Damn the HERETICS! Apparently, according to some, Madonna is no longer daring. Dude. She fucking invented daring. Fingerless lace gloves?! DARING! She doesn't need to wear some circus-ready costume everytime she steps out of her English castle, does she?. Fucking-A people, is this the best thing you can throw at her? Don't have anything new?  Wait, I shouldn't fret... whatever ... what does the NY Times Fashion editor know anyway? She's just mad because someone dropped a house on her sister. I think Madge looks brilliant in her see through skirt and her little salmon frock. Yay for Madonna. Boo for NYT.



Anyway, the last few days I have been sending emails with a high usage rate of exclamation points and emoticons. I think my recent bout of hyper-hyperdom is leaking into my electronic communications. I have been sending the kinda messages you get and say, "WTF? Spaz." I've kinda been all over the place with my to do lists and my energy levels, but the benefits are accumulating- I have gotten TONS done. When we take our trip the Hoover Dam this weekend, I may be able to be guilt-free when I leave my school work at home!! Vacation with no bags of work torturing me? I am so there.

Also. I did something yesterday. Its kinda bad. I bought a sewing machine online. Refurb. But, I did it. It was so spontaneus, wreckless and DARING!!  See? Madonna can wear salmon and I can buy a sewing machine online. We're so daring, we can barely breathe.

I got home from an extremely long day of work, meetings and running and I was so tired I could barely move. But it was only 8pm, so I was puzzled as to why I was so exhausted. Then I remembered that I slept exactly 24 minutes last night.  I was so wired that my jaw is sore. No, I didn't do lines off Justin Timberlake's six pack. Those days ended months ago. My theory is that I may have accidentally taken a second dose of ritalin yesterday afternoon when I was taking my vitamins and allergy meds. I think I just got all wrapped up in opening bottles that I opened the ritalin and didn't notice. DUDE. If I am gonna be a Pharm junkie, the least I could do is get my shit together and at least pay attention to what I am taking. Jeez. But I do have a certifiable defense. I spaced what pills I was taking because I HAVE ADHD. Really. I have been diagnosed. It's real. My doctor (and WebMD) tol' me so.  But thats why  I am all zombie brained now.

Speaking of which, a few nights ago I stayed up until 3am watching 28 Weeks Later. Given, its a mediocre movie, but zombie movies scare me like nothing else on the planet. When I was 9, I saw Dawn of the Dead and have never been the same. To this day, shopping malls still creep me out because I am scared of some zombie popping out and biting my shoulder while I am standing in front of Hotdog on a Stick thinking to myself, "Should I? or Shouldn't I?" 

So, one of the tasks of my summer assistantship is to make a MS Access database to be used by the people who run some program for undergraduate and graduate science students at the University. Or something. I am no Access whiz, but I can stumble around enough and then I have The BedMate to help me out when I get stuck. Its a pretty sweet deal. Pay for 20 hours/ week, but actually doing 8 hours of work.  Anyway. At the request of one of the people I work for, I made a report that displays all data available for each student. Its simple, but still fancy.  Each student has their own page and each page clearly shows what data is available and what data is missing. Its fab. Its great. Its exactly what they want. Except. When I show it to them, the first thing out of their mouth is, "Can we make those boxes blue?" Someone else responded, "Blue? Really? I think they should be green."  Um. Hello? Can we look at the content of the report and comment on how fabulous it is and how I have given you exactly what you want? But no. You wanna talk to me about the shit color of some shit boxes. I was agog. I sputtered, "... Uh... Er... Well... Yeah, we can make them whatever color you want."

*inhales deeply* I am a tree. I can bend. *cleansing exhale*

In other news, I bought a new pair of wrap pants. They feature purple and gold dragons. For reals.

So. There is this dude Doug. We have hung out a few times. He's cool (although he owns a house in Palm Springs, which screams Gay Retirement Community to me, but I digress). He has been sending me forwards for the past few days, which is a bit annoying, but today he dropped this bomb in my box.  I don't think I will ever see him again. LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE.

So, there I was all happy to be posting on LJ again. But then I went to Phoenix to visit the fam and immediatley came down with strep throat. HOT. I have never had strep before so I didn't know what was happening... I really thought I was at death's door. I had never felt pain in my throat like that. Mind you, my throat has been through the wringer before but never like this.  AGONY. In addition to the throat-pain-of-doom, I also had fever, chills, sweats and a hallucination or two. I cycled through the bathtub, the couch and my bed. After  6 days, I am 90% functional... my throat is a bit tender, but I can have solid foods again. On a side note, I was kinda hoping I'd drop a few pounds after being on a diet of popsicles, but alas, I retained all thickness.

I'm loving the rain! All my flowers are sucking it up... although Clarice is beside herself with the thunder. She just freaks. Her barking is really starting to get on my nerves. Like for real. Grrr.

The weird trashy people down the street have like 5 big meanie dogs that bark like mad whenever anyone walks by. It sucks because the bus drops me off essentially right in front of their gate and the dogs just go nuts.  They look like they want to tear my pretty flesh from my pretty bones. Except yesterday  I got off the bus and there were no dogs. None. They had 5. Where did they go? Curious.  The street was strangely quiet as I walked toward my house.

And also, you should feel sorry for me because I still have no air conditioning. Yeah, I realize that many people in NM don't have AC and they get along just fine but I am BILLY JAMES. And Billy James requires comfort. Demands it, even.  I can't even begin to describe the disdain radiating from the pug.  She is hot and she is DANG MAD. I guess this is what I get for being all, "I get to work from home all summer long, yay for me and boo for you and nanny nanny neener neener, etc.."

More work on my fancy-pants database, more brie, more antibiotics and then I am calling it a night.

I am very much looking forward to this weekend. So many reasons and so many awesome people to celebrate.

What a weekend. I need another day - even though I was draped across the couch for 90% of yesterday. But Saturday was so long... I love the gay pride. Its so debaucherous. This year, it seemed especially big and especially hardcore. I was at the Hyatt for much of the day, after screaming at the parade and milling about at the PrideFest. Awesome.  I also spent some time poolside at the Hyatt flirting with some hot boys from Phoenix. They thought I was cute and wanted me to go to the block party with them. I tastefully declined. I could tell they were trouble and had I gone with them, I knew that I would end up ass up on top of a speaker somewhere. Which isn't all bad, I suppose.

Got a new haircut see? I never realized my forehead is the size of a movie screen at the drive-in, but now I now. The camera is a harsh mistress, she is.

I don't think the morning bus driver like me. He says hi to everyone except for me. If he is smiling when I board the bus, his smile vanishes as soon as he realizes its me showing him my pass. What a jerk. But I like him. I think he's nice. He reminds me of my dad, who spent 30 years driving the city bus in LA.  I have no idea why he is so cold with me. Maybe because I am not a young lady - he seems to be REAL friendly to them.  It hurts my feelin's.

The class I am teaching next semester is full. Forty students. I am starting to freak. What if they don't like/respect/listen to me? I mean, I AM practically the same age as them.... (kinda).  What if I look fat or dumb? What if my zipper is down on the first day of class and I am forever labeled as that "gay guy who tried to flash his junk at us."

We need a new air conditioner. And until we get one I am gonna be a sweaty smelly boy. And not in the lusty dirty way. But rather in the drippy germy way. Gross.

I am fucking hell sore. Weight training is hard, especially if you're a shrimpy-shrimp-shrimp like me. But on the happy side, I think I may have possibly seen a bicep this morning. Possibly. I hadn't had any coffee yet, which leaves me prone to illusions of grandeur.

I am headed up to the trail in a bit to practice and see how far I get before my lungs collapse. Altitude+mountain+June Sun = Dead Billy. Well, hopefully when search and rescue is air lifting me off the trail, some hunky search and rescue fella will touch my arm and tell his hot co-searcher, "hey - check out this guys bicep. its a gun show."  Then I will die happy.

Pride parade tomorrow. I am gonna be there. After brunch of course. *clink* happy gayness y'all.

Oh. Also. I forgot to mention in my previously posted list of developments:

8. After years of successfully avoiding and thus, becoming addicted to Queer as Folk, I was forced to watch an episode. And now I have an eating disorder. Fuck.

OK... some developments....

1. I am officially on "unsupervised" probation. I am about 60% completley rehabilitated. Awesome.

2. People who think that Madonna shouldn't be inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame are teh dumb. Not to mention careless, because Madonna can disappear anyone with the snap of her fabulous fingers. Just sayin'. New album out on March 29. It's gonna be a good day.

3. Do I really need a Facebook page? Okay fine. I can't even keep myself on LJ, let alone MySpace AND Facebook. I'm such a sheep. BAAAAAAH.

4. Spring break is next week. This is exciting because it will give me some breathing room and time to play catch up on all my "started and stalled" projects, which include: finishing my conference paper, replacing my shower door, assembling two datasets, drafting two research papers, writing a human subjects application and manscaping. Lots and lots of manscaping.. You're welcome.

5. There is now officially drama concerning my Comps committee. Academics are hateful little bitches, aren't they?

6. Marathon training has officially resumed.

7. I'm on the edge of seventeen.

8. Armed with my iphone, I am UNSTOPPABLE. For real. I've become a monster.

This is pretty amy fisher-tastic.

Best. News. Ever.

I think it's fantastic. The Spears dynasty evolves. I can't wait to see the "Celebrity Bump Watch" photos of a 16 year old. SO HOT.

My life is so very low energy right now. I didn't take my ritalin yesterday which made getting out of bed this morning practically impossible. Actually, what finally got me up was that my celly was blowing up with texts from Madonna. She was all, "That girl is a HO. She's on NICKELODEON. She a HO." That Madonna. Ever since she found out about the whole Hall of Fame thing, she's been unrelentingly judgmental. Red Carpet, indeed.

I'm so jealous of New York. If I lived there, there may be the chance that I would share the subway with Anderson Cooper, my real husband. That would be awesome.

They're filming a movie just up the street from my office. When I got off the bus, the make up people were crossing the street. That was kinda cool.

I have a headache. I have a ga-jillion phone calls to make. But I need coffee. Expensive coffee.

So. I took the bus to the used sporting goods store to buy the weights. I got there, purchased a 20lb and a 25 lb, put them in my backpack and walked out to catch the bus back to campus. I assumed walking back to the office from the bus stop with 45lbs of weights in my bag would be tiring, but I think I underestimated the distance from the stop (Yale and Central) to my office (Girard and Campus). OMG. I prolly could have caught a shuttle of some type, but that would be LAZY.

Also. But while on the bus, there was a random hippy-sing-along complete with purple beads, rattles and drums. It was rather terrific. After the fourth chorus of "If you're happy and you know it...", we had a game of "What's interesting in YOUR bag?" We went around the bus and each person had to show the group one interesting thing from their bag. Mind you, there was like 6 people on the bus and these two cute hippies just kind of randomly started singing and initiating group games. They didn't know each other before getting on the bus... it was kinda cool. The nice lady next to me pulled out a German novel and we oooooh'd. The hotel housekeeper had a Bible and we aaahhhhhh'd. This cutie dude with black hair and blue eyes had skateboard wheels for his little bro (Aw!). Then it was my turn. The bag I took with me to the store was my running bag. It usually has running related things in it. I emptied most of it out to accommodate the weights, so I didn't think I had anything in there worth mentioning except my ipod. I reached in my bag and pulled out..... LUBE. "What is THAT?"

IT'S FOR RUNNING!! I SWEAR. It's to keep my toes from getting blisters. And it ensures that I don't get unsightly chafe marks on my mercurial thighs.

Ugh. The embarrassment. The cutie dude knew exactly what it was. He winked.

The End.

I am going to buy free weights today. My body has become simultaneously bony and flabby. And I still refuse to go to the gym. So I am headed to the used sporting goods store to buy some weights. A couple of 25lb'ers should work at least until I even out my muscle tone and then I'll go from there. Its weird. It's all good below the equator but its Fiesta of Flab 2007 from the waist up.  Its gross. Seriously.

Probation fines paid. Another obligation fulfilled.

I stayed up until 1am last night working and making touch ups to the new paint in the living room and kitchen. I can't believe I have let the walls stay white for over two years. Ew! But even with just the one wall painted, the kitchen looks crazy-better! This weekend, its all about  new window treatments and some killer frames for my collection of random wall art. I'm not going to start painting the rest of the kitchen until after thanksgiving, but before Christmas. I figured it doesn't all have to be done at once. It's a work in progress just like everything else around me. And I'm okay with that. Really. I am. *deep breath*

Also, I have big plans this weekend to repair a leaky shower door. It's leaked for a while now and its starting to damage the drywall and molding surrounding the shower. In my infinite wisdom, I asked the google what to do and now I have the answer.  I am gonna fix something!  With tools!! OMG. I am going to the Home Depot and everything. This is serious business. I may even put on a tool belt.  And a baseball cap!! SO. HOT.  I have been demanding action from everyone around me and yet I still sit around and wait for the leaky shower to fix itself. I'm over it.  I even plan on repairing the damaged wall and tiles. And then when that's all done... I'm painting the bitch!!   It sounds like a lot of work, but I love it. My home is my art. Its about time I start treating it as such.

At some point I should consider what to do about the leaves. They need serious raking.  It's becoming excessive.  But I enjoy watching the pug jump through them... so  they  may stay a while longer.

I got my shamanic drumming CD in the mail. Time for more journeying. I'm afraid to do it alone. I felt safer when I had those two other crackhead students with me. But if I want to push this thing along, I need to get over my bad self.

Anyway. Back to work.

I wonder how big of a probation violation it is to trade ritalin for lunch?

Call me an angsty 17 year old, but I had a total urge to listen to Tori while running this morning. I used to be one of those, "OMG TORI" types,  but I quickly outgrew it. Nevertheless, her heavy handed laments were what I needed this morning and I am glad that my ipod was able to oblige. One round  through the "Little Earthquakes" album hit the spot and squashed whatever melodramatic bug I woke up with. Time to move on.

I think I need to better integrate running into the rest of my life. I have kept running isolated from other aspects of my life including what I eat, how much I sleep, how I plan my day, etc. I'd like my running to improve and I'd really like to be a bad-ass distance runner. But I need to make some major changes in order to do that. Right now, my running is unsupported by the rest of my life. Instead of simply running, I need to develop a holistic "training" plan that is complemented by my other activities. How to do this, I am not sure yet, but I think avoiding that bag of Laffy Taffys in the office may be a good start.

Tandoori meatballs for lunch. MMM.

My puggy, Clarice, is what I'd like to call an "aggressive snuggler."  She pushes her warm sausage body up to me real close. Or, if possible, she will wedge her pudgy self into the small space between the BedMate and I.  With every movement I make away from her, she moves in closer. And closer. Until she has claimed half the bed and I am unable to move. If I try to defend my bed real estate and try to nudge her over, she lets out the most disturbing little grunt. Its a mix between "you're killing me" and "cut your shit out."  And then when its time to get up, she gets all pissy because I have compromised the little empire of captured pillows and blankets that she has acquired over the night.

I want another pug.

Ho-hum. Yawn.

I think the novelty of ritalin has worn off. Time for a higher dose. Or heroin.

Did a ton of stuff this weekend, including a ton of slacking. That was nice. I don't feel rested, but I feel accomplished. I'll take the feeling of exhausted achievement over well-rested any day. (And I'd rather be famous than righteous or holy.)

My Dying Boyfriend is out of the hospital again and the prognosis is good. Very good. So, I guess he is no longer dying. I have no idea how he has been able to face what he has faced and still want to invite me up for the weekend. I'm inspired, relieved and very grateful.  And I also feel selfish, I don't think I would have been able to hold it together if something happened. Why? Because I'm a victim... duh.

In any case, I'll be spending time with him this weekend and then I can go back to my enabling actions of avoidance: pretend he was never sick or that I almost had to face the death of a loved one square in the face. mmmmm! Nachos!

The Doggie Dash and Dawdle was this weekend, crazy fun. Clarice was bringing sexy back in her leg-warmers and head bows in a grand homage to Puggy Jassercize.  She only did half the dawdle though, she wasn't into actually exerting effort outside of getting her outfit on. Unlike those other suckas' she didn't have to go the whole distance to earn her props. Besides, I don'tt have the strength to carry that cannonball for a whole mile. No way.

Lunch plans today. That'll be nice because I am hungry as heck. And the running and then back to the office for more number crunching.  I am working on the "What is the economic impact of the Santa Fe Living Wage?" .... Um... in sum... There is none. Nope. Nada. Can I go?

My schedule this week is planned down to the minute. Kinda crappy. I don't like when that happens, I feel "un-free." Howevs, when I look at what I am doing, the stuff isn't that bad. Running, socializing, dinners and reading. All things that I like. All with people that I love. Even the work stuff isn't that bad. The probation related stuff is my least favorite, but it is by no means unbearable. But panic strikes when I look at my weekly calendar and there are no blank spots. How can I not freak? One day at a time, I suppose. *pops another ritalin*

Ok... confessions.... Reasons why my probation is not bull shit even though i often think it is, Number #92849203

In my super fab and super gay- AA last week, this dude had to "tell his story."  He was this cute, LA guy and he explained his introduction to alcohol, his addiction, his "rock bottom" and his battle with recovery. Most of what he was saying was far and beyond any experience I have had with alcohol, but I value the lesson of how bad things "could get". Mind you, I go to AA because I am mandated to for 8 weeks, but while I can't identify with many of the people's struggles with addictions, I can related to the dumb-ass decisions made while fucked up. Anyway, while he was describing his "rock bottom" experience, there were a few gasps in the room. It was heinous and humiliating. As he was continuing his story, it struck me:  "Oh fuck. I have SO done that." 

The awful, shameful thing that this guy did was the awakening he needed to become sober. I did the same thing and never thought about it again. Until now. Fucking-A.  Because I am still processing what it was that I did and what it means, I won't go any further. I will tell you though. I can't keep it. I need to let it go. Plus, I am ashamed that it happened and I am ashamed that it happened and I never took the implications seriously. 

/ end scene.

In happy, non-law-enforcement related news, I now have the new Britney CD. And? She a HO. And I Iove her. *weep!* Honestly, Brit, I never stopped!!

It just came to me:  Why fighting or complaining or lamenting about my current legal situation and bitching about how I am being abused and mistreated by the system is a total waste of not only my time but also the time of everyone around me: Dudes:  I'm not a victim. 

Last week, in my group therapy of other drunk drivers, there was a lot of "I don't belong here...", "I don't have a problem....", "I'm here because I have to be, this is LAME,"...... I was so bothered. None of us are victims. We fucked up. The people who we hurt or could have hurt are the one's who have a real claim to injustice. Not us. We lost that a while ago.

So, in one of my last entries, I proclaimed that I wasn't going to bitch and moan about the 3 ring circus that is Probation. I expected that to force me to consider the many benefits that Probation is interjecting into my life, and I repeat, there are many. However, what I didn't expect was for me to shut up entirely.

Well, anyway.

I have several "group therapy" and AA meetings under my belt, I have completed my community service requirements and am all set for my DWI school and victim impact panel. I paid my fines and have not had any compromised urine tests ('shooting dirties," as we say in the barrio). So, these mutha-fuckas have nothing on me. It's a sweet deal and I like it. So. I had a scheduled meeting today with my PO, so I dressed up and got there early (via public transport, natch). However, it did't matter because I wasn't allowed in the courthouse because I had my photo-capable laptop with me. I have been in the courthouse many times before and have always had the laptop with me. I had nowhere to store it, as I had taken the bus. The courthouse provides lockers for cell phones (also banned), but a) no functioning lockers were available and b) they are small and will only fit a cell phone. The security guards were like,

"Sorry, you can't come in with that. You need to lock it in the lockers."
"The lockers are tiny, it won't fit."
"Go put it in your car."
"I don't have a car."
"How did you get here?"
"The bus." (as if it is any of your damn business)
*officer shrugs*
"Well, what should I do? Can you hold it down here?"
"No. You can't take it in. Its court policy."
"I understand that, but I have to meet my PO in five minutes or I can go to jail."
"Sorry. I don't know what to tell you."
"Ma'am. I'm serious. I can't not show up. I will be violating my probation. There is no place for me to store it. I don't have a car and the lockers are too small."
"Sorry. I don't know what to tell you."
"Well, can I at least call her and tell her that I am here?"
"Yeah, just go outside and call her. Use your cell phone."
"My cell phone is with the parking attendant three blocks away, since they're not allowed here and there are no functioning lockers available." (I won't even go into how I had to PAY the parking attendant to hold my phone, whereas the lockers use quarter deposits).
"Sorry. I don't know what to tell you."
"Can I use your phone? I just need to tell her that I am here."
"Yeah. I guess. But I have to dial for you."
"Fine."

*by this time, I was starting to get frustrated and upset. my voice was becoming shaky and a bit shrill. my face was getting hot and sweaty. more security guards were showing up and everyone still in the security line had tuned into my little scene.*

*ring, ring*

"Probation, this is your bull-dyke bitch PO." (*names were changed to protect the incompetent*)
"Hi there, this is Billy, I have an appt. with you.... "
"Yeah?"
"I am in the lobby and they won't let me in because I have my laptop."
"And it has a camera..." *heavy sigh*
"Yeah"
"They have lockers in the parking structure."
*grits teeth and applies death drip to phone receiver* "It won't fit."
"Why do you have your laptop with you?"
"Because after here, I have to go straight to work, where I use my laptop. Besides, I have been in this building 8749 times and I have always had my laptop with me. I have never had any reason to believe this was an issue."
"It's against policy."
*clenches eyes shut to keep tears of despair from falling* "Clearly. Well, I am here now. Do you want to come down and meet me?"
"No. Just come back tomorrow morning and don't bring your laptop."
*click*

I won't go into how I had to miss work and re-schedule a meeting with my professor for today's drama and will now have to miss more work tomorrow... I just won't. You know what I will do?

I will dress even nicer and show up even earlier. These bitches have nothing on me.

***

In other news, my intro to shamanic studies is done and I have identified ways of furthering my studies... so that's all good. School and work situations are improving thanks to my brand new Concerta scrip. AWESOME. I am able to work, listen, focus and have felt a remarkable different in my libido. (By remarkable, I mean WHOA). In fact, that little pill is what gave me the energy, motivation and focus I needed to muster to make this entry. Let's hope this is the beginning of good things. I'd like some good things.

Okay. So.

I am not gonna bitch and moan about all the stuff I have to do to complete my conditions of probation anymore. Complaining about it all makes me feel even worse and it also makes me feel as though I am passing the buck. So, I am just gonna take my knocks and move on. Besides, I am sure it was boring you anyway. I was boring myself and who knew that was even possible. I mean, I am the most interesting person I know.

Nakey yoga was awesome yesterday. My hips and lower back feel so much better.

I rode my bike to an actual destination today. It was awesome. And I didn't die. Also awesome. But, jeez, it wore me out. It was only like 13/14 miles roundtrip, but I thought I was never gonna make it home. It does, however, make me want to do a triathalon.

Quote of the (yester) Day:

igor4pres: Dude. You won't be able to smoke when gets mandylicious gets here for the holidays.
Me: *face goes pale* Oh. My. God. Am I even gonna recognize her?

I am going to a sweatlodge next month. It will be my first. I am SO stoked.

The chi in my house is unbelievably clogged. Its stuck in the carpet, its stuck in the cabinets, closets, gardens, pantries and bookshelves. The energy has become very stagnant since we came back from Portland almost two years ago. I have been noticing it for a while and have done things here and there to keep things moving, but to no avail. It's time for a major overhaul. I want SURFACES.

Things that I did this weekend:

1. Began the long and arduous task of ridding myself of all CDs. I am digitizing all my music and ditching all CDs and CD players. I am trading them online, selling them and recycling them. I don't need CD cases, I don't need the cover art and goddammit, I want my shelf space back. Also, with no CDs, I will have no need for my old, large and clunky CD changer that I bought years ago. I'm going wireless, bitches. I am also ditching all VHS and VHS related accoutrements.

2. Same with books. The BedMate inherited a ton of books from his Father's estate. I also have a lot of books, but I don't have the emotional attachment to many of them that he has to ALL of his. I am selling tons online, trading them online (for more books to be traded). The books are moving, working, traveling. I'll tell you what they are NOT doing: sitting on my shelves hogging prime real estate. No longer will I have books for the sake of just having them. I entered a bunch online (www.half.com) to sell yesterday and have since sold two for $20. Yay for money! (Also, has any one sold stuff on Amazon marketplace? I wonder if its a better store front than half.com?)

3. Clothes. I won't even go into it. I'm just gonna light a match and start over. It's time for a new look, anyway.

4. We shredded and chipped piles and piles of non-composted yard waste that has been slowly eroding the structural integrity of my mind since 2002. Over the spring, we built a new composting system, so now we are chipping all the other stuff and re-composting. So instead of a pile of non-composting crap, it is now a working, functional composting-industrial complex. Good times. I saw billions and billions of bugs.

5. We planted 175 red tulips for spring. YAY.

6. I also cursed, cried, screamed and shouted over my statistics homework. I'm almost done. I have never had this amount of trouble with a class, not even statistics. I think it means that I am not giving it enough time. Statistics, I am gonna make you my bitch.

7. I watched the new Britney video. Ugh. Britney, dancing around a pole is SO not original. You call that a comeback? Brit-brit, I don't know how to quit you.

8. Ran 22 miles on Saturday morning, easy. The marathon, like statistics, is also being my bitch.

9. Thinned much of the overgrowth in the labyrinth. Instead of a mish-mash of wildflowers that grow huge and block the path - no longer will they mock my orderly and neat sensibilities, it will become and intentional showcase of perennials, herbs and bulbs.

In other news:

It looks like I will be working in a cafe for my community service. Fucking awesome. I love cafes! I start on Wednesday. Tomorrow is my extra special drug counseling appointment. *eye roll* They are so gonna beat me over the head with the reform stick that I will not have any choice except to become all straight edge and holier than thou. After all, I will have achieved the arrogant air of "being through the system."

Oh, wait. Did I tell you that my probation officer is a uber-militant-bitch-troll-from-hell? It's all a bit much for moi.

GAHD.

Anyway. Things have been nuts. School. Work. Relationships. Clarice. Everything is in warp speed and all I can do is play "Fish Tycoon."

Turns out that my boyf (not The BedMate) is dying of melanoma . Last week, his doctor gave him 3-4 months. We both knew he was sick, but I never thought it was gonna happen all so quickly. His doctor told him to start researching hospice and getting a home nurse, indicating that he will soon no longer be able to care for himself. He and I have created an interesting relationship over the past 7 months. He's a retired chemist who is a nationally recognized rock gardener and amateur chef. So, our relationship is based on gardening and food - two things I enjoy very much. Plus, he's a total stoner. YAY. He teaches me about baroque, I expose him to soul music. We have a very leisurely relationship and I have grown very very fond of him.

It brings out all kinds of fears and concerns about spending time with someone with a terminal illness and the end is nigh. I have never actually watched someone become progressively ill and die. I am certainly freaked. He still looks healthy, although now I am noticing how his cheek bones protrude more and more and how his pants hang low on his waist. His partner died of liver cancer only 7 years ago. I am tortured by the questions bouncing in my head:

1. Should I talk about my very exciting summer plans? He won't be around for that, I don't want to be insensitive by planning my life without him.

2. I complimented a piece of furniture and then immediately panicked, "OMG. I hope he doesn't think that I am sniffing around his things to take after he dies."

3. He gave me a sac of bud and said, "You should have this." "Why?, I asked. "Because there is no way I can smoke that in 4 months." O.o

4. He's rich. Very rich. I am SO paranoid of being perceived as a gold-digger by his friends and family, 99% of whom are also rich, straight and old. Why else would a young (ish) man hang out with an older man who is dying?

5. What's even more fucked is that am so worried about upsetting him that I have not dealt with my own issues and grieving - a person very close to my heart is going to be gone by Christmas and all I can worry about is "Don't tell any death jokes."

Downersville. Population: Me.

Also. On Tuesday, I fell. DOWN. HARD. ON A HARD STAIRCASE. IT WAS A BRICK STAIR. VERY HARD. Landed on my knee, which is now a nice bruisy-blue-green. I was convinced I needed to be airlifted to the hospital. But it was more pain than actual injury. I couldn't run yesterday, but today should be okay.

I use inhalers now. (But I am afraid to use them in front of my melanoma friend. He has melanoma in his lungs and there I am inhaling albuterol because my allergies are fussy. ASSHOLE BILLY. If only the inhaler was magic and could destroy melanoma...)

And I want to have lunch with The BedMate.

I don't know what to do next.

Britney Spears forever. And this guy, too.

Best quote ever: "If anything ever happened to Britney Spears, the world can kiss my ass good bye."

OMG. Best story ever.

'Member how I was all telling you about how the BedMate was gonna be my new staff joint roller? Well, true to form, he takes his new responsibility very seriously. As he should, I mean, you know how I roll. Anyway, he was practicing tonight... with OREGANO!! My sweet, sweet man. He knew better than to jeopardize Daddy's treasure. So conscientious, that one.

Boys who wear Jackie-O's while running are fantastic. Oh wait, that's MOI.