It's been raining all day here in shitty little Dekalb. Not that I ventured any further from my apartment all day than to take out the garbage, but it was a nice rain and I enjoyed it. Not too cold, not windy at all, just a steady drizzle all day. None of this really matters, but I just went to go have a cigarette, and all I can say is holy fuck. Holy motherfucker it's foggy outside. I can't see the dorms that are about 50 yards from my place (or it could be farther, I'm not good at describing distances. If I had my way I would say "it's not too far away at all" and leave it at that). I can't see the trees that are definitly no farther than 20 feet from my balconey. I mean, I've seen fog before, but this is just awesome. Even more awesomer because I'm not trying to drive in it right now. But the whole time I had my cigarette, I'm staring at "my surroundings" (that sounds really queer) just blown away. Mouth gaping wide open. I know none of you care and you're all saying to yourselves, "Get over it already Katie. We've all seen fog before. So shut your fucking gaping mouth", but really, it's fucking cool outside.
So ever since Jenn told me I "had to read www.dooce.com" the other day, it's all I've been doing. And I know you told me to read it because you think she's funny, and trust me I do think she's funny, but the only thing I think about when I read her is that I want to BE her. I want to marry her husband Jon because I think I love him just about as much as she does, and I want to have her baby Leta, who is the most precious thing I have ever seen. The way she talks about Jon makes me want to get married tomorrow. I feel like she's the skinnier version of me, only because she's tall (5'11) like I am (5'9-10) and I think the tallness makes us very much alike. (I am very demented). I also want to live in Utah now. I've never even wanted to visit Utah before, but now I want to live there? What the fuck. I think I need to take a Dooce break before I start calling myself Heather and wondering why Jon is late for dinner tonight, he's usually ALWAYS home by 5:30. I sound horribly creepy now, but Heather, if you ever read this, I promise not to start stalking you and your precious family. Girl Scout's Honor.
So today is Valentine's Day, I just remembered. Even though I have no boyfriend, I am not one of those whiney people who hates-Valentine's-day-because-it's-a-Hallmark-created-holiday-or-I-don't-have-someone-to-share-this-wonderful-day-with-so-I'll-cry-and-slit-my-wrists. I fucking LOVE Valentine's Day and HATE hearing people bitch about it. For Christ's sake, if you don't like it, then ignore it. But do not, I repeat, do not whine to me about it. I love the color pink and candy and flowers (though not roses especially) and chocolate and those stupid cute commercials you see with pretty people sharing the special day together. It makes me happy to see other couples in love, and I know I'll be there someday too, so I'm not going to freak out or lash out at them because they have someone to share the day with. Yes, I may be a tad bit jealous, but who isn't. I won't hold it agaisnt you.
The other day my mom called and told me how she had heard Bob Dylan was coming to concert in April, and she wanted to make sure I knew about it. Since I'm a Bob Dylan freak, I had heard about it a few weeks ago, but nonetheless, as I'vce said before, I love when people call me to tell me Dylan stuff. I called her back today, to tell her thanks for telling me, and then she says, "Your father and I were thinking about seeing Dylan too, you know before he dies. And Merle Haggard is playing with him, so your father wants to see him." Then I hear my Dad in my background, "But we'll leave before Dylan starts!" My ass we will. First of all , I can't believe they want to go with me and Keri, considering how they've made fun of me for the past 5 or 6 years for listening to Dylan, but hey if this means they'll pay for the ticket, then I'm all about it. I can just hear my Dad bitching now about how awful Dylan sounds, so I'll be as far away from him as possible while my idol is on stage. I'll just have to remind him that I didn't make him come, so if he could kindly shut the fuck up, that would be appreciated greatly.
I just wrote out this huge ass paragraph about the time my dad almost caught me smoking when I was 16 at a Neil Young concert we went to, but deleted it because it was getting too wordy and lame sounding. To sum it all up: I've probably never looked so goddamn scared in my life. Nothing is worse than the prospect of you father catching you smoking at 16. Nothing. I would rather shit my pants in public than have him catch me smoking a P-Funk. Even now at 20 years old, I still can't smoke in front of him, and probably never will. In front on my Mom I can, but never Dad. I'll be 50 years old and my dad 81, and still I won't light up in front of him. Well I hope I'm not still smoking at 50, but you know what I mean. I am a giant pansy when it comes to my Dad.
Some things to look forward to:
- J.P hopefully coming up to visit me next Saturday.
- Leaving for Michigan to go skiing a week from Thursday, the 24th.
- Going to all my classes this week. All fucking NINE of them. Good lord I hope I can handle it.
- The food my mom bought me from Market Day that I'll get Saturday if J.P comes up.
- American Idol this week. I love you Simon Cowell.
- Getting my tax refund back. Hurry up and finish the forms already Mom.
Happy Valentine's Day bitches!