Yule Time!

Our Apartment Complex had a decorating contest this year for Christmas. They had a front-window contest, and a patio contest.

I entered. I won.



The most amusing part to me? The Pagan won the Christmas contest. We made a Yule tree. A seven-foot-tall fake tree, with leafed vines for garland, red berry sprigs instead of a star, pinecones and weird red bundles and sprigs of evergreen for ornaments. We wrapped the railing of the balcony with the garland vines, lit up the tree and the railing, set out two chairs looking at the tree, one with a blanket, on with a Santa hat, put a bow on a grill, a bike, and wrapped empty boxes for presents. We put down a rug, hung some stockings, and hid a CD player under the presents, with Christmas Carols on repeat.

We rocked.

*Sigh*

Life's crazy right now. My computer is still down, finals are over, I'm moving in two weeks.

I hope things get better when we move.

I'm afraid they won't.

Stupid Oven-Safe Clay

Is only oven-safe if you're smart enough to work it.

For Christmas this year, I decided to make some Christmas ornaments for my friends. Kris is German, and has this weird Christmas Pickle tradition, so I made her a Christmas Pickle. I made Jesse a Red rose, with a blue stem.

And Jen, got a Very Sad Christmas Penguin. He was a very cute Christmas Penguin. He had a dark purple body, blue feet, a yellow tummy, blue eyes, and a red Santa Hat. If I do say myself, he was very, very cute.

So, I set the oven to the right temp, and put them in the oven to back this morning, while I made homemade pie crust for the apple pie I made. After about hour, I went to check on them.

THEY WERE MELTED! They were all a giant melted mass on the bottom of my plate. Someone had packaged up the wrong kind of clay in my package. I'd even written a little poem to go with the Pickle and Rose, and The Very Sad Christmas Penguin has his very own story I made up for him, in children's book style, with little illustrations.

Now, I have to try over again. *Hmmph*

A Series of Events

My computer died. The one I just got back? The male end of my charging unit pulled out of the computer, and is currently stuck inside the female end. Crap.

Jen and I were all set to go to our new town Thursday, fill out our paperwork, and settle in to our apartment. I got a phone call Wed. afternoon from my father.


"How would you and Jen like to save money on your rent?" That'd be great. Why?

"Could you take on another roommate?" Dad, no. The reason we're moving into a two-bedroom place instead of saying money at a one-bedroom place, is because we need space. We can't share a room again.

"Your little brother is moving to school there. You could let him live with you. It's only a semester." Dad! Jen and I are signing papers TOMORROW. No. There's not enough room, it won't happen. I haven't even gotten a chance to talk to her about it.

Conversation with Jen:
"We need to talk about our move. Dad just called, (insert details here.)

"NOOO!" Jen, if we say no, Dad'll push the issue until he guilt-trips us into it. Or, he'll say "Fine", and ask us to let Twit stay with us until he finds a place, since we're being jerks and it's so short-notice, and then Twit'll never move out...

"Arrrrrrgh!! This is not fair!! *Temper Tantrum*"


Well, Twit is moving in with us. But, Dad called around, pulled some strings, and did pretty well. We're not sharing a two-bedroom apartment. We're sharing a three-bedroom double-wide trailer house, with a full dining room, living room, kitchen-and-bar, two bathroom, kitchen and laundry room trailer house.

It's gorgeous. It's a mile and a half out of town, on a horse farm, with the most beautiful view. I get the master bedroom-bath combo... And that in itself is bigger than our current apartment.

Glen, Willow, you should stop and visit next time you go to Texas. ;)

A minor little Incident

I was working drive-thru today at work, when this terribly drunk man pulled through. Eyes half-open and bloodshot, slurring his words, nodding off to sleep midsentence, couldn't count his money.

I called for my manager, who called the cops, who said to keep him there. So, I asked him to park in a space for me while we made him fresh french fries. He couldn't park in the space... He took up three of them, and yelled something that might have been an apology.

We left him there, waiting. When the cop pulled up across the street, we were going to take him out his order, and let him pull out. Then, the cop would pull him over for making an illegal turn, and we would laugh while he got field-tested.

Well, I guess the gentleman decided he had waited too long, and was trying to back out of his space back into the drive-though lane to ask where his food was.

He collided with the building.

I was standing in the little protruding "box", and he collided with it. Not major, but I started freaking out, and yelling for my manager. "He ran into the building!! Kim, come here, he's leaving, he hit the building!" He realized he hit it, pulled forward a little to get a better angle... and hit it again.

All in all, he hit the building three times. He pulled out right as the officer was pulling up, and Kim and I were leaned out the window, pointing at him driving away, with Kim on the phone to the local dispatcher. The cop took off, lights blazing.

That man in sitting in jail as I'm typing. I might even get to go to court as a witness.

See, I told you. Just a minor little incident.

Blind Panick

Someone Please help me.

I'm moving in a month. *facepalm*

Somehow, in the course of just less than a month, Jen and I have to go to our new town, find jobs, put down money on our new apartment, go through all of our stuff, donate our unessicaries, pack up everything else, clean the entire apartment, move, unpack, and start work.

I think I'm going to die of a heart attack before then.

Any suggestions?

My Family's in Texas

But, I'm still in Oklahoma.

For Christmas this year, my Dad's boss gave him tickets to the Big XII Conference Game in San Antonio, TX. My grandparents live down there, so they're staying with them. My little brother went, too, because it's a weekend, and he doesn't have a job, and loves OU, and wanted to see my Grandma and Grandpa.

I didn't get to go. :( My parents found out they were going on Wednesday, and had to be ready to go by Friday morning. So, they called me, and asked if I could take three days off work to go see my grandparents that I haven't seen in 4 years.

Oh, yeah right. I have to know two weeks in advance to go anywhere. So, I politely declined. It would have been ok if that had been the end of it. But, no. Everytime I talked to them since i said I couldn't go, they've been excited. "Did you find someone to work for you?" "Did you change your mind about going?" "Are you sure you can't come?" And today: "We haven't left the city yet. We'll wait for you, if you want to go..."

It's not fair. It's hard enough that they get to go and I don't. Why can't they just leave it alone? It's just like Thanksgiving... Only worse.