Colonel Sanders Haunted My Dreams Last Night!
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: A Tale of Two Scares
let me begin by saying that I am very near-sighted. For those of you who doen't know, that means I can't see things more than ten feet away with any kind of clarity without my glasses.

Late last night, around 1a.m., I get up from bed to go get my inhaler out of the kitchen, where I thought I'd left it. Being as I still live in the same house I grew up in, and the floor plan hasn't changed ever, I know the house pretty damn well. Therefore, I didn't think anything of wandering about in the dead of night with all the lights off and without my glasses. I round the corner from bedroom and walked into the hall. From here, I saw something that was kind of fuzzy and light colored near/in the living room at the end and to the right of the hall. I figured someone put something on the clock that's just around that corner, and it was just sort of hanging off the edge of the clock. (The clock is exactly 5.5 feet tall.) Anyway, I get half-way down the hall, and I glance at the thing that I think is resting on top of the clock. "Hey, that, what-ever-it-is-probably-a-bag looks kinda like a face," I thought as I took another step. I get about three feet away from it and, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" I screamed, I screamed like one of those girls in a slasher flick--woke up the neighbors, but not my son or my mother. While I scream bloody murder, I reach for the broom that is leaning on the wall next to the kitchen light switch, but I can't seem to get arms to listen to my higher brain functions, or my voice apparently, as I was still screaming. Now, why was I screaming like a virgin cheerleader in a slasher movie? Because, I saw, what for the life of me, I could have sworn, was the floating disembodied head of my beloved Daddy. The head moved to the left a bit and lowered, and suddenly the light came on, and shortly thereafter I stopped screaming. I looked down, and noticed that it wasn't the "floating disembodied head of my beloved Daddy", but the very much attached head of my asshole Dad, who stood there laughing at me! Jerk.
After all the fun, I returned to my search for my inhaler, it was still in my room...I couldn't find it because I had tossed my bandana over it and didn't think to look underneath.

He laughed at me! I screamed bloody murder and no one came to help! Gee, can you feel the love?


Anyway, everytime I fell asleep for the rest of the night, I had strange nightmares about the floating disembodied head of Colonel Sanders, and according to him, "Everything I know is wrong," or so the song goes. Thank you Weird Al!!

Brand Spankin' New Day...Oy Vey...
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Recent News and whatnot.
Okay, so I think I may have failed my marketing class...or at least gotten a really bad grade. I'm not very good at it, but I tried. Moving on. My knee no longer hurts, but I have a blister on my foot. And the boil is nearly gone. I think I may have started falling apart at the seams due to stress...I have been under an awful lot of stress as of late...

I finally met up with Bobbo at Webb's. It was great. We found out that our lives are pretty pathetic, we spent most of our time talking about Super Mario World, the old Super NES game for you youngsters out there. We had alsmost completely resconstructed the first island and the a good amount of the cave system on the back of a placemat. Go us!

This Saturday I will be leaving my baby boy (he's 4--but he'll always be my baby) with a sitter. I haven't had to leave him wth anyone except my parents since he was 5 mo. I know the sitters, they're my best friend's parents, and I know they'll do a good job, but I can't help worrying. I mean, you get awfully attached to your kidlets. Anyway, Jen's mama is really nice, and I like her a lot, besides she raised Jen...and Jen turned out better than alright. Who knows? Maybe my munchkin will pick up a few good habits while he's there. There's just one problem, I have to get up and out the door by 6:30 in the morning to get my boy there by 7:15, then I have to drive all the way across town again, to get to school. This means I'll have to wake up on Saturday morning at like 5:15! I don't think I can do it...

All New Stuff
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: I haven't had any damn coffee in over 24 damned-ass hours!
First off, I'd like to apologize for my inconsistant blogging style. I can't help it, it's just who I am; a tad inconsistant, a little flakey, but always there when you really need me.

Anywho. I haven't had any coffee since yesterday because we're out of creamer, and I simply refuse to drink coffee (or at least not that tar that comes out of my coffee pot) without creamer. I've been known to drink it black, but not often...usually if I'm nursing a hang-over (which hasn't happened in years) or when I feel like a good strong cup of black, unfooled around with, coffee (which doesn't happen often). I have yet another sinus infection, the Catholics have a new Pope, Benedict (though I think he should have called himself "Pope Joe" on principle), and I have a boil. Yes that's right, another sinus infection and a friggen boil. For those of you who don't know what a boil is, it's like a really nasty pimple, just bigger and a tad more difficult to live with. But, hey, at least it's easily covered by an article of clothing...I won't tell you exactly where it is, cuz I don't want you to laugh. I wriggled my way of antibiotics today from my doc, yay me. Once again, ladies, you know what I mean.
Today, when I heard about the new Pope in town, I tought about a particular miracle described in the Bible. (Before we go on, no I am not Christian...Yes, I am a real witch.) The miracle in question is the one of Elijah (? or is it Elisha, I can never remember?) Anyway, he doesn't die, but rather is taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot by some flaming horses, or so the story goes...the question I ask is this: If that happens to a Pope, what is the church's stance on electing a new Pope? Do they elect one? Or not because he didn't exactly die so much as he got whisked away? Seriously, I want to know, it's bothering me.

Pimpzilla update: Still haven't found the Pimpzilla browser for firefox...obsession is growing...

To Jeremy (if you're out there) how the hell come did you stop playing golf? You love golf, you have what it takes to go pro! (And, now don't tell anyone this, it gives me a reason to watch golf on tv.) I personally don't get the sport, but you do and what's more, you love it. Jem, "today is a great day for golf". Well, maybe not today, per se, probably Thursday, it's supposed to rain today, and tomorrow, but Thursday is supposed to be clear and sunny. Go play some damned golf.

Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: My Knee Really Hurts
Friday afternoon, I was putting the carseat in the car. No problem. I then tightened it down. No problem. Then, I tried to get out of the car. Problem. My foot slipped and my knee landed on "door jam" area. Hit my kneecap. Hurt like algebra class. I ended up limping around for the rest of the evening, thinking, "it'll be fine. I'll put my leg up when I go to sleep and it'll be fine in the morning." Saturday morning rolls around, I have class at 9 a.m.. I get up at 8:55 a.m., my school is a half an hour away. I jump out of bed and promptly fall on my ass on a pair of shoes. (So then my butt hurt too, but this blog isn't about my tushie.) My knee had briefly gone out, my leg collapse under me. When I stood up, my knee seemed to be on fire with a searing pain that I can only describe as "Owwie, owwie, owwie!" So I ended up being gimpy all of that day too, I didn't go to class either, because it was my right knee that was all screwed up and I therefore couldn't drive. Sunday, it still hurt, but not as bad. Monday, it didn't really hurt too much, but every time I straightened it out, it would hyperextend beyond all reason, and it only hurt a little when I put weight on it. It kept cracking as well, for no apparent reason, cracking and hyperextending. The hyperextending hurts. Oddly, though, the bruising didn't show up until Monday. I'm starting to think that maybe I should see a doctor, but you know me, I'm stubborn. I don't like doctors, it's not personal, I just don't like them. They smell like generic antibacterial soap and alcohol. White trench coats are not flattering, no matter how many cute damned button you put on them. I digress. Knowing me, I probably won't see the doctor until it's too late to do anything about the problem. Did I mention that I don't like doctor offices either? They smell like saline solution. Once again, I digress. In conclusion, my knee really hurts.

I know, it's not the best blog, but at least I posted something.

Never a dull moment...

NEWS BULLETIN: Icarus applies to the Academy of Good Listeners...
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: On Daddys and Daughters
I'm holding back the tears right now...but bear with me. My Daddy has a pretty serious heart condition. He's had 2 heart attacks, and has 3 stents (<- sp?), now he also has high blood pressure and he's been having chest pains for the past month. He just told me a couple minutes ago about the chest pains. His doctor gave him some meds to help the bp, just 5mg a day. For the first week of taking it he'll be pretty sick; dizzy, vertigo, nausia, light vomiting, no depth perception. He won't take it. Here's his reasoning: "there's too much work to do, especially outside. I need to work on the cars, and rebuild the lawnmower." He also thinks that first one of these new meds he takes will be his last, cuz he's afraid they'll kill him.
He doesn't seem to realize the fact that he'll only be sick for a few days, and the odds of the new med killing are far better for him than the odds of me killing him at this point! I can't help it--as an "adult" (and I use the term loosely) I'm pretty damned pissed at him for being so stubborn, selfish, and childish...but as his daughter, I'm just a little freckle-faced girl who's scared she's going to loose her Daddy.
Okay, crying now.
I mean, dammit! I know if he dies all becuase he won't take a stupid pill, I probably won't ever forgive him for it & I know I won't forgive myself for not forgiving a dead man...(I have a whole subscription of issues pertaining to the forgiveness of the dead.)

BTW: A phlebotomist is a person who draws blood. Thank you, Jenny.

i'm gonna go and have a good cry, then finish my homework.

End of An Era
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: A Great Man
Tonight, in Vatican city, in his apartments, resting comfortably, John Paul Pope II died. I may be young and I'm not a Catholic, nor Christian for that matter, but I am old enough and wise enough to know a great man when I see one. John Paul Pope II was, and still the memory of him is, great. He was a truly a kind and generous spirit, who, when visiting a leper colony was unafraid to embrace the inhabitants, knowing full well that leprosy is contagious. However, he also knew the simple courage of being humble and fine art of asking for help. In fact, his first act as Pope, was to ask his parishoners for help. He said, in perfect Italian, "If I mess up, please, let me know."

I, being a witch, will still mourn the passing of this great man. Not because he was great, not because he tried to be great, but because he just was, and let men and history make their own judgments. That in itself is the essence of greatness.
However, I, being a witch, will know that this great man is now peacefully resting in the arms of the Divine. And my mourning, like the melting snow on this spring day, will not last, but will pass on into history.

At Some Point, We must ALL become responsible adults...
Mood:  hug me
Now Playing: on being thrust into the scary, scary world
As you already know, I learned a few days ago that I am to be thrust into the scary, scary world in a two short months. By then I must have a job, daycare, sick child care, a place to live and a way to afford it all. Essentially I am in a car that is parked being sling shot onto a race track without the keys. Thus, my job hunt has become that much more critical. If I have no job, I have place to live. If my car isn't up and running, I won't be able to get a job, which means I won't have a place to live. Dear me! Is that Chicken Little knocking on my door?!

Off the subject, does anyone know what a phlebotomist is? I'm kinda curious.

Oh, yes, I've given up my fight with Yahoo! PageBuilder, as I've got no time for them any longer, and I've kinda lost interest.

"keep lookin' on the bright side of life" --Eric Idol "Bright Side of Life"
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: "high above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds..."--Tenacious D. "Wonderboy"
As you all know, I'm a college student with no money, I'm also someone's penniless mommy, and I live with my parents. I live with them because, well, between tuition, books, supplies, and my kidlet I can't afford to move out. My mom works at a company called Strattec, and they were scheduled to close the doors and move the entire plant to Mexico in June 2006, next year. I had it all worked out, I'd go to school and graduate with a BA in business admin in 8 to 16 months, I'd get a job that paid a decent & honest amount and continue going to school to pursue my real passion; archaeology. I had a plan, dammit! However, the union contracts at Strattec are to be renegotiated in June and it's looking like Strattec is just going to close and not renew any contracts. If this is the case, my mother said that I will be effectively "kicked out" and my parents will move up north. My dad said he won't be sticking around long afterward--he's going to leave my mom (can't say I blame him). Essentially, I will have no means to go to school, no place to live, and if I can't get a job by then, no job. I had a plan, dammit! It was a really good plan, too.
So, I stayed up half the night last and spent most of the day today checking possible colleges elsewhere that included family housing. I came up with close to nothing. The ones that had family housing didn't have the curriculum I need, and the ones that had the curriculum didn't have the housing. OY!
Not good, not good, not good...so very not good.
I'm calling Jenny tonight, we'll be brainstorming plans...mostly to make her feel better cuz she worries, but it could also be beneficial. ::sigh::

To make myself feel better, I've been singing Monty Python songs. As if you couldn't tell from the title. Among today's favorites are:
Bright Side of Life
Brave Sir Robin
(the ever wonderful) Penis Song
(and my personal fave) The Galaxy Song

I also did my own little rendition of "Wonderboy" by Tenacious D. On a side note, my bathroom has really good acoustics.

Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Scent of a Woman, Maybe?
Spring is here, so sayeth my calender. I hope everyone had a lovely Ostara. I planted some herbs indoors last week, and they're already sprouting. The first ones up are the thyme, chives, and oregano. I'm still waiting on the basil and the dill.
To update you out-of-staters of the weather here, it snowed a few days ago and dumped us with about 8"...I've had dates that didn't get nearly as tall. But that's a blog for another day, and another audience. This is a family blog. LOL!

Anyway, this is the time of year when the deer hunters start planning the fall hunt. As you all should know, more and more women have been hunting over the past 10 years. Unfortunately, they are statistically worse than men at it. Being a woman myself, I will try to explain why. First off, it's not because women can't fire a gun, Bonnie Parker & Annie Oakly taught us that women can easily fire guns, and that we have pretty good aim, too. Personally, I think it isn't so much that we are the "weaker" sex, which we aren't, I think it is more what most women wear when they go hunting. Like all deer hunters, they wear the several layers of warm clothing, which makes them look about 50 pounds heavier. On top of that, they wear the usual blaze orange coat, pants, and hat, which kind of makes us look like giant citrus fruit from a distance.
However, it's not what can be seen that's the problem. It's what can be smelled. Early in the morning, they wake up and take their showers, thousands of women deer hunters. They wash their hair, rinse and repeat, then condition, then they wash the rest of their bodies, when they get out of the shower, the put on some lotion so their skin doesn't get dry, and then they get put on their deoderant because hours of wearing heavy clothing gets pretty sweaty. This is the problem. Peach and rose-hips shampoo, followed by melon-berry conditioner, add onto that some vanilla-strawberry body wash, slather on a touch of orange-cranberry body lotion, and top it all off with a bit of ocean breeze scented deoderant. Get dressed in a bright orange suit and go out to hunt some animals who live off a vegan diet. Yessir.
Let's take a deer's look at this for a moment. You're a deer, you sniff something on the wind. It smells like fruit. So, you walk towards it to investigate. Then you see it, a gigantic orange, and it's just sitting there in the middle of the woods...holding a gun...walking. It dawns on you, the food that love, has mutated into some horrible, dangerous creature that's trying to kill you! You run. Hell, I'd run away too if I thought my food was trying to kill me.

Okay...I just went off on a rampage there...and I ended up in a very weird place...so I'll stop there.

Soooooo......Ottawa!
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Yup.
Okay...so I've been a little under the weather as of late. I refuse to go to the doctor, because I already know what he's going to say. He'll tell me that I have a sinus infection and that there's nothing he can do. Or, he'll say that I've got a sinus infection and try to get me to take some antibiotics, which I won't do. My body doesn't seem to like antibiotics much. Women, I know you know what I mean. Men: just sit there blissfully in your ignorance and be happy that you're not a woman.
Also, I had a job interview today; not unlike our illustrious president, I bombed it. I just can't help myself. I get there, I look oh-sooo-professional in my little suit, I speak with impecable grammar, then I am escorted into an office where the interviewer asks me a plethora of questions-as they usually do, an I answer honestly. That's about the point where it all begins to go so horribly wrong. I just can't help it, I get into one of those high-pressure situations, and I have to be honest, especially since I already signed a document stating that I would be truthful. By the way, if anyone out there in the SE WI area is seeking an honest-to-a-fault employee who is a quick-learner, and willing to try almost anything once, send me an e-mail. I type over forty wpm with a 98% accuracy, I have experience in MS Office, Adobe, PowerPoint, speadsheets, and data entry. Please! I need work, dammit! And for the low, low, price of just 20K/year, I could be your employee! That's right, folks, get me while I'm available! This offer won't be on the table for long, so hurry!
Alright, I'm done with the shameless self-promotion for the time being.

Today, GoodFeathers Thoughts comes to an end. www.geocities.com/g00d_feathers/my page/Good_Feathers.html will be deleted, and I will be at tripod indefinitely. For those of you who did not click through via my page, the url is (::insert cheesy, yet still jazzy, theme music here::) http://good-feathers.tripod.com !

Oh, yes, and I made yet another terrible mistake today. I ate a Webb's. So, I am now feeling a bit queasy. (I wonder why they don't have an emote for "queasy".)