So, on rare occassions, the county fair rocks.  Take last night, for instance, because I spent a good forty-five minutes rocking out to Smash Mouth.  They opened the show with a series of songs from their new album Summer Girl, and then they got into the good stuff.  After a totally kickin' drum solo (while the rest of the band changed, got a drink of water, etc.) they started up with Walkin' on the Sun.   A few songs later they played Then the Morning Comes (which was decided to be the most up beat depressing song on the planet).  Then they played another couple of songs before they played a totally amped up version of I'm a Believer (while my friend Stephanie and I did the Monkey like a couple of goobers and my friend Ericka recorded it with her cell phone).   That was supposedly the end of the show, however they then started up and encore with Riding with the Devil for all of the rockers in the crowd, a cover of a Van Halen song, I didn't recognize the next one before finishing it all off with All-Star.  Man, what a night!

This go round I manged to buy a black toyo cowboy hat that I look adorable in (okay, I admit it,  I'm a total country hick but dammit it's fun!).  I also, on a whim, had  a life reading.  No tarot cards, no plam readings, just a panel of three people who study you and then tell you what they see.  And it was just a little creepy.  The lone guy in the group pegged me as a sympathetic soul; someone who feels for other people and is often sought out for advice, the Dear Abby of the group.  (This was accurate, when I was in middle school, I was the one that friends and classmates would come to find if they were having troubles with something.)  He also said that because of my sympathetic nature, I had been taken advantage of, used, abused and over all made miserable.  (Also accurate, during my parents divorce I was often caught in the middle of the conflict by my parents who tried to play up to my sympathetic nature to make me side with one or the other.)  However the best I heard was from one of the women in the group.  She said that the trouble that was burdening me would finally be resolved, and I would find peace.  I can only hope that this is true.  Now, I didn't do any survey, questionaires or anything that would have given them the faintest idea of what my life was really like.  All they asked was for my name, and then my age.  The rest of it they got from looking at me.  It was a little weird, but I suppose that's part of the experience of going to the fair.

(And thankfully, no cranky teenaged drama queen attached to her cell phone either.)

If I thought my life was interesting, I had no idea until my eight-year-old brother lost his hamster, Sugar, in the loveseat this afternoon. He'd been playing with him (Sgt. Sugar, driving the G.I. Joe Jeep, no less) when he set him down on the loveseat. However, Sugar, unsupervised by my brother and my sister, managed to get lost within the cushions. I thought I was going to have to rip the loveseat to shreds, but luckily, after about ten very pannicky minutes, we managed to grab hold of the little bugger and pull him out.

Let me say this of today's adventures: my brother is no longer to set the hamsters down if he takes them out of their cage. He must hold on to them at all times or place them into their exercise balls.

Days like these make me wish to join a convent or at least swear off kids.

It's that time of year when the local fair is in full swing and families are out en masse to enjoy the food, rides, and exhibits.  But it also means that teenagers with cell phones permanetly glued to their ears are broadcasting their personal problems for all to here.  Now, I'm not against cell phones, heavens no!  I have one and I love it!  Free calls to my Dad and brother who live on the other side of the country, a means of contacting my family in case my anceint car has problems (or heaven forbid, I lock my keys in the car again), or getting in touch with friends if we're trying to meet up somewhere.  But I'm not on it all of the time, broadcasting personal problems for all of the world to hear. 

This brings me to the issue of this partiucular post.  To avoid the parking fiasco that takes place every year, my family opted to ride the city transit.  Cheaper than paying for parking plus you don't have to wait forever to get out of the parking lot.  However a girl who was no more than sixteen or seventeen was on her cellphone in the seat in front of me, the brunt of her conversation being personal in nature, not to mention nearly every other word was a curse word.  Now, as a general rule, I don't mind cursing.  I do a bit of myself, but when in the presence of young children (which there were several of on the bus) I watch my language.  After she dropped the "f" bomb, my step-dad confronted her and told her that she needed to watch her mouth and be mindful of the fact that there were young kids around her.  Well, he wasn't that diplomatic (personally, I think he could have handled it better but I can understand why he was so mad) and of course she acted like he'd insulted her when really, she was the one being insulting. 

There's something to be said about people who swear too much: People who swear do so because they have nothing more intelligent to say.  And that was very true of the girl who sat in front of me on the bus yesterday.

So to all of my teenaged copatriots out there: Please use good common sense when on your cell phones.  No one else wants to hear the particulars of your converstaions, nor do they give a flying fart in space. 

Wendy's Add:  Where's the beef?

V for Vendetta: A Revolution without dancing is a Revolution not worth having!

My Friend's Sweatshirt: The beatings will continue until morale improves.

An Inuyasha Fanfic: (After Kagome's priestess powers blow up most of Neo-Tokyo, causing her to squeak out, "I might have gone overboard.") That's the biggest understatement of the century, right behind, 'Miroku likes women.'"

A bumper sticker: If at first you don't succeed . . . blame someone else and seek counseling.

A bumper sticker: Eat right, excercise, die anyway.

A bumper sticker: Boldly going nowhere.

A bumper sticker: Grow your own dope -- plant a man.

Outlaw Star: Nothing good can ever come from staying with normal people.

Carrie Fisher: I wanna thank George Lucas for turning me into a a doll, which my ex-husband can stick pins into.

Carrie Fisher: Hi, I'm Mrs. Han Solo and I'm an alcoholic.

Johnny Depp: It's kind of sad, really, suffering from separation anxiety with a fictional character.

Are there any more that people want to add?

Well, the 'rents and the little kids are back in town.  Pulled in about a hour and a half ago, and they even brought back some souviners for me.  I now own three official peices of Black Hills gold.  I even have a certificate of authenticity for two of them.  The one I got when I was ten no long has its certificate. 

Anyway, the last week was nice.  A little weird, not having a house full of people, but I must admit, I do like the crowd.  And of course my dog is as happy as can be, now that her girl is home.  I just hope she doesn't think that my bed is where she'll be sleeping from here on out.  :D  Back on track, most of the week was spent working, and when I wasn't working I was cleaning house.  I know, my parents go out of town and what do I do?  I clean.  Well, what can I say, things were fabulous when they got home. 

I had a party Friday night because let's face it, I'm a normal young adult and I do like to get together with my friends, so I invited my six closest friends over for dinner - and breakfast.  I watched V for Vendetta at about one AM followed by The Count of Monte Cristo which got over about five thirty.  Then the cats starting raising a ruckus, and then the alarm went off at five after six . . . well, I was running about two hours of sleep yesterday.  Others things done at the party included dropping Mentos into Diet Coke, late night swimming in a 95 degree pool (and it was about sixty degrees outside), and massive amouts of eating.  Between myself and my friends Stephanie, Ericka and Katie, we ate almost a whole key lime pie.  And there was still cheesecake.  Dinner was comprised of black bean soup (Cuban style) with friend plantain bananas and fried yuca root (very potato like) and breakfast was Belgian waffles.  I love to cook, so I was totally in my element.

And in the weird and wacky news, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my house is haunted.  The grandfather clock in our foyer, which hasn't been wound in several years, started up.  I didn't do it, and I know my friends haven't messed with it.  All of a sudden, on Friday, it started up and it's been running just fine since then.  Okay, so the time is off, but it's running and that's the weird part.  I think our ghost must have messed with, like he messes with my computer and my dolphin statuettes.  Creepy.

Well, I need to go bug people about dinner.  I'm starving and now that I'm finally used to my braces (it only took me a week) I can eat normally again.

Ah, this is gonna be nice. I'm by myself for an entire week. No kids, just me and the pets. Of course I have to cater to my aging kitty's needs, but the one I'm really worried about is my poor little puppy.



That's her. Cute, ain't she? Well, she belongs to my sister, and spoiled little AKC registered dog that she is, she sleeps in my little sister's bed. Since my sister is gone, that means I have to sleep with her, or rather she's sleeping in my room. I'll just have to bring down the chair she's taken to recently with the laundry in it and hope that she can settle into that. My biggest fear is that she'll make a mess in my room.

Anything that's easy to chew.  I learned that I'll be losing weight thanks to my braces.  Right now I can barely eat anything solid, even though the orthodontist told me that I had to.  Eat a bagel, they said.

Yeah, right.  That's about the worst food experience I've had in a while.  Chewing is a humongus pain in the . . . jaw.  It's gonna be yogurt, smoothies, soups and stews for the next couple of weeks.  Right now, ramen soup is the best thing for me since I have to chew the noodles, but they're not really hard.  I could probably eat macaroni and cheese, too, but I've eaten a lot of that this summer so maybe I'll pass.

And that's about it for now.  My step-dad is teasing me about my braces (brace-face and tin grin come to mind) which is getting old and FAST.  But the best part is they don't hurt unless I'm eating.  Othwise I almost foget they're there.  Almost.

Mr. Ibuproufin and Mr. Tylenol are my good, good friends now, and will be for the next two years.  My top braces are on, and it'll be another month and a half until my bottom ones are put on (September 13).   They hurt for now, but by next Wednesday I should be used to them.  I was finally used to the spacers when they took those out this morning.  C'est la vie, or so they say.

Anyway, life looks like it'll be fine.  I mean, the tempest isn't settled by any strech of the imagination, and frankly I think my step-dad's "If I can't see it, then it's not happening" attitiude is childish, but what can I do?   He'd never listen to me in a million years even if I did tell him.  However I know that if things get stressful I do have some excellent friends here, and my dad has said that I can call him any time I need to.  Even though my relationship with my dad isn't the best, it's nice to know that he's there for me if I need him.

So.

Tomorrow I get braces.

Oh yippie, a hour and a half stuck in the orthodontist's office, being tortured.

Someone please tell me why I'm doing this again?

You know how when you think things can't possibly get any worse, and then, because Fate loves to mock you, they do?  Well, welcome to my life.  I thought going through the pain of braces was the low point of my life, but no.  World War III will be starting soon in my family and the lines have been drawn.

I don't know if I'll make it out of this alive.

I'm seriously stressed out now and I have had a stomach ache for the last eight hours becuase of it.