scarier is the fact that, when April first saw Orlando, she couldn't tell if it was a guy or a girl. People do that, I've noticed. At least, everyone who hasn't been formally introduced to 'her' thinks she's a guy at first glance. I think she has a hormone problem, I really do. She absolutely hates being female, can't stand anyone who blatantly is... or maybe it's just that she can't stand anyone who's blatantly female and likes herself. She hates herself, I've noticed. And I think it's because of her mother, but I'm not sure. Or maybe it's just that she really does have a hormone imbalance, perhaps with other physical problems.
It's kind of funny. Of all of them, she has the most issues. She's terrified of driving, of leaving the house. I don't know how she's holding down this job she kind of has. Maybe she doesn't have to come in contact with that many people. She can't get into a confrontation without bursting into tears. It's like she's overhyped or overstressed all the time. She keeps all her associations but the five or so people in that little clique online. She can't actually relate to real people.
Oh well. The biggest losers in the loser brigade are her, my ex who goes stromping around in big boots like Gaston, and the Suppressed Serial Killer. It's the running joke-that's-not-a-joke. He's going to turn into a serial killer one of these days. Or a spree killer. One day he's just going to snap and kill people.
Bleh. I can't believe I ever was friends with them. And yet, I can. Because 500 miles from either your former home or your college home, away from all your friends and trapped in isolation by your current boyfriend who, since he's not threatening your life, looks really good by comparison... you take what you can get. Ah well.
Making new friends now, though. Going out, doing things. Mr Self-Amputee from Dayton (oh, that's a funny story. Remind me to tell you about that sometime) and Krishna and Pirate!John and my sailor boy and I might be going laser-tagging at some point, when my schedule settles down. Probably in a couple weeks. That'll be fun... I'd rather go paintballing though. Maybe I can convince John that he really wants to get hit with huge splatters of paint.
Oh well. On to pirate slash.
Toodles.
