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Titsy McLure's LiveJournal:
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| Monday, January 16th, 2006 | | 9:37 pm |
I'm hitting my monthly low. Hormone levels dropping, memories of every bad thing that's ever happened to me rushing in. I just finished doing one of those girly put-on-a-sad-song-and-cry-in-the-car things. It didn't help that I saw Requiem For a Dream for the first time tonight. Travis: "I'm going to get some oatmeal." Me: "I'm going to die alone and unloved..." I hate overthinking everything. I need to stop reading Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. It's hurting more than it's helping. | | Wednesday, December 28th, 2005 | | 8:09 pm |
I am so fucking awesome. I got Travis the Paris Hilton sex video for Christmas. He was near tears when he saw it. God, I am the coolest girlfriend ever. | | Tuesday, December 27th, 2005 | | 6:20 pm |
snarl
I've decided that in order to make a few extra bucks a month, I'm going to start selling essays. Does that sound as bad as I think it does? It would be by commission, so I'd be looking at an average of $100 an essay or $20 a page, double-spaced. It sounds smarmy, but I gots bills to pay. Christmas was fun. On Christmas Eve, Travis and I went to his sister's house for dinner. His family cracks me up. At one point his dad actually said, "hey, let's all get drunk and fight!" And his dad got me a necklace for Christmas. It was so sweet. Mickey (his mom) gave me the package and I opened it and said thank you to her, because I figured- gorgeous, tasteful necklace- Mickey picked it out. And Mickey goes, "John picked it out for you." After that, Travis and I went to mass. It was his first time in a Catholic mass, so he was giggling all through it. And every few minutes he would whisper "Faith," and I would look at him and he would hold up ten fingers and mouth "ten more minutes?" Me: "No." Him: *flashes ten fingers and then five* "Fifteen?" I told him we'd leave after the priest put the Eucharist away, and Travis held a count-down. Once the tabernacle doors clicked shut, he grabbed my purse and my sweater and was like, "okay, let's go." Christmas Day: go to Aunt Kath's house and get my car stuck in the mud. Aaaaaand it was all downhill from there. For the rest of the night, people I didn't even know were coming up to me and asking me if I got that "car thing worked out." Yes, I got the fucking car thing worked out. I ended up leaving early because everyone was making such a big deal out of it. Getting the car stuck in the mud suddenly inspired everyone to start poking and prodding my car to see if there was anything else wrong with it, and then they had the nerve to present their findings to me like I had NO IDEA. They're like "you know your driver's side window is sticking? And your trunk isn't closing all the way. And water is leaking in." First of all- yes, I know the window sticks. I've been driving the car for a fucking year. I know the window sticks. Yes, I know the trunk isn't closing all the way. It's some funky ass mechanical thing and I can't change it. But why the fuck are you poking around IN my trunk? GOD, I hate those people! I don't want your help! Let's just drop it and have a merry fucking Christmas! | | Monday, December 5th, 2005 | | 7:45 pm |
Spew!
I got some Thanksgiving flavored sodas by Jones last week that included turkey and gravy flavored, wild herb stuffing flavored, and pumpkin pie flavored. I paid Brady (teenage brother of the toddler I nanny for) ten bucks to take a shot of each, and he vomited. The funniest part is that he's this 6-foot-tall 200-pound football player. He first took a shot of the stuffing flavored soda and it grossed him out but he didn't puke. Then he did the turkey one and he gagged and got all shaky and sweaty. Then he took the pumpkin pie- because he thought it would be the easiest- and it was so gross he actually vomited. So I wrote him a check for ten bucks, and you know what? It was worth every penny. I had a weird dream last night. I dreamt that I got really rich and famous and Stephen Dorff invited me out for a private picnic on this hill overlooking Folsom Lake. So we're walking along this hiking trail and Stephen's in a big rush to get to the top, so I figure out that he's aiming for sex, which is cool 'cause sex with Stephen Dorff would kick ass, and I get all giddy and excited. But then I start thinking about Travis and I start feeling bad, so I decide to call him up and ask him if it's okay with him if I sleep with Stephen Dorff. So I tell Stephen that I'll meet him at the top of the hill, I just have to call Travis first, and then I try to dial his number, but every time I try to call him, something happens and I can't get through to him. Either the phone breaks or I drop it or someone grabs it out of my hand. Finally I look up and Stephen Dorff has started chatting with Brad Pitt and the two of them stroll off together. And I'm yelling "Stephen, wait! I can't get through!" but he's already forgotten about me- his easy lay. I told Travis about the dream afterwards. Travis: "So, you'd cheat on me with Stephen Dorff?" Me: "No, just, he asked me and I didn't want to flake on him 'cause that's rude." Travis: "Oh, okay, so one day you'll come up to me and tell me that you cheated on me with some guy because you didn't want to be rude." Me: "At least in my dream I had the moral decency to call you first and let you know." Travis: "Yeah, I knew there was something special about you." | | Wednesday, November 30th, 2005 | | 7:59 pm |
le mope
I don't feel like myself. I've burst into tears three times tonight for absolutely no reason whatsoever. No. Reason. I have nothing to cry about, but I'm crying anyway. When I haven't been crying, I've been on the verge of tears. Christ here I go again. I want to talk to Travis but he's useless in situations like this. As far as he's concerned, if I'm crying when I have nothing to cry about- then I should stop. Yeah, sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Just do the "I Dream of Jeanie" head-bonk and snap out of it. I feel another wave coming... I'm all periody, so I know this is purely hormonal, but it still sucks. Travis and I went to The Olive Garden last night, which was nice. I didn't know that the chairs were on wheels and I whipped mine out and whacked the woman behind me. I really want to use my new credit card, but I'm afraid to. Last Sunday, I was at the bank and saw this puny, pale little guy get out of his car and put on a bullet-proof vest before going to the ATM. And it was broad daylight too- it was like, three in the afternoon. | | Monday, November 28th, 2005 | | 8:28 am |
So Travis and I are talking about the Paris Hilton missing dog incident. I don't really know much about it but Travis is a devoted Paris fan so he's pretty studied up on the ins and outs of Paris Hilton. Mostly the ins. Anyway, he said something that made me realize that I'm going to marry this man. Travis: "I have to say...if I found Paris Hilton's dog...I'd have to fuck it." Le sigh. | | Monday, November 21st, 2005 | | 7:07 pm |
Rants up the wazoo!
I got my very first credit card today. I feel so grown up. No longer will my phone service be shut off because I mailed out my payment the day the bill was due instead of a week before. It's a Capital One card. What's in yeeeer wallet? It's totally cute too, it's got a little ladybug on it, and Kieranne dug it and tried to trade her toy credit card for it. I was like "I can't trade, Kieranne, it's got my name on it." And she was like "well this one has a name on it too, see? JL Webb." It was a Finding Nemo credit card so I don't know who JL Webb is. ( Ranteroo )Another side-rant, I hate when my sister blabs on about how everybody loves her. It's so irritating. And she gets all up in your face about it to make sure you're paying attention. | | Tuesday, November 15th, 2005 | | 9:09 pm |
What's a Rio bikini wax? I know what a Brazilian is- friggen expensive, that's what it is. But what the hell is a Rio? | | Saturday, October 29th, 2005 | | 12:00 pm |
cough sputter cough
So pissed right...now... I'll start with Wednesday morning. Tuesday night I go to Travis' house and crash there. The image of impropriety. Oh fucking well. Travis gets up at 5:30 Wednesday morning and asks me to lock up before I leave. Only he doesn't want to leave the spare house key and risk one of the Mexicans across the street swiping it out from under the doormat and then breaking in and taking all of his tortillas and pinto beans. So he asks me to lock the knob. No problem. I can handle a stupid knob. I go back to sleep and wake up at quarter to seven, get my books, and head out. I lock the knob and close the door behind me, go to my car, dump my books inside, start the engine- no wait, engine's not starting. Why? Because I don't have my keys. Why? Because they're in my purse- which I left on the kitchen counter. IN the locked house! I have a momentary spaz out, then decide to get my purse out of the house. Every house has a weakness, some window or back door that was left unlocked. I try the front and side windows. They're all stuck. So I decide to go through the back, only Travis has the house barricaded like a God damn fortress and the gate is locked with this weird ass clip thing. Sooo, I build a little platform out of car-seats and trashcans and climb over the fence, which is like 10 feet high, so I roll over the top like a fat kid in gym class and totally cut up my hands. Long story short, the sliding glass door is locked, all the windows are locked, and there is absolutely no way I'm getting in. I hurl myself back over the fence, manage to catch a neighbor with a cell phone, and call my mom. I'm covered in bruises. I ache. My mom was surprisingly calm about the whole thing though. She didn't yell at me or anything. I think she just wanted to see Travis' house. Now Courtney's throwing a party and I am the honorary chaperone. My legs are covered in big purple bruises. Friggen purple! Five on the inside of one thigh, two honkers on the inside of the other. I ache. | | Monday, October 10th, 2005 | | 8:33 am |
I Liiiiiiiive!
I'm still alive, but only just. I should get an IV put in my arm that'll give me a constant stream of No-Doz. Yesterday, for the very first time, I did that thing where you're talking to someone on a cell phone and they start on a bad subject, so you do the "Khhh, you're cutting out, I can't hear you...Khhhhh". I think it's a cell phone rite of passage. In other news, Travis acknowledged me as his girlfriend for the very first time yesterday, after six friggen months of seeing each other. Lazy fart. This was shortly after he introduced me to his new next-door neighbor as his "friend, Faith," and shortly after I grabbed my car keys and told him to go fuck himself. In other other news, I dyed my hair a dark brown for a more latin look. Now I just need to cut it. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm worried there might be too much red. I hate when people do that. Either go all the way with red, or don't do it at all. That's my philosophy. In even other other news, I got a picture of Travis scratching his back with a machete. I love it. I've titled it, "Travis Scratching his Back with a Machete." I got to his house yesterday afternoon and saw it sitting on the kitchen counter. Me: "Is that a machete?" Travis: "Yeah, I got it at the Army Surplus store. Isn't it awesome?!" Me: "What are you going to do with a machete?" Travis: "Cut stuff." Me: "Like wood?" *pictures piles and piles of chopped firewood in Travis' backyard* Travis: "Like branches and stuff." Me: "For your next jungle expedition?" Travis: *sighs and shakes his head* "You just don't get it." | | Friday, September 23rd, 2005 | | 8:40 am |
I'm sooo going to see Corpse Bride tonight. God, my room is a mess. I love Franz Ferdinand. The leader looks just like Travis with longer hair. Speaking of, I took a picture of Travis washing his hands, because it's the only time I've actually seen him wash his hands, so at some point I'll try to get that up here. Well, back to the salt mines. | | Friday, September 16th, 2005 | | 8:28 am |
Life is good
Everything is totally going my way! Started a new job that has money coming out my ears, which is exactly what I was looking for. Even better- it's stable. 9-5, 40 hours a week, paid holidays and vacations. I'm awesome! So it looks like I'll definitely be able to get myself a new car by November at the latest, and I'll hopefully be able to move out around December/January. I'm also back in school, doing distance education, which people seem to respond more positively to than "online education." Whatever. In relationship news, I have Travis pegged. *cackle* Time to start moving my stuff into his house. I think I'll start with something small and innocuous, like a toothbrush, and then I'll move onto the bigger stuff, like toilet seat covers and embroidered dish towels. Eeeeee hee hee heeeee! | | Wednesday, September 7th, 2005 | | 8:05 am |
Life sucks
SIGH! BIG FUCKING SIGH! I won't be able to continue with TAC. They've fucked my schedule up so much. I was supposed to work 24 hours a week, and it's now gone down to 12, because the consultant on both cases didn't turn in the kid's new school schedule. GOD THIS SUCKS! I totally wanted to do this! And now I can't! And this woman down the street wants me to nanny full-time for her, with a guaranteed $400 a week, minimum. And I need the money...I'm sooo fucking broke. So. Looks like it's back to nannying for me. I feel so disillusioned. My horoscope explicitly told me two months ago that a new career path would bring me financial security! Netscape horoscopes are full of LIES! Just whose side are you on, Tarot.Com?! | | Saturday, September 3rd, 2005 | | 7:55 pm |
Fu-cking tired
I am fucking tired. So. fucking. tired. But I can't fall asleep now or I'll wake up at 10 and be up until 3 or 4. Got about 5 hours of sleep last night. I spent the night at Travis' house and he was tossing and fidgeting all night, and just when I'd finally fallen asleep around 2 a.m., he woke me up. But when Travis wants to find out whether or not I'm awake, he doesn't gently whisper, "Faith, are you awake?" No. When Travis wants to see if I'm awake, he does so by jabbing a finger in my eye to feel if it's closed. Me: "Ow! Fuck! Why'd you poke me in the eye?!" Travis: "I wanted to see if you were awake." Me: "Well now I am!" So Travis woke me up at 2 a.m. and after poking me in the eye, the conversation went as follows: Travis: "Faith, I can't sleep." Me: "...I'm sorry?..." Silence. Travis: "Will you sing to me?" Me: "What?" Travis: "Will you sing me to sleep?" Me: "Absolutely not." Silence. Travis: "Do you want to go get something to drink?" Me: "Now?" Travis: "I can't get to sleep. If I just stay here I'm going to toss and turn all night. Will you come watch TV with me for a little bit?" So at two in the morning, I got up and watched an hour of South Park with Travis. To be fair, he did pay for my dinner, so I guess I owed him. | | Monday, August 29th, 2005 | | 8:44 pm |
| | Friday, August 26th, 2005 | | 1:56 pm |
Bar bar bar bar
I'm trying to work up the nerve to go to Victoria's Secret and spend forty bucks on panties, but I just can't do it. I want to, but if I spend any money, I'm going to bounce a check somewhere. Bah. I'm a tool. I want to do something different with my hair. Maybe go with a latin look this fall. I can't believe I said that. I really am a tool. God, I don't even think I get paid until next Wednesday. I'm not going to make it. I'm going to have to borrow money from someone, and that someone is going to bitch me out until I pay them back in full with interest. Kieranne wants to go back to Travis' parents' house to play with the dogs. Would that be weird? Like, if I called his mom and asked if I could bring Kieranne over to play with the dogs? ( Travis Cuteness: optional reading ) | | Wednesday, August 24th, 2005 | | 12:32 pm |
So apparently, the consultant in charge of three of my six client cases neglected to tell the parents that I would be coming to their houses, so for the last three days, I've been showing up and the parents are either confused and wary, or not home at all. I am going to kill this woman, namely because I'm trying to get phone numbers so I can call these people and the lead tutors in charge of the cases ahead of time, and I can't get a hold of the consultant because she never picks up her fucking phone! And I feel bad because I can totally see where these people are coming from. They've got this stranger on their doorstep demanding entry into their house and a secluded room in which to be alone with their child. Ugh. Thankfully, though, after observing a few cases, I know that this is definitely something that I want to do. I have a pelvic exam scheduled for tomorrow. Should I shave my legs for that? | | Monday, August 22nd, 2005 | | 11:35 am |
| | Thursday, August 18th, 2005 | | 8:38 pm |
A promising future!
Finished my TAC orientation training. 21 paid hours, baby! Yeehaw! I also got my schedule and I'm going to be working with six families, which I'm psyched about. So next week I start in-field training, and I'll be going to the houses of my new clients with a consultant so that I can observe the child and collect data, and then the week after that- I fly solo. So here I go again on my owwwwnn, goin' down the only road I've ever knoooowwwwwn. After reviewing this week's recent Travis-cuteness, I've made the conscious decision to make Travis love me. Yes. He will be mine. To own. Whether he likes it or not. It sounds sneaky and underhanded, but I am not going to let some stupid commitment-phobia get in my way. An example of his commitment-phobia: he's lived in his house for two months. He transformed it from a shithole foreclosure into a functional and livable home- singlehandedly. He's decided to move. Why? Because he feels "tied down." He's going to give up his house and all the money and energy he's put into it, and he's going to go back to apartment-living. So I've decided to scheme. After I saw him mouthing the joke to himself the other day, the cuteness was just overwhelming, and without even realizing it, I thought to myself, "you will be mine." I'm not going to do anything drastic. I'm just going to make him realize his complete and utter dependence on my validation of him as a person to get through his day. That's all. He'll thank me for it in the long-run. | | Wednesday, August 17th, 2005 | | 6:25 pm |
Fuck it, I'm going out for M&Ms! The kind with peanuts!
Just finished my second day of training for TAC (Teaching Autistic Children) and I'm just a smidge overwhelmed. Too many psychological terms that make no fucking sense. What the fuck is a discriminative stimulus? NOBODY KNOWS! Eight hours in a tiny little room under a fluorescent light. By 3 o'clock, "discriminative stimulus" means dick to me. And this guy's been following me around, which is starting to get to me. Hopefully I won't be seeing him much after tomorrow. Today we worked on data collection! Sound the trumpets and release the doves! Graphs and charts and discriminative stimuli, oh my! Fucking stimuli... Travis told me an awesome joke yesterday. So there's this Native American family, and the son goes up to the father one day and says "Father, how did you name my brother and sister and I?" and the father says, "When your brother was born, I went outside and saw deer running, so I named him Running Deer. And when your sister was born, I went outside and saw an eagle flying, so I named her Flying Eagle. Why do you ask, Two Dogs Fucking?" HAAAAAAHAHAHA! He's so cute. He has trouble remembering sequences, like directions or jokes, so when he hears a joke, he'll keep saying it to himself so that he'll remember it. All evening, I'd look over at him and see him mouthing it to himself, and then he'd start giggling. |
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