The Twittering Machine.

Ooooohhhh... Repeated sneezing sucks. *sniffle*

My extended weekend was random. I can't pinpoint any part that was extraordinary or really, anything more than average, but it still seemed like a decent weekend none-the-less.

I finally applied for school at my mother's house on Friday. I've learned that my mother is a very aggressive internetter and am glad that my internetting experiences with her are very limited. I feel relieved for it.
I'm glad that now I have something to revolve around, something that is more than my shitty job at Wal*Mart. Something that makes me feel good about my life. I better fucking like being a Pastry Chef or else I'm screwed.

Dianne and I watched Return of the King on Thursday. My mom's the type of person that inserts inanely, quirky, fake comments every fifteen minutes throughout the movie. She sums up her ridiculousness with a school-girl like giggle, creating the, "Oh it's so nice to bond with my daughter in this almost teenage like sleepover scenario," which freaks me the fuck out. I can't recall any of the commentary thankfully, and I'm sure that's because I've become very good at blocking 95% of what comes out of mother's mouth.
I hate leaving Mum's house for a lot of reasons. Heat and food are generally at the top of the list, but her goodbyes are always delayed guilt trips. An expression of absolute pain wipes over her round and pathetic face that defeats the purpose of making you feel bad for her, by making you want to leave sooner. And then there's the overly-sentimental hug and the wet, sloppy kiss that for some reason always ends up in my ear, causing me to sort of eternally gag on God knows what. Her kisses are borderline romantic. I think I'm going to stop touching my mother altogether.

Andrew arrived on Saturday.
I'm always dumbfounded by the amount of food that man can pack away. At the same time, I feel a bit horrified when he orders three plates of Chineese food for himself and a little embarrassed as he slops it all around. He wonders why people have such stereotypes of "big" guys and I always recline from pointing out the obvious, he is still sensitive about it.

We were made to go to my second-cousin, Tyler's first birthday party to appease my stuck-up cousin Jen.
Jen and I have never really gotten along. We've never shared a moment, or even wanted a moment come to think of it. I hate sitting in rich houses, with rich people, pretending to be happy that their kid just turned one when I really don't give a shit. It just reminds me of how lucky my Dad's side of the family seems to be at falling into money. Or rather, how lucky my cousin seems to be with finding men to give her money to fall into.
So to revolt against my family I ate all the strawberries out of the fruit bowl and Andrew had a piece of cake the size of my face. I enoyed that immensly.

We left the party about twenty minutes after we arrived.

Andrew thinks my family is weird because we don't like being around eachother. I think his family is weird because they relish in being around eachother. He said he found it sad, and I think for the first time since we've been dating, he's finally had an incling of understanding as to how much it sucks to have a broken home.

We thought about going to a movie, but there was nothing to see. We strolled around Chapters and ended up purchasing a map to help aide our vacation plans to New York City in February and I ended up buying Lost and Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire. I'm too excited to read them. So far Wicked and Son of a Witch have been superb.

P.S. I hate Dean Koontz.

I also bought some lip balm. It came in a Mucha inspired tin and was fifty percent off. Best purchase ever.

He ended up staying the night, which is entirely too rare. He also tied me to the bed posts, which is entirely too much fun. We slept for most of Sunday morning, and eventually he left to get home for his Football games. I watched the Miami Ink marathon, which seriously, put excessive amounts of dew on my daisy. Those men are hot.

And, I owe, I owe. It's back to work I go.
Work fucking blew. It was awful to work at Wal*Mart before, but now after the asinine coaching, finding the motivation to work for those assholes is completely beyond me. I didn't really talk to anyone the whole night. I felt bad for it, as Josh and I had a remote email fight over his constant regard to standing me up over the weekend.

Josh stopped reading my blog. Finally, someone smart enough to remove themself from the problem. Of course this means that I'm less inclined to write about them, but I guess, not today.
I finally ended up talking to Josh near the end of the night. He hadn't said more than four words to me and I'm so sick of being the everything in our relationship, that I really didn't give a fuck if he said another.
When I did talk to him though, he said that he's been feeling miserable and that he just didn't give a fuck about anything, which is why he didn't email me.

Nice.

I understand that Josh's depression isn't about me. I'm not offended that I don't make someone miserable. That honour isn't exactly something that I strive for. Josh for some reason, is just someone that I can't let go of. He's one of those people that I probably can't do anything for, but I still want to be around because when he's happy, he's a rad guy. I guess I don't want to miss him when he wakes up from whatever it is he's stuck in.

He yelled at me today because I told him that it sucks when he says he doesn't give a fuck about anything. It hurts, especially when you're trying to be understanding and helpful. My patience is spread thin and walking away from a potential fight is difficult because I don't want to just leave him.

But maybe what I need to do is walk away.

I wish he would just tell me everything. Every last thing that is bouncing around his head that he says he can never say because he doesn't know how.

Maybe I should introduce him to crayons.