Tomorrow I’m flying to Tennessee with the boyfriend. We’re going to help with Wade’s grandparents last apple butter harvest. I have no idea how this is done, other than the concept of taking apples, mushing them up into a butter-like consistency, putting that in a cauldron (Wade told me there was a cauldron) and bingo, you have apple butter. I expect I will learn something about canning and preserving. We’re also going to climb the mountain behind Papaw’s house, or in front of it. I really don’t know what the front and back are, they live on a hill, so theres all kinds of interesting stuff all around them. We’re returning on Sunday. Then, Monday, that damn paper is due. I’m thinking of not working on it until tonight, because I’m hoping when I go to class this afternoon I’ll get some inspiration. Please, I really need inspiration. Oh, man, I don’t wanna beg to the blogging world, but I might if something doesn’t come out of my ass sometime soon. The thing that worries me is that I could usually spice up my paper with my special trademark “Bullshit”, but my teacher has an excellent bullshit barometer. If pressure is required to measure bullshit. Sigh. Damn you for being such a good teacher, Dr. Napora.

See, we’re supposed to compare/contrast two anthropological theorists. Sounds easy, right? I have to have a good understanding of said theorists in order to write about them, which right now,  I don’t feel like I do. And I also don’t feel like any of them have enough in common to compare them or contrast them, without it sounding like a complete reach, you know? One more semester. One more, Jen, then you’ll have so much extra time from NOT going to school you’ll probably invent something spastically awesome.

My best friend and her boyfriend, who were moving down into a house with next week, have broken up. We discovered (like I always maybe thought) that he was a douchebag, and such was revealed a few days ago in furor of hurt feelings and storms. He doesn’t want to move, so he’s staying in Pensacola, the city in which you watch mosquitoes eat your arms and drive on really bad streets. Apparently he hates it there, but not enough to come to Tampa with his fiance? Makes sense, right? Boys are silly.

My other friend Julie in Tampa has also broken up with her boyfriend, and now wants to move in with us, stating that I am awesome and would be good for her (in a big sister, do your homework, you ass-kind-of-way). Wtf. I can’t keep up with all this.

I think I’ve created enough things today that will prevent me from doing homework. Now I need to find something else to do so I can procrastinate some more.

Ciao,

Jen.

You gotta be a real asshole to think that John McCain and Sarah Palin are a good pair for the White House. Seriously. Even if you don’t like Obama, with his Democratic gear, you have to realize that he is a far better choice than McCain/Palin.

I was talking about women in office with a man I work with who is a classic Republican. I mentioned women in office and he grinned at me excitedly and said, “Well soon you might have a woman VP in the office.” I stared at him and said “Seriously? You think I’m excited about that?” Then he got this crazed look in his eye and start yelling, “What’s wrong with Palin? She’s the governor of the second biggest state in the U.S.!”

OMIGODTHATISSOWRONGISSOMANYWAYS. Really? The second biggest state in the U.S., huh? Which one is the biggest? Texas? Did anybody go to school? No, I mean, really? Come the fuck on, if you’re going to argue that at least know what you’re talking about.

Secondly, again, really? She governs TUNDRA. A FROZEN DESERT OF NOTHING. 2 PERCENT OF THE POPULATION. Or, more specifically, 47th in the nation. You know what that means, right? Big Fucking Deal. I am not impressed. Then, “She defends our borders from North Korea and Russia.” What, are, you, talking, about? I comma the fuck out of this so it comes out slowly, so one might comprehend this better than that whole second largest state business a minute ago.

And you know what? I’m frigging scared of her. Because she’s a woman. I felt the same way about Clinton, because she represents the political future for all women in America. If Palin were to fuck up, you know what all the fucking men in this country would say? “Thats why you don’t put a woman in the White House, boys.” Or “Now I said that was a bad idea, and look what happened? Women….” When a woman enters the Oval Office, she has to be the biggest, badassest woman we have here in the U.S. because she has so much to prove, to everyone. Yeah, suffragism was in the 20’s. But it doesn’t mean we’re equal. It’s effing sexist that people wonder what she will do with 5 kids if she makes it to Washington. Uh, maybe her husband will take care of them? People, if she really wanted to be a stay at home mom, she could have stayed home and stayed the fuck out of my TV.

Also, this is entirely subjective and personal, but if you watched the GOP convention, she looked a nun shrouded in gray with horns sticking out of her head. I’ve never seen someone talk shit like she does, and it made me realize, thats why they got her! Not only is she a woman that McCain used ‘youthify’ (like that word, I call it a Bushism) his party, but because shes a woman she can talk shit better than the men and still look fly. And, she is not hot. Tina Fey is hot, because Tina Fey is cool and funny. Sarah Palin is not hot because she is a Republican, she styles her hair in the most unattractive way ever, and she’s crazy. The only crazy person I think is hot is Johnny Depp.

If you can’t see any of this at least see that the at least the Democratic party gives people hope for something. McCain attacks his own politics and party. You know whats sad? He actually has a chance of winning, and if he does, I’m getting the hell out of this country. I’m going home to England, or I’ll go to France, or fuck, Canada, someplace where the health care is nationalized and schools are better and cheaper. A place that takes care of its citizens, because I’m really sick of this shit. I’m 21 years old, and I’m sick of it. Thats too young. I go to school full-time, I wait tables part-time at a restaurant that might go out of business because people can’t spend their money, my parents don’t have money to help me with school although the government thinks they do, so even while I have a state-earned scholarship that pays for 75 percent of tuition, I still have about 15 thousand dollars of combined credit card and federal loan debt, and no way to pay it off. My job market is looking pretty dim, because I chose something academic and I might be giving 7 thousand dollars of my money to bailout corporate screwups next year. My boyfriend and I work entry-level type jobs to get by with 20 bucks to spare every month, and you know what? We’d like to get married. I’d like a ring. When do I think that will happen? NEVER. Theres no money to pay for it. I don’t want to get married in France, I want to get married here so my family can see it, but I just can’t. I can’t imagine raising children here, because soon, even if Democrats do take office, evolution will probably banned in schools and the speaking of Spanish might be outlawed. I don’t know when, but sometime in the last 30 years this country decided to take a big step backwards. And yeah, I’m 21, but I went to school and remembered what they taught in history class, in comparison to everyone else I know, so I might have an opinion.

Vote Obama 2008

Got some new plugins I’m playing with for LovetheMusic. God, I haven’t posted to LTM in so long, and I gotta tell you its because I have nothing to listen to. REALLY. I get stuff emailed to me all the time but a lot of isn’t relevant. Especially when so and so is playing in Brooklyn, check out this remix. Remix of what and who? I don’t know.

Right, well I’m signing off. I’m going to try and post to LTM, listen to some Classical music and make my way through the mountain of homework USF has assigned me. I hate you, USF. Not really, love, just a little because you make me work so hard.

Again, I think I say this to everyone I know: I don’t know what I will do when I graduate. Everytime I think about not having to go to school, having a Bachelor’s Degree that make my dad SO happy, I get this crazed, lunatic excitement. And I know that only having to work and not go to school, the way I did for a month this summer will be AWESOME. I’m going to read all the fucking books I want, play with dogs and cats and maybe paint, and fuck, why not sculpt? I have such a laundry list of things I will do AFTER college that I don’t know what it is. Hm.

Well, good morning America!

I brewed a batch of hazlenut coffee. It is not as delicious as I expected. Perhaps because I put milk in it, to ease my transition. But I never thought milk was good in coffee. I always thought it ruined it. I’ll see how this goes. I might be retiring the coffemaker back to its spot on the counter. 

I have boxes in my apartment. For packing up my apartment and when I move to another dwelling in October. The problem is, I KNOW that as soon as a I pack something, say like…my coffeemaker? I’ll want a cup of coffee. Or I’ll pack that book. You know, that book. That I need to read because its sitting in the middle of a box of books. And I have a lot of freaking books. I may need to buy some more shelves for the new place. 

I’m coming to realize I never write anything meaningful here, only use it as a brain dump. But I pay for the domain, I think, because I really want a treebythesea.

I’m writing this letter to you because I know you need to read it when you’re feeling like you want one. One would be a cigarette. I know, letter addressed to self might explode the cheesometer, but I feel like it will work. When I’m not smoking and I don’t want one sometimes the cool benefits of not smoking anymore go through my head, and they make me feel great. But when I get that craving I never remember them. Having them written down will help, I think.

• Your apartment doesn’t smell like smoke anymore
• Theres no plague-like ash all over the tables and the rest of your belongings. Your apartment stays cleaner longer, and its beautiful. Its not all over the desk anymore.
• Wade’s nose and sinuses don’t bother him anymore. He’s sniffle free.
• You’re saving 130 dollars a month.
• You’re saving your lungs in the long run.
• Your kids won’t smoke, probably, if you don’t. You did because your parents do, and thats why Kyle and Thomas both smoke. Ridiculous.
• People won’t smell it on you at work when you’re at tables.
• There’s not cigarette pack litter all over your car.
• Theres not a nasty smell in your nice NEW car.
• Theres not ash all over the interior.
• Ivy is probably better for it.
• You just got over the DEPRESSION it caused. If you start smoking again, and then you quit again, you’ll have to go through that ALL OVER AGAIN. And I don’t think you can.
• You just lost 7 of the ten pounds you gained because of it.
• Your skin and hair are prettier and smell better….mmm.
• It’s not good for the environment, you little hippie.
• It supports a ridiculously bad industry. Like, the classic capitalist evil one.
• Less chance of there being a housefire or other such happenings.
• No more burns on the furniture, like the one on the kitchen table that you love so much.

Hopefully I can add to this later.

Love,

Me

Whoops, that was a tangent. So as we walked through the parking lot, listening to the noise of sirens, trunk-rattling beats, babies crying, women hitting their children, and birds screeching (none of this is exaggerated), we gave each other that look. The look that means, hey, look at us. Remember this because we may not come out alive. Everytime we go in there.

What did we buy? Tredsafe shoes for work, two pairs. 50 dollars bled out of my hand for those. A work shirt for Wade, a Sterilite drawerset for his guitar doodads, which I hate the look of but is temporary, and a case of water. Out of 25 registers, like 6 were open of course, so we ended up in a line behind 4 people, with 4 separate transactions. Two 20-something girls dressed in shorts and spaghetti strap shirts were in line in front of us, and I caught a bit of French. I was quite taken aback by this, because….well, they’re French. In Florida, not so much a shocker. In Walmart in the ghetto, a little bit. Especially in Tampa. I don’t think of Tampa as a resort town. At all. As a matter of fact, it sort of isn’t glitzy and clean at all.

I don’t think there was a point to this story at all. Except that I survived another trip to Wally World.

Back to my conversation about sex in IM with Damon. Ooohh.

As from Vive Le Vegan.

Yummy breakfast. The recipes is actually Raspberry Oatmeal, but all I had was mixed.

At my friends house last night, she had the NBC show Last Comic Standing tivoed. So we watched it. Few laughs, nothing special. Apparently that chick Aliza is the shit. I disagree. She’s not funny because she thinks she is funny.

When the  boyfriend and I got home last night, as we sometimes do, we laid in bed next to each other, me with my book, him watching TV/playing guitar, me poking him, him poking me back. The season finale of Last Comic Standing came on and I realized something: Aliza won because of her giant, pretty knockers.

I could not stop staring at her tits the WHOLE time, does anyone else have this problem when it comes to her? She’s NOT FUNNY. Her boobs are GREAT. I want to stick my face in between them to comfort her after I tell her that she isn’t fucking funny. And also, you won this show because America voted for your boobs. How does that make you feel?

Next year, maybe we’ll vote for a guy who looks like Johnny Depp. I’d be okay with that.

Also, sidenote: Aliza isn’t particularly hot. She just has lovely breasts…..there is a difference.

And if you deny this post, you deny yourself. Youtube that shit. Its transfixing.

It does make sense. I’ve moved plenty of lawn. You don’t want to do at 12pm or 2pm. Morning is good so its not balls hot. But I can’t remember that when I’m in bed. And when the noise wakes me up, I roll over to adjust and my cat is like, “Sweet, I’ve been waiting for hours for you to get up. Now you are. Let’s start the day with your our favorite ritual. Me sitting like an anvil on your chest and you rubbing down my neck.” Then she chirps, jumps on my lap, kneads me down and plops down with her face 4 inches away from mine and starts purring.

Yes, I do think she says all that. I’ve had several people, non-cat people, ask me “Why cats?” I’m not a strict dog person or cat person. When I was a kid I got a long with dogs because they’re dogs, and they’re friendly. They’re outside. Cats are in windows and don’t like to be pet by 8 year olds. So, as a wise kid, I declared myself a dog person. When I got older and met my friend Julie, who had 2-3 cats, I started to appreciate them more. Then when my mum got a cat called Blinkie, who was attached to me legs, I loved them more. Cats would seem like they don’t do anything, but they do. Endless entertainment. Hours. Comfort, especially when you’re sad or you have a tummyache. They talk to you, directly. If you say Hi, they say Hi.

Watching them walk around is entertainment enough for me, because I project what they’re thinking into sentence form. “Walking over here, to inspect this table leg because goodness me I’ve NEVER seen it before, oh, got an itch, scratchity-scratchity, hm, Wade is on the couch, I don’t feel like being pet, so I’m going to walk over by the back door, ooh, time to lick my crotch, lick lick lick, ok, man I’m tired time to nap!”

So a blog post bitching about my apartment complex, which is always fun, turned into a post about the merits of owning a cat. Whoop.

I’m going to go try get the boyfriend out of bed. We’re off today, and I want to be with him. Preferably while conscious though.