New Year's Day 1998 aka The Day of the Big Drip
Well, here it is New Year's Day and my stockings are hung by the chimney with care in hopes that soon they will dry. That is, that after a lengthy term in which I was unable to do any laundry, I finally started chipping away at it. Why doing laundry requires a chisel at this stage should be obvious to those of you out there who are students.
I want you to know that I didn't plan all of this insanity. It just happened like a bump on a log or a mump on a frog...
Well, I must sleep.
I wrote a poem. I hope it's not too sappy. I wouldn't want anyone to throw up or anything:
P.S. Remember that this is fiction -- so I'm not really in the psycho ward (the latter sentence was inserted to appease the fears of potential employers).
Hark?
Is it the clucking of chickens I hear? One o'cluck?
Is
that
what I heard or was it just another pitt patt pitt patt
ding a ling
ring
ring
of my
imagination
gone wild
Life in the psycho ward
Is not as lovely as I
Had anticipated.
Chickens sound like roosters and
The roosters are not laying eggs like
I expected they would.
My mind is whir of inconsequence
And gibberish, but
Can you say that wasn't the case
When he who knew said that which couldn't be said?
My personal favorite part about being
On the psycho ward
Is the
Great
Evening
Snacks.
They have great snacks
And if you
Behave
They
Let you have
Two or three
Instead of just one because they figure
HEY, these people are insane
What difference does it make if they gain
A pound
Or two.
My life in the loony bin
Is not as glamorous as you
May have heard tell.
It really is
A sort of
Hell.
But then sometimes,
It is just swell.
No pressure.
Did you love my little poem? I knew you would :)
Later on down this page, you will read that I turned to a life of vegan-ism, but that has all been over for months. I just thought I'd tell you that so you don't think I am a vegan when I am actually not one. Not that there's anything wrong with being one. I just had it suggested to me by my doctor that I should eat meat... not just meat, but red meat and lots of it. I feel better since then, but it's always hard to know exactly why.
By the way, I know this is going to sound somewhat stupid or whatever, but I think this page gets better further down. Perhaps when I was a vegan, I had a better sense of humour. I know my wit is always sharpest when I am suffering (not that being a vegan would make a person suffer).
Sleep is what I shall do next. Goodnight people who are wasting their time reading the garbage that I write. Please E-mail me with feedback, comments, ideas and complaints and criticisms. Actually, if you have any criticisms, e-mail them to Siobhan because she'll filter them and tell me in a nice way. You can see her homepage if you look it up on my People page. I would just make a direct link here, but sadly, I am too lazy to go look it up and I don't remember it off the top of my head. I will likely get flack for that from her later, but I'm sure she'll say it in the most tactful way possible.
Unlike Siobhan, I am quite tactless. I've been laughing at her lately for the software purchases she has made. For example, she bought a font manager.
"Why do you need to manage your fonts? Don't they pretty much take care of themselves?" I naively asked her.
Suffice to say, I was a little sorry I had asked. Oh. I shouldn't have written that. She'll eventually read it and give me a piece of her mind. Just don't tell her I said that, ok? It'll be our little secret. Me and the whole entire world or at least the two people who are foolish enough to still be reading this. Not that I'm insulting you. I'm glad you're still reading. Honest. Wait! Don't leave me!
So what the hell is today then? Hmm... well, let's see... Wasn't last Friday the 28? That would make today the 7th. So it is March the 7th today. Now I know. Just in time for it to be almost over.
Now I've set my watch so that tomorrow, we'll all be on the same page.
Happy Valentine's Day, dear lonely person who is reading this for reasons known only to him or her self... (Can I separate him and her from self like that??? I'll look it up later.)
Would you like to hear juicy tales of my Valentine's conquests? I just bet you would! heh heh heh...
RS232C This nifty standard specifies the interface between data
communications equipment (DCE) and data terminal equipment (DTE). We
frequently use this baby to connect a computer's serial port to a modem.
Also, this standard specifies the interface between week old socks (WOH
in compu-speak) and my
laundry hamper (or MLH in compuspeak), but in that case, you have to use a
nasal obstructor or you might be the victim of a non-standard unenticing
floating chemical trace of a biological byproduct that may interact with
the
cells in your nasal passage to create a stimulation that will then be sent
to your cerebral cortex and interpreted as unpleasant. Or in other words,
stinky socks.
This fact-oid is brought to you in part (i.e. the correct part) thanks
to the good book, 68000 Family
Assembly
Language by Alan Clements. Any problems you run into using this
fact-oid are pretty much your own fault.
Happy oooky spooky Friday the 13!!!
Do you realize that ANY person could become a millionaire. You need only have a relative who strikes it rich and then dies, leaving his or her wealth to YOU. So we all have the POTENTIAL to be millionaires.
It's like the whole light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel thing. I'm just trying not to realize that it's probably just another train coming straight at me.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!
I think I may be delirious, so if none of this makes sense, that is my alibi.
I wish all my exams were over and I could just curl up in bed with a nice hot water bottle and a large goon-ish man called Guido towering over me giving me tremendous back rubs and "taking care" of any problems that arose.
That's what I REALLY need. A goon. That way, if any problems came up (and they always do), I could just send over my man Guido (my goon) and get things "sorted out" in a "nice, civilized manner". I think I would first send my man Guido out to "talk" to the people at Parking Services. Then the phone company...
The phone company, Telus, called last night and the man dissed me! I told him I was saving more with a different long distance company and the man laughed and said "Oh, I doubt that!" What an egotistical jerk! I told him that I didn't like being spoken to in a condescending manner and that I was hanging up on him in 3... 2... 1... click.
I think it took him by surprise. What an idiot.
You see how useful Guido would have been? "Excuse me, sir," Guido could have said to him,"but it appears that you have not treated Ms. Ditzian with the proper respect. This troubles me." And our phone company employee would be a'shakin' in his boots.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. I NEED a goon. It would solve so MANY of my problems.
"I'm afraid that Ms. Ditzian will not be writing this final exam. That won't be a problem, sir, will it?"
"Well, she'll get a 0 on it."
"Oh! Come now, professor, I'm sure we can find a solution amenable to all parties involved if you get my drift. You wouldn't want to upset Ms. Ditzian, would you? Because when she is upset, well, then _I_ am upset if you get my drift."
"You can't threaten me you big thug."
"Threaten? Why I wouldn't dream of it. I'm insulted that you would think that of me. Very disrespectful..."
I dream of Goon-ie...
I told some people in more tropical climes than mine that I'd be sending them our snow and guess what? It WORKED. It ACTUALLY worked. It snowed in Texas AND in Victoria. I don't think I managed to make it snow in Waterloo yet, but I'm working on it.
So, it turns out that I have powers I didn't realize I had. I can make snow happen. Neat, huh?
Well, I decided that since I have no time to actually write anything that is remotely coherent or sensible, I will write a bunch of incoherent nonsense. Just a bunch of junk. Will you read my bunch of junk?
I'd like to write all about my life and the crazy things that happen to me and oh, the injustice of it all, but of course, that would be a recipe for disaster since the people I would be bitterly complaining about are just those most likely to read this page (cf Murphy's Law Section 1.2.52 Chapter 12).
I guess the beatniks thought it was good to express express express and not to censor, erase or edit your thoughts. Fortunately for you, I am not a beatnik yet.
I recently became a vegan except M&M's. I don't know if it will stick. I guess we'll see. Recently is three weeks so far. I'm full o' beans now. I watched a documentary on CBC and ever since, I can't stomach meat or dairy. That's why I think TV is a dangerous and evil object. Before I watched the show, I was just a happy omnivore. I like meat and I think it's not too bad for you in moderation, but man, the way they treat animals sucks and there's nothing funny about that. So I decided that until they clean up their act ("they" being the people that treat these animals so badly), I'm not eating meat or dairy except M&M's (what a hypocrit!).
I guess I'm saying that I would prefer that if I'm eating someone, that they at least had a nice life before they were stew, you know?
Well, this new page is probably more of a result of my 1.5 hours of sleep than anything else. I wonder if my relatives ever read my pages - HI RELATIVES! I think if my parents did, they would be really embarassed and they would say "Rachelle, take that drivel off the web. Really, it's a disgrace. Aren't you ashamed? Have you no dignity?" The answer is no no no no no. I need my spewage. It's like a disease.
Hi. By the time you get to this section, you've most likely figured out
that you really wish you weren't related to me. If we share a last name,
you are probably out trademarking the family name and then hiring a fancy
attorney to sue me for using your trademark. Otherwise, you are probably
sighing a deep sigh of relief. At least no one will know we're related.
There are two types of people who write to me:
Surprisingly, there are many more
of type #1 than type #2. Or at least that's my story and I'm sticking to
it...
Anyhow, relation-person, I have tried not to say anything questionable
about you-know-what. I know that you-know-who did that thing finally and
I think it's for the best despite what the judge said.
And ten years isn't really such a long time.
If they hadn't been in Peoria on the night of the "incident", everything
would have gone as planned and NO one would have gotten hurt, but you know
old crazy Aunt Martha! We just couldn't talk her out of the annual yam
and grapefruit pilgrimage. But I digress...
Well, dear relative, as you may or may not know, I only had about 2 hours
of sleep last night so I am going home to take a nap.
Thanks for stopping by...
Rachelle
An Open Letter to any of Rachelle's relatives who Read her
Webpage:
It is minus 27 degrees celcius out and that's not fit weather for person nor beast. On Monday, someone drove into my car while I was stopped at a red light. This took one day out of my week because of my ensuing daze and aches.
Now I am trying to catch up in a hopeless 'against-the-odds' type of way. People were not meant to live this way I think. I work and work and work and see nary a human save my daughter and computing boyz for dayyyyyyyyyyyyys... and daze...
You know?
© November 1996 by Rachelle Megan Ditzian. All rights reserved.