Paste it in the head!

Spinster

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So, I originally started this blog because it was required for a class, but I'd wanted to start one for a while before that. I had dreams delusions of grandeur of starting the Next Great Knitting Blog. I think that's like writing the next great American novel--sounds easy, but when it comes down to it, it's a hell of a lot of work. And clearly, I'm not the knitting genius I'd like to be. I removed myself from the GTA Knitblogs Ring so that I wouldn't feel guilty about blogging about boys and school and pretty much everything except knitting. I will still show pictures of my projects but "Spinster" now refers primarily to my ability to not attract/keep around decent, cute, non-wimpy boys and not the fact that I have a spinning wheel.

Anyway. I am so fucking grumpy right now. What a goddamn dreary day--when I woke up for work at 6:15 it was pitch fucking black in my room, and I could hear the rain through my closed window. I almost didn't believe that it was actually morning and awake time, but a quick look at two clocks took care of that. It turns out that I own the world's most useless umbrella. Like, fuck you, umbrella, could you even TRY to keep my goddamn THIGHS dry? Cause as much as I love having clammy, wet jeans-clad thighs at 8 am, I actually hate that shit.

After sitting through a fairly boring meeting, I headed home. I WANTED to take a nap, talk to boy, and eat dinner. What I DID was call boy, not leave message, take nap, and wake up in a worse mood than before. What the hell? I emailed him a VERY witty email:

Hi! <--Ok, it may be a bit too early in the morning for enthusiastic punctuation. I'll try to see that it doesn't happen again. Anyway. It was brought to my attention this morning by the weather that it's time to invest in a new umbrella. No more of this girlie, urban, retractable shit. I want the full-on old man New York in the 1940s style of umbrella. The kind that isn't flipped inside out by a light breeze. The kind that keeps both my hair and my pants dry.

I'm drinking what I think is a cup of weak coffee, but all my taste buds register right now is "hot" and "liquid", which seems to suffice, so I guess I don't really care whether it's weak or strong or good or bad. (As you can tell, I'm not the world's best morning person.)

So, because I don't really have anything to actually talk about, I'll bore you with stories of knitting. So I'm making this really pretty cotton sweater in the round, and last night I joined the arms to the body. That is the first time I've done something of that nature, and I have to say, I was pretty damn proud of myself when I finished. Maybe I'll actually complete this project? I'm not gonna guarantee it, cause that would jinx me for sure, so let's just say I can sort of see a light at the end of this particular tunnel.

Anyway. God this email is useless.

Have a fabulous, dry day.

Take care,
Tasha


AND I called him at like 6:30. It is now 9:19, and I have received neither a response to my email (how could you not respond to something like that?) nor a phone call. Um, is it not courteous to call someone back?

This is when my panic mode is in full swing. In my head, we've broken up, we're done, I've made out with, like, two other guys, but on the inside, I'm pretty sad. Why? Cause, fuck man, I LIKE(d) this guy.

3 Comments:

  • There is no good reason for you to think that this boy doesn't totally like you just as much today as he did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Just because FIS is soul killing does not mean that...well...you should let it kill your soul....or your love....or your good moods. I love how I think I am qualified to give advice. As qualified as I am to perform an indepth assessment of a digital library. (note: Please save me from my creepy, shoe fetish houseguest Craig!)

    By Blogger heather., at 10:47 PM  

  • Okay, grumpus. I understand and I support the grumpus. It's natural and justified. The boy is being a stupid boy. Maybe he's out in the woods tipping cows on shrooms and got lost. Maybe he dropped his cell in a lake. Who knows but 24hr of no contact does not equal break up. That's like bad addition. Like when my tutor kid said 7-3=9 it was like... umm first not even right for addition but WAY worng for subraction. Give him some space... but make sure you voice all the freak outs... keeping them pent up will only suck more. Just remember we all love you for you, freak outs, grumpus, gitty, judgmental, shy and all.

    By Blogger Aundra, at 12:56 AM  

  • i love my friends.

    By Blogger Tasha, at 7:45 AM  

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