"If you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat." John Ortberg

Coming home is like a big friendly reminder of the good old days... locking myself in my room and counting the hours until I left for college.

So right about now, I'm locked in my room counting the days until I return to college.

There are two things that disgust me. One being my father telling my sister he is going to break her legs and send her to the hospital tommorow instead of on Wednesday (when she will be going in for surgery) unless she does some stupid mindless chore he thought up, and two, the half naked men in the entrance of Abercrombie, that for a dollar donation (to charity?) you can "cuddle" up to for a quick picture.

Life has to be more than this.


~~~
And yes Brian, "cuddle up to" is somehow incorrect grammar. If I only knew how to correctly say that, I would. I bet "thought up" is incorrect as well. Hmm.
~~~

People wonder why I chop off all the knights heads in my fairy tales. Wouldn't you if he was out to chop off your legs?

Don't make plans, because then you know for sure things will not go your way.

Send me a love letter.

HTM-Loser

So big hurah, I have added to my blog. Check out the additions by scrolling down.

Secondly, did you ever notice that the ads up correspond with words from your current blog? I feel like a seventh grader... but here's a little test... (porn, porn, porn.)

Just three so Google doesn't start bringing up my blog when people type that word in.

If I ever lowered myself to write a romance novel, it would take place in the library.

They would meet, and he would come whisper sweet somethings into her ear, as so not to disturb the others. His lips would gently brush her earlobe, and his fingers would rest on her neck, playing with her hair.

A week later, (as in ALL romance novels,) they would be in love, and he would climb atop a study table, and shout across the silent library -

"I LOVE THIS WOMAN!"

Then he would get down on one knee and propose, before he was kicked out.

Add a wedding, down the center aisle of stacks, and perhaps some midnight breaking and entering for some... late night reading?

IF only.

~~~~~

That was my second break from studying, during my three hour affair at the library. I have a feeling it was because Sicilian boy was sitting directly behind me. The ending had to do with chopping off his head. Frustration I suppose?

I'm not in the mood for my usual chopping of heads tonight.

What happens if you have no intestines? Can they replace them? Will you die?

Life is suddenly serious and foreboding.

They ended up being five minutes over due, but the nice librarian didn't charge me.

Booh - yah.

My drunk friend Sean didn't come to Psych today, and Dan, who normally on the other side of him, proclaimed with great glee, (after announcing Sean was not going to be arriving,) "I get the privilege of sitting next to MaryBeth?! Yay!"

It was in the same tone of voice that the Sunday morning cooks talk to me in. The tone that asks me what I'm going to give them in trade for some french toast, (they wanted a hug, they were sadly mistaken if they thought they would get one for eighty cents worth of french toast,) the tone that pleads with me not to leave, the tone that tells me they will miss me.

All this is making me quite confused. It's just me.

Another strange man incident - some guy, probably in his thirties, came up to me at work late Saturday night. He asked me to recommend a light beer. (I was working in the pub, and happened to be standing near the bar.) I told him, with great BS, that Harp and Boddington's are two great beers, and that I recommend Bass to my customers as well. (It was loud, I don't think he heard much of what I said.) He then wanted to talk more about their taste, which leaves me in a jumble since I haven't tasted any of them. So I then do what I always do, told him to go ask the bartenders, that I was positive they would be able to better serve him. He still didn't get it. He continued, telling me that I look like a girl who knows her beer, (I do?!) and, then, finally noticing my shirt (we just received new uniforms, black pants and a black Oxford with the Dubliner logo on the ... well, it's big on me and lands on my boob,) anywho... run on sentence, he finally gets it, and is like, you work here??

Then it all clicked. He was trying to hit on me. I grimaced, most likely noticeably, and took my dirty dishes and fishtailed. This guy had to be thirty something. You've got to be drunk if you think I look older then twelve. EWW.


There is something to be said for a guy who tries to pick me up - come closer again and I'll chop off ye head!

I think I'm getting work done, but I'm not.

My library books are two minutes over due. Shit.

I "Googled" myself. I was thinking about it since my last post (oh, a few hours ago?) and found out that if my mother typed in "MaryBeth,blog" I would be number six on the list. If she types in my full name there are six responses and none of them mine.

It gave me some relief, that it will take six tries before Mommy Dear discovers me.

"Mom Finds Out About Blog."

Yesterday my mother and I had a conversation about HTML. I asked for a "For Dummies" book for Christmas... and she wondered why I wanted a HoTMaiL book. So of course, knowing it would completely throw her off, I casually mentioned that I had a webpage, and HTML was some super nifty code stuff for making my webpage look... well super nifty.

She heard: I have a webpage online where Internet Stalkers can look up information about me and steal my virginity away.

So, when I come to post today and see Blogger linking The Onion's article on "Mom Finds Out About Blog..." well what can I say? (I thought it would be hilarious. It wasn't.)

Actually, I can say something. I Internet Stalked that guy. He's a thirty year old doing drugs and blogging about parties and women? Who has "over 100" readers? Come on. (He only has five links. I would say he's fabricating.) Anyway, Thursday's post was about anti-perspirant. Umm? Yeah, so I continue reading, don't want to diss the guy for one post, and then he begins talking in third person... "Kevin has work tomorrow?" I have to work tomorrow. Yes. Proper. Oh, and I stopped reading at this:

"Goodnight from Planet Kevin. Your home away from Earth."

It seems from further investigation that he deleted everything from the past blog, and began again to make it clean for his Mummy. I just didn't figure out where clean became synonymous with boring.


Oh and Planet Kevin? If you ever Google yourself and bring up my page? Send me the link to your "other blog." This one just doesn't cut it... maybe for Mum but not for anyone else.

Did I ever mention how much I hate gospel music?

Also, the wind was wonderful tonight. I enjoy the sound of it whistling.

I went to weekday mass. It was interesting.

That's about all.

Oh yes, men fucking suck. Stay away, I'm chopping heads.

I feel so behind but I've finally figured out how to post pictures on here. It will take me a while, but sooner or later... they will be up.

Also, for those wanting to see... my hair. It faded a little, but it's red. I'm a redhead! Yay.

I cleaned my room tonight. It took me two hours, but it was the most stress relieving exercise. As Denise says, I've already cut my hair, so what else do I have left to do? Clean.

Sicilian boy was stolen back. I was attempting to steal him away from his crush, but then she "changed her mind" and now likes him. What-ever.

That's all for now. Goodnight.

Where one road ends, another begins.

Centuries ago, people believed the world was flat. That a road could go on and on, but one day it will end, and there will be nothingness.

Now, centuries later, people believe the world is round, and all roads diverge. One road will lead to another. There is no end.

I feel I'm reaching the end of my road, and I better decide soon what century I'm living in.

~~

I'm deep in thought, and I'm still surfacing.

To make Denise happy, (because isn't that what life's about?) Halloween wasn't that bad. *Fake grin.*

The Coldstone Ice Cream and Urban Outfitter's was enjoyable.

The two am visit by a fat ass plumber and a doughnut eating rent-a-cop was not enjoyable. Nor was waking up at eight the next morning to an ear infection and only being able to see out of one eye. Or for that matter spending two thirds of my Saturday in a smelly emergency room and having to tell the hungover resident that I wanted some fucking medicine or else.

Oh and did I mention that I am never giving another guy a chance? I tried. I listened to advice. I opened myself up. For what I ask you? Nothing. Not a thing. Oh wait, yes, there was something. A cheesy drop-off line. "Let's be good friends." Good friends my cute ass. If I wanted to be good friends with you I would have shook your hand and walked that cute ass of mine home alone.

I'm just a little bitter.

One more thing about my Halloween. I often go on tirades letting people know what I think about drinking, but I feel the need for one more. Not to be hypocritical, I will say that I drink. I have been a bit drunk. I've stopped drinking. I've said no. I don't go past a certain limit where I don't remember what happened the next morning. I don't go visit my friends, drool all over her pillow, sheets, comforter, teddy bear, and best friend... (so much that she spent five dollars doing laundry the next morning...) I don't do that. I don't throw up all over people's bathrooms, I'm not so drunk that I need friends of mine to RETRIEVE me like the DOG I am. (Not. Since I don't do it.) I don't say stupid things on AIM that if saved could make my significant other dump me or his/her friends beat the shit out of me. No. I don't do those things because they are stupid. STUPID STUPID STUPID. What the fuck is the point in getting so drunk that you throw up all over and do stupid things that you don't even remember the next morning? I want to tape all of you and show you how you make an ass out of yourself. How I laugh at you. How dumb you are. People like you piss me off.

*End of tirade.*

Moral of the story? Don't come to my room when your drunk, because I will take care of you and wipe your filthy mouth, but you won't remember that. And in the morning I just may think less of you.

Oh and if you're a knight in shining armor? Watch out. I've been known to take off heads.

*Chomp.*

I can not find words to describe my Halloween. It sucked.