thursday, october 10

Apparently fire alarms are going off left and right around here. So I better skedaddle while the skedaddling's good, as they say in Kentucky or wherever. Laters. [2:59 PM]

Last-minute cramming for science tests is always fun. After class today I'm going over to see Luke in an unprecidented Thursday visit. I may just give him that tattoo myself.

It's chilly and cold and I want to wear my big kelly green wool sweater but I'm afraid of looking like a moron. That's reasonable, isn't it? [10:08 AM]

wednesday, october 9

Once again I'm writing here against my inclination, even though I have a science test to study for that I'm only 50% sure I'll fail. That combined with other circumstances make me reluctant to really discuss the latest events of my life. But I will, like a good bloggerette.

Being frustrated with him in a way is useless, like being frustrated at your own arm or something, it's silly to get like that with a part of yourself. I feel like suggesting he tattoo his phone number on the back of his hand so he doesn't give the wrong one out to potential employers and then wonder why they don't call him. But I won't, because that would be like suggesting to your foot that it stop sticking itself in your mouth all the time. Or something like that. I'm trying really hard to be metaphorical and failing. I'm really cold right now. I feel stressed and chilled out at the same time.

For some reason right now I desperately want to stop writing, so I guess I'll have to. [7:12 PM]

tuesday, october 8

OK so I didn't post yesterday because I was sick and feeling shitty and didn't feel like saying or explaining anything. The situation, as it stands, isn't actually as fucked up as it might seem to be, as is often the case in Luke and Sarah land. In case I haven't mentioned/griped before, the restaurant where he worked required its employees to work 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, with no allowances for extra time off. Because it was a family-owned restaurant, such fascist behavior was allowed. As far as I know several workers quit because of the exhausting hours and low pay. Luke wasn't going to quit, unless they forced him to. He just asked them to cut his hours so that he wasn't working up to 80 a week, which they did. By firing him, of course.

But since he'd never been anything but an exemplary cook they promised him good references and the numbers of several other restaurants in the area that were hiring. Last night he'd already had a bunch of interviews and at least two places that seemed certain to hire him. So it seems entirely possible that he'll have a job again by the end of the week, and this time he can determine up-front his hours and wages. Of course you never know...things seem to inevitably go wrong whenever we think they're going right...but it isn't a total disaster at least.

In other news, I've been popping Sudafed like an addict and walking around with my head in a pseudoephedrine fog. I was a good pet owner and gave Rusty James some nice clean gravel and new water. Our Tool tickets finally came in the mail, so now I can stare at them in adoration and awe whenever the urge strikes me. I'm considering taking my psych major down to a minor - in which case I'm practically finished, and I won't have to take stats over again - and going full steam ahead with a journalism major. In case I'm crazy, which I very well might be, I'm talking it over with a career advisor next week before I do anything drastic.

And that's it for now. Fingers crossed and good-job vibes for Luke, please. [5:12 PM]

sunday, october 6

Update at the 11th hour.

Luke lost his job.

It never really ends, does it. [11:24 PM]

Well here I am drinking Rescue Green Tea and trying not to feel like heaving. So, to cheer myself up, I adopted a useless blob! Here he is, I named him Bilbo.

He's a cutie, ain't he? [8:39 PM]

OK, so I neglected to mention in my previous entry. Yesterday when we decided to visit Huntington, we parked our car in a public parking lot...or if it was not public there were NO signs or markings anywhere to indicate so. It was just behind a bunch of stores with no signs saying that parking was restricted to customers. The only sign was one of those big green "P" signs you see in parking lots.

When we come back, there is a ticket under the windshield wiper. It says nothing at all about the offense, except the only word I can distinguish: "uninspected." Luke took his car in for inspection this July, and his stickers are all in order. So we cannot figure out for the life of us what the ticket was for. If he knew it was just a parking ticket he would plead guilty, but since he doesn't know what the offense was he doesn't know how much he's going to be fined, and we can't afford to pay a bunch of money for something we didn't do. On top of everything else, his court appearance date is two days before my birthday. So unless something gets figured out he'll have to miss work to go to that to prove that this whole thing was a total fuckup, and then who knows what we'll be able to do for my birthday. He swears it's no big deal and promises he'll get it figured out...he is a law student after all...but, ah I dunno. It just figures. [7:13 PM]

Luke kindly lent me his cold. Oh well, small price to pay. [Cough hack]

One thing that really pisses him off - and I mean really - is when he gets lost trying to find a place and he's "certain" he's on the right road. We drove up and down Old Country Road for about an hour as he kept getting angrier and angrier that we couldn't find the Walt Whitman Mall, and the thing about him is that the angrier he gets, the faster he drives. So finally when he'd run the third or fourth red light I convinced him to give up and that the day was not "totally entirely over" and so he drove off onto this other road, and we happened to see a sign for Centerport. Thankfully this cheered him up considerably as he used to live in Centerport several years ago, so we went on the big guided tour and ate in Jimmy's ("the best pizza on Long Island, everyone agrees with me") and went by the house that his family rented from these cocaine dealers back in the early 90's, and saw the road named after his family, and went down to the beach and waved to Connecticut in the distance. He looked so happy seeing these old places I didn't know whether to feel good or bad for him, so I ended up feeling a little of both.

Then we went into Huntington...can we say "peaceful sleepy suburban hamlet"...and wandered around in the too-hot sun. This kid with a mop of curly hair came up to us outside a drugstore and handed him 6 bucks and asked him to buy him a pack of Newports. So he obligingly went in and bought the kid cigarettes. My boyfriend: corrupting the youth of America.

Because we had both been curious about it for a while now, we went back to Hicksville and bought a six-pack of that Mike's Hard Lemonade stuff. Thus ensued several hours of hilarity and debauchery. Someone should have reminded me that malt liquor and an empty stomach do not a sane person make. Luckily he went out and brought back some fried chicken, but by that time it was too late. So, seeing as we were both a bit sloshy, we opted to go for a nice long walk into the Nassau county night, cigarettes poised elegantly between our fingers. When we got back, I don't know if it was the alcohol or what, but I couldn't stop being a weepy sack of goo. I even cried when "Everybody Wants To Rule The World" came on in the background of some television show. You know you have a good boyfriend when they can deal with their girlfriend lying next to them with tears dribbling down their face because of some 80's song.

As a sidenote, this morning he revealed to me in Starbucks that a former band of his was almost called Pincushion by an unruly bass player. It was later dubbed Apeshit. His taste in names makes me pretty glad we aren't having kids. [4:10 PM]