They canceled three of my favorite shows. THREE. I am livid.
Moonlight, Men in Trees (saw that one coming, they've been shuffling it around for ages), and Women's Murder Club. Gone. No more.
You know, I get that we don't all watch the same stuff. We don't all like the same shows. But sheesh, give some shows a flipping chance. The X-Files was just a cult hit until a few seasons in, and look, there's another movie coming out this summer.
Oh, we all know what's going to take the place of these dearly departed programs...reality effing TV. Maybe Dancing with the Stars: Rehab Edition, or perhaps Pin the Crime on the Famous Athlete. I watch TV to escape reality, not have my face shoved in it...if you want to call this junk "reality". They toss aside lovely little gems like Wonderfalls (remember that one?) and Firefly to make room for shows that, at least in my case, make me feel bad that I am not a Kardashian or that I am not being pursued by 25 eligible bachelors.
Screw you, Hollywood. You suck.
I can't get stupid, depressing thoughts out of my head, therefore, I am feeling stupid and depressed. It will pass, I know, but there are certain times when I just want to go back to being twelve years old and not having to think about stuff like this.
Add to that the fact that I am getting over being sick, my contacts are killing me, and the house is a mess because we have company, and you should be able to figure out why I'm ready to return to bed and not get up for a while.
Loathing:
- gas prices
- being sick
- being bothered
- not having the money to do what I want
- indecisive and manipulative people
- flat hair
- individuals who lack the ability to use proper grammar or punctuation
Loving:
- having my sister and her family in town for the week
- tacos
- a well-deserved mocha after first day at new job
- getting to know staff at local coffee shop
- buying essential books for my nephew (Goodnight Moon, etc.)
- thunderstorms
- working downtown
Looking forward to:
- making a little more cash
- summer trips
- not having to worry about bumping into certain people in certain places
I started sneezing as soon as I crossed the border into Louisiana, and I stopped when I crossed back over eight hours later. Huh.
Today was my orientation from the bank, and I had to drive, oh, an hour and a half each way to sit in a room with six other new hires and fill out paperwork. Riveting. But everyone was super friendly, I got a free lunch, and I'll be reimbursed for everything. I start at my branch tomorrow.
Dad's test results came back today. I got the news when I called my mom to tell her I was on my way back to Tyler. It's not cancer. It's a touch of pneumonia, and it's something he can beat. He's fine, though I still have to keep pushing him to improve his lifestyle. I may have to start force-feeding him.
I'm still recovering somewhat from Jessica's massive graduation kegger Saturday night. I was all ready to take lots of incriminating photos. I get to her house and realize that I've left my memory card at home. F*ck. Kristi and some guy named Mike took photos and promised to get them to me. I got completely trashed on some odd combination of Miller Light, Shiner Bock, Red Bull and Vodka, and Sour Apple Puckers, then proceeded to tell stupid stories and take ten dozen trips to the bathroom, paranoid that the entire party was hovering outside the bathroom window trying to get a glance at my white Irish ass. I smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes between the hours of 8pm and 4am (when I had two left, they mysteriously disappeared and I don't know if they were stolen, or I inadvertently mistook them for Pocky and ate them. It's a little blurry.), and now sound like one of Marge Simpson's sisters. Scary stuff. There was one almost-fight, one guy passed out in his car, one botched trip to the pub to "rescue" a douchebag, and a two-hour session of acoustic "jams". Kumbaya, my ass. All in all, it was quite a fun evening/morning.
I am so tired.
Oh, and apparently, a large bird of prey decided that my helpless little car was the perfect spot for a drive-by shitting. The pattern reminds me of a Spin-Out shirt I had in the fourth grade.
Stimulus check arrived, and not a moment too soon. I've squirreled away what I could, paid some bills, then went and got some new work clothes and shoes. I was a little naughty, and got three minor things that I didn't need, but wanted.
No more spending. Except for the rum and beer that I'm bringing to Jessica's kegger tomorrow. No more. Nope.
I do need a hair straightener, though.
*ponders*
I suppose that since I've gone and peed in a cup for the bank, and received a package detailing my orientation on Monday, it is safe to say that I am now holding two jobs. Wow. I'm going to stay on at the music store until the fall, when I start school, but it'll mainly be on the weekends and bank holidays. Hey, the extra money will be nice. I need to start scraping enough together to get a place of my own. With a roomie, of course.
Speaking of roommates, I had another funny thing happen a few weeks ago. I had a date with a guy. He was a super-hot guy. Ex-Marine, so on. Way out of my league. We went for drinks. It was okay. Turns out that Date Guy is not my type. At all. I'm sure he has a lot going for him, but...well, no. *somewhere, Jess and Kristi are snickering, possibly pointing and laughing*
Days later, I get it into my head to drop by this roommate search site and see what is available in the area. I type in some basic info (not my name, thank goodness) and I get ten or so results on the first page. About three profiles down....
It's Date Guy.
*facepalm*
It's a fucking small world. I hate this town sometimes:)
Carrie Bradshaw I ain't, but the more I see of this town and the dating scene that I've forced myself back into, the more jaded I become, and the more I want to write about it. I don't want to nitpick all the psychological aspects of it, like Carrie...rather, I'd write it as it is, a bit like Laurie Notaro: awkward, frightening, alcohol-drenched, and piss-your-pants hilarious.
I'd write about the group of people standing outside the club one night, being drilled by police, and one of them keeps shrieking about "Rhonda! Rhonda!" We figure she is talking about her ride, but this "Rhonda" is nowhere to be seen. The girls and I are standing around, then a big SUV pulls up with another woman hanging out the passenger window. She's flailing somewhat, and though I cannot remember how we put two and two together, we realized that this 45-year-old woman with her boobs half-hanging out of her shirt was Rhonda, and we directed her to the proper party:)
See? That stuff is priceless. I'm going to start bringing a notepad with me when we go out.
Wow, nearly three months with no new installment of the Aubrey's Lists series! What have I been doing all this time?
I have, from time to time, felt the urge to spend spend spend. Sometimes it is overwhelming, and I cave in, only to regret it later. I mean, really, who needs three venti frappuccinos a week?
But OH how I want these things.
Please excuse my blatant materialism.
1.) Palm Centro (in pink, please)
2.) Sense and Sensibility (2008)
I got the job.
*insert copious amounts of cackling and fist pumping*
I start Monday.
Definitely celebrating this weekend. Who's with me?