re-rebirth.

re-rebirth.

*under construction*

bleh. (old repost.)

bleh. (old repost.)

i'm listing, for the sake of organizing the things that pop into my head.  lord knows they are random, useless and endless.  for your viewing pleasure, today we offer:

- pregos and customsphobia

- numbered days

- (there was more...)

- ah, caterpillar spiders and multiple sclerosis zombies

- food divorce

- why treadmills hate me

- how none of you blog anymore (...)

- maybe something else (probably not)

- my two cents on double spacing, even though it's been beaten to death

will this post be long? somehow, i doubt it.  the list looks a little daunting at first glance, but somehow i feel a little ambitious today, and yet i have no faith in my ability to commit to anything.  however, i have five hours and fifty minutes before i can escape work, mingle at walmart briefly and then return home to officially begin my first vacation since christmas (again, despite the fact that my schedule regularly consists of four day weekends, because i am practically an unemployed bum), so i figure i might as well give this a shot.  i might even finish the other dozen drafts i've left hanging. 

  

well, that picture sucked.  but you will enjoy it because i say so.  as mentioned above, in five hours and thirty-eight minutes i will be on vacation.  and what do you do with a couple weeks of free time? why, visit family in the middle of nowhere/montana, like your very pregnant sister.  i will go and enjoy myself, indulge in montana's relaxing atmosphere, probably gorge on the homemade cookies that are always in the house, and stare awkwardly at my niece because small children frighten me.

not to mention how insanely quiet it can be down there.  granted, she's moved deeper into town since her montana adventure began (using the term "town" loosely), so there is occasionally a car to break up the monotony.  or a cow.  or a chicken. 

however, i am terrified of crossing the border.  i don't know why.  i don't want to be strip searched, or have the car searched, or be jailed, or be rejected, or be looked at strangely.  i am a naturally very guilty person.  i am guilty before i've even done anything (this isn't to say there aren't times when i am completely guilty), and i can just picture myself breaking out into a sweat from nerves and some angry american officer accusing me of drug smuggling.  or beef smuggling, as is the more common offense around here.  i cried when i got pulled over once for a not-even-technically-illegal dead light bulb above my license plate two years ago.  ick.  i'll be happy when that's over with.

and in light of my seemingly not that depressing post, i feel the need to breeze over our next topic, or more appropriately, combine it with the topic that comes right after.  as today is my intensely long work day of death, i climbed into bed for the three hours i have available between jobs to numb the madness of my green tea overdose and prepare myself mentally for the massive amounts of work that would be waiting for me at my evening job (ex: this blog).  and i had horrible dreams about a dog that wouldn't stop biting me, furry caterpillar spiders and an evolved, zombie-making multiple sclerosis virus that was dangerously contagious and resulted in the quarantine of new york city where, incidentally, i was living.  i tried to draw the furry spiders for you, but i'll be honest and say they looked like angry snowflakes.  and while i'm the first to admit i suck at drawing anyway, i think i'll save those gems for another day.

but i watched a man bleed to death in front of me in my dreams this afternoon (isn't my subconscious charming?), blood boiling in an angry fashion due to the virus.  i turned away before his head literally exploded, so that was a plus.  of course, when you dream you also tend to watch things in third person simultaneously, so i more or less got the picture of what it looked like.  actually, now that i really get into it, i'd say my dream was a psychotic medley of the grand theft auto video game, a zombie video game that i not very coincidentally bought on tuesday and the real housewives of new york franchise.  this is my blog, if i can't be honest here, then forget it.

but it got me thinking about terminal illness.  and how my life is completely unaffected by it.  and how i'm not sure how i would ever deal with a loved one facing it (oddly enough, i think i would handle it pretty well if it was myself).  mostly how i believe that everyone gets affected by these things one way or another.  and like it's just a matter of time...

moving on.

i'm not sure i'm up for talking about my relationship with food yet in this post.  it seems mildly out of place now, although i might return later today to get into it.  as we all know (or maybe you don't), i love trying out programs or "diets" (although i don't like that word) to test drive them and see if they're sustainable.  as i am mister chronic fatigue, the first hurdle is always how much energy i have on any program.  i also need specific rules to follow.  i also just had a massive nose leak just as one of the landscapers walked past my window.

but i digress, despite not knowing what that word really means.  another topic for another day, especially since my week with loves-to-bake-cookies sister will obliterate any modest successes i've seen these past few days.  i'll be starting fresh (and sick of cookies) sometime next weekend.

(i am running out of stamina.)  this week, in a moment of pure brilliance, i caught my hand in a moving treadmill belt.  it was actually a system that worked perfectly before.  as part of my job at the gym, i maintain the cleanliness of our machines, which includes modest dusting of those pesky belts.  so, why not dust it while it's moving!  oh yes, because you get up at four in the morning for your shift, you're too lazy to make yourself coffee and you should really not be left unsupervised with dangerous machinery.  fortunately, the towel i was holding took most of the friction, and i managed to keep the flesh on my fingers while the treadmill savagely tried to drag me under.  due to more bursted capillaries than i care to count, my fingers pretty much look like ketchup chips.  two days later, however, the feeling is finally beginning to return, although the embarrassment of having three gym patrons witness one of my blondest moments to date will likely stick for a while.  i even told my coworkers in a "hey this is a funny story" way, however now they look at me like i'm a liability.  shame.
.

don't stick your hands in moving treadmill belts.

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whydon'tyoublogandwhoherestilldoublespaces.  yes.  notice how none of us have consistent blog streaks at the same time? apparently it's my turn.  and i'm officially out of words, so i'll just say that i'm a proud double-spacer, because i was raised that way.  and i believe that blogger takes the liberty of reducing my doubles to singles.  jackasses.

so, if i don't post by saturday, i'll probably be lounging about near chickens somewhere south, enjoying a break from the hectic pace of my own small (yet comparatively gargantuan) town, playing with my niece.