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The call is coming from inside the house

We called Cingular’s national support and after a ten minute call, I have a new phone. It is charging. We shall see how long it lives. My other broken phone isn’t going back until we make sure this one isn’t similarly broken or broken in new, yet-to-be-determined ways.

Also, I would like to mention that I finished my first story that was due for my class on Tuesday. I finished it on Sunday, which left Monday to tweak. Except that Monday was President’s Day and Esteban and I used it to go to Door County, so I didn’t tweak. And then I did only the barest of minor tweakings and congratulated myself for having read the two stories last Wednesday and then finished working on my story relatively early. And I wasn’t scrambling on anything at the last minute. I didn’t even bitch about having to write the story here. I know! It was a whole new world.

However, my class was canceled and now my story isn’t due until next week. ‘Ha ha,’ said the world, its arms akimbo. ‘Ha and then ha again.’ It sniffed, then sauntered off to look for a Starbucks, for it was new and needed some caffeine.


While Esteban’s parents were on vacation, I had a bunch of pictures from my digital camera turned into actual prints, which I then thought would be a nice surprise when they got back. I didn’t have frames for them, though, so I decided to just cover their refrigerator with photos of happy faces. June has got a calendar that she made, with the numbers neatly printed and laminated to little magnets. I started at the beginning of the month and took the numbers off the calendar, using them to hold the pictures up.

Esteban noticed the calendar and remarked “She’s going to freak when she sees that the numbers are missing.” These numbers are usually perfectly straight, aligned to scientific coordinates which I’m certain are noted on a graph somewhere in June’s office. I had actually thought the same thing when I started taking off the numbers, I explained to him, but I decided that she’d notice the pictures first and then it wouldn’t be a big deal.

When they got back, he checked in with them and mentioned a message he had written on the note portion of the refrigerator system. “Look, Dad’s appointment is on Tuesday… they need a new insurance card.”

“Oh… ok. Hey!!… where did all the numbers go?” June puzzled.

He started cracking up and then told her to look six inches down, where the entire bottom half of the refrigerator was filled with colorful 5×7’s. She was happy with the photos apparently, but man, I totally knew I shouldn’t have fucked up that calendar.


Because I am apparently one of those online diarist types that cannot stop herself from publicly inviting the internet to LAUGH AT HER STUPIDITY, I would like to tell you that I watched exactly twelve minutes of The Grudge tonight before declaring to the cat that ‘Yup, I am too much of a pansy to watch this movie.’ Because people, I’ve seen a screen shot of that kid in the movie and I don’t think I can deal with seeing that weird white face on my giant television set. Not on my chaise sitting three feet away from my giant television set. Not in crystal clear resolution. Nope. Uh uh. No thank you sir.

Tilly, who was busily guarding a Hot Topic bag with her ass, had no comment.

This is retribution for the times that I used to taunt my sister by mimicking the Friday the Thirteenth Jason noise. She’d be in the shower and I’d open the door really quietly and whisper ‘Ttch ttch ttch aah aah aaaaaah’ and then she’d shriek as twenty minutes of her life expectancy circled the drain.

I didn’t even get to see Sarah Michelle Gellar yet. She’s not in the first twelve minutes.

It is totally not my fault. The Japanese come up with some scary-assed shit. Especially the first ten minutes or so. They are a very efficient people.

You wish you were as cool as I am. Admit it.

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