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Below are the 18 most recent journal entries recorded in
sianne's InsaneJournal:
| Sunday, November 2nd, 2008 | |
| 6:26 pm | Annual post ((I've all but given up on journaling sites. Frankly, I'd rather play WoW or write on my novel. Forced creativity ftw. I have AIM, Skype, and MSN but I still keep this on the off chance that something I want to write is too political for y!gallery....such as this)) |
| Saturday, June 28th, 2008 | |
| 5:59 pm | Caption that cat! (contest) x posted from y!gallery My sister has a beautiful cat named Sebastian. He is a gray and white shorthair with the softest, yummiest fur on any cat anywhere, including my own. I know that's some kind of blasphemy, but seriously, this cat feels like chinchilla. He loves my sister dearly and she loves him back and likes to tease him. Another thing you should know about Sebastian..... Sebastian hates your guts. He hates ANYBODY and everybody that walks in my sister's house with a blind, burning passion and he will not hesitate to let you know how much he hates you. The pissed off glares will start the moment you walk in, and when you sit down for drinks he will sit down too, five feet away from you and glaaaaaare. He does not like you. He wants you to die. If you try to talk to him, he will growl and/or hiss at you, and god forbid if you try to touch his yummy fur. Because then you have offended him greatly and he will take just revenge upon your hand, and most likely your ankles. Oh, doubtless you will want to touch him and hold him because he is slightly tubby and that thick, delicious fur just begs to be petted, but he hates every inch of you. I have witnessed this evil bastard demon fucker cat chase one of my sister's friends all 'round her living room, yelling at her and taking swipes at her ankles, and biting her heels every time she got within range. He jumps into the window and growls at the postman. He despises my parents (the hate is mutual on my mother's part) and tolerates my sister's twin as long as she does not try to touch him. He eats souls and spits out tears. In short, he is a Bad Cat. Contest part! Part One: I got an excellent picture of him. No, the evil yellow light in his eyes is not any sort of photoshop filter, it's a light reflection, but honestly, it's perfect. I am horrible at making cat macros, so I leave it up to anyone who finds this journal (or links to it, or passes the photo 'round) to give him an appropriate LOLCAT caption! Sebastian Prizes: My eternal adoration? All rights to Sebastian's grumpy expression. E-cookies! Part Two: SHOW ME YOUR CATS. And the captions you have made for them. At the conclusion of this contest (July the 4th) I shall create a three day poll whereupon the entire internet can vote upon your cat! (You may also enter your creation from part one, if you did that. Cuz I am lazy) Prizes: My eternal adoration? E-cookies! Virtual snugglies from my own cat. |
| Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 | |
| 11:09 am | Fic: The Crow: Righteousness Why yes, yes I do intend to finish it and everything. LOOK! LOOK MOM! I HAVE AN OUTLINE!! WITH CHAPTER SUMMARIES AN' EVERYTHING!! (I say this because half the stories I start are still in my Stories folder, in various states of completion. And that novel? Yeah, eleven chapters (full size, not fanfiction size) does not a book make) Anyway. Losing kittens made me melancholy. Author: Sianne Rating: R for Violence, Language, Sexual Situations Pairings: Braedon/Dallas, others not relevant Summary: Braedon and his lover Dallas are murdered after protesting Arizona's anti-gay marriage law. Braedon is brought back two years later to avenge their deaths, only to learn the terrible truth about who ordered the killings. ( Ze Prologue ) |
| Friday, June 6th, 2008 | |
| 10:30 am | Poor kittens Goopy died on Wednesday and Gunky died ten minutes ago in my arms. Nature sucks ass, and I hate it. |
| Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008 | |
| 4:55 pm | In Which Sianne Becomes a Foster Parent I am in rather a unique situation right now. I have one tiny black kitten sitting on my shoulder. This kitten has been nicknamed Gunky for reasons that shall be delved into shortly. There's another tiny black kitten roaming up and down the surface of my desk and occasionally attacking my typing fingers. This kitten is nicknamed Nosy. Two more tiny black kittens are perched on the windowsill, watching my every move, their little faces going back and forth, back and forth. Their names are (for the moment) Noisy and Goopy. I have become a foster parent for the Humane Society. I am rather pleased with myself, I did their training and paid the fee and came home the other day with four underage, underweight, scrawny little kittens. Two had eye infections, one had a cold, all are at least a pound underweight and two weeks underage. As a foster home, it is my job to give them medicine every day, feed them, love them, socialize them, make sure they're not getting sicker, in some cases litterbox train them, and then give them back to the humane society so they can be adopted out into good homes, while not getting attached to the teeny black balls of fluff currently perched on various parts of my body or mewing at me in squeaky little voices. Ha. Ha. I already desperately want to keep Noisy. He/She's got a patch of white fur on her belly that makes her so cuuuuuuuuuute, shaped like a half moon. Goopy is shy, and stays either in her carrier or on her bed. Nosy is........well. In everything that belongs to ME, currently. My poor cat doesn't know what to think of all this, and has settled for perching on top of the printer where their short little legs cannot get them, to stare down at them incredulously. I am going to be slightly bereft when I have to give them all back. But then I'll be getting another load. Hurray for kittens! If you've ever wanted a pet but don't think you can keep it, consider becoming a foster parent. Most humane societies have this program now. They pay for all the food and medication the pet needs, and will match you with kittens, puppies, or other small mammals that need "extra care" The fee per year isn't exorbitant (ten bucks) and it's a blast. The only thing I've had to worry about is wanting to KEEP THEM ALL OMG. Oh yeah, pictures! http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f15/Si http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f15/Si http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f15/Si http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f15/Si And now for something totally different, I have started writing a melodrama. *sigh* Yes, yes, I know. I am angry at my favorite fandom and decided to punish it by writing a horrible AU OOC thing in the hopes that the fandom will learn from its mistakes and do better in the future. Here's the prologue. |
| Wednesday, May 21st, 2008 | |
| 1:17 pm | IT LIVES Well, sorta. Still harassing j99867 to finish submission system and of course had to test it out. I don't see what's so hard about developing a website that Snover whines about. All you do is bitch at the developer person until they finish it, and then go break it! http://www.ficnation.net/view/5/1 WOOT. I are all excited. Of course, still can't edit it or delete it, but we're working on that. Gwaaaaagh, exciting. That is all. Current Mood: chipper |
| Wednesday, May 14th, 2008 | |
| 2:24 pm | How Not to do Henna Art (Part Deux of Deux) Cat saliva took it right off, however. If I like, post a frantic journal in three days going "OMG U GAIS MY CAT IS TURNING PURPLE WAT SHUD I DO??!?" you will remind me of this, right? Right. I finally did decide on a design to use on the back of my left hand, (did not do my right hand because I am more right handed than left) and thus began the arduous task of mixing up paste. Lemon juice we had. Sugar we had. We did not have any sort of tea or oil to mix in it, but then everything I read said that these were not essential and just for show anyway, so I left them out. And hey presto! I was back to the baby poop stage! And this time I was actually putting it ON MY SKIN. YAY BEANS.  One thing I did notice, was that the stuff started cracking almost the minute it started drying. I had sealed it with sugar water, like my information site had recommended, though I had also seen hair spray, gel, and other seals offered. Maybe it's my seal. I dunno, haven't gotten that far into the art to figure out what's best. Waited four hours, and then tried the gentle rubbing motion to get the flakes to come off. The flakes. Would not. Come off. That shit was stuck to my skin like nobodies business. I dunno if it was the sugar, or the henna poop, or the teeny hairs on the back of my arm that were holding it down, but that I could now no sooner get it off than undo it. It huuuuuuuuuurt. So I did the logical thing. I left it on another four hours, allowing it to fuse with my skin even MORE, until when I tried to get it off the next morning I thought I'd have to take my mother's copper scouring pad and rub it off holy fuck wow. But most of it by that time flaked off the back, and only in a few stubborn areas was it clinging to my arm. On the upside, it is a very nice walnut brown and has been so for the last four days. I am most pleased with that brand of henna, save for the sifting that I have to do. I, erm, found a cork for the bottle and am using it. |
| Thursday, May 8th, 2008 | |
| 10:21 am | How NOT to do Henna art So I bought some henna powder from the Middle Eastern market. Usually I buy the prepared cones, they come from the freezer in the back and all you have to do is snip the tip off and warm them up and you're good to go. Erm....scratch that, usually it's a good idea to warm them up BEFORE you snip the tip off, as I tend to warm mine up by sitting on them for an hour. I would not recommend this method to anyone who has already pre-snipped. And for those of you who have not experienced the flavor of Middle Eastern markets, let me elaborate. First, I like markets. I go to the Asian market for the candy. Not pocky. I've never seen the appeal of pocky, frankly. I like the poppyseed rolled candy and the sesame seed candy and the nut candy that frankly you can't get other places. The Middle Eastern Market is wonderful for finding baklava and henna cones. But they do look at you a bit funny if you are a white chick walking in there on her own without a head scarf. But the last time I was in there they had no prepared cones, and I was completely flummoxed. I wandered the aisles, looking lost, and thought I might just get myself some nice tea, when I found a whole selection of plastic jars labeled henna. Red and black. So I bought one of each. Now, before anyone starts lecturing me about the dangers of black henna, yes, I know. The henna I bought is not "black" henna, it is indigo. Which is fine, it just stains the skin, erm, green. Which is interesting in itself. I got the powder home and happily opened my first jar of red henna, eager to begin mixing and adorning myself. All the paste I had bought to that point had been about the consistency of baby poop, so I mixed mine to the consistency of baby poop, and scooped it eagerly into my newly bought cake frosting squeezy bag. And then......nothing happened. Disaster! Horror! Disappointment! HENNA CLOGS!!!!12g Apparently, my overeager self had not read the package carefully enough, and had bought the powder "unsifted" which meant there were little bits of bark and twigs and leafy bits still all in it. Some were small enough that I could not see them, and some were big enough that I could, now gazing forlornly down into my jar of henna powder, and I realized that I had wasted a good deal of paste, because it is no good picking the clumps out of paste you can't use. So I had to pitch it. It was then I got the bright idea of looking online for solutions to my problems! I found a site that advised me in all things henna. The solution, it said, was to sift the powder through a nylon stocking and what came through the stocking would be nice, fine, useable henna powder and what was left in the stocking would be leaves and twigs and crap. Fun beans! Eager to try this useful knowledge, I grabbed a sock out of my sock drawer and dumped, oh, a good measure of powder into it. I quickly learned two things. One, a nylon stocking is not the same thing as a nylon sock. And two, when they say to stretch the sock over a hard plastic container, they mean a hard plastic container and not a plastic Dixie cup. After vacumming the henna powder out of the carpet and washing my face and changing my shirt, I went to find a hard plastic container with a lid on it, and cut up a pair of nylon stockings. No one wears them anymore, so I figured my mother wouldn't mind the sock exploded They tell you that henna is a safe and natural herbal product that smells like tea, spinach, or frozen peas. Sometimes, it smells good, sometimes it smells slightly musky. It looks like green goop. Franky, it tastes like dirt. The cat didn't much like the taste either, and I had to chase him all over the house before I caught him. After vacumming the henna powder out of the carpet and washing my face and hair and changing my shirt again and cleaning the computer and the desk and CHANGING THE SHEETS ON MY BED GOOD GOD I inspected the damage to my nylon stocking to find the twigs and leaves and crap actually at the bottom of the stocking, giggling at me. The rest of the powder was fine. I pitched out the gunk and dumped the clean powder in a bowl, deciding I'd had enough sifting. Exhausted and tired and looking vaguely Oompah-Loompah-ish, I decided to call it a wrap, and do the real work tomorrow. More updates to come. |
| Saturday, May 3rd, 2008 | |
| 3:41 pm | In Which Sianne Rediscovers Her IJ OMG. Hi all you three people that watch me!!!11. Well, I've officially made the switch from Livejournal to Insane Journal. I don't think I'll go so far as to Delete My Lj forever and ever amen, but you never know. I only used the thing for the Corset Diaries, and since I don't do much sewing of corsets nowadays (gotta get that Renn Faire wardrobe finished) there's not much point in keeping it around. Hmm hmm changes. I finally quit my soul eating job at Medicare, and am searching for work in between developing what I would really like to do with my life, which is to write books. OMGBUTYOUCANNOTPAYTHEBILLSWITHBOOKS. Yeah, I know, I'm terrified. So are my parents, hee. But I figure now is the time to do it, I'm not getting any younger. Spent another Valentine's day doing part time floral work and got another rash. I could do that for a living, really, if any of the shops around here weren't so "Well, you have to have at least three years of EXPERIENCE before we'll hire you" What, doing a wedding isn't experience? Idiots. Most recent journal from ygallery: In baking news, today I baked/am baking six (SIX!!!1) loaves of bread. One has already met the knife, because my sister brought over her 3 year olds and the concept of "saving it for tomorrow's brunch" does not translate after big blue eyes and "Bed? Bed? Peece bed?" Oh well. I have FIVE MORE. I don't have monies for buying mother's day gifts, so I give baked goods. Grandma gave me her old cookbook and half the recipes are scrawled in handwriting I cannot decipher, with about 1/ 4 the instructions in german patois that babelfish does not understand. But I made some very nice breads. Dill tomato, honey saffron, and wheat molasses. There's a navy bean bread I really want to try, but I am out of flour. Need to pick up more of the basics. Now, to go and check on everyone's journals that I watch and make inane comments. |
| Monday, December 3rd, 2007 | |
| 11:27 pm | Now, why don't she write? Work is EATING MY SOUL. What's it been, well over a month since I've updated anything at all? And I'm sure by now everyone has forgotten who I am and why I'm here and what I stand for so I shall start by reintroducing myself all over again. My name is Sianne and I am 28 years old and I HAVE NO SOUL. I have empathy though. Oh my god, I have a fuckload of empathy. It is oozing out my ears. *incoherent cursing, shakes the jam jar that contains the last bits of her morality and sense of human dignity* Right, so here's the story. At the end of September I got a job at Convergys. They're one of those multimillion dollar businesses that never tell you what exactly they DO when you watch their commercials, they just show a group of smiling, happy, ethnically diverse people standing around in business attire and then a voice over comes on and says "Our company. A GREAT place to work." Well, okay, but I'd still like to know what I'm DOING. Which turns out they contract with a bunch of OTHER companies, who are subcontracted through a lot of other companies. So I'm not exactly clear on who is paying me. But as long as they keep doing it, I don't suppose I will complain. Also, I took eight weeks of insurance agent classes to get my insurance license. I am now a licensed insurance agent for this company, and I can sell policies. Worse still, it is Life and Health insurance, which are actually two different things. I have found that people really like life insurance (it pays them) and really hate health insurance (they pay us). They paid for my training, they paid for my testing, and now they're paying me extra because I have a slip of paper that says I am licensed. But what do I DO? I sit at a desk all day and answer people's questions about their Medicare. .........yes. I have become one of Them. And they told me in insurance class that we would have to just sort of tough it up when it came to sob stories, because there's only so much that we can do for people and we're not allowed to bend the rules. Which I already knew, believe it or not modding y!gallery has put me in the mentality of "you break the rules for one person they're all going to want it" deal. Which had already given me a pretty tough skin. Natural empathetic tendencies towards sob stories had eroded to the point of "your mother just died? ya right okay you're still banned. Bai." But omg you get real live people on the phone wondering how they're going to afford medication and your heart just sort of rips itself into tiny pieces. Over and over and over. So, the part of me I was trying to squish is now fully functioning again, I have noticed. I find myself saying "Awwww, you poor thing!" more times than I care to count. I have tried not to let it affect my moderating. On the other hand, there is only so much that I personally can do. Hence the soul eating part. Also they've got me on some kind of ungodly endurance test which is NOT cool. But at least I'm getting paid for the days I'm out on Jury Duty this week.....*grumblemumble* And that's where Sianne has been. I LOVE YOU ALL. I am sorry I have not been here but maybe I will get a chance to catch it up (ha ha) or at least start replying to stuff again. |
| Saturday, October 6th, 2007 | |
| 8:04 pm | BOX OF KITTENS Yeah, I've got a box of kittens Box of kittens!!!! Right, so I was mowing the lawn, and I see what I think might be a skunk out of the corner of my eye, hightailing it out of our azaleas. "Oh dear" thought I, "That's the last thing I need, a skunk spraying me while I am mowing the lawn and then I can run screaming across the grass, covered in skunk goo, which will REALLY impress our weirdass neighbor man who likes to come out on the porch and stare at me while I'm mowing." I didn't actually think all of that at once, but it is needed for the exposition. God he creeps me out. Anyway, I finished the lawn and saw neither hide nor hair of the skunk, and it was sort of growing in my mind that it might have been that black and white cat that sometimes comes over and hangs out on our porch when she's in heat, rubbing on the back door and generally pissing my cat off. I'd seen her a couple of times last week on the porch, and didn't think much of it, but now I'd seen her in the bushes and for some reason, I decided to go look for her and see if she'd gone back to her hiding place. On the other part of my mind, the part that was still randomly screaming phrases like "neighbor man!!" and "skunk!!" at me, it occurred to me that this might not be the brightest of ideas that I've ever had, but I don't listen to that part of my mind much, and went to investigate. I did not find a skunk, or even the neighbor cat. I found five widdle oochie coochie woochie kittens. Just about the size of my hand and all with their eyes mostly open, squealing and mreeing and all in a heap in a nest back there. Not one to want to leave them by themselves, I boxed them up and took them inside. Box of kittens! And then I called the neighbors, trying to figure out whos cat it was. Ugh, people. If you're going to have a female cat, for god's sake have it spayed or keep it indoors. It's just cruel to let them wander around and have babies if you're not going to take responsibility for them. and I completely am not falling for the "Oh, we had NO IDEA she was pregnant again!" excuse. That is bullshit. Kittens are going home tomorrow but I'm keeping them for now while the neighbors go and get kitten paraphanalia. If they try and pull the "well we don't really have space for them" I will so call the SPCA on them. But i have a box of kittens!! CUTE. Also, my cat hates me. I have betrayed him deeply. |
| Friday, September 21st, 2007 | |
| 12:53 pm | Ha ha ha all corsets on hold So we had that flood, right? A lot of stuff got shifted around while stuff got moved around. In the mess of having things get moved, we had carpet people come in and clean the carpets, and then we had separate people come in and clean. I am missing all my boning supplies (over 70 flat steel bones) 4 busks, a hammer, and my good awl. (The shitty one is still here...hmm) Now I know they are not misplaced, because two bones I had that were misshappen are still here, and all my plastic mock up boning is still here, the shitty awl is still here, the rubber mallet is still here, the grommets are still here, and my scissors, which were hidden REALLY well (re: they were lost) are still here. Thank god, they were silver plated. I was cutting out corset parts on the pingpong table and decided to finally finish putting the room back together again because I felt up to it today or god only knows how long it would have been before I noticed. Probably when I went to put bones in someone's corset. Argh argh argh, that shit is going to be expensive to replace. agsdlagisdlalhgahgjga;lkhasf ranty ranty ranty. *crosspost* |
| Tuesday, September 11th, 2007 | |
| 8:16 pm | To Define a Generation I've read many articles over the past twelve hours, and even some yesterday. I've seen many different views on 9/11. It was our fault, it wasn't our fault, it was Bush's fault, it was the FBI's fault, it was the terrorist's fault. It was a tragedy, people should get over it, we should never forget it. The war is useless and we should all go home, we can't go home because we haven't caught the terrorists yet, we must support the troops regardless of what we personally believe...all of these are views I have read, and probably I have forgotten some. I am not sure of my feelings on the whole situation. Certainly it was a horrible thing to happen, the first large scale attack on American soil in the continental United States since the War of 1812. Certainly many people lost their lives, and many people became heros. I think we've sort of lost that, in all the political hoopla that came in the next five years. For almost a month, we grieved, we mourned, and we supported ourselves as a nation, and the world was, for the most part, supportive. Bush had his finest moments as a president, I believe, in holding the nation together in the wake of what only comes along once a century. New York became our symbol, the Pearl Harbor of the 21st century. Where did we go wrong? I am not going to start talking about my political beliefs in this journal, because I don't believe it is my place to say how anyone else should believe or think or act. If I wanted to talk about what I think the country did wrong in the aftermath, this journal would become far too long and far too ranty for me to post it here. Certainly though, I do believe mistakes were made on many levels. And continue to be made. But it's not my place to preach this time, about policy. Regardless of what I think, and regardless of what others think, today is a day that for many people will be burned into memory, and it doesn't matter how many years go by, THEY will never forget. We should not use or make light of their pain. It defines our generation, just as the Kennedy assassination defined the generation of our parents, and the bombing of Pearl Harbor defined the generation of our grandparents. We could, and should, take lessons from them, they and the quiet survivors of New York. Years from now, regardless of what happens on the other side of the world, our children and our children's children will read about 9/11 in their history books and ask us "Where were you when it happened? What do you remember?" and we must ask ourselves what we want to give to them. We have time, now, as people, to stop making ourselves victims when we have not the right. We have time as a nation to stop the international lashing out. We can also keep at it. I think this year will be one of the last years we can do that. Where we were then and where we are now will shape our future for years to come, and it is our responsibility as human beings, to step back and reflect. The great tragedies that shape our nations history should not be defined by bullying (on ANY level) under the mis-guided label of patriotism. Let those who are grieving, grieve. Let those who have moved on, continue. That is what we should be contributing to history, because we are the ones who make it. And ask yourself what you want to say when you get asked where you were twenty, thirty, fifty years from now. We can't move on from something unless we remember it, in whatever way we choose to remember. Where we you? What were you doing? God bless. |
| Tuesday, September 4th, 2007 | |
| 10:25 am | Tuesday, Tuesday... TA DA! I have my new internet card. So finally finally, I am back online. And wouldn't you know, I don't want to do a darned thing today except laze around and muck about the internet. But alas, real life rears its ugly head. Must finish some things before Faire, and I'm taking a trip into the fabric store. ........Hancocks is going out of business, so the fabric lately has been waaaaaaay cheap. It'll make embroidering the top of those sleeves much fun, since I decided to do the dress in velvet instead of taffeta. Hey, the velvet is on sale for 3.99, normally it was 12.99 a yard. Mercenary me loves those kind of things. Well, I THOUGHT I was going to get some writing done today. Cayde and I are writing my Clarity of Sight plot out as kind of a joint project and while the writing is fine, it's sort of para form and I took one look at what we have right now and decided to edit the fuck out of it. Needs a specific POV for one, fix plot holes for two, and intro background on Delphi for three. However, every time I open up the file I start staring blankly at it, and then wander off to play solitaire. wtf, me? Also needing to be catching up on my various RPs all over the place, which will be made harder by the fact that I sliced my finger open whilst cleaning the glass top stove last night. Holy CRAP I didn't know fingers BLED that much. On another interesting note, my father can change colors like a chameleon. He hit gray, white, and green, all within the space of a minute as I was happily poking my finger muscle and watching the blood spew everyfreakin'where. (And then 45 seconds later, the pain hit and I didn't wanna do that no more...) Have tried baking salmon with a sauce of maple syrup, instant smoke, and various dried herbs. We shall see how it turns out, ne? |
| Thursday, August 23rd, 2007 | |
| 10:58 pm | Farfarello? Rp? Anyone? Looking for random person who doesn't mind chat RP to be our fourth? We has a Nagi and a Schuldig (me) and a Crawford but we need a lovable psychopath to terrorize the other folks with. Will explain in detail if anyone's interested. Must be willing to deal with newbie who is willing to learn, random scheduling, and ADD. SatiricalWhimsey on AIM if you're interested or know someone who is. Someone? Anyone? *listens to the crickets* Crossposted to LJ and JournalFen because I am just that interested. |
| Saturday, August 18th, 2007 | |
| 3:16 pm | Moving crap from LJ Right. So here's how I's gonna do this thing. The Corset Diaries are going to go to JournalFen. Probably my Weiss stuff as well, when/if I post it in story format other than CoS because that's my own little private project that will likely never end up on AFF because those people scream bloody murder if you put in a female OC and I'd rather not deal with yaoi crazed fantards. I know my character isn't a Mary Sue, I've worked on the damn story idea long enough, but god forbid a pair of boobies get in the way of hot sweaty manluvvin'. My rants about writing, roleplaying, Mary Sues, y!gallery, and life in general will likely all go here just because I like separating things. Speaking of Mary Sues, WHY does Delphi have a score of 4 on that stupid test? I ran her through 7 times and never got any higher than a 6. Chloe comes in at 15, which is a good respectable number, even though I did give her much of the action. But Delphi......my flippin' demi goddess, comes out with a 4-6. That test is skewed. Or maybe it's the fact that she's a blind, crippled, insane ugly old bat. Who knows. In other news, my sister decided to take my new car out for a drive around the neighborhood. Just to prove she could still drive stick, I guess. Comes back in and hands me my rearview mirror. "I dunno how it haaaaaaappened." It's been an interesting month, it has. |
| Thursday, August 16th, 2007 | |
| 8:42 pm | Warrgh So, for those of you who talk to me on IM, you know by now that my basement has flooded. Me, I keep all my important crap down there. My bed, my clothes, my computer....I kinda live down there since it's nice and cool and I have this tornado-phobia. Anyway. Years ago we had problems with our basement flooding. Randomly in the middle of the night, water would rush out of the sump pump and soak the carpet, and if we didn't hear it rushing through the house we'd wake up with inches of water everywhere. This was when I either didn't live there or lived upstairs. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we'd all get up at 3 in the morning and try to bail it out, with pots and pans, by manually lugging water to the bathtub and dumping it. Picture two middle aged people, (a man in his underwear, lady in her nightgown) and me without my glasses, hauling water back and forth, to SAVE THE CARPET!!!1. Of course, it was all in vain, as eventually the basement would flood anyway. We'd have to call the carpet cleaner people who would come with fans and pipes and vacuums and implements of destruction, rip out our carpet, dry it, and put it back. ........Mom's on first name basis with them. So am I. So now that I live down here, I am a lot closer to the sump pump, and can theoretically keep an eye on it every time it rains. Naturally, after the fourth or fifth time getting flooded (we live in a low area) dad had a ditch dug, installed a drain in the basement, and put an alarm on the pump that would make it go off if the water rose to a dangerous level. Genius, eh? It stopped the flooding for a couple of years. Except that a couple of months ago, the alarm broke. And it started going off EVERY SINGLE NIGHT FOR NO DISCERNIBLE REASON. I mean, one, two, three a.m. that sucker would start wailing. And it was LOUD, too. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Have I mentioned that I am a light sleeper? I also have insomnia, and take medication for it. So by two am, I am dragged out of medicated sleep by a very persistant EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE "GOD DAMMIT DAD YOU CALL SOMEONE TO FIX THIS FUCKING THING IN THE MORNING I'M NOT TURNING IT OFF ANYMORE." EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE "YOU HEAR ME UP THERE?" STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP SLAM SLAMP BANG BANGITY EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrt-- "I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" That appeared to get their attention about the third time I did it. To make a long story even longer, Dad decided that the best possible thing to do while he waited for the repair person would be to unplug the alarm. So he unplugged the alarm. Only he unplugged the entire sump pump. It rained -hard- two days later. I, enjoying my first full night of sleep in more than a month, blissfully slept through the entire night. Who wants to guess where I'm headed with this? So yeah, our basement flooded. The carpet people came with fans and pipes and vacuums and implements of destruction and ripped the carpet out, cleaned it, and today they're putting it back in. Only there's a slight problem. Because the sump pump was completely unplugged, there was absolutely NOTHING to stop the water from going all over the basement, so it was worse than usual. The carpet everywhere has to be steam cleaned. Mildew in my clothes. Mildew in my mattress. Mildew on the floor. It's a mess, and I blame it entirely on dad. ..........who still hasn't fixed the alarm. |
| Sunday, August 5th, 2007 | |
| 7:43 am | Rumblings. Testing one two three....... Great, just what I need, another journal to keep up with. I'm only moving over here for fanfic. Customization and possibly other crap to follow. End test. |
