So it’s that time of the year again, but this time I don’t have to hunt around for a damn basket! I remember when I was little getting so excited when Easter Sunday rolled around and I got to go to church. I’d be so antsy to be done with Sunday School so we could go out to the huge lawn and find Easter Eggs. I chased after some kid who took the egg I just put in my basket and knocked him over the head with my basket. It was brutal when you were that age… better watch out if you start stealing eggs.

I don’t really care for all the candy though… I mean, I remember being little and getting a whole basket to myself for Easter and I’d be excited as shit but then I open it and it’s all chocolate! “Bitch! WTF am I supposed to do with all this damn chocolate!? You cudda at least included a bottle of Pepto Bismol!” My family would be like, “ohhh, the Easter Bunny brought it.” (yeah, and I’m fucking Santa Claus on Tuesdays c’mon!) and I’d be like, “well shit! motherfucker couldn’t find a Tiffany’s or a Gucci store on his way over here!? Damn!”

It’s great though how the same religions that condone homosexuality expect people to sit around putting pink stickers on dyed eggs and run around skippin’ like little fairies with baskets over the grassy hillsides! Insert big fuzzy happy bunny and it’s Queer As Folk on acid!

Speaking of bunnies… apparently you can just hold one for ransom and people will send you thousands of dollars: Save Toby! Why didn’t I think of that?!

Jeff (11:14:29 AM): now i’m depressed… not only am i in the closet…. this bunny is gonna get eaten!!
Jeff (11:14:49 AM): too many problems in life!!
Me (11:15:01 AM): HAHAHAHA

So after moving all my personal files to a secondary partition on my hard drive, I wipe Windows and start again… I’ve had my fair share of computer mishaps, but this time I lost more than I could have imagined. For whatever reason, totally unknown to me, the folder which contained a great deal of my soul and being, “My Music”, is inaccessable. A quick property check of the folder indicated a disk space of 0. 6 years of downloading and collecting music, gone. Computer runs great now, except for the paralyzing sound of silence coming from the speakers. I can’t even begin to describe my anger and frustration. They were not on the drive I formatted, why is it doing this?! Several other folders are reporting the same error when I attempt to view their contents, but they do not represent years of comfort and emotion. But should I count my losses too many, too soon? After all, I still have my porn.

Old Blogography…

So after many hours of learning new code, most of which was a total bitch, I have a new blog that I have created. Thanks Nate for helpin’ when I got too tired of staring at the same statement over and over again. :) I’ll probably get bored with it (AGAIN) in a few months and redesign it, but that’s the fun part… well, at least when I’m done with it.

Apparently you can simply write out a letter to your apartment complex management explaining that you will be moving out and this sole action absolves you of all responsibilites from you lease… just like that! At least this is the logic of my former roommate’s father. Well, unfortunately, nor the management of my building or myself (or that fun little document called a lease) see it this way and it looks like this is going to get ugly. I spoke with my mom about it and after she did her “I told you so” taunt, she gave me some advice. God, I hate it when she’s right about something. I should have thrown myself in $60,000 worth of debt and gotten a condo… I’d owe, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about a roommate tryin’ to skip out on a lease. I spoke with the property manager today and she is going to call Chris’ father to kindly explain to him the terms of the lease. Although it is not my responsibility, I’ve been looking around regardless for a replacement and nothing has come up so far. After that phone call with his father Saturday I was totally drained. I wanted to go out to Nation that night cuz it was 80’s night, but I just felt so empty and worn out from trying to make him see that he is responsible… he just had the opinion of “I don’t wanna,” like a 2 year old. This just fuckin’ sucks. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse. Anyway…

I did get a small financial break which’ll free up an extra $200 a month so I’m pretty thankful for that. Let’s just hope that it does the trick. Or I may just have to become a trick! HAHAHA (KIDDING!, ew nasty)

Went to the movies last night with Jen… God how I missed her. Loved every minute of it! :) Thanks to my friend Cory for the free tickets ;-) We saw Robots and I have to say… what a great movie. It was good to get out and go do something again. I’ve been stuck at home so much due to the lack of funds and it was quite refreshing to be with friends and just be. :)

He’s How Old?!
15 year old aspiring meteorologist

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig, huh? Yaeh and I awlyas thuohgt slpeling was ipmorantt!

Pi Day is today!!! Yes, I know, quite geeky… but this’ll be one of the few times I express my nerd side. Plus I like numbers and math so this is pretty cool! :)

Me: “Good Afternoon. Thank you for calling Cingular Wireless Pennsylvania Avenue; this is Christopher, how may I help you?”
Caller: “What’s your name?”
Me: “Christopher”
Caller: “Christian?”
Me: “Chris-to-pher. What can I help you with?”
Caller: “Is that spelled with a K or a C?”
Me: “It’s spelled with a ‘C’ ma’am.”
Caller: “What was it now? You’re sayin’ it too fast.”
Me: “Chris… to… pher, what is it that I can help you with?”
Caller: “Well I want to get your name so that I when I come in I can see you.”
Me: “My name is Christopher.”
Caller: “Can you spell it please?”
Me: “You don’t know how to spell ‘Christopher’?! … C-h-r-i-s-”
{meanwhile my co-worker is bustin’ up and I being to laugh}
Me: “What is it that you need ma’am?”
Caller: “Oh, you don’t know how to spell your own name?”
Me: {laughing} I don’t have time for this… *CLICK*

It may have been rude and ignorant, but I don’t get paid enough for that shit.

Joe: and then he was like… “oh. i invited [him] over”
Joe: well, [he] is a whore
Joe: a nice guy
Joe: but an easy whore
Joe: ‘and hence why, if [he] made out with him, i would not be a happy camper
Joe: hazmat suits are expensive.
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

REVENGE IS MINE!!! I awoke the other morning to find a single ladybug floating in my half-empty glass of wine from the night before. I doubt it climbed up the glass, but rather flew in. However it ended up there… I believe it may have committed suicide. The ladybugs are no longer a problem since I had to take matters into my own hands after bringing this (literally) to the attention of the building management Sunday. I was tryin’ to do some web design Sunday, but I could not concentrate after a ladybug flew past my face and continued to bounce against the blinds. I was fed up; this was the third time I’ve complained about this and it needed to be resolved. My lease does not state “Ladybug” as lessee. I collected several… well… MANY ladybugs in a coke bottle and took it downstairs to the front desk. As I walked up to the girl at the front desk, of whom I’ve never seen before in my life, I placed the coke bottle directly in front of her. She grabbed a trash can to throw it away, not looking at it closely enough to see the 50 or so (yes, there were that many in there, plus more in my apartment) ladybugs fluttering about inside. I said, “oh no, I need you to take a look at that because –,” and before I could finish she has this look of absolute disgust for me and what I just did. I personally don’t see anything wrong with it… it’s not like I dumped them on her (UGLY) cardigan, or was throwing them at her like a monkey with it’s poo. They were in a sealed 20oz Coke bottle. Anyway, with her look of disgust, she picked up the bottle with thumb and index finger, and placed the bottle back in front of me and stammered that the building manager would be in Monday but if I wanted to talk to someone, there was someone in the office. So I picked up the bottle and took it in to this other lady to show her who I’d been sharing my apartment with the past month. She advised me that it was becoming Spring and they “come,” to which I replied, “yes, I know they come in the Spring, and they are attracted to lighter colors, and such; but my windows should be sealed and this will constitute an infestation if not resolved promptly. I’ve had my apartment inspected and ‘treated’ by your exterminator twice and they are still here. I spend way too much money to share my apartment with 50+ ladybugs who do not pay rent.” Shortly after my third thorough complaint, maintenance was in my apartment sealing the one window where these lovely ‘lil friends were entering… and how did he seal it? With caulking! Lord… I swear. Even after he left… they were still coming in. That’s it! $6, Home Depot, “Hot Shot Home Insect Spray” I sprayed the shit outta that window and surrounding frame. Needless to say, they didn’t make it a foot from the window and now I not seen one since Tuesday.

I don’t think I’ll ever know if I “loved” him; but, this is what I’ve been feeling since I returned from Italy. :-\