Madame Veronique peers into her crystal ball..

I like to collect horoscopes. Not trashy magazine horoscopes. Or god-forbid online ones. I love the act of clipping them from the newspaper. You carefully, precisely extract the little gem. I post it on my fridge, and look at it every day. Then less often, until I forget about it. Until one day it catches my eye. I read it. And if I no longer need it, I throw it away.

Sometimes you need horoscopes.

Like this one.

"You have been unable to understand that a solution really does exist. Though its implementation requires courage, willpower and perhaps even a temporary sacrifice, you will eventually see how it makes sense."

Or this one.

"There's a big disappointment you've never gotten over. Find reasons to be grateful for this experience, you'll be liberated."

 They're slightly yellowed. I don't need them anymore. 

Conversations with Boss, II

Boss: what is with your obsession with the word shenanigans!! Me: (if only you knew...)

Everybody wants something...

Blaaaah. Haven't felt like blogging recently. Ya, there've been YES!!ventures a plenty. Days have been chock-a-block full'o shenanigans and randomness.

But there's something missing. I'm wanting something. But I don't know what it is.

I've been having strange dreams. They preoccupy my thoughts.

Maybe music will help. There. Mesmerizing.

Truth be told, I've been watching a lot of Degrassi... the NEXT generation.

It all started with Dawson's Creek. The OC soon followed. Then, came along new 90210, and I vowed to only follow ONE embarrassing teenage melodrama at a time. But I made an exception for Glee. And now, new Degrassi apparently.

And I like, nay, love Lady Gaga. Who am I?

There are so many things about me I hide from others. But I wanna be ME in all my dorky-glory. When did I become the girl who looked like she couldn't put up a tent?

I'm weary of this role. Maybe time for a personality make-over.

Suggestions? Pirate? Meth-head? Pants-wetter? Person who uses 17th Century slang? Nudist? Blaaaaah.

Something's missing. And this post sounds wicked-emo. OOOOhhhhh. emo.

Who are we kidding? I'm a ball of energy. I couldn't restrain myself enough to be emo. Although I do look good in black.

Also, side bar: realized I don't have to do HTML to format, that regular, good'ol shortcuts will do the formatting for me. (uh.. that's prob. only interesting to me, right? On that note: going to watch me some Degrassi, cause I got tomorrow off!!

Uh. Just did a last-minute spell check. Words I cannot spell: mesmerizing, apparently, melodrama, wetter, embarrassing. Wow. Two R's and two S's in embarrassing? Well, that's embarrassing.

Oh. Note readers: I can't spell. I have a diverse vocabulary, and I can't use it to its full effectiveness. And I frequently forget to spell-check. I learned "inventive-spelling" when I was 4, and never looked back.

Cottagesky

Well. Cottagesky was awsomeness. Just what the doctor ordered. Except the copious amounts of alcohol consumed, excessive amounts of smoke inhaled and ridiculous amounts of ultraviolet rays. The trip went smoothly, so now I feel I can take my lil '91 Escort out on the road more often. The cassette player was shite tho. My car now smells like an ashtray. Went to visit a friend up in Huntsville. He told us his brother and friends would be there. We assumed it would be his little bro (translation: 20-year-old frat/sorority types...rich little white kids) INSTEAD, we were delighted to find his older brother there. Bunch of cool people in their 30's, who knew how to party. Also. They cooked for us. They made BIIIIIGGGG messes at night. Each morning we would wake to find the property COVERED in beer bottles and cans, glasses, cigarette butts, empty cigarette packs, munchies garbage, etc etc. But we'd get it all clean before breakfast... and then the cycle would begin again. It's weird now I'm in my mid 20's. I'm starting to contemplate being 30. I don't have many a good role-model. Silver is 33. And I feel older than him most days. I am unofficially, the oldest of the group. He's too wild and directionless. Mr. Collins is 33 as well. Maybe he used to be a fun dude. But I don't see that. He's dull. He's lost that lust for life. Some other people I know are cool and everything. But they're living mediocre lives. But the people at the cottage this weekend? They are EXACTLY who I want to be when I'm in my 30's. Nice car, good career jobs, starting to settle down with a mate, but still know how to party. Music time? What the hell. Try this on for size... ooooh. just realized this link doesn't work. I wonder what I wanted to play... ah.. this'll more than make up for my error.