i'm on a sidequest.....

I think I totally want to get married some day.

I ventured out to Retropolis here in Houston, after reading a bunch of good reviews about it (that followed awful reviews for the Buffalo Exchange on Westheimer...it's true, they suck).

I walked in and it was tiny, an old wooden door and whatnot, and a skinny front part of the store.
And I figured oh, this is cute, there must be tons jammed into these few square feet.
And then you pass the counter,
and voila!
A staircase leading a to a second floor packed full of vintage items.
My heart started to beat so hard I thought it was going to burst out.









After digging through the piles of clothes, scarves, gloves, and purses, I left with a purse for 18$ (that came from an estate after someone's mother passed away) and an XL sweater with sequin collar for 17.50$(about three sizes too big, but after it fell off the hanger into my arms, it was mine.).
I told the two lovely ladies at the counter about my heart bursting out of my chest
and they laughed and one told me "You have the fever."

Oh it's true, I can't believe I didn't pass out with how overwhelmed with excitement and happiness.
It was so exhilarating. I almost wanted to cry.
I loved it. And I will be going back the moment I get paid again.
I can't wait.


End.

Why the hell do my neighbors have their television on so loud?! I am about 85% sure they live in an efficiency like I do, meaning even when they eat and shit, they're pretty much in front of their television. So they have no actual need to have the volume raised so loud.
I wish they would get a hobby that doesn't involve reruns of the original Law and Order and I quote from the other side of the wall, "Getting wasted on Jagermeister."
Oddly enough, they're also the ones that are awake at five a.m. on the weekends listening to a classic rock station loud enough for me to hear all the lyrics...
Awful.
So awful.
Another strange tidbit, is that they'll turn the t.v. off, walk around (excuse me, STAMP around), and then turn it back on.
I want to cut them in their sleep...
Maybe my next move should be into a complex?
Though I can imagine missing the quaintness of just a tiny unit place (mine is just a 12 unit building).
Maybe a duplex instead, that way you know EXACTLY which idiot it is.
We'll see.
I still have until May.


September seventeenth marked my one year anniversary at Half Price Books. Judy told me that I could expect my one year evaluation this week, so yay.
I'm crossing my fingers that it's a sweet eval, and not one where they let out all the things you've been doing wrong, but have failed to tell you about. Instead waiting until they got you in one space for more than ten minutes to bombard you with them, and then giving you owl eyes with their
"Oh, we didn't make you aware?"
Haha, you know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, it better be good, I want a raise please.
I have bills to pay and...useless things to buy.



Speaking of useless things!
What happened to all the cute people wearing jeans nowadays?
Am I missing them or something? It seems like...jeans lost their souls somewhere here, and they're just so versatile! A neutral practically! I enjoy them because you can't see my skinny legs and bony knees.
Yet, every time I see someone in a pair, it seems like they're stuck in awful mom jeans.
Or nut-huggers. I mean, I like a guys in a good fitting pair of pants, but not when they're so tight they hurt the testicles I don't have.
It's like wearing workout clothes as your outfit. NO. DON'T DO IT. PUT ON SOMETHING ELSE PLEASE. FOR MY EYES.
I grow nauseous seeing cottage like dimpled ass cheeks hanging violently out of workout shorts in public places. It's just as frowned upon to me as seeing nipples in the mall. Don't do it. It hurts me on the inside.
I mean really, who doesn't check out their ass before they leave the house?
I do.


Have to clean.
The End.

Love this, she's so cute and big now. Crawling and climbing and making real life human motions. I enjoy the moments when I get to see her.
She's lovely.
Lovely Lily.

Anyway, repairs on my car are sort of financially screwing me right now. But I think the stress relief of having the starter replaced, will be worth the price I'll be having to pay come tomorrow.
Stupid starter, I suppose I can live off of 89 cent burritos from Taco Bell for the next couple of weeks... at least they're delicious. Mm!


Relatively days have been slow and uneventful, that and I've never really updated this thing regularly.
Ah.
Such is life.


The End.

Thursday was Bear's and my six month mark.
We sort of celebrated with him showing up, presenting me with lovely roses followed by sexual activity out the wazoo.
Out the wazoo man.
Out of it.
I am convinced that he researches positions, because there is always something new, and sometimes something bizarre.
I ached all over Friday at work because of it.
At least I enjoy it all, and I really enjoy that fact that I can laugh. I get the crazy laughter during sex, I think it's the physical activity and how exuberant I feel. With the Doctor, I always felt like I wanted it to be over because I was never getting off.
Seriously.
I think it happened twice. Awful. I am grateful that Daniel actually knows something, no matter if he did have to research it or whatever. Research away folks! As long as it feels good, who the hell cares how you came across it really?


And strange! Half a year! Six months, and while I feel like, I've accomplished something (I did move out after all and buy my own car), it still feels like with six months, roughly 180 days, some other sort of headway should have been made.
That's my fault of course, I am seriously lacking in the motivational department. I don't seem to find the desire to always be up and moving. And I mean that figuratively.
Or well, literally as well.
My next short term goals are :
- Save up the bones for school in the Spring.
- Actively partake in something uber creative.
- Gain another ten pounds at least.
All easily reachable, you know, with the proper application of a cattle prod to my butt.
I'll try!
As far as the creative bit, a half joke at starting a band took a serious turn at work. Lizz and I figure I can't completely screw up a couple of notes on the keyboard (I used to know Greensleeves!), or we can record something and play it as I pretend to pound away at the keys.
No one will be the wiser.
And if they should happen to find out, I will exclaim, "what a fantastic actor I must be because you were all fooled for years!"
Assuming it takes them years to figure it out...and not, you know, half a minute.
There's also the knitting I sort of took up and the t shirt alterations.

My co-worker Jason asked why Lizz and I just don't get paid to take photos.

Because.
That nonsense is tiring! And just having to find someone to dress up and sit for you? And then take tons of photos? That's why I never returned to art school fool, I didn't want something like that to become tedious as a career. I think it will always remain just a hobby.
Like, "you look cute, RIGHT THERE, HOLD THAT POSE."
Half-spontaneous.
And I say that because, entirely spontaneous pictures are not really something I want dominating my photo albums for random nostalic viewing.
I want, "Aw how cute, that half smile and nonchalant shrug."
Not, "Who is that weirdo with one eye rolled back and the drool from his chin?"


Ah, the end, because it's time for bed.