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You're A Libra Aren't Ya Darlin'?

2003-01-05 - 2:53 p.m.

Um - yeah, so I guess somebody is threatening to kick Ellen's ass. At least that's the word on the street. Wait, that's not a good start after all my time away, now is it?

Let's try this again. It's January. Yup. We've had snow. Has anyone noticed? Lots of it. Seriously, the Fox Run Mall parking lot is like King Of The Mountain central. And by that I mean the childhood game of kicking the shit out of the other kids to retain snow hill supremacy, and not the craptacular FOX show with the similar name. Becca and I keep threatening to climb to the top of the parking lot peaks, but no follow through quite yet.

So where were we anyway? Christmas was coming and lots of geese were getting fat. Finals were upon me and we had just made the big move. Yeah - the big move. Since that last entry, I've probably slept at 482 Silver Street no more than 7 actual nights. Yeah. The house. Huh. I don't even know where to begin. It's not an ugly house. It's a nice (enough) place. But it's just not "there" yet, and I'm not so sure when it will be "there". The downstairs has improved greatly since we first moved in. The dust is absent from the first floor and all the boxes of our shit are gone. Which is to say that all the boxes are in my room now. There's still no heat upstairs, My walls aren't finished and I have no ceiling. I have no door, and my room connects directly to the giant open space at the top of the stairs that is Ben's room. It makes for little privacy. Especially when there's more than two people sleeping on the second floor. Yeah. I have no closet. Ben does, but it's the coat closet on the first floor next to the bathroom. I'm way too tall for the shower and the water takes about three songs on the CD player before it actually shows some signs of heat. The abundance of dust upstairs makes it an absolute hell for me when my lungs and I try to sleep, so much so that I try to sleep downstairs on the couch the few times I've actually slept there. This seems to annoy Ben. Sort of like when my cat would bring me some eviscerated rodent and I wouldn't appreciate it and it would annoy her. That way. No, I'm not saying that the new house is dead vole. God knows I wish it was. I'm just saying that . . . I don't know what I'm saying. Nevermind. I just see some of this stuff coming to a boil, and the financial stuff already seems to be making things sticky. I feel bad even ranting about it, because I know Ben's been (or at least, was) working his ass off on the house. But one gets preoccupied. I understand the holidays make things hectic for everyone, but . . . I don't know. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Tim stayed with us in Rollinsford for a couple of days when he got back to the East Coast. I feel bad that he had to lead such a nomadic life while he was here. Sleeping at different places and states for his time back in New England, and coming down with 48 hour Ebola in the process. But I know from the Nomads. During finals I bunked at Kate's and Andrea's since it was more convenient for my studies and papers. Which was much more homey than Rollinsford. Kate opened my eyes to the gut-busting hilarity of Dane Cook and his pickle fetishes. Whereas Andrea's couldn't offer the platters of mini-eclairs that Kate and Sam's place did, it did offer too little shmaco-sized children waking me up on the pull-out couch at the crack of dawn so they could watch cartoons. I think my finals went well. My grades may be up, but I don't know, I never check on that shit.

Christmas was good I guess. I stayed mostly at my mother's house in Sanbornton. I kept telling myself I was going to write an entry while I was staying there but I kept putting it off, instead either watching my new Sopranos DVDs, reading my new books, or having scintillating conversations online with people like Kate (Z: What are you doing tonight? K: Going to the Scum Z: Oh. K: Why, what are you doing? Z: Not going to the Scum), Rick (R: Work sucks. Z: Yeah R: I'm hungry Z: Yeah), and Rachel (R: Are you there . . . Zach . . . are you there? Z: . . .) I got new boots for Christmas! "Ya like me new boots?!" Which was handy since I had to shovel my mom's deck and it took a long long time. But she blasted the new Dylan Live 1975 that I got for Christmas on the outside speakers. So that made the job that much more of a honey of a ham.

The first Monday I was home I had people over at my Mom's. Hannah, Monique, Brett, Rick, Tim, Roy, Rich, and Brooke (despite getting lost in what she called "the Enchanted Forest" of Sanbornton) all came over. Ben was occupied, couldn't make it. We had fun. Even if my mother doesn't know when to say when.

New Year's was fun. Rick, Rachel, Rich, and I went over to Hannah and Kim's in Meredith. There were lots of shrimpy cheesy things. And lots of ice. And cards. And ice. And Rich and I fell on the ice. And I ordered Champagne when we went to the bar and they gave me Chardonnay instead. Whatever. Apparently . . . not only did I call Brett and Monique in Times Square that night, but I have far too lucid memories of doing the "Old Gray Mare" dance with my pants down. And being photographed. Sigh. That night I stayed at Rich's (also known as The Presher's) and we spent the majority of New Year's Day watching an I Love The 80's marathon. It was heaven.

There's more to talk about. But I've told the Saturday Morning Shoveling Story to death now, and that'll only ruffle feathers if I tell it online. Curtis and I went to see Catch Me If You Can with 3 (count 'em, three!) McLaughlins! Tim, Kate, and Emily. We met Kate's fiance Chris too. That's really the whole story for that. I kept planning on going to Chunky's and I never did. I got the Back to The Future Trilogy on DVD and I peed I was so happy. Plus, my dad and I passed many a day away with all his "plans, and logs, and instructions". And for those of you that know what that refers to good, others will find out soon enough. I'm back at work again, sifting through the not-so-burning embers of the firey blaze that marked the end of the G. WilliKart. Justin threatens to stick around and visit us and we all keep our fingers crossed. Jaime and Ashely fell down the same well and were never seen again. That's not quite how I thought it would end - but ignoble none the less (look Kate, we both like to use "none the less" - wait, is this part about me? Oh crap.) And school is on the horizon and there's a pain starting to take a firmer shape in the back right side of my mouth. We all know what that means. Triple Ugh.

I can assure more entries in the near future due to the horrible, I can't believe they keep churning these out, car accident but I just can't look away, but I love it so much and I'm addicted to it Real World / Road Rules Battle of the Sexes! Oh yeah Baby! Wicked. Cool. Monday nights at 10. Oh yeah. But tonight's Alias, and we need to see how Marshall gets out of that evil dentist's clutches!

Until then, I'll let the official mascot of 482 say goodbye!

"You're a Libra aren't ya Darlin?"

It's been real,


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