By popular demand...

... on the part of one person, I bring you the only decent poems I have ever written. Before anyone asks, I am a huge fan of e.e. cummings which is why some of them are really freakin' weird. The first three were done on a magnetic-poetry site in sophomore year:

remember and understand
I flew in a silent night
and whispered
biting music
to a baby
.........boy
............king
................ghost
or something
I was so different
......................little
.........................sad
when he cried over a glowing black monster

devour an angel
she is a blind broken flower
ghost celebrated every velvet morning blaze
daughter child always smokes
haunted marble animal
cold porcelain secret
I remember warm glass
voice surround those
woman baby killed
poison fool laugh
kiss a magic star
no self desire

imagined answer
take a bite of rain or
hold that princess castle
................................barn
a ghost dreaming
inside my body
moon candy for dinner
we want more &
I know

This was written right after my parents told me I couldn't see Acid Steve any more:

steve
he led me into
the smoke-dark night
and shot-up alleys
behind his eyes

i led him into
the smoke-burnt rooms
and abandoned halls
behind my eyes

he knows that
the taste of pain
is sweet
in my throat

i know that
his pain
is sweeter
than most

he wants me
to bring him
to his knees
before me

i want him
to stand
so i can
look up

he knows
i am human
but thinks i am more
i want him to
see

i know
he runs in fire
but thinks it is water
he wants me to
come

7.3.02

So there you have it.

Fuck drugs and gang activity; there needs to be a zero-tolerance policy for BEING AN IGNORANT-ASS LOUDMOUTH BITCH.

There's a girl in my Survey of Design and Media Arts class. She's in her early 20s and has a 4-year-old daughter. And she's about as mature as her kid.

Today we all had to do presentations educating the class about how computers work, and our group decided to do a Jeopardy-type game since not enough of us live in school-sponsored housing to organize anything more complicated. We had flyswatters for the three groups to smack down to buzz-in. (Yes, they were new and clean.) Even after we explained the logistics of buzzing in with the flyswatters, after we asked the first question someone in the same group as Miss Loud-ass Bitch called out the answer without buzzing in. Someone else buzzed in from another group and answered correctly, so we gave them the points even though the non-buzzer-inner got it right. So this bitch starts yammering off about how we "never said anything about buzzing in" even though not five minutes earlier we had explained buzzing in with flyswatters. We told her that the game worked like regular Jeopardy, and her genius response was "Well I've never watched Jeopardy!" Never mind that her non-Jeopardy-watching status was irrelevant to the fact that she had been too busy SMACKING THE FUCKING FLYSWATTER ON THE FUCKING DESK to process the idea that you're supposed to buzz in with said flyswatter. She got all pouty and all "IT'S NOT FAAAIIIIIR OMGOMG!!!11!!1" and refused to participate in the rest of the game. I don't want to know how that poor kid of hers is gonna turn out.

After the presentations were done, we got into a debate over which computers were better for graphics, Macs or PCs. She and I both were on the Mac side (along with 3\4 of the class). We had to come up with a list of points to prove that Macs were better, taking into consideration the arguments that the other side was likely to make. And then, the genius Super-Bitch Quote of the Day:

"I'm pretty sure you can't use CD-ROMs in a Mac."

After this bizarre statement was shot down, she said "Well, I don't KNOOOWW anything about computers! I'm IGNORAAANNNT!".... and CONTINUED TO TALK. About something she KNEW she knew NOTHING ABOUT.

There were a couple more presentations (different ones- everyone in the class has to do a two-minute presentation on something related to the fields studied in the class) afterwards- one on the concept art behind Edward Scissorhands. We watched a clip of the movie for the presentation, and after that the teacher said we were going to watch part of Pirates of Silicon Valley to add to our discussion regarding Macs vs. PCs. She said: "... So that's the movie we just watched?"

I rest my case. This bitch needs to be fucking shot.

Open letter to Colin:

Nothing that I say or do
Matters to the machine
Nothing that I think or feel
Matters to the machine
And if I'm dead when tomorrow's gone
The machine will just move on
-Mortiis, "Marshland"
-------
It's good to know that I can't make you as happy as a joint can. It's good to know that when your grandfather is on his deathbed and you say you really want to spend time with me since you can't be there, at the last minute you decide you'd rather smoke up.

It's good to know that after you promised me that you would quit for at least "several months," you didn't even have the strength of will to last one fucking month.

And it was especially great to hear you immediately jump into your usual excuses, the "I'm NOT escaping" and such, because in my experience people only do that when they know they're completely full of shit.

I don't think I'd even be so pissed if you hadn't said you'd want to see me last night. No offense, but I never believed for a minute that you had the willpower to last "several months" (however many that is in your opinion) in the first place. I have no problem with the occasional joint, as long as it doesn't start altering your life for the worse and you leave me out of those situations.

But I really have to draw the line at you saying that you want to see me really bad (especially since you didn't so much as call me the day before), and three hours later you call me and say you're going to smoke because you've all "been talking about it all night."

Did it never occur to you that maybe I might have wanted to see you, especially after you said you wanted to get together? Did it never occur to you that you made a huge deal out of promising to quit for several months, citing your past promises as collateral? Did it never occur to you that you do indeed know my feelings on these things? Did it never occur to you that your participation is not required? Just because there is pot in the room and I'm not there doesn't mean you can break two promises at once and think I'm going to be a-okay with it.

And even though you made the standard I-know-I'm-full-of-shit excuses, you still sounded like you didn't think I'd have any reason to be pissed off. I understand that you are potentially about to lose your grandfather, but when you choose to turn to an inanimate object over me for comfort, that takes the bloody fuckin' biscuit.

This is what? the fourth time you've ditched me to get fucked up? You know how much it hurts me when you pull shit like this, and yet you still do it. Do I really mean so little to you? Is this what you think love really is?

Before you love someone else, you have to love yourself. Even in a non-contractual, non-master/slave relationship, your body does still partially belong to the other person, in a sense. You know exactly what I mean here- I've read your poem about what'serface the heroin addict girl. And you'd be more than a little upset if I started intentionally doing things to harm myself.

I know you get pissed when I put off doing my homework. Or at least you did at one point. How am I supposed to feel when only a day or so after you say that you want to develop the strength of will to stop doing something that doesn't even bother me all that much (staying out late), you lack the will not to do something that you know hurts me? Would it have really been so hard to tell Cin and Leeny (if you two are reading this now, I have no problem with you guys) that you told me you'd hang out with me tonight, and you could all hang out some other time? Would Angus have refused to take you over to Denny's so we could at least hang out for an hour or two, and you could all do whatever later?

These people do not run your life. No one, not even me, can rightfully tell you what to do. I just find it rather hard to take that you thought it a better idea to tell me you won't be seeing me tonight because you've all elected to smoke up than to see me for an hour or two beforehand.

Do you really feel such a strong need to fit in that you'll cave to whatever everyone else is doing even if you know it hurts me? Even if you promised me you wouldn't do it? Even when I go without things I want to do because I know it would hurt you were I to go through with them?

Do you think it doesn't bother me if I'm not around to see it? Do you think that I'm just going to sit quietly while you try to develop the willpower to develop willpower and fail because you can't stand the thought of not fitting in, of standing up for yourself and your beliefs, of being your own person?

How is it that you can continue to do this, when you've been on my end and you know how it feels to watch someone try to change their lives for the better and never quite go through with it?

Or have I been overestimating my worth to you by assuming you even care about my opinion?

Just look at me. I care so fucking much.

So the other day I'm working front counter at McDonald's, and some fiftyish guy wearing an Ozzy Osbourne shirt tucked into his belted slim-fit jeans comes up to the counter and says:

"Yes, I'll have the bacon-egg-cheese biscuit but instead of the biscuit, I'd like a muffin [common request.]. It has less calories, fat and carbs, I get it all the time. And I'll have a medium soda with that [also a common request]. I don't drink coffee."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I DO NOT GIVE A FLYING CRAP ON A STICK ABOUT YOUR DIETARY HABITS. Do not give me your reasons for not wanting X item on your food unless you're allergic to it. I do not care. I don't drink coffee either, but I don't parade the fact around like some God damn beverage elitist. And as for the biscuit/muffin bit: if the butter slathered on the muffin doesn't cancel out the fact that the muffin is better for you than the biscuit, the heart-attack fiesta that goes in between the slices sure as hell does. If you're so concerned about your cholesterol levels, what the hell are you doing in McDonald's during breakfast in the first place?

I also love when someone comes in from drive-thru and starts bitching at me, the person behind the register at the front counter, as if I had ANYTHING to do with what goes into bags in drive-thru. Matter of fact...

ATTENTION ALL BITCHERS: Not that I'm racist or anything, but being black does NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES give you the right to be rude as all fuck to anyone who so much as mildly irritates you. A while back some big fatass black lady comes in and bellows "EXCUSE ME! [pointing at me] YEAH YOU! WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS ORDER? I WANT TO SEE THE MANAGER! [I try to find Steve, but he's in the bathroom and the only available manager is Vanessa, who speaks okay English at best. I tell her.] "[to Vanessa, who's busy in grill] EXCUSE ME, MA'AM! I AM WAITING FOR YOU! MMM-HMMM!" [Vanessa finishes whatever she's doing] "IS THIS HOW YOU SERVE YOUR FRIES? THEY COLD!" [The woman had taken all damn day to pull up to the window, the fries were sitting there waiting for her, of course they're cold, damn it.] "IS THIS HOW YOU SERVE YOUR DRINKS? THERE'S NO ICE IN HERE!" [The ice had most likely melted while we were waiting for you, either that or the automatic drink/ice dispenser had missed the cup because it's so damn small and the DT people didn't notice.] "[Bitch bitch bitch, on and on and on]" Had she been reasonably polite and just told me what was wrong with her order instead of insisting on seeing a manager and being all bitchy and loud, she wouldn't have spent half as much time in there and we'd have all been much happier. Had we all been black, I doubt she would have been such a huge bitch. I've seen a lot of fat white people on the other side of the counter, but they NEVER act like that.

Another time, we ran out of sausage during breakfast. (Don't ask me why.) Some redneck white-trash guy comes in and asks for a sausage something-or-other, and Bianca tells him there's no sausage until we get a box from another store. His response (bear in mind that he had a kid in his arms, and another one standing with him): "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FOOD, AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY COMPETENT PEOPLE EITHER? THIS IS FUCKING STUPID!" Because, you know, when you swear at counter people they magically develop the ability to pull sausage out of the air, just for you, and also when the managers don't order enough sausage it's always because the counter people are incompetent.

This pissed me off so much, it merits a separate post.

So this morning I woke up early enough to eat some breakfast for once.... leftover Chinese fried rice. So I shower and get dressed and go down to the kitchen and open the fridge... and find no Chinese food. NOTHING. There is a stack of empty Chinese food boxes in the trash.

Last night I went to bed right after dinner. They ate ALL THE CHINESE FOOD WHILE I WAS ASLEEP. I mean, we ate the pasta that Dad made for dinner, then I went to bed, then they ate the Chinese food. W...T...F. Apparently it never occurred to them that I might want some. Damn it, I hardly got any fried rice the day we got it. And why the hell did they eat it all AFTER DINNER? Why didn't we just eat it for dinner? And they woke me up when Colin called, why didn't they wake me up to ask me if I wanted any fried rice?

I ate all the shrimp out of the leftover pasta, and wrote "Thanks for all the fried rice you left me! (angry face) " on the dry-erase board on the fridge. Even this is not a severe enough punishment.

*bonk* WTF mate? >.<+

Interesting day in Life Drawing...

For future Life Drawing students, a word of advice... it is NEVER a good sign when you see a space heater next to where the model sits. Because you wouldn't be needing it if the model were keeping his clothes on. And I guess good-looking models are expensive or hard to come by or both, so all we get is fat wrinkly old men... D:

At least he kept his briefs on.

It wouldn't have even been so bad if the dumbass guys behind me would have shut their traps once in a while. I guess they're those kind of people whose vital functions are kinetically powered by their jaws. They didn't shut up for five minutes about how grossed out they were.

So after that session, the model left and we spent the remainder of the class drawing a ribcage, spine and pelvis... which are probably the hardest part of the skeleton to draw. I would have done better....

... if the dumbass behind me hadn't knocked his easel over ON TO MY HEAD.

These things weigh about 20 pounds and are solid wood, probably something a little harder than pine. It fell probably about four feet before conking me in the temple. At least the guy apologized. I got sent out of the class to go rest for a bit and make sure I wasn't bleeding or anything (I wasn't, but I'm going to have a hell of a bump there). And apparently there isn't a school nurse here, so I couldn't get an ice pack which was the one thing I really wanted. I suppose I could have stood outside without a hat on for a bit.

My poor head hurts... T_T My neck too. *whine whine whine*

edit- I AM warm enough today... fishnets, tank top, hoodie, chenille sweater, wool coat, scarf, beanie, and gloves.

It's too damn cold.

Oh-

Regarding the car issues addressed in a previous post- my brakes are so screwed up it's going to cost $1,200 to fix them, plus the cost of the sensor chip that caused me to fail emissions. But Dad's paying for it. Yay.

Note to self:

A tee-shirt, hoodie and wool coat are NOT enough layers to keep one warm in this weather. I can't wait to wait God knows how long for the damn bus after class. I might just take the Brown Line and walk the extra couple blocks. There is no reason for it to be this cold (it's under 10F, I'm pretty sure). I shoulda brought my scarf at least, so my poor nose isn't so cold. I fell asleep on the train here, and either the ticket man never came or he decided not to wake me up. Either way, I got a free ride. I spent $6 I shouldn't have spent on food just because it will keep me awake. I forgot to take my meds this morning, so I'm going to be half-asleep again after the caffeine-and-sugar buzz from my hot chocolate goes away. There's a Chinese food feast of leftovers waiting for me at home, only it turns out that Taste of China has the worst broccoli-beef around... it has this weird overly sweet aftertaste. They've got the best fried rice, though. F&R still pwns all for broccoli-beef. It's a damn miracle I got my paper done last night, and today it turns out I didn't do it right. I have two dentist appointments scheduled to get more God damn fillings. And I have to go straight to work after both of them. They oughta give me a scuba tank of nitrous to get me through the rest of the day. All day yesterday I was really tired, and Colin said I looked really flushed and my forehead was warm.... I hope I don't have mono, because I'm going to school anyway. I'll be damned if I'm gonna fall behind in my classes. Screw everyone else. Pussies.

God, I want to go HOME and go to BED where it's WARM and QUIET.

And now, ladies and gentlemen: The triumph of utter stupidity.

That's a paraphrase from A Raisin in the Sun, the play by Lorraine Hansberry, not the poem by Langston Hughes. And it's what I witnessed in what, in nearly all respects, was an utterly shitty day.

It had been a fairly uneventful day up until I got out of class at 2:45 (save for nearly passing out and puking this morning, but that was because I hadn't eaten in maybe twelve hours and was quickly rectified.). I waited at the bus stop for the 125, which is usually late. I'd been there for about five minutes when a lady already there said she'd been there for nearly twenty, which wasn't really surprising considering the route doesn't start until 2:50. So I waited. And waited. And that stupid peddler went by, hauling his snow-covered wares. Some guy on a bike rode by, and rather flatly said "Bitch!" No inflection, no emotion, it sounded kind of like a car horn. Twenty feet later, he did it again. The other women and I just all kind of stared at each other, said "Did he just say 'bitch?'" and shrugged it off and kept waiting. And waiting.

One by one the women hailed cabs, and soon I was alone. By now I had lost all hope of catching the 3:18 train or even the 3:20 which makes every damn stop along the way and takes about half an hour longer because of it. I said fuck it, and hailed a cab. I got to the south concourse of Union Station at 3:24. The next train out didn't leave till 3:58.

So I grabbed something to eat and hopped on the train (since I got on it so early I got one of the one-seaters in the top). Sitting behind me were a bunch of 20-ish guys who talked nonstop about drugs and sex and drugs and sex and bitches and money and drugs and sex. And I waited. Eventually we left, and eventually I got home.

It had been snowing most of the day, not an uncommon occurrance in Chicago in January, but damn it when you're home 45 minutes later than you planned to be already and can't find your car because the space number signs are covered in snow and they're too high to wipe it off, and you find your car covered in a HALF INCH THICK LAYER OF ICE, boy howdy son, it makes your whole damn day doesn't it. So I got in my car, put my sweater on and got all good and bundled up as best I can in a new coat that's already lost a button, and chiseled. Chiseled. Chiseled. And finally I was done, and it was dark and damn cold.

I got home fine, just in time to catch Extreme Makeover- the only reality show I watch besides the Home Edition of said show. The lucky winner was the bird-dog-ugliest woman I'd ever seen, on the show or anywhere else. She looked like a cross between Jay Leno and a horse, was 5'4" and 100lbs, and was missing approximately half her teeth. I am dead serious. They gave her a kind of flesh implant to fill out her cheeks, and told her that if she took up smoking again (she'd recently quit), the tissue would die. The dentist who was going to work on her toothless piehole said he couldn't work on her if she took up smoking again because her gums were too damaged.

She started smoking again THREE DAYS LATER.

She got chewed the hell out by the doctors, and in the end got her shit fixed up so she looked like a white RuPaul. There's only so much you can do with some people.

The lucky guy winner was a guy who was actually pretty decent looking, if a bit skinny. Until he opened his mouth, that is.... HOLY BROWN GOOKY STUFF BATMAN. He said he drank up to 12 sodas a day and brushed his teeth maybe once a week. He had fairly advanced decay in every tooth in his head.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL!

On the way to Denny's after seeing the fugly queen win the fugly prize, I hit a red light at 59 and Aurora and saw an ambulance coming, horn blaring, lights flashing, siren wailing. Only the cross-traffic to my left had the green, so the ambulance got halfway into the intersection.

About fifteen cars proceeded to go on through, as if you couldn't see or hear the ambulance until you were in front of it. The ambulance sat there for a good minute.

What the hell is wrong with people these days? For all they know, the ambulance could be rushing to save their best friend dying of hypothermia because he slipped on ice and broke his leg, but NOOOO they've just GOT to get wherever they're going because by God that ambulance is just a nuisance anyways, all flashy lights and loud noises and it ran that red light anyways. Go ahead, man. We all know who's in the right here. And we also know karma is a fucking bitch.

=edit: The respects in which the day did not suck were that my dad is taking my car for a tune-up and paying for it, that I got my drink for free at Denny's because Angela comped it, that Colin and I actually talked for the whole time I was at Denny's, and that I had a really great idea for a group blog- an essay blog, where we'd write and post old-fashioned essays, the "On ____" kind. I had a lot of good ideas for essays today. More on this later, it's bedtime.=

Yet another plea to fall on not-so-deaf ears...

... not-so-deaf because they've got cell phones stuck to them.

Not 10 minutes ago on the L, I had the pleasure of sitting next to some woman yapping away on her cell phone. Now, I've learned to tune this out, and it seemed like someone on the other end had a medical problem that she was checking up on so the fact that she was on her cell phone wasn't what bothered me. No, it's what she said loudly enough for all in the train to hear:

"Are you in the bathroom, Grandpa?... Are you on the shitter?... Oh, NICE!"

You know, there's a line between checking up on an ill relative while on the train and asking an irrelevant question which neither you nor anyone else needs or wants to know the answer to. The line's about six feet wide; it's pretty hard to miss. Please, folks, just... no. No.

In other news, due to sudden dire financial straits owing to Christmas (I only worked for the first half of December, and since we're closed the first week of January I won't be seeing a paycheck until the 22nd at the earliest) I have to go back to working at McDonald's. Only two days a week, but that's enough to drive me nuts. Eurrrggh. I don't want to deal with these people again (both coworkers and customers). I have about $72 in checking as of today. My textbooks will cost about $140, and I need a new 10-ride train ticket ($38.25). I owe my dad $80 in insurance for December and January, and I'll owe $120 more come February.

I hate being a big important older-teen now. I hate having to pay for all this shit and wondering where the hell I'm going to get the money from. Granted, the money for textbooks and train passes comes from Dad... assuming he remembers. And wouldn't you know it, I only got $50 straight cash for Christmas. That $50 brought the balance in my checking account to $19.82- I had overdrawn my account by EIGHTEEN CENTS and Bank One charged me $30 instead of letting Subway deny my card. I did, however, get $250 in gift certificates to places that do not sell gasoline. Not that I'm ungrateful, I got some dandy new clothes, CDs, and art supplies but I REALLY would have preferred to get maybe $100 cash and two $50 gift certificates from Mom and Dad than $200 that can only be spent at Hobby Lobby or Kohl's, especially since now I can buy most art supplies from school. Props to Dad for getting me new knobs for the air conditioning and heat/defrost on my car- they cost $18 each and I needed two. But, alas, my alignment is off, I'm due for an oil change, I failed emissions, and I seem to be going through tanks of gas at quite a clip considering I'm not driving as often. And these are not things Dad will pay for. I get maybe $140 every other week from Center Stage, and I'll get about $100 every other week at most from McDonald's.

I go to school four days a week, and work the three that I don't. And I can barely afford to drive to and from work and school. Now I understand why so many people never go to college- you can either do well in school or make enough money to stay out of the homeless shelter, but you can't do both. It's like what they say about college- "Work, sleep, or study. Pick two." I have allotted myself minimum time to get assignments done. It's times like these when I wish I fit the conventional definition of sexy (tall, blond and thin; I am a short brunette with a couple pounds of Christmas pudge) so rich people would pay me to go to their parties and make them look good (Yes, people do this. I think I read it in Reader's Digest or the Chicago Tribune.) My friend who is 19 and lives in an apartment with her boyfriend and works full-time has more money to spare than I do... because not going to school frees her to work 50-hour weeks. What the hell am I supposed to do? There's only so much time and so much money to be had. I don't have the time to work at Telamon (tech support place where Colin works- $11/hour to do jack shit and take a call when you're not playing video games) instead of McDonald's- McD has decently flexible scheduling and in a McDonald's uniform I am not likely to be hit on (Colin says I would be hit on nonstop when he wasn't there, and I believe it).

Whatever happens, I WILL NOT quit Center Stage. I actually get raises there, and I get more than a paycheck out of it- I'm learning to sew and how to apply stage and effects makeup, and Di took us all on a "field trip" to the Jacqueline Kennedy exhibit at the Field Museum last week. In March we'll be going to a costume convention. An example of how awesome the job is: on my first day working after Halloween, I showed up two hours late because I thought we were back to opening at noon (we opened at 10 during October). And then I had to ask to get off an hour early so I could go to a concert. Even though I was two hours late and asked to get off early... SHE STILL TOOK ME OUT TO LUNCH. AND GAVE ME A RAISE. AND INCREASED MY DISCOUNT TO 20%. My coworker Erin is a makeup artist (she's done independent zombie movies) and she's gotten serious hookups from this job. She does makeup workshops with theater groups in our area. McDonald's says you can learn "skills for a lifetime of work... leadership, teamwork, blahblah yap yap yap." You can get that at any job, but it's the rare job that makes you feel as expendable as the fast food industry does. I can't transfer register skills to any other job outside fast food, but I can mend a rip in TULLE (that net-like material that little girls' dress-up tutus are made of) with thread that resembles thin fishing line more than it does anything you'd sew with. Ray Kroc, EAT MY ASS.

Unlike my situation at McDonald's, I actually have a bit of a say in what goes on in Center Stage. I can rearrange an entire wall of accessories if I jolly well feel like it, (provided that it still looks decent) whereas at Hallmark I'd get written up and/or bitched at because of Hallmark's stupid complicated-ass inventory system that doesn't work anyway; and at McDonald's there's so many people that if you move one thing, no one knows where it is. I can re-dress the mannequins as I see fit; at Hallmark redoing a display was punishable by death. I could rearrange the display under the front counter, if that wouldn't be so much of a pain in the ass because there's so many tiny things in there. I can go to thrift shops and buy things for the store (yes, I do get reimbursed, but I haven't done that in months). We get to play our own music, as opposed to Hallmark where company-sponsored brain-atrophying elevator music was the law and McDonald's where the Muzak thingy seems to be stuck on easy-listening (I know for a FACT that that thing has an 80's hits channel that plays stuff like "Tainted Love", the McDonald's where my mom works usually has that one on). We get to make fun of people on the phone after we hang up (it's too crowded at McDonald's for that, and at Hallmark you'd get ratted out and written up): [Mr. Mackey-ish voice] "... Uh, I just have, uh, a question, m'kay, and I was wondering if you could, uh, answer it for me... Do you guys sell cossttuuuuuummes?" 'Course, there's the fact that business is fairly slow at CS this time of year, but that means that after we get our stuff done, Erin and I can amuse ourselves by writing snide comments in the coloring books in the back (they depict historical dress styles) or giving ourselves free makeovers with the eight gazillion eyeshadow testers for makeup lines we don't even carry.

Bottom line: I need money, and I need to get it without quitting Center Stage. The next class is coming in, so I'm going to finish this up.

Yet another Q&A thinger. Got this off of my best friend's DJ.

1. First Name: Jenna
2. Were you named after anyone? No.
3. Do you wish on stars? No.
4. When did you last cry? Can't remember exactly when, but it was recent.
5. Do you like your handwriting? Yup. It's unique, but the fact that it's so instantly recognizable could be bad in the future. Meh.
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Ham.
7. What is your birth date? April 23, 1986
8. What is your most embarrassing CD? I can't remember if I still have my Spice Girls CD from 5th grade.
9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you? I'd probably keep my distance.
10. Are you a daredevil? Not really.
11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? People don't tell me secrets.
12. Do looks matter? If you have no money, yes.
13. How do you release anger? Blogging, bitching, or both.
14. Where is your second home? Ain't got one.
15. Do you trust others easily? No.
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbies.
17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? History. Lies, all of it.
18. Do you have a journal? Right here.
19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh yeah. SUUURE I do.
20. What are your nicknames? Ain't got none.
21. Would you bungee jump? Sure.
22. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No.
23. Do you think that you are strong? Shit no.
24. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Cookie dough.
25. Shoe Size? Men's 9.5 (womens' shoes are uncomfy)
26. Red/Pink? Red.
27. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? Body hair... my leg hair is so dark you can see it under my skin even after I shave D: I wear pants only.
28. Who do you miss most? Acid Steve, in a non-sexually-interested way.... just wish I could see him once in a while. Steph and Mel, too (LOOONG story.)
29. What color pants are you wearing? Jeans.
30. What are you listening to right now? Nuffin'.
31. Last thing you ate? Fries at Denny's.
32. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Neon fucking green.
33. What is the weather like right now? Cold. Very cold.
34. Last person you talked to on the phone? Shannon.
35. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Eyes and hair.
36. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Durr. We've been friends for six years now.
37. Favorite Drink? Non-alcoholic: Root beer Alcoholic: Margaritas
38. Favorite Sport? If I have to pick one... probably hockey.
39. Eye Color? Brown.
40. Do you wear contacts? Yes.
41. Favorite Food? Chinese broccoli-beef.
42. Last Movie You Watched? Some Japanese zombie movie. Can't remember the title.
43. Favorite Day Of The Year? MAY DAY XB
44. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings? Scary movies.
45. Summer Or Winter? summer.
46. Hugs OR Kisses? Hugs. No bad breath involved there.
47. What is your favorite dessert? ICE CREAM
48. Living Arrangements? Still living at home *sigh*
49. What Books Are You Reading? Just finished 'Salem's Lot by Stephen King.
50. What's On Your Mouse Pad? A gelly wrist-rest thingie.
51. What Did You Watch Last night on TV? Can't remember.
52. Favorite Smells? Gasoline, the cold air that comes out of the ice maker, hotel-room disinfectant.
53. Rolling Stones or Beatles? Beatles.
54. Do you believe in Evolution or Creation? Both. I'm not going to try to explain it here.
55. What's the furthest you've been from home? Hawaii.