Fay's Diary

Dear Diary,

Why, when Emily is sick, does she expect constant pity? She walks around making pathetic coughing noises and sniffling and talking about how it's like that time she had a really bad sinus infection, etc etc. *rolls eyes*

It's annoying. And she takes it so personally when someone doesn't want to get sick from her--Mom gets sick and it sticks around for a long time, so she doesn't want to get sick. Emily takes every chance she can to hug her, and if Mom doesn't act enthusiastic enough, she whines about it.

Emily, shut the fuck up and blow your nose.

Annoyed,
Fay

***

Current Mood: annoyed

Dear Diary,

Is it weird that I feel bad for squashing ants? *fret*

Confused,
Fay

***

Current Mood: confused

Dear Diary,

I suck at keeping up with this shit.

Anyway, moving on.

My dad is insane. He has this compulsion to hose off the deck. I don't know why, he just does. He wastes a ton of water doing it. But that's just the beginning of today's crazy antics.

He almost killed himself with a patio umbrella. No, I'm serious. There's a story here.

He was wandering aimlessly around the house (as he is wont to do), and he decides that he wants to get some duffel bags cleaned out so that he can take them with him when he goes back to Charlotte. Ok, that's fine and dandy, whatever.

Except that, for Dad, this means hosing said bags out on the back porch. One of the bags was large, and he hangs it on the umbrella before starting to hose it out. Water has weight, and weight pulling on one side of the umbrella...

Mom starts spazzing out and running toward the back door as he grabs the pole of the umbrella to stop it from falling on top of him (thus effectively ending his life, according to my mother's assessment). They spend five minutes deciding how they can counter-balance the weight so that he can leave it dangling there to dry. They finally hang another bag on the other side of the umbrella to balance it out--except that the other bag is much smaller. Anyway, he comes inside and we immediately hear a thump as the umbrella tumbles over, taking the patio table with it. So Mom and Dad go out there and try to fix it.

End result? The bag touched the deck, so it had to be hosed off again. *headdesk*

My family is crazy. That is all.

XOXO,
Fay

*****

Current Mood: my family is insane
Current Music: mom's voice as she talks on the phone--what else is new?

Dear diary,

I love Pearl. My dear, sweet granny car has been loyal and good to me, but she might just be on her last leg. She is currently dead in the parking lot of Food Lion--the battery is fine, so jumping her won't help, but she still won't start. It's Saturday night and Dad is more concerned with beer and the race than anything else--I hope she'll be alright until tomorrow (possibly late tonight) when we go back to try to get her to start again. If she doesn't start, we'll have to tow her somewhere on Monday and have them fix her. We need to do it anyway, because The Egg isn't being helpful either, and if it breaks me and Mom are shit out of luck to go anywhere and do anything while Dad is in Charlotte with the red car. *sigh*

But Dad, though I love you, I'm afraid that you don't know jack shit about cars. No, really, having a dick between your legs doesn't give you magical car knowledge. Laying on the ground and whacking around under the front of the car with a wrench isn't going to make it start. Just because you whacked around down there and it started before doesn't mean anything--if I'm picking my nose and the power goes out, does that mean that I can make the power go on and off merely by digging for gold? *rolls eyes*

Anyway, I hope Pearl will be alright. I love her and don't want to lose her just yet. :(

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: at the computer, but my thoughts are with Pearl...
Current Mood: anxious
Current Music: My mom babbling...

Dear diary,

Mom is batshit crazy, and she is definitely going to give me some kind of "you need to help me around here" lecture tomorrow. No, Mom, let me tell you: you're the one that needs help. Stop whining to me about what I don't help you with if you don't actually do whatever it is in the first place. You claim that I have to help you clean up the house--the stuff that is the major problem? The stuff that takes up the most space and needs to be cleaned out and thrown away? I can't make the decisions with that stuff. You have to do that. All of your crazy-ass notes from ten years ago where you told yourself to mail the bills, all of the random-ass magazines from the 80s, all of the coupons that are expired and that we never would have used anyway, all of the gross-sounding recipes cut from magazines over the years, all of the boxes of random junk from where you pile everything on the table--that is all you! I'm not allowed to make decisions and throw stuff away because you'd have to go back through it and make sure anyway, so I don't know what you expect me to do. I can pack up my stuff easily if I have boxes. A lot of my stuff is packed up in boxes anyway, labeled since we moved in here almost two years ago and stacked neatly in the closet. The stuff you want my 'help' with is not something I can do anything about. So don't blame the state of the house on when I sleep. You're trying to pin everything on everybody else because we're just all out to get you, and it's driving me fucking bonkers.

Just get over it. Stop bitching at me and bitching about our entire family to people on the telephone and whining to them about what needs to be done--if you want to bitch to me about how I never help you clean anything out, you might want to actually go through some of your shit and get rid of something first.

-Fay

***

Current Location: At the computer, about to go to bed.
Current Mood: aggravated
Current Music: Silence...for now.

Dear diary,

TMI, Mom. T-M-fucking-I. I don't need to know when you think you've shit your pants. No, I swear, I don't. Please keep that to yourself.

-Fay

***

Current Location: at the computer
Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Leno

Dear diary,

It's not too much to ask that people not yell when I have a bitchin' headache. Really, it's not.

-Fay

***

Current Location: at the damn computer, obviously
Current Mood: in pain
Current Music: I want silence.

Dear diary,

I wish mom wouldn't turn the tv up loud, talk louder, and fart damn-near constantly. *sigh*

-Fay

P.S. Recipe for redneck Hamburger Helper: Brown one pound ground beef, cook one box of Kraft Mac and Cheese, stir together, and voila. It's not very good left over because the mac and cheese gets dry, but a drop of milk before you put it in the microwave helps a bit.

It's sad when you have to improvise for Hamburger Helper. [/lame]

***

Current Location: sitting at the computer, trying to do the CSIFiles news...
Current Mood: headache-y
Current Music: the loud-ass television

Dear diary,

Finally got a fortune cookie today (from where Dad got fried rice *grumble*), but I forgot about it after I inhaled it. I just found the fortune on the floor.

The speed of the leader determines the rate of the pack.

Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you say cookie.

Dumbass cookie.

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: Getting ready for bed
Current Mood: sleepy
Current Music: The melodious *ping* of Trillian letting me know I've got a message...

Dear diary,

You'd be amazed at how new and clear the computer screen is when you wipe the dust off of it.

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: Getting ready to run pee. I think my bladder is teeny tiny.
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Jay Leno on tv

Dear diary,

I wish Mom wouldn't interrupt me to look up numbers in the phone book for her while she's talking to someone on the phone. You can't call the store while you're yapping with whoever on the phone, and I'm trying to do something and you've already fucked my chances of finishing in an hour.

Also, it bugs the shit out of me when people talk about the woman who destroyed Tammy Fae Baker(?)'s marriage--hello, people, that woman wouldn't have destroyed anything if Tammy's husband had kept his dick in his pants.

-Fay

***

Dear diary,

I can do the CSIFiles news in an hour, but it's hard when the tv is blaring and Mom is gabbing on the phone right behind me. I can't concentrate. Argh!

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: at the computer, doing the CSIFiles news...sort of
Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Cacophany in the background

Dear diary,

I'm so sick of hearing my mother tell everybody the same story five times. I've heard it, I don't need to hear it again. Just tell everybody at one time and I don't have to deal with hearing you say it anymore.

Also, I'm sick of the fact that she apparently has her volume turned to MAX and never talks quietly.

-Fay

***

Current Location: Seriously just-about to sweep...really...I promise this time
Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: My mom's loud-ass voice

Dear diary,

Maybe Mom should stop whining under her breath about being "fucking worthless" and just do something she says she never does. Why whine because you're 'worthless' and you can't clean out your papers?--just clean them out and they'll be done and I won't have to hear you whine about being 'worthless' because of that anymore!!

-Fay

***

Current Location: I really do need to sweep up these papers...
Current Mood: aggravated
Current Music: *grumble* loud-ass family...

Dear diary,

Is it bad that I think it's fucking rude for Mom, Dad and Emily to go out looking for some work pants for Dad and come back having gotten Wendy's and a carton of fried rice for Dad from my favorite Chinese take-out place--and not bring me a fucking thing?

Yeah, I'll keep saying that I want to go to "China King," but we never have the money to go--we apparently have the money for Dad to go, though.

Pissed off,
Fay

***

Current Location: Getting ready to sweep the floor and go pee (damn period)
Current Mood: pissed off
Current Music: Still my loud-ass family

Dear diary,

Currently cleaning off the computer desk. Fuck, that's a lot of dust. Let's talk about the stuff I'm finding on here:

~ First, the stuff that has nothing to do with me--800 papers with names and e-mail addresses (the same ones, to be clear) for that fucking "Lucky Case Game" on "Deal or No Deal" which I fucking hate!; assorted notes my mom wrote that were stupid or pointless, some stuff that is out-of-date, things my sister wrote before she moved out five months ago, etc.

*le sigh* What a waste of paper

Of course, I'm even worse. I'm looking at the stuff that's mine on here.

~ Lots of feet papers (we had a tablet that looked like a flip-flop and each piece of paper was shaped like a foot)
~ some fortunes from fortune cookies (I think I was going to write a fic...who the fuck knows anymore?)
~ My W.O.M.B.A.T. card for that test I took on JK Rowling's website ages ago
~ Lots of papers about the AJ fan project (I'll keep those together for the next few days, and then I can toss them)
~ Tons of fanfic ideas and plot bunnies from that Random Pairing Generator (that thing owns my soul, I swear)
~ Notes about S1 D/F RPs for BC (woo-hoo, it's like a code!)
~ Countless papers with IP addresses where I was trying to keep track of the number of visitors to BC (I'm in ur 'muter, steelin ur infos!)--49 50 that I counted on the three four papers I saw, and I haven't written down guest IPs in a while. {Gotta tear those papers up carefully}
~ Kristine's phone number
~ Notes to myself about things to say on my LJ--probably to make myself look awesome, whatev.
~ The code for the marquee at the top of BC and the D/F archive
~ A page where I jotted down something to do with announcement boxes for BC that I never used--because the box would take up space and I didn't want to have to scroll past the site banner, the ads and an announcement box. *is so fucking lazy*
~ Bonz's e-mail address
~ Lists of people for an e-mail thing that turned out to be a total bust
~ A note that I got to April of 05 in the CSI:NY Fic comm while looking for D/F fic starting with the oldest entries
~ A page with random numbers on it--probably the amount of posts in a thread I was watching to check the activity or something. [/lame]
~ E-mail information
~ A post-it that I used to put on the computer Wednesdays so that my family would know to get their shit done since I was hijacking the computer at 9:30 for the chat whether they got what they needed or not. (Such a pretty teal post-it)
~ A list to keep track of which fics I'd posted on which comms
~ I wrote down some of the slogans from that site that generates slogans with whatever term you provide them--in my case, "Danny/Flack":
* "Halleluja, it's a Danny/Flack!"
* "I quit smoking with Danny/Flack!"
* "I trust Danny/Flack"
* "You wouldn't want to miss Danny/Flack"
* "Inspired by Danny/Flack"
* "Danny/Flack, your way!"
* "Danny/Flack - today and tomorrow"

(Why did I write those down? [/more lame])
~ Where I wrote down the transcript of the conversation between Danny and Shane at the end of "Hung Out to Dry" for that story I wrote
~ The names of two D/F fics that were deleted and I couldn't add to the archive ("Take Me Out Tonight" by geekslasher and "Take Time" by twincy) and some random math at the bottom of the page
~ The conversation between Stella and Lindsay from the episode where the woman killed her husband and Stella believed that she was an innocent victim--someone asked for it on TalkCSI and I obliged.
~ Codes for Neopets games to skip to certain levels
~ A list of shows I liked for God-knows-what (back when "In Justice" was on *sniff*)
~ A secret code for some Kyle XY game
~ Random lists of websites, and I have no idea what they're for...
~ Notes about folders and whatnot to add to my Photobucket account (hint: I never added them)
~ Dear God, more lists!
~ A template of the header for a fanfic (geez, like I need that now, I've got it memorized)
~ "Sabriel pg 14"--pg 14 of what that has to do with Sabriel??? *throws away*
~ A list of who posted in a certain thread in a given time period, and how many posts they made (I did it just for shits and giggles)
~ The name of (I assume?) a book I apparently wanted to check out
~ Log-in info for Yahoo
~ A list of the DVDs I want to order from forgottenstuff.com (total of $112 if I don't get the plastic cases; $147 if I got the two 'maybe' shows on there)
~ Lists of who posted in two different threads over a given amount of time--I guess I was comparing something? I was just bored as fuck?
~ An envelope labeled "Brokeback Crimelab" with the following contents: a member to invite to the board, a list of who had the password to The Apartment back before we created the Elite member group, a list of people to invite to the board from back when it was invite-only and hidden to guests (geez, we were n00bs), a list of which forums were visible to guests and validating members (things have changed since then), a list of people with b-days that let them get into The Apartment (back when we required you to be over 18), a note of the codes NOT TO DELETE from the header of the board, another member to invite, a list of early members (less than 20 of them), a note of threads to add, titles for Rhonda ("Dictator bitchy-witchy" and "Skank of the BC" *lulz*), a list of emoticons to add (crossed out when they were added), info about the test-account (Zed, doncha know), the login name and password for a sparklit.com account (back when we did polls?), a list of the number of categories and forums from a while ago (6 categories and 17 forums--7 and 18 for Elite members, + the chat redirect, back when we had a chatroom), a list of more people to invite, another early list of members (29--one test account, one now banned)
~ A list of Harry Potter drawings I had that got messed up (back when I saved all kinds of fanart)
~ A url for something to do with the Gube
~ Free website, er, websites
~ A list of magazines to order online
~ URLs for HP fanartists
~ The word "Ljubljana" which means nothing to me--wtf is that?
~ My login info for the D/L board (hahahaha, banned)
~ A login name "defective genie"--I'm sure it made sense at the time (I think it came from a conversation in a chatroom somewhere)
~ A data CD that has a PowerPoint presentation on owls from my zoology class in college
~ Books to look for and songs to *cough*download*cough*

The real winner:

~ A piece of paper that says "Brunhilde" and "Fuckermuncher" (hahaha, I have no idea) and then at the bottom says "Yeah, it's a one-sided, dick-stealing stack of fucktarded pancakes." (I think that might be referring to D/L in some way)

Current Location: surrounded by trash!
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: my family being loud

Dear diary,

I'm having my period. It sucks. Make it go away.

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: sitting at my computer, wishing I had more popcorn...
Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: None--I need to stick a CD in

Dear diary,

I'm really wishing I hadn't lent Rich that $500 bucks right now--he still owes me $450 that would be really nice to have next month when I go to LA. I've got ~$315 left over once I pay for my ticket and whatnot (well, pay Rhonda back, I mean), but I'm paranoid that I'm not going to have enough. I don't want to waste a ton of money, but I don't want to be drinking water and eating someone else's side salad for dinner every day...

Rich sold his car, so that's 4 or 5 thousand dollars right there--it would be nice if he considered paying me back to be a priority, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I know he's got bills to pay and whatnot, but you know, beer and pot could be skipped in favor of paying back your little sister, bro.

The CSIFiles news thing pays, but I don't think I'll be getting the money in time. I'll probably get paid for the first time at the end of July or beginning of August--nice enough, but not for this trip unless it's before I leave. I might be able to convince my mom to let me borrow some money that I will pay back when I get the $$$ for the news...

Right now, I'm just waiting to find out what Deb and Kristine say is a guestimate of what I'll need when I'm there...

Life would be much more fun if it didn't all revolve around money.

I need to figure out how to make cash off of slash porn. *ponders*

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: Mentally cleaning off my shit-covered desk...tomorrow maybe
Current Mood: nervous
Current Music: some sort of bird singing outside...

Dear blue-notebook-masquerading-as-a-diary,

I hope you like the changes I've made to my desk. Rubber bands to flick when I'm bored, paperclips to hold the sheets of my hand-written porn together, a pen for to be writing said porn, and a post-it to keep my notes straight.

(Dear voices-in-my-head, in case you doubt that I actually got these items for my desk, here they are individually: desk, dish, paperclips, rubber bands, post-it, pen. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.)

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: At my desk of course!
Current Music: "Just got paid, it's Friday night..." (Dad is drunk *sigh*)

Dear diary,

I hate buying beer and cigarettes at the grocery store. It didn't help that it's hot, I had to drive the Egg, and my boobs were sweating because there's no air in the car.

And to add insult to injury, FOOD LION DIDN'T HAVE FORTUNE COOKIES! *sob* I wanted them!

The world hates me, I should just crawl under a rock now.

XOXO,
Fay

***

Current Location: Getting ready to pee again--damn my tiny bladder!
Current Music: (In my head) "Hard to Handle" by, uh, somebody