When The Stars Go Blue

I am blogging in my pajamas. Some could call me racy, although I doubt a pair of Victoria's Secret sweats and a Cleveland Cavs tee shirt could be called racy. Eh.

Sorry I've been away. Life has been hectic and chaotic, and I needed some time to sort out my mind and get back to the little bit of sanity I have. We can go into that later.

Hmmm...What is new? It snowed for the briefest moment on Friday, which sent me into a state of weather denial. Dude, it's October, and we haven't had a single day above 66 degrees. Where is my Indian summer? Where? It's been sunny and "warm" (meaning above 45) since yesterday, so maybe, just maybe there's a 70 degree day in my near future. I'm hoping it saves itself for Halloween. Nicky's going to be Optimus Prime (of Transformers fame), and he won't look cute with a bulky winter coat beneath his costume. I also bought my Lady GaGa costume over the weekend. I look like a fool in my GaGa wig, because I am naturally a brunette, and platinum blonde isn't too flattering on a chalky white brunette. I'm thinking some bronzer would work wonders. We'll see, but my costume is soooo kickass. I'm excited.

I was supposed to see Paranormal Activity this past weekend, but the tickets were sold out, so I settled on some tacos de papa at Mi Pueblo with Katherine instead. The tacos were definitely yummm. Nothing fixes missing a movie like Mexican cuisine.

I got a wisdom tooth pulled Wednesday. It didn't hurt too bad, just this annoying twinge every now and then. I think it's funny they call it pulling a tooth, when in my case they just pushed it out with this crazy metal shoehorn tooth thing. My dentist called it "liberating the tooth", like my tooth was an oppressed soul yearning to break free of its governmental chains. I have to get another one yanked in November--this one is impacted, so I have to have oral surgery. What a party that will be. I think after this is all said and done, I have earned myself a very yummy and very strong alcoholic beverage of some sort. I'm open to any suggestions.

Mountain And The Sea

It's Friday. Yay.

Today is Leif Erikson Day, a day dedicated to that crazy Viking guy who sailed over from Norway to America. I'd like to think he was slightly impressed with what he saw, though I do believe he landed in Newfoundland...I'm thinking he was like "Hmm...This looks a hell of a lot like Europe."

I even wrote a little ditty about his good old dad, Erik the Red. I want a cool name like that. Maybe Lashawn the Loud. Or Lashawn the Pasty. Something that would strike fear into the hearts of my fellow man. But anyway, the song goes a bit like this:

Erik the Red
Erik the Red

Dum dum dum

Sailing to Greenland in a Viking boat
In a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

Drinking mead
Drinking mead in a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

Erik the Red
Drinking mead in a Viking boat
With his kid

Dum dum dum

Leif Erikson
Was Erik's son

Dum dum dum

He sailed to America in a Viking boat
In a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

He made it to Canada
And he built a Viking settlement

Dum dum dum

Erik the Red
Didn't go to America

Dum dum dum

He stayed in Greenland instead
And by the time Leif got home
His ginger dad was dead

Dum dum dum


That is songwriting at its best, my friends. Not only is it a catchy tune, it is educational. Very educational. It makes Viking history fun. It also helps to kill time in a 10 hour workday.

Tonight is going to be a night rife with excitement. Nicky and I are going to Tricia's to paint pumpkins. Nicky is psyched. I'll post a picture of his pumpkin in my next entry.

And the whole apartment thing...I have decided to use that old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." I'm just going to suck it up until I get my leftover grant money, and then after that I'm moving. I was told by a friend that there's like 2 or 3 apartments for rent, so I'm not worried. Every time I call the number on the apartment building, I get the dude's voicemail. I'm thinking the rent shouldn't be more than $600. I hope.

And I'm debating whether I should get the H1N1 vaccine for Nicky and myself. The side effects don't sound too bad, nothing unlike the regular flu shot...I'm thinking maybe we will, especially with the loopy parents in Head Start.

Criminal

Ah...I think I'll write about my current moving predicament today.

If you didn't read my last post about my David Beckham BFF dream, then you may not know that I was alerted to a wonderful apartment two buildings down from my job. You also may not know that my dad rivals Kim Jong-Il and Fidel Castro for the title of World's Most Uber-Evil Evil Dictator. My dad charges me $100 a week to live at home. I decide that I want to move into said apartment building because hey, I'm 23 and like 3/4 years old, I think it's about time for little Lashawn to spread her wings and leave the zany, aggravating nest. My son will be 5 years old in February, and I don't think he should have to share his mom's childhood bedroom. I've had the same bedroom since I was 10. It's pretty sad.

At first I thought this whole living-at-home thing was a good deal. Then I started thinking about it, and realized how evil my dad actually is. Our rent is $450 a month, and I pay them about $400 a month. All they have to do is add in $50 of their own money and the rent's covered. Only I don't think they do that. My dad has a gambling addiction, and plays the lottery like a horny teenage boy let loose in an all girls Catholic high school. I'm not retarded, I know that that's where my money is going.

So...I try to work out an agreement where I pay him like $50 a week so I can save up to move out. Mr. Evil Dictator won't budge. He calls my wanting to move out "bullshit" and says "he doesn't want to hear it". Ugh. We got into quite a nasty row after that one, and he's acting all stupid now.

But here's the thing I don't get: Why is me moving out being viewed as something as horrible as the French Revolution? I'm an adult, so what is the big deal? Most parents would be prepping for their "Thank God My Kid Is Moving Out" party. I already knew my parents were a strange bunch, but whose parents are normal?

I guess I have to wait til school in January, when I get my grant. Hopefully there'll be enough money left over for the rent and deposit. If not, I'll have to wait til income tax time. Either way, odds are that my dream apartment will be gone. Gah...My dad is so unreasonable, but this might be the most idiotic thing he's done--all I can think of is that he'll miss that $400 a month. Maybe he doesn't want me to move out, but this is a bad way to do it, especially when I want to do my own thing now.

My mom is trying to figure something out. She says if she gets this job she's applying for, then she's going to tell him that he can only take $25 a week. But we'll see. We'll see.

It just makes me want to scream...

If There's A Rocket Tie Me To It

It's raining. We had one day of sunshine this week, and not one day over 60. Gah. This is going to be a shitty fall. Sweet.

The other night I had a strange dream. I dreamt that I was best friends forever with none other than Mr. David Beckham of soccery fame. Mind you, I know very little about Senor Beckham. All I know is that he is 1.) married to Miss Skinny Posh Spice, 2.) plays soccer, 3.) had a movie made about him with Keira Knightly, and 4.) is not generally liked by the U.S. soccer fans because he failed to deliver when he played for the LA Galaxy.

But anyway. Me and Becks (that's what I called him) were BFFs, and it was kind of funny, in a weird '80s montage from a cheesy Brat Pack movie kind of way. He had that pretty careless hair and I had my insanely nutty hair and we drove around in a red Ferrari convertable. We hung out and drank Gatorade and vodka (it probably tastes gross in real life, but in my dream it was mine and Becks' drink of choice). Nicky played with his boys and he offered to teach Nicky how to play soccer. I think Little Poshie hated me, but I'm not sure because she always looked angry and hungry. He even sent me an email while I was at work. It went a bit like this:

Hello there best friend! How are you? I'm good, at home. God, Victoria is such a bitch! I'm reading your blog at the moment. Very funny stuff, mate.
As always, Becks

I don't really know what would cause me to have a weird David Beckham dream. I'm not a huge soccer enthusiast--I prefer basketball and American football. All I can think of is that I've been sick all week and I lost my voice Wednesday and I drank nothing but tea all day. Tea is from England, all that "tea time" stuff, so maybe all that tea led me to dreaming about Brits? That's what I'm going with.

And...Argent left me a question last week, but in the insanity of my naughty former high school music teacher and his inability to leave certain students (no, not me...thank god!) alone and my crazy weird cold that isn't really a cold but I'm sick nonetheless, I didn't blog. Here's the question:
If you could commit one crime with no chance of geting caught, what crime would you commit right now?

Good question. I'm dying to move out of my parents' house, but due to their unreasonable amounts of money I pay for rent, I cannot save up my money to get my dream apartment. It's two buildings from my job. It's perfect. Perfect.

My dad, however, rivals several evil dictators on our planet for the title of #1 Evil Dictator, and refuses to lower the amount I pay so I can save up and move into said dream apartment. He acts like me moving out at 23 is unheard of. I'll be 24 in December, and I'm just so frustrated with all of it, so I'd say I'd steal a huge diamond worth hundreds of millions of dollars. I'd move out and be happy.


And on a final note, it's still raining. And it's 48 degrees. XO

In My Head

I am hungry.

How many of my posts have that general theme? That's sad. I need to learn to bring a snack with me to work.

But anyway. I am at work, and I am bored. Rumor has it that they laid off another service writer, and it's cloudy outside, with a looming threat of rain. It's 5:37 PM here in cloudy, muggy Cleveland, on the last day of summer. My day has been a slow one, and I'm kinda tired. Nicky's sick again. Again. Gahhh.

What to write about, what to write about...hmmm...Well, I'm hungry, and my mom is making homemade spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and that's pretty much all I'm thinking about right now. Hunger gives me a one-track mind, ha ha. I think I'll share with you the things that have gone through my mind quite randomly today.

A Random List:

*I am hungry.

*Wow. It's getting cloudy out there. I wonder if it's going to rain.

*I have to pee.

*Ugh. Why did I spend my dollar on a bottle of water? I could have gotten a donut from Dunkin' Donuts.

*No, you have one month to get into short shorts for your GaGa costume. Now is not the time for donuts. Willpower, woman!

*Hmm...Should I stay late tonight??? I am starving...

*No, I need to suck it up. Money is more important than food right now. I can stick it through for two extra hours.

*God, I am bored.

*What's on TV tonight? Maybe I'll just read after I eat...What books do I want to look at?

*I hope Nicky's cough is getting better.

*That's enough, John Mayer.

*Ugh, I don't know what Kim had for lunch, but our garbage can STINKS. I'm not feeling it.

*What the hell is chicken marsala? I hate chicken. Dude, the trash can stinks SO bad. Ugh.

*It's only 5:58? Shit...


And the list could go on til I clock out, but I won't bore you with the unnecessariousness of it all, so...I will continue to stare mindlessly at the clock at the corner of the screen and think about how hungry and bored I am.
XO

Fake Is The New Real

So. It seems as though I have lost a follower. Let me apologize to that person. I am sorry if I did not meet your expectations of a great blogger. I am sorry if I offended you in any way by the type of language I used, or the style of writing I have. I'm also sorry if I haven't visited your blog and commented on your witty or insightful posts. I'm pretty bad at sitting down and going through all the blogs. Hopefully you'll come back.

I missed Wednesday's questions. Let me get to those.

Do you karaoke?

I did it a few times when I was younger, like waaay back in grade school. I used to perform with my choir in high school and do vocal competitions (which I won). I haven't done anything public since high school, but I sing all the time--at home, at work when I'm alone in the office, etcetera.

A stranger in a bar offers you a life-changing sum of money if you will just slap your grandmother. Would you do it? Why/Why not?

Hell yes I would! I don't like my grandma too much.


Can I ask you a question? What is it with guys who think it's hot to leer at you from their car window as they drive by? It creeps me out, truth to be told. It's pretty unsettling to be walking down the street and glance up and see a random guy leering at you as he slowly drives down the street. Guys, take note. Not attractive.

Today looks as though it's going to be a dull, boring day. I go home early (1 pm) and will undoubtably spend the day in my sweats because I am A.) boring, B.) broke, C.) slightly tired, seeing as I loathe mornings, and D.) broke. Perhaps I'll go for a jog if I can motivate myself to get sweaty. Perhaps I'll take some artsy photographs if my mood so moves me. I don't know.

I'll leave you with a deep quote to ponder for the weekend! XO

"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail.", Koonu the Surfing Instructor, Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Acid Tongue

This has been a week of shit-tastic proportions.

So...Monday, they laid off two people at the dealership. Not in my department, but in Parts and Service. They also cut my hours down, and there is absolutely no overtime allowed. Gah. I hate money. I do. I never ever seem to have enough...I think I'm destined to live at home forever. Forever.

And then it gets even shittier. Nicky's dad, aka Douchebag Extraordinaire, is moving to Tennessee. His sister told me like two weeks ago, but I figured he was bluffing because I refuse to sign the papers to give up his parental rights--he owes me $3047.64 in back child support, and there is no way in hell that he's getting out of it that easily. In fact, I told him that in so many words when he called me in June to see how "the kid" was doing. My best friend drove past his house and saw one of his cars has Tennessee plates.

Stupid fucker.

Ohio is notoriously fucktastic when it comes to getting money from delinquent fathers. The Cuyahoga County CSEA claimed they couldn't find him for over three years. My best friend found his house on two occasions: once while driving her minivan of dreams and eating an Arby's sandwich and actually driving past the house, and twice, when our sluthy duo looked him up on the voter registration site (it's a good thing I talked him into registering to vote, ha ha). It was simple. I didn't even have access to all the crafty and expensive stuff that the CSEA supposedly uses to track these deadbeat dirtbags down. Call me Nancy Drew.

But anyway, I looked up the Ohio rules on interstate child support cases and was kind of pissed. Like the Hulk about to bust out of his clothes in a verdant rage pissed. You need to know the address of the "non-custodial parent" (which I don't) in order to start the collections process. They have his current address but have done nothing really constructive. I know he works under the goddamn table so that they can't take his money. I know he works because my best friend saw a 62-inch flat screen TV in his living room. (Grrr...) But anyway. If you lack the address (which I do), it takes about 3-6 months to get it (which translates to "we'll take your name and just throw it in a pile of unimportant papers somewhere"). Once they get the address or whatever, it takes 9-12 months or MORE to establish the interstate support order.

Seriously. That is ridiculous. He only has to pay $132 a month as it is. Here's an idea: instead of skipping out on your responsiblities, why not just pay the damn money and man up???? I guess that's not an option, so Douchebag McGee, his bitch-tacular wife, and their trashy kids are just gonna run off and live with her daddy in Tennessee and figure that I'll never find them and that they won. Oh my god, I am just soooo frustrated. Like this is a neverending nightmare and really, all I want is Nicky's money. I think we're owed at least that.

And I know if the situation was reversed, the dirty bastard would be trying to squeeze me for every penny I have. That's the fucked up part. Grrr.

Sorry for the vent...I know I'm not my usual sunshiny self, but I am just a bit stressed out now. I'll answer those questions tomorrow and grace you guys with a nugget of Chuck Norris wisdom.

XO