A Bob Quote While Longing For A Kiss

I have to include this quote before I forget.

Me:  “Did he just call you Ginny?”

Tinny:  “No; but he did call the pineapple a coconut.”

It was at work, and Bob (who has only just recently learned Tinny’s name) was trying to replace a food tray.  One of the pineapples was in the way, so he said, “Hey, could you move that coconut, Ginny?”  (I’d swear he said Ginny.)  And then that exchange took place between Tinny and me.  I hadn’t even noticed he’d said coconut.  That was hilarious.

Tinny’s quitting.  The Triple Entente (her, Bob, and me) is splitting up.  Work is going to be way different.  I doubt I could find a partner as cool as her!

Oh, and Ryan’s leaving early tomorrow morning.  (My date from the other night.)  It’s really sad—I realized that he is the first guy I’ve wanted to kiss (besides Milo, of course) since senior year.  I never did, but…yeah.  I wanted to.


Man Issues Ahoy

Milo is moving out in about a week.  I still stand by what I said before—I’m happy for him, it’s going to be very convenient (for him) and all that.  But it is upsetting.  I knew this day would eventually come, but still.  It’s going to feel awfully lonesome around here.  Not much chance of seeing him at all once he’s practically next-door to his girlfriend.

I had a date with a really nice guy last night.  Ryan.  We had a lot of fun.  At one point he even stole my line:  “This reminds me of that one episode of Seinfeld.”  Heh.  And he taught me how to use chopsticks!  I finally understand!  He’s moving away soon, though, at least for the summer.  To Illinois.  I’m not likely to see him anymore.

I told Milo tonight that we had gotten our movie tickets, and by the way he reacted (I know his reactions; he doesn’t have to say anything for me to know exactly what he’s thinking), I knew he was wishing we’d asked him to come and get his at the same time.  (I actually knew that when I found out we were going to pick them up.)  And I feel bad because there’s one of those things where it’s me pushing him away by intentionally not asking, so he’s going to go and do it with his girlfriend instead.  But I had to avoid the impossible situation of asking him to come and telling him, “I’m sorry; you can’t invite your girlfriend.”  It’s either hang with him and his girlfriend, or just let them be alone together.  I don’t like it either way (anything that involves him and a girlfriend of any sort just sucks), but what can I do?  I don’t want to watch it.

Anyway…that’s that.

English Teachers

I have to tell about Tinny’s British (I would say English but that would be confusing in this context so I will just go with British because to most Americans it basically means the same thing) teacher; I did promise.  Like ten days ago, yes, but I did promise.

Since the beginning of the semester, Tinny’s been telling me about this awesome British teacher she has who’s really young, like early thirties, is hot, and loves Seinfeld (and references it often in class).

Unfortunately, the guy is married already.

Anyhow, Tinny’d keep saying, “Ginny, you have to come to class with me!  You have to see him!” and I knew I did, but I kept wishing he’d come into the café, you know?  It’d just be so much simpler that way.

So the other night, when I was taking a break, drinking a glass of…ice…Tinny came running out of our line and said, “GINNY!  GINNY!  MY TEACHER!”

Without thinking about anything except that I had to get out there, and that I had to do something with my glass in case my boss was watching, I ran back out there, threw my glass under the counter, and stood at attention, grinning like a complete idiot.

The hot British teacher also had a hot British friend with him.  They had comments about our stuffed tomatoes.   (I frequently find myself explaining to people that they are not technically “stuffed tomatoes”, that they are merely “covered tomatoes”, as all they do to them is melt cheese over them.)

The hot teacher said, “It says they’re stuffed tomatoes, but what are they stuffed with—tomato?” and laughed.  I found myself unable to speak coherently.  All I could do was smile stupidly.  Tinny found this all hilarious.

Cort came in, and I was still glowing from this encounter, so I said to her, grinning all the while, “I saw Tinny’s hot British teacher who likes Seinfeld.”

Cort’s reaction to this was perfect:  a groan, and, “Tell me you didn’t hit on a professor!”

“No!”, I said, “I only saw him!  If I happened to also speak to him and smile stupidly, that was just a coincidence!”  Cort just rolled her eyes and walked away.

One more story for the night, and then I’m out to continue investigating doors and windows (as the dog has been barking and growling and staring at them—the ones in the front of the house—for about half an hour now).

At work tonight, Steve and I were fencing with serving spoons, and he had been holding his in his left hand, and suddenly decided to switch, so he called out, “Hold on while I switch hands!”

Without missing a beat, I said, “I am not left-handed!”

He laughed non-stop for the rest of the night.  I was pleased.


Earlier tonight I was saying something about wanting to watch SNL later.  I wasn’t speaking to Psychobrat, yet she felt the need to interject with:  “Why can’t you just say Saturday Night Live?  It sounds stupid when you say ‘SNL’.”

“It sounds…stupid?” I said.  What the hell?

“You sound just like this girl I know who says, ‘L-O-L’ instead of just laughing.”

“…”  (I seriously didn’t know how to respond to this.)

“I hate when people say SNL.  It sounds stupid.”

“And yet, they’ve been saying it for over forty years now.”

“Well, if you don’t watch the show, which I don’t, then you wouldn’t know what it stood for,” she said indignantly.  “You’re just like that girl who says ‘L-O-L’.”

“That’s completely different!” I said.  “You say ‘SNL’ for the same reason people say ‘FBI’ instead of ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation’!”  Should have asked her if she knew what ‘STFU’ meant.

Then, my dad, who had conveniently not been listening to any of the conversation prior to this, chose to speak up and prove Psychbrat’s point.

“What’s SNL?” he said.


I didn’t bother to respond.  My mom did for me.  By this point, I was done with the conversation.

On a new subject…. Milo went job-hunting recently, and had just procured one at CareSpot when, on that very day, this guy who was in one of his classes last semester called and offered him a job at MOSH.  He told Milo that he remembered him, thought he was a cool guy, thought he could offer him something he’d really enjoy, and could he come in, work part-time, and accept (I can’t remember if it was 10 or 14, so I’ll say 12) $12/hr pay to do cool stuff like make dinosaurs (big dinosaurs) and shave fire extinguishers with razors to make rockets?

It’s perfect for Milo, and I told him it was density, so of course he took it.  He called CareSpot back and turned them down.  He’ll be working part-time so he can keep going to school, too.

And now he and his sister have found an apartment in San Marco, really close to where he works, and right in his price range, so they’re moving in there at the end of this month.

San Marco is also where Mo lives, so the whole thing is very convenient for him.

Everything seems to be going just so well for him right now; I’m very happy for him.

As for me, I’m just hoping to be accepted to UCF, but I have my doubts.  It’s not like I have the greatest GPA in the world, and from everything I hear, it’s really difficult to get in there.  I’ve never been one who’s good with academic competition.

So, considering I do get accepted there, I’ll be moving down with Cort at the end of summer.  I’d been assuming I’d be coming back here all the time on weekends, but so many people say things like, “Well, you’ll be down there,” as though I’m not going to see Jacksonville at all while I’m there, like once I get there I won’t want to come back.

And if I do come back once in a while, I can’t see him wanting to spend much time with me, since he’s got his girlfriend.  I know how that goes.  In fact, as soon as he moves out, I expect to hear pretty much nothing from him.

I think he’ll probably write my parents a really nice note, thanking them for everything they’ve done for him, and that’s cool; I’d think it strange if he didn’t do that.

I just hope he doesn’t write me one, too.  I really don’t want that.  I don’t want him to think of me as his charity case (and odd choice of words, I know, as it would seem to be the other way around).

This is another topic entirely, but I’m always saying that I feel like I’ve lived two lives:  The one in Virginia, and the one here.  It seriously doesn’t feel to me like the same lifetime, because both parts have been so different.

Recently, however, I’ve begun to realize that Virginia…doesn’t even feel like another life at all…it feels more like a dream that I had a really, really long time ago.  I mean, I still talk to a few people from there, but…well, we used to have so many stories that we’d tell over and over again.  People (like my mom, I guess) used to think it was so great how we could remember so many stories so well.  But I’ve been forgetting things.  The only thing I can say is that it feels like it was all a dream.  And that’s weird to me.

And now I have to get my homework done.  *Sigh.*  Another long night, coming up.

Taxes and Psychobrat and parking tickets, oh, my!

Here’s something amusing.  My mom had misplaced my W2’s, and so, when I first walked in the door after work, she was frantically searching every stack of papers in the house for them.

So we’re sitting in the living room looking around, and Psychobrat prances out of her room with her notebook.  She sits down at the computer.

“Uh…” my mom says nervously, “…when I find these forms, I’m going to need that.”

Psychobrat screeches, “I HAVE TO DO MY HOMEWORK!”

Mom takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and says, “I think that this is a little more important than your homework tonight.”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, FAIL!?” she screeched.

“You can go one night without typing hundreds of definitions,” Mom replied.




Mom said, “I couldn’t find the forms,” at the same time as I said, “She’s been doing everybody else’s, that’s why.”

You’d think she actually had them in her hand or something and was telling Psychobrat she had to be off the computer immediately.

“Well, the only person who’s been messing with this stuff is Milo, so….”

Psychobrat let it trail off there.  Obviously she was accusing him, as she always accuses either him or me.  But the ironic thing here was, Mom had already asked Milo if he had seen them.  Psychobrat was out of bounds.  …And there was something else I’d wanted to add there, but I can’t remember what it was….  (I’m really tired.)

My mind seriously went blank there. I got distracted by Facebook, and I was tired as it was…okay, new subject.

Going to pay my damned parking tickets tomorrow (finally).  Tinny will be given the list of people to call beforehand (since I’d only get one call), in case I get arrested.

Ah, I’m too tired to write anymore tonight.  I’ll update later.

Tomorrow I shall tell about seeing Tinny’s hot Cornish Pixie teacher (who likes Seinfeld) at work tonight.  Maybe other random stuff.  But for now, bed.


Last night, I got a full night’s sleep for the first time in a very long time, and I believe that is probably also the reason why I had my first dream in a long time.  And I am, of course, going to tell you about it, because that is what I do.  (But let me just warn you that, unlike many of my dreams, this one doesn’t make any logical sense at all, and is hardly even in a logical order.)

Cort and I went to L.A. to meet her dad, and to stay for a week or so.

So we’re staying in this huge hotel where, like, rich people stay, and Cort and I had our own suites, and I think her dad had his own floor…anyway, so Cort knocks on my door and says, “Come with me.”

I don’t know where we’re going, and I say as much, but she tells me that this doesn’t matter, and we go knock on her dad’s door, she tells him we’re going to “that place that she was telling him about” and he says, “Okay, you girls have fun,” and we leave.

We walk out of the hotel, and we head to this big hilly area, where it’s all wet and…marshy…and we’re just walking through, and walking through, and it’s all green and pretty actually, just wet because it had just rained…I clearly recall being able to see these beautiful mountain views from the tops of these hills, which were probably about 15 feet high themselves (this really doesn’t sound like L.A., cause I could see everything pretty clearly), and then they’d slope back down and we’d be in a little valley and not be able to see anything…and there were tire tracks that we were following, so apparently people sometimes drove through here, but we were walking.  (I think I saw bike tracks, too.)

Eventually we came up out of a little valley, after about ten minutes of walking, and were in front of another big, ritzy hotel.

Somehow, we are able to walk right inside and to somebody’s door.  We stop.

I say, “Is this what you wanted to show me?  This looks just like our hotel,” and she says, “Mm-hmm…you’ll see.”  And she knocks on the door.

Guy Pearce answers it.  (…?)  I can’t remember what she said, but somehow she convinces him to let us in.

We’re just sitting there; he’s standing by the bathroom door, we’re sitting on the edge of the bed, talking about…what?  I don’t remember.  I remember that, even though I’m not sure I’ve ever even heard his real accent, he was speaking in the Australian accent in the dream.

So then he says, “Well, could you please excuse me for a moment?”

Cort says, “Uh-huh!  Go ahead,” and he gives us a weird look and then heads into the bathroom (he’d had a towel around his neck since the moment he opened the door), and turns on the shower.

We just…sit there for a sec, and then Cort says, “So…isn’t this great?”

I bounced gleefully on the bed.  I squeaked, “How did you manage this!?”

Cort said, “I was just out walking around the other day when you were napping, and I saw this crowd of people, so I followed them, and they led me right to his door.”

None of this was logical in the slightest, but that’s how it goes in dreams.

We both just giggled for a few seconds, and then there was silence as we just sat there waiting….

Then he came out of the bathroom, in new clothes, drying his hair with the towel, gives us that same weird look like he’s trying to figure out who we are, or trying to remember if he knows us for some reason, and says, “Well…I sort of…have to get going…I’ve got a…thing…tonight,” and Cort says, “Okay, that’s fine.”

So then we went to this little café for dinner and ran into Elijah Wood.  He actually came up to our table and started hitting on us.  I mean, really bad pick-up lines and all.

Then he says, “I’d ask you to come back to my place, but I’ve got something to do tonight, so here’s my number.”

We ask what he’s planning to do that night, and it turns out he’s got a Wizard of Oz reunion party thing to go to, where they’re going to watch the movie (which he apparently was the star of when he was two.  …!?)

“Actually,” he says, “you two could come with me as guests.”

We decide this is a very good idea.

Eventually, what happens, after we run through the valley though a few more times, and change into prom dresses that we just happen to have laying around the hotel, and run back through the valley with the prom dresses on, we go to the party.  (Guy Pearce was there, too.)

And then there was chaos.  Not because of us, however.

We saw my boss’s head sticking up out of the ground.  He looked thoroughly pissed.

And then we found out that it wasn’t really the ground; it was a stage, and there was room underneath where he was standing up, and his head was coming through the ground, which had just grown there.  (When I say “ground”, I mean like, grass, dirt, outdoors-y sort of ground.)  So basically, my boss was wearing the ground like a necklace.

And then Elijah Wood steps out of a crowd of people and looks down on my boss’s head, and says, “You’ve made me very angry,” and he…he turns…green…and he starts growing really tall, and his clothes start tearing, and he turns into….

…Well, not the Hulk.  Where’d you get that idea?  I told you this wasn’t logical.

…He turned into one of those green squidlike alien beings from The Simpsons, except really tall.

And he started yelling all this stuff—at my boss (who must have seriously offended him somehow)—about how he had a miserable childhood, and everyone always made fun of him in school, and he had no confidence, and the person that he is today is only really an act, not real, and yada yada yada.

So then he points a tentacle at the ground and, BOOM!—the ground disappears, and it’s just a stage again, and we’re inside, and my boss ducks and I guess is under the stage.

But that’s not all that happened.  At the same time, a whole bunch more people from the crowd all turned into giant green squids.

It turned out that Elijah Wood was the leader of a whole bunch of aliens.

Well, we started yelling stuff up to him, trying to calm him down, and finally…he did…and he turned back into Elijah Wood…and then all the aliens shrunk back into human forms again, too.

Elijah Wood started crying, and we were hugging him and stuff, and apparently the party was over.  Haha.  So we just went and hung out with him.

He was telling us about his childhood, and I was giving him lots of advice and telling him it wasn’t that bad, and look at where he is now, and after a while he started to become really attached to me.

Cortney, who really likes Elijah Wood, saw this and didn’t seem to mind.

I, who have never really been attracted to him, started to like him back.  Weird.

Then the next thing I remember was us running all over our hotel in the middle of the night, and everything was really dark and stuff, and then we ran into Greta Garbo.  …!?

Okay, that’s it for now.  That dream took way longer than I expected.

Circles and Lines

I actually provided my teacher with answers today in my history class.  I’ve done that before, and I’m always shocked when I actually know stuff.  Like today, we’re starting to talk about World War II, and she said, “Now, everybody knows two of the three major fascist dictators of the time—Hitler in Germany, and Mussolini in Italy.  But everybody always forgets the third man, and the third country.  Does anybody know…?”

Nobody said anything, so she turned to start writing on the board, and I called out, “Generalissimo Franco, Spain.”

She turned to look at me and said, “Very good, Ginny, thank you.”

I didn’t explain that I only know this random bit of trivia because of You’ve Got Mail.  I didn’t think that was relevant.

There was another moment when she was talking about fascism and communism, and how they’re at complete opposite ends of the political spectrum (which she demonstrated by spreading her hands wider and wider), and yet people get them confused and they appear so similar.

So I’m sitting there thinking, “Well, of course; it’s not a line, it’s a circle.  If she spreads her hands any wider, they’re going to start getting closer together again, behind her back.”  And so it made perfect sense to me, these two opposites blending together because they’re sitting right next to each other behind my teacher’s back.  And she’s asking anyone if they have any ideas as to why two complete opposites would look so similar.  Nobody said anything.

And then she said, “Well, political scholars like to say that it’s not a line; it’s more of a circle.”  And she went on to explain exactly what had been going through my head the last few minutes.  I was so in shock over the fact that my mind had apparently been working exactly the way it was supposed to!

Then I fell asleep in the next class.

Work wasn’t bad at all tonight, but tomorrow they’re doing that totally stupid thing where they serve nothing but ice cream on the other side, so everyone will have to come to our side to eat anything real.  We’re going to be swamped—fun.

TiNY told me earlier that I would probably be good at learning languages because I “read situations well and have lots of common sense”.  I’m writing that here so I’ll remember because it made me feel good.  Thanks, TiNY!

Okay, now I’m going to post this so I can focus on motionlessly staring at my homework for a bit longer.