I have purple stairs!

My work has a very well stocked first aid box, which should make sense in a warehouse full of metal and things to cut that metal with. In all the various types of band-aids were *neon*! So now I have a neon orange band-aid on my finger that clashes wonderfully with my purple clothes.

I've recently finished reading the book, When I Was Puerto Rican. This one part really stood out as an example of cultural differences.

Doña Ana said Miss Jiménez had the most beautiful legs she'd ever seen, and the next day, while Miss Jiménez wrote the multiplication table on the blackboard, I stared at them.

She wore skirts to just below the knee, but from there down, her legs were shaped like chicken drumsticks, rounded and full at the top, narrow at the bottom. She had long straight hair on her legs, which everyone said made them look even prettier, and small feet encased in plain brown shoes with a low square heel. That night I wished on a star that someday my scrawny legs would fill out into that lovely shape and that the hair on them would be as long and straight and black.

I can't imagine being in a "traditional" type relationship anymore at this point.. (read into the word 'traditional' what you want.. i know what i mean.. it's late and i don't want to bother explaining what i mean.). I was walking around naked after a shower while Andrew put my desk together.

I said, "I'm taking advantage of being able to do this while I can."
"Oh I don't mind." Of course *he* wouldn't. I was referring to having a new roommate coming.
"So you don't mind if I walk around naked when Jason's here?"
He thinks for a second.. "Actually I don't."

Now that I've defrosted the freezer, I can see the words that say not to use sharp objects to remove frost. Oops. (like I would've listened anyway.)

I wonder how people at my job can talk about nipples with a straight face.

I stole this link from Misha—The "Am I A Goth, Trendy or Alternative?" Test

Goth 40%
Trendy 20%
Alternative 30%

Conclusion: Angry *and* arrogant! What a combination. You have just enough knowledge of the world to really resent it properly.

84% of Goths surveyed are quite happy with the number of nipples they have.

It's my first morning with my computer not in my room.. I wanted to get dressed in the living room where the music is.

Izzbot: so? Friends forgive you after you smack them down....

I am very happy to be getting a roommate where we don't want to mutually kill each other!

Canada Sends Rescue Dog Boots

The perfect test of new kitty ears is bellydancing class, including post-dance stretching.

Now that I'm wearing kitty ears to work, I'm getting all kinds of questions (generally along the lines of, "What's with the ears?" In typical me fashion, I think of the perfect come-back answer after the person is out of hearing range. I did say today that they're to make people ask questions.

The problem with wearing them in September, is a lot of people assume you're just early for Halloween. At the bus stop today a guy asks just that, and after he's gone I realized I wanted to say, "No, I'm a freak all year."

Andrew: Screwing upside down is hard work.

(He expected to see that on happy-clicker, so I couldn't disappoint him. And of course, thanks for putting together my new desk!)

Site is finally back up. Updates to come later. I keep wanting to say 'linkage' but that's Zannah's word, and this isn't a site of links.

I keep wondering why the net is slow lately, then I remember it's me.

Worse than having to hear country music on the radio while you eat lunch, is having spent enough time in Indiana to recognize one of the songs and have it stuck in your head later.

Putting together a drawing table seems to be a like making actual art. Once you're done with it you're so frustrated you never want to see it again.

This about sums up my night at the Vogue:

(overheard piece of conversation while walking in) "—but the joining a cult to get laid—"

"There's two of the Village People here tonight."

- See that girl over there with the long hair?
- That's a guy.
- That's a guy!?
- He's very convincing.

Andrew: you could get a camel
me: What would I do with a camel?
Andrew: put it in the freezer?

I'm still finding it a little strange/funny that my mom and I are emailing about tragedy and can openers in the same emails. One of those reasons I love my mom...

I still wonder what it's like to be a cat when I see Henry rolling around for attention, oblivious to people-worries. But at the same time, his entire life is being turned upside down by the move and he still doesn't know what's going on.

I want to pretend I never saw this and therefore it was never said, but that won't change a thing.

Television evangelists Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, two of the most prominent voices of the religious right, said liberal civil liberties groups, feminists, homosexuals and abortion rights supporters bear partial responsibility for Tuesday's terrorist attacks because their actions have turned God's anger against America.

[...]

Now Dotster is trying to tell me I need happy-clicker.biz and stari.biz. Um... right.

Today seems to be the day for guys on bicycles to talk to me while waiting for the bus.

I was wondering this evening (while shopping) if I talk to myself too much. Or maybe I was wondering if I talk to myself too much while shopping.
But they say it's not a problem until you start answering yourself.
So that's okay then, right?
Right.

Another morning with Noxzema up my nose...

My bad "car-ma" strikes again. Details later, and huge apologies for the horrible pun. I'll never use it again.

With all the apologies going around lately, a result of emotional discussions, I have my own to Andrew for what I said about him not caring... I don't want to delete the post itself though, because it's the result of a lot of different feelings at the time that I don't want to pretend didn't happen. (it's late and i'm losing proper words)

Izzy: leave the hummus alone

Grocery store in the U-dist is selling cat tails. I want a cat tail.

More help links: (Amazon) or (Paypal) This morning I saw a guy break down while reading the newspaper while waiting for the bus...

My mom:

I can't think why anyone would hate america that much. I am in shock too. I cry for people I don't know and for the pain they feel. I can't comprehend the magnitude of what happened even though I see it on tv all day. I told Scott you have to think of it in pieces, 4 hijackings is one great tragedy, then to add all the other things on top of that.
It is mostly politics. We the American Satans are Allies to Israel the Mid Easterns hate then for stealing land from Palestine. But you know it started a long time ago. I'm not sure who the father was, back in bible times, but he has two sons, one from his wife and the other from his maid servant, (very common back then) Well, his wife didn't like the fact that he had another son, so he banished his son and his mother, that is israel and the palestines. Who this day still hate each other. And you know what is sad. They are teaching their children to hate too.
Tie a yellow ribbon on your door to show your support for America and hang out a flag. And cry. Because it is a terrible tragedy! Mother

It was slow at work today. I worry that they'll run out of work and get rid of one of us, the way my temp jobs went. Today though, I think everyone is still in shock from yesterday.

The other image that's going to stand out the most to me is Misha and I standing in our bathrobes on either side of my doorway when she told me the news this morning.

I'm going to join the web sites posting how to help:

Puget Sound Blood Center
Phone numbers: (unverified due to busy signals): 1-800-GIVE-BLOOD, 1-800-GIVE-LIFE

I am planning to after work tomorrow. (Updated to be next week when things have calmed down and they are less busy.)

The news is talking about how to explain this to children, using simple words to describe it in black and white terms. Seriously? The adults are as (more) confused than the children, and it is a traumatic situation.

I'm still watching the news on streaming video. I already know everything there is to know right now. I'm just listening to the voices. I'm very shaken up by today, and I don't want to be alone. Calling Andrew didn't help, as he was his usual, "well it doesn't really matter to me..." attitude. Not being alone won't happen until tomorrow night.

I've seen the World Trade Center buildings collapse over and over, on the news and in my mind. They're gone. Two entire buildings.. Whatever the politics, all I can think is lots and lots of people dying which will be responded with lots and lots of people dying.

Don't tell me this doesn't matter to me, especially since I don't know anyone there. And don't tell me it doesn't matter to you either. That is not a valid response to my feelings.

Misha just came to the door and told me about the World Trade Center thing. That's all the info I have.. news sites are down and I feel very out of touch having a job with no internet access.

It's too early (or I'm too much of a cat lover) when I find myself telling Henry he's a good boy, despite finding my toilet paper chewed up in the hallway this morning.

It's too early when I take a shirt on a hanger out of my closet and try to put the shirt back in.

For some reason I've been noticing the hair on men's knuckles.

The article actually starts, "British scientists have embarked on a quest to find the nation's funniest joke."

No one's posting in the mini-blog often enough. Come on people, do I have to do all the work myself? ;)

1.29.95: "I liked the cat too. I hope for your sake that you do drugs! (Because if you don't, you have one messed up head. :) I must tell you though, that your head is messed up in really interesting ways."

Shake and Bake Tofu...!

Between falling asleep, and dreaming, some nights are entirely too long.

I was told I have a cute belly last night. *bounce*

Now this is strange. The same day I post about Wil Wheaton's weblog (stop laughing!), it stops working.

I've also been reading some articles lately about weblog/web journals, specifically how teenagers are posting to the world what they used to keep private. But, the articles say, they get annoying if their parents are reading them. I don't think this is limited to teenagers—I still hope my parents never run across my sites.

Blogger's own front page blog says: Right on, Sarah. Blogging is the ultimate democratization of publishing, and it's for anybody who wants to do it. If people don't want to read a blog, they can move on. There is enough from on the web for all of us.

I've always felt the same annoyance at people who act like the web has limited space, and if something isn't of interest to a set amount of people, it shouldn't exist. I just wrote about my toenails though. I don't know what that says about me. I'll work on the 'interesting' thing later... But for now, people read me. Maybe not a nation-wide audience, but, people read me.

Somehow the foof-cat is going to try to find a way to jump onto my lap while i'm cutting my toenails.

From Zannah's:

I was probably the last person to find out that actor Wil Wheaton has a weblog.
I used to have a crush on him when I was younger (come on, what girl in her right mind didn't?)

And he has a weblog. And knowing this is going to get me laughed at (Selina already has), I admit a "me too" to what Zannah said. And he has a weblog, I'm finding this too amusing.

For a second I forgot how to spell the color 'blue'.

I Minxie I: ya know when they ask what line you can still see without your glasses on I had to say "E" today...

I'm listening to my friend Jeremy (Maine, or since I've decided to label them 'beard' and 'no-beard', this would be no-beard.. now that sounds like a pirate name..) on the radio online. And I keep laughing because he sounds so radio-DJ-like. Do they train them how to talk like that?

Henry has definitely leaned to be more cat-like since living here. He used to get up when I'd look like I was going to sit on him in my chair, now he just gives me the 'go ahead and try it' look.

I shouldn't admit I just scared myself with my own reflection.