June 10th, 2004
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7:09pm

jason is home! i thought he was coming home at 8pm but he got home at 5pm!
we are going to go out to dinner now :)

i found all the software for my scanner and printer and hope to have those installed tonight.
and then i can start scanning cool stuff and putting those in anagrams again :) yippee :)

4:52pm

 

4:22pm

i forgot that i have this rrrreeeaaallly old campaq laptop that has windows 98 on it and also worls with my very old black and white connextix cam ( i LOVE those things). and so...i have plugged it all in and i'm saving images from it :) maybe i'll figure out a way i can get it connected to the nternet. dunno. but at least i can save the images and then show them to you at the end of the day :)

3:18pm

a very funny story!

i told an online friend of mine, Tom Root:

"here is your assignment, your story must contain something
about:

boobs, eggs, toast, a vacuum cleaner, a calculator,
a monkey, 7 pancakes, orange carpetting, something illegal,
a troll, a businessman, vanilla coke, an elevator, the state of
rhode island, a broken window, a death, a transformation, someone freaking out, someone falling asleep, a betrayal, an old beat up car, a pair of high heel shoes (red patent leather), and an anthill.."

(and feel free to write your own story containing these things! i'd love to see what different people come up with!)

and here is what he brilliantly and hilariously wrote:

NOVELLA

by Tom

"Something is tickling my boobs!" thought Ana crossly.
"However, I will not
will not will NOT open my eyes! That would be letting the
tickler win!" The
tickling itself wasn't making Ana cross, for it wasn't the cruel
brand of
tickling which led to tears and peeing. What was making Ana
cross was the fading
dream about...about...it was gone.

Extra-crossly, Ana kicked her feet under the covers. This was
unforgivable.
The tickling hesitated, made unsure by the kicking feet, yet
soon regained
its original pace. Just what could that be? Ana pondered it.
Her brain clumsy
with sleep, the only answer that popped into her head was this:
Perhaps a
boob-tickling troll that lived under the beds of unsuspecting
maidens was
accosting her chest! "That simply won't do," thought Ana, and
opened her eyes.

A monkey was tickling Ana's boobs.

Ana shrieked! And shrieked! And shrieked some more! Somewhere
in the
middle of all the shrieking, Ana realized the monkey was no
longer tickling her.
In fact, it was nowhere to be found. But, not yet feeling
shrieked out, Ana
continued to indulge in several more lung-emptying, ear-piercing
cries. She
twisted and turned in her pink sheets, thoroughly knotting
herself up in them,
and managed to writhe right off the bed and onto the orange
carpeting.
Shrieking and writhing, encased in her pink sheet, Ana reflected
that she must look
something like a worm dancing on the surface of the sun. It was
this thought
that finally calmed her.

"Show yourself, you awful monkey!" Ana snarled. No sooner had
she said it
than she spotted the monkey out of the corner of her left eye.

It sat serenely
on the windowsill, regarding her with its sage simian eyes.
Intelligent eyes.
Yet that intelligence had piloted the monkey not to feats of
goodwill and
understanding, but to the tickling of boobs. The monkey nodded
at Ana, as if
the two of them had shared a profound experience.

Ana, not fooled, flung a Vanilla Coke bottle at the
boob-tickling monkey. It
vanished once more, and the bottle continued through the
windowpane and down
to the street below. The wheezy car alarm on the neighbor's
beat-up Buick
began bleating outside. Ana barely heard it. She was
monkey-hunting now.

"Come out, monkey," she called. "Perhaps I've acted rashly.
Hear how calm I
am presently? My anger has cooled." Ana poked her bare feet
from the pink
cocoon and reached under the bed for her high heeled shoes (red
patent
leather). "The better to kick a monkey with," she thought.
"See how peaceful I am at
heart?" Ana called, inching toward the mound of dirty laundry
which rose from
the center of the room like some great anthill. "I only want to
share my
love!" Ana called, kicking the hill savagely with one heeled
foot. T-shirts and
mini-skirts flew through the air in fluttering arcs. But there
was no monkey.

"La la la!"

Ana's eyes darted about the room. What was that sound?

"La la la!"

Was that the monkey? Ana squinted and listened.

"La la la!"

The sing-songy trilling came from nowhere in particular.

"La la la-la la la la la LA!"

"Shut up, you stupid monkey!" Ana cried. "I was having the most
wonderful
dream! And just because I can't recall it now makes it no less
wonderful! Your
crime is great!"

"Make me eggs!"

A light, airy singing voice. The monkey?

"Make me toast!"

Ana listened breathlessly.

"Or get fondled by the monkey ghost!"

On the last syllable of the last lyric, Ana felt two very
humanlike hands
squeezing her in an area already ravaged by much tickling. She
shrieked and
pulled away her pink sheet to find the monkey, that damnable
monkey, latched onto
her body in a rather rude fashion.

"Oh," Ana growled, "oh, monkey, your ears are about to be boxed
hard enough
to cause damage to the brain."

The monkey grinned its monkey grin up at Ana. "Make me eggs!
Make me toast!
Or get fondled by the monkey ghost!" It disappeared as Ana's
palms crashed
together where its skull had been an instant earlier.

"Eggs?" Ana roared. "Toast? You'll get nothing! You'll get
nothing and e
njoy it immensely, you mangy hooligan!"

"Pancakes," said the monkey. Ana whirled and spotted the monkey
perched on
her chest of drawers.

"Pancakes?" Ana gasped.

The air around the monkey seemed to quiver and sway, and
suddenly it was a
nattily dressed businessman in a three-piece suit and bowler
hat. The
businessman punched figures into a calculator, frowned, pursed
his lips, wiggled his
mustache, and nodded. With a shimmer, the monkey was back.
"You owe me seven
pancakes," it said in a matter-of-fact tone which boiled Ana's
blood.

"I owe you nothing, foul monkey!" Ana fumed.

The monkey reached down and fumbled about in Ana's underwear
drawer. Ana
attempted to leap to her feet, cross the room and strangle the
monkey dead, but
her heel caught in the pink sheet and she landed on the carpet
with a dull
thud. For the second time.

The monkey withdrew a Cuban cigar from the drawer, a relic from
some long-ago
celebration Ana could scarcely remember, and bit off the tip
with its shiny
monkey teeth.

"M-m-monkey..." Ana groaned. She'd landed rather hard.

"Breakfast," noted the monkey, "is the most important meal of
the day."

"You'll be my parka lining before this is over," Ana threatened.

The monkey seemed disinterested in threats. It considered
itself in the
mirror atop Ana's dresser, chewing the cigar thoughtfully. It
nodded to itself,
that same smug nod as before. "What a fine, handsome monkey,"
the nod seemed
to say. Ana cursed. The monkey then turned its gaze to the
photos stuffed in
the mirror's frame. "Friends?" the monkey asked Ana, cocking
its head toward
one photo in particular.

Ana nodded. "My friends."

"Ugly friends," the monkey said, and spat out the cigar.

Then it nodded.

With a gutteral battle cry, Ana found her footing and teetered
across the
room on high heels, ready at last to destroy her foe. But she
stopped short when
the monkey plucked a parchment free from the mirror's border and
brandished
it like a shield. "Not one more step!" the monkey warned.

"Put that down!" Ana ordered, an order that came out too much
like a plea to
carry any real weight. "That's my certificate to perform
weddings in the
state of Rhode Island!"

The monkey winked. "Your most prized possession, is it not?"

Ana felt a lump in her throat. Curse this monkey! "It is," she
allowed.

The monkey gave Ana a look of sympathy. "It is," the monkey
agreed. "It
is...CONFETTI!" The monkey sprang from the dressertop to the
bed to the
windowsill to the ceiling fan, shredding the certificate and
raining handfuls of it
down onto Ana's head. "Confetti confetti confetti!"

Ana's anguished cry died in her throat, so choked with rage was
she.
"MONKEY!" she screamed at last. "MONKEY!"

"La la la!" the monkey sang as it tossed bits of paper all
about. "La la
la!" How it danced, just out of Ana's reach! "No more eggs!
No more toast! I
destroy what's loved the most!" It cackled and cut a spry jig
on the
windowsill.

Ana kicked her feet free of the heels, desperate for traction.
Her left shoe
flew into the ceiling fan, where it bumped about between fan and
ceiling
before shooting out again as if from a cannon. The high heeled
shoe (red patent
leather) caught the monkey squarely in the forehead. "Urk!"
said the monkey,
and tumbled out through the broken window.

Ana squeaked a sympathetic noise despite herself, and rushed to
the window.
Below, on the street, the monkey was still dancing, albeit a bit
wobbly.

"No more eggs!!" the monkey sang up to her. "No more toast!"

A passing pickup truck crushed the monkey under its wheels and
drove on
without the slightest pause.

Ana gaped.

The monkey lay motionless in the street. Bits of Ana's
certificate to
perform weddings in the state of Rhode Island drifted from its
unclenched fists and
blew in a westerly direction.

Still Ana gaped.

Finally, Ana was able to turn her gaze away from the deceased,
boob-tickling
monkey. A number of other cars had started to pass by, each of
them further
flattening the monkey without any attempt to manuever around the
corpse. "Bump-
bump!" went the tires of the cars as they passed over the
monkey.
"Bump-bump!"

In a daze, Ana wheeled the old Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner out of
her closet
and plugged it in. She gave her orange bedroom carpet a
once-over with the
vacuum, realizing it was something of a funeral for her beloved
certificate.

And something of a funeral for the monkey as well.

Ana smoothed her pink sheet back onto her bed and fluffed her
pillows. She
sat on the edge of her bed for a few moments, wondering whether
sleep would
find her again. Eventually she decided that it would. Ana
slipped under her
pink sheet and nestled her head into her pillows. She prepared
herself for a
good long stretch of staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep.
But there was no
need. Sleep found her quickly. Soon Ana's breathing came long
and deep. A
faint smile crossed her lips. She had found her dream again.

Outside her bedroom was the living room. Outside the living
room was the
hallway. At the end of the hallway was an elevator. Behind the
elevator doors
came a rumbling. The rumbling ceased. The arrow next to the
elevator doors
glowed red, and a "Ding!" sounded brightly.

Behind the elevator doors came a soft, sing-songy voice.

"La la la."

THE END

2:38pm

i have a headache because i have my period. but i'm in a good mood because my house is clean.
and i'm still cleaning it. going through each drawer and organizing.

fuzzybumblebee is having a garage sale on the 26th and i'm going to put a bunch of my stuff in it.
i can't wait until that day 'cause i want this stuff outta here!

5 hours until jason is home :)

2:23am

i have cramps :(

time for sleep....