Nicole
What the hell is today? Sunday?

*cue exasperated and agitated growl*

This whole Penn State thing is fucking up my world and essentially the worlds of everyone around me. It's great in the end, but so far it's pretty much caused us nothing but grief. Shall I tell the tale of the buying of the car, or the coming death of my Morning Glories? The disappearance of money from my savings account, or the constant stress in my stomach that makes me want to throw up and random intervals?

I am not a happy camper.

Let's start from the beginning. I last left off the day after Monday, when all was fairly good. Please note I still have not heard back from the publishing place, but I will get to that.

Basically, we brought mom in to test drive the three vehicles we'd decided to choose from. A black Saturn Ion, silver Saturn L300, and a red Chevrolet Tracker. All for good prices considering their milage (which was not much), year, and all that. Soon it was down to the Tracker and the L. The Tracker was cheaper, had a little more milage, but still in good shape. I liked the Tracker; I could see myself driving it, though it needed new breaks. Mom liked the L, but she's sort of biased towards cars and whatnot, whereas me and dad not so much. However, it had gone from dad getting a new car and me buying the Isuzu and all that entailed, to me taking over entirely and getting a car myself - just had to wait for a job. Well, that wasn't happening, but I was still going to get the car because I know if anything I'll just skip over to Dick's Sporting Goods and hop on there. They're always in need of some decent workers. But to the point. We're ready to get the Tracker. I'm excited because I'm getting something I like, it's not through the roof, and we can finally be done with all this car shopping nonsense. After all, dad's leaving Sunday (that was to be today, but I'll get to that in a bit too) and we won't have any more time to do this crap.

The salesguy is a nice guy and since it's Saturn they're supposed to be all straightforward yadda yadda. Of course, the guy's still gonna be trying to sell whether or not he can jack around with the price, but we know this. Dad used to sell cars anyway so it's nothing new to him. However, before he gets the chance to get us all comfy and ready to shell out money and all that, some lady breezes in, starts snapping up the paperwork, says something about St. Louis and says for us to come into her office. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but let me tell you this - the sales guy looked a little "..Whoa, wait, wtf?" and her demeanor just was a bad omen. She wasn't being bitchy, but right away I just knew it.

"This is not going to end well."

You know, the whole, "I have a bad feeling about this" thing, yeah, big time. Basically, she already settled in her mind what we could afford before us telling her what our plans were, she was obviusly working for herself, was rather distant, winced about stuff (you know, in that "Ooh, I don't know" kind of way which made no sense and was not cool), and in gerenal, was getting dad in a bad mood really fast - it was obvious and if that woman had any sense whatsoever she would have known. Apparently dad had caught what she'd said initially, which was something about her having to go to St. Louis and pretty much wanted to do this and get things overwith to be on her way. Not a good choice when we're buying an $11,000 vehicle and you're being a snot. The warranty on the Tracker was up and so she offered a brand spanking new one for four years - for $2,500. Not so great. How about two years? $2,000. Wtf?

Needless to say, she was working all this for her benefit, and we basically walked out. I could see the sales guy out of the corner of my eye spot us, looked a little freaked out and start toward us, but we weren't stopping and left. I guess he decided it wouldn't be a good idea to chase after us. I knew he would call the next day after whatever'd happened cooled down. He did and dad promptly informed him of the nonsense we'd dealt with. He tried to smooth it over, but to no avail. But it was Thursday when he called. And guess what we were doing? We were in another dealership for a good portion of the day.

Okay, now I want you to understand something. For those of you who've never seen me mad, count yourself lucky because I turn into an utter bitch. I've freaked a few people out. I woke up irritated. When I'd gotten home after the Tracker incident (since I knew we weren't going to get it) I was very unhappy and was getting so worked up that I ran on the treadmill when we got home at 5pm right before dinner and I seriously overdid it because then I was hacking my guts out later, but I didn't give a shit. So I woke up irritated and I knew we had to go car hunting again and I really didn't want to. At all. Getting your first car is supposed to be fun, perhaps a little tiring and maybe annoying, but when it's your first car, it's supposed to be cool, right? Sure. Whatever you say kids. So once more, it's 9am, and we're out and about, and I'm trying not to talk a lot because if I do it's just going to come out in ugly sarcasm in a flat tone and just overall pretty nasty. Dad had already tried to make things up to me the day before by buying chocolate (which I didn't even eat until 4 hours later, if you can believe that), but that just made me more irritated because I wasn't mad at him, it wasn't his fault she was fucking stupid. And when I'm angry I just like to be left alone to stew that way I'm not a bitch to people and then start feeling worse.

But to get back to the story. We get into a random Kia Sportage, 2001 with close to 81,000 miles on it, ready to test drive it - and it doesn't even start. I decided then that aside from God's commandment of "Thou shalt not have a boyfriend" (tried that twice and look what happened - breaking commandments is bad), now tacked on is "Thou shalt not have a car." This not-starting thing did not make me like the car, naturally. After a jump it worked, but to be honest, I was pretty much in the mood of "Fuck today, and fuck this car." I was really, really bad. I don't think I've ever been more upset in my life. After test driving it the salesman proposed that since I had to go to Parkland to drop off Ashley I go ahead and take it there. I must have said "No" or some varation thereof about ten times to him and dad. Take it there and let it sit for an hour? Was I comfortable with that? No. Uh, no. No. $@#%& NO!

I ended up with the keys shoved in my hand and driving it to Champaign anyway. Dad kept asking me if I hated the car. I kept saying, No, it wasn't that. In truth, a part of me did hate the car because it wasn't anything near what I'd ever pick out for myself. The cup holder is in the shittiest place ever, and if what I drink doesn't condensate all over my controls, it's going to block them. The breaks were shuddering. It's a little floaty in the wind. It had double the miles of the Tracker. I don't personally know how good Kia is. Even though it's about the same size as the Tracker, I feel like a soccer mom driving around a van. It's tan. It took me about 10 minutes to get the seat where I wanted it and get comfortable. I kept getting rugburn on my right elbow when I got in and rubbed it on the seat fabric. There's no CD player and no cruise control and I don't even own any tapes to put in the tape player. The locking control has four buttons on it and only two of them actually do something (who the hell makes this shit?). And yesterday it took my sister and I about 5-10 minutes to figure out what was wrong with the back since it wouldn't close and latch unless pushed hard from just the right spot. So yes, a part of me has major issues with this. For the entire day yesterday I was on the verge of tears. I nearly cracked twice in the middle of the dealership just sitting there. I kept hearing from dad, "You do like it right? Is this okay? I don't want you to be forced into buying something you don't like," and though, yes, in essence, it's okay for just $7,000, I wanted to yell

WILL YOU SHUT UP?! QUIT TELLING ME YOU DON'T WANT ME TO FEEL LIKE I'M FORCED INTO BUYING THIS WHEN I AM!

And I was, really. Our options were gone. I wasn't going to have the resources and skill to go mosey on out and buy something for myself. I don't know enough to keep from getting screwed. I was just not excited about this car - at all. I couldn't get into it. I just knew that it and me were going to end up resenting each other the way I hate our vacuum. It never does anything it's supposed to when I use it and I'd love nothing more than to take it out like in Office Space and beat it to shit with a bat.

Now I don't want you guys to get the impression that I'm not grateful for a new car (or in my case a car) because it's not a bad little vehicle, they spiffied it up real nice for me (no gas, but oh well, fine), they fixed up the breaks (just as long as they don't fucking die while I'm on the highway and I crash) and the battery is cool, just needed some charging (still wasn't jazzed even after hearing that anyway) and the entire car is paid for and in my name. This means I owe dad about $2,500 as I pulled $4,000 from my near $5,000; I subsequently had to downgrade my savings account to just a regular one that didn't pay out as much so I didn't have to pay penalty fees. He did offer to shave off maybe $1,000 from that as a graduation present since I never got anything, but I declined. Yeah, I know, shut up, you guys think I'm nuts. But that's how ugly I was yesterday - I declined paying less money for the simple fact that I refused to have this part of this car payment as a graduation present. Graduation presents are supposed to kick ass, correct? This does not kick ass and I stand by my decision and will not go back on it. They can think of something else, though it is likely that in our present situation that I will never get anything (wouldn't be a surprise anyway, coming from the girl who got hand me ups from her little sister). C'est la vi.

It will take me a while to get into this. Presently it's like that pair of brown shoes I bought freshman year - I regretted buying them because they were cheaper by $10, but still cute, though not as cute as the ones I really wanted, and then they ended up killing my the backs of my heels but I was like, "Nope, I bought these and dammit, they're going to fucking work or else." They're fine now. It took a while of careful lacing and walking, but after a year or so they finally got to a point where they seldom bothered me and finally now they don't. So this car and I are going to get along or else. I'm just pissy because the whole experience was bad, and I'm still really pissy because I never got the chance to either A.) cry until I ran out of energy to do so or B.) beat the fucking shit out of something. So I'm still wound up.

Other news that didn't help any of this, dad's car started wacking out and smelling like gasoline when starting up and got progressively worse. I called the place that interviewed me on Friday but the person I wanted to talk to was in a meeting so I left my name. Then I had to leave yet again due to the car situation and when I returned, apprently the phone had rung two seperate occasions but no message was left. If it was them, more reason for me to be irritated. This weekend my sister and Nick came up. That's not a bad thing, but since Nick is Mr. Fix-It, suddenly dad wants to fix everything and use Nick for his knowledge and help. So he goes from making me fix the lightbulb in the kitchen that I can't even remotely reach even with a ladder to the guy who can fix everything. A part of the fence is weirded out so they fixed that. I have Morning Glories I've been growing there the past few years and they were pulled down so they could do that. Then dad walks in and tells me I just need to put them back on the fence. Do you know how improbable that is? There was nothing to hang them on! I had to pull half of them out and I'll bet money that another good portion of them is going to die and hence our fence will go from looking fine to looking like shit and I'll have to pull more of my lovely glories out. It's just the little things are drving me utterly insane. Tor needs to hurry up and reply, tell me I'm published, and I need to get famous and rich so I can shower my family with plenty of money and move my ass to Colorado to cool down.

I've been overdosing on chocolate and sugar hardcore too. The last time we went out (because more people have been seeing the house so we have to leave again with the dog and OMFG it can be a nightmare because half these people aren't even giving us one day's notice like they're goddamn supposed to) was to a smorgasbord and I was like "Fuck it" and just went nuts on dessert.

So I need a week to either cry, kill something, or immerse myself in anything but stress that's been making my stomach cramp up and me all nauseous for the past several days. I just want my job - I want my little cubicle where I can work on a manuscript. I would be so happy just to do that, 8-4 for five days a week, proofreading and being quiet. That's all I want right now. Is that really so much to ask?


Super Fuck Everything
Nicole
I no longer want to shoot myself in my face.

I’ve been wanting to post a blog for a while now, but I haven’t wanted to push my luck or anything. I’m vaguely superstitious sometimes, so I decided to hold off on putting anything up until after Monday.

What happened on Monday.

What didn’t happen on Monday?

We need to rewind a little bit first.

You already know that I’ve been putting in applications and looking for work. Right, nothing new. My little sister Ashley is enrolled in Parkland College and classes began on Monday. Ok, good. Mom and dad went to Pennsylvania again last week for the entire week, coming back on Friday. They looked at houses and apartments; dad needs an apartment to stay in until we go over to move in somewhere, and the houses they looked at were basically crap since the real estate lady worked for a high-end sort of place and knew that we couldn’t afford anything just yet, so she basically didn’t work very hard to impress them. Rude, I think, because for all she knows we could sell this bitch tomorrow and then have the cash to shell out for a nice house and make her a nice chunk of money, but hey, what do I know of customers and respect and timing? They got back Friday, and I was beginning to stress because a new car is indeed in the works, but dammit, I need a job in order to pay back school loans, not to mention that now it’s August so I’m getting really antsy. This will be the first time in my life where I don’t have to go off to school, so now I definitely need something else to do in order to stop mooching, as I’ve previously mentioned.

Moving on. Thursday, before mom and dad got back, I took Ashley to Parkland where we walked around in order to find all her classes and for her to get a better feel for the place. Good God…but I’ll get to that. It was also during that week I got a phone call from a company called Omegatype that publishes textbooks and that I applied to for an editorial position. They would like an interview. F-ing score. When? I say any day will do – it’s not like I’ve doing anything and school doesn’t start for dad yet so he’s not going anywhere. Monday at 2:30. Sounds good. Confirmed. Clunk goes the phone as I put it back. Huzzah. Drinks all around.

Monday. Here we are. Ashley’s school starts today and guess what? I get to wake up at 7:20ish and take her there for her 9am. Ugh. I am not a morning person. I never have been. I feel like I’m the one going to school. Not something I’m excited about. My hope at the time of forming my interview was that I would wake up at 9ish, shower, makeup, eat something, get ready, and leave at 1:50 to be sure I got there with a decent amount of time to spare. I absolutely abhor being late. Especially when it’s something I consider important. I was never nervous about the interview, which is ironic since I’ve only been to a total of 2 in my life. They can’t even really be counted because I was basically in with Dick’s and the interview was mostly a formality to be sure they were getting what they were promised, and the other was at the Daily Vidette and how serious can that be taken when they seem to be unable to proofread themselves out of a bag at times. I’d made a point to visit the building on Friday so I was sure I knew where it was.

Instead of my plan, the plan got out of my control and became this: I take Ashley to school, dad and I go get a car or at least look at a few more, we tool around until 1 when Ashley’s done, go get here, mosey around some more until 2:30 for my interview where I would be dumped off. Ugh. Not excited. I didn’t want to do all that, I didn’t want to be dumped off, and my biggest fear was that in cruising around Champaign or doing whatever errands dad had to do there, like get a new ink cartridge, we would get to my interview late and that would turn me into Grade A Bitch, and I mean hardcore. Especially since I was now pretty flustered. Most of my being flustered was for Ashley. We got there and I went in with her – yeah, I know we treat her like she’s not 19 and it’s pathetic, but you don’t know Ashley, so try not to judge. Besides, I’m always the one doing my best to get mom and dad to ease up off her and let her do her own thing since she is 19 for goodness sakes, but I can only do so much and for years I haven’t been here to tell them to back up, so yeah. Anyway, as I was leaving, I did something I don’t often do unless I’m stressed and worried tons, I asked God to keep an eye on her. I was uber worried she’s get lost, get flustered, and have an utterly horrid time there. It’s completely possible too, for anyone. Parkland is a maze, okay? A fucking maze. Even I didn’t know where I was going and got turned around half the time when we were there days before. But all I could do was hope that she’d remembered the route we mapped out from class 1 to 2 to 3 and be fine, call us when the day was done, and be comfortable with her new routine. She’d had hell to deal with in schools before, that’s why I was so worried for her – I don’t want her to deal with any more fucked up stuff.

Wishful thinking.

I voiced my freaked-outness to dad and he decided to forgo with the car shopping/buying. For that I was grateful, though since we bought cookies at Sam’s a day or so before, I was sucking those down like there was no tomorrow. I can’t even begin to guess how many cookies I ate yesterday. So I had time to gather myself together, do some reading, get gussied up appropriately, dress, exchange gym shoes for black heels, and around 12 something we left. We mosey into Parkland and I manage to get us where Ashley is and that’s when we get some shitty news. Someone somewhere fucked up, bad. Parkland didn’t get paid, Ashley’s classes got dropped. See, she was supposed to visit a room at some point to do a writing sample for them to pick an English class for her. She has a break between 11 and 12 so she went over there then, having nothing else to do. It was then someone behind the desk informed her of this. Cue more stress for the poor girl. Someone did manage to reinstate her, but that meant we had to pay that day or else. She managed to find her classes, which were in different areas now (God knows how – I thanked him later). So after wandering around a bit and getting bearings we visit the Business Office. The lady behind the desk has a bit of attitude and so that brings it out in dad. Joy. My feet fucking hurt because of all the ramps in the place – what I wouldn’t have given for stairs. I’m also getting all hot and gross and hope it doesn’t make me look too freaky for later. No one is a happy camper. We’d missed all the payment plan deadlines and now owed nearly $900 right then. Yeah, right. Dad raises some hell and then we march all over to a few other places to get some information.

I don’t know who went wrong. I don’t know where things went wrong. RTHS took their sweet ass time sending over Ashley’s transcripts so she couldn’t enroll until August 4th. All the dates were pretty much passed at that time, but the records show that the transcripts came in June. In short, I don’t know what happed, really. I just know that now, everyone’s basically pissed off. Ah, but moving along. It’s past 1 and we’re finally heading out of there. Dad and Ashley want food. Dad offers custard, but I’m not freaking hungry – at all. I’m hot, irritated, and have been wanting the day over with ever since 8am that morning. After they get food at Arby’s, we head to the interview. I’m happier because A.) I’m there and B.) I’m almost 10 minutes early. I head in, get greeted by two interviewers and the Vice President of the whole shebang and from the get go it already sounds like I’m hired. Again, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but the way things went, it just really seemed like it. But I’m not counting my chickens until they’re hatched, grown up, and laying eggs of their own.

The end of the interview basically meant the end of the day, or at least the totally bonkers part of it. The house was being shown at 7 that night still. So we had time to get home, eat, and then all of us went out with the dog to the lake near our house and waltzed around there for a while. It was a really good ending to a super crazy day. Cool air, grass, open space, fish swimming around in the lilies (or whatever they were). All was good. Then we went back, they were still at the house, so we went and got ice cream. Heh. All I’d eaten all day was a number of cookies, dinner (grilled salmon and a side dish), and then ice cream.

Today is an off day. I should nap I suppose, but I have laundry and I’d wake up grouchy or like I’d been shot with a horse tranquilizer so I’ll forgo the nap. The Parkland situation is still not awesome and we’re getting the car tomorrow (going to be a black Saturn Ion for about $12,000 with 13,000 miles I think – could be wrong on the milage) and it’s been decided that I’ll be driving it. Dad’s going to need the Isuzu for transporting his stuff to Pennsylvania, and if I do get a job, I’ve decided that I’ll make payments for the car and make it mine. I’m already dishing out $3,000 as it is (because originally if I didn’t take whatever we ended up getting car-wise, I’d pay that and take the Isuzu).

I’m beat. A few final notes and shout-outs to random people. No Stacey, I haven’t been playing any video games. I don’t feel productive when I do that – but once I get a job, then I will because I’ll finally be doing something. Ashley plays them too much and it just makes me go “Ugh” at the idea of doing the same, you know? Once I have a foot in somewhere, I’ll be comfortable enough to sit down after work and let my ass fill out while I play. And Kingdom Hearts is annoying the fuck out of me. I’ll probably move on to Prince of Persia. And I sold all the old Sega games except the system and the Sonics. To Sandra and Stacey – I’ve finished the first Janet Evanovich book; did it the last two days. I am highly amused, but I’ll have to order the next one from the library like I did last time. And Sandra, you need to visit Stacey’s blog to check on her cast list for the books and see if you approve, haha. Oh, to Stacey again, I rented Return to Me from the library too, but have yet to see it. Megan, you’ll have to be sure to let me know how your days at school go in your new position. To Jenni – where the hell are the baby pictures? To Derek – Bonnar and Griffin are going to fight again; that kicks ass. Anthony, what is all this shit I hear about you doing some tailgating thing and you not contacting me to invite me? I’m going to kick your ass next time I see you (or virtually if I’m online – wahah!). Shawn – you’re still mad because you’re ugly. Katie – you suck for never emailing me back, you bitch you. ;) To everyone else, love ya and hope your summer has been whomping butt and leaving behind the stress.

For some reason, I’m feeling rather vampiric today. Anyone else?


Additional Note: This was going to get posted at about 3 o’clock today, but then the A/C decided to be a bitch, Parkland’s online system is a goddamn joke, my damn dinner kept fucking up, and now I’m very hot and irritated. At least I’ll be driving a new (for me anyway) car tomorrow.
Nicole
I really wanted to post something yesterday, but was holding off out of respect for my dad. Now I've decided to go ahead and post and simply leave off certain bits of information. And about the title, I'll get to that in a bit once I've caught up.

*deep breath*

It was yesterday when the day started at 6:55am. Why? My dog woke me up. Ok, well, I'd been sleeping crappily anyway, so I was half-awake at the time as it was, so it wasn't too big of a deal when she came in and started fussing. She'd gotten stuck outside of mom and dad's room and of course she doesn't ask the alpha male for anything, and so if mom doesn't do something for her, she comes to me next, like a kid see-sawing from mom to dad about candy. Anyway, after being incoherent to dad, I went back to bed and didn't get up again until 10.

Two sausage patties and two over-easy eggs later, the phone rang, dad was on the treadmill, I got it, and skipping ahead, our real estate lady was going to show our house that day at 1 or 2. Oh joy. (to her credit, she'd tried to reach us twice, but was unable to get through - probably because dad was online downstairs where nothing picks up as opposed to upstairs) Our house, though in good shape, new oven and dishwasher and some paint jobs and all that, still has a few tweaks that needs attending to. Of course, having just slapped it up on the Century 21 site a day or so before, we'd hardly had the time to put in a new storm door, paint a small area outside, fix the wood tiles near the front door, and clean. Cue the mass hysteria.

I doled out the job of vacuuming to Ashley whilst I ran around and...well I'm not even sure what I did at that time exactly...I just remember running around like a chicken with my head cut off all morning. I did clean the stovetop, counters, kitchen area in general, threw a bunch of clothes away that had been sitting around unsold from the garage sale, and attacked our goofy little pool outside once dad was done cleaning it out. Ashley pretty much did everything I told her. We tidied up around the house, hid random items, I went bonkers in my room the second I had the chance, putting away my clothes from the day before from the drying rack, stashing my purse and a few knickknacks, under my bed, in my closet, under that birthday hat with the candles on it. Dad was Quikcreting cracks outside, a spot inside where the wood tile had to come up and the concrete had broken and gotten all loose, and then came the paint.

The day before we'd gone to Lowe's and gotten some paint. Dad picked it out. I was baffled. It was an odd sort of green color, one he claimed was going to go outside. Nothing outside was this color green, or remotely that color. No idea what the man was thinking. I made my confusion and doubt clear; "Green? I don't think that's the color outside dude." But to no avail. When we got home, well, I'm sure you can guess.

Anyway, back to what we were doing. Dad had found some paint that was a much milder green (sort of - it was lighter, but rather, ah, vibrant) and had set to painting outside our little doorside window. It didn't match much. I was ordered to finish (oh! That's what I did first that morning! Paint the mailbox, I remember now) and did so and then went about cleaning paintbrushes and yanking tape off of other painted areas inside the house (er, ok, just one spot on the other side of the glass) and remembered where the paint had come from. It had no relation to the outdoors, rather, some sponge painting mom had done in the bathroom. Oops. Ah well, our plan was to bust out the paint we'd used not long ago to patch areas in the house. It's basically the right color, and over the green paint, would work out nicely. And it does, in fact, as just several hours ago I hopped on out there and slapped up a fresh coat so now everything looks peachy (shut up, we all know it's not exterior paint, but we don't hide the details from possible buyers either).

While we're in the midst of our frenzy, our real estate lady calls again, and as I've left the phone in my room upon the initial frenzy, I'm spazzing about the house in search of it and don't reach it before the answering machine goes off, which is back downstairs, so I obviously don't get there in time, unless I want to hurl myself down the stairs and hope for the best. It's 12:50 and the message on the recorder says they'll be there around 1:30. Gyah. After some more bustle, I get dressed into something respectable instead of slobwear, and head out to inspect the green paint just as they pull up to mosey around the house. I'm pooped, dad's down where it's polar in the basement to cool off, and the dog's been put in her little kennel cage and we hope she won't freak out too much. I'm not exactly accustomed to being around while people are looking about my house. But we all chat - dad and the husband are chattering away, etc. etc. until 3:40 when the wife finally manages to break the two up and drag her hubby off.

The day ended at Applebee's with the news that prospects were good, but to keep an eye out in case not, you know, things like that. I never dreamed selling this house could crop up so quickly like that. Case in point, just today the first phone call I got was from an agent with a customer wanting to see the house tomorrow at 5. So I have to clean again, or at least spruce up. I'll probably have Ashley vacuum again for good measure. When the time comes we'll take the dog for a nice long walk. Or car ride. Whichever. She likes car rides so it doesn't matter.

And what about the phone call thing? Well I've already picked the dang thing up 6 or 7 times today. Mom and Dad are off to Pennsylvania once more to scope out living places for dad while he goes to school (or houses...or something, not entirely sure what their purpose is down there) so I have to manage all this craziness, which is fine. Cripes, even my grandma called today. A telemarketer, three calls (our real estate lady, dad, and the random one) to tell me about the 5 o'clock showing tomorrow. Blarg.

So once again, that's what's been going on in the life o'me. I'll bet none of you ever thought that when I started this blog it would turn into a play by play of my relocation to a state in the east. Hell, even I never imagined it would turn into that. How odd...

...I'm making beef fajitas tonight anyway.


OMFG stop calling me!
Nicole
How to start this blog?

I suppose I should start by coming right out and saying it: The house is officially up for sale. Yup, there's a sign in our yard and everything. Our agent came over today (while I was making bacon and eggs in my pajamas for heaven's sake!) and they chatted and talked and her husband helped fix a light dad had long since given up on and that I'd forgotten existed and were there until I came back down to make myself a miniature sub sangwich. (and no, that's not a typo)

Of course, that means major housecleaning. Housecleaning and often for people who decide to come strolling through. I'm going to have to organize my room again in some shape or form. And we need to sell more stuff too - chairs, a chest of drawers, the Nissan that's been sitting under the carport for so long it won't budge and will probably have to be towed out by whoever takes it. And then there's the stuff we won't bother trying to sell and instead will just put on the curb for a freesale. Freecycle.org digest here I come.

Before then, I've been running around, looking up job stuff and filling out applications and write, rewriting, and printing cover letters, tweaking resum├ęs, and all that other nonsense. Let's face it - there are no decent jobs in this town. Clerks, secretaries, laborers, nurses - basically jobs that either aren't awesome and don't pay all that awesome either, or stuff for professions I have no relation to. So I guess my best bet is retail. Besides, I don't need a super awesome job if I'm going to move in however long it takes anyway. I did send off some stuff to flash around my skills for a spot I saw in the paper blaring "FREELANCERS WANTED" (sha-zam) and another for an editorial spot for a company that puts out textbooks. Then of course there's Borders and Barnes & Noble (who is hiring - sha-zam again; I'd like working there). I'm still not too keen on getting back into the working sector (naturallly) but I'd get to feeling real guilty real fast for living here and not offering anything at all. I admit to leeching from time to time, but I can't go on like that. Drives me nuts and it's not right. If I couldn't get a job, I'd redouble my efforts for publishing. I've taken a bit of a break from it now. Gets exhausting after a while. It's like studying and writing a paper since I've got my nose in books with a highlighter poised over the page and I need to check and recheck addresses, editor names, blah blah, until I realize I've been doing all that for two days in a row and I burn myself out. Speaking of which, I might send something else off today...but the rest of this is stuff for the other blog.

The weather hasn't exactly been agreeable either, but at least it's not been completely horrible. When it rains it's just normal rain - it's not coming down in sheets or flying sideways. It's been one of those days where even the dog lays around because there's nothing to do and she can't play outside. I've taken to reading a lot, myself. Actually, some of that is due to another publishing company. Their guidelines are very specific and they request the submitter read at least two books from a small list that they have (and not surprisingly, the library only had one, so I think I'll just say, "Screw it" and buy the other one) so as to get a feel for what they like, and then fill out a form, yadda yadda before even submitting. That way you can decide if your work really is the right stuff to send them. So far I'm still leaning towards "Um, yes," but I want to be sure and read this other book first, one specifically published by them.

And, in the end, should I end up jobless, dad has asked if I want to go with him for a week to Pennsylvania while he gets a bunch of junk and paperwork and other stuff together. Sure. Why the hell not? Especially if I don't have a job (which I really do need to have, actually, guilt or not, because I owe the government some cash). Get a feel for the layout of the place, things like that.

Ugh. I need some freaking chocolate.

But yeah, that's about the gist of things. And the car fiasco. Well, it's not really a fiasco. Just that dad will need a car and I'll probably need a car since we only have two at the moment and we'll all be split up depending upon jobs and such. Dad in Pennsylvania, mom will be working in the new Walgreens here in Rantoul (instead of the ghetto one in Champaign), and me, well, that's left to be decided.

And I'm starting to think this book search I might just dump and execute plan B at the library...

Thank God for the little bit of Linkin Park I put on this computer.

Our sign is not this nice - it's just one of the wire ones. =P

Edit 8/12: Actually, never mind. Ours is that nice now - some kid just put it into our yard...
Nicole
So dad's been really pissy today.

I don't know why, really. Something to do with mom he said. He tried to make me guess, saying it's the one thing that can get him all mad like that. I failed to guess correctly.

He's still pissy. I can hear him right now, banging around in the pans trying to do...something. Hell if I know. ...Hell if I wanna know. Either way, he's been like this all day, just bitchy and whiney. Heh, I could ask him if he's on his man period, but he might kill me.

So instead he did what he does best - get mad about everything and order everyone around. Naturally we do it because it's easier to hop to than to argue about it and just make the situation worse. So the house is all spic-n-span, the camping gear is all neat and tidy, everything is vacuumed, pool is refilled and covered, etc. etc. Since then I've been hiding out in my room because every time I'm around him he wigs out over something and that's no fun. Of course, hanging out in my room doesn't always work either since he can freak out anyway and yell about something to which he needs an answer or he'll freak out more. I'm thinking tomorrow I should go to Barnes & Noble to do some work, seeing as I've been at it all day (see other blog). However, there is a small problem with that since I've been planning to pull an all nighter tonight and do a bunch of reviews on music and books and movies, and basically anything I can get my hands on. I'm up to 271. I only need 29 more to hit 300. And why not? August is a good 300 mark. Don't ask me why, I'm just making this up as I go.

I forgot to mention at any point that the basement flooded again about a week ago when it rained (a.k.a. the sky opened up and went *barf!* all over everything). The street turned into a river and that was about when we realized there was a lot of water coming into the basement. However, because of last year's (was it last year? Well, whenever, you remember that story) flood, we were prepared. Pump, wet vac, (...is dad making cookies down there?? He's making something that involves stirring...I feel like saying pancakes but that makes no sense either since he was rooting around in the pan cupboard before) and dehumidifier. All of the above came in really handy about then. It wasn't half as bad as last time though - I'd say only about 50% of our basement - no, more like just 40% of it was affected. It didn't get two of the rugs (hooray!) and never made it over to the exercise equipment. It definitely didn't take us all day to clean up. More like an hour or two. Maybe that's another reason we should move...I have a few others recently popping up, but I can basically file them under Rantoul's stupidness so maybe they don't count.

Oh! The reason behind the flooding! Almost forgot. During the storm (and not long after I saw a bolt of lightening behind a large tree not a mile from our house - I subsequently turned off my computer and the other two) the power went out for just a second. Okay, maybe two. Either way, it was long enough for the city underground pump to shut off and not turn back on. Oh the joys of our city. I tell you, the street being a river - it came up over the sidewalk and started getting into our front yard there was so much rain. Ca-rayzee.

I still don't know what dad's making, and I guess I should head on over to the other blog to talk about the other things I've done today, but I'm getting tired of being on here so I might do that tomorrow. Who knows. You'll find out when you take note of the date and time at the bottom of it.

Pancakes? I have no idea.

Edit: It has something to do with the oven...