I Hate It When This Happens

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You know, when your sister steps through the floor of the attic/the ceiling of your bedroom. Thus, yielding a giant hole complete with hanging chunks of plaster, insulation scattered throughout and that fine disgusting dust that inhabits the attic, covering everything in my room.

We have been tramping through this attic for over six years and managed to steer clear of this fiasco, but RIGHT before we move she decides to stick her cloven hoof through the my ceiling and subsiquently force me to actually clean my room, do my laundry AND make my bed. Unless I would like to spend the rest of my born days groveling in a dust pit.

And of course, she was conveniently on her way out of town.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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