So scary to think of how things could be. Wave after wave of nausea sets in when I think of the endless possibilities of how things could have been. I count my blessings every day and thank God for everything I've been given. I've always been lucky, nothing over the top, but not skimming the bottom. Just lucky. Blessed. Oppression helps build us up to become who we were meant to be all along. Stepping stones. Small in the giant picture. It takes multiple pieces to tell a great story.
I can't believe November is already over. It's so scary how fast time goes by. Kids have an unfair advantage. Yeah, ignorance is bliss, but shit man, life was so good when I was a kid. I had the perfect childhood. No worries, nothing to fear, wonderful parents, an array of siblings, great friends. No stress, just play, home made bread, tomato soup and grilled cheese when we'd come inside from the freezing cold. Plowed over by my mum when we played spill the beans one winter. Fall after fall on the gravel at Polk. Sticky with sweat from just being outside.
It's insane how things can change. Reminiscing is almost painful. But then I think about how things are right now and I wouldn't have life any other way. I'd rather have raw emotions and truth right up front than being kept in the dark and hidden from how things really are. Sometimes I wish I had enough love for everybody who thinks they aren't loved. Sometimes I feel like I have enough love for every kid in the world. Sometimes I can barely love myself. But I always have an immense supply of love for Scott. A giant grain silo filled to the top with ridiculous sappy romantic childish innocent real honest love for Scott. So when these emotions build up like crazy, I just pull out some more silos and fill them and store those for a later, more appropriate time. Because we all know how good it feels to throw up a string of expletives and tap in to those stored emotions of full on anger and just empty it out in one blow. Sure it might be a little messy after, but it just ends up blowing away with time anyway. Everything gets blown away in time, so say what you mean, do it now. If you don't, your silos will rot with old emotions and feelings and there will be no room for the new ones. You have to experience the bad to appreciate the wonderful. Raw. Don't hide yourself, it'll just hurt more when you have to face the real thing.
One more week and I never have to attend another physics class for the rest of eternity. Yeeeeeeeee!!!!!

Love always,

El Scorcho.


Mullllllllllll it over

There are so many things in life that I don't understand. So many things that need to be said. So many feelings that are felt but rarely expressed. So much confusion for such a short period of time (in the grand scheme of things). SO MUCH that I want to express but am too selfish to take the time (TIME, of all things) to throw it all out like some kind of sheep or goat, randomly bleating their sorrows or amusement in time with their hearts, constantly one-upping each other. Like the last clapper. Every audience has one. Somebody who wants to prove something. Somebody who wants to let EVERYONE there know, "HEY. I am determined as HELL to be the last clapper. So let the dwindling begin."

So I just went and washed my face and lost all train of thought, even though while I was washing I was spouting out sentences in my head of stuff that I want to put down, but oh well. It'll keep circulating and come back out to the surface in a few months.

I haven't WRITTEN DOWN my thoughts for a while. I don't know if it's because reflecting makes me depressed? Or leaves me with a sense of emptiness? Or sometimes maybe I'm just too embarrassed to put down everything that's floating around in my head. Which is a LOT of stuff.
I was thinking earlier how shitty it is that we have to kind of censor ourselves. And I'm not saying we should all be insanely profane and sound like we have pig shit running out of our mouths but I've come to the realization that no matter WHAT you say, ANYTHING you have to say, you'll offend SOMEONE. Regardless of what you say, I could say that I hate marigolds and I think they should be exterminated and never grown again and some lady over in Iran might make her living off of selling marigold wreaths (heaven forbid), and be WAY upset with that. I'm not saying that we should have a direct microphone hooked up to our thoughts but shit man, it's in our head, and we think it and if we think it more than once and dwell on it then we usually MEAN it, so why not say it?
AGAIN. I'm not saying you need to full out say every single nasty awful horrible degrading ignorant racist judgmental thought that you have. I just think that it's unfortunate that I can't publicly say how much I hate my job without having to look over my shoulder and make sure that certain people don't see it. BUT IT'S TRUE. My job is like wind-surfing over a black hole, or like laying on your stomach with your blood rushing thru your ears right at the threshold of hell. I feel completely useless sometimes, and unappreciated. I know, I know, you're probably barking out that every job has it's ups and downs, but for right now, I'D like to vent things that have been festering and molding around my heart for the last two years. It's a total double edged sword. I absolutely love the people I work with (again, like most jobs. I know this) but I don't know if it's just the environment or the people taking advantage of the health care system (our customers) or just the fact that it's an ER. And I'm sure if some people read this they'd say "Well just deal with it because that's how ER's are all over the country", I'd say "Please shut the hell up", because I don't have these thoughts and these feelings to be told that I'm just like everyone else. I don't cry my eyes out while I'm driving home to be told that everybody else goes through it like I do. EVERYBODY experiences Life on an INDIVIDUAL level. Sure we're all going through it, but we have absolutely NO IDEA what on earth is going thru each individual's convoluted thoughts at any given time. We'll never know, because it's physically impossible to write down every single thought you have (which is like 10 thoughts per 1/10th of a second or some ridiculous statistic that I would love to know how they figured out). And this isn't all just about my job. It's about EVERYTHING. I KNOW everybody experiences life. I know everybody goes through shit. We mostly voice our problems because we want consolation, and have this internal need to be reassured that it's O.K., and that they know what we're talking about. Some people deal with more shit than others, and voice their problems more than others, and then we immediately label that person as a complainer, or a whiner. Problems are much easier to voice than just regular old thoughts. We go to therapy to be reassured and get an outside opinion and an outside hand to help us back up and square our shoulders for us so we can face life. There are some things that you can't just tell people to deal with. You can't just roll your eyes at someone when they say "Oh we just got like 5 different medical bills in the mail and my car broke down and my kid just dropped out of school" because you have NO IDEA what they are going through, because again, we're experiencing it at an individual level. We'll never know what other people's lives are like, because we're too busy living ours. And I'm not saying we need to just throw down our shields and rush out to help people, because we'll be plowed over in the process. I'm not even sure what the hell I'm trying to say, or if I'm trying to prove some sort of point. I just think that we need to constantly remind ourselves that everybody is different. Everybody has their own past. Everybody lived yesterday just like you did, only maybe their dog died (RIP Norm), or maybe their aunt just had a double mastectomy, or maybe their best friend is going through a divorce and just lost their house. Hopefully not everything happens to ONE person all at once (although it seems like that happens more often than not).

I just want to give everybody a chance to have a voice. THEIR voice. I don't know if I'm crying because I believe in it so much or if I'm just tired as hell and have to get up in 5 hours. Maybe it's the caffeine. IDK. I guess I just want everyone I come in contact with to not hold back or not say something in fear of me rolling my eyes or just rushing them on their way. You never know what someone's breaking point could be. They might need to just get one thing off their chest, or have one completely, ABSOLUTELY pointless conversation to make their life a little better (like the kids behind me in physics today talking about who the hell knows what and making me so angry that my fists were clenched because I couldn't hear the teacher [my fault for sitting near the back I guess]).
A lot of this has to do with Time too. I don't know WHAT the deal is, but I swear it conspires against us. It knows when we're having a good time, and slips by illegally and is jealous because it can't have a good time (ha, pun), and then when we're studying every day like a good student 3 hours turns in to 8, or a 12 hour shift turns in to 17. And then when I sit down to read, or write, it's all the sudden 135 in the morning and daylight has never come quicker.

Okay well this is extremely long winded and I'm sorry if anybody disagrees with this. But please, seriously, don't judge, and give people time to show themselves, and build relationships (however pointless they may be), because to that ONE person, you could be the reason they enjoy their job, or that one thing that you say that you've been itching to but it isn't really appropriate might offend 5 people, but could make 1 persons day. Those 5 people will get over it. Time does a good job at making us forget why we were mad, or what someone said to offend us.

Now just get over yourself and tell everyone else to shut the hell up and say whatever the shit you want to say.


El Scorcho.


Snow sucks.

I seriously hate waking up to frosted roads. I don't think there's anything quite as terrifying as driving in snow. Not only do I suck at it, but it's like the car KNOWS, and it takes advantage of it's ability to mess around and slide into curbs and stuff. So now I'll be super paranoid all day at work and then I'll be driving home going 40 on I-15 and hit a patch of ice and my car will go flying off the road.
Scott has had this obsession lately with doing anything and everything in his power to prove me wrong. For example, I typed this:

5 out of every 10 computers in the WSU computer lab has facebook up.

And his reply was to pop his freaking head up like a prairie dog and START COUNTING THE DAMN COMPUTERS. And earlier, (on facebook, hahaha) I typed that I wanted to obliterate all the clouds with a giant space heater and he said:

"That would only make more clouds."


Once again, I must say that I absolutely detest typing ANYTHING while here in the computer lab with the Mac screen that's as wide as my arm is long. It's like everybody behind me can see what I'm typing, even though I'm in the back row. And I totally want to talk about how the girl next to me is coughing like crazy all over the keyboard and it's grossing me the freak out. I keep sliding over next to Scott. So now I'm typing with the page half concealed so she can't see.
Okay, time to go do crap for physics. Which is the worst class, IN THE WORLD. And I think that's one thing that Scott will actually agree with me on. Probably not though, he'd be like:

"No, I really enjoyed conceptual physics."

And then I'd be like:

El Scorcho.


Don't sleep on your left side.

Okay guys so I'm sorry it's been a rediculously long time since I've posted. Like two months ago. It sucks how fast time goes when there are things you WANT and NEED to do and then when you're sitting at work wishing it would be over, time couldn't possibly go slower. Guhhhhhhhhh.
So a few days ago I started taking these "supplement" like things (vitamins and what not) that said it creates more collagen to stimulate hair growth (which I am DESPERATE for). So I was all excited and started taking two a day on monday, and the next morning my heart was having PVC's (extra beats) every so often, like one every 10 minutes or so. PVC's are normal, and I usually get them like once or twice every couple weeks but that morning I had like 8 just while I was laying in bed. And if you've ever had them they're uncomfortable as hell and it feels like a rabid bird is trying to get out of your chest, and it's wings are beating the crap out of your heart. Or better yet, it's like your HEART has wings and is trying to launch out of your chest. But it only does one feeble flap of the wings. If it did multiple for like 30 minutes then that's another story.
So yeah ANYWAY, I go to work that day and sho nuff, they keep happening. Super uncomfortable and starting to freak me out a bit. Thankfully I already had an appointment scheduled for Thursday (yesterday) with my doctor to follow up on how wonderful my welbutrin is, so I thought okay I'll just tell him what's been going on. So wednesday night comes along (I had only taken two pills on monday, and two on tuesday when the wackness started) and my heart was doing it more and more often. To the point that I got up and walked around just to distract myself from the raptor trying to fly and claw it's way out of my chest. On my drive home that night I was trying to think back to when it started....and what the hell could possibly be going on. Thankfully I have some memory retention and thought a-HA! I started taking those stupid supplements on MONDAY, and the summersaulting heart tricks started happening TUESDAY! So then I started wondering if there was any magnesium in the pills, because the week before I was talking to a nurse about this way sick alcoholic lady whose heart was on the fritz and she said that her heart was unable to deal with the ammounts of MAGNESIUM and potassium from the alcohol so it causes a weird rhythm (totally random that she'd mention that but I ask questions and this one time it came in use). SO. I present said question to Bryan (my doc) and he said "Oh yeah, too much or too little magnesium can push the heart either way." DING DING DING. So they did an EKG and put little stickers with magnetic or whatever leads all over my body and it showed that my heart likes to lay on her left side and is turned more to the left than normal (Thanks a lot Mom!), explaining why it feels like my heart is dangling freely in my chest when I lay on my left side. But he said it was normal, so whatevs. Stupid hearts.
So he said I could lay off the pills for a week, and then start them up again next week to see if they're the cause of the pvc's and I was like uh, NO THANKS, I'll just let my hair grow normally. Freakin hell. So I'm just going to stick with my original assumption that it was the supplement's fault cause I ain't had not a one today. Wooooo! So when you see all of those green bottles with yellow labels that make you think "man I'll be super healthy if I take some of that stuff", STAY AWAY FROM HAIR, SKIN, AND NAILS. Cause it'll make you feel like you have a midget punching it's way thru your chest.
And I just read thru this and I apologize if it makes absolutely no sense because I just type the sentence that's in my head, and we all know how I looooooove long sentences, but so did Faulkner. So back off.

with my west-facing heart,
El Scorcho.


Totally inappropriate but I don't even care.

I don't even know how to start this. It's one of my BIGGEST pet peeves and it seriously grosses me the hell out. So if you're totally reserved and think that literal bathroom talk is completely uncalled for then I'm sorry but you'll have to stop reading.

Answer me this.

HOW, does one go to the bathroom (sitting makes more sense but I suppose it could happen standing up), finish their business, wipe the appropriate area, stand up, flush, and LEAVE the bathroom WITH ONE OF THEIR PUBES ON THE TOILET SEAT?
Seriously!?!!?! What the shit! What on this freakin earth makes YOU (you sick Pube Deserter/Shedder/Bandit) think that I want to go to the bathroom and sit on one of YOUR pubes!?!!
I mean come on. I've let this go on more than one occasion, more than I'd like to count. Leaving the toilet seat up, fine. Whatever. Be a dolt, or a guy, whichever you'd like to categorize yourself with (hand in hand?) and show us how macho and care-free you are and leave that seat up. Fine.
For the LOVE.
I'm not being sexist and saying that 80% of the time it's a guys fault (which it usually, PROBABLY is a guy). There was one occasion where a particular person opposite of a male spent a little too much time in a tanning bed, and had a full body 3rd degree burn. Being burnt in places that don't usually get burnt= peeling.
Fine. You shed that leprous skin and give some air to those brand new baby skin cells!
Now am I totally way off in being freaking disgusted to the maxxxxx? We're talking serious gag-reactions. I honestly can't figure it out. It's like some crazy phenomenon that is sweeping (ha) toilet seats nation-wide into the shadows. Who the hell doesn't check out the toilet after you go? I'm trying and doing a very good job at keeping this excrement free so spare the 1750's gasps of disgust and shame. You seriously can't tell me that you don't give the toilet seat a once-over before flushing, washing your hands, and exiting (along with a quick but thorough examination of your face w/special attention to your pores/oil production).

The ONLY way I will grant you clemency is if you are:
B.-so insanely tall that you can't see the toilet seat during your once-over, or

So next time you lose one of your leetl frens....
Give us a courtesy puff, or grab one more square of that wonderful toilet paper.


Now on a lighter but similar and much more enjoyable note,
enjoy this:

And think of me during your once-over.

with firm but unyielding love (gag, right?)

El Scorcho.


Revved up like a douche.

I was driving home tonight with The Count when "Blinded by the light" came on the radio, recognizable right from the start with the horrible arrangement of cheesy synthetic organ chords when the line "revved up like a deuce" was delivered with my jaw simultaneously dropping.
me-"Did it just say douche? Revved up like a douche?!"
scottie-"Yeah, I've always thought that's what it said."
And it kept repeating itself OVER and OVER again, resulting with me turning it up LOUDER and LOUDER each time to make sure that it was seriously saying revved up like a douche.
So pretending like I was a member of the Look It Up Club I searched for the lyrics on my phone, only to be disappointed when I read the correct lyrics.
But still. Seriously? Revved up like a deuce? I'm sure it fit just PERFECTLY when the song was written but it seriously just sounds like he's singing about being so totally psyched that he's as ready as a douche that's about to embark on some secret mission.
Scott and Norm are distracting me. Scott's talking about how horrible Africa is and little kids with guns and Norm is doing who knows what to the couch and I'm trying to contribute to the conversation but the only things I'm saying are "yeah" and "hmmm".
I've since moved on from eating a pound of strawberries as often as possible to dried mangoes. AND nectarines. But the nectarines have to be like biting in to a damn cement filled coconut. None of this soft, mushy shit. That's for peaches. So the mangoes are treating me oh so nicely so I'm not going to complain. There's so much I could complain about but then I'd just be like every other self-victimizing person who has all kinds of crap (and some have legit crap) and lets the world know about it. I have more important things to deal with. Like Scott interrupting whatever flow is going thru my brain to present the question "What if humans were covered in hair?......what would GIRLS do?". So now I'm picturing these sasquatch-like girls with short gross blonde dog hair all over their bodies and it's weirding me out. Mostly because I'm picturing them like one of the characters in Yo Gabba Gabba. The werid green and blue guy...but blonde and with a pink bow....and as a girl.

Time for bed.
Don't want to keep Gaston waiting :)

mucho gusto,
El Scorcho.

(I online-translationed mucho gusto and it means "a lot of taste" on one search engine, and on another "much pleasure". So we'll pretend it means "with a lot of pleasure". Or how about "a shit load". Yeah. A shit load.)



Hi guyth. It's been an insanely long time since I've updated and I'm actually ashamed that I haven't done more. I get into these modes where I'll be like "oh my gosh I need to write that down" or "oh my gosh I have got to blog this", and then I get home and it's almost like I shy away from everything. Because writing everything down makes it so FINAL, in a way. And by writing it down you acknowledge that you're either currently or have had those thoughts and that they're circulating that wonderful brain of yours and are trying to get out thru your ears and nostrils and tear ducts (except I don't cry thru my ears and nose).
I was looking thru my other blog
[if it doesn't work it's myspace.com/kitschneymarie, and on the right under Nosferatu are my entries, and you can click on "View all blog entries"]
and realized that I wrote a butt load, but then also realized that I was extremely depressed and only wrote Debbie Downer stuff. So there's my warning if you go read those. There's a lot of them. Aaand some of them are "explecit" so be warned Mum. I've tidied up my mind-mouth a little bit but not to the point of choking it and cutting off what I really think. So I've "matured" a bit, or whatever the hell you wanna call it.
POINT BEING- Some of them say the eff word (among other things), and I would go back and change them, but then it would change what I was trying to say, and quite frankly, at the time, I didn't give a damn who read it or how it was interpreted, because I didn't even care about myself enough to care about anyone else.
Moving on.
So it's like the middle of July and it's been WONDERFUL as far as the weather is concerned. The sun must've had some kind of set back like a month long appointment with his doctor or something and forgot to fry us all with his unforgiving rays.
I'm still trying to recover from the conference I had with my english teacher I had last semester, who referred me to the Hacker book to look up...(and of course now I don't remember the exact phrase for it) but it pretty much tells you how to shorten your sentences. Aaaaand if you look at my last sentence, you'll see why she referred me to said chapter.
Whatever. I love long sentences. So mleh.
Okay time to go bask in the sun and read The Secret.
I can't believe I just admitted to that.


Most ardently (I just finished Pride and Prejudice),

El Scorcho.


Nazi Zombies

Oh my GOSH so right now I'm slumped over like an old lady in the chair while Scott plays COD's-Nazi Zombies and I've been so enthralled with whatever I was looking at on the computer that when I decided to remind myself of my surroundings it was like TOTAL.CHAOS. Seriously. Surround sound zombies. With explosions going off and Scott twitching every time he tries to shoot a zombie and the zombies screaming incoherently. I'm actually pretty impressed with my ability to tune things out. This game is actually pretty disgusting. And scary as hell when you try to go to sleep and all you see are zombies coming at you.
Which is why I bought Beauty and the Beast on VHS from the D.I. a few weeks ago. I freaking love it. I mean yeah, she's only there for like 3 days and is already in love with him, but whatevs. I pretend that she's there for like MONTHS and then they FINALLY fall in love. But I'm usually out for the count by the end of the opening song and where she's defending her dad after Lefou makes fun of him. Ma-ha-ha-ha. And OH MY GOSH Gaston is such a douche. Holy moly. And no wonder the townspeople think she's weird. THEY'RE FRENCH. They're bound to be bastards sometimes.
So yeah I'm definitely going to be watching that tonight.
Nothing much is new. I got a damn B- on my last paper and was TOTALLY expecting it but was still pretty crushed when she handed it back to me. She even APOLOGIZED. I wanted to be like Well hell if you're sorry just give me an A! It was supposed to be an analysis of a complex problem essay directed towards the govenor and I was apparently a little too sassy and didn't elaborate enough on solutions. Because frankly I don't give a damn about certain things and that tends to screw me over in MULTIPLE situations. Always with school. Bad news man.
Wow wow wow I'm so easily distracted. I've been staring wide-eyed at the TV screen, screaming whenever a zombie gets too close to Scott. Which makes him tense up even more. Oh my gosh.
Yeah anyway. I've completely lost any prior train of thought so I'm gonna read now. Something raunchy and smutty I think.
You can never go wrong with Christine Feehan.

Even though a lot of the men are like Gaston.

El Scorcho.


Equine Persuasion.

A Short Story by Syd Woolf



I don't like blogging in computer labs because they're the new MAC monitors that
And this version sucks because I can't change the font so otherwise the above sentince would be like font-size=150 so you could see how freaking massive this looks.

*I have another exam next weekend that I was entirely unaware of until about 20 minutes ago.
I just imagined those protector things -the ones that you'd use in 1st grade when you were taking tests- around THIS computer so I could type in total seclusion and feel sneaky when I peek over and look at Scott's screen but then get totally caught staring at another monitor.

*We have roughly 5 weeks left of school.

*I have severe shuffle-shame when I put my iPod on shuffle and only get like 10 seconds thru the song before I skip to the next song, only to repeat the process

*I love mannequins but Mum thought that the one on my background was just some naked lady with cute little nipple covers so I'll change it once people aren't screen peeping.

*I've changed my major to English with a Creative Writing emphasis and a teaching minor and haven't been this excited about school since the day before my first day of Kindergarten.

*Scott has a wikipedia page open with a picture of a person with edema around the eye (I'll take a picture of it and upload it later) and it's totally freaking me out because it's only ONE eye and it's like they're staring at me. Sweaty face and all. I'd hate to be the person in a medical dictionary that is the picture for the definition of some weird disease. Like this one time at work, well nevermind it's probably a HIPPA violation. Huff.

*I still have an obsession with skeletons, and smiled at myself yesterday when I saw this girl in a white semi-snazzy car with a huge pink Lei hanging from her mirror (I used to have one during highschool so I can't rag on her too much) and then looked at mine and saw a cute little skeleton hanging by his neck. Whose name is Nimby.

*I just saw a picture of another freakin eye disease that Scott pulled up (uveitis) and arranged it so JUST the picture was peeking out from another window.

Yeah I'm gonna go. Scott's making me sick.
Alright so I started this at 9:03 and it's now 5:14. I had to leave the computer lab because the pictures Scott was pulling up was seriously making me want to barf.

More later.

El Scorcho.

Here's that damn picture I promised.


V-Day Love

So I was going thru my camera looking at pictures and stuff and I found this and decided it needed to be on the internet. So here it is.

More later.
Love Scorcho


"You're wearing brown shoes and a black belt..."

Legit title.
Today was the first time in quite a while that I've intentionally matched.
I have:
A red watch
A black necklace
A red tanktop
A black short sleeved shirt
A red and black flannel button up shirt
Blue jeans (only part that doesn't "match")
And red shoes.
With blue nails and neon orange rings.
I was a little surprised with myself, because I never care if I match. I think if you want to wear something that has plaid and then you want to wear a polka-dotted shirt then you wear the shit out of that outfit. I've been on a huge individuality kick and I seriously think that it'll last for the rest of my life. Not one of those things that you adopt for a few months (like running) and then move on to something else for another few months (like yoga) because being yourself isn't exhausting and is SO easy, even if you have no idea who you are.
Scott has helped me evolve in to me since the day I met him. He's encouraged my interpretation of who I am and whatever it is that I'm about and accepted anything and everything that I am and do. I had such bad self confidence and was completely unsure of myself before I met him. He's helped me relax into myself and helped me sink beautifully into my skin.
I might have weird taste and a weird thought process, but I don't really mind it because it's COMPLETELY natural for me. I don't censor my thoughts and rarely censor what I think about things (except for when it comes to work. I'm not stupid enough to say what I REALLY think).
It's so hard to explain and excruciating because it's such a wonderful feeling and I think everybody should feel this way. It's not gloating or a like an overpowered self-confidence drive, it's just complete acceptance and realization of WHO you are and WHAT your personality is like and HOW you function and HOW things are. I have no idea what kind of group I fit in to or what kind of person I can be labeled as but I don't care because I love being me.
If this isn't making much sense then I'm kind of sorry. It makes so much sense in my head and I'm in a computer lab and staring at the screen has left tracers of light when I look at my hands and around the room (which occurs frequently given my beautiful attention span).
Time to go listen to a feminists take on history in T-minus 16 minutes.
"Why do we wear pants to work? BECAUSE MEN WORE PANTS TO WORK!!!!!!!"
Loves always


Welcomed Social Interruptions.

I don't know if it's just me but I always, ALWAYS imagine myself doing HORRIBLE things at the wrong time. Stuff that makes absolutely no sense. And has no reason behind it.
Shouting profanities at the top of my lungs during the Sacrament.
Losing control of my bladder while I write lengthy sentences from my essay (as an example of what not to do) on the board in my english class.
Sending a shit-talking text to the subject of the shit.
etc. etc.

Like the other day, I was walking out of class to meet Scott who had gotten the car, with a dangerously buoyant spring in my step (heading north) with my water bottle about half full along for the ride, clutched securely by the lid in my right hand, when I had one of the most errant thoughts I think I've ever had, as a homely (I have no room to talk since I wear pajamas to school) , rain cloud girl walked past me in a southerly direction, eyes set dead ahead on her destination (If I think of her as something other than a human she'd totally be a slug).

My idea then struck me so that I immediately had a rediculously huge grin slathered on my face.
My eyes were even smiling.
As I walked by her, my minds eye opened up a beautiful new window of the same scene, with me in my clicky-clock knee-high boots, lime green pea-coat and sassy electric blue beanie, SWINGING as hard as I could, and connecting her face with my water bottle (remember, half full) and not even breaking step, leaving her and everyone else around completely baffled.

Totally improper right? And seriously messed up!

WHY do I have those kinds of thoughts?

It is so, that on days like today, where all seems lost and tomorrow is feared

I can reminisce.

and regardless of the scene

it made me smile

and always will.




MRSA Nipple

So there's this poster in the bathroom at my work and it has "Community Acquired MRSA Rising at an Alarming Rate" crap poster and there's sample pictures of what the infections look like and how they're confused with spider bites and the like, and there's one particular picture that looks EXACTLY like a slightly obese man's pudgy nipple, except there's a belly button right underneath it. And every time I walk into the bathroom my eyes are drawn RIGHT to that nipple, and I get disgusted every time. I've wanted to tear it down for a while but I don't have the guts to do it.
Just an update. More laters.

Your Scorcho.