20:10 - 2003-12-05
Shopping and Other Poopt Up Squak
The human race can be so strange sometimes...
I guess it can't be helped when so many of them think so similarly and yet so many of them also think so differently, and the similar can only assume that they are the norm and everyone else must, deep down, think just like them.
Yes, food for thought, but anyway:
We went shopping.
For the third time in two years.
Yeah.
This time they had a better excuse, see my rhuematic grandmother never can find exactly what we like on her own, so she decided to imploy us in our own gift-buying this season. It worked out as she had hoped, and now I can anticipate all sorts of good things that I picked out with my own hands, but I'll reveal all that gook and more once Christmas rolls noisely around.
Today is my deceased kitty, Sasha's birthday, it's the first time I've actually remembered to commemorate it, but I really don't have much time to do that in now, see...
But the night is actually pretty young, if I use it to the fullest, and I can easily come up with festive things to do on my own ^_^
I had to buy new shoes, among other things though, new black shoes that are sort of nice, but not near as jiggy as my current little friends *looks to feet*. But the store wasn't carrying them anymore, those blackards, so I had to settle.
I'm sure it's hard for people to understand exactly why I love these shoes so much, but we've come a long way together, and this is the first pair of shoes I've bled in. I'm sure most of my friends are even acquainted closely with my shoes and that whenever I talk to them, they are deep down thinking, "Spoo's shoes are so noble, so loyal, so excellent. I wish Spoo's shoes would hang out on my feet."
In fact, my shoes and I have gone so far together, that it's actually revolting sometimes. See, when you walk a thousand miles in someone shoes (or in shoes, period) you wanna wear socks, and I never have, being so close to my shoes, so now they really aren't all that aromatically pleasing, unless you enjoy the smell of rotting flesh.
But I do, and I love my shoes ^_^
(No though, I don't stick my nose in them and breathe deeply. Human sensory organs weren't built for so much stress. I'd need a nose built by the Army for that sort of insanity)
In other more disturbing news, I have found that the more I avoid vomitting on or snapping viciously at people, the more I seem to end up in odd predicaments involving them. Only now it isn't just a injury lawsuit, but something more complicated.
I suppose that even if a person is unexplainably ugly or deformed, as long as they can be annoyed by it, someone else somewhere will decide that they belong together with that person.
This little schpeal has crossed my path before, and those relationships were beaten swiftly into the infirmary, because I do not comprehend how someone can meet me, speak to me twice, and beyond a doubt love me.
This also repluses me because most of these people are the scum of the earth, and maybe I'm just running around in scummy places, but I bathe regularly, and I do have lots of non-scummy friends, so it can't be all my fault.
I suppose these are some pretty unhappy people. They don't seem like it at first glance, but I can't help but recieve some kind of vibe that they only keep romantic relations with others because they want to be in-vogue, because they want sex, or because they are desperate for companionship in any form they can get--not because they love each other.
The in-vogue thing is DEFINATELY part of the deal, because half these people are never even seen with their significant others, considering how much they talk about them.
The crass little beasts in my Chem class fit perfectly in this category, and I strongly doubt, assuming the girlfriends they mention are real, that they'd want their boyfriends telling our class what they do.
I won't go into detail because it's impolite to projectile vomit when your grandmother has just paid your dinner tab.
I'm surprised I managed to get any of that stuff down, seriously, man. If I've ever had proof that an alien hates what I'm eating, it was then. I thought it would come flying out at the nice pirate guy who was making balloon animals for us.
Yeah, this place was hosting some play about pirates, and one of the pirates that had come to see the play was making balloon animals for people. Very generous of him.
Anyway, now that I've rabbit trailed worse than Mr Donovan, I'll get on to the point:
Usually, it's nothing more than a facial contortion of disgust when I find out someone thinks more of me than they naturally have reason to, but today, one of my friendly acquaintences (just above Catfish) gave me several kind compliments, the oddest of all revealed in his asking if I had a "boyfriend".
"Boyfriend" in my dictionary, is someone who you stand around with, make-out with in the halls, and talk about all the time, just so that people will remember who he is, and who you are for having him around. It's like when everyone buys Pet Rocks. You don't really need one, or probably even want one, but you have to have this thing in order to apply for your official Social Life Liscence.
The only real difference is, I thought a Pet Rock was so stupid it was cool, and I kind of want one...But my dad says their too much of a responsabilty.
Not to say I frown and mock all forms of relationships. Not to say I giggle in superiority at couples.
I simply don't find myself impressed by the basises of most relationships I see.
So anyway, now that I've made this topic longer than War and Peace, I am endowed with the age-old task of gently revealing to my friend the realistic infancy of our friendship and my total lack of interest in being involved with any of the people at school, so far (seeing as how I have probably only seen a pathetic fraction of them) unless it involves cool dumb stuff like Pet Rocks. Luckily, it seems like a normal and childish infatuation though, and those kinds of things usually wear off without much permanent effect. *Like a war captain* I guess all I can really do now is wait.
Ugh...Why do things have to be so complicated? I'd rather just mess around and not have to worry about it. Life is so long and yet it half the time revokes or heavily guards one's privaledge to enjoy it...
Except at rare times like today when we got to fool around at Best Buy. The place was literally packed at every nook and cranny with those Two Towers gift pack things that come with the Gollum figurine. Oh, and as soon as I saw that horrid little thing, I just had to have it! I am not complete until I obtain the image of an ugly, crouching, emaciated little creature immortalized in hard plastic.
Or whatever it's made of.
The DVDs are good too, and there are quite a few of them for 60 bucks.
Um, let's see, what else has happened...
Oh yeah, my grandpa is really sick with the flu. I guess this isn't remedied by his recent profuse injestion of alcohol...A whole six pack in three hours my grandma said, grumpily. I don't see a lot of drunkeness, that I recognize anyway, so the thought of my grandfather inebriated and lumbing about like some mentally disfunctional sloth is to me a novelty, a revilement, an amusement, and a pity all at once. And, seeing as how my grandmother runs the house on my dad's side of the family, I'm relentlessly curious as to why she doesn't bring the knife down on this sort of thing. I'm sure she could if she wanted. I'm sure she'd like to. I'm just not quite certain why she doesn't.
My grandmother is the one, after all, who took the initiative to hunt down all our wants and whims at the mall for three hours, and she is also the one who is always very entertaining and disturbing in the way she threatens us to eat more than is healthy for us.
"What will you have, hon?" she'll ask.
"Just an appetizer."
"Oh, more than that," she'll say in a cheerful, stern, slightly discomforting way.
Heh heh, and now we're waiting for my mom to pick us up at her house, hardly able to move as it is and still staving off her offers of food.
That and the sickness that I'm sure inhabits the place.
The thought of being sick doesn't really oppress me under a wing of fear, I doubt it would matter if I got sick, accept that I'd have something else to talk about, and according to Jenny aka Disturbo the Clown, emotions are expressed through the nose, and so I guess I'd have to give up my emotions for a few days.
Which could get ugly and which also reminds me of a quote:
"We robots don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."-Bender, Futurama
Last time I had a cold though, it saved me from a stink bomb some moron set off in the cafeteria. When Chanel gets a cold, she cannot cluck or moo properly, and we all laugh at her.
Chanel's friends have been very welcoming and kind to me, and one has even allowed me to kick him, simply for fun. These qualities I don't see very often, so much to the point that I'm surprised they don't blind and bewilder me like search lights to hoot owls. It makes me think that maybe humanity is just fun and silly enough to escape my eventual and total obliteration.
And when that time comes, you can all thank my delightful friends for stalling my wrath this long ^_^
And not just Jenny and Chanel, thank them all, send them nick-nacks, or I'll be really peeved.
And then I'll, uh...have to destroy you...again.
Yeah.
