pix can fly

I studied the lymphatic system yesterday morning before the sun shifted mountain shadows away from our bedroom window. I had curlers in my hair and a cat purring in my lap.

For the first time in my life I realized the what-why-how of a spleen. Then made some coffee and looked for my clean scrubs and that Topshop hoodie I keep forgetting to return to Claire (I've been taking really good care of it though. Washing it in cold water and laying flat to dry).

I finished reading Wil Wheaton's book Just A Geek a couple weeks ago and feel like punishing myself with something obscure and Victorian. Will probably just stick to extra long human interest stories in the paper.

We looked at blood smears in lab yesterday and on my search for a eosinophil I found a great clump of red blood cells that looked like inner tubes floating along a river. I imagined those lazy inner tubes floating along my own circulatory system. Relatedly, I got bummed out when we learned erythrocytes (Red Blood cells) can't undergo mitosis like they're couples who really want babies but who are infertile. The bone marrow is like the adoption agency though dot dot dot I can't write that on my midterm.

There's constantly this battle going on in my head whether I want to be healthy thin with small boobs or healthy chubby with bigger boobs which is what I am now. But I guess I don't have "big boobs" according to this girl with two foot long cleavage from the other night at yoda's house. We were in the privacy of the sidewalk shrubbery when I asked her to size me up. It's good to get 2nd opinions on that matter every other year.

I'm really happy abortion issues are stirring up in the real news, state government meetings and internet sites lately. Hopefully it'll lead to baby planning issues which will end up with religious debates and we'll all become atheists. The end.

After Marc's and my second to last fight and we weren't steaming at each other anymore, Marc brought the Tri-ominoes set into bed and we played a round together while I drank a raspberry lemonade mocktail. I just wanted to remember that for next time. (Reading back that first sentence, I wonder if I need to take a high school level english class.)

I found and read this Sid Vicious handwritten letter to Nancy and got all butthurt that Marc hasn't written me something this sweet/kinda gross but then he showed me a sweet/kinda gross postcard he never mailed me but wrote one night we were fighting but decided to go party with our friends anyway.

I thought this was Amy Winehouse, but it's Lady Gaga.

Ze end!

Word Salad

Ok. I don't want to leave that depressing me-screwing-up-(what's new?)-bad-grades post up top for too long. Here we go.

I got Mosh a new collar. His old one had the silhouette of a city skyline with the words "CITY KITTY" running across it and I was afraid it was giving some hobo he'd associate with the wrong impression of his general disposition. Maybe they'd think he's street smart and try to give him alcohol or something really bad for cats so I chose a collar with bumblebees flying around as a more age appropriate cat collar.

School is going pretty wonderful this week. I had two papers due and decided I didn't want to write them right away, late grade be damned, and somehow miraculously they've been pushed back 'til next week. I almost literally cannot believe my luck.

This show* was attended by curious personalities from the mid to late 90's. Like a generation of people who went to high school a decade before we did. They must be busy raising babies and whatnot because I never see them when I'm out having a great time. *already forgot who performed.

There are four "mean girls" in my program who keep to themselves. And there are three girls who believe in ghosts. There is one guy who I'd call uncomfortably Christian but he's been nice to me so far. There are three chain smokers. There are three mom-types. There are four who might be weird enough to be my friend. Five if you count the one who calls herself a certified priestess.

The amount of pimples I get is somehow increasing with age.

Look, guys! I Monk'd the condiment packets!!*

*Please take the Netflix instant tv stream away from me.

Veggie burgs at BK.

I guess I always assumed that by the time I was 26 talking to young kids (18 to 21) would feel disheartening. Like, wow, my peak party days are over. When I wake up after a debauched night, I literally say out loud "My joints hurt..." I can't be considered a brilliant young lady anymore by my parents' friends. I'm just a regular adult with very average adult problems. I get excited to go grocery shopping. WHERE'S MY YOUTH, YOUNG STRANGER WHO IS YET TO DISCOVER ALL THE WONDERFUL THINGS ABOUT YOUR EARLY 20's?!?!??!! But it turns out, I was completely wrong. More on that another time though.

This is on a skating trip with Marc to UNM. They've installed newfangled tables and chairs in bright colors that we shook our canes at for a while before realizing there is a cafeteria in Mitchell Hall now.

I had my Abnormal Psychology class in the Anthro building like midway between freshman year and second senior year (whoops). The teacher was a ditz but I truly liked the material and after almost every class I would read my notes out of genuine interest.

As we were decorating the front porch in spiderwebs for Halloween, I noticed this active wasp nest. In Pennsylvania, we'd call 'em 'yellow-jackets' but out here I've only heard the term 'wasp.' No big deal except I know the sounds of words have a significant impact on how I think about things.

When we first moved to New Mexico, I had a child-sized panic attack after finding out hoagies are called subs here and realized I didn't enjoy eating something called a 'sub' when 'hoagie' sounded so much cuter and tasty. Probably why I have a hard time with kidney beans, too. Marc has to hide them in the bottom of the grocery cart so I don't put them away for the canned baby peas. So cute!

We saw Built to Spill at Launchpad one night and I'm retarded and didn't take any photos save for this Pacman one. Sad face.

My Halloween pumpkin. It's a howling wolf.

We also made homemade lip balm and decorated the containers with crafty things. I made an extra one for Rye and since my mom found a weird kidney-shaped puffy sticker, I decorated the container with kidney memorabilia. Rye only has one and a half working kidneys because part of the other one got surgically removed when she was ten and I don't really know why except it really hurt her before she was diagnosed with whatever she had. Also, she's about a foot shorter than me and I always made fun of that but maybe it was because of her diseased kidney and look at me being a horrible older sister. I AM MAKING UP FOR IT ONE LIP BALM AT A TIME!

I told Marc to watch Dogtown and Z-Boys last Saturday. Other stuff bla bla bla this post is getting too long...

"NOW POSE LIKE KIERA KNIGHTLEY!!!!!!!!! CUTTTTEEERRRRR!!!"

I miss my girlfriends.

THIS SHOULD BE GOOD!! NOW I WON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT THAT 3.5 ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Homework burning party on December 9th, guys!

Grew some gruesome

Hey, what's up? How's your gruesome Friday?

I finally cleared out the Mount Kilimanjaro-sized pile of leggings, party dresses and pit stained tee shirts from the corner of our bedroom. I don't want to brag but you should see how many types of food stains I've acquired over the years. How is there sherbet on my socks?!?! I don't even wear socks!! Anyway.
I'm still on the fence about donating my lab goggles, fake-fake fur hat and over sized Alpaca gloves.
AND I found an old flash card from Organic Chemistry I! It'll make a great addition to my Bad Memory Hope Chest, along with the XXX anime movie I accidentally watched when I was 9 and the anonymous notes from middle school that told me I was ugly. WHY WOULD I KEEP SUCH A CHEST? Wouldn't it be funny if that anonymous note was written by a teacher? Hahahaha?

Do these look familiar?
I'm sorry, Ash. I have taken your gloves hostage and will return them ASAP. They might have Stockholm's Syndrome. Can we rename them Elizabeth Smart? E-gloves-abeth Smart? Sorry.
The day's not half over and already they're plotting against me. I can see it in their whiskers. TTYS! I'm hoping to trick someone into buying me a brewski at Brickyard this evening so I can drunk beelog about schoolsies and how I held three baby kittehs IN THE LINE OF DUTY!