2005-08-15
The Weak Ahead
I wish I could have a pet raccoon. From what I understand, they'd be a super house-pet. They are smart enough to learn all kinds of tricks, they will eat your left-overs, they're cute as can be, and seem like you could remove their Nightmare On Elm Street claws, they would be cool pet.
Can you imagine holding a slimy piece of yesterday's salad up for your raccoon and going, "Watching this, guys!"
"Bandit? Bandit? Up Bandit! Up! Good boy! Good Bandit!"
All of your friends would be so impressed. I'm guessing your neighbors might be opposed to a next-door pet who breaks into the garbage at night and chews into the attic for a dark place to sleep all day.
A raccoon would have to be an indoor-only pet.
I would totally get one if I could, though.
They're so cute.
Great. I hear un-mouth-covered-sneezing.
That's just great. If I get sick, I am totally staying home from work and watching VH1 all day. That day was so lovely. I haven't had the extra day off that I'm used to in forever. I won't get it this week, either. While technically, I work all week and have Friday off, I have to take a major exam on Friday. This means that I have to study for said major exam until Friday.
That studying for a major exam is going to cut into my screwing around time if anything ever did. Luckily, after exam day, I have to spend 8 hours learning about the dangers of alcohol. Me over here with my 4 drinks a month, three of which happened to be in the same night on a cold December eve, and I have to sit with an AA Minion, several hung-over and smelly frat boys, and what I expect to be a high population of those people that might mistakenly think that because I'm vehemently against the frat boys and can't stand the AA Minion, I am somehow on their team.
They'll need to think again.
I'm not.
Mostly because I have good teeth and clean clothes and I do not have any kind of "Fuck the Machine" attitude.
I'll easily hate them as equally as I hate the others.
I wish I could draw. At least I'd be able to make a picture and then color it.
All I can do is write and writing line after line of witty repartee to exchange with oneself during the course of 8 hours of "One drink per hour" bullshit, which by the way? I'll NEVER get tired of pointing out that the one drink per hour? It's not true. I'm the proof of that myth, busted.
Anyway, so I'll be sitting there, breathing through my mouth and trying to avoid the annoyance of unsolicited people working in my peripheral vision. I could write all day and make Scaley really come to life, make lists of things that I want to do in December when this is all paid off, see if I can play with writing as illustration, ala Shel Silverstein, worry about my Rosie, get nostalgic over things I didn't want in the first place, and generally try to entertain myself without the aid of a book or TV but....
writing is so obvious.
Everyone knows that you're not paying attention.
I think it's rude when I am trying to speak and someone is clearly not paying attention.
The freaks who think I'm going to go to lunch with them will think that I am in solidarity with them by not paying attention when really?
I know all this stuff.
I know a hundred people in recovery and that's great. I think it's weak to replace one bad habit with an equally addictive good habit.
I know the rules and I followed them.
Corrections officers could not believe I was in the position that I was in.
The State was surprised.
I can't sit on my ass for 8 hours to be lectured with information that I have, use, and got screwed with. I can't be surrounded by people who actually don't know the rules and who think that I support them in some kind of rebellious bullshit attitude that rules don't matter.
Rules do matter and most of the time, they keep you out of trouble.
Sometimes, they don't.
I leave you all with some messages:
** To the future classmates that I expect on Saturday: Screw you guys. You act like Nonny Wildride and I was over that about 10 years ago. I hated you in jail, I hated you at MADD, and I am going to hate you today. Don't even try me.
** To the Professor of Irresponsibility: Let go, let dog.
** To the TPD: Thanks! I'll send the bill! See you at your soccer game!!!!
** To the people laying out at the pool and reading Star Magazine: Save me a seat - I'll be out tomorrow and if that magazine is all crinkly and wet? You're getting me a new one. Stat.
arizonasarah at 11:36 a.m.