Creeping Through The Cellar Door (none_too_subtle) wrote,
Creeping Through The Cellar Door

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It ain't over till the skinny girl yolps.


I don't know how long I'll sustain "skinny girl status" if I keep eating like we did today. Good barbecue, vanilla bean ice cream and hush puppies are better than sex.


Maybe that's stretching it. Whatever!! The evil voices in my head won't quit. MAKE IT STOP. Clearly, evidence of serious sleep deprivation is obvious in this lil gem :D. I think I have a few issues with crappy cam shots. I need to resist the urge.

Do not disturb Do not disturb

If my name doesn't "show", do NOT IM me, obsessive freaks. This is me, officially closing a door on you, post haste.

Blaaaaaah. See?! I'm tired! This is why I need to go to bed by er, 7:30, cuz I'm tard, and needs my sleep. Otherwise, I get all crazy using crappy webcam shots and bubbles in photoshop to get all Alice-In-Wonderland on you guys (and no, that's NOT my nose; it's a very badly placed bubble...heh). :-D Yeah. I look all kinds of happy. NOT.

I know you got the memo.
Yeah you. Leave my list, because I've already kinda laid it out about how I feel. No, I really spoke the truth as I know it. So. Enough said about that. It's offically close-of-business. Your name's still there.


Don't answer that. A leopard doesn't change its spots unless it mates with a giraffe...

I'm just sayin'...I need a little sleep. But more important, I need peace, silk, and lettuce, all of which I'll have before I lay me down to sleep.

Today was steadily busy. No 602 phone calls (Donna! Call me, woman! Just make sure it's early). I have to admit, I'm totally sapped, though, after first, working all day, and then, making the 25 mile sojourn down the loooooooong walk of our parking lot. Welll now. That'll save me cardio work, eh?

I shouldn't even joke about that at this juncture. I'm still stuffed from lunch. Yummm. Italian boy busted his move around 2. :) I'll keep that nugget of joy to myself, kthnxmuch. I have much to journal, but it'll have to be for me. Some days are particularly rough, when I have to listen to ... things that are extremely depressing. Smart move, not getting a license to practice any type of counseling/psychology. I can see, now, that I'd be fruitier than a (get ready for alliteration, kids!) Drinkable Dannon Danimal. Of course, only parents will probably get *this* but er, yeah.

Danimals: They're not just for kidlettes anymore.

Grim reaper and posers
I don't handle death well. That's a fact. And I have zero tolerance for crocodile tears. Some might view this as cold; but after hearing the whimpering, crying, moaning and groaning, all in some pitiful woebegotten pseudo-effort to garner sympathy when none is necessary, I simply don't feel the love. Or sympathy/empathy/whatever-it-is-people-expect-me-to-feel. I don't. In my head, I one-up whatever mini-tragedy they feel is sooOOoo awful, awful enough to cry about, and am stone-faced, if not impatient and almost disgusted. Of course, sifting through the layers of what might or might not be going on behind my door isn't easy for me, much less outsiders. Low tolerance. I really need to work on that. But give me something real and I'll break my back to help.

Sadly, the majority of people who're suffering *so badly* aren't real. They just need affirmation, a pat on the head, a *hugzzzzzZzz*. Not all, but most. It happens here on El Jay a lot.

Author's note: This isn't even remotely directed towards anyone who may read this (if you're BORED ENOUGH to get this far) so GAWD, DON'T PERSONALIZE MY JOURNAL.

See...there's a reason why some of us prefer solitude. It's better for everyone. Just like milk. Or Danimals.

So I think I keep taking these almost out-of-focus, crappy-quality cam shots daily to see if I'm morphing in to the grownup I'm supposed to be. I can see it, some days, especially when times are rough; like right now. I'm not whining or seeking pity. That's just how it is. I'm holding on tight for the ride, and hoping I don't fall off anytime soon even if things are rough right now. The ball is in motion, and life will resolve itself with a little help from me, and others. What I've lacked, I realize, is a strong, accountable support system. I've done this to myself, I suppose. I mean, some of us *choose* to be alone (or I have). My life, and living in my dual-colored hamster bubble of safety, has become like a comfortable, old robe that you hate to throw away, or splurge for a new one, lest it doesn't fit just so.

It has been brought to my attention, by more than one person, that I need to be more social. Nooooooooo. But WHY?

Okay. Since this entry is starting to feel like Dr. Suess meets Edgar Allen Poe, I'm going to slip into the kitchen for a Danimal, pop in a comfort movie, and hope the world goes away, just for tonight.

Oh. Speaking of the world going away. I really shouldn't have to point this out; but since it's happened by not one, not two, but THREE people within a 24-hour period, I really seriously do NOT appreciate being instant-messaged when I'm blocked. Again, if you've read this far, and you're GUILTY, DON'T DO IT. That's *almost* as bad as calling me after 7:30. is as bad. It's...bordering on creepy. In fact, if you're guilty of doing it not once, but OFTEN, then you can bet the last penny in your account that I think you're a freakin' wombat. So quit it, for the love of God.


Man. I am going to end this. Perhaps I shouldn't update immediately after work until I've had a chance to unwind.

And Instant Messaging me THE MINUTE I sign in (especially WHILE I'M BLOCKED) is NOT winning you any brownie points.

Not cool. Cease and desist or I'll hurt you.

And on that note...

Really BAD rhyming, to try out some groooovy text effect:
Get off my list while the getting is good,
or I'll do it to you as I already should.
If I want to read me, don't you think I would?!

Man...I'm not even coherent right now. So in other words, get out. This only applies to one, who knows who they are.


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